#in perfect sync with his team

[il-predestinato]

max is so inevitable, i love him.

[005mins]

/  HOW did he do it

[starsenha]

COLLAB STAGE / Y.J

Pairing ◊ sub!fem!idol!reader x dom!idol!jungwon (ft. Lesserafim Yunjin)

Genre ◊ SMUT, fluff

Warnings ◊ SMUT (MINORS DNI), harddom!jungwon, hair pulling, fingering, oral (m. receiving), semi-public sex, overstimulation, rough, slight dacryphilia, mirror sex, aftercare, dry humping, petnames (sweetheart, baby...), reader is a year older than jungwon (so he calls her noona)

Word count ◊ 6.7k

Summary ◊ You and Jungwon were friends since your trainee days, you've always seen him as a little brother, until this collaboration you had to with him for your Summer Gayo Daejeon performance

a/n: not proofread, enjoy!

You stepped out of the sleek, black car provided by Hybe Entertainment, the cool morning air brushing against your face as you headed toward the familiar studio entrance. The tall building loomed above you, your company logo glinting in the sunlight. As you entered the lobby, you were greeted by the usual bustle of staff and trainees, everyone busy with their own schedules.

“Good morning!” you called out to a few familiar faces, receiving nods and smiles in return. The anticipation bubbled in your chest as you reached the designated practice room. Today was pretty special. The CEO had chosen you to do a collaboration stage with a member of Enhypen for the upcoming SBS Gayo Daejeon performance. And you were so happy that that member was Jungwon. You used to train together back in the day. He was only a year younger than you, and you were always pretty close. Plus, your groups debuted around the same time. But, what you did not know, was that Jungwon always kinda had a crush on you, and he’s been trying to make you see him differently for months now. 

Pushing open the door to the studio, you saw him already there, stretching on the floor. His eyes lit up when he noticed you, and he jumped to his feet with a wide grin.

“Noona!” Jungwon called out, his youthful enthusiasm infectious.

“Won! You’re here early,” you said, smiling back as you dropped your bag on the bench and joined him in stretching.

“I was too excited to sleep much,” he admitted with a chuckle. “This is going to be so much fun. I can’t believe we finally get to do this.”

“I know! I’ve been looking forward to it too,” you replied. “It’s been a while since we’ve had the chance to work on something together.”

As you both chatted and caught up, the door swung open again, and the choreographer, Ji-eun, walked in. She was a renowned figure in the industry, known for her intricate and dynamic hip-hop routines. You had already worked with her, as she created the choreography for your group’s last comeback.

“Good morning, everyone!” Ji-eun greeted, her energy palpable. “Are you two ready to work?”

“Yes!” you and Jungwon responded in unison, exchanging amused glances.

Ji-eun clapped her hands together, signaling the start of the session. “Great. Let’s get started with the basics of the routine. It’s a hip-hop piece with a lot of sharp movements and synchronization. I need you both to bring your A-game.”

You and Jungwon nodded, focusing as Ji-eun demonstrated the initial steps. The beat of the music pulsed through the room, and you found yourself getting lost in the rhythm. Jungwon mirrored your movements perfectly, his natural talent shining through.

“Good, good! Now, let’s add some more complexity,” Ji-eun said, moving into the next sequence. The steps were fast and challenging, requiring both agility and precision.

As the session progressed, Ji-eun occasionally stopped to give pointers, adjusting your posture or tweaking a movement here and there. The routine was demanding, but you relished the challenge. You and Jungwon fell into an easy rhythm, your movements syncing effortlessly.

“Perfect! That’s what I’m talking about,” Ji-eun praised after another run-through. “You two have great chemistry. This stage is going to be amazing.”

Jungwon grinned at you, wiping sweat from his brow with his towel. “We make a pretty good team, huh?”

“We always have,” you agreed, returning his smile. “Remember those practice sessions back when we were trainees? We were always trying to outdo each other.”

“Yeah, and you always won,” he laughed, a hint of admiration in his voice.

“Not always,” you corrected him. “But most of the time, yes.”

You saw Jungwon roll his eyes playfully and open his mouth to retort, but Ji-eun called for another run-through. You threw yourself back into the routine, your body moving instinctively to the beat.

An hour and a half flew by in a blur of music and movement. By the time Ji-eun finally called for a break, you were both exhausted but exhilarated.

“Take fifteen, and then we’ll do a full run-through with the music,” Ji-eun instructed, heading out to take a call.

You collapsed onto the floor, stretching out your legs. Jungwon flopped down beside you, panting lightly.

“This is going to be epic,” he said between breaths.

“Definitely,” you agreed. “We’ll show everyone what Jokerz and Enhypen can do together.”

Jungwon’s expression softened as he looked at you, a hint of something unreadable in his eyes.

Ji-eun returned to the studio and gave you both some final pointers before she left you to rehearse on your own. The studio was buzzing with the high-energy choreography you had been perfecting all morning.

“Okay, you two, I think you’ve got a good handle on this,” Ji-eun said, clapping her hands together. “I’ll leave you to practice on your own for a bit. Just remember to keep the energy up and stay in sync.”

“Got it!” you and Jungwon chorused, both of you giving her a confident nod.

As Ji-eun left the room, you turned to Jungwon with a grin. “So, ready to run it again?”

“Absolutely,” he replied, his eyes sparkling with determination.

You both got into position, and the music started up again. This time, without Ji-eun’s watchful eye, you found yourselves more relaxed, allowing your natural chemistry to shine through. Your movements were fluid and synchronized, feeding off each other’s energy.

“Nice move there, wonnie!” you called out mid-routine as he nailed a particularly tricky step.

“Thanks, noona! You’re killing it too!” he shot back, his smile wide.

After a few more run-throughs, you both paused for a break. You went to take your water bottle in the corner of the room, trying to do some air with your hand. 

At the corner of your eye, you saw Jungwon pulled off his hoodie, revealing a tank top underneath. You blinked, momentarily taken aback. You had always seen Jungwon as a little brother figure, but seeing the definition of his muscles was… he was so hot. You tried to ignore the unexpected flutter in your stomach as you took a sip of water. As he took his own water bottle, you watched him discretly, a pool forming in your belly. 

“Uh… you’ve been working out lately?” you said, attempting to keep your tone casual.

He glanced down at himself, then back at you with a casual shrug. “Oh, this? Yeah, I sometimes work out with the hyungs. Gotta stay in shape, you know?”

You nodded, trying to focus on the conversation and not how his tank top clung to his frame. Wow, this was new. “Makes sense. It’s just… I guess I never noticed before.”

Jungwon’s eyes twinkled with amusement as he caught the slight flush on your cheeks. “Noona, are you blushing?” he teased, flexing his arm a bit more prominently.

Your face heated up even more as you sputtered, “N-no! I’m just… it’s hot in here, that’s all.”

He smirked, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you. “Sure, whatever you say.”

Determined to shift the focus, you stood up and stretched. “Let’s get back to it. We’ve got to nail this routine.”

Jungwon chuckled, following your lead. “Alright, let’s do it. But don’t think I didn’t notice, noona. You were totally checking me out.”

You shot him a mock glare, trying to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat. “Focus, won. We’ve got a show to prepare for.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, still grinning. “I’m focused, don’t worry,’’ his grin transformed into a cocky smirk as he put his hands into the pockets of his gray sweatpants and walked up to you. 

As the music started up again, you threw yourself into the routine, trying to push aside the newfound awareness of Jungwon. But every now and then, you caught him glancing your way, that same smirk still on his lips. It was clear he enjoyed seeing you flustered, and you couldn’t help but feel a mix of embarrassment and something else you couldn’t quite place.

After a long and exhausting practice session, you finally made your way back to your dorm. As you opened the door, you were greeted by the familiar sight of one of your bandmate, Yunjin, lounging on the couch with her phone in hand.

“Yay, you’re back!” she exclaimed, looking up from her screen. “How was the practice with Jungwon?”

You sighed, dropping your bag by the door and collapsing onto the couch beside her. “It was… something.”

She raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What happened?”

You hesitated for a moment, trying to find the right words. “Well, you know how I’ve always seen him as a little brother, right?”

“Yeah, of course. You’ve mentioned it a million times,” she replied, her curiosity piqued.

“Okay, so today, we were practicing this really tough hip-hop routine for Gayo Daejeon,” you began. “And Ji-eun left us alone to rehearse on our own for a bit.”

“Uh-huh, go on,” she encouraged, leaning in closer.

“Well, Jungwon took off his hoodie because it was getting hot in the studio,” you continued, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks at the memory. “And he was wearing this, like, tank top underneath. I had no idea he was that… fit.”

Yunjin’s eyes widened, and she burst into laughter. “Oh my God, you got flustered, didn’t you?”

“I mean…a little,” you admitted, burying your face in your hands. “It’s just, I’ve always seen him as this cute younger brother or something. But today, he looked… argh.”

“Different how?” she pressed, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

You sighed, finally giving in. “He looked… so, so hot. I couldn’t stop staring, and he totally noticed!”

She laughed even harder, clutching her stomach. “This is priceless! Our ynnie has a crush on Jungwon!”

“It’s not like that!” you protested, though your blush betrayed you. “I was just… surprised. I didn’t expect him to have grown up so much.”

“Oh, sure,” she said, still giggling.

“Stop teasing me, Unnie,” you groaned, playfully shoving her. “I’m just trying to process it. I mean, he’s always been like a brother to me, and now suddenly, he’s this attractive guy. How did that even happen?”

“Sounds like you’ve got it bad,” Yunjin teased, nudging you with her elbow. “But seriously, it’s not a bad thing. Maybe it’s time to see him in a new light.”

You sighed, leaning back on the couch. “I don’t know. It’s just… really confusing. I’ve always been so sure of our dynamic, and now it feels like everything’s shifted. It doesn’t feel…platonic anymore.”

She smiled sympathetically. “Feelings can be complicated, especially when someone you’ve known for a long time changes. Just take it one step at a time and see where things go.”

“Thanks, Unnie,” you said, grateful for her understanding. “I guess I’ll just have to see how things play out during this collaboration.”

“It’s just a week and a half away, you’ll be fine. And in the meantime, try not to get too distracted by his muscles,” Hana added with a wink, causing you to throw a pillow in her direction, one she dodged as she got up from the couch and sprinted to the kitchen. 

“I hate you,” you said, loud enough so she could hear you. 

As the evening wore on, you couldn’t help but replay the events of the day in your mind. Seeing Jungwon in a new light was certainly unexpected, but maybe Hana was right. 

The next day, you arrived at the practice studio a bit early, hoping to get some stretches in before Jungwon showed up. As you rolled out your yoga mat and began your stretches, the door opened, and Jungwon walked in, his demeanor radiating confidence.

"Morning, noona," Jungwon greeted you with a charming smile, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Morning, wonnie," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. "Ready for today?"

"Absolutely," he said, dropping his bag and joining you on the floor. He started stretching beside you, his movements fluid and relaxed.

You chuckled nervously. "We need to nail this routine."

As you both warmed up, the studio felt smaller, the air charged with an unspoken tension. Jungwon seemed more confident, and his movements were more assured. And you couldn’t help but feel turned on by his confidence. Focus, yn. Stop thinking about that. When you began practicing the routine, his eyes never left you, making you hyper-aware of his presence.

“Alright, let’s take it from the top,” you said, hoping to focus on the choreography and not on the way his tank top accentuated his toned arms. Of course, he had to wear a tank top again. A white one this time. 

The music started, and you moved in sync, your bodies effortlessly flowing through the steps. But every time Jungwon’s eyes met yours, you felt your concentration waver. He seemed to notice, and his smirk grew more pronounced.

“Come on, noona, keep up,” he teased, executing a particularly sharp move with ease.

“I’m keeping up just fine,” you shot back, though you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks.

As the routine progressed, Jungwon's playful teasing only intensified. During a particularly close part of the choreography, where you had to mirror each other's movements, he leaned in slightly, his breath warm against your ear.

“You’re doing great, noona,” he whispered, his voice low and smooth.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you missed a step, stumbling slightly. “Th-thanks,” you managed to stammer, trying to regain your composure.

He pulled back, grinning. “What’s wrong? You seem a bit distracted.”

“Just focused on getting the steps right,” you lied, hoping he couldn’t see through your facade.

“Sure,” he said, clearly unconvinced but not pushing it further.

You took a deep breath and forced yourself to focus. The routine was intricate, demanding your full attention, but Jungwon's newfound confidence made it increasingly difficult. He moved with a grace and assurance that was hard to ignore, and his constant teasing only added to your distraction. 

You couldn’t continue like that, or else you might burst. You never noticed how handsome he was or how hot he looked when he was focused on something. But since yesterday, that was the only thing you could think about. 

During a break, you sat down to catch your breath, wiping sweat from your forehead. Jungwon plopped down beside you, a bottle of water in hand.

“Here,” he said, offering you the bottle. “You look like you need it.”

“Thanks,” you said, taking it and drinking gratefully. “You’re really on fire today. Did you have an extra shot of coffee this morning or something?”

He laughed, leaning back on his hands. “Maybe I did. Or maybe I just enjoy seeing you flustered.”

You nearly choked on your water, coughing slightly. “I-I’m not flustered.”

“Sure you’re not,” he said, his smirk widening. “It’s okay, noona. It’s kind of cute.”

Your face burned, and you looked away, trying to hide your embarrassment. Why did your heart skip a bit when he said that? The way he was looking at you, with his playful smirk and his glimmering eyes. You should scold him, he was younger than you, how could he called you ‘’cute’’.  You hated that you actually liked it. 

You cleared your throat, your cheeks still red and got up from the ground. ‘’Uh… we should get back to practice ‘’

“Of course,” he agreed, but the playful glint in his eyes told you he wasn’t done teasing.

As you both resumed practice, Jungwon continued to push your buttons, his confidence making him bolder. During a particularly challenging sequence, he placed his hands on your waist to guide you into the correct position, his touch sending a shiver down your spine.

“There,” he said softly, his breath warm against your neck. “Perfect.”

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way your body reacted to his closeness. “Thanks,” you murmured, stepping away to put some distance between you. You couldn’t be cphysically close ot him right now. Not outside of the chores. 

He chuckled, clearly enjoying your reaction. “Anytime, noona.”

By the end of the session, you were exhausted, both physically and emotionally. Jungwon’s confident teasing had left you more flustered than you cared to admit, and focusing on the routine had been a constant struggle.

“Good work today,” Jungwon said as you both gathered your things. “We’re getting better.”

“Yeah, we are,” you agreed, forcing a smile. “See you tomorrow?”

“Absolutely,” he said, giving you a wink. “I can’t wait.”

As you left the studio, you couldn’t help but replay the day’s events in your mind. As the days unfolded, you avoided him the best you could. After practices, you always came up with an excuse whenever he asked if you wanted to grab something to eat or drink. But most of all, you avoided looking into his eyes. His beautiful and hypnotizing eyes. 

Today was one of your last practices, as the Gayo Daejeon was approaching. You tried to keep your focus only on the routine, determined not to let him get to you. You couldn’t. The choreography required for you to look into his eyes, but today was clearly impossible. His hair was parted in a way to make his features appear stronger. he looked so good. Every time your eyes locked, your cheeks would heat up, and your heart could race uncontrollably. Instead, you fixed your gaze on the floor or focused on a point over his shoulder, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

But Jungwon wasn’t one to miss much. After the fourth time, you avoided his eyes during the routine, he began to suspect something was up. Plus, he noticed how distant you were and how you tried to avoid him during the last few days. During a particularly close part of the choreography, where you had to face each other and mirror each other’s movements, he finally decided to confront you.

You were supposed to step into each other’s space, your faces mere inches apart. Instead of looking at him, you kept your gaze firmly on the floor, focusing on your feet.

“Look at me,” Jungwon’s voice was low but commanding. He stopped his movement and placed his fingers gently under your chin, tugging your head upwards to look at him, holding your waist wth his other hand.

You swallowed hard, your eyes reluctantly meeting his. “Why are you avoiding my eyes, noona?” he asked, his smirk widening as he saw the blush spreading across your cheeks.

“I’m not avoiding your eyes,” you lied, your voice barely above a whisper.

He chuckled softly, his fingers still holding your chin. “You’re a terrible liar. What’s got you so flustered?”

“I’m not flustered,” you protested weakly, trying to pull away, but his grip, though gentle, was firm.

“Sure you’re not,” he said, his tone dripping with playful confidence. “Come on, noona, you can be honest with me.”

The intensity of his gaze, coupled with the proximity of his body, almost buckled your knees. “I just… I’m trying to focus,” you stammered.

He leaned in closer, matching your height, his breath warm against your lips. “And looking at me makes it hard to focus?”

You bit your lip, your mind racing for a plausible denial, but nothing came to you. The way he was looking at you and how confident he seemed made it hard for you to concentrate. “Yes,” you finally admitted, your voice barely audible.

A triumphant smile spread across his face. Before you could say anything, he closed the small distance between you, his lips brushing softly against yours. The kiss was gentle at first, testing, but when you didn’t pull away, he deepened it, his other hand that was on your waist pulled you closer. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you felt like you were melting into him. You wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him back with a hunger you hadn’t realized you’d been suppressing.

You both pulled away, breathless, your foreheads resting against each other. Your eyes locked with his, and you could see the desire in his eyes. His pupils were dilated and he looked at you with half-lidded eyes. 

Without even thinking twice about it, you grabbed the front of his tank top, pulling him back to you for another kiss, this time a lot more aggressive and forceful. Jungwon groaned against your lips, his hands finding the small of your back and pulling you closer. The kiss was fiery, your mouths moving in a heated dance. You both put so much force into the kiss, you were practiaclly sure your lips would have bruises on tomorrow. 

He backed you up until you felt the cool surface of the mirrored wall against your back. His hands were firm as they roamed over your body, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. Your hands were feeling him, going from his broad shoulders to his biceps to his abs. You felt every muscle tense against your hands, and you absolutely loved it. You needed to touch him. 

“Look at you,” he murmured as his lips attached to your neck, kissing and biting it, his voice thick with desire. “So needy. You like this, don’t you?”

You gasped, feeling a shiver run down your spine. “Fuck, yes,” you whispered, the admission making your cheeks burn with a mix of embarrassment and excitement.

His eyes darkened with a predatory gleam as he pinned your hands above your head, his body pressing against yours, trapping you against the mirror. You could feel how hard he was through his sweatpants. “Say it again,” he demanded, his tone commanding.

“Yes, I like this,” you repeated, your voice trembling slightly.

Jungwon smirked, his lips brushing against your ear. “Good girl.’’ His hand slipped under your shirt, caressing your skin, eliciting a moan from you. He chuckled, his hand moving higher, his thumb brushing over your bra. “So desperate for my touch. Fuck, you’re perfect.’’

You bit your lip, trying to stifle another moan. “Please…”

“Please what?” he taunted, his thumb circling your nipple through the fabric. “Use your words, baby.”

“Please, touch me,” you begged, your voice breaking.

“Good girl,” he praised, his hand slipping under your bra to cup your breast, his thumb brushing over your sensitive skin. “I love hearing you beg for me.”

You moaned, pressing into his hand, your body trembling with need. “Wonnie, I need you…”

He growled, capturing your lips in another searing kiss. “I know, baby. I know.” His free hand slid down to your thigh, lifting your right leg to wrap around his waist. “God, you’re so perfect. So responsive.” You felt his hard-on against your clothed core as he started to move a bit, causing both of you to hiss. 

You felt like you were drowning in him, every touch, every word sending you spiraling deeper into desire. He pulled back slightly, his eyes locking onto yours. “Look at you, so desperate for me. Do you know how hot you look right now?” He thrust again, a little harder this time, and you let out a small, needy whine. He smirked, his hand moving to the waistband of your sports shorts. 

In one swift motion, he slipped his hand inside, his fingers finding your core. You gasped, your hips bucking against his hand. ‘’Fuck you’re so wet for me,’’ he murmured, his voice filled with awe. “You’re such a good girl, aren’t you? So ready to be touched.”

You moaned, unable to form coherent words, your body responding to his touch with a mind of its own. “Yes, yes, please…”

He leaned in, his lips hovering your ear, before you could feel him sink his teeth to your lobe. “I’m going to make you feel so good.” And with that, he entered one finger and started pumping it, slowly at first. He picked up the pace when he saw you responding to his moves. He quickly added another one and you couldn’t stop the moans from slipping. 

"God, you’re so tight," Jungwon murmured, his voice laced with a mix of awe and desire. "I can barely fit two fingers in."

You gasped, the sensation overwhelming as he pushed his fingers deeper inside you. The tightness and the heat around his fingers made him groan in satisfaction. "Fuck. If you’re this tight around my fingers, I don’t know how I’m gonna fit."

You moaned, the combination of his words and his rough touch driving you wild. He smirked, pressing his thumb against your clit and rubbing harsh circles around it. "You like that, don’t you? You like feeling my fingers inside you, stretching you."

"Yes," you breathed, your hips bucking against his hand, seeking more of his touch.

His smirk widened as he pushed his fingers deeper, his pace rough and unrelenting. "Look at you, so desperate for me. So wet and tight. Oh, I’m gonna ruin you."

You whimpered, the pleasure building inside you, making it hard to think or speak. He chuckled darkly, his free hand coming up to cover your mouth as a particularly loud moan slipped out of your mouth. "Shh, we can’t have anyone hearing you, can we? Anyone could walk into the studio and see you like this, begging for my touch."

His hand muffled your moans, the pressure of his fingers inside you and the movement of his thumb on your clit pushing you closer to the edge. He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. "You’re such a good girl, taking my fingers so well. But you’re also a dirty little thing, aren’t you? Getting off in the practice studio where anyone could see."

You nodded, tears of pleasure forming in the corners of your eyes. The combination of his praise and degradation made your body tremble, every nerve ending on fire.

"You’re going to come for me, aren’t you?" he whispered, his voice low and commanding, as he felt your walls tightening around his fingers. ‘’Fuck, I can feel how close you are. Go ahead, come for me, but keep it quiet. Show me how good you can be."

His words sent you over the edge, your body convulsing with the force of your orgasm. You bit down on his hand to muffle your cries, the intense waves of pleasure crashing over you. Jungwon continued to finger you through it, his touch relentless and rough, prolonging your release until you were a shaking, panting mess. 

When you finally came down from your high, he withdrew his fingers slowly, his eyes dark with desire and satisfaction. ‘’You’ve made such a mess, all because of my fingers."

You blushed, leaning your had against the mirror. You were completely breathless. He brought his fingers to his lips, licking them clean, his eyes never leaving yours. "You taste amazing. I can’t wait to be inside you.’’

When you finally find some sanity left, you gently push him a bit from you and let your hands run through his abs before tugging at his shirt, signaling for him to take it off. You wanted to make him feel just as good. He took off his shirt, revealing his toned abs. 

Jungwon raised an eyebrow, his smirk reappearing as he realized your intent. "What are you doing?" he asked, his voice teasing.

"Returning the favor," you said, your voice husky with desire.

His eyes darkened with lust as you dropped to your knees in front of him, your fingers hooking into the waistband of his sweatpants. You pulled them down slowly, your breath hitching as you revealed more of his skin. When his boxers followed, you couldn’t help but let out a small gasp. His cock was big indeed and the sight of him made your mouth water.

"Like what you see?" he asked, his voice dripping with arrogance and amusement.

You nodded, your eyes locked onto his impressive length. You licked your lips, your desire evident.

"Then show me," he commanded, his tone dominant. "I want to see that pretty mouth of yours around me."

You nodded, leaning in to place a soft kiss on the tip of his hard cock. He groaned, his hand coming to rest on the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair. "Good girl," he murmured, his voice a mix of praise and command.

You opened your mouth, taking him in slowly, savoring the weight and feel of him on your tongue. He let out a deep groan, his hips twitching as you began to bob your head, your hand wrapping around the base to stroke what you couldn’t fit in your mouth.

‘’Fuck, baby" he growled, his grip tightening in your hair. "You look so good like this.’’

You hummed around him, the vibration eliciting another groan from him. You quickened your pace, hollowing your cheeks and taking him deeper, your tongue swirling around his length.

"That’s it," he praised, his voice breathless. 

Your eyes flicked up to meet his, and the intensity of his gaze made you shiver. His dominance, the way he looked down at you with a mix of adoration and arrogance, only fueled your desire. You wanted to make him lose control, to hear him praise you more.

You deepened your efforts, taking him as deep as you could, feeling him hit the back of your throat. Jungwon’s head fell back, a low, guttural moan escaping his lips. "Fuck. Your mouth feels so fucking good. So fucking perfect."

You felt a surge of pride and arousal at his words, your movements becoming more fervent. His grip in your hair tightened, guiding your movements as he thrust roughly into your mouth. "You like this, don’t you?" he asked, his voice rough. "Being on your knees for me, taking my cock like a good little slut."

You moaned around him, the degrading words sending a thrill through your body. He was pushing all the right buttons, and you loved every second of it.

"Answer me," he commanded, pulling you off him just enough so you could speak.

‘’Fuck, yes, I love it," you gasped, your voice breathless and needy. "I love making you feel good."

"Good girl," he purred, thrusting back into your mouth. "Keep going. Make me come."

You redoubled your efforts, your hand stroking him in time with your movements. His breathing became more ragged, his moans louder. "I’m close," he warned, his hips bucking into your mouth. "Fuck, you’re gonna make me come."

You moaned in encouragement, hollowing your cheeks and taking him as deep as you could. With a final, guttural groan, he tensed, his release spilling into your mouth. You swallowed eagerly, savoring the taste and the sound of his pleasure. When he finally released his grip on your hair, you pulled back, licking your lips and looking up at him. Jungwon’s eyes were dark with satisfaction and something deeper, something more tender. 

He grabbed your jaw forcefully, making you go back on your feet and crashed his lips into yours, tasting himself on your tongue. He grabbed your hips firmly. 

“Turn around,” he commanded, his voice low and rough with desire.

You did as he said, your heart pounding in anticipation. Jungwon pressed you against the mirrored wall, his body heat radiating against your back. He tugged your shorts and underwear down in one swift motion, and you gasped at the sudden coolness against your skin.

“Look at yourself,” he whispered in your ear, his hand gripping your chin and tilting your head up to face the mirror. “I want you to see how desperate you are for me.”

Your eyes met your own reflection, cheeks flushed, eyes wide with anticipation. Jungwon’s eyes bore into yours through the mirror, a predatory gleam in them. He positioned himself behind you, his hand sliding between your legs to tease you, finding you already wet and ready.

He smirked, positioning himself at your entrance. Without warning, he thrust into you roughly, a guttural groan escaping his lips as he filled you completely. You cried out, the sudden intrusion overwhelming, but Jungwon’s hand quickly covered your mouth.

“Quiet,” he ordered, his voice a harsh whisper. “Anyone could walk in and see you like this, see how much you love being fucked by me.”

You nodded, biting down on your lip to stifle your moans as he began to move. His pace was relentless, each thrust rough and deep, pushing you against the mirror. The sensation was intense, every nerve in your body on fire.

“Look at yourself,” he growled, his hand gripping your hair, pulling your head back, forcing you to meet your own eyes in the mirror. “Look at how you’re taking me, how much you love it.”

You whimpered, your reflection showing you lost in pleasure, completely at his mercy. His other hand slipped between your legs, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing in sync with his thrusts. The dual sensation was too much, and you felt your body tightening, the first orgasm building rapidly.

“Wonnie, I’m gonna—” you started, but he cut you off with a harsh thrust.

“Do it,” he commanded, his eyes never leaving yours in the mirror. “Come for me, beautiful. Show me how good I make you feel.”

His words, combined with the relentless pace of his thrusts and the pressure on your clit, sent you over the edge. You cried out, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Jungwon’s hand muffled your cries. 

“Good girl,” he praised, his voice rough with satisfaction. “You look so beautiful when you come.”

He didn’t give you time to recover, his pace never slowing. Each thrust pushed you higher, the overstimulation making your body tremble. “Won, please,” you begged, your voice a desperate whisper. “It’s too much.”

“You can take it,” he growled, his eyes filled with a dark hunger. His fingers moved faster on your clit, the pressure building again. You couldn’t believe how quickly another orgasm was approaching, your body responding to his every touch.

“Won, I can’t—” you started, but he cut you off with another rough thrust.

“Yes, you can,” he insisted, his voice filled with dominance. He leaned in, his chest pressed against your back as his lips hovered over your ear. “You’re going to come again, and you’re going to do it while looking at yourself. I want you to see how much you love being fucked by me.”

The intensity of his words and the unrelenting pace of his thrusts pushed you over the edge again. You screamed into his hand, your body convulsing with the force of your second orgasm. The pleasure was almost too much to bear, your vision blurring as you were overwhelmed by the sensation.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Jungwon groaned, his own release approaching. “You feel so good. So tight and wet. You’re fucking perfect.”

With a final, deep thrust, he came inside you, his body tensing as he filled you with his release. You both stayed there for a moment, panting and trembling, the intensity of the encounter leaving you both breathless.

After you both recovered a bit, Jungwon carefully helped you straighten your clothes, pull up your shorts and panties, and made sure you were comfortable. He guided you to sit down on one of the benches, his eyes filled with a mix of tenderness and concern.

“You okay, noona?” he asked softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

You nodded, still breathless and trembling slightly. “Yeah, just… wow.”

He chuckled, his confidence still shining through. “Yeah, wow.’’

You smiled weakly, feeling the soreness already settling in. “I don’t think I can practice anymore today. I’m too sore.”

Jungwon’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “I guess I really did a number on you, huh? Didn’t expect you to be so breathless and sore. Maybe I should’ve gone easier on you.”

You gave him a playful glare. “Don’t get too cocky, now. You’re just lucky I didn’t outlast you.”

He laughed, sitting down beside you and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Sure, sure. But that’s not what you were saying when I was indie you, huh? All I heard was you begging for more.”

Your cheeks flushed, but you couldn’t help but smile. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” he teased, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “Now, let’s see what we can do to make you feel better.”

Jungwon stood up and retrieved a small towel from his bag, dampening it with some water from his bottle. He knelt in front of you and gently wiped the sweat from your face and neck, his touch tender and caring.

“Here, let me massage your legs a bit,” he said, his tone softening. “It’ll help with the soreness.”

You nodded, grateful for his thoughtfulness. As he began to knead the muscles in your calves and thighs, you felt some of the tension easing away. His hands were skilled, and the massage was both soothing and relaxing.

“Better?” he asked, looking up at you with a warm smile.

“Much better,” you sighed, feeling more at ease. “Thank you, wonnie.”

“Anything for you,” he replied, his voice filled with sincerity. He leaned in and kissed your neck, his lips warm and gentle against your skin.

You shivered, a mix of pleasure and exhaustion washing over you. “Won, we can’t… not here. We’re already lucky nobody walked in on us.”

He pouted playfully, his eyes filled with mischief. “But I was just getting started on round two.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Maybe later. I’m way too tired right now.”

He smirked, his confidence and cockiness still evident. “Fine, I’ll hold you to that. But don’t think I’ll forget.”

You smiled, leaning into him. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

Jungwon wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. The warmth of his embrace and the gentle hum of the studio lights created a comforting atmosphere. You laid down on the bench, your head resting on his tights, while he played with your hair. 

The soft hum of the air conditioning and the distant sound of footsteps in the building provided a soothing backdrop to your quiet moment together. Jungwon's fingers traced light patterns on your scalp, making you feel relaxed and content.

“You know,” he began, his voice soft, “I’ve been thinking.”

“Uh-oh,” you teased, peeking up at him with a playful smile. “That sounds dangerous.”

He chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Very funny, noona. But seriously, I was thinking we should go out sometime. You know, on a proper date.”

You raised an eyebrow, surprised but intrigued. “A date, huh? Are you sure you can handle that?”

Jungwon smirked, his fingers still threading through your hair. “I think I can manage. Unless you’re too scared to go out with me.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Scared? Please. I’m just worried you might not be able to keep up.”

“Oh, I’ll keep up,” he said confidently. “The question is, can you handle it?”

You rolled your eyes, enjoying the banter. “Alright, tough guy. Where do you plan on taking me?”

He pretended to think for a moment, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “How about dinner at that new rooftop restaurant downtown? I heard the view is amazing.”

“Ooh, fancy,” you replied, impressed. “Trying to impress me, are you?”

“Is it working?” he asked, his expression hopeful but playful.

“Maybe,” you said, pretending to ponder. “But I’m going to need more than just a nice view to be impressed.”

He laughed, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your forehead. “Challenge accepted. So, what do you say? Dinner tomorrow night?”

You bit your lip, considering his offer. Despite the teasing, you felt a genuine excitement at the prospect of going out with Jungwon. “Alright, you’ve got yourself a date. But only if you promise not to be late.”

He placed a hand over his heart, feigning seriousness. “I promise. I’ll even show up early, just to make sure.”

“Wow, early?” you teased. “You must really want to impress me.”

“Maybe I do,” he admitted, his tone more sincere. “You’re worth it.”

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words, and you smiled up at him. “Well, in that case, I’m looking forward to it.”

“Me too,” he said, his fingers resuming their gentle play in your hair. “It’ll be nice to spend time together outside the studio.”

You nodded, closing your eyes and letting the comfort of the moment wash over you. “Yeah, it will be. Just you and me, no distractions.”

“No distractions,” he agreed, his voice a soft promise.

[irisintheafterglow]

a kaiju attack spoils date night with bf!hoshina. he is so pissed.

cw: canon-typical violence, swearing, mild angst/fluff, happy surprise ending

"is it just me, or does the vice-captain seem angrier than usual?"

"maybe he's just fired up. there's a lot of yoju for him to take care of," iharu observes, scanning the emptied streets from the rooftop of an evacuated office building.

"you idiots really don't pay attention at all, do you?" shinomiya mumbles under her breath, pinching the bridge of her nose. the rest of the officers with her stare at her blankly. "it's thursday, geniuses."

"is there something special about kaiju appearances and days of the week?"

"not that i've heard of," kafka states, scratching his head with a finger. "did new research come out?"

"maybe it's because of the full moon," haruichi says and the other men look up at its soft shining light, nodding in understanding.

"that makes a lot of sense."

"but why would that make the vice-captain angry?"

"maybe he's a werewolf," iharu whispers with sincere worry. "maybe kafka's not the only shapeshifter in our division."

"it's date night, you meatheads! the vice-captain's supposed to be off-base and relaxing," shinomiya explains impatiently like it was written on the floors in fluorescent paint. "he's probably angry that the attack came right when he usually picks up..."

"picks up who?" the officers stiffen and quickly fall into perfect lines. you smile at their professionalism and try not to laugh at how quickly they changed their gossiping demeanors. "you know, officers, you should be careful about what you say in regards to the vice-captain."

"our deepest apologies, platoon leader," kaguragi monotoned, ever the perfect soldier.

"at ease," you command them. "you have nothing to apologize for. i'm simply warning you of what might have happened had it not been me passing by."

"understood, platoon leader," izumo confirms. "if we may," he continues slowly and you can see the rest of the officers eyeing him warily. "were we...correct in our assumption as to the reason for the vice-captain's mood?"

"the werewolf assumption or the assumption that only shinomiya was correct about?" everyone but shinomiya reddens, looking down sheepishly at the toes of their suits. the axe-wielder straightens her shoulders with a proud glint in her eyes. "to answer your question, it would be the latter," you answer with a poorly-hidden smirk. "he'd barely knocked on my door when the alarm sounded."

"oh, i bet the vice-cap was seething."

"he definitely was," you confirm, recalling the colorful curses he uttered as you both begrudgingly shed your nicer clothes for your combat suits. i was supposed to take off your clothes under different circumstances, he'd lamented. don't go thinking our night is canceled because of this. i'll finish them off quickly for you.

your relationship with hoshina was no secret, considering that he talked about you whenever he was given the chance. every kdf member on base knew you preferred to keep your romantic life as private as possible to avoid questions of power dynamics from higher-ranking officials. hoshina, however, either didn't listen or didn't seem to care. he happily declared thursday nights to be date nights, threatening intense punishment for the officers below him if they caused trouble while he was gone. a static-filled message from the scouting teams sounds in your earpiece and you dismiss the officers, moving to join the vice-captain at the front line.

judging by the slowly increasing trail of dead monsters covering the asphalt, you find hoshina easily as he cuts a clean slice through a fast-moving yoju. you change the frequency on your earpiece so that you're directly connected to his.

"someone's been busy," you remark, pulling the batons from your back and electrifying them with the switch by your thumb. they hum in your hands, electric blue lightning crackling in sync with the released power of your suit. "save some for me, would you?"

"any other day, i would," he replies and you hear him smile despite his annoyance. "but it took me three months to get those reservations, so i wanna finish this up quickly." another yoju falls, your boyfriend a phantom blur in the darkness.

"are you calling me slow?" your hand plants itself on your hip as you continue to watch him cut down enemies, barely moving from your place between the dead kaiju. "i can't believe my boyfriend thinks i'm slow. here i thought you were my biggest supporter."

"that's not what i said," he huffs, the slightest waver in his exhale the only evidence of exertion. "i'm just faster." he pauses for half a second to catch his breath, and you snag your chance to overtake him.

"hmm, i think i'll take over for a second, then." launching yourself from the ground, your feet run perpendicular against the wall of a crumbling building as you close the distance. you can feel hoshina's attention on you while you dodge the yoju's swinging limbs and sink your batons into the skin covering its core, electricity surging through its body as it falls with a loud thud. "how's that, mister i'm just faster?"

"cute," he admits, offering you a hand as you hop down from the monster's head. you're shoulder to shoulder facing opposite directions and catch the challenge in his eyes as you look at him over your shoulder. "but i know you can go harder."

"go your fastest then, soshiro," you dare. his throat bobs as he swallows thickly, a subtle sign that you'd thrown him off. "i'll do my best to keep up."

---

"so, this is not how i wanted date night to end up," he says through a mouth full of noodles, slurping them loudly from the bowl on your living room coffee table. "and i'm sorry we couldn't go to that fancy place."

"to be fair, the website didn't exactly update its hours immediately," you remind him. "how were we supposed to know the place got demolished in the attack?"

"true, but i made you get all dressed up for nothing," he grumbles, accidentally dropping a vegetable and splashing broth onto his face. "ow." you snort against your spoon, setting it down in your bowl and swiping over the corner of soshiro's mouth with a napkin. "this was my favorite shirt, too. worst date night ever."

"good thing there's this place called the cleaners, babe." he continues to frown despite your unending patience, letting you clean him up while he indulges in staring at you in your nice clothes. you could make anything look pretty, he thinks, staring unashamedly at you wrapped up in a blanket and covering your going-out clothes. "hey," you murmur, gently grabbing his chin and turning him to face you. "i don't mind."

"you don't mind what?"

"this kind of date night."

"but we could do this anytime," he mumbles, avoiding your eyes. you shake your head, pushing away your food and climbing into his lap, your legs on either side of his hips.

"no, we can't. we don't know how many times we get this in our line of work," you point out with an ache in your chest and he finally blinks up to look at you. "so i'm grateful for any time i get to spend with you, soshiro." his throat bobs again, but he manages to give you a small smile.

"you're too good for me, you know that?"

"if you say so," you shrug, leaning down until your lips barely brush his.

"but, you know," he murmurs and you pull back, staring into his starry eyes. "there's not a lot of nights," he inhales, reaching behind him to grab something from under the couch's throw pillow, "where i get to pull this move."

"what're you--ohmygod." he smirks at you as you blink down at the small box sitting in his hand, covered in crushed velvet and embroidered with gold. "that's-you didn't..."

"i did," he whispers, memorizing every inch of your shocked expression. "so," he pushes open the top half of the box with his thumb to reveal something that sparkles even in the dim lights of your apartment, "please--"

"yes!" you scream before he can finish his sentence, your excitement echoing off the walls as you both break out into wide grins. "holy shit, yes!"

"baby, i didn't even ask the whole question," he chuckles, giving in and slipping the ring on your finger. "what if that wasn't the question i was gonna ask?"

"i'd skewer your head with my batons," you smile sweetly and he hums, admiring the jeweled band in the light. "that was the question you were gonna ask, right?"

"of course, sweetheart," he assures you, finally leaning up to press his lips against yours. "you're the only one i'll ever let keep up with me."

"you gonna marry me, hoshina soshiro?"

"i'm gonna marry you so hard, the entire base will know." you fondly remember your conversation with the officers earlier in the night.

"darling, i think they already know."

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! commissions and nsfw requests can be sent through my fiverr! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[vnti-vnxiety-recs]

Team Spirit! (M)

★ PAIRING: Jaemin x cheerleader! Reader

☆ WORD COUNT: 8.5k

★ GENRE(S): smut, fluff, pwp

☆ SUMMARY: Clingy boyfriend Jaemin joins the cheer team to get closer to his girlfriend. You aren’t happy because you know he only joined to fuck you. He swears he didn't join for that reason (he did)

★ ☆ WARNINGS: unprotected sex, degradation, light slapping, swearing, rough sex

☆★ NOTES: I have been obsessed with cheerleader Jaemin since this tweet. I was a cheerleader like once in elementary school, so I winged it. Enjoy!

“We need to hurry, or Coach is going to kill me!” you protest, glancing nervously down the long, dimly lit corridor as Jaemin drags you along. The empty hallways of the gymnasium echo with the sound of your footsteps.

“Don’t rush me; I barely get to see you anymore,” Jaemin murmurs, glancing back at you with a playful smile. He halts in front of a sturdy supply closet, testing the handle with hopeful fingers, but it creaks in protest, remaining locked. After a few moments of searching, you finally discover a door that opens, revealing a small, cluttered room filled with unused equipment and old cheerleading mats.

You’d been in the midst of cheer practice when Jaemin had appeared, smoothie in hand and a teasing glint in his eye as he claimed he was there for “encouragement.” You knew better; he was just finding an excuse to steal a few moments with you. He was undeniably a clingy boyfriend, but you didn’t mind at all. You didn’t mind as long as it wasn’t competition season. As cheer captain, you had to dedicate extra hours to perfect your routines, which meant you hadn’t spent as much time with Jaemin as he would’ve liked.

Without warning, he pushes you into the room and pins your back against the door, leaning in for a passionate kiss with a hunger that sends a thrill down your spine. You can feel warmth radiating from his body as he presses against you, his hands exploring your body. Soon his rough hands grip your bare thighs, the spandex shorts you wore to practice, leaving little to the imagination.

You instinctively wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, your heart racing in sync with the urgency of his touch. You love it when he gets like this—intensity clouding his usual calm demeanor. There’s an animalistic need in his hands and lips, and as you kiss him back with equal fervor, you can’t help but feel exhilarated by the moment. Lately, it seemed as if he was overflowing with desire, as if not tasting you would be the death of him. The heat in the room, the thrill of being hidden away, and the intoxicating electricity between you made it clear how much you both craved these stolen moments together.

You reluctantly pull away from Jaemin’s lips, trying to catch your breath. “Jaem, I have to go back,” you manage to say, but he responds swiftly, reconnecting your lips before you can finish.

“I’m serious,” you protest, trying to pull back again, but he isn’t having it. “your not listening”. You mumble against his lips.

He buries his face in your neck and presses his hips into yours, causing an intoxication friction. You whine out, resolve fading quickly. “You don’t understand,” you groan, but even you can hear the lack of conviction in your voice. It’s hard to think straight when he’s like this, his presence overwhelming, holding you captive in a whirlwind of feeling.

“Just a little bit longer, please,” he begs, his voice low and pleading as his hands grip your hips, trying to pull you impossibly closer. "Fuck,” he moans into your skin as he dry-humps you like a dog in heat.

“Alright, that’s enough,” you say firmly, pulling his head back by his hair. “Down. Now,” you command.

As much as you would love to stay here with Jaemin, the thought of facing whatever cruel and unusual punishment your coach would devise for you if you were late back from break for the third time this week sends a shiver down your spine.

You catch a glimpse of disappointment flickering in his eyes as he reluctantly pulls away, breaking the spell between you. “I’ll make it up to you later, I promise,” you say, your voice hopefull.

He gives you a soft nod, a hint of a smile returning to his lips as he helps you smooth your hair and adjusts your outfit. You both exit the room, the atmosphere still crackling with unresolved tension.

You hurry back down the hallway, your heart racing, and manage to slip into the practice room just seconds before your coach bursts in, the door swinging open with a heavy thud behind her.

"Alright, where we left off!

You strolled toward the gym, the warm spring weather embracing you as you wore shorts and a tank top. The sun beat down on your back, but you didn’t mind. With a refreshing swig from your sports bottle, you adjusted your cheer bag higher on your shoulder. Soon, fall would arrive, and you couldn’t help but feel a surge of excitement at the thought.

Fall was more than just a beautiful backdrop; it was your favorite season for all the excitement it brought. You loved the way the world transformed into a tapestry of warm hues, but what truly made your heart race was the arrival of competition season for cheerleading. You could already picture the adrenaline-fueled practices and the thrill of showcasing your hard work on the mat. This season felt like a fresh start, full of promise and unforgettable moments waiting to unfold.

Today was open tryouts, and with only a few spots available, the decision-making process was bound to be challenging. You knew that choosing who would make the cut could mean letting go of some promising talent. You pushed open the doors to the gym, spotting a few members already setting some practice mats up.

“Hey, Nayeon!” you called out to your co-captain, who was busy overseeing the preparations as Coach Kim stepped outside. “How many do we have to potentially show?” You set your cheer bag down with a thud.

Nayeon flipped through the clipboard in her hands, deep in thought. “Maybe five? Seven?” she replied before finally settling on a number. Then, with a slight smile, she added, “Also, you’re not going to be too happy about who shows up.”

“It doesn’t matter; we need all the help we can get,” you shrugged, determined to keep a positive outlook. Last season had been tough after losing a few teammates, and it had taken a toll on your routines. You just wanted to get things rolling again.

“Alright, don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Nayeon replied, shaking her head slightly.

Once everything was set up, all you had to do was wait. Tryouts officially started at 9 a.m. The first girl walked in at 8:30 and greeted you, Nayeon, and Coach Kim as you all sat at the folding table in the center of the gym. With no one else around yet, it felt like the perfect opportunity to chat one-on-one with her. You smiled, noting her potential. There was something admirable about her drive; arriving early was a smart move if she wanted to stand out.

You put a star next to her name: Park Soo-young.

After another 30 minutes, a few more people started to filter into the gym. You were pretty satisfied with the turnout so far—there were about ten hopefuls waiting. You decided to wait an extra five minutes for anyone else who might want to join, and just as you were about to begin, the door swung open again. In walked Jaemin. You sent him a quick smile before turning back to the group, feeling a little more energized now that he was there to watch the tryouts. You adored how he supported everything you did.

Your coach began the introductions, and you glanced over at Jaemin, surprised to see him standing so close to the group. Normally, he would settle into the bleachers. You shot him a stern look, hoping to indicate he was interrupting, but he ignored you, remaining where he was and listening intently to your coach.

As everyone took turns introducing themselves—each one making an effort to impress—you couldn’t shake the feeling of annoyance nagging at you. Then, to your disbelief, Jaemin decided to introduce himself too.

He wouldn’t.

After the introductions, Coach Kim had the group do warm-ups, and you and Nayeon moved to the floor to lead them. You tried your best not to be distracted, but you couldn’t help but steal glances at Jaemin as he followed along, effortlessly keeping up with the exercises.

Once the warm-ups were complete, you and Nayeon introduced the group to a few cheers, a short dance routine, and some basic jumps. While some trainees struggled to keep pace, Jaemin seemed to pick everything up with ease. You were pleasantly surprised at how good he was; you didn’t recall him ever mentioning having a background in dance or gymnastics.

Next came the individual evaluations, allowing you more one-on-one time to interact with the trainees. You already had your favorites in mind, ready to advocate for them to join the team. At the top of your list was Soo-young, who had mentioned she preferred to be called Joy. After your conversation with her, you found yourself even more impressed. She had a great attitude and an eagerness to learn that you knew would fit perfectly with the team's dynamic.

As much as you hated to admit it, Jaemin had made it onto your list—albeit at the bottom. You weren’t sure if he was joking or if he was genuinely serious about joining the team. He had never expressed any interest in being part of it before, but you knew he wouldn’t play around with something so important to you. When your eyes met again, he shot you a confident smile.

You dismissed the floor for a break while you and Nayeon spoke with Coach Kim. As you discussed your picks, you found that most of your choices aligned.

“I really like that Jaemin kid,” Coach Kim said. “He’s got a great attitude and a solid build; we could definitely use him as a spotter.”

At the mention of his name, you bristled. If Jaemin was chosen and didn’t follow through, it would reflect poorly on you as cheer captain.

“I’m going to head to the bathroom while they’re on break,” you announced, your tone casual but your mind racing with thoughts.

Coach Kim didn’t look up from her notes, merely giving you a nod. Nayeon shot you a knowing look that confirmed she understood exactly where you were headed.

You stepped outside and quickly spotted your target. Once you were far enough from the gym door to avoid any prying ears, you let out a stern, "NA JAEMIN!"

He turned around at the sound of his name, flashing what he probably thought was his most charming "I’m innocent" smile. A mix of exasperation and disbelief washed over you as he approached, looking completely unfazed.

“Quiet,” you said, shooting him a glare that could have silenced anyone else, but only seemed to amuse him further. Jaemin leaned in slightly, his smile widening, clearly enjoying the banter despite the tension. You took a deep breath, trying to regain your composure. “We need to talk about you and this cheer team.”

“Ah,” he says, like he forgot something “I should have told you i was coming to try outs but I wanted to surprise you,” He shot you another charming smile, the kind that usually melted your frustration, but today, it only deepened your irritation.

“You know that's not what I mean,” you said, your tone turning serious. Jaemin straightened up at the look on your face. “If this is some sort of silly plan to spend more time with me, you’ll definitely find yourself in the doghouse.”

“I—” he began, momentarily at a loss for words.

You could tell he was definitely using this as a way to be closer to you. A part of you found it endearing; his eagerness to share experiences with you was cute. But cheerleading was important to you, and his joining the team simply because you were on it felt like it undermined the efforts of everyone else who worked hard to earn their spots.

“I wanted to join the team to spend more time with you,” he admitted, and you opened your mouth to scold him. But he cut you off, rushing to finish, “But! But! I’m serious about putting in the work to earn my spot. I’m not going to just up and quit, I promise. I’ve always thought your practices looked fun!”

“Jaemin, you mostly come to my practices to watch me jump around in a short skirt. Let’s not lie,” you rolled your eyes.

“Okay, that’s also true,” he conceded, “but I’m serious! Give me a shot! What do I have to do to prove it?” He begged, his eyes wide and pleading.

He was wielding the saddest puppy dog eyes you had ever seen, and though you wanted to stay angry, he knew your weaknesses all too well.

“Ughhhhhh,” you groaned, and his smile widened as he sensed victory. “Fine! I swear, Jaemin, if you slack off for even a second, I'll kick your ass—not only as your girlfriend but also as your captain.”

“Oooh, my captain? That sounds kind of hot,” he joked, trying to lighten the mood.

You shot him a glare. “You think I’m playing? Okay, bet. You want to spend time with me? Fine, but no sex until after competitions.”

His face fell at your words, and you turned to head back to the gym, satisfied with your decision.

It was officially the first day of practice, and you were determined to make your new teammates feel welcomed. As they walked in, you greeted each of them with a smile, trying to ease any nerves they might have had. With only five spots available, the selection process had been intense, and after careful consideration, you were thrilled with the choices. Joy was your flyer, with Yeji and Jisoo as the two bases, and Shotaro and Jaemin as your two spotters.

You felt grateful that Shotaro made the team; his bright personality was infectious, and you had no doubt he would lift everyone’s spirits. But you couldn’t deny the excitement bubbling in your chest at having Jaemin on the team. He wasn’t the only one missing the quality time you two used to spend together. Still, anxiety gnawed at you as well. There were so many things that could go wrong, and you wouldn’t be able to keep an eye on him every second. As captain, you needed to lead the team, not babysit. You could only hope he was taking this seriously.

Jaemin had a crucial role—if he messed up or half-heartedly approached any stunt, someone could end up getting injured. That reality weighed heavily on your mind, especially knowing he had to be responsible for both the safety of the stunt group and the flyer.

As practice began, your coach introduced the new members and then called them over to have their sizes taken for uniforms. You couldn’t help but internally squeal at the thought. Jaemin would look so cute in his uniform, and the thought made your heart flutter. You glanced over at him as he laughed with Shotaro, and you felt a surge of pride. Jaemin had a carefree demeanor and a smile that lit up the room.

“Alright, team!” you called, your voice authoritative yet encouraging. “Let’s have a great first practice! Remember, communication is key, and safety comes first. Don’t be afraid to ask for help or speak up if something doesn’t feel right.”

“I mean, he’s keeping up, so what’s the problem?” Nayeon said, taking a bite out of her fries. You sat in the campus café, surrounded by your friends, as their voices raised in an animated debate.

Jaemin had joined the squad just a week ago, and though his intentions had been clear to everyone, he insisted they were purely to support you—his girlfriend.

“But he’s only here because his girlfriend is cheer captain,” Seungkwan argued, crossing his arms defiantly.

Seungkwan was not just your fellow teammate but also a good friend. Right now, he had his sights set on Jaemin and was pressing you hard about his place on the team.

“Kwan, come on! He’s taking practice seriously. Give him a chance!” you defended your boyfriend, feeling a surge of frustration.

“I don’t like this! He’s not even committed to the team; he’s just committed to you!” Seungkwan shot back, his tone firm.

You hated arguing with him because—let’s be honest—he often had a point. He didn't easily back down, and you respected that about him, even if it made things more complicated.

“Can we just drop it? He’s on the team now, whether you like it or not.” Nayeon rolled her eyes, trying to intervene.

“I’m just saying spotters are crucial, and Coach will not allow us to compete without everyone spotted. You know how she is about safety.” Seungkwan crossed his arms tighter, clearly not backing down.

Point for Seungkwan. You sighed, trying to compose your thoughts.

“I understand that, and I agree! But I know Jaemin. He’s capable, and he cares about this. He’s not just here for fun—he wants to prove himself.” You took a deep breath, hoping to quell the tension brewing around the table. “Besides, if there’s ever been a time where we could support each other, it’s now.

Seungkwan softened a little but still looked unconvinced. “I just want what’s best for the team. If he fails to keep up with the rest of us… it could put everyone in danger.”

“I get it,” you replied earnestly. “But I really think Jaemin is taking this seriously. He might surprise you.”

Nayeon reached out and squeezed your hand in solidarity. “Look, let’s just give him a shot. If he doesn’t work out, we can revisit this conversation later. No need to stress about it now.”

You appreciated Nayeon's attempt to lighten the mood, but Seungkwan was still shaking his head. “Fine. But if anything goes wrong during practice, I’m holding you both accountable.”

You met up with Jaemin later that day at his dorm, and the moment you walked in, his bright smile washed over you like a warm blanket, pulling you out of the slump caused by your earlier argument with your friends.

“So, how was I today at practice?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with anticipation as he awaited any critique.

“Honestly, you were pretty great! Most of the team loves you; I think they're impressed, but—”

“But?” he prompted, his expression shifting slightly from excitement to curiosity.

“Jaemin, please promise to take this seriously.”

“I told you already, I am serious,” he replied, a hint of concern creeping into his voice.

“I know, I know. I'm just nervous,” you admitted, biting your lip.

He moved closer and pulled you into his embrace, cradling you tightly against him. He kissed the top of your head, and the warmth of his presence made your heart calm. “I know I joined on impulse, but I'm serious about this and even more serious about you. I won’t let you down,” he comforted you, his voice steady and soothing.

“Pinky?” you asked, raising your pinky finger playfully.

“Promise,” he chuckled, intertwining his pinky with yours in a solemn gesture that meant everything to you. “Alright, enough about practice. Want to watch a movie?” he asked, as he pulled out his laptop and set up his bed for optimal cuddling.

“Of course,” you replied, settling in comfortably under his sheets.

You had to give the man some credit. You had never seen Jaemin so focused at practice. He took his role as a spotter seriously, and there hadn’t been any accidents under his watch. Jaemin and Shotaro worked seamlessly together, and you were grateful he’d formed a connection with someone else on the team. It was good to see him thriving in this way.

You thought he would struggle to keep his hands off you, but Jaemin was managing just fine. Surprisingly, it was you who found it difficult to maintain your composure. Jaemine looked so sexy during practice and now you could easily understand all the times he would drag you away to get frisky in the back rooms of the gym.

Spotters call the shot during the stunt as they have a better vision of the overall stunt compared to the flyers and bases and Jaemin was hot when he was shouting commands. By the end of practice, he’d be dripping with sweat and panting for breath, and you had to pinch yourself several times just to regain your focus.

Today was a challenge. The uniforms had come in for the newbies and you had followed Jaemin into the office to grab his size. With the locker room empty from your early arrival, you didn’t think twice about sneaking in behind him as he went to try it on.

The spandex cropped long-sleeve fit him deliciously tight, accentuating every curve of his toned body. His pecs were visible through the fabric, and the cropped design left just a sliver of his abdomen exposed—making it hard to look away. The matching bottoms clung to his thighs in a way that made you feel a pang of desire.

You needed him. Now. Your heart raced as you fought the urge to step closer, to feel the warmth of his body against yours. Every fantasy you had been nursing flared to life in an instant, and you struggled to maintain your composure, the urge to take action overwhelming.

He catches your lustful stare and shakes his head in playful disapproval. “Eyes up here, babe,” he warns, his tone light but with an undeniable edge of confidence.

You don’t even reply, still ogling him no better than a man would. “Turn around for me,” you tease.

He shoots you a smile, a mix of pride and amusement dancing in his eyes, and complies. You watch as he turns, showcasing the fitted uniform that hugs him in all the right places.

“How do I look?” he asks, glancing at himself in the mirror.

"Like I’ill have to fight someone who stares for too long," you say, and Jaemin laughs, not realizing how serious you are.

You had never imagined what Jaemin would look like in a cheer uniform before, and honestly, you were grateful. No image you had tried to conjure in your mind could ever come close to this.

“Come here, baby,” you say, your voice dripping with a sultry lilt.

“Practice starts soon; we need to start warming up,” he replies, but there’s a hint of uncertainty in his tone. You can tell the resolve isn’t truly there. Jaemin was an even nastier dog than you when it came to fulfilling his needs. As he stands there, the tension thick between you, you can practically see him weighing his options, the desire flickering in his eyes in perfect sync with your own

“They can wait. I need some one on one you” you smirk before standing up from the bench you were previously sitting on.

You close the distance between you, pushing him up against the lockers with a playful urgency. Jaemin looks down at you, a knowing smirk playing on his lips that suggests you might have just stepped right into his trap. The confidence radiating from him makes your heart race, and you can sense the shift in power; he knows he’s the one leading this dance, and you’re more than willing to follow his lead. The moment hangs between you, electric and charged.

“What about competitions? I thought you said I had to wait,” he replies. The challenge in his gaze is hard to ignore.

"Just stop talking, Jaem," you say, rolling your eyes as you lean in, capturing his lips with yours. The sensation sends a thrill through you, as you find yourselves chest to chest. He wastes no time in wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you even closer. With a loud rattle, your back collides with the lockers, and he effortlessly lifts you, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. The kiss is heavy and messy, a tantalizing rush as you both know your time is limited before someone walks in. Fortunately, you're tucked away at the back of the locker room, giving you just enough time to react before anyone sees you.

Jaemin pulls you both away from the lockers and sits down on a nearby bench. You straddle his hips, eager to close the distance between you, and you waste no time grinding against him. A low moan escapes Jaemin as he bites your bottom lip, his gaze fueled with desire as you work him through the thin material of his uniform.

You were wearing sweats that drove you wild, the thick fabric preventing you from feeling him as intimately as you desired. With a sense of urgency, you stand up to undress and as the material slips away, Jaemin practically groans at the sight of you.

“Fuck baby, I need this. I’ve been waiting,” he palms himself, gripping his length through the fabric with a hiss “It's yours,” he promises

It's like the gate holding back your desires suddenly burst open, unleashing a torrent of emotions. You settle back onto him, helping to free him from the confines of his uniform. You were already soaking wet and you cringed a little at the mess you were about to make on his uniform pants but you were too impatient to wait for him to pull them down.

You line him up and sink down, taking all of him. It was like both of you were extra sensitive to each other's touch. Hungry for more, your knees dig painfully into the wood bench as you ride him. The pure blissed-out look on his face made it all worth it. Jaemin wasn't one to moan—his voice usually carried an air of authority. He'd tell you how good you felt and how desperately he wanted you, his deep groans resonating with pleasure but today was different. It was as if he couldn’t utter a single word.

Mouth dropped open in silent moans as he gripped harshly at the skin of your waist. “Fu—” he tried to say but nothing came out.

You lean down, kissing into his open mouth, urging him to kiss you back. You lean back against his knees and grind down dangerously. Jaemin closes his eyes tight at the sensation and his hips rut up into your finally taking control. He holds you down still against him as he thrusts up inside of your tight, dripping cunt. The locker room echoing with his sloppy wet thrusts. He was losing it and you were lucky you had practice after this or he would have thrown you down against the cool floor of the gym and fucked you to tears. A hand reaches out, firm yet surprisingly gentle, gripping your throat with just the right amount of pressure. His fingers dig in softly, and you feel a rush of exhilaration as his gaze pierces through the sweat-soaked strands of his bangs.

“You fucking slut. You teasing fucking slut.” He seems to have finally found his voice: “You're gonna take this fucking dick. Feel that shit”

Too sensative, his words were driving you over the edge and you couldn't help but clench down against him violently. “Just like that baby, let me have it,” he growls.

Jaemin was usually a bit wild, but after being locked up for so long, he couldn't contain himself any longer. There was no sense of decorum as you both made a mess of his uniform and the bench beneath you.

"Do you hear me?" he demands, slapping your cheek lightly—not hard enough to sting, but enough to draw your focus back to him. “Tell me how much you love the way I fuck you”

"Jaemin, Im close,” you whine, tears threatening to spill.

“Thats not what I fucking asked you”

“I love it! Fuck, please let me cum,” you cry, trying to move your hips against him as much as you could, chasing your high.

Muffled chatter echoed from outside the locker room, the team likely filtering in to start the day. You didn’t have much time left.

“Fuck, I got you, baby. I got you,” he groans, speeding up his movements, needing you to finish before you two were caught. You can hear the muffled sounds of teammates gathering outside, their voices rising as they joke and jostle each other. The minutes tick away, each second stretching into eternity as the pressure mounts.

His hand reaches out and rubs your clit harshly before he leaves bites along your chest and neck, knowing it drives you crazy.

You fall over the edge before you know it and you cream all over him. The vice-like grip your core has on him during your orgarm pushes him to his own and he throws his head back with a sound that was a little too loud so you clamp a hand around his mouth. His eyes snap to yours and the eye contact he holds as the tremors from his orgasm wrack his body almost has you cumming again.

You sit in silence for a moment longer, gathering your thoughts, when the door to the locker room swings open and voices spill into the space. Hastily, you scramble to get dressed while Jaemin swiftly adjusts his uniform. Just as you’re putting the finishing touches on your hair, Seungkwan rounds the corner, wearing a curious expression. He studies you for a brief second, his brow furrowing slightly as he takes in the scene.

“You missed warm-ups,” he remarks, tone laced with judgment as he raises an eyebrow.

You screwed up. You would have preferred getting caught by your coach over Seungkwan. He already disapproved of Jaemin being on the team, and now here you were, caught slacking off just as he had predicted.

“I was helping Jaemin with his uniform,” you offer weakly, trying to explain.

Seungkwan's eyes shift to Jaemin, and he gives him a scrutinizing look. “Looks more like you were helping him take it off,” he retorts, rolling his eyes. “Just go change. Naeyeon led warm-ups, but Coach is looking for you.”

Fortunately, Jaemin stays silent throughout Seungkwan's reprimand; any comment from him would only make things worse. Yet, you can't miss the glare he sends Seungkwan's way, a flash of defiance in his eyes.

Seungkwan gave you a proper talking-to after practice that day. Though you regretted nothing that happened between you and Jaemin, you both decided it was for the best to keep your distance during practice. Aside from that, things were going remarkably well. You were landing your routines with ease, and despite new members joining the team late, everyone seemed to gel effortlessly. Even Jaemin and Seungkwan appeared to be getting along better, which was a pleasant surprise.

Everything was going great until it wasn’t.

During a particularly intense practice session, the atmosphere shifted. The air crackled with tension, and you could feel the unease creeping in. It started with a minor mistake from one of the new members during a routine. Their falter caught everyone off guard, leading to an abrupt halt as Seungkwan’s voice rose with frustration. Before long, it escalated into an argument over blame and expectations, and the camaraderie built over the last few weeks began to unravel.

More and more mistakes began to occur on the mat during practice. One day, while attempting a needle, Joy lost her balance. Thankfully, her spotter reacted quickly and caught her before she hit the mat, but in the process, he twisted his ankle. Hanbin, one of your best spotters, was out of commission, and his absence left a noticeable gap in the team's dynamics.

In the wake of Hanbin's injury, Coach Kim decided to appoint Jaemin as Joy’s new spotter. At first, it seemed to restore some normalcy to the team; everyone adapted quickly to the change. However, for you, the situation felt anything but normal.

You had always prided yourself on not being the jealous type. Jaemin had a way of showering you with attention that made it hard to believe you could even possess a jealous bone in your body. Even before he became Joy's spotter, you watched him work with other girls without any feelings of insecurity. What felt different this time was the undeniable chemistry that seemed to spark between Jaemin and Joy.

Perhaps the most difficult part for you was having to avoid Jaemin throughout practice, while he shared warm smiles and easy conversations with someone else. Each laugh he exchanged with Joy felt like a reminder of what you were missing,

Joy was amazing, and you tried your best to shake off any negative feelings you had towards her. She was hard-working, kind, and honest. You trusted her, and even more so, you trusted Jaemin.

Despite the connection that seemed to be forming between him and Joy, you reminded yourself that it was rooted in teamwork and camaraderie, nothing more. You wanted to believe that Jaemin’s warmth and attention were still yours to cherish, regardless of how seamlessly he clicked with others. Yet, every time you saw him share a laugh with Joy, a small part of you struggled to silence the voices of doubt creeping into your mind.

As the captain of the cheer team, you had too much on your plate to let your thoughts linger on jealousy or insecurities. With competitions less than a month away, your focus needed to be on preparing your team, especially after the sudden loss of Hanbin. You could feel the weight of responsibility pressing down on you.

You knew you had to keep morale high while also ensuring everyone was on point with their routines. Each practice was crucial, and you couldn’t afford any distractions—neither from your emotions nor from the situation with Jaemin and Joy.

“You need to pull it together! You’re the captain, and we can’t afford for you to make silly mistakes,” your coach called out, her voice sharp and clear, echoing across the gym floor. You steeled yourself, determined not to let her words shake you.

“Yes, Coach,” you replied, your tone emotionless.

You had messed up the routine after losing your place during a tumble, causing a domino effect as others struggled to find their spots. Deep down, you wanted to argue that it was an honest mistake, but the truth was you had been distracted—distracted by Jaemin and Joy. They were off to the side during your routine, and the way she smiled at him, coupled with the soft smile he returned, made your heart clench painfully. It felt like you were trapped in a cheesy romcom where your boyfriend was the leading man, and you were just an extra in the background.

As more little mistakes crept into your performance during practices, you felt a wave of frustration wash over you. With each misstep, the weight of your responsibilities as captain grew heavier, and it made you feel inadequate. Jaemin had tried to talk to you about it to lift your spirits, but you had shut down his attempts.

Seungkwan corners you during break, and for a moment, you brace yourself for a lecture. Instead, his expression softens, and he opens his arms to you. In an instant, your resolve crumbles, and you step into his embrace. Seungkwan has been one of your best friends for a reason—he knows you better than anyone, able to read your emotions without needing to ask.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks gently.

“It’s so stupid,” you choke out, feeling embarrassed by your own feelings. “I’m letting something so small ruin my performances.”

“Is it Jaemin?” he inquires, his tone laced with understanding.

“I guess I just miss him. I feel so childish—it’s ridiculous. I see him every day after practice, and when he shows attention to someone else, I just lose it.”

You cringe internally at the irony of it all. Not too long ago, you used to scold Jaemin for being clingy, insisting that a few hours of practice wasn’t a big deal and that he needed to learn to be patient. Now, you find yourself grappling with the very feelings you once criticized him for.

“You should talk to him about it. You know he would stop time for you if you asked,” Seungkwan adds his gentle advice. “You’re human. Everyone has feelings, and he’d want to know how you’re feeling.” Seungkwan pulls back slightly, looking you in the eye with that reassuring gaze of his.

“Fine, your right I need to get this straightened out before competitions.”

It was officially fall, and the warm hues of autumn surrounded you, calmed your nerves as you strolled through campus, inhaling the crisp, fresh air. After practice, you made your way home, steeling yourself for the conversation you planned to have with Jaemin later. A hot shower felt like the perfect remedy to ease your tension and clear your mind.

As the steam enveloped you, you reflected on how sweet Jaemin had been these past few weeks, always checking in on you and making sure you felt okay. You realized you owed it to him to be honest about your feelings and let him know what was on your mind.

You had texted Jaemin to let him know you were on the way to his dorm but you didnt get a response. You shrug it off and continue on. You knock on his door and his roommate opens the door.

“What’s up?” Jeno asks, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

“Where’s Jaemin?” you respond, equally puzzled.

“I thought he was with you. He’s still at practice,” Jeno replies, offering you an apologetic shrug.

“Thanks,” you say, your voice coming off a bit more irritably than you intended.

You turn on your heel and head back to the gym, counting backward from ten to calm your nerves. You were being irrational; he was just at practice—practicing. It’s what you should be doing too if you want to make it to the finals of the competition.

As you push open the doors to the gym, you stifle a groan at the sight before you. Jaemin and Joy are alone on the mats, and he’s spotting her as she attempts a backhandspring back tuck. When she lands it flawlessly, he cheers for her with such genuine enthusiasm.

He’s being nice. He’s being NICE.

You remind yourself of this over and over, trying to steady your racing heart and push down the flicker of jealousy rising within you.

Finally, he notices your presence and the way his face lights up eases your frustrations a little. “Baby! Shit Im sorry I didn’t notice the time. Where you waiting for me” he says before walking over to grab his things.

Finally, he notices your presence, and the way his face lights up eases your frustration a little. “Baby! Shit, I’m sorry I didn’t notice the time. Were you waiting for me?” he asks, rushing over to grab his things.

“I tried to call,” you reply flatly.

“I'm sorry, my phone was in my bag,” he says, inching closer and taking your hand in his.

Joy stands across the room and sends you a smile and a wave. “Sorry, my spotter is still out, and I really want to perfect my back handspring!”

You sigh—you could never hate her. “Your form is great! I appreciate you putting in the extra hours; I can see how much this team means to you.”

Your words bring a beaming smile to her face, and you can tell it’s exactly the motivation she needed.

You were captain before anything, you would always support your teammates.

You and Jaemin walk back to your dorm in silence, his voice filling the space as he rambles on about practice. He seems to genuinely enjoy it, and you recall how he once mentioned his friends teased him about first joining the team, calling him a princess. Yet, even they started showing up to support him.

“Are you okay?” he asks, noticing your quietness.

“I just feel really, really stupid,” you admit, unable to meet his gaze.

“Nothing you do is ever stupid, don’t say that,” he scolds gently. He stops walking and tilts your chin up, locking eyes with you. “You’re not stupid.”

You pout at him, the frustration bubbling inside.

“Say it,” he commands, playfully squishing your cheeks together.

“I’m not shtupith,” you mumble, and he leans in, pecking your lips with a smile.

“There she is~” he coos, a grin breaking across your face despite yourself. “Now talk to me,” he says, interlacing your fingers as you continue walking.

You hesitate, taking a deep breath to steady yourself.

“I guess I’ve been feeling jealous lately. You’ve been spending so much time with Joy, and—” You cut yourself off with an exasperated sigh, realizing how selfish it sounds now that it’s out in the open.

“Continue,” he encourages softly.

“It’s just hard not talking to you during practice and then seeing you with her, all pearly-white smiles,” you admit bitterly, a knot forming in your stomach.

“I understand” He says. “I haven’t been giving you enough attention”

“No its not that Jaemin you have been great im just selfish” you say.

“Nothin selfish about wanting whats your baby, its ok” he says eyes darkening “i’ll just have to help you remember that im all yours”

You know that look in his eyes and that put a little pep in your step as Jaemin stalks you from behind like a predator.

You were excited for what he had in store for you.

When you finally arrive back home, he’s on you in an instant. It’s been a while since you last felt his touch—most nights after practice, you’ve been too exhausted to engage in your usual routine. He’s still dressed in his practice clothes: a simple tank top and sweats.

Jaemin in a tank top is like a refreshing rain in the desert—not because it’s rare, but because it’s a blessing. Each kiss pulls him deeper into you, making it harder for him to pull away. He’s stealing the air from your lungs, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. Your hands wander lightly over his broad shoulders, toned arms, and slim waist before they find their way back up, tangling in his hair.

Your movements weren't hurried; they were intentional, savoring every moment. He gently walked you backward until you were laid flat on the mattress. Embraced by his presence, you felt enveloped in his scent, his touch, and the depth of his love. As he slowly shed you of your clothes, silence enveloped the room; neither of you wanted to break the spell. You simply allowed yourselves to get lost in each other.

Every inch of skin laid bare to him was met with tender kisses, warm and sweet, until you were completely exposed. He kissed his way down your body, pausing to place a soft kiss on your abdomen. The eye contact you shared in that moment sent a flutter of butterflies dancing in your stomach, igniting a mix of awe and desire.

He's nipping and leaving teasing licks on the inside of your thighs before he finally gets to where you need him most. Lips meet your clit in a wet kiss and then he's dipping his tongue to swipe through you until it's flattened against your clit and he's wrapping his lips around you again. You relax your thighs as best you can, letting him have his way with you. A lazy hand pushes his bangs back so you can look him in the eyes as he tastes you.

His eyes were so intense. Jaemin was mostly known for his beautiful smile but for you, it was the eyes that really did it. He had such strong, expressive eyes. Just by looking at them, you could see all the nasty things he wanted to do to you.

The hands that rested gently on your thighs began to explore, gliding across your body with a delicate touch. They roamed slowly, tracing the curves and contours, igniting sensations that sent shivers through you. One hand found its way to your chest, caressing while he brought the other down to tease your entrance. Hes pressing one into you hooking it sensually before another joins. Hes so sloppy, mouth making slick, intoxicating sounds that filled the air around you. Each flick of his tongue made your eyes roll into the back of your head. His fingers pumped, twisted, and curled as he began to coax an orgasm out of you.

“Come on baby, look at me,” he says once he notices your eyes closed in pleasure.

“Why are you not looking at my pretty face? Are you gonna cum?” he teases.

Your back arches and you lose it. Your body convulses and you're making a mess of his already glossy lips.

He leaves a stinging slap to the side of your thigh. “Be so lucky I'm being nice; you know better. Who said you could cum?”

You whined at his tone, knowing you were going to be in trouble. “Fucking spoiled. You just take what you want” He sits up and pulls his tank top over his head. “Turn around”

You do as you’re told and you hear him shuffle behind you, probably taking off his sweats. Then you feel him. Thick and warm pressed against your backside and you turn to look over your shoulder as you watch him spread your juices with the head of his cock and sink into you. His hands gripped your ass, spreading you open to be able to see how you took him with ease.

“Mhm, Jaemin,” you moan, arching into him.

“Uh uh, who am I” he says as he smacks you ass.

You could feel the shift in the air and you knew what you were in for.

“Nana” you whine.

“Thats right, Nana is going to take care of you.” he coos before pulling back to leave a particularly sharp thrust against your cervix.

You fall forward and a hand reaches out to grip your hair, pushing you down further into the mattress. Jaemin rearranges himself so he's kneeling on one knee, giving himself a better angle to drive you into the mattress.

“I love you, and I'm going to make sure you know it. Going to make sure you feel it,” he groans.

Hes so deep, its all you could feel. You reach behind you after a particularly rough trust and he just grabs your arm and pulls you back into him, using it as leverage.

“Oh fuck!” you moan and you were not going to last long. “Fuck me Nana, dont stop”

“You gonna be a good girl and ask to cum?” he reminds you.

“Please let me cum Nana!” you beg.

He slows down and you almost complain until the slow, deep thrust steals your breath away.

He builds you up and you're crying against the sheets.

“Im gonna cum, please let me cum” you beg pathetically as tears blur your vision.

“Thats my girl, cum” he says and you melt away. Your body shudders and you become a puddle of limbs as he helps you ride out your high.

You could hardly keep yourself up so he manhandles you onto your back and stokes over you before spilling all over your chest and stomach.

You peer down at the mess he’d made and when you look up at him, he gives you a satisfied grin. After catching his own breath, he wastes no time in cleaning up. A warm towel and clean sheets are brought to you after you two definitely left several wet stains in the covers. He cleans you up nicely and cuddles you.

This was all you needed.

You and Jaemin had finally stopped trying to avoid each other during practice, and it felt liberating. You reminded yourself to be responsible, and somehow that balance brought you an unexpected sense of happiness. Every day, you walked into practice wearing a bright smile that was so radiant it made everyone around you groan in unison.

“Ugh, can you tone it down with the sunshine?” someone teased, prompting a chorus of laughter from the rest of the team. But you didn’t mind. With your renewed focus, you were running practices like the Navy—organized and disciplined. No one could get away with slacking off or skipping out anymore, and you could sense that some teammates yearned for the old, more carefree version of you.

You let them slack off for a week and now they wanted to act brand new. You roll your eyes.

Competitions came and went in a flash, and you felt proud of your team—and of Jaemin, who had stuck through it all. You genuinely enjoyed his presence and the time you spent together.

During one of the final competitions, when the team took home the trophy, you found Jaemin amid the celebration. His eyes sparkled with joy, and when he pulled you into an excited hug.

“You did amazing out there!” he exclaimed, his voice filled with genuine delight.

“So did you! I’m so glad we got to do this together!” you replied, beaming up at him. In that moment, surrounded by cheers and the thrill of victory, you realized how special this experience was.

With the chaos of the competitions behind you, you found a quiet spot away from the celebrations. The stars twinkled overhead, and the cool night breeze carried the scent of victory. Turning to Jaemin, a genuine smile lit up your face. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” you said softly. “I’m sorry if I was hard on you at first.”

He shrugged, unbothered. “You’re kind of hot when you’re an asshole,” he teased.

You nudged his shoulder playfully. “I am not an asshole!” you protested, but you couldn't help the laughter that bubbled up in your voice.

“Whatever you say sexy,” He jokes. "Come, it's time to celebrate. I brought some fireworks,” he says, wiggling his eye brows at you.

You laughed and nudged Jaemin, intrigued by his playful grin. He proposed grabbing some snacks, finding a quiet spot, and lighting fireworks under the stars. The only sounds were the gentle rustling of the trees and the chirping of insects.

"This is perfect," you thought, gazing up at the stars as Jaemin handed you a sparkler. Watching it fizzle out made you feel like a child again, and when you looked at him, you saw nothing but love in his eyes.

As the night wore on, the fireworks brightened the tranquil darkness, and leaning against Jaemin felt completely right. In that moment, you realized this was the ideal way to celebrate your victory

(A/N: Sorry for the rushed ending this was supposed to be short but i really wanted to flush it out heh)

[pucksandpower]

Fashionably Challenged

Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: you and Max may not exactly be the paddock’s most stylish couple, but you wouldn’t want it any other way

You wake up to the sound of Max rummaging through the closet of your shared hotel suite. Rolling over, you see him laying out two matching outfits — the Red Bull Racing team polos, skinny jeans, and sneakers you’ve grown accustomed to over the years.

One set for him, one set for you.

“Morning, liefje,” he says, catching your gaze. “I have our outfits for the day ready to go.”

You smile sleepily. “Thanks, babe. You know me too well.”

Max grins as he walks over and climbs back into bed, throwing an arm around you. “Of course I do. Can’t have my girlfriend showing up to races looking anything less than perfect.”

You laugh and playfully shove him. “Oh shut up. You know I’d show up in a potato sack if I could.”

“Don’t even joke about that,” he says with mock seriousness. “I would never let you embarrass me like that.”

“Embarrass you?” You scoff. “Please, like you even notice what I’m wearing half the time. You’re just as bad as me when it comes to fashion.”

Max opens his mouth to protest but then shuts it, shrugging in admission. “Okay, fair point. But that’s why I always get you the same thing I’m wearing. So there’s no way we can mess it up.”

You consider this for a moment. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. We make a pretty fashionably challenged couple.”

“The most fashionably challenged,” he agrees with a laugh. He pauses, gaze growing serious. “But I like it that way. I like that we match.”

Warmth blooms in your chest. “Me too.”

The morning passes quickly as you get ready for the race. True to form, you both pull on the matching outfits without a second thought. As you’re walking out to the car, Max stops you.

“Wait,” he says, taking your hand and turning you to face him. He looks you up and down appraisingly. “You look perfect, just like always.”

You can’t help but beam at the compliment. “Have I told you lately how much I love you?”

He grins. “Not nearly enough.”

“Well I do,” you say, leaning in to kiss him. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, schatje,” Max murmurs against your lips. “Now let’s go kick some ass today.”

The race goes well, Max taking the checkered flag to the roar of the crowds. As you’re waiting to congratulate him, a podcaster approaches you with a microphone.

“Hi there,” she says brightly. “I’m Lottie from The Racing Line. I was wondering if I could ask you a couple quick questions?”

“Oh, um, sure,” you’re a bit caught off guard.

“Great! So first off, you and Max always seem to be wearing matching outfits to the races. Is that something you two purposely coordinate as a cute couple thing?”

You feel your cheeks flush slightly. “Oh no, not at all actually. The truth is neither of us have much fashion sense at all. So Max just gets me the female version of whatever he’s wearing to make it easy.”

The podcaster looks disappointed. “Oh, I see. So it’s not some adorable couple tradition then?”

“Well, I mean, I guess in a way it kind of is?” You say quickly, feeling guilty. “Neither of us are really into fashion, so we end up matching by default anyway. I think it’s sweet that we always end up coordinating without even trying because we’re just so in sync.”

She perks up at that. “Aww, okay, I can see that! So even though it’s not on purpose, you’ve made your own cute little tradition out of it just by being so aligned. That’s really romantic.”

You nod, smiling softly. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

“Well thank you so much for your time,” she shakes your hand. “And congratulations to Max on another win!”

“Thank you,” you reply as she walks away.

A few minutes later Max emerges, helmet under his arm and face lit up in that way you love. You throw your arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug.

“Congratulations baby, you were amazing out there as always.”

“Thank you, schatje,” he says, squeezing you close. He pauses, smile turning teasing. “Did you enjoy chatting with that podcaster earlier?”

You pull back, eyes narrowing. “You saw that, did you?”

He chuckles. “Of course I did. I always notice you.”

“Well then you also saw me have to completely backtrack and come up with some sappy story for why we match when she thought it was a cutesy couple thing,” you say dryly.

Max shrugs. “It kind of is though, isn’t it? Maybe not on purpose, but it’s become our thing.”

“I guess you’re right,” you admit. “I told her it was romantic how in sync we are, always coordinating outfits without even trying.”

“Hmm, I like that,” he says, grinning. “We really are pretty in sync, aren’t we? Two fashionably hopeless peas in a pod.”

You laugh. “That we are.” You look at him fondly. “But I love our way better than being one of those obnoxiously coordinated couples.”

“Me too,” he agrees. “Though I will admit ...” His gaze grows more serious. “Part of the reason I like matching is because it makes me happy to walk around wearing the same thing as you. Like we’re a unit, you know?”

Your heart skips a beat at the soft vulnerability in his voice. “Max Verstappen, you big old romantic,” you tease gently.

He shrugs but you can see the pleased look in his eyes. Sudden understanding washes over you.

“Wait a minute … is that why you got me the same outfit the first time? Not just because you thought it would be easier, but because you wanted us to match?”

Max stays silent for a moment before breaking into a sheepish grin. “You caught me.”

“Oh my god!” You shove his shoulder playfully. “You big sap!”

“What can I say? I like having my girl on my arm looking like the power couple we are,” Max says, pulling you close again. “Fashionably challenged or not.”

“If only everyone out there making you out to be the villain could see the cuddly teddy bear you really are. I absolutely love it,” you murmur, stretching up to kiss him. You can feel him smile against your lips.

As you break apart, Max squeezes your hand. “Come on, let’s go celebrate. In new matching outfits, of course.”

You pretend to roll your eyes exaggeratingly but allow him to lead you towards the exit, your hands intertwined. You truly wouldn’t have it any other way.

***

You and Max are curled up on the couch in your hotel room, his arm draped around you as you lean into his side. It’s a rare quiet moment between races and you’re savoring the feeling of Max’s fingers gently carding through your hair.

“Hey Max?” You say after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

“Hmm?” He hums in response, not looking away from the football match on the TV.

“I got an interesting offer today.”

That piques his interest and he turns his head to look at you. “Oh yeah? What kind of offer?”

You take a deep breath before answering. “A sponsorship deal, actually. From Oscar de la Renta.”

Max raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Wow, that’s … really great, liefje. I’m so happy for you.”

But something in his tone makes you frown slightly. “Are you though? You don’t sound that excited.”

He gives you a half smile. “No, no, I am! That’s a huge opportunity for your career and image. Having that kind of sponsorship deal is amazing.”

“But?” You prod knowingly.

Max lets out a breath, smile fading. “But I guess part of me is a little disappointed and maybe … worried?”

“About what?”

“Well,” he shifts uncomfortably. “I like being the one who picks out your outfits for the races. Our little unintentional matching tradition has kind of become my thing, you know? I’m worried if you get sponsored by some big designer brand you won’t wear the outfits I pick out anymore. That we won’t match.”

His tone is carefully casual but you can hear the undercurrent of vulnerability. Your heart clenches in your chest.

“Oh Max ...” you murmur, reaching up to cup his cheek. “You really like our matching outfits that much?”

He averts his eyes but nods. “Yeah. I know it sounds silly, but I just … I like how in sync we are. How happy it makes me feel when we show up to the races looking like a real team. Like we’re truly partners in everything. I don’t want to lose that.”

The softness in his voice breaks your heart a little. You take his hand and give it a squeeze.

“You have no idea how happy I am to hear you say that,” you tell him gently. “Because I never would have accepted that offer anyway.”

Max blinks in surprise. “You wouldn’t?”

You shake your head. “Not a chance. First of all, they were pressuring me to only wear very high-end stuff, none of which really feels like my personal style. But more importantly ...” You lean in closer, maintaining eye contact. “They don’t have a men’s collection. So they couldn’t sponsor you too.”

Realization lights up his gaze. “Oh ...” he says softly.

You nod. “Exactly. I told them thanks but no thanks. Because no designer wardrobe is worth giving up what we have.”

Max looks stunned. “You … you turned them down? Just to keep matching with me?”

“Of course I did,” you say affectionately, poking his chest. “I would never give that up. How could I say yes to some fancy sponsorship that meant not having my fashionably challenged other half by my side, both looking like total goofballs in the one outfit the world thinks makes up the entirety of our closet?”

A slow smile spreads across his face and he pulls you into his arms, hugging you tightly. “God, I love you,” he murmurs into your hair. “So much.”

You relax into his embrace, overwhelmed by the rush of affection. “I love you too,” you whisper. You pull back slightly to look at him. “Did you really think I’d give up matching with you over that?”

“I don’t know,” he admits, looking a little sheepish. “I guess a small part of me was worried maybe you’d be tempted by the glamor and exposure of being a designer brand ambassador.”

“You know me better than that,” you affirm. “Our matching looks are too special to me. I adore everything about our little tradition — the fact that it started because neither of us cares about fashion, to you always picking out my outfits, and how happy it makes both of us to show up to races coordinating with each other.”

You take Max’s hand, intertwining your fingers. “Don’t you see, my love? It’s not really about the clothes at all, it’s about us. About how perfectly aligned we are in this little part of our lives. And I wouldn’t change that for the world.”

Max’s eyes have gone suspiciously bright, his free hand reaching up to cradle your face. “But liefje … you could have had any designer clothing you wanted.” His voice is thick with emotion. “You turned that down … for me?”

Unable to find the words, you just nod, blinking back your own tears.

“I can’t believe it,” Max breathes out shakily. “You never cease to amaze me.”

You offer him a watery smile. “Well believe it, my love. Because there’s nothing in the world more precious to me than you and our bond. I wouldn’t sacrifice that for anything.”

A single tear escapes to trail down Max’s cheek and you quickly brush it away with your thumb. Seeming at a loss for words, he pulls you into a fierce hug, tucking your head under his chin as you settle into his embrace.

“I love you,” he finally whispers into your hair. “So damn much.”

“I love you too.” You pepper kisses along his neck and jaw until you reach his lips, capturing them in a deep, slow kiss that tries to convey every unspoken word of devotion and adoration.

When you finally break apart, Max gazes at you with an intensity that makes your breath catch.

“God, you really are perfect,” he murmurs, running a hand reverently through your hair. “I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

“No,” you shake your head with a soft smile. “I’m the lucky one. To have someone who loves me so fiercely, someone I love just as much in return.”

Max lets out a watery chuckle. “I think we’re both the lucky ones then.”

You settle back against his chest as he wraps his arms securely around you. For a while neither of you speaks, lost in your own thoughts as you simply bask in each other’s presence. You let your eyes drift shut as Max’s fingers resume their gentle motions through your hair.

Eventually you break the silence.

“You know we’re going to have to get even cuter matching outfits now to make up for it,” you murmur teasingly.

Max’s chest rumbles with laughter against your cheek. “Deal. Anything you want, schatje. I’ll make sure we’re the most adorable fashionably challenged couple at every single race from now on.”

You smile at the warmth and conviction in his voice. “No one could ever call us uncoordinated.”

“Never,” Max affirms, dropping a soft kiss to the top of your head. “We’re perfectly matched in every way that matters.”

You sigh contentedly as you snuggle further into his embrace. In that moment, you know he’s absolutely right. You couldn’t imagine a better match than your Max.

[motherismotheringggg]

rhythm & heat

summary: you and nicholas are co-stars in a fun and innocent PR relationship, the chemistry was already there so it just feels natural but something shifts when you, him and cast go out.

type: fem! reader x nicholas (i tried add some of Nicholas’ POV per my friend’s suggestion, it’ll be in red to stand out)

tags/warnings: 18+, fingering, oral (m! receiving), unprotected sex (wrap your willy yall) and creampie

author’s note: i’m having sooooo much fun writing again so thanks to everyone who’s been encouraging me to do it. i used to write in college and now that im 27 (almost 28 in january) it’s good to get back into it. i wanted to do something while im working on slow burn pt. 3 so i hope yall like it!!!!

🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩

The bass pulsed through the club, sending ripples of heat and sound through the packed dance floor. Neon lights flickered overhead, casting an electric glow over the scene as bodies moved in sync with the music. The air was thick with anticipation, the kind that made everyone buzz with energy, like something wild could happen at any moment.

You and your co-star, Nicholas Chavez, were out celebrating the wrap of the second season—a well-deserved break after months of filming. The first season had been a hit, with fans and critics alike praising your performances and the chemistry you brought to your characters. And of course, that chemistry hadn’t gone unnoticed. Rumors about the two of you had been swirling since the first season, with fans speculating about what might be going on off-camera.

And they weren’t completely off. Your and Nicholas’s teams had decided that hinting at a romance would be the perfect, harmless way to build buzz for the next season. You weren’t usually one for gimmicks, but you both thought it’d be fun, and honestly, with the chemistry you two shared on screen, the idea didn’t feel far-fetched. Playing at “dating” off-screen just felt natural.

There were moments on set where the boundary between acting and reality seemed to blur. In one particularly intense scene, you and Nicholas’s character finished having sex and his hands roamed in a way that made sense for the character but caught you off guard, you leaned in to commit to the scene but you remember leaving the set that day with your heart fluttering.

Off set, at interviews and press events, the playful banter you shared made the rumors almost impossible to deny. During one red carpet appearance, when a reporter asked what Nicholas liked best about working with you, he leaned close and, in a low voice, said, “She makes me forget we’re acting.” The reporters loved it, and you could feel your cheeks warm under the spotlight.

Even your off-duty moments seemed to fuel the rumors. You remembered the night you and Nicholas went to see Sabrina Carpenter in concert and to avoid the crowds, you were escorted through hidden elevators in the arena. One of the elevators was especially small, so when you were pushed inside with security guards and crew, space was tight. Somehow, you ended up in the back corner, pressed chest to chest with Nicholas, his arm slipping around your waist to pull you closer.

When you joked about it later, he laughed, claiming he was just “making room” for everyone. But you couldn’t ignore the way his hand lingered at your waist during the two-minute ride—or how, when you shifted to get more comfortable, you felt his hardness through his jeans.

There were countless other moments and with another press run coming up, it just felt like you were still both “in character” all the time but for tonight, you just wanted to dance, let loose, and get ready for another thrilling media cycle. You, Nicholas and a few costars decided to go out to a boiler room club in the city. None of you had planned on playing into the rumors tonight, but as the crowd grew, Nicholas slipped into “boyfriend” mode without a second thought. His hand found your waist, guiding you through the crowd; he held your hand, lingered close, and let his touches drift to intimate places whenever you danced or laughed together.

The night felt electric. Drinks flowed freely, adding a warm edge to the pulsing bass that reverberated through the walls and floor. Your group had claimed a private section overlooking the dance floor, with a perfect view of the swirling neon lights below. Fans would catch glimpses of you and the cast, looking up with wide smiles, waving, and cheering to show their love. Some even made heart shapes with their hands or mouthed “We love you” as they danced. Every now and then, Nicholas would slide his arm around your waist, pulling you close for a quick fan photo or to lean in as he spoke over the music, his breath grazing your ear.

Nicholas could hardly keep his eyes off you. Even in the chaos of the club, you stood out—like a spark in the dark, drawing him in. The energy around you, the way you moved, the way you threw back your head to laugh at something your friend said… it made his chest feel tight. He’d been watching you for a while now, unable to shake the feeling that tonight was different.

At first, it was all casual, harmless fun. But as the night wore on and the drinks kept coming, you couldn’t help but notice a shift. Nicholas’s touches lingered a little longer, his fingers resting at your waist even when the picture was done or the conversation had shifted. The way he looked at you changed too—his gaze softened, his words slower, and his attention focused entirely on you, despite the crowd around you both.

When the group began to dance, he stayed close, his hand brushing yours, fingers grazing along your arm, almost as if testing the waters. As the music thumped, he moved nearer, his chest pressing lightly against your back, his hand slipping down to rest at your hip. Every touch, every shared laugh, felt charged, and you could feel the tension building in each small gesture. You’d been close to him before, but this was different—the alcohol, the music, the night itself seemed to bring out something more raw.

His thoughts became a blur of want, fueled by the subtle way your lips parted as you looked up at him. The pull was irresistible, drawing him closer as he traced his fingers along the small of your back, letting his thumb graze your hip in a possessive but tender gesture. He was intoxicated, not just by the alcohol but by you, by the way you felt so effortlessly right in his arms.

As you danced, his heartbeat quickened, his breaths shallow and erratic. He wondered if you knew what you were doing to him—how just being close to you made it feel impossible to think straight. Every touch, every whisper, was like fuel to a fire that had been smoldering since the moment he’d met you. He couldn't ignore it any longer, the way you’d somehow slipped beneath his skin. He wanted all of you—the quick wit, the mischievous grin, the soft vulnerability he saw in your eyes in quieter moments on set. And tonight, he wanted you in a way that left no room for pretense or careful boundaries.

You two were dancing face to face, the music vibrating through your chest as you moved in sync. Nicholas leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear, the warmth of his breath sending a jolt of heat through your body. His voice was low and smooth, a touch playful, as he whispered, “How’s my girl feeling tonight?”

His hands slid down to your waist, pulling you in closer, pressing your bodies together as if there was any space left between you two. You could feel the solid muscle of his chest against yours, the strength in his arms as they wrapped around you, grounding you in the moment. The heat of his touch lingered where his fingers gently grazed the curve of your waist, sending a wave of electricity through your skin.

You were attracted to Nicholas, no doubt about it. Up close, he was all intense, striking features that seemed made for this low, pulsing light. His deep-set brown eyes held a mischievous spark, the kind that always kept you guessing and a little on edge, even when the cameras weren’t rolling. His jawline was sharp, almost sculpted, and as he looked down at you, the soft stubble along it caught the neon glow, adding an edge to his otherwise boyish charm.

As you looked up, his tousled dark hair fell a bit across his forehead, framing his face in a way that softened his piercing gaze. His lips, full and inviting, curled into a subtle smirk as he looked at you, as though he knew exactly what kind of effect he had. You felt his fingers shift at your waist, his thumb tracing small, almost hypnotic circles against your hip, bringing a flush to your skin.

Despite the undeniable attraction, you hesitated to lean into whatever Nicholas was offering. Playing “relationship” was fun, but you knew getting involved with a co-star was a risky move. You flashed him a playful smirk, your voice teasing as you responded, “Your co-star is doing fine.” You took a small step back, creating just enough space to break the intensity between you two. But it wasn’t enough to stop the flirtation—you secretly hoped he’d pull you right back in.

He wasn’t having any of it. “Stop playing with me,” Nicholas groaned, his voice taking on that low, almost dangerous tone you couldn’t ignore. He leaned back down, his face just inches from yours, his breath hot against your skin. “You know I want you.”

His words sent a thrill coursing through you, the heat of his breath making your pulse race. Despite the hesitation, you could feel your body betraying you, urging you to close the space between you two again. His head lingered by your ear, his lips brushing against your skin, just barely a touch, sending a spark through you. Before you could pull back, his lips grazed the sensitive spot near your neck, planting soft, lingering “innocent” kisses.

The kisses were feather-light, almost teasing, yet each one felt like a jolt of electricity. They were gentle but purposeful, just enough to make your knees weaken and your womanhood tremble. His closeness, the warmth of his skin against yours, was intoxicating, and with every soft kiss, you found yourself craving more.

With a few sharp breaths and low moans, he knew he had you. The sound of his name on your lips, barely above a whisper, was all the confirmation he needed. You tilted your head to the side, offering him your neck, giving him full access to your skin. His hands, on your waist, pulling you even closer, his body flush against yours.

He didn’t hold back. His lips moved with confidence now, kissing the delicate curve of your neck with more urgency. Each kiss was deeper and more insistent, the pressure of his mouth leaving a trail of heat and need in its wake. His tongue darted out, tracing the sensitive skin beneath your ear, sending a shiver of desire straight through your body.

You could feel him smiling against your skin, sensing the way your body responded to his touch—how you instinctively leaned into him, drawn to the heat between you. His hands, bold and sure, roamed lower, the pads of his fingers grazing the curve of your back, sending a shiver of pleasure through you. The sensation was soft at first but quickly turned more intense, his touch growing bolder, more confident with each passing second. Every moment between you two felt like a slow burn, the anticipation building as his lips trailed over the sensitive skin of your neck, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake.

Then, when he shifted, you felt it—his hardness brushing against your thigh. The contact sent a wave of heat straight through you, an electric shock that heightened every nerve in your body. It was enough to make your pulse race, enough to make you realize how much you wanted him in that moment.

Without thinking, you reached down, your fingers gently grazing over the fabric of his pants, feeling the outline of him. The pressure of his body against yours, the growing heat between you two, made you want more—made you want to make him feel just as desperate for you as you felt for him.

You could feel the quickening of his breath, the way his chest rose and fell against yours. A low groan rumbled from his throat as you continued to trace his length, every brush of your fingers sending a thrill through both of you. His hands tightened around your waist, pulling you even closer, as though he couldn’t get enough of you either.

Without another moment passing, Nicholas grabbed your hand, his fingers tight around yours, pulling you through the crowded space. He moved with purpose, guiding you down the secret hallway the cast used to get into the club, away from the prying eyes and flashing lights. Each step seemed to quicken the pulse between you, the anticipation building with every turn. You felt his grip firm on your hand, but also the heat radiating off him, as though he couldn't wait any longer.

With just a few more steps, you found yourselves in the private dead-end hallway. It was dim, secluded—perfectly private. Before you could process what was happening, Nicholas had you pressed up against the cold wall, his body pinning you in place. The urgency in his movements left no room for hesitation as he slammed his lips onto yours, the kiss fierce, demanding. His mouth claimed yours with a hunger that mirrored your own, lips moving against each other as if he couldn’t get enough.

His hands weren’t idle either. One moved to your waist, gripping you tightly as if to keep you exactly where he wanted you, while the other traveled lower, finding its way to the waistband of your panties. His touch was deliberate and heated, and in an instant, his hand slipped beneath the fabric. His fingers brushed the sensitive skin just above them, the contact sending a shock of heat straight through you.

You gasped into his mouth, the electricity of his touch overwhelming, making every part of you ache for more. His fingers continued to tease, moving with slow, deliberate pressure, testing the limits of your restraint. He continued to rub and massage your sweet spot while you moaned and squirmed against his kiss. He pulled away just enough to watch you under his power.

From his vantage, you were a vision—utterly captivating in every response. He loved the way your eyes fluttered closed, only to open halfway, trying to find his gaze but faltering under the intense pleasure he was giving you. The way your teeth sank into your lip, trying to hold back the sounds you couldn’t suppress, only spurred him on. Each flick of his fingers brought a fresh wave of moans and whines, soft and breathy, laced with his name in barely-contained pleas. Hearing you beg him to take things further, to lose himself with you completely, made him feel invincible. He knew he had you right where he wanted, and he was savoring every moment.

You planted one last, deep kiss on his lips before sinking to your knees in front of him, never breaking eye contact. Nicholas’ gaze darkened, his breath catching slightly as he watched you with a mixture of anticipation and hunger. Your hands moved with urgency, unbuckling his belt and undoing his pants, your fingers grazing over the heat radiating from his body. As you freed him, he let out a soft groan, his gaze fixed on you, filled with both awe and impatience.

His hands instinctively found their way to your hair, tangling in it gently as you looked up at him, the connection between you electric and unspoken. The way he was watching you—intense, with a mix of excitement and restraint—made your pulse race. His pupils were dilated, his breathing uneven, and you could see the anticipation building in his expression as he waited, every part of him attuned to your next move.

As you leaned closer, he tightened his grip, his fingers brushing against your scalp, guiding you but letting you set the pace. You started slow, savoring every moment, every reaction, feeling his muscles tense and hearing his breaths turn to low, needy moans. His chest rose and fell heavily as he fought to keep control, his head tilting back slightly as he surrendered to your touch, murmuring your name in a rough, breathy tone that only made you want him more.

Every time you paused to swirl your tongue around his tip, Nicholas' whole body tensed, his breathing turning shallow as he let out a low, drawn-out hiss. The sound of your name on his lips, mixed with whispered curses, filled the air. He couldn’t help himself, alternating between breathless moans and deep, husky praises. “God, you’re such a good girl,” he murmured, his voice filled with a raw, admiring intensity. “You look so beautiful taking me like this.”

With each word, his grip in your hair tightened just enough to keep you where he wanted. His hands were steady, yet you could feel the slight tremor in his fingers as his need for you grew. Finally, he held your head in both hands, his gaze locked on yours, guiding you with a slow, deliberate motion. He pushed himself deeper, filling your mouth as his hips rocked in rhythm, pressing him to the back of your throat. The sounds escaping him were desperate yet controlled, each ragged breath carrying his satisfaction.

“Look at me, baby,” he whispered, his voice dropping to a breathy, gruff murmur, thick with desire. “Let me see those pretty eyes.” His gaze was commanding yet filled with an undeniable admiration, and as you met his eyes, he let out a deep, shuddering breath, fully captivated by the sight of you. The connection between you was intense, wordlessly conveying his appreciation for everything you were giving him, every shiver and sigh pulling him closer to the edge.

Your throat tightened slightly as you tried to take all of him, a small gag escaping despite your best efforts. Nicholas chuckled softly, a low, satisfied sound, and his hand moved to gently tap your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin with a subtle affection that made your heart race. “That’s my girl,” he murmured, pride evident in his tone.

His hands slid down to your shoulders, pulling you up to meet him, and the moment your lips touched, he captured you in a deep, consuming kiss. It was passionate, full of hunger and appreciation, and he groaned against your mouth, relishing in the taste of you. He leaned his forehead against yours, his eyes filled with a soft, smoldering intensity. “You did so good, baby,” he whispered, his voice rough yet tender. “You looked so perfect, taking me in… just like I always knew you could.”

Each word sent a wave of warmth through you, and his hands stayed on your hips, grounding you, his gaze never straying from yours. He ran a thumb over your bottom lip, still swollen from your efforts, his gaze filled with both desire and genuine admiration as he traced your features, savoring every moment and every breath shared between you.

Nicholas could feel the anticipation radiating off you, your body responding to his every touch and move. He knew just how much you wanted him, and he wanted to give you everything you craved. With deliberate slowness, he turned you around, pressing you gently forward. His hands slid up your thighs as he lifted the hem of your dress, savoring the soft, heated skin beneath. In one fluid motion, he pulled down your panties, his lips still trailing along your neck and shoulders, leaving a trail of warm, lingering kisses that made your breath quicken. He groaned into your ear, his voice low and thick with desire, reveling in the way your back arched, your body silently pleading for more.

“I wanna make you feel so good,” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. His hands roamed over your hips as he positioned himself behind you, letting his tip trace over your folds, teasing you until you were trembling in his grasp. The first sensation of him entering you made your breath catch, a shudder running through both of you as he filled you, slow and deep. You instinctively moved in sync, bodies finding a perfect rhythm, every thrust sending a wave of pleasure through you.

Nicholas buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath coming in rough, heated gasps as he lost himself in the moment, savoring every pulse and movement of your body against his. You reached back, threading your fingers into his hair, giving it a gentle tug, and he let out a breathless whimper—a sound that only made you ache for him more. His need to be in control fueled you, but there was something thrilling in the way he let you pull him back, every now and then, giving you the slightest taste of control.

You guided one of his hands from your hip, pressing it down between your legs. He understood immediately, his fingers finding and massaging that sensitive spot, adding another layer of intensity to your connection. He quickly obliged, his touch skilled and deliberate, and you felt yourself unraveling under the dual sensations, every nerve heightened, every thought fading into pure, unfiltered bliss.

Nicholas’s pace quickened, and with every movement, he brought an intensity that made you lose yourself further with each second. His hands roamed your body, seeking out every place that could make you unravel under his touch. One moment he’d slap your ass, and in the next, his fingers wrapped around your neck, adding a delicious pressure that only heightened the sensations. He reached between your legs, his fingers brushing against your heat, before gently tilting your head, exposing more of your neck so he could plant hungry, open-mouthed kisses there. The air around you both grew hotter, more electric, and you could feel that familiar pressure building, bringing you both to the brink.

He leaned into your ear, his voice thick with need, a hint of desperation woven into it. “I want to cum for you, baby,” he breathed. “Tell me how bad you want it.”

Your voice came out in a shaky whisper, overcome by the sensations he was giving you. “Let’s do it together. I’m so close,” you pleaded, feeling yourself hovering right at the edge. His thrusts stayed steady but powerful, his head buried against your neck, breaths hitching and moans deepening. His grip on your hips tightened, guiding your body to match his rhythm perfectly, every stroke hitting deeper, more intense.

Nicholas, always the performer, could feel just how close you were, but he wanted to hear it. His voice was a low, teasing growl. “Tell me how much you want me, baby,” he commanded. “Tell me how good this feels… tell me who you belong to.” With each demand, his movements became more forceful, every stroke making you lose control a bit more.

He was close too, a raw intensity filling each thrust, and just before the finish, he grabbed a handful of your hair, pulling your head back to make sure he felt every shudder of your response.

“Are you ready, baby?” he gasped, his tone shaky as he was right on the edge. You tried to say his name, but the feeling was so intense, it came out as a breathless, pleading sound. You nodded, barely able to form words as your body responded, every nerve lit up as you both finally reached your climax.

As he spilled into you, the sensation sent waves of warmth through your entire body, making you moan out, your voice just barely above a whisper but full of satisfaction. Your body shuddered, every nerve still singing from the overwhelming release.

Even as you tried to catch your breath, he gave you a few more slow, teasing thrusts, drawing out every last tremor until you were completely undone. Each lingering movement kept you in the moment, his body still pressed firmly against yours, leaving you weak and trembling beneath him.

A satisfied smirk played across his lips as he felt you react, your legs shaking as his hands traveled slowly up your sides, grounding you through the aftershocks. He murmured in your ear, his voice low and full of pride, "You’re so fucking hot when you cum...just like I always imagined" His fingers traced gentle circles along your waist, savoring how soft you felt under his touch.

With a final, breathless sigh, you turned to face him, pressing your forehead to his as he caught his breath, his thumb grazing softly over your cheek.You both stayed like that, basking in the warmth between you, as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, leaving soft kisses along your shoulder and neck, his way of savoring every last moment.

[velarisdusk]

Ice Cold Jealousy

Hockey AU | Cassian x Reader

Series Masterlist -> Part 2 - Thawing Boundaries

word count: 8.3k content: [ explicit sexual content, PWP, unprotected PIV, rough sex, oral (m & f receiving), voyeuristic elements, possessiveness/jealousy, power dynamics, little bit of overstim?, hair pulling, dirty talk, humiliation?, biting, locker room sex (it's come to my attention that hockey locker rooms don't typically have lockers but just suspend your disbelief for a sec please), inapproproate touching, insinuation that Cass stares at Az's ass teehee | violence (physical altercation, reader not involved), blood mention, strong language | no beta we die like men ] summary: Despite the tension on the ice, your relationship with Cassian, the commanding captain of the Velaris Vipers, is anything but cold. His jealousy ignites when the rest of the team's flirtations become too much to ignore. In the aftermath of a disastrous game, the boundaries between playful teasing and intense passion blur, leading to a locker room encounter that challenges both your resolve and your control. author's note: WOW, okay, this is the first fic I've written for ACOTAR, and the first fic I've written in close to a decade, so excuse me if I'm a bit rusty :) I've been going through a hockey thing lately, watching random games on youtube in their entirety, so obviously that means I had to write Cass, duh. Sorry it's on the longer side; I just had lots of ideas... like only 3k of this is plot lmfao. Enjoy!

Cassian knows they’re fucked.

You can see it on his face. With two points down and precious little time left on the clock, they need a miracle. The referee skates to center ice, puck in hand. You lean forward, breath caught in your throat, as the Velaris Vipers take their positions. The air is thick with tension, the crowd’s roar fading into a dull buzz in your ears. You knew the Hewn City Hellhounds were good, but never imagined they’d pose this much of a problem. 

Cassian’s and Azriel’s eyes meet for a moment, a silent agreement passing between them. The puck drops, and its whereabouts for the seconds after are a mystery to you. After an unruly clash of hockey sticks and a mess of bodies, Cassian passes to Azriel on his left, who takes off down the ice with it. Cassian moves to mirror him on the opposite side of the ice. The Hellhounds’ defense closes in, but Cassian and Azriel move in perfect sync, the puck zipping between their sticks in a blur. They dance around the opposition, narrowly avoiding checks, their movements so fluid they don’t need to look to know where the other will be.

Just as Azriel is about to be boxed in by two defenders, a swift flick of his wrist sends the puck to Tarquin who’s come up to support them. You let out a sigh of relief, not even having seen him since he was back by the net. 

Why is he up here instead of back by the net? Eris should’ve been there; it’s his one job as a winger to support Cassian as center in making goals. You scan the rink, but don’t need to for long. He skates right up to you with an air of nonchalance, like he doesn’t need to be with the rest of his team fighting for their lives. You give him an incredulous look, about to open your mouth and shout at him when he gets to the wall, but the words catch in your throat when he blows a kiss, tracing a heart on the glass with a smirk. You gather yourself quickly, but before you can scold him his back is already turned and he skates back toward the action.

You’ve grown accustomed to the team’s teasing, knowing it’s all in good spirit. But with Eris, there’s always been an undercurrent of something more intense, more deliberate. As he skates away now, you can’t help but wonder, not for the first time, just how far he’d take things if given the chance. You’ll never admit it out loud, but the way he cuts directly in front of the opposing team’s defenseman to get him away from Tarquin is impressive with how absentminded it seems. 

Watching them, you reflect on the years you’ve spent at their games and practices. Not only have you witnessed their drastic improvement, but you’ve also grown close to the team. Perhaps too close, if the playful flirtations are any indication. 

Yeah, maybe ‘close’ was a bit…

But it wasn’t your fault. Really! A little over three years ago, Cassian invited you to their season opener, your relationship still fresh. You hadn’t known the first thing about the sport so obviously you spent hours watching videos and frantically looking up your countless questions to ensure you wouldn’t be entirely lost. Cassian had told you on the drive home that night that word had spread rather quickly through the Vipers about the hot girl in the stands. You knew. Hot, definitely, but dumb? Oblivious? No. Of course you noticed their showing off — the goalie’s glances after skilled saves, the wingers’ risky shots, the defensemen’s aggressive checks and subsequent winks, smiles, and waves from the penalty box.

You’ve often recalled their expressions when Cassian called into the locker room for them to come meet you, when they’d seen the object of their displays throwing her arms around their captain’s neck, planting a kiss on his sweaty cheek. You weren’t necessarily shy about looking at them in their various states of undress through the doorway; some shirtless, others holding a towel in front of themselves for modesty. But Cassian introducing you as his girlfriend didn’t stop their light-hearted remarks, though they were much less blatant now. For the most part. There was still the stray push of boundaries. Neither of you have ever told them to stop. Though you both enjoyed their feeble attempts, found them entertaining, there were times you noticed him get jealous, if his clenched jaw and reddening face were anything to go by.

Tarquin deftly maneuvers around an opponent with a small spin, sending ice shavings spraying, and you aren’t sure if the move is meant to distract or simply add some flourish. He looks up and winks at you with a nod. You roll your eyes with a small smile and the puck is once again in Cassian’s possession. He either doesn’t notice or simply doesn’t care. He drives forward, eyes locked on the goal. The goalie is ready, crouched and tense, but your boys have one last trick up their sleeves. 

Cassian pulls his hockey stick back and thrusts it forward with such determination that you’re sure he’s going to take the shot. But he stops just short of the puck and in an instant pushes it left and back, where Azriel is perfectly positioned. He doesn’t hesitate, slamming the puck into the net with a force that sends it rattling.

The red light flashes. Goal.

You shoot up and cheer, your shouts blending with those of the fans all around you. Previous to this, so overtaken with nerves, all you’ve been able to do is sit tight with your arms crossed, eyes darting wildly across the rink. The jovial energy doesn’t last long though. They’re still down a point, and with only a little over a minute left now, their only chance is somehow scoring and going into overtime. 

You scan the rink. The three forwards take their positions: Eris, red hair peeking from his helmet, grips his stick tightly at right wing; Azriel, ever the shadow to Cassian’s light, settles into place with calm readiness; and Cassian, commanding center ice with unmatched presence. Rhysand and Tarquin hover near the blue line, mirroring each other’s poised intensity on defense. If you were closer that way, you might be able to see their eyes darting across the ice, calculating every possible move. Helion stands sentinel before the net, gaze piercing and unwavering. Each a powerhouse, but none more commanding than Cassian at center ice.

His presence is commanding and magnetic. The weight of the game seems to rest on his broad shoulders, yet he bears it with a fierce determination you find both exhilarating and reassuring. His dark hair clings to his forehead, damp with sweat, and his eyes are locked on the opposition with a predator’s focus. You love this about him — the way he can command the rink with just a glance, the way his intensity electrifies the very air around him. 

Off the rink, he’s just as intense in a different way: reliable, attentive, deeply devoted. The moments you share away from the chaos — quiet dinners, late-night talks, and his arms holding you close as you get drunk off of each other’s wandering hands and lips for hours — are a stark contrast to the warrior before you now. It’s this duality, this balance of strength and tenderness, that never ceases to intrigue you. 

As the clock ticked down these last few plays, you could see the resolve settling in his eyes. He isn’t just playing for the team; he’s playing for you, for the life you’re building together. 

Another loud cheer from the crowd pulls you back in, and you notice the Hellhounds have taken back possession of the puck and are rapidly approaching Helion at the goal. Rhysand intercepts a pass and carries it around the back of the goal to shoot the puck forward along the side of the rink. Where Eris is supposed to receive it, the Hellhounds’ center intercepts and, guarded by a winger on either side, plows back down the ice towards the Vipers’ goal. Their wingers do a decent job of clearing a path for him. He takes the shot, and Helion miraculously changes the trajectory of the puck with a paddle save that has the audience roaring and up on their feet again. Tarquin tries to take back possession but isn’t there quickly enough. The Hellhounds still have it and go for the shot again, this time bouncing the puck off the crossbar and away from the goal. 

40 seconds left. 

Cassian and Rhysand guard against their opponents while Azriel and Tarquin skillfully maneuver the puck down the ice, right between people’s skates at times. Tarquin is incredibly nimble and light on his feet for a defenseman, conducting several moves that force gasps from your lips, worried something would go wrong. He makes a pass to Eris right as he gets shoved into the wall by the Hellhounds’ defense. 

26 seconds.

The redhead moves with a sort of confidence that seemingly makes the other team recoil momentarily. He commands the attention of every spectator, not only because he has possession but also because of his back-to-back evasions and fakeouts. 

18 seconds. 

Eris approaches the goal, all six opponents converging. Cassian skates up to the left, perfectly positioned for a play they’ve practiced countless times. A simple, effective strategy — Eris just needs to pass to Cassian for the shot. Cassian catches Eris’ eye, giving him a nod. He’s open. 

But Eris shakes his head. 

He backtracks, attempting to outmaneuver the defense. You glance at Cassian, seeing fury building in his eyes. Tarquin and Azriel are open too, but Eris isn’t looking that way. Rhysand and Helion wear expressions of anger tinged with resigned frustration.

6 seconds left. Eris circles behind the goal, clearly aiming to nudge the puck in around the post. You can already tell it won’t work — too many opponents, and Eris’ eyes are locked on you instead of the play. He slides the puck around the post and… straight into the goalie’s leg pads. 

2 seconds. Cassian and Azriel make a desperate rush, but it’s futile. You sit with a sigh, putting your head in your hands. The buzzer blares. Game over. Hewn City Hellhounds win, 5 - 4. 

You distantly hear the cries and shouts from the other side of the arena celebrating their team’s win, mingled in are the groans of frustration and defeat from around you. What the fuck was he thinking? They’d had the perfect opportunity. You look up just in time to see your boyfriend shove Eris into the wall a few feet down from where you sit, the glass letting you see just how his face smashes against it with the impact. The spectators around you cheer Cassian on, as they, too, are frustrated at the person who cost them the possibility of overtime.

Immediately after impact, Cassian skates back a few feet, throws his helmet and gloves off, and raises his fists. Eris mirrors the action after throwing down his stick. Cassian’s is discarded way back near the goal. There’s no going in circles to see who moves first; Cassian is on him, landing blow after blow to his face and head. His own face goes red with anger as he shouts what you assume to be chastising, scolding words at the other. You can’t hear anything above the crowd around you spurring him on. Across the ice, the rest of the team just watches, arms crossed and chests heaving. 

Eris finally gathers himself, landing a left hook to Cassian’s jaw. He takes the opportunity to pull him down a bit by the hair and uses his other hand to keep punching. The refs are finally on their way to break it up, but both of their blood has already spilled onto the glass and ice. You strain to catch their words, curiosity flaring as Eris’ eyes flick to you, his lips curling into that infuriating smirk. Whatever he said next had Cassian lunging forward with another barrage of punches. 

As the refs finally near them, you decide you've seen enough and navigate your way out of the stands to the locker room entrance just as you always have at the end of their matches. 

You’ve never seen him get like this. Sure, you’ve seen him get into a fight every now and then, after which he’d pout at you from the penalty box (if he wasn’t still too overcome with anger). But this? In-fighting? Never. He’s usually the one splitting the guys up. And though he gets into disagreement after disagreement with Eris, it’s never turned into this. You’re not even sure why it escalated so quickly — they’ve been doing really well this season and the playoffs are still months away. This was by no means a high-stakes game for them. 

Just as you cross your arms over your chest and lean against the wall across from the locker room door, you hear the familiar cacophony that comes with lost games. You prefer it to the times they come back silent — the times the car ride home goes by without a word exchanged. Those are few and far in between, though. 

The din of angry voices and clattering equipment grows louder as the team approaches. You straighten up, eyes fixed on the corridor’s entrance. When Cassian emerges, leading the group, your heart sinks. His jaw is clenched, gaze locked straight ahead with an intensity that makes you hesitate. 

Still, you take a few steps towards him. “Cass,” you start, your voice barely audible above the commotion.

He doesn’t even blink. Cassian strides past you, the heat of his anger almost palpable as he disappears into the locker room. The door slams shut behind him, leaving you staring at its blank surface. 

You're still processing when you feel a light touch at your waist. Azriel slides past you with a sympathetic nod. Helion follows, his hand ghosting across your lower back as he squeezes through. If you weren’t caught so off guard you may have leaned into their touch. Rhysand, ever the gentleman even in defeat, murmurs a quiet “Rough night, darling” as he moves around you.

“Think Cassian would mind if you played nurse?” Eris drawls, gesturing to his bruised face. He gives what would be a stunning smile if not for the blood staining his teeth. His eyes flicker to the locker room door, then back to you. “I promise I’d be a much more… grateful patient.” He lingers only a moment longer, and you’re sure he’d jump at the chance in a heartbeat if you gave the word, before sauntering into the locker room with a self-assured smirk.

You lean against the wall, arms crossed. The muffled sounds of frustration and anger seep through the locker room door, punctuated by the occasional crash of equipment being thrown. You check your phone, scrolling mindlessly through social media to distract yourself. Already, clips of the fight are circulating, fans dissecting every move, every punch. You decide to just put your phone back in your pocket. 

The shouting inside gradually dies down, replaced by the sound of running water. Showers. You find yourself straining to hear any indication of Cassian’s mood, wondering if the shower is doing anything to cool his temper. 

The corridor gradually empties as staff and other team personnel file out. You shift your weight from one foot to another, replying to texts to pass the time. The showers shut off one by one. You hear locker doors opening and closing, the murmur of subdued conversations. The guys eventually trickle out, hair still damp. They offer you tight smiles or brief nods as they pass, their usual post-game chatter noticeably absent. The weight of the loss and the fight hangs heavy in the air; even Eris walks past you without so much as a smirk.

“(Y/N).”

You feel your heart drop to your stomach at his tone — it’s commanding, and the raspiness from all the shouting in his already deep voice sends a conflicting shiver through you. It does nothing to calm your nerves, but ignites a different kind of tension altogether. You take a step off the wall as you respond.

“Yeah…?”

“Get in here.”

This better be fucking good, you think, but find yourself swallowing hard anyway. You push the door and step in, and if your breath wasn’t already stuck in your throat, you might have choked on it at the sight.

Cassian sits on one of the benches, a towel wrapped loosely around his waist. His elbows rest on his knees, hands hanging loose between them, and his damp hair partially obscures his face as he stares down at his calloused fingers.

You take a few tentative steps, stopping a few paces before the bench. The door finally shuts behind you, the loud click echoing in the otherwise silent room. Neither of you speak for long enough that you feel like you should say something, but when you open your mouth-

“Sit. And listen to me very carefully.”

His voice is low and measured, but the underlying tension is palpable. You lower yourself onto the bench across from him, heart pounding. His eyes lock onto you, dark and intense. He stands, closing the distance between you in two long strides. His towel now hangs dangerously low on his hips as he looms over you, still sitting on the bench.

“That game,” he growls, “was a disaster.”

You can feel the heat radiating from his skin, still flushed from the shower, as he leans down, placing his hands on either side of you on the bench. You have to tilt your head back to meet his gaze. His face is inches from yours, breath warm on your cheek.

“Eris blew it,” he continues, voice low and rough. “But y’know what? It wasn’t just him. The whole team was off today.” He leans in closer, his breath ghosting your ear. "And I think I know why."

He pulls back slightly, just enough to look you in the eyes. His gaze roams over your face, over your surprise laden eyes, lingering on your lips before snapping back up.

"I saw the way they kept looking at you," he murmurs so quietly you can hardly hear him. "Tarquin missing easy passes, Azriel fumbling checks he'd usually nail." His free hand comes up to brush a strand of hair from your face, the touch feather-light and sending shivers down your spine. "Even Helion let in shots he'd normally block without breaking a sweat.” You can feel the tension coiling in Cassian's body, see the muscle in his jaw working as he clenches it. 

"It's getting to be too much," he says, the hand that brushed your hair back now on your chin, tilting your face up to his. "The guys can't focus when you're here." His thumb brushes across your lower lip, and you can’t help but part your mouth open a bit at the touch. "Maybe I need to stop bringing you to these things. If you're going to keep distracting the team like this..."

His gaze intensifies, dark eyes boring into yours. He’s so close you can feel the warmth of his breath on your lips as he speaks.

"We can't have that, can we, baby?"

The notion is absurd. Stop going to his games? Your brows furrow as you look at him incredulously. “That’s hardly my fault-”

“Didn’t I tell you to sit and listen!?” He shouts suddenly, his grip on your chin tightening. Your eyes shoot wide open, but not in surprise.

In understanding. 

He’d never really talk to you like this, you both knew that. This was one of his games. And, oh, how you so loved playing them. 

You keep the smirk from tugging at the corners of your lips.

“Funny, I thought you liked it when all eyes were on me.”

“I like it when they look. I don’t like it when they forget their place.”

Your breath catches, a mix of anticipation and desire. You can see the fire in his eyes, the barely contained jealousy and possessiveness. You lean in slightly, testing the boundaries. “And what exactly is their place, Cassian?” you ask, your voice low and teasing. “More importantly, what’s mine?”

His eyes narrow at your challenge, a dangerous smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. He releases your chin, only to trail his fingers down your neck, coming to rest at your collarbone. The light touch leaves goosebumps in its wake. “Their place?” His eyes harden slightly. “To play hockey. Nothing more. I bring them some eye candy out of the kindness of my heart, and how do they repay me? By letting themselves get distracted and costing us games.” A sharp exhale.

“Your place?” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that you feel more than hear. Without warning, his hand slides to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair. The sudden grip is firm but not painful. Cassian steps over the bench in one fluid motion, his hold on you guiding you to turn with him. You instinctively follow his lead, twisting on the bench to face him and rising as he pulls you close. His movements are firm as he turns you both and directs you backward, until you feel the cool press of metal against your shoulders. With a gentle but insistent pressure, he keeps you pinned there, pushing his hips against your own. His eyes lock onto yours as he leans in, closing the distance between your lips.

The kiss is nothing romantic. It’s pure lust, disguised as frustration, as consequation. Where his words were clearly deliberate, his actions feign abandon. You match his intensity, your lips moving against his with equal fervor, your body arching into his touch. The grip on your hair remained, his other hand sliding slowly from your hip to your waist, then up again to your chest. He was like a starved man, grabbing onto whatever flesh he could get his hands on. The hand you didn’t have snaked around the back of his neck desperately explored every valley of his bare torso, products of his years playing the sport. 

The sounds of heavy breaths and locking lips fill the room, grunts following not long after. Cassian lets out an especially depraved groan, rolling his head back, when you slide your hand down to squeeze him through the precariously wrapped towel. But when you move to pull it off, his own hand swats yours away.

“With what you did tonight, you think that’s allowed? You think you decide how this goes?” His words hang in the air, heavy with implication. You pause, processing his question, the sudden shift.

“What I did tonight?” you manage, your voice slightly breathless. “I didn’t do anything.”

Cassian’s laugh is low and humorless. “Didn’t do anything? Sweetheart… don’t play innocent.” His fingers tighten in your hair, making you suck in a sharp breath through your teeth. “Every cheer, every jump, every little gasp… You put on quite the show, didn’t you?” He leans in, his breath hot against your ear. “And don’t think I didn’t notice the way your eyes stuck to Eris. Tell me, did you like it when he blew you that kiss?” 

Yes.

His gaze continues to burn into yours, a mix of jealousy and desire, as if he could somehow read the response in your eyes. “You’ve got the whole team wrapped around your finger and you know it.”

You steel yourself, meeting his gaze with an intense one of your own. “And so what if I do?” you challenge, voice steadier now. “I’m not responsible for how your team reacts to me. If they can’t keep their eyes on the game, maybe that’s on them.”

You lean in slightly, mimicking his earlier movement. “Or maybe it’s on you, Captain. Shouldn’t you be able to keep your team focused?” Something dangerous flashes through his eyes.

“You’re pushing boundaries you don’t fully understand.”

“Or maybe I understand them better than you think.” Your voice is steady despite the thrumming of your pulse.

“Understand this, then.” Your stomach flips. His eyes narrow, a muscle in his jaw twitching. “Stirring up my team? That’s a direct shot at me, at my authority.”

You scoff, feigning incredulity. “Authority? If you had any authority, do you think they’d look at me the way they do, touch me the way they do?” A pause. “Did you think it ended with the showboating? No, baby, they put their hands on me so often I’m starting to forget what yours feel like.”

Of course he knew, noticed it early on and said nothing after discovering that neither of you truly minded. 

“Helion seems to enjoy putting his hand on my lower back when he moves around me for a chance to ‘slip’ and cop a feel,” you continue. “Ever notice how Rhys almost always greets me with a hug? Squeezes me? Oh! And the way-”

“Enough.” Cassian’s voice cuts through your words like a blade, low and sharp. The hand that doesn’t still have a fistful of your hair in it shoots out to grasp the junction of your neck and shoulder, his calloused fingers feel like they’re searing into you. “You think I don’t see it all? See how they undress you with their eyes? How their fingers itch to trace every curve they imagine beneath your clothes?”

You feel a slight downward pressure, pushing on your shoulder, pulling on your hair. “But here’s what you’re missing, sweetheart. They might play at ownership, but at the end of the day, who do they answer to?”

He pulls back slightly, to really take in the sight of you. “Who do you answer to when the game’s over and the lights go down?”

The question hangs in the air between you. You can feel the heat radiating off his body. Cassian’s gaze intensifies, his grip on your hair and shoulder tightening. “Because make no mistake,” he continues, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, and the downward force he’s inflicting on you growing steadily. “This little game you’re playing? It ends when I say it does.”

The pressure on your shoulder increases, his intent clear. You resist for a moment longer, but the fire in his eyes, the set of his jaw… His command is clear. Though you have half a mind to resist, a thrill runs through you, making your heart beat faster and your breath hitch slightly. The sheer possessiveness in his gaze is enough to make your knees weak. 

Slowly, inexorably, he guides you downward, your body responding almost involuntarily to the authoritative tone and the heat of his voice. You look up at him from your new position, the sight of him towering over you sending a shiver down your spine. His eyes hold yours captive as he looms above you. You’re aware of how your breathing quickens with anticipation, how Cassian’s throat bobs as he watches you. He’s still holding your hair, and you can tell he’s enjoying the submission he’s coaxed from you, his gaze a mix of satisfaction and barely restrained desire.

That grip tightens a fraction as he leans into you, his other hand coming up to cup your jaw, his thumb tracing a path along your lower lip, but different from before. Where his last touch there had been gentle and barely there, this one is firm and deliberate.

Cassian’s voice, when he finally speaks, is low and rough. “Open,” he commands, the single word laden with authority and promise.

You shudder as his command rolls over you, your body responding without conscious thought. Your lips part slightly in response to his order. His gaze is fixed intently on your face. “That’s it,” he murmurs, his gaze unwavering. His thumb traces along the curve of your lower lip with deliberate slowness, a firmness matching that of his eyes. For a heartbeat, he applies the gentlest pressure, slipping it into your mouth for a moment, his eyes locked on yours. “Now be a good girl and stay just like that for me.”

You hold yourself still, holding his gaze as you keep your mouth open, your tongue instinctively darting out to moisten your lower lip when he pulls his hand away. He finally releases your hair and it’s an effort to contain your sigh of relief. You hear more than see the towel fall from his hips to the floor. The same fingers that gripped your face moments ago now wrap around his girth, absently stroking the already-hard length of it. His pupils are dilated at the sight of you obediently holding yourself still, your mouth open, and he can barely restrain the hunger that’s been building in him.

Cassian’s large hand cradles your jaw, drawing you even closer. His presence is overwhelming, and as he aligns himself with your mouth, there’s no warning before he thrusts in. Initially, his movements are slow, almost deceivingly gentle, but you realize too late it’s quite the opposite. Halfway in, you manage, but as he pushes to the hilt, he does so painfully slowly. You try to relax, your throat attempting to accommodate him. The slow withdrawal is worse, your breath ragged as you inhale through your nose.

He pulls out slowly, leaving you gasping for air. He looks down at you with a mix of confusion and pity. “Look at you,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing your cheek. “Struggling already. I thought you could handle more.”

You meet his gaze, eyes watering but defiant. You want to tell him that you can, that he knows you can, but when you make to speak, the corner of his mouth twitches in a smirk, and he pushes back in, a little faster this time. “Is this what you wanted, baby? To be on your knees, taking me like this?”

He thrusts deeper, making you choke slightly. Cassian groans, a low rumble of a sound that reverberates through you. “That’s why you acted out, distracted my guys, huh? You just wanted me to give you a little attention.” He picks up the pace, each thrust more forceful yet. “Bet you think about this all the time,” he growls. “When you’re watching us play, you’re not watching the game, are you? No… You’re staring at Azriel’s tight, perfect ass, aren’t you? I see the way you watch him.” You can only moan in response. Cassian’s fingers slip into your hair on either side, holding your head back against the lockers, his movements becoming relentless. 

“And don’t think I haven’t noticed the way your eyes go to Helion between plays, when he takes his helmet off. You love how big he is, how powerful. You get off on watching him, don’t you?” The tension between you both is palpable, but his eyes are fixated on you, a storm of emotions swirling within them. “I see you staring whenever any of them are in the penalty box. You’re not thinking about the game then, are you? Bet you wish you were in there with them. You’re probably thinking about Tarquin’s pretty blue eyes, you want him to pin you with that look, don’t you? Or Rhys’s hands, wanting them all over you. And Eris,” he spits out the name, pairs it with a particularly rough thrust of his hips. “You eat up the way he flexes his arms when he flirts with you, I know you do.” The locker room fills with the sounds of your shared breaths, the slap of skin against skin, and the harsh whisper of his voice.

Each name, each accusation, sends a wave of shame through you. You want to deny it all, but Cassian’s relentless pace and your restrained position make it impossible. The truth is, you do think about those things — more often than you’d ever admit. The thoughts swirl in your mind, but they never take away from the attention you give Cassian. You’re most often fixated on him during games, your eyes unabashedly stuck on the way his body moves. The powerful stride of his legs, the way his strong hands grip the stick, the intense focus in his eyes. Your mind almost always lands on thoughts of his sweat-slicked skin, the hard lines of his body beneath the uniform. Your desire for him gets overwhelming, which is why the current activity is typically the one of choice after these games. 

This was the first time you hadn’t waited until home though.

He continues, his movements relentless. “You know what Eris told me out there, baby? Who am I kidding, of course you don’t, you were too busy entertaining the rest of the guys, isn’t that right?” You try to respond, but choke on his length, his brutal pace bruising the back of your throat. “Isn’t that right? Answer me (Y/N),” he growls, keeping your head firmly pressed against the lockers.

You try to answer, but all you can manage is an unintelligible garble, gagging as you attempt to speak. If there weren’t already tears in your eyes from the physical strain, there certainly would be after hearing his cold, short laugh.

“Can’t even own up to it,” Cassian tsks. “He told me that you,” he punctuates the ‘you’ with a particularly deep thrust, “have been running around telling them all how badly you want them. That you give them fuck-me eyes when I’m not around. Is that true, baby? Have you been going behind my back? Want them to pass you around and take turns with you?” At each question he pulls almost all the way out, slamming back in soon after. You manage a quick shake of your head before his grip tightens on it again. You can only look up at him with your tear-brimmed, pleading eyes. “No, I didn’t think so,” he murmurs, a thumb grazing soothingly across your cheek. You may have taken comfort in it if you didn’t know any better.

“I knew you wouldn’t say those things,” he says calmly, but suddenly pulls himself out and leans over you, forcing your head up to look at him. “But you think them, don’t you?” 

You’re still trying to gasp in air as you fight to respond. “No,” but you don’t sound convincing. Not when your voice is so hoarse. “No, I promise, I never said those things — never thought them either.” You’re coughing, trying to regain your composure, and you’re grateful he gives you a moment.

“Take off your pants,” he orders suddenly, the command sending a jolt of anticipation through you. You stand slowly, and your hands tremble slightly as you obey, slipping out of your pants and kicking them aside. His eyes rake over your body, lingering on the sight of his jersey hanging loosely on you, the contrast between the oversized shirt and your bare legs making his pupils dilate with desire. “Keep it on,” he adds when you reach for it. Cassian leans forward, now eye-level with you.

 “Come on,” he breathes out, a hand snakes under the jersey and onto your bare hip, those calloused fingers squeezing. “You can’t honestly tell me you don’t think about them. How their hands would feel if they were running up your thighs, grabbing your hips, pulling you close.” His actions mirror his words deliciously, and his words pour over you in a dangerous whisper, the heat of his breath against your ear sending a shiver down your spine.  “About how it would feel to have their hands squeezing and groping you wherever they wanted. How about if instead of stealing little touches here and there, they grew some fucking balls, grabbed you by the hips,” his fingers dig in firmly, and you catch him tilt his chin to his shoulder, a glimpse of his true nature shining through the silent signal to grab on, “and lifted you up like this?”

You barely have a moment to grab on when, with a swift, powerful motion, Cassian lifts you up, pressing you against the lockers. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, and your arms around his neck as he holds you there, his body pinning yours and his hands holding you up by your ass. The cold metal of the lockers contrasts with the heat from both of your bodies. You try to arch away from it, but only manage to push yourself flush against him, feeling the undeniable hardness of him pressing against your core, a reminder of how desperately you both want this. The sensation sends a jolt of electricity through you, making you gasp and tighten your grip around his neck.

You want to deny it, to insist that your thoughts are innocent, but the intensity of his gaze tells you he wouldn’t believe you. You swallow hard, the taste of him still lingering on your tongue, as you shake your head once more, more for your own reassurance than his. 

“It’s not like that…” you plead, trying to catch your breath, eyes wide with a mix of defiance and vulnerability. “I—” Your voice falters, the words stuck in your throat. “You don’t understand.”

Cassian’s eyes narrow, his grip tightening ever so slightly. You knew there would be bruises later. “Enlighten me,” he growls.

You take a breath. “When I watch you out there, all I can think about is how much I want you,” you confess. “The way you move, the way you lead and command everything… It drives me crazy. They’re just petty distractions. You’re the one I can’t resist. The one I crave,” you assure him, moving the stray hair from his eyes. “You’re the one I want, Cassian. Only you, you know that.”

His expression softens, as do his fingers on your skin, his intense gaze seeming to melt as he absorbs your words. He leans in closer, his forehead resting against yours, his breath mingling with your own. “Maybe you’re right,” he murmurs, his voice tender, almost vulnerable. “Maybe I’ve been too harsh.” A hand rubs your side soothingly under the jersey, making its way up to massage your breast.

You smile softly, but just as you begin to feel a sense of relief, his grip on you tightens again, a bit painful on your breast. There’s a familiar, dangerous glint in his eyes. “But then again,” he whispers, “I can’t just ignore the way you look at them, baby. I can’t let that go with a few sweet words from those pretty lips of yours,” he catches your bottom lip between his teeth, pulling softly before releasing it. “You like their attention, being desired by them. Just admit it.”

You hesitate, your mind torn between denial and the undeniable truth. Unable to look him in the eyes, you nod slowly. Your voice is barely a whisper when you speak. “I do…”

“That’s what I thought,” he murmurs, voice low and pensive. He presses you harder against the lockers, his hands roaming over you slowly, almost absently. “Enjoy it all you want, but don’t you dare let them think they have a chance. You know who I mean.”

Your heart races as you nod, whispering, “Eris.” It was obvious. 

Cassian frowns. “It wasn’t a question,” he snaps. “I let you play these pathetic little games of yours, but don’t think for a second that it’s an invitation to have another man’s name on your lips while I’m inside you.”

With a sharp, forceful movement, he thrusts into you, the suddenness making you cry out, the sound bouncing through the tiled room. “Do you understand?” he demands, and you nod again, vigorously this time, a soft whimper escaping your lips at the fullness. 

Without another word, he finally captures your mouth in a fierce, possessive kiss, his tongue gliding over yours with a fervor that leaves you breathless. His hands slide down to your thighs, and he begins to move against you. There was nothing soft or caring about it, the motions unyielding and powerful. His hands grip you tightly as he fucks you into the cold metal of the lockers, his thrusts hard and deep. 

“Is this what you wanted?” His voice is harsh and taunting. “To be fucked like this, right here where anyone could walk in? You think about this every time you see them, don’t you?” That’s when you remember that you are, in fact, in a place where anyone could find you like this. A blush rises to your cheeks at the realization, and you can tell he gets off on your embarrassment when he fails to suppress a smirk. You try grounding yourself by grabbing him wherever you can, hands out of his hair and grasping at his shoulders, nails digging in. “I know you like teasing them,” he continues, voice little more than a rumble. “Making them think they have a chance. They’ll never have you like this, (Y/N).”

His pace quickens, and he speaks into your neck. “Tarquin mentioned how you blush every time he catches you staring. What do you think about when you look at him, hm?” But you’re a mess, so lost in pleasure you can hardly process he’s asked you a question until he bites down on the crook of your neck. He doesn’t wait for your response, however, before he continues. “And Helion said you can’t keep your eyes off his arms. Is that what you want? You want his arms wrapped around you?” He changes his rhythm suddenly, now pulling out all the way to the tip before ramming back in. 

“Do you understand how fucking embarrassing it is,” he starts, voice cold, barely heard over your screams and moans, “to have my team—my friends—telling me how they catch you practically drooling at them, that you’d take them over me if you got the chance?” You shake your head adamantly at that. 

“No, Cass, you know that isn’t true!” You try to keep your voice even, to be taken seriously, but the lewd sounds in the air of him pounding your soaked, dripping cunt don’t do anything to help. It’s hard to continue when he leans down and sucks one of your nipples into his mouth, tongue dancing across the sensitive skin. “No one could fuck me as good as you do,” you breathe out, and you hope the moans cutting through your words are indication enough of it. “You’re the only one I want, the only one who makes me feel like this,” you manage to say between gasps. “They mean nothing compared to you.”

He appears to consider your words and you think he might be convinced, but nothing changes. Other than, perhaps, the smirk on his lips. “You know what Azriel told me while he was leaving? He asked if I needed any help with you in here. Can you believe that, baby?” His thrusts grow even more intense. “He had the nerve to ask me if he could join in…” A scoff. “As if I’d let him touch you. As if I’d share you with anyone else.”

“Don’t want anyone else,” you murmur, eyes going unfocused from the overwhelming sensation of it all, but he speaks over you, seemingly not having heard you. Nevermind the thought that they all likely knew what would transpire in this room after they left. You hoped it was only Azriel, with how observant he was.

“I can’t blame him though, can’t really blame any of them. It’s not their fault you’re such a sneaky fucking tease. It’s a wonder they don’t feel entitled to you yet…”

His words sting, but they also go straight to your cunt, and you feel yourself clench around him. His possessiveness, his dominance — it’s intoxicating. You try to respond, but your breath is practically forced out of your lungs with a loud moan as his pace quickens again. 

“Look at you,” he continues, his voice dripping with anger and desire. “Barely able to form a sentence. Does it turn you on, knowing they all want you? Knowing that I’m the only one who gets to have you like this?”

You manage a shaky nod, and quip back. “I know it turns you on, how much you keep mentioning them.” It catches him off guard, your short moment of lucidity. For a brief second, he stills, eyes widening in surprise before narrowing again, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Oh, you think you’re fucking clever,” he murmurs. “I know what you’re doing,” his nails dig into your skin as he thrusts into you, making you cry out, “and it won’t work.”

He shifts slightly, angling his hips to hit a spot inside you that makes you gasp in pleasure, hands scrambling for purchase on him, on the lockers, on yourself. The sound echoes through the locker room, mingling with the existing ones. 

“Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours, I’m all yours, Cassian. Only yours, please!”

He groans, the sound vibrating through his chest and into yours. “Good girl,” he murmurs, his tone softening for just a moment before he resumes his relentless pace. “Again. Louder.”

“I’m yours!” you cry out desperately. “Only yours!” You find yourself wondering if there’s anyone left in the building, if they can hear you. You subsequently decide you don’t care. His eyes flicker down to the jersey number stretched across your chest, and a satisfied smirk forms across his lips. “Look at you, wearing my number,” his eyes are full of pride. 

You nod, lips parting with a moan. “Wanted to show everyone who I’m here for. I belong to you, Cassian.”

“Damn right, you do,” he mutters, his movements becoming more desperate than forceful. You know your boyfriend well enough to know he’s getting close. Each thrust, combined with that knowledge, sends waves of pleasure through your body. “I want to hear you, baby,” he demands, his voice strained with need. 

“Cassian!” you scream, your voice hoarse, broken by moans and cries. “Cassian, please!” 

His breath puffs against your neck as he groans your name in return. The sound of your combined moans and skin against skin echoes off the walls. And with a particularly powerful thrust, he empties himself into you, your cries mingling when he doesn’t stop. 

“That’s it, baby,” you whisper to him, running your hands through his hair soothingly, coaxing him through his orgasm. He shudders against you, his grip on you gradually loosening. For a moment, he rests his forehead against yours, panting heavily, his breath ragged. As the adrenaline rush fades, Cassian’s breathing slows, the intensity in his eyes softening. Slowly, he pulls out, leaving you feeling achingly empty.

But before you can protest, he lowers you to the ground, drops to his knees, and pulls one of your legs over his shoulder to rest your foot on the bench behind him. His hands slide down your thighs, feeling the mix of your arousal and his seed. “You didn’t think I’d leave you like this, did you?” he murmurs, voice filled with a renewed hunger. His mouth descends on you without warning, his tongue gliding over your sensitive flesh, tasting both of you. The sudden jolt of pleasure makes you gasp, your hands flying to his hair as he works you. 

Cassian looks up at you, his eyes dark with desire as he devours you. “You taste so fucking good,” he says against you, the vibrations against your clit drawing a moan from you. His tongue works with relentless precision, each flick and swirl drawing out gasps and moans from you. His hands grip your thighs firmly, keeping you steady as he devours you. You can feel the roughness of his calloused fingers digging into your skin.

You clutch at his hair, your fingers tangling in the damp strands as you pull him closer. You rut your hips against his face, seeking more pressure, more friction. Every movement of his tongue sends shivers up your spine, your body responding to him with a need that borders on desperation. He knows exactly how to push you, bringing you close before pulling back, leaving you teetering on the brink of insanity. 

His eyes lock onto yours, filled with a fierce determination. “I want to hear you,” he murmurs against your sensitive flesh, his breath hot and tantalizing. “Say my name.”

“Cassian,” you moan, your voice trembling with the intensity of your need. “Please, don’t stop.”

He smirks, lips curving against you as he doubles his efforts. His tongue plunges deeper, his hands squeezing your thighs tighter as he pulls you even closer. You can feel the building pressure, the coil of pleasure tightening inside you, ready to snap. 

“Good girl,” he whispers. “Good fucking girl… Come for me.”

With those words and a final flick of his tongue, you shatter, your orgasm crashing over you. Your body convulses, your cries echoing off the tiled walls as you ride out the waves of pleasure. Cassian doesn’t stop, his tongue continuing to lap at you, drawing out every last bit of your release until you’re a trembling, boneless mess in his arms.

Finally, he pulls back, his lips glistening with a mix of your juices and his satisfaction. You feel his warmth spilling out of you, trickling down your thighs as he rises to his feet. His eyes blaze with a dark, possessive fire as he takes in your thoroughly spent form. There’s no need for words; the look in his eyes tells you everything you need to know.

Remember this, his look seems to say. Remember what happened here. 

You meet his gaze, your own eyes still hazy with the aftermath of your climax. There’s no need for further declarations or reassurances; the intensity of what just transpired speaks for itself.

[vroom--vrooming]

Charles Leclerc x Girlfriend!Reader

Charles just won the race in Monza and his girlfriend is beyond proud and happy for him

The atmosphere at Monza is electric, the air thick with anticipation and hope. You’re standing in the back of the Ferrari garage, your heart pounding in sync with the roar of the engines, your eyes glued to the screen as the final lap unfolds. Charles is in the lead, and with each corner he expertly navigates, the reality of what’s about to happen sinks in deeper. He’s going to win. He’s really going to win again at Monza.

The grandstands erupt in cheers as Charles crosses the finish line in first place, the Ferrari flag waving proudly in the sea of tifosi. Your breath catches in your throat, tears instantly welling up as you watch him take victory at the home of Ferrari for the second time. It’s not just a win—it’s the culmination of all his hard work, all the late nights, the sacrifices, the endless determination. He did it. He really did it.

As soon as his car comes to a stop in parc fermé, Charles is out in a flash, helmet still on, but you can sense his overwhelming emotions even from a distance. He doesn’t take a moment to bask in the glory or pause for the cameras—his eyes are searching the crowd, looking for you, and the second he finds you, his body moves before his mind can catch up.

You don’t even have time to react before he’s running toward you, the intensity of his emotions palpable. The moment he reaches you, he scoops you up into his arms, spinning you around in sheer joy, his laughter muffled by the helmet but loud and clear in your ears. You cling to him, laughing through your tears, your heart overflowing with pride and love for him.

When he finally sets you down, he doesn’t let go. His gloved hands come up to cup your face, then he pulls back just enough to lift his helmet off, revealing his face flushed with exhilaration, damp with sweat, and eyes shining with unshed tears. He’s breathless, eyes locking onto yours, and for a moment, it’s like the whole world fades away, leaving just the two of you in this perfect moment.

“Charles, you did it!” you exclaim, your voice trembling with emotion.

Before you can say anything else, he leans in and captures your lips in a kiss, fierce and passionate, pouring all his feelings into that single moment. It’s a kiss filled with everything he can’t express in words—the gratitude, the love, the sheer happiness of this victory. You kiss him back just as fervently, your hands threading through his hair, pulling him even closer, needing to feel him, to reassure him that you’re there, that you’re proud, that you love him.

When you finally break apart, both of you are breathless, foreheads resting together as you try to catch your breath. His eyes are still locked onto yours, and the way he’s looking at you—it’s like you’re the only person in the world.

“I couldn’t have done this without you,” he says softly, his voice hoarse from the emotion and the exertion of the race. “Thank you for always believing in me.”

Tears spill over your cheeks, and you can’t help but smile through them. “I’m so proud of you, Charles. So incredibly proud.”

He grins, that beautiful, boyish grin that makes your heart flutter every time. “I love you,” he says, and the words are simple, but they carry the weight of everything he’s feeling.

“I love you too,” you reply, and the words come easily, naturally, as if they were always meant to be spoken in this moment.

The team swarms around Charles, celebrating his victory, but he doesn’t let go of your hand, keeping you close as he’s pulled in every direction by excited teammates and jubilant fans. You watch as he’s hoisted up onto the shoulders of the crew, his laughter filling the air as he waves to the adoring crowd.

And then comes the podium. The ceremony is a blur of cheers and confetti, but as Charles steps up onto the top step, trophy in hand, he looks down at you. His eyes find yours in the crowd, and he smiles—bright, proud, and filled with all the love he feels for you.

You look up at him, your heart swelling with pride and love. This is your Charles, the man you adore, the man who just won the race and an entire nation. And as the Italian anthem plays, with the crowd cheering and the champagne spraying, he never stops smiling down at you.

[moonyswoony]

Heart of the cleanse

Pairing: five hargreeves x reader

Summary: with the Keepers hot on your tail and the Cleanse raging, you and Five realise some things can’t say hidden forever.

Warning(s): making out, you and five being stupid.

You and Five had always made one hell of a team, your powers complimenting his abilities. While he blinked in and out of space, taking out enemies with surgical precision, you used your telekinesis to clear paths, shield him from objects, and hurl the occasional chunk of concrete at anyone who got too close. It was dangerous, chaotic, and more than a little terrifying, but it was also familiar. This was how it had always been, ever since you’d first met at the Commission all those years ago.

“Could you maybe try not to drop a building on me?” Five called over his shoulder, his voice tinged with sarcasm as he narrowly avoided a collapsing wall.

“Maybe if you didn’t keep blinking in front of the buildings I’m trying to drop on the Keepers,we wouldn’t have this problem!” you shot back, grinning despite the tension.

He rolled his eyes, but you caught the glimmer of amusement in his expression before he teleported away again. The banter was comforting, a slice of normalcy in the middle of the chaos. But even as you fought, you couldn’t ignore the way your heart pounded and the way your breath hitched whenever he was in danger.

The truth was, you’d been holding onto these feelings for years, since your days at the Commission, when you’d been nothing more than coworkers thrown together by circumstance. Back then, you told yourself it was nothing, just the bond forged between two people who had each other’s backs in the worst situations. But now, as the world threatened to end, those feelings were becoming impossible to ignore.

As you blasted another chunk of concrete away with a wave of your hand, you realized that this might be your last chance to say something, If you even survived this. But there was no time for confessions, not yet. The Cleanse was intensifying, and you could feel the energy crackling in the air, making your skin prickle with unease. Five appeared beside you again, his brow furrowed in concentration.

“We need to get to the source of the cleanse,” he said, his voice low and urgent. “Whatever’s causing the Cleanse, it’s at the center of the city. We have to stop it.”

You nodded, the seriousness of the situation pulling you back to the present. “Right. Let’s go.”

The two of you fought your way through the chaos, moving in perfect sync, just as you always had. But as you got closer to the center, you could feel the tension building between you, an unspoken weight that neither of you could ignore for much longer.

Finally, you reached the heart of the city, where the energy was strongest, and the ground was shaking beneath your feet. The air was thick with power, and you could feel the strain in every fiber of your being. Five stood beside you, his eyes scanning the destruction, searching for a way to stop it. But there was something else in his expression too, something that made your heart skip a beat.

He glanced at you, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop. There was no noise, no destruction, just the two of you standing together in the midst of it all, just like you always did. “I can’t lose you,” he said suddenly, his voice rough with emotion. “Not now. Not after everything.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. You’d always known that there was something between you, but hearing him say it out loud made it real in a way you hadn’t expected.

“You won’t,” you whispered, your throat tight with emotion. “I’m not going anywhere, Five. Not without you.”

His jaw clenched, and he took a step closer, his gaze never leaving yours. “You don’t understand,” he said, his voice low and urgent. “I’ve spent my whole life running—through time, from the Commission, from everything. But not from you. Never from you.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you felt a tear slip down your cheek. “Five…”

Before you could say anything else, he was kissing you.

You kissed him back with everything you had, your arms wrapping around his neck as you pressed your body against his. The world was falling apart around you, but all you could think about was him. His lips, his touch, the way he made you feel like nothing else mattered. The heat between you was overwhelming, like an all consuming fire.

His hands roamed over your body, slipping under your shirt to trace patterns across your skin, leaving a trail of fire behind. You gasped against his mouth, your fingers clutching at his shoulders as you arched into his touch, needing more, wanting everything.

His mouth left yours to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that made you shiver with desire. Your hands reached the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against yours, to lose yourself in him completely.

The kiss grew more intense, more heated, as the world around you faded into oblivion. The only thing that existed was the two of you, tangled together in a desperate, passionate embrace that left you breathless. His hands were everywhere all at once, touching, caressing, exploring every inch of you as if he couldn’t get enough.

You moaned his name, your voice shaky with desire as you pulled him closer, your bodies pressed together so tightly that you could feel the rapid beat of his heart against your chest. He groaned in response, his lips finding yours again in a kiss that was so deep, so intense, that it felt like you were drowning in him.

But even in the midst of the heat and the passion, there was a tenderness to his touch, a carefulness that told you everything you needed to know. This wasn’t just about lust, desperation or fear, this was about love, pure and simple. A love that had been building for years, silent but also loud, unspoken but always there , waiting for the right moment to be unleashed.

And now, as the world threatened to end, that love was the only thing that mattered.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you pulled back, both of you panting. His eyes were dark with desire, but there was something else there too, something deeper.

“I love you,” you whispered, your voice shaky but certain. “I love you, Five. I think I always have.”

He closed his eyes, his jaw clenching as if he was trying to hold back his own emotions. When he opened them again, they were filled with a fierce determination that took your breath away. “I love you too,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “And I’m not going to lose you. Not now, not ever.”

You smiled through your tears, your heart bursting with love for the man standing in front of you. “Then let’s put a stop to this,” you said, your voice steady, filled with a determination. “Together.”

He nodded, his hand squeezing yours one last time before you both turned back to the chaos that awaited you. The world was still falling apart, but you knew that as long as you had each other, you could face anything.

With one last kiss, a promise of everything that was to come, you and Five launched into action, fighting side by side, just as you always had.

[act-nat-ural]

It started when Kuroo referred to you as his ‘karaoke wife.’ Kenma’s face twisted into one of clear disgust. “What does that even mean..” Kuroo threw an arm around your shoulder and gave you a smug look. “Care to explain?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn't hold back your smile. “It means we only go to karaoke if the other is going.” The team gave you an unimpressed look as Kuroo gestured for you to go on. You sighed and avoided eye contact, mumbling, “We also only do duets with each other.”

You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks as Fukunaga let out a giggle and Yamamoto muttered, “I wish I had a karaoke wife,” under his breath.

Kuroo chuckled, sensing your discomfort. “What she means is, we’ve got a vibe when we sing together. Like, there’s this chemistry between us that just clicks. It’s like we can read each other’s minds, you know? We can start a song without saying a word, and it just flows. Perfect harmonies, smooth transitions… It’s like we’re in sync. Like we *get* each other, musically.”

The team looked between you and Kuroo with varying degrees of skepticism. Kenma raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh, chemistry, sure.”

“You know,” Kuroo continued, leaning back and grinning, “There’s a special kind of magic when you’re so in tune with someone. We can make any song sound like it’s meant for us. Ever heard of ‘The Power of Love’?” He looked to you, eyes glinting. “It’s like, you and I? We can turn even the cheesiest love songs into something everyone wants to listen to. And don’t get me started on our ‘Shallow’ duet. We had the whole room cheering.”

You felt the familiar rush of both pride and bashfulness. “It’s not that impressive,” you muttered, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you. You were secretly proud of the way your voices blended, the effortless way you made each performance feel unique.

“Are you kidding?” Kuroo scoffed, clearly enjoying the teasing. “I’m pretty sure we make every karaoke night legendary. I mean, do you see how we make the crowd react? They go wild. It's not just the song—it’s us. We’ve got that... thing.”

The team was silent for a moment, trying to process what Kuroo was saying. Finally, Fukunaga spoke up, a teasing smile creeping up on his face. “I don’t know, man. If I’m ever looking for a duet partner, I might just steal (Name)  away from you.”

Kuroo’s face immediately shifted into mock offense. “Try it. You’ll regret it.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms over your chest. “You’re being a little dramatic, aren’t you?”

“Nope.” Kuroo leaned forward, his voice dropping an octave. “You and I? We’ve got karaoke magic. I’m not just letting anyone ruin that.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the embarrassment from earlier melting away in the warmth of Kuroo’s words. He always knew how to make you feel special, and even though the teasing never stopped, you had to admit—it was kind of nice to be his ‘karaoke wife.’ The team might not get it, but you knew. When you two sang together, nothing else mattered.

But just as the moment seemed to settle, a voice rang out from Yamamoto, his grin wide and mischievous. “Kuroo, you do know you two are terrible, right?”

Kuroo’s confident smile faltered slightly, his eyes narrowing playfully. “Excuse me?”

Yamamoto shrugged with a grin, and Kenma, looking utterly bored, added dryly, “I mean, you both sound like two dying cats trying to harmonize. It’s not really the chemistry you think it is.”

The whole team, seemingly in agreement, nodded along. “You guys literally can’t stay on key for more than a few notes,” Fukunaga chimed in, barely suppressing his laughter.

You blushed, rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly. “Okay, okay, maybe we're not great... but it’s fun, right?”

“You and Kuroo are the worst,” Kenma said, deadpan. “You sound like you’re trying to hit notes that just don’t exist.”

You couldn’t help but burst into laughter at the realization. “We’re not that bad,” you protested, but even you knew it was true. Kuroo, despite his confidence, was as tone-deaf as they came, and your singing wasn’t much better. 

Kuroo threw his hands up dramatically. “You’re all just jealous of our unmatched charisma!”

The team snickered, and Yamamoto playfully patted Kuroo on the back. “Sure, buddy. But hey, we’ll still cheer you on. You’re great... at making everyone else sound better.”

With that, you and Kuroo exchanged a look, both of you trying not to crack up. Despite all the teasing, you knew one thing for sure—karaoke with Kuroo was never about being the best. It was about having fun, creating memories, and laughing at how awful your singing was. And honestly? That was more than enough for both of you.

note: kinda short but oh well

[cailinsblog]

Snow Day Smiles: Charles' First Taste of Winter | Quinn hughes

Dad Quinn hughes x mom reader

Masterlist

It was a crisp winter morning in Vancouver, the kind where the sky was a perfect shade of blue and the snow was fresh and powdery, coating the ground in a blanket of white. The Hughes family—Quinn, his wife Y/N, and their 5-month-old son, Charles—had decided to spend the morning outside, soaking in the beauty of the season. It was Charles’ first time seeing snow, and Y/N was determined to capture every moment of the milestone.

The family had gathered at the local park, with Quinn carrying Charles in a cozy little carrier strapped to his chest. Y/N had bundled up their son in an adorable puffy snowsuit, the kind that made him look like a little marshmallow. Quinn wore a big grin, looking down at his son as they approached the snowbank.

“Alright, buddy,” Quinn said, his voice soft and teasing as he took a step into the snow. “Time to see what all the fuss is about.”

Y/N watched with a mix of excitement and fondness. It was hard to believe how much their little boy had grown in just five months. She snapped a few pictures on her phone, then walked over to join them.

“Let’s see what he thinks,” she said, crouching down beside Quinn and Charles.

With careful hands, Quinn gently lowered Charles into the snow. The little one’s eyes grew wide, taking in the unfamiliar white world beneath his feet. For a moment, he just stared, the sensation of coldness clearly new to him.

Then, as if he’d just figured it out, Charles let out a joyful giggle, his tiny hands reaching out to touch the snow. He swiped at it, and when his little mittened hand scooped up a handful of the cold powder, he looked up at his parents and burst out laughing.

“Look at that!” Y/N said, her voice full of laughter. “He’s already a fan of the snow!”

Quinn smiled, glancing up at Y/N. “He’s definitely got his dad’s sense of humor.” He wiped a small bit of snow from his son’s face, and Charles gurgled happily, continuing to squirm and giggle, clearly loving the experience.

From across the park, Quinn’s brother, Jack, and their parents, Ellen and Jim, were watching the scene unfold. Ellen, standing with Jim and Jack, couldn’t help but laugh as she saw Charles playing in the snow, so carefree and happy.

"Just like his dad," she remarked with a soft chuckle, shaking her head as she watched Charles roll over in the snow, making tiny snow angels with his arms. "That laugh—it's all Quinn."

Y/N turned toward the group, laughing too. “Oh boy, now I’ve got two hockey players to take care of.” She shook her head fondly, a mix of amusement and mild panic in her voice, knowing the energy and chaos Quinn could bring when it came to playtime.

Quinn, overhearing, leaned down and grinned at Y/N. "You wouldn't want it any other way," he teased, bending down to scoop Charles up in his arms, snow falling from his coat in a fluffy cloud.

Charles cooed and laughed again as Quinn spun him around, his baby blues sparkling with pure joy. Y/N couldn’t help but smile, her heart full, as she watched her two favorite boys, already so in sync, already so full of life.

"Alright, little one," Quinn said to Charles, kissing him on the forehead. "You’re gonna be skating before you know it."

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the smile from creeping onto her face. "Oh no, not the hockey talk already," she teased, playfully swatting at Quinn. "He’s only five months old, Quinn!"

Jack laughed from the side. "You know he’s not wrong, right? Look at the way Charles is already getting into it!"

Charles giggled again, kicking his little feet excitedly in Quinn's arms. His laughter was contagious, spreading warmth through the entire group.

“Looks like he's ready to join the team," Jim chimed in with a grin, and Ellen gave a knowing look.

“Well,” Y/N said, laughing and shaking her head, “I suppose if we have to live in a house full of hockey sticks and skates, it’s good that at least one of us will be excited about it.”

And as the Hughes family stood together in the snow, watching Charles play, they knew this was just the beginning of a lifetime of memories, love, and—of course—hockey.

⚠️Reblog and send requests⚠️

[loki-cees-all]

🐊 headcanons…

Picture it: You’re an Avenger. And dating Loki.

Of course, Steve would call an ‘urgent’ meeting on your birthday, effectively interrupting your plans. Loki isn’t pleased.

How will he make sure you enjoy your special day?

The Interruption {Avengers!Loki x Avengers!Reader}

Cee's Loki Fic Masterlist / Cee and K's Glorious Birthday Bast Celebration Prompt List / AO3 Link

Pairing : Avengers!Loki x Avengers!Reader

Summary : It's your birthday, and Loki has one goal - to make sure you feel like the Queen that you are. So when Steve sends out a mysterious email about some kind of emergency, Loki decides to take care of it before you ever find out about it.

W/c : 2k words

Content/Warnings : Fluff, hints of smut, a smidgeon of angst.

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Loki always dreamt pleasantly while you were near. His bed was a sacred place because of you, where love blossomed and nightmares faded, when laughter replaced tears and groans of pain morphed into moans of pleasure. 

He always slept well while your naked bodies were tangled together, inhaling and exhaling in perfect sync, sharing warmth on cold nights in blissful uninterrupted slumber - except right now, an irritating beeping noise echoed against the walls over his dreams, incessantly increasing in volume and quickly becoming impossible to ignore. 

The sound pulled him from his dreams, and he stirred underneath the weight of your sleeping body against his. Loki liked you there, with your arm draped around his waist, one leg curled around one of his, and your cheek pressed against his chest, completely passed out and without a single care in the world; it made him feel wanted, necessary, alive. 

And you were in a particularly deep and divine slumber that morning, thanks to Loki’s ingenious plan of fucking you senseless the night before. But it went further than just the divinity of being intimate with the one he loved dearly, he just wanted to make sure that you slept long and well on the morning of your birthday. 

Beep, beep. His eyes finally flickered open when he realized it was your phone making that sound, threatening to ruin the first of many gifts he was planning to give you today. He’d reminded you the night before to make sure it was silenced, but somehow, some kind of message was still sneaking its way through. 

Cursing silently to himself, he stretched his arm out to grab the device from your nightstand, moving slowly and carefully in order to not rouse you. And just to be safe, Loki took his other hand and carefully threaded it through your hair to gently massage your scalp, hoping to keep you soothed, relaxed and unconscious. 

You let out an incoherent murmur against his chest as he moved, but continued sleeping peacefully, and so Loki brought your phone closer to examine it. He absolutely despised these things, but a long time ago you had insisted on adding his likeness as an Alternate Appearance to your phone, using the justification that it might come in handy someday. 

At the time he couldn’t imagine that it ever would - Loki suspected that you were just teasing him, trying to rile him up. But as his eyes scanned the preview on the screen, he was secretly grateful that you had: it was an electronic message from Steve Rogers, addressed to the entire Avengers team, to inform them of some kind of urgent matter that required a mandatory 8 am meeting.

A rage began to simmer deep in his soul. Regardless of what this “urgent matter” was - and Loki was sure that the Soldier was overreacting about it - it couldn’t have come at a worse time. Not when it was your birthday, and he had intended on spending the day worshiping you both in and out of his bed…

Loki returned the phone to the nightstand and wrapped both his arms around you, weighing his options. He could feign ignorance - neither of you saw the email because you were too busy loving each other. Or he could flat out tell Steve that neither of you were going to be available today. That it wasn’t your burden to bear…

But as his fingertips brushed against your soft skin and his lungs filled with the scent of your shampoo, Loki knew you wouldn’t be okay with that. You’d want to do your job, you’d want to help - no matter how inconvenient that was, or how much you deserved a break. 

And Loki adored that about you…which is why he ultimately decided he was going to have to fix the problem, whatever it was, before you ever found out about it. 

The phone had read 7:13 am before he put it back down, and Loki knew he had to work quickly. Pressing his lips to your temple and delicately cradling your head, he slowly rolled you over onto your back. You let out a groan of complaint as the movement gently stirred you awake. 

“No, don’t get out of bed yet…” you murmured, frowning slightly as you reached to pull him closer. 

Loki smiled as he settled his weight on top of you, loving the delicate but direct choice of words. He nudged his nose against yours as he spoke softly. “Ah, but I’ve got gifts that need their final touches in order to be perfect for you, darling…” 

You sighed peacefully as you brought your hands to thread through his dark hair. “I don’t want gifts. I just want you…”

“You say that now…” Loki chuckled before giving you a slow, lingering, sensual kiss - one that was designed to lull you into submission. “But you’ll be singing a different tune once you see them…” 

The kiss almost worked, but as your lips moved with his, Loki felt your fingernails gently dragging against his scalp and down the back of his neck. It was one of his weaknesses, never failing to immediately turn him on and get him going. 

He moaned softly, and it turned into a low growl as you wrapped your legs around his waist. His hips began to roll with yours, and there was nothing he wanted more than to spend it inside his bed, inside of you - but he had a mission to accomplish before that could happen. 

Loki steeled his nerves and grabbed your wrists, extracting them from his curls and pulling his lips away from yours. “Vixen…didn’t you get enough last night?” he hissed softly, eyes narrowed in a display of restraint even as he met your playful grin with one of his own. 

“You know I didn’t…” 

“Mmm. You never do, do you?” he murmured as he shifted his weight on the bed, lifting his hips from yours and pressing your wrists into the pillow above your head. 

Your lips parted to argue again, and Loki quickly placed his against your throat, exhaling heavily against your skin as he kissed and sucked. You whimpered in both pleasure and submission; Loki knew all of your weaknesses too. 

“Just give me a little time, darling,” he whispered softly, trailing his lips up to your ear. “Then I promise, I’ll give you everything you deserve today…” 

You nodded in agreement, and Loki smiled, pressing his lips to your temple. “Such a good girl, even on her birthday…” 

Your eyelids fluttered open and closed in a haze as Loki rose from the bed and began to get dressed, deciding to do it manually instead of using his seidr, and choosing casual gray sweatpants and a hoodie to further cement the idea that there was nothing to be alarmed about just yet. 

He could feel your gaze upon him as he moved, and he did his best to avoid looking back; he knew your naked form would be twisted enticingly in the silk sheets, your eyes half-lidded with desire as they usually were when you were alone. 

Loki loved that about you, that you wanted him so openly; it was impossible to resist - and that was exactly why he needed to fend off the Soldier’s urgent request for an emergency meeting; you deserved to be revered every day, but you especially deserved it today. 

“I suppose I’ll have to find some other ways of keeping myself entertained while you’re gone…” you sighed dramatically as Loki turned to reach for the door handle. 

He grinned and looked back at you, stiffening at the sight of the demure smile gracing your features and your fingertips dipping between your thighs. “You can certainly get started, dear, but don’t you dare finish until I return…” 

Loki winked before disappearing into the hallway, and he chuckled to himself as he heard you laugh and groan simultaneously. The door clicked shut, and he sighed heavily as shimmering emerald light descended from temple to toe, transforming the unconcerned clothing he had left wearing into his emerald and onyx battle leathers. 

He wasn’t above using whatever intimidation tactics necessary in order to intimidate the Soldier into admitting that he was most definitely overreacting about this so-called urgent matter. 

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Deep down you knew that your attempts to delay or distract Loki from leaving wouldn’t work, but it was worth the try; Loki needed someone to keep him on his toes, and you loved that you could do that for him. But now he was gone, off on some mysterious errand, and even though it was supposedly for your birthday, uncertainty was beginning to creep in. 

Loki was the God of Mischief, after all. Of Lies, and of Deceit. And even though you were sure he’d never do that to you, that he loved you deeply and truly, within every sense of the word, and to the point of needing to create new definitions for it - 

He’d still left you alone on your birthday. The one time you hated being alone, when every solitary insecurity roared its ugly head and threatened to swallow you whole - why was everyone paying so much attention to you today? Why weren’t more people fawning over you? 

How were you supposed to respond to the 20 birthday messages on your phone with genuine sincerity and gratitude? And why weren’t there 40 messages waiting for responses? 

Were you spending the day in a way that didn’t seem like a waste? Were you doing too much? Not enough? 

As tears filled your eyes, you tossed your phone back over to the nightstand. Telling yourself this was silly, you rolled over and pulled Loki’s silk sheets, still warm from his skin and drenched in his scent, tighter around your body and closed your eyes.

Loki would be back soon, you knew that. You were lying naked in his bed, left alone in his private sanctuary to wait for his return; that wasn’t insignificant to either of you. It meant something, it was important, and it was worth focusing on, but at some point it slipped away as you drifted between sleep and consciousness. 

Eventually, the mattress dipped down beside you, and two warm hands were stirring you awake as they pulled you onto your back. Loki’s scent was stronger now, and you sighed peacefully as his lips pressed lazily along your throat. 

“Mmm. You’re back…” you murmured with a smile as he settled his weight on top of you again. It felt so good to be cocooned with him, and you almost forgot that he’d even left in the first place. 

“You know I wouldn’t stay away for too long…” Loki chuckled as he guided your hands to tangle in his hair. “This is where all my favorite belongings are…”

You laughed out loud, and as Loki captured your lips with his, your laughter turned into a deep moan. Your fingers curled in his dark curls, and he kissed you like he’d been away for days instead of an hour, like somehow he wasn’t sure he’d ever make it back to you. 

And it was strange - his lips were cold, and he was shivering too; you’d never known him to shiver before…Your brow furrowed, and as if he sensed your confusion, his lips pulled away from yours. “Something wrong, love?” he murmured cautiously. 

You gazed up at him, studying the conflicting expression etched on his features with your fingertips. “I’m fine - but you’re shivering. Are you alright?” 

He smiled reassuringly, nodding his head towards the coffee table in the living area where two short taupe coffee cups and a small paper bag, presumably filled with cinnamon buns from The Clock Coffee Shop across the street, sat waiting on the coffee table for you. “Well, the café was quite hectic this morning, princess, and it is snowing outside. But I’ll try to be more efficient next year…” 

You smiled at the idea that Loki was already planning on spending next year’s birthday worshiping you again. 

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Click here to be added to my Loki fic tag list! 💚

[ghettogirly]

How would Armando react to you doing the Tim tok challenge that goes it 7pm Friday it 95 degrees.. please do this if u could

𝟕𝐏𝐌, 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐀𝐘

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

-> synopsis: you decide to do a tiktok prank on armando.

-> format: drabble.

-> theme: fluff w/ a little bit of suggestive.

-> warnings: mature language.

-> authors note: hope you enjoy!!! 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝. 🌸

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The sky grew dusk as nightfall grew over the city of Miami. Laying in your shared bed with Armando, each of you was doing your own thing. Coming back from a heated mission, all he wanted to do was to be cuddled up next to you and chill. Both wanting a peaceful night.

Well, that’s what they thought.

“¡¡Cúbreme de mierda!!” Armando screamed into his headset as his fingers frantically pressed the buttons on the ps5 controller, trying to capture the flag of the opposing team. “Todos ustedes son tan inútiles.” The male spoke as he got sniped from the opposition who was hiding in a building, placing his controller down gently before shouting out of anger.

“Babe.”

“lo siento amor.”

2 more hours went by. constant shouting and loud echos bounced off the floor at Armando paced up and down the room while stomping, shouting at the screen to his friends. “¡¡Maldita sea, revíveme!! ¿Qué estás haciendo?” Pointing at the screen , the mexican’s face was slowly turning red in anger at not only the frustration of his team’s incompetence but also the disbelief of it all.

You was used to it all. He mentioned this is how he liked to “de-stress” after missions, yet it did everything but that.

Nevertheless it was funny. He acted exactly how he did in missions , like he did in the video games. Always showing the same energy. His friends shouted back at him, not understanding Armando’s complaints or tactics, raising some of their own before they got shut down by the stubborn male.

They were always loud to the point where you could hear their voices through your man’s headset.

“¡Escúchanos Armando, tus tácticas son horribles!” His team exclaimed.

“My tactics are-“

And then the arguing started again. However, in the end they won the game. After everyone finished praising each other, Armando turned off his playstation and climbed into bed with you, kissing your forehead delicately as a way to apologise again for his outburst during his gaming sessions.

“Sorry babe.” The male whispered, kissing your cheek. Smiling at the comfort of his touch, you just turn to him. “You know i’m used to it already babe.”

Clicking his tongue, the male just turned back forward before shaking his head while slightly chuckling. Embarrassed by his own outburst as he recollects what happened 30 minutes beforehand. Reaching for the remote, Armando began to flick through the movie selection on his fire stick on the shared tv that hung on the middle of your white wall. LED lights were decorated around the tv, syncing with the background of the movie or show playing on the screen.

Scrolling through tiktok, you was bored. A collection of hair, cooking and funny videos made up a multitude of your for you page. Your eyes eventually landed on a specific video where girls pranked their boyfriend with this sound. Playing it lowly while turning on the captions, you watched the video secretly so Armando couldn’t hear.

“I’m so doing this..”

After a couple minutes, Armando finally found a tv show to watch and settled in bed. Flicking on the reality tv show called “Perfect Match” where reality influencers come on the show to find love ultimately and win money. Both enjoying trash tv, each episode you commentated and gave your thoughts. With Armando laid next to you sucked into the TV, you thought it would be the perfect time to do the prank.

Clicking the start button, the sound started playing.

You lipsynced along to the words, being a bit skeptical of how your man was going to react.

“It’s 7PM, Friday,

It’s 95 degrees.

I ain’t got no nigga,”

Slowly turning the camera slightly onto him, you saw Armando give you a death stare. Looking up at you confused. “You got a man the fuck?”

Not being able to lip-sync the rest of the sound, you burst out laughing. The video quickly coming to an end. Watching it back, you started laughing again, watching how his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Babe, it was just a prank.” Laughing while slapping his chest.

He was unfazed. Looking up at you with a nonchalant look, however, something was up in his eyes.

“Babe?”

“Te voy a mostrar que tienes un hombre.” He lowly expressed before attacking you with kisses and throwing the covers over the both of you.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[🌸] 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒:

“¡¡Cúbreme de mierda!!”: Fucking cover me!!

“Todos ustedes son tan inútiles.” : You all are so useless.

“lo siento amor.”: sorry love.

“¡¡Maldita sea, revíveme!! ¿Qué estás haciendo?” : Fucking revive me!! What are you doing??

“¡Escúchanos Armando, tus tácticas son horribles!” Listen to us Armando, your tactics are awful!

“Te voy a mostrar que tienes un hombre”: I’m going to show you that you got a man.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[🌸] 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @shurisgf @milliumizoomi @yeahnohoneybye @tyneshaaa @5tarlan7 @deadpool15 @wizewhispers @thedarkworldofhananerea @armandosbabymama @dyttomori @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful @believeinthefireflies95 @sarcasticbitchsblog @amplifiedmoan

[ln4bub]

hii i love your five so much omfg i was wondering if you could do 11 and 83 with lando or daniel w a bit of a breeding kink i’ve got major baby fever rn😭🫶

A/N i wasn't planning on writing this one yet, but the dr3 breeding kink was voted for in my last poll and so this one had to be done so i could tag it properly for the anon that requested it <3

DR3 Request

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

Lando was always in control; being the deciding voice in what needs to be changed with the McLaren he had to drive week in, week out. So when the MCL-60 wasn't performing, leaving him stranded out in P17 or scraping points in P9, you could see it was starting to get to him. You'd bore the brunt of his frustration, traumatising poor Oscar after every bad result. But it was wearing Lando down, and so when he dragged you back to the hotel after the Canadian GP you were half expecting him to break.

So when his lips greedily meshed with yours you were surprised, you thought for sure this would be the final straw for him. His tongue clashed with yours, tasting the fruity soda you had consumed during the race. The groan he lets out into your mouth makes your body tingle, pulling at the hairs at the nape of his neck. Lando pulls you on top of him, collapsing on the bed you shared. He pulls his lips away from yours with a smack, heavy breaths now filling the space between you.

"I want you to take control tonight."

Your stomach clenches at his words, images of a flushed and desperate Lando writhing underneath you fill your mind. "Are you sure?" You mutter back, brushing that one loose curl from his forehead. His eyes close at your soft touch before fluttering open, glazed over and wide staring at you. "So sure baby, just don't want to think right now." He practically whispers, voice nervous and slightly shaky.

You press your lips to his forehead, leaving a faint glossy sheen behind. He smiles softly up at you, his tongue poking out to wet his lips in nervousness, waiting for your response. "Whatever you need," you tell him, mirroring his own smile. He leans forward to kiss you, lips hovering over your own before he feels a sharp tug in his hair. His mouth stays parted, eyes closing as you brush your lips gently over his own. You feel the way he tries to capture your lips, the barely there brush leaving behind a thin layer of spit to add to your lip-gloss.

Your tongue peaks out, running over his lower lip before capturing it between your teeth and pulling gently. Lando whimpers at the sting, large hands encompassing your face to pull you towards his own. Your lips move in sync with his, practiced and perfected over time. You adjust your position, straddling him as you continue to kiss. He whines at the weight of you against his cock, straining now against his black jeans.

Your soft hands slide underneath his shirt, pushing it up to expose his tanned skin. Lando takes the hint and removes his team merch, throwing it on the floor with a thud. His large hands slide up your back, kissing along your jaw as your nails begin lightly scratching his back. "Take it off, please, wanna see you baby." Lando whispers against your skin, the movement of his lips against your neck making you moan softly. You heed his request, pulling your dress off and leaving you in your matching set. It was Lando's favourite, all black with custom fluoro yellow piping around the edges.

He groans at the sight of you, leaning back into the pillows when you gently shove his chest. Your lips connect with his own once more, sloppily coating them in the last of your lip gloss. Lando chases your lips as you pull away but you simply smirk at him, dipping your head to suck at the apex of his jaw. A loud moan leaves Lando's mouth at the action, his head tilting back to give you more access to his thick neck; access that you happily utilise.

Your lips are everywhere, overwhelming Lando in every sense, nibbling and sucking before swiping your tongue over the fresh marks left behind. Normally you'd avoid giving him hickeys but the next race wasn't until July so they had time to fade, and Lando loved the feeling of you claiming him in this way. His cock was starting to throb in his jeans with each press of your lips against his skin, especially when you migrated further south.

You kissed every inch of his skin, tracing every mole across his chest and stomach with your lips. His body erupted in goosebumps with each touch, squirming underneath you at the teasing. You slide your pinkies underneath the waistband of his jeans before undoing the button and sliding down the zipper. You hear Lando breathe a sigh of relief at the release of pressure, lifting his hips to allow you to slide his jeans down.

You kiss his length of his underwear, feeling it twitch with the first touch of your lips. "Y/N, babe, come here." Lando mutters, pulling at your arm. You hover over his bulge, the heat from between your legs radiating for Lando to feel. "What is it baby?" You ask, looking into Lando's glossy eyes. His pupils are blown wide, lips red and bitten as a consequence of your teasing. "Just want to feel you, is that okay?" He asks, eyes pleading.

"Of course it is Lan, but you're gonna have to beg for it, can you do that for me?" You question, dragging your nails down his chest as he smiles shyly with a nod. You remove your remaining underwear as Lando does the same before hovering over his hard cock, the tip bumping your clit as you position yourself.

"Please baby, need to feel you." Lando mutters as you glide your pussy over his cock, coating him in your wetness. He stutters out a groan at the feeling of your slick covering him, "Oh god, so fucking wet. Please, god please, let me feel you baby." He continues, hands squeezing your hips in an effort not to buck his hips into you. You slide his tip into your pussy, moaning at the stretch. Lando echoes the same moan, cock twitching at the feeling of your warmth.

"Fuck, feels s'good baby, more, please, give me more please, wanna be buried inside you s'bad." Lando hurries out, voice strained with restraint as he tries not to slam himself inside you. You heed his request, slamming yourself down onto his length before riding him at a wild pace, your legs immediately starting to burn.

"Holy shit, oh my god, love you, love being inside you, so good to me, yes baby, don't stop." Streams of praise and whines leave Lando's mouth, his body falling slack at the pleasure rippling over him. Moans spill out of the both of you, the burning pain of your legs adding to your pleasure as his cock hits you at the perfect angle. "Fuck Lan, made for me weren't you baby?" You mutter, hand resting on the side of his flushed face.

He nods with a whine, "Yeah baby, all yours, no-one else's, fuck yes. Use me just like that, my cock's all for you." His mouth drops open in a loud moan of your name, "So close, wanna feel you cum, please cum, need it." He slurs, hairline beginning to stick to his forehead with sweat. Your hand slips down from his face, your other hand joining it to wrap around his thick neck as you continue to fuck yourself on his dick.

His thumb reaches over from where his hand has sat on your hips, rubbing against your clit with every bounce you make. It sends you flying over the edge, your walls clenching around Lando's cock and pulling his own orgasm from him. He releases with a loud groan, your hands tightening around his neck. His cum fills you, beginning to spill out from where you remained connected. You ease the pressure on his neck, collapsing forward on top of him.

You lift yourself on shaky legs, allowing Lando to slip out of you. You crawl up the bed before swinging your legs over Lando's face, his large hands cupping your ass. "Clean up your mess Lan." You tell him and he wastes no time, pulling you against his face as his tongue delves between your folds. He flicks and swirls like a madman, shaking his face in-between your legs, his nose bumping your clit with each movement as he cleans the combination of your cum that spills out. It doesn't take long for you to cum on his tongue, sensitive from your first orgasm.

Lando lifts you off his face, cuddling himself into you but not before kissing you sweetly, allowing you to taste the both of you on his tongue. "Thank you." He mutters, a sentiment repeated at the next race when Lando gets P4, and the next race when Lando gets his first home podium, and the week after when he secures another P2.

Oscar stands next to you in the garage as Lando gives his interviews after the race, "Whatever you did to him in that hotel room after Canada must have worked miracles, are you a witch?" He asks, laughing at the blush that coats your face. "Shut up pastry, unless you're only asking because you want some help getting those podiums too?" You retort. Oscar blushes fiercely, causing you to laugh this time before Lando joins you both, "What's so funny?"

[yutarot]

IN PERFECT SYNC [j.jh smau]

FINAL. thirty — in perfect sync. wc: 0.7k

it’s the night of the comp. all of you sit in different places of the dressing room, johnny messing around with jungwoos hair, laughing as he uses gel to give him a mohawk, tzuyu and doyoung watching them like they’re their own children, kazuha and yuta fighting over which direction your outfits are meant to be put on, with haaland getting involved for some reason, and you and jaehyun, sitting quietly on the couch, his arm lazily slung over your lower waist.

johnny quitens the room, “so… which of you knew about jungwoo and giselle?” he says accusingly at yuta who shakes his head, causing the rest of you to laugh.

jungwoo, being the last one to understand johnny's joke, speaks up. “oh shut up, it just kinda.. happened.” he turns to you, “and yn.. if you want me to, you know, end things if your not comfortable with-“

“no, no, no.” you say, “i’m not bothered by it.”

jaehyun leans around to look at you, the question on his face asking, ‘are you sure?’

“no really, i mean it, it’s better being jungwoo than jae so…”

johnny makes a gagging sound, accompanied by jungwoo and the rest of the room, jaehyun squeezing your waist in appreciation as he laughs, the deep sound vibrating from his chest.

as you all continue to get ready, the nerves begin to arise within you. being the first comp since the original ban, you deciding to join your teams together, you have absolutely no idea how it’s going to go. albeit under the struggle of trying to teach the boys ballet, you had decided to do a dance consisting of both your teams styles, something that judges have never seen before.

you stand in the wings, the rest of the group in front of you as you and jaehyun stand at the back, taking it all in. the lights, the music, the feelings; you feel overwhelmed.

noticing your nerves, jaehyun leans down to whisper in your ear, trying to be quiet as to not disturb the group on stage before you.

“your mother would be so proud,” his breath is warm against your neck and it makes you flinch, causing him to hold back a smile. “i’m proud of you too.”

you smile up at him.

you’re silent for a few moments, simply looking into eachothers eyes, the current groups dance to ‘across the stars’ filling in the silence between you. “thank you, jaehyun.”

you see his next joke brewing in his features, something about jaehyun that you’ve always loved, the thoughts behind everything he’s about to say portraying on his face before he gets the chance to voice them.

“don’t thank me, thank Y!”

there it is.

you feign laughter, “ha ha ha, very funny,” deadpanning. “i already fell for that one too many times.” you roll your eyes and he smiles.

“well, let’s hope you don’t fall for anything else in the future. well… except for me, of course.”

you cringe and he kisses your forehead, giggling against your skin and you wish you can stay like this forever, enveloped in his warmth. as you notice that all your nerves are gone, you realise exactly what jaehyun had been doing for the past 2 minutes.

he had been trying to calm you down.

your thoughts are interrupted when a stage manager comes up behind your group, “20 seconds ‘till you’re on.” he nods.

johnny pats yuta on the back, jungwoo reaches to haaland for a hug and kazuha turns to you, looking between you and jaehyun, smiling, before turning back around.

jaehyun begins to walk closer to the rest of the group, but you grab a hold on his wrist before he can go any further from you. he turns around, a worried yet sympathetic expression on his face.

“wait, jae.”

he tilts his head to the side, waiting for you to continue, deeply aware of the countdown that you’re both under, ticking away like a time bomb. “yes?”

you leave no time to wait, you leave no room for questioning yourself. because you don’t need to, you know exactly what you want to say.

“i love you.”

dimples.

“i love you too.”

and as if in perfect sync, the music begins.

mlist

notes; and that’s it! the end omg😕😕😕😕😕 IM SO SAD THIS IS OVERRRRRR thank u so much for reading 😓😓😓impulsively adding haaland to this smau was the best decision ive ever made lmaooo ive loved all the theories u guys made to try and figure out who Y was it was so fun😭😭😭😭😭😭 thank you again for all the support and love you guys gave this series and i hope u look forward to ride or die!! aswell as the written fic im currently working on which ill probably be announcing soon😊😊😊 LOVE U ALL

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