#i want you to know they had a nice time and they kissed

[yanderedrabbles]

Yandere Yakuza - Valentine's Special

Romance is in the air and a certain yakuza is keen to teach you all about Valentine's traditions in Japan. Word Count: 4.2k Male Yandere x Fem Reader Mini Sequel to Yandere! Yakuza

As a hostess, you've been looking forward to Valentine's Day. Guests are notorious for spending big and tipping even bigger when romance is in the air.

One problem though. Your yakuza boyfriend does not approve.

"You don't have to work on Valentine's. My Family owns the club. I should get a say."

You ignore his complaining and the arms wrapped around your waist. You're focused on your makeup and no handsome, dangerous yakuza is going to distract you.

He changes tactics. "Onegaiya de? [Please?] Pretty please?"

You sigh and reach up to run your fingers through his hair. "Of course I do. But I need money. If you've forgotten, my brother still owes you. And besides, the house mother told me to come in today."

He frowns. "Naze? [Why?]"

"I'm very good at my job, that's why."

You manage to finish both your lashes and your lipstick before he speaks up again.

"Kurabu ni issho ni ikimasu. [I'm coming with you to the club.]"

You aren't surprised. It seems like he spends all his free time as your customer. As though being in a relationship isn't enough. As though he wants to have you both during and after work.

You turn and plant a kiss on his cheek. You leave behind a lipstick mark that he's in no hurry to wipe off. "If you want to spend all your money on me, I'm definitely not going to complain."

He grins in that lazy way of his and loops his arms fully around your waist. "Anata wa watashi no kanojodesu [you're my girl]. Who else would I spend my cash on?"

He drives you to work with one hand on your thigh. It gives you butterflies - the warmth of his skin bleeding through the fabric of your dress, the way he sometimes squeezes the meat of your leg like he subconsciously wants to remind himself that you're still there.

When he opens the car door for you, he brushes his lips past your ear. "Got a real nice surprise for you later."

You stop and pretend to fix your heels so you can look up at him through your lashes. "Is it the same surprise as last time? Because I loved that one."

Big, scary guy that he is, you think you can still see him swallow and freeze when you look up at him like that. He takes you hand and steadies you but the eyes that trace over your body are hooded, unreadable. "Not what I had in mind this time, no."

He inhales sharply when you step past him and 'accidentally' brush your hand over his belt.

"Too bad," you say, "I love that thing you do with your tongue."

It takes him a second to catch up with you. When he does, he wraps his arm around your waist and hisses in your ear.

"Anta, ijiwaruya na. [You unbearable tease]."

You can't help but smile. Personally, you'd describe yourself as an unbearable, romantic tease. It being Valentine's and all.

You're honestly looking forward to spending your shift with him. Even though he's started calling himself your kareshi, he still doesn't talk about himself much. You're not offended by it. There are a thousand little ways you've pieced together his past. The way he likes his sake hot and the way he turns his nose up at high end sushi, the way he holds his cigarette when he smokes and the way he can flick a match on his thumb. It all tells you a bit more than he'd probably like you to know. And each date you go on, each shift that he spends entirely focused on you, is just another opportunity for you to untangle the mystery that is your yakuza.

Unfortunately, the boss has other plans. You don't even get a chance to sit down before one of the other enforcers pulls him aside. He frowns at whatever the man is saying and then quickly presses a kiss to your forehead.

"Gomen ya de, daisukinahito. Shigotoya nen. [Sorry love. Gotta work]."

He's out the door before you can even object. The house mother narrows in on your table and less than a minute later she has a client seated across from you. She's built a habit of trying to cram as many customers into your schedule as possible when your boyfriend isn't around to steal you away. You can almost admire her dedication.

The first client of the night is a salaryman already happily flushed with drink. He tips you well, buys you several rounds of expensive drinks and gives you a drunken kiss on the cheek before he leaves. A very typical Valentine's date.

You get through a few more without any issues. Mostly businessmen not willingly to go home to an empty apartment. Your wallet gets noticeably fatter after each one. It's long past midnight when things finally go sour.

You're touching up your lipstick when the yakuza walk through the door. You can tell what they are at first glance. And worse, you know these aren't the usual guys.

You expect trouble. You aren't sure when you developed an instinct for yakuza business, but you know that the newcomers most definitely aren't part of the Family.

You try and watch them as subtly as you can. One of the regular enforcers goes up to meet them and - surprisingly - leads them to the back of the club.

The group passes right next to you. You keep your eyes on your compact and lipstick like you've never seen anything quite so interesting as YSL Loveshine. At the last second you look up, and straight into the eyes of a bleached blonde gangster with a mean smile. He must have been looking at you already, because he shoots you a playboy wink.

On instinct, you bow your head. Even if they weren't your Family, it wasn't a good idea to be caught lacking in respect.

When they're finally gone, you sigh in relief. Talk about scary. Those guys looked like their favourite pastime was baseball; the faces and knee cap variety.

You're about to get up and take your break when something makes you look over your shoulder. The blonde yakuza is leaning against the wall just outside the staff-only door. And looking straight at you.

Oh, please not today. You already have one yakuza in your bed and almost constantly blowing up you phone. You want absolutely nothing to do with Mr Tall, Blonde and Evil.

No such luck. He says something to the enforcer next to him and beelines towards you. Eyes locked on yours.

He slides in next to you - not across where a client would normally sit. You shift over to make room for him and wonder if there's something in the water that makes you particularly noticeable to men with a nicotine and tattoo addiction.

"Omae, jitto mi teruyan ka. Na n ya, kiniitta n kai, kawaī ko. [I noticed you staring. Like what you see, pretty girl?]"

His voice is raspier than your boyfriend's. And meaner too.

You can just...pretend to not speak Japanese. But one look at the blond's sharp, lazy smile tells you he'll know you for a liar the second you open your mouth.

"Omaeni mo onaji ko to kiitē wa, ikemen-san. [I could ask you the same thing, pretty boy.]"

He laughs, "She's got an attitude! Not scared of a big, scary yakuza?"

"Are you supposed to be telling me that about yourself?" You lean your chin on your palm and tilt your head. "What if I'm a cop?"

"Then you can put me in handcuffs right now." He let's his eyes roam down your body. "I'll happily do whatever you want, officer."

Okay. Pervert yakuza number two added to your collection. Could you get out of this somehow? A client is a client but you don't want to be next to him any longer than necessary.

"Don't you want a girl who can speak Japanese? I'm still not very good."

"What I want? We won't really be talking if we do what I want."

He pulls out a pack of cigarettes from his jacket and lights one with an easy flick of his lighter. He inhales deeply and let's the smoke out of his nose, like a dragon.

"You got a boyfriend?"

That really does seem to be the first question these guys ask you. What happened to 'how are you?' and 'here's a fat stack of cash, do you want it?'

"Yes." You shrug, like this is just a casual conversation with another client and not a rival with a gun under his suit jacket. "He's part of the Family."

"Wakatta wa. [I see]." He offers you a pull of his cigarette. You almost decline, but you look into his eyes - a dark hazel - and realise what a bad idea that would be.

He holds your gaze as he presses the cigarette against your lips. You pull on it as lightly as you can, the tip flaring a bright orange.

It burns your throat and you turn away from him to cough out the smoke. God, that stuff is awful. Why the hell is your man always lighting one if this is what they taste like?

When you turn back to him, the yakuza is studying the cigarette. Your lipstick left a stain on the filter. Slowly, he brings it to his lips and covers the place where your own lips were. He pulls in deeply and tilts his head back, eyes closed.

"Sweeter than normal," he breathes.

Nope. Nope. Nope. It's flattering really, but you aren't an idiot. You don't want your boyfriend's rival sitting so close to you, you don't want him looking at you with eyes like liquid honey and you most definitely don't want him calling you sweet.

If you could telepathically summon your boyfriend, you would. Unfortunately, he's busy with whatever it is they took him off to do, and you're stuck making conversation with a man who's arm keeps inching tighter and tighter around your shoulders.

You try to stand up and excuse yourself, but he wraps a palm around your thigh and pulls you back down without even trying.

"I need to pee," you tell him. He grins, cigarette casting his features in shadow.

"Perfect. I'm really thirsty."

Alright then. Ultimate host club perv discovered. It's almost a relief. You were worried your boyfriend would continue to hold that unenviable title.

You're about to say something - probably along the lines of it would go down even better with a vodka chaser - when your boyfriend finally arrives. You can tell it's him by the way he let's the door almost slam shut behind him. (You've tried working on that but every time you bring it up, he just says that you're so cute when you're bossy and won't you please take that tone with him later tonight?)

The blonde must have followed your line of sight, because his grip gets just a little tighter on you. "That your boyfriend?"

He's already heading toward your table and his frown spells trouble.

"Yep." You wonder if the blonde would listen to you if you tried to warn him away. You doubt it.

Your yakuza's hair is messy and his sleeves are still rolled to his elbows. He must have come straight from whatever job he got called away for.

He stops right in front of you, his arms crossed.

"Times up," he says simply. "Her shift is over."

The blonde takes another pull from his cigarette. "This your girl?"

Your boyfriend tenses, "Un. Kanojo wa watashi no monodesu. [Yeah. She's mine]."

You can almost feel the room getting colder. Your boyfriend flicks his eyes at the other yakuza standing at the back of the club.

"What are you doing here?"

"Boss had business with your side of things. Said I could throw back. Sample the goods." Blondie runs his palm up your thigh. "I'd have risked coming over ages ago, if I knew you had such cute pieces."

Your boyfriend narrows his eyes. "Times. Up. She's got another date waiting."

The blonde yakuza makes a show of looking at his wristwatch. "Looks like I've still got five more minutes."

"Your watch is late." Every word is bitten off and curt. You've seen him serious before, but never like this. Is this what he's like when he's working?

It's easy to forget his job when he's sprawled in your bed with his head on your chest, muttering about letting him sleep for five more minutes. It's easy to forget that he's a gangster who breaks faces for a living. That he's dangerous.

After tonight, you don't think you'll ever forget that fact. It's terrifying to be across from him, even if his glare isn't directed at you.

The moment stretches - taut, awfully tense. Finally, the blonde breaks.

"Tch. I've got shit to do anyway."

He stands up - and just when you're about to sigh in relief - kisses you right on the mouth. You jerk backwards, more surprised than anything else.

He straightens and runs his fingers over his lips. "Even sweeter than I thought."

You scramble out of the booth and grab your boyfriend's arm before he can do anything stupid. The muscles under your palms are already coiled tight and you're terrified to see what might happen if that strength is unleashed.

You bow in a quick, half hearted way. "O jikan o itadaki arigatōgozaimasu. [Thank you for your time]."

And then you're dragging your man out of the club before he can muster any objections.

It's only when the cold February wind is kissing your cheeks that you dare to look over at him. He's looking back at the club, eyes narrowed.

"How long?" he asks quietly.

"Barely even ten minutes," you half lie. "Really. He didn't do anything until you showed up, I promise."

You tug at his hand. "It's late. Let's go home, please?"

He finally looks at you, eyes flat and face blank. That scares you even worse than if he was frothing at the mouth and swearing.

"Alright," he says mechanically, "Let's go home."

Usually you take the train to work or he drives you. So when he starts walking, you don't immediately realise the streets are all wrong. His car is nowhere to be seen.

Even though Spring isn't that far off, this late at night the city is still icy. You wrap your arms around yourself and it doesn't take him long to notice.

"Koko. Kore o kite kudasai. [Here. Wear this]." He pulls off his suit jacket and drapes it across your shoulders. It smells like him - cologne and cigarettes. You aren't sure when, but at some point that scent became the one you associated with safety, with home.

It's quiet. You can't exactly ask him what work he did while he was gone and you most definitely aren't going to mention the club again.

He's the one who finally breaks the silence. "Purezento o moraimashita. [I got you a present]."

He did mention that earlier.

"Can I guess what it is?"

That earns you a half smile."Mochiron. [Sure]."

"Chocolate."

"No. Not this time."

"Hmm... Flowers?"

"They make you sneeze."

True. But what else would he have bought you for Valentine's?

"A puppy?"

He doesn't immediately reply. Eventually, "I really didn't think about that one. Do you...want a puppy?"

You first instinct is to say yes. Who wouldn't want a puppy? Despite having him, your brother, and your friends from the club, Japan is still a lonely place for you. A puppy would remind you of home.

But it would also make Japan your new home. In a way you aren't sure you want. In your mind, it still feels like you'll leave soon, be gone next week or next month, when this debt issue is settled. Even your boyfriend feels temporary. This isn't your country.

"No," you say eventually, "Not yet."

He must be thinking along the same lines as you because at your reply, his smile thins and he looks away from you.

"Nande ya, ano ko ni inu demo kattaro ka. Muriyari ore to ora setaru wa. [Shoulda got her a damn puppy. Force her to stay with me]."

You don't understand Japanese well enough to understand him when he changes his dialect. He manages a smile.

"Not a puppy either. Do you give up?"

You hate losing. You pull his jacket tighter around yourself. "...Yeah I give up."

He slows to a stop."Mewotojite. [Close your eyes]."

He takes your hand in his and lays something in your palm. You open your eyes to see a diamond necklace on a bed on midnight blue velvet. And it's definitely diamond - even in the neon soaked streets of the Red Light District, it sparkles. You gasp.

You're almost scared to touch it. It looks beyond expensive. Like something you pass in a store window and tell yourself maybe someday.

"You like it?"

You look up at him, eyes wide. "It's incredible. I've never... I've never owned something this beautiful."

He looks beyond smug. He plucks it out of the box and in one smooth move has it around your throat. His fingers brush the nape of your neck as he fastens the clip.

If you were on you own, you'd never dare to wear it out on the street. But only a colossal idiot would try and grab it off your neck when there was an armed yakuza right next to you. You shouldn't feel safer in the company of a criminal, but you do. God help you, you do.

He presses a kiss against your temple."Watashi no gārufurendo ni totte saikō no mono dake.[Only the best for my girl]."

It scares you a little - how much he's willing to spend on you. How are you supposed to repay a gift like this?

"Ie ni kaerimashou.[Let's go home]," he coos in your ear.

You laugh and loop your arm through his. "Want me to show you exactly how much I love my gift?"

"Yes." His voice is low and almost strained. "God yes."

It's only when you're halfway down the street that you remember you have something for him too.

"Oh! I almost forgot!" you spin away from him and dig through your handbag. "Ta-da! A hostess at work was telling me that it's usually the girls who give gifts on Valentine's."

You hand over the chocolate you bought him. It's a thick slab with Turkish delight in the centre. You've stuck a plethora of pink and red hearts to the box, each one with a sappy little quote in the centre.

You feel a little silly giving a gift like this to a yakuza of all people. But you also want to do something for your boyfriend, even if it is sickeningly romantic.

You picked up on him liking Turkish delight when your brother bought you a box, and it was mysteriously empty when you got home that day. Your yakuza claimed he didn't touch it, but he tasted suspiciously like rose candy when you kissed him.

He takes it from you carefully. "For me?"

You stand on your toes and loop your arms around his neck.

"Will you be my Valentine?"

He's quiet for a moment or two, looking at you like he just can't understand you. Finally, he pulls you into him and buries his face in your neck. He takes a deep breath, but when he speaks his voice is just a bit unsteady.

"Of course I'll be yours. Ore wa zutto omae no mon'ya de. [I'll always be yours.]"

A man with a rap sheet as long as a CVS receipt, and somehow he's yours.

You pull him closer against you. "Thank you. For taking care of me. For helping me out when you had no reason to."

He hums quietly against your neck. "Nan demo surude, honma ni nan demo. [I'll do anything for you. Anything]."

He pulls away and something in his face tells you he's just had an idea. He peels the hearts off the box and carefully folds them into his pocket. He breaks off a piece of chocolate and holds it up to your mouth.

You're immediately suspicious of the smirk on his face, but you oblige and let him prop the chocolate between your lips. He leaves a piece sticking out of your mouth and before you can bite it off, he leans forward and does it for you. His hand slips around the nape of your neck to keep you still.

His lips barely brush yours.

He pulls away looking extremely satisfied. You've kissed him so many times already but your heart doesn't care. You can hear your blood rushing through your ears.

"Sweet," he runs his thumb across your bottom lip and then presses it against his tongue. "Just how I like it."

Damn him for a devil and a half. It's so totally unfair how giddy and nervous he makes you feel.

He nods at the building behind you. "Good thing we're already home."

"Home?" Is this his apartment? He never brings you to his apartment.

He leads you to the elevator and to your surprise has to use a key card to access the highest floor. The buildings in this part of town are cramped for space but when the elevator dings open, it does so in a broad corridor lined with heavy doors. He must be earning much more than you realised, to have a place like this.

He pauses on the threshold.

"Gotta carry you in. It's tradition."

"Only if we're newlyweds."

"Not true," He blatantly lies, hands drifting down your back. "Brings you luck for the rest of the year."

Before you can object, he sweeps his arm under your knees and scoops you up bridal style.

"Risuku wa toritakunai de. Un wa zenbu hoshī wa. [Not taking any chances. I want all the luck I can get]."

You don't get to see much of his loft-style apartment before he drops you on his bed. One knee already pressing into the mattress next to your waist.

He drops his head down to kiss the column of your throat.

"You'll be wearing nothing except your necklace when I'm done with you," he promises, voice already dropping to a slurred, needy growl.

Oh my. That's a new one. And you always took him for the lacy lingerie type.

You tug at his shirt but with one twist of his hand, he catches both your wrists. "No. You first."

"Impatient aren't we?"

His hands are already skimming down your back and unzipping your dress.

"Oh you have no idea how patient I'm being."

His lips dip past your collarbones and then lower still. You arch against his chest, breathless.

At the last second he pulls away. You practically whine.

"Move in with me."

You blink. "What?" Is he really asking you this while you're in your bra and panties? And when there are much better things to do with his mouth?

"You heard me. Maiban beddoni ite hoshī. [I want you in my bed everynight]."

You frown. Wouldn't it be dangerous? More dangerous than working in a yakuza club and sharing his bed already was?

His grip on you tightens. He isn't smiling anymore. "You're my girl. You should stay with me. Not your brother. And sure as hell not on your own."

"I-"

He slides down your body until his head is between your thighs. "Good. I'll get someone to move your things tomorrow."

"Wait, I didn't say -" He does something with his tongue that makes you gasp and arch your back.

"No more objections?" he mocks. You're too breathless to answer.

"Ēyan. Kikitakatta kotoya wa. [Good. Just what I want to hear]."

He's awake long before sunrise. You're still curled under his sheets, lovebites littered across your neck.

He didn't give you a chance to notice them last night, but there's a bouquet of roses waiting for you on the nightstand.

He leans in the balcony door, cigarette smoke curling between his teeth. Just watching you.

His girl. His to touch. His to have. His to hold and keep.

Do you have any idea how lucky you are that it was him you ran into that night? If it was anyone else sent to collect your brother's debt, they'd have just left you to drown under the mountain of interest. Let it get so bad that you couldn't possibly pay your way out and then offer you a job at a soapland. Hell, that was his plan too when he first laid eyes on you. Pretty thing like you would have made a fortune as a yūjo.

But then you went and made him fall for you. It's selfish of him to want you. He knows it's dangerous to have you on his arm. That blonde bastard from last night was proof enough. He knows, and still...

You can't expect a criminal to be selfless. You can't show him something precious and expect him to let it go.

"My girl." He exhales a cloud of smoke and leans his head back. "Gonna make you my wife someday. You just don't know it yet."

[kay-jay-self-shipping]

Okay, I'm doing this with 03 and 04, so are there romantic gestures my OCs love and hate. I'll even do this for their canon love interests too!

Orochimaru x Kaede

03: Romantic Gestures They Love

Orochimaru loves it when Kaede becomes submissive to his touch. Given her antagonistic attitude, he knows whenever she gives herself to him, she is showing him the trust she has in him, and it brings forth a carnal desire he can never satisfy.

Kaede loves it when Orochimaru will show he cares in small, barely noticeable ways. Is there a book Kaede wants, even if it's that dreaded Icha-Icha novel? She'll find it on her bed one day with no note or mention of who got it for her. Does she need a hug after a horrible evening? Orochimaru will summon her to his chamber and rest her head on his chest without a word. Regardless of the action, she adores this small, secret side of him no one else sees.

04: Romantic Gestures They Hate

Orochimaru is not a hopeless romantic, he hates overly fond gestures and lovey-dovey behaviour as a whole. He thanks his lucky stars daily that Kaede doesn't tell him "I love you" or shower him in sickening affection.

Kaede hates false gestures. If you make a promise to go for a walk with her, you better keep to that promise. She had a husband once who swore to love her forever, but he lied, so false promises and affections are a deal-breaker for her. Thankfully with Orochimaru, he's pretty bluntly honest and despite his sinister nature, he keeps to his promises pretty damn well!

Lotor x Ziera

03: Romantic Gestures They Love

Lotor adores it when his partner is feeling particularly affectionate or giving him sweet words of praise. He spent his entire life in an environment void of love, and to hear Ziera gently kiss his cheek and wish him a wonderful day has his heart soaring more than it really should.

Ziera adores it when Lotor simply holds her hand or turns around to curl up against her when they sleep. She is an alien that shares many traits with felines, so the warmth and security Lotor gives her in those moments mean more to her than any gift ever could.

04: Romantic Gestures They Hate

Lotor is like Kaede, he hates false promises or fake love. He wants a partner that truly loves him for who he is, and wishes to spend their life with him. Even when Ziera lost her memories, but was told she had dated him previously, she refused to start a relationship with him until she remembered and reciprocated his affections, and he just fell in love with her more for it.

Ziera cannot stand extravagant gifts or over-the-top displays of affection. She'd rather be given a tool-kit to craft her own ship, than be given the best fighter jet within the Galra Empire. Thankfully, Lotor understood this about her before they even started dating, so when he intends to get her a gift, he keeps her love for building and hatred for over-spending in mind. To date, the most expensive things he's bought her are top-of-the-line tools, and the pendant she wears around her neck.

Mereoleona x Lucia

03: Romantic Gestures They Love

Mereoleona is a physical person, actions always speak louder than words for her, and the same can be said romantically too. She loves it when Lucia will step out of her comfort zone to initiate any kind of affection, and while she teases the cold woman for it, she reciprocates with her usual burst of boisterous energy.

Lucia is a simple woman who likes spending time with her partner above all else. Thankfully Mereoleona made it a habit to lower her 300 day training trips to a more manageable 259 training trip, giving them a nice two months of time together. Hell, on the off chance Mereoleona needs to go away for longer, sometimes Lucia will join her.

04: Romantic Gestures They Hate

Mereoleona hates it when people say they love each other too much. It feels false and it's annoying. It was one of the reasons she and Lucia gelled together well when they started dating, because Lucia made it VERY clear she wasn't the type to share her feelings often, but did like to show it with small acts of kindness.

Lucia is pretty much the same as Mereoleona, she hates it when people express their feelings too often. It gives the word less value and feels more like a mark of ownership rather than an admittance of adoration. Luckily Mereo is more of an actions-speak-louder kind of woman, and she finds the more simple affections such as a kiss or holding hands to be far more comfortable.

Piers x Thorn

03: Romantic Gestures They Love

Piers loves it when his partner spends time with him, whether they're cuddles up watching movies on his Rotom Phone, or chatting while one of them is practicing their instruments and the other is cleaning their house, it's makes him feel at ease. Thorn is definitely more bold in her affections than he'd like, but she knows when a simple and silent form of affection is more appropriate, and he loves that about her.

Thorn loves it when her partner tries to get into her interests, even if its something as silly as trying her favourite dish. Piers is a shy bean, yes, but if it's in the comfort of her or his home, he'll probably become curious about her newest intrustment or latest obsession and try to get into it himself. Plus, it's cute when he tries a new food and his face scrunched up when he doesn't like it. Oh well, he tried at least~!

04: Romantic Gestures They Hate

Piers is not into extreme PDA or exaggerated displays of affection. He is a shy man and prefers to keep his loving kisses and hugs inside the home where they can be enjoyed in peace. Thorn sometimes messes with him by holding his hand in public, but honestly... that's the only one he's fine with. However, if she kisses him, he will turn beet red and glare at her as she laughs. (He reminds himself often that he loves her.)

Thorn is a pretty chill person, overall. She's not one to despise any form of gesture or action her partner does. But if she had to pick one, it would be false affection. Her parents were obsessed with their image to the point of destroying her life until she left home, she doesn't want to pretend to be someone she's not for anyone else. Thankfully, Piers is a wholesome and genuine person, so she knows she's not going to run into that issue anytime soon.

Leona x Danika

03: Romantic Gestures They Love

Leona LOVES physical affection from his partner. Given he's a lion beastman, it makes sense that he'd love a nap with his lover more than anything else. Danika, being a quiet, and generally introverted person makes his desire to nap with her just soar through the roof, because more often than not, she's down to snooze the day away with him.

Danika is a sucker for praise and loving words, she spent her whole life being hated by those in her hometown, so to know someone actually loves her makes her day just a little brighter. Leona still has to work on this sadly, but even if he flops, when he sends her a text later that says "I guess I was an asshole before, huh? Look, I love you, so get back here so I can make it up to you, my needy little Raven." It makes her heart swell.

04: Romantic Gestures They Hate

Leona hates it when people try to buy his affection with gifts. He's a prince, for f*ck's sake, he has far too much money as it is! Buying him things does nothing for him. Oddly though, when Danika gifts him a gemstone from her collection, he cannot bring himself to hate it, given each of her gems hold a special meaning for her. She wasn't giving him an expensive gift, but a piece of her heart in crystal form.

Danika hates dramatic displays of affection, such as exaggerated terms of affection or loud, uncomfortable dating scenes that seem more like a flex than an actual date itself. Thank God, Leona is more of a 'walk in the gardens' or 'quality time at home' kind of guy. She knows she lucked out with him, and enjoys every moment she spends in his arms, asleep.

Aaravos x Nymera

03: Romantic Gestures They Love

Aaravos enjoys simply spending time with his partner, be it in public or in private, he just adores being in their presence. He also has an almost desperate desire to be in their arms, given he was trapped in a pearl for three centuries. Nymera is more than happy to accommodate him in both company and her arms.

Nymera is the same as Aaravos, though her's also stems a bit more towards words of gentle love as well. She has been alone for most of her life, and to hear that someone adores spending time with her, and then see it in action makes her feel like she finally found her true home. Aaravos is more than willing to share his feelings for her, whether from across the room or in her arms. Plus she loves his voice and turns a cute shade of pink whenever he compliments her, so it's a win-win!

04: Romantic Gestures They Hate

Aaravos hates false promises and affections. A person he cared for as a student once tricked him by pretending to be his friend, which lead to his imprisonment. After such a harrowing time spent seething behind glass, he just wants to know that he can trust his partner. Nymera is unable to hide her true emotions, and a terrible liar, so he knows each and every one of her affections are genuine, and he loves her all the more for it.

Nymera also shares this with Aaravos. Though she has to admit, she's never experienced it. Thankfully everyone she met openly hated her, so she never had to worry about if they were being genuine or not. Aaravos may have started out by manipulating her, but seeing his soft smile whenever he thinks she doesn't notice, lets her know just how genuine his feelings are now, and she knows she loves him just as much.

Vax'ildan x Kadorya

03: Romantic Gestures They Love

EVERYTHING, Vax is a wholesome bean who is simply happy being in his partner's presence. Do they want a hug? Done! Do they want to sit in silence for a while? He's there, holding their hand and relaxing in peaceful serenity. Ryah knows he's utterly smitten when no matter what she suggests they do, he's down to try it! (Poor man would walk into a horror attraction to see her smile, and will regret it later, at least until Ryah rests his head in her lap and strokes his hair, then it was worth it.)

Ryah adores quality time with her lover and physical affection over everything else. She tends to bake a lot, so having a pair of arms wrap around her from behind and simply exist within her space makes her heart swell with love. Vax has startled her a few times with this, but the smile she gives him as she's playfully scolding him assures him that if he were to stop, she'd be upset about it.

04: Romantic Gestures They Hate

I know this is probably obvious, but he can't stand fake relationships and affections. He adores his partner, through and through, so if he were to find out they never truly felt the same, it would shatter his heart completely. While Ryah made him believe she didn't feel the same at first, he was relieved to know she was simply trying to spare him the pain of her inevitable death, it took some time for him to convince her that he would take every second he could with her, over never loving her in the first place. Now, she cannot express in words just how much she adores him.

Ryah hates extravagant gifts, she carries what she needs for her travels and that's it. While she will enjoy the occasional gift, no matter the price, if someone shoved an expensive gift in her face again and again, she would quickly grow uncomfortable. Vax may get her a surprise gift or two while they're travelling, but he knows her by now and is more than content giving her a rare ingredient for her baking, or a simple wildflower he found that would look amazing in her hair.

There we are, that's all of them! I hope none of these are OOC, and I apologize that most of them are similar to the others, but I genuinely can't imagine anything else for them. Maybe I'm tired, or maybe I'm firm on the kind of relationships they have, who knows?

If you guys think they'd act differently with a partner, let me know, I'd love to hear how they'd act with you or an OC of yours!

Lovey Dovey OC Development Prompts

Here’s a lil’ somethin’ somethin’ for you all on this corporate holiday! You can fill this out on your own, or you can ask your followers to send you numbers! (Oh, and remember that the real holiday is tomorrow, when all the holiday candy is discounted.) Have fun!

♥ (01) Is your OC in love? If so, with whom, and for how long? ♥ (02) Does another OC love your OC? If so, whom, and does your OC know? ♥ (03) Are there any romantic gestures that your OC loves? ♥ (04) Are there any romantic gestures that your OC hates? ♥ (05) What is the most romantic thing your OC has done for someone else? ♥ (06) What is the most romantic thing that has been done for your OC? ♥ (07) How successful is your OC at flirting with others? ♥ (08) What is your OC’s dream marriage proposal? ♥ (09) What is your OC’s favorite small way to show their love? ♥ (10) What is your OC’s favorite big way to show their love? ♥ (11) What do others love most about your OC? ♥ (12) What do you love most about your OC? ♥ (13) How does your OC show their love to those that are not their partner(s)? ♥ (14) Does your OC have any romantic traditions? ♥ (15) What is your OC’s favorite type of Valentine’s Day candy? ♥ (16) What is your OC’s ideal first date? ♥ (17) Could your OC fall in love with someone they’ve never met in person? ♥ (18) Does your OC have a “type”? ♥ (19) How highly does your OC value love (platonic, romantic, or otherwise)? ♥ (20) How does your OC feel about public displays of affection? ♥ (21) Does your OC believe in love at first sight? ♥ (22) How often does your OC read romantic literature? ♥ (23) What is your OC’s favorite nice thing to do for themselves? ♥ (24) How does your OC determine that they’re attracted to someone? ♥ (25) Does your OC believe in soulmates? ♥ (26) Is your OC ever the first to say “I love you”? ♥ (27) How does your OC typically spend their Valentine’s Day? ♥ (28) What is something unconventional that your OC thinks is romantic? ♥ (29) What is your OC’s favorite love song? ♥ (30) What is your OC’s favorite romantic movie?

[puppym3]

felix x reader ─── two-time thing

synopsis - after everything that happened last time, you couldn't bare to see him face-to-face, but after restless nights and finding him in your dreams, you made it to his bed.

wc: 9.1k

silly tags: MDNI! 18+, bsf!felix, afab!reader, definitely pining, angst, questionable dreams, idiots to (eventually) lovers, realization of feelings, awkwardness, other members appear, pt 3 will come!!, pt 1 for recap -> here

MDNI!! smut warnings under cut!!

WARNINGS: smut, lots of kissing, lowkey dry-humping, grinding, masturbation (m. rec), hair pulling, handjob, a lot of sounds are made

Fight or flight? No doubt you chose flight.

You weren't sure how long you stayed in your room, but the tension was so thick throughout the entire house that you couldn't dare to step out of your comfort place.

Embarrassment clung to your skin like a second layer, suffocating and unrelenting. You, too mortified to face reality, had trapped yourself in your room.

Your friends had noticed, of course. You couldn’t completely cut yourself off without them catching on, especially when meals became a problem. The reliance on others for basic needs was humiliating, but the thought of stepping outside your self-imposed prison made your stomach churn.

Chan, ever the nurturing friend, complied without question at first, bringing you food with a furrowed brow and soft reminders. “You’re gonna get sick if you stay in here,” he’d say gently, setting the plate on your desk before retreating without prying too much- though the concern in his eyes lingered long after he left.

Lee Know, on the other hand, was less forgiving. When you’d sheepishly asked him through text for a favor, he left you on read without a single reply. The message was clear: get your act together.

Then there were Seungmin and Han. Unlike the others, they weren’t content to just drop off food and go. Seungmin, sharp-eyed and intuitive, had crossed his arms and leaned against your doorframe one afternoon, his voice tinged with amusement but lined with curiosity. “You wanna tell me what’s really going on?” he’d asked, his tone deceptively casual. When you shook your head, he’d sighed dramatically. “You’re lucky I’m nice.”

Han was less subtle. He’d plopped down outside your door once, knocking rhythmically until you opened up just a crack. “C’mon,” he coaxed, grinning mischievously. “Whatever happened can’t be that bad. Spill it.” You’d slammed the door in his face before he could say more, your face burning.

But tonight was different.

"So you like pulling hair, hm?" A deep voice drawled, the words barely a whisper before the tug on your hair sent a jolt through your entire body.

Your knees hit the floor, the sharp sting of the impact radiating through your legs, but it was nothing compared to the scorching heat that coursed through your veins. Felix stood above you, his dark eyes gleaming with an amusement that made your pulse quicken. His hand remained in your hair, pulling your head back with an ease that made you feel entirely at his mercy.

"Tell me, is that all you want from me?" His voice was low, teasing, almost dangerous. The question lingered in the air, thick and charged, as if daring you to admit something you weren’t sure you wanted to say.

You wanted to answer, wanted to insist that wasn’t the case at all. You couldn’t think like this about Felix. He was your best friend. He always had been. But the words stuck in your throat, none of the words formed in your head being able to come out. Instead, a single, breathless "Yes" escaped, and it felt like your whole world tilted.

"If I’d known sooner," Felix murmured, his breath ghosting against your ear, "I would've just given you what you wanted right away. Saved us both the trouble, huh?"

Heat flushed your skin. Shame mixed with something more dangerous, as his words settled into your chest like a weight. The rough pull on your hair made your breath catch. He didn’t have to speak again for you to understand the power he wielded over you in that moment.

"You thought you could hide it, didn’t you? Pervert."

The word hit like a slap, but it only stoked the fire burning deep inside you, a dangerous mixture of arousal and guilt. The feeling was intoxicating, suffocating, leaving you dizzy.

Your eyes flew open, your body jerking awake with a gasp as if you'd just surfaced from deep water. The darkness of your room enveloped you, but it did little to soothe the wild thrum in your chest. Your skin was sticky with sweat, the sheets clinging to you in uncomfortable heat.

Felix’s voice lingered in your ears, a faint whisper that refused to leave you. The echo of his touch, his hand in your hair, was still present, the warmth of it searing your scalp and making your body ache in places you didn’t want to acknowledge.

What the hell?

Your heart hammered in your chest, too fast, too loud. You couldn’t get his words out of your head: Pervert. The way he had looked down at you, amused, like he knew exactly what you were feeling. The power, the control. It was all wrong, and yet the heat between your legs told a different story.

"God," you whispered hoarsely, your body betraying you as you squeezed your thighs together, trying in vain to will the ache away. It was irrational, unwanted, but you couldn’t stop it. You couldn’t stop thinking about Felix. Your best friend.

You shifted in the bed, throwing an arm over your face in a feeble attempt to block it all out. This was all your mind playing tricks on you. Your subconscious messing with you because of that stupid night, the one when you'd been curled up against him, your fingers brushing through his hair absently. The sound he made when you tugged at the strands had been so soft, so unexpected, that it had sent a bolt of heat straight to your core.

You hadn’t meant to pull his hair. You hadn’t meant to like it. You hadn’t meant for anything that followed to happen, either. But there was only so long you could tell yourself it was a mistake before it stopped feeling like one.

That night. That night when you’d asked- no, pleaded with him to let you watch. It had been an accident, a slip of the tongue, a momentary lapse in judgment. But it wasn’t just a mistake.

It wasn’t just one.

That was the part that made your chest tight with panic, the feeling that it had already happened once, and now you couldn’t stop thinking about it.

No. You wouldn’t let yourself do this again. You couldn’t.

It was just a dream, you repeated aloud, as if saying the words would make them true. Just a dream.

But even as the words left your lips, you knew they didn’t make sense. The ache, the heat, the guilt, they were real, and they felt dangerously real.

Just a dream.

-

You tried. You really did.

You buried yourself under your blankets, squeezed your eyes shut, and willed your mind to drift anywhere but back to him- to Felix’s voice, his touch, the ghost of his breath against your skin. But the harder you tried to suppress it, the more it clawed its way to the surface, relentless and consuming.

Sleep wouldn’t come. It never did on nights like this.

You rolled onto your side, gripping the sheets in frustration, your heart still unsteady. The dreams had unsettled you in ways you weren’t ready to confront. It wasn’t just the weight of his words, the way they had sent a shiver down your spine, it was everything else. The longing. The loss. The quiet, aching realization that you missed him.

Not just his touch, not just the confusing way your body had responded to him in your dream. You missed him.

His laugh would make his eyes sparkle, and always broke through the heaviest of silences. The way he clung to you without hesitation, throwing his arms around your shoulders or draping himself over you like it was second nature. You used to roll your eyes, shove him off playfully, but now? Now you felt cold without the weight of him, without the warmth of his presence filling the space beside you.

And you’d been avoiding him.

You’d kept your distance, hoping that space would clear your head, but it only made it worse. The days felt empty without his voice in them, without his brightness cutting through your usual gloom. Now everything seemed unbearably quiet.

A choked sound slipped past your lips before you even realized you were crying.

Hot tears rolled down your cheeks, and you curled into yourself, gripping the pillow like it could somehow fill the space Felix left behind. You felt stupid. Weak. But no matter how hard you tried to push the feeling down, it only swelled, filling your chest with a pressure you couldn’t escape.

You missed him. You missed him so much it hurt.

You hated this. You hated yourself for feeling this way, for wanting him so badly when you weren’t even sure what it was you wanted. For running away when all you really wanted to do was run straight to him.

Why couldn't you have just said nothing that day? Why did you have to make a mess of things and then disappear? Why did you have to ruin everything with a few stupid words?

"Lixie..."

Your voice sounded foreign to your own ears, the words a strained, choked whisper.

"I miss you."

-

The next morning, the sky was overcast, threatening rain. A dull grey had settled over the world, the clouds hanging low in the sky, the air heavy and damp.

You couldn’t bring yourself to care.

You were exhausted, having barely slept a wink, and the last thing you wanted to do was get up.

But there was a nagging sense of guilt, a persistent feeling that you should at least try. So, with great effort, you dragged yourself out of bed.

The house was quiet, the silence broken only by the distant patter of rain against the window. The kitchen was empty, the countertop clean and bare, as if nobody had touched it.

You stood in the empty kitchen, fingers ghosting over the cold countertop. The house was eerily still. No clatter of dishes, no muffled voices from the other rooms, no muffled music playing through the walls, nothing.

Felix wasn’t here.

Your feet moved before your mind caught up.

The hallway was dim, the soft patter of rain against the windows the only sound accompanying you as you stopped in front of his door. It was cracked open, just enough for you to push it the rest of the way without much effort.

The moment you stepped inside, his scent wrapped around you.

Warm, familiar, Felix.

A mix of something subtly sweet; maybe vanilla, and the faint trace of his cologne. It was so distinctly him that your chest tightened painfully, a strange feeling simmering under your skin.

Your gaze drifted over the room, taking in the familiar chaos. His desk was cluttered, papers scattered haphazardly, some crumpled at the edges like he’d been frustrated while working. His PC sat idle, a dark screen reflecting the dim light filtering in through the rain-streaked window.

And your eyes roamed to the other side, you saw them.

An array of different kinds of photos all together on his desk.

Your breath caught as you stepped closer, fingers hesitantly brushing over the small collection of photos.

It was you. Both of you.

Photos you don't even remember taking, one of you and him dressed for a formal night, a photo strip you guys took at a mall together, a picture of you sleeping on him.

He had kept these.

You swallowed hard, a wave of something you didn’t know how to name crashing over you. You didn't know what this meant right now, sure, it was normal to keep photos of your friends, but so close to his desk? A place he spends a lot of his time at?

Slowly, you turned away from the desk, eyes landing on his bed. The blanket on his mattress was messy, like he’d left in a hurry, and the sight of them made your stomach twist.

You shouldn’t. And you knew you shouldn’t.

But the weight of everything was too much, the pull of him too strong. Before you could second-guess yourself, you were crawling into his bed, sinking into the warmth of his space, his scent enveloping you completely.

Had he been sleeping well? Hopefully, he had some peace at night compared to you.

Or did he spend his nights thinking of you as well? Did he miss you too?

Did he stare at your photos until his eyes started to hurt, and then close them, wishing he could fall asleep and see you instead of the back of his eyelids?

Was it wrong to imagine him like this? To think about him the same way he had thought about you?

You weren’t sure. Maybe, probably, definitely.

But in the safety of his room, surrounded by his scent, the thought was too tempting to ignore.

Felix was your best friend. He had been since forever. And yet, you couldn’t help but think about him like this. The way he had looked at you, the way his fingers had curled around your chin, his gaze focused on you. The way his breath had hitched, the way he had pulled his lower lip between his teeth. The way his cheeks flushed.

He was beautiful. You knew that, you always had, but the thought never felt this... dangerous.

And he had looked at you. Just, only at you.

Like you were the only thing he could see. Like you were the only thing that mattered. Like he wanted to devour you, and it scared the shit out of you.

It was stupid. Irrational.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his sheets, his scent overwhelming you in the best and worst way possible. It made your skin burn, your stomach twist, your mind spiral into places you shouldn’t let it go.

It wasn’t just missing him anymore.

It was wanting him.

The weight of it pressed down on you, suffocating in its intensity. You squeezed your eyes shut, biting down on your lip, desperately trying to will the feeling away. But it was useless.

You could still feel the ghost of his touch, the way his fingers had brushed against your skin, the way he had looked at you, really looked at you. Not as a friend. Not as someone he’d known forever. But as something else. Something more.

The memory of it sent a shiver down your spine.

Your thighs pressed together involuntarily, but it only made things worse. The ache was unbearable, sharp and all-consuming. Your body was betraying you, responding to something you weren’t ready to admit to yourself.

You let out a shaky breath, barely a whimper, and before you could stop it, a sob ripped through your chest.

Tears burned hot as they slid down your cheeks, frustration and guilt tangling into something unbearable. What was wrong with you? Why were you like this? Why did you have to ruin everything by feeling this way?

Felix was your best friend. Your best friend.

And yet, here you were, crying into his pillow because you wanted him so badly it hurt.

The sound of the door creaking open barely registered at first.

"Y/N?"

You froze.

The sound of Felix’s voice cut through the haze of your emotions like a blade, sharp and inescapable. It shouldn’t have been this way. You shouldn’t be in his bed, gripping his sheets like they were the only thing tethering you to the world. You shouldn’t be crying over him, missing him so desperately that it physically hurt.

You shouldn’t want him.

But you did.

And now, standing at the foot of the bed, Felix was looking at you, really looking at you, his damp hair from the rain clinging to his forehead, his lips slightly parted in shock. His eyes, warm and deep, flickered with too many emotions to decipher.

“Shit,” he breathed.

His voice was unsteady, like he wasn’t sure what to say, like he was trying to understand why you were here, curled up in his sheets, looking at him like he was the only thing keeping you from shattering completely.

He said your name again, softer this time, laced with concern.

You forced yourself to sit up, your fingers trembling as you swiped at your tear-streaked cheeks. The weight of his stare was suffocating. What are you even supposed to say? That you missed him? That you had spent nights aching for him, haunted by the way he used to fit into your life, into your space, into you?

You swallowed hard, voice barely a whisper. "Sorry."

Felix’s brows furrowed. That was the last thing he expected you to say.

“What are you doing here?” His voice was quiet, but there was something else beneath it. Something careful. Something dangerous.

You hesitated. “I… I was looking for you.”

It wasn’t a lie. But it wasn’t the whole truth either.

Felix’s expression softened, his sharp features easing into something more familiar, something more him. He took a step closer, then another, hesitance flickering in his eyes like he was afraid you might bolt.

You didn’t.

Instead, you stayed still as he slowly, cautiously, sat down on the edge of the bed beside you.

The space between you was barely there, just inches separating your leg from his, the warmth of him reaching you before his touch did. The tension was suffocating, thick enough to drown in. It was the closest you had been to him in weeks, and the reality of it sent your pulse into a dizzying rhythm.

"Y/N…"

The way he said your name; gentle, almost pleading, made something inside you splinter.

He turned his body toward you, leaning in slightly, his voice softer than the rain against the window. “Are you okay?”

You wished he hadn’t asked.

The moment the words left his lips, something inside you gave way, cracking under the weight of everything you’d been holding back.

You squeezed your eyes shut, but it was useless. The flood was already coming.

A choked sob tore from your throat, your body betraying you as fresh tears spilled down your cheeks. You shook your head, barely able to breathe through the tightness in your chest.

“No,” you whispered, broken and raw.

And then Felix moved. No hesitation as he reached for you, pulling you against him in one fluid motion, his arms wrapping around you in a way that felt effortless. Like this is where you were meant to be.

His warmth consumed you instantly, the steady rise and fall of his chest grounding you even as your own breath came out uneven and shaky. He smelled like rain and something distinctly him, vanilla, musk, and home, it made your head spin.

You clung to him, your fingers gripping the fabric of his hoodie like he might disappear if you let go. You buried your face into the crook of his neck, his skin warm against your cheek. The scent of him, the weight of his arms around you, it was everything you had missed, everything you had craved but refused to admit.

Felix let out a breath against your hair, his grip tightening, his fingers tracing slow, soothing circles against your back. But you could feel it, the way his heartbeat wasn’t steady, the way his own breath was just slightly uneven.

Was he feeling this too?

Was this affecting him the way it was breaking you apart?

"Lix…" Your voice came out in a desperate whisper, muffled against his skin.

His arms flexed around you, just for a second.

"Don't-" he sighed, his tone heavy with something you couldn't quite place, "-don't say anything now."

He sounded tired, almost resigned, like he had finally come to terms with something he couldn't fight.

"I want to be selfish for a moment," he said quietly, his words sending a shiver down your spine, "just for a little while."

Your heart thudded against your ribs, too fast, too loud, a painful reminder that this was real. That he was holding you, that he was whispering against your hair, that he was breathing in your scent, and god, this wasn't supposed to be this way.

It wasn't supposed to be this painful.

You closed your eyes, willing yourself not to let more tears fall, not now, not when you were already clinging to him like a lifeline.

You weren't sure how long the two of you stayed like that, tangled in each other's arms, his hands tracing patterns against your back.

The rain continued to fall, a soft patter against the windows. The faint glow of the sky had shifted, the grey giving way to a warm orange hue as the sun dipped below the horizon. You weren't quite sure what happened in that time, the exhaustion finally kept up to you and the feeling in his arms was too good, and soon, sleep was pulling you under.

But just before the darkness took over, Felix spoke again, so quietly you could barely hear it, his breath ghosting against the shell of your ear.

"I missed you, too."

-

The first thing you registered upon waking was warmth.

The steady rise and fall of a chest beneath your cheek lulling you into a state of half-consciousness. For a moment, you forgot where you were, caught in the hazy in-between of dreams and reality. Then, the scent of him filled your lungs, the slow, even heartbeat under your palm grounding you, and it all came rushing back.

You were in his bed.

Your breath hitched as the realization settled. He was still right next to you, you were still curled into him, his arms still loosely draped around you like he had never let go.

Maybe he hadn’t.

You barely dared to move, afraid of shattering whatever fragile moment this was. But the ache in your chest, the longing you had buried so deep, was unbearable. You wanted- no, needed to be closer. Just a little more.

Slowly, carefully, you shifted, nuzzling deeper into the crook of his neck, your nose brushing against his collarbone. His scent surrounded you, overwhelming and intoxicating, a cruel reminder of everything you had missed. Your fingers hesitated for only a second before they moved, ghosting along the hem of his hoodie before slipping underneath, meeting the warmth of his skin.

You could feel how he tensed under you.

It was barely perceptible, just the smallest hitch in his breath, the subtle tightening of his fingers against your waist. If you weren’t pressed against him, you might’ve missed it.

But you didn’t.

You stayed still for a moment, waiting. His breathing remained steady, deceptively even, as if he were still asleep. But you knew better. You knew him. The way his fingers twitched, the way his chest rose just a little too sharply, the way his lips were parted just so... it was all too careful.

Felix was awake.

But now, you couldn't afford to care. Your fingers, still under his hoodie, traced the bare skin of his stomach, featherlight, barely there. The muscles beneath your touch tensed slightly, his breath faltering for half a second before evening out again.

He was pretending.

You swallowed back a laugh, feeling emboldened by the way his body reacted despite his act. Slowly, you tilted your head up, your lips barely grazing the line of his jaw, soft and unintentional, or at least, that’s how you wanted it to seem. His Adam’s apple bobbed with a swallowed breath, and the smallest noise, something between a sigh and a hum, escaped his throat.

That was all the confirmation you needed.

“Felix,” you murmured against his skin, your voice low and sweet, testing, teasing.

His grip on your waist tightened, a fraction too firm, and this time, he didn’t bother to hide the way he inhaled sharply.

You smiled against his jaw. “Are you asleep?”

Nothing.

No response.

Just silence and the pounding of both your hearts in the space between you.

Your lips ghosted down, soft and unhurried, tracing the line of his throat. You could feel his pulse hammering beneath his skin, fast and uneven, betraying him in a way his stillness couldn’t. Your hand slid higher under his hoodie, your fingertips brushing over the warm planes of his abdomen, teasing along the defined lines.

Then, just as your lips met the sensitive spot where his neck met his shoulder, Felix finally broke.

A sharp inhale, a barely contained shudder, and then—

“Y/N.”

His voice was rough, breathless, like he had been holding it back for too long.

You pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, and he was staring back at you, heavy-lidded, filled with something unreadable yet entirely unmistakable. His lips were parted slightly, his breath uneven, and the way he was looking at you sent a shiver down your spine.

You felt him shift, his hand sliding up your back, his fingers grazing your skin beneath your shirt. His touch was deliberate, careful, like he was grounding himself. Or maybe grounding you.

“You knew,” you accused, voice barely above a whisper.

Felix’s lips curved into something dangerously close to a smirk, but there was something softer beneath it, something hesitant.

“Of course I knew,” he murmured, his thumb stroking absent patterns against your hip. “You’re not subtle.”

Heat curled low in your stomach, and you hated how easily he could turn the tables with just a look, a touch, a word.

His eyes flickered to your lips.

Your breath caught.

Then, so quietly you almost didn’t hear it, Felix whispered, “What are you doing?”

Your fingers curled against his chest, gripping his hoodie as if that would steady you. You didn’t have an answer. Or maybe, you had too many.

But right now, in this moment, none of them mattered.

Because all you could think about was how close he was, how his hand was splayed against your skin, how his lips were right there, and how neither of you seemed willing to pull away.

How easy it would be to just lean in.

Your breath trembled, shaky and desperate, as you leaned in, just enough for your lips to graze his, barely a whisper of a touch. But it was enough. The moment they made contact, a sharp, electric shiver shot down your spine, spreading heat through your entire body. Felix’s breath hitched, and for a fleeting second, he stayed still, holding his breath, as if unsure how to respond.

But the moment you started to pull back, his fingers dug into your hip, pulling you back toward him with a quiet urgency that sent your heart pounding. His lips parted, and the sound that escaped him; a relieved sigh, broke you completely. It was so raw, so needy, and it undid you in ways you hadn’t expected.

You couldn’t stop yourself. Your fingers found their way into his hair again, tugging gently, guiding him closer as you let him pull you in. The soft strands slipped through your fingers, and you could hear him, so close to you, making those quiet, broken, desperate sounds that made everything inside you burn. The heat in your stomach twisted, a knot of need that only seemed to grow tighter as his hand slid higher along your back, pulling you flush against him, pressing you harder into him like he couldn’t get enough.

The second kiss wasn’t tentative. It was hungry. A deep, urgent collision of lips and tongues, slow but with a hunger that left you both breathless. His lips moved against yours, teasing and tasting, savoring. When you sighed into him, something broke, both of you, releasing any last semblance of restraint.

His grip on you tightened, turning desperate, pulling you impossibly closer. His lips parted against yours, moving over you with an intensity that sent a wave of heat crashing over you. You moaned quietly, fingers framing his face, your thumbs brushing over his cheeks before your hands tangled deeper into his hair, tilting his head to deepen the kiss, to taste him, to lose yourself in him.

A low sound rumbled in his chest, raw and broken, as he exhaled shakily against your lips. His fingers slipped under your shirt, the warmth of his touch sending waves of fire over your skin as they traced the curve of your spine, leaving a trail of heated promises. You could feel him trembling beneath you, his body taut, his breath a shallow, uneven rhythm. He was barely holding back.

“Y/N,” he rasped, and the way he said your name; like it was the only tether keeping him grounded, sent a shiver straight through you.

Your breath came in sharp, uneven pulls, your mind spinning as you forced yourself to break away. Your forehead pressed against his, and for a brief moment, you tried to gather your thoughts, but the haze of heat clouded your mind, leaving nothing but need, nothing but him.

What the hell were you doing?

Felix was your best friend. Your sweet, goofy, sunshine of a best friend. But right now, there was nothing sweet or goofy about the way he looked at you.

You were now- somehow, straddling his lap, your fingers tangled in his hair, your lips swollen from his kisses. And Felix- Felix looked absolutely wrecked. His pupils were blown wide, his breath coming in shallow, uneven pants as he stared at you like he wasn’t sure if he was dreaming. His hoodie had slipped off one shoulder, exposing smooth skin, flushed with heat, and the sight of him like this; disheveled, desperate, waiting, had your stomach twisting with pure, aching want.

“Fuck.” The curse slipped out before you could stop it, your voice shaking with everything you were feeling. Because you knew.

You weren’t stopping.

His tongue flicked out to wet his lips, and that was it. That was all it took for the last fraying thread of restraint to snap.

You crashed into him, and he met you with just as much desperation.

The kiss was nothing like before. It was raw, all heat and hunger, lips moving together in a mess of gasps and teeth and need. His hands were on you in an instant, gripping your waist, sliding up beneath your shirt, fingers splayed across your back like he needed to feel every inch of your skin against his.

You gasped into his mouth, and the sound made him shudder beneath you, his nails pressing into your hips, pulling you impossibly closer. The friction sent a dizzying wave of heat through you, making your stomach tighten, making you crave more, more, more.

Your hands roamed, desperate to touch him, to make him fall apart beneath you. You dragged your nails lightly down his scalp, and the noise that left his lips; low, needy, wrecked, shot straight through you, pooling molten heat between your legs.

“Fuck, Felix,” you breathed against his lips, your voice barely a whisper, but he heard it. You knew he did, because he groaned, his hands gripping your waist harder, grinding up into you without thinking. The feeling of him beneath you, warm and hard and completely lost in you, sent a sharp thrill through your veins.

Your lips parted, and he took the opportunity, his tongue sliding against yours, deep and slow, tasting, savoring. The way he kissed you; like he was drowning in it, in you, had you whimpering into his mouth, had your fingers fisting his hoodie, holding on for dear life.

“Shit-” He pulled back just enough to breathe, but his forehead was still pressed against yours, his lips hovering over yours like he couldn’t bear to be too far away. His voice was hoarse, ruined, his breath warm and heavy against your mouth. “Y/N…”

He couldn't seem to say anything else.

You swallowed, the ache between your legs growing more insistent by the second. Your body was burning, aching for him, and the fact that he was so hard beneath you, grinding up into you without hesitation, only made it worse.

You could feel the way his body tensed, the way his hips moved against yours, slow, experimental. His breaths were coming out in shallow pants, his lips parted, and his expression... he looked completely and utterly wrecked.

Your heart stuttered as it hit you all at once.

This was why you had kept him at a distance, why you had refused to let yourself linger too long in the warmth of his presence, why you had forced yourself to ignore every stolen glance, every lingering touch.

The realization crashed into you, knocking the air from your lungs.

You liked him.

Not just as your best friend. Not just in the way you always told yourself was innocent. No, this was something deeper, something that had been simmering beneath the surface for longer than you cared to admit. And now, with him beneath you, his lips swollen, his breath ragged, his body trembling with want, you couldn’t deny it anymore.

Felix was wrecked. But so were you.

A shaky exhale fell from your lips. You didn't want to think. Not now, not when everything was falling apart. All you wanted, all you could think about, was him.

Felix was unraveling beneath you. And you, God, you weren’t any better.

His hands trembled against your skin, his grip on you tight, unrelenting, like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go. His chest rose and fell in uneven, ragged breaths, his swollen lips parted, so aching.

Your pulse thundered in your ears, it felt like your heart was working overtime—what you were feeling in other places wasn't any better. And yet, when you shifted in his lap, when you rolled your hips against him, just to see, just to feel, Felix gasped, his head tipping back, a low moan falling from his lips.

“Y/N-” His voice wavered, his fingers digging into your waist. “Fuck, don’t-”

He cut himself off with a shuddering breath, his body tensing, his eyes screwing shut. You feel him trembling beneath you as you did it again, slower this time, you could feel your clothed core rub against the length of him with an unhurried, intoxicating friction. It caused your swollen clit to drag deliciously against the fabric of both of your clothes, causing you to throw your head back.

His hands flew to your thighs, gripping hard, as if to steady himself. A sound tore from his throat, breathless and wrecked, somewhere between a groan and a whimper, so desperate it made your entire body burn. So deep that it brought a chill up and down each vertebra of your spine.

“Shit-” His fingers flexed against your skin, his breathing erratic. “I can’t- I can’t fucking think when you do that.”

The confession sent a heady rush through you, and made something dark and hungry curl in your stomach. You wanted more. You wanted to hear him fall apart even more. You leaned in, lips ghosting over his jaw, down the column of his throat, feeling the way his pulse pounded beneath your mouth.

A soft whine left his lips, his hips jerking up into yours without warning, and the feeling, the friction, had you moaning softly into his skin. His fingers gripped your thighs, digging into the soft flesh, and the slight sting, the thought of his grip leaving a mark had heat pooling low in your stomach.

A sharp knock at the door sent a jolt through both of you, the sound cutting through the thick haze of heat that had settled in the room.

“Felix?”

Chan’s voice was muffled through the wood, but it was clear, steady, completely unaware of the way you and Felix were currently tangled together, breathless and trembling.

Felix went rigid beneath you, fingers twitching against your thighs before they fell away entirely, like he’d just realized where they were. His wide, dazed eyes snapped up to yours, his expression shifting from desperate hunger to sheer panic in a matter of seconds.

You barely had time to process the loss of his touch before Chan spoke again.

“Have you seen Y/N?” A pause. “She wasn’t in her room when I checked, and I- oh, uh, I brought breakfast for everyone.”

Felix made a choked sound in the back of his throat, somewhere between a cough and a quiet curse.

Your stomach dropped.

Your face burned, your breath still coming in short, uneven pulls as reality came crashing back down on you.

Felix looked just as wrecked, just as breathless, his chest still heaving beneath you, lips swollen and parted like he was still stuck somewhere between the moment you’d shared and the one you were currently panicking through.

You had to move. You had to get up, act normal, open the door, something-

But then you shifted, and the second you felt the hard press of him against you, felt the way your own body was still burning from the friction of before, you realized something else entirely.

You couldn’t leave like this.

Felix must have come to the same realization at the same time, because his hands shot out, gripping your waist, holding you still before you could make it worse. His jaw clenched, his eyes screwing shut as he inhaled sharply through his nose, trying- failing to steady himself.

A quiet curse slipped from his lips.

You swallowed thickly, your heart hammering as Chan’s voice rang out again, a little more hesitant this time.

“Felix?”

Felix’s throat bobbed, his grip on you tightening for a fleeting moment before he forced himself to speak, voice hoarse and uneven.

“Uhm- yeah. Yeah, I’m here.”

There was a pause.

“…Are you okay?”

Felix glanced at you, but you felt like you were on fire.

“Yeah!” He cleared his throat, scrambling for composure, but the breathless edge to his voice betrayed him immediately.

Felix’s grip on your waist tightened, as if desperately begging you not to move.

Chan hummed on the other side of the door, completely oblivious. “Alright, well, hurry up and come eat. I got enough for everyone. And please- please," he paused for a moment, trying to find the right words, "just call Y/N, it's not good for either of you to keep fighting.”

A beat of silence. Then-

The sound of retreating footsteps.

You both exhaled at the same time.

It took a second for the tension to shift, for the weight of what had just happened to sink in.

And then-

Felix groaned, dropping his head back against his pillow, running a hand over his face. “Oh my God.”

You swallowed, staring at him, your entire body still burning from the inside out.

He was still hard beneath you.

And you- well, you weren’t exactly in a better state.

You licked your lips, nerves twisting in your stomach as you tried to force yourself to move, to think, to figure out how you were supposed to get out of this mess without making it even worse.

Felix beat you to it.

“We can’t leave like this.” His voice was low, strained.

You nodded, heat creeping up your neck. “I know.”

A pause.

His throat bobbed. “I-” He hesitated, his fingers twitching against your waist like he wasn’t sure what to do with them. “I can- figure something out. Just- just give me a second.”

He was trying so hard to be responsible about this, to be rational, to get through this without making it worse.

But your mind was still spinning from before, still drowning in the memory of his body beneath yours, the sounds he had made, the way he had looked at you like he couldn’t think about anything else.

And maybe that was why the next words slipped out before you could stop them.

“I can take care of it.”

Silence.

Felix froze.

Your stomach twisted at the way his breath hitched, at the way his fingers tightened against your skin like he wasn’t sure he had heard you correctly.

His eyes found yours, searching, disbelieving.

“…What?”

You swallowed, your pulse thrumming beneath your skin. “Just- just let me, please.”

Something flickered across his expression, something hesitant and utterly wrecked. You could see the thoughts racing through his mind, the questions, the uncertainty, the sheer disbelief at what you had just suggested.

But when he spoke, his voice was quieter this time, more vulnerable.

“But..." he swallowed, his eyes searching your face, "you won’t run away after?”

You paused, something in his voice making your chest ache.

How could he think you would do that? After everything?

But then again, hadn't you pushed him away first? Didn't he have every right to think something like that from you?

Guilt simmered in your chest, you couldn't run this time.

"No, I won’t run," you said softly.

Felix held your gaze, and for a brief moment, it seemed like he was trying to figure out if you meant it.

"J- Just this once... then..?" His voice wavered, unsure, hesitant, but you could tell how much he wanted this. How much he had been waiting for this.

Just this once?

You don't know why, but even though you've heard those words before, this time they left a sharp sting in your chest.

You couldn't tell if it was guilt or not. Maybe it was the idea that he just saw this as a one-time thing. Or I guess, two-time thing now.

You shook the thoughts away, letting out a deep breath as you slowly got off of him, moving into a spot in between his legs and crouching down, and his head raises at the sudden change in position.

You don't have much experience when it comes to giving handjobs, so you were just going to follow what he did last time with the addition of a few things that you researched yourself. You had already seen him do it up close, the way his fingers tightened around the base of his shaft before sliding upwards in a slow movement. He had taken his time with himself, drawing it out and keeping it steady, the movements practiced and sure.

His breathing grew a little more ragged when he realized where this was heading. He started to sit up, his expression wary, a protest rising to his lips. But the moment his hand dropped to cover himself, your fingers found his. You could feel them twitching.

He fell still.

Your chest tightened.

His lips parted, a small gasp escaping, eyes fluttering closed as you let your hand hesitantly outline the trace of his length, replacing his hand. Your hand slid upwards, mimicking what his other hand did.

You didn't look up, didn't dare meet his eyes. But you could feel the weight of his gaze.

It's the same, yet different. This time you are touching him, it's you making him feel that way, the soft gasps falling from his lips, the way he's biting back a moan, it's because of you. You try to copy the things you saw him do, tightening your grip just enough and letting the pressure slide slowly upwards. Your heart skips at the sound of Felix's breath stuttering, the way his muscles tense, the way his fingers dig into his thighs, holding on, struggling not to react too much.

His lips were parted, his breaths coming in shallow, uneven pulls as your hand moved against his clothed length in an unhurried, almost lazy pace. You kept your eyes down, unable to bear seeing what was in his eyes. Unable to bear seeing the look you'd put on his face.

Felix wasn't unaffected either. You could feel the tension in his muscles, feel the way his thighs twitched when you stroked his cock through his pants, the way he gasped and whimpered softly. You were suddenly very aware of just how close you were, your fingers moving beneath him, brushing his own every few moments as he moved. The air in the room had changed, shifted.

You were acutely aware of every sound, every hitch of breath, every shaky exhale, of the heat coming from his skin and the scent of his skin so close, and it was like every one of your senses had sharpened.

"Uhm..." you hestitate, wondering how to ask without embarrassing yourself too much, "can- can I?" You asked shyly, gesturing to his pants and hoping he'd get the idea, and when he doesn't respond for a while you looked up to see his face filled with confusion.

You exhaled, feeling your cheeks burn as you finally forced yourself to meet his eyes, trying not to stare too long at his swollen lips, his mussed hair, at how utterly disheveled he looked, and tried to make your voice more clear, "can I touch you... like- without... the pants?"

His throat bobbed, his Adam's apple dipping before his lips parted to say something, but it took him a while before he finally managed to let out a choked sound. "O- Oh-" his voice faltered, cracking under pressure. He took in a shuddering breath, nodding hesitantly. "Y- Yeah- Yeah, okay."

You swallowed, shifting in your spot between his legs as your hands went down to tug at his waistband, letting your knuckles brush against his skin as you pulled his pants lower, feeling a flutter of heat low in your stomach.

He was watching you with half-lidded eyes, his gaze dark and unreadable. His breath was coming in short, uneven pulls as he leaned back, bracing himself against his hands. You couldn't help but glance at his chest, watching it rise and fall with every unsteady breath. He looked... vulnerable, almost soft in the dim light of his bedroom, like this, in a way he never usually did.

His jaw was still clenched tight, and he swallowed, the bobbing motion of his throat drawing your eye for a moment before you dragged your gaze back down.

Your fingers trailed along his waist, feeling his muscles tense under your touch as you finally pulled his pants down enough, freeing him from the restraints of his clothes.

He was aching, and hard, the tip swollen and pink. Your stomach tightened at the sight of him, at the memory of last time and everything you felt then.

You started slow, like he did. Letting your palm glide smoothly over his tip, his hips stuttering into the air at the contact, letting out a broken noise, and when you didn't move your hand any further, he let out a breath. His body was wound up like a coil, every muscle taut and rigid, waiting for your next move.

Your grip tightened, stroking upwards in a slow movement that drew a low groan from deep within his throat. He gasped, his chest heaving, his breaths ragged and uneven.

"God- fuck, you-" he let out another strangled moan, his voice strained and raw.

His hips rocked into the air, thrusting up to meet your palm, his movements needy and desperate. The sound of him panting beneath you was sending shivers down your spine, sending heat coursing through you like electricity.

He was reacting way more than last time, every touch, every brush of your skin against his sending him into a spiral of pleasure. It was intoxicating, watching him lose himself under your hands, hearing him gasp and whine, his moans and groans like music to your ears, knowing you're the one doing this to him, to make him lose control, to fall apart at your fingertips, knowing how much power you had over him at that moment.

The knowledge left you lightheaded, dizzy with a rush of heady power as you sped up your hand just slightly. He was completely and utterly lost, his hands gripping the bed sheets tightly, his fingers twisting in the sheets as he struggled to breathe, to hold himself together. You felt the tension in his thighs, heard the sharp hiss that escaped through clenched teeth, felt the tremors running through him.

You felt your clit pulse, the sore feeling causing you to squeeze your thighs together. It felt so good. You could feel the wetness pooling between your thighs, soaking your underwear.

It wasn't long before he was teetering on the edge, his head thrown back against his pillow, eyes screwed shut, his chest heaving as he tried to hold himself together.

"Felix..?" you whispered, your voice trembling with desire, the sound of your name falling from his lips only serving to make you throb harder, the feeling between your thighs almost too much to handle.

"Yes-" his voice was raw and rough, broken as it was forced from his throat, a groan cutting through the silence, a desperate whimper escaping him as he finally let himself go. "Yes, I'm so fucking close-"

It didn't take long before he was shaking apart beneath your touch, a shuddering moan leaving his lips as his back arched, his hips bucking up into the air. He came undone with your name on his lips, his fingers twisting in the bed sheets. The way he sounded as he came was the most beautiful thing you've ever heard. His voice was hoarse and shaky as he whispered your name like a prayer, as he trembled and shook and let himself unravel under your touch.

He fell apart and came undone, spilling himself on his own stomach with your name on his lips. The sight made something warm and fuzzy pool in the pit of your stomach, something you'd never felt before, something you'd never let yourself feel. You couldn't tear your eyes away from him, from the way he looked in that moment. It was so intense, so intimate. It felt so real and raw, and it hit you in a way you never expected it to.

Your gaze drifted lower, your heart stuttering at the sight of his mess, his stomach painted with white. You were transfixed by the sight, unable to stop staring even as he shuddered beneath you, gasping and trembling as the waves of pleasure slowly subsided. He collapsed back on the bed with a sigh, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. His hair was plastered against his forehead, his face flushed and sweaty, but he looked so extremely hot nonetheless. His lips were swollen and parted as he stared at you with half-lidded eyes, completely blown from arousal, from how good you'd made him feel.

The sight had you aching for release. You bit back a groan as your cunt throbbed.

He watched you with glazed eyes as you leaned over and grabbed the towel you'd seen on the ground. You pressed it gently against his stomach to wipe him.

It's like he didn't care if you'd seen it or not, he was completely undone, boneless, his entire body still buzzing, still high from his release. He let out a soft hum when he felt you touch his stomach. He was so warm. He looked like a cat who got what it wanted.

Felix let out a content sigh as you wiped him down, his body loose and pliant beneath your touch. His head was still tilted back against the pillow, eyes heavy-lidded and glassy, but when you shifted to move away, he blinked up at you, something soft and almost hesitant in his gaze.

His voice was hoarse when he spoke. “I-” He swallowed, his fingers twitching where they rested by his sides. “I can help you, too.”

Your breath caught.

The air between you shifted again, his offer sending a rush of heat through you, settling low in your stomach. The way he looked at you, all earnest and drowsy and still so, so beautiful- it had you aching all over again.

"But-"

You hesitated, panic creeping in around the edges of your mind. It wasn’t that you didn’t want it. You did. But now that the haze was clearing, now that the heat of the moment was cooling just slightly, reality started creeping back in.

Too much time had passed.

You couldn’t still be in here when breakfast had already been announced.

You forced yourself to swallow down the nervous lump in your throat, shaking your head as you pulled away. “No, it’s fine. We should-” You cleared your throat, trying to sound as normal as possible. “We should clean up. Breakfast is waiting.”

Felix stilled for a second, his expression flickering- hurt, then understanding, then something else entirely.

He didn’t argue.

But you saw it- the way his face fell slightly, the way guilt settled in his features. Like he thought he’d done something wrong.

You reached out, squeezing his wrist briefly.

“It’s okay,” you murmured.

He nodded, but you could tell he wasn’t fully convinced.

Still, he got up, following your lead as you both cleaned yourselves up. You made sure to go first, slipping out of his room quickly so it wouldn’t look suspicious.

The moment you stepped into the dining area, a chorus of voices erupted around you.

“Oh my God, she lives.”

“Finally out of your room, huh?”

“You good? You were MIA for a while.”

You barely had time to sit down before a hand smacked your back playfully. Jisung grinned at you from across the table, a knowing glint in his eyes. “We were just about to plan a funeral for you, what happened?”

You swallowed thickly, your face burning. “I was sick,” you blurted out, the first excuse that popped into your head.

Jisung’s brows shot up. “Sick?”

Hyunjin snorted. “What, like love sick?”

Your stomach flipped, but you forced yourself to roll your eyes. “No, dumbass. Just… sick.”

Jisung hummed, unconvinced, but he let it go in favor of stuffing his mouth full of food.

The table returned to its usual chaotic energy, playful banter bouncing back and forth between the members. You joined in where you could, laughing when Changbin and Minho bickered over the last pancake, Chan stepping in, telling them they had to leave it for Felix. You felt a little lighter now that the focus had shifted off of you.

But then, you felt him before you saw him.

Felix.

Emerging from his room, freshly cleaned up, hair still slightly damp, eyes sweeping the room before they landed on you.

Your stomach clenched, your breath catching in your throat.

He looked normal. He looked composed. Like nothing had happened.

But the second his gaze met yours, you knew.

You clenched your thighs together instinctively, forcing yourself to look away, shoving a spoonful of food into your mouth as a distraction.

Felix sat down across from you, grabbing a plate, acting as if everything was normal.

But you could feel it.

The tension still lingered, simmering beneath the surface, waiting.

And you had no idea how long you could keep pretending it wasn’t there.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

tags for beauties : @loverbangchan, @reignessance, @imperfectlyperfectprincess1, @armystay89, @ihrtlix, @lovestaysblogs, @jeyelleohe, @celebration88, @velvetmoonlght, @honeyybbuubblleess, @skzswife, @c9b7luv, @lixies-favorite-cookie, @yeetfellx, @lailac13, @amortiff, @crazylinofangirl, @sunshinesfreckless, @darkwitchoferie, @sanriomilk, @st4rv3lly, @skybluelixie, @potentialgay, @ana006banankica-blog

[theyluvpeach]

cooking dinner naked (or in just an apron) for matt to see when he comes home and he can’t help but to fuck reader in the kitchen

i gotchu <3

spoil your dinner.

warnings.ᐟ.ᐟ: meandom!matt. sub!reader. unprotected p in v (#wrapthat.) degradation. overstimulation. thas abt it :)

You just wanted to surprise Matt. He had been so busy this week, always waking up and leaving before you even had the chance to kiss him good morning.

So you thought you'd give him something nice to come back to.

You stopped buying lingerie a long time ago. There was no point in getting if Matt was just gonna rip it. An apron would be good enough, right? It's not as pretty or as lacy, but the one you bought has cherries all over it, so you think Matt will like it just the same.

You didn't even hear him come in. You were too focused on making sure the steak didn't burn.

You gasp, feeling his hardened cock grind against your ass through his pants. "Matt—"

"Hi, baby." He rasps into your ear, his hand slowly wrapping your throat, not to choke but to pull you closer. "Missed me?"

"Mhm."

"I can tell. Walking around in this and nothing else... what a slut." He smacks your ass, making you whimper. "W-wanted to surprise you—"

"Yeah? Surprisinging by being a slut?" He punctuates his words with a sharp squeeze to your throat. You whine. "Shhhh, m gonna take care of you don't worry."

𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚

"Matt— s toomuch!" You didn't know it was gonna end like this. Ripped up apron discarded on the kitchen floor, a mix of Matt's cum and yours dripping down your legs, hands pinned behind you, and your face shoved against the kitchen island as Matt thrusts into you again. You can't count how many times he's made you cum, how many times he's came inside you.

"You can take it, ma." He growls. "Isn't this the whole reason you did this in the first place? So I could fuck your stupid little cunt full of my cum?" His words make you clench down on him. "See? That's a good fucking girl.." He thrusts directly into your sweet spot. "Matt— Matt— Thefood— please!" You can barely think at the pace he's going, "Focus on my cock, baby. Or are you that cockdrunk already you can't even do that?"

All of it is too much for you. The pace, the way he's talking to you, the smell of burning getting stronger. You can't do it anymore.

You mewl meakly, seeing white as you cum once again cumming on Matt's cock. "What a good little slut." He coos at you, slapping your already red ass.

You guys ate take out that night. After ten more rounds.

tags 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚: @inspiredangel @whore4mattsturniolo @domizzzsstuff @sosasturns @drewswife @nateismybf

[luveline]

can we get coworker James and reader not getting along despite having obvious feelings for each other and not knowing how to say sorry, so they really awkwardly try to play nice? maybe reader apologising with a kiss

coworker frenemies <3 fem, 1.6k

“It’s the wrong file.” 

“Nope. Open it up properly.” 

You roll James’ rugby stress-ball under your hand. “It’s not, I need the Lang and Co test reports from last year, this is dated from April 14th.” 

“That’s because the fiscal year ended on April 6th. If I send you something from before April, that won’t be last year, it’ll be the year before.” 

“No, we still have a month left in this year,” you argue, “so these are from two years ago.” 

You both turn to Remus. He tenses at the sudden silence, pen paused over blue post it notes. “What?” he asks finally. He doesn’t actually need you to repeat yourselves. “If you need a test report from the last fiscal year to cross check the RAS number, then you need one dated before April. We’re in the current fiscal year right now until April again.” 

“See,” James says. 

“That’s what I said, James.” 

“It is not.” 

You roll your shoulders. It’s what you’d thought you were saying. From the look Remus is giving you, James is the correct one, and you’re too confused about the logistics of things to argue your case. You should say Okay, alright, even apologise for getting wound up, but you hate being wrong when it’s with James, it’s like a flinch reflex. “I shouldn’t even be doing this, you’re supposed to double check this stuff before you send it back to me, the RAS number should be printed at the top,” you say with heat. 

“Open the files properly,” James says, almost spits, apparently more wound up than you’d been. As soon as he says it, all his fire burns out. He bites something back, clears his throat, an unarmed emotion on his face as his gaze dips to his coffee. “The RAS numbers are all in the headers. They’re just hard to see.” 

A few weeks ago his spitting retort would’ve made you laugh, or maybe made you want to hit him with your car, but a few weeks ago you didn’t know what it was like to be on James’ right side. You’re aware now of how it feels to have his hand on your shoulder, his smile pressed to the top of your ear. The idea of not feeling it again fills you with dread. 

“Sorry,” you mutter.

“I’m sorry,” he says back, sounding three times as awkward. “I shouldn’t have such an attitude. I’m just– hungry or something.” 

You don’t really like being snapped at, but James probably didn’t like being reprimanded for something he’d apparently actually done, so… You’re not sure where you go from here. 

Remus breaks the tension for you kindly. “Look, we don’t have to argue about the Lang and Co anything today, because it’s all properly finished. Finish checking the RAS numbers for the rest of them and then I can go over them after dinner.” 

“I doubt you’ll need to,” you say. 

“I know, but if I don’t and something is wrong, I’ll get the flack for it.” Remus rips a sticky note off of the pad and puts it on his monitor. “It’s alright. I’ll just glance at them.” 

You feel properly chastened, then, and retreat into yourself for a while. You hate feeling like this at work, it’s exactly how you felt when you first started. You haven’t been such a hindrance to their working for months. Your accounting team Smiskis attest to your burgeoning friendship with Remus and your more than that with James, each of them exercising. A week ago, James bought you a museum themed one, a little green figurine that pays homage to the Girl with the Pearl Earring. You’d laughed for ages, only bothering to stop when James had kissed you and asked if you were pleased. 

With the kiss or the Smiski is anyone’s guess. Sometimes you think James might like a performance report from you, a job well done sticker or something, but you don’t know if he’s bad or good or mediocre, he’s just James. He annoys you beyond words and he’s the kindest boy you’ve ever met. 

You work in tepid silence until dinner rolls around and Sirius swings by the desks to retrieve Remus. You’re relieved when James turns down their offer to go with them and quickly follow suit. 

“Will you eat with me?” he asks you. 

Which is nicer than pretending you’re eating together out of coincidence. “Uh, yeah.” 

“Are you done?” he asks, nodding at the computer. 

You click off your monitor. 

Together, you retrieve your Tupperware boxes from the fridge and steal the single sofa in the break room by the window. James cracks it open like you like without having to be asked, and you sit on his left side, close enough to touch him. On your best days you’ll eat thigh to thigh, shifting if someone comes in but otherwise comfortable. Today, the inches between you feel like miles. 

You don’t know what to do. You both said sorry, it’s not like you were furious or anything, but maybe James is more annoyed than he’s letting on? 

You try to think of what you can do as he peels his tangerine. The smell is sudden in the air, fresh, a tad sour now they’re out of season. 

“Do you want some?” he asks. 

You hold your hand out for a piece too early, he’s not done peeling, but he hurries and cleans the white strings of pith from the fruit and passes you two slices stuck together. “There, lovely,” he murmurs. 

“Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

There’s nothing really for it, is there? You eat your tangerine and summon your courage, putting your untouched lunchbox on the table and turning in your seat. James turns to look at you too, locking eyes with you, hands paused in his lap with his own slice of tangerine waiting. “What?” he asks carefully, as though worried you have another bone to pick. 

You should ask if you can kiss him, but you can’t make the words form. Your lips feel sticky, citrus still sharp on your tongue. 

Tentatively, your raise a hand to his face. You feel his skin under your thumb, light stubble grazing your palm. Gentle, you work your fingers around the side of his neck and pull him toward you, raising your chin, but keeping your eyes opened. He doesn’t kiss you —James is eager now he knows he’s allowed yet he won’t cross boundaries, he’s careful with the word yes— but he doesn’t pull away. He lets you guide him to your lips. It’s only when his eyes shutter closed that you close your own, lips a hair’s width apart when you manage to say sorry again. “I shouldn’t have made out like you hadn’t done the RAS numbers,” you whisper. 

“I shouldn’t have snapped at you. You couldn’t have known I’d fixed the Lang and Co one’s already.” 

“I don’t like being mad at you anymore.” 

“Yeah, you do. You just don’t like thinking I’m mad back.” 

Your noses brush. “I don’t… it wasn’t fun for me, James. Us hating each other. You’re not a bad person, but it was quite miserable. I don’t want to go back.” 

“We won’t,” he says, pulling away before your lips can touch. You open your eyes and find him looking right at you. “I didn’t hate you. I didn’t always like you, but I didn’t fully hate you, either, n’ there’s nothing like that to go back to.” 

Being vulnerable is hard. You struggle to find the words. “I’m not saying it’s your fault or anything, I just really don’t want you to not like me again.” 

“I didn’t know you,” he says simply. You’re sure he’s done, but he pulls your hand off of his cheek to hold thoughtlessly to his chest. “And now I do. I can’t not like you anymore.”

“Do you think it’s normal that we still get mad at each other?” 

“Of course it is. Remus and Sirius argue every day, but they always say sorry.” 

You smile weakly. “We did that. Off to a good start.” 

James returns your smile tenfold, grinning as he squeezes your hand. “We’re off to a great start. It’s work that’s the problem, that’s all. Hate the James that’s your coworker and love the James who drives you home, hm?” 

“It’s the coworker one that I ended up really fancying,” you murmur. 

He goes pink with delight. “You fancy me?” 

“You’d hope so.” 

James peers down at your hand and gives it another tender squeezing. “Can I have an apology kiss or something? I felt like it was going that way but I ruined it, and now I’d quite like one.” 

“Can you kiss me?” you ask softly. 

James braces his hand against your shoulder and ducks in to kiss you. Chastely (lest someone see you snogging in the break room and get you written up), but a great kiss all the same. It makes your mouth tingle. It still feels exciting all these kisses later, better when James kisses your cheek and the side of your head in quick succession. 

“I don’t care that we argued,” he says, “I just don’t like how I acted, n’ I love how you look when you’re mad. It’s why I used to wind you up so much.” 

“You still wind me up now.” 

He tips his head to the side. “Exactly.” 

[juno-verse]

Hold Me

Summary: Wanda tries to make you forget about your difficult day at work. She succeeds.

Praise, Dom!Wanda, Bondage, Using her magic FOR GOOD, her hands that's it, brief mention of more sex after, ONE Mistress

Random A/N: If you're wondering what happened to the succubus!reader fic, well, I've been overthinking the plot for the last two years. It's why I've been stuck with the second chapter and never getting satisfied with it. Turns out, I'm horrible with plots and I overthink story continuity and possible plot holes. I'm open to ideas tho!

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─── ─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─── ─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

You texted Wanda that you were on the way home, a short and quick, ‘otw home’ which had the redhead worried. Usually, you were all exclamation points and emojis, eager to come home to her. In an instant, she knew that you had a difficult day at work. And being the loving partner that she is, Wanda hoped that she could help you take your mind off things. 

With a tired sigh, you unlocked the front door and stepped into the warmth of your shared home with Wanda. You could hear her shuffling around the bedroom as you sluggishly dropped your things by the entrance, shut the door, and slumped down on your couch with a groan.

Things have been so stressful the last few months, the last quarter of the year has always been the busiest season of all time. Add to that an occasional useless workmate and you get yourself a frustrating few months. You just wanted to whisk yourself away into a far-off island and forget about work.

“Is that you, baby?” Wanda shouted as she walked down the stairs, you groaned, “Yeah.” 

“And is my baby tired?” The redhead bent down to kiss your forehead softly as she stood behind the couch. You mustered what little energy you had to nod and grumble apologetically at her. Wanda sighed softly before walking around to lay down on the couch with you and pulled you against her chest. 

Wanda loved holding you close to her and how she could feel the warmth emanating from your soft body. Your weight was a constant pressure that brought her comfort, a constant reminder that you were here with her and that you were hers. 

“You want to talk about it?” Wanda whispered gently as she played with your hair and trailed her lips on your shoulder. 

As soon as the words left Wanda’s mouth, she regretted it. Because boy, did you want to talk about it. 

Wanda listened to you ramble on and on about an incompetent co-worker of yours. Catching a few mentions of a guy named ‘Mark from IT’ and his ‘lazy ass.’ And while she just watched and listened to your rant, all Wanda wanted to do was to make you forget about the stupid guy and let her hold you down. 

She hummed when needed, laughed when you did, and voiced out her thoughts about the godforsaken guy, truly pissed off for you as well. But Wanda was also getting impatient by the minute, what she had planned was all for you after all. So she started to run her fingers through your hair, unknowingly coaxing you into submission and relaxation.

You were mindlessly playing with her fingers while you kept up your slowing tirade against the man. You traced the bony digits and the veins visible on her arm. And Wanda just knows that, subconsciously, you need her to make you forget.

Wanda watched your fascination with her hands and playfully let her power pulse on her palm, a burst of glowing red light reflecting on your faces. You smiled tiredly at her little display and kissed the palm of her hand, “Ugh, if only you could just magic my stress away. Can you actually magic him away?” The little energy you had in your body started to dissipate at just the mere thought of the guy. Wanda could feel you slowly running out of horrible words to say about your coworker and just melting in her arms. 

The redheaded witch chuckled, her chest rumbling against your back. “I could, actually. But do you honestly want me to? You’re too nice.” Wanda peppered tiny kisses on your cheek, tickling your skin. You groaned, knowing that she was right, and you actually didn’t mean it, but you also knew that Wanda would, if you just asked. Even without probing your mind, she could notice how loud your thoughts were getting and she could sense the tiredness spilling out of your body.

“No, you’re right. But,” you sighed, “Dunno… Don’t have the energy to talk about him anymore.” Mumbling your words, you just buried yourself deeper into her arms instead. Your fingers continued to play around with her digits, your mind flashing images of the different ways she’s used them on you.

“And what do you have energy for, hm?” Wanda tantalizingly traced your back with her free hand, ticklish warmth running down your back as a soft hum emitted from your lips. 

“Dunno… Don't wanna think about anything. Just need you to hold me.” You were slipping more and more into a very tranquil and compliant state of mind, all from Wanda’s presence and her coaxing words.

“Okay, sweetie. Let me take care of you.” Wanda shifted the both of you so that you were straddling her lap and she had a tight grip on your thigh and back, a gentle hand resting on the back of your neck. “You did such a good job today, didn't you?” She asked softly as she kissed you tenderly. You hummed in approval and let out a satisfied sigh against her lips. 

The way she held you felt safe and gentle – so ready to whisk you away from the harsh, grim world, or in this case an annoying coworker. In Wanda’s arms, you always found home and solace. She was always willing to shoulder whatever ache you brought home. And tonight, she wanted to make you forget it all. 

“Just let me do all the thinking tonight, baby. Okay?” Wanda looked into your eyes and you gulped, “Yes.” You trusted this woman with your life, but at nights when you let her do anything she wanted to you, you were bound to be at her mercy.

Wanda stood up with you wrapped around her and carried you up to your shared bedroom. Upon entering the room, your favorite scent hits your nose in soft waves. Wanda had prepared all of this for you, and you swooned in her arms. You took her face into your hands and thanked her with a kiss, “Thank you, Wanda.”

Wanda reciprocated your kiss with a tongue against yours as she dropped you gently on the bed and placed herself in between your legs. Her tongue felt soft and eager at the same time. She took off your clothes, all the while kissing you so deeply, that you struggled to keep up with her pace. She pulled away with a smirk, all traces of her gentleness back in the living room falling away and replaced with a domineering gaze.

“Hands.” She demanded, and you placed them in front of her. You watched her closely, entranced by the way her fingers started to move with magic. Her delicate fingers flexed as red tendrils started to wrap themselves around your wrists.

They felt warm and gentle against your skin—like how Wanda’s touches always felt to you—as if they were mimicking the sensation of her hand. It was as if she was the one pinning you down rather than her magic. 

“How… how are you doing that?” You sighed as the redhead coaxed you to lie down on your back with your hands bound to the bed and your legs spread open for her. Wanda shushed you instead, insisting on allowing her to do all the work, “Shhh, my love. I said let me do all the thinking.”

Wanda sat up on her knees, trailing her hands up and down your nude form while admiring her handiwork. She smiled at the goosebumps that trickled all over your body, her magic shining a little bit brighter in response. Red always did look good on your skin, her magic looked good on you.

Positioning herself on top of you, you took notice of the glowing red in her eyes, and to you, she has never been more beautiful. You tried to reach out to Wanda, to touch her face and bring her closer to you – but to no avail. A dangerous laugh escaped from her lips and along with her laugh, the red bonds on your wrists grew tighter. 

“Please…” You begged, and for what? You were unsure, but you just needed Wanda to do something. Anything.

“Begging, already? I haven’t even started.” Wanda smirked as she left kisses on your sensitive neck. One hand wrapped around your throat while the other explored the expanse of your upper body. Her nails traced down your stomach, leaving light red lines in their wake. 

You jolted upwards as you felt red tendrils reaching for your breasts, playing with them, similar to the way Wanda does. Tweaking and pulling on your nipples, no part of your body was left untouched by Wanda and her magic. 

Her long digits traced your wet slit, teasing the entrance and gathering your wetness on her fingers. Wanda’s careful red eyes watched every arch that your body made and listened for every gasp that left your mouth.

“Tell me where you want me,” Wanda instructed, her mouth inches away from yours, so close that every breath she exhaled penetrated your lungs. Her fingers were so close where you needed them, but Wanda needed to hear it from you. She was dying to hear you beg for her.

Your entire body heated up in embarrassment, and you felt the heat spread all the way to your shoulders, too shy to tell her. The words seemed too vulgar to form in your mouth. Wanda’s brow arched inquisitively, waiting for you to make your move. “Come on now, sweetheart. You were just fine talking about someone else a while ago.” The redhead pouted mockingly, her voice a little bit too sweet.  

“I need you inside me, Wands. Please…” You begged softly, whines readily pouring out of your mouth. “Yeah, you need me?” She cooed, “How much, sweetheart?” The tip of her fingers toying with your wet entrance, enticingly and frustratingly, her fingers grazing over your folds.

You struggled uselessly against her magic, against the calming weight of her hold on you, desperation spilling out of you in waves. “S-so bad! I need you so badly, please!” You stuttered and Wanda took pity on you – two fingers slipping inside you with little resistance that it would have made you embarrassed if you weren’t in this desperate state. 

Her fingers rammed into you at a speed that had you gripping tightly onto her conjured bonds, fighting against an invisible force whenever you tried to arch your hips higher. “Stay down and take me,” Wanda angled her thrusts towards that spongey little spot inside you, a delicious warmth settling in your stomach.

“Do you like this, huh? Do you like it when I hold you down and give you what you need? Make you forget all your problems?” Wanda groaned in your ear, her hot breath tickling your skin. All you could do was answer with pleased grunts and eager nods as your mouth kept on producing sounds you were sure to be shy about in the morning after. 

Her other hand snaked up your throat, two fingers asking for permission inside your mouth, “Suck on them, baby. You’re getting too loud.” You instantly latched onto them, moaning around them and Wanda relishing in the vibrations produced by your throat. 

She was everywhere—or rather, her magic was. Nonetheless, it was all her. You could feel Wanda everywhere and you could feel her magic spanning the lengths of your body. Her magic was pinching your nipples, gripping your wrists, and holding your legs open. But her fingers, on the other hand, were working their miracles in your mouth and inside you. 

It was too much yet not enough, your clit throbbing in attention. Wanda cooed mockingly, “Such a spoiled girl, still not yet satisfied?”

Her fingers that were wet from your mouth then trailed downwards to press down on your lower stomach. Your insides pushed down on her fingers and you could feel every crevice of her fingers hitting the right spots. You could feel her inside you more.

The redhead’s mouth soon joined her fingers, her warm tongue drawing circles on your clit and your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Bringing you closer and closer to the edge, all your body feels is her and you willingly give it. 

It’s not like you could fight against the restraints Wanda put on you, all you could do was grind against her tongue. Now that she had her fingers out of your mouth, obscene noises spilled out of you, “Wanda, I’m gonna cum! Please, can I cum?” Wanda hummed against your clit, pleased with the sounds you were making. 

“Such a good girl, asking for permission.” Wanda praised you and tightened her magic hold on you so possessively. “Go ahead, sweetheart. Cum for me.” She whispered against your clit, her warm breath and her fingers pushing you to the edge. That delightful warmth in your stomach turned into a raging heat then simmered into a throbbing fire as you came on her tongue and her fingers, so hard that you could hear your heart in your ears.

“Fuck, thank you! Thank you!” You screamed and thrashed against Wanda as she guided you through your orgasm with coaxing fingers and gentle caresses. When the pleasure dulled, you felt Wanda press a soft kiss to your inner thigh.

But as you calmed down, you noticed that the bonds had yet to loosen and gave the witch a curious look. 

She let out a wicked laugh before straddling your stomach, “Oh, you’re so very welcome, sweetie. Care to let your Mistress ride your face?”

[trivia-yandere]

ok head me out…jungkook…who happens to be your brothers best friend…are you catching what im saying???

well why the fuck not? off limits

he’s a 10 but…he’s your brother’s best friend & completely off limits.

word count: 3.118

warning: smut, little plot fr fr, age difference (like 3 years), fingering, unprotected sex, alcohol intake, oral sex (f/m) creampies, dirty talking,

“Did you know?” you asked Jungkook, head pressed against the cold window. Your eyes watch as the world passes by in a blur with the speed in which he’s driving. Your mind is a mess, the alcohol flowing through your body.

“Know what?” Jungkook asks.

Jungkook was the person you called to pick you up from your night out with your friends. It was nice of him to deal with all of you - the random crying in the backseat from one friend, to the angry screaming another did over the phone with her boyfriend. It was silent now, however, as he was on his way to driving you home. There’s soft music playing through the speakers that’s at the perfect volume for you and him to talk.

You don’t answer his question - not yet, at least. “Remember…my freshman year of highschool,” you start, lifting your head from the window to turn to look at him. “when I kissed you?”

Jungkook feels your eyes on him as he drives. His hand grips the steering wheel, his right hand lightly tapping his fingers against his thighs.

Jay, your brother and his best friend, would have not picked you and your friends up without giving you an earful along the way. Especially once he saw the way you were dressed - short skirt, tight shirt and laced stockings. It was one of the main reasons why you called Jungkook, after all.

“Yes.” Jungkook murmurs. “You weren’t even supposed to be at that party.”

True, you think. But neither was Jay. Your parents were out of town that weekend and that meant Jay was going to do what he wanted. You threatened to expose him if you didn’t go along with him - typical younger sister actions. After giving you a long list of things not to do, he allowed you to come.

Of course, he had told all of his friends about you being there and to keep an eye out. Your beer was stolen from your hands by Jimin who replaced it with soda. Taehyung had plucked the joint that was handed to you by a senior right out of your fingers and insisted you do something else. That something else was joining a game of seven minutes in heaven where, surely, no one would be there.

Except, Jungkook was. And the moment he saw that you were going to be in the closet with someone older than all of them, he had stepped forward and gone inside with you instead. He fully intended on not doing anything with you, of course.

“The look on your face was funny.” you snort, thinking about that memory. You haven’t talked about it with him ever - neither did you even tell Jay. Your brother made it clear from day one - back in elementary school when he met his closest friends - that you were to never be associated with them outside of a platonic relationship. 

They were off limits; and so were you.

“I wasn’t expecting you to do that.” Jungkook responds, snorting. You’ve done it so fast and it lasted less than five seconds. There was only a minute left in the game and you had placed a hand onto his chest and murmured a quiet “our little secret” before leaving. “You were like a little sister to me back then.”

Your smile immediately falls, your eyes shifting back to the road. The mood changes immediately and Jungkook notices it.

Your question you asked him before was did he know. Did he know that you liked him back then? You were only a freshman while your brother and him were juniors. You didn’t blame him for seeing you as a little sister as you all grew up around one another. He witnessed you and your brother fight and argue countless times, eyes bouncing between you and him with large doe-like eyes.

“How about now?” you ask as Jungkook stops at a red light. The roads are clear from any cars in sight. “Do you still think of me as a sister now?”

Jungkook allows himself to look at you fully now. He stares at you for a few moments, gathering your question into his mind. He doesn’t respond, unsure how to.

It was easier to see you as a little sister back then - all of the friend group had. Taehyung would always tease you like Jay had while Jimin was more of the caring type. 

Now, however, it was different. He noticed the shift as you began to grow older. Your senior year to be exact. Your figure changed, your voice grew a bit deeper and older. You were growing a bit mature for a senior girl. He told himself it was because you were a pretty girl so naturally, he would notice these changes.

But even after highschool, his eyes continued to wander to you and linger longer than they should. You moved in with Jay into his apartment to be closer to college and he would see you whenever he frequented there. Your shorts fit you perfectly, as did your shirts. You showed more skin (than Jay ever wanted you to) and when you spoke to him, it was always in a tone that Jungkook swore wasn’t entirely platonic.

“Kook?”

Jungkook blinks, turning his eyes away to look at the light that’s still red. He contemplates just running it as it’s nearly 3 a.m and not a single car around them. His cheeks are dusted a bit red when he realizes he’s been staring at you the entire time.

“No.” Jungkook says. “I don’t.” he answers truthfully.

“Kook?” you hum once more, this time a hand reaches out for him. It touches his arm and causes a jolt of electricity to shoot throughout his body.

“Yeah?” Jungkook swallows, adam’s apple bobbing. This damn light wasn’t turning fast enough. He turns his attention towards you. He notices from this angel, the red lights are illuminating your face. Your lips are coated in gloss and it shines.

“Can I stay at your place tonight?”

Another swallow, followed by a squeeze of the steering wheel.

“I lied about where I was going to Jay tonight. And…if I go home. He’ll see me dressed like this.” you explain further. It causes Jungkook to glance down at your attire again, immediately regretting it and then meeting your eyes. “He’ll call me a whore again.”

Jungkook wants to say no - that you should go home. Jay should be asleep by now; he had work in the morning right? 

Jungkook doesn’t see the issue of you being at his apartment. You’ve gone there before…with Jay. Without Jay, what would be the reason for you to be there? What if Jay found out and thought-

“You’re thinking too much into this, Kook.” your lips form into a smile and your head tilts. Your hand squeezes his biceps a bit. “Besides, what could go wrong? It’s just me.”

Everything could go wrong - and it did.

You’re unsure how long it took when you and him got into his apartment, but your lips were on his before either of you could think.

Jungkook’s mind screams at him to stop this. Not only were you not sober, but you were off limits. You were someone he respects greatly and shouldn’t take advantage of.

But your hands roam his chest, then go lower to his stomach. You grab hold of his hands and place them onto your hips - all the while continuing to deepen the kiss.

Jungkook gives in, pushing you closer. You smell of fruity alcohol and strawberries - your lips taste of peach; soft and sticky from the gloss. He’s hooked, the flooded feelings he suppressed coming out at such a terrible time. 

“I want you.” you mumble against his lips, arms wrapped so tightly around his neck. Afraid to let him go in the guise that this could possibly be a (wet) dream; one you didn’t want to wake from just yet.

Jungkook knows you do, but he’s hesitant. Kissing you is bad and it goes against his friendship. But fucking you was something so heinous. If Jay found it, it would ruin nearly two decades of friendship.

“Please,” you repeat, one arm unhooking from his neck to take hold of one of his hand that’s gripping your ass. You dip it between your legs and through the skirt so he can feel just how much you wanted him. “please.” you repeat.

Jungkook groans - how much could one man handle? You’re soaking through your panties and the stockings you’re wearing. His fingers are directly against your clit and on instant, they rub circles on the wet, sensitive bud.

“Jay’s going to kill me if he finds out.” Jungkook groans, capturing your lips into his as his fingers dips between your wet folds. He makes no move to stop or push you away, however.

“It’ll be our little secret.” you say, repeating those very words he heard years ago. A secret he was going to take to the grave with him, no matter how small and insignificant it may have been back then.

Jungkook dips his fingers into your hole. It’s tight and squeezes around him. Instantly, he begins to pump, needing to feel just how wet you were for him.

You don’t hide your moans in the slightest. You wanted Jungkook to know how much you wanted this; wanted him. You waited years to be in this position - to have Jungkook all to yourself, even if it meant that you had to do it behind everyone’s back.

“Just for tonight.” Jungkook says, his warm breath tickling your cheek. “Tonight I’ll give you what you want.”

“The whole night?” your hand is still holding his wrist as he pumps his fingers deeply inside of you. Your arousal is coating his palm, a groan escaping your lips.

“Fuck,” Jungkook grunts, eyes already clouded with lust. “you’re going to be insatiable.”

Jungkook removes his fingers from you, a whimper escaping your lips at the loss of them. He juts his head down the hall to the bedroom. He tugs you along, slamming the door open and leading you inside.

You don’t take your time in removing your clothes and the stocking, having them pool around you.

Jungkook doesn’t waste time pushing you onto his bed and pulling your legs apart. Your pussy is glistening underneath his LED lights and he groans at the beautiful sight. His head dives down, tongue swirling onto your clit. He’s groaning and grunting, his cock throbbing with just the act of eating you out.

It felt so wrong doing this, Jungkook thinks. The same young girl who was once so innocent and sweet was now you. The girl who was an adult who knew what she wanted. Who was laying naked on his bed and whimpering as he suckled onto your clit.

Your hand places itself onto his head, gripping his hair. Your hips grind against his tongue and he lays it flat so you could continue. The amount of times you thought of Jungkook in less than holy ways couldn’t be counted on both hands, but getting to live it out was a dream.

“Fuck, Kook.” you moan. 

Jungkook wasn’t going to stop until you came - which wasn’t far. He has your legs on his shoulders and his hands on your thighs to assure you cannot squirm away from him. His tongue laps your clit greedily, messy black hair jumping with the way his head bobs back and forth.

Jungkook’s cock is painfully hair as you moan for him. His eyes flicker up to your face - scrunched in pleasure with your eyes fluttering open just in time to meet him. He doesn’t look away, a satisfaction flowing through him when your eyes widen slightly and you groan. His tongue continues to ravish onto your cunt greedily until you’re shaking with pleasure.

You begged for him to fuck you right there. To take you as rough as he wanted - to not hold back. You were on birth control, you said. You wanted to feel him - all of him if this was going to be the one and only time.

Jungkook was but a man. He was already a fucked up person and friend. He sinks his cock into you and pounds you so disrespectfully - as if you weren’t his friend's baby sister. As if you weren’t someone he cared about deeply.

You begged for more, each thrust causing your stomach to churn. Your breast bounces erratically and your pussy’s already squeezing out another orgasm, but you don’t want this to end; neither does Jungkook.

Jungkook turns you around and fucks into you even deeper, your face pressed into his cotton sheets. Your ass was amazing from this view - it was going to be engraved into his mind. 

“Your pussy feels so good.” Jungkook whines, fully positive that he sounds like a school boy experiencing sex for the first time. 

It doesn’t help that you’re far too willing for him  to fuck you that you do whatever . You spread your  legs even further to allow him more access, nails digging into his sheets. He pounds into you with no mercy, your pussy squeezing him.

Jungkook hovers about your arched back, right hand dipping between your thighs to capture your already throbbing clit in his. He rubs it as he pounds into you, his lips close to your ear. “Are you really on birth control or was that a lie?”

“I-I am!” you say through moans. “A-Are you going to cum in me?”

Jungkook grunts - you weren’t going to make it easy for him, were you? The thought of cumming in you was exciting as he never did it with anyone without a condom. 

What’s the worst that can happen? You and he were already doing the unforgivable.

“You want me to cum in your pussy?” Jungkook’s voice sounds like sex, deep and sensual. 

You cum right there, overstimulation flowing through you but you nod your head erratically. You wanted any and every part of Jungkook that he was willing to give you.

And Jungkook had.He came right in you - again and again.

The fucking didn’t stop until he’s came in you at least four times. One time on your back so he could see your face as you cum around his cock. Once while you ride him, his hands cradling your hips possessively, eyes darting from the way you rise and fall on his wet cock to your bouncing breast in his face. The next follows immediately after, this time Jungkook taking control while you kept your position right above him.

Somehow, even then you weren’t done. You allowed yourself an hour before you asked if he could cum in your mouth. The request was outlandish but, Jungkook complied. You laid on your back and opened your mouth for him to, in your words, use you.

Jungkook should feel disgusted of himself for already using you as if you were nothing but a whore, but it was far too tempting. He pumps his cock into your mouth, watching the way you take him effortlessly and he ponders just how long you wanted this.

Him fucking your mouth turns to him fucking your breast - another request you had. His hands squeeze your breast together as his thumbs twirl against your hardened nipples.

“I didn’t know you were such a slut, Y/N.” Jungkook grunts.

“Only for you.” was your response that has him cumming again, cum shooting out and coating your breast.

The amount of sex that you and he have leads the both of you exhausted, sprawled out on his ruined sheets and both breathing heavily and sweaty. Jungkook’s mind wanders to how he was going to be able to look at you or his friend in the face again without feeling like a complete asshole.

Neither of you have time to think when a loud ringing sound comes from down the hall. It’s your phone and judging by the time, you can guess who it was. 

“It’ll go to voicemail.” you murmur to Jungkook. “He still thinks I’m at a friends.”

Jungkook's heart sinks but he nods.

“Wanna shower with me?” you ask, a hand placing onto his sweaty forehead. “We can both use it.”

Jungkook sniffs. “If that’s what you’d like. We can.” he says. “Y/N, I-”

You place a hand onto his lips to silence him. “I know, Kook.” you murmur. “You don’t need to let me down easily.”

Jungkook lifts himself to a seated position. “I wasn’t going to say anything like that.” he shakes his head. “I just…I want you to know that I do have love and respect for you.” 

You blink as Jungkook continues.

“And I don’t want you to think that I view you as…a slut or…any less than before.” Jungkook’s cheeks are a crimson color now. “I-”

“Kookie,” you lift your body so that you can grab his hands into your own. The nickname was one he hadn’t heard since middle school and it immediately caught his attention. “I get it. Trust me.” you say, a smile forming onto your lips. “Did you know…” you began, repeating the question from earlier. “...that I liked you?”

Jungkook's mouth goes dry and slowly, he shakes his head. It should be surprising as Jungkook was oblivious to any and every girl that liked him.

However, Jungkook does recall one moment - an instant in which Jay had stated that you and him could never be together. It was a random comment that came entirely out of nowhere, but it happened right after you kissed him.

“Jay knew.” you murmur. “I didn’t tell him but…he knew.” you look away. “I thought maybe he told you. I’m glad he didn’t.”

Jay wouldn’t have - not even now. 

Jungkook slowly inhales. A part of him feels even more like an asshole because this was a mistake. You had feelings for him that should’ve been obvious if he wasn’t such an idiot. Things are much more complicated now.

“Let’s shower.” you say, noticing the change in Jungkook’s demeanor. This was a one time thing that wouldn’t happen again and you’ll grow to be fine with that. “Then if you’re up for it, you can show me that movie you’ve been talking about.”

Jungkook nods slowly, allowing you to tug him off the bed and towards his bathroom. His mind wanders back to your confession and recalls just the amount of times he’s caught you looking his way and smiling shyly when he notices.

Off limits, he hears Jay’s voice say in his mind over and over again as you turn the water on to heat up. He was fucked.

@darkuni63 @sweetempathprunetree @chimmy-licious @investedreader @momnomnom

[wosospacegirl]

And they were roommates - part 3

Summary: Y/n gets injured and has to stay in recovery for 8 months. It's a good thing her friend and teammate Kyra is more than willing to move in with her. wink wink

Warnings: kissing, lots of kissing and sexual tension hehe

Word count: 4k

MASTERLIST

| PART 1 HERE | | PART 2 HERE | PART 4 HERE |

..

Kyra’s legs felt like concrete and her brain was foggy as she watched Katie steal the ball from her—again. Kyra was tired and confused, and her exhaustion was reflected in her poor training today. She had lost possession of the ball to Katie at least 3 three times, and after the third time, Katie even stopped teasing her about it. The fact that Katie even felt sorry for her spoke volumes about how awful she was today.

When she failed to do well in the last drill, Renée had—gently—asked her to step that one out. Kyra hadn’t wanted to at first, but Renée hadn’t asked her to either, so she went to the bench and sat on the stiff surface, watching her teammates actually show why they were on the field, and she wasn’t.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Alessia said handing her a protein bar. Kyra did not even see her approaching, highlighting how absent-minded she was.

“No,” Kyra mumbled, taking the snack, and fiddling with it at first before taking a small bite. Strawberry and white chocolate flavour, Kyra’s favourite. Maybe she wouldn’t be so depressed today after all. “Did you get kicked out of the pitch too? Is this the ‘prodigy-child-who-can’t-seem-to-kick-a-ball’ corner?”

“Well—no.” Alessia laughed. “Renée asked me to come here and see, in her own words, ‘what the fuck happened to Cooney’, so here I am.”

“Oh, so you don’t really want to talk to me, I’m just another chore in your busy day,” Kyra joked, biting back her laugh as Alessia nudged her slightly with her shoulder.

“You’re being dramatic,” Alessia stated, accepting the half-eaten protein bar Kyra handed back to her.

Alessia finished the protein bar while she waited for Kyra to formulate whatever she was thinking. After a few moments, she finally spoke.

“I’m so confused. And when I’m confused, I get completely worn out from the among of neurons I’m using,” Kyra confessed suddenly.  “I don’t like when things are… I don’t know. Blurry, maybe?”

Alessia listened carefully with narrowed eyes, chin resting on her hand. “But what are you confused about, what’s blurry?” Alessia questioned, not really understanding what the girl was talking about.

Kyra’s cheek flushed. “Y/n has been acting weird lately, I’m not sure why.”

“What do you mean weird? Last time I spoke to her she sounded fine, happier even,” Alessia tilted her head.

“Maybe weird isn’t the right word—” Kyra continued with her mumbling. “She’s acting different, not in a bad way, though.”

“In what way then?” Alessia asked, pressing further.

“She’s being very nice to me,” Kyra blurted out. “Not that she wasn’t before, of course she was always very kind, but now it’s…”

“Different?” Alessia complete easily, given Kyra’s difficult relationship with, well, words today. “She’s being nicer to you, and that’s making you feel confused?”

“Exactly!” Kyra said, throwing her hands up in the air.

Alessia laughed quietly. “All right, tell me about it, let’s dissect it,” Alessia said, fake-serious tone that made Kyra roll her eyes.

“I’m serious, Less!” Kyra groaned,

“I’m too! Go on, I’m all ears,” Alessia encouraged.

So, Kyra told what had happened last night.

Y/n had begged Kyra to put a mattress in her living room. “It’ll be like when we used to have girl’s night!” Y/n had said cheerfully as she sat on the couch. Kyra didn’t match Y/n’s energy. It was late, and Y/n mattress was surprisingly heavy.

“We could keep having girl’s night in your room,” Kyra complained, finally letting the mattress hit the floor. The Australian let out a sigh of relief as her hand went to her shoulder and pressed against the skin.

“Just so you know I am not carrying this upstairs again,” Kyra pointed at the mattress as if it were a sentient being responsible for its weight.

“Too heavy?” Y/n smiled, spreading her legs and motioning for Kyra to sit in between them on the floor.

Kyra obeyed, though not without some complaining. “Yeah, I don’t know what it’s made of.  Aren’t mattresses supposed to be made of goose feathers or some shit?”

Y/n squeezed the spot on Kyra’s shoulder she was complaining about, her hands touching the rough texture of Kyra’s Matilda's hoodie.

“Wow, there, right there,” Kyra whispered as Y/n touched the spot more firmly.

“I think mattress are supposed to have a fair amount of foam, spring, polyurethane—” Y/n explained.

“You’re just making up words,” Kyra muttered, leaning into Y/n’s touches.

“Unfortunately, they’re real words that make up real mattress materials,”

“How do you even know that?” Kyra turned, her eyebrows furrowed as she looked up at Y/n.

“I read it in an article n the newspaper,” Y/n mumbled, tapping Kyra’s head. “And turn around, I’m trying to give you a massage.”

“Newspaper? How old are you? 99?” Kyra whined as Y/n pressed her acromion. “Ouch, don’t be so rough!”

“Sorry! It would be easier if you weren’t wearing this bulky hoodie, I can’t even feel where I’m touching.” Y/n bickered. “Plus, the colors on it aren’t even that good.”

“Those are literally the national colours of my country!” Kyra argued, rolling her eyes as she watched the smug smile on Y/n’s face. “Ok, you’re messing with me,” Kyra concluded.

“Just a little, you’ve been too tense lately, and normally you’re very relaxed.” Y/n said. “I’m just trying to do something nice for you.”

“Yeah, maybe if the derby wasn’t so close I could feel happiness and, you know, live life, but we can’t have everything we wish for.” Kyra said in a fake-sad-voice.

Y/n’s hand fell from Kyra’ shoulder as Kyra pulled out the hoodie in a sweeping motion and threw it casually on the love seat by the window. The other girl was wearing a black sport’s bra underneath the hoodie.

Y/n froze, hands in the mid-air. She hasn’t expecting to see Kyra’s very strong back today. Kyra’s trapezius and deltoid muscles were very defined, Kyra looked tough, but also soft. The dichotomy of it making was making y/n breath out loud.

Kyra turned back to Y/n again, confusion on her face. “Don’t you want to do it anymore?” She asked the girl.

“Do what?” Y/n swallowed, trying not to look at the skin on Kyra’s back, focusing instead on Kyra’s eyes. Eyes were safe. Eyes didn’t make Y/n feel hot in places she shouldn’t feel hot at the moment.

“—The massage? You said if I didn’t wear the..”

“Oh yeah, yeah, of course!” Y/n rumbled. “Sorry,” she whispered as she placed her thumb, forefinger and middle finger on Kyra’s skin, gently pressing the sore spots.

“You’re tense,” Y/n told Kyra, “Especially here…” Y/n placed her fingers on the back of Kyra’s neck.” Y/n applied more pressure, until she felt Kyra’s muscle relax. “Feels good, now?” Y/n asked, continuing to work with her fingers.

“Yeah, it feels great really,” Kyra replied, enjoying Y/n’s hand on her. Maybe Kyra was in a dry spell for months, or maybe Y/n’s finger were really out of this world.

Kyra shivered slightly as Y/n nails scratched gently through her neck. Kyra had to hold back a moan to keep her dignity.

The realisation hit Kyra like a cold winter breeze, she was wearing a sports bra and being massaged—in the most delicious way—by a very pretty girl, who also happened to be her friend.

And now she was supposed to suck it up and share a mattress with said friend because said friend didn’t want to sleep in her room alone anymore. ‘It’s too lonely, it makes me sad’ Y/n had said.

Kyra was hyperventilating slightly. She wasn’t sure if Y/n could notice it.

Y/n moved her leg—the good one—more to the left and touched Kyra’s arm. It was such an innocent touch, but it made Kyra feet like a teenager all over again. Kyra began squirming in her spot, her palms clammy. It was seriously humiliating to feel this hot and bothered by a fucking touch on the arm.

Y/n’s fingers were quicker now, going from the middle of her back to her neck.

Kyra had been with girls before. She knew how to flirt, how to tease, where to touch. She wasn’t inexperienced or innocent on that matter. But the way Y/n was making Kyra’s body shiver just barely felt almost overwhelming—in a good, but scary way.

“Why do you seem more tense than when we started?” Y/n asked, interrupting Kyra’s inner monologue.

“Oh, I’m not. I’m …you just overwhelmed me with your flawless technique!” Kyra said, trying to sound teasing, but failing.

“Oh well, thank you,” Y/n said smiling, but still tilting her head slightly, as if she did not believe Kyra’s word. “I’m trying to find new hobbies, like you said.”

“You should stick with it. Your fingers feel amazing,” Kyra breathed, and then stopped. Her eyes went wide as what she had just said sank in.

“My fingers are that good, huh” Y/n said smugly, enjoying seeing Kyra squirm a little.

“You’re making it dirty,” Kyra said sheepishly.

Y/n laughed and watched as Kyra stood up. “You made it dirty first! Come on, telling a fellow lesbian her fingers feel good?”

“I just really like massages,” Kyra tried to recover from the awkwardness, her hoodie now on. “And it seems like you really liked making me squirm, so I think we’re both even.”

“Oh, okay, you turned that around quickly, I’ll give you that” Yn said, a little taken back, cheeks warm.”

“Flirting.” Alessia stated. “She was flirting with you! And you flirted back.”

“Huh? What are you talking about?”

“You just told me how you flirted with each other!” Alessia said enthusiastically, looking like a happy puppy.

“We weren’t flirting! We were teasing each other, we always do that,” Kyra argued, pointing at Alessia and then at herself. “We always do that.”

“We? Ky when was the last time I made a dirty joke on you?” Alessia questioned, crossing her arms.

“Never!” Alessia said without letting Kyra answer it. “And Y/n never teased me like that either.”

“I’m so sorry Ky but I can’t see where your confusion is coming from, it” Alessia got up, standing in front of Kyra, looking down at her. “It looks to me like you two have a little crush on each other?”

“A crush?” Kyra whined. “We aren’t seven!”

“Well, right now you’re acting like a seven-year-old who can’t see what’s happening right in front of her,” Alessias lectured softly. “What did you guys do after the massage? Please spare me any intimate details, though.”

Kyra rolled her eyes. “Nothing happened, we just got ready for bed and slept.”

“In the same mattress, right?” Alessia asked.

“…Yeah”

“I’m sorry baby, but you can’t be this naïve,” Alessia said softly, looking at Kyra as if she were a innocent child learning how the world works for the first time.

“What happened after the two of you woke up?” Alessia asked.

Kyra blushed as she remembered the position she was when she opened her eyes in the morning. Y/n couldn’t move much because of her cast, but Kyra was a very fussy sleeper and had changed positions during her sleep.

When Kyra’s alarm clock went off, she wasn’t only greeted by the usual and annoying noise, but also by Y/n’s breathing. Kyra had snuggled up to Y/n’s body for some reason. Her head on Y/n’s shoulder as the girl breathed softly into her ear.

“Don’t go,” Y/n said half asleep when Kyra tried to get up.

Kyra blushed, enjoying the way Y/n pulled at her shirt lazily.

“I have to get up and make us breakfast,” Kyra explained, taking Y/n’s hands from off her shirt. “And you have your first physical therapy session today, so we can’t be late.”

“5 more minutes? Please?” Y/n murmured

Kyra sighed, allowing Y/n to lie back on her chest. “Okay, but just 5 minutes.”

“Uhum okay,” Y/n mumbled, falling back asleep.

“Nothing much,” Kyra said, back to Alessia. “We just, I don’t know, cuddled?”

“You cuddled?” Alessias asked slowly.

“Yeah.”

“You are Y/n seemed to be in a pretty domestic bliss right now,” the blonde bent down to tie her boots. “Maybe the whole moving in together had made you realise that you have this chemistry going on?”

Kyra thought for a moment.

“I guess so? I’m not sure about chemistry, though,” she admitted. “I’m not even sure Y/n feels the same way I do.”

Kyra felt pathetic, really. Sure, perhaps she had feelings for her friends—and her roommate—but that didn’t mean that Y/n liked her back. There was always the possibility that Y/n was just lonely, and Kyra just happened to be there.

“I don’t think she’d give you a massage or cuddle up with you if she’s still saw you as just her friend,” Alessia pointed out. “Y/n isn’t the type to play hard to get—she’s very straightforward about how she feels.”

Alessia was right. Whenever the three girls went out to a bar or club, Y/n never played games with the women she wanted to take home. She was direct and confident.

“I guess I just don’t see her liking…me?” Kyra confessed, looking down. “I’m not going into a spiral of self-loathing or anything—I know I’m pretty and funny,” She half-joked.

“But Y/n’s also dealing with a lot right now. She’s focused on her recovery, getting better, starting physio… I don’t think she’s even aware of whatever this is,” Kyra added.

“Y/n’s recovering from a really bad injury, but she’s still Y/n,” Alessia countered, eyebrows furrowed. “She’s got a good head on her shoulders—I don’t think she’d be so oblivious about this whole situation.”

Before Kyra could respond, their conversation was cut short. Renée had called both players back to the pitch.

“I hope you got your mind off whatever was bothering you,” the coach said as she patted Kyra on the back.

Kyra thought of Y/n’s face.

“Yeah, I’m back now. Sorry,” Kyra said, slipping her practice vast on and jogging onto the field.

Hours later, the training was over, and Kyra was on her way to pick up Y/n from the physiotherapy clinic. Kyra parked in front of the white building, spotting Y/n already waiting with a smile on her face

“Hi, how was it?” Kyra asked as she stepped out of the car, opening the passenger door and helping Y/n inside.

“It was very good, actually,” Y/n said happily, handing Kyra her crutches so she could put them in the back seat. “Dr. Marta says my leg’s looking great and that haven’t lost too much muscle mass, so I won’t have too much trouble when we start doing the heavier exercises.”

“That’s great!” Kyra said, looking in between Y/n and the road as she drove away. ��Has Dr. Marta said when you’ll be cleared to do the physio back at Arsenal?”

Y/n turned on the radio and Pink Pony Club by Chappell Roan filled the car. “Yeah, she said I could go in two weeks. She just wants to make sure my ligaments are strong enough first.”

Kyra put a hand on Y/n’s leg—the good one—and gave it a light squeeze. “Well, I bet your ligaments are already better than mine.”

Y/n stared at Kyra’s hand, enjoying the subtle touch.

Kyra noticed the silence realised where her hand was. “Sorry,” she mumbled, quickly pulling it back and placing both hands on the wheel.

“its’s okay,” Y/n said, taking Kyra’s hand and putting it back on her leg. “Your hand is warm; my leg is cold. You can keep it there,” y/n said casually.

Kyra swallowed. She wasn’t sure what to do, so she just left her hand where it was.

“But now tell me about the training—how was it?” Y/n asked, shifting the conversation. “And I saw you guys had media day! I was so bummed I missed it…I love media days”

Kyra raised an eyebrow, her thumb now gently caressing her skin now. Not a big deal.

“No, you don’t.” Kyra huffed. “Last season, you pretended to have cramps, so you wouldn’t have to film a TikTok.”

“I said I love media day, I didn’t say I like making a fool of myself dancing,” Y/n shot back, rolling her eyes.

“Oh, come on, you’re a good dancer,”

“Yeah, at parties! I don’t do well when I’m the only one dancing and everyone around me is watching,”

“Well, when you come back all healed up, I’ll do a TikTok dance with you, so you don’t have to dance alone.”

“Given your dancing skills I think we’d both be better off hiding in the changing room,” Y/n teased.

Kyra stuck her tongue out at Y/n before they both burst laughing.

..

Y/n felt like a like a caged animal whenever she was around Kyra, which was often, considering they lived together. She tried, really tried to control herself and her impulses around Kyra, not wanting her to feel uncomfortable in any way.

But every time Kyra got a little too close, Y/n had to remind herself to breath, to think straight and not to let her gaze linger for too long.

Y/n wanted to kiss Kyra, really kiss her.

That was all she could think about when Kyra slipped a pillow under her leg without her being asked, or when she cut apples and handed them to Y/n before she even realised, she wanted a snack.

Maybe Y/n’s love language was acts of service—after all, why was she horny just because Kyra put socks on her feet?

It had been months since Y/n had kissed anyone, maybe a month or two months before her injury. She couldn’t quite remember it. So it was unnecessary to say that she was desperate.

Y/n though she had more grace, more control in her, but it all went out the drain the moment Kyra plopped herself on her side on the mattress, fresh from the shower. Her hair was still damp, and the shampoo she used filled the room with a vanilla fragrance.

Pretty, pretty girl.

Y/n felt as if her entire brain had ben short-circuited, as if her neuronal network had been designed to think about Kyra and only Kyra.

Both girls had gone out to a restaurant an hour earlier, it was the first time Y/n had seen all her teammates together since her injury. It was lovely to see all of them together after such long time.

The arsenal players stayed until late, but when Kyra and Y/n had gone home, Y/n suggested a movie night, which Kyra had agreed to—under one condition—she was the on picking the film.

‘But I’m a cheerleader’ was in the final ark already when Megan crashed the graduation party to be with Graham.

Y/n wouldn’t say it was the film itself that influenced her to take that step. It was more the subtle brush of Kyra’s arm against her own that did the trick.

“Hey, Kyra?” Y/n said, her confidence rising.

“Hmm?” Kyra mumbled, not taking her eyes off the TV.

“I really wanna kiss you right now,” Y/n confessed bluntly. She didn’t stutter or stumble in her words—she knew what she wanted, and she’d be very happy if Kyra wanted It too.

Kyra gasped slightly and finally looked into Y/n’s eyes. “What?”

It felt as if there was no air in her lungs, as if her stomach was turning against itself. Was she dreaming?

No, she wasn’t. She was sure this was real.

“Kiss you. I really want to,” Y/n explained calmly. “But it’s alright If you don’t want,” She added, looking intensely at Kyra.

“I-I want to kiss you,” Kyra said, a hint of question in her voice.

“Yeah? You sure?” Y/n asked, slightly teasing.

“Uhum,” Kyra nodded eagerly.

“Ok,” Y/n whispered before leaning in and carefully kissing Kyra.

Y/n cupped Kyra's jaw gently, controlling the depth of their kiss with gentle confidence. Kyra's tongue slipped shyly into Y/n's mouth. Their bodies fit together in the best possible way.

The kiss was better than they had ever imagined. Y/n had kissed many women before, but Kyra was definitely her best kiss yet. Kyra’s softness and her slight hesitation to just let go in the kiss made Y/n feel hot.

It was like their bodies wanted each other for a long time.

Kyra sighed into the kiss; Y/n welcomed her breath. The kiss was slow, and deliberate, not rushed in any way—like they were savouring something they’ve been waiting for a long time.

Kyra broke the kiss, but didn't pull away, instead touching her forehead and looking into Y/n’ eyes. “I liked it,” Kyra said shyly.

Y/n smiled. “Me too, a lot.” She bit Kyra’s lip gently. “Can I kiss you again?” 

“You can kiss me whenever you want”, Kyra said, taking Y/n's mouth back into her own.

The position their bodies were currently in was a little odd. Kyra was sitting up on the mattress, but leaning slightly on Y/n, while Y/n was lying with a pile of pillows on her back so she could sit up straighter and still be comfortable with her cast.

They kissed once, then stopped to catch their breath. And then they kissed some more. Kyra's elbow resting next to Y/n’s face while Kyra held her body over Y/n with her forearm.

“That was a very good kiss,” Kyra said, kissing Y/n's mouth, then her cheeks, then her nose. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time,” she confessed.

"Yeah? Me too,” Y/n said, enjoying the feeling of Kyra’s lips on her face. “It was very hard not to kiss you before.”

“And I can see why, you're all flushed,” Kyra teased, now kissing the base of Y/n’s neck, sucking the skin gently, not enough to leave any mark.

“I’m not,” Y/n mumbled, very much appreciating what Kyra was doing.

“All for me” Kyra whispered, Y/n barely hearing it.

Unfortunately for Y/n, Kyra pulled away.

“No, come back,” Y/n whimpered, tugging at Kyra's oversized shirt, trying to bring her closer, but Kyra didn't give in. 

Kyra smiled softly, taking Y/n's cheeks in between her hands and puckering her lips. “It's almost two in the morning,” Kyra explained, getting out of bed. “You have to take your meds, and we need to go sleep.”

Kyra handed Y/n's prescription bottle, along a glass of water. Y/n took them, but not without making sure she was very disappointed at Kyra for ruining their snog session.

“Do you think I’m not mad at myself too?’ Kyra asked as she watched a pout form on Y/n’s face.

Kyra got back in bed and urged the girl to lay her head on her chest. “I’m having to be the responsible one! The ‘let's not move too fast’ one the ‘hey it's late and we should be sleeping.’”

Kyra continued with her rant while Y/n just enjoyed her voice and how soft her body was against her own. They weren’t kissing anymore, but they were cuddling. It was enough for Y/n.

Kyra’s fingers found themselves on Yn’s scalp massaging it.

“We really should be sleeping,” Y/n said. “I can’t barely keep my eyes closed.”

“I swear I could stay up late without a problem a few years ago,” Kyra said added.

Y/n patted Kyra's cheek patronisingly. “And that's because you're getting older, babe,” Y/n murmured.

“I don't like it.” 

“You'll get used to it.”

“You say it like you’re much older than me” Kyra said.

Y/n noticed her voice sounded more tired now.

“I am.” 

“Only 2 years.” 

“Enough to have a fully developed brain.”

Y/n waited for Kyra's familiar teasing remarks, but they didn't come. She was already fast asleep. And so was Y/n a few moments later.

..

| PART 1 HERE |PART 2 HERE| PART 4 HERE |

Notes: Please like, share and let me know what you think! Feedback is important and makes me want to write even more. :D

Read more of my work here -> Masterlist

[vanillarosekiss]

principles of lust | simon riley

warnings: oral (f!receiving), angsty to smut, understanding!simon, makes up for all the times he's acted like a douche tbh... also this is rushed so don't expect much sorry!

You and Simon never argued. His pride and morality held him high above taking anything out on his pretty girl, refusing to even insinuate that something was your fault for whatever reason. He carried himself with a quiet patience, steady hands, and a voice that never wavered - even when you pushed him.

But today, you'd been in a bad mood, and you made sure he felt it. It started when he had mentioned that he'd booked a reservation at a nice restaurant for that evening - a sweet gesture, something meant to make you feel special. But the way he left it until the last minute, throwing it onto you like an afterthought, made your stomach twist. It wasn't that you didn't appreciate it. You did. But the rush if getting ready, the feeling of being unprepared, just amplifiedeverything else gnawing at you. He noticed right away, the tightness in your movements, the clipped responses. But Simon never pushed when you got like this. He let you have your space, even when that space became a cold shoulder.

And then the night just kept unravelling. The restaurant was warm, dimly lit, perfect for the kind of quiet, intimate evening Simon had in mind. But you were restless. Tired. Every attempt he made to pull you into the moment - his hand on yours, the way he leaned in to speak softly, the gentle teasing - only seemed to wear on you more. Your words turned sharp, your patience thinner than ever.

You could feel him starting to withdraw, though he hid it well. The way he slowed his responses, the way his jaw tensed slightly before he spoke. Almost unnoticeable. And then, finally, after one too many short answers, one too many times you brushed off his effort, he exhaled, setting his fork down with careful precision.

"I get that you might have something going on, baby, but acting like an entitled little brat isn't going to fix it." His voice was even, calm. Not cruel, not cutting - but firm. It made your chest tighten. Shame, anger, something else you couldn't name all tangled together in your throat.

The taxi ride was silent on the way home.

Simon's arm rested against the window, fingers idly tracing patterns on the fogged-up glass. You knew you should say something. Apologise, explain, reach for his hand - something. But the weight of the night sat heavy in the space between you, and neither of you decided to break it.

Fast forwards to now, when you were home and curled up in bed, with his head nestled in between your thighs. You'd only just begun to say sorry when he had kissed you, guiding you gently back into your bedroom and onto the bed. You were confused, but you let him take care of you, even if you felt guilty for it.

Simon was still slightly annoyed at you for being rude earlier, but he noticed how much pressure you were under. You'd been struggling for a while, and he wanted to help you through it. If that meant he had to get to you in a way where your brain shut off completely, he'd do it in a heart beat. So that's exactly what he was going to do.

He relentlessly lapped at your cunt, the noises bringing a heat to your cheeks as you muffled your moans slightly. He wouldn't stop until you'd cummed more than two times, knowing that you needed this. His large hands held your thighs open for him as he continued, sucking delicately at your clit. His tongue sent sparks down your spine that made you squirm in pleasure, as much as you could under his firm hold.

"Mm Si.. m’sorry about earlier!" you managed to moan out, as he ate away at your core, your eyes rolling backwards.

He hummed a small laugh that reverberated through your entire body, something which made even more heat pool inside your lower tummy.

“Don’t have to apologise for anything, sweet girl. Know you didn’t mean it, you’re just overwhelmed, baby. Just need something to help you through it, yeah?”

You gushed instantaneously at his words, metaphorically and literally, cumming undone on his lips and staining him with a sense of apology and quiet relief. You really were sorry, Simon knew that… of course he did. He’d do anything for you. Even if that meant putting his own feelings aside to make you feel better about yourself.

And who knows… maybe he planned that spur of the moment dinner just to take advantage of your already on edge state, fully anticipating that it would lead to this in return.

Sorry if this is a bit shit! I promise there's better stuff coming soon (hopefully).

Tag list 𖠋: @punkkture @slut-lmao @sebastianstans-slut @ilikeoldmen @g1rlfa1lure0 @queenoflaflames @tmartin0918 @kkloubee @goldie-221 @patricksoulmate @writingandsins @mxnee777 @siphon07 @figthoughts @mlthree @decaffeinateddelusionbread

[moonlightwritingf1]

Pillow Talk | LN4

★ summary ━━━━━━━ Lando and Y/N cuddle in bed after a long, tiring day.

★ pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

★ word count ━━━━━━━ 2.8k

Based on this request.

It’s nearly midnight, and rain streaks down the floor-to-ceiling windows of Y/N’s bedroom, blurring the glittering skyline beyond. The soft patter of raindrops against the glass fills the silence between them, a rhythmic lullaby to the storm brewing outside. The air still carries the lingering warmth of their shared shower—steam still lingering in the air, the scent of her shampoo and his body wash mixing in a quiet intimacy.

Y/n lay curled up under a plush white duvet, her head nestled in the crook of Lando’s shoulder. He lay on his back, one arm wrapped around her while his free hand brushed gentle strokes along her arm. They had finished dinner at her favorite Thai restaurant earlier that night, laughing over shared dishes before heading back to her place to shower and wind down. Now, surrounded by the cozy comfort of her bed, time felt slower��each moment more precious.

It had been five months since they officially became a couple, though they had known each other for way longer. The initial weeks of their relationship had been a mixture of bashful smiles and playful teasing; Y/n constantly reminded herself that she had been wary of Lando, yet somehow, in those five short months, he had shown her just how tender and genuine he could be.

“Hey,” he whispered softly, dipping his head to catch her gaze. “You okay?”

“Mm-hmm,” she murmured, letting her cheek rest against his warm chest. “Just tired. Work was brutal today, and I’ve been running on caffeine fumes. Having you here…makes it better.”

Lando’s lips curved into a slow, affectionate grin. He pressed a light kiss to her forehead, inhaling the faint floral scent of her shampoo. “I’m happy to be here,” he murmured, his voice low. “You have no idea how much I look forward to these nights.”

She smiled against his skin. “I think I have an idea, considering the amount of texts you send me when I’m stuck in meetings,” she teased, recalling the playful onslaught of messages and voice notes he’d sent throughout her workday.

“You love it,” Lando teased right back, turning slightly so that he faced her more fully. His hand continued to run gentle circles on her shoulder. “Besides, I can’t help it when I miss you. Monaco’s nice, but I’d pick London and you any day.”

She smiled at his words, cheeks warming at the sincerity she heard in his voice. There was a contented silence for a while as she listened to his heartbeat. 

“You’ve gotten comfortable in my space,” Y/n noted, half-closing her eyes. “Remember how you practically sprinted in here the first time, looking around like you were on a secret mission?”

Lando chuckled, recalling the memory. He had been so eager to see where she spent her days, to be a part of her world beyond the dinners and the group hangouts. “What can I say? I like to know every inch of your life.” He squeezed her gently, the tone in his voice growing softer. “I’m just glad you finally let me in.”

Her hand drifted up to trace the outline of his jaw. Though they teased each other, there was an undercurrent of emotion swirling between them—something tender and powerful that she found simultaneously comforting and electrifying. “I’m glad I did, too,” she admitted. “You’ve been…worth it.”

His eyes sparked with warmth. He tilted his head and gently brushed his nose against hers. It was a fleeting, almost childlike gesture, but it sent a surprising jolt of warmth through her. She could feel the beginning strains of tension—the lovely kind that made her want to pull him closer.

“How’re you feeling now?” he asked, letting his fingers dip to her waist. A playful glint appeared in his eyes as he noticed the way her breath caught.

“Tired,” she repeated, then paused. “But also…really happy.”

He smirked. “So, if you had to choose one…which is it right now? Sleepy or happy? Or maybe something else?” The slight growl in his voice suggested the possibility of “something else.”

She bit her lip, trying to keep from letting out a giggle. “Stop that,” she murmured, a small laugh escaping anyway.

“Stop what?” he asked, tilting his head in feigned innocence. His hand skimmed her waist again in a playful manner, and she felt her heart flutter.

“You’re being a tease,” she said, half laughing and half scolding, but her tone was gentle—she was far from annoyed. It was a familiar dance, one that she’d grown more comfortable with over the months.

“Me?” Lando said in mock offense. “Never.”

She rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t hide her grin. She allowed herself to scoot closer, pressing into his warmth as the rain continued its steady patter on the glass.

“You smell really nice,” he commented in a low voice, taking a moment to nuzzle into her hair. “That shampoo—it’s jasmine, right?”

“Jasmine and a bit of vanilla,” she confirmed, letting her eyes flutter shut for just a moment.

Lando’s free hand found hers, their fingers interlacing beneath the duvet. “You want me to put a movie on?” he asked. “We can do that, or we can just…talk.”

She lifted her head slightly, resting her chin on his chest as she peered up at him. “I wouldn’t mind just talking.”

He smiled. “Tell me about your day. The real version, not the polite one.”

She exhaled, letting out a small laugh. “It was…stressful. The project my team is working on is behind schedule, and my boss wasn’t exactly thrilled. We had to do a lot of damage control. On top of that, I had to skip lunch to attend a meeting that should have been an email.”

“Sounds rough,” he sympathized. His thumb drew soothing patterns across her knuckles. “Did you eat enough for dinner at least?”

She nodded. “I did, thank you for making sure I got extra spring rolls,” she teased.

Lando grinned. “I’ll always make sure you eat plenty of spring rolls. I care about you,” he said, only half-joking. “I want to take care of you, you know.”

She felt her heart flutter at his earnestness. Looking up, she saw the gentle concern etched onto his face, and warmth spread through her chest. “You already do,” she whispered, moving her hand to gently cup his cheek. She felt the light stubble there, and a tingle raced through her. “More than anyone ever has.”

His expression softened, and he dipped his head to press his lips against hers in a tender kiss. It wasn’t rushed or insistent; it was warm and certain. She let herself melt into it for a moment, forgetting the world outside her door.

When they parted, Lando brushed a lock of hair away from her face and tucked it behind her ear. “So, tomorrow,” he began, shifting under the covers so he could face her more easily, “we can stay in and order breakfast, or we can go out for a walk by the river. It’s supposed to be nicer in the morning, I think. The forecast said the rain should stop overnight.”

Her eyes flickered to the window where the raindrops continued. “A walk might be nice. But I’ll warn you, I’m probably sleeping in.”

“Good,” he answered quickly. “You need the rest.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And you’ll be wide awake, what, making me coffee?”

His grin deepened. “Actually, I might just stay in bed and watch you sleep for a bit. But, sure, I can make coffee too. I’m multi-talented, you know—F1 driver, coffee expert, professional girlfriend-spoiler.”

She giggled softly, lightly swatting his shoulder. “Don’t be creepy,” she teased, though the image of him being there, simply adoring her when she woke, sent a wave of comfort and contentment through her. “But okay, deal. You can watch me sleep, then we’ll have coffee. Then maybe we walk along the river.”

“Sounds perfect.” He placed a soft kiss on her temple. “Anything else you want? Whatever you want to do, I’m all yours tomorrow.”

She studied his face for a moment, taking in his bright eyes that always seemed to hold an easy smile. Five months ago, she never would have pictured being this cozy with him—this intimately connected. Now, she couldn’t imagine not having him around.

“Right now,” she said, her voice quiet, “I just want you to hold me.”

Lando’s gaze flicked down to her lips, then back up to her eyes, and he nodded. “Come here.” He guided her head back down to his shoulder, wrapping his arms around her so she was secure against him. They sank deeper into the pillows, the duvet a soft cloud around their bodies.

For a while, they simply breathed together. The occasional gust of wind rattled against the window, but it only made the room feel more intimate. He nuzzled his nose into her hair, inhaling the jasmine-vanilla scent once more. She could feel his heart beating against her cheek, strong and steady.

Eventually, she spoke again, her voice muffled by his shirt. “I’m so relaxed, I might fall asleep on you.”

“Then I’ll be the most comfortable pillow you’ve ever had,” he teased, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“Mmm,” she mumbled, contentment evident in her tone. She ran her fingertips lightly over his chest, feeling the fabric of his t-shirt move under her hand. “I like how you feel. You’re so warm.”

“Is that so?” he teased in a husky whisper, his hand drifting to the curve of her waist. There was a gentle pressure that sent a shiver through her, a teasing reminder of how good it felt whenever he touched her. The sexual tension that always lingered between them rose to the surface, making her breath hitch.

She caught his gaze, and for a moment, words seemed unnecessary. A current of unspoken desire passed between them. He leaned down and kissed her slowly, more deeply this time, but still with that careful tenderness that made her stomach flutter.

Her lips parted, savoring the warmth and reassurance he poured into that moment. Then he pulled back, ever-so-slightly. “Don’t want to tire you out even more,” he teased, breathless.

She let out a soft laugh, her cheeks warming. “We have all night,” she reminded him softly, and there was a gentle challenge in her eyes—a playfulness that mirrored his own.

“So we do,” he agreed, pulling her impossibly closer. He brushed his lips against her neck, leaving a trail of light kisses before letting his forehead rest against her shoulder. “No rush for anything, right?”

“Right,” she whispered, a smile tugging at her lips. “We have all the time in the world.”

Another quiet lull settled over them, comfortable and intimate. She splayed a hand across his chest, feeling his heartbeat, and closed her eyes.

“Thank you,” she murmured after a while, her voice soft with sincerity.

“For what?”

“For making me feel safe,” she said, looking up at him. “You know I don’t always let people in easily. But you—” She paused, a slight smile lighting her face. “You never gave up on me. Even when I was making it complicated, you were there. You’re always here.”

“Of course,” he said, tightening his hold around her. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She leaned in and pressed her lips to his collarbone in a feather-light kiss. “I don’t want you to.”

He let out a happy sigh, brushing his lips across her forehead once more. “Good,” he murmured, “because I’m exactly where I want to be.”

They continued to hold each other, exchanging soft kisses and whispers in the dim light. The rest of the world seemed far away—a distant hum outside her skyscraper apartment. Beneath the covers, they shared slow caresses and hushed laughs, the gentle friction of their bodies creating a warmth more comforting than any blanket could provide.

“You’re mine,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, as though the words had been pulled from somewhere deep inside him. His lips found her forehead, pressing a kiss that lingered, and the sensation sent a wave of warmth cascading through her body. She tilted her face upward, meeting his gaze, and the intensity in his eyes made her breath catch. His thumb brushed her cheek, tracing the curve of her jaw before his lips captured hers in a kiss that was slow and reverent, as if he were memorizing the feel of her with every touch.

Her fingers tangled in the fabric of his shirt, holding him close as she kissed him back, savoring the way his lips moved against hers—soft, yet insistent. There was a sweetness to it, a simplicity that made her heart ache in the best way. When he pulled back slightly, his breath warm against her skin, she could feel the curve of his smile against her lips.

“What is it?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

His eyes searched hers, the corners crinkling with affection. “You,” he said simply, as though the word itself held the weight of everything he couldn’t quite articulate. “You feel like home.”

Her chest tightened, and she buried her face in the crook of his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of him—clean, with a faint trace of his cologne, mixed with the warmth of his skin. His arms tightened around her, pulling her even closer, and she felt utterly safe, utterly cherished. There was no room for doubt or insecurity in his embrace; here, in his arms, she was everything she’d always wanted to be—loved, valued, seen.

He kissed her again, this time on the temple, his lips lingering as if he were savoring the moment. His hand slid down her arm, fingers interlocking with hers, their palms pressed together. The intimacy of it—barely a movement, yet so deliberate—sent a shiver through her. She squeezed his hand, and he chuckled softly.

“What?” she asked, smiling against his chest.

“You’re so soft,” he said, his voice warm. “Every time I touch you, I can’t believe how lucky I am.”

Her cheeks flushed, the praise warming her from the inside out. She tilted her head to look at him, her gaze tracing the curve of his jaw, the faint stubble that shadowed his skin. He looked at her as though she were the only thing that mattered, his eyes soft with adoration.

“You make me feel...” she started, then hesitated, searching for the right words. “Like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

His smile deepened, and he pressed his forehead to hers, his breath mingling with hers in the space between them. “You are,” he said simply. “Right here, with me—you’re exactly where you belong.”

She closed her eyes, savoring the words, the way they wrapped around her like a soft blanket. His lips brushed hers again, this time with a subtle urgency, as if he couldn’t quite get enough of her. She kissed him back, her hands sliding up to tangle in his hair, her body arching slightly toward his. Every touch, every breath, every heartbeat felt magnified, as though they were connected on a level that went beyond the physical.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them slightly breathless, she rested her head back on his chest, her fingers splayed across his heart. His hand continued to stroke her arm, his touch light and soothing. The room was quiet except for the sound of their breathing, steady and synchronized.

She felt it then—a sense of peace so profound it almost brought tears to her eyes. In his arms, she wasn’t just Y/N, the girl who worked long hours. She was his. And that was enough—more than enough. She closed her eyes, letting the warmth of his embrace and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lull her into a state of perfect content.

“I love you,” he whispered, the words soft but certain, breaking the silence.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked up at him, her heart swelling in her chest. “I love you, too,” she said, her voice steady, each word filled with the depth of her emotion.

He kissed her once more, a slow, lingering kiss that spoke of promises and forever. And as they lay there together, wrapped in each other’s warmth, the rest of the world faded away, leaving only this—only them. And it was perfect.

Eventually, as the rain started to taper off and the rhythmic pattern grew faint, Y/n felt her eyelids grow heavy. Her long day was catching up to her, but she felt content in a way she rarely experienced.

Noticing her struggle to stay awake, Lando gently shifted to guide her head back down to his chest. “Sleep,” he whispered, pressing his lips to her temple. “I’ll be here.”

She managed a small nod, allowing the steady thrum of his heartbeat to lull her into drowsiness. “Stay,” she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper, but he caught it.

He smiled in the darkness. “Always,” he whispered back, stroking her hair until she drifted off.

[goldfades]

NEED more controversially young gf x sidney bc he looked so good today

ouuuu yes, he's so father figure i need him NEOW.

Sidney liked to think he had some self-control.

He wasn’t impulsive. Never had been. Everything he did—his routines, his training, his life—was built around discipline. Focus. Restraint.

So, in theory, he should’ve had no problem resisting you.

Except... he absolutely did not.

You were spoiled. His fault. You were used to getting what you wanted. Also his fault. Because no matter how many times he swore he wouldn’t play into the whole rich, older boyfriend who gives his girl whatever she wants stereotype, the second you hit him with that look—wide, pleading eyes, pout just barely pushing your bottom lip forward—he was done for. Every damn time.

And what was worse? You knew it.

"Baby, please."

Sidney let out a slow breath through his nose, staring at you from across the kitchen island, arms crossed over his chest in some weak attempt at standing firm. "No."

You gasped dramatically, hand on your heart. "No?"

"No," he repeated, pretending to be unaffected.

You squinted at him, assessing, then leaned forward on your elbows, your expression shifting into something softer, sweeter. "Siddy," you crooned, dragging out the nickname only you could get away with.

"Still no," he said, a little less firm.

Your lashes fluttered. "But—"

"No."

A pout. "Just hear me out—"

"Absolutely not."

And then, the final move. Your finisher. Your undefeated strategy.

The big, doe-eyed, lower-lip-jutting, perfectly calculated princess pout.

Sidney swore he could actually feel himself losing the battle in real time.

"Baby," you murmured, tilting your head just so, voice going all soft and sugary.

He exhaled sharply, already regretting his entire existence. "You don’t even need another bag."

You blinked up at him, innocence personified. "Did I say it was a bag?"

"It’s always a bag," he shot back.

"Not true!" you argued, straightening up. "Sometimes it’s shoes."

Sid dragged a hand down his face. "That’s not helping your case."

"Okay, but, babe, listen," you said, shifting tactics, voice all logical and persuasive now. "Technically, you like when I buy nice things, because you love when I look cute, right?"

Sidney let out a tired chuckle, shaking his head. "You’re unbelievable."

"Unbelievably cute?" you offered, grinning now, knowing you were winning.

Sid let the silence hang between you for a second longer, giving himself the illusion of control, before sighing. "Fine."

Your entire face lit up, and that—that was the thing. That’s why he could never say no to you. Because every single time he gave in, he got that look. That sparkle in your eye, that giddy little smile, that barely-contained excitement.

"You’re the best," you beamed, practically skipping around the island to throw your arms around his neck.

Sid caught you easily, hands settling on your waist. "I’m an idiot," he muttered into your hair.

"You’re my idiot," you corrected, pressing a kiss to his jaw before pulling back. "Now, since I already have you in a giving mood—"

Sid groaned, tilting his head back. "Oh my god."

"—hear me out," you continued, undeterred. "The new Chanel collection—"

"Absolutely not."

You pouted.

Sid sighed.

You won again.

[luvergirl-866]

trouble in paradise

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count - 1.1k

c/w - fluff, azzi is cute when she’s mad and paige can’t handle allat

a/n - heavily based off my irl relationships. i have been both p and a in this situation 😔. anyway just a silly lil blurbski for yall (lol at me writing absolutely anything but the prompts you guys send me) (i promise i want to do every single one of them)

“And she was like, ‘You can’t even shoot.’ I don’t even know what got into her, because she knows—she knows I can shoot. Everybody knows I can fucking shoot!”

“Mhm,” Paige mumbles, nestled into the crook of Azzi’s neck, trailing lazy kisses across the soft expanse of skin.

“And you know how patient I am. But I was already annoyed with her because of how she was playing in practice and then she has the audacity to mess with me in the locker room?” Azzi makes a frustrated sound, hand absentmindedly holding the back of Paige’s head, keeping her in place. “And then, and then, she’s all, ‘It was just a joke, chill out!’ Like, what?”

“Crazy work,” Paige replies. She nuzzles up behind Azzi’s ear, letting the tip of her tongue wet the spot slightly.

It’s Azzi’s most sensitive spot, but she doesn’t even react. “And now I seem like a bitch for, for—for sticking up for myself!”

“Nobody thinks you’re a bitch, baby,” Paige reassures, voice gravelly and gentle—a product of the slow, languid sex they had only half an hour prior. How they got from that to this, Paige doesn’t know.

“They do. I can tell. Carol came up to me after and was like, ‘Be nicer to KK, she’s sensitive.’ Well, so am I! But are we being nice to Azzi? No. So, like, what’s the problem here? Why am I being targeted?”

To be fair, Azzi had been a little unnecessarily mean to KK earlier in the locker room. She’d already had a long day and with KK testing her during practice, she wasn’t ready for any teasing afterwards. Paige had tried to tell KK this, catching her before they entered the locker room and saying, “Hey, I know it seems like y’all are just messing around but she’s actually pissed right now.” But KK had laughed her off with a, “Nah, we’re just playin’.”

Paige had let her find out the hard way that when it comes to Azzi, she’s always the expert.

But she knows better than to voice her opinion right now. She’d probably be forced to do the walk of shame out of her own room. Instead, she continues with her ministrations, scraping her teeth against the shell of Azzi’s ear before tugging on her earlobe.

“I just think it’s unfair,” Azzi continues with a huff.

“So unfair,” Paige agrees.

“I don’t like being the bad guy.”

Paige can’t help but smile a little into Azzi’s neck at the thought of her—dimples and curly hair and all—ever being considered ‘the bad guy’ by anybody. Especially by their teammates, who know her well enough to know she’d never hurt a fly. She’s hard to annoy, hard to rile up; Paige is the best at it, and that’s saying something considering it’s difficult even for her to get a reaction out of the younger girl. All the girls know she’d only ever snap at someone if her buttons were really pushed.

KK may be off pouting somewhere, and their teammates may be comforting her, but nobody really thinks Azzi’s in the wrong here. How could they? She’s their princess.

“You’re not, sweet girl,” Paige says, straightening her expression before lifting her head. Azzi’s eyebrows are furrowed, lips formed into an angry pout. Paige’s mind conjures images of those adorable malicious-looking kittens. This time, there’s no hiding her amused smile.

Azzi’s eyebrows go even lower, if that’s possible. “What is funny?”

“Nothin’, baby,” Paige says, trying to distract her with a kiss, but Azzi isn’t having it. She pushes at her chest with a huff, which only serves to make Paige chuckle a little.

“You’re not taking me seriously!” Azzi whines, wriggling around in an attempt to get out from underneath her girlfriend, but Paige has hands on either side of her shoulders, her knees straddling her hips. She’s caged in.

“I am!” Paige says as earnestly as she can. “I wasn’t laughing at you, I thought of something else that was funny.”

Azzi’s pout grows in intensity and Paige isn’t laughing anymore.

One of the many things Paige has learned from dating Azzi is that scientists are lying when they say there are only three basic units of the brain. There is actually a secret, fourth unit that is only unlocked when one gets a girlfriend. And this unit of the brain serves to do one thing and one thing only: make her happy.

If a doctor were to put Paige in an MRI scan, and have Azzi speak to her during it, this is what would happen:

Phrases like ‘Do you think she’s pretty?’, ‘Do you like this picture of me?’, and, of course, ‘Would you love me if I were an inanimate object?’ would light up that brain activity sensor like a christmas tree. Alarm bells would go off along with an urgent, robotic voice saying something like ‘Emergency Situation Detected.’

There’s always a slew of solutions to these dilemmas and Paige is usually pretty good at saying the perfect thing. But that pout—that pout has only one solution: groveling.

“I’m sorry, baby, don’t look at me like that,” Paige coos, fighting against the hand on her chest to pepper kisses over Azzi’s face.

“You were laughing at something else?” Azzi asks, giving up on fighting Paige to cross her arms over her chest, which is somehow worse. “So you weren’t paying attention.”

“No, I was—ok, I promise I was listening to you, princess—“

“So you were laughing at me.”

“Not like that!” Paige insists, making an attempt at kissing Azzi’s pout away. But Azzi doesn’t reciprocate, just stares at her with an expression that’s somewhere between accusing and hurt. “You’re just cute, baby. I can listen to you and still acknowledge you’re cute.”

“But I’m genuinely annoyed and you’re just sitting here laughing at me.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I promise I was listening to you, angel.” When she goes for another kiss, Azzi kisses her back, which is a good sign. “You’re right, it’s annoying. It’s not funny.”

“It’s not,” Azzi reiterates.

Paige kisses her again. “Not at all.”

“And you agree with me, right?” Azzi asks, pout disappearing and eyebrows shooting up as if to warn her about the consequences of saying the wrong thing here. “You don’t think I need to apologize?”

Paige thinks they both need to apologize. KK for pushing Azzi around, and Azzi for retaliating a little too strongly.

There’s no way in hell she’ll say this.

“‘Course, pretty girl,” Paige says. She nearly sighs with relief when Azzi uncrosses her arms, wrapping them around Paige’s neck to play with her hair.

She smiles approvingly, pulling her down for a sweet kiss. When she pulls away, it’s only enough that their lips are still brushing when she speaks. And then she says, “Okay. Then go out there and stand up for me.”

Emergency Situation Detected.

[princesseilish]

AIRPORT

Billie Eilish x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, whining, bratty toddler stage

Synopsis: Rosie has been on countless of flights in her short lifetime, but nothing out of the country so it was easy for her to adapt to two hours in the air. So on the flight out of the United States, things got a little more messy.

The day before the flight, the family sat in the kitchen well, Billie and Rosie, the toddler’s impatient nature has always gotten the best of Billie, y/n feeling amazing as she finished packing Rosie’s carry-on and it only took a few minutes. She finished packing Rosie‘s suitcase a week prior though, she always felt the need to be prepared, even for the slightest of things. 

Billie loved Rosie more than life itself. She would do anything for that little girl. But if there was one thing that tested every ounce of her patience, it was how impatient Rosie could be.

“Mommy, juice?” Rosie asked from her spot at the kitchen table, swinging her little legs.

Billie, still fumbling with the carton in the fridge, called back, “Yeah, bug, gimme a sec—”

“Mommy… juice,” Rosie repeated, this time with a tiny stomp of her foot.

Billie sighed, grabbing the cup from the cabinet. “I hear you, Ro, just wait a sec.”

Rosie huffed, clearly not pleased with that answer. “But… but now, Mommy!”

Billie’s jaw clenched as she poured the juice. Rosie was only three, but she had the patience of someone who had never heard the word wait in her life. Billie was trying to work on that, but the toddler acted like every request was a life-or-death situation.

Just as Billie set the cup down in front of her, Y/n walked into the kitchen, immediately catching the tension. “What’s going on in here?”

“Mommy took forever,” Rosie whined, crossing her arms dramatically.

Billie scoffed. “Forever? Forever? Rosie, it was thirty seconds!”

Rosie just pouted, taking a sip of her juice.

Y/n bit back a smile as she crouched beside their daughter. “Bug, do you know what patience means?”

Rosie blinked, clearly unimpressed with the question. “No.”

Y/n smoothed her curls gently. “It means waiting nicely when someone is helping you.”

Rosie furrowed her little brows, taking a moment to process. “But… but I wanted juice.”

Billie threw up her hands. “And you got juice, Ro! Right after I got it!”

Y/n gave Billie a knowing look before turning back to Rosie. “Okay, but next time, when Mommy is getting something for you, you have to wait. Can you do that?”

Rosie was quiet for a second, then looked up at Billie with those big brown eyes. “…Maybe.”

Billie groaned. Y/n just laughed, pressing a kiss to Billie’s shoulder before whispering, “She gets it from you.”

Now it’s actually flight day, they were going to Disneyland, Tokyo. Well technically they were going to Tokyo, Rosie just snuck in the Disneyland idea.

By the time they made it to the airport, Rosie was on the verge of a meltdown.

She was hungry. She was tired. She was over it.

Her little body squirmed in Y/n’s arms as they made their way through security, her face buried in Y/n’s shoulder, but every few minutes, she’d lift her head to whine about something.

“Mommy, I wanna walk…”

“Bug, if I put you down, you have to walk the whole way. No asking to be carried again.”

A dramatic sigh. “Never mind.”

Billie chuckled, shaking her head as she pulled their carry-on behind them. Rosie was hanging on by a thread at this point.

Then came the next complaint. “I’m thirsty…”

Y/n kissed the side of her head. “We’ll get you some juice when we get to our gate, baby. We just have to finish security first.”

“But I’m thirsty nowwww,” Rosie whined, her little fists balling in frustration.

Billie sighed, rubbing her temples. “Rosie—”

“—Hey,” Y/n interrupted, squeezing Billie’s wrist gently before she could get frustrated too. “I got her.”

Billie breathed out slowly, nodding. Y/n always handled Rosie’s impatience with so much grace. Billie? Not so much.

Rosie wiggled again, fussing, her exhaustion making her ten times whinier than usual. “Can we go home? I don’t wanna go anymore…”

Y/n readjusted her grip on the toddler. “I know, baby. I know. But we’re gonna have so much fun when we get there, remember? You’re gonna get to see the big castle, and meet the princesses, and eat Mickey pancakes!”

Rosie sniffled, rubbing her tired eyes. “Mickey pancakes…” she mumbled, like she was trying to hype herself up.

“That’s right,” Y/n cooed, rocking her gently. “Just a little longer, baby.”

Finally, they made it through security. Rosie was barely keeping it together, her eyes fluttering closed every few seconds.

When they reached the gate, Billie went to buy her some juice, while Y/n found them a seat near the windows. Rosie, still restless, curled into Y/n’s chest, her little hand gripping Y/n’s hoodie like a lifeline.

The moment Billie sat back down and handed Rosie her juice, the little girl took one sip—one single sip—and then passed out in Y/n’s arms.

Billie huffed a laugh. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Y/n just smirked, brushing Rosie’s curls back. “Took her long enough.”

Billie leaned her head against Y/n’s shoulder, staring down at their daughter. “She’s gonna wake up the second we get on that plane, huh?”

Y/n sighed. “Absolutely.”

[justwinginglife]

The BL Boys React To Your Pet Names

Guys, I did just kinda pick and choose from the boys because there are so many of them and I’m lazy. Wrote this kinda off the top of my head, might do a part two maybe. If you want HCs for a specific boy, either one who wasn’t mentioned or more of one that was mentioned, let me know and I’ll do my best. 

@ouiouimochi this is your sign to write more BL.

Sae Itoshi

The first time you call Sae a pet name, he simply stares at you, seemingly unamused. He doesn’t say anything, but you’re sure he’s probably thinking something along the lines of, “Really? ‘Baby’ was the best you could do?” You quickly cough and change the subject, vowing to never bring up the pet names again. As the day goes by, he realizes you really aren’t going to call him by the pet name again. He waits for you to say it, he doesn’t want to be the one to tell you that he actually enjoyed it, but eventually when he comes to the conclusion that you’re far too embarrassed to ever attempt it again, he sighs and takes you by the chin before giving you a stern look. “Did I say you could stop calling me baby? No, I didn’t. So get on with it already.” You blink, surprised. Then a smile spreads across your face. “Whatever you say, baby.”

Meguru Bachira

Bachira’s grin stretches endlessly when he hears the pet name you’ve so casually let slip from your lips. “Ooooh, so we’ve moved onto pet names, have we? Sounds like so much fun, my turn!” You have to smile at his enthusiasm and you’re honestly curious to see what he’ll pick out for you. It isn’t until he starts whispering every pet name he can think of into your ear, in that low, seductive tone of his that you realize you might’ve started something dangerous. Sweat begins to drip down your neck and your cheeks flush red as he murmurs in your ear, nipping and sucking at the lobe, “How’s my baby doing? My darling. Love of my life. Honey. Princess. Angel.” He purrs each word like he knows exactly what it’s doing to you. “M-Meguru!” You protest, trying to pull away. He holds you firmly in his grip. “I’m not done yet, sweetie.” Just what have you done?

Hyoma Chigiri

Chigiri looks away, and you think he might’ve disliked the pet name, but then he mumbles under his breath, “Say it again.” You grin. “Hi baby,” you coo into his ear. He shivers and then pulls you close to him. “You’re such a tease,” He grumbles. “But you like it though,” You say with a wink. “But I like it though,” He concedes, repeating your words in agreement. After snuggling close to you for a few more moments, he finally says, “You know you can’t take it back, right?” You laugh. “Silly baby. What makes you think I’d take it back? You’re mine for life.” His brows furrow, his mind still clouded with conflict, “Alright, well, if we get into a fight and you’re mad at me, you better still call me baby, you got that? None of this Chigiri or Hyoma shit anymore.” 

Reo Mikage

Reo blinks and then he smirks. “Baby, huh? I like it. Has a nice ring to it. Makes me want to parade you around, in front of the entire team, and have you say it over and over again. Give them something to bitch about later.” You laugh. “That’s not why I said it.” He grins devilishly. “I know, but it’s a perk that comes with it. Why shouldn’t I show you off? Let’s make everybody miserable with how unbearably happy we are together.” He begins to suck and kiss at your neck, unbothered by the fact that he’s acting out in broad daylight. His hands wander your body greedily as proof of the effect the pet name has had on him. “Reo-” You whine, trying to fend off his advances. “Nuh-uh. It’s ‘baby’ now, remember? I won’t answer to anything else anymore. Now, moan it a little louder for me, sweetheart.”  

Seishiro Nagi

“Baby? Oh. Yeah. I guess that is what couples usually call each other. Alright, I’ll call you baby too.” He’s completely unbothered by this new phase in your relationship, and he continues to game on his console without a care in the world. You should’ve known he would react like this, should’ve known it wouldn’t be as big a deal to him as it was to you, but you’ve just spent this whole time psyching yourself up to say it, and if you’re honest, you’re disappointed he didn’t react more. You bite your lip. He peers up at you from his position laying in your lap. “Something wrong?” You muster up a smile and shake your head. He sits up. “That’s not true. Tell me. What’s wrong?” You sigh. “I thought you’d be more… excited by the pet names.” His brows furrow. “I’m thrilled, what do you mean?” Your heart skips a beat. “You…are? You didn’t seem like it.” He caresses your cheek. “I instantly jumped to calling you pet names too, didn’t I? I’m thrilled, baby. I am. Really.” He presses his forehead against yours. “I love you,” He adds for emphasis. He says it so simply but maybe it’s the straightforward way in which he says it that sets your heart at ease, because for him, loving you is as easy as existing.

Rin Itoshi

Rin ushers you into a supply closet and quickly shuts the door. You smirk. “Something wrong, baby?” There’s that word again. He tenses up. “You can’t just call me that in front of the team,” He hisses, cheeks tinging red. You take a step towards him, backing him against the door. Then you dance two fingers up his chest. “But you’re my baby, are you not?” He huffs and crosses his arms in a fake show of annoyance. But he isn’t annoyed. Not in the slightest. In fact, he’s thinking to himself that it’s probably perfect he yanked you into the supply closet because he’s feeling he might melt into a puddle at this very minute and you’ll have to carry him home in a mop bucket. “Yeah, well…” He finally begins to speak, his voice taking on a much softer tone, “Can you just say it when we’re at home alone? I don’t want anybody to see this side of me but you.”  

Shouei Barou

Barou snorts. “Do I look like a baby to you?” You roll your eyes. “Well, I’m not calling you king.” He raises a brow at your attitude. “My lord will do just fine.” A devious look crosses your face. “Oh, you want to play the power game?” You suddenly straddle his lap. “Mind telling me exactly which one of us was whimpering last night, begging for a break?” Barou grits his teeth. You bite back a grin as you snuggle up against him, triumphant. He tenses in frustration, but he allows it. “I’ll try something else then,” You concede, not wanting to tarnish anymore of his ego than you already have. “How about my darling? Or my love?" He wrinkles his nose. “Do I look like some lovesick fool to you?” You raise a brow as if to say “Do you really want me to answer honestly?” He narrows his eyes at you. “Fine. How about, Handsome?” He straightens slightly, interest peaked. Finally. “There he is. Hi, Handsome.” You purr into his ear with a voice that turns even kings into beggars. Looks like he’ll be spending tonight on his knees too.

[wlwsoccerfics]

Told you not to overdue it (RenéeSlegersXReader)

AN: Here it is, the RenéeXReader fic. Hope you enjoy. Let me know If you want more of the Team moms.

Summary: you thought it was just a normal day at Arsenal but then your next Patient turned out to be your wife.

You just finished taping Lias shoulder when you got the call from one of the Assistent Coaches that someone needed your help on the Trainings Pitch. Cause they have Hurt their ankle.

You fully expected it to be a Player. But instead you were met with your wife sitting on the grass, holding her ankle.

"hi." You Said softly to the Team and then looked at your wife.

"Renée, my love. What happened?" You asked and kneeled down in front of her.

"i was warming up with the Girls and then i slipped and my ankle buckled." She told you. Sighing softly. The Girls were standing close by, watching the two of you. While you checked out your wife's ankle.

"i told you not to overdue it ,love." You kissed her head quickly before putting an ice pack on it.

"i know ,i know!" She answered and blushed a bit.

"it looks like just a sprained ankle. Now we ice it for some minutes and then i will help you up and we see how it goes. But i recommend taking it easy no matter what!" You explained. "Better safe then sorry!" You added on.

After a few minutes of icing the Injury, you wrapped her ankle up with a Bandage and then helped her up.

"it only is a little discomfort left! So guess that's good!" Renée told you. You chuckled softly.

"it is good indeed! But when you get home all you gonna do is stay off that ankle and cuddle with Lio, your three months old son, he was the biggest joy of the two of you. Your Mom was currently watching him.

"next time you have to bring him to practice. We Miss Out Arsenal Baby!" Emily said softly.

"agreed!" Leah answered.

"we promise we bring him with us tomorrow!" You told them. You have given birth to him and went back to work rather quickly. Taking him with you in the Physio room for most of the day.

You grabbed some crutches for your wife just in case so she could finish the practice with the Team. Going back to your office. Filling out some paperwork.

Around two hours later you and Renée were on your way home. Your Mom handed you over Lio when you got home and asked your wife what happened. She was clearly concerned. She even offered to take Lio over night If needed but you told her it was okay.

Renée was lying on the couch. Ankle resting on a pillow. You had Lio in your Arms, nursing him. Your wife was gently stroking your sons little head with one finger.

"i can't believe how perfect he is!" Renée told you.

"just like his mommy!" You stated and smiled at your wife. Your wife blushed.

"No ,he is perfect like his momma!" Your wife replied. Smiling back at you.

It was 20 minutes later when the doorbell rung and you opened it. Chuckling softly when you saw some Girls of the Team standing there with Pizza. It happened alot that the Younger Ones would just Show Up. But usually you would feed them and you would give them Life advice. You basically were Bonus parents to them. Katie, Kyra and Jenna walked inside after you held the door open for them.

"hi Renée, we brought Pizza so you didn't have to cook! Also Katie has to tell you something!" Jenna explained.

"thanks for bringing over food! That's nice. But before we eat let's talk. Is everything okay?" Renée asked. They sit down and you hand them their favorite sodas. Yes you do always have some of those at Home.

"Tell Moms, Katie!" Kyra said half jokingly.

"i uh got hurt a few days ago but didn't tell anyone and it got worse! I don't think i can Play in the next Game!" Katie stated. You look at her.

"what happened? Where are you hurt?" You wanted to know.

"i slipped and fell on my back. I managed to pull through during practice but after i showered today i almost slipped again and the pain going through my Body was just terrible!" She admitted. You sigh softly.

"Katie, why didn't you say something right away? I mean you could have gotten it fixed already." You told her. "Show me exactly where it hurts?" She showed you and you took her to your little Office where you had everything you needed to fix her back. You had her lay down and put everything back in it's place and she immediately felt relief.

After that you all ate the Pizza, while the girls took turns holding Lio, who loved the Girls attention. He was such a smiley little boy. You also watched a movie together. It was too late to drive home though so you let them sleep in the guest bed room. Which basically was a room for the Arsenal girls at this point. You then put Lio to bed before you helped your wife to bed as well.

[captain-bubble-wrap]

Taking Quinn home to meet your parents for the first time? Could the reader have a little brother who knows who Quinn is? Pretty please? 🎀

"Oh, be warned, mom is probably going to give you a kiss."

From the driver's seat, Quinn gave you a peculiar look as he rounded the last corner before finally arriving at your parent's house. He didn't know what to do with the tidbit of information you had given him, which prompted you to elaborate. You knew you should have probably declared that a lot earlier, but it had simply slipped your mind. It had been quite sometime since you had brought anyone home since moving away.

"Just on the cheek! She's...just really affectionate!"

Returning his eyes to the road, Quinn's tone dropped, "Is there anything else I need to know?"

"Daddy will look at you like he wants to shoot you...but only for a few minutes."

It was a nervous laugh that came out of Quinn's mouth. "Yeah, that's uh-- that's good to know. Thanks-- babe."

"Oh, stop! You'll be fine!"

It was obvious Quinn was nervous, and while you tried to reassure him that everything was okay, he still looked at you with unease after parking the car. This was supposed to be a fun day, and you felt responsible for the sudden shift in the overall mood.

"I promise they'll love you!" You reached over and touched his hand. "I promise."

Quinn gave you the softest smile before following you out of the car. He shuffled silently behind you, up the sidewalk and to the front door where after a short moment, your mother answered your knocking.

"Oh, you finally made it!" She hugged you first before zeroing in on Quinn, who still was lingering on the porch. "You too, Quinn! Come on!"

While he got the mother treatment, you made your way over to your dad, who was getting up from his chair.

"So this is the guy, huh?" He wasn't the most affectionate man, nor the most chipper when it came to who his daughter was involved with, so you didn't take his lack of warmth too personally.

"Be nice! He's sweet, you'll like him. And I'm happy to see you, too!"

His grumble was to be expected. He had yet to "like" any of your boyfriends; his standards just seemed too high. "Mhm, you've said that before."

You'd roll your eyes before leaving him to go rescue Quinn. "Mom! Let him breathe!"

"Oh, he's fine! It's good to finally meet you! Y|N has told us quite a bit about you, but I'm sure she's been holding back!"

Yours and Quinn's cheeks flushed with pink; yours because your mom had just revealed how often you talked about him, and Quinn's because he was being talked about... Before either of you could open your mouths to say anything in objection, your little brother came running from his room upstairs. The sounds of his rapid footfalls made everyone turn towards the thuds. He had just turned fourteen and was loving being the only child in the house since you had moved out.

"Whoa, what is Quinn Hughes doing in our living room?" He had come to a stop in the middle of the staircase, and was staring at Quinn, mouth slightly open at the sight of the hockey player standing there.

"How do you know who he is?" Questioned your mother, confused by the sudden change of events. She looked from your brother, to you, and then finally at Quinn. He was smiling, hands in his pockets as he hated being the center of attention for anything.

"He's the captain for the Vancouver Canucks, mom!"

"The who?"

Your brother threw his head back as he sighed, still the drama queen you realized. "Hockey, mom! C'mon!"

"Attitude," barked your dad, growing more annoyed with the back-and-forth. Now was about the time that he took his afternoon nap, and like a toddler, he was getting grumpy. Your brother, ignored the fact that he was being reprimanded, an made short work of the rest of the stairs to stop right in front of Quinn. He had yet to even acknowledge you were standing there!

"You're like the best defenseman in the league! I can't believe you're in my house!"

"Meet your biggest fan, Quinn," you teased as your brother eyed you like he had caught you in the act of theft.

"You're dating my sister? What the heck?"

Quinn smirked despite the family dynamic being a little chaotic at the moment, "Yeah, for about a year now."

Your brother didn't know how to respond to what Quinn had said, and opted to give you another judgmental stare instead. He had been around ten when you moved out, and neither of you had been real close whenever you had lived together. Now, however, you felt like complete strangers; he only seemed interested that you were home because of who you had brought along.

"Gross! You could do better!"

"Parker!" Hissed both of your parents in unison. You stifled a snort at him getting double-teamed; poor Quinn, however, looked lost at sea.

"What? It's true!" He snickered, looking back at Quinn like he was going to somehow agree with the childish statement. "Hey, do you think you could sign one of my sticks?"

Breaking up your brother trying to be the center of attention, she turned back to Quinn, "Y|N said you played hockey, but we didn't realize you played professionally! You're so young! And Parker, leave him be, alright? There will be plenty of time for all of that later. They've not even taken their coats off! Come on, you two. Let me make you both something to eat. I'm sure you're hungry."

Parker couldn't get over the fact that he had just met his sports idol, your boyfriend no less. He couldn't wait to tell the team at practice. They weren't going to believe him!