#i was not prepared for it when i first watched it

[satellite-evans]

farmers market

Pairing: Harry Styles x pregnant!reader

Summary: Harry takes his pregnant girlfriend to the farmers market :)

Word count: 1k+

Warnings: fluff

A/N:

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, talks, vents, recommendations or just simple questions are always welcome.

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

Saturday mornings had become your favorite part of the week, especially now that you were six months pregnant. There was something about the air in the fall that made everything feel crisp, fresh, and alive. You breathed it in deeply as you and Harry approached the farmer’s market entrance, the golden sunlight filtering through the trees and creating a beautiful radiance on everything. The sounds of the bustling crowd, the chatter of vendors, and the soft rustling of leaves in the breeze all added to the charm. For you, this was the perfect way to spend the morning—slowly strolling through the stalls, picking out fresh produce, and taking in the delicious aromas that surrounded you.

Harry, on the other hand, loved watching you. There was a joy in your eyes every time you came across something that caught your attention—whether it was a basket of perfectly ripe peaches or a bouquet of wildflowers. He found himself smiling more, simply watching you enjoy the little things. Though his schedule was often packed with work, he didn’t mind these outings. In fact, he insisted on them.

"I can't believe you actually woke up early for this," you teased, nudging him playfully with your shoulder as the two of you made your way through the market entrance.

Harry adjusted his sunglasses, his hand still wrapped around yours. He squeezed it gently before responding, "Hey, I have my priorities straight. You, our little one, and fresh strawberries."

You grinned at him. "I knew you were just here for the food."

"And the company," he corrected, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. He lingered for a moment, his fingers brushing your skin. "You sure you're up for this? We could’ve just ordered everything online."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. "Harry, I’m pregnant, not fragile. I’m not going to break. Besides, I want to pick things out myself. You know how picky I get when it comes to cravings."

He chuckled, his hand gently resting on the small of your back, guiding you as you walked. "Yeah, I remember. The great pickle debacle of last month."

You groaned, covering your face with your hand in embarrassment. "Don’t remind me. I still feel bad for that poor store clerk."

"He survived," Harry teased, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face as you reached the first stall. "And now we have a whole shelf stocked with pickles at home. We're prepared for the next craving, love."

As you approached the stall, a burst of color filled your vision. Strawberries. Plump and bright, their sweetness practically radiated from the basket. You couldn’t help yourself. A soft gasp left your lips as you reached for a carton. "Oh my gosh, look at these strawberries! I need them."

The vendor, an older man with a wide grin and a straw hat, chuckled at your enthusiasm. "Good choice, dear. These are the sweetest berries you’ll find this season, grown just down the road."

Harry smiled at the vendor, then at you. "Perfect. We’ll take a few cartons, please."

The man winked at you as he handed over the strawberries. "Craving strawberries, huh? Must mean you’re having a sweet little one."

You laughed, resting your hand on your bump. "Seems like it."

Harry watched you carefully, his hand brushing yours as you inspected the fruit, a soft chuckle escaping him. "You know, love, if you keep eating them like this, our little one is going to come out looking like a strawberry."

You raised an eyebrow at him, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. "Should be no problem for you, since you only sing about fruit and... other things."

Harry’s face broke into laughter, shaking his head as he squeezed your hand a little tighter. "Alright, fair point. Guess we’re a perfect match then."

As you both moved down the market path, you spotted a stall selling honey, its glass jars glistening in the sunlight. Your eyes lit up, and without missing a beat, you tugged Harry toward it. "Ooh, fresh honey!"

The elderly woman behind the stand greeted you with a warm smile. "Well hello, dear! Looking for something sweet today?"

Harry wrapped his arm around you protectively, as if to shield you from the bustling crowd around you. He glanced down at you, his thumb gently caressing the back of your hand. "She’s been craving everything sweet since she got pregnant," he said, his voice soft, his gaze lingering on you.

The vendor’s smile widened. "Ah, a little one on the way! Congratulations, dear. I’ve got just the thing for you—this wildflower honey. It’s perfect with tea or drizzled over yogurt."

You took one of the jars into your hands, turning it over in your palms as you inspected it. "We’ll take two jars, please," you said with a smile. You could already imagine the honey paired with some of the fruit you had bought.

Harry leaned in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispered, "At this rate, we’ll have an entire pantry of honey, jams, and fruit."

You nudged him with your elbow, a playful glint in your eyes. "Says the guy who could probably live off protein shakes and fruit."

He grinned down at you, leaning his head against yours for a brief moment. "Hey, fruit’s good for you. And clearly, our little one agrees."

As the two of you continued down the market lane, Harry remained ever the protector, placing a hand gently on your lower back whenever the crowd got too dense or people brushed by too closely. He made sure to stay close, watching you like a hawk as you darted from one stall to another, carefully selecting items that would satisfy your cravings. His protective nature seemed to grow stronger with each passing day, and you couldn’t help but feel a flutter of love in your chest every time he touched you.

You stopped in front of a stall selling freshly baked bread. You picked up a warm loaf, its crust golden and inviting, and breathed in deeply. "Look at this bread, H!" you said, holding it up to him. "It smells amazing."

The baker, a jovial man with flour-dusted hands, beamed at you. "Fresh from the oven this morning, love. It’s a market favorite!"

Harry inhaled the rich aroma of the bread and nodded. "Alright, we’ll take two. One for you, and one for the baby."

You giggled, shaking your head at him. "You’re going to use the baby excuse for everything now, aren’t you?"

He shot you a mischievous grin. "Absolutely."

Next, you came across a stand selling handmade baby clothes. Harry’s eyes softened the moment he saw a tiny knitted sweater. His hand lingered over the soft material before he held it up to you, his voice barely above a whisper. "Look at this. Think our little one would like it?"

An elderly woman behind the stand smiled warmly at the two of you. "Oh, that one’s made from the softest wool, dear. Perfect for a little bundle of joy."

You felt your heart swell in your chest as you looked at Harry. Your voice wavered slightly. "I think they��d look adorable in it."

Harry’s fingers gently traced the top of your arm, sending a warm shiver through you. "We’re really doing this, huh?" His gaze softened as he brushed his thumb across the back of your hand. "Baby, family, all of it."

You smiled, your heart full of emotion. Resting your hand over his, you looked up at him with a soft, affectionate smile. "Yeah, we are."

As the morning wore on, your bags filled with fresh produce, honey, flowers, and baby clothes, Harry remained a constant presence at your side, his protectiveness never wavering. He kissed your forehead whenever you stopped to look at something, always keeping a careful eye on you as the crowds grew thicker.

You were about to make your way to the car when Harry glanced at the overflowing bags in his hands, a playful grin tugging at his lips. "Think we went a little overboard?"

You laughed, shaking your head. "No such thing when it comes to fresh fruit."

He raised an eyebrow at you. "You and your fruit obsession. I’m telling you, if this baby’s first word is 'peach,' I’m blaming you."

You shot back with a laugh. "Alright, but if their first word is 'kiwi,' or ‘watermelon’ or ‘cherry’ then I’m blaming you!"

Harry pulled you closer, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. "Alright, love. Truce. Let's go home and make something delicious with all this."

And as the two of you walked back to the car, the morning sun warm on your skin, you knew that these were the moments that would stay with you forever—simple, quiet, full of love and anticipation.

[norrisluv]

THE SURPRISE - LANDO NORRIS

warnings: fluff

lando norris x zak brown's daughter!reader

english is not my first language, so I apologise if any words are spelt wrong!

this is a request!!

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The crisp morning sun poured through the window as you scrolled through the adoption website on your phone. Lando had been dropping hints about wanting a dog for months now, though it always came with the caveat of, "But I just don’t have the time, you know?" You could see the longing in his eyes every time he saw a dog during his travels or in fan posts. He wanted one, even if he didn’t let himself believe it was possible. So, you decided to make it happen—for him and for you.

After weeks of planning, you found the perfect little yellow Labrador puppy from a reputable rescue. She was playful but calm, a bright-eyed bundle of joy. You’d spent days researching everything about puppies, from training to travel logistics, knowing how hectic both your lives were. And now, the big day had arrived.

Lando was due back from a simulator session at McLaren HQ later in the afternoon, so you had time to prepare. You’d set up a cozy little dog bed in the corner of the living room, a basket of toys, and bowls already filled with water and kibble. The puppy, who you’d named Sunny, was napping on your lap, her tiny chest rising and falling with each breath.

When Lando walked through the door, his hair slightly tousled and his McLaren hoodie slightly oversized, you could tell he was tired but content. "Hey, love," he called, kicking off his sneakers.

"Hey," you replied, a mischievous smile playing on your lips as you stayed seated on the couch.

His eyes narrowed. "What’s that look for? You’re up to something."

"Me? Never," you teased, shifting slightly so Sunny’s little head peeked out from under your arm.

Lando froze. "No. Way."

You grinned as Sunny stirred, her big, soulful eyes opening and landing on Lando. The moment he saw her, his tiredness evaporated. "Oh my God! Is she… Is she ours?"

"Surprise! Meet Sunny," you said, gently placing her on the floor. She wobbled on her tiny legs before padding over to Lando, tail wagging furiously.

He dropped to his knees, his face lighting up like a kid on Christmas morning. "Hi, Sunny! Oh, you’re so cute! Look at you!" His voice was an octave higher as he scooped her up, cradling her like the most precious thing in the world. Sunny responded by licking his face enthusiastically, making him laugh.

"You’ve been talking about wanting a dog forever," you explained, sitting beside him. "I know we’re busy, but I’ve figured it all out. I’ll handle most of the care, and she can travel with us whenever possible. I’ve even spoken to my dad about it—turns out, McLaren’s totally cool with her being around."

Lando looked at you, his eyes soft and full of emotion. "You did all this for me?"

"Of course. I know how much you’ve wanted this, and I’ll make sure you don’t have to worry about anything. You just get to enjoy her."

He leaned in and kissed you, lingering for a moment before pulling back to look at Sunny. "She’s perfect. You’re perfect. But are you sure? She’s a big responsibility."

"I’ve got it covered, trust me," you reassured him. "And let’s be honest, Sunny’s about to be the most well-traveled dog in the world."

Lando laughed, hugging Sunny close. "Alright, then. Sunny’s officially part of the family."

The rest of the evening was spent watching Sunny explore her new home, with Lando snapping pictures and videos to share with his family and a select few friends. You could tell he was already smitten, constantly doting on her and giving her belly rubs.

Later that night, as Sunny snoozed in her bed and you curled up beside Lando on the couch, he kissed the top of your head. "Thank you for this," he whispered. "For her, for everything."

"Anything for you," you replied, your heart full as you watched him glance back at Sunny with a look of pure happiness.

✧⸻✧

The atmosphere at Silverstone was electric. Fans cheered from the grandstands, the smell of rubber and fuel filled the air, and engines roared to life in the garages. It was a big race day for Lando, and this time, Sunny was part of the action.

You arrived at the paddock early, Sunny trotting beside you with her McLaren bandana tied neatly around her neck. She was a natural at stealing hearts, stopping every few steps as team members, fans, and even rival drivers paused to coo over her.

As you made your way to the McLaren garage, your dad, Zak Brown, spotted you from across the paddock. "There’s my girl," he called out, his sharp eyes softening when they landed on Sunny. "And who’s this little superstar?"

"Meet Sunny," you said, kneeling to let the puppy greet Zak. "She’s officially part of the family now."

Zak crouched, letting Sunny sniff his hand before giving her a gentle pat. "Well, she’s already got the whole paddock charmed, hasn’t she? Lando, this was a good call."

Lando grinned, hands in his hoodie pockets. "I can’t take the credit. This was all her," he said, nodding toward you.

Inside the garage, Sunny had her own little setup—a custom McLaren dog bed and a small water station. Zak checked in occasionally, offering a lighthearted comment here and there. "You know," he said at one point, "if she keeps this up, I might have to put her in some team promos."

As the race approached, Zak joined you and Sunny on the garage. The crowd was buzzing with excitement, and a few fans held up signs dedicated to the puppy like "SUNNY FOR TEAM PRINCIPAL!"

Zak chuckled, glancing at the signs. "Looks like she’s already more popular than me."

"She’s got that Brown charm," you teased, earning a playful eye roll from your dad.

When the race began, Sunny sat beside you and some people you know in the McLaren hospitality suite, her ears perking up every time Lando’s name was mentioned. People couldn’t help but narrate Sunny’s reactions. "See that tail wag? That’s pure confidence in her dad."

It was a nail-biting race, but Lando drove brilliantly, crossing the finish line in second place. The garage erupted in cheers, and Sunny barked excitedly as if she understood the significance of the moment.

After the podium celebrations, Lando returned to the garage, still in his race suit and champagne-drenched shoes. "Sunny! Did you see that?" he exclaimed, dropping to the floor to hug her. Sunny greeted him with enthusiastic licks, her tail wagging furiously.

Zak appeared shortly after, clapping Lando on the back. "Solid drive out there. I think Sunny’s got a future as the team mascot."

Lando grinned, scratching Sunny behind the ears. "She’s already the heart of the team."

As the evening wore on, the three of you sat outside the motorhome, watching the sunset over the paddock. Sunny curled up between you and Lando, her soft snores filling the quiet. Lando glanced over you and smiled. "This," he said, "is what it’s all about. Family, racing, and a little bit of chaos."

You leaned your head against Lando’s shoulder, your heart full. "And just think—we get to do it all over again next race."

Lando chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple. "As long as you and Sunny are there, I know it’ll be amazing."

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A/N: please let me know if you like it! requests are open!

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　STURNIOLO TRIPLETS GO TO EUROPE

matt sturniolo x reader

SUMMARY: Where Y/N, Matt's girlfriend, participates in the 'STURNIOLO TRIPLETS GO TO EUROPE VLOG' video.

WARNING: Super fluff.

REQUESTED?: Yes, by anon.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is MY idea and work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

The first-class cabin was nothing short of a dream. The softly lit hallway stretched ahead of them, lined with elegant partitions that gave each seat its own private cabin. Y/N walked just behind Matt, his hand warm and firm around hers as they walked the narrow aisle. Nick was leading the way, already peeking into his assigned space, while Chris trailed behind them.

When they finally stopped at their row, Y/N’s jaw dropped. She took a tentative step into her cabin, her eyes wide as she looked around at the plush leather seat that reclined into a bed, the medium lit up screen in front of it, and the small touches of luxury like the pillow and blanket tucked neatly on the side.

"This is amazing." She breathed, turning back to the boys with a grin so bright it could’ve lit up the plane.

Chris, peering into his own cabin a few steps away, nodded enthusiastically.

"This is insane. It feels like a movie."

Matt sent the softest gaze at Y/N's way after watching her reaction, his expression gentle and boyish as he nodded, his eyes sparkling. He felt like a proud boyfriend for being able to give that experience for his girlfriend.

"It really is, huh?" He muttered, receiving a soft laugh from Y/N, who took her backpack off her back and handed it to him.

"Here, baby." She said, motioning to the space above them. "Can you put this up there for me? Please."

Matt took the bag, glancing up at the overhead compartment with a slight frown. It wasn’t immediately obvious how to open it, and he hesitated, looking around for guidance. Nick, already settled into his cabin beside Matt’s and recording the entire interaction on his phone, tilted his head toward the compartment.

"Matt, up." Nick said as he pointed.

Matt squinted, his confusion deepening.

"Where?"

Nick let out an exaggerated sigh, still recording.

"In the thing! Hold the handle and lift it, Matt."

Matt gave him a glare before following his directions. He tugged the compartment open and slid Y/N’s bag inside, muttering something about Nick always being a know-it-all, earning a quiet laugh from Y/N.

Finally, with everything in place, Matt stepped into his own cabin. It didn't take long before the hum of the plane filled the air, preparing to take off soon.

Y/N - who had been watching TikTok while it was still up - threw her phone inside her purse and looked around while trying to get comfortable on her seat, but sighing in frustation when she was unsuccessful.

She returned her feet to the ground and curved her upper body so she could see the hallway, biting her lip as she peeked at Matt's cabin. He had already settled in, reclining in the single "bed" with his hoodie draped loosely over his shoulders.

He felt eyes on him and was quick to look up, catching her hesitant gaze, a soft smile growing on his face, already knowing what she wanted, gently patting the small space beside him.

"Come here, sweetheart." He murmured, scooting closer to the window to make room.

Without hesitation, Y/N got up and crossed the small hall that put a distance between them, climbing in his bed, squeezing into the limited space. It was a tight fit, but neither of them minded.

Matt pulled the blanket over them, wrapping it snugly around her before slipping an arm around her waist, holding her close. Her head nestled against his shoulder, her breath warm and comforting against the skin of his neck.

Reaching for his headphones, Matt placed them back around his head, music already filling his ears. He stretched his free arm, fingers hovering over several titles across the small TV screen before settling on one of Y/N’s favorites, a light, cozy movie he knew she adored.

He pressed play and felt her shift slightly, her gaze flickering toward the screen as the opening scene began. She hummed in approval, though her eyelids were already drooping. Within minutes, she succumbed to the exhaustion of their long day, her arm draped around his chest as she snuggled closer. Matt rested his cheek against the top of her head, his hand moving in slow, soothing circles over her arm, his hoodie’s soft fabric gliding against her skin.

For the first time since their frenetic day began, he felt himself relax.

He glanced toward the small window beside him, catching a glimpse of the night sky dotted with stars and the lights of the airport shining in the darkness. He hummed faintly, the moment feeling both surreal and comforting.

Suddenly, Matt caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Turning slightly, he saw Nick approaching their cabin with his phone out, clearly recording. Matt shot him a glare, silently warning him to keep quiet.

Nick stopped in his tracks, raising an eyebrow at his brother’s protectiveness. He panned the phone camera toward them briefly, whispering something to the device while capturing Y/N tucked into Matt’s side and the faint glow of the screen in front of them before backing away with a dramatic roll of his eyes.

Matt let out a breath of relief, tightening his hold on Y/N just a fraction as she shifted in her sleep, her fingers curling into his hoodie.

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The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, revealing the quiet luxury of the hotel hallway. Y/N trailed by Matt's side, while Nick and Chris followed, their rolling suitcases rattling faintly on the polished floor. The flight from Boston had been long, and exhaustion clung to all of them, but the excitement of finally arriving at their destination had them buzzing with energy.

"Alright, room 111." Matt said confidently, stopping in front of the door. He placed the card against the magnetic circle above the handle, and the lock beeped, signaling it was unlocked. With a grin, he grabbed the handle and gave it a sharp pull.

Nothing happened.

He frowned, pulling again, harder this time, but the door didn’t budge.

Nick’s laughter echoed down the hall.

"It’s a push door, genius."

"Is it?" Matt muttered, frowning harder as he pulled once more, just to make sure.

Y/N rolled her eyes, stepping forward.

"Move, Matt." She said with a teasing sigh, nudging Matt gently to the side. She took the card from his hand, placing it again against the magnetic circle, and waited for the soft beep. With one fluid motion, she pushed the door open, revealing their room. Turning back, she shot Matt an amused, bored look. "It's not because we're in a different country that the way to open doors changed, honey."

Matt opened his mouth to reply, but Chris cut in with a laugh, clapping him on the shoulder.

"That’s tough, bro."

Y/N stepped inside first, and her breath hitched as she took in the sight before her. The room was a perfect blend of elegance and comfort, screaming Italian luxury.

To her front was a small white round table paired with two armchairs, a bouquet of vibrant green and white flowers arranged in a glass vase on top. Two letters sat neatly against it, each embossed with the Prada logo and addressed to both her and Matt. The sweet, rich aroma of the flowers filled the air, mingling with a faint hint of fresh linen and polished wood.

Directly to her left was an oval center table in marble, elegantly decorated with fancy chocolates, juicy fruits, and another small floral arrangement, the delicate blooms adding a pop of color to the space. Behind it sat a medium terracotta couch with two tall shelves on each side and a painting that seemed to be worth a lot.

Beyond that was the plush king-sized bed that seemed to be the most comfortable bed in the world, dressed in crisp white linens and framed by soft, warm lighting.

The tall windows occupying the whole largest wall were framed by heavy creamy curtains, slightly parted to reveal a hint of the garden below.

Y/N moved further into the room, running her fingers lightly along the wall as she absorbed every detail.

"This is..." She paused, unable to find the right word.

"Insane? Yeah." Chris finished for her, stepping in behind her with his backpack in his hands. "This is like... next-level fancy."

Nick whistled low, setting his backpack near the round table.

"This room smells expensive." He said, sniffing the air exaggeratedly.

Matt closed the door behind him, his earlier mishap forgotten as he put his backpack on the short hallway floor, meeting Y/N in the way and wrapping an arm around her waist, pulling her close.

"You like it?" He asked, his voice soft in her ear. She turned to look at him, her lips curving into a warm smile.

"I love it. Prada did amazing with this choice."

As the triplets wandered around, taking in the luxurious details and pointing out things to the phone Chris had whipped out, Y/N let herself enter the bathroom, pulling her skincare bag out of her purse to start organizing the main products across the sink.

Meanwhile, Matt was quick to throw himself on the plush king-sized bed, making sure to take out his shoes first - Y/N would kill him if he didn't, closing his eyes and feeling like he could fall asleep right away.

But he was quickly disturbed by a body crashing against his, his legs quickly pressing to his own chest in a way of protecting it while Nick jabbed his sides with fake punches, so soft that felt like he was tickling his skin.

"What the- get off me, Nick!" Matt yelled between fits of uncontrollable laughter, his voice muffled by his position.

Chris stood at the foot of the bed, phone in hand, recording the chaotic scene.

"This is gold." He said, laughing as Matt tried to wriggle free, his giggling echoing throughout the room.

Y/N emerged from the bathroom holding her, now, empty purse. She paused in the doorway, taking in the sight of the boys acting like overgrown kids. Rolling her eyes, she let out a small laugh and shook her head.

She was away for only 10 minutes.

"Boys." She said in a mock-scolding tone, her voice soft and affectionate. "Be careful, please." She walked past Chris, her lips quirking into a smile as she gave his phone camera a pointed glance.

The youngest triplet chuckled.

"Don't worry, they will survive."

Y/N moved to the small couch at the back of the room where Matt put her backpack, leaving the chaos to happen behind her back. She retrieved her phone and then turned to the center table, spotting the tray of fancy chocolates Prada had left for them.

Picking one up, she inhaled deeply, savoring the rich aroma of high-quality chocolate before taking a small bite of it, feeling the unique taste explode against her tongue.

"Good?" Chris called over, turning away from Nick and Matt after they finally stopped.

"Delicious." Y/N replied, her words muffled as she chewed.

She walked towards him while chewing, watching Nick and Matt get off the bed, her steps muffled by the carpet.

"Nick, get the real camera so I don't have to vlog on my phone anymore." Chris asked as soon as Nick got closer, lowering the device slightly.

Nick was quick to go to his backpack, taking the professional camera out of it. It didn't take long for him to turn it on, quickly spinning it around to make sure it was capturing the right angle.

Matt, who looked disheveled with his hoodie slightly wrinkled and his hair a chaotic mess after Nick's earlier wrestling match, stopped by Y/N's side, standing between her and Chris.

"Alright, this is Matt's and Y/N's room. They're in a different room than the one me and Chris are staying-"

"Cause' we’re special." Matt quipped, his tone dripping with mock superiority as he glanced at Chris with a playful smirk.

Chris rolled his eyes, leaning away from Matt slightly.

"Can you fix your hair?" He gestured at Matt’s wild hair, a grin tugging at his lips.

Matt immediately raised a hand to his head, running his fingers through the messy strands.

"My hair’s all messed up ‘cause I had a hood on during the plane, and then Nick decided to fucking kill me as soon as we got here." He shot a pointed look at Nick, who was laughing behind the camera. "I'm not trying to-"

"Okay, let me show you guys all the things in the room." Nick was quick to interrupt them, turning the camera toward the room to defuse the situation. "First of all, gorgeous..."

Meanwhile, Y/N was silent by their side, phone in hand, finishing up a text to both her and the triplets' parents to let them know they’d arrived at the hotel safely. With a small smile growing on her face after listening to the small fight starting between the brothers, she slid her phone into her back pocket.

"... and I'm so fucking hungry now." Chris kept talking, his tone sounding frustrated as Y/N walked closer to them, the sound of Nick's voice showing the details of the room to the camera echoing like background noise to her ears.

Without saying a word, she stood in front of Matt, her hands reaching up to his hair. Matt didn’t miss a beat, continuing his conversation with Chris about where they should eat later.

"We can maybe go somewhere close. I don’t feel like walking too far tonight." Matt said as Y/N gently smoothed down the mess on his head, her fingers combing through his hair with practiced ease.

"There. Now you don’t look like a trainwreck." Y/N smiled, stepping back to admire her work before patting Matt’s shoulder, stepping away to return to the back of the room, planning on getting another one of those wonderful chocolates.

"Thanks, babe." Matt said nonchalantly, flashing her a soft smile before turning back to Chris. "Okay, so what are the options?"

With another piece of chocolate in her hands, she wandered toward one of the tall windows at the far end of the room.

The elegant window door opened with a soft creak, and a gust of crisp winter air swept through the room, sending a slight chill up her spine. Y/N leaned against the frame, her gaze falling to the breathtaking garden below.

The perfectly trimmed hedges, circular topiary trees, and an array of greenery gave it a serene ambiance. Umbrella-covered tables and chairs were scattered around, surrounded by other buildings of the hotel.

"Wow." She murmured to herself, finishing the chocolate as she took in the sight. She turned her head slightly, calling out to the boys behind her. "Hey, guys, come look at this!"

Chris was the first to respond, bouncing across the room like an excited puppy, followed by Nick and Matt.

"What is it?" Nick asked as he reached her side, peering out over her shoulder.

"Look." Y/N said, gesturing to the garden below. "Isn't it beautiful?"

Chris opened the other half of the window, copying Y/N's position and looking below it.

"Can we go down there?" He asked as he squinted at the view.

"We have to figure it out." Nick affirmed, making sure the camera was recording the details.

Matt slid his arm around Y/N's waist, leaning over the window frame to get a better look. His cheek brushed against hers briefly as he turned his head, her hair tickling his skin.

"I'd love to go down there." He chimed in softly, his voice warm.

Y/N glanced at him, her smile widening at the way his eyes lit up as he looked down at all the green. He was living his dream, and she felt purely joy from it.

Her hand met his on her waist, intertwining their fingers against her covered skin, squeezing his hand lovingly.

"Can we go eat now?"

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The restaurant was tucked away down a cobblestone street, just a short walk from the magnificent Duomo. The golden light spilling from the windows reflected off the polished wooden tables and pristine white tablecloths. The tantalizing scent of fresh pasta, basil, and garlic wafted through the air as waiters bustled around, balancing plates piled high with creamy sauces and twirling spaghetti.

At a corner table by the window, the four of them sat, barely holding it together after being awake for more than 24 hours. Nick slouched in his chair, lazily twirling his fork in a bowl of spaghetti, his eyelids drooping every few seconds. Chris leaned against the backrest with his elbows on the table, his mouth occasionally opening in a massive yawn between bites of fettuccine Alfredo. Matt, seated beside Y/N, kept absently running a hand through his messy hair, trying to stay awake while cutting into his lasagna.

Y/N, however, was the first to cave. The warm pasta in front of her - ravioli, creamy and rich - was absolutely delicious, but exhaustion was screaming inside her far more than hunger. She managed to eat only half before resting her fork on her plate with a soft sigh.

Matt glanced over at her, his brows pulling together in concern.

"You’re not eating more?" He asked, his voice soft but tinged with worry. "We barely ate today, honey."

Y/N shook her head wordlessly, too tired to explain that she simply couldn’t eat another bite. Instead, she shifted closer to him, tucking herself above his right biceps and resting her head on his shoulder. Her arms instinctively wrapped around his waist, squeezing him in a sleepy hug as she snuggled into his warmth.

Matt froze for a moment, holding his fork mid-air.

"Careful, sweetheart." He murmured, glancing down at her arms as they brushed the edge of his plate. "Don’t burn yourself on the lasagna." His voice was tender, and his free hand came up to lightly guide her arm away from danger.

"Hmm." Y/N hummed softly in acknowledgment, but her eyes were already closed. She didn’t seem to care much about the logistics of arm placement as she burrowed further into his side, her body practically melting against his.

The faint chuckle that escaped Matt’s lips was filled with affection as he returned to his food, though his movements were slower now, not wanting to disturb her.

"Wow." Nick muttered, his voice barely audible through his drowsiness. He leaned his chin on his palm and smirked at the sight of Y/N clinging to Matt like a koala. "She’s really comfortable, huh?"

"Looks like it." Chris added with a teasing grin, his hand subtly moving to grab his phone from the table. He couldn’t resist recording the scene in front of him; his brother’s flushed face, Y/N’s sleepy frame wrapped around Matt like he was her personal pillow, and Matt’s barely-there attempts to keep a straight face.

"Shut up." Matt muttered, rolling his eyes at his brothers while trying to keep his voice quiet enough. His head lowered slightly to press a soft, awkward kiss to the top of Y/N’s head, the angle slightly off because of her position, but the sweetness in the gesture made up for it.

Chris snickered quietly, his phone still recording as he whispered.

"Two years, and you’re still whipped, dude."

Matt didn’t even bother denying it. Instead, he simply adjusted his arm to hold her a little closer, his hand resting lightly on the right side of her thighs, bringing her legs closer. The movement was protective and tender.

"At least I’m not about to fall asleep in my pasta." He shot back softly, motioning toward Nick’s plate, where his fork was dangerously close to slipping from his fingers as he nodded off.

They continued eating in hushed tones, with Chris occasionally pausing to stifle his laughter at Nick falling asleep while chewing. Meanwhile, Y/N remained blissfully unaware of all of it, her breathing slowing as the sound of the boys’ voices blended into a soothing hum. She was vaguely aware of Matt’s hand moving to eat, but she trusted him to be careful enough not to burn or drop it on her.

When the waiter eventually came by to clear the plates, Matt stopped him, pointing to Y/N’s unfinished plate.

"Can we get this to go?" He asked softly, his voice still gentle as if not to wake her. The waiter nodded, and Matt gave him a thankful smile before returning his attention to her.

Chris finally pocketed his phone and leaned back in his chair, a grin plastered on his face.

"Well." He said quietly, looking between the three of them. "I guess this counts as a successful first dinner in Milan."

Matt hummed in agreement, pressing his cheek against Y/N’s hair, turning his focus back to his brothers.

"Are you going to meet Laura, Nick?" He asked, looking at the oldest triplet, who nodded while pressing his fingers to his eyes. "Okay, we can go wait for you at the Du... Duo... that bright building."

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The patio in front of the Duomo was vast and bustling, even late at night. The trio stood at the edge of the square, far enough from the chaos of tourists to have a quiet moment while they waited for Nick.

The cold nipped at their faces, the chill of the Milanese night seeping through their jackets. Y/N was wrapped snugly in Matt’s arms, her cheek pressed against his chest as she tried to stay warm - or at least that’s what it looked like. In truth, she was barely awake, her head lolling slightly every now and then. Matt’s oversized jacket was draped over her shoulders on top of her own, cocooning her as she clung to him.

Matt squinted at Chris’s camera, his breath visible in the cold as he began.

"Alright, I’m not going to embarrass myself by trying to say the name of this building again, but me, Chris, and Y/N are enjoying it from afar."

Chris snorted from behind the camera, tilting it slightly to frame the scene better.

"Well, me and you." He corrected, his voice dripping with humor. "Because Y/N is sleeping standing up."

Matt couldn’t hold back his laugh, the sound rumbling in his chest and vibrating against Y/N’s cheek. He looked down at her, brushing a few stray strands of hair away from her face, his fingers gentle.

"She really is." He said with a grin, glancing at the camera again.

"I’m not!" Y/N protested weakly, her voice muffled as she buried herself further into Matt’s chest. She tried to lift her head to prove them wrong but only managed to half-open her eyes, her words slurring slightly. "I’m... I’m seeing the church. It’s beautiful."

Her attempt at defiance only made Matt and Chris laugh harder.

"Yeah, sure." Chris teased, zooming in slightly on her face before panning back to Matt.

"Guys, we just went out to eat." Matt started to the camera, still chuckling. "And we were literally all falling asleep at the table."

Chris spun the device to face himself, nodding vigorously.

"We were all so tired because we’ve been up for over 24 hours. Like, we were just fading away."

"The only thing that kept me alive..." Matt added as Chris turned the camera back to him. "Was the ice cream."

Y/N stirred slightly in his arms, her voice a soft mutter.

"And me."

Both brothers froze for a moment before bursting into laughter.

"Oh my God." Chris shook his head, barely keeping the camera steady. "Did you hear that? She said 'and me'."

Matt grinned down at her, his heart melting at the sight of her sleepy pout.

"You’re not wrong, tho." He said softly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "You do keep me alive."

Chris groaned jokingly, pretending to gag as he zoomed in on Matt’s face.

"Alright, let’s tone down the mushy stuff for the camera, you two. This is a vlog, you know?"

Matt rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop smiling. He tightened his grip on Y/N, letting her lean on him fully as her body relaxed even more against his. She was barely conscious at this point, her breaths slow and steady, but he didn’t mind. If anything, he was glad she felt comfortable enough to rest in his arms like this.

"Where’s Nick?" Chris asked after a moment, turning the camera to capture the Duomo behind them. "He’s been gone forever."

"He probably fell asleep somewhere." Matt joked, adjusting the jacket on Y/N’s shoulders.

They continued talking nonsense as the cold air swirled around them, Chris pointing out every biker that crossed their path, but Y/N didn’t stir again. She was too far gone, her exhaustion outweighing the chill of the night or the noise of the square. Matt kept her close, shielding her from the worst of the cold as they waited, his heart full despite the fatigue pulling at him.

When Nick finally returned, his steps hurried, and his face red from the chill, he found the trio exactly as he’d expected, glancing at Y/N with a small smile.

"Ready to go?" Nick asked after explanation about the guy who tried to make him buy roses for Laura.

"More than ready." Matt replied, his voice soft. He looked down at Y/N, brushing his fingers across her cheek to rouse her gently. "C’mon, sleepyhead. Time to get back to the hotel."

Y/N mumbled something incoherent, but her arms tightened around Matt’s waist as if to say she wasn’t ready to move. He laughed quietly, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he glanced at his brothers.

"Sweetheart, you have to wake up so we can go to our warm room and sleep in our bed, yeah?"

The camera was already trained on them as Matt talked Y/N out of her sleep softly.

"And this..." Chris said with a dramatic tone. "Is why Matt gets the boyfriend of the year award."

The screen cut off with the sound of their laughter echoing into the night, the cathedral standing tall behind them.

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"... Goodnight Italy, goodnight moon, goodnight Prada-"

Nick, already giggling, interrupted with a laugh.

"Goodnight Prada is crazy." He said, shaking his head and pulling the covers up to his chin.

Chris, ignoring him, continued, his voice dripping with sleep as his words got a bit mixed up.

"Goodnight pasta, airport-"

Matt cut him off, too, straightening from his relaxed stance.

"Alright, I’m out. Say goodnight me, 'cause I’m leaving."

Chris stopped abruptly whatever he was trying to say, throwing an arm out from beneath the duvet as if reaching for him.

"No, no, no!" He protested, his voice filled with fake distress.

Nick rolled his eyes, his laughter subsiding into a fond grin.

"Let him go back to Y/N before she falls asleep in the shower or something." He teased, adjusting his pillow and settling more comfortably.

Chris groaned in defeat, sinking deeper into his blankets.

"Fine. But say goodnight to her." He said, pouting as Matt smirked and nodded.

"Will do." Matt replied, switching off the camera and leaving it at the marble oval table before slipping out the door. The hallway was quiet as Matt made his way to his room, his steps soft against the carpeted floor.

He pushed the door open softly, careful not to let it creak, stepping inside before closing it behind him, and was immediately greeted by the faint scent of Y/N’s lotion lingering in the air.

After walking through the short hallway that separated the entrance from the room itself, he paused in his tracks, the sight before him pulling a soft laugh from his lips.

Y/N was already tucked in bed, the duvet pulled up to her chin, leaving only her head peeking out. Her hair, still slightly damp from her shower, clung to her pillow in messy strands. Her eyes were closed, but her face twitched slightly, her brows furrowing at the sound of his laugh, as if she was caught between sleep and awake.

He shook his head fondly, leaning against the wall.

"You’re trying so hard, aren’t you?" He murmured quietly, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

The sound of his voice seemed to stir her. Her eyelids fluttered open, revealing her sleepy gaze, eyes slightly red from the tiredness. It took her a moment to focus on him, and when she did, a small, drowsy smile curved her lips.

"Hi, baby." She murmured, her voice thick with sleep. "You’re back."

Matt chuckled softly, stepping closer to the bed.

"Yeah." He said, crouching by her side. His hand reached out to brush a strand of hair from her face. "Chris said goodnight."

"Goodnight, Chris." She mumbled, her words slurred and barely audible, and her eyes began to drift closed again.

Matt’s chest ached with affection at the sight of her so vulnerable.

"Go to sleep, sweetheart." He whispered, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to her temple. "I’ll be there in a second. Just need to change."

She hummed in response, barely acknowledging his words as she nestled further into the duvet, her breathing evening out.

Matt moved quickly, changing into a pair of sweatpants and a soft shirt, all the while keeping his movements quiet. When he finally slid into bed beside her, the warmth of her body immediately drew him in. She stirred slightly, instinctively shifting closer to him, her head finding its place on his chest as her arm draped over his waist.

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her snugly against him and adjusting the duvet to create a cocoon of warmth around them both. His lips found the top of her head, and he kissed it softly, lingering for a moment.

"I love you." He whispered against her hair, his voice barely audible in the stillness of the room, exhaling the comforting scent of fresh shampoo.

Y/N, her eyes still closed, raised her head slightly, her face tilting toward his. Her lips were pursed in a sleepy pout, and Matt couldn’t help but chuckle at how endearing she looked. He leaned down, meeting her lips in a lazy, intimate kiss. It was slow and messy, the sleep messing with their minds, but it was full of love.

Her head dropped back to his chest after pulling away, sighing softly.

"Thank you." She whispered.

Matt’s brow furrowed slightly as he looked down at her.

"For what?"

Her voice was soft and muffled against his shirt.

"For this. I’m only here because of you."

He shook his head, pressing another kiss to her hair.

"Even if Prada hadn’t invited us, I’d take you on a trip around all of Europe if you wanted to. Just say the word, baby."

Her lips curved into a small smile against his chest.

"I love you." She whispered.

"I love you more." He replied, his voice filled with certainty.

She hummed softly in response, her body relaxing completely against his as sleep overtook her. Matt stayed awake a little longer, his hand gently stroking her back as he watched her sleep, feeling like the luckiest man alive.

[cheyisagirlkisser]

power bottom vi who lets you practice using your strap on her

warnings: 18+ content, power bottom vi x subtop fem reader, slight degradation and praise, clit stim (vi receiving), strap-on sex.

a/n: this is an older request but it's been on my mind for a while!!

Vi watched as you clumsily adjusted the harness around your waist with a skeptical eye. She sighed, leaning back and preparing herself for the worst. She felt bad thinking that, but she knew you. You had been her best friend for as long as you had attended to the same university, and you weren't exactly ever seen with girls. Pretty inexperienced, but adorably eager to please. When you showed up at her dorm with that downturned face, complaining about how you could never fuck a girl properly with a strap because you never get to practice, she found herself offering.

You glanced down at the dildo jutting out from the harness and stifled a laugh. This wasn't supposed to be a joke, though you knew it wasn't all that serious. You did wanna make Vi cum. You needed to be able to actually use one of these, and who better to experiment with than a girl who loves casual?

You tentatively settled between her legs, looking down at her for approval. She raised an eyebrow at you, and your heart did a little flip. "Do you even know how to use it?" She asked.

You scoffed half-heartedly at her accusation. "Yes, I do! I'm frequent LesLez."

"Dude, I did not need to know that."

"Sorry, I just.. well, I'm nervous. I don't know how the hell I'm supposed to do this, and it's making me feel weird." You confessed.

Vi softened a little at that, feeling some guilt for being brash with you. She grabbed your face, pulling it closer. "You don't have to be all dominant, you know." She spoke closely to your ear.

You looked confused, like an old dog being taught a new trick. "What? But I'm the one-"

"Just shut up and let me guide you." She quickly cut off your protest, her tone firm. It unexpectedly made you clit twitch with need.

"O-Okay..yeah." You agreed, steeling yourself.

Vi nodded, relaxing. It wouldn't be as bad to let you practice if she could be in charge. "Okay, just use your fingers on my clit..get me in the mood.." she instructed, letting her own trail down her body and show you what to do. You watched curiously as two of her fingers rubbed circles onto her clit. She then pulled them away, letting you try. You were a bit nervous, but when you glanced up to see Vi bit her lip at the way you touched her, it gave you a bit of confidence.

"Am I doing it right?" You asked, voice wobbly.

She nodded with a soft exhale. "Yeah, just like that."

When it was time for the main event, you felt less nervous. Both of you were. Vi found herself anticipated getting fucked. Maybe you wouldn't be so bad at it. You found yourself feeling like it wouldn't be so hard, and you were chasing her approval.

"Just the tip at first..I'm wet enough to take it." She guided you with eager pants, watching as you parted her slick folds with the head of the strap-on and very carefully letting it slip into her. Vi wanted to tell you that you didn't have to be so slow, but she figured it'd be better for you to be careful than just shove the dick into her and jackhammer-fuck her.

She gasped when she felt it, resting her head against the pillow. "Yeah, see? It's not so bad." She said, trying not to let herself enjoy it too much. This could only be practice. You were only supposed to be her friend.

You, on the other hand, had your head spinning. You eyes were bouncing from the way her pussy took the tip, the way her walls seemed try and suck the rest of the length in. You wanted to bottom out and let her feel every inch, to fuck her and hear her praise you for it. This was definitely getting out of hand.

"Can I fuck you? Please?" You asked, half-mumbling as if you didn't fully want her to process your words, but there was a desperation there that you couldn't hide even if you wanted to.

"Yeah, fuck me." Vi told you, bracing herself.

You didn't miss a beat, slowly pushing into her cunt and letting her adjust to all of it. Vi didn't hold in the moan, and she rubbed her clit with her own fingers to pacify herself from the stretch. It wasn't painful because she was experienced, but it wasn't exactly comfortable yet.

"Fuck me gently at first, don't rush it." She instructed, and you nodded. You reeled back until just the tip remained inside of her, and then slowly pushed back into her welcoming heat. You both moaned, your voice ironically soft and needy, and Vi's deep and raspy. Something about the difference in dynamics had your pussy soaking the harness.

The more you fucked her, the more the practice went from..well, actual practice, to something intense.

"Fuck, you're stretching me so well, aren't you? You like fucking me?" Vi cooed in your ear, her voice making you throb.

You eagerly nodded, a small whimper breaking from your throat as you slammed into her pussy. "Feels so good. Your pussy feels so good."

Vi's legs were wrapped around your waist, and your lips were latched onto her bottom one, sucking on the wet flesh. The room was hot, and you could hear the squelch of Vi's pussy taking you and the sound of your skin meeting.

On a particularly hard thrust, you found her g-spot, making her groan. "There you go. You actually can fuck a girl, can't you?" Her remark was almost condescending, and it ironically turned you on even more. Vi seemed to notice when your thrusts got sloppier, as you got needier. "Gonna make me cum, that's all you're good for," she rasped, and you whined. You whined at that.

"Please, I wanna make you cum. Need to." You whimpered out, fucking her with a newly eager and redoubled effort with the means to try to feel her cum around the silicone cock.

"Just like that, keep fuckin' me. I'm so close." She groaned and smashed her lips onto yours to hide her noises, fearing a complaint to the RA.

When she finally felt her orgasm come over her, her hands were all over your back, nails digging into your skin and making you moan just as loudly. Your breaths were shared, and you could actually feel the wetness mix on both of your thighs when they met, when you bottomed out in her pussy. All you could think about was how your best friend had the best pussy and you never knew. You wished you did sooner, you could be fucking her like this months ago.

You went limp on top of her, both of you breathless and a little sweaty. It felt nice, though. Vi was still in shock that things got so out of hand, but fuck if it wasn't a good feeling to have you laid on top of her like this. It had her a little shaken, trying to figure out how she felt about you. But not long after, the moment was over.

"I've got a physics test to study for, so.." Vi said, voice a bit quiet.

You were a little surprised. You wanted to just cuddle and feel her warmth for a bit, but it seemed like she wanted you to leave. That's what her words implied. So, you silently nodded, getting dressed. You wondered if this would happen again. You couldn't figure out if Vi was thinking the same things that you were, but you knew without a doubt that the friendship would never be the same. For better or worse.

[whateveriwant]

Annoying Things the 141 Do

Price

Never cleans the sink well after he shaves. Every time you go in the bathroom after he’s trimmed his beard, it’s like walking into a crime scene of a hamster massacre

Always manages to load the dishwasher wrong (because, yes, there is a right way and a wrong way to do it, John)

Asks you to wait for him to get home so you can watch your shows together, but then as soon as you start the first episode, he falls asleep beside you

Smokes his cigars inside sometimes. I don’t care that you sprayed air freshener afterwards, sir. Now the whole house smells like spring meadow and shit!

Is incapable of closing the door behind himself?? At least, that appears to be the case since he’s always leaving your door wide open even though you ask him to shut it when he goes

Doesn’t like throwing things out because he’ll “find a use for it one day”. Even if that day ever does come, I think he has a better chance of finding Atlantis than finding that scrap piece of wood he saved four years ago

Ghost

Turns the TV on and then just… walks away??? And if you try to change it to something else, he grumbles “I was watchin’ tha’” when he comes back

Drinks milk/juice/etc. straight out of the carton. Mr Simon “Patient Zero” Riley might not see the problem with this, but I think the rest of us would agree that is diabolical behavior

Leaves his wet towel on the floor after he showers even though the towel rack is right? there?

Hates asking for help even when he has no clue what he’s doing. Like, sure, I get wanting to fix things yourself. However, I’d rather spend $100 on a simple repair than $1000 on a full replacement after he breaks the thing even more

Puts his phone calls on speaker whenever possible. While this can have its merits sometimes (you get firsthand news of Gaz’s engagement!), most of the time it feels like a nuisance (do you really need to hear Soap talk about his hemorrhoids?)

MANSPREADERRRR! This man cannot sit like a civilized being to save his life. He claims he sits like that because his balls need to breathe, and to that I say good luck trying to breathe after I karate chop you in the throat :))))

Soap

Cuts his toenails in bed, which wouldn’t necessarily be an issue if he didn’t accidentally leave one or two rogue clippings that stab you in the side later when you’re trying to get comfortable

Forgets to put the toilet seat down when he gets up in the middle of the night to pee – that or he pisses all over the seat in the dark. Either way, prepare to have wet cheeks the next time you sit on the toilet

Whenever he doesn’t feel like doing the laundry, he just buys a new set of whatever’s dirty (that’s how he ended up with 100 pairs of socks and 200 pairs of underwear)

Talks nonstop through every show/movie you try to watch. Good luck getting more than five minutes of uninterrupted runtime next to this yapper

Apparently, doesn’t understand what “one bite” means? Whenever he asks you for a bite of your food, he always ends up taking five or six

Also, apparently doesn’t know how to chew with his mouth closed? Like, I’m glad you’re enjoying your meal, Johnny, but can you enjoy it without speckling it all over the table and my face?

Gaz

Two words: bathroom hog. I hope you don’t like taking hot showers or having more than a 6x6 inch square of counter space for your stuff, because after Kyle’s done with his 30-step beauty routine, there’s little of either left

Never knows what he wants to eat for dinner, and no matter what you suggest, he never thinks it sounds good

Has the gall to chastise you for your screen time even though he’s just as bad as you, if not worse (because you being on your phone before bed is so much worse than him playing video games for nine hours straight, right?)

Rests his feet on the couch/bed/coffee table while wearing shoes. It doesn’t matter if they’re brand new or beaten up; take your damn shoes off the furniture, sir!

Never writes down the shopping list because he’ll “remember everything”. (Newsflash: he does not remember everything, which means cue taking a second trip to the store)

Watches one documentary and thinks he’s an expert on the subject. You can have studied a thing for years, can present him with a bunch of rock solid facts and reputable sources, and he’ll hit you with a “Well, actually ☝️🤓” and then proceed to give the most nonsensical take ever

[justmymindandstuff]

your beloved Fury - Cregan Stark x TargaryenReader

based on this ask.

summary: Cregan meets your beloved Dragon Vermithor for the first time. He is more than scared, he is terrified. Not that he would ever admit that to you.

words: 3.281

warnings: none I think, just a bit fluff

a/n: English is not my first language// Reader is Rhaenyras daughter and described with dark hair // Not proofread// No use of Y/N.

Have fun 🧡.

requests are open// main masterlist// hotd masterlist

Excitedly, you run ahead of him and pull on his hand. Happiness and joy radiate from you, your steps are light, you almost bounce off the ground. Cregan follows you laughing through the gardens of the Red Keep. At the sight of your happy state, his heart beats faster and he can't wipe the smile from his face, even though he would prefer to hide today. Your destination is your dragon, Vermithor. The last few days Cregan found excuses, but today he really couldn't come up with anything.

With wide eyes, you had looked at him. "But My Lord, how can you become my husband in three days without knowing my dragon?"

Cregan had to acept defeat. What could he say against this? That he is terrified to meet your Dragon? Not an option.

When he rode south to keep his word and support the queen, he never expected to fall in love.

Cregan arrived just in time to prevent a riot in King's Landing and to stop the storming of the Dragonpit. It took a few days for Queen Rhaenyra's rule to be secured, but know everything starts to settle down.

The only thing for Cregan to do know was going home to Winterfell. But not without you.

Cregan had just come from a council meeting when he saw you for the first time. Jace had mentioned a twin sister back then, and he knew that all Targaryens are good looking but as your eyes meet, he had to pause in his movement. Gods, you are beautiful.

"You must be Lord Stark." you slightly lowered your head before him. "A hero, I have heard. It is an honor to meet you."

Your voice is like music to his ears, and when you smile at him, his heart skips a beat.

"The honor is entirely... entirely on my side... Princess." he had stuttered. Cregan doesn't know when he last stuttered. He falls in love at that moment.

The gods were on his side, because you apparently feel the same as he did. You asked your mother for her blessing to your betrothal and the queen agreed.

So Cregan and you will marry in three days and after that you will join him on his journey back north. And wherever you go, your dragon Vermithor will follow.

For the last few days, Cregan has been able to avoid getting too close to the dragon. Unfortunately, today he doesn´t find a excuse. The thought of facing the dragon alone brings sweat to his forehead. Northman or not.

Not that he would ever admit that he is afraid. He wants to impress you. And besides, neither you nor your siblings are afraid of dragons. Your little brother Viserys is barely a toddler, but he still treats the fire-breathing monsters like they were puppies. Cregan can be just as brave as the little prince.

Arriving in the castle courtyard, two horses are already ready for you. Cregan hesitates again, watching you mount elegantly.

"Are you ready, My Lord?" you ask and look at him. The sun makes your skin shine, the strong contrast between your light skin and your dark curls, the deep violet of your eyes. Cregan's body begins to tingle. You are a sight for sore eyes. And when you call him my Lord with your beautiful voice, Cregan's heart explodes every time. Your voice is full of affection and love. Cregan can hardly believe his own luck. He enjoys the sight of his future bride for another heartbeat before he nods and also mounts his horse.

You turn your horse and ride off, as the guards prepare to follow you, you address them.

"No need to trouble yourself, Ser. I don't need any guards today."

"But my princess, you cannot ride out alone, it is still too dangerous."

"Don't worry, Ser. I have the honorable Lord Stark by my side." you grin at him and Cregan has to concentrate on not turning as red as a foolish boy.

The guards stay behind, and you ride side by side through King's Landing. When you don't steer your horse towards Rhaenys's Hill, Cregan stops briefly.

"We're not riding to the Dragonpit?"

You shake your head slightly, your dark hair blowing around you. You quickly swapped your Targaryen braids for northern hairstyles. A fact that filled Cregan's heart with warmth.

"Vermithor is too large for the Dragonpit. He lives in the Kingswood."

Cregan has to suppress a sigh. Of course, your dragon is too big for the Dragonpit, what else. With a cramping stomach and sweaty hands, Cregan rides on again. Quickly, you leave the city behind and ride into the forest.

The Lord of Winterfell takes a deep breath and relaxes a little. Now that the loud city is behind you, Cregan realizes once again how much he misses the peace in Winterfell. Not even a week more and he would be on his way home. And you will already be his wife.

"Why are you smiling?" you tiltel your head slightly and look over at him, your horse trotting along the path relaxed, seeming to know exactly where it needs to take you. Cregan didn't even notice that a smile had crept onto his lips.

"I was just thinking that you will very soon be my wife," he replies honestly. Your smile widens, the sparkle in your eyes intensifies, and Cregan thinks you become more beautiful with every passing second.

"I am looking forward to being your wife." you say. Although a slight blush creeps into your cheeks, you hold his gaze. Cregan would most like to lean over and kiss you, if only for the briefest moment. But he would never dishonor a princess. He just has to wait three more days and then he can kiss you as long and as often as you allow him. Cregan can be patient. "But first, you will meet Vermithor." you speed up your horse, excitement radiates from you, but Cregan's fear is stronger. Nevertheless, he speeds up his horse to catch up with you.

He has to swallow before he can speak again. "I thought dragons bonded with riders who resembled them," the young lord recalls from the few lessons he received about dragons long ago.

You slightly furrow your eyebrows. Did Cregan say something stupid? Or did he upset you? But when you respond, there isn't a trace of anger in your voice.

"Why do you think Vermithor is not like me?"

To his own surprise, Cregan has to laugh. "I heard they call Vermithor the bronze fury. And my Lady, please don't be angry with me, but you don't seem like a person who harbors much fury." if Cregan is honest, you are one of the gentlest people he has ever met. In this viper-infested place like King's Landing, you seem to him like a beacon of gentleness and grace.

Now it's you who is laughing, the sound makes Cregan's skin tingle pleasantly. "You have never seen my wrath because I have never been angry with you, my Lord. You should be glad about that."

Cregan's lips curl into a grin. "Should I?" he asks challengingly. He can hardly imagine you ever being truly angry. It doesn't seem to suit you at all. But he knows himself that he shouldn't underestimate your Targaryen temperament.

"I have five younger brothers, My Lord. Don't think that a charming smile and a little teaser could unsettle me. And believe me when I say I can stand my ground very well." you laugh and in the next moment you gallop your horse. Cregan hears you laugh and follows you. Still trying to wrap his head around the fact that you find his smile charming.

Its not long before you slower your horse again. You ride slowly into a clearing, looking up into the sky, Cregan follows your gaze. But he only sees blue sky and clouds.

You stop your horse, whistle loudly between your fingers. Then you turn to Cregan and beam at him. He can't help but smile with you. Excitement and anticipation are in your eyes.

"Don't worry. You will like him." your voice is full of love, as if you were talking about your oldest friend. You are indeed talking about your oldest friend. Cregan is captivated by your beauty, losing himself in your radiant eyes. Warmth spreads within him and his heart begins to beat faster. He can hardly wait to take you as his wife. Suddenly, the sun is obscured, a dark shadow falls over you and him. The horses begin to fidget nervously back and forth, and when Cregan looks up again, his heart sinks into his stomach.

He has read stories about the Targaryen dragons, he has watched Vermithor and Silverwing from his window in the Red Keep. Cregan even saw Vermax up close when Jacaerys landed in the courtyard of Winterfell back then.

Nothing could have prepared him for that. The gigantic body of Vermithor completely blocks the sun, the light catches in his bronze scales. His wingspan is gigantic.

As closer the dragon gets, the more uncomfortable Cregan feels. Vermithor lands just a few steps away from you, the entire ground trembles. Cregan's horse rears, the stallion can probably sense Cregan's unease.

Vermithor turns his head towards him, opens his mouth, and reveals a row of teeth, almost as long as sword blades and probably a hundred times sharper. In an instant, he could swallow Cregan along with his horse. It would only take a second, and his flames could turn Cregan into a pile of ash.

He has to swallow, his hands clenching around the reins. Why couldn't it have been a smaller dragon like Vermax being one? Or a hatchling like Morning? No, your soul bonded dragon had to be a damn war dragon.

Cregan has to take a deep breath to calm his heart a little. It beats so loudly that he is already afraid you will hear it. The air smells of smoke, the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. His body reacts automatically to the danger. His hand wants to reach for the sword on his belt, neverless he manages to prevent the almost reflex.

You don't seem to have noticed his fear at all, have already jumped off your horse and are now approaching your dragon. Valyrian words roll off your tongue with ease, your voice sounds calm. Cregan doesn't understand a word of what you say to Vermithor, but the foreign sound of High Valyrian in your gentle voice sounds like the most beautiful song he has ever heard. Cregan watches closely as you raise your hand and stroke your fingers over the dragon's nose. He snaps his mouth shut, blowing hot air into your face. You giggle, turning to Cregan.

"You can come closer." Again, that sparkle in your eyes. The sun catches in your dark hair, Cregan has to take a deep breath, drinks in your beauty, and feels the fear slowly release its grip on his heart.

In the next moment, Vermithor lifts his head, raises it above you, and pushes his large body closer to you, this time smoke coming from his nostrils. You stretch out and place your hand under the dragon's chin, stroking him as if he were a cat. Fear burns in Cregan's stomach like a metalball, cold sweatbeads forms on his forehead. Nevertheless, he dismounts from the horse. When his feet touch the ground, his stance is not as firm as he would like it to be. Everything in him screams to turn around and run away.

Cregan had thought the scariest thing he would ever have to do was stand on the edge of the wall and look 700 feet down. Getting close to your oversized lizard today is so much worse.

His stomach tightens, and he has to hide the trembling of his hands by gripping the hilt of his sword. You reach out your hand to him.

"Come on. You really don't need to be afraid. Vermithor is really sweet."

Cregan takes a few steps towards both of you, Vermithors eyes flash, and "sweet" is the last thing Cregan would think of to describe this dragon. He has to force himself to keep going. But when Vermithor lets out a dark growl, Cregan flinches and stops. You turn a little to Vermithor and speak a few Valyrian words to him. Cregan understands his own name and Winterfell. A moment after you finish, Vermithor shakes slightly and then lowers his body down to his knees, while his wings fold tightly against his body and he lowers his head so that his eyes are at Cregan's height. Cregan stares in shock from you to your dragon. Did he really listen to you?

"I understand that you are scared..."

"I am not scared" Cregan interrupts you quickly, too quickly. A grin tugs at the corners of your mouth as you catch him lying. But you extend your hand again. Cregan takes a deep breath and forces himself to take the last steps. Gods, he has stood on battlefields, won wars, even had to fight for his place in Winterfell. He would describe himself as brave, but taking those steps onto your dragon costs him all his courage.

The air around Vermithor's body is warm and smells of sulfur. The Lord of Winterfell is by no means squeamish, yet he has to pull himself together not to wrinkle his nose. He is afraid of angering the dragon.

He reaches for your hand, your fingertips closing around the black leather of his glove. The touch of your fingers grounds him a little and he manages to take a deep breath and calm his heart a little bit.

You don't pull at him, giving him time until he stands directly in front of your dragon on his own. Vermithor doesn't move, only his eyes blink. Cregan has the feeling that the dragon is inspecting him closely, its eyes far too intelligent for a lizard. It sends a shiver down Cregan's spine.

"Do you want to pet him?" you ask, your gaze vigilant on Cregan and Vermithor as your fingertips glide over the scales beneath the dragon eye.

Cregan wants to shake his head and say no, but instead he carefully takes off the glove. He notices that his palm is sweaty, but he can't wipe it on his shirt, you would notice that. Slowly, Cregan raises his hand he cannot supress the slight trembling. He looks at you once more, you nod quickly. Cregan places his hand on the dragon's nose, the scales are hot and hard. Vermithor does not move, his breath steady while Cregan held his breath. Carefully, his fingers glide over Vermithor's nose, he endures it exactly four heartbeats, then he withdraws his hand and takes two steps back.

His heartbeat is fast, his breathing is unsteady and he notices the blush rising in his cheeks. He is sure that by now you know that he is panicking with fear. Nevertheless he looks at you.

You meet his gaze with a warm, proud smile "I told you, he is really sweet." you say and press your cheek against Vermithor. The dragon blows air out of its nostrils again, then gently nudges you and makes a humming sound, almost like a melody. Cregan is surprised that a hundred-year-old dragon is as gentle as a kitten.

Cregan grumbles in agreement, his fear still lingers in his stomach. "Can we go back now?" he looks at the horses, a few steps away. He did touch the dragon, but that doesn't mean he feels comfortable now.

You start to giggle. "Still scared?" you ask in a teasering voice. He looks at you, a smile dances around the corners of your lips. Vermithor nudges you lightly in the side, then straightens up a bit and takes a step towards Cregan. The ground trembles, the trees around sway, leaves fall to the ground.

Cregan has to swallow, needs all his courage not to run away. Vermithor slowly moves his head towards him, hiding you behind his body. Cregan's heart begins to beat faster, once again he has cold sweat on his forehead.

"Stay completely calm." he hears you say, not a hint of worry in your voice. Cregan isn't even surprised by how much trust you place in your dragon. Vermithor's head slowly comes closer, he sniffs the air around Cregan and then gently nudges him with his snout. The touch isn't even strong enough to make Cregan take a step back. He would never have expected such caution from the giant. The bronze Fury seems more like a kitten right now.

The dragon exhales, the air is so hot that Cregan's eyes begin to burn. Suddenly, Vermithor rises to his full height, his head hovering a few feets above the ground before he lets out a loud roar.

Cregan flinches in shock, the deep tone makes his bones vibrate, his muscles tense up, ready to run as fast as he can. Still, he remains where he is, looking at you.

You smile at him, pride in your gaze. Suddenly you run past Vermithor and throw yourself in Cregan´s arms. The Lord of Winterfell wraps his arms around you, catching you und pressing you close to him. Your warm laughter reaches his ears, and for a moment, he can forget the dragons three steps away. Still laughing, you take a step back from Cregan but reaching for his hand again. Your smile rivals the sun. You have to tilt your head slightly back to look at Cregan.

"Good, he likes you." you speak with conviction. "Now we can get married."

Cregan has to blink in surprise. "Wait this was up for discussion?" he asks, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Of course, My Lord Stark. Never could I marry a man that my Vermithor has not approved of."

Cregan looks past you back to your dragon. He feels as if his eyes are watching every of his movements. He has to swallow. So Vermithor likes him? Cregan can´t tell why you are so sure about this.

You squeeze his hand to regain his attention. Cregan looks at you. You stand on your tiptoes and give him a gentle kiss on the lips. It's just a brief moment, but it makes Cregan's stomach do somersaults and his heart pound loudly in his chest. Cregan wants to pull you into his arms immediately and claim your mouth as his. He has to hold back, contenting himself with pulling you closer and kissing your forehead. You snuggle into his arms.

"And what do you say? Do you feel like taking a little flight?" he can hear your laughter in your voice. You making fun of him, he knows that. If Cregan had a slightly bigger ego, he would force himself to climb onto that dragon's back just to avoid having to admit to his fiancée that he is too scared. It's a good thing Cregan's ego isn't that big after all. Not even an army of giants and the others could get him onto this dragon.

"Absolutely not." Cregan replies, also laughing and pulls you towards the horses. Vermithor lets out a growl and then spreads his wings. In the next moment, his body rises into the air and he takes off flying briefly over Cregan's and your head.

The Lord of Winterfell has to pull himself together not to flinch. He would never love this dragon as you do, but at least Vermithor didn't eat him at the first opportunity. That's a good sign Cregan thinks.

[ancient-depressed-druid]

As someone diagnosed with ocd only after i became an adult, it is so weird to me the idea of test screenings that relate to family behavior bc (at least in my family) WE ALL BEHAVED THE SAME.

My mom is a textbook Pure O OCD case. Most of her explanations for why I had to do something in a certain way were always related to "if you don't, something bad is gonna happen to one of us" and "people are always watching and talking about what you do, they never admit, but it is true", so my entire life is had confirmation and even took in her obsessive thoughts as mine.

My brother's entire life had to be in specific numbers, from the times he washed his hands to how many steps he took in a day or even how many times he had to lift his fork during a meal. He was the one to teach me how to count, now I cannot stop counting. I count the seconds, the number of tiles, the number of steps from here to where I need to go and if a staircase has an odd number of steps I need to go up and down it twice to even it up.

My dad is so fucking autistic he had to be taught how to smile, to make eye contact and to not just ignore his family while he watched his special interest related media.

So, when I was advised by my psychologist to find a psychiatrist to help with my constant panic attacks and severe depression i went in blind. I was the first one in the family to seek help, I was not prepared for the questions.

The therapist even tried to change up the questions twice after the first test to relate how I saw myself in the eyes of my family and it didn't work bc we all were like that. It took me having to ask to do a fourth test (bc I felt like someone would die if we did it an odd number of times) and my mom to meet the therapist inside the office for us to realize what was the problem.

Instead, I had to keep a diary of everything and every thought I had for 4 days for the diagnosis to be made. Turns out normal people don't have panic attacks after realizing the tag in their covers was on the wrong side of the bed and run around trying to see if their family is alive after that.

So, yeah, those tests should be better developed and adapted to fit people's experiences. Isolated behavior doesn't always tell the entire story. Familiar behavior sometimes hides it. And yet, never stop trying to seek help

I feel like I would have been diagnosed with OCD a lot earlier if the vast majority of screening questions (for mental illnesses in general) weren't based on the person's perception of their own behavior, in isolation. and what i mean by that is asking someone with OCD "do you wash your hands excessively?" is not a good question.

a person with OCD believes they are washing their hands the correct number of times. it's not excessive. we believe we're exhibiting best practices and helping to keep everything clean.

better questions might be, "does it seem like you wash your hands a lot more than your friends or family?" "do you get dry patches or cuts on your hands from washing your hands?" "do you find it deeply distressing, more so than how you've seen other people react, when you get something on your hands that you can't clean off right away?"

being asked "are you overly preoccupied with bugs, symmetry, and contamination?" also got "no" responses from me years ago in my life. what they didn't ask for, and didn't know, was what *exactly* I was doing in my day to day life that genuinely ate up my time and mental space to a concerning degree, but I *didn't know* that other people don't do this.

"do you spend a lot of time cleaning?" -> no, it's not a lot. it's a good amount. why?

"do you become frustrated because it seems like no one else meets your organizational and cleanliness standards - do you often 'take over' for other people because they can't do it right - do new friends seem surprised by how strict you can be about your living space?" -> oh. yeah. yeah I get it now.

[solxamber]

Hiii!! first time requesting and I absolutely love your white rabbit and angel one, but what about a jellyfish mc with the octavinelle trio and diasomnia group? Where their head empty an airhead but is actually really smart but gets distracted easily.

Octavinelle + Diasomnia with Airhead! Jellyfish! Reader

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul was prepared for almost anything—except you. At first, your airheaded nature confounded him. You’d stare blankly into space during conversations, occasionally blurting out unrelated thoughts like, “Do you think stars get lonely?” or “What’s the difference between squid ink and octopus ink?”

To Azul, you seemed like an easy mark. Someone too scattered to notice loopholes in contracts or the fine print. But the first time he tried to rope you into a deal, you stared at the contract for an uncomfortably long time, then pointed out five contradictory clauses and suggested a more efficient way to write it.

Azul had never been so humiliated yet so intrigued. How could someone so spacey also be so sharp? He began inviting you to the Mostro Lounge under the guise of needing “assistance,” but it was just an excuse to pick your brain.

He’d grumble when you got distracted mid-conversation to follow a particularly shiny object, but he found himself watching you with a mix of exasperation and fondness. Your unconventional intelligence challenged him, and your whimsical nature softened the edges of his ambition.

Jade Leech

Jade found your airheadedness endlessly entertaining. At first, he mistook it for naivety, but when you casually corrected one of his mushroom classifications while admiring a random shell, he realized there was much more to you.

You fascinated him. The way your attention flitted from one thing to another like a butterfly, yet you still managed to come up with solutions to problems no one else could. Jade often tested your intelligence by subtly steering conversations into complex topics, only for you to surprise him with insightful answers delivered in the most absentminded tone.

“Jade, did you know the anglerfish has a symbiotic relationship with bacteria for its light?” you’d say, staring off into the distance. And just like that, Jade’s carefully laid plan to throw you off would unravel.

He enjoyed the unpredictability you brought into his life. Your head-empty demeanor paired with startling intelligence kept him on his toes, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Floyd Leech

“Oh, Shrimpy’s got no brain cells, huh?” That was Floyd’s first impression of you, and for a while, he treated you like his personal amusement. He’d throw random questions your way just to see what absurd answer you’d come up with.

But the day you absentmindedly explained the physics behind the Mostro Lounge’s faulty pipe system and how to fix it? Floyd was floored. His mouth hung open for a good five seconds before he burst out laughing. “You’re a sneaky little jellyfish, aren’t ya?”

From then on, Floyd decided you were his favorite. He’d sling an arm around your shoulders and drag you around, showing you off like his prize catch. “Shrimpy’s dumb-smart,” he’d declare to anyone who’d listen, grinning ear to ear.

He loved how unpredictable you were, never knowing if you’d say something brilliant or completely off-the-wall. Floyd thrived on chaos, and you were the perfect mix of calm airhead and hidden genius to keep him entertained. He might tease you endlessly, but deep down, he adored you for being unapologetically yourself.

Malleus Draconia

When Malleus first met you, he found your airheaded nature oddly calming. Unlike others, you didn’t seem intimidated by his presence. Instead, you’d blink at him in wide-eyed wonder before blurting out random thoughts like, “If dragons hoard treasure, do they also have snack stashes?”

At first, Malleus assumed your absentmindedness was due to a lack of understanding. But during one of your meandering conversations, you casually corrected his misconceptions about a historical event—one even he hadn't noticed. He realized you weren’t just carefree; you were deeply knowledgeable in your own peculiar way.

Your ability to switch between whimsical musings and sharp observations fascinated him. He found himself seeking you out for your unique perspective, even if you occasionally got distracted by a passing butterfly mid-discussion.

“Child of Man, you are quite… unique,” he’d say with a soft smile, finding solace in your unorthodox approach to life.

Lilia Vanrouge

Lilia thought you were adorable. Your head-empty demeanor reminded him of the carefree youths he’d seen in his centuries of life. He’d often pop out of nowhere to startle you, laughing when you gasped and then immediately got distracted by a question like, “Why is it called a jump scare if I didn’t jump?”

But it didn’t take long for Lilia to notice the flashes of brilliance hidden behind your seemingly aimless chatter. You’d drop profound insights into conversations as if they were afterthoughts, leaving him pleasantly surprised.

“Oh-ho! You’re sharper than you let on, aren’t you?” he’d tease, ruffling your hair affectionately.

He loved how unpredictable you were, and he often encouraged your tangents just to see where your mind would wander. To Lilia, you were a delightful enigma—one that made his long life all the more entertaining.

Silver

Silver appreciates your calm presence, even if he sometimes struggled to keep up with your wandering thoughts. He’d sit quietly as you mused about the stars or wondered if birds dream, finding your voice soothing no matter how odd the topic.

He initially thought you were simply a kind but scatterbrained individual. However, when you offhandedly helped him improve his sword stance with an unexpectedly insightful comment, he realized there was more to you than met the eye.

“You notice things most people overlook,” he said, his tone soft with admiration. From then on, he started paying closer attention to your words, knowing they often carried hidden wisdom.

Silver respected your unique way of thinking and found comfort in your presence, even when you got distracted mid-sentence. To him, you were a gentle yet brilliant soul, someone who brought unexpected light into his life.

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek was baffled by you. At first, he couldn’t fathom how someone so easily distracted could survive at Night Raven College, much less so many Overblots. He’d often lecture you, only for you to nod absentmindedly and then ask something completely unrelated, like, “Do crocodiles ever get lonely?”

It drove him up the wall. He thought you lacked focus, which was unacceptable to him. But then, during a heated argument about magical theory, you calmly pointed out a flaw in his reasoning that left him speechless.

Sebek stared at you, wide-eyed, before clearing his throat and crossing his arms. “Hmph! I see you’re not as oblivious as you appear,” he muttered, trying to mask his begrudging respect.

Despite his initial frustrations, Sebek grew to admire your hidden intelligence. He’d still scold you for your airheaded tendencies, but deep down, he appreciated your unique perspective and the unexpected wisdom you brought to the table.

Masterlist

[worshipthecrow]

"Meeting the parents"

Summary: You received a call from your mother while you were with Sylus, your parents want to meet your boyfriend.

Content: Sylusx Female! Reader, Reader is exaggerating the situation in her head, death threats.

A/n: I introduced Sylus to my parents with the tete-a-tete function and more or less the things that happened are portrayed here, some comments were made after explaining them the whole game and stuff. English is not my first language, if you find any mistakes, let me know so I can correct them.

One, two, three breaths you took before opening the door and stepping inside with your heart pounding in your chest and cold sweat on your back, Sylus was waiting for you to return from your phone call.

His shirt half open and his lips swollen from the long kissing session would be a hot and inviting sight if it weren’t for your mother’s voice booming in your brain.

We want to meet him, you’ve been with him for how long? A year? And you still haven’t brought him home, if that was a lie don’t worry honey, my friend’s son is still single and very handsome.

Your mother’s playful tone made you frown, you exchanged a few more words and hung up the phone.

He smiled sideways at you, waiting for you to sit back on his lap to continue.

“Hey…” you didn’t let him finish when the words came out of your mouth like a suppressed cough, fast and violent “

“My parents want to meet you”

You noticed the slight change in his gaze and posture, but then he relaxed again, held out his hand for you to take, which you did without thinking because of habit, and making you sit on his lap, tangling his finger in a lock of your hair.

“When?” a simple question, you expected more, maybe nervousness, maybe that he would refuse, but there was only one question.

Why don’t you bring him tonight? I’m making pork ribs, your favorite, it would be a good time to meet him.

It wasn’t a question, it wasn’t a suggestion, it was an order said sweetly with a little threat.

“Tonight” you whispered, he hummed caressing the skin on your arm, nervousness didn’t let you enjoy the sweet touch.

“All right, if that’s what you want, sweetie” you let out a heavy sigh you didn’t know you were holding in.

And for the rest of the afternoon, it was you, stressed to the bone that what would happen in this inevitable disaster, someone would die, and you hoped it would be you, just to get away from this situation.

Sylus took you to your parents’ house on his motorcycle, you would have preferred to go by car, taking advantage of the traffic to get ready or to fake an emergency, but no, the way was too short and fast and now that you were in front of the door you wanted to vomit your guts on the floor.

It was he who rang the doorbell, just long enough to be heard but not annoying, the door was opened by your mother, the image was endearing, the chubby little woman greeted the two of you with a sweet smile letting you in, she still had her apron on, wet and you guessed she was washing the utensils she used to cook.

Your father was in the living room, you noticed the tiny sauce stain on his shoe, and you knew that today, of all days, would be the worst day of your life, nothing good came out of it when your father was helping your mother cook.

Your mother called everyone to the dining room, your stomach was doing somersaults, you walked stiffly to your seat, Sylus, out of habit, opened the chair for you to sit down and then sat next to you.

Your mother served your plate first, as always, the smell of the ribs, that delicious smell that always made your mouth water made you feel the worst nausea you had ever experienced in your life.

You watched her prepare your father’s dish, and the familiar fight of “one more” “no, the doctor said to watch your cholesterol” took some of the tension out of the situation, but knowing that the next dish to be served would be Sylus’ only reminded you of the chaos that was about to unfold, you prayed to any god that was willing to listen to you even though you had never been devoted to any of them.

Your mother took the plate placed two ribs and you held your breath as your mom’s voice came through your ears like the scream of a banshee.

“So, Sylus, what do you do for a living?” the smack of the mashed potatoes against the plate almost made you squeal.

“I run a family-owned business that covers a range of services and offers various products. We deliver fruit and even sell state-of-the-art technology and I work with a lot of talented individuals. If you’reinterested, I’d be happy to discuss it in more detail another time.”

You buried your fingernails in your thigh, the way your father bit into the rib meat made your heart stop for a second and the look on your mother’s face didn’t make you feel any better either, you slowly chewed the tender juicy meat, feeling it like lead in your mouth.

“And what do you do in your spare time?” your father’s piercing gaze said he wanted to give him a shot between the eyebrows, too bad that wouldn’t work, you knew it too well.

“My hobbies are very simple. I collect vynil records, play the organ, and occasionally sing. According to your daughter, my singing isn’t too bad.” The sideways smile made you blush as you shoved mashed potatoes in your mouth and avoided the zucchini from the boiled vegetables. “Do you like to sing? If so. You’re always welcome to visit my private karaoke bar.”

“Do you live with anyone? Your family?”

You bit into the carrot so hard that your teeth hurt.

“I live alone and I have a relatively flexible schedule” you blushed and drank from your pomegranate juice as your mother looked sideways at you, you knew what was going through her head. “I stay at my base most of the time. Otherwise, I’m in a hotel for business meetings or go to my private ranch when I need to unwind.”

Sylus smiled softly, and you swallowed saliva admiring how his factions softened.

“I own several beautiful horses, and one of them has grown particularly fond of your daughter. The two of them offer frolic together at the ranch. I like seeing her be carefree and happy” you held back a surprised gasp at his words, you needed to scream, preferably at your best friend, as you melted into a puddle of mush, that was too sweet, ugh. “… if I might ask, are either of you interested in shooting or racing?”

Now you wanted to scream, but out of hysteria, even though you were a wanderer hunter it’s not like your parents were too happy about it when they expected you to be something else, like a doctor, a lawyer, even a teacher, gun handling was always a constant discussion when you lived with them and expressed your desire to be a hunter.

“I have licensed facilities filled with the necessary equipment. You’re welcome to enjoy them to your heart’s content, while it might not be obvious at first glance, I’m very good at taking care of people”

You decided to concentrate on your plate, while eating, you blinked for a couple of seconds noticing something strange but ignored it in favor of continuing eating your pork ribs.

“Because of our time together, I developed new interests. I enjoy taking her to auctions and fashion shows, I like seeing her shine, And her happiness is my happiness”

Your heart stopped at the softness of voice, you wanted to cry in his arms and tell him you loved him, but that would be too dramatic at a family dinner and you could do that when you got back to his house in the N109 Zone.

“What about the future, hmm?” everyone had finished as they spoke, you felt a lump in your throat hard to swallow, what about the future indeed, you squeezed your glass as you took a swig.

“I’ll always support her with whatever she wants to do. I’ll also stand by her side without question”

The Table was silent for a few seconds while your father picked up the dirty dishes and your mother took something out of the refrigerator, you recognized the pot immediately, you had seen it so many times during birthdays, anniversaries, Christmas and New Year.

You got up and opened a drawer and took out a plate and helped your mother unmold the flan, the color of the caramel reminded you of your childhood, when on your birthday your mother made a small mold just for you, of Christmas fighting with your older brother for the last slice, which in the end you shared sitting on the floor playing on the console.

It had been so long since you had eaten your mother’s flan, that seeing it now was just a balm for your stressed heart.

You left the plate with the flan on the table carefully, your mother took the knife out of a drawer and returned to the table to cut it.

“Everything you said was very nice Sylus” your mother’s voice gave you a shiver that went all the way down your spine to the back of your neck. “But alas for you where you hurt her, I don’t want to see her cry because of you, because I swear every time you go out you are going to have to watch your back, because if I have to, I will disappear you and no one will ever find you, was I clear enough?”

The sight was hilarious, your mother, the short woman, shorter than you in fact, was threatening the leader of Onychinus with a kitchen knife shiny from the caramel for having cut the flan, with a sweet smile as she offered him the plate with the dessert.

Sylus wasn’t expecting it at all from the look of utter surprise on his face, accepting the plate with a sideways smile.

“Like crystal” he replied softly and your mother smiled again as she handed out the plates, you breathed easy that she hadn’t stabbed him, your father poured the coffee, you put sugar and milk in yours.

The rest passed relatively quietly, lighter conversations and your father constantly telling you to take care of yourself on your missions and your mother reminding you that you could always come home if you decided to quit your job.

After finishing dessert and coffee your father took you to the garage, saying he had something to show you, you followed him thinking it would be some new car he was repairing, or a modified motorcycle, but no, he sat in his folding chair and you sat next to him, nervous about leaving Sylus and your mother alone for too long, you didn’t know if she would try to stab him in the back.

“Does he treat you well?” your father looked at you with his dark eyes, the ones you had inherited, and you nodded.

“He does”

“He seems nice, and he has money” you nodded, uncomfortable about that last “I was worried, when he said he stayed in hotels, that he worked with “individuals”, I thought he would cheat on you” your heart pounded in your chest, you once had that same thought but the fact that Sylus would always answer your calls, messages no matter the time or place removed those doubts a long time ago, “but then, he started eating the zucchini off your plate when you put them aside and the looks, he looked at you like you were the moon, like you put the sun in the sky, it gave me diabetes”

And you laughed, so hard that you threw your head back as you laughed at the top of your lungs, you laughed until your stomach hurt and your father looked at you like you were insane even though he was smiling subtly.

Sylus appeared a few moments later as you were catching your breath, your cheek half numb.

“Your mother wants you to help her dry the dishes”

You got up from your chair and walked towards the door, when Sylus turned to follow you your father called him to talk to him, you looked at him and nodded, you weren’t worried, if your mother didn’t try to kill him your father wouldn’t either, you went to the kitchen and your mother greeted you with a cloth to dry the dishes and you waited.

“I like him” she said “I like that he talked about you like that, he almost doesn’t seem real” you snorted under your breath, wondering what the two of them must have said while you were gone. “Better than your exes, definitely”

You groaned, remembering that your closest group of friends from high school still called your ex from that time “evil cockroach”, and still laughed at his love misfortunes when they got to hear something about him, you were fine staying out of it, but your mean side also felt satisfaction when it turned out that his last girlfriend had dumped him.

“He has everything you like as well, music lover, animal lover, and I am relieved to know he has gun licenses, that means he will always be able to take care of you and you will have good weapons for your missions” your mother dried the flan pot and put it back in its special drawer.

“The hunters association provides us with enough guns” although you weren’t going to deny that the Harrier 700’s were your favorite.

“He’s very much in love with you” your mother evaded the subject of your job, as always, you knew her stance on your safety and the many times you had been scolded over the phone when you were in the hospital was reminder enough “tie him up”

“Mom!” you shouted, shocked, you knew she meant ‘marry him’ but with Sylus it could be very literal that matter.

“What? You would have cute babies” you covered your face in embarrassment, leaving the plate you were drying on the counter so as not to throw it on the floor “and he has nice buttocks”

“MOM!” you shouted in a high pitched voice, definitely embarrassed and your mother laughed at you, you were aware of Sylus’ attributes, but you didn’t want to discuss them with your mother.

“He hides things doesn’t he?” you nodded, calmer at the change of subject, although it wasn’t something you wanted to discuss either, you continued drying the plates and glasses. “But you know what it is?” another nod from you “Well, as long as you know it’s okay, but I don’t want to get you out of prison”

You rolled your eyes but smiled anyway, aware of the approval your parents were giving, your mother a little too enthusiastic, your mother and you finished drying the dishes just as Sylus and your father were coming back in.

The goodbye was better than the welcome and without the stress you felt tired all at once, you wanted to go back and sleep for the next week.

With a last hug to your mother and the mortification that she gave you a condom, you rode up behind Sylus on the bike and hugged him around the waist until you returned home.

You threw yourself on the bed, ready to accomplish your desires, Sylus pulled off your pants as you grunted and tucked you under the blanket, then lay down behind you, brushing your face with something, you opened your eyes and ripped the platinum package from his fingers and threw it on the nightstand, you cursed your mother.

“Don’t even think about laughing” you said through your teeth.

“You are kinda like your mom, she’s the one in charge isn’t she?” you sighed and laid on your back.

“Yeah, my dad has a bad temper, but my mom is the one in charge, if she says do it you do it” you saw his sideways grin.

“It runs in the family I guess, you’re bossy too, Kitten” he kissed your neck and even though you wanted to get mad you couldn’t, you were tired and wanted to sleep, until…

“What did you and my mom talk about?” The kissing stopped and Sylus lay back, towering over you resting his head in his palm and his elbow on the pillow.

“Your past relationships and veiled threats disguised as funny comments, who is ‘the evil cockroach’?”

“Ugh, my chronically unfaithful ex” you shrugged “that would be a better story to tell when you meet my friends, they make it funnier”

“Oh, so I’ll meet the group too?” the comment had come out of nowhere, but if you introduced him to your parents, who you were most worried about them meeting, your friends should be easier no?

“I guess so, although I’ll have to arrange the meeting when we’re all free” you were already getting a slight headache just thinking about squaring schedules so you could set up a meeting.

“I’ll be available whenever you want” you smiled softly at him, you were too grateful that he seconded you on all the things you wanted to do, whether they were ridiculously childish or not.

“I’ll talk to them tomorrow, now I want to sleep” you turned in bed and wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him down and put your face in the crook of his neck, Sylus wrapped his arms around your waist as he gently stroked your back.

You drifted off to sleep, as you thought about the best way to tell your friends that you wanted them to meet your mysterious boyfriend you talked about all the time. Maybe something like…

“Hey, do you guys want to meet my boyfriend?”

Yeah, that might be nice.

[baby-yongbok]

Catch The Moment - Lee Know x afab!Reader

⤷ Content warning - Themes of pregnancy ⤷ WC - 0.8k ⤷ Summary - You tell Minho something special in the perfect place to capture it. ✧ Masterlist ✧

“It's gonna eat my money.” Minho scoffs as you drag him into the photo booth in the far corner of the busy arcade. 

You smile, rolling your eyes and mulling over the selections on the screen. You choose the decorations for your photos while he watches with a pout.

“Oh will you stop it, Min. It'll be fun, come on! We did this on our first date, remember?” You look into the camera and see that he's looking over at you on the screen.

“Yeah, well, these machines are old now. They never replace them, and -” He hushes when you press the start button. 

Minho lets his argument die on his tongue with a dramatic huff and eye roll that gets you chuckling.

“It's about capturing the moment, baby.” You take his hand in yours, looking over at him with a smile that softens his core a bit.

 “And what moment are we capturing exactly?” He looks down at you with a lopsided grin, his bright brown eyes shining down at you. 

Today’s outing was your idea. A cute date at a nearby cafe and the arcade after, just like your first date. 

“Well…” You trail off, smiling way too wide for him not to find it suspicious. “I have something to tell you.” The booth starts counting down to your first photo after going on its programmed spiel about how it works. 

Minho raises his eyebrows, intrigued. 

The shutter goes off. 

“What?” He looks over at the screen of the booth then back at you. It’s preparing to take the next picture. 

“You know it's taking the pictures right?” He asks, eyebrows furrowed.

You nod and he looks at you expectantly. The booth starts counting down again and you dip your hand into your jacket pocket and present him with a blue and white pregnancy test. You hold it in your palm, smiling up at him. 

He looks confused for a second, just a second before his eyes widen at the wand in your palm. 

The shutter goes off. 

“Wait.. you're serious? Jagiya, are you serious?” You giggle at him, red at the tips of his ears with sparkling wide brown eyes. You nod and the booth prepares to take the third photo. 

“I'm pregnant.” You announce through a toothy smile. Minho takes the test from you, staring down at the positive result with a sense of wild wonder. An excitement you've never seen him wear before. 

“You're pregnant.” He parrots as the booth counts down to the next photo. He breaks out into a smile, nearly bigger than your own.

The shutter goes off.

“We're pregnant.” You mutter, tears starting to well up in your own bright eyes.

 “How long have you… when did you take this test? What are… you're pregnant.” Minho rambles, his smile fading and reappearing seconds after as he processes the news. 

He settles on giving up on his questions for now. The booth prepares to take its final picture and Minho looks up at you. He doesn't speak. He can barely breathe with the pressure of shock and excitement multiplying in his chest every couple of seconds. 

His emotions are a mess but one thing is clear to him. One thing floats to the top of everything else and pushes him closer to you in the booth. The test is in his lap, his hands cup your cheeks and the booth counts down. 

“I love you.” He smiles, leaning his forehead against yours. A tear falls from your eye as some brim at his waterline. 

He leans in and presses a kiss to your lips, soft and sweet. You both can't help but to smile into it. 

The shutter goes off. 

“I love you so much. I can't believe this.” He mutters against your lips, kissing you again, a bit longer this time to hide the fall of his own tears.

The booth prints the pictures, ejecting them into the printer slot and Minho pulls away reluctantly to retrieve them.

You look over them together, smiling at the way it captured his reaction to the news perfectly. 

“You’re a sneaky little thing.” He smiles over at you. “You planned this. This is why you wanted to go out today, isn't it?” 

“Guilty.” You chuckle, wiping your eyes. Minho looks back into his lap and picks up the test.

“Let's do it again.” He takes out another five dollar bill and pops it into the machine. “Tell me all over again.”

“What happened to it eating your money?” You tease, quickly selecting the photo customizations again.

 Minho turns to you, moving the first print of photos out of sight. “I don't care about that.” You chuckle at his change of heart. The sparkle in his eyes gleams bright in the lights of the booth. 

He cups your cheeks again, “I want to relive that. Tell me again.”

The booth starts up and you smile up at him. “Tell me.” He doesn't try to hide the tears threatening to spill over this time. He keeps his eyes on yours, a ghost of a smile on his lips. 

The booth counts down.

“I'm pregnant.” A tear falls. 

“Again” He mumbles and your own tears start to fall.

“We're gonna be parents.” You smile and he kisses you. Soft as a feather and full of love. 

The shutter goes off. 

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[waves-against-a-cliff]

After the End - Post-Apocalypse Omegaverse AU

Summary - One knot down, three more to go

Tags - Omegaverse (duh), alpha/beta/omega dynamics, non traditional dynamics, all of the 141 are alphas, you're an omega. SMUT, dub-con, fingering knotting, mating press, polyamory, alphas love alphas. 141 x reader

Get it early next time

Masterlist

Kyle looks shocked for only a moment before he settles between your legs, your slick cunt still pulsing around nothing as your heat forces your orgasm to prolong itself, seeking a knot that only he could give you at this moment. You reach out and grab onto his belt, fumbling to unbuckle it with shaky hands. He puts his hands over yours and helps you unbuckle it then unbutton his pants. His straining cock finally getting a little bit of relief as he pulls his pants down. Your mouth waters at the sight of the tent in his boxers and you palm the hardened cock eliciting a hiss from Kyle as pleasure shoots up his spine.

He takes your hand and pushes it away before he pulls down his boxers at long last. Much like the rest of him, his cock is unfairly attractive. Uncut and leaking precum from just the small touch you gave it, girthy and long but not too much of either. You prop yourself up on your elbows, prepared to move and take it in your mouth when he slips two fingers back into your cunt. You gasp out, dropping back down onto your back, “Good omega,” he purrs as he adds a third finger and resumes pumping them in and out of you while you gasp and moan whenever the heel of his hand grinds against your clit.

“Kyle,” you moan and he groans through gritted teeth, “please Kyle,” you beg a little hysterically. “Please fuck me, please?”

“Fuck-” Kyle curses as he removes his slick covered fingers from your and coats his cock in your arousal. “Needy,” Kyle mutters teasingly as he leans over you, blocking your view of the others completely which makes your inner omega whine for some reason. “Don’t worry pretty omega, I’ll take care of you,” he murmurs in your ear as he teasingly grinds his cock up against your clit sending little shockwaves of pleasure through you.

Finally he notches the head of his cock as your entrance before he says through gritted teeth to the one of the others called Price who you can’t see, “Stop me if I try to mark, we’re not to mark until the heat is over,” he says and one of them rumbles their agreement. Finally, finally, he pushes in and the stretch is like nothing you’ve experienced before. His body heat warms you as he pushes further into you and just when you think you can’t take anymore he bottoms out with a groan and his head on your shoulder. “Fuck,” he drawls out, “you’re so tight.”

You whine and wiggle your hips, your body easily adapting to the girth of him thanks to your heat making you more pliable. He grabs a pillow from the nest and situates it under your hips to keep you fully connected to him as he sits back and looks down at you through his own haze induced by your scent. Finally you can see the three others again, the one with a skull balaclava stares right into your eyes sending a shiver down your spine and the one with a boonie hat on looks ready to tear you apart and put you back together again.

And you can’t see the other one which makes you whine. You can sense the bond between all of them and want to see all of them as well. You want them to watch as their pack mate takes your first with them.

“Where's the Scottish one?” You ask quietly and Kyle chuckles as the Scottish one pushes forward between the other two and you relax even more into your nest, turning into something more like putty. “There you are,” you murmur before gasping when Kyle slides out and then back into you.

He leans back over you, trapping you and restricting your view of the others. Not that it would have mattered as he takes your chin between his hand and forces you to look at him as he goes at an agonizingly slow pace. Pulling out and then pushing back in just as slowly, grinding his pelvis against yours to catch your clit and make you clench down on him. “Focus on me love,” he coos but you can feel the command of an alpha in his voice. Your eyes snap to his pretty brown ones and he picks up the pace, leaving you gasping and moaning, one hand clawing at his shoulder and the other at his arm. “Yeah, does that feel good? Just needed some good cock and you’re all soft for me,” he mutters and you bare your teeth in retaliation, wishing his arm were closer so you could bite it.

“There you are,” he whispers and leans down a little further, his pace never faltering as he captures your lips with his. The sound of skin on skin fills the cellar, mixing with your moans and occasionally his own groans. You open your mouth and when he does the same you lick in to taste him on your tongue. His tongue entangles with yours as you both taste each other for the first time. Your nails leave claw marks and indents in his skin as he fucks into you and finally one of his hands reaches and starts to play with your clit.

Electricity shoots up your spine and you jolt underneath his touch making him chuckle. He pins you down with his weight as he circles your clit while fucking you unmercifully. You gasp and writhe underneath him, moaning each time he bottoms out in your again all while a tightness builds within you. You start to panic at the thought of not being knotted by him and begs between moans, “Please Kyle,” you moan and he nods.

“Yeah? Yeah, what is it love?” He asks with a knowing smile, barely containing his own throaty groans.

“Please knot me, please please please. I need it. I need it so bad,” you babble as you grow closer to your own earth shaking orgasm.

“Yeah? Want me to knot you love? Want me to pump you full and make sure you give us some pups?” And you nod to each of his questions, willing to agree to anything for his knot. Then you feel it, the start of his knot as he pauses, already caught inside of you. Instead he grinds up into you, circling your clit more urgently and dragging up whatever slick dripped out of you then back up to your hardened pearl.

Your legs grow tense as the tightness within you finally snaps and releases. You cry out at the pleasure slams in you, leaving you twitching as his cum fills you up with a warmth you haven’t had since the world ended and even before then. He groans as he goes still, your cunt clenching down on him even tighter ensuring he wouldn’t have been able to pull out even if he wasn’t knotted in you.

After a long while his knot finally deflates and when he pulls out a dribble of cum follows. He presses a kiss to your temple, seeing your eyes closed and assuming you had fallen asleep. As he pulls up boxers and pants back up he hears the rustle of sheets and looks behind him to see yourself presenting perfectly towards the other three men. Price steps forward and feels your ass appreciatively. “All this for me dove?” He asks and you nod your head quickly. “Want me to fuck this pretty cunt? Want me to knot it like Kyle did?”

“Yes!” You cry out as he pushes a finger into you.

“Names John, dove. I want to hear you scream it while I fuck you.”

[buttercandy16]

The Landlady

PAIRING(s): Landlady!AgathaHarkness x Tennant!Reader

SUMMARY: New place, new beginning, and strange nights.

WARNING(s): Non-Con, Dub-Con, Stockholm Syndrome, Somnophilia, Manipulation, Breastfeeding Kink, and other Dark Themes

A/N: Just exploring some kinks that I find interesting.

The room was small but cozy, bathed in warm hues from a Persian rug and a few old-fashioned lamps that gave off a golden glow. The walls were lined with bookshelves stuffed to the brim, their spines worn from years of use. It felt inviting, charmingly cluttered, and smelled faintly of lavender and something richer—something earthy and intoxicating.

"This is the space," Agatha said, gesturing toward the spare bedroom as she turned to face you, her smile like a velvet trap. Her dark hair was swept casually over one shoulder, and her blouse clung in all the right ways, accentuating her confidence and an air of playful mystery.

You felt impossibly out of place, standing in her perfectly curated home with your battered suitcase and freshly broken heart. Your ex’s harsh words still echoed in your mind, but you pushed the memories aside, forcing a small smile. “It’s perfect.”

Her smile widened, and she leaned against the doorframe, a spark of amusement in her piercing blue eyes. “Perfect, hmm? High praise. I’ll take it.”

Her flirtation was subtle, but it didn’t escape your notice. Since you’d replied to her ad, she had been effortlessly charming, her wit sharp but never cruel. At first, you’d been nervous about moving in with someone so... magnetic. She was older, sophisticated, confident in a way that left you fumbling for words. But when Agatha leaned into that confidence—throwing in a wink or letting her hand linger on yours during mundane moments—it left your chest tight and your cheeks warm.

You blamed the tiny crush forming in the back of your mind on the turbulence of your breakup. Agatha couldn’t possibly see you that way—her endless flirting was surely harmless.

Wasn’t it?

For the first few weeks, things felt easy. Agatha proved to be an ideal roommate. She shared her carefully prepared meals with you, the kind that were always spiced just right. She kept the kitchen spotless, offered advice when you sheepishly confided about your ex, and filled the silence with laughter when the weight of your heartbreak threatened to pull you under.

The only odd thing, you’d noticed, were the nights.

You began waking up feeling... strange. As if you were buzzing, every nerve in your body unusually sensitive. Your dreams grew more vivid and peculiar, filled with a phantom warmth you couldn’t quite explain. Fingers tracing your skin, soft breaths grazing your neck, whispers you couldn’t make out. And every time you woke, you felt flushed, your heart racing, the sensation too tangible for a mere dream.

At first, you shrugged it off as residual stress. The breakup. The move. It was a lot to process, after all. But then, strange details started to pile up. You’d wake with your blankets slightly askew or your shirt riding up your stomach. Once, you swore you smelled Agatha’s perfume on your pillow—the same lavender and musky hint you could only associate with her.

It was easy to dismiss at first. Coincidence. Sleepwalking. Overthinking.

But the feelings lingered—tingling warmth along your neck, an ache in your chest you couldn’t place, as if you were missing something you didn’t understand.

What you didn’t realize was that your dreams weren’t dreams at all.

Agatha sat perched at your bedside every night, thankful to the drug she slipped in your evening tea, ensuring you stayed in a deep, pliant sleep. Her fingers trailed softly over your cheek as she watched you, her expression caught between tender admiration and raw hunger.

“You’re so sweet when you sleep,” she murmured one night, her voice a low whisper meant only for your unconscious ears. Her hand brushed the strands of hair from your face, and she let herself indulge, pressing her lips to your forehead in a possessive kiss.

Each night, her touches grew bolder. Her fingertips ghosted down your arms, tracing invisible lines along your skin as though she could draw you closer to her even in sleep. Sometimes, she let her hand linger at your waist, feeling the steady rise and fall of your breath as you laid helpless beneath her gaze.

“You don’t even know how much I’ve longed for this,” Agatha whispered another night, her hand curling into a fist briefly before relaxing again. “Every sigh, every smile—it’s all mine now.”

Her lips found your neck one night, brushing the sensitive skin just below your jaw. Her teeth grazed the spot lightly, her body trembling with the restraint it took not to leave a mark—a sign of her claim that only she would know was there.

“I’ll have all of you soon,” she promised, pressing a kiss to your ear. “And when I do, you’ll wonder how you ever lived without me.”

Agatha didn’t just visit you out of obsession—she believed this was her way of grooming you, breaking down your resistance bit by bit. She’d made sure you found her ad, planned every detail of your arrival, and watched with satisfaction as you settled into the life she’d so carefully orchestrated for you.

Her nights of devotion were her reward.

Every brush of her fingers, every whispered promise, was a secret she kept just for the two of you—a bond you weren’t even aware existed.

Unaware of what happened after you closed your eyes each night, you started noticing subtle shifts during the day.

Agatha’s glances lingered longer, her touches more frequent—a brush of her fingers against your wrist as she handed you a mug of tea, the way she smoothed your hair absentmindedly as you passed on the couch. Her presence was overwhelming, intoxicating, but part of you began questioning the growing pull between you two.

You told yourself it was just her confidence, her charm—nothing more. But the strange feelings, the dreams, and her piercing gaze lingered, leaving you flustered, confused, and vulnerable in a way you couldn’t quite name.

You had no idea just how completely Agatha already owned you.

Life with Agatha grew more perplexing as the weeks passed. Your days blurred together in a haze of shared laughter, casual touches that lingered too long, and the peculiar warmth that bubbled beneath the surface every time she looked at you.

Yet, the nights still held the strangest weight.

The dreams persisted, each one more vivid than the last. You felt her hands—a phantom presence sliding over your skin, stroking your hair, tracing patterns along your exposed arms or stomach. Whispers filled the spaces between sleep and waking, soft murmurs that sent shivers racing down your spine even as your mind clung stubbornly to its unconscious state.

More and more, you awoke tangled in your sheets, your heart pounding as if you’d run a marathon. And every time, you felt her presence—Agatha’s scent lingering on your pillow, the faint impression of a figure beside you that vanished when your eyes opened.

One morning, as you sat across from her at breakfast, picking at the edge of your toast, you caught her watching you again. There was something almost predatory in her gaze, as though she were savoring a secret you weren’t yet privy to.

“Sleep okay, darling?” she asked, sipping from her mug.

You froze for a moment, your hand stilling midair as you reached for your coffee. “I—I guess,” you stammered, your cheeks heating under her scrutiny. “I keep having these... weird dreams.”

Agatha tilted her head, curiosity feigned but expertly calculated. “Weird how?”

You shrugged, unsure of how much to share. “They just feel... real. Like someone’s in the room with me.”

Her lips quirked upward in a knowing smile, the corners of her mouth curling like a cat playing with its food. “Do they, now?”

You nodded, unsure if you imagined the flicker of amusement in her eyes.

“Well,” she said after a pause, “maybe it’s just your mind adjusting to a new space. Moving in with someone new can bring out all sorts of feelings. Don’t worry about it too much, sweet thing.”

Her words were meant to reassure, but something about her tone only made you more uneasy.

That night, as you lay curled beneath your blanket, exhaustion threatened to pull you under, but your nerves kept you teetering on the edge of wakefulness. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was coming—something you couldn’t escape.

It wasn’t long before you fell into a deep, fitful sleep, lulled into submission by a strange comfort you couldn’t explain.

The dreams came swiftly, vivid and disorienting. But this time, the touch wasn’t as ghostly, as faint. This time, it was clear—unmistakable.

The room was thick with the scent of lavender and something darker, something primal. The moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting long shadows across the bed where you lay, your body limp and pliant under the weight of Agatha’s doing. She sat perched on the edge of the mattress, her fingers trailing lazily over your exposed skin, her touch feather-light but deliberate. You were deep in the throes of drugged sleep, your breathing slow and even, completely unaware of the violation unfolding around you.

Agatha’s lips curled into a wicked smile as she leaned over you, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders like a curtain. “Such a sweet little thing,” she murmured, her voice a low, sultry purr that sent a shiver through the room. Her hand slid beneath the hem of your shirt, her fingers brushing against the soft skin of your stomach. “So innocent. So perfect.”

You stirred faintly, a soft whimper escaping your lips as her touch grew bolder. Agatha’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction as she watched your body respond to her, even in sleep. She leaned down, her lips brushing against your ear. “Shh, darling,” she whispered, her breath hot against your skin. “Mommy’s here. Just let me take care of you.”

Her hand moved higher, cupping your breast through the thin fabric of your shirt. She squeezed gently, her thumb brushing over your nipple, coaxing it to hardness. You moaned softly in your sleep, your body arching into her touch, betraying the pleasure you couldn’t consciously acknowledge. Agatha chuckled darkly, her fingers slipping beneath the fabric to tease your bare skin. “That’s it,” she cooed, her voice dripping with possessive affection. “You’re so good for me, aren’t you? My sweet, helpless little thing.”

Her other hand slid down your body, her fingers tracing the curve of your hip before slipping between your thighs. You gasped in your sleep, your legs parting instinctively as her fingers found the warmth of your core. Agatha’s smile widened, her touch growing more insistent as she explored you, her fingers slick with your arousal. “Look at you,” she murmured, her voice thick with desire. “So wet for me already. You don’t even know what’s happening, do you? But your body knows. It knows who it belongs to.”

She leaned down, her lips brushing against your neck as her fingers worked you, slow and deliberate. “You’re mine,” she whispered, her teeth grazing your skin. “Every part of you. And I’m going to make sure you never forget it.”

Her fingers curled inside you, drawing a soft cry from your lips as your body clenched around her. Agatha’s breath hitched, her own desire flaring as she watched you writhe beneath her touch. “That’s it,” she breathed, her voice trembling with need. “Let go for me, darling. Let mommy make you feel good.”

You moaned again, your hips rocking against her hand as the pleasure built, your body responding to her even in the depths of sleep. Agatha’s lips found yours, her kiss deep and possessive as she claimed you, her tongue sliding into your mouth. She swallowed your cries, her fingers moving faster, pushing you closer to the edge.

When you came, it was with a shuddering gasp, your body trembling as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Agatha held you through it, her lips never leaving yours, her fingers drawing out every last drop of your release. When you finally stilled, she pulled back, her eyes dark with satisfaction as she gazed down at you.

“Such a good girl,” she murmured, her voice soft and adoring. She leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

Agatha’s lips lingered on your forehead, her breath warm and heavy as she pulled back just enough to admire your flushed, trembling form. Your body was still twitching faintly from the aftershocks of your forced release, your chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. She smiled, a predatory gleam in her eyes as she shifted her weight, her hands moving to the buttons of her blouse. One by one, she undid them, revealing the pale swell of her breasts beneath. Her nipples were already hard, pebbled with arousal, and she let out a soft, satisfied sigh as the cool air brushed against her skin.

“You’re so perfect like this,” she murmured, her voice low and honeyed, dripping with a sickening sweetness. “So soft. So pliant. Just the way I like you.” Her fingers trailed down your cheek, her touch almost tender if not for the possessive hunger burning in her gaze. “You don’t even know what’s happening, do you? Poor thing. But that’s okay. Mommy’s here to take care of you.”

She leaned down, her breasts brushing against your face as she guided your head to her chest. “Open up, darling,” she cooed, her fingers slipping into your mouth to part your lips. You stirred faintly, a soft whimper escaping you as she pressed her nipple against your mouth. “That’s it. Just like that. Take what mommy’s giving you.”

You resisted at first, your body instinctively recoiling from the intrusion, but Agatha held you firmly in place, her will overriding your own. She tutted softly, her fingers tightening in your hair as she forced you to latch onto her. “Don’t be difficult,” she chided, her voice sharp but still laced with that sickening sweetness. “You need this. You need me.”

The moment your lips closed around her nipple, a shudder ran through her, her breath hitching as she felt the pull of your mouth. “Oh, yes,” she moaned, her head tipping back as she rocked her hips against the bed. “Just like that. Such a good girl for mommy.” Her fingers tightened in your hair, holding you in place as she ground herself against the mattress, her own arousal building with every suckle.

You whimpered around her, the taste of her flooding your mouth. It was too much, overwhelming, but Agatha didn’t care. She only moaned louder, her free hand slipping between her thighs as she worked herself to the rhythm of your suckling. “That’s it,” she panted, her voice trembling with need. “Take it all. Drink up, darling. Mommy’s got so much to give you.”

Her fingers moved faster, her hips jerking as she chased her own release, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. “You’re mine,” she hissed, her voice breaking as she came, her body shuddering violently. “Mine. Every part of you. You’ll never escape me.”

When she finally pulled away, her chest heaving, she looked down at you with a satisfied smile, her fingers brushing over your lips. “Such a good girl,” she murmured, her voice soft and adoring. “Mommy’s so proud of you.” She leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead before settling back against the pillows, her arms wrapping around you in a possessive embrace. “Sleep now, darling. Mommy’s got you.”

“I’ll protect you. Love you. No one else will ever know you like I do. No one else deserves you.”

“I’ll make you understand,” Agatha promised, pressing her lips to your temple.

When you finally woke hours later, the room felt heavier, the air clinging to you like a second skin. Your hands trembled as you pulled back the blanket, noticing how it seemed to cling to the faintest remnants of warmth that didn’t belong to you.

You sat up, your heart hammering in your chest. Something was wrong.

Dreams didn’t leave bruises.

As you pulled your shirt down to get dressed, you caught sight of something in the mirror—a faint, purplish mark high on your neck, near the hollow of your throat. Your breath hitched, panic surging through your veins as you stared at the spot.

No.

It wasn’t possible.

You clutched at the mark, your mind racing to explain it. Maybe you scratched yourself in your sleep. Maybe you leaned against something. Maybe—

“Morning,” Agatha’s voice called from the hall, making you jump.

You quickly yanked your shirt higher, covering the mark as she entered the room with her usual confident air, carrying two mugs of coffee. She handed one to you, her fingers brushing against yours in that deliberate way that made your stomach flip.

“You look flustered,” she noted, her eyes sparkling with amusement as they lingered on your throat for a moment too long.

“I’m fine,” you lied quickly, your voice shaky as you avoided her gaze.

Agatha’s smirk widened. “Oh, I’m sure you are, sweetheart,” she said, her tone dripping with knowing. “I bet you slept like a dream.”

The weight of her words sent a chill down your spine.

She knew.

The tension between you and Agatha was palpable, but it wasn’t just in the way she looked at you. It was in every gesture, every word. Every moment she seemed to linger just a bit too long, or touch you just a bit too much.

You tried to push the thoughts away—tried to focus on your work, to put the strange sensations and the feeling of being watched out of your mind. But it was impossible.

You found yourself growing increasingly disoriented, as if the boundaries between dream and reality were starting to blur. The nights were the worst—especially since waking up feeling flushed and disheveled had become an unsettling routine. Sometimes, it was only the sound of Agatha’s low, comforting voice that pulled you from the fog, telling you everything was fine. “You’re just adjusting,” she’d say with a knowing smile. “New place. New rhythm. It’ll settle.”

But it didn’t settle. The weight of the mark on your neck, the growing feeling of being watched, gnawed at you. The marks started to appear more often, always just out of view—hidden beneath your hair or the collar of your shirt—but you could feel them. It was as if Agatha had claimed you, and no matter how much you tried to fight the idea, your body betrayed you.

You could feel her eyes on you constantly, even when she wasn’t in the room. And sometimes, when she was there, it was like the air itself thickened, charged with something you couldn’t understand. The room seemed smaller with her in it, her presence overwhelming, magnetic, like the pull of gravity itself.

It was a Thursday night, and you didn’t take your evening tea. This time, the restless energy felt different—it was as if your skin was too tight, the weight of your thoughts pressing down on you in a way you couldn’t escape. You tossed and turned for hours, but it wasn’t until the soft sound of footsteps in the hallway that you knew.

She was coming.

Your pulse quickened, and you swore you could feel your heart beating in your throat. Agatha’s presence was undeniable.

The door creaked open, and her silhouette appeared in the doorway, framed by the dim light of the hallway. Her expression was unreadable, her gaze trained on you with such intensity that it made your breath hitch in your chest.

“Agatha…” you whispered, the sound thick with a mixture of dread and something darker, something you didn’t want to acknowledge.

She stepped inside without a word, her soft shoes making no noise on the floor. She didn’t need to speak; her mere presence was enough to still the room, to still your mind.

“You don’t have to pretend anymore,” she said softly, her voice the perfect balance of sweetness and something far more dangerous. Her fingers brushed against your hair, a touch so tender it almost made you lean into it. “You know what’s happening. You know what I’m doing.”

Your throat tightened. “What are you talking about?” you tried to ask, but it came out like a plea.

Agatha smirked, moving closer, her body language predatory, her movements slow and deliberate. She gently cupped your face in her hand, forcing you to meet her gaze. “Don’t play coy with me, darling. I’ve given you everything. I’ve been here, every night, for so long...”

You couldn’t pull away from her touch, and though you wanted to shout, to run, your body didn’t listen. You felt caught in her web, helpless to escape. The mark on your neck still burned faintly, a constant reminder of her claim.

“I’ve been patient, haven’t I?” Agatha murmured, her voice dripping with satisfaction. Her thumb ran over your lower lip, the touch so soft, it made your head spin. “But now… now I think you’re finally starting to understand.”

Her lips parted, and before you could react, she closed the distance between you two. Her kiss was slow, methodical, and almost unbearably tender. You should have pulled away. You should have screamed. But instead, you melted into it, the heat of her body overwhelming, pulling you deeper into the spell she’d been weaving.

Agatha broke the kiss with a soft chuckle, her lips hovering just over yours. “You’re mine now, sweetheart. Completely mine.”

The weight of her words settled in your chest like a stone, and as she smiled, a cold shiver ran down your spine. There was no escaping this—no way out. Agatha had been preparing you for this moment, molding you with every touch, every whisper, every night. And now, in this quiet, shadowed room, the truth was undeniable.

She leaned in again, this time her breath hot against your ear. “You’re going to beg me for more soon. I’ll make sure of it.”

You woke the next morning with your head pounding and your body aching in ways you couldn’t explain. Your skin felt too sensitive, like every nerve was firing at once. You blinked a few times, your vision blurry, trying to make sense of the hazy memories that danced at the edges of your mind.

Your neck throbbed where the mark had been—had it always been there? You glanced into the mirror, but the spot was gone. Still, the lingering sensation remained. The faintest trace of her lips, her hands, as though she’d marked you in a way that no physical mark could explain.

You pulled your shirt down quickly, but it wasn’t enough to hide the feeling that something had changed. Something fundamental. You were different now—changed. And it wasn’t just because Agatha’s kiss had stolen all your breath, or because her words still echoed in your ears.

It was because you wanted it.

You wanted her.

The days after that night were nothing short of a blur. The haziness of sleep deprivation and the strangeness of your own body’s responses left you walking around in a fog. But the fog wasn’t just in your head—it was in every room, in every corner. Agatha’s presence lingered everywhere, like a scent you couldn’t wash away, no matter how hard you tried.

The subtle touches were still there—her fingers brushing your wrist when handing you a mug, her breath too close to your ear when passing by. But it wasn’t just her touch that affected you now. It was her gaze. Her eyes followed you, studied you with an intensity that felt like you were being stripped bare, analyzed, and claimed in ways that made your stomach churn and your heart race.

You couldn’t escape it. You didn’t want to.

It was late afternoon when Agatha cornered you in the kitchen. You were drying dishes, your hands still trembling slightly from the events of the previous night, when she casually leaned against the doorframe, watching you.

"You seem distant today," she said, her voice lilting with a mix of concern and amusement. "You haven't been yourself lately."

You glanced up quickly, feeling an electric charge run through you as her eyes met yours. "I’m just tired," you said, but even to your own ears, the excuse sounded hollow, forced.

She smiled softly, a quiet understanding settling in her expression. "I think it’s more than that, darling." Her eyes flicked down to your hands, where you gripped the dish towel a bit too tightly. "You’ve been... distracted. Like something’s on your mind."

You opened your mouth to protest, to deny it, but her gaze held you captive. Her voice dropped lower, smooth and seductive. “I think you know exactly what’s been on your mind. Don’t you?”

Your heart fluttered, an irrational warmth spreading across your chest as her words sank in. “I—” You froze. You couldn’t lie to her anymore. She knew.

“You’re thinking about last night,” she continued, stepping closer, her heels clicking softly against the floor with each step. “About what we did. What I did to you.” Her breath brushed your ear, sending an involuntary shiver through your body. “And you want more, don’t you?”

Your breath caught in your throat. You opened your mouth, but no words came out. The truth—however uncomfortable it was—was right there in the air between you. You did want more. You did. And you hated yourself for it.

“Just say it,” Agatha purred, her lips brushing the sensitive skin of your ear. “Say it, and I’ll make it all go away. Or rather, I’ll make it all come true.”

“I—” You shuddered, a desperate gasp escaping your lips. “I want you.” The admission was soft, but in that quiet kitchen, it felt like a bombshell.

Agatha smiled then, a slow, satisfied curve of her lips. “I knew it.” She stepped even closer, her hand brushing your cheek, her thumb stroking over your lips in a slow, deliberate motion. “You don’t have to be afraid anymore. I’ll take care of you. Always.”

Her lips were on yours before you could react, soft and insistent, and for a moment, all the noise in your head vanished. All the doubts, all the fears—they were gone, drowned out by the overwhelming sensation of her mouth on yours, her hand on your waist, pulling you closer.

It wasn’t like the soft, tentative kiss from the night before. This was something deeper—more consuming. Agatha’s kiss was possessive, hungry, her tongue sliding into your mouth with a certain urgency that sent a jolt through your body. You kissed her back, unable to stop yourself, your hands grasping at her shirt, feeling the heat of her skin through the fabric.

Her hands roamed, exploring the contours of your body, leaving a trail of fire wherever they touched. You moaned softly into her mouth when she cupped your breast, squeezing gently. It was enough to make your knees feel weak, to make your chest tighten with desire.

“You’re so beautiful,” Agatha whispered against your lips, her voice raw and thick with need. “I’ve wanted you for so long. And now, you’re mine. All of you.”

From that moment on, there was no turning back.

The nights grew more intense, more charged with an unspoken tension that neither of you could resist. Agatha took full control—no longer subtle with her touches or her words. No more drugging you. Every night, she came to you, claiming you piece by piece, until your very bones felt like they belonged to her.

But it wasn’t just in the darkness of the night. During the day, her presence haunted you, her eyes never leaving you, her touch always just a second away. She was always there, in every quiet moment, in every shared glance, in every brush of her fingers across your skin.

She’d been patient, waiting for you to surrender, waiting for you to come to her on your own. And now that you had, she was determined to make sure you never left her side.

One night, as you lay in bed, tangled in the sheets after another heated, desperate kiss, Agatha gazed down at you, her fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin.

“I’m going to make sure you never forget who you belong to,” she murmured, her lips brushing against your collarbone. “I won’t let anyone else have you. Not after everything I’ve done.”

The words hit you like a blow to the chest, and though part of you wanted to run, another part—one you couldn’t quite control—felt a twisted sense of relief. You wanted this. You needed this.

And in the quiet of the night, with Agatha above you, holding you with a possessiveness that almost scared you, you knew deep down you weren’t the same person anymore.

You had become hers.

_-_-_

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[aesthetically-dying101]

Mine

A/N: last instalement! yaysies!

Warnings: smut at the end, mention of marriage, toxic ex mention , this is incredibly long, dometic nanami.

Part 1: Unattainable; Part 2: Obtainable.

Nanami had never been so nervous in his life.

Not during his first court case, not when he was promoted to head of his firm, not even when he stood before a courtroom filled with people, their collective gaze pressing down on him like a physical weight.

But now? Now he was seated at the best table in the city’s most exclusive restaurant, his hands resting on the white linen tablecloth, and he couldn’t remember the last time his heart had beat this fast.

The restaurant was quiet, understated, elegant. It was the kind of place where the lighting was dim but warm, where each table was spaced far enough apart to offer a sense of intimacy. He’d made sure to reserve a corner table by the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the city skyline, its twinkling lights mirroring the way his chest felt—bright, chaotic, alive.

He checked his watch.

She wasn’t late.

Of course not. You’re always on time, always.

He’d made sure to arrive early—fifteen minutes, to be exact—but every passing second felt like an eternity.

He adjusted his tie for the fourth time. Why had he worn a tie? Was it too formal? Maybe a bow? Maybe he should’ve gone with something more casual—no, no. This wasn’t casual. This was you. Nothing about you warranted casual. You were elegance and precision, confidence and poise. You deserved the best, and he was determined to give you exactly that.

The sound of heels clicking against the marble floor snapped him out of his spiraling thoughts.

He looked up, and for a moment, he forgot how to breathe.

There you were, walking toward him, and God help him, you were stunning.

You weren’t wearing anything flashy—just a simple black dress that hugged your frame perfectly, paired with heels that made your legs look impossibly long. Your hair was styled, your makeup subtle but flawless, and you walked with that same effortless grace that had always made his chest tighten.

For a second, he genuinely thought he might die. Right there. At the table. This is it. This is how I go. Cause of death: you.

He stood up as you approached, his palms slightly damp but his posture composed, ever the gentleman.

“Nanami,” you greeted, your voice smooth, your lips curved into a soft smile that sent his heart straight into overdrive.

“You look…” He stopped, realizing too late that he didn’t have the words prepared. Breathtaking. Ethereal. The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Instead, he settled on: “Incredible.”

Your smile widened, and he swore the room got brighter. “Thank you.”

He pulled out your chair for you, careful not to let his hands shake, then returned to his seat, gripping the edge of the table to steady himself.

You picked up the menu, your eyes skimming the options, but Nanami couldn’t bring himself to look at his own. He was too busy staring at you. Not in a creepy way (at least he hoped not), but in an awe-struck, holy-shit-she’s-here-with-me kind of way.

He noticed everything.

The way your fingers lightly traced the edge of the menu, the delicate arch of your brow as you considered your options, the way the soft lighting highlighted the curve of your cheekbone.

Propose now. Just do it. The thought shot through his brain like a rogue missile, and he had to mentally slap himself. No. No, absolutely not. This is the first date, Nanami. Pull it together.

When the waiter arrived to take your orders, Nanami made sure to order a wine he knew would pair perfectly with the dishes you’d chosen. He didn’t miss the way you tilted your head slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing your face at his attention to detail.

“You’ve really thought this through,” you remarked, a teasing note in your voice.

He gave a small, almost sheepish smile. “You deserve nothing less.”

The words slipped out before he could stop them, and he immediately regretted it. Was that too much? Too forward? But you didn’t seem to mind. In fact, your smile softened, and for the first time that evening, Nanami felt a flicker of confidence.

The conversation flowed easily after that. You talked about everything—work, life, the absurdities of the legal world. You were sharp and witty, your laugh lighting up the space between you, and Nanami found himself hanging onto every word, every expression, every little gesture.

But beneath it all, he was fighting a losing battle with himself.

Because Goddamn it, he wanted you. Not just physically—though, yes, he absolutely wanted that too—but completely. He wanted to know every facet of you, to wake up next to you, to cook you breakfast, to see you in all your unguarded moments.

And the worst part? You had no idea (no you totally did, but shhhh, don't spoil the fun).

When dessert arrived—a beautifully plated chocolate soufflé—you leaned forward slightly, resting your chin on your hand as you looked at him.

“You’re quiet tonight, Nanami,” you said, your tone playful but curious. “What’s on your mind?”

You. Always you.

He cleared his throat, trying to gather his scattered thoughts. “Just... enjoying the evening.”

You smiled, and he swore he saw something flicker in your eyes—something that made his pulse stutter.

“Well,” you said, picking up your fork and slicing into the soufflé, “I’m glad. I am too.”

He watched as you took a bite, your lips curling into a satisfied smile, and he had to look away before his thoughts went completely off the rails.

The night ended too quickly for his liking. As you both stood outside the restaurant, the city lights casting a golden glow around you, Nanami struggled to find the words to express what he was feeling.

But before he could say anything, you stepped closer, your voice low but steady.

“Thank you for tonight, Nanami,” you said, your eyes meeting his. “It was perfect.”

And then, before he could fully process what was happening, you leaned up and kissed him—softly, briefly, but enough to set his entire world on fire.

When you pulled back, he was stunned into silence, his heart pounding so loudly he was sure you could hear it.

“Goodnight,” you said, your smile warm but teasing, and then you turned and walked away, leaving him standing there like an idiot, his lips tingling and his brain short-circuiting.

As he watched you disappear into the night, one thought echoed in his mind, clear and unrelenting:

I’m going to marry her.

*-*

Nanami walked into his office, shoulders already tense from a morning full of meetings, depositions, and paperwork. He hadn’t even had time for coffee yet, and he was dreading the stack of files waiting for him- especially after the date yesterday.

But all of that dissolved the moment he saw you.

You were sitting at his desk.

His very neatly organized desk, casually leaning back in his chair like you owned the place. A bento box was open in front of you, chopsticks in hand as you plucked a piece of tamagoyaki from a perfectly arranged array of food.

And next to it? A second bento box, unopened but clearly meant for him.

Nanami froze in the doorway, his brain short-circuiting.

You glanced up, completely unbothered by his stunned expression. “Ah, Nanami,” you greeted with a small smile, setting your chopsticks down. “Apologies for dropping by unannounced, but also, your secretary told me I had free access to your office?”

The words barely registered because holy shit, you made him food. His gaze darted to the bento box again, taking in the careful arrangement of rice, grilled fish, vegetables, and even a small dessert tucked into one corner.

It was perfect.

Too perfect. Did you make this yourself? Or was he hallucinating?

He cleared his throat, gripping the strap of his messenger bag to ground himself.

“Uh—well, yes,” he stammered, suddenly feeling like a fifteen-year-old boy who’d just been noticed by his crush. “I… I told my secretary to give you access. For… for whenever you needed it.”

You arched a brow, amusement flickering in your eyes as you leaned forward slightly. “Whenever I need it?”

God, why did you have to phrase it like that? Nanami felt his ears burn. He hurried to set his bag down, trying not to look like a complete fool as he loosened his tie. “Yes. I mean. For work-related things. Or… other things. If you needed.”

You hummed, clearly holding back a laugh as you gestured to the second bento.

“Well, since I have this magical open invitation, I figured I’d bring lunch. You’ve been busy, haven’t you?”

Nanami didn’t even have it in him to deny it. He sat down across from you, opening the bento box with a mix of awe and reverence, as if it were a sacred artifact. The smell alone made his stomach growl embarrassingly loud, and when he took his first bite—sweet, savory, and cooked to perfection—he almost moaned.

“This is… incredible,” he managed, his voice quiet but sincere.

You smiled, propping your chin on your hand as you watched him. “I’m glad you like it.”

Like it? Nanami was ready to write you into his will. Forget love—he was obsessed. How were you so perfect? He’d known you were smart, beautiful, and terrifyingly competent, but this? You were feeding him? Caring for him? This was dangerous. He was one step away from proposing right then and there.

The two of you ate in companionable silence, your conversation easy and light. You teased him about his neatness (“I’ve never seen such a clean desk. It’s almost creepy.”), and he gently pointed out that you’d left one of your chopsticks on a stack of his papers.

When lunch was over, you stood and smoothed your skirt, picking up the bento boxes to carry them out. Nanami, of course, offered to walk you to the elevator, because what kind of man wouldn’t?

As the two of you stepped into the main office space, every head on the floor turned to look. Assistants, paralegals, junior associates—all of them paused whatever they were doing to watch you walk beside him, perfectly poised and radiant.

Nanami tried to ignore it, but the weight of their stares made his shoulders tense. He glanced at you, worried you might feel uncomfortable, but instead, you seemed completely at ease.

When you reached the elevator, you turned to face him, your expression warm but mischievous. “Thanks for letting me invade your office,” you said lightly, leaning in slightly.

“It’s no problem,” he replied, keeping his tone professional even as his heart pounded in his chest.

And then you kissed him.

It wasn’t a chaste kiss, either. You cupped his cheek, your lips soft and lingering against his, leaving absolutely no room for misinterpretation. Nanami froze, his brain shutting down entirely as the world tilted on its axis.

When you pulled back, you smiled, brushing a hand lightly over his tie. “I’ll see you later,” you said, your voice low and smooth.

And with that, you stepped into the elevator, the doors sliding shut behind you.

Nanami stood there, completely still, his lips tingling, his heart trying to escape his chest. It wasn’t until he turned around and saw his entire floor staring at him—his secretary included, her hands clasped to her chest like she was watching a rom-com—that he realized the full impact of what just happened.

“She kissed me,” he muttered under his breath, dazed. “In front of everyone.”

“She kissed you,” his secretary whispered back, her eyes sparkling with glee.

Nanami ran a hand through his hair, suddenly feeling both exhilarated and mortified. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to collapse into his chair or march right back to that elevator to kiss you properly.

Instead, he simply walked back into his office, shut the door, and let out a long, shaky breath.

*-*

Nanami meeting Snowball and Shadow felt like a ridiculous milestone, but you couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit nervous as you prepped your apartment.

The table was set, the food was warm and ready, and your two cats lounged lazily on the couch, completely unaware that their judgment of your current… whatever-this-was with Nanami was going to mean everything to you.

When he texted that he’d arrived, you did a quick last sweep of the living room, grabbed your courage, and opened the door.

Nanami, of course, was overachieving as always. He stood there holding a bouquet of elegant roses, a bottle of expensive wine tucked under one arm, and a small box of desserts in the other. His suit jacket had been traded for a simple, well-fitted sweater and dark slacks, but he still looked maddeningly polished.

“Good evening,” he said, offering that polite, slightly shy smile that always made your stomach flutter.

“Good evening,” you replied, taking the flowers from him with a soft laugh. “You didn’t have to bring all this.”

“It’s the least I could do,” he said, stepping inside when you gestured him in. He set the wine and dessert down on the kitchen counter, his movements smooth and deliberate, like he was scared to mess up.

You were used to Nanami being put-together, calm, and precise in all things, but something about seeing him here—in your space, loosening up just a little—made your heart squeeze.

“Make yourself comfortable,” you told him, nodding toward the couch. “I’ll put the flowers in a vase.”

Nanami nodded, glancing at the two cats who were already eyeing him like tiny predators. Snowball, your white fluffball of a cat, stared at him with narrowed eyes from her loaf position. Shadow, sleek and dark, crouched with a suspicious tilt to his head.

“Fair warning,” you said over your shoulder as you searched for a vase. “They don’t always like new people. So if they avoid you, don’t take it personally.”

“I’ll do my best to earn their approval,” Nanami replied, his tone serious but warm.

When you came back from the kitchen with the flowers beautifully arranged in a glass vase, you nearly dropped it.

Snowball was perched on Nanami’s lap, loafing like she’d known him for years. Shadow was standing on the back of the couch, leaning down to carefully sniff Nanami’s face, and then—what the hell—she licked his jaw.

“...What did you do?” you asked, frozen in place as you watched your traitorous cats act like Nanami was their long-lost soulmate.

Nanami blinked up at you, looking almost sheepish as Shadow continued to sniff at his collar. “I didn’t do anything,” he said, his hands carefully hovering as if unsure where to pet.

“No, seriously,” you said, setting the vase down with a thunk. “Did you bribe them with treats? Catnip? Hypnosis?”

He gave you a small smile, finally lifting a hand to gently scratch under Snowball’s chin. She responded by tilting her head and purring loud enough to shake the couch.

“I didn’t bribe them,” he said, his voice quiet and smooth. “I just… sat down.”

You narrowed your eyes, crossing your arms as you leaned against the kitchen doorway. This was weird. Snowball and Shadow had been notoriously difficult with your ex. Snowball had taken nearly a year to stop hissing at him, and Shadow never so much as looked at him without suspicion. Now, here they were, acting like Nanami was their favorite human in the world.

Shadow finally curled up on the couch beside Nanami, still leaning against his side, and Snowball stretched luxuriously across his lap, purring like a damn motorboat.

You couldn’t help but stare.

“Do they always do this?” Nanami asked, glancing at you with that annoyingly handsome face of his, completely oblivious to the fact that he looked like a goddamn prince charming in that moment.

“No,” you muttered, dragging your gaze back to the flowers and rearranging them just to give your hands something to do. “No, they do not.”

You couldn’t help but compare it to the last time you’d invited someone over—your ex, fumbling awkwardly as Snowball clawed the back of his shirt and Shadow darted under the couch in protest. The difference was stark.

And as much as you hated to admit it, the sight of Nanami sitting there, looking like he belonged in your space, in your life, with your cats purring contentedly beside him, made your stomach do a weird little flip.

“Well,” you said finally, turning back to the kitchen to grab the desserts. “I guess you’ve officially won them over. That’s a big deal, you know.”

Nanami just gave a soft chuckle, his hand absently stroking Snowball’s fur.

“I’m honored,” he said, but there was something about the way he said it—so gentle, so genuine—that made you pause for just a second before shaking your head and grabbing the wine.

This man, you thought to yourself, as you walked back to join him on the couch, is going to ruin me.

*-*

The wine bottle sat empty on the coffee table, next to the remnants of dessert and two barely-touched glasses. The movie played on in the background, some noir film neither of you had really paid attention to after the first twenty minutes.

Instead, you were draped over Nanami, your legs tangled with his, one arm lazily looped around his neck as you kissed him like it was the only thing keeping you alive.

And to his credit, Nanami kissed you back with all the tenderness in the world, his lips soft, slow, and reverent.

But that was the problem.

His hands? They stayed firmly on your waist, never wandering, never tightening, just resting there like this was some innocent middle school date. And while that had been charming for about two minutes, now it was starting to drive you a little insane.

You pulled back slightly, your breathing uneven, lips tingling, and stared at him. Nanami blinked up at you, his golden-brown eyes glassy, lips parted slightly. He looked thoroughly kissed, and yet… he was just sitting there. Like this wasn’t the kind of moment where you might actually combust if things didn’t move forward.

“Nanami,” you said, your voice low, laced with exasperation.

“Yes?” he asked, his tone so polite it bordered on absurd.

“What are you doing?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.

He blinked, the faintest hint of confusion flickering across his face. “Kissing you?”

You stared at him for a beat, then leaned back, arms crossing as you sat up straighter on his lap.

“That’s it? You’re just going to sit here, kissing me like we’re chaperoned teenagers at a school dance?”

Nanami’s brows furrowed, and for a split second, you saw a flicker of panic. “Wait, are you—are you saying you want to…?” His voice trailed off, like he didn’t quite know how to finish the sentence without combusting.

Your jaw dropped. “Obviously! Unless you don’t want to?”

“No, no! I mean—yes, I do, I just…” He trailed off again, his hands still glued to your waist like he was afraid to move them.

You stared at him, dumbfounded for a moment, then shook your head with a half-laugh, half-groan.

“Nanami,” you said, your tone softer now but still laced with disbelief, “you passed the cat test. Do you seriously think I’d be in your lap right now if I didn’t want this?”

His mouth opened, closed, then opened again. “I—uh—”

With a sigh that was equal parts affection and frustration, you reached down, grabbed one of his ridiculously large hands, and placed it firmly on your ass. His eyes went comically wide, and you could actually see the moment it clicked in his brain.

“Oh,” he breathed, his voice low and a little rough.

“Yes,” you said, exasperated but grinning. “Oh.”

It was like a switch flipped.

His grip tightened on you, his other hand sliding up your back with deliberate pressure, and when he kissed you this time, there was nothing polite or restrained about it. His lips were hot and demanding, his tongue teasing yours in a way that made your toes curl.

You let out a quiet noise of approval, pressing yourself closer, one hand curling in his hair while the other wandered over the broad expanse of his chest. God, he was solid—everywhere.

As his hands wandered, you made a mental note to thank whatever divine forces had crafted this man because damn. Those hands? Perfect. The way he gripped your hips, your thighs, your waist, like he was trying to memorize every curve—perfect.

Your brain was buzzing, heat pooling low in your belly as you tilted your head to deepen the kiss. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you made another note to bite his arms and pecs later, because wow. He was so perfect it was almost unfair.

“Nanami,” you murmured against his lips, your fingers brushing along his jaw as you leaned back slightly.

He made a low, frustrated sound, like he didn’t want to stop kissing you, but his eyes opened anyway. “Yes?”

“Can I call you Kento?” you asked, your voice teasing but genuine.

He blinked, his brows furrowing slightly, and then he gave a short, breathless laugh. “Haven't you been calling me that this whole time.”

“Yeah, but I want to know if I can,” you said, grinning as you leaned in to nip at his bottom lip.

“Kento’s fine,” he murmured, his voice rough, his hands sliding up to cradle your back. “You can call me whatever you want.”

You hummed in satisfaction, kissing him again. “Good,” you murmured, your lips brushing his as you spoke. “Because ‘Nanami’ feels a little too formal for what we’re doing.”

“Fair point,” he muttered, his lips finding yours again, his hands pulling you closer as the rest of the world faded away.

Nanami kissed you like his life depended on it, his hands steady on your waist, his lips warm and insistent. But then, suddenly, he pulled back, his eyes locked onto yours with a determined intensity that made your stomach flip.

Without a word, he stood up, his arms sliding under you, one beneath your knees and the other cradling your back, and then—like you weighed nothing—he lifted you.

You made a small sound of surprise, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck.

“Oh,” you breathed, looking up at him, your cheeks warm.

His expression didn’t waver, that resolute focus fixed on you as he carried you toward the bedroom. “You deserve better than a couch,” he said, his voice low, almost a growl. “If we’re doing this, I’m doing it properly.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest. Oh my God. Was it normal to feel faint from just being picked up? Because it was doing things to you.

You knew Nanami was strong—he looked like a man who deadlifted in his spare time—but actually experiencing it? His broad shoulders, the way his chest shifted with every step, the way he carried you like you weren’t an entire adult?

Oh la la.

You barely had time to process it before he reached the bed and set you down with such care it nearly made you melt. His hands lingered briefly, his thumbs brushing over your sides before he straightened.

He stepped back slightly, his gaze running over you for a split second before he started undoing the buttons on his shirt. Slowly.

You sat up a little, your elbows propped on the bed as you watched. No shame, just awe. Each button revealed more of that golden skin, the sharp definition of his collarbones, the broad expanse of his chest, all lean muscle and strength.

Jesus Christ. Your ex never looked like this. No one you’d ever dated looked like this. Was it even legal to look this good? You weren’t sure, but you were sure of one thing: you’d be joining him at the gym just to watch.

When he shrugged off his shirt and reached for his belt, you couldn’t help the dreamy sigh that escaped you.

Nanami paused, his hands halting, a faint crease forming between his brows. “Am I… doing something wrong?” he asked, his voice tinged with hesitation.

You shook your head immediately, your lips curving into a mischievous smile.

“Nope. It’s just…” You gestured vaguely at him. “You’re so pretty.”

For a split second, Nanami just stared at you, clearly caught off guard. Then, to your absolute delight, the tips of his ears turned pink, the faintest flush creeping across his cheeks.

His flustered reaction only fueled your giddiness. You giggled, a sound that felt foreign after everything you’d been through lately, but also so good. It had been so long since you felt this light, this… giddy over a man.

Nanami cleared his throat, his hands resuming their work on his belt. “I—thank you,” he muttered, his voice a little gruffer now, like he wasn’t quite sure how to process the compliment.

When he pushed his slacks down and stood there in just his boxers, you were already halfway gone. But when those, too, hit the floor—

Your breath caught in your throat. Your brain stopped working for a solid three seconds. Holy shit.

“Is… everything okay?” Nanami asked cautiously, his brow furrowing as he caught your expression.

You blinked a few times, dragging your gaze back to his face. “This is so unfair,” you muttered, almost to yourself.

His brows knit tighter. “What is?”

“You,” you said, gesturing at him like that explained everything. “How are you so pretty? Even your dick? Like, what the fuck, Kento?”

The flush on his cheeks deepened, and you could’ve sworn you saw the corners of his lips twitch, like he was trying not to smile.

But you weren’t laughing.

Okay, maybe you were internally, because this was ridiculous—this whole man was ridiculous. From the way his broad shoulders filled out a suit to the fact that he apparently passed the cat test on the first try to… this.

He was quiet for a moment, his gaze steady, though you could see the faintest flicker of something—amusement? Adoration? You weren’t sure, but it made your chest ache in the best way.

“Are you just going to keep sitting there, admiring me?” he asked, his voice low, teasing, though there was an edge of shyness to it.

You grinned, feeling the last of your nerves fade away as you leaned back on your elbows, your legs shifting invitingly. “Maybe,” you said, your voice playful. “Unless you have other plans?”

His eyes darkened slightly, his throat working as he swallowed. “Oh, I have plans,” he murmured, stepping closer, his hands reaching for you with that same steady, deliberate care.

And as he lowered himself over you, his lips brushing yours, you couldn’t help but think: Yeah, this man is absolutely perfect.

*-*

Nanami took a slow, deep breath through his nose, but it did nothing to calm the storm raging inside him. He was naked. In your bedroom. Naked. With you.

He didn’t panic.

Not outwardly.

But internally? Oh, internally he was unraveling faster than he thought humanly possible. His heart thundered against his ribcage like it was trying to escape, and the heat pooling low in his body was so overwhelming that he was half-convinced he might pass out.

Don’t look down. Don’t look down. Okay, you’re already looking down. Fuck.

Your were standing there, peeling away layers of clothing with an ease that was both graceful and maddening. Each article of clothing you removed revealed more of you—smooth, soft skin, curves that his hands itched to touch, and a confidence in your movements that utterly destroyed him.

He tried to focus on anything else—your bedside table, the faint glow of the lamp, the sound of your soft breaths. Don’t lose it, Kento. Keep your shit together. You are a grown man, not a horny teenager. Breathe. You’re fine.

And then you slid your last piece of clothing off.

Oh no. You are not fine.

Nanami’s mouth went dry.

The world tilted slightly on its axis. He swore he could hear the faint ringing in his ears that came with sheer sensory overload.

You were… breathtaking. No, breathtaking wasn’t even the right word—there wasn’t a word in his vocabulary that could encompass how incredible you looked.

Your skin glowed in the warm light, and the curve of your body was so stunning, so utterly perfect, that he wanted to commit every inch of you to memory. But it wasn’t just your body—it was the way you held yourself. Confident. Beautiful. Unapologetic.

And then you looked at him. That look—that playful, knowing look—was his undoing.

“Kento,” you said softly, your voice full of warmth and something else that made his knees weak.

He blinked, realizing he’d been frozen in place. “Y-Yes?” His voice cracked slightly, and he wanted to bury himself six feet under.

You smirked. SMIRKED. “You okay there?”

He forced himself to swallow, nodding slowly. “Yes. Fine.” Totally fine. Completely normal. Definitely not trying to fend off a stroke because all the blood in his body has abandoned his brain.

You laughed, low and warm, and stepped closer to him. That was when he noticed that he was staring. Oh, God, he was staring. His gaze darted to the side for a moment, but you caught his chin gently, tilting his face back to yours.

“Kento,” you repeated, your tone softer now, less teasing. “It’s okay.”

It wasn’t. It absolutely wasn’t. But when you smiled at him like that? He could almost believe it was.

He took a steadying breath, his hands reaching out instinctively to rest on your hips, and even that small contact sent a jolt of heat through his veins. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, the words tumbling out before he could stop them.

Your smile widened, and you leaned up to kiss him, slow and deliberate, and it was everything. His hands tightened slightly on your hips, but he pulled back before things got out of hand. He didn’t trust himself right now.

“Lie down,” he said gently, his voice low and rough with restraint.

You arched a brow but did as he asked, stretching out on the bed in a way that made his brain short-circuit.

Nanami followed you, lowering himself beside you with all the caution of a man defusing a bomb. He ran a hand over your arm, his touch featherlight, before trailing his fingers down your side, mapping the curve of your waist, the line of your hip.

You sighed softly, your eyes half-lidded as you watched him, and he swore he’d never seen anything more captivating in his entire life.

Focus, Kento. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your collarbone, then another just below it. He took his time, his lips and hands exploring your skin like he was committing her to memory.

He kissed his way down your body, every soft sound you made spurring him on. He was methodical, thorough, worshipful—because that’s what this was.

Worship.

Your hands found his hair, her fingers threading through it as he worked his way lower, and he could feel the faint tremble in your body beneath him. It made him want to fall apart and hold himself together all at once.

“Is this okay?” he asked softly, his lips brushing against your skin.

You looked at him, your eyes warm and full of trust, and nodded. “More than okay.”

And that was all the encouragement he needed.

*-*

You were panting like you’d just run a marathon, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you blinked up at the ceiling in sheer disbelief.

Your thighs still trembled, weak from the way Kento had just worked you over like his life depended on it.

Twice.

Twice.

You weren’t even sure how you’d gotten there, let alone back-to-back.

Your body still buzzed with the aftershocks of your second orgasm, and honestly, you weren’t sure if you wanted to cry, laugh, or just ascend.

This man—this man. His tongue was a weapon of mass destruction. You hadn’t expected it, not like this.

Sure, you knew he was capable—he carried himself with so much precision, so much control, in every other aspect of his life. But this? This was a level of skill that felt almost illegal.

And then, as you were finally starting to breathe like a normal person again, Kento leaned up on his elbows and looked at you. His lips were slick, his hair disheveled in a way that made your stomach flip, and his golden-brown eyes were half-lidded, dark with intent.

He licked his lips—slow, deliberate—and the action sent a fresh wave of heat spiraling through your body.

“Don’t stop now,” he murmured, his voice low and rough like gravel.

You blinked at him, your mind still trying to reboot. “Kento, I—”

Before you could finish, he sat up, his large hands wrapping around your waist and pulling you toward him like you weighed nothing. It was almost unfair how easily he handled you, how much strength he had beneath that quiet, unassuming demeanor.

“What are you—” you started, but the words died in your throat when he laid back down, pulling you with him.

“Kento,” you said again, your voice tinged with nervous laughter, “I’m not—what are you doing?”

“Come here,” he said simply, his tone firm but laced with something softer. Something that made your stomach twist in knots.

Your eyes widened slightly as you realized what he was trying to do, and you shook your head quickly. “Wait—no, I’m too—”

“You’re not,” he interrupted, his hands gripping your thighs as he guided you up, positioning you over his face.

“Kento, seriously—what if I’m too heavy? Or what if you—”

“I’m fine,” he cut you off again, his tone resolute, his eyes locking onto yours. He looked so calm, so confident, as if there wasn’t a single doubt in his mind about this.

“But—”

“No buts,” he said firmly, his hands sliding up to cup your hips. “Let me do this. Please.”

You hesitated for a moment, your nerves warring with the heat that still burned in your core. But the way he looked at you—like you were the only thing in the world that mattered—made your defenses crumble.

Slowly, cautiously, you let him guide you down, your knees resting on either side of his head as you hovered above him. “If it’s too much, just—”

He pulled you down before you could finish, his mouth already on you, and your words dissolved into a sharp gasp.

Oh, fuck.

You’d been worried—about your weight, about whether he could breathe, about a thousand things—but all of those thoughts vanished the second his tongue moved against you.

He groaned softly, the vibrations of the sound sending shivers down your spine, and his grip on your hips tightened.

Your head fell back as his tongue worked you over with the same devastating precision he’d shown earlier. But this was different—this was deeper, more intense, like he was trying to unravel you completely.

“Kento,” you breathed, your hands gripping the headboard for support as your legs threatened to give out beneath you.

He didn’t answer, didn’t pause—just kept going like a man possessed, his mouth and tongue finding every spot that made you tremble, gasp, moan.

You felt ridiculous, honestly. Ridiculous that you were here, in this position, with this man who looked like he belonged on the cover of some magazine—and he was doing this. Happily. Eagerly.

And the worst part? He was so good at it.

Your thoughts became a jumbled mess, each movement of his tongue pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Kento, I—”

You couldn’t finish. You couldn’t think.

All you could do was hold on and pray you’d survive this, because at this rate, you weren’t sure you’d make it out alive.

When his tongue pressed against that one spot again, and his hands guided your hips down just a little more firmly, you broke—your body arching, trembling, as your third orgasm ripped through you like a tidal wave.

And Kento? He didn’t stop. Didn’t slow. If anything, the soft groan he let out as you came only spurred him on, like he was addicted to the way you fell apart for him.

As the aftershocks faded and you tried to catch your breath, you managed to look down at him, your voice shaky as you asked, “How are you even real?”

He smirked up at you, his lips glistening, and his voice was low and teasing when he replied, “You’re one to talk.”

You collapsed to the side, your chest rising and falling in uneven breaths, as Kento pressed soft kisses to the inside of your thighs. His hands massaged your hips gently, his thumbs tracing soothing circles into your skin as if trying to ground you after the absolute chaos he’d just put you through.

It was almost sweet—until your gaze drifted downward, and you caught sight of the way his cock strained against his stomach.

Oh.

You’d seen it earlier when he stripped—how could you not—but now, with him so worked up, it somehow looked bigger.

Kento noticed your lingering gaze, and his brows furrowed slightly as he shifted beneath you. “Are you alright?” he asked, his voice softer than usual, still tinged with concern.

You tilted your head, your lips quirking into a small, teasing smile. “I’m fine,” you murmured, your fingers trailing down his chest. He stiffened under your touch, his abs clenching slightly, and you couldn’t help but let out a quiet laugh. “But you, on the other hand…”

He swallowed hard as you shuffled to kneel between his legs, your hands resting on his thighs. You could practically feel the tension radiating off him, his body coiled tight like a spring, but he still managed to keep his composure.

Barely.

“Kento,” you murmured, leaning forward just enough to ghost your lips over the tip of his cock, “you look like you’re about to lose your mind.”

His breath hitched, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “I’m fine,” he said, but his voice cracked slightly, betraying him.

You grinned at that, your fingers wrapping around the base of him, and his head fell back against the pillows with a sharp exhale. God, he was thick. The heat of him throbbed in your hand, and you took a moment to trace the veins that ran along his length, marveling at how impossibly hard he was.

“Seriously,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him, “how is this thing so pretty?”

Kento let out a sound that was somewhere between a groan and a laugh, his hand coming up to cover his face. “You can’t just—”

“I can,” you interrupted, your thumb brushing over the swollen head of his cock. He gasped, his hips twitching slightly, and you giggled. “And I will.”

Before he could protest—or combust—you leaned down, taking him into your mouth.

“Fuck,” he hissed, his voice low and wrecked, his head pressing harder into the pillows.

You worked him slowly, savoring the weight of him on your tongue, the way his thighs tensed beneath your hands. Each sound he made, each shudder of his breath, sent a thrill through you, and you couldn’t help but take your time, teasing him, dragging this out.

But eventually, Kento’s hand found your hair, his grip gentle but firm as he tugged you back. “I’m—I need…” he started, his words trailing off as he looked down at you with a mix of desperation and restraint.

You pulled away with a soft pop, wiping the corner of your mouth as you met his gaze. “You need what?” you asked, your voice sweet, teasing.

He let out a shaky laugh, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he murmured, “You.”

Your heart stuttered at the rawness in his voice, but you didn’t let it throw you off. You reached over to grab a condom from the nightstand, and his breath hitched again as you rolled it onto him.

Then, you straddled him, lining yourself up as you slowly sank down.

“Oh, fuck,” you breathed, your nails digging into his chest as you stilled, giving yourself a moment to adjust. He was… thick.

Kento’s hands flew to your waist, his grip firm but grounding as he forced himself to stay still beneath you. “Are you alright?” he asked, his voice strained, his knuckles turning white where they gripped your hips.

You nodded, exhaling shakily. “Yeah, just… give me a second.”

He nodded, his jaw tight as he tried to focus on anything but how impossibly warm and tight you felt around him.

When you finally started to move, his resolve shattered.

You rocked your hips slowly at first, testing the waters, and Kento groaned, his head falling back against the pillows as he muttered your name like a prayer.

You couldn’t help the grin that tugged at your lips as you picked up the pace, your hands bracing against his chest. “Still fine?” you teased, your voice breathless but playful.

He looked up at you, his eyes dark and hooded, and his grip on your waist tightened. “You’re going to kill me,” he murmured, his voice low and wrecked.

You laughed, leaning down to press a kiss to his jaw as you murmured, “Good.”

Your nails dug into Kento’s chest, leaving bright red trails across his skin as you moved above him, your breaths ragged and uneven. You weren’t entirely sure whether the scratches were deliberate—your mind was far too gone for conscious thought—but the sound he made, somewhere between a groan and a growl, told you he liked it.

His hands gripped your hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh, anchoring you against him as he thrust up into you with a steady rhythm. He was rough in the best way—each motion deliberate and firm—but the way his thumbs stroked soothingly against your waist, how his lips occasionally pressed against your shoulder or your jaw, was impossibly tender.

“Kento,” you gasped, your head tilting back as the stretch of him made your toes curl. He filled you so perfectly, so completely, it was almost too much. Almost.

“You’re doing so well,” he murmured, his voice low and warm, frayed at the edges. His eyes flicked to where your bodies met, and his jaw clenched as his grip tightened. “So beautiful… fuck.”

Your hips stuttered, overwhelmed by the praise, and he didn’t miss a beat. His hands guided your movements, lifting and pulling you back down onto him as he thrust up to meet you.

You swore you saw stars.

“Oh my God, Kento,” you gasped, one of your hands sliding up to his shoulder for leverage while the other dragged down his chest again.

He groaned, his hips snapping up harder this time, as though your voice had undone whatever restraint he’d been clinging to.

“You feel… incredible,” he rasped, his breath fanning against your skin. “I don’t—” He broke off, his head tipping back as he let out a guttural sound.

You leaned down, your lips finding his neck, nipping at the sensitive skin just below his jaw as you murmured, “Neither do I.”

It wasn’t a lie. You felt like you were coming apart at the seams, your body burning with each drag and push, each of his little grunts and gasps.

When his hand slipped down to where your bodies met, his thumb brushing against you just so, you couldn’t hold back the cry that escaped your lips.

“Kento,” you pleaded, your body trembling against him.

“I’ve got you,” he said, his voice soft but sure, like he knew you were unraveling, like he’d do everything to catch you when you fell apart.

And you did.

Your body tensed, the world tipping sideways as the pleasure crashed over you, leaving you gasping and trembling. Kento wasn’t far behind, his pace growing erratic, his fingers digging into your skin as he buried himself deep, groaning your name like it was the only thing tethering him to the earth.

For a moment, the room was silent except for your mingled breaths, the hum of your ceiling fan faintly audible in the distance.

You collapsed onto him, your cheek pressed against his chest, and you couldn’t help the soft, giddy laugh that bubbled up from your lips. “That was…”

“Yeah,” Kento murmured, his voice hoarse, his chest still rising and falling beneath you. He wrapped an arm around your back, holding you close as if you might slip away.

After a long moment, he shifted, gently nudging you to the side before standing to retrieve a towel from your bathroom. His movements were calm, collected, but you could see the flush creeping up his neck when he returned to your bed.

You let him clean you up, his touch impossibly gentle, but when he was done, he stayed on his knees at the foot of the bed, staring at you with a strange intensity.

“What?” you asked, smiling softly.

He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, his lips quirking slightly. “The sauna,” he said finally, his tone playful but low.

You blinked, then let out a soft laugh, rolling onto your side to face him fully.

“What about it?”

His brows arched, and he leaned forward, resting a hand against the bed as his other fingers traced a featherlight pattern along your ankle. “You… you did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

You grinned, biting your bottom lip as you propped your head up on one hand. “Obviously,” you said, feigning nonchalance. “I wanted to see if I could break your composure.”

He stilled for a moment, then let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “You’re dangerous.”

Before you could reply, his grip on your ankle tightened, and in one smooth motion, he tugged you toward him.

You let out a surprised laugh, your eyes wide as you looked up at him. “Kento—”

His lips twitched into the faintest smirk, his eyes dark as he leaned down to hover over you. “Then that,” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave, “was just round one.”

And before you could say another word, he kissed you, slow and deep, making it abundantly clear that the night was far from over.

*-*

The first thing you noticed when you woke up was the smell. Something savory and rich—eggs, maybe, with a hint of butter and the faintest whiff of freshly brewed coffee.

The second thing you noticed was the emptiness of the bed.

You blinked, sunlight filtering through the curtains as you propped yourself up on one elbow, the sheets pooling around your waist. The events of the night before came rushing back in vivid flashes—Kento above you, the way he touched you, the sounds he made, the way you’d scraped your nails across his chest, entirely lost in the moment. You groaned softly, burying your face in your hands.

God, that man was going to ruin you.

After taking a moment to compose yourself, you slid out of bed, pulling on a robe before padding out into the kitchen. The sight that greeted you nearly made you melt.

There he was—Nanami Kento, standing in your kitchen like he’d been doing it his whole life, shirtless and impossibly serene despite the deep red scratches that adorned his back and chest like battle scars. He worked with effortless precision, flipping something in a skillet, the muscles in his arms flexing with the movement.

Also, he was only in boxers god those thighs were so... urgh.

At his feet, Snowball and Shadow were winding around his ankles, tails high and hopeful as they meowed pitifully for attention—or food.

Probably food.

“Don’t tell me you’re spoiling them,” you said, your voice still thick with sleep as you leaned against the doorway.

He turned, his expression softening the moment he saw you.

“Good morning,” he said, his tone warm but restrained. He gestured toward the counter, where two plates were already set, the presentation impeccable. “I figured you might need something to eat after… last night.”

You arched a brow, stepping closer. “After last night, huh?”

The corner of his mouth quirked up, but he didn’t say anything, his focus shifting back to the skillet. You could feel your cheeks warming as you approached him, your gaze trailing over his back.

The scratches stood out starkly against his otherwise flawless skin, and a tiny part of you felt guilty. The rest of you, however, was doing mental cartwheels because—holy hell—this man looked good.

“Breakfast and you fed the cats?” you teased, noting the two empty bowls on the floor.

“They were insistent,” he replied, glancing down at the felines, who were still meowing at him like he owed them more. “Persistent little things.”

You crossed your arms, watching him with a mix of amusement and awe. “Do you do this for every woman you sleep with, or am I just special?”

He turned off the burner, setting the skillet aside before meeting your gaze. “You’re special,” he said simply, his tone so matter-of-fact it made your heart lurch.

Damn it.

You were already planning the logistics of keeping him forever. Sure, you didn’t have a basement, but you had a spare room. Maybe a cage? No, too kinky—he’d just need some convincing. Legalities could come later.

As if reading your thoughts, he stepped closer, wiping his hands on a dish towel before cupping your cheek with one hand. “I hope you’re hungry,” he murmured, his thumb brushing against your skin.

“For food, or for you?” you asked, smirking.

His ears turned faintly pink, and he cleared his throat, stepping back to gesture toward the table. “Both, I hope.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you moved to sit down, your heart feeling inexplicably light. The man could fuck like a god, sure, but he also made perfect scrambled eggs, fed your cats, and looked at you like you hung the stars.

This wasn’t just dangerous.

This was outright criminal.

As you took your first bite, you glanced at him, already seated across from you with a mug of coffee in hand. “You’re too good to be true, you know that?”

He tilted his head, his gaze soft but searching. “I could say the same about you.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you.

Yeah, you thought to yourself, sneaking a glance at Snowball and Shadow, who had both taken up positions near his feet.

And you knew right then, that you'd marry him.

A/N: hehe i hope this was alright, i am TRYING to write half decent smut.

EDIT: I DIDNT KNOW BUT LILLIES ARE TOXIC TO CATS!!!!! don't give lillies to people with cats!!!!!! do not!!!!!!!!! (i've changed, it to roses, but initially it was lillies)

Masterlist.

:)

[lvrgurlblobbu]

beneath the moonlight

"are you cold? come here."

zayne x fem!reader

⤿ part of snow angel series : )

⤿ cw: MDNI, pre-marriage timeline, fluff, smut, p in v, fingering, cunnilingus, reader in on birth control, reader & zayne's first time having sex

⤿ word count: 4.6k

⤿ synopsis: you and zayne have been dating for a while now, as you spent most of your day at the amusement park, you sure will be spending the rest of the night tangled in his sheets.

ao3.

The sound of your footsteps echoed as you made your way inside Zayne’s house. His house was warm and inviting, a contrast to the cool evening air outside. The faint scent of vanilla lingered in the air, likely from the candles he always kept around. You glanced back at him as he set the bag of plushies down on the couch, his smile soft yet triumphant as if reliving every mini-game he dominated to win them for you.

“Go ahead and take a seat,” Zayne said, his voice low but filled with affection. “I’ll grab us something to drink.”

You nodded and made your way to the couch, your fingers grazing over the bag of plushies. Each one brought back a specific memory from earlier: the laughing fits on the bumper cars, the way you insisted him on riding the carousel with you because you’d never be too old for it, and his focused determination when trying to win the biggest plush at the ring toss.

As he returned, his sleeves are already rolled up and he’s holding two glasses of your favorite drink, he handed one to you before sitting down beside you. The space between you felt insignificant as his shoulder brushed against yours.

“Think they’ll fit on your shelf?” he teased, nodding toward the bag. You chuckled, taking a sip. “I might need to start a second shelf at this rate. You’re spoiling me.”

“And I’ll keep spoiling you,” he replied, leaning back, his gaze locking onto yours. “Seeing you happy makes it all worth it.”

“See? You’re the reason why my whole apartment is going to turn into a plushie stockroom.” You joked and he chuckled, you placed the glass on the coffee table before leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Can I cook?” You asked him and you felt him press a soft kiss on your head, “Of course love, why not?” He responded, “What do you want to cook? I will help you prepare the ingredients and of course with the cooking.” 

“Hmm, I’ve been craving for pasta.” You said before lifting your head to face him, “Do you have any ingredients?” 

“I have some marinara sauce at the pantry, as well as the pastas, you can choose whether you would like spaghetti ones or penne.” He said as he gently brushed your hair before tucking the strand of hair behind your ear.

“If that’s so, I’ll get started then?” You said as you smiled at him, “Alright love, let’s go?” He said as he stood up and offered his hand, you smiled at him before placing your hand above his. Your fingers interlocked as you both made your way to the kitchen to prepare your dinner.

***

The penne pasta is already cooked and you set them aside, you’re currently stirring the pot of marinara sauce you made. Zayne left for a while a few minutes ago, since there was a sudden call from work. 

As you stirred the sauce, you gracefully hum a song to yourself and didn’t even notice Zayne leaning at the door frame as he watched you cooking while wearing an apron, hair tied up, and the sleeves of your shirt rolled up. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling upon seeing you, then he couldn’t take it anymore and he decided to close the distance between you two.

You froze momentarily, the spoon in your hand pausing mid-stir as Zayne’s familiar warmth pressed against your back. His arms wrapped securely around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“Did I scare you?” he murmured, his deep voice laced with amusement, his breath tickling your ear. You let out a small laugh, your heartbeat slowly settling. “A little. You could’ve warned me, you know.”

“But where’s the fun in that?” he teased, resting his chin lightly on your shoulder. His eyes drifted to the pot of sauce you’d been stirring. “Smells amazing. What’s the secret ingredient?”

“You mean besides my amazing culinary skills?” you quipped, turning your head slightly to glance at him. He chuckled, the sound reverberating through his chest. “Of course. That’s a given.”

You rolled your eyes playfully before responding, “It’s a touch of honey. Balances the acidity.” Zayne hummed in approval, his hold on you not loosening in the slightest. “How’d I get so lucky? My girlfriend who cooks, hums, and looks this cute doing it?”

You felt your cheeks heat up as you tried to focus on the task at hand, but with him so close, his warmth and words made it almost impossible.

“You’re distracting me,” you muttered, though there was no real annoyance in your tone. 

“And you’re making it really hard not to kiss you right now,” he whispered, his lips brushing lightly against your temple.

For a moment, time seemed to pause, the sauce forgotten as you melted into the quiet intimacy of the moment, the steady rhythm of his breathing grounding you in his presence. You tried to ignore how his lips are pressed on your neck, the rise and fall of his chest, his heavy breathing and how his grip on your waist tightened. 

You swallowed hard, trying to steady yourself as the atmosphere shifted. His closeness was intoxicating, his every movement sending a shiver down your spine. The soft press of his lips against your neck wasn’t helping, and you could feel your resolve slipping.

“Zayne,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “Hmm?” he hummed, his warm breath fanning against your skin. His hold on your waist tightened ever so slightly, and you felt him smile against your neck.“The sauce,” you managed, though your voice wavered. “It’s going to burn.”

He chuckled lowly, the sound rumbling in his chest. “The sauce can wait,” he murmured, his tone teasing yet laced with something deeper. “You’re far more important.” Then the next thing you heard is the sound of the stove being turned off and when you faced him, his lips immediately crashed to yours. 

His lips were warm, urgent, and impossibly soft as they claimed yours, and for a moment, the world around you disappeared, leaving only the heat of his kiss and the way his hands slid up to cradle your face, holding you as though you were the most fragile and precious thing in the world.

Your fingers instinctively clutched at his shirt, pulling him closer, his familiar scent wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. His kiss was filled with passion yet somehow gentle, as if he’d been holding back for far too long and couldn’t stand it any longer.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and both of you were breathing heavily. His dark eyes searched yours, his gaze intense yet tender. You smiled at him before encircling your arms around his neck and you kissed him once more. 

Then suddenly he lifted you up as if you weigh nothing and placed you on top of the kitchen counter, his arm propped onto the kitchen counter for support while the other hooked at your waist. You rested your palms on both sides of his cheeks as you responded to his kisses.

His kisses suddenly went to your jaw and down to your neck. You tilted your head to give him further access, the feeling of his lips feels hot against your skin which is why you couldn’t help yourself. “Z-Zayne..” You whimpered as you felt him nipped at your neck and your hand found his hair and gave it a gentle tug.

However, that tug somehow signaled Zayne. He immediately stopped and he felt like he was doused with cold water as he stared at your half-lidded eyes. “Zayne? What’s wrong?” You asked as he gently shook his head before resting it on your shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I got caught up with the moment and I–“ He inhaled deeply as he wrapped his arms around you. Zayne’s voice was soft, almost pained, as he whispered against your shoulder, “I didn’t mean to rush things. I just..”

You felt his arms tighten around you, his embrace grounding yet filled with a vulnerability he rarely showed. His heart beat against yours, its steady rhythm betraying the storm of emotions he was trying to rein in.

“Zayne,” you said gently, reaching up to rest your hand on his arm. “You don’t have to apologize. I’m not upset.”

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his dark eyes searching yours for reassurance. “I don’t ever want to make you uncomfortable,” he said, his voice firm but laced with tenderness. “You’re too important to me for that.”

You smiled softly, your fingers brushing against his cheek in a soothing gesture. “You didn’t. I promise. I trust you, Zayne.” You said as you leaned your forehead against his, before leaning down to kiss him once again. It was slow and passionate, as if you’re letting him know about what you want to happen. 

When you pulled away, he looked straight into your eyes. “Are you sure about this?” He asked softly, “Yes, I am.” you responded as you nodded at him. He hesitated for a moment but when he looked into your eyes, it’s as if gravity is pulling him back to you.

His lips met yours once again, this time it was intense and full of lust. You felt his tongue at your lips, clearly asking for permission in which you quickly allowed. His tongue entered your mouth and you couldn’t help but moan and you felt his lips curled up into a smile. 

“Lets kiss move kiss to kiss my kiss room kiss” You hummed in between his kisses as you encircled your arms around his neck as he lifted you up the counter, and then you instantly wrapped your legs around his waist as he made his way to his bedroom.

When the two of you stepped inside, his strides toward the bed were long and purposeful. He gently placed you down, breaking the kiss as both of your chests heaved from the breathless passion of the moment. His eyes roamed over your face, illuminated by the faint glow of the dim lights—your hair splayed across his bed, your half-lidded eyes, and your swollen lips.

Your cheeks flush under his intense gaze, his eyes roaming over you as if trying to memorize every detail. The air between you feels thick with unspoken words and palpable tension. He brushes a strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering against your skin.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he whispers, his voice low and sincere. His admission sends a shiver down your spine as his hand trails down to rest against your cheek. His thumb gently grazes your lips, his touch soft yet electrifying. Your breath hitches, and your heart pounds in your chest as his eyes lock onto yours, filled with something deeper than desire.

“Are you sure you want to do this? We can stop anytime if you ever feel uncomfortable.” He asked you once again with such gentleness at his voice as he caressed your cheek. “Yes, I want to do this with you, Zayne.” 

He nodded and smiled softly, “Okay, just let me know if you ever feel uncomfortable okay?” You nodded at him before his lips met yours once again, this time it was slow and tender. As if he’s savoring this intimate moment with you. Then his hands began to trace at your curves, and is now resting at your waist. 

“Z-Zayne..” His lips traveled down your neck and he sucked on it, and you’re definitely sure that it will leave a mark but you’d probably worry about that tomorrow. Right now, all of you want is to cherish this moment with your boyfriend. 

He placed hot wet kisses onto your collarbone before he gently unbuttoned your shirt. You suddenly felt a wave of nervousness and tension wash over you as he finished unbuttoning, leaving you on your bra. Your breathing hitched, and your hands instinctively gripped the fabric beneath you, unsure of what to do next. 

Zayne immediately noticed and he looked at you, “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked as he noticed how you breathing got erratic and how you clutched on his sheets. “I-I’m just nervous.” 

He gently took your hands in his, bringing them to rest on his chest. “Feel that?” he murmured, his heartbeat steady beneath your palms. “I’m right here with you. You don’t have to be scared.”

His reassurance was tender, and the warmth of his touch began to melt away some of your anxiety. You nodded at him and he gave you a soft smile, “Undress me as well.” he said as he pressed a soft kiss on your forehead. 

With shaky hands, you began to unbutton his shirt. He noticed your trembling fingers and he immediately place his hands above yours as he mumbled I’m right here. You continued to unbutton his shirt while his gaze remained on your face. Once you’re finished, it revealed his toned chest and there were a few scars on his stomach.

He brought your hand on his bare chest where you can feel his heartbeat. The rhythmic thump beneath your palm grounded you, his warmth and presence slowly easing out your nerves. You couldn’t help but smile at the warm and comforting feeling of his heartbeat against your palm.

“There, that’s my girl.” He whispered as he brought your hands to his lips and he gave it a gentle kiss. “Just relax and allow me to make love to you.” 

Then he quickly discarded his shirt and tossed it somewhere in the room. You also did the same, then you took his hand and guided it at the hook of your bra. He unclasped it and he pulled down the straps and tossed it as well.

His breath hitched at the sight of you, “You’re so perfect.” He lowered his head before he took one nipple to his mouth while his other hand is fondling with your left breast. You arched your back at the sensation. 

“Z-Zayne..Mhm..” You moaned as you felt him lightly bit your nipple, you tugged on his hair which elicited a groan from him which sent vibrations to your breast. He let go of your right nipple with a pop sound and he latched onto the other. 

As he busied his mouth on your breast, his hand wandered down your body, he reached your skirt and with his skillful hands, he unbuttoned it and pulled the zipper. Then, he grabbed it and pulled it down your legs, the sudden action caused you to yelp. 

He met your gaze as he let go of your nipple, he placed a gentle kiss on your lips before he looked at your breast wherein both nipples are swollen, thanks to him. You giggled at him, “What?” he chuckled. “Nothing.” you answered before kissing him in the lips once again. 

He trailed kisses from your neck down your stomach, his fingers are now hooked at the waistband of your panties. He looked at you once again, asking for your consent and you nodded at him. He used his thumb to lightly press it against your clothed pussy. The sudden pressure caused you to moan.

“Damn you’re soaked.” He cursed as he slid your underwear aside to reveal your glistening pussy due to your arousal. “Fuck.” he mumbled before placing a gentle kiss on it. Then a ripping sound was heard and you immediately used your elbow to prop yourself up, “Zayne!” 

“I’ll buy you a new one.” He chuckled before pressing a kiss onto your clit. The sudden sensation made you fall back to the bed once again. 

“Mhmm..Zayne…” you moaned as you felt his tongue licked up your slit. He continued to lap on your pussy, followed by his fingers who’s gently rubbing your clit. “Z-Zayne..” 

You gasped as you felt his fingers at your entrance. You arched your back as you felt him insert two of his fingers and pumped it in and out of your pussy as he continued to eat you out. “Gonna prep you so it wouldn’t hurt that much.” he mumbled and you really couldn’t take much of what he’s saying since you’re already lost in the pleasure that’s building up your core. 

He curled his fingers inside which made you moan a bit louder. “Do you feel good?” he asked you, “Y-yes.. Gods, yes.” you panted as you felt him fasten his pace. “Good, because that’s my plan for tonight. To make you feel good.” 

As he continued the relentless pace of his fingers inside you and the continuous lapping of his mouth against your pussy. You felt your orgasm approaching and you began to tremble.

“Z-Zayne…’m gonna come..” you mumbled as you continued to shake. “Let go for me my love..” he answered and after a few more pumps, you released your orgasm. 

You’re breathing heavily as he removed his fingers inside, you looked down at him and saw how he placed his fingers soaked with your juices inside his mouth. 

Then, he began to unbuckle his pants. You gulped when his hard length sprung free, you’re kinda nervous whether it will fit or not. He then positioned himself between your legs and he leaned down to rest your forehead against his, “Ready?” he asked and you gave him a nod a silent yes. 

With your answer, he slowly inserted himself inside. Due to his size, you couldn’t help but to wince at the pain and stinging sensation. “Love, hey, look at me.” He cupped both sides of your cheeks so that you could meet his gaze, “It’s alright, I’ll let you adjust for a bit okay. We’ll stay like this for a while, hm?” he whispered as he caressed your cheeks.

After a few moments, he felt the tension of your body disappeared and it’s now fully relaxed. “I’m okay now.” you said as you looked at him, “Okay, I love you.” he whispered as he placed a kiss onto your forehead before fully inserting himself inside of you.

“Mhmm…Zayne.” You moaned when you felt his cock fully inserted in your pussy. “Oh fuck.” He cursed as he nuzzled his face at the crook of your neck, you wrapped your arms around him when he began to move, slowly at first. 

“Zayne...” You moaned when you felt his cock fully inserted in your pussy. “Oh fuck.” He cursed as he nuzzled his face at the crook of your neck, you wrapped your arms around him when he began to move, slowly at first.

Zayne groaned softly as he felt your tight, wet heat enveloping his hard cock. He nuzzled into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply as his hands gripped your hips, fingers digging into your soft flesh. "Love... you feel incredible," he rasped, voice low and husky with desire.

He began to move, slowly at first, savoring the exquisite sensation of your walls clenching around him. His hips rocked in a steady rhythm, each thrust pushing him deeper, stretching you wider. One hand slid up your side, cupping the soft swell of your breast, thumb and forefinger pinching and rolling your nipple between them.

“Ohh..Zayne mhmm..” you moaned, "Tell me how it feels, Love," Zayne murmured against your ear, hot breath sending shivers down your spine. "Describe it to me. I want to hear you say it." His hips picked up pace, thrusts becoming more urgent, more demanding. The room filled with the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin, your moans and his grunts intertwining in a erotic symphony.

“Zayne.. ohhh mhmm..” you moaned as you clawed at his back due to the building pleasure. He hooked your left leg at his waist which made his cock go deeper inside your pussy. “That’s right love, I want to hear you say my name.” He whispered against your ear as you felt him licked your earlobe and he sucked the sensitive spot on your neck. 

Zayne could feel the heat building between your bodies, sweat beginning to bead on his brow. But he didn't let up, driven by a primal need to bring you both to the peak of ecstasy. “Z-Zayne..” You called out to him breathlessly, he immediately lifted his head to meet your gaze.

“What is it my love? Hmm, tell me what you need.” He whispered to you as he continued his thrusts inside your pussy. “K-Kiss me..” 

His lips curled into a smile as he stared at your lips, “Your wish is my command..” His lips found yours in a searing kiss, tongue delving deep, claiming your mouth as thoroughly as his cock was claiming your pussy. He swallowed your cries of pleasure, feeding off them, spurring him on. 

Zayne drank in every moan and whimper that spilled from your lips, each sound spurring him to take you with greater fervor. His hand tangled in your hair, gripping it gently as his tongue dominated your mouth, claiming you, consuming you, leaving no part of you untouched.

He could feel your body tensing, your walls fluttering around his hard length as he drove into you again and again. You were close, so close to the edge. He wanted to feel you fall, to have you shatter in his arms.

Zayne broke the kiss, his lips trailing down to your neck where he bit and sucked at the sensitive skin, determined to leave his mark on you. "That's it, my love," he panted against your throat, hips never ceasing their relentless motion. "Let it go. Give yourself to me. I want to feel you."

His hand, still intertwined with yours, squeezed your fingers tightly as he felt your body begin to quake beneath him. He knew you were teetering on the brink, ready to tumble into oblivion. And he wanted to be right there with you, to catch you as you fell.

"Come on, my love," Zayne urged, voice low and intense.  You were a moaning mess as you felt your orgasm nearing, you arched your back causing your breasts to make contact with his chest. The sudden friction intensified your pleasure, you scraped your fingers on his hair and slid down to hold on his arms. 

After a few more thrusts, you came but he didn’t stop. His thrusts are now becoming sloppy and faster than his previous ones. Due to the overstimulation you could feel another orgasm building on your core. 

“I’m near my love..” He whispered against your neck, “Where do you want me?” he asked softly, his breath is hot against your skin. 

“Inside..I want to feel you, Zayne.” You whimpered. 

Zayne's heart raced at your needy whimper, desire coursing through his veins like wildfire. He rolled his hips, grinding against you, feeling your walls clench desperately around his throbbing length. "Inside, are you sure?" he asked again huskily, voice dripping with lust. "Yes, I’m on birth control." 

He captured your lips in a searing kiss, pouring all his passion, all his longing into the heated meeting of mouths. At the same time, his hands gripped your thighs, lifting your leg to place in on his shoulder while the other remained hooked on his waist, his hard length nestled between your slick folds.

He began to move, hips rocking in a steady, deep rhythm. Each thrust pushed him impossibly deeper, stretching you exquisitely around his thick girth. The new angle allowed him to hit that secret spot inside you with every drive of his hips, sending sparks of ecstasy shooting up your spine.

"Fuck," Zayne groaned, forehead pressed against yours, breaths mingling in the scant space between your lips. "You feel incredible. So tight, so perfect. You were made for me." He whispered, then his breath became heavy as he feels his orgasm approaching him.

After a few more thrusts you felt his hot seed filling you up, alongside with your third orgasm. Your chests heaving as you chased your breaths, “You okay?” he asked as he cupped your face and rested his forehead against yours.

“Yeah, I’m okay..” you chuckled at him, Zayne smiled softly at your chuckle, forehead still resting gently against yours. He brushed a few damp tendrils of hair away from your face, tucking them behind your ear. "I'm glad," he murmured, hazel eyes warm and tender as they gazed into yours. "I would never forgive myself if I hurt you."

He rolled onto his side, taking you with him, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you close. The movement caused his softening length to slip out of you, but he made no move to leave. Instead, he simply held you, one hand stroking up and down your back in a soothing, comforting gesture.

Zayne pressed a tender kiss to your temple before nuzzling into your hair, inhaling your scent. "That was... incredible," he whispered, voice low and sated. “God, I love you.” 

“I love you too..” you whispered softly. He could feel the sticky evidence of your joining cooling between your thighs, but he knew from experience that it would soon dry. For now, he just wanted to hold you, to bask in the afterglow of your lovemaking.

“Zayne?” you called out to him because you were suddenly reminded of something, “What about our pasta?” 

Zayne chuckled softly at your question, amused by your sudden concern for the abandoned dinner. "Don't worry about that," he reassured you, hand stroking your arm soothingly. "After we get cleaned up, just relax here alright? I’ll heat up the sauce and grab some servings for the two of us."

“Mhm, okay..” you smiled at him, he leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your cheek before resting his chin on your shoulder.

“But for now, let me just hold you for a while.” You leaned into him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back. The warmth of his embrace wrapped around you like a blanket, soothing and grounding. For a moment, the world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you in this quiet bubble of comfort.

His fingers traced slow, lazy circles along your arm, lulling you further into a state of contentment.

“I could stay like this forever,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. Zayne chuckled again, his breath warm against your neck. “I wouldn’t mind that.”

Minutes passed in comfortable silence, neither of you in any hurry to move. Eventually, he shifted slightly, pressing another kiss to your temple before murmuring, “Alright, let’s get cleaned up.”

You giggled when he gently scooped you up in his arms as he made his way to the bathroom for the both of you to have a nice warm bath. Afterwards, he helped you get dressed in his shirt and he changed the sheets of his bed.

Then, when you’re nice and settled on his bed, he pressed a kiss on your lips, soft and lingering, as if he didn’t want to pull away. “I won’t be long,” he promised, his voice low and gentle, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek before he stood.

You watched as he walked to the door, his figure outlined by the soft glow of the bedside lamp. Just before stepping out, he glanced back at you, his lips curling into that familiar, comforting smile that made your heart flutter.

“Stay cozy, alright?” he said, his voice carrying the warmth of someone who cared deeply.

You nodded, the comfort of the blankets and the faint scent of him enveloping you. As he disappeared down the hall toward the kitchen, the sound of his footsteps faded, leaving you in the quiet, peaceful haven of his room.

You smiled softly to yourself, feeling grateful for the little moments like this—the ones that made everything else fade away.

dividers by: @cafekitsune

[miryum]

☆ 18+ minors dni ☆

Cowboy!Jason Todd who commandeered an impressive ranch out in the country. He came into town every once in a while to get supplies, but also to flirt with the leathersmith’s daughter (you). You always adored seeing him swagger into your daddy’s shop, all confident and smirking. He was just a year or two older than you and the whole town knew that you were practically taken. It was only a matter of time before he asked your father for your hand and you moved out onto his ranch

Cowboy!Jason Todd who, when he finally married you, took you to his ranch house and made you his pretty little wife

Cowboy!Jason Todd took his work very seriously. He loved horses and tending to cattle. The only thing he didn’t like was when he had to go on long cattle drives for weeks on end and had to be away from you. He didn’t like the extra strain it put on you and he knew you didn’t sleep as well when he was away.

Cowboy!Jason Todd who would often lie under the stars, wondering if you were doing the same

Cowboy!Jason Todd who knew it was pointless to send you letters when he was away. The mail was just too finicky and by the time they got back to you, he’d be home already. But he did it anyway. He grinned whenever you would run out into the fields where he was working, clutching a letter he had written a month ago, but you had just received

Cowboy!Jason Todd loved when he would return home from one of his cattle drives and you would run from the house, a wide smile on your face. He would jump off his horse and meet you halfway, picking you up and spinning you around – just how it happened in those books you read

Cowboy!Jason Todd who felt bad for all the work you had to do around the house when he was out with the animals. You cleaned the house, prepared the food, tended to the chickens, and did the laundry. You even brought out lunches for Jason and the workers everyday, paired with some lemonade or crisp water. Of course, he rewarded you with little gifts from all his trips and fulfilling every one of your wishes in bed (which we’ll get to later)

Cowboy!Jason Todd employed only one ranch hand – a young boy named Damian who you soon came to view as your own. He stayed on the farm with you, as ranch hands did. You made sure the boy got enough to eat and patched up all his clothes he tore. Jason couldn’t help but watch fondly as you would sit at the table after dinner as he did the dishes, muttering to yourself that “the poor boy grows too much. What are we gonna do with him?!” Jason would let his mind stray to how you would react when kids of your own skinned their knees or dirtied their clothes

Cowboy!Jason Todd didn’t mind if you wanted kids or not. He would give you whatever you wanted and would defend your wishes to everyone in town

Cowboy!Jason Todd who didn’t even go into town anymore. He didn’t have a reason to. He got his food from nearby farmers and knew how to take care of his tools. You didn’t really notice at first until you realised his leather saddle was a bit scuffed. You commented how your father could easily fix it, but Jason simply gave you a kiss on the cheek and told you he could do it. You didn’t believe him until you saw him with your own two eyes in the barn. You confronted him as to why he then even went to your father’s store if he could do it all by himself and he replied with a grin. “How else would I have met my future wife? Who, now I may add, is all mine.”

Cowboy!Jason Todd was a very fit man and his years as a cowboy did everything to help that. You loved watching him work – practically anything he did turned you on. There was when he was riding a horse and you watched the way his hips rocked on the saddle. There was when he was pitching hay for the horses and you watched how his biceps flexed and pulled deliciously. There was when he was sharpening the kitchen knives because you asked so sweetly and you watched the beads of sweat disappear under his collar. And there was when he was practicing his lassoing and unclipped his overalls, exposing his abs

Cowboy!Jason Todd always noticed when you ogled at him and god, did he love it. It made him feel like he was still worthy to be your husband

Cowboy!Jason Todd who almost never said no to when you would crawl up onto his lap and begin kissing him sweetly. His calloused hands would grip your hips and tug you closer. He loved to sit in his recliner because it had just the right amount of space for you to straddle him

Cowboy!Jason Todd was a torturous lover

Cowboy!Jason Todd who would either give it to you rough and quick or pull his hips back slowly before rolling into you. Every single damn time he would ask for consent about every single damn thing. And holy shit if it wasn’t hot as hell. After the first night when Damian couldn’t look Jason in the eye, he had suggested the boy move to the bedroom on the other side of the house. Damian readily agreed, not before throwing in a snarky remark

Cowboy!Jason Todd whose nails were always dirty, but you never minded

Cowboy!Jason Todd who loved to take your hand in his and kiss the simple diamond ring he had put on your finger the day he wedded you as a way of thanks

Cowboy!Jason Todd who also loved to mutter in your ear the vows he had spoken on your wedding day while thrusting into you

[atzhrts]

what are some things you think give dom riize butterflies in bed 😋

includes: mentions of corruption but not actually (shotaro) dacryphilia, mentions of sex with the others around & squirting (eunseok), size training kind of (sungchan), pussy eating (seunghan), choking (sohee)

shotaro

he loves whenever you get this random burst of confidence, pushing him on his back and straddling him before looking at him like ‘what now’. is very into the fact that you want guidance from him (also corruption kink), sure you were feeling like a big girl just know, thinking you can just do your thing but now you’re asking him to take over again. definitely tells you no and that you started this and need to go though with it. (manly because he enjoys seeing you struggle to ride his dick)

eunseok

when you cry. there’s just something about you showing such raw emotions that seem like they’re so misplaced. it also gives him such an ego boost, because of course he knows you are not faking your moans - otherwise you wouldn’t let them slip out around his members when you’re riding him during movie nights. and he’s pretty sure you’re not faking your orgasms either because he hasn’t found an explanation for how you could fake your juices spraying against his abdomen and bedsheets but adding the vision of you crying just from his dick is doing wonders for him.

sungchan

the very moment when he first pushes into you and he watches your eyes flutter as both of you let out a synchronized moan. sungchan knows you always struggle a bit with taking his length, even if he prepares you throughly most of the times (heavy on the most). gentle finger running through your wetness before he pushes the first one in, pressing little kisses against your clit as he adds a second one. he loves listening to your sweet gasps and pants as he moves them in scissoring motion inside of you, eyes fixed on the way your pussy pulses around his digits. he knows he’s big but he loves to see the physical reminder on your face everztime his tip enters your tightness.

wonbin

as i said before, praising and that in all possible ways. i don’t think wonbin is very insecure, he knows he’s fine and he’s secure enough in your relationship to trust you would tell him directly if he’s not pleasing you. but something about you stuttering out praise without him having to ask for anything or even doing much always gives him this warm fuzzy feeling in his belly. whether it be you actually telling him how good he is doing and that he makes you feel so good, or combined with your touches. your shaky hands running down his arms “you’re so pretty binnie” he feels your pussy tighten around his length and knows the desperation is speaking out of you “your dick is so good”

seunghan

when your brush his hair out of his face as he’s eating you out. we all agree he’s a certified muncher right? that man can spend hours between your legs and not get bored. im fact he tried, coaxing orgasm after orgasm out of you, tongue abusing your swollen clit as his fingers massage your insides. he smiles into your pussy as he notices the way your legs start to shake around his head before threatening to close, thighs pressing against his ears tightly. your hand however is the exact opposite brushing his hair out of his face ever so gently. he loves the fact that even being lost in your pleasure you still take your time to make sure you can properly see your lovers face.

sohee

he’s into choking i just know it. nothing too extreme till the point he can’t breath anymore but a warm hand against his throat just weirdly reassures him. like this is really happening, he’s really dating the most beautiful person he’s ever laid his eyes on and he really has her at his mercy. that being said he doesn’t mind a gentle squeeze every now and then. like when he hits that special spot inside of you or uses a particularly harsh thrust he just knows he’ll be rewarded with your fingers tightening around his neck. he lets out the sweetest high pitched moans, something about the power dynamics just get him. you trashing around and whimpering underneath him as he thrusts into you harshly and even if he has the dominance ver you he’s still in such a vulnerable position with your hand wrapped around his sensitive neck

anton

jerking him off whenever you put the condom on him. he’s a grown man he’s perfectly capable of putting a condom on by himself but he absolutely loves it when you do it. opening the package with his teeth, mindlessly spitting the trash to the side before he places it over his tip, eyes meeting yours when your hands cover his hands. “let me do it” you look up at him “please” and who is he to deny his baby? + he really enjoys the tightness of your hand as you roll the latex down his length, throwing his head back when you squeeze the base. the first time you done this he nearly came in your hand as he watched you jerk him off lazily before he gets the real deal.