#hi this got very long but I finished work so i decided to write this before bed. if it makes no sense that's because im about to go to bed

[cheers-to-you-th]

Don't Play Games (my heart is too fragile)

Pairing: Streamer!Seungcheol x Reader

Genre: Fluff, smut !MDNI!, s2f2l (kinda)

Tags: Fluff, strangers to friends to lovers, smut, Streamer!AU, former college classmate!Seungcheol, very short period of angst, slow burn

WC: 21k

Summary: Getting addicted to watching hot men play video games was definitely not on your year's bingo card. Getting addicted to watching Choi Seungcheol of all people? The idea would have been laughable.

Warnings: Smut, oral (m & f receiving), unprotected sex (they’re dumb, you shouldn’t be: wrap it before you tap it), pet names (princess), bigdick!Seungcheol, praise, some angst, lmk if I missed anything

taglist: @christinewithluv @cherry-zip @orngejuic @duckieo

The first time you stumbled upon Seungcheol's stream, it was an accident, a shocking one at that. It was just another boring day at work, your normal podcasts weren't doing it for you- listening about murders while writing a report on "harassment" between two employees who were simply arguing gave you some ideas that would not be very HR Manager of you- so you instead decide to go on twitch, your coworker had once told you it was perfect background noise.

You clicked on the first stream in the gaming category: Val w/coups by 'everyone_woo'. The stream had opened and the face of your old college classmate filled your screen and you nearly got whiplash from the double take you did.

Apparently the aforementioned "Coups" was the former infamous president of Chi Beta Zeta, Choi Seungcheol. It makes sense, you suppose- that they'd be friends- having been in the same frat, but the idea of shy Wonwoo from Engineering and not-so-shy Seungcheol, your fellow Communications major, was a little off-putting. That is, until you remember the other thing they had in common along with the rest of CBZ: sex.

Rumors constantly circulated: who Seungcheol brought upstairs at the last party, what girl Wonwoo was seen dragging into the supply closet near the library; although you were never a part of the rumors they spread like wildfire.

You shoved those thoughts aside as you finished the report, and when the rest of the day went by quicker than normal, you reminded yourself to thank Jeonghan later.

(And you definitely maybe went home and looked up "S.coups" on your computer before deciding his gravelly voice would be your new favorite white noise machine.)

Soon enough listening to him had become a habit; you were working? He was raging over a new fps he was trying; you were cleaning the house? He and Wonwoo were trying a new game pre-release. 

—

On Wednesdays you, Minghao, and Jeonghan have a tradition: the three of you meet at a whole-in-the-wall cafe to gossip catch up with each other outside of work-talk.  It started back in college, an agreement to always meet in the middle of the week for a break from everything—stress, assignments, life. Even now, years later, with jobs and responsibilities pulling you in different directions, Wednesdays remained sacred.

Today the three of you find yourselves in the same dimly lit restaurant you’ve all sworn by for years. It’s not anything fancy, but its quiet, comfortable, and, most importantly, they have a bartender who never questions the amount of time you all spend loitering at a table long after the food is gone.

Minghao is already there when you arrive, scrolling through his phone with the slight air of disinterest he always carried. Jeonghan shows up moments later, his usual carefree smile in place as he slid into the seat across from you.

“You’re late,” you tease, setting down your bag.

Jeonghan waves a hand dismissively. “Traffic.”

Minghao snorts, locking his phone. “We chose this place because it’s closer to your office so you can walk here.”

“Exactly,” Jeonghan says, grinning. “Too many people in my way.”

You roll your eyes but let it slide, already used to his antics. The three of you order your usuals, conversation flowing easily between catching up on work drama and not-work drama. It’s comfortable, familiar.

Then, as if on cue, Jeonghan’s eyes gleam with mischief, and you know what is coming before he even opens his mouth. “So,” he starts, resting his chin on his hand, “how’s our favorite Twitch streamer?”

You groan. “We’re not doing this.”

“Oh, we absolutely are,” Jeonghan counters. “Minghao, did you know our dear friend here has been religiously listening to Choi Seungcheol rage at video games?”

Minghao raises a brow, intrigued. “Seungcheol? That Seungcheol?”

You huff, sinking into your seat. “It’s just background noise. I put it on while I work.”

Jeonghan’s smirk widens at your dismissal. “Sure. Background noise. Because out of all the streams in the world, you just happened to choose your old college classmate’s?”

Minghao, ever observant, takes a sip of his drink before adding, “You know, he mentioned you a couple times.”

You blink. “What?”

Jeonghan nods enthusiastically. “Oh yeah. Back in CBZ, there was a few months where all he could talk about was you. He thought you were cute and would get really annoyed when you brushed him off. It was super funny seeing him finally get rejected, even if it was just because you were too oblivious to notice him flirting with you.”

“Dense,” Minghao supplies. “That was the word he used.”

You roll your eyes at them, “I wasn’t dense or oblivious, I don’t even remember talking to him for more than ten seconds. I was too focused on trying to graduate, plus he wasn’t my type.”

“Suuuuuure.” Jeonghan leers, “That’s why you listen to his voice on a daily basis now. Regret some things?”

You don’t roll your eyes at him, focusing intently on your drink as you swirl the liquid in your glass. “Whatever, I just thought it was more interesting to listen to someone I kind of knew instead of some random person.”

Jeonghan and Minghao exchange a look that makes it clear this conversation is far from over, but, mercifully, they let it go—for now.

—

A week later they grill you about Seungcheol one more time before finally deciding to let it go, thinking finally you can live in peace. 

That’s why you’re almost having a heart attack as you exit the elevator to see the very man of your dreams standing outside the apartment adjacent to yours, moving boxes in hand. Frozen, you stand there gawking looking at him. As if he can feel your gaze, Seungcheol looks over at you and raises an eyebrow in question, looking borderline nervous and irritated. It broke whatever trance you were in as you introduced yourself (trying your best not to stutter) as a former classmate. He visibly relaxed at that while his eyes lit up in recognition.

“Professor Han’s class, right? We had a study group together one time.” You nod, thinking back to how girls had glared at you during class for daring to be randomly grouped with Seungcheol. The session had gone by quickly, slipping your mind until now.

“Uh, yeah, for midterms practice I think. I’m surprised you remember.” Your response has a smile pulling at the corners of his (annoyingly perfect) lips.

“Hard to forget such a pretty face.”

His words cause your eyes to roll, some things never change you suppose. You hum in response, “Except when I first came up here and you looked like I had insulted your entire bloodline or something.” 

Seungcheol’s smile, you decide, is your favorite sight. His eyes crinkle at the sides, the cutest dimples form on his cheeks when his lips curl upwards, a chuckle escaping them. “Sorry, I just thought- it doesn’t matter. It was really good seeing you again though.” A matching smile on your face, you offer to help him with any boxes but he only shakes his head.

“I was taught to never let a lady carry her own things, carrying mine? Unheard of. Although if you want to cheer me on I wouldn’t mind seeing your face more.” He winks and you just shake your head, ignoring the heat rising to your cheeks. You respond with something about outdated views before excusing yourself to the safety of your apartment, taking a deep breath to calm your racing heart.

—

Over the next few weeks, the two bump into each other frequently; exiting your apartments, entering the complex; each time briefly chatting before going your separate ways. Some nights you would get a notification about a stream, only to hear him talking through your bedroom wall. Part of you felt bad watching him play, guilt gnawing away at your thoughts and distracting you. 

It’s fine you tell yourself as you write the marketing team’s monthly performance report.

It’s fine you delude yourself as you hand said report to your deskmate, Minghao, to review.

It’s fi-shit you finally are snapped out of your denial when Minghao hands your report back covered in red pen marks and shame. He says your name with concern lacing his voice, “Have you been doing okay? You seem kind of… off and I’ve never seen this kind of work from you before.” 

You shake your head, burying your face in your hands, “Sorry Hao, it’s nothing I can’t handle.” 

He just tilts his head and tells you that, if you ever need to talk, he’s here. That was the downside of working with your best friend– you could never hide anything from him. Normally you’d take him up on the offer- tell him your woes and such- if it wasn’t so goddamn embarrassing. You brush him off before taking a deep breath and steel yourself as you weigh your options. You could either tell Seungcheol that you watch his streams or stop watching them altogether, and you sure as hell wouldn’t be inflating his ego anymore (at least that’s the reason you tell yourself, it’s definitely not that you don’t want him to feel uncomfortable around you).

The rest of the day goes by at a torturing pace, no commentary in the background to make time fly quicker. By the time you get on the bus, you’re half-asleep, and then you’re full asleep, head lulled to the side, bouncing uncomfortably on the window, not that you notice. 

“..am? Ma’am this is the last stop. You need to get off now.” The driver of the bus stands in front of you while you rub the sleep out of your eyes and look around. Taking note of the darkness outside the window and unfamiliar street, you sigh and lean your head against the window again, flinching at your slightly bruised head. 

Could this day get any fucking better.

You apologize to the driver, who just looks at you with pity, and get off the bus, gauging your surroundings and sighing, breath fogging in front of you. Your bus stop is one of the last ones, meaning after a second you realize where you are and groan, pulling out your phone to call a car. Except of-fucking-course your phone is dead. It’s late, the watch on your wrist reading 11:56 (thank god at least something of yours is working) and look around one more time, hoping a taxi would drive by and save you from the cold night. Shoulders slumped in resignation, you start walking towards your apartment, it’s only a few blocks away, a maybe twenty minute walk, as long as your notoriously shitty sense of direction screws you over, which it does. By the time you reach your building you’re shivering, nose and fingers red as you reach into your bag for your keys. 

Keys.

Keys.

Keys that you remember setting on your desk at work but don’t remember picking up. You want to scream. And cry. Mostly cry, if you’re gonna be honest because now your shitty day turned into an even shittier night. Morning, you realize as your watch now reads 12:34. A shaky laugh escapes your lips as you slump down next to the apartment complex’s glass door that seems to taunt you, as if it's rubbing in your face how close relief is and how unreachable. 

You feel your throat start to tighten and tears begin to well in your eyes.

“Y/n?” 

You think you’re starting to go insane from the cold until a warm hand lands on your shoulder, a shadow crouching in front of you. Looking up hesitantly, you come face to face with your new neighbor, plastic bag in hand from what you assume to be a late-night snack run. The tears in your eyes start to fall as you begin to sob, if you were in your right mind this would be the most embarrassing moment of your life, but right now you’re cold and hungry and scared and this man appeared like an angel sent from heaven just to help you.

“Oh my god, you’re freezing. What are you even- nevermind that come on.” Seungcheol’s arms wrap around you as he helps you up, getting into the building with his keys and walking with you to the elevator. When it starts to ascend, Seungcheol sets his bag on the ground and takes his jacket off, wrapping it around you. You don’t even have the strength to argue with him, all of it spent on the tears that now slowed to a stop as you look down at your feet, shame starting to kick in. You don’t want to imagine the look on his face right now, knowing it’ll be the same pitying glances you’ve received all day. 

The elevator dings as it arrives on the correct floor. Your feet start moving, muscle memory kicking in until you’re at your door, realizing you still don’t have your keys. When an arm once again wraps around you, you don’t even protest, allowing Seungcheol to guide you into his apartment, where he sets blankets and pillows on his couch. When you move to lay on it, he stops you.

“What are you doing? I’m sleeping on the couch, you can take my bed.” The words seemingly bring you out of the numb trance-like state you’d been in ever since you stopped crying. 

“I- what?! No, oh my god Seungcheol no, I couldn’t- I mean you’re already doing so much for me and-” A warm hand cups touches your forehead, promptly cutting off your rambling as your frantic eyes meet Seungcheol’s warm gaze. Fuck he shouldn’t look at you like that. 

“No offense Y/n but you look like you’re on the verge of hypothermia, you need the bed more than I do.” His hand moves from your cheek to pat the top of your head as you huff, letting Seungcheol guide you to his room where. You can’t help but feel guilty as you watch him rummage through his closet before emerging with a victorious smile and a large T-shirt. 

“Wear this- before you argue,” He cuts off your protests before they can even start, “think of it as me not wanting dirty clothes on my bed and, as much as I would love to see it, you are way too cold to be sleeping in panties tonight.” 

Your face flushes as you grab the shirt he holds out to you, avoiding his gaze. “Thank you Seungcheol. Really. I’m sorry that you have to do this, but I really do appreciate it.” Glancing up at him, you watch as his teasing smirk melts into something different, softer.

“Don’t apologize. I’ll always be here if you need help with something, what are neighbors for?” walking towards the door, Seungcheol looks back at you one more time, “I normally wouldn’t let you sleep without at least having a warm bath to stop a cold, but I think you’d pass out in the shower if I tried. Get a good night’s rest, yeah? I’ll see you in the morning.” And even after he leaves the room, his warmth stays, the soft gaze he’d given you burned into your eyelids as you drift to sleep.

—

The scent of coffee and bacon wakes you from deep sleep. For a second, you're disoriented, the unfamiliar surroundings causing a brief panic before switching to embarrassment as memories of last night flood back. You're in Seungcheol's bed, wrapped in his sheets that smell faintly of pinewood and something uniquely him.

Sunlight streams through gaps in the curtains, painting stripes across the room. You stretch away the ache in your muscles from the cold and stress of yesterday, tugging the oversized shirt Seungcheol lent you down as you swing your legs over the side of the bed.

Your bare feet hit cool hardwood, as you shuffle towards the bedroom door, following the enticing smell of breakfast. In the kitchen, Seungcheol stands at the stove, his broad back to you.

As you approach, Seungcheol turns, spatula in hand, and flashes you a heart-stopping smile. "Morning. How are you feeling?"

You run a hand through your sleep-mussed hair, suddenly self-conscious. "Better, thanks to you. I can't believe that happened."

"Hey, don’t worry about it," he chuckles. "I figured you could use the rest. Coffee?"

You nod gratefully while he pours you a steaming mug. Seungcheol plates up eggs, bacon, and toast. The domesticity of the scene isn't lost to you - here you are, in his clothes, sharing breakfast in his kitchen. It feels dangerously intimate.

"Thanks," you murmur, accepting the plate he hands you. "You really didn't have to do all this."

Seungcheol waves off your gratitude as he settles across from you at the small kitchen table. "It's no trouble. Besides, I couldn't let you face the day on an empty stomach after last night."

You take a bite of the perfectly crispy bacon, trying not to moan at how good it tastes. As you eat in companionable silence, you can't help but sneak glances at Seungcheol. His hair is slightly mussed from sleep, a slight sleepy haze in his eyes. He looks softer like this, less like the polished streamer and more like the boy you’d seen in college.

"So," he says after a while, setting down his mug. "Want to tell me what happened last night?"

You hesitate, your fork hovering over your plate. What were you supposed to say? That you had been thinking of him non-stop for the last 24 hours? That you were a mess whose sense of direction was almost as bad as your work-life balance? That you'd been caught in what was arguably one of your worst moments, by none other than the main cause of your original turmoil?

He seems to sense your internal conflict because he leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. His tone softens, playful but not prying. "You don’t have to, y'know. I just figured you might want to talk about it. Seems like you had a long day, I won’t judge."

You sigh, feeling the weight of exhaustion creep back in. "It’s not even that interesting," you start, avoiding his eyes. " It was just... one thing after another. Fell asleep on the bus, could’t call a taxi caus’ my phone died, forgot my keys at work; Honestly, the world was conspiring against me the whole day, I swear."

Seungcheol hums thoughtfully, swirling the last of his coffee in his mug. "Sounds rough. No one likes walking around in the freezing cold with no way to get inside. It was a good thing I went out when I did, maybe it’s a sign I should take more midnight snack runs."

You laugh softly and promptly ignore the stuttering of your heart, "Hopefully it won’t happen again," you admit. "And… either way it’s not exactly something I want to bother you with."

He raises an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. "You weren’t a bother at all. Besides, I think helping you out is the bare minimum of what neighbors should do, don’t you?"

Neighbor. The word feels heavier than it should, he’s right; all you are to him is a neighbor, nothing more nothing less. You try to play off the feeling of your heart dropping into your shoes, shaking your head with a small laugh. "I have to admit, I’d never have guessed you were the knight-in-shining-armour type. At-night-in-UnderArmour maybe, but this is unexpected"

Seungcheol grins, his dimples flashing. "Hey now, don’t let the frat guy rep fool you. I’ve always been nice."

You laugh at that, the tension in your chest loosening. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

As he rinses the dishes, you take a moment to look around his apartment. It’s cozy, a mix of modern furniture and personal touches—a stack of books on the coffee table, a framed photo of what looks like his old frat brothers on a shelf, and a ridiculous number of gaming peripherals on his desk. It suits him, you think, the same way his easy smile and annoyingly perfect hair suit him.

"So," Seungcheol says, drying his hands before turning to face you. "Any plans today? Or are you planning to crash and catch up on sleep?"

"Work," you groan, already dreading the thought of going back to the office. "I have to deal with a report I butchered yesterday."

"Rough," he says, leaning against the counter. "Tell you what—after work, if you’re up for it, I’ll make dinner. Consider it part two of my neighborly duties."

The offer catches you off guard, but you manage to nod despite the sudden flutter in your stomach. "You don’t have to keep feeding me, you know."

Seungcheol just shrugs, a teasing glint in his eye. "I know. But I want to. Plus, you owe me. You cried on my shirt last night, remember?"

Your jaw drops, heat rushing to your face as you groan. "I did not—!"

"You totally did," he interrupts with a laugh, clearly enjoying your embarrassment. "It’s okay, though. It’s a good story."

"You’d better not go spreading this around mister." you say, pointing a warning finger at him. But the smile tugging at your lips betrays you, and Seungcheol just grins wider.

"Hmm I make no promises madam."

As you gather your things and prepare to face the day, Seungcheol’s warm gaze and easy laughter lingers in your mind, making you feel giddy and guilty at the same time. And as you step out of his apartment, you realize you’re already looking forward to the evening.

—

The day drags on slower than you’d like, each hour feeling like an eternity between the mountain of emails, the endless meetings, and the painstakingly slow process of fixing your stupid report.

By the time you get back to your apartment (with your keys this time, thank god), exhaustion is settled deep in your bones. You drop your bag by the door and kick off your shoes, barely making it to the couch before collapsing in a heap. The thought of getting up, even to change out of your work clothes, feels like an impossible task.

A soft knock at your door jolts you out of your half-asleep state. For a split second, you consider ignoring it, but then you remember Seungcheol’s offer(demand?) from this morning. With a groan, you drag yourself up and shuffle to the door, opening it to find him standing there, a grin on his face and a grocery bag in hand.

"Thought you might be too tired to make it over," he says, holding up the bag. "So, I figured I’d bring the dinner to you."

You blink at him, caught off guard. "You… didn’t have to do that," you mumble, though the smell wafting from the bag has your stomach growling in protest.

He laughs, brushing past you into the apartment. "I know. But you seemed like you had a long day, and I wasn’t about to let you skip a proper meal. Plus, I’m not sure I trust you to make anything edible in your state."

"Hey!" you protest, following him into the kitchen. "I’m perfectly capable of cooking, thank you very much."

He raises an eyebrow, eyes scanning your kitchen clearly unconvinced. "Sure you are. When was the last time you had something that wasn’t instant ramen or takeout?"

You open your mouth to argue, but the words die on your tongue because… well, the empty takeout boxes in your kitchen speak enough. Instead, you cross your arms and huff. "Fine. You win. But only because I’m too tired to argue."

"Glad we’re on the same page," he says, already unpacking the bag and setting up in your kitchen like he owns the place. You watch as he moves with practiced ease, pulling out ingredients and utensils like he’s done this a million times before.

It’s oddly comforting, watching him work. The kitchen feels warmer, cozier, with him in it. You find yourself leaning against the counter, a small smile tugging at your lips as he chats about his day—about how his coworker accidentally sent an email to the entire company, or how he nearly slipped on ice outside his building.

Before you know it, the smell of something delicious fills the air, and your stomach growls loudly, earning a laugh from Seungcheol.

"I guess you’re hungry," he teases, sliding a plate in front of you. 

You roll your eyes but can’t hide your grin as you pick up your fork. "If this is bad, I’m never letting you live it down."

He smirks, leaning against the counter as he watches you take your first bite. The flavors hit your tongue, and you can’t help the satisfied hum that escapes you.

"Okay, fine," you admit, reluctantly. "This is… not bad."

"Sure, not bad. Dare you say good?" he says, his grin widening. "You’re welcome, by the way."

The two of you eat together, the conversation flowing easily. It’s light and playful, with just the right amount of teasing to keep you on your toes. By the time the plates are empty, you realize you’re smiling more than you have in days.

As he helps you clean up, you find yourself glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. There’s something about the way he moves, the way he laughs, that makes your chest feel a little too tight and your thoughts a little too scattered.

"Thanks for this," you say softly as he dries the last plate. "I really needed it."

He looks at you, his expression softening. "Anytime," he says simply. "That’s what neighbors are for, right?"

Neighbor. There it is again, that word. But this time, it doesn’t feel as heavy. Because maybe, just maybe, it’s not about what you are to each other now, but about what you could be.

—

A few days pass in a blurry haze. Seungcheol’s number was now saved in your phone, his occasional texts making you more giddy than you’d like to admit. The two of you occasionally see each other in the hallway, tonight he knocks on your door with food in hand, claiming he made too much and offering you some. You invite him in to share the meal (you’re just being a good neighbor), laughing and joking around as if it was the most natural thing in the world. And honestly, it kind of was. 

Seungcheol insists on brewing you a cup of tea before he leaves, claiming it’s the perfect way to wind down after a long day. You let him, mostly because you’re too tired to argue but also because, well… It's nice having him here.

He chats while the kettle heats up, leaning casually against the counter like he belongs in your kitchen. The way he speaks, the rhythm of his voice, fills the quiet space in a way that feels natural—like he’s not just filling silence but adding something to it.

When he hands you the steaming mug, his fingers brush yours briefly, and you try not to overthink the spark of warmth that lingers long after he pulls away.

"So, any big plans tomorrow?" he asks, settling into a chair at your kitchen table. It feels oddly domestic, like this is something the two of you do all the time. You shake your head, cradling the mug in your hands. "Just work. Again. Though I’m praying for fewer disasters this time."

He chuckles, resting his chin in his hand as he looks at you. "Sounds like you could use a break. Maybe take the weekend off, do something fun."

You snort softly. “Like what, go clubbing or something? Not really my vibe."

"Doesn’t have to be that extreme," he says, grinning. "It could be something simple. A walk in the park, binge-watching a terrible reality show, or trying out that café down the street you keep mentioning but never go to."

You raise an eyebrow at him. "Are you suggesting I take myself on a date?"

"Hey, self-care is important," he says with a shrug, though the teasing glint in his eye suggests he’s enjoying himself. "But if you need a plus-one, I might be available."

The words hang in the air for a moment, and you’re not entirely sure how to respond. Is he joking? Probably. But there’s a softness in his expression that makes you wonder if there’s more to it than that.

"I’ll think about it," you say finally, trying to sound casual. "But don’t get your hopes up, Cheol. I’m not easy to impress."

He smirks, leaning back in his chair. "So it’s Cheol now, huh? Don’t apologize- I like it." he once again practically reads your thoughts, “And here, once you’re done thinking, let me know, yeah? Or in case you get locked out again.” Seungcheol slides over his phone with a new contact open as you roll your eyes, typing your number in anyways.

It’s late by the time he finally leaves, the mug you used now washed and drying on the counter. As you close the door behind him, your apartment feels quieter than it did before. Not in a bad way— the kind of quiet that lets you think. You find yourself replaying the evening in your head: his laugh, the way he somehow managed to turn your chaotic kitchen into a space that felt warm and inviting, the way his gaze didn’t leave you once when the two of you talked.

Shaking your head, you force yourself to focus on getting ready for bed. It’s nothing, you tell yourself. He’s probably just trying to make some new friends in the neighborhood.

But as you crawl under the covers, your mind drifts back to his earlier word, "If you need a plus-one, I might be available." The thought lingers, a soft thread of warmth that wraps around your chest as you grab your phone, typing a message before you can change your mind. Your fingers hover over the screen for a moment before you close your eyes and press send.

You: So how about that date?

The text felt heavier as the three little dots that blink back at you in reply. You hold your breath, heartbeat thudding in your ears.

When his text pops up on your phone, a shy smile automatically spreads across your face as you read it.

Seungcheol: How about Saturday?

Seungcheol: I’ll plan it—just be ready by 10.

The squeal you let out could rival one of a teenage girl on her first date as you kick your feet giddily in bed. Fuck, you were already down so bad. When you hear a chuckle through the wall your phone drops to the floor with a thud as it buzzes again..

Seungcheol: Careful, I might start to hope you’re looking forward to seeing me

This arrogant correct motherfucker. Your fingers type a quick response, trying to save whatever dignity you have left.

You: Saw a spider

You: Anyways where should I meet you?

His response makes your eyes roll with endearment annoyance.

Seungcheol: I think your memories are getting mixed up, spider was what everyone called Hoshi, not me. And no spoilers, just dress comfortably.

—

Two days later, Saturday morning rolls around, and you’re standing in front of your mirror, staring at your outfit for the third time. He said casual, so why are you frantically searching for the perfect attire? 

It’s fine, you think, not over the top. He doesn’t know what your closet looks like anyways, for all he knows you always wear this kind of clothes.

Your cozy beige sweater is paired with jeans and ankle boots, casual but still nice. Your makeup is light, natural. 

A knock on your door makes your heart jolt. Grabbing your bag, you take a steadying breath before opening it.

Seungcheol stands there, hands casually tucked in his jacket pocket, a grin already spreading across his face. His eyes flick up and down your body once, twice, hitching in some areas before finally settling on your eyes.

“You-” He clears his throat, “You look really good.” His eyes flick away from yours briefly, you swear you hear him mutter something along the lines of too good but it must be your imagination, flustered by how the man in front of you seems almost shy.

“Thanks,” you reply, giving him a similar once over to the one he’d subjected you to earlier. 

Black cargo pants with a dark denim jacket (that somehow looks warm) over a white graphic T. The outfit might look sloppy on someone else, but Seungcheol makes it look like he should be on a runway, the clothes draping over him perfectly as though everything was custom-made for him. 

“You don’t look half bad yourself.”

“You really are hard to impress huh?” he teases. “Lucky for you I’m always happy to deliver. Ready to go?”

The two of you walk to the parking outside as you chat, getting into his annoyingly nice car. You can’t help but wonder where he’s taking you as the roads out the window blur. No matter how hard you try to pry the information out of him, he doesn’t budge. A lesson in patience, he tells you. When the car finally stops, you look around, surprised– an amusement park.

“Seriously?” you ask, poorly trying to hide your smile as you stare at him.

“What? Too childish for you princess?” he says with a sly grin. You just hum in faux indignation, giving up on any attempt at hiding your smile.

The park is alive with bright lights, lively music; the smell of popcorn and funnel cakes wafting through the chilly air. You wander through the attractions, playing a few games and riding the tamer rides to start. At one of the stands, Seungcheol picks up two pairs of animal ears, holding them where you can’t see. 

“Pick a side.” he states with a sparkle in his eyes, hands behind his back.

You roll your eyes at his antics and do as he asks.

“Good choice,” he said, handing you a pair of floppy bunny ears, putting the other set- wolf ears- on his own head. “How do I look?”

You snort. “Ridiculous.”

“Come on princess, I think yours suit you perfectly,” he teased, tugging gently on one of the ears now perched on your head. He drags you over to one of the photo-booths scattered around the park and pulls you inside as you laugh.

His arm is wrapped around you, who instinctively leans into his shoulder as the screen counts down. After some more silly shots, the last timer runs on the screen. The two of you are posing when you impulsively turn your head and press a kiss to his cheek as the flash goes off. Before you can try and see Seungcheols expression you quickly get out of the booth, crouching down to wait for the photos to print. A shadow surrounds you but you ignore it, grabbing the two photo stips and standing up, actively avoiding looking at the man behind you until you feel strong arms circle around your waist.

“Don’t get shy on me now, princess.” Seungcheol’s voice is low and quiet, his breath tickling you neck. He gently turns you around in his arms, forcing you to face him. When you do, you can’t help the giggle that escapes your lips.

His eyebrows raise, expression soft and questioning as you raise your hand to his cheek. “You’ve uh.. Got a little something on here.” Before you can wipe off the lipstick mark a hand grabbing your wrist stops you. Seungcheol just hums, the smile on his face growing as he responds. “Leave it there, I like it.”

You look away, flustered, “It might stain.”

His smile only grows further as his hands squeeze your waist reassuringly, “Even better.”

A few more hours fly by in a blur of laughter, shared glances, and the occasional screaming as you ride a roller coaster. As the day winds down, Seungcheol leads you toward the Ferris wheel.

“Ending with a Ferris wheel ride at sunset huh?” you tease with a smirk. “Classic.”

He chuckles. “You’re smiling, so I think it’s worth being cheesy.”

Your face flushes as you step into the car with him, the soft glow of the park lights casting everything in a dreamy haze. As the wheel lifts you higher, you take in the moment—simple, sweet, and perfect.

The car sways gently as it begins to ascend, the world growing smaller beneath your feet. Seungcheol leans back in the seat across from you, his arm casually draped across the edge, as though the intimacy of the situation didn’t seem to bother him at all. Meanwhile, your heart is racing, the memories of the day making it difficult to keep your composure as you keep your eyes trained on the park as it gets smaller and smaller.

“Nice view,” the man across from you murmurs. When you sneak a glance at him, his eyes aren’t on the horizon—they’re focused on you, his soft expression making your breath hitch.

You bite the inside of your cheek, turning to face the window again. “Yeah, it’s beautiful,” you agree, your voice coming out shakier than intended. The warmth of the sunset casts a golden glow across the park below, lights beginning to twinkle as the day faded.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Seungcheol shift slightly closer. “You’ve been smiling all day,” he comments. “Do I get some credit for that, or was it just the funnel cakes?”

You laugh, turning back to meet his gaze. “Oh definitely the funnel cake, But you’re decent company too, I guess.”

He grins, leaning forward just slightly. “Decent? Come on, you can do better than that.”

You raise a brow, trying to hold your ground despite how his closeness makes you feel like melting into the seat. “Don’t push your luck.”

For a moment, there’s nothing but the distant hum of the park and the creak of the Ferris wheel as it carries you higher. His expression softens, and he tilts his head slightly, as though weighing his next words carefully. “You know,” he starts, his voice low, “I wasn’t kidding when I said I hoped you were looking forward to seeing me.”

Your breath catches, and you search his face for any trace of teasing, but his expression is nothing but sincerity with a tinge of nervousness. “Maybe I was,” you admit quietly.

His smile widens, dimples returning with full force as the confidence that had momentarily wavered in his eyes returns. “I’m glad. Maybe I was hoping to see you too.”

The car comes to a stop at the top of the wheel, leaving the two of you suspended in the sky. The view is breathtaking, but all you can focus on is the way Seungcheol’s eyes shine, on the curve of his nose, where your lips are stamped on his cheek, how soft and welcoming his own lips look. His fingers brush your own and your heart is pounding so loudly you’re sure he can hear it.

“Is this okay?” he asks, his voice smooth and steady, as if sensing your hesitation.

You nod, your gaze flicking between his eyes and the hand now gently covering yours. “Yeah. Just… you make me nervous.” As soon as the words leave your mouth you want to jump out of the ferris wheel.

He chuckles softly, the sound halting your thoughts. “Ditto.” he remarks and you swear your heart stops as he leans closer, his voice barely above a whisper. His face is inches from yours, the space between you charged with tension. You could feel the warmth of his breath mixing with your own, the weight of his presence grounding you and making your head spin all at once.

And then, as though the universe decided it hated you, the car jolts slightly, the Ferris wheel beginning its descent. The tension clears, and you both laugh as it dissolves into something softer and more familiar. When you both reach the ground, Seungcheol offers you a hand as you step out of the gondola, not letting go until the two of you reach his car. 

Seungcheol opens the passenger door for you, his hand lingering on the frame as you step in. He waits until you’re settled, closing the door with a gentle thud before walking around to the driver’s side. As he slides into the seat, the soft click of the doors locking echoes in the quiet night.

The drive home is comfortable, the radio humming a mellow tune as the city lights streak past the windows. Neither of you speak much, but for once you don’t mind the silence, it’s comfortable, as if the events of the day are still settling in your minds. 

When the two of you finally arrive at your adjacent apartments, he turns to look at you.

“So,” he begins, his voice carrying that familiar teasing lilt, “did I live up to your standards of being ‘decent company’?”

You roll your eyes, biting back a grin. “I guess you weren’t terrible,” you reply, feigning nonchalance.

He chuckles, shaking his head as he leans against the wall. “I’ll take it. Progress is progress.”

The silence that follows isn’t awkward—it’s heavy with the weight of the day, the laughter, the quiet moments, and the words that neither of you seems quite ready to say.

“Well,” you finally say, your hand moving to the door handle, “thanks for today. I really needed it.”

Seungcheol doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out the photo strip from earlier at the amusement park. He holds it out to you, his fingers brushing yours when you take it.

You glance down at the photos—the silly poses, the bunny ears, the surprised look on his face as you kissed his cheek—and your chest tightens in the best way possible. “Thanks,” you murmur, your voice almost lost in the stillness.

When you look back up, he’s watching you, his expression unreadable. He shifts, fingers lightly grazing yours.

“Hey,” he says quietly, his voice steadier than you feel. “If you’re up for it… we should do this again sometime.”

Your breath catches, and for a moment, all you can do is nod. “Yeah,” you manage, your voice soft. “I’d like that too.”

His smile grows, and for a split second, you think he might lean in, but instead, he squeezes your hand gently before pulling back. “Get some rest.” he says, his tone light but his eyes lingering on yours.

As you open your door, the apartment inside feels emptier than normal. You pause, glancing back at Seungcheol.

“Text me when you’re free,” he says, his grin now fully teasing. “Or, you know, just knock on the wall or something.”

You laugh, shaking your head as you softly close the door. Your heart races as you lean against it, the photo strip still clutched in your hand. You glance down at the images, your smile widening as you run your thumb over the glossy surface.

You were screwed—completely and utterly fucked—but for the first time in a long while, you didn’t mind one bit.

—

Jeonghan is late again, you’d think he’d learn to use his time better on Wednesdays but some things never change, you suppose. You sit across from Hao, sipping on your coffee as he eyes you suspiciously.

“So,” he begins, placing his tea on the table, his voice carrying that signature teasing lilt. “You went on a date.”

You nearly choke, coughing into your hand as you set your drink down. “Excuse me? How do you know that?”

He just smirks, leaning back in his chair with an air of triumph. “I was just guessing but you just confirmed it.”

Your jaw drops at his audacity. “That’s not fair—you tricked me!”

“Hardly,” he replies, stirring his tea with mock innocence. “You’re just too easy to read. So was it good?”

Before you can fire back, a familiar voice cuts in, smooth and teasing. “What’s this about a date?”

You turn to see Jeonghan strolling toward your table, his blazer slung over one shoulder and his hair annoyingly perfect, as if he’d stepped out of a magazine, not his office. He grins as he pulls out a chair to join you.

“Oh, great,” you mutter, sinking into your seat. “Now it’s both of you.”

Jeonghan raises a brow, clearly delighted. “Both of us? This sounds like a story. Go on, I’m listening.”

Minghao smirks, pointing at you with his spoon. “She went on a date.”

“Stop saying it like that,” you shoot back, narrowing your eyes at him.

Jeonghan’s eyes light up as he leans forward, resting his chin in his hand. “Ooh, let me guess, the new neighbor you told us about?”

You sigh, knowing you’re outnumbered. “Okay, okay fine. Yes, with the neighbor, and it was nice. That’s all you’re getting.”

“Nice?” Jeonghan repeats, feigning disappointment. “That’s all? Come on, you can do better than that. You haven’t been on a date in god-knows how long and all you can say is ‘nice’?”

“Why are you even here?” you snap, though you couldn’t help the laugh that slipped through.

Minghao tilts his head thoughtfully. “Was it ‘okay’ good or ���planning another date’ good?”

“I’m betting it’s the second one.” Jeonghan said, his voice lilting. 

You groaned, dropping your face into your hands. “Why do I tell either of you anything?”

Jeonghan flashes his signature cheshire smile, nudging your arm. “Because we’re your favorite. Now, come on. Was there a spark? A magical moment? Did you trip over something and land in his arms? Don’t leave us hanging.”

“Nothing like that, you dork.” you respond, trying to hide your smile but failing miserably. “It was just... fun. Exciting. Better than I thought it would be.” Jeonghan and Minghao exchange a look, one of those silent, unspoken conversations that only the three of you could understand.

“Definitely planning date two,” Minghao says, deadpan.

You groan again, but the warmth of their teasing—playful and supportive—makes it impossible to be annoyed. “I hate you guys,” you mumble, though your laugh gives you away.

“And yet,” Jeonghan teases, raising an imaginary glass, “you keep us around. To your nice, hot neighbor for finally getting you out of your apartment!”

Minghao raises his tea to join in. “Cheers to that.”

Rolling your eyes, you clink your mug against theirs. “You’re both insufferable.”

“For sure,” Minghao says with a smile, “that’s why you love us.”

—

Weeks pass in a blur of updating your nosy friends and texting Seungcheol, soon enough you find yourself looking forward to his messages, giddy feelings replaced with warmth and comfort. The banter is light but always at the edge of something more lingering between every word.

Cheol: So u finally going to admit that you miss me?You: I don’t wanna lie to you Cheol.Cheol: You say that now, but wait until this weekend. You’ll be begging for more.You: Oh? What if I have plans this weekend? You know, being busy and all that.Cheol: Then I guess I’ll have to cancel my dinner reservations :(You: We can't have that can we?

The next message is an address and the words: 7pm

Saturday evening comes faster than you expected, and when you glance at the clock, the realization hits that you’re running behind. You rush to get ready, a mix of excitement and nerves churning in your stomach as you pick out an outfit matching the nice restaurant Seungcheol had sent you. You want to show him a side of yourself that’s more than you coming home or leaving for work.

You choose a dark red dress that hugs your curves in all the right places. The neckline dips just low enough, an elegant slit running up the side. Paired with black heels and a sleek necklace dangling almost dangerously low, it feels just right. You spend a little extra time on makeup, defining each feature and topping it off with a red lip that matches your dress. By the time you’re finished, you feel more confident than you have in a while.

A knock at your door sends a rush of adrenaline through your veins.You check the mirror one last time before stepping toward the door, trying to keep your composure.

When the door opens Seungcheol just stands there for a second, his eyes scanning you from head to toe. The intensity of the gaze almost has you feeling self-conscious, until you see the way his eyes take on a slightly glazed quality instead of the usual teasing glint.

“Damn,” he finally breathes out, his voice low and shaky. “You look… wow.”

You bite back your smile, feeling your cheeks heat up at his gaze. “Thanks,” you say, trying to act nonchalant, but failing miserably.

He steps closer, his gaze still lingering on you, and you can almost feel magnetic pull in the space between you. “I… ” His eyes flick down to your heels and then back up to your face, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. “I might need to take a second to adjust.”

You chuckle, feeling the warmth of his hands burning your hips through the fabric of your dress, “Well, would you look at that? Choi Seungcheol is actually tongue-tied.”

Seungcheol’s grin widens, “How could I not be speechless when you look like that?”, he asks before taking your hand and leading you to his car. The ride is short, but this time, it feels different. The air between you is thick with anticipation, neither of you speaking much—words feel unnecessary when the moment speaks for itself.

When you arrive at the restaurant, the valet greets Seungcheol like an old friend, and you can’t help but notice the way he carries himself—confident, composed, like he belongs in this world. He guides you through the entrance, a small smile on his face as gently takes your hand.

The restaurant has an air of quiet elegance, the kind that feels effortlessly luxurious. The lighting is soft, casting a golden glow on the crisp white table-cloths, the flickering candlelight adding a comforting warmth. The faint murmur of conversation fills the background, but you feel as if the two of you are in your own little world.

Seungcheol pulls your chair out for you as you sit, and you can't help but feel a little overwhelmed by how natural he makes everything feel, despite the grandeur of the setting. You settle into your seat, your hand instinctively resting on the edge of the table, your fingers brushing the silverware as you glance around. The atmosphere is luxurious, yes, but there’s something reassuring about the way Seungcheol carries himself, like he’s right at home here.

Once the menus are set in front of you, Seungcheol doesn’t hesitate. He scans the offerings with a casual air but glances over at you as you study the menu in your hands. "Don't let the fancy setting fool you. The food here is surprisingly good. I’ve been here more than once.” he says, his voice smooth and low, the confidence he carries in all things evident in the casual mention.

You chuckle, glancing up at him. “Take a lot of your dates here, do you?”

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow, that signature smirk tugging at his lips. “Only one.” 

You can’t help the shy smile that spreads across your face, “Who would have known you’re secretly a softy.”

He leans forward slightly, lowering his voice as though sharing a secret. “I’ve got layers, princess. Lots of layers.”

The way he says it, so effortlessly confident, causes your stomach to flutter a lot little. You take a sip of your water, trying not to let him see how much he’s affecting you. “I’m sure. I bet you’re the life of the party at places like this.”

Seungcheol smirks and leans back in his chair, clearly pleased with your reaction. “I can be. But I also know when to appreciate the quiet nights. Sometimes it’s better to enjoy the little things.” His gaze shifts to meet yours then, a quiet intensity in his eyes. It’s a subtle change, but one that makes your heart race.

You swallow, suddenly acutely aware of his gaze. You glance at the menu again, though you haven’t truly registered anything on it. “I’ll take your word for it,” you manage, trying to keep your voice steady.

When the waiter returns to take your order, Seungcheol speaks for both of you, his choices seemingly effortless. You take the time to fully appreciate the man in front of you; the way his red tie is the same hue as your dress, how his white button up stretches across his chest giving an outline of a fit physique further supported in the way his sleeves strain against his arms. 

Seungcheol clears his throat, and you realize you’ve been caught red-handed, so you decide to just shrug because yeah, he’s hot. There’s something more serious about the way Seungcheol watches you now, his eyes tracing the curve of your neck, the way the candlelight plays in your hair. It’s as if the energy in the room has shifted, becoming a little more personal.

“I have to admit,” he says after a long pause, his voice softer than before, “I’m having a really good time.”

You laugh, but it’s not from nervousness. It’s a genuine sound. “You’ve been teasing me nonstop for days. I’d hope you at least had a good time after all that hard work.”

His lips curve into that familiar teasing smile. “I’ve been doing more than teasing. You just don’t realize it yet.” He tilts his head slightly. “I’m glad you came, though. Really.”

The words, simple as they are, catch you off guard. It’s one thing for him to be flirty, but for him to show this side of him, this quiet sincerity... you weren’t prepared for it.

Before you can respond, the drinks arrive—a crisp white wine for you, a rich red for him. The clink of glass as it’s set on the table draws you back into the moment. Seungcheol raises his glass, his eyes locked on yours. "To good company," he says, his tone earnest but playful.

You smile and clink your glass against his, the material cool against your fingers. “To good company,” you repeat, your voice just as soft.

The conversation flows easy after that, not forced, but natural. He talks about his favorite restaurants, his travels, and how he’s surprisingly fond of quiet nights. You find yourself opening up more than you intended, sharing stories about your childhood, what drives you, what you love most about your work. He listens intently, his gaze never wavering, his attention fully on you. As if every word matters to him, every sentence is important.

It’s hard not to notice how his gaze shifts from playful to something more thoughtful as you speak, his eyes locking on yours with an unreadable emotion that makes your breath catch every time. You don’t want to admit it, but his attention feels like a constant pull on your thoughts, something that you can’t seem to escape.

When your meal arrives, the soft clink of silverware against the fine china is the only sound for a moment. You both pause, then Seungcheol leans back slightly, eyeing your plate with a mischievous grin. “You’re not going to finish that, are you?” he teases. “I’ll be happy to help.”

You raise an eyebrow, shooting him a playful glance. “I think I’ll manage just fine.”

The two of you laugh easily over the shared dish, the comfortable intimacy of it all settling around you like a familiar blanket. It’s rare to feel so at ease with someone in this kind of setting, but with Seungcheol, it’s effortless.

At some point during dessert, Seungcheol reaches across the table and gently runs his thumb along your hand. The motion is slow, deliberate, and for the first time, he’s not teasing. His touch is softer, and his eyes—god those eyes—hold a sincerity that has you feeling like you’re the only person in the room–in the whole world even.

“You know,” he murmurs, “I’m really glad you agreed to come out with me tonight.”

You hum, feeling a flutter deep in your chest. “So you’ve mentioned.” 

After a moment you respond again, “I am too.”

You both sit in silence for a moment, the tension between you now wrapping around your mind and dulling the outside world. The soft clink of glasses, the quiet hum of the restaurant, the distant murmur of conversations... it all fades into the background.

Finally, after a long moment of simply looking at each other, Seungcheol stands and walks around to your side of the table, offering his hand. “Let’s go,” he says, his voice low but steady.

By the time you’re at the door to your apartment, the tension between the two of you is almost suffocating. You invite him inside, and Seungcheol takes a deep breath, “I’m not sure if that’s a good idea. I don’t think I’ll be able to hold myself back.”

And when you lean close to his ear and tell him then don’t, it’s like floodgates open. Seungcheol shuts the door behind him, crowding you against it as he leans close to you, hands finding your hips and breath warm against your ear. “Do you even know what you’ve been doing to me all night?” he asks, voice so low it's almost a growl.

You smile, hands trailing up his torso to wrap around his neck, “I guess I clean up well.”

Seungcheol chuckles darkly, experimentally squeezing your hips,  “Too bad I’m gonna get you all dirty again.”

When he tilts your chin up to meet his lips, you expect the kiss to be hungry, as desperate as he has you feeling, instead Seungcheol kisses you slowly, tenderly with a sweetness rivaling ambrosia. Your arms wind themselves around his neck, pressing yourself harder against him as if even a second apart would be painful because, quite frankly, that’s how kissing him felt. He takes his time to savor each brush of your lips on his, each sigh that you breathe into his mouth.

Seungcheol looks absolutely ruined. His pupils are blown out, hair messy with your hands in it and red lipstick smeared on his swollen lips. You’re sure you don’t look much different, as the two of you crash back together at the same time. This kiss is how you expected the first to be, hungry, desperate, and hard.

Even when your lungs burn for air your lips chase after him when he separates from you, pupils blown out, hair messy, your lipstick smeared across his mouth, Seungcheol looks absolutely ruined. 

The only thing you can hear is breathlessness before you’re tangling your fingers into his hair to crash your lips together again. Seungcheol presses into even more, hands pushing against your door as he intoxicates you once more. The kiss isn’t soft this time, lust taking over and pulling the two of you into each other. His hand moves to your jaw, switching the angle and taking away any last bit of brain function you have because even when kissing you with such passion Seungcheol still isn’t rough with you. He kisses you with a confidence and control that has you whimpering into his lips.

The sound clearly affects him, his tongue prodding at your lips and a small breath leaving him when you open your mouth further. He starts exploring your mouth as his hands move to explore your body, sliding up and down your waist to your thighs, where he squeezes before lifting you up seemingly effortlessly. 

“Your room?” Seungcheol murmurs into your mouth. You break apart from him once again, hands on either side of his face, forehead resting against his. “Same layout as your apartment.” You recall, resuming the kiss once more as he carries you over to your bed, gently setting you down on the edge.

He drinks the breathy sound that leaves your mouth when his fingers find the zipper on your back, slowly drawing it down and caressing each new plane of skin revealed to him. You lift your hips, helping him get the dress fully off your body and thrown somewhere on the floor. You try to pull him in closer to you but Seungcheol is frozen. You wiggle impatiently and he just shakes his head at you, a breathy laugh leaving his kiss swollen lips.

“Be patient baby, let me appreciate you, fuck.” The last word comes from a deep place in his chest, an almost guttural sound as his hands gently trace up your legs, hips, waist, settling just below your dark red lace bra that matches your now discarded dress. He looks at you with an awe equal to that of meeting a deity, as if he’d never seen anything more captivating and never will in this lifetime. His gaze makes you flush because you’re just you, sure you put on a pretty matching set but even then you didn’t think he’d be this into it. You apparently verbalize your thoughts unintentionally because Seungcheol looks up at you once more, this time gaze filled with disbelief.

“Just you? Just you? God, you really don’t know how beautiful you are, do you, princess?” The nickname causes a shiver to go down your spine, his hands gently as they move behind you, unclipping your bra. “So perfect, so pretty for me.” His words are accompanied by his hands slowly massaging your now bare chest before he dives into you, mouth ravishing every inch on your skin as he pulls sounds from you. Your fingers find their way to his hair, tugging when he nips at your skin. After thoroughly stealing your breath his lips start making their way down to where you need him most. His nose presses against your core causing an embarrassingly depraved whimper to leave you.

“Fuck princess, you’re so ready for me,” he says as he pulls your panties away from your body, holding them up for you to see the ruined fabric. You don’t have time to think about them as he starts to leave hot open mouthed kisses on your inner thigh before dipping his tongue ever so slightly into your weeping hole. Your hands tug slightly on his hair and seemingly break whatever resolve he has as he starts to devour you. He knows exactly when to slow down, licking your cunt up and sucking in ways that have your head spinning. Your insides clench around nothing, leaking arousal as his lips wrap around your clit. He drinks all of your juices, his tongue collecting your wetness like water. 

When he focuses his tongue on your hole, prodding timidly inside you as your walls beg to be stretched, your hands tug harshly at his hair, making him moan right into your cunt, as if he’s enjoying the pull of his hair as you use him for your pleasure. Your orgasm approaches at the speed of light, quicker than you’d ever thought a man could pull from you.

You spasm with each swipe of his tongue that gets faster as he notices how close you are. When he decides to focus on teasing your clit, something snaps in you and you come undone on his tongue. 

He practically makes out with your cunt, stretching out your orgasm and making your legs tremble at his sides. You can feel the big smirk across his lips through your pleasure-induced haze. He doesn’t move away even when you start to feel over stimulated, you tug on his hair.

“You can give me one more, right princess?” He looks like something straight out of a porno, mouth covered in you, hair messy between your fingers, how could you possibly resist such a sight, especially when his finger runs up and down your entrance teasingly.

“Please” is all you have to say before he disappears once more between your legs. His fingers start to stretch out your walls, tongue lapping up any juices that escape. The pounding of his fingers inside you drag you close to the edge faster than before, and when his fingers graze one spot you’re seeing stars.

“There, right there fuck Cheol please–” your words get cut off by a breathy moan as he sucks on your clit, vision going blurry as you come on his fingers. When you’re coming down from the high, you watch as he takes said fingers and licks them clean with a groan, “You might just be my new favorite meal, princess.”

Your eyes roll at the comments as you shakily climb to your knees, earning a raised eyebrow from Cheol as you grab his shirt to pull him towards you, “You’re looking way too clothed to be saying that right now.” You mutter, making quick work of his buttons. His laugh turns into a groan when you press a kiss to his neck, sliding his shirt off of him and running your hands across the expanse of his torso. His muscles are firm and defined, and you don’t resist the urge to bend over and softly bite his chest, reveling in the choked sound he makes. His hands grab your head, pulling you into a wet kiss as you pull at his pants and boxers, sliding them down his legs to free his hard cock. As you look at it, you find yourself at a loss for words, long, thick, deliciously curved, this man will be the end of you. 

Nothing could’ve prepared you for the first taste of his precum as you envelop his head between your lips. A whimper escapes you, and Seungcheol hisses when you run your tongue along the slit, his hands gripping the back of your neck tightly. “Fuck, princess. Thought about your mouth so many times, but never imagined it’d feel this good,” he thrusts his hips up, causing your movements to stutter as you gag. “You can take a bit more, yeah?” his question ends with a groan, his fingers tightening on your hair. 

You lower your head further in response, taking in another more of him. His hand on your nape encourages you to move faster, and you swallow around him, eyes fluttering open when he tugs sharply at your hair.

“Fuck, just like that baby, want you to choke on it,” his voice is gravely and low, the sound going straight to your core. The tip of his cock hits the back of your throat and your eyes start to water. You pull away to catch your breath, still stroking him as you regain composure.

“Fuck my throat,” you beg ask, “Please”

A smile dangles on the corner of his lips as he guides himself into your mouth, smirking at how your eyes roll back in pleasure. “Well since you asked so nicely.”

You whimper around him, losing your sanity with each thrust of his hips, every tug at your hair. Suddenly he pulls you off his cock, cradling your face, “You fucking love that, don’t you?” he asks with a sweet, syrupy voice, brushing away your tears. There’s no room left for embarrassment, so you nod, closing your mouth around his thumb. He crashes his lips to yours in response before pulling away suddenly.

His eyes widen as he looks around, suddenly looking frantic, “Shit, condoms. Stay here, I’ll quickly get dressed and run to my–”

“Are you clean?”

Seungcheol’s eyes go wide at your suggestion before slowly nodding, “I got tested last month, you’re not suggesting…” His voice trails off.

Have you ever let anyone hit it raw? Absolutely not. Did you have the patience for him to go to his apartment and grab condoms? Also absolutely not.

“I’m on birth control, clean, and way too fucking horny for you to be anywhere except inside me.” You state blankly. He shakes his head in astonishment before climbing on top of you, kissing you once more. 

“God, you’re perfect.” he sighs, lining himself up with your wet entrance. He looks at you one more time for approval. “Ready?”

“Please�� Fuck!” you nearly scream as his head slides inside you, eyes squeezing shut. Turns out his fingers weren’t enough. His arms shake where they rest on each side of your head, seemingly as affected as you are. He barely pulls out before fucking into you with a little more force.  “Shit, you’re so tight, fuck.”

“Cheol please,” you gasp, not quite sure what you're asking for when you latch onto his back, holding him close to you. His thrusts gain strength, and suddenly he’s bottoming inside you. You’ve never felt this full in your life as Seungcheol waits for you to adjust, pussy spasming around him in ways that make his eyes roll back. When you give him the okay he pulls out slowly, so you can feel every vein as it drags on your walls before he fucks back into you.

His pace starts to get faster and the sounds from both of you sound straight from a porno, but you don’t care because all you can think about is how good his dick feels inside you, how full you feel. From this position, you can see the way his face contorts in pleasure, brows furrowed and bottom lip pulled between his teeth. Lowering his head to envelop one of your nipples between his lips and sucks hard. “Fuck princess, you’re so perfect shit– pretty pussy made for me, huh?”

“For you,” you pant, thoughts reduced to just the feeling of him inside you. “All for you Cheol.”

His mouth curves into a soft smile as he drives into you again, this time even deeper. Each thrust has you gasping, your body arching off the bed to meet his. Seugcheol’s hand slides down to grasp your hip, squeezing the soft skin and pulling you harder against him, impossibly closer. 

“You’re perfect princess, my perfect pretty baby,” he slips his free hand between your bodies to find your clit, and the moment his fingers make contact with it, you can’t help but whine. “So fuckin’ perfect,” he repeats, more to himself than to you, voice strained as he tries to hold himself back, chasing your release before his own.

The pressure inside you builds up, tightening, and you’re sure you look like a mess, sweaty and sticky, but the way he looks at you makes you forget everything else. “Cheol, I’m—” 

He picks up speed, snapping his hips faster. “I’ve got you baby, let go for me. I’ll take care of you,” his pace becomes erratic, digging his fingers into the softness of your thighs as the headboard keeps slamming against the wall (thank god his room is the only one next to yours). Your body obeys him, a gast tearing through you as you moan Seungcheols name like a prayer. “That’s it, fuck, that’s it,” he doesn’t stop, fucking you through your orgasm. His eyes snap to your face, his expression as wrecked as you feel. “Tell me where—.”

“Inside.”

“Shit, are you sure?”

“Fill me up Cheol, please. Want it so bad.”

He’s not strong enough to deny you such a thing. He buries himself inside you, groaning your name as his cock twitches and paints your walls. He ruts against you, his body trembling against yours before he collapses beside you, pulling you into his arms and kissing you gently. You almost cry when he slips out of you, hating the feeling of being empty as he finds your bathroom and returns with a towel to clean you up, eventually lulling you to sleep.

—

The first thing you register when you wake up is warmth— you soft sheets tangled around your limbs, the lingering scent of cologne woven into the fabric. The second thing is weight, the steady rise and fall of a chest beneath your cheek, an arm draped around your waist, fingers splayed possessively over your hip.

Your eyes flutter open, and for a moment, you’re disoriented. The golden morning light filters through the curtains, casting lazy patterns across the room, but it takes another second for reality to catch up.

Seungcheol.

His presence is unmistakable, the solid warmth of him anchoring you even before you tilt your head up to look at him. His face is relaxed in sleep, soft in a way you don’t think you’ve seen before. His lashes rest against his cheeks, lips slightly parted, one hand still gripping your waist as if unconsciously keeping you close .

You take a slow breath, careful not to wake him just yet, allowing yourself the luxury of watching him like this. The confidence he always carries, the sharp smirks and teasing remarks—none of it is present in this moment. Right now, he’s just Seungcheol.

Your fingers move instinctively, tracing the curve of his nose, the contour of his lips. His grip on your waist tightens slightly in response, and you hear the low, raspy sound of his voice.

“Mmm.” A deep inhale, then a groggy mumble. “It’s too early.”

You laugh softly, then for a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of your breathing, the quiet of the morning stretching between you. His fingers skim along your spine absentmindedly, tracing patterns into your skin. It’s dangerously intimate, this kind of quiet closeness, and you find yourself holding your breath as you wait for him to say something.

When he finally does, his voice is softer than before. “Did you sleep well?”

You nod against him. “Yeah. You?”

His thumb brushes over your hip, slow and deliberate. “Best sleep I’ve had in a while.”

There’s something unspoken in his words, something that lingers between the two of you, but neither of you address it. Not yet. Instead, you stay like this for a while longer, wrapped in each other. Eventually, though, reality has to creep back in. You sigh, shifting slightly. “We should probably get up.”

Seungcheol groans dramatically, pulling you tighter against him. “Or we could just stay like this.”

You laugh, pushing at his chest again, this time with more force. “You have things to do, and I—”

“—have to stay here and cuddle me,” he finishes smoothly, peeking one eye open again and giving you a peck on the lips. “Sounds like the perfect plan, right?”

You roll your eyes but don’t immediately pull away, allowing yourself one more stolen moment of peace before finally sitting up. Seungcheol watches you, his gaze heavy-lidded, filled with something you can’t quite name. Then, just as you’re about to move off the bed, his hand catches your wrist, stopping you.

You glance back at him, and his expression is unreadable for a beat before he smirks, tugging you down just enough to brush his lips against yours.

“Morning,” he murmurs, and it feels dangerously close to something more.

You swallow, the weight of the moment settling over you, but instead of overthinking it, you smile. “Morning.”

—

A week later you find yourself lying in the same bed, missing the man who had laid with you. The two of you haven’t seen each other since—your schedules never quite aligning—but the texts haven’t stopped. If anything, they’ve only gotten more frequent and flirtatious.

Cheol: You avoiding me or just giving me time to miss you? You: Are those the only options? Cheol: Unless you’d rather admit you can’t stop thinking about me. You: You’re so full of yourself. Cheol: And you love it.

You hate how much you do love it.

You turn and nearly walk into two people standing in the hallway.

“Whoa—careful,” a deep voice says as a steady hand catches your elbow.

It’s Seungcheol. Of course, it’s Seungcheol. He’s standing in front of you, that familiar grin spreading across his face. Standing next to him is a man you instantly recognize—Wonwoo. His calm, sharp features are exactly as you remember, though he seems a little more refined since college. You school your expression, feigning polite curiosity.

“Hey,” you manage, adjusting your grip on the bag.

“Hey yourself,” Seungcheol says, his grin widening. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Uh, I live here,” you reply, trying to keep your tone light despite the sudden thumping in your chest.

Wonwoo clears his throat, glancing between the two of you. “Cheol, are you going to introduce me, or should I do it myself?”

“Right.” Seungcheol gestures toward him. “This is Wonwoo—friend, buddy, compadre, if you will, and frequent pain in my ass. Wonwoo, this is…” He pauses, “Her.”

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow but extends a hand to you. “Nice to meet you, ‘Her.’ Or, nice to see you again, I guess.”

You laugh, shaking his hand. “Nice to see you too. I’d remind you of my real name, but apparently Seungcheol forgot it.”

“Hardly, you’re the only thing he’s been talking about recently. You were friends with Kwan’, right? I think I crashed your study sessions a few times.”

The mention of Seungkwan brings a smile to your face, he’s now roommates with Jeonghan, even though he’s grown so much since you first met him the younger boy will always have a special place in your heart, “Yeah probably, he always had someone tagging along with him. That kid was a real social butterfly.” Wonwoo opens his mouth to respond but Seungcheol cuts him off.

“Yeah, great, glad you guys are close.” Seungcheol crosses his arms over his chest, tilting his head as he studies you. ”Small world and such.”

Your stomach twists slightly, but you keep your expression neutral. “Yeah, crazy coincidence. It’s almost like we went to the same school.�� you say sarcastically, “So, what games will you be playing today?” 

Seungcheol narrows his eyes at you, “Who said anything about playing games?”

You swear your heart stops at that moment.

“Oh-uh,” Think, think, think, “Well the walls don’t do a very good job at masking your swearing at night, just assumed that’s what was going on.” 

Wonwoo, ever the observant one, stays quiet, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—like he’s connecting dots that you’d rather he didn’t.

“Sure,” Seungcheol responds, still watching you closely. “Anyways, we should get going.”

You nod, stepping back toward your door. “Yeah, it was nice seeing you both. I should put these away before they melt.”

“Uh huh,” Seungcheol mutters, stepping aside. Wonwoo simply nods politely, his expression calm but unreadable.

Once inside your apartment, you set the groceries down with a sigh, your mind racing. You didn’t slip up that bad, right? At least you had covered your mistake pretty well? Still, there was something about the way Seungcheol looked at you– like he was trying to piece together a puzzle– that left a sinking feeling in your stomach.

—

Another few days pass before you hear from Seungcheol outside of the usual teasing texts. You’re curled up on your couch when your phone buzzes.

Cheol: So, are you going to keep eavesdropping through the walls, or are you finally going to come over and play?

You roll your eyes but can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips.

You: Who says I want to play?

Cheol: You wound me. But fine, if you’re too scared to lose, I understand.

You: Oh, please. Like you could actually beat me at anything.

Cheol: Prove it. Tonight. My place.

You hesitate for a moment. It’s one thing to comment on him playing games, but actually playing with him? You can’t be sure you won’t slip up again. But then again, you can’t let him think you’re scared.

You: Fine. What time?

Cheol: 8. Wonwoo will be there. And a few others. Don’t be late.

You stare at your screen for a moment before shaking your head. There’s no way this is a good idea, but you’re already getting up to change.

—

At 8:03, you knock on Seungcheol’s door. He opens it almost immediately, as if he had been waiting for you.

“You’re late,” he says, pouting slightly.

“It’s literally been three minutes, you big baby.”

“Three minutes too long.” He steps aside, letting you in. “Come on, the others are already here.”

His apartment is warm and filled with an easy kind of chaos. Wonwoo is lounging on the couch, a controller in hand, looking perfectly unbothered as he glances up at you. “She showed.”

“She did,” Seungcheol confirms, closing the door behind you.

At the other end of the room, four other guys are gathered, already deep into conversation. Seungcheol gestures toward them. “These are the guys. That’s Jihoon—" he points to the one sitting cross-legged on the floor, focused on a laptop. Jihoon barely glances up, offering only a short nod. “Vernon—” the boy next to Jihoon gives a small wave, expression relaxed. “Mingyu—” the tall one grins and throws an arm around Seungcheol’s shoulder. “And Soonyoung.”

Soonyoung—who you recognize from random campus events back in college—immediately brightens. “Wait, I know you! You were friends with Seungkwan, right?”

You laugh, nodding. “Yeah, that was me.”

“Small world, huh?”

Seungcheol claps his hands together. “Alright, now that introductions are out of the way, let’s get down to business.”

“Games,” Mingyu supplies helpfully.

“Winning,” Seungcheol corrects, looking directly at you.

You raise an eyebrow. “You wish.”

He grins. “We’ll see.”

—

The first game is an intense round of Mario Kart, and to no one’s surprise, Wonwoo dominates. “You guys suck,” he mutters as he crosses the finish line first yet again (as if you and Seungcheol weren’t on his tail the whole time).

“Okay, okay,” Seungcheol says, waving a hand. “Let’s switch it up. How about teams?”

You find yourself paired with Jihoon, who simply shrugs. “You ready?”

You smirk. “Let’s kick some ass.”

“Hell yeah.”

The match starts, and it’s immediately clear that Seungcheol is more competitive than he let on. The room is filled with laughter, shouts of victory, and groans of defeat. Soonyoung nearly falls off the couch at one point, yelling dramatically when your car pulls ahead of him.

Through it all, you feel yourself relaxing, the nervous energy from earlier fading away. When you glance at Seungcheol, he’s already watching you, his expression unreadable for a moment before he grins again.

—

As the night stretches on, the games gradually give way to easy conversation and laughter, drinks appearing in everyone's hands. Mingyu pours shots for everyone, insisting on a toast to new friends, while Soonyoung—already a little tipsy—challenges Jihoon to a battle of wits (which mostly consists of Jihoon sighing heavily while Soonyoung rambles on).

You find yourself nestled into the couch, comfortably warm from the drinks, the buzz of conversation wrapping around you. Seungcheol drops down next to you, draping an arm along the back of the couch. “Having fun?” he asks, a teasing lilt to his voice.

You let out a quiet laugh. “Guess you’re not as unbearable as I thought.”

“High praise.” He grins, taking a sip from his glass.

Eventually, the night winds down, one by one, the others heading out or claiming their spots to crash for the night. You stretch, standing up to grab your things. Seungcheol watches you with an amused glint in his eyes. “Need someone to walk you home?”

You raise an eyebrow, a huffed laugh leaving you. “What, for the whole two feet I need to walk?”

“Exactly,” he says, standing up and smirking. “Wouldn’t want anything to happen to you in the five steps it takes to get there.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips as he walks you to your door anyways. As you turn the key to your apartment, you look back at him, maybe it’s the alcohol in your system, or maybe it’s the confidence from meeting his friends that has you leaning up to place a soft kiss on his lips, “Goodnight, gamer boy.”

You realize your mistake the next morning, hoping he didn’t.

—

Still, life goes on, months pass by with you and Seungcheol seeing each other but never giving what you have a label. Your affection for the man starts to pile more by the day along with your guilt, feeling as if you’re betraying him with every brush of your skin on his. Tonight you’re curled up comfortably by his side, his TV playing some rom-com in the background as the two of you feast on fried chicken and soju, a perfect evening. You don’t know when your conversation became talking about your childhood, but you don’t care as Seungcheol tells you a story of the messes he got into with his older brother.

“You’ve always been a trouble-maker haven’t you?” you exclaim, kissing the tip of his nose. He giggles, humming in response and you admire the way it makes his face light up, warming your heart. Everything is so perfect, the way his arms wrap around you, the way the alcohol makes your brain slightly fuzzy. How he presses kisses all over your face as you laugh, finally getting a real kiss pressed to your lips as he lays you down on his couch. Sweet, gentle, and full of an emotion you don’t want to name. When he pulls back the same emotion fills his eyes.

“I really like you, you know?” he says shyly. You nod in response, smiling up at him. “We should make things official then, yeah?” You’re about to nod when the guilt you’ve been suppressing comes back stronger than ever, “I- I’m sorry.” You tell him. Before he can question you further, you stand up, rathering your stuff, “I’m really sorry Cheol.” You say once again before leaving his apartment, too drunk and too scared to face him.

The next day, as much as you try to avoid him, you run into Seungcheol in the hallway and he stops you. His teeth worry at his bottom lip, brow furrowed, “We need to talk about last night. Did I do something? I thought we– I thought things were going well but– just.. Tell me what I can do. Please?”

His words shatter any resolve you had to keep things from him.

“I know you stream.” the words fall from your mouth and make the man in front of you go ridged, “I mean, I’ve watched you a few times– more than a few– I found you a few months before you moved in and didn’t really know what to do.” You wring your hands together, too nervous to look him in the eye.

A few moments pass before he replies, “So what, you just planned on never telling me? Even after we started hanging out? After we… after everything?” His voice sounds defeated, broken. You shake your head but no sound comes out of your mouth. What could you say? Had you ever planned on telling him? You never knew things would get this far, if you did would you have told him sooner. You can feel Seungcheols heavy gaze on you, prompting you to speak, “I— I don’t know Cheol. I’m really sorry I just- I don’t know.”

He nods in response, and you can practically feel your heart drop, “Give me some time.” Is all he says before walking away, leaving you feeling empty.

Another week passes without a word from Seungcheol. Then another. Guilt is eating you from the inside, you don’t know what Seungcheol is thinking, if he’ll ever talk to you again. You can’t say you’d blame him if he didn’t. Once again at work you start slipping up, eventually Minghao decides that enough is enough. 

“Spill, now.” He says when you take your usual seat across from him. You try to convince him to wait until Jeonghan arrives but he’s firm in his insistence.

“Tell me what's going on, from the beginning. No lies, no excuses, no ‘I’ll figure it out on my own’ bullshit.” And so you do. You start from the beginning, Jeonghan's recommendation, the comfort it had brought you until your new neighbor appeared, the dates, the late-nights, the avoidance. You spill your guts out and Minghao listens. When you finish your tangent he just shakes his head.

“I know I’m an idiot Hao, but what was I supposed to do?” You defend yourself, from what exactly, you aren’t sure. Your throat starts to tighten and Minghao places his hand atop yours on the table, “Hey, it’s going to be okay. You’re overthinking it.” He talks the panic out of you like he has so many times before, guides your breathing and soothes your nerves.

“Just because you’re an idiot doesn’t mean you can’t fix things.” His statement makes you laugh, his hand squeezing yours reassuringly. “Trust me, I’m sure you and your little gamer boy can work things out. Just tell him the truth, the same way you just told it to me.” You nod in response. The rest of the break the two of you talk like you always do, laughing and jabbing your coworkers as Minghao just rolls his eyes at you. 

“Y/n?”

Your name from across the room breaks the comfortable bubble you’d been in with your friend. Seungcheol stands a few feet away from your table, betrayal evident in his eyes. You stand up to go towards him, but his scoff makes you stop in your tracks. He turns on his heel and walks out.

“What are you doing? Go after him, dumbass.” Broken out of your trance you hurry out the door, ignoring how the cold wind bites at your skin, your jacket left behind you. Seungcheol’s back is towards you as you chase after him, grabbing his arm and forcing him to face you.

“Wait a second, I-” 

You’re cut off when he yanks his arm from your grip. Your chest aches when you see the look in his eyes. It’s unfamiliar, the face of the man you once found comfort in contorted into something else, something that scared you.

“Don’t start with me Y/n,” his tone is harsh, cutting through the cold air straight into your chest, “I trusted you, you know that? I really trusted you, I thought- it doesn’t even matter because you turned out to be the same as everyone else. This is all, what, some sort of twisted game? You wanted to get into my life and have a piece of me like every other crazy bitch that watches me, right? Well congradu-fucking-lations, you win. Your sick game is over now.” His eyes looked at you, filled with anger, betrayal, hatred, “And to think, after I started to believe that maybe, just maybe you had a reason to lie to me, that you actually cared about me, I see you with another guy. You can’t even go one week without finding a new boy-toy to play with, can you? You’re just another attention-seeking whore.” 

His words hit you like a slap in the face. Here you are, freezing your ass off to try and explain yourself all for what? Finally all the emotions that have been boiling under the surface start to bubble over, “Excuse me?” Your voice comes out dangerously calm, seemingly stopping Seungcheol’s next sentence. 

“First of all,” you clarify, “you’re the one who moved in next to me, let's not get things twisted. And yeah, I didn’t tell you I knew who you were, you wanna know why? Because the first time I saw you it looked like you were about to have a nervous breakdown because I recognized you. Of fucking course I said I knew you from college, I wasn’t about to make you more uncomfortable than you already were! I haven’t watched a single video since that day out of respect for you and your privacy. You are the one who kept talking to me, you are the one who asked me out, you are the one who kept doing things that would make it impossible for me to not start falling for you. A whore? I’ve been so worried about you that I make stupid mistakes in the simplest fucking tasks at work and my coworkers started to get worried, my friends started to get worried. So I finally tell them what's going on and when they convince me to come clean and explain everything to you, you decide to jump to conclusions. You can say whatever you want, Choi Seungcheol, but don’t you dare think for a second that I don’t care about you.” Hot tears stream down your face, but you don’t care, the words come pouring out from you, and you watch as Seungcheols expression morphs from anger, looking away before you can see what it turns into. His hand reaches out for yours but you pull away, not looking at him because you know if you do it’ll change your mind. “I hope you can find an attention-seeking whore to play with Seungcheol because I can’t do this. Not anymore.”

When you return to the cafe, Minghao doesn’t scold you for letting your emotions control you, offering instead to cover for you so you could go home but you refuse. Because what is home, you think, without Seungcheol. 

You stay at Jeonghans for the next few days, calling out sick from work to instead watch dramas with Seungkwan. He doesn’t question your sudden appearance, nor the tears that fall whenever the drama leads would interact, which you’re thankful for. He gives you a steady shoulder to cry on and a reliable source of laughter to cheer you up. The two of you are currently huddled under a blanket, watching as Ryan Gosling and Rachel McAdams run towards each other in the rain. Your hands are holding his tightly under the blanket as you both squeal when they kiss. When the movie ends tears stream down both of your faces and Seungkwan bumps your shoulder lightly, “Whatever you’re going through must be serious, you never cry during The Notebook.” 

You roll your eyes at his statement, laughing along with him as you turn the T.V. off. He turns to face you, suddenly serious and you know what's coming.

“You’re not kicking me out, are you?” The smile accompanying your joke doesn’t quite reach your eyes, and Seungkwan notices with a sigh.

“You know I would never, but you also know you can’t avoid going back forever. Eventually you’ll need to go back to your apartment.” He gives a pointed look at your too-big hoodie and sweats courtesy of Jeonghan. “Listen Y/n, you know I love you but–”

“I know Kwan’, I know. I’m just scared. Even if I know you’re right. I don’t think I’m ready to face him yet.” You cut him off, tears welling in your eyes once more. Seungkwan clasps your hands in his.

“Remember my senior year when I had a mental breakdown and called you at ass-O’-clock in the morning?” You nod, the memory vague but there. He continues, “I went over to your house and told you I was scared, that suddenly everything felt so real with job applications, interviews, and graduation getting closer. I didn’t know what to do, I wasn’t ready to be an adult yet and suddenly life was being shoved in my face and I didn’t know how to cope. Do you remember what you said to me?” A small smile forms on your face among the tears, Seungkwan giving you a reassuring one in response.

 “There are some things you’ll never be ready for, but the clock still ticks and the Earth still spins, no matter how terrified you are. You just have to do it scared.” 

You recite the words with him, words your parents had told you when you were eighteen and unprepared for college life, words you lived by since then, that had gotten you through your darkest times and happiest moments. Words that you had somehow lost in the chaos of adulting. 

You wipe your face on your sleeve, small laughs replacing your sobs as you look at your lap, “Thanks Kwan.” 

You don’t need to say anything else, he knows, like he always does. Like all of your friends always do because at the end of the day no matter how tough things get you will always have an amazing support system full of amazing friends. No man could change that, no amount of distance could break the bond your little entourage have. Because they, you realize, are home.

Seungkwan wraps you in a warm embrace as you tear up some more, not sad this time. The two of you rock back and forth for a while before pulling away and making eye contact. 

“Tomorrow?”

“Can’t we wait until the weekend?”

“Fine, you stubborn pain in the ass. Saturday. Morning.”

You groan in response but don’t bother to hide the smile on your lips.

—

Saturday morning comes faster than you’d like. The moment your eyes flutter open, reality crashes into you like a wave, heavy and unrelenting. For a fleeting moment, you consider burying yourself deeper into the blankets, pretending that you could stay in Jeonghan’s guest room forever. But Seungkwan’s words from the night before echo in your mind. You just have to do it scared.

With a deep breath, you push yourself out of bed. Jeonghan is already in the kitchen, sipping his coffee with an all-knowing smirk when you walk in. "So, today’s the big day, huh?"

You roll your eyes, reaching for the mug he’s already set out for you. “You act like I’m about to get married.”

“Considering the dramatics, it might as well be.”

You groan, dropping your head onto the counter. “Can you not?”

Jeonghan chuckles, patting the top of your head before walking away. “Just rip the bandaid off, Y/n. You’ll feel better once you do.”

You’re not sure about that, but you know he’s right.

By the time you reach your apartment complex, your heart is pounding so loudly that you can hear it in your ears. The familiar hallway feels foreign, your feet carrying you toward your door on autopilot. You turn the key in your apartment door, the familiar creak of the hinges sounding louder than usual in the quiet hallway. The space is just as you left it—dim, still, and eerily empty. It feels foreign, like you don’t quite belong here anymore. Maybe because, for the past few days, you didn’t. With a heavy sigh, you drop your bag by the door and toe off your shoes, making your way to the couch. The exhaustion from carrying the weight of everything settles into your bones. You lean back, eyes fluttering shut, trying to steady your breathing.

It takes a few days for you to settle back into your apartment. At first, everything feels too quiet. You find yourself reaching for your phone to text Seungcheol before remembering the way things ended. You distract yourself with work, with cleaning, with anything to keep your mind from wandering to the ache in your chest. But no matter how much you try to push it down, it lingers.

—

You haven’t seen him since that night. You don’t expect to. Instead you go back to how things had been before he moved in, ignoring the ache in your chest whenever you hear him through your thin apartment walls. 

Some nights, you lie awake, staring at the photo you had taken with him on your first date, wishing to go back in time. You listen to the faint sounds of his life bleeding through the walls, wondering if he does the same, or if he threw the picture away all together. The murmur of his voice on the phone, the clink of dishes in the sink, the low hum of his TV. It’s almost cruel how easily he seems to slip back into routine while you feel like you’re unraveling. You tell yourself it doesn’t matter. That you’ll get used to it. But the silence in your own apartment is deafening, and the space he left behind feels colder than it should.

You start wearing headphones more often. It helps, a little. Drowns out the ghost of his presence. Keeps you from wondering if he ever pauses, mid-conversation, mid-laugh, mid-breath, thinking about you. You don’t let yourself hope.

But late one night, when you’re standing at your sink rinsing out a mug, you hear it—your name. Soft, hesitant. Muffled by the wall but unmistakable. Your breath catches, fingers tightening around the ceramic. You wait, straining to hear more. A part of you wants to move closer, to press your ear against the wall, to pretend that he’s just on the other side, that nothing has changed. But then you hear footsteps, the creak of his door opening.

And then nothing.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. You tell yourself it was nothing.

But you don’t wear your headphones that night.

—

The next morning, you wake up with the imprint of your phone against your cheek, the playlist you put on last night long finished. Your first thought is that you dreamed it—his voice, his hesitation. That your mind is just playing tricks on you because it wants so badly to believe he still thinks about you.

But then, as you move through your morning routine, you catch yourself hesitating near the front door. You don’t know why. Maybe it’s the weight in your chest, the feeling of stepping into the world once again without him waiting to greet you. You push the feelings aside.

When you finally open the door, you nearly step on something– small and familiar, sitting right in the center of your doorstep.

Your scarf.

You freeze. Your fingers twitch at your sides.

The scarf you’d left at his place weeks ago, back when you still had a place there too. It’s neatly folded, like he took care with it, but there’s no note, no explanation. Just the scarf. You swallow hard, your fingers tightening around the fabric as you pick it up. It still smells like his apartment, like the faint trace of his cologne, like something that used to feel like home.

You stand there too long, cold air slipping into your apartment through the open door, numbing your fingers, your face. Your mind races with all the possibilities—did he find it by accident? Did he mean to leave it for you himself? Did he hesitate, just like you are now?

You don’t know what to do with it.

So you do what you always do—you tuck it away, shove it into the depths of your closet like you can bury the feelings that come with it.

But that night, when you curl into bed, your hand drifts toward the closet door. Before you can stop yourself, you pull the scarf back out. Hold it in your lap. Press it between your fingers. Like maybe, if you close your eyes, you can pretend—for just a little while—that you never had lied to him in the first place.

—

The scarf stays on your nightstand after that. You don’t wear it. You don’t even move it. But you don’t put it back in the closet, either.

It’s stupid, you tell yourself. It’s just fabric. Just something that happened to be left behind. He probably didn’t think twice about it. He was just returning something that wasn’t his, nothing more.

You keep going to work, settling disputes with coworkers who seem to have nothing better to do than fight (you ignore the way you almost reach for your phone to listen to Seungcheols voice as you work).

You keep meeting Jeonghan and Minghao on Wednesdays, occasionally Seungkwan joins the three of you (you ignore the way they glance at you with pity).

Everything is where it’s supposed to be (you ignore how everything you do feels like it’s missing something).

It’s late, and you’re lying in bed, not really asleep, not really awake. The walls between your apartments have always been thin—thin enough that sometimes you can catch pieces of his voice, low and tired, when he’s on the phone late at night.

But this time, there’s no conversation. Just footsteps. The sound of a drawer opening, then closing. A pause. And then, so quiet you almost miss it—your name.

Your stomach twists.

You tell yourself it was just in your imagination, don’t let yourself dwell on why he might have said that because he didn’t (you ignore how you know that’s a lie).

The next morning, you wake up feeling like you never really slept at all. Your body is heavy, your mind clouded with something you don’t want to name. You go about your day like normal—like nothing happened. Like you didn’t hear him say your name. Like it didn’t send a crack through the carefully constructed distance you’ve been trying to build.

But it lingers.

You don’t mean to, but you start listening to him more. Not on purpose—at least, that’s what you tell yourself—but your ears tune in anyway. You notice the little things: the way he moves around his apartment, the late nights he stays up, the mornings he leaves just a little later than he used to.

And then one evening, when you step out of your apartment to grab something from the corner store, you nearly run into him.

You freeze.

So does he.

For a moment, neither of you speak. He looks… tired. Like he hasn’t been sleeping well either. Like maybe he’s been feeling the same weight pressing down on him. Your throat is tight. You should say something. You should walk away.

But then his gaze flickers, just briefly, to your door. To you.

When he starts to turn around Seungkwan’s reminder rings in your head.

Do it scared. 

And before you can stop yourself, before you can think better of it, his name slips past your lips, “Seungcheol.”

His breath catches.

You take a deep breath to steady yourself, “We should talk.”

Seungcheol freezes, hand hovering above his door knob for a second before dropping to his side. When he looks up at you his eyes are full of so many emotions it makes your heart ache; shame, regret, hurt, hesitation. It almost makes you change your mind, but then you see it, the tiniest sliver of hope behind his gaze, that helps you keep going, inviting him into your apartment. He hesitates before entering, you walk in after him, closing the door.

Seungcheol doesn’t sit, so you don’t either. Instead, you stand near the couch, gripping your hands together to keep them from shaking. It’s silent for a moment, you aren’t used to his presence anymore.

“I meant what I said before,” you begin hesitantly. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

His gaze flickers with something unreadable. He responds softly, voice sounding almost broken, “Then why didn’t you just tell me?”

You exhale, the numbed frustration and regret rising again in your chest. “At first I thought it wasn’t important, you were just my neighbor, and you looked nervous when we first met so I figured you’d rather stay anonymous. But then we started to get to know each other and suddenly I was keeping a huge secret and I didn’t know what to do. I-,” You take a deep breath to calm yourself down and stop your rambling, “I was scared. I didn’t want to ruin whatever this was—whatever we were. I thought if I told you the truth, you’d push me away.” You let out a small, humorless laugh. “Looks like I managed to do that anyway.”

Seungcheol sighs, rubbing his hands over his face. “You should’ve given me the chance to decide how I felt about it instead of lying to me.”

You nod slowly, the weight of his words pressing down on your chest. “I know,” you whisper. “I should’ve told you the truth. I should have done so many things differently, but I didn’t, and I hurt you.” You take a shaky breath, forcing yourself to meet his eyes even though it makes your stomach twist. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Seungcheol looks at you, nodding, “Me too. For what I said.”

“Don’t worry, I get it, you had every right to be mad.” You protest. 

He flinches, shaking his head. “Not like that.” His hands ball into fists at his sides before he sighs, running one through his hair. “Yeah, you should have told me. And yeah, it hurt. But what I said to you?” His jaw clenches. “That wasn’t fair. You didn’t deserve that.” His voice is thick with guilt, his brows furrowed in frustration—at himself, not at you as he looks away. “Did you- when we would be together who were you thinking of?”

You tilt your head in confusion, so he elaborates, “I guess what I’m asking is if you just thought of me as S.coups, if you thought it was just another game.” When he meets your gaze once more it’s as if all the confidence was drained from him, he looked unsure, raw vulnerability in the way he bites his lip and wrings his hands together. 

“It was never a game, not for me at least. To me you’ve always been Seungcheol, even when you first moved in, I didn’t really think about your job other than being worried that I would make you uncomfortable by knowing. Even when I’d watch you play, when you were having fun you were Seungcheol playing games like you used to during class. On days you didn’t seem as into it you were Seungcheol doing your job.”

You hear Seungcheol inhale sharply as you continue, “Back then and now you mean so much to me, I never meant to hurt you, but I did. And I don’t expect you to forgive me just because I apologized. If you still hate me that fi–”

You’re cut off by lips on yours, gentle and nervous until you kiss back. After so long it feels like the world finally clicks into place, a hand sliding into yours gently as your tears mix with his.

When you separate Seungcheol’s hand grips yours tightly, eyes still closed as if he’s scared you’ll be gone when he opens them. “I don’t hate you, Y/n.” His voice is softer now, barely a whisper. “I never did.” This time you lean into him, pressing your lips together once more. His free hand moves to cradle your face, yours lightly gripping the front of his shirt. Muttered ‘I missed you’s are scattered between kisses as you make your way to the couch, placing yourself on Seungcheol’s lap when he sits. Neither of you can help the tears on your faces. 

After who-knows-how-long you’re still in Seungcheol’s embrace, his strong arms wrapped around you, drawing slow patterns on your back as the two of you sway back and forth gently. His heartbeat is steady beneath your ear, a quiet rhythm that makes you feel like you can finally breathe easy. You don’t know how long you sit there, tangled together on your couch, his arms around you like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he lets go. Maybe he is. Maybe you are too.

“Thank you. For coming back.” Seungcheol murmurs into your hair. His voice is soft, careful, like he’s afraid of saying too much, of pushing too hard.

You shift slightly, just enough to look up at him. His eyes are still damp, lashes clumped together, and the sight of it twists something in your chest. “Always,” you whisper. “I’ll be here as long as you still want me.”

His breath shudders as he exhales. “I do.” He presses his forehead against yours, voice thick with emotion. “Always did, always will.”

You close your eyes, soaking in the warmth of him, the weight of his hands resting at your waist, grounding you. “No more hiding. No more running.” you say softly.

Seungcheol nods, his grip tightening like he’s holding onto something fragile. “No more running,” he agrees. For a while, neither of you speak. You just exist in the quiet, in the warmth of each other, letting the weight of everything settle. Eventually, Seungcheol chuckles, breath fanning against your cheek. “I don’t want to move,” he admits.

You smile, brushing your thumb against his cheek. “Then don’t.”

His lips twitch into a grin. “You’ll let me stay?”

You pretend to consider it, tilting your head. “Depends. Are you planning on stealing all the blankets again?”

Seungcheol laughs, the sound vibrating against your skin. “No promises.”

You sigh dramatically. “I suppose I’ll allow it.”

His arms tighten around you, his lips pressing a soft, lingering kiss to yours. “Good,” he murmurs. “Because I don’t think I can let go just yet.”

Neither do you.

—

“You ready to lose again?” Seungcheol asks, raising an eyebrow, the usual playful confidence in his voice.

You roll your eyes, scoffing. “In your dreams, Cheol.”

It’s silly, how normal it is, how easy it was to slip into the rhythm of this again. Your friends around you in his apartment, all laughing and having fun.

"Hoshi, I’m going to kick your ass!" Seungkwan yells from across the room, his voice high-pitched with mock frustration.

"You've got a lot of nerve talking, considering you're in last place," Soonyoung teases back, his grin wide and infectious.

"I can’t believe we’re playing this game again," Mingyu groans dramatically, even though he’s clearly enjoying himself despite the complaints.

"You’re just mad because I hit you with a shell. Like this," Jihoon shoots another shell at Mingyu’s cart, the corner of his lips curving upward as he hears Mingyu’s swears.

Seungcheol laughs, his usual confidence shining through as he skillfully handles his character. Every now and then, his hand would brush yours, and in those moments, it felt like time had slowed just enough for you to savor the simple joy of being surrounded by friends—by family.

"You’re about to lose!" Jeonghan said, voice full of amusement as he leaned over to look at the screen.

Seungcheol shot him a mock glare. "You’re not even playing."

But despite the teasing, the tension was long gone. No more waiting for the right moment to speak, no more hiding. It isn’t perfect—nothing ever is—but it's real. And that's enough.

You lean back against the couch, your head resting against Seungcheol’s shoulder as you pull into fourth place with a groan.

Seungcheol leans in, nudging your shoulder lightly with his. “So, when do you plan on winning?” he teases, his grin wider than before.

You glare at him, but the corners of your mouth betray you, lifting into a smile you can’t fight. “I’ll win when I’m good and ready, it’s not my fault my boyfriend is a professional.” you reply, your voice playful as you pout at the man in front of you. He laughs and presses a kiss to your lips, “Boyfriend, huh? You’re trying to use my weaknesses against me aren’t you?” You look up at him with the best innocent face you can manage, “That depends, my dear, is it working?”

“Maybe.”

“Ugh, get a room, you two.” Seungkwan’s complaints cause a wave of laughter as Seungcheol just pulls you closer into his side, sticking his tongue out at the younger boy. The teasing continues for a while longer, but you can feel how the warmth in the room isn’t just coming from the shared space or the game. It’s the laughter, the familiarity, and that makes a smile spread onto your lips. No distance, no walls. Just warmth, joy, and the comfort of being surrounded by people who cared. People who you knew would be by your side through thick and thin because the clocks still tick and the Earth still spins, time moves forward with them by your side to move with it.

A/N: Wooo she’s finally done!! Thx @orngejuic for being my beta reader ilysm.

[lowkeyerror]

Instant Attraction

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 11.5k

Notes: Stepmom!Wanda, pining, masturbation, kissing, thigh riding, cheating, mommy kink, lmk if there's anything else,

Summary: Your dad calls you home from college unable to afford for you to dorm. He doesn’t let you know that in the time you were gone, he had gotten married. When you meet his wife Wanda, you're instantly attracted to her. That attraction doesn't seem so one sided.

An: Could be persuaded to write another part... after I finish my request

Masterlist

You grew up in a single-parent household. Your dad spent most of his time at work, trying to provide you a better life. You could never hate him for that. Your mother, she decided that motherhood wasn’t for her when you were around 5. She left one night and never came back.

You weren’t a very social kid. You had a few friends, but no real affinity for going out. There was a preference on your side of things to stay in, watch movies, and play games. Even when you grew your interest stay the same.

There were times were your father nearly forced you out of the house, just so he could see the sun touch your skin.

You weren’t the smartest kid, but you weren’t an idiot either. You took your average grades and went to community college securing yourself a general AA before you decided to transfer to a Cal State University. Though your father originally paid for you to dorm, he mentioned that it was a bit expensive.

So next semester you’d be commuting between home and school. Honestly, you’d only dormed because your father had pushed for it in the first place. He’d thought it’d be a good opportunity for you to branch out.

Your roommate, Kate was pretty cool, but in actuality she was a bit of a loser just like you were.

“Back so soon Y/n L/n?”

The thick accent made a smile tug at the ends of your lips, “What can I say, I missed the scariest neighbor on the block. Who’s going to tarnish your hardcore image if it’s not me, Lena?”

You and Yelena had grown up together, she’d been your neighbor for as long as you could remember. One of the few people that you’d let into your social circle.

“I’m back to stay. My dad told me dorming was too expensive, so I get to come back home.”

Yelena laughs lightly, “I bet it’s out of his range now since he’s caring for a woman and her children .”

You look at her dumbfounded. Slowly the laughter stops and the smile disappears from her face.

“What are you talking about?”

“Do you not know?”

Her eyes are wide as she stares at you.

“Know what Yelena?”

She begins to sputter, “Holy shit, what kind of father doesn’t tell his daughter this things?”

You grab her by the shoulders and shake her a little, “What kind of things, Yelena? Would you just tell me?”

“Y/n… you’re father. Sometime near the beginning of your semester, he got married.”

Your eyes bulge out of your head, “He did what?!”

“Her name is Wanda, she’s got 2 sons, twins.”

You open and close your mouth a few times. Laughter builds from inside of you and before you know it, it’s spilling out, “Good one Lena, you almost had me there. My father, married. Jesus Christ, this is why I don’t have too many friends.”

“Y/n, I’m serious.”

“Sure you are, now help me take some of this in the house, since you’re here,” you grab a bag from your trunk, shoving it into the blonde’s hands.

You don’t fumble around looking for your keys, instead opting to ring the doorbell. You told your dad you were coming this weekend, and he said he’d be home to let you in.

“Y/n, I’m really not lying about the marriage,” Yelena nudges you as you wait for the door to open.

You roll your eyes, “Even if I did believe you, what poor woman would marry my father?”

You ring the doorbell again, becoming impatient with waiting.

“Red head, green eyes, mother of 2 kids but you can’t tell from her body. She honestly a really attractive woman, don’t know how he did it,” Yelena goes into the details.

You laugh a little more, “This hypothetical woman sounds like my type. Maybe I could steal her from him.”

Yelena joins in on the laughter, “Not with your inability to speak to women.”

You glare at her, “Not funny.”

Finally the door opens, except it’s not your dad. It’s a woman with red hair, green eyes, a body that definitely doesn’t look like she had two kids. You can’t help but gawk at her.

“You must be Y/n, I’m Wanda. Your father told me to welcome you in, he’s working, but he’ll be back soon.”

“Hi, Mrs. Maximoff,” Yelena spoke with a smirk on her face.

“Yelena, it’s good to see you again. Helping Y/n with her bags?”

Yelena nods, “She needs all the help she can get.”

You shove the blonde while maintaining your gaze on the redhead, “You married my dad?”

She laughs at the disbelief in your voice, “Yes, I did sweetheart. Is that alright with you?”

You’re at a loss for words when you hear her call you sweetheart, “I um… I’m going to head to my room.”

You rush into the house and up the stairs past the red head. Yelena offers the woman a bright smile as she trails behind you a much slower pace.

When the blonde enters your old room she finds you pacing back and forth. Your teeth are sinking into one of your knuckles as you try to get your thoughts going.

“So…”

“You weren’t lying,” you whisper, more to yourself than her.

“I was not.”

You keep pacing, “She has two kids?”

“Yup,” she pops the ‘p', taking a seat on your bed.

You pull out your phone to call your dad. The phone rings, so long that you almost hang up.

“Hey kid, what’s going on?”

You feel your anger growing at his relaxed tone, “ I just got home… and there’s a woman in our house. A woman that Yelena told me that you are married to! Dad, what the fuck? When did you get married? Who is this woman? When did you start dating? She has kids?”

“One question at a time Y/n, please.”

You scoff over the phone, “No, you’ve been lying to me for months now, possibly longer. I deserve the truth.”

You hear him sigh over the phone, “You’re right. I wanted to tell you, but I just didn’t know the right time. Wanda and I had been dating for almost 2 years, I didn’t want to introduce you two before I was sure she was the one.”

“Well technically you still haven’t introduced us. You were supposed to be here today.”

He sighs again, “I know kid, but work called last minute. I know I should’ve been there for this, and I’m fucking it up, but I swear Wanda is amazing, you just have to get to know her.”

“When did you get married?”

“A week after you left, it was… spontaneous. We ended up at courthouse and next thing I know, I’m Mr. Shawn Maximoff.”

You furrow your brow, “You took her last name?”

“It sounds cooler,” he concedes.

It does sound cooler so you don’t argue with him.

“I can’t believe you kept this from me. We’re supposed to be in this together. Thick as thieves, I have your back and you have mine, but you’re lying to me about things this important,” you sit on your bed next to Yelena.

“Y/n, I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to I promise. How about I come home right now, and we can talk about it in person?”

“That’s a start,” you relent.

“Alright, I’ll see you soon, love you.”

You let out a sigh of your own, “Love you, bye.”

When you hang up the phone, your head lands on Yelena’s shoulder. She pulls you into her side, rubbing your shoulder for comfort.

“There, there my friend. I’m sure everything will work out fine between you and your father. If not, you could always go with the plan of stealing Wanda away from him.”

You push her away from you, “Not funny.”

Yelena raises her hands in surrender, “It was just a suggestion.”

“Help me unpack,” you begin to unload your belongings.

Yelena deflates, but helps you regardless. When you’re done you can hear a car pull up in the driveway.

“Looks like your dad’s home.”

“Great.”

Yelena starts making her way to your bedroom door, “I love you, but I am not staying for whatever talk is about to transpire.”

“Fair,” you follow her to the front door.

“Last thing, will you be calling her mommy because-"

You open the door and push her through it, “Goodbye, Yelena.”

Your dad walks into the frame, chuckling at the scene. He waves to your friend, “Goodbye Yelena.”

She waves back, “Bye Shawn, bye Y/n.”

He closes the door behind him. Your dad turns to you and opens his arms. As upset as you are with him, you can’t deny him the hug. You wrap your arms around him, and he squeezes you tightly.

“Believe it or not, I really missed you kid.”

“Enough to get a whole new family,” you shot back him.

“That’s fair, let’s talk in the back.”

You agree, but you don’t make it to the backyard before running into Wanda again.

“Honey you’re home early,” Wanda strides past you and kisses your father.

The sight is strange to you. You knew that your father had dated after your mother, but he never brought anyone home. You had never seen him be intimate with anyone, it felt weird. At least that’s what you think the feeling is.

“I am, I owe Y/n an explanation for some things . So I thought it was best to come home and straighten things out.”

Wanda seems to understand what he’s alluding to, “Alright, while the two of you talk how about I get dinner started.”

They kiss again, and this time you turn away.

“Sounds good, let’s go kid.”

You follow your dad through kitchen and to the backyard. He stops for a second in the kitchen to grab two beers, before continuing outside. The two of you sit on the patio chairs, facing out towards the yard.

He opens both the drinks and hands you one wordlessly. You hate beer, but you’re not turning down this moment with your dad.

“I was lonely for a long time when your mom left Y/n. I wanted to unpack those feelings, but there was one feeling that I felt more than loneliness and that was fear. Fear that I wouldn’t be able to take care of you and that someone would take you away. There was nearly 10 years that I pushed those feelings of loneliness down, to focus on you, on us. It was what I supposed to do and I don’t regret it. I know I wasn’t always there for you in the way you needed me to be, but just know I was always thinking about how I could be better for you.”

He stops to take a swig of his beer, “Eventually, once I thought that you were old enough, I started dating. Nothing really stuck until I met Wanda. It was a chance encounter at some coffee place, she’d just had finalized her divorce. I wasn’t sure about it, but I also just couldn’t let her go without giving it a shot. Low and behold a shot turned into 2 years.”

You take a large gulp of beer, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was scared. I didn’t know how you’d react. We don’t really talk about your feelings about your mom, I just didn’t want you to think- that I was trying to put someone in that spot for you."

“I understand that feeling, but I would’ve like to meet her before you know, you got married.”

“It was so just such a quick decision. That we were already married before I realized that I fucked up. There wasn’t a ceremony or anything,” he explains.

You drink some more, “But it’s been months dad. You know I thought Yelena was lying to me in the driveway when she was saying something about a wife and 2 kids.”

He looks into his lap, “The longer I waited, the harder it got. I felt like a kid who was going to get scolded, I didn’t feel like I had the right words. I still don’t think I do. ‘Hey sport, so I’ve been seeing someone for 2 years and I got married how’s your first week of college going’.”

You laugh, “I guess I can see where you’re coming from, but I don’t want to be left in the dark like this ever again.”

“Yes mam,” he salutes you. “So how was your first semester? Get into any trouble, join any clubs, get a girlfriend maybe?”

You stop him there, “Pump your brakes, I still have questions about… your marriage. Like where are the two kids?”

“They’re at their father’s house. They usually do two weeks there, two weeks here. I think they might be spending more time with him this summer. Billy and Tommy are great kids, I think you’d get along with them pretty well. They’re into games and stuff like you. You’ll meet them. ”

“I’m assuming they’re younger.”

“15.”

Your eyes go wide, “She has two 15-year-old kids?”

Your dad chuckles, “Yes, she does. Wanda is actually older than me.”

“Bullshit,” you say in disbelief.

“Swear to god, I’m serious. She’s a really cool person once you get to know her.”

You hum, “Well she’s already in the family, so I don’t really have a choice, do I Mr. Maximoff?”

He gets up from his seat, beer bottle empty, “Isn’t your generation supposed to be the progressive one?”

You follow his lead, downing the rest of your drink, “You’re the one giving it negative connotation.”

“Whatever kid, I'm going to change out of my work clothes. How about you see if Wanda needs any help in the kitchen?”

You take in a deep breath, “I’ll do my best.”

He places a hand on your shoulder, leading you back inside, “She’s a nice woman Y/n, she’s not going to bite your head off or anything.”

Once you’re back inside, your dad heads upstairs, while to go towards the kitchen.

“It smells really good in here,” you say entering the space.

“Thanks, I’m trying something new today. Your dad said you’re a bit of a picky eater, but I hope you’ll like it.”

“Between us, I’ve always just said that because dad only knows how to cook 3 things,” you joke, and find yourself smiling harder when you hear Wanda laugh.

“Let me guess, burger, steak, salmon?”

“You survived eating the salmon?”

She laughs even harder, covering her mouth, “There were a few bones, but it was an honest attempt.”

“Is there anything I can help you with?” You ask, but you can see that she’s about done with everything.

“Could just get the plates for me, I know they’re right by me, but I have to keep stirring or-”

“It’s no problem, Wanda.”

You cut her off politely. The plates are stashed right above the stove. You come up behind Wanda, who is stirring the food in the skillet. You are taller than her so reaching above her is no problem. The only thing that you are unsure about is standing so close behind her.

Your front is only centimeters away from touching her back. When you reach over her, you think you hear her curse to herself.

“Is everything alright?”

“The food just got me a little, all good.”

You grab the plates and sit them on the counter next to her.

“So Y/n I hear you’re an English major.”

You nod, “I am.”

“I was too back in my day.”

You can't help but shake your head, “You look like you could still be in college.”

You see her blush at your words turning off the stove. You don’t know why seeing her blush makes you feel smug, but it does.

“Oh stop it,” she looks away from you.

“I’m serious, Wanda. I would’ve never guessed you were a mother let alone to two teenagers,” you continue to compliment her.

“A lot of people are surprised when I tell them how old I am,” she admits. “They all say that I look good for my age.”

You catch her gaze, “They should just tell you that you look good. Age is irrelevant.”

“You’re quite the charmer Y/n. I don’t blame them, I’m nearly 50.”

Your eyes go wide, “Wanda, I don’t believe you.”

She laughs, “It’s true, I’m 45.”

“I’d believe you if you said 25,” you’re serious when you speak.

The compliment flusters her, “Could you help me take the plates to the table?”

You grab 2 of the 3 plates sitting them at the table. You would’ve thought that Wanda would’ve set her plate next to your dad, but instead she sits next to you.

“You can dig in when you’re ready, no need to let the food get cold waiting for your dad.”

You take her words to heart and begin eating. After the first bite you find it impossible to stop. It tastes as good as it smelt while cooking. You could cry at the home cooked meal. Ramen packets and fast food could not compare. You had been prepared for a burger that your dad made or to go out for dinner, but this was better than you could’ve expected.

“I take it, you like it,” amusement present in her voice as she watches you devour the food.

“I haven’t had a home cooked meal in a long time and if I’m bring honest they never tasted like this.”

“Do you cook at all?”

You nod, “You’re looking at the family chef. I didn’t want to always eat steak, burger, and spaghetti. “

“How could I forget about the spaghetti? He’ll literally eat it all week.”

“Now you see why I was surprised when I found out he was married.”

Your dad finally makes an appearance, “What’s wrong with my spaghetti?”

“Nothing its good spaghetti, but all week dad?

“Well if it’s good, then I don’t see the problem.”

The three of you sit and chat through dinner. It comes surprisingly easy as you find yourself enamored by Wanda. You hang on every word she says, there’s this twinkle in her eye when she speaks. Her expressions are right there on her sleeves.

You don’t miss the way she bites her lip while she’s thinking, or the small hint of an accent in certain things she says. It makes you wonder more about how your dad could ever manage a woman like this.

When everyone is done eating, you stand up and begin to collect the dishes.

“I’ve got it Y/n,” Wanda tries to take them from you, but you stop her.

“No, it’s alright, you cooked it’s only fair I do the dishes.”

She smiles, giving your father a pointed look, “Maybe someone else should take notes.”

He gives you a playful glare, “Home for a couple hours and already making me look bad.”

You start on the dishes, taking the moment to yourself to gather your thoughts. No matter how many subjects you tried to shift through, the one your mind kept falling back to was Wanda.

She was truly one of the most beautiful women you had ever seen in your life. She was a virtual stranger to you, so there was nothing wrong with finding her attractive. You’d only just met her, it would take some time to get used to seeing her as your dad’s wife.

“I think that one is clean.”

Wanda’s voice startles you a bit causing you to jump lightly. Heat fills your face as embarrassment sets in.

“You caught me lost in thought,” your nerves are still high as you speak.

“What’s got you so far away sweetheart?”

You make the mistake of looking into her eyes. The genuine curiosity behind them paired with a gentle worry conveyed by the small furrow in her brow. You’re gawking again, your focus returns to the dishes.

“It’s just been me and my dad for long time.”

“I understand that , I know that you’re just meeting me-"

You stop her, “You’re lovely, Wanda. I’m not- I don’t have concerns about your relationship with him. I just… I don't know where I fit into all of this. With me moving back home, I feel like a stranger.”

Wanda takes the dish out of your hands and sits it in the rack. If she cares about the moisture level of your hands, she doesn’t say anything. She takes them in her own and looks into your eyes.

“This is your home Y/n. You will never be a stranger in it. It’s a lot to get used to, especially when it’s sprung on you so quickly and I'm sorry for that. Consider it my goal to make you feel at home.”

You don’t know when your eyes dropped to her lips, but it was abundantly clear they had when she stopped speaking.

“Sweetheart?”

You blink a few times regaining your awareness, quickly pulling your hand from hers, “Sorry, long day. I think I’ll turn in for the night, but thank you Wanda… for the food and the talk.”

You rush upstairs and close yourself in your room. What you never noticed was the faint blush on Wanda’s cheeks. She had seen you focus in on her lips while speaking. Honestly, she was finding the way you were looking at her hard to ignore. There was such a wanting in them. She was trying to ignore it, while still getting to know you, but that task was beginning to seem difficult.

She decided to wipe up the kitchen area. Her thoughts wander to when she opened the door for you. The way your eyes traveled the length of her body, the way your mouth stayed agape when she spoke.

You didn’t look a lot like your father. Wanda noted that you were tall and sort of lanky like he was, and you had a lot of his mannerisms, but physically she assumed you looked like your mother. You had soft features, that might have clashed a little with your urban aesthetic.

You presented yourself much how your dad described you. A bit shy, but truly a good mannered, funny kid. Wanda expected a little more social ineptitude, but she was surprised with how chatty you ended up being.

She wondered if it had anything to do with the way you perceived her. Truth be told she felt sorry for you, your father should’ve told you about this a while ago. She had heard about you and pressed to meet you, but he always had some excuse to why you couldn’t meet.

“So, what do you think?”

“I wish I would’ve met her a little earlier but she seems like a good kid,” Wanda turns to face her husband.

The man frowns, “I’m sorry, seeing you both interact made me realize that I could’ve done this much sooner.”

“How do you think she’ll interact with the boys?”

He smiles, “Y/n is basically one of the boys. You’ll see that side of her eventually. She’ll be in that room for the foreseeable future, until Yelena or someone else drags her out.”

“I could take her out for a girl’s day,” Wanda suggests.

Shawn laughs at her, “I’ve never known her to be into any of that stuff, but if that’s something you want to do, let me know. I’d probably have to convince her to agree.”

Wanda shakes her head, “I think I can get her to go all on my own.”

“Alright, don’t say I didn’t warn you. I’ll see you upstairs.”

The man makes his way upstairs to the bed. Wanda on the other hand, stays finishing up some minor things in the kitchen, before heading up herself.

She heads straight for the bathroom, ready to get the smell of the kitchen off of her. She wasn’t paying much attention on her way, looking at her phone. That’s how she found herself running straight into you. She would’ve fell if it weren’t your strong grip on her hips.

She went to apologize, but the words died on her lips as she saw water droplets falling from your skin. Her hands pressed against your slightly damp pajama shirt, in order to stabilize herself.

The shirt was thin enough, for her to feel your abdomen through it. She found herself at a loss for words.

“Are you alright Wanda?”

She nods meekly, “Sorry sweetheart, I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”

“It’s no biggie, as long as you’re ok,” you help her fully upright, hands not leaving her side.

“All good, thanks to you,” Wanda struggles to meet your eyes.

You are about to squeeze her sides when you remember who this woman is. Your hands fall to your sides quickly. Nervous laughter build up in your throat, “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Y/n I was wondering if you'd be interested in having a girl’s day with me, before my boys come. I think it’d be good to have some bonding time.”

“I um- I’ve never really had a girl’s day,” you scratch the back of your neck awkwardly.

“Well, it’ll be my treat?”

You nod, “Ok, like tomorrow or…”

“Tomorrow is perfect.”

You give a thumbs up and make your way to your room, while Wanda goes into the bathroom.

You plop straight into your bed, slapping your hand on to your face, “Really Y/n, a girl’s day. What were we thinking?”

You knew exactly what you were thinking. Alone time with Wanda, piqued your interest. The feeling of her in her hands felt like it was etched into your memory. The way she was looking at you made your heart pound in your chest.

As you lay in bed, your mind begins to paint vulgar images in your head. Ones that you had yet to experience due to your introverted lifestyle. The farthest you had gone with another girl was some lackluster dry humping.

That didn’t stop you from imagining your hands on Wanda’s body. The way she softly gasped when your hands stopped her from falling. The feeling of her fingers against your abdomen, blessed for the thing material of your shirt. The addictive color of her lips, and how they could move against yours.

You couldn’t sleep with her on your mind and the wetness pooling between your legs. You sit up in your bed, leaning back against the headboard. It’s only a moment of contemplation, before you stick your hand under the band of your pajama pants.

Your fingers are determined as they draw tight fast circles around your clit. You want to expedite the experience as much as possible. There couldn’t be anytime to dwell on who you were thinking about.

With your eyes closed you could see her taking her shirt off. Her skin soft and cool under your fingertips. A trail of goosebumps in your wake. You could see her craning her neck as you sucked on the exposed skin, marking her as your own. You could feel her hands tugging at your hair, moaning your name as you tasted her.

“Fuck, Wanda,” you came with a grunt. Your eyes still closed as your fingers stilled against the mess you made of yourself.

On the other side of your bedroom door, Wanda was standing there in shock. She had heard some sounds coming from your room after exiting the bathroom. When she realized what the sounds were, she thought she should leave. Yet the sound of her name being whispered on your tongue along with the sound of you playing with yourself, kept her in place.

She found herself worked up after her shower. Wishing that she would’ve cracked the door to see you, touching yourself with her in mind. Simultaneously scolding herself for having thoughts like this running through her head.

She married your father, she liked your father, he was a decent man. He was good to her and her boys. So what if he was always working, who cares that he hid their entire relationship from the most important person in his life, and does it even matter that he hasn’t ever really given her an orgasm. This was her new husband and she shouldn’t be thinking about his daughter in this way.

Maybe asking for a girl’s day, wasn’t a good idea. Being closer to you seemed like a dangerous game, lines that Wanda couldn’t allow herself to cross.

It was hard for her, knowing your young prying eyes were on her. From what she had heard, you already wanted her. The token of a youthful want and desire, it went right to her core.

When she finally made her way back to her room, she had decided that she needed some relief. She was going to seek it from your father, but the man already laid snoring. She shook him a couple of times in hopes to wake him up, but her attempts were met with swats of her hand and incoherent grunting.

Wanda huffed with irritation sliding into her side of the bed. She let herself get off to the thought of you that night unable to think herself guilty.

Your father was out of the house before Wanda or yourself had woken up in the morning. Wanda hated waking up to an empty bed, but it had become her new normal.

She didn't bother getting ready for the day yet. She simply stretched some, before brushing her teeth, and heading downstairs for breakfast. She was surprised to find you in the kitchen, cooking.

You hadn’t recognized her presence yet, too caught up in breakfast. Music played lowly through the kitchen and you hummed along. You thought it’d be a nice gesture to make breakfast since Wanda had cooked dinner last night.

The older woman watched you in somewhat of a trance. Your movements were a little clumsy, but it was clear that you had been doing it like this for a while. She could see herself coming up behind you and wrapping herself around you as you cooked for her.

Her muscles twitched at the thought. She took in a deep breath before she finally announced her presence, “Good morning.”

You turn away from the stove to smile at her, “Perfect timing, I'm almost done with breakfast.”

“You didn't have to do all of this, your dad’s not even here to enjoy it.”

You shrug your shoulders, “I figured he’d be at work anyway. Consider this a thank you for dinner."

You bring her a plate along with some coffee before getting your own.

“Y/n, this is amazing,” Wanda praises you.

You grow bashful, “It’s nothing really. So, what’s on the agenda for our girl’s day?”

Wanda ponders for a moment, “How about you tell me some things you like to do and we’ll go from there?”

You stumble a bit, “I uh- I don't really like to do much. Dad and I never really did anything more than like going to a park and sometimes fishing.”

“What about the mall? People your age are into shopping, right?”

You laugh, “I’ve only really been back to school shopping.”

Wanda shakes her head, “Today, I guess I’m going to introduce you to some of life’s little luxuries. I’m going to need you to trust me.”

You give her a small smile, “I trust you.”

You say it so earnestly that it nearly scares her.

“Good, so we’ll head out after we’re done eating and getting dressed.”

After cleaning up and getting dressed you regrouped in the living room. You tried your best to not let your eyes linger over Wanda’s attire. She wore a simple yellow sundress, it wasn’t anything extravagant but it looked good on her. It almost made you want to change out of your t-shirt and jeans, feeling a little underdressed.

“Ready?”

You answer her, and soon you’re in the passenger seat of her car with no idea where you’re going. You both make pleasant small talk, not really feeling the need to fill the silence. The only thing you make conscious effort to do is not stare at her cleavage in the dress.

It hard to erase the images that you pictured last night, but for your own sake you try.

The first place Wanda takes you is a nail shop. You had been before, but it had honestly been years. She opted for a manicure and pedicure, while you just got a manicure. You were usually a clear coat type of girl but today you decided to get black paint.

After your nails, Wanda decides to take you to the mall.

“Ok, whatever you want in here, is on me today,” she says as you enter the shopping center.

Your eyes go wide, “Wanda, I couldn't ask you for that.”

“Good thing you didn't ask sweetheart,” she responds and you feel yourself melt a little.

“I’m not even good at shopping, I don't really know what looks good on me,” you admit to the woman.

She pauses her steps to give you a once over. Her eyes dragging slowly across your body, as if she was personally undressing you then and there.

“Honey, you should've never told me that. Now, I’m afraid you're going to have to indulge me through these stores.”

“What does that mean?”

Wanda’s tone is playful, “Don’t worry your little head about it sweetheart, I’m going to help you find some clothes.”

It's not a second later that she’s grabbing your wrist and pulling you into a clothing store. She starts grabbing clothes and holding them up to your body, trying to see what looks good. She had a pile of clothes in her arms that she was shoving into your hands.

“Try these on,” she pushes you to the dressing rooms.

A lot of the stuff she had was stuff you’d never grab for yourself, but it did all look good on you. There were a few pieces, particularly crop tops, that you weren’t too sure about.

“I think I look weird,” you come out in the crop top.

You have something of a jacket over it. You look down at your exposed stomach before looking up at Wanda. There’s something in the way she’s looking at you.

“It looks good,” her tongue swipes across her bottom lip. “But if you’re uncomfortable then you don’t have to get it.”

“Do you really think it looks ok?”

She stands from her spot and makes her way over to you. Her hands fiddle with the end of the shirt. She adjust the waistband of your jeans. With a few quick tugs, she has you seeing the outfit in a different way.

“I do.”

You nod, “Ok, I see it.”

“You should wear it out,” she suggests and you comply.

You thought it’d be over after the one store but Wanda takes you into 3 more clothing store, racking up a whole new wardrobe. At the end you practically had to beg her not to spend any more money.

“Do you want to go in there, your dad mentioned you’re a big gamer?”

She nods her head to the video game store that you admittedly had been eyeing since the last store you went in.

You shake your head, “You’ve already spent so much and games are like $70 now.”

“ So I’m going to take that as a yes,” she starts walking ahead into the store.

You groan, but follow her in anyway, “Wanda, can I ask what you do for work?”

She laughs, “Why, so you can feel a little better about me spending the money?”

“Maybe,” you say browsing through a few games.

“Well, I used to work in real estate and now I do editing for major publications books, magazines, things like that.”

“That seems like a big jump,” you point out.

She nods, “It is, but I’m much happier editing than I was selling houses. The real estate did give me a good standing to be able to chase and finance my dreams. It’s honestly given me more money than I know what to do with. So I usually just don’t do anything with it.”

“Does my dad know?”

Wanda adverts her eyes, “No, he doesn’t. Your dad really enjoys being a provider. He wants to be the breadwinner and bring home the bacon. He doesn’t even let me pay for dinner. I pay for some of the bills at home and he doesn’t even want me to do that. I’ve been trying to coerce him into letting me do more but-”

“He’s a stubborn guy,” you finish her thoughts. “When I was in high school, I got a job at the movie theater to help out with some things around the house and for college. Dad was really…insecure about letting me help. He wanted to prove he could do it on his own.”

Her eyes soften, “Oh wow."

“Yeah, I think it has something to do with my mom walking out on us, but I don’t know. We never really talked about it,” you say picking up a game.

Wanda knew this topic to be sensitive to your dad. He had mentioned it, but never went into detail. When Wanda tried to press for information, he'd either shut down or get irritated, she wonders if he was the same with you.

“No pressure, but if you ever want to talk about it or vent, I’m here for you.” She takes the game from your hands, “I know it’s not your dad’s favorite topic and I know I don’t have the answers you’re probably looking for, but I don’t mind listening to you.”

You look at her for a long moment. Your eyes are watering against your will. You blink back the tears and nod silently. You never really talked about your mom, truth be told you never unpacked those feelings yourself.

“I- I’ve never really talked about it with anyone. I don’t know how I feel about it, I mean I was only 5.”

Wanda thinks of her words carefully, “Do you remember her?”

You laugh lightly, still pretending to browse the games, “Of course I do, she was my mom. She brushed my hair, tucked me in, put band aids on my scrapes and cuts, and she never got mad when I got grass stains on my clothes.”

Wanda keeps quiet as she senses you have more to say.

“She was a stay-at-home mom, so I spent most of my time with her. I don’t- I wish I remembered what she looked like more. I look like her, I know I do, but… I don’t know it’s not enough.”

Wanda rests her hand on your back. Rubbing small circles bringing you more comfort than you thought you needed. You place your hand in her other hand, sighing deeply.

“I wish I knew why she left. Dad never told me, I just know that one day I woke up and she wasn’t there. He told me she wasn’t coming back. I never wanted to ask him, he was already doing so much to prove that he could be enough. I’m grateful for that, for him… but in the back of my mind I can’t help but wonder, you know.”

A teardrop falling onto your cheek, pulls you quickly out of the moment. You wipe your eyes with your sleeve and take a step back from Wanda.

“Y/n-"

“I’ve heard really cool things about that game. I’ve been wanting it for a few months now,” you pivot topics, clearing your throat.

“Then it’s yours sweetheart.”

You were grateful that she just let it go.

After that you both decide to call it a day and head back home. You bring all of your new clothes to your room and begin to put them away. You decide to take a quick shower and change into more comfortable clothes before heading down to the living room. Usually you’d keep to yourself in your room, but you were secretly hoping Wanda would join you.

“What’re you watching?”

“Back to the Future, it’s one of my favorites,” you make room for her on the couch next to you.

She takes a seat, “Mine too.”

You perk up, “Really?”

She nods, “Me and my brother used to watch it all the time when we were younger.”

The two of you sit in silence as you watch the movie. Unbeknownst to either of, the space between you grows slimmer by the minute. You take a peek at the woman to find her eyes fluttering, before they finally close. She had already nearly been laying on the couch. Her feet are up, bent to lay over each other. She had been holding up her head in her hand. Now as she fell unconscious her head had drops into your lap.

You feel your heart rate pick up. The movie suddenly becomes uninteresting. You don’t want to move, unwilling to wake the woman. She looks peaceful in her sleep. You notice how she twitches lightly and though you shouldn’t your fingers begin to comb through her hair. She hums in your lap, but you don’t still. Your fingers work gingerly to bring her comfort.

She stops twitching and you refocus on the movie with your hand still in her hair. Eventually you find yourself dozing off as well.

“Well, well, well looks like girl’s day was a success,” it’s your father’s voice that wakes both you and Wanda.

The red head becomes alert first, she notes her position in your lap and your hand in her hair and immediately bolts up right. You’re slower to come to stretching widely before open your eyes.

“Yeah, it was pretty fun,” you say while yawning.

“I see some nail polish Y/n, that’s new.”

You shrug, “It’s not the first time.”

“I know but it’s been a while, having another girl around the house is nice, isn’t it?”

You let out a huff of irritation, completely aware of what he was insinuating. For the most part your dad was in support of your sexuality. However, there were some jokes he just couldn’t let go of. The “gay” thing was fine with him, but he still believed that you could stand to be more ladylike. Which was completely rich coming from the man that raised you on fishing trips, Miller Lite, and WWE.

“So, ladies what’s for dinner?”

Wanda goes to answer but you speak over her, “Honestly dad, I was hoping for some of your burgers tonight.”

Your father beams with excitement, “Will do kiddo, just let me shower first and I’ll be in the kitchen.”

You both watch as he wanders up the stairs.

“You didn’t want to cook, did you?”

“No, not really. Thank you for the save and for letting me nap on you,” she adverts her gaze as she speaks to you.

“I’m happy to help in any way I can,” you say to her, not noticing the undertone of your statement.

Her eyes become dark as she looks at you. The lust filled look in her eyes has you reeling at what you said. There’s no point in taking it back now. You swallow thickly under her gaze, but don't make any motion to move away from her. Instead, you find yourself compelled to lean in closer.

Wanda let’s you get within a few inches of her face, before breathlessly letting your name fall from her lips, “Y/n.”

You close your eyes, “You can’t just say my name like that, Wanda.”

“You can’t make statements like the one you made,” she fires back.

Both of you give leeway to how you’re actual feeling. You go to move closer to her, but her hand on your shoulder keeps you away. It honestly breaks you from whatever pulled you in, in the first place

The tips of your ears heat up as you stand abruptly, “Sorry, I- I’ll see you at dinner.”

Much like when you were a teenager you lock yourself in your room. Wanda picks up a pillow from the couch putting it over her head, pretending to scream into it.

You send a quick text to Yelena. Something along the lines of saying you should hang out tomorrow. She is in disbelief at the fact that you want to do something out of the house, but is equally as excited. She says she’s taking advantage of this and keeping you out all day.

You needed to get out of the house. You stayed in it so much because you deemed it as a safe space. However, with Wanda around… you didn’t know if you could truly call it safe. It had only taken two days for you to almost kiss her.

There wasn’t a bone in your body that was used to moving this quickly. It had taken you years to develop your first crush and even longer before you acted on any such feeling. Yet with Wanda everything felt different. You weren’t a believer in love at first sight, you wouldn’t call what you were feeling love. This attraction… for lack of a better term just felt intense.

It was almost as if every interaction had a double meaning to it. It was something that the other woman was clearly also aware of. Neither of you should be acting on it and technically you hadn’t done anything. The problem was that you wanted to, and you didn’t see those feelings going away anytime soon. It was only the second day and you had the rest of your life to go.

One day out with Yelena became a couple days of the week out with her. You even had started texting your former roommate to see if she’d be down to hangout as well. So save for the first two days, you spent every day out and about.

You had similar plans for the next week too, but they came to a halt quickly when your dad mentioned Wanda’s kids coming back from their dad’s. He made it clear that he wanted you to be there to meet them so your plans of avoiding home, became a little more complicated.

So once again you were stuck in your room. The doorbell ringing is the only reason you had left the space. You knew that your dad was out and Wanda was working in her office at the time, so you were the only option.

It rang one more time, before you got to it. When you open the door, you are met by two teenage boys and an older looking man. You stare at them and they stare back at you.

“Is Wanda in? I would like to have a talk with her,” the man in the middle speaks.

“She’s working right now.”

He rolls his eyes, “And who are you exactly?”

Something about his tone makes you jaw twitch, “I’m Y/n, Shawn’s kid.”

“Right, the one he was hiding away.”

“Dad-”

Dealing with stuck up assholes was unfortunately nothing new to you, “Billy, Tommy you guys can head on in.”

They look from their father to you before quickly making the decision to go inside. The man trues to go in behind but you block his entry.

“They live here, you don’t. I suggest you try talking to Wanda again sometime next week…” you smile at him.

“Jarvis,” he says through gritted teeth.

“Goodbye Jarvis,” you slam the door in his face.

You clap your hands together as you turn around. You slightly startle at the presence of the teen boys behind you. There’s an awkward silence as you stare at each other.

“So, your mom said you guys are gamers?”

That’s all it took for the three of you to hunker down in the living room and start gaming. From Mario Kart to Mario Party to Mortal Kombat, the three of you rotted the day away. You end up ordering some pizza and junk food, which is essential for all gaming marathons.

“I love your style by the way,” Billy says grabbing a slice of pizza.

You raise an eyebrow at him, “You might as well just ask me if I'm gay.”

Tommy laughs at this, which earns him a slap in the arm from Billy.

“Well… are you?”

“Yep.”

“Girlfriend?” Tommy asks.

“Nope, how about you two?”

Billy smiles, “I have a boyfriend.”

He goes on telling you some details. You genuinely feel happy for the boy. To be young, out, and dating is really cool.

“That’s really cool Billy.”

“Thanks, I wish my dad thought so too.”

Tommy jumps in the conversation, “Dad is fucking stupid, what does he know about any kind of relationship.”

You agree with Tommy, “I mean he did fumble your mom.”

They both laugh, but Billy brings the conversation back, “I just wish he was more accepting.”

“He’s either going to come around because he loves you or keep showing you who he really is. Either way you still have your mom, your bother, your boyfriend, and even me to rely on. So just cause your dad isn’t accepting doesn't mean you aren’t accepted,” you tell him sincerely.

“He wanted to talk to mom about Billy’s boyfriend. He thinks it’s… inappropriate,” Tommy spills.

“Well I don't think it's any of his business, and even if he did tell your mom she’d have your back,” you say like it’s obvious.

“If who told me what?”

Wanda comes out from her office and her kids greet her. She’s surprised to see you downstairs with them, but doesn’t comment on it.

“Dad doesn't approve of Billy’s boyfriend,” Tommy says again earning an agitated look from his brother.

“Yeah, he was going to talk to you, but Y/n kicked him out,” Billy says awkwardly.

You keep your focus on the game, “I didn’t kick him out… I slammed the door in his face.”

“Y/n!”

“It was well deserved. He asked who I was, I told him. Then the asshole has the audacity to refer to me as ‘the one he was hiding' when trying to get into my house. I think the fuck not.”

Wanda walks in front of your TV blocking the game. You pause it and look up at her to find an unexpected fury in her eyes.

“What did he say to you?”

You meet her eyes, urging her to calm down, “I handled it.”

She takes the hint, moving out of your way, “I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

She then focuses on talking with her children, recapping the week that they had. Billy also goes into some less than nice details of what his father had to say about his boyfriend.

Wanda’s hand presses against her brow line hearing the details. She’s clearly irritated with the twin’s father.

“I’ll talk to him, and you tell me if he says anything else. I have no issue coming to get you guys if he makes you uncomfortable,” Wanda says hugging the boys.

You take this moment between the family to go upstairs. You breath in the minute to yourself. The twins were nice, and it was cool to have people in the house to game with. They’d seem like people who’d you befriend at their age.

“Thanks for hanging out with my kids and for the stuff with their dad,” Wanda stands in your doorway.

You give her a small nod, “Billy and Tommy are cool. Their dad… less cool. So it was my pleasure to slam the door in his face.”

Wanda chuckles, “Jarvis is an asshole.”

You join in on her laughter, “Yeah, I definitely can’t see you with that guy.”

“I was young and naïve. If I knew then what I know now, I wouldn’t have stayed for so long.”

“How young?”

Wanda sighs, “18. He was older, more appealing back then.”

You can’t hide your reaction, “Oh.”

“Yeah, but that asshole gave me my kids. So I guess he was good for something.”

You disagree with her, “Just cause a guy is good for something, doesn’t mean he’s good for you.”

“Where were you when I was in my prime, Y/n?” her words have a double meaning.

You look at her, more serious than a heart attack, “I’m right here, and your prime is far from over.”

She shudders under your look, “Y/n.”

“I wish you could feel how hard it is for me to do the right thing, Wanda. I hate leaving the house, but I know if I was here all day with just you, I’d lose it.”

You’re lying on your back in bed. Your eyes cut from Wanda to the ceiling.

“Y/n, I’m married to your father.”

“He doesn’t even fuck you,” you say with a bored tone.

“Y/n!”

You don’t return her reaction, “I’ve been waiting to see if I’d have to plug my ears, or move downstairs so I didn’t have to hear. But it hasn’t happened yet. Probably too tired from work.”

“Y/n my kids are downstairs.”

Your head falls into your hands, “I’m sorry. I-I’m going to head out for a bit.”

You get up and go for your door. Wanda doesn’t move out of your way. She stands still in your doorframe.

“Where are you going?”

“I don't know, Lena’s if she’s home.”

Wanda frowns hearing this, “You don’t have to-”

You lock eyes with her’s, “I do.”

Wanda’s hand caresses your cheek. You lean into her touch. You hear her take an unsteady breath.

“You make this so hard for me.”

She slowly removes her hand, only to replace it with her lips. It’s enough to ignite a fire in your body. They linger, much longer than they should.

“Be safe,” she fixes your clothes a little, before finally clearing your path.

“Wanda-"

“I’ll see you back for dinner,” she says walking away from you.

When you think she can't see you anymore, you touch your cheek. The spot where her lips had been. You slip out of the house and make your way to Yelena’s.

You knock on the door and wait for her to answer. When she does, you don't let her say anything. You drag her upstairs to her room. You lock her door, before you start pacing in her room. She sits on her bed watching you.

“So… are you going to tell me what this is about?”

“I need this to be a judgement free zone.”

Yelena tilts her head, “Then why come here?”

“Yelena, I’m serious.”

She raises her hands in surrender at your snappy tone, “Fine, what is it?”

“I’m attracted to Wanda, and I think… she’s attracted to me.”

Yelena laughs as you stare at her. The laughter goes on for minutes before she realizes that you aren't laughing.

“Y/n, are you being serious?”

You close your eyes, “Lena there’s this tension. I just thought it was in my head. I almost kissed her, I don’t know what’s going on. I’ve been going out, and stuff just to stay away from her. She’s driving me insane.”

“You tried to kiss her!”

“She gave me this kiss on the cheek. She said I was making it hard for her. Yelena I’ve never felt like this for anyone,” you tell your best friend.

“Dude you’re fucked,” is all that she says.

“I know.”

“She’s your dad’s wife.”

“I know.”

“She has 2 kids.”

“I know.”

“Did I say she’s your dad’s wife already?”

You groan joining her on the bed, “I- I don’t know if I care about it. I mean I do, but he doesn’t even treat her that good. It could be worse, but it’s not great.”

“And you think you can do better?”

“I’d worship her.”

Yelena shakes her head, “I can’t believe you right now. You’re trying to get with your dad’s wife, she’s like almost 30 years older than you.”

“Can you blame me, you’ve seen her? It’s not my fault. If I would’ve met her before, maybe it would be different. It’s just like I come home and there’s this undeniably attractive woman in my house. She doesn’t feel like my dad’s wife to me."

Yelena nods along, “That’s fair, but Y/n this is insane.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

“Let’s go to a club.”

Your eyes widen, “A club?”

“Lots of attractive people who are closer to your age and eligible,” she reasons with you.

“I’m not even supposed to be out right now. My dad says I have to be home to get acclimated with Wanda’s kids. They leave in a week.”

She claps her hands together, “Alright then, next week we’re going clubbing.”

You get a text from Wanda saying your father is on the way home. You know it’s her way of saying you need to be back soon.

“What should I do in the mean time?”

Yelena searches for an answer before landing on, “Act like she’s your mom.”

You gag at the thought, “Ew.”

Yelena reacts gleefully, “Exactly.”

You pause before exiting, “Technically… she is a milf though.”

“Y/n L/n get a fucking grip,” Yelena says with amusement.

“I’m trying, but she won’t let me,” you whine.

“You having a thing for older women makes so much sense. No wonder you had a crush on Natasha.”

You send her a playful glare, “We do not talk about the dark ages.”

“It’s alright, I forgive you. I don’t know if your dad will be as forgiving as I am.”

You shrug, “I’ll test it out and let you know.”

She leads you to her front door, “Think about the club. Focus on it, breathe it in. Dream about it. Do not think about fucking your step mom.”

“Too late for that,” you shrug again.

“Just get out already, I’m running low on things to say back.”

“Bye Lena,” you say as she basically pushes you out of her door.

You make it back just before your dad gets there. It’s interesting seeing him interact with Billy and Tommy. It’s clear to you that he favors Tommy a little more. It’s just in the way he speaks. It bothers you a bit and you make sure to include Billy any time that you can in conversation.

You can feel Wanda’s eyes on you throughout the dinner, but you keep your attention with the boys and your dad.

“So I have a bit of an announcement to make,” your father says, gathering everyone’s attention. “I have an opportunity to get a promotion at work.”

“That’s great honey, we’re so proud of you,” Wanda gives him a quick kiss.

You try your best to hold back any malice with a fake smile on your face.

“Well, the thing is I’d need to go out of town for a bit to secure the position,” he says and you feel Wanda’s mood shift.

“For how long dad?�� you ask, taking a sip of your drink.

He winces, “At least a month, maybe more.” He begins to pile on in an effort to make it seem less drastic. “It’s really a once in a lifetime opportunity, I've been working there for so long it feels overdue, but with this money our lives could change dramatically. We could move, Y/n you could go back to dorming, it would be-”

“You already accepted it didn't you?”

Wanda’s tone is guarded as she speaks. It's clear that she's unhappy and you don't blame her.

You sigh pushing yourself away from the table, “Congratulations dad, I’m going to head up to my room now.”

“Wait.” Wanda’s voice stops you in your tracks. “How do you feel about this Y/n?”

“I uh-”

“Don’t drag my kid into this.”

Wanda starts gesturing with her hands, “I’m not, she’s bound to have an opinion. She lives here, she’s your daughter, and she came back home because of you. Now you’re bailing.”

“It’s not a big deal. I’m used to him being busy,” you try to mediate.

Your dad throws his hands up, “What is that supposed to mean?”

You give him your honest opinion, “It means you’re busy. You were late to my graduation because of work. You missed my award ceremonies. There wasn’t any point in me signing up for extracurriculars because you’d never take me or show up anyway. It’s nothing personal dad, it’s just the truth.”

“I was providing for you,” he throws it back in your face.

Your shoulders drop, “I know and I’m grateful, but-” you stop yourself. Instead you just head for your room. You hear him call after you, but you don’t respond.

It’s not soon after that you hear footsteps coming up the stairs. There’s a soft knock on your door. You don’t say anything as Billy and Tommy slip into your room.

“They’re still going at it,” Tommy announces.

“Do they… do this a lot?” You ask the boys.

Billy answers, “When any sort of quality time is involved.”

You scoff, “Classic.”

Tommy places a hand on your shoulder, “We get it you know.”

“Sometimes you just wish they were there for you,” Billy finishes the sentence.

You feel yourself breaking down but refuse to let the tears fall. Tommy pulls you into a hug and Billy joins in soon after. You center yourself in their embrace. It’s not a comfort that you’re used to experiencing, you appreciate it immensely.

At some point during this moment the voices downstairs escalate to yelling. It quickly grabs your attention and has you realizing that you are the only other adult present in this moment. It feels like your responsibility to try to shield them from this, even if they are on the older side of things. Teenagers are still kids. Hell you still feel like a kid in your early twenties.

You place a hand on Billy’s head and the other on Tommy’s, “Thanks kids. I’m going to go handle downstairs, you stay up here.”

Tommy interjects, “I think-”

You stop him, “I’ve got it, trust me. They’re going to get noise complaint if things keep going.”

You steel yourself as you go downstairs to find Wanda and your father in the middle of a heated argument. They’re both standing, yelling in each other’s faces.

“SO WHAT SHAWN YOU LEAVE FOR OVER A MONTH AND DON’T EVEN THINK TO RUN IT BY ME FIRST?”

“RUN IT BY YOU FOR WHAT WANDA? YOU AREN’T MY MOTHER.”

“I AM YOUR WIFE, OR HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN THAT? TOO BUSY WORKING TO EVEN ACKNOWLEDGE ME.”

“WHEN DID YOU BECOME SUCH A NEEDY BI-“

“ENOUGH,” you cut your father off in the middle of his sentence. The couple looks at you, and you can feel the anger simmering in their gazes. “It’s late, you’re going to get the police called with all of your arguing.”

“Well if-”

“Stop. The conversation is going nowhere because you aren’t having a conversation, you’re just screaming at each other,” you tell them.

“Y/n, you should stay out of this,” your father glare at you.

“I would love to, only we can all hear you upstairs. You either need to table this conversation for another time or go somewhere else to talk. Neither of you should be acting like this in front of your kids. I don’t care who started it, if you both plan on staying here tonight it’s over right now.”

Wanda is the one to take in a deep breath. She looks between you and your father. There’s something behind her eyes but you’re focused on the task at hand.

“You’re sleeping on the couch tonight,” she walks away from the table, past you, and disappears up the stairs.

You muster up all the disappointment you possibly can as you take in your father’s appearance, “She has a right to be upset with you. It seems like you keep hiding these really important, life altering things from her. You have to be more upfront, more honest with her.”

“How was I supposed to know she’d react this way?”

You level with him, “You had to have expected something like this, it’s why you didn't tell her in the first place.”

“Maybe I did, I just… I really want this,” he says slumping down on the couch.

“Wanda doesn’t seem like the unsupportive type. It’s all in your delivery. You need to apologize, before you leave. When are you leaving?”

“In 3 days.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, “Christ dad.”

“I know, I know. I’ll take her out tomorrow and we'll talk it out there.”

You nod, turning to go back to your room.

“Kid wait.” You pause at his call. “What were you going to say back there, before you went to your room?”

It takes you a moment to respond, “Sometimes I just wanted someone to be there for me. My dad, my mom, just someone. You were always busy with work and I was always alone.”

You don’t give him a chance to say anything else as you go up the stairs. His eyes follow you until you disappear. He sighs, leaning back into the couch, feeling like he could scream. He was failing, and he had 3 days to fix it.

When go back upstairs the boys are passed out on your bed. You think about waking them up, but decide against it. You settle on going into their room. It’s not until you shut the door behind you, that you notice the red head sitting on one of the beds in the room.

You take a seat on the bed that she’s not sitting on. The silence is heavy as you stare at each other. You can see the emotions running through her eyes. The anger, the frustration, and the lust. Your heart beat is steady as you look back at her.

“Do you think I’m in the wrong?” her voice is small when she asks.

“No, I just don’t think you know what kind of guy you married. He’s never going to be around enough and he’s never going to pick you over work. I’m not trying to be an asshole, it’s just the truth,” you speak bluntly.

“If you-" Wanda stops her sentence in its tracks.

“Honestly if I were him, I’d turn it down. I wouldn’t want to leave you for a month, but he's not me.”

“No, he isn’t,” she breathes out.

There’s another silence. Then it happens, so suddenly that you nearly freeze. Wanda’s lips are on yours. Her hands are planted in your hair and yours rest on the dips of her hips. Your back lays flat against the mattress.

Your tongue slips into her mouth causing you both to moan. Her hips roll on your lap and you grunt at the sensation. Your lips leave her mouth only to kiss down the side of her neck. As much as you want to leave a hickey you don’t. It’s not until your tongue runs across the top of her breast that she partial breaks from the trance.

“Y/n,” it’s a whine from her lips. The sound is entirely to intoxicating.

You begin to guide her hips against your thigh. Her sundress not leaving much fabric between her cunt and your sweats.

“Y/n we shouldn’t,” her hips follow your movements though her words tell you different.

“Just let me make you cum, please. Please Wanda, get off on my thigh,” your words are low as you beg her.

“Fuck,” Wanda watches the way your eyes don’t move from where she grinds on your thigh.

She lifts the sundress slightly so you can have a better view.

“Oh god,” you groan at the sight of the dampness of her panties. It turns you on even more.

Wanda finds herself grinding down harder, chasing her orgasm. You hold her firmly, helping create more friction. You find yourself getting off on the image before you.

“Fuck, use me. I know he can’t do it, so let me be useful. Fucking use my thigh. You’re so hot, shit I wish I could have you like this every night. I’m so desperate for you. I’m going to cum just from having you on me, fuck mommy.”

Wanda’s body completely falls into your arms. She shakes as she cums, leaving a mess on your sweatpants. She’s trying and failing to catch her breath as you hold her upright. Her head lolls into your shoulder.

“Did you really cum?” she says lips brushing against your ear.

You nod dumbly.

She moans again, “That’s so fucking hot.” She places a kiss right below your ear. “And what did you call me?”

Your chest heaves as you breathe out a response, “Mommy.”

She purrs in your ear before pulling away some. She grabs a fistful of your shirt pulling you into a searing kiss.

“We’re doing this again. Do you understand sweetheart?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes mommy.”

She kisses your head one last time before getting off of your lap. You don’t miss the way her legs shutter as she gets up. You whine at the loss of contact.

“Don’t worry detka, we’ve got a little time to ourselves coming up. Mommy will let you go as far as you can handle, and maybe a little more than that.”

Next part

[totalswag]

hey i love your work so much and if it’s not to much go ask i was wondering if you could do a fic where fem!reader is part of the cast on obx and she is really close friends with drew where they are flirting and what not and everyone ships them and they are at an interview with the rest of the cast and that gets brought up? sorry if that doesn’t make sense! if you don’t have time it’s completely

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authors note thank you so much lovie!! i'm open to take requests and write them. i've thought of this concept before and all i gotta say is thank you for requesting this because I NEED THIS!! super sorry for not posting for a small while, there were stuff i needed to take care of first.

taglist ⤕ if you would like to be notified every time i post you will type in your username then be all set.

summary having a close relationship with drew that send hints to fans they like each other based on the way they flirt with each other.

warning(s) flirting, shipping, co-stars secretly like each other?

Being apart of the Outer Banks cast has been such a blessing. You've created relationships with people you consider family now and who you can count on no matter what the circumstances are. Being on set for weeks on end filming scenes and making memories is what you look forward to most.

You grew closer with Drew Starkey because your characters are dating in the show and always next together on set too. Drew has become someone that you consider very important in your life.

You joined the Outer Banks cast during the second season. Drew appeared in a couple appearances near the end of the season, implying that he is interested in someone— love interest. You recall fans going nuts trying to figure out if this will continue. Fast forward two seasons, and your characters are together.

After a long day of filming, the cast decided to gather for dinner at a local beachside restaurant. The atmosphere was vibrant, with laughter and the sound of waves breaking on the shore. You and Drew were seated next to each other, much to the joy of your cast members, who were closely watching your interaction with Drew.

"Drew, look at the camera," you softly sang, your phone in your hand on the table, Drew in the frame of the video— he was speaking to Rudy across the table. He gives you a look that shows he knows you are heard before looking down at your phone and waving.

"Oh! "Hello there," he smiles even more when he sees himself on the screen—you giggle at the end of the video before sharing it to your Instagram story. 

"You posted it on your story?" he inquires, his body language focused solely on you. "I obviously had to; it was cute," you said as you placed your phone on the table next to your wallet. You suddenly felt nervous in front of Drew.

He raises his eyebrows in satisfaction. "Cute, huh?" He smirks and smiles, patting your thigh.

Fans began to ship you and Drew together as your relationship grew. The chemistry between you two is clearly obvious on and off screen, which is why you perform scenarios so well. Fans go berserk every time you post something on social media about Drew.

You two flirt without even realizing it at times. You will compliment each other as if you were a relationship, but this is nothing out of the norm for you two. Even your cast members have boarded the train and made a few comments about when you'll finish up together. 

You can't lie, he's an attractive young man. There's no doubt about that.

Few hours after you posted on your story, fans have been discussing the video you shared in which Drew looks at you as if you are the most beautiful person on the planet and no one else is present.

Today, you and the cast will be doing interviews all day to promote Season four. For the first portion, everyone will sit in the same room as the interviewer, but thereafter everyone will be separated.

"Alright, everyone," said the interviewer, "we've got some fun questions from fans today, and they're dying to know more about the dynamic between some of our favorite cast members."

Everyone said "Oooo," anxious to see what else the interviewer would say.

"Let's start with a fan favorite," the interviewer added, her eyes sparkling mischievously. "There's been a lot of talk about the chemistry between you two." She pointed to Drew and you. "Care to share any insights on that?"

Your stomach dropped.

The question hung in the air, drawing a chorus of “Oohs” and playful nudges from the cast. You felt your cheeks heat up as you exchanged a glance with Drew. His blue eyes sparkled with amusement, a smirk playing on his lips

"Well," Drew said, leaning in slightly. "Y/N and I have always been close. We simply clicked, you know?"

"Really?" the interviewer asked, lifting an eyebrow. "Because the way you two flirt on and off set is pretty convincing."

You laughed and shook your head. "We simply have fun with it. Drew is a terrific person, and we like joking around. "It keeps things moving on set."

"From our first reading together, I knew she was going to be a great co star of mine and we've formed an amazing bond throughout the years" Drew says with his hands. In gratitude, you give him a pat on the back.

Your cast mates' eyes are constantly drawn to you and Drew since they can tell you have mutual feelings for each other. Granted, you two have scenes together all the time and have developed a strong bond. However, you consider being more than friends with him.

The interview continued on with more questions popping up that were exciting to answer. In the back of your mind you were thinking about the question about Drew and you— do you want more?

Later that evening, you and Drew returned to your apartment and relaxed in your living room. The city lights outside your window gave a soft glow across the room, and the steady hum of the air conditioner broke the silence. You'd both changed into more comfortable clothes, eager to relax after a long day.

"Today was something, huh?" Drew murmured, breaking the silence as he sprawled down on your couch, seemingly at peace.

"Yeah, it was," you said, sitting next to him. "They really went all in on the whole shipping thing."

Drew chuckled, a deep, warm sound that made your heart race. "Yes, they did. "Makes you think, doesn't it?"

He sat up, his face instantly serious. "About Us. I mean, everybody sees it. Hell, we see it, don't we?

Your breath became locked in your throat. The playful flirtation, the lingering touches, the way your heart raced whenever he was close—it all hinted at something more than friendship. However, hearing him say it aloud was another. It made it real.

"I suppose we do," you confessed gently.

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[poisonofthepaint]

Day After Tomorrow - Part Two

read part one here! part three here!

a/n: here is part two, i hope u enjoy!! the next part will be the last part. i'm having a lot of fun writing these, thanks for all the likes and reblogs on the first part!!!

content warnings: age gap between jack and reader, reader spills hot coffee on herself but it's nothing serious, lots of me repeating phrases i think lol, that's all!

Today, you woke up with a mission. You would not go to work tired. You would be prepared this time. Prepared for Jack Abbot. You wake up at 2:30 A.M. this time, and you get ready like it’s a regular hour of the day. You still don’t know if he’ll even come in. Yesterday, you spiraled when you allowed your brain to think. If he doesn’t come in, you also thought of a million excuses for him. It doesn’t have to be because of you! It could be that he is piled up with emergencies, he’s stuck in surgery, maybe the time got away from him. 

You get to work and try to slow yourself down. You’re anxious, pacing around. You know if you finish all your tasks early, you’ll just be waiting around for him. You count the money in the drawer three times. You clean every spot on the espresso machine twice. You brew the coffee with exact precision. You fix your hair more times than you can count.

You look at the clock on the wall. 4:00 A.M. You glance at the door and remind yourself to look away. You are trying so hard to not be disappointed. You don’t want to put your hopes and dreams into this man. You didn’t know him. But God, you wanted to. You had replayed the conversation in your head until you could mark it down to the minute it happened. You thought the way he looked at you before he left. How he seemed like he didn’t want to drag his eyes away.

You sigh and shake your head, opting to make yourself another London fog, hoping the drink will summon him. You try to distract yourself, but there really is nothing else to do. You don’t get any customers this early, Jack was the only one. Since your coworkers were in the back, you had no one to talk to. You check the clock again, 4:10. You sigh, trying not to feel disappointed.

But then, it comes. The bell on the door rings. It feels like Gabriel’s horn just blew. He walks in. You smile, and think maybe you shouldn’t. You wanted to be cool today, but you couldn’t help it. He actually came.

“It’s nice to know you’re a man of your word.” you say as he walks over to the counter.

“Course I am,” he says. Jack smiles too, a small one, but it’s a smile.

“Do you just want another coffee?”

“Yeah, I do. And your number, if that’s not overstepping.”

You blank. The lack of sleep catches up to you in three seconds, tops. Your brain falters, you try to remember how to form a sentence, “Yes.”

He deadpans, “Yes, it’s overstepping?”

“No!” you basically yell. You clear your throat, try again, “No, not overstepping. Yes, I’d like to give you my number.”

“Jesus,” he grumbles, shaking his head, laughing a bit, “Had me scared there.”

“Sorry, it’s early.”

“Right, yeah,” you can tell he doesn’t believe you for a second. You can tell he knows you're nervous. 

You decide you don’t want to be perceived anymore, and turn around to pour his coffee. But your hands are shaking. The pot slips a little, meaning you pour some of the freshly brewed, very hot coffee, on the hand that was stabilizing the cup.

“God, ouch!” you say.

Jack looks like he wants to jump over the counter. “Let me see.”

You turn around slowly, holding your hand. You decide to trust the doctor and let him take a look.

When he touches your hand, it’s like the burn amplifies, and your face feels as hot as the dark brown liquid that you just spilt everywhere. “I’m used to it, I’ll be fine.”

He lets out a sigh and shoots you a look that says, let me check it over thoroughly. You wonder how long he’ll spend touching you, you don’t know if you want it to end. 

He has your injured hand flat in one of his, while the other is slowly flipping your hand over, softly touching everywhere the coffee spilt. He gives your hand two, small pats, and lets go slowly.

“Yeah, it’ll be fine. Cool water if the burning feeling doesn’t go away.” 

You nod, bewildered, awestruck. You stand there like an idiot before remembering that he still needs his coffee. You pour the old cup out into the sink beside you, and throw it in the trash. You get him a new one since the coffee had spilled on the outside of the cup too. You pour the new one extra carefully, making sure to not spill it again. Although, you kind of wish you could, if it meant that Jack would touch you again.

“Will you let me pay today?” he says, a bit exasperated.

“You just gave me a free examination, obviously this is a fair trade.” 

He scoffs. Throws a five in the tip jar, just like he did last time.

You hold out the cup to him, he takes it, letting his fingers brush yours as he does.

“And the other part?” he asks. “I don’t see your number on here.”

“You know, we do have cellphones now. You could take yours out and I’ll give you it. Or do you want me to write it on a napkin for you?”

He laughs again. Just like the ones you’ve been thinking about from two days ago. “Old fashioned, remember?”

He sets the coffee on the counter and grabs his phone out of his back pocket. It’s an iPhone with a matte black case. He taps around on it for a second and then hands it to you. You put your number in, and your name in the first name spot. He watches you with intensity. You don’t even see him, but you can feel it. Can feel his dark eyes watching you. You glance up and meet them. You don’t break eye contact as you hand the phone back. 

He looks down at the information and then shuts his phone off, putting it back into his pocket.

You decide that you’re done being nonchalant. “I’m glad you came back.”

Jack nods, “I am too.”

You figure that you’ll need to get to know him a little bit better for him to give you a little bit more than that. He remains his mysterious self, but you’re glad you got a little bit of verbal reassurance. 

You smile, laugh, shake your head and look down. “You know, for a second I thought I had just imagined you, because you came and went so fast.”

“That’s one way to tell me I’m the man of your dreams.” he smiles smugly.

Your face gets hot again. This time, you can’t make eye contact.

“Very smooth,” you try to joke, but your voice sounds rough. Your throat is getting a bit dry from the flirting.

Jack laughs, you keep count in your head of how many times this makes. You wonder if you’ll ever stop doing that. “Listen, I do have to get back today. But I'll text you with plans, okay?”

“Okay, yeah,” you say, looking up at him now. You didn’t want to miss any more chances to see him.

“Okay, see you. And be careful with that coffee!” he points at you, eyes quickly looking down at your hand.

“Will do, Doc.” 

He looks crushed. His brows furrow, and he swipes his palm down his face. you want to understand why this name always seems to get to him, but you can't come up with any reasons in your head. He leaves the same way he did before. Backwards, slowly inching towards the door. Once he leaves. You look at the door for at least a minute, wishing he’d come back. When you finally tear your aways away from the metal entrance, you realize he left his cup of coffee on the counter, and didn’t even take a sip out of it.  You almost can’t believe it. He really did just come here for you this time, not because he needed any extra caffeine.  

You spend the rest of your shift about the way you spent the one before: out of it. You checked your phone more times than you care to admit, and googled what time night shift doctors got off. You were done trying to convince yourself to not spiral about it, because it was real, and it was happening. A doctor was going to text you and make plans for a date, and that was all that mattered in your mind at this moment. 

Your shift was long, and busy, but this time, the crowds of people couldn’t drag Jack away from your mind. Every customer you served, you thought about him. You imagined his face there instead, thinking about him being at the end of the long line. You got an order for a small black coffee and you peered around the cafe, trying to see if he came back.

When your shift ends, you check your phone again, and this time, there’s a text from an unknown number. 

Does Friday at 6pm sound good?

[bambikisss]

Husband activities : C.San

Husband!San x Wife!Reader

📖 : After working hard for a promotion, your husband decides to take you out to dinner to celebrate

⚠️ : Unprotected sex (please wrap it and be safe), fingering while driving, public oral (male to female), biting, lots of praise, a smidge of degrading, talks of recording/picture taking, small use of food, desperate San, pussy drunk San

🦌Bambi's notes : Hi! This is my first story back and I'm very excited to get back in the swing of things when it comes to writing and posting again. There are a few more tags added above as I got a bit carried away, but here's something to begin the year off with for book club. Enjoy!

COMMENTS AND REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED | ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY

"Congratulations again, Mrs. Choi"

You smiled at Barbra's compliment, thanking her once more before wishing her a good night. After months and months of hard work, you had obtained the promotion position you had been dreaming about. While it took everything you had, you were happy to finally have the new plack with your name on it and the new position.

As you continued to set up your new office, you heard a knock on the door gently. When you turned around and were met with your husband's smiling face, you couldn't help but mirror it, rushing into his arms with a bright smile. "San, what are you doing here?" You asked though you didn't mind. You loved it when he visited you and the same for him. "I just wanted to come to congratulate you in person, baby" San placed a gentle kiss to the side of your head, pulling back just enough to see your face as he wrapped his arms around you more, keeping you pressed right up against him.

San loved how you felt against him, fitting him perfectly. It was one of the many things he loved about your body: how it felt right against his.

You gave him a small tour of your office, leading him to the large floor-to-ceiling windows that gave a beautiful view of the city. San couldn't help but look down at you with pride in his eyes, pressing his chest against your back as he wrapped his arms around you once more, leaning down so that his lips grazed your ear as he hummed "I'm so proud of you, baby. You worked hard and now you get to enjoy it all"

You smiled as San's lips met you in a gentle kiss, savoring the feeling before he pulled back, suddenly now holding his phone out to you. On the screen was a reservation reminder for one of your favorite restaurants, a smile appearing on your lips as San's hands returned to your hips as he hummed "I got us a reservation. It's nothing, just a little gift."

San loved spoiling you, doing whatever it took to keep you happy and see that smile on your face, though it didn't take much. He enjoyed the glint in your eyes whenever he bought you a gift, the sight always making him want to pin you against the nearest surface.

"It's so soon, though" You pointed out, turning to the clock on the wall. The reservation was at 7 o'clock and it was already 5:30. San nodded, gently grabbing your hand to press a kiss to the back of it, slowly turning you around to face him as he smirked "Well, we should get going then. I want you to take your time when it comes to tonight."

San words repeated through your mind as you got ready, picking out one of your favorite and best-looking dresses and matching heels before taking a long hot shower, taking your time to thoroughly relax. As you put on the dress and finishing touches, your eyes moved over the dress, happy with how it adored you beautifully.

Just as you were applying the finishing touches on your makeup, San could be heard approaching the bathroom, the sound of his dress shoes clicking against the floors as he stood in the doorway. "Hey honey, we should get…" San's words left him in real-time as his eyes landed on your figure in the dress, his mind no longer focused on the reservation, but on how fucking good you looked. You had the same reaction, looking over his broad shoulders and slim waist in his choice of outfit, simply wearing his white button-up and beige vest over it. Though the outfit was simple, he looked absolutely sinful in it.

San licked his lips as you approached him, his fingers itching to touch you as he breathed out "Baby, oh my god. You look…" His words left him once more as he spun you around, his eyes moved over every inch of the dress and your figure, his mouth watering at the things he wanted to do with you. His lips met your cheek before slowly kissing down to your neck, your hands moving up his muscular chest as you hummed playfully "shouldn't we get going?"

"Going where?" San's question was muffled as he kissed your neck, breathing in your scent as he kissed and sucked gently on your neck, drawing a low moan out of you, one that made San press you back against the bathroom sink. You knew that if you didn't stop him soon, there would be no chance of you both making that reservation. As you pushed him away gently to meet his face, San licked his lips once more, his eyes now full of hunger and desire.

"San, the dinner reservation." San groaned at the reminder of the reservation, biting his lip before he nodded, backing up as he said "God, you're going to be the death of me" San couldn't keep his eyes off of you as you both made your way out to the car, his eyes drinking in every movement you made. He found you to be the prettiest woman he had ever seen, thanking the universe every day he got to marry you.

You tried to finish your makeup while he drove, the sight of you applying your lip gloss in your little compact mirror making it hard for San to simply focus on the road. His hands tightened around the wheel for a moment, his lips itching to meet yours and lick off the lip gloss. You gently pressed your lips together to spread the lip gloss evenly, not noticing San's hand leaving the wheel to meet your thigh over the dress. It seemed like such a simple touch, offering him a small smile before you returned to your lips.

"What kind of lip gloss is that?" San asked, his eyes glancing over to yours for a moment before returning to the road, focusing on driving once more. "I think it's stawberry-" You were unable to finish your words as San's hand shot up to grip your cheeks, pulling you into a deep kiss with him as he pulled up to a red light. You moaned gently as San's tongue met yours, your lips moving together in a heated kiss as San's hand left your cheeks to move down your body, greedily grabbing and feeling every part of you before pushing away your thighs, his finger meeting your panties. You couldn't help but pull back to bite your lip as San continued driving with one hand, his other hand working on slipping your panties to the side as he pushed in a finger to your pussy, a moan leaving you both.

"You're so wet, honey" San breathed out, his finger moving in and out of you at a slow pace, the palm of his hand rubbing small circles on your clit. You gripped the seat at his motions, letting him do as he pleased as you continued to let out your moans into the car. The sight of you relaxed, head tossed back against the seat made San's cock twitch, gripping the wheel as he sped up, rushing now to the restaurant.

Your eyes opened to the sound of San's door slamming shut, the backseat door opening to show San climbing into the back, his lips and tongue wrapped around the finger that was just inside of you. His eyes were dark, a moan leaving him as he met your eyes. He motioned for you to meet him in the back with his free, only freeing his finger from his lips when you sat on his lip, his lips crashing with yours in a messy kiss.

"We have 15 minutes left before our reservation" San groaned against your lips, carefully moving so that you were against the seat as he moved onto his knees in front of you, kissing down your thighs as he mumbled "I want my appetizer"

Who were you to deny your husband such a need?

As you simply opened your legs wider for San, he smirked at the sight, blowing some air onto your wet pussy with a playful grin on his lips.

"Now isn't the time for that, San" You mumbled, running your hand through his styled hair as you pushed his head towards your pussy. San smirked, knowing you were right as he let you bring his lips to your pussy, moaning immediately at your taste. He took his time enjoying you, his tongue moving in and out of your pussy lips as he looked up at you through his glasses. He let you move your hips against his face, his own eyes rolling shut as you gripped his hair to press him more against you.

"Hmm, ride my tongue honey. Let me taste you" He moaned, his fingers pressing into your thighs as he focused on licking up all your wetness. You tossed your head back as his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking hard on it before he pulled back to mumble against your pussy "such a good girl for me. so fucking tasty"

Your moment with San was interrupted by the sound of his phone going off, letting him know that it was time for the reservation. He sighed gently before pressing a few more kisses to your pussy, as if kissing it goodbye before he pulled back to allow you both to fix up your appearance. He bit his lip at the sight of you reapplying lip gloss once more, wanting nothing more than to kiss it off of you again.

"You know," San hummed as you both exited the car and began to walk to the restaurant hand in hand. "I wouldn't mind just going back home and celebrating there"

"San" You gently scolded him as you both entered the restaurant, following the hostess to your table. San smirked gently, squeezing your hand to let you know he was playing around with you.

The hostess led you both to a private room dining room that had a beautiful view of the ocean, the room full of candles to give it a romantic glow. You gasped gently as San led you into the room, pulling out the chair for you as he said "I wanted to celebrate in a more intimate setting" He gently placed a kiss on your shoulder before moving to sit across the table from you, smiling proudly. He knew based on the glint in your eyes that he picked right for the reservation, his heart racing as you gently thanked him. He placed his hand on top of yours, gently pulling it to his lips as he said "Anything for you, my love. And you deserve it, you worked hard for that promotion."

San placed a kiss on your wedding band, making your heart skip a beat as he intertwined your fingers with his, admiring how perfectly they fit. San was a perfect life partner for you, someone who was driven and loved with his whole chest. You were his world and he wanted to make sure you knew that at all costs.

Soon the table was covered in food, San supporting you in ordering anything you wanted to try. You hummed happily as you both picked at the various dishes, both of you tasting the various foods with smiles on your face. You fed him some beef, smiling as he hummed "That has to be my favorite thing I've put in my mouth tonight."

You raised an eyebrow playfully at his words, your mind thinking back to the moment you both shared in the car before you both came inside, feeling more wetness gather at the memory. "Oh really?" You asked flirtatiously, leaning forward onto your hand as you met his eyes. At your new tone of voice, San raised his own eyebrow, putting down his fork as he said "Well, not as good as you of course." You hummed at his words, picking at your food with a faux pout on your lips. The sight made San smirk, leaning back in his chair as he asked

"You don't believe me?"

You shook your head, shrugging as you continued eating, your eyes moving to look out the window at the water. San scoffed at your answer, his eyes roaming your body hungrily before he decided to prove it to you. Your eyes stayed on the waves as the sound of San standing up and his chair being pushed back filled the room. You expected him to appear behind you, instead when your eyes left the window, you were met with an empty room. You looked around in confusion, trying to find him when you felt a pair of hands suddenly on your thighs. You jumped lightly before moving the table cover to see San on his knees once again in between your legs, his lips kissing your thighs as his eyes looked up to meet yours mischievously. As you asked him what he was doing, he bit his lip before simply pushing apart your legs more, his free hand moving up and down your covered pussy as he simply shushed you.

You were glad you were in a private room with San, the staff not being able to enter unless you both called for them on the tablet on the table. San smirked as he leaned forward to lick up your clothed pussy, his smirk growing as let out a sharp inhale. He enjoyed seeing you squirm and shake at his touch, repeating the steps a few more times. "Baby, aren't we supposed to be celebrating my promotion?" You asked breathlessly, your voice combined with your words making San moan against your panties, looking up at you with now flushed cheeks as he said "You're right, this is about you babygirl. This is about what you want"

San found the top of your panties, dragging it down your legs slowly before he attached his mouth to your pussy, his eyes locked on you as he continued to lick and suck wherever he could. Your eyes couldn't help but flicker to the door, letting out small moans as he gripped your hips, eating you out to his heart's content. At the sight of your eyes not meeting his, he got a pang of jealousy, wanting you to focus on him.

Your hand shot down to his hair as he pushed a finger into you, San moving your other leg onto his shoulder as he moaned against your pussy "look at me, honey. Focus on your reward" Your hand tightened in his hair as you both began to let out your moans into the room, both quiet and muffled by the music that the restaurant played. You began to move your hips against his face, San adjusting to match the angle. He focused on your face, watching every reaction to everything he did, wanting to make sure to drive you to ecstasy. San had hearts in his eyes as he ate you out, drinking in your taste happily while you held back from screaming his name, arching your back against the chair.

The sight of you panting and gripping both his hair and the chair made San's cock twitch painfully, his hands leaving you for a moment, though he didn't leave you empty as his tongue moved to replace his fingers as he hurriedly removed his belt and unbuttoned his pants, allowing his cock to peek out from the top of his boxers. Your eyes returned to see San's tongue moving in and out of you as his hands worked on his cock, using his precum to jerk off.

"You tasted so good, honey" San moaned, hips pushing forward as he groaned "I couldn't hold back, baby. You're so hot, you make me so hard."

The sight alone brought you closer to the edge, the sight making San forget about himself to give you 100%, his lips wrapping around your clit while his two fingers returned to you, curling up in the best way as he pushed you closer and closer to an orgasm. As you came, you breathily said San's name, hips shaking as San quickly licked you up, his hips still thrusting forward into nothing, wishing it was you.

As you slowly calmed down, San returned to his seat as he licked his lips, stuffing something into his pocket. As you closed your legs and moved to grab your panties, your eyes slightly widened at the realization that he had taken them. San confirmed it by patting his back pocket, taking a sip of water as he said "Don't worry, they're safe with me."

"How am I supposed to walk out of here without them?" You asked, San's smirk only growing as he said "Who said we were done here?" You raised an eyebrow as San flipped the tablet to face him, leaning forward with dark eyes, smirking as he asked "How do you feel about dessert tonight, baby?"

"Shh baby, remember, we aren't home where you can scream my name baby. Here, give them to me"

You moaned as San gripped your chin, making you face him as he continued to fuck into your pussy from behind, propping one of your legs up onto the table to fuck you deeper. You gripped the tablecloth and San's hair as he moved, fighting the urge to moan louder. You bit your lip as San pulled back, his eyes now blown out as he moaned quietly "There we go baby, let me give you my present for working so hard" San began to kiss down your neck, his free hand moving to bunch up your dress more at your hips to use as leverage as he began to move faster.

The only sounds that left you both were hushed moans and the sound of your cock plowing into your pussy, the squelching noises driving San crazy. "San, slow down, you're-"

"Shh, my pussy is talking to me" San groaned, his eyes locked on the sight of his cock moving in and out of your pussy, his tongue moving over his lips as he moved faster. You reached forward further on the table as San pushed you forward with every thrust, San's eyes landing on the cake you both ordered. "Here" San leaned forward, his hips still busy with their rough pace as he was able to keep his upper body up to grab a fork, gathering some of the vanilla cake onto his fork before he leaned down with you, his chest now against your back as he held it to your lips. "Say ahh, honey."

San didn't bother to stop moving as he fed you, chuckling at the moans that did escape you, praising you as he kissed your cheek.

"You're doing so well baby. Here's more, take it from my finger, yeah?" San dragged his finger along the frosting, holding it up to your lips as his pace sped up. You couldn't help but drop your head as his new pace, the frosting leaving San's finger to now land across your cheek. San chuckled at the sight, clicking his tongue disapprovingly as he said "that's not what was supposed to happen baby. You were supposed to open your mouth, look at the mess you made." He continued his disapproving tone as he pushed himself up to stand behind you once more, deciding to take on the opportunity of having you bent against the table like this.

You gasped as San landed a slap against your ass, his pace picking up speed he chuckled, saying "Look at how you jumped baby. All because you couldn't just open your mouth for me. Why? All because this cock feels just too good?" San punctuated each word with a hard thrust, chuckling gently as you nodded. He placed his hands back on the table, leaning down to lick a stripe up your cheek where the frosting was before he moaned "You're acting so messy, aren't you baby? Allowing your husband to have his way with you in a restaurant like this where anyone can walk by and hear us."

San's words and his pace pushed you closer to the edge, nodding before letting out another choked-out moan as San delivered another smack to your ass, his hands now gripping both cheeks as he quickened his pace, groaning "You're just my little slut, right baby? Anytime, anywhere I can give you this cock, my tongue, my fingers, anything, you'll take it right?"

"Yes San" You began to feel tears brimming in your eyes, San's lips pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek as he whispered "That's what I love about you, honey. You'll let me plow this perfect pussy over and over again, giving you pleasure just the way you'd like."

"What if someone were to walk in right now, baby?" San panted, his hips rolling against the flesh of your ass as he leaned forward to bite and kiss your shoulder, continuing to talk, almost to himself as he moaned "You look so pretty like this baby, god, it makes me want to take a picture of you like this. Let the whole world see how beautiful my wife is."

San could tell you were close, leaning down to kiss up your back as he groaned "Don't hold back, please don't. Cum baby, please cum" You gasped at his words, rushing to sit up at his words on your elbows and grip his hair, pulling him into a deep kiss to muffle yourself as your cum coated all over his cock. San cursed at the feeling, keeping you up as his hands separated your ass cheeks, watching as his now cum coated cock plowed into you, the sight bringing him close to the edge.

"Where do you want me to cum tonight, Honey? Want me to fill up this perfect fucking pussy?" He asked desperately against your shoulder, kissing wherever he could as his pace grew rougher, chasing his release as you nodded, pulling him into another deep kiss as he came, his hips shuddering against your ass as your tongue locked with his. San massaged your body as you both kissed, whispering praise and compliments before he pulled back, licking his lips as he pressed his forehead against yours, giving you both a moment to calm down.

"Do you think we were too loud?" You asked as San slowly pulled out, shaking his head as he placed a kiss to your shoulder once more before he pulled back with a gentle mile. "No. But even if we were, I paid extra to ensure that we were in a room with no one to either side of us"

"You thought of everything, huh?" You asked as he helped you get ready, laughing gently as he gave you a smile wink. Once you both were appropriate, San paid the bill before gently holding your hand, leading you with a proud smile out of the restaurant. San gently swung your hands as you both walked, making you laugh gently as you both approached the car.

"Wait, before you get in" San hummed, opening the trunk to take out a bouquet of roses he had hidden. As he held them out to you, he met your eyes once again with hearts in them as he said "I'm so, so proud of you honey. I cannot think of anyone more deserving of that promotion than you." You smiled as San kissed you gently, handing you the roses as he gently rubbed your arms, kissing your forehead as he hummed "Congratulations again, baby"

You accepted the flowers, climbing into the front seat as San did the same with a grin on your face. San smiled as you admired the flowers, gently rubbing your thigh as he began the drive home. "Do you have anything else planned?" You asked, turning to see your husband's smile turn into a smirk, the hand on your thigh slowly moving towards your pussy as he said "well, I plan on getting my wife home and continuing our celebration in a more private setting." You spread your legs more as San pushed in two fingers, San's voice meeting your ear as he pulled up to a red light, hunger lacing it as he hummed "starting right now."

BAMBIKISS | 2025

[cosmosluckycharms]

idk if u wanna write this but spider!bat reader x miles? like maybe after atsv they get totgether

Bug Like Angel

Sweet / I thought you wanted to dance

sorry this is so ass im writers block rn and its so late rn im so tired but ive been starving u guys from works sigh uhhh this is not canon to the actual storyline this is a what if

this is so ass sorry its also short cause again writers block is not fun

sorry if this is ooc im so tired

It was 9:19

You were getting ready for your first gala.

A week earlier, Alfred had promised you you'd finally get to spend time with your father.

Better late than never.

As soon as he told you about it, you went ahead and told all of your friends.

Everyone from school and the spider society.

Sure, lately you were starting to give up on Bruce being your father, but there was a tiny part of you that hoped this was what could fix your relationship.

This could be a way to finally connect with your family.

They would all see you as a sibling.

Most people would assume that you would hate galas like most people your age.

And the truth was, you did.

Even though you'd never gone to one, some of the people there would come over to the manor for visits.

You hated how all the stuck-up rich people would always talk about things that didn't interest you.

The way they would poke fun at you over never being acknowledged.

The way that they'd tell you how you looked so much like Bruce.

You shook your head and tried to get rid of the thought.

Tonight would be the night that your father would tell everyone you were his daughter.

He would boast about all your hobbies and achievements.

That everyone would finally get to see you, as Bruce Wayne's daughter, and not just a forgotten Wayne.

You spent the whole week preparing yourself for this day.

You got your nails done by Miles' mom in a way that perfectly matched your dress.

You did your hair so very perfectly, the way Peter B's MJ had taught you.

And your dress was personally done by someone in the spider society who was a fashion designer.

You had some jewelry you borrowed from Pav's aunt.

A pearl bracelet and necklace, along with some earrings.

You were so excited.

You checked the time, it was 9:32.

You had to be ready by 9:35.

Shit.

Why were you always late?

You started speeding up and putting the finishing touches.

By the time you were done, it was 9:36.

You sped down the dark miserable halls and the huge flights of stairs, being careful using the new heels you went and bought with Miles' mom.

Once you got downstairs, you were out of breath.

Once you caught it again, you saw Bruce and Tim already heading out the door.You walked up to Bruce and pulled on his sleeve, confused.

"Why is Tim coming? I thought it was just us?" you tilted your head in confusion.

Tim spoke up "You were taking too long, he decided to take me instead."

You balled up your hands in anger, but managed to calm yourself down "But Alfred told me-"

You got cut by Bruce "I don't have time for this, we're running late."

You flinched at Bruce's sudden cold tone.

A slight feeling of guilt passed through Bruce. "I'm sorry, I forgot. Maybe next time."

They started making their way out the door once again.

Tim made a stupid joke that made Bruce let out a chuckle.

You felt angry tears well up in your eyes as you stood there, frozen, as you watched them both walk away.

You furiously stomped your way back to your room, throwing your fancy purse onto the floor.

You cried at the edge of your bed, which left a stain of makeup on there.

After half an hour of pathetically crying, you sat up.

You should've known.

You should've known how Bruce wouldn't wait for you.

You should've known that he wouldn't care enough to wait for you.

Of course wouldn't, you weren't worthy enough for your father's love.

You would never be.

Bruce's love went to his other children, his sons.

You'd never be equal to them.

The more you thought about it, the more mad you were.

You had to get out of the manor before you got even more pissed.

You put on your web shooters, ignoring how you still had your big gala dress on.

You opened your window and snuck out.

You ignored how someone was most likely gonna see you swinging around without a costume.

You got to a random rooftop and sat down.

You noticed how across the building was the gala, playing loud, classical music.

You started crying once more.

You couldn't tell if it was out of sadness or anger.

Your dress was now slightly ripped and your heels were scuffed.

Your makeup was running down your face and everything was going wrong.

You just wanted to go home.

A familiar buzz and ringtone went off.

You checked your phone and checked the contact.

It was Miles.

Your heart skipped a beat and you fumbled with your phone a bit, quickly clearing your throat and picking up.

"Hello?" you said, a tad bit too excitedly.

"Hey, it's Miles."

"Oh, yeah. right."

An awkward silence passed on both ends.

"Why'd you call? I mean, it's not like I did want you to call; you're cool and all, and I do like you. I mean-! Not like, like like you, I mean like-" you rambled on for a couple more seconds before finally shutting up.

"I got a feeling I had to check up on you," he replied

"I'm fine, great even!" you spoke, obviously not fine.

"You only say that when you're not fine. I'm on my way."

Fuck.

He was on his way and you looked a mess.

You quickly tried your best to clean yourself up.

Sure, Miles wouldn't judge you for your makeup that was running down your face or your ruined dress, but you didn't want him to worry.

You cleaned yourself up as much as you could, which didn't do much.

You felt a familiar tingle in your skull.

You turned around and saw an orange portal.

As soon as Miles walked through, you got excited.

Only for that excitement to fade out to realize you still looked bad.

He looked at you, noticing how you looked like a mess "Y/n? You look like hell."

"Yeah, I just got back." you chuckled.

After yet another moment of awkward silence, you ran and tackled him into a hug, awkwardly.

He spoke up, sitting down "You look upset, what's wrong?"

"Nothing serious." you sat down next to him

"Was it your family?"

"Yeah."

"They're all assholes."

"I know, right?"

"What even happened?"

"Fucking Tim happened." you threw a random pebble at the floor.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

"Dude, for the last like, week I've been so excited over finally being able to go bond with my father, only to be forgotten again."

"At least you look pretty."

"You're pretty too! I mean, like, Uhm, yeah." you stuttered, face growing warm

You both talked for a while, mostly filled with you both awkwardly flirting like two middle schoolers.

After an hour or two, you could hear the gala's music blasting a romantic slow song.

You both hummed along to the slow song, you didn't notice how Miles looked at you like you were the light of his life.

He got up, making you look at him confused.

He pulled his hand out, and you took it.

You've never been a really good dancer despite being in dance at a young age.

And what made it worse was that you kept fumbling around, accidentally stepping on his shoes every 10 seconds.

Instead of just giving up on you though, he kept going.

After a minute or two, you finally got it. All you could hear was both of your laughter and the loud, slow music blaring from the gala.

Unbeknownst to you, there were a lot of people who could see you and Miles.

Luckily for him, he had his mask on.

Unluckily for you, they saw you dancing with him.

They took a lot of pictures, and you would've known if it wasn't for someone having their flash on their camera.

You can already see the headline for tomorrow's gossip magazines.

"Forgotten Wayne, seen flirting with new vigilante?"

As soon as you both noticed the flash, Miles spoke up.

"I think it's time to get you home."

Before you could protest, he picked you up bridal style and started swinging you back to the manor.

Great, the paparazzi ruined a moment with your stupid crush of a year or two.

He dropped you off at your windowsill, which had always been a blind spot for cameras.

You started turning around to go to bed, only to be turned around and kissed by Miles.

You felt your face heat up.

You both stared at each other in shock.

"Goodnight!" Miles quickly blurted out, rushing away.

You processed what happened and threw yourself onto your bed, giggling and kicking your feet.

You couldn't believe this.

The guy you've liked since you first met him 2 years ago liked you back!

It was like a fairytale dream!

The next morning you got up and ready for the day.

You knew you were most likely going to see your family eating breakfast, which made you feel nauseous with anxiety.

You didn't wanna face them.

Not Alfred.

Not Bruce.

And certainly not Tim.

You didn't understand why Bruce preferred him over you.

You didn't want to get upset all over again, so you pushed away the thought.

All you wanted to think about was the night before.

You felt like a lovesick puppy every time you thought about Miles.

You made your way to get breakfast, still in your pajamas.

You could slowly overhear some of your family's conversation.

You were nosey, so you eavesdropped.

"I just can't find anything about this guy!" you heard Tim saying

Bruce spoke, clearing his voice "Are you sure?"

"Yes I'm sure!" you could practically see Tim stressing from a mile away. "it's like he's not from here."

You finally got to the kitchen, about to pour some cereal for yourself.

"What did you do?" Tim barked

"Huh?" you looked at him, trying to act dumb

"Last night, 11:47 pm. where were you?" he glared

"Out and about." you tried to act natural

"Be specific."

"wouldnt you like to know weather boy?" you reached for the cereal

"You're being so stubborn." he crossed his arms

"I was in the manor." you lied

He slammed the pictures of you and Miles dancing together.

Shit.

"Hop off my dick," you spoke, angrily.

"And what about these?" Bruce placed down a picture of Miles kissing you, with the bottom of his mask lifted slightly.

A drop of sweat rolled down your face "Uhm.."

"This is dangerous! You can't be doing this. you shouldn't be dating other vigilantes." Bruce took a sip out of his coffee

"you guys do it all the time," you argued

"That's different!" he slammed the coffee mug down.

"How?"

"We know how to take care of ourselves."

"As if I don't?"

You could feel their angry stares on you.

"Listen, I'm fine now. I don't get what the big deal is."

"The big deal is how this is ruining how people see you. How people see all of us." Tim lectured

"That's all you care about? How the public sees us?" you put your hands on your hips

They went quiet for a moment and you spoke up again.

"This wouldn't have happened if you both just let me go to the gala for once," you uttered.

"This is about the gala?" Bruce asked.

"No, it's not about the gala, it's about how I've constantly been treated." You explained, trying to keep your composure "You guys only care when I'm doing something that harms you socially."

Bruce was about to speak up only for you to walk back to your room, still hungry.

"Just let her be," Tim said, looking at the pictures yet again.

He couldn't help but wonder,who was that boy?

im sorry this is so ass omg

no taglist this time bcs this isnt canon

[obsessedwhyyes]

A Sound Hypothesis

Part 1 of The Scientific Method series.

Summary: Inexperienced in the ways of love, you often find yourself labelled an overthinker. But then again, you are a scientist. When your incredibly beautiful travelling companion proposes a night you'll never forget, suddenly you're left wondering, are you really ready for this? Ever the scientist, you propose an experiment, and get more than you bargained for.

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4762 Pairing: Astarion x Fem!Reader Content: Act 1, smut with plot, inexperienced nerd reader, making out, oral sex (giving and receiving), hand job, cock worship, blowjob and handjob instruction (ie. Astarion teaches you how to pleasure him).

A/N: Can't believe this got to nearly 5k words, good lord. Actual smut comes in half way through, but it's still rather spicy before then. Also, writing handjobs is hard.

The events of the night prior felt like a dream, yet you remembered each moment vividly.

“I’m beginning to like the whole package, honestly,” he had purred, “and you clearly like me too, so I was thinking…”

You looked into his eyes as he gazed confidently, hungrily into yours. There was only him in this moment. Well, him and the quickened pulse of your heart pounding in your ears. You were certain he could hear it.

“We could take an evening to ourselves. Get to know each other a little more intimately.”

But you were struck with a hit of nerves then. You had lived a sheltered life before your abduction. A wizard and a scholar, your pursuits had been in the sciences and that of perfecting your craft, rather than in stolen moments of lust with beautiful strangers. Not to say you hadn’t experienced a few stolen kisses, however. But to give oneself entirely to another - that was a very different, much more intimidating affair. Yet there was no denying the spark that flickered between the two of you as you spent your days and evenings together, and that spark ignited a growing ache within you that lingered each night you retreated to your bedroll.

“I want to, Astarion. Gods, I really want to, but I’m…”

You hesitated and tore your eyes from him; fiddled with your fingers for a moment.

“You’ve never done this before,” he finished, causing you to look up suddenly from your busying hands.

“I had my suspicions. I’d have already bedded you twice over otherwise.”

You could only laugh, not only at the sheer audacity of his remark, but because of course he knew. Gods, he could probably smell the inexperience on you from a mile away.

“It’s your decision, of course. Should you wish to keep things light between us, we’ll end our evenings together as friends. If you decide you want a little more, however–”

He stepped closer to you - close enough to feel his cool breath on your skin and smell the freshness of his cologne.

“I’ll give you a night you’ll never forget.”

He brushed a strand of hair from your face, his hand lingering delicately where your neck meets the line of your jaw. He was playing you like a fiddle, and you knew it. But gods, if his tune wasn’t a siren’s song in the night. You wanted nothing more than to dance to it.

And then he kissed you.

Gods, the way he kissed you.

There was need, yes; a hunger not unknown to you even in your limited experience. But it was a hunger wrapped in a velvet blanket of familiarity, as though he had known your lips as long as his own. He was certainly skilled, there was no denying that.

The chill of the night air felt like a splash of cold water to your senses once his lips left yours, and you found yourself mourning the loss of his touch.

“Think about it,” he had said that night, before retreating back to his tent.

–

And here you are, wrapped in your bedroll, thinking about it. Ceaselessly.

About his voice, laced with the sweetest honey, speaking promises of nights wanton and dripping with ecstasy. About his smile, teasing and rakish, and the feel of his lips against yours which you missed like home.

You think about the times you let him feed from you; the gentle way he held you, one hand cradling your head. The soft, pleasured noises that would rumble from his chest as he grazed over the soft flesh of your throat - and sunk his teeth into it. Then, greedy, he would begin to pull you close, your chest flush against his own. Every time he fed, it was as though the gates holding back the flood of every primal vampiric instinct within him were unleashed at the taste of you; the ambrosia that is your life essence which you willingly gift to him. And every time he fed, before you reached the point of no return, you would break him out of his trance - a simple series of taps on his shoulder - and he would release you from his predatorial embrace.

It was in those moments, you would see the look in his eyes: ravenous, pupils blown, boring down into you as you lay there beneath him, vulnerable. Your gazes would linger and gods, how you imagined what it would feel like to be entangled with him; for him to take his pleasure from you.

No, you tell yourself. This has been going so fast. Your time together has been so short in the grand scheme of things yet, with the threat of ceremorphosis looming over you, your time on this mortal plane may be fleeting. One might argue that now is surely the time to experience that which you have not… isn’t it? 

But what if this isn’t what you actually want and this aching need within you is simply a manifestation of the stress your increasingly bizarre situation has brought you? It is not unknown for one to develop bouts of hypersexuality in times of stress, or so you have read in books detailing such occurrences.

Suddenly, an idea presents itself. A scientist such as yourself requires a chance to gather all available evidence before coming to a conclusion. A little experimentation, perhaps. Then, you’ll know for certain if your attraction runs deeper than you give your body credit for. Your honed mind will not be governed by a set of primitive bodily urges - you’re better than that. You won’t allow it.

For now, sleep beckons. Tomorrow, you shall put your idea into practice.

– 

The next day passes as swiftly as you had hoped. You’re eager to welcome the night. You and your companions had seemingly settled into a predictable routine when it came to your evening endeavours: your fellow wizard and friendly rival, Gale, would slave over the cook pot with the limited items you had procured over your journey, while the Blade of Frontiers himself regaled your group with stories of his adventures, punctuated with commentary from your remaining companions, ranging from crude to complimentary. Food would be eaten and domestic duties fulfilled, after which, everyone would begin their journeys to their bedrolls. Well, everyone bar you and Astarion. As the resident elves, you require far less rest than that of your travelling companions. It was in these moments, where the camp lay dormant and the two of you sit against a fallen log by the campfire, that you had developed something resembling a rapport with Astarion. You have become rather fond of your night time talks.

Tonight, however, you have plans beyond repartee.

You feel emboldened by your plan. Where before, you were thrown into territory unknown, unprepared and anxious, now you have the comfort of scientific method on your side. You know exactly what to say - you’ve thought of every possibility after all.

Sitting side-by-side, you turn to him, determined.

“I was thinking about your little proposition last night.”

“Were you now?” Astarion replies with a smirk on his lips and a gleam in his eyes.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself just yet. I always imagined that the first time I, um…”

“Did the horizontal dance with an esteemed companion? Engaged in amorous congress? Fucked?”

“Had sex,” you quickly correct, halting his attempts to fluster you further. “I always imagined the first time I had sex would be under slightly less unusual circumstances. We’ve been under nothing but stress ever since we got off that damned Nautiloid. I can’t tell if this desire I’m feeling is because I truly want to spend the night with you, or because my body just wants a distraction.”

“Is that such a bad thing? We’ve worms in our brains and danger is lurking around every corner. Our time is short, darling. If I can provide our dear leader a little respite in these tumultuous times; offer up my services in her time of need, that sounds like time well spent, does it not?”

He shuffles closer to you, resting his arm behind you on the log which you both lean against.

“Besides,” he continues, his voice low and close to your ear, “you’ve been so good to me, offering up your neck for me to savour. It’s only fitting that I offer you a little distraction in return.”

“I don’t want to just… use you as a distraction, Astarion. Gods, I offered you my blood because I wanted to help you, not because I expected a favour.”

For a fleeting moment, his expression shifts. And just as quickly, his smirk returns, embodying a practised sultriness that has surely wrapped many a soul around his fingers.

“No,” you continue, “if I have sex, it will be because it’s something I truly want to do; that I’m ready for. Not just a fanciful distraction. I hope you feel the same.”

That expression again, barely noticeable. You can’t quite decipher it.

“So, darling,” he purrs, “what do you suggest?”

“I was wondering if I could kiss you.”

“Ha! Can’t get enough, eh?”

“I just think that, with a little more evidence, I might be able to see if this is something I’m truly ready for; to discern whether this desire is real, or simply a physical response to this gods-awful situation we find ourselves in.”

He laughs, seemingly amused by your reasoning, and your heart flutters at the sound. Unexpected.

“Gods, are you always such an overthinker?”

“I just think it would help me come to a decision.”

“Is that what this is then? Your little experiment?”

“I’m nothing if not a scientist,” you tease back.

“Alright, my dear. Your terms are acceptable. A kiss, for scientific reasons, of course.”

Of course, you say to yourself. That… is what this is, isn’t it? Simple evidence gathering?

You have no time to consider this as Astarion places a finger under your chin, lifting your gaze fully to his, and suddenly, you hear your pulse pounding loudly in your ears once more. Gods, his eyes are beautiful.

An easy smile, a tilt of his head, and he presses his lips to yours, delicate and familiar. He’s gentle, at first: his lips linger on yours a moment before kissing you again, a tender sensation. As you close your eyes and immerse yourself in the feeling, the world around you quietens. No longer do you hear the crackling of the fire as it dies, the chirps of insects, or the rustle of leaves in the breeze. 

At this moment, all you know is him.

You succumb to the coolness of his touch, the smoothness of his skin, the freshness of his scent - sensations so overwhelming that your body responds of its own accord, letting free a soft moan into his mouth.

As though in response, Astarion’s hand lowers from your cheek and trails from your neck, your shoulder, to your waist, as though committing each dip of your body to memory, before pulling you closer to him. Your hands, in return, plant themselves against his chest. His body feels hard and angular against the softness of your own.

As his tongue seeks permission to dance with yours, there is a hunger; a fieriness that threatens to engulf you. The kiss deepens, and you realise with a start that your legs have entangled themselves with his.

Pull yourself together, your mind screams. You’re meant to be in control of your body, not the other way around.

Or so you think, when suddenly, Astarion’s hand moves to your arse - the cheeky sod - and he skillfully, seamlessly rolls you onto his lap, taking advantage of your entangled legs, purposefully positioning you so that you’re straddling him.

Shit.

You gasp. You had forgotten to breathe. He notices and, gods, the smug look on his face. He knows he’s taken you off guard, and worse still…

He knows the effect he’s having on you.

The wall you had carefully constructed between your mind and body begins to collapse, brick by brick. As you kiss, the final fragments fall away, and everything that was once separated threatens to come together in a powerful, unified surge of desire if not for the final threads of your self-restraint.

His body desires this as much as yours, it would seem. As you straddle him, his hands caressing you as they drag up and down your back, you notice a distinct hardness digging into you, oh so close to your core. It takes more willpower than you’ve ever known to not grind into that hardness, seeking the release which you ache for. You are a tautly drawn bow, the tension between your mental focus and physical yearning almost unbearable.

Noticing how stiff you become, Astarion retreats from your lips, tilting his head in playful curiosity.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, darling?”

“I… I…” You barely recognise your own voice as it strains to come out of you.

The bowstring snaps.

You yield.

Your mind and body merge into a mess of lust and desire, and you kiss him hard and greedily. He returns the enthusiasm in kind, releasing a groan into your mouth as he does so. You want this. You want him.

Astarion pulls himself from your lips and turns his attentions to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses where, other nights, he had sunk his fangs. As he does so, you hear his voice, husky in lust.

“You know, if you still need a little more “experimentation,” I have a couple more ideas for you…”

His voice gives you goosebumps.

“... I’m particularly skilled with my tongue, after all.”

You nod.

“Your tent or mine?”

–

As you’re pushed against the bedroll within the privacy of your tent, you’re overwhelmed by a desire to feel every inch of Astarion’s cool, hard body on yours. It was such a primal need, to be enveloped by him; an urge beyond anything you’ve experienced, causing you to wrap your arms greedily behind his neck as you kiss each other, pulling him closer, but never close enough. His hips grind against you slowly, deliberately, granting you a brief, delicious friction which sends shivers up your body and fuels the incredible ache between your legs.

Astarion sits back up on his knees, admiring the mess of you, a smile on his pretty lips. You can only imagine the state you must be in: hair wild, eyes wide and hungry, clothes dishevelled. But your appearance is a distant notion in the back of your mind as Astarion lifts the hem of your skirt and removes your undergarments, sopping wet from your arousal.

You feel vulnerable, exposed to him like this, your desire on full display in front of the very man who you spent nights dreaming about. While his lustful gaze lights a flush of red across your cheeks, it doesn’t cause you to recoil; instead, you find yourself emboldened as he lowers himself between your legs, holding your gaze with eyes hungry and hooded.

He drags his lips up your thighs, leaving kisses so teasing that brings forth the neediest of sounds from your chest. When he reaches your core, he slides a tongue up the slit of you, agonisingly slowly, painfully gently.

Head rolling back, you anticipate the feeling of his tongue within you, but then…

He diverts his attention back to your thighs.

Bastard.

“Astarion..!”

“Eager little pup, aren’t you? Don’t you worry, darling - you’ll get what you desire. Once I have my fun with you, of course.”

He shifts, propping your legs over his shoulders as he grants you an audacious glance and grazes his tongue over you once more, sending a wave of tingles radiating across your body.

You begin to pout at his teasing action, and–

His tongue enters you.

He glides it firmly from your entrance to your clit, lapping you up in one motion, releasing the most wondrous groan, as though the nectar of your arousal is sweeter than any honey.

And so, like a man starved, he devours you, gauging quickly the sensations you prefer, alternating skillfully between firm strokes of his tongue, and the most teasing of flickers across your clit.

Your back arches, and you can do nothing but grasp at the edges of your bedroll as he works at you, leaving you in a state so blissful that you don’t notice the wanton sounds being cried from your lips.

“Easy, love,” he purrs, the loss of his tongue against you causing you to whimper. “As much as I enjoy hearing those delectable sounds of yours, let’s not wake the others, hm?”

You can only cover your mouth with your hands in a feeble attempt to hush yourself as he continues his ministrations. As your eyes meet and the pleasant ache in your core begins to swell into an all-encompassing warmth across your body, you wonder if this is what it feels to be revered as a deity would, your every sensation treated with the kind of awe that only a god might know.

It is when he enters you with his fingers - first one, then two, thrusting in rhythm with his tongue - that the warmth, now an inferno, reaches its peak. It surges through you like a divine crescendo, each wave of your climax a new blessing that floods your senses with a celestial rapture, singing his name like the sweetest hymn.

He caresses your thighs as he brings you down slowly from your high, grounding you.

As you return once again to this mortal plane, the lingering euphoria elicits a fit of giggles from you.

“Well,” Astarion smiles in return, removing himself from the home he has made between your legs, “you certainly seemed to enjoy yourself.”

“I did. I really did. Thank you.”

As you both sit yourselves upright once more, he presses another kiss to your lips. You taste yourself on him.

“I hope our little experiment was very informative for you,” he says with a wink. His words are teasing, but spoken with a gentleness that surprises you.

The truth is, you do have one more idea.

“Can I, um… Can I do the same for you?”

“What?” He says a little too quickly. Noticing this, he brushes his hair back with his hand to a more presentable condition, regains his composure, and continues. “I mean, you don’t have to. To see you squirm under my touch, that’s pleasure enough for me.”

“I want to make you feel good too.”

“You want to?”

That same indecipherable expression. A man with as many notches on his bedpost as he claims must have had some less than favourable conquests every now and then… Perhaps he’s had some bad experiences when receiving too? You suddenly find yourself cursing your lack of experience in these matters. You’re not exactly brimming with social expertise either.

“I probably won’t be the best - not as good as you - but I want to try. I always find that the best way to develop one’s skills is to practise under the guidance of a trusted expert. So… could you teach me how to make you feel good?”

Your gazes linger for a moment as he seems to assess your resolve.

Seemingly satisfied, he smirks, a well-practised aura of sultriness fitting back into place once more. All traces of that mysterious expression dissipate before your eyes.

“Well, darling, if you’re so eager to please me, who am I to stop you?”

You slide up to sit next to him as he begins to unlace his trousers, and suddenly you find yourself unsure of where to look. You’ve a scholar’s knowledge of the physical form; men’s anatomy is no stranger to you from an analytical perspective. And yes, you’ve fantasised about Astarion’s… parts before, as much as you have tried to deceive yourself into believing it was nothing more than a passing, intrusive thought. Yet, now that you’re here, about to perform the most intimate of acts to your beautiful travelling companion for the first time, you become bashful. You can’t quite believe the situation you’ve gotten yourself into tonight.

Yet, as he lowers his trousers and underwear to his thighs, revealing himself to you, all thoughts of bashfulness, of anxiety, cease to be for a moment.

“Hells, Astarion.” You look upon his hardened member with disbelief, measuring its girth against your arm. “How is that going to fit inside me, exactly?”

A slip of the tongue.

He grins, very pleased with himself. “Getting ahead of ourselves, are we?”

… And there returns that familiar flush of heat to your cheeks. Shit.

His chuckling lets you know that he has, in fact, noticed your embarrassment.

Seeking to swiftly change the subject to the much more pressing matter at hand, you ask, “can I touch you?”

In wordless agreement, Astarion guides your hand to his cock, which glistens slightly from the beads of precum elicited from the head. As you hold it, his hand remains over yours, coaxing you to move up and down the shaft.

His cock isn’t warm as you would imagine a regular man’s to be, owing to his vampiric nature, but you note its hardness; the way it pulses beneath your touch; the way his foreskin glides over the head so seamlessly. You squeeze him, fascinated.

“Gently, love. Like this.” He demonstrates by applying a light pressure to your hand and twisting ever so slightly as you both reach the tip, then loosening his grip as he slides you back down his length. You repeat the motion, tentatively. Gods, you hope you're doing this right. He made you feel incredible. You want him to feel incredible too. But oh, what if you hurt him, what if you–

“A-ah…”

The softest sigh of pleasure from your companion interrupts your thoughts. It sends wonderful shivers throughout your body. You find yourself eager to coax more of those little sounds from him.

A newfound confidence flares within you, and you gradually increase your pace, up and down and up and down the shaft, squeezing and twisting lightly as your beautiful instructor taught. In a sudden bout of curiosity, you glide your thumb over the head on your way back down and–

“Ah!”

There it is again. That most delicious sound.

“Exactly like that, darling. Exactly like that.”

He removes his hand from yours as you continue to pump him - you are a fast learner, it would seem - and moves it to reach your cheek, turning you to face him. As he leans his forehead against yours, you notice his breathing has become heavier, just ever so slightly. Instinctively, your breathing begins to match his, and you feel an intensity in the air that gives you goosebumps. Then he kisses you, and it is hungry. Ravenous. Greedy. His hand moves from your cheek to the back of your head, gripping your hair lightly, pressing your lips firmly against his.

As you continue to pleasure him, you find yourself becoming greedy too.

You want to taste him.

Between gasps for air, you ask him, “can I use my mouth on you? The way you did for me?”

“Mmhm,” he says into your kiss. It feels almost a shame to remove yourself from his lips, but you have greater plans yet. 

You both reposition yourselves. He turns to lie himself back on the bedroll, and you crawl down his body to position yourself between his legs. So close to his cock, you find yourself admiring it, taking in every detail: the thick vein on the underside of the shaft, the way the head throbs a colour darker than the rest, eager for release.

You're overwhelmed with a primal desire - a need - to please, to give.

To worship.

“Gods, it's beautiful,” you think aloud.

“I know,” he remarks confidently in return. You roll your eyes at his arrogance, but in this moment, in your eyes, even you can't deny that his cock is perfection. Your mouth waters at what is to come.

You hold his member delicately, like a jewel most precious, planting kisses up his length. A soft sound escapes from Astarion’s lips and suddenly you are emboldened, determined to gift him with bliss as he had gifted you. To do so, however, you would need a little instruction.

“Tell me how to please you,” you plead, and you feel him twitch at your words.

“You are eager,” he purrs, propping himself up with his hands to gaze down at you. You notice a shiver and a sigh, ever so slight, when you trail a line of wetness from base to tip with your tongue.

“In that case,” he continues, brushing a strand of hair from your face, granting him a better view of you, “lick your lips and hold it at the base. Then I want you to get to know it a little, so to speak. Use your mouth around the head and start slowly - there's no point in rushing in, eh?”

You obey, shaking off the lingering feelings of bashfulness at the directness of his words, and wrap your lips around him. Out of curiosity, you swirl a flattened tongue around the head and gods, his skin is so smooth, still slightly salty from precum. His cock twitches and you hear him gasp above you - he’s especially sensitive there, it would seem. 

Where are his other sensitive spots, you wonder.

Time to experiment. You are nothing if not a scientist.

You bob your head and relax your jaw to the best of your abilities, taking in just a little bit more of him each time your mouth glides up and down, keeping your tongue flat against him to flick against the sensitive tip each time you glide back up the length. The sounds he makes - oh, those sounds. His moans are like velvet, a soft, deep timbre that caresses your senses and makes your loins ache once more. Every murmur seeps into your being, igniting your senses and fuelling your need to explore every inch of him. You continue your journey down and down his length, savouring the taste and the texture and–

You gag as his cock touches your throat.

Astarion recomposes himself. “Easy, darling. Use your hand where your mouth can’t reach.”

“Like this?” Your hand pumps the shaft in rhythm with the motions of your mouth and tongue, and Astarion’s head rolls back for a moment.

“Like that,” he exhales heavily, “and suck gently.”

There’s a certain sense of empowerment, unravelling him like this. You relish in every moan that escapes his lips, every twitch and pulse of his cock as you attend to him. The lewd, wet sounds emitted as your hollowed cheeks suck his length. His hand finds its way to your hair, fingers weaving through the strands with a gentle authority, pushing you hard enough to guide you to an ever-quickening rhythm, but gentle enough not to force himself down your throat.

“Use your other hand,” he says between breaths, “hold the balls softly.”

You do as he says, giving them the gentlest of squeezes as you attend to him, and his breaths grow deeper, uneven. You sense the rising tension in him, a tide gathering strength beneath the surface.

He gives one final instruction.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes meet with a stormy intensity and, as you pump up and down with your lips and fingers at a dizzying pace, the intensity seems to surge through him with the force of an ocean swell, powerful and all-encompassing.

With a tremor and a groan so delicious that you find yourself moaning instinctively in response, his cum fills your mouth. Your eyes water, taken by surprise by the force of his release, but you do your best to swallow each wave, releasing him with a wet pop as his climax subsides.

Some moments pass and, in the afterglow, the tent is filled with a comfortable, profound stillness, and only the sounds of heavy breathing - yours and his - as you both return to your senses.

“Did you just..?” He asks, breaking the silence.

“I did,” you reply with a grin, showing him your tongue to reveal that not a drop went to waste.

He laughs warmly, and your heart flutters.

“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” He kisses you deeply as he sits up, seemingly undeterred by the taste of himself.

“I think I’ve gathered enough evidence to consider your proposition,” you say teasingly.

“Tomorrow night then, darling?”

Bastard.

But yes, you think to yourself. Tomorrow night. You’re ready.

Part 2, An Empirical Study, can be found here!

Masterlist can be found here.

[vettelsvee]

Hi love! For your tortured poets department, can I request endgame from the reputation album, lando being the driver please please 🙏

END GAME | Lando Norris

Lando Norris x Friend with benefits Piastri!Reader

SUMMARY: You were used to have random hookups just for fun, including with Lando Norris himself. It's not until he decides to lock both of you up on his driver room and talk about your weird relationship that you don't realize that, deep down, you're willing to settle down your mind and start a dating him ↳ REQUESTED: Yes! Thanks for requesting and hope you like it 💖 Part of REPUTATION in MY TORTURED DRIVERS DEPARTMENT

WORD COUNT: 2745

WARNINGS: Slightly +18 at the end (sorry for leaving it there ☺️), mentions of friends with benefits, spelling with multiple people, angst, curse words

VEE'S NOTES: Haven't written Lando in a very, very long time, so hope you like this one! University and my mental health are killing me but you know what? Writing is what keeps me going (and specially your comments have been a boost of serotonin for me lately). Also... the 2k special is already living rent free in my mind and I can't wait to achieve the goal to post it 😭 I wanna give spoilers now so... you know 🤓 ↳ TALK TO ME / REQUESTS! | FORMULA 1 MASTERLIST

© VETTELSVEE (2025). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

"You finally decided to show up at a race. I was starting to think you only liked having me naked in your bed behind your brother’s back."

You smiled at the screen, playing with your fingers as you thought how could you answer Lando. Your relationship was based purely on sex, moreover sexting, with barely any real conversations whenever you met, moans and orgasms speaking for you both instead.

You had never felt the need to go beyond that, to involve feelings in your relationship, or at least that’s what you had made clear to Lando before sleeping with him the very first time. You also let him know that, besides him, there were other guys with whom you had no commitments whatsoever.

However, it was with Lando that you spent most of your time. The others were nothing more than a safe escape, an easy way out when the Brit wasn’t around.

"Be grateful that I even came," you finally replied. "And don’t flatter yourself. I came to see my brother, not to make you come before a race."

You hesitated, wondering if your reply was harsh enough to keep him from getting any ideas and, more importantly, to stop him from insisting on meeting up. You weren’t sure how, but you wanted to end that strange relationship before it spiraled out of control because, whether you wanted to admit it or not, you had started to feel something for him.

Yes, just a few weeks ago, you had one of your usual encounters with a friend of one of your best friends. But everything fell apart when, right before reaching your climax, you couldn’t help it: you moaned Lando’s name instead.

That was what made you question what exactly you felt for Norris and why the label of friends with benefits seemed to be fading away.

"Don’t play dumb, Piastri. See you at the motorhome. You know exactly where."

You huffed. Of course, you knew exactly where you’d be meeting. After all, ever since your brother became a Formula 1 driver, you had visited his teammate’s personal room more than Oscar’s.

With a sigh, making sure neither your mother nor your sisters were nearby, you got up, grabbed the plastic cup that still had a bit of coffee left, and walked with as much determination as you could muster toward McLaren’s motorhome, finishing your drink along the way.

As you walked, mentally preparing a script in case things got tense with Lando, you greeted the people you knew, or at least those who knew you as Y/N Piastri. Lewis was genuinely happy to see you and even stopped to chat, but you excused yourself, saying you had already made plans. Fernando gave you a knowing look, as if trying to figure out what exactly you were about to do with a certain driver.

Even your brother crossed paths with you at the entrance to McLaren’s motorhome. You managed to lie to him, partially, saying Lando had asked you to take a few pictures of him before the race.

Oscar gave you a strange look, then rolled his eyes, offered a small smile and told you to enjoy whatever it was you both were about to do.

You said nothing, but you knew your twin brother well enough to realize he already had a pretty good idea of what you were up to with Norris. Not that you tried too hard to hide it.

When you reached Lando’s room, you didn’t even have to knock. The door opened instantly, revealing a slightly tired-looking Lando with a cup in his hand. His race suit was already on but zipped only to his waist, leaving the top half hanging loose. His team cap was still on, though it didn’t last long since he took it off and tossed it aside within seconds.

He grinned from ear to ear, like he had been waiting for you with far too much anticipation.

"Come in. Make yourself at home," he said with that mischievous tone you were so used to hearing, though something about it felt slightly different this time.

You walked inside without hesitation, crossing your arms and ignoring him, except for the occasional sideways glance to see if he would do or say something before you did. Unfortunately, he didn’t.

"If you wanted a quick fuck before the race you could’ve just said so, you know?"

"I don’t think today’s the best day to fuck you and let everyone hear," he replied. "At least, not yet. Today, we’re going to talk."

"We don’t talk, Lando," you shot back, feeling an internal alarm go off. "And when we do, it’s just to ask about the safe word of the day, what we want to do to each other, and how close we are to coming."

"Well, maybe it’s time we started talking, don’t you think so?"

His answer took you completely by surprise. Your gazes remained locked on each other, and you felt the atmosphere grow tense.

For the first time in a long while, there was no excuse you could use to avoid that conversation with Lando. Maybe the fact that you had been ignoring him for the past few weeks was enough to make him realize that there was a chance—however small—that things had changed between you two.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the growing sense of unease settling in your chest. Lando kept looking at you with that same intensity he always did, except this time… it was different. It wasn’t the first time you found yourselves in a situation like this, where there were a thousand unsaid things hanging between you, waiting to be voiced. But it was the first time, at least on your part, where feelings were involved beyond pure physical desire.

"I don’t think there’s anything to talk about," you said as nonchalantly as possible, but your tense posture betrayed you.

Lando set his cup down on the table beside him. Then, he sat on the edge, crossing his arms again, and reached for your hands only for you to pull away and take a step back.

"I think you know exactly what we need to talk about," he replied calmly. His voice was lower than usual, and you felt the heat grow between your legs. You shook your head, feeling guilty and doing your best to push away that sudden, but familiar, awakening in your body.

"You’ve been avoiding me, Y/N. And don’t tell me you haven’t, because you were in Monaco and never called me to meet up… to see each other," he added, his voice laced with something unreadable. "In fact, we usually sext almost every day, and you didn’t even bother to tell me what  new lingerie set you bought for when you came over."

"I didn’t tell you I was coming to Miami either."

Your reply, rather than making you sound indifferent, exposed you completely. Lando raised an eyebrow, as if he had caught you red-handed. That was when you realized you had seriously screwed up.

"I haven’t been avoiding you, Lando. I’ve just been busy," you insisted.

"Busy? You mean busy by ignoring me?" He scoffed, ironic. His expression turned much more serious now, and you started to worry about where this might lead. "Tell me the truth, Y/N. What’s going on? What’s happening with you?" he emphasized.

You averted your gaze, pretending to take interest in the room’s decoration, a room you already knew by heart. You knew you couldn’t keep dodging the topic, but you also had no idea how to confront it without changing everything you had so far. It was impossible to put into words what you felt for Lando, not when your relationship had always been purely physical. And especially not when there was a real chance you were just confused… and, well, you couldn’t forget the possibility that he might only see you as his hookup.

"Nothing’s wrong," you finally responded.

"I thought we were always honest with each other," Lando sighed, running a frustrated hand through his hair.

You felt your throat tighten. It was hard to breathe. You had been honest, at least when it came to the unrestricted desire between you, to touching each other without attachments, to seeking comfort in one another without questions that went beyond your wildest fantasies. You had avoided anything personal.

But now, you were slowly breaking the unspoken rules that had kept you in perfect balance until this moment.

"I’ve been busy, Lando, and the last thing I wanted was to deal with you, alright?" you insisted, trying to sound as convincing as possible. "Things should have stayed the way they were until, according to you, I started ignoring you."

"No, Y/N, things aren’t like that," the Brit denied, shaking his head. He stepped closer, cornering you against the wall. "If you don’t want to face something because you’re afraid of rejection, just tell me. But, for fuck’s sake, don’t act like I did something wrong, because you’re killing me."

"Lando…"

"Stop insisting that nothing is happening between us, when that’s exactly what makes me think the opposite."

His confession caught you completely off guard. His words—clear, direct, and without a hint of sarcasm, threw you off… especially because you knew he was right.

You felt the urge to run, to disappear, to pretend none of this had ever happened. Most of all, you wanted to deny yourself any romantic thought you had ever had about Oscar’s teammate.

When you lowered your gaze, Lando moved back slightly, giving you space and making sure he didn’t overwhelm you more than you already seemed to be. You sighed, trying to relax once again, but before you could say anything, he spoke first.

"Tell me nothing’s wrong between us, Y/N Piastri," he said softly. "If nothing has really changed, if everything is the same between us… dare to look at  me in the eyes and say it."

Your chest tightened. You couldn’t run away, not when Lando had you emotionally cornered, teetering on the edge of an explosion. Your breathing was unsteady, heavy. Your mind screamed at you to find an excuse, anything that would let you stay true to yourself regardless of what happened next.

Lando waited, unmoving, his blue eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made you tremble for the first time in your life—without him even touching you. It was the first time he had shown himself to you like this: so vulnerable and yet so determined at the same time.

"Nothing is wrong between us, Lando Norris," you finally whispered, forcing the words out, ignoring both your heart and the boy standing in front of you.

"Say it again, but this time, look me in the eyes."

He didn’t move an inch. He knew you were lying; your posture gave you away—the way you avoided his gaze, the way your fingers toyed with the hem of your shirt and your accreditation pass…

You squeezed your eyes shut tightly. You had no choice… at least, not entirely.

Lifting your gaze, you met his blue eyes once again. Your lips parted slightly, ready to try and let out a lie convincing enough for both him and yourself.

But it was impossible. You couldn’t keep doing this, not when, deep down, and no matter how hard you tried to deny it, you felt something more than just pleasure for Lando Norris. The fear of rejection… it terrified you. The thought of him turning you away, of losing what you had with him, was unbearable.

"Lando…"

"You don’t have to say it if you’re not ready," he interrupted. "But please… stop pushing me away. Stop making this to us."

"It’s just…"

Nothing. No matter how much you tried to explain yourself, to find a logical enough reason for your sudden ghosting, you couldn’t.

"It’s just what, Y/N?" the Brit pressed. "Are you afraid to take a risk? To admit something because you’re scared of what might happen next? Because you don’t want to change the life you’ve had until now? Because you want to…?"

Lando forced himself to stop. He ran his hands through his hair, exasperated, turning his back to you. Guilt hit you immediately, your body trembling as the storm inside you began to break free. The driver rubbed his face, frustration radiating from him. This was exhausting him. You were exhausting him, to the point where he was starting to doubt his own feelings. Feelings that had started to grow the moment he realized it hurt when you ignored him, when you didn’t even send him a simple "Hey."

"I wish this were different, Y/N," he finally murmured, his voice thick with emotion as he turned to face you again. "I wish you didn’t make me feel like this. I wish I could just be content with what we had before and pretend none of this was happening…"

Your stomach twisted painfully. That was exactly what you had been thinking, the very reason you had pulled away from him and from whatever this was. You had ignored the fact that your feelings for Lando Norris had become something much stronger—maybe they had been there for far longer than you were willing to admit.

"Lando, listen" You tried to step closer, but he pulled away.

"No, Y/N, no," he said bitterly. "I tried convincing myself there was a reason you were ignoring me, acting like I was nothing to you, and then it hit me that I really want you as more than just someone to fuck."

"That…" you struggled to say, stepping toward him. This time, Lando didn’t stop you. The sincerity in your eyes, the way you looked both calm and nervous at the same time, made him realize he had to trust his instincts. And that was exactly what they were telling him.

"That’s what I wanted to tell you," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper, but Lando still heard you. "That’s why I kept you on standby for two weeks… I knew this would change everything, that you’d react badly, that we’d end up fighting, and I… I didn’t know how to face the possibility of you rejecting… this."

Lando stared at you in surprise before a sad smile crept onto his lips.

"Y/N… I’ve always been good at reading signals, but this has been driving me fucking crazy."

"And you think it’s not been making me feel the same?" you shot back, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders.

Lando stepped closer, taking your hands in his. You didn’t resist, feeling how the both of you tensed at the contact. His lips inched toward yours, and when they finally met, the kiss was so fierce, so full of passion, that you ended up straddling him on the couch, moving against him, desperate to feel him. Even though you both knew there was still a race in two hours.

"I don’t want to touch you like this, Y/N," Norris whispered against your ear as you left small bites along his neck. "Y/N, stop it babe…"

"I don’t wanna be just another ex-love to you, Lando…" you murmured between kisses, still searching for friction between your bodies.

"And I don’t wanna miss you like your other lovers do, babe…"

This time, Lando gripped your waist firmly, flipping you onto the couch beneath him. His eyes never left yours as he carefully lifted your shirt and started massaging your breasts over your bra.

"I wanna be your end game, Y/N," Lando breathed, unable to tear his gaze away from you.

Your breath came out in shallow pants, and you felt like you were teetering on the edge. Your hands gripped the unfastened gear around his waist, tugging lightly to keep him close.

"Then prove it."

"I have a race in two hours, love…" he murmured, his voice rough as he pressed his forehead to yours, his arousal growing.

"Then you better be quick," you teased, running your hands over his abs beneath the fireproof. "Especially if you don’t want Osc to hear us…"

"You’re gonna be the death of me one day, Y/N Piastri," Lando groaned as he trailed his fingers up your thighs, lowering himself before you. "Now, open your legs for me... You deserve a punishment after being such a bad, bad girl these past few days…"

[f1fantasys]

Only Mine

Summary - Lando giving you a necklace with his number. Find Charles' version here

Warnings - explicit smut, blowjob, fingering, oral sex, p in v sex, unprotected sex, swearing.

'Baby?'' Lando called out to you while you were finishing off your makeup in the bathroom.

''Yeah Lan?'' you replied, walking up to him and wrapping your arms around him from behind. He was standing in front of the floor length mirror in your bedroom.

You rest your chin on his shoulder and looked at him through the mirror. ''Missed you'' you whispered.

You really did miss him. He'd just gotten back from the Chinese and Japanese races which you couldn't go to because of work, so 3 weeks away from each other had you both on edge.

''And i missed you too, which is why i got you a gift'' he said, taking your hands in his and walking to you sit on the bed.

''Oooh i like gifts!'' you excitedly joked.

''Trust me baby, I know'' he smirked.

He opened his drawer and pulled out a long box before sitting next to you and handing it to you.

Intrigued, you took it from him but not before pecking his nose.

You carefully opened it to reveal a gorgeous, dainty gold necklace, but what caught you eye was the pendant in the middle.

It was the word ''four'' etched out with tiny diamonds covering it.

Your breath hitched as you looked up at Lando, your heart fluttering.

He smiled at you. ''Just want you to always remember you're mine, only fucking mine''

''Lan, it's so beautiful, thank you'' you said, launching yourself at him for a tight hug.

He hugged you back before you pulled away and looked at it again. It really was beautiful, but then something else caught your eye.

The word was cut out in handwriting that you knew all too well - it was Landos'.

''Baby, this is your writing. How did you do this?''

''Yes it is, but that's a story for another day. I hope you like it'' he cooed.

''I do, going to wear it everyday. And i love you''

''Love you too sweets''

Lando pulled you in for a kiss which started slow and gentle but very quickly turned sloppy and desperate.

You granted him access as he slid his tongue into your mouth, causing you to suck it for a while as his hands roamed your body.

He pulled you onto his lap and started groping your ass, while you tried to grind down on him.

But you had to stop this from going any further - you had a dinner with friends to get to, and you didn't wanna just have a quick fuck.

''Lando wait. Later. Dinner. Friends'' you mumbled.

''Fuck them'' he said, showing no intentions of slowing down.

''Hmm, I'd rather you fuck me, but later. Come on'' you said, detaching yourself from him and standing up, though your core was screaming in anger, clenching around nothing.

Lando groaned. ''Ugh y/n''

The dinner started off well. You were celebrating a friends' birthday so their was a large group of you. Of course, Lando's hand found homage on your thigh for the whole night, itching closer to where you craved him the most.

You tried to distract yourself by following conversations that were going around the table, which was working until Lando decided to let his fingers slip past your panties and run through your folds.

The action had you jumping in your seat, a flurry of confused eyes looking at you, until he said he kicked you by accident.

Fortunately for you, or unfortunately for Lando, it was soon time to leave and head to the club for a few drinks.

You tried to make up an excuse to go home, but your friends weren't buying it, so here you were being forced to down a few drinks and dance the night away.

You actually were both having fun - you with the girls and Lando with the guys, gossiping and talking shit, dancing crazy to the music on at Jimmy'z, until you went to the bar to get another drink.

A guy - who was at the dinner as well, a friend of a friend, stood beside you and tried to make conversation. He had being giving you weird glances all night, smirking at only you, which you tried to brush off. Right now, you wasted no time in making it obvious that you didn't want to interact with him.

He wasn't budging though, and he was inching closer to you in the limited space. You tried to search the crowd for your boyfriend- or anyone else for that matter but everyone was caught up doing their own thing that no one saw your eyes begging for help.

He looked at your neck and obviously saw your necklace, and putting on a fake, sarcastic laugh.

''Lando Norris huh? Really?''

You looked at him, your eyes throwing daggers at him. ''What's that supposed to mean?'' you asked.

''Well, for starters, he's such a fucking useless driver. Bet i can do better than him and win a race. And baby you can surely do better than a man like him''

You hated when people down talked Lando like this. He was one of the best fucking in drivers in the world and 2 bad races do not define him. And what the fuck does he mean you can do better than someone like Lando?

You took you necklace in your hand and squeezed it tight, somehow trying to draw power from it to tell this guy to fuck off. But he started talking again.

''Bet he doesn't even know how to fuck you properly, bet you can't even make you cum. Let me show you how a night of passion should be' he rambled on.

By now you were seeing red.

''Seriously you need to fucking stop talking right now. I don't owe you anything but I will tell you that you are wrong. Lando is the most talented fucking driver on that grid, and for your information, he fucks me better than you could ever fuck yourself''

Just as you finished saying that Lando appeared by your side. His face laced with confusion as he took your one hand in his and then noticed how you were clinging into the necklace.

''Y/n'' he said. ''What's going on?'' he said, looking at the guy now, throwing his own daggers at him because you wouldn't be pissed off for no reason.

''Oh nothing, just a low life who thinks he knows shit, trying to interfere with our lives, but really just needs to fuck off'' you spat.

''Oh please, what are you guys? 12 years old that you have to wear a piece of jewelry to show off?'' the guy spat back.

Now it was Lando's turn to see red.

''Listen, this is the exact reason she's wearing it. To show losers like you that she's mine, and not yours. So fuck off before I do something you'll regret'' Lando shouted over the music.

You won't lie - hearing him claim you as his and saying he got you that necklace so everyone knew that your only his had turned you on more than it should have.

You squeezed his hand, not bothering to pay any attention to the guy again.

''Lan, take me home please'' you said, rubbing your lips together.

His anger faded when he looked at you and smiled. ''Gladly'' he said, before throwing one last dagger at that stupid man.

You rushed out of the club hand in hand. Lando never let go while waiting for the valet to bring his car over.

The ride home was palpable with tension. Neither of you saying a word but stealing glances at each other ever so often.

Thinking you were being discreet, you started rubbing your thighs together - trying to get some relief to your aching core.

He didn't miss that action though. He settled his hand on your thigh again and squeezed it.

''Wait til we're home baby. I''ll take care of you'' he whispered.

As Lando parked and stopped the engine, he made way to open his door though you stopped him.

Unbuckling your belt you got onto your knees on your seat as best you could in the small car and leaned over. You quickly unbuttoned his shirt before leaning forward and taking one of his nipples into your mouth.

He hissed at the contact. ''Fuck y/n'' he panted as he held your hair out of your face, pulling at it, hard.

You bit and sucked at it while you hand snaked down to unbutton his jeans and slide into his boxers. He was already half hard so when you pulled his dick out it was already standing stern, begging for attention.

You continued to lick a stripe down his torso, stopping to peck his moles, as you pumped him a few times, using your thumb to spread his pre-cum over his slit.

Just as you were about to take him into your mouth Lando pulled your head up to give you a dirty kiss, forcing his tongue into your mouth.

You moaned into the kiss, goosebumps appearing on your skin at just how rough he was.

''You're only mine y/n, never forget that. And next time someone behaves like that, kick him in the balls'' he said, pulling back and looking into your eyes.

Before you could even respond, Lando was pushing you head down and his dick in your mouth, making you bop up and down his length.

You deep throated him straightaway - his tip hitting the back of your throat causing you to gag.

''Yes baby, that's it, taking me so fucking well'' he said as he continued to fuck himself into your mouth.

You moaned at him - words of encouragement always turning you on even more.

''You like that, don't you? Taking my thick girth down the back of your throat so good like that''

You moaned again and pulled up for some air.

Lando watched how your spit was dripping down your chin and he couldn't help but lick some of it off of you before pushing you down on him again.

You could his dick start to twitch in your mouth - his own movements becoming sloppy.

''Fuck me, y/n, not gonna last baby. Gonna cum now'' he grunted through gritted teeth.

And he did. Sheets of warm and salty cum shot in your mouth as he pulled harder on your hair.

You rode him through his orgasm, sucking on his tip before pulling off completely, breath heavy as you looked at him.

He cupped your face and chuckled lightly.

''What?'' you asked, curious as to what his answer would be.

''Who knew an asshole like that would lead to me earning the best head you've ever given me?'' he whispered.

''Fuck Lan, need to feel you in me now!'' you said, already climbing out of the car and running towards the front door of your penthouse.

Lando followed you and as soon as the door was shut he had you against it.

Crashing his lips to yours with an urgency while his hands ripped your dress off of you. You couldn't care less about it. All you knew was you needed to feel him everywhere.

You'd not worn a bra tonight so it was easy for Lando to bend down and latch his mouth to your nipple. Biting and sucking at it, showing it no mercy while his hand massaged your other boob.

You held onto his hair as he sank lower and lower down your torso, eventually settling at his knees.

He pryed your legs open, sliding your tiny panties down them before he attacked your pussy with his lips.

''Fuck Lando'' you panted, your back arching off the door as your pulled on his hair harder.

He wasted no time in finding your clit and kitty licking it with the tongue, while his eyes never left yours.

''Hmm yes, please'' you begged him, not sure what for.

He pulled your pussy apart with both hands, allowing his tongue to slide in with ease through your entrance, before replacing it with two fingers, thrusting in and out of you.

Your nails were now digging into his shoulders, probably leaving purple marks for tomorrow. Your way of showing everyone he was yours..

He set a quick pace, curling his fingers at just the right time for you to feel your orgasm approaching.

''Lan, gonna cum'' you said through bated breaths, and in no time you were gushing your sweet liquid all over his face, his tongue trying to lick and swallow it all while you were a moaning mess above him.

Your legs, definitely like jelly by now, started to give way but Lando quickly stood up and held you up, before jolting you up over his shoulders and walking towards your bedroom.

''So pretty my love'' he whispered, more to himself, as he dropped you on the bed.

You whined. ''You're still wearing too many clothes'' you said as you sat on your knees and helped him work off his shirt and jeans, stripping his boxers off.

His cock bounced freely, already hard and aching for more. He pumped himself a few times while looking at you watch his actions.

'''Ready baby?'' he asked, though he knew the answer already.

''Fuck me now, please'' you begged again.

Lando pushed you to lay down and placed your legs over his shoulders as he lined himself up with your dripping pussy.

''Remember babygirl, you asked for it, yeah?''

All you could do was nod embarrassingly eagerly, as he thrust his whole dick in you at one go.

Normally he'd give you time to adjust to the intrusion, but on nights like this when you were both riled up, there was no holding back.

You palmed your breast as he fucked into you at a relentless pace, both your moans filling the room, loud enough for people walking on the streets to hear.

''So fucking tight baby, taking me so well. God you feel so amazing'' he muttered through his moans before he leaned down to adorn your neck with enough hickeys to last a month.

''Lan, Lando, Harder, deeper, please'' you edged him on.

Within minutes your body was shaking and trembling below him, your orgasm washing over you violently.

''Fuck me'' he mumbled, his hands now finding your waist and ramming into you with just as much force.

You dug your nails into his biceps, begging him for to stop - or for more - you weren't sure.

Suddenly, you got an idea, so with whatever energy you had, you pushed Lando off you so that he was now laying down.

You quickly climbed on top of him and sank down again, gripping at his abs and setting a quick pace. You watched as he licked his lips and smiled to yourself as his eyes shifted from yours down to your neck.

The necklace

Shining bright and looking beautiful as every on you - this was the reaction you wanted. His eyes grew shades darker and you watched as his breath hitched and he bit down on his lower lip.

You couldn't help but let out a few moans.

''Like what you see baby?'' you asked innocently.

It was as if you tapped him out of his daydream as his eyes found yours again and gave you the biggest boyish grin you'd seen in a long time.

''You fucking know it'' he smirked, now lifting himself up to thrust into you.

You leaned forward so the necklace was now dangling right in front of his face, going crazy with the movements of both your bodies.

Lando leaned up a bit and took it into his mouth, sucking it while his eyes remained your yours above him.

That action alone shot another orgasm through your body, shuddering and closing your eyes to calm your breathing as you felt your cum sliding out of you with each thrust Lando was giving you.

''Mother of fucks this is incredible'' you say incoherently as Lando slides out of you and pushes you back down, pulling your whole body to the edge of the bed where he is now standing and lining up with you again.

He thrust in, holding your legs out the way while watching you face contort with pain and pleasure, both your breaths reaching new heights.

''How did i get so lucky. The prettiest, more intelligent girl out there and best of all the one who fucks me the best. Y/n, you're something else'' he said, clearly now chasing his own orgasm as he was becoming sloppy and could barely hold himself up.

You were too fucked out to know what was happening to be honest.

So you let him have his way with you. You did feel as his thumb found your clit and started circling it.

''Gonna cum for me again? Hmm baby? Got one more in you?'' he asked, not that you had a choice.

Words had long left your brain, so you just let out a series of moans to pleasure his ears, while the sound of your bodies slamming together pleasured yours.

You opened your eyes and saw how Lando let his spit drip from his mouth down to the place you were joined, sliding around his dick and disappearing into your cunt.

''Lan I'm done, gonna cum'' you panted, eyes shutting at how sore you actually were now.

''Do it y/n, let it out'' he said.

And just as you moaned out his name when you felt your orgasm ripping through you, you felt ropes of warm cum filling you up and painting your inner walls white, his dick twitching uncontrollably inside of you.

''Fuck me'' he said as you pulled him down to let his weight fall on you.

The both of you were so zoned out, neither making a move to get up and clean up.

You just held each other, trying to calm your breaths, shivering at the cool air now drying the sweat that was covering you.

Lando felt himself soften inside of you so he slowly slid out - you whined at the loss of contact.

''Be back now, let me clean you up'' he said, running to the bathroom.

You sat up and looked down, seeing the mixture of juices slide out of you had you scooping some up on your finger, just as Lando returned with a warm towel.

Just as you were about to put your digit into your mouth, he moved quickly to lean down and take your finger into his mouth instead.

''Uh, Lan!'' you whined, watching as he sucked on your finger.

He swallowed and smirked at you.

''Sorry baby, it just looked so fucking hot''

You pouted at him but watched as he leaned down further and licked more that was dripping out of you before leaning up and prying your mouth open to drip it into.

''There'' he said, and you couldn't help but smile at him.

After cleaning up and climbing into bed together - you wearing nothing but some lacy panties and a certain piece of jewelry - Lando pulled you into his side and held you close, pecking your nose.

''I love you baby'' he whispered.

''Love you too handsome'' you replied back, you fingers playing with the necklace.

''Thank you again for this Lan. I love it, and it will always tell me - and others - that I'm yours and only yours'' you said.

''Only mine, babygirl''

Requests are open for Lando and Charles!!

[g4rvez-r3id]

Naughty Boy

Post Prison! Spencer Reid x Unit Chief! Fem Reader

Synopsis: You and Spencer are trying to have a little fun in secret until Emily walks in… Spencer decides to make it a little more interesting underneath your desk.

Category: Smut

Warnings: established relationship, power dynamics, reader and spencer keep their relationship private so it’s a bit of forbidden love trope, kissing, smut warnings: lowkey sub!spencer, and also lowkey perv!spencer, spencer has a boner, straddling, stroking, cunnilingus, getting caught, exhibitionist kink? fingering, cumming in pants, use of ‘sweet boy’, ‘good boy’ and ‘naughty boy’, spencer lowkey pathetic- idk that should cover it

Author’s Note: hey lovelies! lowkey this one kinda sucked but i wanted to write a smut oneshot 🤭 got this idea watching a sitcom lmao anyways post prison sub spencer supremacy 🛐 debating on writing a part two to this one where reader punishes spencer hehehe let me know! please enjoy this one!! <3

A lot of changes happened since you’d become unit chief of the BAU. It wasn’t your intention of becoming unit chief but Emily Prentiss believed otherwise. She passed down the tassel to you since you’d had so much experience on this team for years. And she also knew Hotch would’ve wanted it, too.

After Barnes tried to take the BAU down, Emily was given back her job and hiring authority. Feeling as if you’d earned the spot, she promoted you. Of course, you were a little anxious taking charge at first but Emily assured she’d stay every step of the way and even offered to take over when you felt the power to be a bit too much.

You and Spencer’s relationship had become more balanced since he got back from prison and you felt the need to keep your relationship under wraps for as long as possible. Nobody knew you two were together, you both were very careful when it came to your relationship. You’d only been dating for a year and a half since he got back from prison where he’d finally confessed his undying love for you and that he’d show you just how much he loved you when he got out.

You’d both been pining after each other for years before the fact. And since then every moment you’d shared together has been wonderful, despite keeping it hidden from your colleagues. It was for the better, especially now that you were a higher power. If it wasn’t strictly forbidden before, it definitely was now that you were unit chief.

You were lucky that you’d chosen someone that was usually good at keeping secrets. You both never arrived to work together, you both left work at separate times and only ever spoke in a professional manner to one another. Of course, nothing too far as to not speaking to each other entirely. You were surprised that no one had suspected a thing for the year and a half you’d been together.

Today, you were in your office, filing everyone’s paperwork and signing off on them one by one. You’d just finished JJ’s when there was a knock on your door. “Come in.” You spoke and behind the door had been your loving and doting boyfriend.

“This a bad time?” Spencer asked as he waited for your okay to come in. “No, no, not at all. Come in.” You smile and turn towards your already closed blinds. If you hadn’t already closed them, it definitely would’ve looked suspicious if you closed them now.

As soon as he shut your door, you stood up from your seat with a sly smirk and walk over to him. “So, what can I do you for?” You ask. “Oh, nothing, I just—” Spencer rests his hands on your hips. “I just missed you.”

You smile as you hold him close. It’d been a minute since you had a moment together. Cases were often disrupting already what little time you two had together.

“I missed you too, my love.” You say, looking into his eyes with a loving smile. “Why don’t we go out for dinner tonight? I’m working on the paperwork now so I won’t have to stay here too late tonight.” You suggest and he smile right back at you. “I’d like that. We could use a date night.”

You pull him closer to kiss you on your lips and as you pull him flush against your body, you feel it. It’s definitely unmistakable that he’s hard in his pants.

“Uh, baby?” You ask, pushing him a bit. “Yeah?” He asks as he leans his head down towards his collarbone. “Are you… hard just from a few kisses?” This wasn’t the first time he’d gotten an erection just from a few simple kisses from you. He pretty much gets turned on by anything you do. And you secretly love it.

“I can’t help it, Spencer admits into your neck. “You’re gorgeous.”

You blush at his words and smile, “Aw, thank you, my love.” His mouth stays on your neck, sucking on your pulse point. You pull him towards your chair and push him into it, getting on top of him and straddling him with a smirk etched on your face as you lean down and kiss him on his lips.

He tries to speak into the kiss, pushing you away for a brief moment. “Wait, wait, wait.” He says and you look down at him, your index finger tapping on his plump pink lips, staring down at them. You had a bit of an oral fixation when it came to Spencer Reid. Whether it was for yourself or for him.

“What’s wrong?” You ask. “I just don’t want us to get caught, that’s all.” Spencer stated and you smile, “I know, sweet boy. But you let me worry about that, okay? Right now, I just want to take care of my boy.”

You run your hand towards the front of his slacks and palm his hard cock through his pants. He moans a little too loud and you are quick to clasp your free hand over his mouth. “If we want to this to work, you’re gonna need to be a good boy and be quiet, okay?” He nods vehemently into your palm.

You stroke him a few more times through his pants and you check and see that your sweet boy’s eyes are rolling to the back of his head. You wonder how long you can keep him on the edge, how long you can make this until he’s shouting that he can’t take it anymore, how much he’ll—

Knock. Knock. Knock.

You and Spencer look at each other in horror before you quickly usher him underneath your desk and fix yourself up to the best of your ability, sitting in your seat. Surely, you could’ve explained that Spencer was just in here for a moment but you acted quickly and couldn’t risk whoever was coming in to talk to you to see what you two were doing. You two didn’t exactly have the best poker faces in the world.

“Come in.” You say, attempting to sound as normal as you can. The door opens and in walks Emily. “Hey, Y/n. Care if we talk for a moment?”

“Of course, come right in.” Emily nods, shutting the door behind her and sitting in the chair in front of your desk.

As Emily begins to talk with you about your most recent case paperwork and begins on giving you pointers on how to handle it quickly, Spencer is crouched underneath your desk and he has a perfect view up your skirt.

You’re too distracted with Emily being in the room to feel how his hands — his gorgeous hands — glide up and down your calf and they begin to reach in a higher place and you flinch as his nimble fingers touch your underwear.

Your eyes widen as Emily furrows her brows at you and seems to notice you’ve flinched. “Are you alright?” She asks and you nod, “Oh, yeah, super. Just too fidgety today,” You hold up your mug. “Too much coffee.”

Emily continues her advice as you feel Spencer removing your underwear down your thighs. You don’t see how he stuffs them in his pocket. He bunches your skirt to the best of his ability and you look down just for a brief moment to see that he’s become in a trance as he gawks at your wet pussy.

You’re so lucky that your desk is too high up for Emily to see what you two are doing. This is so wrong. You should definitely try and stop him but the fact that he could be caught underneath your desk — it just turns you on even more. Who knew you were such an exhibitionist?

“Another thing that I recommend that you do is—” You hardly listen to Emily as you try your best to give your undivided attention to her but it’s really difficult when the man you love is underneath your table, lapping at your pussy with his useful tongue.

You feel everything as he begins to suck on your clit and sticks his fingers into your hole and you try your best to keep a straight face. You bite your lip and try and keep yourself as hunched over as you can to not draw suspicion.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Emily asks, once more. “Uh, yeah,” Your cheeks redden. “I’m… just not feeling very…” You feel as he rolls his tongue in a figure-eight on your bundle of nerves. “Well at the… the moment.”

“If you need to go home, I can take over the rest of the day.” Emily offers and you think about it. You definitely need the time to punish your sweet boy for being needy and impatient, so maybe going home would be a good idea.

“Uh, that’s probably a good idea.” You say. “Why don’t you let the rest of the team know?” Emily nods and leaves the room and you wait for the door to shut to finally gasp and whimper.

As Emily exits the room, she walks away from the door and shudders. Yeah, she knew what the hell was happening. The team pretty much knew you two were together already. You guys didn’t have the best poker faces in the world.

“Oh, you naughty boy.” You back your seat up a bit as you run your hands through his hair. He takes his mouth off of you for a second to breathe. “I like seeing you in an authoritative position. It’s sexy.” With that, he dives back in, running his tongue through your folds again.

You take your hand through his locks, pushing him impossibly deeper into your pussy. “Oh, my God!” You exclaim softly, eyes rolling back as he finishes you off. “Come on, cum for me. Please. Please. Baby, please.” He pleads in your pussy, moaning and sending vibrations through your body as he sticks his fingers back inside.

You bite your lip to contain your moans in your office and you feel yourself gush over his face and look at him, his eyes blown with lust and love. “Did I do good?” Spencer asks, wiping his mouth of your essence and you smirk.

“You did.” You admit. “Now, that Emily’s gone, maybe I should finish what we started.” Spencer looks down and shakes his head, “No, I, uh, actually don’t need help with that anymore.”

You furrow your brows, look down and sure enough, Spencer’s slacks are a shade darker near his crotch. You should’ve expected this, he’d cum at the slightest touch.

“Somebody definitely wants to get punished tonight.” You tease, dragging a finger to his chin and he holds his arms up in surrender. “Hey, sorry I wanted to look good for my boss.”

You shake your head with a chuckle. He can be so impossible sometimes.

So, you tell him to exit the office as discreetly as he can with his blazer over his crotch to hide the evidence and to call in for the rest of the day, making an excuse that there’s a bug going around so you can edge him for hours on end when he gets to your apartment.

[mylovesstuffs]

Little Hands, Big Hearts — Lee Seokmin

Genre: Non-idol au-ish, babysitter au and rom-com

Pairing: Seokmin × fem!reader

Content: Friends-to-lovers (?), babysitter & hot uncle, found family, single parent vibes (but he’s actually just an uncle), mutual pining, jealousy but cute, domestic fluff, protective love interest, small Joshua cameo (no dialogue), idol life elements (seokmin’s busy schedules), “i want to be someone important to you” confession

Word count: 2140 words

A/N: I actually had something else planned for his birthday, something much longer and (hopefully) better but Tumblr decided to be a piece of shit, and I physically cannot format it all in one sitting without losing my mind. So maybe next month (or the month after, knowing my luck). Anyway, when I realized mere hours before Dokyeom’s birthday, mind you—that my original post wasn’t happening, I had to speed-write this incredibly cliché thing instead. Am I satisfied with it? Absolutely not. Are we running with it anyway? Absolutely yes.

Huge, massive, life-saving thanks to @gyubakeries !!! I swear you are the only reason this got beta-ed last minute. I hope your pillows stay cold on both sides forever, your WiFi never betrays you, and you obliterate your exams. Ilysm, truly. I was fighting for my life with this schedule, and then Tumblr came in and delivered the final boss battle. But anyway happy belated birthday, DK! May your high notes always soar, your jokes always land, and your days be filled with nothing but love and warmth. Love you endlessly, you absolute gem of a human being! 💛🎉 And sorry in advance for whatever this is.

Babysitting wasn’t exactly the most glamorous job in the world but it paid the bills. Plus, you genuinely enjoyed spending time with kids. That’s why, when your friend recommended you to a new client who needed an occasional babysitter for his niece, you said yes without hesitation.

What you didn’t expect was that the ‘uncle’ you’d be working for was Lee Seokmin, the bright, cheerful vocalist of SEVENTEEN.

The first time you met him, he nearly tripped over the couch trying to grab his niece’s stuffed bunny before she could burst into tears. His energy was exactly what you imagined from someone who spent most of his time performing on stage.

“Hi! I’m Dokyeom,” he said, flashing a beaming smile that was so radiant it could rival the sun. “Thank you so much for helping out. I’d do it myself, but—”

“—You have a busy idol schedule,” you finished for him.

He blinked. “Yeah…exactly.”

His niece, Hana, was an absolute angel. She had his same bright smile and she grew fond of you immediately. You spent the next few weeks looking after her whenever Seokmin was busy with schedules and little by little, you saw different sides of him.

He wasn’t just the loud, happy-go-lucky guy everyone knew. He was also a doting uncle who could lull Hana to sleep with soft hums of ‘Circles’, and a surprisingly good cook when he had the time.

One night after a particularly long day, Seokmin returned home just as you were tidying up Hana’s toys. He let out an exaggerated sigh and collapsed onto the couch, covering his face with a pillow.

“Long day?”

“You have no idea,” he groaned, voice muffled. “But I kept thinking about Hana and—” He hesitated. “—and wondering if she gave you a hard time.”

You smiled. “She was great, as always. Though, she did insist I tell her a bedtime story about ‘Uncle Min and the Princess.’”

Seokmin peeked out from behind the pillow, eyes twinkling with interest. “Oh? And what happened in this story?”

You shrugged, playing along. “Well, Uncle Min was a very silly prince who made the princess laugh all the time.”

“Sounds accurate.”

“But then he got lost in a giant castle of laundry and the princess had to help him find his way out.”

Seokmin laughed, sitting up. “Okay, that part is true. My laundry pile is terrifying.”

The conversation melted into comfortable silence, the only sound being the soft breathing of Hana sleeping in the other room. After a moment, Seokmin glanced at you with a thoughtful look on his face.

“You’re really good with her,” he said softly. “I—uh, I really appreciate you.”

You felt warmth creep up your neck. “It’s my job.”

“I know, but…I think Hana really loves you.” He smiled, rubbing the back of his neck. “And I can see why.”

Your heart did a tiny flip at the way he looked at you, gentle and sincere. You quickly busied yourself with putting away the last of Hana’s toys, hoping he wouldn’t notice the way your face heated up.

Maybe Hana wasn’t the only one growing attached.

The weeks turned into months and before you knew it, babysitting Hana had become a regular part of your life and so had Seokmin.

You didn’t realize when the small moments started meaning more, when you started looking forward to his late-night returns just to chat about your day or when you found yourself laughing a little too much at his terrible dad jokes. Seokmin was always there. Bringing you snacks before he left for work. Texting to ask if Hana was behaving. Staying up an extra ten minutes just to keep you company before you left for the night. It was easy. It was natural. It was dangerous.

Because one evening after you put Hana to bed, Seokmin walked you to the door like he always did but this time, he hesitated.

“I, uh…I have a day off tomorrow,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Hana’s been asking to go to the park and I figured…maybe you could come too?”

You blinked. “You want me to come? You don’t need a babysitter tomorrow.”

“I know,” he said, smiling sheepishly. “But I thought it’d be fun if we all hung out together. Y’know, as…friends.”

Friends. Right.

You ignored the way your heart did a stupid little flip and nodded. “Okay. That sounds fun.”

-

“Push me, push me!” she squealed.

You laughed, helping her up. “Okay, okay! But what about Uncle Min?”

Hana turned to Seokmin and pouted. “Uncle Min is too slow!”

Seokmin gasped-pouted. “Betrayal! How could you?”

Hana just giggled and you couldn’t help but shake your head. “She’s not wrong, though.”

Seokmin narrowed his eyes at you. “Oh, you’re in trouble now.”

Before you could react, he scooped you up, yes, actually lifted you off the ground and spun you in a circle.

You shrieked. “SEOKMIN! PUT ME DOWN!”

“Nope! You insulted my speed, now you must pay the price!”

Hana clapped her hands, cheering. “Again! Again!”

When he finally set you down, you were breathless from both laughter and the way his arms had felt way too strong around you. It was hot.

"You’re absolutely something else,” you muttered, smoothing your clothes.

Seokmin just grinned, completely unfazed.

The day continued with moments like that, Seokmin challenging you to silly races, losing horribly at rock-paper-scissors to Hana, and stealing your ice cream just to see you pout and somewhere in between all the teasing, the laughter, and the stolen glances, you felt something change. Maybe it was when Hana fell asleep in your lap during lunch and Seokmin just sat there watching with a soft unreadable expression. Or maybe it was when he gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and said, ‘You’re really amazing with her. She adores you.’

Maybe it was just him.

And you were starting to fall.

You should have known that nothing could stay simple when Lee Seokmin was involved. Seokmin wasn’t just ‘Hana’s uncle’ anymore. He wasn’t just the funny, sunshine-filled idol who stumbled into fatherly duties with zero experience but a whole lot of love. He was…Seokmin. Your Seokmin. (Not that he actually was. But he could be. If only you were brave enough to admit what you were feeling.)

One evening after another long day of babysitting, you found yourself lingering. You weren’t sure why, because Seokmin had already come home, Hana was fast asleep, and yet…you just didn’t want to leave yet.

Seokmin sat on the couch, running a tired hand through his hair. He looked exhausted—schedules had been brutal lately but when he saw you standing awkwardly near the door, he smiled anyway.

“Leaving?” he asked, voice soft as usual.

“I…should,” you said, shifting on your feet but you didn’t move.

Seokmin noticed. Instead of saying anything, he patted the empty space next to him, an invitation. You hesitated for about three seconds before giving in.

As soon as you sat down, Seokmin sighed and leaned his head against your shoulder. Your heart nearly stopped.

“Just for a second,” he murmured, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion. “I’m too tired to sit up straight.”

You should have told him to sit properly. You should have shoved him off before you lost your mind. Instead, you sat there frozen, too aware of his warmth, his scent, the soft rise and fall of his breathing.

“Hey.”

You hummed in response, too scared to actually speak.

“I was thinking,” Seokmin said, voice still quiet, still sleepy. “I like spending time with you. A lot.”

Your breath hitched.

“You’re great with Hana,” he continued, eyes still closed. “And I always feel better when you’re around.” He suddenly sat up and faced you, his expression unreadable. “And…I think—” He swallowed. “I think I—”

BANG.

A loud noise from Hana’s room made both of you jump apart.

Seokmin was on his feet instantly. “Hana?”

The moment was gone.

He rushed to check on his niece, leaving you sitting there, heart pounding, mind racing, stomach doing cartwheels. What had he been about to say? And why were you so scared to find out?

A few days later, you were out shopping when you ran into your ex. It wasn’t a big deal. Really, it wasn’t.

He was just some guy called Joshua from years ago and the relationship had ended on neutral terms. He saw you, waved, and you exchanged some small talk before parting ways. Simple. Harmless. Totally normal. But when you got back to Seokmin’s apartment, you knew something was off. He was acting weird. Not his usual ‘I just tripped over air’ weird. Weirder. Quieter. Sulkier.

And then as you were helping Hana with her drawing, he suddenly blurted out, “Who was that guy?”

“What?” You blinked animatedly.

“At the mall,” he said, not looking at you. “I saw you talking to some guy.”

Oh. “An ex,” you said simply. “It wasn’t a big deal.”

Seokmin nodded slowly, lips pressed together. “You seemed happy talking to him.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you…jealous?”

“Me? Pfft. No.” He scoffed, crossing his arms. “Why would I be jealous? I mean, we’re just—you’re just—”

You waited. He struggled.

Finally, he groaned, rubbing his face. “Okay. Maybe I’m a little jealous.”

Your heart did a very unhelpful little flip.

Seokmin exhaled and looked at you. “I don’t want to be just ‘Hana’s uncle’ to you,” his breath caught. “I want to be someone important to you,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “The way you’re important to me.”

Silence. Your brain screamed at you to say anything but before you could, a tiny voice interrupted.

“Uncle Min,” Hana said, tugging his sleeve. “Stop making her sad.”

Both of you turned to her.

Seokmin paled. “I—I made her sad?”

Hana pouted. “She looks like she wants to cry.”

You did, honestly. But not for the reason she thought. Because finally, finally, you had your answer.

You swallowed hard and forced a smile, ruffling Hana’s hair to distract yourself. “I’m not sad, sweetheart. Your uncle just…surprised me.”

Hana looked between the two of you with that suspicious little squint of hers. Then she sighed dramatically, shaking her head. “Grown-ups are weird,” she muttered before skipping off to continue coloring.

Seokmin chuckled but when his gaze returned to you. “Hey,” he said. “Are you okay?”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “Yeah. Just…processing.”

Seokmin nodded slowly. “Take your time.”

And just like that, he gave you an out. No pressure. No expectations. Just him, waiting, hoping. Maybe that was what made you nervous the most.

-

A week passed and things were almost normal again. Except now, you were hyper-aware of everything Seokmin did. It was getting too much so when Zhang, one of your childhood friends, texted you out of the blue asking to catch up over coffee, you jumped at the chance. It was not a date and you made that very clear. But Seokmin didn’t get the memo.

When he saw you getting ready, actually putting in effort, wearing something cute, doing your hair, he panicked.

“Where are you going?” he asked, pretending to be casual about it.

You glanced at him. “Just meeting a friend for coffee.”

Seokmin squinted. “A friend?”

“Yeah.”

“A male friend?”

You smirked. “Why does that matter?”

“It doesn’t,” he said too quickly.

You bit back a laugh. “Seokmin. Are you jealous again?”

“No.” He crossed his arms. “I just…I just think you should be careful! What if this guy has bad intentions? What if he—”

“Zhang is married,” you interrupted, amused. “To a man.”

“Oh.”

You grinned. “Were you about to ask me not to go?”

He opened his mouth, closed it, then groaned, rubbing his face. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” You patted his cheek. Big mistake.

Because the second your fingers touched his skin, he grabbed your wrist, holding you in place. Your breath hitched. For a moment, neither of you moved. Neither of you breathed. Then, softly, so softly you almost missed it, Seokmin said, “If I asked you out, would you say yes?”

Your heart literally stopped.

He was still holding your wrist, thumb brushing absentmindedly against your pulse. If he could feel how fast it was beating, he wouldn't have to ask anything.

Slowly, you met his gaze. “Would you actually ask?”

He didn't say anything at first but responded a few seconds later, “Maybe.” His lips twitched. “Depends on if you’d say yes.”

You exhaled a laugh, shaking your head. “You’re so dumb.”

“And you still haven’t answered.”

You rolled your eyes but your smile gave you away. “Yeah, idiot. I’d say yes.”

Seokmin beamed. “Cool, cool. So, uh…” He cleared his throat. “Wanna go on a date tomorrow?”

You grinned. “Yeah. I do.”

⌦ 🌻 © mylovesstuffs | est. 2025. thank you for reading—your reblog means everything. until we meet again, stay cozy and keep dreaming! ◜ᴗ◝

[foreveia]

fourteen ⤨ oikawa tooru

⨭ genre; fluff

⨭ pairing; oikawa tooru x fem!reader

⨭ word count; 6.5k

⨭ descriptions; as much as you love romcoms, you're a realist and recognise just how illogical true love is—unfortunately for you, fate has other plans.

⨭ warnings; profanity

⨭ a/n; my 2025 motto has been to just write and not worry too much about perfectionism, so here's my mess of an oikawa fic. it's acc unreal i have finished three fics in a week's time lol who knows how long this creative streak will last but wtv. in the meantime, enjoy :)

song i listened to writing this: 'plot twist' by niki

one.

During your four-hour layover in SFO, you decide that 4AM flights are only slightly less inconvenient than paying full price for a flight at noon. Because right now, it’s honestly just eerie: San Francisco International Airport (full-government name because you fear this might actually be where you die) is completely empty, largely dark, and very, very desolate.

You sigh and glance around the lounge, which is dimly lit and suspiciously quiet except for the distant hum of a floor polisher somewhere beyond the gates. Every shop is shuttered, every PA announcement echoes into nothing, and the only signs of life are a few overworked employees slumped behind their counters; you’re the only one at your gate, your phone charging via one of the blue-light towers, headphones blasting at maximum volume. You’re trying to drown out the unnerving feeling in your chest with Gracie Abrams and SZA—it’s not working in the slightest, actually making you increasingly wary of your vulnerability.

But whatever. You’re a #brokecollegestudent, so obviously you’re willing to risk your life for a good deal.

Honestly, you should really be asleep. That was the plan, after all: you had it all mapped out—get here, find a quiet corner, conk out, wake up only when it’s absolutely necessary. Instead, your brain is running on fumes and bad decisions, vibrating horribly in your skull because you’re an idiot and didn’t realize how paranoid you get when you’re sleep deprived.

You groan, stretching your legs out in front of you. “Kill me,” you mutter under your breath.

“First time traveling?” a voice pipes up, obnoxiously chipper for the time of night.

You freeze mid-stretch. You are not alone.

Slowly, you turn toward the source of the voice.

Sprawled across the lounge chair opposite you, looking for all the world like he belongs here, is a guy—tall, lean but broad-shouldered, stupidly good-looking even under the sickly fluorescent lights. Tousled brown hair, sweatpants and a zip-up hoodie that are clearly designer but worn like he doesn’t give a damn. His legs are stretched out like he owns the entire damn lounge, and he’s got this lazy, almost smug smirk on his face, like he’s enjoying whatever show you’re unknowingly putting on.

You narrow your eyes. “Excuse me?”

He gestures vaguely at you, at your very obvious state of suffering. “You look like you’re miserable right now.”

“I am,” you say. “What’s it to you?”

“Nothing,” he shrugs, then tilts his head. “Just figured misery loves company.”

Your brain is still catching up to the fact that this man—a stranger, an audacious one at that—has just decided to start a conversation with you, unprompted, in the middle of an empty airport. You eye him cautiously. “You do realize there are approximately four million other places to sit, right?”

He grins. “Yeah, but none of them have you.”

You blink. “Are you flirting with me?”

“Depends.” His smirk widens. “Is it working?”

“No.”

“Damn,” he says, without an ounce of actual disappointment. “Guess I’ll have to try harder.”

You scoff, shaking your head as you glance away. God. Of all the people to be stuck in airport limbo with, you had to get the charming, insufferable kind. The kind that probably coasts through life on natural athletic ability and the kind of face that gets him out of parking tickets. The kind that’s entirely too comfortable stretching out in a public lounge like it’s his personal living room.

He’s watching you, you realise. Like he’s waiting for something.

“What?” you sigh.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he says.

“I don’t remember you asking one.”

The corner of his mouth twitches like you’ve just mildly amused him. “First time traveling?” he repeats.

You roll your eyes. “No. Just first time being stuck in an airport at an hour when no one should be conscious.”

“Ah,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “A rookie mistake. 4AM flights are a scam.”

You snort. “And yet, here you are.”

“Touché.”

You take another glance at him, this time really looking. Something about him tugs at your memory, like a song you’ve heard before but can’t place. The messy hair, the easy confidence, the way he’s practically radiating I’m used to being the center of attention energy.

Then, in a flash, it hits you.

“Oh,” you say, recognition clicking into place. “Wait—you’re Oikawa.”

His eyebrows lift slightly, a flicker of interest crossing his face. “You know me?”

“You’re that volleyball guy,” you say, pointing vaguely at him. “The one who’s, like… unnecessarily famous.”

Oikawa grins. “Unnecessarily?”

“I mean, it’s volleyball,” you deadpan. “I didn’t even know people could be famous for that.”

His expression morphs into something between offense and wounded pride. “Ouch. I think I might actually cry.”

“Please do,” you say. “It’ll entertain me.”

He clutches his chest theatrically. “You’re ruthless.”

“I’m tired,” you promptly correct. “And delirious. And currently stuck in an airport with a man who’s trying to convince me he’s a big deal.”

Oikawa scoffs, but there’s something amused in his gaze, like he’s enjoying this. “You’re not a fan of sports?”

“Not really,” you shrug half-heartedly, looking back down at your beat-up Filas. You’re not lying; even so, you’ve seen his games on TV before (you watch the Olympics after all—you’re not a total basket case). He’s a flirt, a player with double meaning, and you would really rather avoid getting involved with anything complicated. “I’ve never been into jocks.”

“Never been into jocks,” he echoes, shaking his head. “And here I thought I could be your Peter Kavinsky.”

“No, thank you. I would never write you a love letter.”

Oikawa laughs at that—an actual laugh, not just the smug little chuckle you’ve gotten so far. It’s rich and warm, and you hate the way it makes your stomach flip just slightly. Who even are you right now? This whole situation is so unbelievable that it makes you more confident.

You cross your arms, looking him up and down. “So what’s your excuse?”

“For what?”

“For subjecting yourself to this hellscape of a layover,” you say, gesturing at the ghost town of a terminal around you.

He sighs, dragging a hand through his already messy hair. “Came back to visit some old teammates in California. Now I’m heading home.”

“Japan?”

“Bingo.”

Your brain is slow, groggy, and running on fumes, but something about that answer sticks. “Wait,” you say, frowning. “What flight are you on?”

Oikawa glances at you, like he knows exactly what you’re about to realize. “4:00AM to Haneda.”

You stare at him. “No.”

His grin is almost devious. “Yes.”

Your stomach drops.

Fourteen hours. Fourteen whole hours, stuck on a flight. With him.

Oikawa watches the realization dawn on your face, and for the first time since he sat down, he looks genuinely entertained.

“Well,” he says, stretching his arms over his head. “Looks like you’re stuck with me.”

You are going to lose your goddamn mind.

two.

For all your romcom consumption, you never stopped to consider what you would do if coincidence and chance conspired against you in that manner. You figured if fate was ever going to meddle in your love life, it would be in an incessantly normal way—maybe a slow-burn situation with a coworker, or a friend-of-a-friend you never noticed until one fateful night.

Not… this.

Not staring at seat 14A like it’s a death sentence, because your boarding pass is crumpled in your fist, because of course when you finally find your row, Oikawa Tooru is already lounging in 14B, looking far too pleased with himself.

He glances up as you approach, then breaks into the most shit-eating grin you’ve ever fucking seen.

“Well, well, well,” he drawls, leaning back like he just won the lottery. “Fancy seeing you here.”

You stop dead in the aisle, refusing to believe what your own two eyes are telling you.

“Are you following me?” you blurt, because there is absolutely no way the universe would do this to you.

Oikawa, ever the dramatist, clutches his chest. “Sweetheart, if I wanted to follow you, I’d at least be more subtle.”

“Show me your ticket.”

He raises an eyebrow but pulls out his boarding pass with a flourish anyway. You squint to read the text, half-hoping that you would find some spelling error that could place either of you somewhere else. But nope: his ticket reads 14B in big, bold letters, right next to Oikawa Tooru and Gate 11.

You exhale slowly, pressing your fingers to your temple. Jesus fuck. He manifested this, with his snarky commentary and all about being stuck with him; you would say that you’re gonna kill him for this, but evidently, karma is real and terrifying.

Oikawa, meanwhile, is having the time of his life.

“What are the odds?” he muses, tucking the ticket back into his hoodie pocket. “Out of all the seats on this flight, I get to sit next to you.”

“This is a nightmare,” you mutter.

“Nightmares are scary,” he says. “I’m a delight.”

You glare at him and shove your bag into the overhead bin with slightly more force than necessary. He watches, thoroughly entertained, as you lower yourself into your seat like you’re walking into a trap.

The cabin fills with the usual pre-flight chaos—flight attendants directing traffic, the hum of passengers settling in, the occasional thud of an overhead bin slamming shut. You try to focus on that, on anything other than the man currently making himself comfortable in the seat beside you.

Maybe if you ignore him, he’ll get bored.

Oikawa leans an elbow on the armrest between you, tilting his head slightly. “So,” he says. “What’s your in-flight entertainment plan?”

“My what?”

“You know, what’s gonna keep you occupied for the next fourteen hours?” He gestures vaguely to your bag. “Movies? Reading? Soul-searching?”

“Sleeping,” you say immediately. “It’s four AM. Like a normal person.”

Oikawa tilts his head, considering. “See, I would believe you, but you already look wide awake.”

You scowl at him. Because unfortunately, he’s right—your body is so far past exhaustion that sleep is a distant, unattainable dream. You sigh and shift in your seat, pressing yourself closer to the window.

He grins, victorious. “You should talk to me instead.”

You let out an actual laugh—short, sharp, disbelieving. “Why the hell would I do that?”

“Because I’m fun.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“Same thing.”

You shoot him a flat look. “I don’t like you.”

“And yet, you still haven’t put your headphones in,” he points out.

Damn it. You hate that he’s right. Again.

You huff, finally fishing your headphones from your bag and shoving them into your ears with exaggerated finality. Then, just for good measure, you turn to the window and squeeze your eyes shut.

Oikawa doesn’t say anything else. For about thirty seconds. Then, right as the plane begins to taxi down the runway, you hear him say, way too smugly for your liking, “you’re gonna talk to me eventually.”

You pretend to be asleep. You can feel him watching you, like he’s waiting for you to crack, like he knows something you don’t. 

Ugh. This is gonna be a long flight.

three.

By hour three of the flight, you’ve come to realise that Oikawa has a surprising love for the classics. 

Trust: you weren’t actively trying to notice his choice of in-air films, but your periphery and conscience betray you, and you become acutely aware as your seatmate cycles through The Proposal and Crazy Stupid Love (two objectively incredible films). He cues 10 Things I Hate About You next, which is probably your favorite movie of all time; you adore said movie so much that, despite all of your previous complaints and window-seat protests, you eventually lean into the seat rest separating you two and watch along.

Not openly, obviously. Not in any way that would give Oikawa the satisfaction of knowing he’s captured your attention. You angle your face toward the window, feign a vague disinterest, and sneak quick glances when you think he’s not looking.

Spoiler: he notices immediately.

“You know you could just watch with me,” Oikawa says, not even bothering to take his eyes off the screen. “You’re not exactly subtle.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say flatly, keeping your gaze stubbornly trained on the clouds outside.

“Uh-huh.” He shifts in his seat, casually turning the screen toward you. “C’mon, if you’re gonna steal glances, at least commit.”

“I wasn’t stealing anything,” you huff, but it’s weak, and you both know it.

Oikawa smirks, and—against your better judgment—you give in, finally glancing at his screen properly to watch Kat Stratford dancing drunkenly on a table. He offers you one of his earbuds, which you take very, very tentatively. You would be deeply unhappy about the proximity if your love of Hypnotize didn’t trump it. 

You sigh, leaning your cheek against your palm. “This movie is so good.”

“Right?” Oikawa grins, clearly pleased with himself. “Pretty bold of you to call me insufferable when you clearly have taste.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “What does that mean?”

“It means you love this movie, I love this movie—therefore, you and I have more in common than you’d like to admit.”

You scoff, but there’s no real bite to it. “Liking 10 Things I Hate About You is just basic human decency.”

Oikawa presses a hand to his chest, mock-flattered. “Oh, so now you’re calling me decent?”

“No, I’m calling the movie decent. You’re a fluke.”

He gasps dramatically, then shakes his head, muttering something about how you wound him. But his smile lingers as the film plays on, and maybe—just a little bit—you don’t find his presence as unbearable anymore. He’s too distracted watching Joseph Gordon-Levitt pine to be truly annoying.

Somewhere between the next few scenes, you relax completely, not even pretending to look away anymore. You’re leaning in slightly now, watching the moment where Patrick buys Kat a guitar, and it takes an embarrassingly long time for you to realize that Oikawa’s staring at you instead of the screen.

You blink. “What?”

He tilts his head, amused. “You’re, like… really into this.”

You scoff, flicking your gaze back to the movie. “I just appreciate good cinema.”

“Oh, so you’re a romcom person.”

You hesitate—because there’s something about the way he says it, a sort of curiosity that feels deeper than just casual conversation. It could be interpreted as judgmental, but somehow, the way he says it doesn’t seem to be. Still, you brush it off, nodding begrudgingly. “Yeah. So?”

Oikawa hums, glancing back at the screen as if weighing his words. Then, without looking at you, he says, “Do you think this stuff actually happens?”

“What, grand romantic gestures?”

“Yeah. Stuff like this. The running through the airport thing. The whole public love confession in front of the entire school thing. Do you think it’s real?”

You consider it for a moment, shifting in your seat. “I think… I think people want it to be real,” you admit, watching as Patrick and Kat kiss in the movie’s final scene. “Like, deep down, even the most cynical people kind of want to believe that this kind of thing could happen to them.”

Oikawa doesn’t respond right away. He just watches you, his expression unreadable.

Then he asks, voice softer this time, “And do you?”

The question settles in your chest, heavier than it should be. Do you believe in grand gestures? In someone showing up unannounced at your door, confessing their feelings in the pouring rain? In someone looking at you like you’re the only thing in the world worth fighting for?

If you’re being honest, you’re a hopeless romantic at heart. It’s why you love the genre so much—because despite all your cynicism, despite every realist take you’ve ever had, a part of you still wants to believe in love that lasts. You just don’t think it’s likely. People fall out of love with each other. Feelings fade. Real life is rarely as cinematic as the movies make it seem.

You exhale, suddenly too aware of the way Oikawa’s watching you, like he sees right through you.

“I think it’s… nice in movies,” you say carefully. “But in real life, people just disappoint you. It’s not worth taking the chance and getting hurt.”

Oikawa studies you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, to your utter surprise, he smiles—small and knowing, the kind that makes your stomach do something weird.

“Well,” he murmurs, leaning back in his seat, “maybe you just haven’t met the right person yet.”

Your breath catches. You hate the way your heart stumbles over itself, just for a second.

You force yourself to roll your eyes, turning back toward the window. “Gross,” you mutter, hoping he doesn’t hear the slight waver in your voice.

Oikawa just chuckles, hitting play on When Harry Met Sally.

“Talk to me when we hit the part where Meg Ryan fakes an orgasm,” he says, stretching his arms behind his head. “Then we’ll really see where you stand on romance.”

You shake your head, biting back a reluctant smile.

And as the flight drags on, you realize—with a sinking feeling—that you don’t actually mind sitting next to Oikawa Tooru as much as you thought you did.

Oh God. That can’t be good.

four.

Halfway through the scene where Harry and Sally are in flight, you decide, after much internal conflict, that you’ll allow yourself to like Oikawa for this flight and this flight alone. It’s harmless. A temporary indulgence. You can enjoy the anonymity, let yourself sink into the moment, and then disappear once the plane lands. Maybe you’ll see his Olympic gameplay on TV one day, mention it offhandedly to whoever you’re with at the time, and then promptly forget about him.

Because here’s the thing: if you let yourself, you could probably fall for people pretty easily. You keep your guards up because it’s safer, but you imagine that love is like getting sucked into a black hole—you either fall forever, or you hit the ground so hard it shatters you. And if there’s one thing you know about yourself, it’s your tendency to self-sabotage: you don’t remember a single relationship you’ve had where you didn’t walk away first. You really would prefer to keep your romantic fantasies in fiction; it hurts less. 

You never realized that Oikawa could share this conviction. 

He doesn’t say anything when you shift slightly toward him, resting your arm on the seat rest between you. He doesn’t comment when you fully give in, watching When Harry Met Sally with him like it’s something you’ve been doing forever. He just lets it happen—like he expected it, like he knew you’d cave.

You don’t like that. But you do like the movie.

The scene in the airport plays, Sally meticulously laying out her travel quirks—I like the aisle seat, so I can stretch my legs. I don’t like to eat between meals, but I always want something sweet after dinner. You smile to yourself. You’ve always loved the specificity of it: how she knows exactly what she likes, how she doesn’t compromise on it.

“I feel like dating you would be exhausting,” Oikawa muses abruptly, arms crossed over his chest. 

You tear your gaze away from the screen just long enough to give him a withering look. “Excuse me?”

He gestures vaguely in your direction. “You’re too—” He pauses, searching for the right word. “Particular.”

You scoff. “And you’re not?”

“Not in the same way.” He shifts slightly, smirking. “You’d analyze me to death. Pick apart every little thing I do.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You say that like you wouldn’t be a terror to date.”

Oikawa grins, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Thinking about dating me, are we?”

“I’m thinking about how insufferable you’d be,” you correct, turning back toward the screen.

“Mm. You sure?”

You shoot him a look.

He sighs, dramatic as ever. “Shame. I’d be great at it.”

You snort. “Doubt that.”

His smirk widens. “That sounded a lot like a challenge.”

“It’s not.”

“I think it is.”

“Oikawa.”

He chuckles, finally turning back to the movie, and for some reason, you feel yourself relax again. The teasing is easier now, lighter. You don’t hate it.

And, despite yourself, you sneak another glance at him before looking back at the screen.

The movie plays on. Harry and Sally are walking through Central Park in the fall, debating the age-old question of whether men and women can be just friends. You know every word of this scene, could probably recite it in your sleep. 

“I love this part,” you say, before you can stop yourself.

Oikawa glances at you, intrigued. “Why?”

“It’s just—” You pause, searching for the right words. “It’s the conversation. The way they both believe so deeply in their own side of things. And they’re both right, in different ways.”

Oikawa hums, tilting his head. “So, which one are you?”

You blink. “What do you mean?”

“Do you think men and women can just be friends?”

You hesitate. You’ve thought about it before, obviously—you’ve had guy friends, you’ve had moments where those friendships blurred at the edges, where you wondered if they were really as platonic as you claimed. 

“I think it depends,” you decide finally. “Some people can. Some people can’t.”

Oikawa watches you for a beat, his expression unreadable. “And what about us?”

Your breath falters; the question feels heavier than it should. You force yourself to scoff. “We’re not even friends.”

He laughs, and you hate how warm the sound is. “Cold.”

You shift in your seat, trying to ignore the way your stomach flips. “I just mean we met, like, five hours ago.”

“Five very meaningful hours,” he says, nodding seriously.

You shake your head, turning back to the screen—just in time for the diner scene.

“Oh, here we go,” Oikawa murmurs.

You grin. “Cinematic excellence.”

Sally fakes an orgasm, loud and unashamed, right in the middle of Katz’s Deli. You try not to look at Oikawa as you laugh, but his presence is suddenly overwhelming, like you can feel him beside you even without looking.

“She’s got a point, you know,” he says.

“What?” You glance at him.

He gestures to the screen. “Half of dating is just making people think you’re having a good time.”

You scoff. “That’s your dating experience, maybe.”

Oikawa raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“You’re a playboy.”

He groans. “I knew you were going to say that.”

“Because it’s true.”

“It’s outdated,” he argues. “Was I kind of a flirt in high school? Sure. But I grew out of that.”

You snort. “Did you?”

Oikawa turns to you, expression softer now. “I did,” he says, and you don’t know why, but the look in his eyes and the way his voice wavers make you believe him. 

There’s something almost sad about it, how under his layers of bravado and grandiosity, he seems just the slightest bit lonely. You don’t say anything. You just watch him, the way his jaw tenses slightly, the way his fingers drum absentmindedly against the armrest.

“I don’t know,” he continues, voice quieter. “Never really met someone who gets me like that.”

You hesitate. Then, before you can think better of it, you mumble, “I get that.”

Oikawa looks at you. Something shifts between you. Not huge, not dramatic—but something.

You clear your throat, turning back to the screen. “The best part of this movie is the ending, anyway.”

He watches you for a second longer, then smiles slightly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say, watching as Harry races through the streets on New Year’s Eve, heart in his throat, words spilling out in a desperate confession. “Because he realizes it’s real.”

Oikawa hums. “And you don’t think real love is like that?”

You hesitate. You really don’t want to answer that question, not right now. So instead, you shrug. “Like I said, it’s nice in movies.”

Oikawa doesn’t push. But as the credits roll, he glances at you one last time, something unreadable in his gaze. He’s not entirely convinced by your answer, and you both know it, even if he isn’t saying it aloud.

five.

Oikawa’s phone password is his own name, which is a fun fact you discover as your flight nears hour ten.

You don’t even mean to find out—really, you don’t. He dozes off halfway through Crazy Rich Asians, phone balanced precariously on his knee, screen still lit up from whatever mindless scrolling he’d been doing before sleep claimed him. He’s slumped in his seat, arms crossed, mouth slightly open in a way that would be embarrassing if he were anyone else. But he’s Oikawa, and people like him have a way of looking effortless even in sleep.

The moment the phone slips, it’s like slow motion. It free-falls, landing with a soft thud on the armrest between you. Oikawa startles awake, lashes fluttering, hands fumbling to catch it a second too late. His fingers curl around the device, flipping it over with bleary concern, only for the screen to glare back at him—locked.

And that’s when you see it.

You don’t mean to. It’s just…right there. The exact moment his fingers trace out the unlock pattern, it clicks into place, predictable in a way that makes you snort.

“Oikawa.”

He turns toward you, still shaking off the drowsiness. “Huh?”

“Your password,” you say, fighting a smirk. “You really chose Oikawa?”

He yawns, unbothered. “And?”

“And that’s… so predictable.”

He stretches, spine arching lazily before he slouches back down, as if the conversation itself is something he can’t be bothered to put effort into. “Predictable or genius? You tell me.”

“Predictable,” you say immediately. “What if someone tries to hack you? Your name is the first thing people would guess.”

Oikawa grins. “Exactly. It’s so obvious that no one would actually think I’d use it.”

You scoff, shaking your head. “I bet all your passwords are just variations of your own name.”

He makes a noise of vague offense, rubbing a hand over his face. “That’s an outrageous accusation,” he says, clearly lying.

You narrow your eyes. “Your Netflix account—Oikawa123.”

He lets out a small, amused breath. “No comment.”

“Instagram? KingOikawa.”

“Hey, now—”

“Banking password?” You pause, then shake your head. “No, don’t answer that. I don’t even want to know.”

He chuckles, tipping his head back against the seat. “You’re awfully interested in my passwords, aren’t you?”

You roll your eyes. “I’m interested in the fact that you’re a narcissist.”

“And yet,” he muses, smirking at you, “you’re the one paying so much attention to me.”

Your lips part, an immediate retort on the tip of your tongue—but nothing comes out. Because damn it, he’s right.

Somewhere between hour one and hour ten, between watching him cycle through romcoms and pretending not to care, between brushing shoulders and arguing about the best scene in 10 Things I Hate About You, between the countless small moments where his presence started feeling less like an inconvenience and more like something else entirely—you started paying attention. And he knows it.

You let out a slow breath and turn toward the window. “I hate you.”

Oikawa laughs softly. “No, you don’t.”

You don’t respond. You’re too tired to lie.

 ***

At hour eleven, your seat neighbor learns something about you, too. It’s not even because you tell him, but because he notices.

The plane has dimmed its lights, casting everything in muted shades of blue and gray. The hum of the engine is steady, a low vibration beneath your feet. Most of the passengers have settled into varying stages of half-sleep—some curled against their window seats, others with neck pillows wedged awkwardly under their chins.

You, on the other hand, remain awake.

You lean against the window, knees drawn up slightly, arms folded. Your gaze is unfocused, staring out at the endless stretch of dark, empty sky. Exhaustion clings to you, but sleep never comes easy—not on planes, not in cars, not anywhere that isn’t familiar.

Oikawa shifts beside you, the rustle of fabric breaking the silence. Then, softly, he asks, “you don’t sleep well on planes, do you?”

You blink, a little surprised. “What?”

He nods at you. “You’ve been sitting like that for a while now. You look exhausted, but you’re still awake.”

You hesitate, because he’s right. You’ve never been good at this—at shutting your brain off, at forcing comfort where it doesn’t exist. Your body stays tense, your thoughts wired for worst-case scenarios, always preparing for turbulence that might never come.

“It’s fine,” you say, voice quieter than before. “I’ll sleep when I land.”

Oikawa watches you for a moment, then, without a word, grabs his hoodie from his lap and balls it up into something vaguely pillow-shaped.

“Here,” he says, placing it between you.

You frown at it. “What?”

“You’ll be more comfortable,” he says simply. “Try it.”

Your gaze flickers to his, searching for the inevitable teasing remark, the smugness, the gotcha. But for once, it’s not there. Just an easy, offhanded kindness.

You swallow. “You don’t have to—”

“I know,” he says, cutting you off before you can argue. “Just take it.”

After a moment of hesitation, you do.

And when you finally let yourself lean into it, letting the exhaustion settle into your bones, you hear him murmur—softer, barely audible— “See? Told you I’d be good at this.”

Because you’re actually significantly more comfortable and way too tired to argue, you just snuggle into the fabric and ignore your thumping heart.

 ***

At hour twelve, you wake up to warmth.

It’s subtle at first, just a gradual shift from the hazy quiet of sleep to the soft awareness of something unfamiliar. You’re warm, comfortable in a way you shouldn’t be, your head still heavy with lingering exhaustion.

Then, slowly, the details start to register.

The weight pressed lightly against your shoulder. The faint scent of something clean and familiar—fabric softener, maybe, or whatever detergent Oikawa uses. The steady rise and fall of breath, slow and even.

Your pulse stutters.

He’s leaned into you, his head resting lightly against your shoulder, body angled just slightly in your direction. His breathing is deep and even, completely at ease. At some point in the last hour, he must have drifted off.

And instead of moving away—you stayed. Your brain short-circuits. You should move. You should definitely move. But you don’t.

Instead, you sit there, utterly still, heart pounding with something you don’t want to name. Because this—this—is not how Oikawa looks on TV.

The Oikawa you’ve seen in interviews is all sharp angles and practiced charm, leaning into the cameras with a knowing smirk, effortlessly collecting attention like it’s his birthright. The Oikawa on the court is even sharper—brilliant and untouchable, playing with a confidence that borders on arrogance, eyes burning with something that makes it impossible to look away. Even after a game, drenched in sweat and exhaustion, he still performs—laughing, winking at the reporters, throwing casual remarks over his shoulder like he knows the whole world is watching.

But right now?

Right now, he’s none of those things.

His expression is unguarded, free of the practiced ease he wears like armor. His brow is smooth, his lips parted slightly, his breathing soft and steady. There’s no smirk, no carefully placed bravado—just quiet, unconscious stillness.

And it unsettles you. Because this is real.

This is not Oikawa under stadium lights or Oikawa playing to the cameras. This is just him, asleep against your shoulder, completely unaware of the effect he’s having on you.

And maybe that’s what makes it worse.

You exhale slowly, careful not to move too much, not to wake him. Your gaze drifts downward before you can stop yourself, just enough to see the way his hand has fallen between you, palm up, fingers lightly curled. For a second, just a second, you have the insane urge to reach out.

You don’t. Of course, you don’t. But the thought lingers, settling somewhere deep in your chest, unwelcome and impossible to ignore.

You turn your head toward the window, watching the faint glow of city lights far below, hoping the view will quiet whatever this feeling is.

It doesn’t. And still—you don’t wake him.

For some reason, you let him stay.

six.

There’s approximately one hour left before your plane is due to land, and you’re beginning to realize that you don’t actually want it to end.

Maybe it’s the absurdity of the whole situation, or maybe it’s because of your sleep-deprived delusions, but you like Oikawa. You don’t want to—really, you don’t. It would be infinitely easier if he were just another stranger you made small talk with before forgetting the moment you stepped off the plane. But no. He had to be annoying and charming and stupidly perceptive. He had to watch romcoms like he actually gives a damn about them. He had to see through you, easily and effortlessly, as if he simply understood you.

And now, because the universe is cruel and loves to humiliate you personally, you’re sitting here in the final stretch of this flight, hyper-aware of every single second ticking down, not wanting it to be over.

Oikawa doesn’t seem to share your existential crisis. He’s been quiet for the last twenty minutes, scrolling lazily through his phone, one elbow propped against the armrest between you. Every so often, he glances up at the in-flight map, watching as the little airplane icon inches closer to Tokyo.

You hate that it makes your stomach sink.

You shift in your seat, pressing your temple against the cool window, staring out at the early morning sky. You wonder if this is how romcom characters feel in that inevitable third-act moment, when they realize they’ve accidentally gone and caught feelings. When they recognize, with dawning horror, that the person they were supposed to be indifferent to has somehow carved their way into their life.

The difference, of course, is that those characters always get a happy ending.

You don’t know what you get.

The PA system crackles overhead. A flight attendant reminds everyone to prepare for descent. Around you, there’s the familiar rustle of people adjusting in their seats, pulling out jackets, stretching the stiffness from their limbs.

Oikawa shifts beside you, adjusting his hoodie. “Almost there,” he murmurs.

You hum, noncommittal. You think he’s going to leave it at that, but then he glances at you, eyes sharp despite the sleep still clinging to his edges. He tilts his head slightly, like he’s studying you. “You okay?”

Your grip tightens on the armrest. He notices too much. You should’ve known that he would see it—the way you’re staring too long at the window, the way you haven’t snapped at him in a while.

You force yourself to scoff. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Oikawa smirks like he knows something you don’t. “No reason.”

You hate that. You hate how easy he makes it look, the whole watching-you-like-you’re-a-puzzle-he’s-figuring-out thing. You hate that part of you wants him to keep looking.

You exhale slowly, turning back toward the window. The seatbelt light dings on. The plane begins its slow descent, the city below coming into sharper focus.

It’s almost over.

 ***

Airports are supposed to be soulless places. That’s what you tell yourself, at least, as you walk through the terminal—bleary-eyed, exhausted, your carry-on digging into your shoulder. Your brain is already working on a plan: get your bag, get through customs, forget Oikawa Tooru exists.

That plan lasts approximately five seconds before you hear it.

A cheer. Loud, unmistakable, coming from somewhere near Arrivals. You glance over, along with half the airport, and that’s when you see them.

A couple, standing in the middle of the terminal like a goddamn movie scene. One of them—tall, dark-haired, a duffel slung over his shoulder—is staring at the other like he can’t quite believe she’s real. The girl—small, blonde, practically vibrating—throws her arms around his neck and kisses him so dramatically that the people around them actually applaud.

You blink. “What the fuck.”

Oikawa appears at your side, hands in his hoodie pockets, watching the scene unfold. You can feel him glance at you, the smirk already forming.

“Well,” he says, voice smug, “would you look at that.”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“You know what.”

He hums, still watching the couple, who have now dissolved into an absolute mess of forehead kisses and whispered I missed yous. It’s excessive. It’s dramatic.

It’s also… kind of nice.

You hate that you think that.

Oikawa stretches, tilting his head toward you. “So?”

You frown. “So, what?”

His smirk widens. “Do you believe in it yet?”

Your heart does something stupid. Because the question—it’s not just a callback to your in-flight debate. It’s not just him poking fun at your skepticism. It’s softer than that. More curious. Hopeful, even.

Do you believe in grand gestures? Do you believe in love that doesn’t disappoint? Do you believe in something real?

The answer forms before you can stop it. 

“…I think I’m starting to.”

Oikawa stills. Just for a second. Then, slowly, his grin shifts into something real.

You exhale, turning back toward the baggage claim, but before you can walk away, something stops you. Maybe it’s the exhaustion. Maybe it’s the high of stepping off a fourteen-hour flight and still feeling wired.

Or maybe it’s just him.

Before you can second-guess yourself, you reach for his hoodie pocket.

Oikawa blinks. “Uh—”

You pull out his phone, type in his password, and create a new contact in his list. You quickly type in your number, and pause for a second, considering, then—just to be an ass—save your name as oikawa hater. Then you hand it back to him.

Oikawa takes it, glancing between you and the screen, lips curling into something almost incredulous.

“Wow,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m actually speechless.”

“A first for you, I’m sure.”

He huffs out a laugh, eyes flickering back to his phone. He stares at your contact name for a second too long, like he’s memorizing it. Like he wants to. And then he locks his screen, tucks it back into his hoodie, and glances at you—grinning, smug, a little bit victorious.

“So,” he muses, as the baggage carousel hums to life. “Do I get to keep my title as your Peter Kavinsky now?”

You roll your eyes, biting back a smile. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“You like me,” he says in a sing-song voice. “What happened to love only being good in movies?”

And maybe it’s just your imagination. Maybe it’s the jet lag, or the weird 6AM haze of existing between time zones. But as you step toward baggage claim, you swear—just for a second—Oikawa looks at you like the answer to that question might matter more than anything else.

Honestly, nothing is confirmed. He might never text you, or even if he does, who knows if you two would even make it past the first date. The world could end tomorrow, or he could completely forget about you, the way you thought he would. There’s always the chance that you’ll get hurt anyway. But he deserves to hear it. You, against all odds, want him to know.

So you turn, meet his eyes, and say, completely honestly, “Maybe you’re worth taking a chance on.”

⨭ closing; i wrote this instead of paying attention in my lecture lol i don't really know how i feel about this one yet but here's to hoping it'll grow on me when i'm not so tired from a long day of uni classes </3 let me know yalls thoughts but pls don't be mean :') thank u and love u all

[honeymoonblues]

The One Your Friends Don't Like

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Everyone has something to say when a girl has fun with the local freak.

Word count: 2.6k

Warning: Some cursing.

A/N: I had this one on the drafts for a long time. Silly little thing. Incredibly self indulgent. I usually make my fics with a gender neutral reader, but I felt this one needed to be fem! for the sake of the plot. Please, let me know if there are any spelling errors, English is not my first language.

You had never expected it to end the way it ended. 

In fact, you distinctively remember thinking no one would ever find out that you were passing notes in class. Why would anyone know?

Except Eddie Munson had a big fucking mouth. And you had a friend in common with him (sort of). 

The thing was, you were bored. Badly. And the biology professor had this superpower of putting everyone to sleep with his monotonous voice. So it wasn’t intentional when your spaced out gaze landed on him. On Eddie Munson, of all people.

Your pencil fell to the floor because you got startled when he smirked at you. And then, came the little note.

His handwriting was hideous, but legible. The paper seemed torn from another class’ book. You didn’t write anything back. Instead, you made a little grotesque cartoon of the professor, which Eddie seemed to appreciate very much.

“You think Munson is cute?”

How the fuck had Vicki already found out about it by lunch, you had no idea. But you were about to find out.

“I don’t-”, you started, but she didn’t let you finish.

“He told me that you were staring at him,” she scoffed smugly.

God, you hated that expression on her. The smile forming on your lips was totally betraying you, but you weren’t about to give her the satisfaction.

“And since when are you friends with Eddie Munson?”

“He’s friends with Kate’s brother, you know Gareth,” she waved her hand around, “they’re in that, uh… club together, and a band. He’s always hanging out at Kate’s.”

Asking her not to make a big deal out of it was useless, you knew her mind was already scheming to set you two up.

“You’re dating this idiot?!”

There was nothing you appreciated more in your friendship with Robin than her honesty. Even if sometimes she was too honest.

“We’re not dating! We just, uh… hanged out once.”

“Yeah, well, be careful. I haven't heard too many kind things about him.”

Her tone softened, meaning she was trying her best to understand you.

The truth is, it had been a date, no matter how much Eddie and you acted like you were above all that sort of stuff. 

His handwriting had been clearer on that one note, neater, with more thought behind it. You felt his big brown eyes on you while you read it, so you knew you had to act as cool as possible. As if him inviting you to a literal date wasn’t freaking you out. You didn’t even pass the note back, you just nodded in his direction, and he smiled while twirling his hair on his finger.

In the end, Vicki didn’t even had to set you up, Eddie asked you out himself, like a big boy (kind of). 

The guys leaving the club session looked at you like you had grown a second head. 

“Band practice is down the hall”, one of them snickered. That was Gareth, you assumed.

“I know”. You narrowed your eyes, holding your saxophone case a little tighter and breathing deeply. Gosh, and these were Eddie’s friends?

Immediately after, Eddie’s big eyes sparkled when he saw you outside the classroom. 

“Hey, you made it”.

Like the other boys, he wore the club’s t-shirt but this one looked particularly clean. You saved your comments to yourself, though, and just smiled back.

The moments you were deciding where to go were the most awkward. You could tell that Eddie wasn’t used to talking to many girls. No matter how much of a peacock he acted like when he was in a ten-foot radius of a cheerleader.

If there was a contest for Weirdest Location for a First Date, Eddie and you would’ve won first place. You both agreed on going to the Hawkins’ graveyard. The place worked to ease your nerves, somehow.

Many graves had stories you’d heard over the years. And of course, the metalhead guy loved to hear about them, tagging on with his versions or additions to them.

The date went well and it definitely helped to fuel both of your delusions of being cool and oh, so edgy. In reality, you were just two nerds walking and laughing in an inappropriate place, while not having the guts to admit this was a date. 

When the “hanging out” turned to actual dates, you knew it was going to be impossible to hide it from Robin. And you braced yourself for her reaction.

“How many times did you kiss him?”

If she'd asked a day before, you would confidently say ‘three times’. But after the makeout session the night before, it wasn’t like you could keep count of that.

Your skin crawled by imagining telling this to her, so of course, you omitted the question.

“No, wait wait! Don't answer that. I need a complete timeline: from the first date to the first kiss, to now.”

You scoffed.

“What are you waiting for? Start talking.” 

Oh, she was serious about it.

So you talked, knowing there wasn’t any way of getting out of it.

She already knew about the graveyard, so there was little comment to make about it. 

The words you chose were careful, though. Robin wasn’t too thrilled about Munson at all, so you had to put effort in making him look as good as possible while keeping it in the realm of possibility. 

You spoke about how witty he was, but didn’t mention the fact that you held your breath the first time you walked into his room. Not that you were the picture of cleanliness, let’s be honest, but you had wondered just how long had it been since his sheets had seen the inside of a washing machine. (Not like that had stopped you from rolling around on his bed, anyway).

You talked of how he was actually a bookworm and really interesting to converse with, but kept quiet about how, just on your third date, he immediately asked you to stay the night after getting his hands under your shirt. 

You told Robin about his encyclopedic knowledge of music, similar to Robin's, but carefully omitted the fact that he had bitten you despite you asking him not to. You had moaned at it, either way.

Trusting him was a hard task. Sure, maybe you were paranoid, but this guy made up stories as a hobby. And even if he didn’t, he seemed too eager to impress any girl in his vicinity to be a hundred percent trustful.

“Oh, I don't believe you.” That phrase came out of your mouth so often now, it was almost funny.

“I swear! Cross my heart and hope to die.” Dramatic as always, of course.

“Sure, whatever you say, man.”

But truths and lies weren’t that important when he kissed you so sweetly. As sweet as this brute could be. It was very endearing. 

You didn’t give a fuck if that fight he was telling you about was real, or if his band was as awesome as he said, not when he pulled your hair and bit your lip in that way that made you shiver. 

Let him talk, you thought, he had a cute mouth anyway.

Between nerdy conversations about Lord of the Rings or music, and heated makeout sessions on his bed, or yours (whichever was available at the time), there was always a debate that bubbled up between you two.

“Doesn’t that fuck up your brain or whatever?” 

“princess, it’s 1986. Everyone smokes weed.” You had stopped fighting that nickname long ago, you even stopped cringing at it, somehow.

“Not everyone!” 

“Yeah, well, it’s you and Vicki against the world, then.”

It’s not like you ever expected him to change his ways; that was stupid. But it was annoying when he expected you to just… be okay with it.

Still, he stopped smoking when he was with you —wow, what a gentleman!— and you ignored the fact that he may or may not sell pot. Closing your eyes and letting his hands wander was the best way to forget everything about it.

The sun was already setting on a beautiful Saturday afternoon when you brought it up.

“Remember how I told you Robin doesn’t like you much? Like, at all.” Your breath felt a bit shallow, you had kissed for what felt like hours at this point.

“Yeah, what about it?”

“Well, uh… It’s mostly because she told me she saw you and Chrissy Cunningham together the other day… You know, alone and everything.” Your gaze was unblinking, boring into his eyes as if you were trying to read his mind.

His blush was a little more intense than before, reaching his ears, but he didn't hesitate in answering, “I never talked to her before, Robin must have mistaken me for another person.”

Your silence must have freaked him out a bit, because he croaked a tiny “I swear!” that sounded quite pathetic, even for him.

The intention of this whole afternoon was to talk to him about being exclusive. You hadn’t been mad about the Chrissy thing, really. It wasn’t like Eddie and you were official at all. Even if he liked to make it very obvious that you were together every time he crossed paths with you at school. But now that he was denying everything? Yeah, the exclusivity thing didn’t sound so appealing to you anymore.

Because you’d lied. It wasn’t just Robin that caught him, you were there, too.

“Are you sure, Eddie? I’m not… I’m not mad about it.” But you were starting to be.

“Yes, yes! It’s funny, actually… I, uh, had like, the biggest crush on her in middle school, you know? But not anymore, princess! I don’t even look in her direction, I promise.”

You felt like you hadn’t blinked in the last five minutes. 

Fuck this! You didn’t want to be his girlfriend. That was never the intention with this whole thing. You just wanted to have some damn fun for once.

“Okay…” You said carefully, “just… don’t expect Robin to talk nicely to you, okay?”

“I’m used to people not liking me, princess, nothing new.”

Your smile was tight, and the way he twirled his hair had never bothered you this much before.

“So, I heard there’s this party next Saturday...” You said.

The mirror smiled back at you after you applied your lipstick. You were already a little tipsy after the pregame at Vicki’s, but you did your makeup flawlessly in front of her bathroom mirror. 

’Hot’ was the right word to describe you that Saturday, you felt confident, you looked cool, and you were definitely ready for some kissing and smooching. If you ended up in Eddie’s van? Even better.

Your friends were not so thrilled about seeing Eddie, not after the Chrissy thing, but they knew they couldn’t do much to stop you. Those were your bad decisions to make.

The party was flooding with people, and it took an absurd amount of time to find Eddie, even when he was the flashiest thing in the room. 

By the time you got to him, you were way too drunk. No longer just tipsy. The unknown substance in your red cup was doing its job, and you could barely keep steady on your feet when you found yourself in his arms.

Your friends were cringing hard when you kissed him in front of them, staining his face with lipstick. He was very, very pleased with it, though. Even if he felt heavily judged by everyone in your circle.

In the end, he ended up taking you home, but not in the way you’d have liked. Because the moment you stepped outside and started to walk to his van, heavy nausea hit you with the cold air of the night, 

Your vomit stained his sneakers a bit, but he didn’t complain. In fact, he had never been this gentlemanly before. Even your friends, usually very unimpressed with him, were surprised.

He made sure you drank water, wrapping you in his jacket and then drove you home, making sure you made it up the stairs without falling and tucking you in like a good, responsible boy,

“I’m sorry I ruined the night.” You murmured sleepily before he left.

“Are you kidding? You throwing up was so metal! I’m honored I got to witness it.”

He was such a freak.

You were tugging at your hair, frustrated. After just finishing it, you accidentally tipped your glass of water over all your homework, so you had to redo it. Then, your friends who were supposed to hang out at your house didn’t show up, and you had cooked for them. And while you tried to calm down with a nice hot coffee, your favourite mug slipped from your hands and shattered into a million pieces on the ground.

You needed to call Eddie. Maybe he’d help you laugh about it a little.

The phone call had been 30 minutes long at this point. You sighed, feeling a little better, but still guilty for talking about yourself and your own problems nonstop.

“I feel like I complain too much sometimes,” you chuckled.

“Princess, I know the female population, okay? They are always complaining about everything, all the time. I’m used to it, don’t worry.” 

He knows the what, now?

“Eddie, what the fuck?” But the idiot kept on talking.

“Yeah, princess, it’s fine. I mean, we guys don’t give a shit about most things. But that’s just natural, you know? It’s like, biological.”

Hanging up on him had never felt so good. No goodbye, no nothing. Seriously, who does he think he is?

You needed to call Robin. Maybe she’d help you laugh about it a little.

“I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”

This conversation wasn’t meant to be had over the phone, but the winter break had just started, and you were leaving on vacation the next day. Leaving this matter to stretch over time would just make it worse. You wanted to enjoy your holidays without anything weighting on your mind.

Not that he could ever convince you to stay with him, anyway. There had been a long talk with your friends about all this. And the jury had decided he should be executed out of your life. You agreed, of course.

There was only so many things one could ignore in the name of fun. And when your frustration started to surpass the enjoyment, what was the point? 

He was not the type of guy you could introduce to your parents. He was not even the type of guy you could see with a steady relationship. You realized you wanted a little bit more romance than he could get you.

So you mentally prepared yourself for this phone call, for his insistence, for his endless questions, even for some anger.

“I didn’t mean to tell you this over the phone, I’m sorry.” Your voice was steady, clear, no sign of doubt.

“Oh…” Silence. And then, a moment after: “It’s okay, I get it. Thank you for these last few months.”

“Uh, Eddie-”

“Goodbye.”

You stuttered a goodbye, but it was too late, he had already hung up. 

Shortest phone call of your life.

“Honey, he sells drugs. You didn’t know that?”

“Not until very recently…” Liar, liar, pants on fire.

Your friend laughed, shaking her head.

Now, your friends would have something to tease you about for the rest of your life. And you’d have all that time to pretend you didn’t enjoy his company or act like you didn’t notice what a mess he was.

And maybe he’d try to contact you again, try to get close. But you’d ignore him, walking awkwardly past him in the school hallway.

Still, he’d live forever in your mind as the one your friends didn’t like.

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Cramps

Summary: After going off of birth control, your periods have been a little more intense than you're used to. What starts out as a stressful morning between you and your husband, very quickly turns into a night that bodes very well for the both of you.

Paring: Husband Frankie Morales x Wife f!reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 5.4K on the dot (idk how we got here)

Warnings: SMUT (18+) PERIOD SEX, unprotected p in v sex (do better, but also they want a baby so), vaginal fingering, oral (f receiving, again, you're on your period but our pussy eating king Fransisco Morales is an unstoppable force of nature), creampie, praise kink, big fat nasty breeding kink (it's who I am now, I won't apologize for it), Frankie's got a NASTY mouth, Frankie is the best husband, reader is on her period/has period symptoms, talks about family planning/not being on birth control, use of nicknames (hermosa, quierda, cariño), reader has no physical descriptions besides that she can wear Frankie's clothes

A/N: Well... This was gonna be a drabble... and then it was just gonna be fluff.... and then it was gonna be just some implied smut... and now, we're here??? Idk, don't ask me 🥴 self indulgent bc I just finished my period (and my periods have been whack since stopping bc) and what better way to heal myself than imagining what Frankie would be like taking care of you 🥺 also pls be nice to me this is my first time writing Frankie and I'm v nervous EEK I hope you enjoy!!! sorry Javi bby, I still love u

Bitchy. 

You wished you had a better word to describe your mood for today, but truth be told, bitchy was by far the most accurate. 

You and Frankie were hoping to start trying for your first baby soon, and had recently gone off your birth control after your doctor had told you it may take a few months for your body to regulate itself before you had a better chance at getting pregnant. Your doctor had also  warned you about many of the symptoms and side effects that stopping the pill could have, one of those being becoming more aware of your emotions and mood swings throughout your cycle. That, you were prepared for. 

What you were not prepared for, was to feel like an absolute psychopath in the days leading up to your period. 

 Your cycle had  been wonky the past few months as your body began to sort itself out- you had a feeling your period was probably about to start soon, but hadn’t thought much about it, considering your terrible and grouchy mood had overshadowed it. You had tried your best to pull yourself together the past few days, chalking up your grumpiness to long hours at work, or just being in a weird funk, but today, you woke up with a fire in your gut, ready to fight, and poor Frankie was about to be your punching bag. 

Sweet Frankie had been nothing short of a saint when it came to just about anything, but dealing with your newly heightened emotions right before your period really should have earned him some sort of Presidential Medal of Bravery, considering that your newly discovered highs and lows while PMS-ing were just as frightening as any time he had spent during his time in the military. 

Unfortunately for your husband, despite his best efforts, he had been on your nerves all morning. Not because he was really doing anything wrong, but because the little things that you were normally so good about letting go, or the patience you frequently had seemed to have flown out the window, and you were convinced that if Frankie even breathed the wrong way, you were going to absolutely lose it. 

So when unsuspecting Frankie decided to ask you a simple request about after work plans, there was very little he could have done to prepare for your response. 

“Morning, Hermosa.” Frankie cooed, emerging into the kitchen, his hand rustling through his untamed, sleepy brown curls as he let out a yawn and a stretch, the slight softness of his stomach peeking out between his t-shirt and pajama pants as he raised his arms above his head before settling behind you. He wrapped himself around your waist, pressing a gentle kiss into your shoulder as you finished putting the last of your lunch in your bag for work, trying to force yourself to focus on his sweet good morning, rather than the empty bowl of cereal in the sink that had greeted you first thing when you woke up, already starting you off on the wrong foot in your already irritable mood. 

“Morning, babe.” You grinned, forcing yourself to forgo the annoyance hidden behind your smile as you pecked a quick kiss on Frankie’s lips before gathering the rest of your things for the day scattered across the kitchen table. “Sorry, I didn’t have time to make you breakfast this morning because I was running late, but there’s extra scrambled eggs on the stove if you want them. I’m really sorry, Frankie, I gotta head out, have a good day, I’ll see you later okay?” You sighed, slinging your work bag over your shoulder, your hands full of your coffee mug, water bottle and keys, your cluttered grip and running behind schedule only adding to your frustration. 

“All good, Querida, no worries. Hey, actually baby, before you leave,” He paused, setting down the coffee mug he was just about ready to take a sip of, as if a little lightbulb had just gone off in his brain, “do you mind picking up stuff to make that really good buffalo chicken dip for Benny’s tonight? I told ‘em we’d bring like, an appetizer or something, if that’s okay.” 

For Frankie’s sake, you couldn’t have been more thankful that you had your back turned to him, because if looks could kill, Frankie Morales would have been a dead man. 

Every rational part of your brain knew that even though his request perhaps wasn’t the best timing, stopping by the store and making dip to bring to Benny’s for game night really wasn’t that much time or effort out of your day. But today, it seemed like every part of your brain but the rational one seemed to be functioning properly, and the raging, irrational part might as well have heard that Frankie wanted you to prepare and cook a Thanksgiving meal for 74 after you got home from work. 

You took a deep breath, your grip tightening around the items in your hand, praying with every bone in your body that someway or another, you had misheard your husband. 

“Tonight? As in, like, today, after I get home from work?” You questioned, trying to do your best to keep your tone from sounding too condescending. 

“Yeah, we don’t have to be there until 7, I just don’t think I’m gonna have time to since I probably won’t be outta work until 6:30.” He shrugged nonchalantly, taking another swig of his coffee 

Oh yeah, you’d heard him right.  

You let out a deep sigh, even more over dramatic than you had intended it to be, arms crossed over your chest and stark frown spread across your face as you turned towards Frankie. 

“Oh, perfect! That’s a great thing for me to find out about at 7:45 A.M. the day of, Frank!” Your voice oozed with ferocious sarcasm, now slamming your things back down onto the table to run your hands over your face. “No, that’s great, because there’s nothing I wanted to do more than to come home and make buffalo chicken dip instead of all the other shit I needed to do today before we left! Amazing! Thank you!” 

At this point, you were almost positive that if your eyes rolled any further, they’d be in the back of your skull, letting out another angry huff as you shook your head at Frankie, who was looking absolutely petrified as he leaned back against the counter, eyes darting to the floor to avoid yours, running his hand over the wispy curls at the nape of his neck. Frankie began to stammer, trying to defend himself from your wrath. 

“Hermosa, I’m- I’m sorry? I know it’s last minute, but you normally make it every time we go over there, I just- I figured it’d be easy for you to do? You can get something else, or I can try to stop by the store really quick on the way home, I just might-” 

“Nope, you want buffalo chicken dip, apparently I’m making buffalo chicken dip!” You groaned, collecting everything back into your hands, swearing under your breath as you tried to balance everything in your grip. “Jesus, okay, I need to go to work, just- I don’t even know. I gotta go, Frankie.” 

“Querida, I-” Frankie pleaded, beginning to trail behind you as you made your way to the front door. 

“Frankie, whatever, it’s fine! I’ll make the stupid dip! I have to go to work, I’ll see you later.” You could feel the muscles in your jaw beginning to clench as you gritted your teeth, trying with everything in you to keep from exploding as you headed out of the house. Without even a kiss goodbye, you left Frankie in the doorway, watching you throw your things in the car and slam the door behind you as you drove down the driveway. 

But as soon as you were on the road and your house was out of view, you could instantly feel the tears beginning to well in your eyes, slowly streaming down your cheeks as you began to sob, wondering why you had ruined the morning over as stupid as an appetizer, and even worse, that you had been a complete asshole to your husband about it. 

You couldn’t have been more thankful that work had been quiet today- no meetings on the schedule, and no one coming to bother you, leaving you plenty of peace and quiet to continue sulking and brooding in your unpleasant mood. 

Right around lunch time, you found yourself eating alone in your office, wishing your lunch was about ten times saltier and chocolatier than it was, crying to yourself as you watched a video of a dog meeting its new human sibling for the first time.

Just as you were beginning to pack up the rest of your lunch and start back up with your work, you felt a terrible twinge in your lower stomach that had you just about keeled over in pain, followed by that all too familiar feeling in your underwear. 

Frantically scrambling, you reached into your bag to pull out a tampon, hurriedly shuffling to the nearest bathroom, only to reveal the murder scene equivalent as you pulled down your pants. 

Your period had come.  

In that moment, as much as you were dreading the pain and misery that was the next few days to come, you couldn’t also help but feel a slight sense of relief, realizing that you were in fact, not actually a crazy person for the way you were feeling, you were just PMS-ing out of your mind. You couldn’t also help but feel absolutely awful for your unjustified freak out at your husband this morning, your heart sinking with guilt as you made your way back to your desk, immediately grabbing your phone to text Frankie. 

“Hey… I’m so sorry about this morning. What you were asking me to do wasn’t a big deal at all and I totally freaked out on you. My period just started, I think that’s why I’ve been such a bitch this morning. I’m sorry, Frankie, I love you.💕 ” 

It was almost instantly after you hit send that the reply bubble popped up in your message, your heart pounding anxiously waiting for your husband’s reply. 

“It’s okay, I kind of had a feeling 😉 babe, you weren’t being a bitch- I should have talked to you about it sooner. Shitty timing on my part. I’m sorry. I love you too, Querida.” 

Before you could even respond, another message popped up below his first. 

“Don’t worry about going to the store or making anything tonight. I already texted Benny and told him we couldn’t come. We can spend the night in, just the two of us. I can pick up takeout on the way home if you want and we can pick a movie to watch.” 

You could feel your frustrated facade beginning to melt away as your lips shifted from a pursed frown to a small smirk reading Frankie’s text, your thumbs quickly tapping across the screen of your phone to reply. 

“Thank you. You’re the best.” 

“Of course. Hopefully none of your co-workers ask you to make buffalo chicken dip before you leave 😘” 

“Oh shut up, meanie.” 

“Just kidding. Have a good rest of your day, love you. 💙

“Love you too. 🤍” 

Although the rest of your day was nowhere near enjoyable, given the fact you felt like you were getting punched repeatedly in the uterus and your personality resembled that of Oscar the Grouch, you knew that your night in with Frankie was your light at the end of the tunnel, and only needed to make it a few more hours before there was at least some sweet relief finally headed your way. 

Despite the constant stabbing pain in your lower stomach and back, your drive home from work had you in much better spirits than your drive there, now not only having an explanation as to why you had felt like such a mess, but also knowing the rest of your night was going to be dedicated to nothing but cuddling up in your comfiest clothes and snuggling up next to Frankie on the couch. 

As you pulled down your street, you were surprised to see Frankie’s truck already parked in the driveway, wondering what he was doing at home almost an hour earlier than he had mentioned he would be this morning. Gathering all of your things out of the back of your car, you quietly entered your home, confusion scrunching in your brow as you called out for your husband. 

“Frankie? Babe, are you home?” 

Before you could even kick off your shoes or hang up your coat, Frankie had already appeared at the front door to greet you, boyish grin spread across his face as he grabbed your things out of your hand, carefully placing them on your entryway table before engulfing you in a bear hug, his broad arms wrapping around your body and pulling you closer into his chest. 

You could feel all the muscles in your body instantly relax as your face rested against the soft cotton of his t-shirt, soaking in the familiar woody and savory scent of him, letting yourself be consumed by every ounce of his embrace. 

“Hi Hermosa.” Frankie cooed, pressing a soft kiss against your temple, running his hands up and down your back as you looked up at his sweet brown eyes shining down at you. 

“What are you doing home so early? I mean, not that I’m mad about it at all, I just thought you said that you had to work until 6:30 and-” 

“Told my boss I had to head out early for a family emergency.” Frankie smirked, laughing at you playfully rolling your eyes from his so-called excuse. 

“Last time I checked, your wife being a grump because she’s bleeding out of her cooch doesn’t classify as a family emergency, Fransisco.” You teased, giving him a little shove, making the two of you giggle in tandem. 

“Eh, close enough. I’m really sorry about this morning, querida. I was a dick for not talking to you about plans beforehand and just assuming you could go do it. It wasn’t fair of me.” 

“It’s okay, Frankie. What you were asking for wasn’t a big deal and I made it one because I’ve been a psycho all day. I’m sorry, too.” 

“Well,” Frankie paused, pressing another kiss onto your cheek, the width of his palm gently cradling your jaw as you stared up at him and his sympathetic smile, “number one, you are not a psycho. I can’t imagine how uncomfortable you must feel right now, so even if you were, I wouldn’t blame you one bit. Number two,” he paused again, shifting his kiss from your cheek to your lips, his thumb delicately swiping across your skin, “you’re my wife and I love you more than anything, and if I can take a little time off to help make you feel better, it’s the least I can do. So, why don’t you go change into something comfortable, and when you get back down here, I will have pizza and ice cream, whatever movie you wanna watch, and a back rub ready for you, okay?”   

“Okay. Thank you, Frankie. God, you’re the best.” You grinned, pressing up on your tiptoes to let your mouth meet Frankie’s, the plush pout of his bottom lip swiping across yours, lingering just long enough to let the butterflies in your stomach begin to swirl, heat creeping through your cheeks in the tenderness of the moment.

“Of course, cariño. Te amo. Now go get changed.” With one last peck on his lips, you wiggled out of Frankie’s grasp to make your way up the stairs, grinning to see that your husband had already set out your favorite of his oversized sweatshirts and sweatpants, neatly folded on the bed for you to grab, quickly shuffling out of your uncomfortable work attire and exchanging it for Frankie’s clothes, your smile growing even wider at the feeling of perpetually being wrapped up in the essence of him. 

As you made your way back downstairs to meet Frankie, you found your heart skipping a beat again to see that the better part of the living room had been turned into a cozy sanctuary- lights dim and candles lit, both parts of your couch squished together, filled with every pillow and blanket you owned, and Frankie sitting in the middle, giant box of pizza, tub of ice cream and your handsome husband waiting for you. 

As if your emotions hadn’t already taken you on a wild roller coaster of a ride today, the adorable sight in front of you had you on the verge of tears again, wiping the wetness pooling in your eyes with the back of Frankie’s sweatshirt sleeve drooping off your arm before crawling into the blanket fort he had constructed for the two of you. 

“Frankie… You didn’t have to do this.” You sniffled, curling up next to Frankie as he draped a blanket over your lap and his arm over your shoulder, passing you a plate with 2 large pieces of pizza. 

“It’s the least I could do. I put on Hercules for us to watch, but if you wanna-” 

Before you could let him finish the rest of his sentence, you were running your hand across the scratchy stubble of his cheek, pulling his face closer to yours as you planted a kiss on his lips, feeling your smiles melt into one another's as your mouths met. “That sounds perfect. God, how’d I get so lucky?” 

“I could say the same thing, mi amor. You ready to start the movie?” 

“Only if you also pass me that tub of Ben and Jerry’s to go with my pizza.” 

“I think I can make that happen.” 

About half way through the movie, pizza and tub of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream, your and Frankie’s bodies were tangled together in a sea of limbs and blankets, contently snuggled up with one another as Frankie’s fingers traced lazy circles on your back and shoulder as you laid against his chest. 

“You doin’ okay, querida? Need anything?” He cooed, his soft voice dancing in your ear. As if it weren’t enough that you had already been through the extreme highs and lows of almost every feeling under the sun today, the one you hadn’t been until this very moment was insatiably horny. While the mood swings you had mentally prepared yourself for with your new period symptoms, the constant other kind of ache between your legs you had not, and feeling the low rasp of Frankie’s words tickling your neck had been just enough to flip the switch to make you desperately needy. 

Letting your leg slide over Frankie’s lap, you pushed yourself up to straddle his hips, running your hands through the dark curls of his thick, brown hair, and down his broad chest, your fists bunching the worn fabric of his shirt in your hands as your mouths became a mess of tangled tongues and teeth. 

“I need- fuck- I need you, Frankie, please.” You pleaded between muffled moans, his tongue swiping in the parted space where your lips melted together as one, instinctively beginning to grind your hips into his, feeling the bulge in his sweatpants starting to grow beneath you. 

“Fuck- You sure, baby?” Frankie rasped, reactively bucking up into you, making you whine as his hands dug into your hips, guiding you as you swirled over the tented fabric of his bottom half rubbing against your covered core. 

“Please. Please, Frankie.” You were all but whimpering at this point, nodding frantically in approval as Frankie used the grasp on your hips to guide you onto your back, making you cock your head in confusion as Frankie scampered to the other side of the couch, back turned to you as he reached over the ledge, pulling out a thick, black towel with a smug grin on his face. “Did you seriously have a towel ready incase I wanted to have sex?” You snorted, shaking your head at Frankie, now crawling back to you, caging your body under his with an electric kiss as he shimmied the towel underneath you. 

“Maybe.” Frankie smirked, breaking from your kiss to let his lips trail down your body, his hands toying with the edge of his sweatshirt covering your body as he pushed it up your stomach and chest, helping you to shimmy it over your head, leaving your top half exposed. He gently palmed at your breasts, taking each pebbled nipple in his mouth, sucking and flicking at the buds with his tongue before letting his kisses travel down the soft skin of your stomach and waistband of your sweatpants. The clothes on your bottom half soon joined your sweatshirt in a crumpled pile as Frankie nestled himself between your legs, gently nudging your hips to let your thighs part, revealing your pussy, slick and shiny for him with your juices. 

Even though Frankie would eat you out for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and a late night snack, you couldn’t help but feel guilty that he still found himself between your legs during your time of the month, considering any other man probably would have scoffed at just the thought of going down on you on your period. 

But, then again, Frankie Morales wasn’t just any other man. 

“Frankie, baby, you know you don’t- Oh fuck!” You gasped, cut off in surprise as Frankie’s tongue licked a long, broad strip across your cunt, making you shudder in pleasure as his head perked up, revealing the devilish grin spread between his cheeks watching your chest already heave in heavy, shaky breaths. 

“Oh I know I don’t have to, sweet girl. But I want to. Relax, baby, lemme take care of you.” 

Before you could agree, protest, or anything in between, Frankie was back between your legs, arms wrapped around your thighs as they draped over his broad shoulders, digging his fingertips into the plush softness of your skin, dragging his tongue through your folds with the exact grace and precision that he knew made you fall apart in seconds. 

With flat, firm presses of his mouth latched against your clit, you could already feel your bottom half writhing under him, the perfect pressure of his tongue dancing around your sensitive bundle of nerves making you moan in pleasure. As your head dipped back, falling into the couch pillow behind you, your hand shot down, fingers burying themselves in the wild curls of Frankie’s hair, tugging at the thick ends for any sort of release as he worked relentlessly at your aching cunt. 

“Fuck, Frankie, oh fuck- Fuck, baby, you feel so good.” You whined, your praise only intensifying the way your husband drank every ounce of you up, two thick fingers now gently pressing inside your heat, curled deliciously as they rocked in and out of your entrance, nudging against your g-spot. 

Frankie had spent enough time worshiping the altar that was your pussy to know exactly how to make you crumble beneath him, leaving you chanting his name like a prayer as his lips latched around your clit, ferociously sucking as his fingers prodded at the soft, spongy spot that made your cunt begin to clench and heat in your belly pool. 

“That’s it, Hermosa. I know you’re close, baby girl. Let me feel you, mi amor. I’ve got you.” Frankie groaned, his words humming deep in his chest, placing chaste kisses on the inside of your thighs before drinking you up like a man starved, adding a third finger into your heat, the added fullness and stretch, combined with Frankie’s relentless pace, enough to have the tingle that had been building at the base of your spine now washing through every inch of your body. Your orgasm began to crash through you, your pussy fluttering as pleasure radiated in your veins, making you cry out Frankie’s name over and over. 

Frankie worked persistently through your high, only pulling back after making sure that you had cum again, sitting back on his haunches as he admired the blissed out and ragged mess you had become, your pussy slick and swollen as your chest rose and fell in wrecked inhales and exhales, trying to compose yourself from the Frankie and fucked you senseless with just his tongue. 

Wiping the slick and juices glistening in his mustache with the back of his hand, Frankie tugged the sweatshirt covering his own body over his head, followed by his pants and boxers, freeing his painfully hard cock as it slapped against his stomach, his tip red and leaking with precum as his broad body loomed over yours, sucking and nipping at your pulse point as you whimpered his name. 

“Frankie, holy fuck.” 

“Such a good girl for me, querida. You still want me to fuck you, baby?” He mewled, the metallic and tangy taste of you still lingering on his tongue as he kissed you, laughing to himself at the way you found yourself frantically nodding your head to tell him yes before your words could. 

“Jesus Christ, yes. Fuck, please Frankie, I need to feel you.” 

Reaching down to stroke himself, he lined his cock up with your entrance, easily sliding into your heat and brushing his tip against your cervix, taking a moment to let you adjust to his fullness. The whine you let out as Frankie filled every inch of you was nothing short of ragged, digging your nails into the skin of his broad back as he ever so slowly began to thrust in and out of you, dragging his length against the slick of your cunt. 

“Oh fuck me- Fuck, you hear how wet you are for me, sweet girl? This what you needed, baby? To fill up that pretty little pussy of yours?” Frankie groaned, letting his forehead rest against yours, his sweaty curls now starting to stick to his skin as he pounded into you, rutting his hips at a faster and faster pace. 

“It’s all for you, Frankie- Oh shit- only for you.” You moaned, your fingers wrapping around the width of his biceps, flexing deliciously as he hovered over you, sucking you in to a long, deep kiss, fucking into you over and over. 

Even with the years between you and the ring on your finger, the possessive part of Frankie’s brain would never get over how the primal and all consuming feeling of knowing you were his, forever, your words shooting straight to his dick as a low groan rumbled in his chest, silently cursing to himself through gritted teeth, watching you fall apart below him. 

Readjusting himself, Frankie sat back on his heels, hooking his arm under one of your legs to drape it over his shoulder, the new angle stretching you out in a way that had you seeing stars as Frankie rammed into your g-spot and began thumbing at your clit, still swollen and sensitive from your first orgasm. You could already feel the heat beginning to bloom in your belly once again, your leg beginning to tremble hoisted over Frankie’s shoulder as he dug into the meat of your thigh with a bruising intensity. 

Just like he would never get over the fact of knowing you were his, Frankie would never get over watching you begin to crumble under his touch, taking the time to memorize every twitch and twinge your body made as you came closer and closer to your end, always savoring in the moaning mess you’d become as you fell apart around him. 

“Fuck, Frankie, Fuck, oh my god- I’m close, baby.” You were all but rambling at this point, your brain barley stringing together coherent sentences as you felt your cunt beginning to clench around his cock, the lewd noises of your moans, wetness and skin slapping together as your hips met filling the room at a borderline pornagraphic rate. 

“Meirda, I’m not gonna last much longer, hermosa. Fuck, where do you want me, baby?” Frankie growled through gritted teeth, his eyes locking on yours and telling him everything he needed to know without you saying a word. 

“Inside. Fuck, please Frankie, I want you to cum inside me.” 

Your confirmation was all it took to flip the switch in Frankie that sent him absolutely feral, the thought of being able to actually knock you up now that you weren’t on birth control anymore, giving you a baby, proving another way to the world to mark you as his? The thought alone was enough to have him bracing every bone in his body to keep him from cuming right then and there. 

“Fuck me. You want me to fill you up, querida? Fuck me full of you? Fuck a baby into you? That's what you want, huh?” Frankie moaned, grunting with each thrust of his hips, his rhythm becoming more frantic and shaky as he felt your pussy begin to flutter around him, pressing the pads of his fingers against your clit, swirling them in frantic circles to make sure you came before he did. 

“Fuck, yes. I need you too, holy fuck- wanna make you a daddy, Fransisco.” 

You could feel the tightly wound knot in your core starting to snap, your legs trembling and breath shaking as Frankie fucked into you, finding yourself on the verge of collapse- but not before Frankie’s filthy mouth got the last word in. 

“Jesus, fuck- Fuck, hermosa. That’s what you want, pretty girl? I swear, I’m gonna fuck myself so deep into you it’ll fucking take. Get you fucking pregnant tonight.” 

That was all it took to have you orgasm come crashing through you, every inch of your body radiating with pleasure as you came, crying out Frankie’s name as you gushed around him, your eyes practically rolling to the back of your head, your mind going blank and numb, the only thing grounding you were the incoherent ramblings of your husband as he followed suit behind you. 

“Fuck, that’s it, baby. Fuck, I’m gonna cum too, fuck, fuck-ahhhhhh.” With one final thrust, Frankie could feel himself spilling against your walls, coating you with his spend as his cock pulsed, making sure he milked himself of every last drop deep inside your cunt before even thinking about pulling out. Moving your leg, Frankie slumped into you, splaying himself across your body as your chests rose and fell in sync, laying in silence as you let your breathing steady, coming back down to Earth from your high. 

With a shallow grunt, Frankie carefully pulled his softening cock out of your heat, leaning back to admire the mess he had made between your legs, his cum dripping down the inside of your thighs and pussy glistening with the mixture of your arousal. You let out a soft hiss at the loss of Frankie’s fullness inside you, only to quickly be replaced by a gasp as he buried his two fingers back into your cunt.  

“Gotta make sure every last drop stays in there, hermosa. Gonna keep you full of me all night, baby.” He mewled, carefully gathering his spend and pushing it deep inside you, making you whimper as he slowly pulsed his fingers back and forth, pulling away his hand to lean back into your body, engulfing you with an electric kiss. 

“Holy fuck, fuck me. Jesus, Frankie.” You laughed to yourself, your head dipping back on the pillow as you buried your face in your hands, at a loss for words at how euphoric you now felt in your post colital bliss. 

“Wow, again, already? Gotta give me a few after that querida.” He smirked, making you roll your eyes at his joke as you playfully swatted at him, making him lean in to pepper your body with kisses, leaving you squealing and squirming in delight. 

“You are absolutely ridiculous, Fransisco Morales. If you keep fucking me like that, then yeah, absolutley.” 

“If I keep fucking you like this, I have a very hopeful feeling that next month, we’ll have something else to care about besides period cramps.”

“I swear to god, if one of my cravings ends up being buffalo chicken dip once I’m pregnant, I’m gonna be pissed.”

Taglist:

@bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog @jaciejay13 @poodlebae @gobaaby-blog-blog @lola8888673 @persephone-girl @copperhalfcent @innerpersonunknown @messinadresss @devineconjuring @endlessthxxghts @cool-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @messinadress @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @ilovepedro @pascalscoffin @missladym1981 @munson-hargrove-barnes86 @angel98624 @anoverwhelmingdin @pimosworld @nandan11 @iloveenya @survivingandenduring

[its-not-a-pen]

i love the hilarious eunuch ranking system by @welcometothejianghu so i decided to make one based on (mostly) REAL historical chinese enunchs!

in chronological order:

Warring States Period long story short, the PM is sleeping with the Empress Dowager, and he wants to extracate himself before her son (future Emperor Qin Shi Huang) gets old enough to find out. the PM finds her a suitable replacement, and the replacement is attached to a guy named Lao Ai. They pluck his beard and pass him off as a eunuch so he can sneak into the palace. Bing bang boom everyone's happy. This goes terribly wrong later, since Lao Ai tries to replace the emperor with his own kids and stages a failed coup. rest in pieces buddy...

it's very likely that Lao Ai was a ficticious character invented by Sima Qian, who will be appearing on this list later.

Qin Dynasty

Zhao Gao helped the first emperor of China conquer an empire, and administer it efficiently with his legal knowledge, but he also made the second emperor into a puppet, and weakened the empire for his own political gain. Max points of complexity, but you'd get more loyalty out of a coffee club punch card.

Before launching his soft coup, he decided to test the waters by bring in a deer and gaslighted the emperor by calling it a horse. the officials who were loyal to him called it a horse, and he executed the rest.

Han Dynasty Jiru, male favourite of Emperor Gaozu (Liu Bang), the peasant scoundrel who became the founder of the Han Dynasty. look, if the emperor has a harem of hundreds of women and you manage to catch his attention, you max out in style points. simple as. for most of chinese history it was fairly common for high-ranking men, especially eunuchs, to wear make up like powder and rouge, but i decided to give Jiru some women's huadia as well, cause he's a baddie.

Jiru gets a bad rap for alledgely distracting the emperor from his duties, but lets be real, history is written by civil officials who have no shortage of professional jealousy and gender/sexuality related prejudice towards eunuchs, since they were the personal attendants of royalty and could exert a lot of influence. plus Liu Bang was already pissing in the hats of confucian scholars, most of the poor work ethic is on HIM. Jiru should get credit for making him marginally less of a troglodite.

all in all he didn't try any court intrigue so extra points for loyalty and complexity. free my man >:( he's just a Han dynasty Monica Lewinsky who got slutshamed by jealous coworkers >:(

Han Dynasty

meet the father of east asian history, sima qian. half the people on this list can owe their placement here thanks to his extremely though history books "records of the grand historian"

history at this time was mostly "creative writing" and sima qian attempted to give the practise more academic intergrety, he went out and personally interviewed people, tried to get primary sources, and got rid of most of the more fanstastical aspects. however, he was not without his biases and some texts can be seen as allegorical/veiled insults towards the Han Dynasty, especially towards Emperor Wu. unlike most of the people on this list, sima qian was from the gentry and castated later in life as a punishment for treason. he was implicated after trying to defend a friend, and could not pay the fine to commute his sentence. the gentlemen at the time were expected to die by suicide rather than live with such ignimony, but sima qian chose to live so he could finish writing the history book his father started. the "giant conspiracy" joke explained: the chinese word for penis is a homophone for "conspiracy".

[minniesmutt]

No idea if you're taking requests or ideas right now but I just thought of this and I think it would come out really well if you were the one who wrote it. ChanLix threesome with Lix in the middle of fem!Reader and Chan. His deep groans would be so so so amazingly perfect. Anyway, I know you're busy with other wips and requests and just life in general so if you do eventually decide to take this on, thanks. Take care of yourself and have a good day/night 🩷

Ps. I love your work and it inspired me to start posting my writing on here and I'm all the better for it and I never got the chance to tell you how your incredible writing skills have impacted me in such a positive way so thank you for sharing your writing with us on this hell site

☾ ━━━━━━ 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐰

☾ ━━━ PAIRING: CHAN X READER X FELIX ☾ ━━━ CONTENT: ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP (READER AND CHAN), SWITCH!READER, DOM!CHAN, SUB!FELIX, THREESOME, MXM ACTION (forgive me if it’s terrible), TEASING, MOMMY/DADDY KINK, PRAISE, NIPPLE PLAY, MARKING, DRY HUMPING, TIT SUCKING. FINGERING (V. AND A.), FINGER SUCKING, ORAL SEX (F. & M. REC), FACE SITTING, HAND JOB, CUM EATING, OVERSTIM, PROTECTED SEX (V. AND A.), MULTIPLE ORGASMS, SUBSPACE (?), AFTERCARE ☾ ━━━ WC: 3.1K ☾ ━━━ NOTE: we don't talk about how long this sat in my drafts before I actually started working on it... also, I'm so glad I have inspired you annonie 🥲 ☾ ━━━ 18+ work!! minors and ageless/blank blogs DNI! you will be blocked, put an indicator on your blog somewhere that you are 18+ before interacting with this work/blog

     Y/n always enjoyed her relationship with Chan, everything was always great, even in bed. But when you've been with someone so long, and share desires and fantasies you think you'll never get when it comes to a long-term relationship, one or more parties start to wonder.

     "Hey baby," Chan said as he walked out of the bathroom and into their bedroom.

     “Yes, love?” Y/n asked

     "Do you remember when we were talking about sexual fantasies when we first got together?" the producer asked, lying on their bed facing her.

     "Is that why you were in the shower for so long?" Y/n teased him as she set down her phone.

     "I wasn't in there that long," Chan defended himself. “But I was thinking about it when I was in there."

     "What exactly?" Y/n asked as she scooted over to him.

     "Remember how you said you've wanted to try domming, but I've never given you a chance to?" 

     "Yeah. Finally going to put down the controls and let me dom you?" 

     “Let me finish,” Chan said before she got too excited, “And how both wanted to try a threesome at least once?”

     “What are you getting at, Christopher?”

     “Do you want the long or the short version?”

     “There’s two versions?” Y/n was very interested in this now. 

     “Which one do you want?” Chan asked again

     “Short?”

     “Was talking with Felix and he agreed to both.”

     “Long version because what the fuck does that mean?”

     “Felix and I were talking earlier today and he was kind of complaining —“

     “Felix complained?”

     “Yeah. But you remember the girl he was seeing for a bit?”

     “Yeah. The one none of us liked.”

     “Correct. I guess she told Felix she liked experimenting in the bedroom and it turns out it was only with things she wanted. So he had asked her once to dom him and she flat out refused.”

     “Bitch.”

     “Yeah. That led me to say how you’ve always wanted to try but I have a hard time giving up control in the bedroom then I don’t know how we got on the topic of threesomes but eventually I asked if he was okay with it, I would talk to you and see if you were okay with a threesome between me, you, and Felix.”

     “He’s okay with it?”

     “One hundred percent.”

     “We’ll need rules.”

     “Should I call him?”

     “Yeah.”

     It was an interesting conversation. Never did Y/n think they would find someone willing to indulge her and her boyfriend. Especially one of their close friends. The three ended up having a pretty long conversation about boundaries, safe words, hard no’s, all of it. Y/n could tell Felix was excited, to say the least. Part of him was really glad he confided that information to Chan. Originally he just wanted someone to vent to and who better than Chan?

     The younger Aussie did feel like he was in a fever dream when Chan offered to talk to his girlfriend about it. Felix knew that Chan could be a little possessive of his girlfriend in a good way. So a threesome was the last thing he expected from him. But now it was real. 

     He and Chan had driven back to his and Y/n’s together. It wasn’t awkward in the car but he felt a little nervous when the two idols entered the house. Y/n was cleaning up their kitchen when the two walked in after setting their things down. 

     “Hey,” Y/n greeted the two.

     “Hey,” Chan said as he came around their counter and kissed her lips

     Y/n picked up on Felix’s nerves, “You okay, Lix?”

     “Yeah,” He answered as he sat at their bar

     “He’s been nervous since we got in the car,” Chan teased

     “I have not,” Felix defended

     “It’s okay Lix,” Y/n giggled, “It’s new for everyone involved.”

     The younger one watched as she came around the counter to him. His eyes darted from her to Chan. Chan just watched as his girlfriend cupped the other idol's face and pressed her lips to his. Smiling to himself when he heard the boy whimper into her mouth. Walking around to stand behind the Aussie, hands grabbing his waist.

     He watched as Y/n pulled away and Felix chased her lips. Giggling behind him, “She’s good at that,” he said, pressing his lips to his neck.

     “Don’t tease him too much,” Y/n told her boyfriend as she ran her fingers through Felix’s long hair.

     “Why not?” Chan asked, “He wants more of those pretty lips, don’t you, Lixie?”

     Felix nodded as he looked up at Y/n. “Words Lix. Closed mouths don’t get fed, right?”

     “Please kiss me, mummy,” Felix said without a second thought

     “Mummy, huh?” Y/n asked him, a smile on her lips

     “Does that make me daddy?” Chan questioned

     “Sorry. It just—” Felix stammered.

     “It’s okay Lix. Chan has a daddy kink anyways,” Y/n giggled, pecking his lips again. “You don’t have to apologize.”

     “Just let mummy and daddy take care of you tonight, okay baby boy?” Chan said as he slipped his hands under the other boy’s sweater and shirt. Warm hands on Felix’s stomach.

     “Okay,” Felix agreed

     “Good boy,” Y/n said as she pressed her lips to his.

     Felix moaned into her mouth as he felt Chan’s lips sucked on the skin behind his ear. Hands moving up his torso and fingers lightly pinching his nipples. He could feel both of them smiling at his reaction. Y/n’s own hands ran down from his hair to the waistband of his sweats. Hand running over the bulge in his pants.

     “Think we should make our baby boy more comfortable, mama?” Chan asked

     Y/n pulled her lips away from Felix’s and looked at the older Australian. “We should.” She agreed. Y/n took the younger man’s hand and pulled him up to their bedroom. Chan followed behind them.

     Felix was almost in a daze from everything. It was honestly— at where they were at currently— better than he imagined. Especially as Y/n sat him on the edge of the bed and helped him out of his shirt and sweater. Chan stood behind her and Felix watched as he pulled her shirt over her head, leaving her without a bra in front of him. He could see a few vague hickey marks on her neck that he knew were Chan’s doing. The dancer blubbing like a fish. He hadn’t even noticed till now but he figured she hadn’t worn a bra in her own home. 

     Chan smiled at Felix as he turned his girlfriend’s head towards him and kissed her lips briefly. His other hand pushed one of her legs between Felix’s— her knee pressing right against his hard cock. Y/n looked down at him and grabbed the back of his head, pulling him closer to her. “Feeling okay, baby?” Y/n asked as she brushed a few streaks of hair out of his face.

     “Yes, mummy.”

     “Been staring at mummy’s pretty tits?” Chan teased

     “Mhm,” Felix nodded

     “Taste good too,” Chan added as he bit her shoulder

     “Can I…” Felix started

     “Can you what, bub?” Y/n asked

     “Can I taste?” Felix asked

     “Of course you can.”

     Felix didn’t waste another second. His lips wrapped around one of her nipples while one hand groped her other boob. Chan smiled as he captured his girlfriend’s lips in his and pushed his tongue past her lips. Y/n moaned into his mouth as Felix sucked on her nipples and slowly ground against her knee between his legs.

     “Lixie making you feel good, mama?” Chan asked

     “Mhm,” Y/n hummed in response.

     Chan’s hand slid past the waistband of her lounge pants. Fingers gently rubbing between her folds and collecting her slick. Chan chuckled to himself as Y/n leaned her head back against his shoulder. Her fingers grabbed the roots of Felix’s hair as Chan’s fingers dipped into her aching hole. Slowly moving in and out of her then making eye contact with Felix in front of them. His eyes softened with one of her boobs in his mouth still as he looked up at Chan.

     The producer pulled his fingers out of her and her pants. He gently pulled Felix’s head back, leaving his mouth hanging open after he unlatched from her nipple. Chan slipped the fingers that were in her cunt into his mouth. Resting them on his tongue and watching his mouth close. His eyes almost crossed as he sucked the juices off his fingers.

     “Mummy taste good?” Y/n asked him

     “Yes,” Felix said with Chan’s fingers in his mouth

     “Wanna taste mummy yourself?” Chan asked

     “Mhm,” Felix said

     “Words, baby.” Chan reminded him

     “Yes, please.”

     “Good boy,” Chan said and slipped his fingers out of his mouth and helped Y/n out of her bottoms. Felix laid back on their bed and watched as Chan slowed off her clothes and his shirt.

     “Want mummy on your face?” Chan asked him

     “Yes please,” Felix responded

     Y/n grabbed one of their pillows and placed it under Felix’s head before climbing on top of him, legs on either side of his head. The dancer’s hands grabbed the tops of her thighs as his tongue slipped into her. Moaning as her taste touched his tastebuds.

     Chan watched for a moment as his girlfriend rode his friend’s face. Both of their moans filled the bedroom. His dick was already aching and the sight before him made him harder as he pulled Felix’s sweats and boxers off him. The younger one’s dick springing up the moment it was out of its confines. Tip leaking with pre cum. 

     Chan leaned down and licked the pre cum that dribbled down his length and out from his tip. Felix shaking a little from the contact. Chan chuckled and swallowed the precum before standing straight up and opening the drawer to their dresser. He pulled out a couple of condoms and their lube. Setting all the items on the bed. 

     The oldest grabbed the lube and squirted some on his finger. Pushing up Felix’s legs and exposing him to Chan. He took his libed finger and gently pushed the digit inside him. Taking his time getting in so Felix could get used to it before finally letting himself properly finger the man’s ass. Working slowly as he moaned into his girlfriend’s cunt. Y/n looked back at Chan, seeing him prepping the younger one. 

     Felix was so involved im pleasing the woman on top of him that it was easier for Chan to slip in and out of him. He had to pull away from Y/n for a moment a couple of times to beg Chan to pick up the pace and slip a second finger in. Chan’s fingers were longer and thicker than Felix’s. 

     The rapper wasn’t afraid to admit he’d fingered himself quite a bit when jacking off. It felt good but when someone else did it for you it felt better. Places he typically couldn’t reach on his own were getting reached down and he could feel himself getting addicted to it. 

     Felix’s hands gripped Y/n’s thighs tighter as his nose nudged her clit as she rolled her hips against his face. Chan’s fingers pumping in and out of him. His hips twitched desperately. Chan could see his dick twitching and wrapped his free hand around his shaft, pumping him in time with his fingers inside him. The producer watched both his girlfriend and friend fall apart, one right after the other. He smiled as Felix’s cum landed on his hand and the Aussie’s stomach. Twitching under him and Y/n while Y/n gripped his long black hair and Felix drank up her cum.

     Y/n climbed off him once both had come down from the highs and looked back at her boyfriend, fingers still in Felix. Felix himself looked down at Chan and moaned as the older man’s fingers scissored his hole. Y/n grabbed her boyfriend’s other hand and licked the cum off his fingers then leaned down and cleaned the remaining cum off Felix’s stomach and cock.

     The dancer’s mouth fell open as he watched her swallow the cum then Chan pulled her in for a kiss. Once he pulled away from her, he pulled his fingers out of Felix. He whined a little at the emptiness. Y/n sat Felix up as Chan pulled his gym shorts and boxers off. Felix got a glimpse at his size before Y/n pulled into another kiss. He melted into her lips again. Moments later Chan pulled him off her lips and pressed his to Felix’s. A moment later his lips were gone Chan moved to sit back on the pillows behind them. Grabbing one of the condoms and rolled it down his length. One look at the younger Australian and Felix straddled his lap. Y/n was next to Felix and helped him adjust his knees so both the men were comfortable— Chan did turn Felix. Chan held the base of his cock as Y/n helped Felix lower himself down onto Chan. Watching his face contort in pleasure as his tip pushed into Felix’s tight hole. 

     “Big…” the younger one moaned.

     “Is daddy too big for you, baby?” Y/n asked as she cupped his face, Chan’s hands grabbing his hips and holding him still

     “No. Can take it…” Felix moaned 

     “You sure, baby?” Chan asked for confirmation

     Chan was on the bigger side for Felix. All he had done was have a couple of fingers in himself so having a cock in his ass was a new feeling. A good feeling. Once he was more comfortable, he took more of the leader. Both parts of the couple were very patient with him. Chan’s warm hands kept him still and rubbed his hip bones with his thumbs as Y/n held him and kissed his neck, cooing at how good he was doing for them.

     Once Felix was fully comfortable and took as much as Chan as he could, Chan pulled him against his chest. His turn to kiss his neck and shoulders again. He watched as Y/n moved down a bit and leaned down, taking Felix’s cock in her hand and stroking him.

     Felix moaned and practically threw his head back onto Chan’s shoulder. Chan slowly started thrusting in and out of Felix which just increased the volume of his moans. Especially when Y/n replaced her hand with her mouth.

     He looked back down to see Y/n looking up at him and Chan. Chan’s thrust pushed Felix’s cock into her mouth. Between the both of them,—from the foreplay and what they were doing to him now— Felix’s mind had all but stopped working. Turning to mush.

     Chan noticed, he always noticed everything. He pulled his girlfriend off his cock and motioned for her to straddle the both of them. He paused his thrusts for a moment and rolled a condom over his cock and helped her onto him. Keeping one of his hands on Felix’s waist and laced the fingers of his other hand with his girlfriends. Y/n leaned over the two and grabbed the headboard behind Chan. Holding herself up a bit and bounced herself up and down on Felix while Chan thrusted in and out of him. Both of them meeting in the middle occasionally.

      All three moaning in sync. The bedroom was filled with moans and skin slapping. Felix’s moans were the loudest of the three. The poor boy was fucked out of his mind now. The only thing was the pleasure that surrounded him. Nothing else was on his mind. Especially when he couldn’t handle it anymore and came into the condom he was wearing, cursing and shaking between the two of them. Both Chan and Y/n continued their movements as Felix rode out his high. Chan didn’t take long to cum after. Shoving himself into Felix and came into the condom he wore. 

     Y/n watched the two men lose themselves in the pleasure as she rode on top of them. Chan came out of it quicker than Felix and took his dominant hand, thumb pressing to her clit and helping her while she did her best to keep the rhythm. She was putty in Chan’s hands. He knew every motion to get her off quickly. All the quickies they’d have between his stages, practices, and even early in the morning before they had to work or he had a flight to catch, somehow always helped in his favor over the years. Especially now, he refused to let his girlfriend be unsatisfied, no matter what.

     He watched as she came apart on Felix’s cock, holding herself on the headboard while she rode out the high. Felix moaned as she clamped down on his softening cock. Chan smiled and helped his girlfriend off Felix before they both helped Felix to lie on their bed. Chan fought with his girlfriend about her letting him do all the aftercare work. She didn’t let him though.

     Y/n grabbed a few warm wet towels for them and returned to the bedroom. Chan had discarded both the condoms and when she came back. He took the towels from her and cleaned up Felix as she left to grab some water and a small snack for them. Chan ended up stopping her at the door, took the items from her and set them on the nightstand before cleaning her up himself and tucking her into one of their oversized shirts.

     “You left Felix all alone in our bed,” Y/n judged her boyfriend

     “I told him I had to clean up mummy and gave him one of your plushies for the time being,” Chan told her.

     “Did we fuck him into a sub-space?” Y/n asked

     “Maybe. He does what cuddles though,” Chan informed her.

     “So do I,” Y/n pecked her boyfriend’s lips and the two got back in the bed with their friend.

The couple got him to drink some water and eat a bit of the fruit she had brought up before he ended up falling asleep in their bed. The couple agreed to let him sleep in the bed with them, neither of them having an issue with it. Figuring they’d all talk about everything else in the morning. The two had managed to ask him a few things to make sure he wasn’t fully dropped in subspace. Mostly he was just tired and Y/n understood fully, and she knew Chan had gone a lot softer on Felix than he usually did with her. 

     She for sure was giving them both shit later once they were all rested. The couple drank their water and shared the snacks she’d brought up to get a bit of energy as Felix slept soundly between them.

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