#i feel neither was helpful 😂

[erasedcitizen2]

[fluent-in-lesbianism]

You’re now following an assistant coach to a 12/13yo girl’s travel volleyball team 👍🏻

[indiangp-moved]

how do u miss someone you have never known

[yeahxsurexokay13]

wrong guy, lando norris

summary: fans think yn is dating max, but they've got the wrong guy [bsf!reader]

been a min since i posted! honestly, these just take me way too long and i usually end up abandoning them because i start hating them halfway through from overthinking lol. hope you enjoy this one though (: xx

y/n.y/l 📍 Ibiza, Spain

Liked by riabish, carlossainz55 and 159.870 others

y/n.y/l we only argued 3 times, cried 2, and got lost 1 (personal record)

view all 579 comments

user9 right so who argued? who cried? and most importantly whO IS THE SHADOW?

user14 can we talk about how u're LITERALLY glowing in that first pic? u look so happy, girl!!

user20 the vibes on this dump… rich people's holidays just hit different.

iamrebeccad ✓ Beautiful girl 😍

y/n.y/l 🫶🏼 miss youu!!

user4 “cried 2 times” is actually impressive ♥︎ by author

user55 lando and max just casually being brothers in the fourth pic 😩❤️

user81 that shot is just *chef’s kiss*!!!! Glad we can always count on this queen for hq content

user63 Okay so I’ve been staring at this shadow pic for like 10 minutes, and I can’t figure it out…

user33 my money’s on max bc that hug pic of them earlier too… feels very coupley.

user63 idk friends to lovers agenda thriving tho

user3 Max and Lando with the face masks are killing me 😂 ♥︎ by author

user6 max or lando? place your bets now. i’m team max but i’ll die on this hill if i'm wrong

user2 which you are, because it’s definitely Lando

user8 guys they’ve literally known each other since forever and go on these friends holidays all the time lmao this is just FRIENDSHIP GOALS. stop romanticising everything!!!

user24 then explain the head kiss?

user8 friendly head kisses???

user24 friendly kisses?? in this economy? be serious. that’s couple behaviour

user12 smells like a third wheel in here…

y/n.y/l sorry, that's just me. i am the third wheel🙋🏼‍♀️

user13 she really said 'stop shipping me with my best friends' lol

user44 max and lando with the face masks in the water might be my new favourite photo of all time

user16 ngl that's not bad statistics for a week long trip ♥︎ by author

user11 If it’s Max, I’ll cry. If it’s Lando, I’ll cry harder. If it’s neither, I don’t know what I’ll do.

user18 i’ve been following these three for years and i’m still trying to figure out if that last slide is supposed to be romantic or not….? HELP I AM SO CONFUSED

user22 what book is that? i need recommendations!!

y/n.y/l just for the summer!!! LOVED it x

user10 i can’t believe she was so chill about posting thAT LAST PIC!??!! miss y/l!!! SPILL NOW

maxfewtrell ✓ Why are you saying 'we'? Pretty sure you were the one who did all of those

landonorris ✓ classic move, shifting the blame

y/n.y/l @/landonorris @/maxfewtrell the getting lost part was definitely a team effort

user1 I need to go on a trip with friends like this ♥︎ by author

user5 being that close to lando AND max and surviving the friendship without catching feelings was too good to be true let's be honest

pietra.pilao 😍😍

y/n.y/l 💞💞

user7 so when’s the next ‘friends holiday'? asking for a friend (me)

15 August 2024

maxfewtrell ✓

Liked by landonorris, y/n.y/l and 98.982 others

maxfewtrell The real girlfriend reveal, for the record 🫡

👤 pietra.pilao

view all 398 comments

user1 WAIT WHAT

user6 so it really wasn’t Y/n??

pietra.pilao ❤️❤️ ♥︎ by author

user4 omg she's the girl who commented on yn's holiday dump!!!

user3 We owe Max and his gf an apology 😭 She’s stunning, btw

user2 omg u two are so cuteeeeeeee! happy for u max :)

user5 your gf is so pretty 😭😭😭

y/n.y/l P!!!! 💕💕

y/n.y/l you two make a better couple than you and I ever would anyway 😂 ♥︎ by author

user9 WHY DIDN’T YOU SAY THIS EARLIER?! we’ve been spiralling for WEEKS

user12 actually he's been saying it from the beginning. we just didn't want to listen 😂😂

user8 max: “here’s my gf. leave me out of y/n’s business”

user12 OK but pietra is STUNNING!! Max, you’ve been hiding her for how long?!

user7 the way he had to clarify this because of us is actually hilarious. sorry, Max.

user11 OMG I feel so dumb now we really had y/n in a whole relationship she wasn’t even in 😭

29 August 2024

y/n.y/l

Liked by oscarpiastri, sophiaaemelia and 289.034 others

y/n.y/l outtakes from ai·bee·thuh

view all 930 comments

user1 AAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!?? MYSTERY SOLVED IG

user12 I THINK THIS MIGHT BE THE GREATEST THING TO HAPPEN TO MY FEED THIS YEAR I AM NOT EVEN JOKING

maxfewtrell ✓ So Lando gets the cute video and I get the passed out in the car pic? Playing favourites, I see. Noted.

user8 Max calling out Y/n for favoritism is peak sibling energy

user33 i can't believe we were full on shipping them not even a week ago omg

maxfewtrell ✓ Also, can everyone stop tagging me in that shadow pic now? Like, I’m good, it’s definitely not me 😅 ♥︎ by author

user11 pietra honestly deserves a medal for surviving this holiday with these three omg

user17 GUYS I WAS ALREADY PRETTY SHOCKED AT LANDO'S VIDEO BLOWING A KISS I HAD NO IDEA WHAT I HAD COMING

pietra.pilao Special week 🤍 ♥︎ by author

user81 the lift photo with the McDonald’s bag is so relatable. even on a fancy holiday, you gotta have your nuggets ♥︎ by author

user25 turns out Max wasn't lying when he said y/n wasn’t his headache... lando’s the lucky one 😂

user10 and y/n and pietra? they do ✨besties ✨ better than anyone ♥︎ by author

user19 can we get a ‘whoops, my bad’ from the ppl who saw them in Ibiza and STILL missed the fact that Pietra was there?

user2 they literally had a front row seat to the full gossip and still didn’t catch on !!!!! like hELLO? u had one job

user14 THE SOFT LAUNCH TURNED INTO A HARD LAUNCH REAL QUICK I AM SHOOK

alexandrasaintmleux ✓ Ahhh loveeee 🩷🩷 ♥︎ by author

user26 both boys punching above their weight fr. i said what i said.

francisca.cgomes ✓ ❤️❤️😍 ♥︎ by author

user16 The way Max is sleeping in that last pic has me wheezing ♥︎ by author

user3 lando is literally holding y/n like he’s never letting her go boy is WHIPPED

user29 WE'RE GOING TO SEE "LANDO NORRIS' PARTNER" UNDER YN'S NAME NOW WHEN SHE WATCHES FROM THE GARAGE what a time to be alive

user7 not the way y/n is casually posting a McDonald’s bag in a robe and THEN dropping the most beautiful couple pic with lando

user5 waIT SO THE BOY KISSING HER HEAD IN THE SHADOW PIC WAS LANDO??? WE WERE ALL WRONG. I NEED TO LIE DOWN.

maxfewtrell you know, it truly baffles me how this was barely even considered

y/n.y/l no one believed in me enough to be able to pull f1 race winner lando norris. humbling.

user20 YN I - 😭😭😭😭💀💀

user38 it was a couple’s holiday the whole time 😭😭 I need a moment to recover

user9 this fandom’s clownery knows no bounds istg.........

user21 not me crying over the hard launch of the year when I was just admiring Max’s sleeping face 5 seconds ago

user24 Ibiza really gave us everything: friendship goals, couple goals, and max in a food coma

user18 IT WAS LANDO KISSING HER HEAD. I feel so betrayed by my own theories and also pretty disappointed in myself i couldn't tell it was his shadow

landonorris ✓ I see you saved the best for last 🖤

y/n.y/l ☺️☺️

y/n.y/l omg guys i wasn’t being dry i just don’t know what else to say with all you watching 😭😭

1 September 2024

[youreverydayfangirl]

KING OF MY HEART

pairing: max verstappen x singer reader

summary: the one where she loudly love him, she begins a new era and he never stops loving her

warning: self doubt

a/n: RAWRRRR

face claim: sabrina carpenter

f1 masterlist

main masterilst

series masterlist

y/nsprivate has posted

liked by jimmyandsassysdad, thatoneartgirlalex and 20 others

y/nsprivate I LOVE HIM SO MUCH GUYSSS

tagged: jimmyandsassysdad

jimmyandsassysdad 🖤🖤

-> y/nsprivate 🖤

thatoneartgirlalex IM SO HAPPY FOR YOUU

-> y/nsprivate AHHHHHHHHHHHH

keekslikestospammmm the cutest couple

-> y/nsprivate ❤️

livbereallydumb HAPPY FOR YOU

-> y/nsprivate NEVER BEEN SO HAPPY

itssabrinaaa UR TOO CUTE

-> y/nsprivate u too urself in the mirror

-----------------

It’s a rainy Sunday, and Y/n and Max are cozied up in his apartment, surrounded by a pile of blankets, snacks, and the soft glow of fairy lights. They’d planned to go out, but the rain kept them in, and neither of them minded one bit.

Y/n is flipping through Netflix, and Max has his head on her lap, eyes closed, looking so content she can’t help but smile. She runs her fingers gently through his hair, watching him relax even more under her touch.

“Y’know, I think this might actually be better than going out,” he murmurs without opening his eyes, his voice soft and relaxed.

“Oh really?” she teases, poking his cheek gently. “No big plans for today, Mr. World Champ?”

He opens one eye, grinning lazily up at her. “I mean, I could race anyone and anything, but nothing beats just… this,” he says, gesturing to the cozy setup around them.

She feels a warmth spread through her, leaning down to give him a quick kiss. “Good, because I think I’d still pick a lazy day with you over anything.”

He smiles, pulling her closer until they’re wrapped up together in their little blanket fort. The rain keeps falling outside, but inside, everything is warm, calm, and perfect - just them, soft laughter, and the feeling that they’d always choose each other.

--------

jimmyandsassysdad has posted

liked by y/nsprivate, leosfather and 42 others

jimmyandsassysdad valentines with my valentine

y/nsprivate 🖤

-> jimmyandsassysdad 🖤

thatoneartgirlalex WIFEYYY

-> jimmyandsassysdad WIFE MATERIAL FOR REAL

-> y/nsprivate 🤭

leosfather yeah your alright

-> y/nsprivate glad we finally got your approval charlie 😂

----------------------

As Y/n sat curled up on the couch, Pluto sprawled out across her lap, she caught her reflection in the dark window. It was one of those moments when insecurities tried to creep in. But as she started to fall into that spiral of self-doubt, a familiar voice pulled her back.

“Hey, what’s going on in that pretty head?” Max murmured, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pressing a gentle kiss to her temple.

Y/n hesitated, running her hand along Pluto’s fur as he settled in. “It’s nothing… I was just thinking, you could probably do better, y’know? I mean… just look at your exes.”

Max tilted his head, a gentle smile forming on his lips as he reached out to take her hand. “Look at you, love,” he said softly, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. “I’ve never been happier, and I’ve never been more certain of what I want.” He pulled her close, pressing a kiss to her forehead as Pluto snuggled against them both, purring contentedly.

“See?” Max chuckled, “Even Pluto thinks you’re the best.” He kissed her cheek, tightening his arm around her. “There’s no one else I’d rather do this with, okay? So don’t ever doubt it.”

-----------------------

f1gossip has posted

liked by 239, 956 people

f1gossip Tension rising between Lando Norris and girlfriend ExBsf. They were caught earlier in a heated exchange. Could this have anything to do with the new rumors which have been circling?

user1 NOOOOO

user2 i used to like her but shes been so sneaky recently

user3 shes creating so much drama for what

user4 I MISS Y/N AND LANDO

-------------------------------

yourusername has posted

liked by maxverstappen1, alexandrasaintmleux and 10, 948, 593 others

COMMENTS ON THIS POST HAVE BEEN LIMITED

----------------

---------------------------

hey its literally been a fat minute guys im so so sorry

but im feeling way better so thank you guys

im sorry it took so long but i had exam block which is for my grade 12 stuff so that was my focus and then we went to sydney for a holiday so ive just been so preoccupied

oh and it was my birthday a few weeks ago aswell

so sorry everything has been hectic but im on holidays now so ill try and post much more frequently

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[gay-dorito-dust]

i didn't realise i could just ask here than from messages im so sorry 💀 but im hungry so can you please write some more damian scenarios 😕 (angst/fluff PLEASE 🙏) im sorry if I'm bothering you but i can't get enough of your writing 😔 hope you're taking care of yourself tho!! :)))

This’ll probably seem really short but it’s like almost 10pm and I’m running on fumes and bad mental health days lately 😂

‘What’re you doing my treasure.’ Damian said as he walked into his room, only to find you had let Ace and Titus on the bed and he had to blink twice to make sure his mind wasn’t making up them wearing pyjamas on top of that.

‘Nothing.’ You said nonchalantly as you brought Titus in your arms, cuddling him while he remained looking at his owner.

‘I thought I said none of our pets should be on the bed?’ Damian then said as he gestured to the two dogs that you had let on the bed without his permission as though the situation you both faced wasn’t obvious.

‘I was feeling lonely when you were out on patrol.’ You replied, pouting. ‘That and I was bored and out the dogs in pyjamas to feel included with me being in pyjamas.’ You added as you smiled widely at him. Damian sighed, he shouldn’t be surprised, this was bound to happen sooner or later since you still had a couple more weeks to heal your leg before being cleared for vigilante work again.

So naturally you are going to rope in Titus and Ace one way or another in your shenanigans much like you did with Jerry and Goliath when you had hurt your arm, Damian almost lost his mind trying to find you only to find you fast sleep stop of Goliath, with Jerry acting on guard in front of you both. It was certainly a humorous sight had he not been on high alert when he couldn’t find you in bed upon his return from a mission with Bruce.

‘You could’ve waited until I came back my beloved, I don’t want you hurting your self further just trying to entertain yourself.’ Damian lightly scolded you as he walked over to your side of the bed, kissing you on the forehead before greeting -and thanking- ace and Titus with head pats and ear scratches, as an almost missable smile graced his face upon seeing the two dogs poetically melt into his scratches.

This was the sight he loved most when coming home and he always wanted to come home to this as many times as he could in the nearby distant future.

‘I’ll be fine Dami,’ you said softly as you reached out to hold his cheek in your hand, ‘I’m not doing anything that’ll cause me any discomfort or more pain then I’m already in and that I’ve been in really good company.’ You gesture towards ace and Titus who would press themselves against either of your sides, acting as living crutches for you when you tried to move about the room and down the halls, they’d even look up at you as though to silently ask if you were okay and if you needed to sit down soon.

You knew Damian was behind this and couldn’t help but bring him into a tender to his forehead. ‘Thank you.’ You whispered.

‘For what my treasure?’ He asks softly as he manages to settle himself on the edge of your shared bed.

‘For having ace and Titus look out of me when you’re gone, sometimes I forget how well you know me to know that I’d get restless when healing.’ You said as you patted both dogs on their sides in appreciation as they both decided that they had gotten comfortable enough to start falling asleep. Neither you nor Damian had the heart to tell them to get off, and silently decided that one night every so often could Ace and Titus could share the bed with you and Damian.

‘Like you said I know you, better then most, and I’d like it more if you didn’t go and get yourself hurt from trying to do something beyond your current capability.’ Damian admitted softly as he began to get into more comfortable sleepwear to join you, Titus and ace in bed by climbing into your side of the bed and holding you again his chest upon seeing as how Titus and ace took up his side of the bed.

‘How sweet of you my dear.’ You said cheekily as you kissed his hand that rested on your side before yawning.

‘Sleep my love,’ Damian said softly as he watched you rest your weary and heavy head upon his chest, ‘sleep sweetly.’ He adds just as you succumb to long awaited sleep as he kissed your forehead, only to follow after you not long after being certain that you’d wouldn’t be bothered anymore before joining you in the dream realm either Titus and Ace.

[kingofbodyrolls]

Sprouting Love (m) | knj

As snowflakes dance in the crisp winter air, you and Namjoon find yourselves wrapped in the warmth of each other’s company. The holiday season brings the aroma of freshly baked cookies, the magic of twinkling lights strung through the house, and laughter echoing in your greenhouse where you tend to flourishing plants, lovingly nurtured together. Amid the glow of Christmas cheer and shared moments filled with wonder, perhaps this season will sprinkle a touch of courage and clarity to finally define the blossoming connection between you. Will the magic of Christmas help turn what’s unspoken into something beautifully real?

→ Pairing: namjoon x reader (female) → AUs: non-idol!au, gardening!au, neighbors!au, christmas!au, holiday!au → Trope: (enemies to lovers) / neighbors to lovers / friends with benefits to lovers → Genres: fluff / smut / romcom / comedy (+ a little angst) → Rating: mature/explicit/R18  (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: 13.7k → Warnings + triggers: unprotected sex (please be safe), degrading name calling, hair pulling, sexual tension, oral (male receiving), rough but also tender, a lot of kissing, a lot of tension, dirty talk, stupid innuendos, multiple orgasms, praise kink, begging, exhibitionism (unintentionally), impregnation kink, begging, big dick Joonie 👀 + glasses and turtlenecks.  → Author’s note: ahhhh. I know a lot of you love this couple (and I do too!). So here’s another part to it, that’s almost as long as the whole mini series 😂 I hope you like it and happy holidays! 🎄 → Read the spoiler? [text messages]  → Read on AO3? [link] 

← previous | s.masterlist | m.masterlist | 

You make the short walk to Namjoon’s house, each step tingling with the thrill of anticipation that never quite fades, no matter how many times you’ve walked to his house. The winter air whispers secrets against your skin, and when you reach his door, your knuckles barely touch the wood before it swings open as if he had been waiting on the other side, sensing your arrival like some instinctual force. 

“Hi, Joonie—” you start, but your words catch in your throat, swept away by the vision standing before you. Namjoon leans casually in the doorway, barefoot on the cool floor, his loose gray sweatpants slung low on his hips. A black wooly turtleneck, soft and perfectly snug, accentuates his lean big frame, the sleeves gathered around his strong forearms. He shifts slightly, and you spot caramel-brown suede patches on the elbows, details that shouldn’t be alluring but are, somehow, because they are his. 

Dear god, send help, you think, as you try to steady the wild flutter in your chest. How does a man make something so simple look so impossibly captivating? His hair is still that soft silver shade, a gentle stormcloud you’ve come to love, its unruly strands tempting you to reach out and run your fingers through them. Over the past few months, he has become more than just a fleeting presence in your life, even if you both refuse to define what you are to each other. You still remember the moment that changed everything—when you gathered the courage to apologize for your reckless behavior, and he, with the ease of someone who understood you more than he should, forgave you. That night at his housewarming party had led to your lips on his, your inhibitions crumbling, and his laughter echoing in your ears long after you both lost yourselves in each other’s warmth.

Namjoon has always had this uncanny ability to stir chaos within you, then anchor you with just a look or a word. No one has ever made you feel this way—unpredictable yet somehow perfectly at peace, like a storm that finally finds its calm. Yet, despite the countless nights tangled in his sheets and countless moments where his presence felt like home, neither of you has dared to put a name to what you share. It’s undefined, beautifully so, even if it gnaws at the corners of your heart sometimes. But for now, this is enough. It has to be.

His voice pulls you back to the present, warm and teasing, his eyes lighting up with mischief. “Hi, Y/N. Do you need help with something? Or,” he adds, a smirk tugging at his lips, “do you have an itch that needs scratching?” His eyebrows lift, suggestive and playful.

Your cheeks warm at his flirtation, but you recover quickly, slipping into the playful defiance that has always been your defense. “Well,” you say with a smirk and a giggle, leaning in just a touch, “I am ovulating.” The words hang between you, bold and taunting.

Namjoon’s mouth falls open, and he stares at you, wide-eyed, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck in that adorably nervous way of his. “You know I’m not ready for kids, and we’re not even… together,” he stammers, his voice faltering. His statement is like a tiny fissure in the moment, and it stings, the reminder of what you are—or aren’t—but you cover the hurt with a laugh.

“Relax,” you reply, eyes sparkling with mischief. “You know I’m on birth control, and it was just a joke.” 

You step closer, so close now that his breath mingles with yours, warm and sweet, the space between you charged and electric. “But,” you whisper, your voice low and wicked, “we could roleplay. I know how much the idea of impregnation turns you on, Joonie.” Your smile is devilish, delighting in the way his cheeks flush a deep crimson, the way you’ve come to know his secrets and use them to unravel him.

“It does not,” he protests, crossing his arms with a mock pout, the hint of a stammer betraying his feigned offense. You can’t help but smile at the way his brows knit together, his sulky act so endearing that it almost pulls a real laugh from your lips.

“Relax, that’s not why I dropped by,” you tease, a playful shrug rolling off your shoulders as your hand reaches out to rest against his chest. Beneath your fingers, you feel the familiar contradiction of his body: the softness of his black wooly turtleneck giving way to the solid, unyielding muscle beneath. God, you think, so soft, yet so perfectly taut, those sculpted pecs.

“It isn’t?” he questions, his eyes narrowing with a glint of something unsaid, a spark of curiosity mingled with heat. But this time, you’ve got more to offer than just teasing banter.

“No,” you say with a warm smile, the sexual tension melting away and leaving something more tender in its place. “I actually wanted to see if you’d come over and help me bake cookies for the local orphanage.” Your voice softens, sincerity peeking through, and a touch of vulnerability brightens your eyes.

You watch how his expression shifts, his features melting from playful disbelief into something far more gentle. First, his eyes narrow knowingly, but then his entire face softens, the warmth in his gaze like sunlight breaking through a heavy cloud. “Yeah, sure,” he says, his voice steady, sincere. “I’d love to.”

A rush of relief blooms in your chest, and you exhale with a beaming smile. “Thank you! Usually, Kookie helps me, but he’s busy today,” you add, lips pursing into an exaggerated pout. “It’s kind of a tradition for me to make cookies and bring them to the orphanage every Christmas,” you explain, your smile growing at the thought.

“Nice,” he replies, his eyes lighting up with a touch of amusement as he gestures at the festive Christmas apron tied snugly around your waist. “Are you going to make them now?”

You nod, your breath leaving in a small cloud in the cold air. “Yeah.”

“I can help now,” he offers, and with that, he steps back into his house, slipping on some cozy slippers before joining you. The snow crunches underfoot as you both walk the short, chilly distance to your house, where warmth and holiday spirit await. The driveways have been cleared, the path to your front door inviting, and when Namjoon closes the door behind him, the cold is immediately banished.

Inside, your kitchen looks like a Christmas explosion. Mixing bowls of various sizes clutter the counter, flour dusted liberally across every surface, with rogue sprinkles even trailing onto the floor. Bars of chocolate lie waiting to be chopped, and the oven hums contentedly, filling the space with soothing warmth. The chaos makes it clear: you’ve already begun the festivities.

“Wow,” Namjoon murmurs, eyes wide as he takes in the scene. “I can see why you needed help.” His voice is a mix of awe and playful judgment, and you can’t help but let out a small, sheepish laugh.

You scratch your head, an embarrassed giggle escaping. “Yeah, I always bite off more than I can chew,” you admit, your laughter brightening the room even more. You step toward the counter, already thinking of ways to channel Namjoon’s energy into something useful. “Do you want to chop the chocolate?” you offer.

He freezes, his eyes widening with mock terror, and his deep laugh rumbles through the kitchen. “I better not,” he says, a grin spreading across his face. “You know how clumsy I am.” You think back to his infamous accidents: the greenhouse he demolished, the garden beds he obliterated—all unfortunate mishaps that had somehow led to these shared moments, bringing you closer.

“True,” you chuckle, the memory making you squeeze his bicep as you pass behind him. The muscle beneath your touch is solid, reassuring. “Okay, then,” you say, gently guiding him toward the mixing bowls. “If you mix the batter, I’ll handle the chocolate,” you suggest, and he nods, his laughter still dancing in the air between you.

You find your rhythm with Namjoon: a steady, unspoken dance of movements. He mixes the batter with those powerful biceps of his, muscles flexing beneath his sweater as he works the spoon through the thick dough. You try not to stare, but god, how can you not? The sight is distracting, dangerously so, and you have to remind yourself to keep your focus on chopping chocolate, the sharp knife clinking rhythmically against the cutting board. Your hands work swiftly, but your gaze can’t help but drift, lingering over the way his arms tense and move. Damn, you think, heat blooming in your cheeks. You shouldn’t be ogling him like this… but resisting feels impossible.

The kitchen grows warm and sweet, scented with chocolate and flour, the air heavy with anticipation. Namjoon finishes mixing the dough, and together you shape it into perfect, palm-sized portions, setting them onto baking trays. He’s meticulous, and you can’t help but feel a small swell of pride as you watch him carefully pat each ball of dough into place. You slide the first tray into the oven, only one at a time—your old, temperamental oven too unpredictable for more. Patience will have to pay off if it means the cookies will be perfectly golden.

The two of you stand side by side, the silence suddenly thick, almost suffocating. The tension wraps around you like a taut string, ready to snap at the smallest movement. To break it, you grab a couple of glasses, filling them with cold water, hoping the simple action might soothe whatever current crackles between you. But even as you drink, neither of you speaks, the electricity palpable.

Before you can find something to say, a new presence cuts through the tension as Jungkook stumbles into the kitchen, descending from the staircase with the heavy-lidded look of someone freshly woken. His hair is a tousled, endearing mess, dark strands sticking out at odd angles as he drags a hand through them, yawning wide. “Hey, what are you guys doing?” he mumbles, voice thick with sleep, still rubbing the remnants of his dreams from his eyes.

“Baking cookies,” you reply, smiling at the sight of him, though you can’t help but wonder why he’s only just now waking up when it’s the middle of the day. He looks entirely too soft and adorable, making you feel a small pang of fondness.

Jungkook’s nose twitches, catching the scent of baking chocolate. “Smells good,” he says, eyes lighting up as he takes a few sleepy steps closer to the kitchen counter where you and Namjoon stand—close, but not touching. “Can I have some in my room?” he asks, hopeful, his voice still gravelly with sleep. He looks at you with wide, pleading eyes, a pout forming on his lips.

“No,” you say firmly, fixing him with a stern look. “These are for the orphanage.”

“Just one?” he tries again, his expression a perfect picture of adorable desperation. But you hold your ground, shaking your head.

“No,” you repeat, more resolutely this time. Yet Jungkook, mischievous as ever, slides over to the bowls of dough, his eyes gleaming with determination. He reaches out, fingers poised to swipe a handful of unbaked cookie dough. 

Before he can steal his prize, Namjoon’s reflexes kick in. With a swift, almost effortless movement, he intercepts Jungkook’s hand, swatting it away before it can come anywhere near contaminating your carefully prepared batter. You’re grateful for Namjoon’s intervention, and for a moment, the amusement makes the tension between you dissolve just a little.

Jungkook rubs his hand, feigning injury with a dramatic pout, his eyes darting back and forth between you and Namjoon. Something flashes in his gaze—curiosity, awareness—an unspoken question lingering in the air as he watches the two of you. The corners of his mouth twitch, as if he’s caught on to something unsaid, something charged. The look he gives you is knowing, but he doesn’t say a word.

“What are you doing, anyway?” Jungkook asks, his lips curling into a smirk that suggests mischief brewing beneath his sleepy demeanor. His eyes glint with a teasing challenge, the kind only someone who knows how to poke at your soft spots can deliver.

You tilt your head, brows knitting together, confusion settling over you like a mist. “What do you mean?” you ask, your voice curious but cautious, already sensing that whatever he’s about to say will unsettle the fragile balance you’ve created here.

Jungkook’s smirk deepens, the troublemaker’s spark lighting up his gaze. He takes his time, savoring the pause, drawing it out like a slow intake of breath before the storm. “I mean,” he drawls, letting the anticipation build before delivering his question, “are you two official now, or what?” His voice cuts through the air, as sharp and casual as a knife slipped between armor.

The question pierces through you, freezing you for a heartbeat. You scramble for words, but they don’t come. Your chest tightens, because the truth is you don’t know. You’re not official with Namjoon, and the ambiguity gnaws at you in quiet moments, whispering doubts you try so hard to ignore. All you’ve shared is laughter, nights tangled together, and moments that feel like home—but nothing labeled, nothing secure. 

Namjoon clears his throat, breaking the tension. “We’re just having a good time,” he says, his voice even, calm, as if those words don’t twist at something vulnerable inside you. “Why should we need to label things?” His question hangs in the air, breezy yet barbed, and it stings more than you care to admit.

Your heart gives a small, involuntary ache, but you swallow it down, as you’ve done so many times before. You’d love nothing more than to put a name to what this is, to solidify the feelings that swim in the spaces between you. But Namjoon’s words remind you where you stand, and you try to tuck those fragile hopes away, out of sight.

Instead, you plaster on a smirk, masking the sting, and turn to Jungkook. “Shouldn’t you be focusing on Jimin instead of meddling in our business, huh?” you tease, your voice light but with an edge of deflection.

Jungkook flinches, his face draining of color for a moment before flushing with a bright, mortified blush. He looks at you like you’ve unearthed a well-guarded secret, and his eyes widen in a way that makes you feel a small triumph.

“Yeah, we know,” you muse, the corners of your mouth lifting with satisfaction. Before the tension can thicken further, the oven timer beeps, and Namjoon turns to carefully pull the tray of cookies from the heat, the warm aroma of melted chocolate spilling into the air. He sets the tray aside to let the cookies cool, and you slide a new batch into the oven, trying to ground yourself in the familiar rhythm.

You grab a warm cookie and wrap it in a paper towel, turning back to Jungkook, who’s still blushing furiously. “Just because I like Jimin,” you quip, “I’ll give you a cookie for him—none for you.” You press the cookie into his hand, a grin curling at your lips. “Make sure to say hi from us. We know he’s up there in your bedroom.”

Jungkook’s blush deepens, his face blooming beet-red as he takes the cookie with reluctant, embarrassed hands. He mumbles something incoherent, then spins on his heel, hurrying back toward the stairs, too flustered to form a coherent protest. You watch him go, his retreat filling the room with a burst of humor that almost—but not quite—eases the ache still lingering in your heart.

You spend the rest of the afternoon in a flurry of flour and laughter, baking batch after batch of cookies. You try to push thoughts of your undefined relationship with Namjoon into the recesses of your mind, focusing instead on the gentle rhythm of your work. The cookies cool on wire racks, their chocolate-sweet aroma filling the kitchen and settling over you like a comforting blanket. Carefully, you pack them into glass jars adorned with festive ribbons, each one sparkling with the warm, nostalgic spirit of Christmas.

“Do you want to come with me to the orphanage to deliver the cookies?” you ask, your voice soft yet hopeful. Namjoon glances at you, a gentle smile tugging at his lips. He agrees, and together you load the jars into your car. The scent of freshly baked cookies lingers, weaving itself through the crisp, frosty air as you drive down snow-dusted roads. The landscape is a winter wonderland with treetops crowned with snow, branches shimmering with icy lace, and the streets lined with drifts that sparkle under the pale afternoon light.

When you arrive at the orphanage, the children’s laughter and wide-eyed smiles fill you with a deep, quiet joy. Their faces light up as they receive the cookies, little hands clutching the sweet gifts, and you can’t help but feel your heart swell. Namjoon stands beside you, watching you interact with the kids. There’s something tender in his gaze, something he doesn’t put into words, but it wraps around you all the same.

On the drive back, the silence between you feels serene, softened by the shared experience. Snowflakes begin to drift lazily from the sky, catching in the beams of the headlights. Namjoon turns to you, his voice curious yet gentle. “So you do this every Christmas?” he asks, breaking the comfortable quiet.

You smile, your hands steady on the wheel as you flick the blinker to signal a turn. “Yeah,” you reply, your voice tinged with the sweet ache of memory. “Always. It’s something my mom used to do. When she passed, I wanted to carry on her tradition, to keep her spirit alive in this small way.” The words come out soft, but they hold the weight of years, love, and loss.

“I’m sorry about your mom,” Namjoon says, his tone low and sincere. You glance over at him, offering a gentle smile, the kind that carries acceptance and peace. “It’s okay,” you say, your voice a quiet reassurance. “It happened a long time ago.”

He exhales, the breath almost visible in the chill of the car, and he clears his throat, nervous but determined. “Do you want to help me decorate my place?” he asks, his words a gentle offering. “And I’ll help get yours ready for Christmas too.”

A genuine smile breaks across your face, a warmth sparking in your chest. “Yeah, that sounds perfect,” you reply. “I’ll need to pick up some new ornaments, though. I know just the place we can go.” The idea of shopping for holiday decorations together, of filling both your spaces with light and laughter, feels like a small but significant promise.

Namjoon’s hand drifts down to rest on your thigh, a quiet gesture of connection that makes your heart flutter. His touch stays there for the rest of the ride, grounding you, warming you, as snowflakes twirl and dance outside the windows.

“Hi, babe,” Namjoon says, and just with that one simple word, he manages to unravel you. The casual endearment sends a shiver of longing through your heart, a tiny thrill that sparks questions you never quite manage to silence—the ones about what you really mean to each other. Your heart flutters like the wings of a restless bird, and even though a part of you wishes he didn’t have this power over you, there’s no denying it. Deep down, you love that he does. You crave the comfort and warmth he brings, even if you sometimes wish it came with the certainty of a label.

“Hi, Joonie,” you reply, your voice soft but bright, as if it alone can welcome him out of the winter cold. A rush of freezing air follows him inside, nipping at your cheeks, and you gesture hurriedly for him to come in and shut the chill away. 

He steps across the threshold, the scent of fresh snow clinging to his coat, and a smile unfurls on his lips, dimples deepening. “I was wondering if you’d show me your greenhouse again,” he says, and there’s a childlike wonder in his eyes, a curiosity that never fails to enchant you. “I’m curious to see what plants you have out there braving the winter. And maybe we could start some seeds for next season?”

His voice is filled with genuine interest, and the way he looks at you—wide-eyed and eager—melts something inside your chest. You can’t help but smile back. Those damn dimples of his, so disarming, so inexplicably endearing. “Oh, definitely,” you say, your eyes lighting up. “I’ve been meaning to sow some new seeds, actually. Peas, chilies, Asian greens—they thrive even in this frozen weather.”

“Can I help you?” he asks, his voice soft and sincere, a gentle offering that wraps around you like a warm scarf. The idea of working side by side with him, hands deep in the soil, fills you with quiet joy.

“Do you have time now?” he asks, his words tender, like he’s afraid of shattering the moment.

“Yeah,” you respond, feeling a surge of anticipation as you reach for something warm to wear. You pull on an extra-thick pair of wool socks, a cozy sweater, and then layer yourself in a heavy parka and boots. Namjoon is already dressed for the bitter cold, bundled up but still managing to look effortlessly handsome. Even though you’ll be spending time in the greenhouse, the air there is only a degree or two warmer than outside—it’s a space that holds more promise than heat during the winter.

Together, you make your way outside, your footsteps crunching in the snow. You lead the way, the cold biting at your cheeks, but the warmth of his presence close behind keeps you from feeling the chill too deeply. Sliding the glass door of the greenhouse open, you step inside and usher him in, closing the door behind you. The stillness of the space wraps around you both, the smell of damp earth mingling with the crisp scent of winter.

“Have you thought about getting a greenhouse of your own?” you ask, a playful lilt in your voice. It’s a conversation you’ve shared before, a running joke ever since he accidentally wrecked yours with that wild ball throw months ago. You watch his face for a reaction, and he laughs, a deep, rich sound that seems to warm the chilly air around you.

“Yeah, I think I’d like to get one for the summer season,” Namjoon muses, his voice thoughtful, warm as a patch of sunlight breaking through clouds. “But I’m still not sure. That’s part of why I’m so curious about what you’ve managed to grow in the dead of winter. If I’m going to invest in one, I want to make the most of it, you know?” He pauses, a playful grin curving his lips as he glances at you. “But honestly, maybe I should just keep helping you with yours. It’s more fun together, don’t you think?” 

He tucks his hands into his jeans pockets, wandering deeper into the greenhouse, his gaze sweeping over the lush, vibrant greens defying the frost outside. Even in the shelter of the greenhouse, the air is tinged with the crispness of winter, but Namjoon’s presence feels like a hearth fire—steady, comforting, and a little too warm when you think of how easily he fits into these shared moments.

“I understand,” you say, your voice as tender as the soft leaves unfurling in your garden beds. “And you’re always welcome in my greenhouse, you know that.” You follow close behind him, pointing out the resilient Asian salads thriving in their earthy homes: delicate mibuna, sturdy bok choy, crisp cabbage, and even the spicy thrill of wasabi salad. There’s purple kale, vibrant and defiant against the cold, and winter carrots, their secrets buried until it’s time to harvest.

Namjoon’s eyes twinkle with a hint of mischief. “Oh, so you did manage to grow something after I, uh, accidentally destroyed your greenhouse?” He gestures toward the patch of winter carrots, a sheepish look stealing across his face.

You chuckle, the memory of his well-meaning chaos warming you. “Yeah, I did,” you reply, a smile dancing on your lips. “You can even try one if you want.”

With that, Namjoon kneels gracefully by the garden bed. Even through the bulky layers of his coat, the contours of his body are undeniable, and your traitorous mind takes note of the way his dark jeans hug him in all the right places. He reaches for a carrot, pulling at the green stem with gentle strength until a large, brilliantly orange carrot emerges from the soil. As he brushes the dirt away, he raises it to his lips, and there’s something distractingly captivating about the way he bites into it. The crisp snap of the carrot echoes in the stillness, a sound that somehow makes your breath hitch.

“It’s good,” he says, his voice reverent, like he’s savoring more than just a vegetable. “Crisp and sweet.” His words are innocent enough, but heat blooms on your cheeks as your mind wanders to other things that are, admittedly, very sweet.

“So, what are we going to sow?” he asks, watching as you gather trays and soil. There’s an excitement in his gaze, an eagerness that makes your own heart quicken.

“Like I said earlier,” you reply, grinning as you lay out the seedling trays in a neat row on the workbench. “Peas first. They’re hardy, even in this cold, and planting them early means we’ll have a head start on the harvest. We can sow extra so you’ll have some to take home and plant in your garden. They’re amazing because they climb and flourish wherever they’re given even a little support.” 

“And then, chilies,” you continue, your eyes sparkling. “We’ll start them here, but they’ll need to come inside to sprout, where it’s warmer. It’s always good to start them early so they can be transferred outside when spring rolls in. Later in the new year, we can put them in the greenhouse or straight into the garden beds.” You take a breath and continue, “And of course, more greens and salads. They’re slower to sprout in this cold, but they’ll make it, strong and resilient, like little winter warriors.”

Namjoon listens intently, his gaze never leaving you. There’s a peacefulness in the moment, as if the greenhouse holds its breath, cocooning you both in a world of shared ambitions and quiet dreams.

You suddenly realize you’ve forgotten the seeds. “Ah, I left the seeds inside,” you say, a small laugh escaping your lips. “Wait here while I grab them.” Namjoon nods, his eyes following you as you hurry back to the house, the cold nipping at your heels, urgency making you quick on your feet. 

Inside, you snatch up the old tin where you keep your seeds—its surface worn and familiar, full of whispered promises of new life waiting to burst forth from the soil. When you return to the greenhouse, you pause for a moment, caught by the sight of Namjoon. He’s crouched low, his focus completely absorbed by a small bok choy plant, tracing the way its tender, jade-hued leaves meld into deep shadows where the veins run dark. There’s a quiet reverence in his expression, as though he’s marveling at the tiny miracle of survival in the cold. 

“We can get started,” you say, a soft smile warming your face. Namjoon rises, his dimples peeking out as he grins back, and joins you in front of the workbench. You pour soil into a wide basin, mixing in perlite and vermiculite, the earthy aroma mingling with the crisp air. Your hands work with practiced grace, kneading the soil to loosen its texture, giving it life and breath.

“I’ve never added perlite or vermiculite to soil before,” Namjoon admits, wonder flickering in his voice as he watches the small white and gold specks sift through your fingers. You giggle, a sound as light and unburdened as petals drifting on a breeze. Most people don’t bother, but you’ve always been particular about these things.

“Try it sometime,” you encourage. “It makes for the best potting mix—less dense, better drainage, and the roots love it. And always use seed-starting soil. It has less fertilizer, so it’s gentler on seedlings.” Your hands press through the soil, feeling every grain and clump, savoring the dirt wedging beneath your nails. You’ve never cared for gloves; the raw, honest texture of the earth grounds you, as if reminding you that growth is always a little messy.

Namjoon tilts his head, curiosity glinting in his eyes. “I thought fertilizer was good?” he asks, and for a moment, you can’t help but wonder if his passion for plants runs as deep as he claims. But then again, you know that not everyone shares your level of obsession.

“It is—once the plant has grown a bit,” you explain, meeting his gaze with a patient smile. “Too much, too soon, and it can harm the seedling. Gentle care first, then nourishment.” You gesture for him to step closer, feeling the way the greenhouse seems to shrink around you, warm and cocooned.

He reaches for a packet of seeds—peas, full of promise—and you prepare the seedling tray, filling each cell with your custom soil mix. Using your dibber, you create neat holes for planting. Namjoon leans closer, and together you work in quiet tandem, dropping each tiny seed into its place, the rhythm of it comforting, like a shared heartbeat.

When you finish the tray, you dust your dirt-stained hands together. “Great. Now onto the next seeds,” you declare, and Namjoon dives in to help. His hands move alongside yours, scooping soil, pressing it down gently, but not too tight, and it feels strangely intimate, this act of creating life together.

Namjoon watches you, a hint of mischief curling at the edges of his thoughts. You’re skilled at this, at working with your hands—deliberate, sure, and endlessly fascinating. His mind drifts, unbidden, to the times your hands have moved over him, how your touch has lit up his world in ways that make him blush now, here among tender greens and the scent of new soil. Damn it, he chides himself, this isn’t the time to be thinking such thoughts.

But it’s hard not to, with the memory of your touch and the taste of your laughter tangled together in his mind, like vines climbing toward the light.

He flashes a mischievous grin. “You know, I love getting a little dirty with you in the garden,” he teases, his voice playful and warm as he gives you a gentle nudge with his shoulder. You laugh, the sound bright and ringing through the greenhouse, and a rosy blush colors your cheeks as the double meaning sinks in. It’s a shared, private joke, laced with an intimacy that makes your heart skip.

Together, you keep working, your hands growing numb from the cold, yet neither of you want to stop. The chill is creeping into your bones, but the way you work side by side, sowing seeds and exchanging glances, brings a certain kind of warmth all on its own. When the final seed is nestled in the soil and the last tray prepared, you finally shiver. “We should take the chili seedlings inside,” you say, your breath visible in the icy air. “And… do you want to come in for a bit? I could bake a cake and make some hot cocoa.”

Namjoon’s eyes light up, and he smiles wide, the kind that shows his dimples. “I couldn’t say no to that,” he replies, a hint of excitement in his voice. He grabs the glass door, holding it open for you as you step out, and he follows, closing it behind with a satisfying click.

Inside the house, warmth greets you like an embrace. You shed your heavy parka and boots, and Namjoon mirrors your actions, his movements unhurried, as if savoring this transition from the cold to the cozy. You carry the seedling tray over to the kitchen window, where a grow light waits to nurture the tiny plants. The sun has set, painting the world outside in hues of blue and shadow, but the light inside feels like hope.

Gathering ingredients, you set to work making hot cocoa, the rich scent of chocolate already beginning to fill the air. Namjoon pulls a stool from the dining area and drags it closer, settling down to watch you. He doesn’t say a word, but his gaze is intent, as though he’s entranced by the rhythm of your hands as they move. Your fingers skim over a packet of flour, measure brown sugar with precision, and whisk together the batter for a carrot cake with the greenhouse carrots you stored in the fridge. 

Namjoon is captivated. He always is during moments like this—when you’re fully in your element, focused and graceful, your movements as fluid and sure as a melody. His eyes trace your hands, trailing from the way your fingers curl around a spoon to how you tilt your head slightly, concentrating. There’s something magnetic about it, the way you pour yourself into the simplest tasks, as if even the act of baking holds an unspoken promise of care.

But as he watches, the heat in his gaze deepens, a flush creeping up the back of his neck. His body betrays him, a familiar stirring between his thighs. It shouldn’t surprise him anymore—how easily you have this effect on him, even when you’re not trying. But he can’t help it, can’t control how the sight of your hands moving so deftly, so sensuously over everyday things, ignites thoughts he knows he shouldn’t entertain right now. 

He shifts subtly on the stool, grateful for the kitchen counter that hides the evidence of his arousal, while you remain blissfully unaware, pouring the batter into a baking mold with a contented hum. Namjoon bites his lip and takes a steadying breath, trying to refocus on the warmth of this moment, even as temptation tugs at the edges of his mind.

When you slide the cake batter into the oven, the warm scent of spices already beginning to fill the air, you turn your attention back to Namjoon. Something in his expression seems off—or perhaps, not quite off, but different. There’s a tension in the way he sits, his body radiating heat, his eyes darkened with an intensity that makes your pulse quicken. 

Curious, you move past the kitchen counter, your footsteps soft against the wooden floor. As soon as you round the corner and see him clearly, you stop in your tracks, your breath catching in a startled, husky “oh.” Your voice wavers, that simple exclamation filled with an undeniable hunger.

Namjoon lets out a low, teasing chuckle, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. Realizing there’s no use in hiding his desire, he shifts, spreading his legs wider in the chair. The movement makes the strain in his jeans even more obvious, the hard outline pressing against the denim, leaving nothing to the imagination. Heat rushes through your veins, your gaze flickering between his smoldering brown eyes and the undeniable evidence of his arousal.

“You’re so good with your hands, babe,” he murmurs, his voice dropping into a sultry, resonant purr that drips with need. “Why don’t you put them to good use and help me with this problem?” His words are thick with desire, and he gestures toward the bulge, which seems to pulse with a life of its own, the denim stretched taut and unforgiving. You can’t help but wonder if the fabric is torturously tight, if he’s even comfortable in those form-fitting jeans.

You step closer, your movements slow, languid, like a feline circling her prey. Your eyes glitter with a mix of playful defiance and unrestrained want. A knowing smile tugs at your lips as you draw nearer, deliberately dragging out each moment to make him squirm. “Hmm,” you hum, batting your lashes provocatively, savoring the power in your hands. You trail your fingers lightly across his chest, tracing the hard lines of muscle through his gray turtleneck, and he shudders under your touch.

Circling him, you let your gaze wander over his flushed face, loving how he stares at you like you’re the only thing he needs in this moment. “Jungkook isn’t home,” you muse, your voice a low, teasing whisper, “and the cake won’t be done for a while…” Your finger traces down his torso, each touch featherlight, leaving a trail of anticipation in its wake. “Which gives us plenty of time to deal with this very big problem.”

You finish with a suggestive wink, your hand curling into the soft collar of his turtleneck, drawing him forward. His eyes burn with the kind of desire that makes your knees weak, and you can’t help but marvel at how turtlenecks have never looked so delicious until now. His lips part, and you know you’ve got him right where you want him, your bratty side flaring up, eager to take control of the moment.

“Take off those offending skinny jeans, and maybe I’ll help you out,” you purr, your voice a delicious blend of tease and command. You lean in to press a swift, hungry kiss to his lips, the taste of him lingering as you pull back, and in a fluid motion, you’re down on the cool floor. Namjoon’s fingers are fumbling with urgency, unbuttoning and dragging his jeans and boxers down, setting himself free. His cock springs out, flushed a deep, angry red, heavy and aching for your touch. The sight of him makes your mouth water, anticipation crackling in the air between you.

He lets out a mock pout, breathless yet endearing. “But I thought you liked me in skinny jeans,” he mumbles, a half-smile curving his lips.

You can’t help but laugh, your voice warm and laced with desire. “I do,” you reply, your eyes dancing with mischief, “but they look so damn tight. Besides, I’d much rather see you in loose sweatpants—so shameless, the way they cling to you, showing off that big cock of yours.”

His cheeks flush a deeper pink, but the blush is short-lived. The moment your hand wraps around his thick length, he’s groaning, a low, unrestrained sound that sends heat pooling low in your belly. His head tips back, and you pull your hand away for a moment to spit in your palm, the motion slow and tantalizing. His breath catches, and then your hand is back on him, gliding over his cock with a slick, practiced rhythm.

You start slow, your touch light, your strokes deep and deliberate, savoring the way he shudders under your hands. Namjoon stumbles backward, his back meeting the counter for support, his knuckles whitening as he grips the edges. You follow him, still on your knees, looking up at him through your lashes, loving the way his brows knit together, his jaw slack with pleasure.

“So good with your hands,” he praises, his voice raw and wrecked, and you preen under the compliment, your lips curving into a wicked smile. His words fuel you, and you tighten your grip, picking up speed, letting your hand work over him with a skill that has his hips stuttering.

“Yeah, I know,” you muse, a playful lilt to your tone, eyes wide and feigning innocence though your actions are anything but. “You’ve told me before, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like hearing it.”

He lets out a breathless chuckle, his chest heaving. “Ah, yeah,” he pants, his voice a beautiful, strained melody. “I know how much you love praise.”

You shrug, your expression one of nonchalance, though your heart is racing. “Guilty as charged,” you admit, your voice softer, but no less mischievous. His praise drives you, makes you work harder to draw out every bit of pleasure, reveling in the way his body reacts, knowing that your hands—and your lust—are the only things holding him together.

He begins to make those sounds—oh, those sweet, broken sounds that send a thrill dancing down your spine and make you preen with pride. The husky groans slipping from his lips are like music, raw and intoxicating, and you drink them in, feeling the power in every shudder of his body.

“Shit, if you keep that up, I’m going to come soon,” he pants, his voice strained and desperate.

A playful smile curves your lips as you chuckle, the sound dripping with mischief. “That was my plan all along,” you tease, your strokes never faltering. “But maybe,” you whisper, your voice honeyed and inviting, “you’d like to fuck my throat a little. My hands are good, sure, but my mouth…” You let the words trail off, your intentions clear in the way your eyes glint with lust.

He groans again, and he swears his heart must be doing wild backflips as he watches you kneel between his legs, looking up at him with those wicked, innocent eyes. “Fuck,” he chokes out, his breath hitching, and you know you’ve got him. 

“Is that a yes?” you ask, batting your eyelashes, the very picture of innocence that you most certainly are not.

He nods, his voice nearly a whisper, “Yes, yes it is, babe.”

That’s all the invitation you need. Your mouth opens, and you slowly ease his cock past your lips, wet heat enveloping him inch by inch. He shivers at the sensation, and you relish the tiny, desperate noise that escapes him when you take him all the way to the back of your throat. You hum, sending vibrations along his length, and saliva spills from the corners of your mouth, glistening as it drips down your chin.

Namjoon looks down at you, eyes blown wide, and you can feel the way his cock pulses at the sight—how the vision of you, mouth full of him, drives him wild and hurtles him closer to the edge. His hands clutch at the countertop behind him, knuckles white, his chest heaving with ragged breaths.

You work him with a fervor, sucking like you’re drawing the very life from him, your hands pressing into his thighs for balance. Your nails dig into his skin, and the sharp pleasure-pain makes him hiss, a shudder rippling through his frame.

“Oh, babe,” he groans, the sound rumbling deep and sinful, making your core clench around nothing, heat pooling low in your belly. His words are rough, a plea and a praise all at once, and you moan in response, the vibrations making him jolt.

Saliva spills from your lips, pooling beneath you, and you feel the way his cock twitches and throbs against your tongue. Namjoon’s breathing is ragged, each pant a testament to how close he is, how you’ve unraveled him. He’s hanging on by a thread, and you revel in knowing you’ve brought him to this point, trembling and undone.

“Babe,” he gasps, his voice raw, teetering on the edge of pain and pleasure, like he’s unravelling from the inside out. His whole body is taut with need, and you feel a thrill course through you, knowing how deeply you affect him.

You pull away, your lips leaving his cock with a wet, teasing pop, and you look up at him, eyes glittering with mischief. “Come on my face,” you whisper, the invitation dripping from your lips like honey, sultry and certain.

He bites down hard on his lower lip, a deep, guttural groan escaping him. One of his hands releases its white-knuckled grip on the kitchen counter, and he wraps his long fingers around his cock, stroking himself to his climax. You watch, utterly mesmerized, as he comes undone. His release is spectacular—thick ropes of hot, pearlescent white paint your skin, catching on your cheeks, lips, and eyelashes. You gasp, tongue darting out in a futile attempt to catch some of his warmth on your lips. The rest splatters messily across your face, dripping down your chin and streaking across your closed eyelids. The whole moment feels heady, unrestrained, and you can’t help but savor it.

Namjoon’s chest rises and falls heavily, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts, like he’s run a marathon just to reach this peak. A satisfied chuckle spills from his mouth, and he drags a trembling hand through his sweat-dampened hair. “You,” he says, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and lingering desire, “are a dangerous woman.”

A wicked grin blooms on your lips as you giggle, sticking your tongue out to lick the semen you can reach. Your fingers swipe up the rest, and you suck them clean, savoring him like sticky, decadent BBQ sauce on tender ribs. Delicious. The sight makes Namjoon shiver, another groan rumbling from his chest, his eyes never leaving your face.

Just then, the oven chimes, the sound almost absurdly cheerful, signaling that the cake is ready. You rise to your feet, wiping your face with a towel, and make your way over to the oven to retrieve it. Namjoon watches, dazed, as he tugs his jeans back into place, still trying to catch his breath.

Once the cake has cooled, you sit together at the kitchen table, sharing warm slices of carrot cake and steaming mugs of rich hot cocoa. The two of you laugh and talk, savoring the warmth and sweetness of the moment, reminiscing about your favorite Christmas traditions, as the world outside shivers in a cold winter’s embrace.

Namjoon doesn’t often find himself behind the wheel, but today, you’ve let him take charge of his SUV, navigating snowy roads en route to the superstore for Christmas ornaments. It’s not your usual go-to place for holiday decorations, but he’d been so eager, so insistent, that you couldn’t resist. Now here you are, braving the cold with an unusual sense of adventure.

Though Namjoon handles the SUV with a tentative grip, you can’t help but question, as you have many times before, why he even bothered to get a driver’s license in the first place. He never seems fully at ease, and his response—“Everyone has one, and I need it”—always strikes you as a half-hearted excuse. But still, you get it. Out here, where the stores sprawl far and wide, the independence a car brings is a necessity, not a luxury.

He finally pulls into the parking lot, choosing a spot absurdly far from the store’s entrance, the car a lonely island surrounded by an ocean of untouched snow. You laugh, breath misting into the winter air. It’s such a Namjoon thing to do: a cautious maneuver, the kind either born from nervousness about navigating tight parking spaces or, perhaps, the desire to protect his vehicle from rogue shopping carts and careless door dings. But you know him too well—he’s not someone obsessed with material possessions.

Bundled up in your thick coat and scarf, you trudge across the frigid parking lot, boots crunching on the ice-slicked pavement, silently cursing Namjoon’s overcautious choice. The cold gnaws at your cheeks, and you can’t hide the frown forming on your face.

Namjoon notices, and his expression softens with apology. “I’m sorry,” he says, his breath forming tiny clouds in the frosty air.

“It’s fine,” you grumble, though there’s no real heat behind your words. “But I’m driving back.” Your voice holds a note of mock seriousness, and he breaks into a chuckle, the sound light and airy, dissipating into the wintry sky like a whispered secret.

Inside the superstore, the air feels warm and festive, the smell of pine and cinnamon drifting faintly from somewhere. A dazzling aisle dedicated entirely to Christmas ornaments stretches before you, shimmering with glitter and tinsel. You watch in mild disbelief as Namjoon gleefully fills his cart with gingerbread house kits, plush stockings, strings of tinsel, garlands, and ornaments that glitter like captured starlight.

“Don’t you have decorations from last year?” you ask, raising an eyebrow as the cart reaches a borderline ridiculous state, nearly overflowing with festive cheer.

He scratches the back of his head, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “Well,” he starts, laughter bubbling up, “I did.”

You cross your arms and turn to him, your eyes narrowing with mock suspicion, silently demanding the story behind this sudden lack of decorations. Namjoon’s laughter grows, filling the space around you, and you can’t help but smile despite yourself, bracing for whatever endearingly clumsy tale he’s about to share.

“I dropped all the boxes with the Christmas decorations while moving,” Namjoon mumbles, his voice soft as a snowfall, almost swallowed by the warm air. His embarrassment paints his cheeks with a blush that’s sweeter than mulled wine, and you can’t help but burst into laughter. Without a second thought, you wrap your arm around his broad frame, a warm, playful gesture that feels as natural as breathing.

“Thought so,” you tease, laughter spilling from your lips, echoing like bells ringing through the icy parking lot.

Namjoon’s blush deepens, a rosy warmth that makes him look endearingly boyish. Still, he continues with his mission, selecting ornaments with the earnest focus of someone determined to reclaim lost holiday cheer. Once the cart is brimming with festive treasures, he pushes it outside, the wheels wobbling and skidding over the snow-dappled asphalt.

“I can’t believe they haven’t cleared the snow yet,” you scoff, tugging open the hatch and helping to load up his haul. Each ornament feels like a little promise of magic, waiting to light up the winter nights.

“Yeah, not the easiest thing to push through,” he chuckles, his laughter a quiet rumble, like distant thunder softened by clouds.

He returns the cart, clumsily navigating the slippery ground, and then hands you the keys with a smile. Sliding into the driver’s seat, you take the wheel and guide the SUV back to his place, where the real magic begins.

Inside his warm home, Namjoon hauls the bags and boxes indoors, and you peel off your thick coat, the heat wrapping around you like a familiar embrace. His house feels almost like your own now, a second heart beating in rhythm with your own. You move easily into his kitchen, making tea with the practiced comfort of someone who belongs there. The kettle sings as you pour hot amber liquid into cups, steam curling like ghostly ribbons.

Namjoon, meanwhile, sifts through his purchases, creating little piles of tinsel, baubles, and gingerbread house kits, organizing the chaos with a delighted gleam in his eye. You join him in the living room, stringing up fairy lights that twinkle like fallen stars, draping garlands of tinsel over every surface. He paints his windows with swirling snow scenes and delicate winter landscapes, and you marvel at his handiwork, secretly wishing he’d come and transform your windows, too.

Christmas music fills the room, and the two of you sing along, voices blending together in a harmony of laughter and half-remembered lyrics. You dance around the room, giggling until your cheeks ache, joy blooming warm and bright against the winter outside. When the final ornament is hung on the tree and the garlands rest perfectly in place, you both collapse onto the couch, still breathless with laughter. Your playful energy lingers, bubbling over into gentle touches and mischievous smiles, and you find yourselves tangled together on the sofa, the festive glow softening every shadow. Time slips away until it’s late, the kind of late that feels heavy with dreams, and you realize it’s time to go home. But even as you leave, Namjoon’s warmth and the laughter you’ve shared linger, lighting up the cold night like the twinkling stars outside.

You take a step back, your eyes wide and brimming with a sense of wonder, marveling at the world you’ve created within the cozy walls of your home. The decorations glow softly, string lights shimmering like constellations, and every garland and ornament seems to dance in the warm embrace of the holiday spirit. Namjoon’s snowy landscapes even grace your windows, delicate swirls of frosted white transforming your view into a winter fairy tale. It feels so perfectly Christmas—Hygge, as the Danish call it, a word that holds all the warmth and comfort of shared moments and quiet joy.

In the corner stands your plastic tree, tall and proud, adorned with an eclectic mix of ornaments and lights. Its colors catch the twinkle of the lights strung around the room, a joyful echo of Namjoon’s more organic tree. You think back to the way he had explained, with that earnest passion of his, why he chooses to get a real tree each year—to support local farmers and give back to the environment in his own way. You remember laughing and teasing him about the effort, happy with your fuss-free tree, but secretly admiring the way he cares so deeply for the world around him.

“Do you want to come with me to the plant store today?” you ask, your voice soft, floating like the steam curling up from your cup of hot cocoa. Namjoon smiles wide, his dimples deepening, and the warmth of that grin feels like a little burst of sunlight on a winter day. He’s wearing glasses today—big, bold black frames, because he lost his contacts—and with his cozy wool turtleneck, he looks every bit the sexy professor you’ve always daydreamed about. You have to stop yourself from staring, but God, the man is a vision, and he’s right here beside you, yours. Well, hopefully he’s yours—there’s always that tiny flicker of uncertainty, but for now, it feels enough.

“Yeah, let’s go,” he says, his voice rich with warmth.

You drain the last of your cocoa, savoring the sweetness, and soon the two of you are bundled up, making your way across the icy path to his SUV. You take the driver’s seat without hesitation, your hands confident on the wheel. The snow-laden roads have always felt thrilling to navigate, and the car hums softly with the gentle croon of Christmas music drifting from the radio.

The silence between you is comfortable, wrapped in the magic of the season, until Namjoon turns to you, breaking the quiet with a question. “What are you doing this Christmas?” he asks, his voice tinged with genuine curiosity.

You flick the windshield wipers on, watching the snow melt away in streaks. “Just spending it with Kookie,” you say, your smile bittersweet. “Without my mom, and with my dad’s Alzheimer’s… well, I just stay home now.” Your voice carries the weight of old memories, the ones that sting a little but still feel precious. You can’t help but think of past Christmases, filled with laughter and warmth, and the ache of their absence lingers, but so does the gratitude for what you still have.

Namjoon shifts, his concern evident. “You’re not going to visit your dad?” he asks, his curiosity mingling with worry, and he quickly realizes it might be a painful subject.

“I do visit him,” you explain softly, your voice gentle, like a snowflake drifting down. “But… he doesn’t remember me as his daughter anymore. It’s hard, sitting there and watching him struggle to place me. But I still go, even if he doesn’t know who I am. Because, well, it matters.” The sorrow is there, but it’s wrapped in acceptance, a quiet strength you’ve carried for years. You catch the sadness in Namjoon’s eyes and smile, a small reassurance. “It’s alright. Really. I’ve made peace with it. And Kookie makes Christmas feel like family again.”

Namjoon’s frown lingers, but there’s something tender in his expression, an unspoken promise that he understands, or at least wants to. And in that shared moment, with snow whispering against the windows and the world cocooned in winter’s embrace, it feels like you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

“What about you?” you ask, your voice warm with curiosity as you guide the car onto the road leading to your favorite sanctuary—the plant store, a haven of greenery and seasonal enchantment, where Christmas decor shimmers among leafy life.

Namjoon’s eyes light up, a smile spreading across his face. “I’m spending Christmas with my sister, nephew, and my parents. They’re all coming to my place because, you know, I’ve got that big house now,” he says with a laugh that dances in the air. You recall the image of him from months ago, holding that little boy’s hand. You’d once mistaken the child for his own, only to learn he was the devoted uncle, always stepping in to help his sister.

“That sounds really lovely,” you muse, your voice softening with a wistful undertone, like the ghost of a melody from a long-lost song. The ache is familiar: a yearning for the warmth and chaotic joy of Christmases past, for the easy laughter and the irreplaceable comfort of family. A tear slips, unbidden, down your cheek, and you quickly brush it away with the back of your hand, hoping he won’t notice. But Namjoon’s gaze, gentle and perceptive, catches everything.

He reaches out, his hand warm on your thigh, a grounding touch. “Maybe… we could have a Christmas dinner?” he suggests, his voice hopeful. “Just for our friends. Maybe the day before Christmas Eve, since that’s when my family arrives.”

You sniffle, pulling the car into the bustling parking lot, where cars glisten under a light dusting of snow. Unlike Namjoon, who prefers the solitude of the far-off spaces, you park right up front, as close as you can get. “That sounds really nice,” you admit, though your words carry a hint of guardedness. “But, please, don’t turn it into a pity party for me.”

Namjoon nods, understanding shining in his dark eyes. “That wasn’t my intention,” he promises. “I just think it’d be nice for all of us. No pity, just good company and holiday cheer.” His smile is genuine, disarming, and he unbuckles his seatbelt as you cut the engine, the car falling silent save for the occasional thud of snow hitting the windshield.

Stepping out, the cold air nips at your skin, each breath a puff of white mist. The snow falls steadily, blanketing the world in a quiet, crystalline beauty. You hurry to grab a cart, already anticipating the treasures you’ll load into it.

Inside, the store is an odd middle ground between brisk and balmy, chilled enough to keep the plants thriving but not as bone-numbing as the winter outside. The first thing to catch your eye is the dazzling array of string lights, tinsel, and an extravagant display featuring Santa’s sleigh, his reindeer poised mid-flight over faux snow, glistening like diamond dust. Namjoon’s eyes widen with childlike wonder as he drifts toward the scene, marveling out loud at every intricate detail. His awe is contagious, and you find yourself grinning as he disappears into a life-sized gingerbread house, its candy-cane pillars twinkling.

Together, you weave through aisles of holiday magic. You pick up a snow globe with a penguin bundled in a sky-blue scarf, the world inside it swirling with glittering snow. It makes you smile, so into the cart it goes. Purple ornaments catch your eye—rare and radiant, the perfect find for your collection. You toss them in with a feeling of quiet triumph. Your hand lingers on a wooden reindeer, beautifully carved and rich with detail, a rustic piece that seems to carry the very spirit of the forest. You trace its elegant antlers with your fingertips, then place it carefully in the cart.

Namjoon catches your eye, his glasses slightly fogged from the store’s temperature shift, and your heart does a little flip. 

Namjoon stands in the store, eyes wide with wonder, looking at everything like a child waking up to magic on Christmas morning. His excitement radiates, pure and joyful, igniting the air around you with an energy that is impossible to resist. Yes, the store might resemble a festive explosion—every aisle drenched in holiday cheer as though Santa himself had painted the place with his overflowing bag of marvels—but watching Namjoon, awe-struck and glowing, is everything. A smile blooms on your face, gentle yet irrepressible, as your heart picks up speed. It flutters wildly, as if it holds a kaleidoscope of butterflies desperate to take flight. Warmth rises to your cheeks, a blush deepening and spreading, while your mind surrenders to thoughts of him and only him.

A quiet realization unfolds, maybe you should finally have that “where is this going?” talk with Namjoon. Because, damn, you know you’ve fallen hard, hopelessly and beautifully.

Your eyes catch sight of an aisle bursting with rolls of gift wrap, and you drift over, searching for the minimalist designs that you love. Just as you reach out for a roll in understated gold, Namjoon clears his throat, drawing your gaze back to him. There’s that smile, the one that makes your heart skip and your knees feel like jelly. He points upward, and you follow his gesture to the ceiling. String lights twinkle in every hue, casting a soft, whimsical glow. Hanging there, nestled amidst the colorful illumination, is a sprig of mistletoe; vivid green with playful red berries, promising a bit of holiday mischief.

A laugh escapes you, light and melodic. “Oh, so you want a kiss?” you tease, your voice brimming with warmth.

Namjoon chuckles, and the sound feels like a spark lighting up something inside you. “You know,” you murmur, leaning in just a touch, “you don’t need mistletoe to kiss me. I always want to kiss you.”

He doesn’t need any more prompting. Both of you move at once, lips meeting in a rush that’s tender yet hungry. The world falls away as your mouths meld together, and his hands find their way around your waist, pulling you into his embrace. You melt into him, a soft moan slipping from your lips, echoing the need that simmers between you. When you finally break apart, a breathless laugh leaves your mouth, the air between you charged and electric. Namjoon’s gaze is dark and glassy, his desire plain to see, and you know yours must mirror the same intensity.

“Are you done with your shopping?” he asks, his voice husky and threaded with want. His words make you bite your lip, heat pooling low in your belly as you nod, barely able to think straight.

“Great,” he replies, his tone velvet and commanding. He takes the cart from your grasp, his fingers brushing yours with a touch that leaves you reeling, and he pushes it toward the checkout. His assertiveness makes your pulse race, a delicious thrill running through you. Somehow, you manage to pay for the Christmas treasures and help load everything into his car, though your mind spins with anticipation. Namjoon returns the cart, his long strides carrying him back to you as snow continues to fall, whispering secrets to the earth.

You climb into the car, turning it on. The heat slowly creeps in, but the temperature between you and Namjoon is already scorching. The air feels thick, heavy with unspoken desires, the kind of tension that crackles and leaves you breathless. He hums along to the Christmas song playing softly on the radio, but your thoughts wander, fixating on his voice, his lips, the memory of the way he kisses you, the way his mouth explores your pussy. You shift uncomfortably, desire making you restless, and you catch yourself before you lose focus on the snow-laden road.

Namjoon chuckles, a low, knowing sound, but he doesn’t move to touch you, though his presence is intoxicating. A part of you craves his hands, his warmth, his everything, but you’re grateful for his restraint. Not while you’re driving, you think, exhaling in a blend of frustration and exhilaration. It would be dangerous, especially on these slick, icy streets. Yet even without his touch, the tension coils tightly, promising a night that will be anything but cold.

You pull into your driveway, snowflakes swirling and dissolving in the twilight air, and as soon as the car engine cuts off, anticipation buzzes through your veins. With a swift click of your seatbelt, you’re out of your restraints and leaning over. You grab the thick collar of Namjoon’s jacket, tugging him closer, your mouths colliding in a heated, desperate kiss. Your lips part, breaths mingling, and a low growl escapes you, primal and hungry, as if you’ve been starving for this moment. You don’t know how long you devour each other like that, your hands fisting his jacket, your heart racing as he groans into your kiss.

When you finally break apart, Namjoon’s chuckle rumbles between you, warm and infectious. “Shouldn’t we… maybe… take this inside?” he teases, his voice husky, eyes glittering with barely restrained desire.

You bite your lip, a playful grin spreading across your face. “Yeah, we should.” Without a second thought, you scramble out of the car, forgetting the mound of Christmas decorations packed in the back. You only have one thing on your mind. Grabbing Namjoon’s hand, you lead him through the cold afternoon, hurrying to escape the winter air and into the sanctuary of warmth inside.

Once you’re in, both of you shed your coats and kick off your boots in a frenzy, laughter echoing in the foyer. His eyes are dark, stormy with arousal, and your pulse quickens, a delicious anticipation settling in your core. “I don’t think Jungkook’s home,” you say, your voice breathy as you nibble your lip, taking his hand again. He lets you drag him up the stairs, his grip firm, electrifying.

Inside your room, you don’t waste a second. You pull him close, your hands cradling his face as you kiss him with a ferocity that makes your knees weak. His hands slide to your waist, guiding you back until your legs hit the bed, and you can’t suppress the shudder that rolls through you.

“Namjoon,” you pant, lips brushing his, “I want you. I need you.”

His eyes burn with intensity as he rasps, “I know. I need you too, baby.” The low, gravelly timbre of his voice sends a wave of heat coursing through you, but frustration boils over. 

“I want your cock,” you admit, desire raw in your voice, making no room for subtlety.

He pauses, then breaks into a chuckle that’s rich and rough, slicing through the tension with ease. “My cock, huh?” he teases, eyebrows arching. “Is that all I’m good for?”

You pull back slightly, heart lurching at the implication, and your eyes widen in disbelief. “What? No,” you insist, voice softening, sincerity bleeding through. You turn your gaze to him, your expression fierce but tender. “Your cock is nice and very good, but it’s you that I love,” you confess, the words tumbling out, bare and vulnerable.

For a beat, there’s a silence that seems to suspend the universe. Your heart stops, bracing for his reaction, hoping you haven’t ruined this, that you haven’t scared him off. But then his lips curve into a smirk, one so full of warmth it melts your doubts.

“Good thing I love you too,” he murmurs, pulling you close again.

You don’t get the chance to respond; his mouth is on yours, urgent and consuming. He presses you down onto the bed, his lips trailing from your cheek to your ear, where his breath ghosts over your skin, sending shivers of delight racing down your spine. You moan, your eyes fluttering shut, breath hitching as he whispers in your ear, voice low and dangerous.

“I’m going to fuck you so good, babe,” he promises, his words sending a molten thrill straight through you. “So good that no one else will ever compare.”

The sheer need in his voice makes you pant, heat pooling between your thighs. “I don’t want anyone else,” you whisper, your hands splaying over his chest, feeling the frantic beat of his heart.

“Me neither,” he murmurs, before dipping down to suck a mark into the curve of your neck. The sensation makes you moan, your pussy clenching with anticipation. God, you’re already soaked, desire pulsing through every nerve, and as he lays claim to your skin, you know you’ll never want anyone but him.

He pauses, lips still flushed from the kiss, and pulls back with a soft, playful sigh. “These glasses are in the way,” he mutters, sliding them off and setting them aside. Your immediate frown makes him laugh, a deep, resonant sound that you feel in your chest. 

“What?” he asks, eyes dancing with amusement. “Do you actually like my glasses?”

You bite your lip and nod, a smirk curving your mouth. “Yeah. You look stupidly hot with them on—like some impossibly sexy professor,” you giggle, the words spilling out like a secret you’ve been holding in.

His eyebrows lift, a teasing smile spreading across his face. “Oh?” he murmurs, leaning in to kiss you again, lips brushing yours with renewed heat.

You giggle, the lightness of the moment threading through your desire. “But can you even see me?” you tease, your voice lilting.

He chuckles, a warm rumble against your skin. “Not very well. You’re just a blurry outline.”

“A sexy blur,” you correct with a laugh, playfulness and arousal weaving together.

He hums in agreement, nuzzling your neck, his lips leaving a trail of fire. “My sexy blur,” he whispers, sending shivers racing down your spine. But you gently push him back, your eyes gleaming with mischief.

“I want you to really see me,” you say, your fingers searching the bed until they find his glasses. You carefully slip them back onto his face, adjusting them so they sit just right. “There,” you whisper. “Now you can see me again. My sexy Joon.”

Namjoon grins, the lenses framing his eyes in a way that makes your pulse race, and he slowly straightens, standing at the edge of your bed. His hands move with purpose as he undresses, each piece of clothing falling away to reveal hard planes of muscle and soft, warm skin. When he’s down to his black boxers, his arousal straining visibly against the fabric, you can’t help but draw in a sharp breath, desire crackling in the air between you.

He watches as you sit up, your gaze locked on him, and you lift your shirt over your head, casting it aside. Your bra follows as does your pants and panties, and the sound Namjoon makes—a low, guttural moan—sends a flush spreading over your skin. His gaze drinks you in, dark and reverent.

He leans toward your pussy, his intentions clear, but you stop him with a playful chuckle, pushing lightly at his chest. “Please,” you say, your voice husky, “just fuck me already. I’m ready, and I want you so bad.”

Namjoon’s eyes widen, and he lets out a choked, breathless laugh, shedding his boxers in one swift motion. He wraps a hand around his cock, giving himself a few firm strokes to steady himself, and you lie back, spreading your legs in invitation. Your body trembles with anticipation, your need palpable.

“Hm,” you tease, wiggling your hips with a grin. “I’m ready to open my petals wide for you. Come and claim me.”

He laughs, a delighted sound, his hands warm as they grasp your thighs. “Cute,” he says, but his smile is laced with desire as he lines himself up with your entrance. Just as he begins to push into you, a wicked gleam sparks in his eyes. “I’ve got a pun too,” he pants, his voice thick as he stretches you open, inch by inch. 

“I think it’s time to fertilize this relationship.”

You hold your breath, feeling him fill you, your body arching in response to the exquisite pressure. His words finally register as he settles fully inside, and you gasp, a laugh bubbling up through the haze of pleasure. “Wait—did you just say you want to fertilize me?” you tease, wiggling your eyebrows, your voice breathless and amused.

Namjoon groans, his laugh turning into a deep grunt as he moves, your bodies pressed together, the playful intimacy of the moment making everything feel impossibly right. “Maybe I did,” he whispers, his breath hot on your skin, his hips beginning to move in a rhythm that leaves you breathless.

His breath catches in his throat, a strangled groan spilling out, thick with pleasure. “God, you’re so tight, babe,” he murmurs, voice rough, a velvet rasp that sends shivers down your spine. His fingers grip you with a fervent need, and his hips meet yours in a dance of primal rhythm. His lips brush your ear, whispering sin into the dark. “Yes,” he growls, each word laced with yearning, “I want you to take all my cum.”

A heat unfurls within you, wild and untamed, and a fevered cry breaks from your lips, back arching, body yearning for more. “Fuck yes,” you gasp, your voice trembling, a symphony of need and desire, “fill me, stretch me, make me yours.” He pulls back, a tease of agony, before plunging in again, deeper this time, and a wave of sensation washes over you, stealing your breath, making your world fracture into shards of pleasure. Toes curl, your heartbeat roaring in your ears, and you claw at his biceps, desperate to hold onto something solid.

“Please,” you beg, voice cracking with urgency, “Fill me up. I want to feel you everywhere, for you to watch your cum drip from my pussy—” A shudder courses through you, and you add, breathless and trembling, “And then fuck it back inside, and give me more.”

A groan rumbles in his chest, and you feel his body tense, the delicious twitch inside you betraying how your words unravel him. “Fuck,” he gasps, the curse a melody wrapped in desperation, his thrusts becoming brutal and consuming. His eyes darken, a storm threatening to drown you both. “My perfect little cockslut,” he grits out, voice threaded with awe and possession, “always so needy for my big cock.”

You wrap your legs around him, pressing your heels into his lower back, desperate to pull him deeper. His thrusts find that secret spot inside you, and the world around you shatters. Your cries echo in the room, a crescendo of ecstasy. “Joon-ah!” you cry, voice a broken plea, and he responds, hips driving harder, chasing your unraveling.

“My beautiful little slut,” he pants, voice cracked and shattered, “made to take me. Made to come for me.” His rhythm is relentless, and the coil in your belly winds tight, snapping like a bolt of lightning. Pleasure blooms through you, so vivid it turns your vision to a white, a brilliant blur. Breathless, undone, you tremble, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

He catches your mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans, and he drives into you, each thrust deeper, leaving you raw and oversensitive. Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling, clutching as your body convulses, waves of bliss surging through you. You feel yourself unravel completely, and he moves with you, relentless, sending you spiraling further into the pleasure you never want to escape. 

“So good, my love,” he murmurs, a reverent hymn of praise, and your body responds instantly, your core clenching, a desperate, needy flutter. His eyes darken, desire a tangible force between you. “You ready for me to fill you up?” he asks, his voice a teasing growl, and before you can answer, his strong hands grip your thighs, pulling you open wider, pinning you beneath him as he begins to thrust harder, deeper.

“Yes!” you cry, your voice raw, your need laid bare in that single, breathless scream. His hips snap against yours, each movement carrying a delicious, reckless abandon. One hand drifts between your bodies, and his fingers find your clit, drawing tight, wicked circles that send electricity racing through you. The buildup is sudden, overwhelming—a storm surging through you with a force that steals your breath. You’re undone, surprised by your own body’s eager surrender.

“Oh, shit,” you gasp, every nerve alight, toes curling from the rush of pleasure. “I’m going to come again,” you moan, and your head falls back, exposing the vulnerable line of your throat, every inch of you arched, straining, craving.

“That’s it, babe,” he coaxes, voice raw and full of awe as he watches you come undone. His gaze never leaves you, and he drives into you with relentless precision, chasing his own high as he feels you pulse around him. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” he rasps, his voice cracking with the strain, his own pleasure just out of reach. He’s relentless, a man driven by your shared ecstasy.

“Such a good girl,” he praises, and the words unravel you further. Your head tosses back and forth on the sheets, body a trembling, heaving wreck of sensation. His eyes meet yours, a connection sparking between you, and your breath comes in frantic pants. “Namjoon,” you plead, and his mouth softens, the intensity in his eyes tempered by tenderness.

“I know,” he breathes, his voice a soothing whisper, “I’ve got you.” His thrusts quicken, become erratic, and his grip on your hips tightens, fingers digging in as he hovers at the precipice. “I’m almost there, babe,” he promises, and with a few more deep, punishing thrusts, you feel him shudder, a guttural groan escaping his lips. His release pulses into you, warmth spilling inside as he cries your name, his face twisting in a perfect symphony of pleasure.

You watch him, utterly captivated—his glasses slipping slightly, his jaw slack with bliss—and the sight alone threatens to push you to the brink again. His movements slow, hips stuttering, his body collapsing gently into yours as the high fades. Still trembling, he leans down, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that’s as soft as it is reverent, and you can’t help but giggle, delight spilling over.

He slips out of you, eyes darkening once more as he watches his release trickle from you, and your pussy clench around the emptiness, a final echo of your desire. With a satisfied groan, he flops down beside you, laughter bubbling up between you both. His hand rakes through his tousled hair, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. 

You turn your head toward him, the world around you spinning with a dizzying, intoxicating mix of something sweet and wild. Your heart pounds in your chest, a cocktail of longing and reckless abandon. You know you have to ask him, and you have to ask now. The words spill from your lips before you can stop them, raw and urgent. “Do you want to be my boyfriend?” you breathe out in a rush, like you’ve been holding your breath for far too long. 

His eyes catch yours, a grin spreading across his face like sunlight breaking through clouds. “Of course,” he replies, his voice warm and steady, like he’s known all along. 

You smile back at him, and in that instant, the weight you’ve been carrying seems to lift from your shoulders. Your heart feels lighter, like it’s fluttering in your chest, freed from the gravity of uncertainty. He leans in, his hand brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, tucking it gently behind your ear. His voice is soft, but there’s a sincerity to it that makes your heart ache in the best way. “You’ve got me blooming in ways I’ve never felt before.” 

A laugh bursts from your lips, spontaneous and full of joy. “You’re corny,” you tease, the warmth between you igniting the spark of something real, something tender. 

He chuckles, a low, rich sound that makes your pulse race. “Good thing I love you, you nerd,” you add, his eyes gleaming with affection, the kind of love that feels both easy and electric. 

You bite your lip, feeling a rush of warmth crawl up your neck. “Ouch. Just be happy that I love your bitchy and bratty mouth,” he smirks playfully, his hands moving to pull you closer. 

The air shifts as he sits up on the bed, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Speaking of,” he says, voice dropping low with a teasing edge. “Should I clean you off, or give it some time to let my seed settle inside you?” 

Heat rises in your cheeks, the words hanging heavy between you, and you nearly choke on the air. “Please fuck me again, Joonie,” you whisper, the rawness of your need almost too much to take. 

His lips curl into a slow smile as he lowers his mouth to your stomach, kissing you with a reverence that steals your breath away. His lips trail upward, brushing across your breasts, your neck, and finally landing on your mouth in a kiss that leaves you breathless. “Then give me a moment,” he murmurs against your lips, “and I’ll be ready to go again.” 

But before you can lose yourself completely in the heat of the moment, your phone vibrates multiple times on the nightstand, the interruption sharp and unwelcome. You glance at the screen, curiosity piquing in your chest, and your stomach sinks when you see the flood of messages. They’re all from Jungkook.

You groan in embarrassment, cringing at the thought of what might be waiting for you in those texts. 

“What is it, babe?” Namjoon asks, his voice laced with concern as he notices the change in your expression. 

“I guess Jungkook was home all along…” you mumble, heat spreading across your face like wildfire. The realization hangs heavy in the air between you, and both of you understand what it means. Namjoon bursts out laughing, the sound full of warmth and affection. He pulls you into his embrace, his lips trailing soft kisses along your neck, inhaling your scent as if he can’t get enough. 

Your laughter bubbles up, the embarrassment melting away in the comfort of his arms, and for a moment, it’s just the two of you, lost in your own world of joy and tenderness. 

→ Requested taglist: @callmenoona25 @svnbangtansworld @nora12379 @joonsmagicshop @kamilamb @joonlover1207

→ Permanent taglist: @nora12379 @jeonsbabygirlsworld @fancypeacepersona @ktownshizzle @pjmxxjm @ajoonniice @kookiewithluv @mikrokookiex

→ Author’s endnote: I hope enjoyed this one, and please let me know what you liked; you’re always welcome to leave me a comment, a reblog or an ask 🥰 Thank you so much for reading, love you 💜 © @/kingofbodyrolls 2024 // Please don’t copy or repost! You are more than welcome to reblog it, leave a comment or ask me anything about the story 🥰

[stormyelliotwritez]

Idk how comfortable you are with this but like

Logan howlett x masc male reader. Like how would the dynamic go? How would logan figure out he actually likes reader

Also, I myself do wear masc clothes and act more masculine, which is kind of an insecurity I have within the gay community, but I do wear tighter fitting clothes which gives me away sometimes 😂, so maybe throw that into the fic if you’d like?

I’m not sure what you mean by the last part so I’m not going to use it but you can send me another ask and clarify what you wanted

LOGAN AND THE HOT GUY FRIEND

When Logan first saw you, you were sitting on the couch at Wade’s place. Wade had mentioned you came over sometimes to steal their food when you couldn’t be bothered buying your own. He watched you for a moment before walking closer and sniffing your scent. You were a guy… and you smelt good?

He came up to you and sat down. You glanced at him and then went back to watching the TV. He wasn’t expecting you to just brush him off like that but he guessed you were used to weird stuff happening at Wade’s place.

“So you’re the friend Wade was talking about?”

You turned your head to look at him and nodded. You looked him over and smiled.

“And you must be his new roommate?”

He nodded and then you turned back to the TV. You both sat there contently for a while before Wade came back home and interrupted it and you all had dinner.

The next few times were like that. You’d sit in content silence but each time, Logan found himself staring more at you than the television. You were more masculine than Wade sometimes and you smelled really nice. You’d both just sit there and watch sports or whatever else was on TV. Sometimes his arm would go behind your head and neither of you would mention it.

After a few times, he started talking to you and you started talking back and shared stories but he didn’t like you… right? Sometimes he’d say you looked good but that was just banter between guys, right? And there was no way you liked him.

One time when he came home from doing something and you were there, you were sitting in the kitchen instead. You’d stolen one of his beers and were about to open it. He was about to offer to help with his claw or with a bottle opener when you opened it with your teeth. You spat the cap onto the table and his jaw dropped.

You were the epitome of his type. You were cool and hot and you wore similar clothes to him and you were fun to talk to and you made him feel things, now they were vulgar things but they had been just butterflies in his stomach.

He grabbed a beer, sat down next to you and watched as you chugged it. He wondered if you’d put those lips around something else. With a shake of his head, he shook those thoughts away and started up a conversation again but now he knew that he liked you and damn, did he want you so bad.

pt 2 where they get together?

[stardewstardropthoughts]

How about the farmer and bachelor hiding in a small place. Like they are hips and chest pressed against each other. The farmer doesn't noticed but the bachelor is going wild over the limit space between them. You can make it nsfw I don't mind! :)

This took me forever to get to I’m so sorry! Also these are mostly just lewd as opposed to like whole nsfw but Sebastian and Alex’s got full nsfw 😂

Content warnings: mostly gender neutral reader except Sebastian’s is afab reader, reader calls Sebastian daddy once, Theyer long as hell, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT PLEASE

Small spaces but big opportunities with the bachelors

Shane:

He wanted to come to the mines with you, mostly out of curiosity but also because he wanted to make sure you weren’t doing anything to dangerous

Thankfully the level that you had gone to didn’t have to many monsters on it and while he still thought that maybe it wasn’t the best place, he could see the appeal

At least until you both fell into a kinda deep very narrow pit

He landed flat on his ass and you landed unceremoniously on his lap, very much straddling him

After making sure neither of you were seriously injured you began to look around

“How on earth are we gonna get out of this? Does this happen to you often in the mines?”

Shane’s very concerned and trying very hard to ignore your chest being almost in his face

“Well no, I mean the tv said I’d have bad luck today but I didn’t think anything of it!”

Shane stares at you blankly for a moment “the tv said…okay we can unpack that later, for now we should figure this out”

He tried to shift around a bit but quickly stopped as the friction of your body rubbing against the crotch of his pants caught him off guard, thank god it’s a little dark and you can’t see the red now painting his face

He’s got his hands resting on your thighs, you try shifting around to see if you can maybe stand up but his grip tightens and you could almost swear he moaned a little bit

“You okay? You said you weren’t hurt! What hurts? Do you need a health elixir? I have extra in my bag”

“No, no sweetheart that’s not it, I’m not hurt just, fuck”

You just noticed the bulge straining against his shorts and pressing against your inner thigh

“Oh” you hadn’t noticed until now that he had gotten hard

“Fuck I’m so sorry I-“ he got cut off as you ground down against him

“Shit sweetheart, you sure you wanna start this right now?” He’s practically growling out his words with how gravely and husky his voice is currently

“Never been more sure, sir”

He has a sir kink, fight me on it

He tightens his grip on your hips to help you grind against him while he smashes his lips against yours in a very heated kiss

Harvey:

You were in the tiny medical closet at his clinic looking for some gauze he had asked you to grab for him so he could restock the drawer

It was taking a moment though so he came to check on you and ultimately the door accidentally shut behind him

It locks from the outside automatically

Harvey is now chest pressed to your back due to the confined space in the closet, hardly enough room for you to try and turn around

“Well hey there doc, whatcha need?”

“The doors locked and maru doesn’t get here for another hour, this wasn’t supposed to happen”

He’s trying not to focus on how warm you feel pressed against him, how perfectly your body fits against his, and how the sudden proximity has his dick stirring in his pants

You’re squinting to see in the dark closet and all but have to stand on your tippy toes to read if the label in front of you reads gauze

“Just as well because this feels like a lost cause, how do you find anything in here?”

Your ass brushes against the growing bulge in his pants and he has to stifle a groan at the contact

“We can find it later, just stay still please”

He’s sounds strained, and then you can feel it pressing into your back

“Harvey, are you hard right now?”

This mans spilling apologies from his lips so quickly

“I’m so sorry this was never meant to happen your just very pretty and being stuck in the little closet with you isn’t helping and-“

You cut him off by bringing a hand around your back and gently grabbing his bulge

“I don’t mind, gives us something to do in the meantime” you would wink at him but you arnt facing him and the rooms dark

“I- are you sure? I want this but I need to know you want this as well”

You’ve been pining after the doctor for like a year and a bit at this point so of-course you want this

“Yes I want this Harvey, touch me, please”

How could he say no when you ask so politely

Sam:

Not so much trapped in a closet together as it is playing seven minutes in heaven at a party Abigale was throwing

You picked his name out of a hat and then got promptly shoved into a very small closet with him

Chest to chest, Harley enough space to breath without feeling his heart beat against you

“We uh, we don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to”

He’s always considerate of your comfort

“Time starts now! Have fun~” you could hear Abigail’s voice fading away as she walked back down the hallway

“Sooooooooooo, think there’s a light in here orrrrr we just gonna make out in the dark?”

You meant to ease the tension with a little joke but god do you wanna kiss him

He’s taking the dive, hands on either side of your face as he presses his lips to yours

With only a little struggle in the confined space you managed to wrap your arms around his neck

Soon he’s trailing kisses down your neck, leaving little bites here and there just so he can hear the way you try not to whine

Your hands down the front of his jeans slowly stroking him

“Fuck sweetheart, wish we had more time. Wanna take this to your place?”

Yes you do in-fact want to take this to your place

Which is just as well because Abigale is knocking on the closet door to tell you your times up and that you both better have pants on

Elliott:

Had he meant to be stuck in a small crevice in the forest with the farmer directly underneath him? No

But his little outings don’t seem to want to go to plan these days

He does however, appreciate the view of you, underneath him red faced as he tries to find a way to get up that doesn’t involve accidentally standing on you

“Must be exhausting holding yourself up like that, you can lay down I don’t mind a human weighted blanket”

God your adorable

Only lets some of his weight rest on you

“Well, this isn’t the best circumstances but even so you still look absolutely ravishing”

Meant that to be an inside thought but alas, it became an outward thought. He wishes lightning would strike him if that didn’t mean you would also be in harms way

“Well your not half bad yourself handsome, lemme just”

You gently pull his hair back into a ponytail with a hair elastic you keep on your wrist for him

That’s all he needs to lose composure, soon enough y’all are making out in the crevice

Wondering hands and gentle nips across your neck are enough to get small gasps out of you

God you sound amazing he thinks

But he’s not about to bed you in a hole in the ground, he’s more romantic then that

But the moment y’all get out and head back to his beach shack?

Soft gasps turn to moans, hushed whispers turn to loving praises, wondering hands stray further beyond the elastic of your underwear as he shows you just how good he can be with his hands

Sebastian:

You and him went swimming, despite his dislike of the activity he was always willing to go with you

You had wanted to explore a little cave like opening in the stone of the mountains near the lake and he came with you to make sure your good

And that’s how you end up here, stuck pressed against each other in your swimsuits, stuck between two particularly close stone walls

Sebastian’s trying to look anywhere but at you to avoid popping the most awkward boner in existence

“Well this is less then ideal, sorry Sebastian I didn’t think we would get stuck”

You feel a bit bad since you know he’s probably pretty uncomfortable right now

“Th-that’s okay, not your fault”

He has one hand behind your head so you don’t accidentally smack it on the hard rocks, his other hand is on your waist because it felt right to place it there

“Well, atleast the suns setting so you won’t get burnt”

“And we’re basically skin to skin so we probably won’t freeze”

He tried to lighten the mood a bit, it worked since you let out an airy laugh

“Could be worse, atleast I get the hot emo boy to keep me company”

Now he’s blushing, from chest to forehead just red

“You think I’m hot?”

Definitely had a voice crack in that statement but you ignore it much to his prides pleasure

“Absolutely, hottest guy in town”

Your trying to kill him he’s convinced but atleast he’ll die happy

“Fuck baby you can’t just say shit like that while pressed against me”

You can feel his erection pressing into your stomach

“Hmmmmmm maybe I’m prepared for the consequences”

The hand that was on your waist gently wraps around your neck as he pulls you into a heated kiss, tongue exploring the inside of your mouth while you gasp against him

You manage to bring your legs up enough to sort of trap his hips against yours as you grind against him

He moans against your lips before pulling back to trail kisses down your neck, leaving a few hickeys on whatever spots seem particularly sensitive

Meanwhile you’ve pulled his cock out of his swim shorts and lined him up with your cunt, gently rubbing the head through your folds for a moment before grinding your hips down just enough to sheath him inside

“Fuck, so fucking tight around me baby”

You whine into his skin as you hide your face into his neck, he’s gently thrusting into you as much as the little space will allow him to do

One of his hands travels between your body’s to start rubbing little circles on your clit while you fist your hands into his hair

“Shit seb, feels so fucking good”

He whines quietly at your praise as he can feel the knot forming in his stomach, he’s close to cumming but thankfully so are you

“Not gonna last much longer baby, cum with me, yeah? Think you can be a good girl and cum with daddy?”

Your nodding frantically as you start to spasm around him, milking his cock for all its worth

He slams his hips into you once more as deep as he can before filling your warm walls with his cum

Somehow all the movement you guys have done has wedged you free, no longer stuck in a tight spot your heading back to his place for round two

Alex:

You and Alex were exploring the deep woods together because he wanted to know what types of things you do in your day to day

He was not expecting the woods to be full of slimes trying to kill you but ya know, it’s always an adventure with the farmer

That’s how you end up in a small cave pressed against each other while you patch up a small wound on his thigh

“You okay? Your being pretty quiet up there”

He’s trying not to focus on how close to his dick your hands are so he doesn’t get hard

It’s not working very well

“I’m fine, just a little scrape I’m sure it’s okay”

“Yeah but it’s better to take care of it now, don’t want it to get infected”

He knows your right but also your hands brushed by his cock and now he’s got a semi

And it’s hard not to notice especially when it twitches as your hands brush over it again

“Baby, sweetheart, love please, you gotta know what your doing to me”

Your feigning innocence because it’s a little entertaining watching him be so flustered

“Hmmmm i should make sure your not injured anywhere else”

Your hands are on the buttons to his jeans looking at him for permission to pull them down

He knows the game your playing, so he lets you

You’ve got his cock out and your gently stroking your hands up and down his shaft, adjusting the pressure to what gets the best reaction out of him

“Oh fuck sweetheart that’s so good”

He’s putty in your hands

You decide to go for double kill and gently lower your mouth on the tip, sucking lightly while you stroke his shaft

He’s moaning loudly now, one hand in your hair to start bobbing you up and down on his cock

“Shiittt baby gonna lemme cum down your throat yeah? Please”

How could you say no to such a nice request

You relax your throat as best you can and take his whole cock into your mouth at once, he’s cumming in seconds

You pull back and swallow as you smile up at him

He needs like ten minutes to recover but he’s returning the favour twice over

[hemlockesprings]

Hi! If you’re still looking to answer questions I have one that I think about every time I listen to your music.

Your stuff is so unique and imaginative from a creative standpoint, and it always makes me wonder: do you draw inspiration from yourself or from other stories/media that you love? Or a mix of both? Or neither? I’m just really curious about your conceptual process I guess? Especially with how cool your mvs are as well.

Sorry for all the question marks lol, and if that’s too personal I totally get it! I was just curious since I saw so many people sending asks. (Also, I just got my going, going, gone anniversary tshirt and it’s quickly become one of my favorites so thanks for that too! Haha)

hello hello! 👋🏾

ooooooooooooohhh a nice variety of question marks, I like it! I'm a musician, nothing's TOO personal 😅 (I might regret saying that later)

I say that I draw inspo from everything! Film, TV, other ppl's music, magazines, any type of media!

For example, I just watched this movie called The Love Witch and I lowkey wanna make a album SOLELY based on that film cause it was maaaaaaaaaaaad interesting anywaysssss

I also feel like coming from a biology background, there were so many instances where things would get realllllllllyyyyyy boring studying, reading, etc.) I HAD to find some sort of escape (ie: music) to rejuvenate myself!

But also, I don't actively think too deep on concepts! It's not that I don't care, I just try to write the song the way the song wants to be written! Basically I start kind of talking to myself, and something usually comes up!

If anything, I spend most of my song-making time researching synonyms or rhymes 😭

Same with MVs! Luckily, I get a lot of help in that area, though! (Collaboration is important!)

ty sm for purchasing a shirt! I'm so glad you like it! And thank you for the questions again (NEVER APOLOGIZE FOR THESE TYPES OF THINGS LOL 😂)

-🔒👕🩵

[janearts]

I couldn't help myself from referencing Highlander. There can be only one [wielder of the Netherstones]!

Proper answer (and some character analysis for Roisia) under the read-more.

Roisia was surprised by Gortash, but pleasantly so. In the first place, as far as Roisia is concerned, Ketheric and Orin recall their respective gods in their appearance: Ketheric is withered, a husk of a person, but indomitable, and Orin... well, Orin looks like a flayed corpse with meat-suit clothes, but close enough. Roisia would have expected Bane's Chosen to be more... physically domineering. Terrifying. Intractable. ...Loud? Instead, here's this charming handsome fellow who is really rather ordinary. If Roisia met him on the street, he'd just be another debonair noble lusting for power. (Join the feckin' queue!)

And neither does Gortash behave as Roisia would have expected Bane's Chosen to behave. She would have expected a Banite to be a tyrant, a Faerûnian-version of the Machiavellian prince, who instils a terror of himself and who rules through fear. Instead, Gortash gently curates among the populace not a fear of him, but a xenophobic fear of The Outsider (whether that outsider is a cult like the Absolute or a group of people like the Coast's refugees).

Roisia—by all accounts an oppositional force to his own—encounters a man who is genuinely, fully, confidently willing to partner with her to achieve a common goal and is willing to swear a divine oath to secure that partnership...

Poor man. What a fool.

You see, Roisia is something of a Machiavellian prince. She would despise to think of herself in that way were she to read Il Principe, but she has within herself some (but not all!) of the traits and qualities that are described within. She is frequently a mirror: where she meets evil, she wields evil with aplomb. ("You desire me to kiss your foot? I think not. You shall kiss mine.") She would very much prefer to offer mercy, but if her mercy is rejected—like when Ketheric imprisons Dame Aylin once again before yeeting himself into the primordial soup—then she will dole out cruelty in equal measure. Most importantly of all, Roisia is a liar and a deceiver, all while appearing compassionate, guileless, and true to her word. Roisia only really keeps her word when it suits her purposes. Were she otherwise, she would have found that Gortash would have been faithful to his word to the last. But as the Machiavellian prince, she betrays and slays him.

Actually, having written all that, Roisia is more of an embodiment of the Machiavellian prince than I originally thought: she is virtuous and good, sure, but she is also intimately familiar with baser behaviours (lying, cruelty, conspiracy, etc.) and wields those base behaviours like a tool when and where she feels it is needed and necessary.

Which is why I was absolutely thrilled when I had her do what was only natural to her and had her speak to Gortash post-mortem. Roisia is a character who believes herself to be godless: damned and/or abandoned by Kelemvor, Lord of the Dead and Judge of the Damned, for being a Necromancer. She had a sliver of hope that she would find favour with Myrkul, but Myrkul thought only of the Chosen stolen from him. She thought, perhaps, that she might find favour with Bhaal because, let's face it, she had slaughtered and bloodied so many in her long journey to Baldur's Gate, but the skull only wept blood and that was that. Bane, however, actually speaks to her, acknowledges her, validates her. She won his favour the moment she betrayed and slayed Gortash. She is in her very nature a stellar Banite. Incredible! And absolutely absurd. Thank you to Larian for programming that opportunity in. 😂

[rnnsdrms]

f1 drivers and popular romance tropes: charles leclerc !!

DEAREST READER. hello there! while waiting for the two-week break to end, i needed a little f1 headcanon/scenario to heal me from the famine. anyway, here’s for the leclerc fans out there! it’s funny that i’m posting his first when i actually finished oscar’s first 😂 i hope you’ll enjoy~ for more drivers, you can see my masterlist at the end of the post !

CONTENT WARNINGS. no warnings. just a heads-up that i am an 18+ blog and i prefer only adults visit my profile page. if you’re a minor, you can still read this work since it’s sfw. so, i hope everyone out there is being honest with themselves. oh, probably my fucked up english grammar because why do i care it’s pure vibes !

WORD COUNT. 998 words (ugh, so close to 1k) !

I debated with this idea, but after some time, I decided that mutual pining suits Charles Leclerc better. There is so much potential for slow-burn and comedy. It’s the kind of story where there’s already an established sense of familiarity between you and Charles, one that has existed for as long as either of you can remember. But it has never crossed into anything as intimate as being ‘lovers’. Sure, both your groups of friends always comment about how the two of you argue like a married couple and suggest you should just make it official already, but you and Charles dodge these accusations as swiftly as an F1 driver dodging a collision course.

While you and Charles may eye-roll or stick your tongue out at the sight of each other, both of you secretly wish for something more. Yet, neither dares to make a move, fearing the loss of the bond binding you and him. The platonic relationship between you and him feels comfortable, and disrupting that would seem like the foolish move of the century. So, to preserve it, you’re quick to ignore your feelings, and he does the same. As a result, pent-up, endearing emotions often spill out in the form of silly banter and subtle jealousy. The sneaky glances across the room and the lame lies told when either of you got caught staring seem endless. This routine is no different to playing a song on repeat: it’s the only thing that you’re both fixated on, apparently. At this point, provoking each other just to see what kind of reaction the other can elicit can be considered a love language. You think he’s just being annoying as usual, while he thinks you’re unbearably nosy–and it doesn’t help that he has heard of the ‘you want to kiss me so bad’ meme and he has used it against you every single time you are about to start an argument with him.

Charles Leclerc, despite being a multiple Grand Prix winner and has earned himself many titles–The Prince of Ferrari, The King of Monza, The Sun of Maranello, The Predestined–he still can’t officially call himself ‘your boyfriend’. It’s pathetic and it pisses him off. Currently one of the best drivers on the F1 grid, he has placed himself among legendary rivals, and yet, he can’t seem to place himself on the same bed as yours. Although his fame attracts the attention of high-profile celebrities and influencers, Charles has his thoughts and eyes only on you, even when he is currently surrounded by them. You, on the other hand, love to torture yourself by watching him sitting and talking with glamorous models–or just pretty women in general. He says it’s an occupational hazard, but the way you see it–or rather, feel it–it is more of an emotional hazard to you. But you’re not just going to sit around and drink your sorrows away. No. You’re going to greet and chat with his driver friends … but him.

His eyes narrow dangerously whenever he sees you hanging out with another man, even with his fellow F1 driver friends. But he starts losing his cool when he sees one of them initiate physical contact with you. While you’re giving them your best smile and laughter, Charles is already plotting how to commit a massacre on the next circuit. When you notice that he’s beginning to space out, you decide to approach him, incoming snide remarks already up your sleeve to torment Ferrari’s golden boy.

‘So,’ you start, taking the long-awaited empty seat beside him, ‘is she going to be your next in-chi-dent? Or just another pit stop?’

‘What? I’m the most charming guy in the room. I can’t help if all the ladies want a piece of me.’

‘Oh, please.’ You roll your eyes, ‘you’re about as charming as a stalled-out engine on a race day.’ You add, taking a sip of your drink.

A grin spreads across Charles’ thin lips as he leans closer to you–his chin barely above your shoulder. ‘Is that so? Funny, because I thought I’m just like Ferrari–impossible to resist.’

You try to repress the blush that is beginning to creep up your cheeks by staring at him dead in the eyes. ‘Well, since you are a Ferrari, then I guess I’m the safety car. Always having to slow you down when you get too full of yourself.’

The slight shock on Charles’ face gives you immense satisfaction, and you don’t try to hide it. But he is also quick to gain composure.

‘Or maybe, you’re just the chequered flag I’ve been racing toward all along ...’ He said, but his words seem to trail off in the wind.

It catches you off guard, and you stare at him with a questioning look, only to see Charles’ green eyes gazing at you tenderly. Oh, you hate it so much when he looks at you like that.

‘Nice try.’ You quickly cover your raging emotions with a smirk. ‘But you’re still stuck in the pits.’

• ───────────────────────────•

[ SONGS FOR THIS TROPE: Taylor Swift – Dress ✦ Sabrina Carpenter – Nonsense ✦ Arctic Monkeys – I Wanna Be Yours ✦ Gracie Abrams – Feels Like ✦ Lana Del Rey – Say Yes To Heaven ✦ Ariana Grande — goodnight n go ]

• ───────────────────────────•

˗ˏˋ MASTERLIST ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ KO-FI ˎˊ˗

RNNSDRMS™. SUPPORT WRITERS BY REBLOGGING THEIR WORK. DO NOT PLAGIARIZE, TRANSLATE, OR POST MY WORKS ON ANY SITE. I WILL POST MY POSTS ON OTHER SOCIAL MEDIA SITES MYSELF AND THAT’S ALL YOU GET.

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

I saw the lack of rottmnt in here and decided "hey, why not give it a shot?"

Neon Leon in blue having a sweet relationship with Big Mama's techy daughter

Big Mama’s Daughter (Fluff)

Rise!Leonardo x reader

A/N: A short one, but I thought it was pretty cute. But I do indeed lack ROTTMNT stuff, so if people have some ideas, BRING THEM! HELP YA GIRL OUT😂💚

Warnings: Nein💙

“Take a look at this, babe”, Leo mumbled with an amused smile, pulling you closer against his plastron, letting you have a clear look at the screen of his phone. You snuggled closer to his chest, feeling his arm wrap around your waist, letting your own phone rest beside you on the bed.

You watched the video play out on his phone, depicting two men practicing martial arts, only for one of them to fall flat on their butt with a funny sound and an overly funny pose. You laughed out loud, trying to get a better view as the video played over again, Leo smiling at your reaction.

These small moments between you and your boyfriend, meant a lot to you. It had taken a long time before the two of you were able to hang out at each others’ places, without your parents throwing a fit. Well, neither you or Leo had thought it would be easy, especially not with your mother and Leo’s father having been in a relationship, and Leo’s other father generally having a hard time with Big Mama. But now they had finally calmed down, not letting their pasts get in the way for you and Leo. That did not mean that they now were the best of friends, but they were getting along well enough now.

However, that did not mean that you and Leo stopped your quote on quote “sneaking around”. You would still do what you did back then, with Leo teleporting back and forth between yours and his place, spending the night at your place or bringing you to the lair, all while you manipulated the signal from Leo’s tracker, making it look like he was still in the lair. Donatello’s face when you and Leo finally told him that you had with ease manipulated or blocked several of his tracking systems, was still a large talking point between you and your boyfriend, still making you laugh to this day.

“You are a little silly, Lee”, you giggled, letting your full weight rest against his plastron, making him fall back on your bed with a smile, letting his phone fall forgotten by his side, his full attention drawn to you and your beautiful face.

“Me? Silly? Neeeeveeer”, he chuckled, before wrapping his other arm around, tangling your legs together, a playful glint in his eyes. “I’m such a mature, smart, sweet, good looking, humble-”.

“Humble?”, you giggled. “That is probably one of the least humble things you’ve ever said, and that says a lot”.

Leo let out a gasp in overexaggerated shock, throwing his arm dramatically above his head. “How can you say such a thing?”, he playfully exclaimed, making you smile and giggle at his antics. “My own girlfriend! Oh, (Y/N), you’ve hurt me!”, he continued, trying to hide his smile, laying a hand above his heart.

“Aww, Leon!”, you laughed, playing along with the act, finding it just as amusing as he did. “It was not my intention to hurt you. What can I do to make it better? Tell me, babe!”

Leo’s arms quickly around you once again, making you laugh when he started making kissy faces at you. “You know very well what you can do to make it better”, he teased. “Gimme a kiss!”

You giggled, taking a hold of his face, holding him still so you could peck his lips, making Leo smile like he was drunk, resting his forehead against yours.

“Much better”, he sighed, rubbing his beak against your nose. “But I could use another one”.

“Needy”, you teased, before placing your lips back on his for a sweet tender kiss, that made Leo hum in delight, a happy churr vibrating from his chest. But that was soon interrupted by a sudden beep from your tech watch, followed by the voice of your mother.

“(Y/n)”, she said, making you and Leo jump, finding Big Mama looking at you and Leo through the screen on your watch.

“H- hey mama”, you smiled, you and Leo’s cheeks growing hot. “Y- you didn’t hear or see anything, did you?”

Your mother sighed, rolling her eyes, hiding a small smile. You had not mentioned to her that Leo was coming over that day, nor had you told her when he arrived, but it did not surprise her that he was in your room. In truth, she was just happy that you were happy and treated well, even if it was by the mutant that had tricked her several times in the past.

“You and Leo can come out of your room now. Dinner is ready”, she said, before turning off her communication, leaving you and Leo slightly embarrassed. However, that was soon forgotten when all three of you sat together during dinner, enjoying each others’ company. Big Mama could never be mad at you for spending time with the man you loved, nor could she be mad at Leo when he made you so happy.

[luffyvace]

omg i literally love ur blog can i just have luffy zoro and ace x male amab reader hcs like just do whatever u want

Thank you lots dear!! I’m so happy to hear you appreciate my work!! 💞

Just as you requested~…

Luffy!! 🏴‍☠️⚓️

Luffy is the main one who doesn’t care abt gender. No. He’s the KING. (The pirate king 😉) so its pretty much just gonna sound like I’m writing regular hcs for him but keep in mind it’s amab <3

i might end up mentioning it once or twice tho idk

but let me say this, if you change your gender he’s gonna get it right? “Oh so you’re a girl now?” (Example) But this dude cannot comprehend the more “complex” umbrellas of sexuality and romantic attractions. “You’re non-binary..? What’s that? /… / ohhh so your basically neither? Oh okay! what does that do?”

HELP 😂😅

At the end of the day just say you’re like Bon-Chan and he’ll figure out it’s something like that! I mean Bon Clay himself said he borders along genders and Luffy had absolutelyyyy……...no reaction! 😲👏👏👏

so overall it’s kinda the same with you 😅

not in a mean way ofc!! If you didn’t come out before you met the strawhats and you finally do, all you have to do is explain it takes a lot of courage and effort to come out sometimes, and he’ll be more than happy to party and celebrate with you! ☺️💖

It’s practically canon that Luffy drags you everywhere. Like it’s just inevitable accept your fate 🙏

Luffy shows affection of all sorts! The main being hugs, quality time and occasional gifts <3

You’re the main one who has to answer Luffy’s weird and random (-sometimes dumb) questions! 😆👏👏👏

“If frogs can breathe in the water AND air can they breathe in the ground too??? what about in mud?! 😆”

“If I taped a banana peel back together do you think a monkey would get confused when there’s no banana in it? Shishishishishi!! I’m gonna go try it out!” 🏃

“If you slide down a rainbow will your butt be rainbow or would you just erase the rainbow?”

Luffy takes you on adventures no matter how dangerous it is 🤪

Luffy really is trying to be thoughtful when he does things for you. He just ends up messing around and, well- messing things up! Like how he tried to bake you a cake in the middle of the night since Sanjiwould never let him in the day! 😊 (The kitchen almost burned down. Franky had to repair it 😬)

Luffy was banned from a number of things after that but he did make you a mud pie! He used to make them all the time when he was younger and he figured you’d like one! Here ya go! 😃👍

Luffy and you barely have and slow and relaxing moments but when you do it’s very comforting. Usually in the middle of the night during a rare occasion that Luffy ate enough so he doesn’t get up for snacks or adventure

but you get up, and you see how calm and peaceful he looks while sleeping. You lovingly observe his face for a bit before going back to sleep <3

Luffy always has to have you around when he eats. if your far away and he sees you, he pulls you close with his stretchy limbs. even if you are close he’ll basically have you in a literal choke hold as he balloons from overeating 😅😭

he burps, laughs, kisses you on the temple and keeps eating. In that order. 💕

Luffy will obv still eat if your not around but as soon as your in sight he’s pulling you over

It’s the best feeling ever to be surrounded by both food and YOU!! Double whammy! 🤪🙏

Zoro!! ⚔️🗡️

Zoro isn’t really all that much softer or tougher based off gender other than him going easy on women

so your relationship is pretty laid back unless your very loud with your affections

he’s very casual and shows his love subconsciously in little ways. He’s not insecure so he doesn’t feel the need to go out of his way and show it, he just thinks it’s an automatic thing you both know is there.

Which, it should be right? Otherwise why would you have accepted his confession?

And since this is amab he’d be pretty down if you changed from your original gender

doesn’t make or break anything for him 👌

The number one thing he cares about in a relationship is loyalty tbh. Like it’s so obvious that it’s important to him by the way he’s so loyal to Luffy.

on that note he’s just as loyal to you as he is to Luffy so rest assured 👍

his no. 1 love language is quality time bc it’s really causal and not lovey dovey n stuff yk? You could even do it in public and no one would question! It’s not embarrassing at all and is a normal thing to do, so it’s perfect in this relationship!

Actually finds cuddles rather enjoyable but like idk how to explain it? Not in a cuddle way?? (Then how brook 🗿) IDK!! 😭🗣️

no but fr tho (😭) he wouldn’t mind if you just so happened to get tangled up with him while sleeping yk? It’s just kinda warm (not that he would ever have problems with being cold from all that muscle and previous training while frigid 🗿) and I have a feeling he would like skin to skin contact- only when your relaxing tho

the only gifts you really ever bring him is new swords and beer 🍻 cuz what else is going through his head? 🤷‍♀️

wont force you to train with him but kinda will 😲

like you just have to! How else are you gonna get stronger? 🤨

at the least he don’t gotta worry abt Sanji swooning over you cuz the crew obv know you were born a man! y’all are super close! That way sanji won’t be attracted to you (not in a bad way like the okama/island of women situation- 😀 your relationship with Sanji is more like chopper/luffy/usopp depending on your personality)

Another thing Zoro does is seek you out. Which is ironic cuz he’s always getting lost.

you either gotta keep him close, go with him or wait til you meet up later 💃

if you’ve been together a while he’s grateful when you clean his swords for him. He always makes sure to keep up with they’re hygiene (better than his own) but when you happen to beat him to it he feels a sense of pride?

I guess maybe cuz it’s like “hmph! 😼 my s/o is cleaning my swords for me”

Ace!! 🔥❤️‍🔥

Ace is the most aware ? (Idk how to word it) If you change your gender. He knows all the terms n such, mostly cuz I feel like out of ALL THOSE DARN PIRATES- you mean to tell me not ONE of them is QUEER?! 🤨😐 I DONT THINK SOOOOO 🗣️🗣️

he’s very supportive and anyone who doesn’t want to be turned into pot roast better be too! ☺️

I hc him as Bi but if your something other than a man or woman you just broke the scale cuz your mans no longer cares 🤷‍♀️

he doesn’t date for gender anyway, he dates for genuine love ❤️

especially since he was deprived of it til his brothers & WBP (before then was too unstable)

also! I said “date” but tbh I don’t think he dated anyone before you soooo :T

tbh idk if Marco knows how to do top/bottom surgery but if he doesn’t Ace will def help you find someone who does‼️

you could probably even ask around on the ship to see who others got they’re surgeries from!! <3

btw if your not trans that’s just fine too 😊

like I said it’s not about gender its about YOU.

cuz hot dang. 😜

GET IT? HOT DANG?! (LOLL it was funnyyyy cmon guys laugh 😭)

fine back to your hcs 🙁

Ace isn’t necessarily clingy he just likes to be around you. He loves the natural love he feels when he’s around you. He could spend all day doing absolutely nothing with you and he would be 100% fulfilled.

wym you wasted today lazying around?! Today was a great day!! 😁

Ace’s main love languages are acts of service and quality time. He’ll do any thing reasonable (and probably unreasonable too) that you ask of him!

whenever one of the WBP are looking for one of you they either ask the opposite of who they’re looking for, bc you always know where the other is- OR try and find both of you cuz your always together 😂💞

Ace loves making you laugh, he thinks it’s such a wonderful melody. Not even in a cheesy way, it just makes him happy the same way hearing your fav character’s laugh makes you happy!

He tickles you randomly and you have all our tickle wars. So unless you’re looking for it to go on for the next 2 days (or longer) til one of you end it by calling uncle, prepare to be laughing a wholeeee lot! 🤗

Ace always seems to be smiling around you. Technically he’s always smiling, but you hardly catch him with even a straight face when your in his perimeter

He yaps abt you to EVERYONE. They’re not sick of him tho cuz your awesome and he’s great at storytelling + he never says the same thing twice but BRO-

anytime he makes a new friend, they’re practically YOUR new friend too by the time you meet them bc they already love you from hearing all sorts of stories abt you!! 🤗💝

he does this with both you and Luffy :)

Ace has a tendency to forget things so he writes down any important dates you tell him about on his calendar and starts planning ahead of time for them.

happy or sad! He has your birthday and anniversary memorized, but if something traumatic happened around a certain time and he knows you’ll feel sad on that day (a parental death, for example) then he plans something to keep you distracted, happy or even something to help you feel better! Helping start to heal from it ❤️‍🩹 yk? Something that may bring you peace and put you at ease 💖

Ace feels whatever you feel, but tweaked a bit. If you’re feeling sad he’s angry at whatever makes you sad. If you’re happy he’s ecstatic! If your angry he’s livid, if your disgusted- well, in this case he might find it funny 😂🤦‍♀️

I don’t think he’d be disgusted of very many things so he doesn’t exactly feel you on that one- But!! You get the point! 💓

Ace loves going on adventures with you and causing chaos. Bothering Marco, Izo, Jozu, thatch, Vista and even Whitebeard- LOL 😃

bro is the fearless one 🗿

it’s nothing that would get them seriously angry ofc but he would love if you joined him on his antics

just don’t pin it against him. You WILL start a war. I hope your not stubborn bc unless you admit you were wrong and do what he wants for a whole day to make up for it- it’ll never end 🤦‍♀️🤷‍♀️

he gets you when you least expect it. Still harmless, ofc, you’re his fav!! 😊 (⬇️)

BUT THIS MEANS WAAAR!! 👹

Your so real for requesting these 3 together

AND I GOT LUFFY ZORO AND ACE I CALL THEM THE TRIPLE THREAT‼️🗣️

If ykyk..

[mrsriddlenott]

It’s Okay To Love Them Both

Mattheo Riddle x Fem!Reader x Enzo Berkshire

Kinda from all their POVs at different times. I absolutely love this and I am putting so much work into it that it is honestly funny and I’m gonna cry when I’m done🥹😂(may have gotten carried away) not entirely proofread yet.

Warnings: Fluff,Angst,Insecurities, Manipulation(kinda ig? I don’t see it as manipulative but I wanted to include the warning for ppl who don’t share that opinion), Nicknames(Princess, Gorgeous, Petal, Little Badger, etc)

*No smut but I can make a pt2 for that if it’s wanted*

{masterlist}

This was requested a LONG time ago and I REALLY hope the person who requested it is still here or in the old Taglist, I am so sorry this took so long. My brain just was not working properly for a long time but I think I am back in my groove. I have been working on this on and off for a literal YEAR so if you are not here I am so disappointed in myself for not getting it out to you.

You couldn’t pinpoint exactly when you started to fall for both the boys, but it started so innocently, and now it felt like it was always bound to grow from the very beginning. You met Enzo first, he had been assigned your tutor at the start of term thanks to your poor Potions grade every year prior. He worked with you tirelessly as though it was more than something asked of him by the head of his house, and when you inevitably out grew the need for a tutor, he invited you to your first Slytherin party as a celebration. A party that was of course thrown by his best friend. Enzo talked about Mattheo non-stop and you just had to meet him, however when he spoke with you that fateful night, you realized the trouble you were in and you just couldn’t stay away from him, you tried at first, but it was pointless.

The more you talked with them the more you felt for them. They were so easy to be around, Mattheo made you feel safe and heard, he always stood up for you even though his reputation could have been hindered by befriending a Hufflepuff. While Enzo made you feel known, he looked at you in a way that no one had before and opened your own mind up to itself. Even though they were so clearly different, as you grew closer with them, you began to notice just how similar the two were. Mattheo tried his hardest to hide it but on the inside he was the sweet boy no one saw, and Enzo had a hidden darkness within him that no one would guess, one that helped you come to terms with your own.

“Hello Princess, I’ve got a question,” Enzo stated from your side as he caught you off guard in the corridors, ripping you out of your thoughts with his smile alone. He watched you intently with his soft, safe eyes as he waited for you to respond. He was used to your adorable shocked expression by now, he knew you somehow weren’t used to this kind of attention yet, and certainly not from Slytherins, but he just couldn’t stop coming back to you. Neither of them could, so they just didn’t.

It’s not like they sat down and planned it….well not exactly. The idea was there of course, from the second Mattheo saw you he knew he wanted you he just didn’t want to hurt Enzo and even when they soon both realized they felt the same way, it wasn’t really a conscious decision….not in the beginning anyway. They’d speak to you one after the other like a pattern of turns, and never without telling each other beforehand. Eventually they started whispering about your little chats in their dorm late at night, almost debriefing the other as they reminisced and waited for their next chance to see you. It took quite awhile for the boys to realize just how far their feelings had grown, and not only for you, their own bond had been strengthened by their shared affections and time spent solely focused on you.

“Oh….what is it?” You spoke, slightly dazed after staring into Enzo’s eyes for a few seconds too many, something he reveled in as your pupils dilated and your lips formed a smile against your will. He chuckled at your nervousness, poking his elbow out for you to take as you resumed your walk to the Library, you took it immediately, settling your palm into the crook of his arm as he took your books into his free hand.

“I was wondering if you wanted to accompany me to Hogsmeade tomorrow?” His voice was soft, calming, and comforting as he gently guided you through the tidal wave of students suddenly parting to let him through. It shocked you how not one, but two boys of such a high popularity status seemed to care so much about your presence. At first you genuinely assumed it was some joke, a prank some classmate had put them up to maybe, but after months of the two always coming back to you and getting absolutely nothing in return, you deemed yourself safe.

“Like a….?” You started, letting your sentence die out in embarrassment of being wrong, Enzo chuckled making your stomach jump as you entered the Library, “Yes Petal, I wanna take you out on a date.” He turned to face you as he set your books on the nearest study desk, taking your hand in his as he reiterated in a soft voice, “Would you like to go on a date with me? We can do whatever you like….or we can go with my plan?”

“You….have a plan?” It wasn’t like you were new to dating or having a partner, but you certainly weren’t used to said partner putting in such effort for you, making you feel as special as Enzo and Mattheo did so easily. You gulped slightly upon remembering Mattheo, would he be mad if you said yes? Or hurt? Would he care at all? Would he plan a date for you like this?

“Is that a yes?” Enzo chuckled as he watched your brows furrow upon you falling into your thoughts again, “It’s okay if you have plans or….or don’t want to join me,” He suddenly seemed very worried, his confidence faltering as you watched his face quietly.

“Of course I want to go with you Lorenzo,” He audibly sighed at your words, a warm feeling washing over him as soon as his arms wrapped around you, his head falling heavily against your shoulder as he laughed, “Had me thinking I ruined the best part of Hogwarts Lovely.” Your giggles pulled him from his hiding spot in your neck as your hands held onto his shoulders.

“No way I am for favorite thing about Hogwarts,” You laughed with a shake of your head, avoiding his eyes as you moved away to settle into your study spot. Enzo watched you from a few feet away now, observing your genuine misbelief and wondering how you could look in the mirror everyday and not see a portrait of royal standard. How you could possibly not see that he was falling madly in love with you, certainly he wasn’t that subtle was he? He’d just have to turn in up a notch then.

“I was thinking we could get a drink at the Three Broomsticks,” his voice was low and soft as he approached you again, slowly “After which I’ll spoil us with a trip to Honeydukes,” he paused, stepping closer still as you avoided direct eye contact, “Then we can eat sweets as we take a walk around the Black Lake and talk,” you gasped as his cold fingers brushed your warm skin, pulling a strand of hair behind your ear and tracing the shape of your jaw before pulling your chin up, forcing an intense eye contact, “How does that sound?” His voice was laced with his usual confidence once again as he placed his free hand on the desk, leaning into you further and towering over you with a smile. That crooked smile that was always so contagious made it impossible to stop yourself from smiling back and agreeing to the perfect date once more.

Enzo left the Library with a triumphant grin, giving you one last glance over his shoulder and throwing you a wink, reveling in your face glowing bright red. You found it difficult to suppress giggles as you tried to work on your studying, beginning to imagine your date with Enzo instead.

~~~~

It felt like you had spent days alone in the Library working on your homework, every little thought of Enzo distracting you from the work that had accumulated in your classes this week. You regretted not asking Enzo to keep you company, even though you were such a nervous wreck around him when you were alone together you just found everything to be so much easier with him there. It was like every bit of anxiety flitted away when either of your boys were there to comfort you.

“Hey Gorgeous,” Mattheo’s smooth voice derailed your train of thought as the chair behind you loudly scraped across the dusty stone floor, making you cringe as Mattheo plopped onto the creaking wood so he was sat only inches from you. “What are you stud-“ The loud shush from Madam Pince interrupted him as he laughed and held his finger to his lips jokingly, pulling his chair impossibly closer only to slowly whisper in your ear, “What are you studying?”

You tried to hide the shiver his voice sent down your spine, tingles covering your entire body before you could gain your control, “Just Transfiguration stuff, I’m almost done though,” Mattheo hums beside you, letting you silently work as he watched your very concentrated face while you wrote. He quickly became impatient however, tapping his fingers and feet to different beats you didn’t recognize as he slouched in his chair before dramatically sighing after only a few minutes and sitting up.

“Are you done yet?” He whispered, desperate for your undivided attention as he leant into you further, resting his chin on your shoulder to watch you like a lost puppy, “I’ve got something for you, ya know,” His excitement was evident in his hushed tone, making you finally turn to look at him again while he excitedly reached into his pocket with a proud smile upon getting you to look at him. He struggled momentarily, cursing under his breath as he pulled out a thin golden chain with a badger charm dangling from it.

You eyed the fine jewelry in his hand for only a split second, it was truly beautiful and your exact style, but it looked expensive and too elegant to be for you. Noticing the guilty glint in your eye, Mattheo didn’t give you the chance to deny the gift, believing it was yours already even if you wanted to throw it in the garbage as soon as he left. You would have to get used to being spoiled, he thought as he got up to delicately drape it across your neck and clip it in the back before you could ask the price or where he got it. He freed your hair from being trapped below the chain, bouncing it and fixing stray strands for you before leaving a kiss on the top of your head, “It’s almost as beautiful as you isn’t it my Little Badger?”

Your face was painted red in a matter of seconds as his hands felt up and down your arms mindlessly, his fingertips leaving tingles everywhere they touched giving you an entirely uncommon burst of confidence. You jumped from your seat with a loud thank you as your arms draped across his shoulders, letting your head rest on his toned body as his arms engulfed you in his warmth and his chest vibrated with a laugh, “You are very welcome Pretty Girl.”

Your eyes met as you pulled away from him, glossy eyes darting between his and his lips before you launched yourself forward to attack them with yours. Mattheo didn’t waste a second in returning your kiss, letting your lips meld together as he sighed against your mouth, the taste of your lips better than he could have ever imagined. Your fingers got lost in his hair, tugging at his curls and deepening the kiss, forcing him to restrain himself by gripping onto your hips tighter to keep from smashing you into the bookshelf behind him and starting a battle between your tongues. You hummed in satisfaction, your senses and thoughts lost in Mattheo as he nipped at your bottom lip making you whimper and fall farther into him. You wanted the kiss to last forever, the feeling of his hands grounding you, letting your brain focus for the first time since…..Enzo.

The image of the sweet boy who cared so much for you catching you making out with his best friend flashed in your mind, snapping you out of your pleasure as you abruptly pulled away from Mattheo with a shocked expression. Your eyes brimmed with tears at the thought of Enzo crying, hurting over you betraying him, hating you forever….you felt horrible. Your teary gaze locked with Mattheo’s before you were pushing away and grabbing your books, rushing from the Library without another word. After only a second of truly believing someone had Stupefied him, the curly headed boy tried to catch up to you, desperately calling your name before losing you in the packed corridors.

Mattheo cursed to himself as he reluctantly turned away from the direction you took and toward the Slytherin Common Room. He couldn’t stop thinking about every possible outcome this could cause, he should have said something, done something, but he was far too focused on your scent, your taste, the way you felt in his hands. He’s such an idiot, he needed to fix this, the thoughts bouncing back and forth in his mind as his legs numbly carried him through the castle.

“You need to make sure this date we planed goes well because I may have just royally screwed us” Mattheo was almost shouting as he slammed the door of his and Enzo’s shared dorm behind him, thanking the Gods that their dorm mates were off doing who knows what.

“What!? What are you talking about?” Enzo rushed forward on his bed, tossing his reading aside as he watched Mattheo’s face contort in worry. He could tell by his fidgeting hands and pacing of the room that he was truly worried there was no going back from whatever he did, and without a second thought, Enzo was standing to pull him into a hug, asking again, softer this time, “What went wrong?”

“She kissed me and I fucking kissed her back,” Mattheo snapped, slipping out of Enzo’s comfortable grasp as he pinched at the bridge of his nose, “and then she looked so sad and my mouth just would not form any words. I stood there like a fucking asshole while she was crying because I was too focused on her lips on mine.” He sighed, chewing at his thumb as he paced back and forth in the middle of the dorm.

“She kissed you though that’s a good thing, not exactly to plan, but that means she probably likes us bo-“ Mattheo was always so calm and collected, except for when it came to you, every worry that flashes through his brain about never seeing you again makes him less and less reasonable.

“I think her rushing out crying tells me otherwise Enzo,” Mattheo began to ramble, his brain was far too worried to be able to keep a single thought inside, “We need to give her space, let her have time to think before your date, she’s probably confused she….she probably doesn’t want to get hurt or or I don’t know hurt anyone else. She doesn’t know we want to be with her together….what if she thinks something bad li-like you’ll be mad.” Mattheo snapped his fingers and pointed to his best friend as though he had it all figured out, just to return to his ranting.

“Mattheo calm down, we don’t know anything yet okay,” Enzo knew that when Mattheo got like this, feeding his worries would not help, but as he continued to list off the many holes this plan had that they were just now realizing, the heavy feeling of anxiety settled into his chest.

~~~~

When the next afternoon finally came, you contemplated skipping the date entirely, telling Enzo you had plans after all, but some part of you just wouldn’t allow it. That same part controlled you as you desperately searched for an appropriate first date outfit, throwing dresses and various tops and bottoms on and off as your dorm room grew messy. “Damn Y/N/N, I knew you liked this boy but jeez….this much worry about an outfit?” Your dorm mate and best friend since First Year jokes as she strutted into the room.

“Hannah you’re a lifesaver, I need to borrow a dress, and it needs to be a good one because I already have something to apologize for.” You rambled, turning to her trunk that was always available for you to search through.

“What could you have possibly done to that boy that needs an apology? I think he very well could be obsessed with you.” She giggled, not realizing your worry as you halted your actions entirely, “Ikissedhisbestfriend” you jumbled, turning but avoiding the eyes of your best friend who only understood you thanks to her knowing you so well.

“You…wait did I hear that correctly? You- you and Riddle did what now?” Her shocked, almost excited expression had you feeling worse as you abandoned your search for a dress, flopping down onto your bed as tears welled in your eyes. “He’s gonna hate me when he finds out.” You sighed, hiding your face in your hands as the bed dipped beside you to make room for Hannah.

“Hey hey….Sweetie no rational person could ever hate you.” She sighed, rubbing the back of your hands as she pulled them from your face, “This is a grey area okay, you haven’t made a commitment to either of them and it’s clear they both want to be the one picked. You need to make a decision somehow and if they don’t want to make it easy on you this is going to get dramatic.” Your eyes met hers in confusion as tears ran down your face and onto your mattress, “I guess what I’m trying to say is….you need to make a decision either way and the only way to make the right choice is to know how they both would treat you, and the only way to find that out is to explore both options for a bit.”

“But….I don’t want to hurt them, and I want them both in my life still….I don’t know what I’d do if I made a decision and the other never spoke to me again.” Hannah gave you an apologetic smile before piping up again, “Well….it would be cruel to keep them both at your feet waiting just to never pick, you’ve got two options here, let them go and hope you meet someone else one day, or come to terms with what may happen after you do choose.”

“I’m gonna choose, I just can’t yet, I don’t wanna lose either of them.”

~~~~

Enzo’s breath catches in his throat as he sees you walking into the crowed dining room of the restaurant, the red fabric of your dress hugging you perfectly. The badger necklace he had helped Mattheo pick out rested on your chest so wonderfully he just had to comment on it. “Well isn’t this cute, where’d ya get it huh?” He asks in a teasing tone you know so well.

“Um well, I” As you start trying to speak all that can come out is sobs at the thought of hurting him, suddenly your dress is too tight and the room too stuffy, you can’t breath. “I um,” you try but once again fail. Before you can think you feel hands on your waste and your being tugged out of the busy restaurant by someone as Enzo follows. Once the door was open you rushed into the cold air and walked away from the two.

“Did i do something?” Enzo’s voice was desperate, strained to a point that you thought he was about to cry right now, “Please just tell me how I messed up so i can fix it, I promise I didn’t mean to hurt you,” His voice raised as you kept walking to catch your breath pacing back and forth before taking notice of Mattheo standing beside him.

“What are you doing here?” You spit out, not meaning for it so sound as mean as it did, you sigh as you correct your voice, tears beginning to fall again. “I’m so sorry, I thought I could pick but I can’t, I love you both and I am so so sorry.”

The boys eyes lock together immediately and as though on cue they start to laugh, they know it’s wrong, they know they shouldn’t but they can’t stop. And somehow you know it is okay and start to laugh too.

“What is wrong with you two?” You ask between tears and laughter, you must look a mess but your two best friends still stare at you as though you hung the moon.

“Petal, we want you too, you think we can chose. Us. Two of the dumbest people you have ever known.” Enzo says with a giggle as he steps up to you to kiss you tear streaked face. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner Petal, but I was planning on having Mattheo come to our little date anyway, we wanted to tell you tonight how much we want you. Together. All of us.”

Your eyes dart to Mattheo as he smiles wildly down at you, “so you’re not mad at me”

“Of course not Princess, you’re our perfect girl.” Mattheo says in a soft voice as he moves to wrap his arms around both Enzo and y/n, leaving a kiss on both their cheeks as comfort he has never felt begins to settle in his chest. He can be happy like this.

Your rapid heart beat begins to settle in the arms of your two favorite boys, your tears continue but only from happiness and the feeling of pure luck bringing you to the happiest moment of your life.

“Now, how about we finish the date we had planned for you Petal.” Enzo sates as he grabs your hand, your other quickly being grabbed by Mattheo as they begin to lead you to Honeydukes.

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[loveandleases]

The more I think about it the more in love with a cook savvy MC I become. An MC that loves cooking and spoils those they love with delicious tasty noms. Who even worked hard to make sure the best doge was given fresh made meals (vet nutritionist approved). Leaving doge extra upset because neither Chris nor Jade can or will do what MC did. Throwing up kibble into Chris’ shoes and shredding Jade’s purses and shoes at every opportunity. Chris realizing he fucked up when he chose temu trophy wife. Trying to convince Kira to part ways with whatever baked goods or leftovers she has, because she still gets food gifts. I like to imagine Kira not doing it because she doesn’t want to lose access if she’s caught feeding the traitor, feels bad, but not bad enough to miss out. And Cam sitting in the corner smug af with a mouth full of delicious food.

Just brainrot. Had to share. Don’t mind me.

I feel just a tinge of guilt about that island for a cook savvy MC! An MC making fresh food for doge will be winning points with G (reluctant ones). Gremlin dog <3.

(temu trophy wife 😂) Mc wouldn't need to pilfer from Aunt Em's fridge/cupboard anymore!!! Maybe even help Em with upcoming holiday dinner o.O Good brain rot tho~