#let her be cozy let her be comfortable !!! LET HER REST

[cassiemaebarnes]

Grumpy & the New Girl: Part 18 (final part)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Masterlist

Bucky x reader

Summary: She wasn’t supposed to meet him like that. He wasn’t supposed to let her in. But sometimes, things don’t go according to plan.

Word Count: 3,068

Warnings: 18+ only, minors DNI

After a few hours of reading, you closed your book with a dramatic sigh.

“I’m bored. And hungry.”

Bucky just chuckled, closing his own book and looking over at you. “Alright. Where do you wanna go?”

You just hummed, then looked at him with a smile. “We should go somewhere nice. First official date as boyfriend and girlfriend.”

“Okay,” he said with a smile. “I know a place.”

He stood, grabbing your book from your lap, then reaching out his hand to help you up. You took it and stood, then laced your fingers with his as you made your way back to the car.

He opened the passenger door for you, then walked around to the driver’s side and got in, leaning back and tossing the books back into the bag in the back seat.

The drive wasn’t long, just about twenty minutes, with soft music playing on the radio and your fingers still laced with his over the center console. You tried to guess where he was taking you, throwing out random names of restaurants and diners around the city, but he just smirked and shook his head each time.

When he finally pulled up to a charming, warmly lit restaurant tucked on a quiet street corner, you let out a delighted little gasp.

“This is perfect,” you said, already reaching for your door handle.

“Ah, ah,” Bucky scolded playfully, immediately getting out and circling the car.

You just smiled, heart fluttering a little as he opened it for you and held out his hand. You took it gladly, stepping out, and as soon as you were on your feet, he gently tucked your hand into the crook of his arm.

“Such a gentleman,” you murmured, teasing.

He just smirked. “You bring it out of me.”

Inside, the hostess greeted you with a warm smile and led you to a cozy table near the back, the lighting soft and golden. Bucky pulled your chair out before you could even think to reach for it, then sat across from you, his eyes flicking up to meet yours with a fondness that made your cheeks warm.

You both scanned the menus for a few minutes before placing your orders, and once the waitress walked away, you both settled in comfortably, conversation flowing easily.

“You know,” you said, twirling your straw in your drink, “if you keep being this perfect, I might get used to it.”

Bucky grinned, leaning back in his seat, one arm resting over the back of the chair beside him. “That the worst thing that could happen?”

You tilted your head in thought. “Hmm…no. But it does raise the bar significantly for everyone else.”

He leaned forward a little, voice low and teasing. “Good. I don’t want anyone else to try.”

You rolled your eyes with a soft laugh, but your smile lingered as you rested your chin on your hand. “You know, I like this. Just…us. Normal.”

He nodded, his gaze never leaving yours. “Me too, doll.”

The food arrived not long after, and the conversation shifted from mission stories and random Avengers chaos to childhood memories and bucket list dreams. You laughed so hard at one of Bucky’s sarcastic remarks about Sam that you nearly choked on your water, and he looked so pleased with himself it only made you laugh harder.

By the time the plates were cleared, you felt full – not just from the food, but from the warmth of the night, the comfort of Bucky’s presence, the soft kind of happiness that didn’t need to be loud to be real.

And when the waitress asked if you wanted dessert, Bucky looked at you and asked, “You want something sweet?”

You smiled. “I already got you.”

He groaned at the cheesiness, but he was grinning like a fool.

“Alright, now you’re just trying to kill me,” he said with a chuckle.

“Okay but seriously,” you said, looking at the waitress and raising an eyebrow, “what do you have.”

She laughed softly before handing you a dessert menu, telling you she’d give you a few minutes and stepping away.

Bucky clutched his chest as if you’d wounded him, eyes wide with mock betrayal.

“You actually do want something sweet?” he gasped.

You grinned, totally playing along. “I do. I can’t help it. I’m craving something rich and chocolatey.”

He gave an exaggerated sigh and shook his head. “Unbelievable. I give you my heart, and you throw me aside for dessert.”

You snorted. “Please, like you weren’t planning on stealing bites the second it shows up.”

He narrowed his eyes with a smirk. “Bold of you to assume I like sweet things.”

Before you could reply, the waitress returned, and Bucky turned on the charm like a switch. “She’ll have the chocolate lava cake, please.”

You rested your chin on your hand and smiled at him. “You know me so well.”

“I do my best,” he said with a wink.

When the dessert arrived, you practically lit up, grabbing a spoon and diving in with a satisfied hum. “Oh, this is so good.”

You held out a spoonful to him. “C’mon, just one bite.”

He leaned back slightly, shaking his head with a half-smile. “I’m not a big sweets guy.”

You froze mid-spoon lift, gasping dramatically. “Excuse me?”

He raised a brow. “What?”

“You don’t like sweets?” You blinked at him in mock horror. “So you don’t like me?”

His grin turned sly. “Oh, I like you plenty. I can handle some sweetness.” He leaned forward slightly, voice low and teasing. “I’m just saving my dessert for later.”

You paused, caught completely off guard by the heat in his tone. Your brain short-circuited for a second, your cheeks heating as your spoon hovered in midair. But then you laughed, biting your lip and shaking your head.

“Wow,” you said under your breath. “Did not see that one coming.”

But inside, your thoughts were far less composed. The words replayed in your head on a loop, and suddenly, your legs felt a little weaker under the table.

You finished the dessert with a flurry of shared smiles and lingering glances, and when the waitress brought the check, Bucky was already reaching for his wallet.

“I can–” you started, but he was already slipping a card onto the table.

He gave you a look. “I’ve got it.”

You shrugged, completely unbothered. “Good. Because I didn’t even bring my wallet.”

That got a real laugh out of him, head tilting back slightly. “Unbelievable.”

You just grinned smugly, pushing the empty plate toward the edge of the table. “What can I say? I like being spoiled.”

He leaned closer, lips curling into a soft smirk. “Good. I like spoiling you.”

And you couldn’t help it – your stomach flipped again, that light, happy flutter taking over your whole chest as you looked at him across the table.

The waitress came and took the check, then came back a moment later, setting it down with a smile. “All set. You two have a great night.”

“Thanks,” Bucky said with a nod as he stood, already moving around the table.

You started to push your chair back, but he was there before you could even touch it, gently sliding it out for you. You gave him a look as you stood, a smile tugging at your lips. “You really going for the perfect gentleman routine tonight, huh?”

He just offered his arm with a smirk. “Always, doll.”

You looped your arm through his, letting him lead you toward the exit. He opened the restaurant door for you too, holding it until you stepped outside, then following close behind.

When you reached the car, he quickly jogged around to open the passenger door for you. “After you.”

You raised an eyebrow, teasing. “Careful, Barnes. If you keep this up, I might get used to it.”

He smirked. “Good. You should.”

The second you were buckled in, he shut your door and rounded the front to slide into the driver’s seat. He started the car, one hand on the wheel, the other settling comfortably on your thigh.

At first, it was casual – his thumb rubbing slow circles into your leggings. But then his hand started to drift. Just a little. Barely noticeable.

Except your stomach noticed. Immediately.

You glanced down, then shot him a look, grinning. “You know that’s illegal, right?”

He looked far too smug for someone who was definitely not watching the road as closely as he should’ve been. “What? My hand? It’s just resting.”

“Resting doesn’t involve slowly creeping up my thigh like that,” you said, trying to keep your voice even.

His thumb moved just a little higher. “You sure? Feels pretty natural to me.”

You snorted, trying not to squirm. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m just saying,” he added casually, “if you didn’t want me touching you, you wouldn’t be wearing these leggings. They’re criminal, doll.”

You laughed despite yourself, shaking your head. “Oh, so it’s my fault now?”

“Completely,” he said without missing a beat. “You wear them, I suffer. It’s a crime against me, really.”

“Uh-huh.” You leaned your head back against the seat, trying to hide your smile – and how warm your skin was getting under his palm. “You’re laying it on thick tonight.”

“Can’t help it,” he said, flashing you a grin. “You looked too damn good crawling across that bed earlier. It’s burned into my brain now.”

You groaned, covering your face with one hand. “You’re such a menace.”

He chuckled, voice low and rich. “You love it.”

You peeked at him through your fingers. “Unfortunately.”

He laughed again, and you felt his hand squeeze your thigh gently – still wandering dangerously close to territory that was definitely not rated for a public highway. But his grin stayed playful, teasing, never crossing the line.

And the whole ride back, the two of you kept trading jokes and flirty banter, your laughter filling the car, the heat between you simmering quietly – the kind of warmth that promised more later, once you were back behind closed doors.

By the time you pulled up to the compound, your face hurt from smiling and your stomach still fluttered every time Bucky’s hand moved just a little higher on your thigh.

He parked the car and turned off the engine, glancing over at you with that same teasing smirk he’d worn all night. “You good?”

You raised a brow. “You mean aside from being relentlessly harassed in the passenger seat?”

“Harassed?” he scoffed, feigning offense. “That was gentle affection.”

You snorted. “Your definition of gentle needs some serious revision.”

He only grinned more, unbuckling and hopping out. You reached for your handle, but – of course – he beat you to it, opening your door with a flourish and offering his hand.

“Thank you, kind sir,” you said with a curtsy of your head as you stepped out.

He shut the door behind you and leaned in. “Anytime, sweetheart.”

You walked side by side into the compound, your steps slow, a bit lazy from the comfortable buzz of good food, warmth, and the lingering tension still dancing between you. The building was quiet – most of the team already turned in for the night. The low hum of lights and soft echo of your footsteps filled the halls as you headed toward his room.

The second you turned the corner toward his hallway, Bucky’s hand found your waist and pulled you in closer, his voice a soft rumble against your ear. “Still sweet?”

You glanced up at him, meeting those blue eyes with a challenge. “Why? You planning on testing that theory?”

His grin was slow and dangerous, his hand tightening just slightly on your waist. “Maybe.”

“Well then,” you said, opening his door, stepping inside, and tugging him in by the front of his shirt, “let’s see.”

The door clicked shut behind him, and the second it did, Bucky was on you.

One hand stayed on your waist as his other came up and cupped your face as his lips met yours. His fingers slid back into your hair as the kiss deepened, and your hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer, your bodies pressing flush.

You walked backward blindly, lips never parting, until your legs hit the edge of the bed. His hands were everywhere – your waist, your back, skimming the hem of your sweater and slipping underneath. Your breath hitched at the feeling of his fingers on your skin, warm and a little rough, his touch reverent and searching.

He picked you up effortlessly, laying you down on the bed as he climbed on and hovered over top of you. He used his knee to part your legs, then settled in between them as he leaned back down to you.

His lips crashed into yours again, more urgent now. He pulled your sweater up and over your head, tossing it aside without even looking, then leaned in to press open-mouthed kisses down your neck, taking his time like he had nowhere else to be but with you.

You gasped when he reached a sensitive spot near your collarbone, your hands tightening in his shirt before you started pulling it up. His red henley joined your sweater on the floor, and your fingers traced over the defined lines of his chest, the contrast of soft skin and firm muscle beneath your palms making your stomach flip.

His hand slipped underneath your back, unhooking your bra, then pulling it off of you.

His eyes dragged over you with quiet reverence, his voice dropping to a husky murmur as he leaned in and pressed a slow, lingering kiss to the center of your chest.

“God, you’re perfect,” he breathed, lips brushing over your skin with every word. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

You felt your cheeks flush, your breath catching as his kisses trailed lower – over your ribs, down your stomach – each one deliberate, slow, like he was savoring you.

“Still sweet?” he whispered again, his smirk returning as he glanced up at you, lips just above the waistband of your leggings.

You arched an eyebrow, challenging. “You tell me.”

That was all the permission he needed.

His fingers hooked into the band of your leggings, dragging them down achingly slow. “I plan on finding out,” he murmured, the heat in his voice sending a shiver through you. “Told you I was saving dessert for later.”

He kissed your hipbone, then lower, his voice rough with want as he added, “And I’ve been starving, sweetheart.”

Your breath hitched again as he settled between your thighs, and then his mouth was on you – warm, purposeful, and utterly devastating.

You cried out, fingers threading through his hair, hips instinctively rolling toward him. He held you firm, one hand gripping your thigh as the other slid slowly up your side, grounding you.

“Mmm,” he hummed, wicked and pleased against your skin. “Knew it. Fucking sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.”

You were already trembling, pleasure curling low in your belly, but that voice – his voice – was what unraveled you. He kept talking between kisses, every word more sinful than the last.

“Could spend all night right here, doll…tasting you, hearing those sounds…”

You whimpered, and he chuckled darkly. “That’s it. That’s my girl. Let go for me baby.”

It didn’t take long.

And when he finally pulled himself back up over you, his mouth found yours again – slow, deep, dizzying – and when you tasted yourself on his tongue, your whole body lit up all over again.

And for the rest of the night, he made good on every promise his voice had made.

--

The soft hum of the alarm drifted through the room just after sunrise.

You didn’t move.

You were still curled against Bucky’s chest, your leg draped over his, your body tangled with his beneath the sheets. His arms were wrapped around you, protective even in sleep, one hand resting over the curve of your waist like it belonged there.

You felt him stir before the alarm clicked off – his thumb tracing slow, lazy circles against your skin.

“Morning,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, laced with sleep.

“Mm,” you hummed, eyes still closed, “no it’s not. It’s too early to be morning.”

He chuckled softly, and the sound rumbled through his chest against your cheek. “Fair point.”

You both lay there in the stillness for a while, no rush, no expectations. Just the warmth of the covers, the quiet hum of the compound beyond the walls, and the comfort of being exactly where you were supposed to be.

Eventually, you shifted just enough to look up at him. His hair was tousled, eyes still heavy with sleep, but the soft look on his face when he met your gaze made your heart flutter.

“What?” you whispered, smiling.

He shook his head slightly. “Nothin’. Just…never thought I’d be waking up like this.”

You let your fingers drift lightly over his bare chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath your touch. “Yeah,” you whispered. “Kind of crazy how fast everything changed.”

Bucky didn’t respond right away, but he looked at you with that rare kind of softness that was reserved only for you.

You tucked your face back into the crook of his neck, breathing him in, and let your thoughts wander. It really was wild, how different everything felt now. How not long ago, he was the quiet, brooding guy in the corner, the one everyone called grumpy. The one who barely spoke to anyone.

And now?

Now he was the one who kept your toothbrush in his drawer. Who ordered your dessert without asking. Who kissed you like it was the only language he knew.

“Y’know,” you said softly, “you haven’t been that grumpy lately.”

He hummed, eyes closed again. “Don’t need to be. Not when I’ve got you.”

You felt your chest squeeze, your smile turning soft and full of something deeper.

“Guess the new girl fixed the grump,” you teased gently.

He smirked, eyes cracking open. “Nah. She just gave him something to smile about.”

You leaned up and kissed him, slow and sweet – no rush, no pressure. Just love. Real and full and steady.

And as the morning light spilled gently through the curtains, you stayed right there in his arms, knowing that this wasn’t the end of your story.

It was just the beginning.

--

Masterlist

Thank you guys so much for the love on this series!!!! I appreciate you all so much! I loved writing this, but I decided it was time to wrap it up...I have so much more in store for you all though!

Tag list: @ordelixx @read-just-cant-stop @erinallene @crazycleo @magnoliamermaid @thewriters64 @nelachu2423 @kjah97 @awesompawsum @winchestert101 @buckyb-stan @crazyunsexycool @buckysmetalgoddamnarm @buckybarnesfic @ozwriterchick @multiversefanfics @blavikennbutcher @mysoggywaffle @nameless-ken @starfly-nicole @440mxs-wife @vicmc624 @lostinspace33 @prettylittlepluviophile @softpia @maryevm @glossy01 @ye-olde-trash-panda @bonnyclydecat @iyskgd @ohdrey89 @death-in-love @herejustforbuckybarnes @whitewolfluvr @violetpassionfruit @biaswreckedbybuckybarnes @silas-aeiou @avengemepercy @starstruckfirecat @yehfitoormera @ifilwtmfc @navs-bhat @buckysgirl-12 @comfitchaotic @youknownothingjohnwatson @rnurse-kole

[aventurineswife]

Hiii I’d like something comfy and cozy: Reader holed up in their room, working and falling asleep at their desk, and then being found and carried to bed by uhhhhh maybe Jing Yuan, Welt, Feixiao and/or Phainon? Any one of them, or multiple if you want. Can be platonic or romantic, I won’t mind! Thanks~ 💖

Safe in Gentle Arms

Tags: Jing Yuan x Reader, Feixiao x Reader, Welt x Reader, Phainon x Reader, Fluff, Comfort & Care, Soft Moments, Carrying to Bed, Can be read as Romantically or Platonically, Sleepy/Exhausted Reader, Protective, Caring.

Warnings: Mild Mentions of Overworking (Reader is exhausted from working too much), Physical Contact (Being carried, hair ruffling, etc.), Mild Possessiveness in Phainon’s Fic (Protectiveness bordering on desperation), Some Characters Tease the Reader.

Jing Yuan was no stranger to naps—he had mastered the art of taking them at the perfect moments. But seeing you passed out at your desk, head resting on an open scroll, made him sigh. The flickering lanterns cast a warm glow over the piles of documents you had been working on, and the ink-stained fingertips resting near your cheek told him just how much effort you had put in.

He approached quietly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. "You push yourself too hard," he murmured, voice laced with fondness.

Carefully, he scooped you up, your weight settling easily against his chest. Even in sleep, you curled slightly against him, seeking warmth. He chuckled under his breath as he carried you through the dimly lit halls, the soft rustle of his cape the only sound accompanying his footsteps.

As he laid you on the bed and pulled a blanket over you, he allowed himself a rare moment of indulgence—his fingers grazing over your forehead as he brushed your hair back. "You should learn from me," he mused. "A well-timed nap does wonders."

You stirred slightly but didn't wake. Satisfied, he leaned against the nearby chair, arms crossed as he settled in. Someone had to make sure you stayed resting, after all.

Welt sighed as he stepped into your quarters aboard the Astral Express. The soft hum of the train filled the air, but what caught his attention was the stack of half-finished sketches, notes, and reports scattered around your desk.

And there you were—fast asleep in the middle of it all, your cheek resting against a sketchbook, your glasses (if you wear them) slipping down your nose. He took a moment to observe you, his usual stern expression softening.

"You really don’t know when to stop," he muttered, shaking his head.

With practiced care, he lifted you into his arms, making sure not to wake you. You shifted slightly, letting out a sleepy sigh as you tucked yourself against his shoulder. Welt adjusted his grip and made his way toward your bed, his own exhaustion momentarily forgotten.

Once you were tucked in, he placed your fallen glasses on the nightstand and glanced at your desk. With a resigned sigh, he began stacking your papers neatly, making sure nothing would be lost in the morning.

Before he left, he murmured, "Next time, let someone remind you to rest, alright?"

And though you couldn’t respond, he hoped you’d take the advice to heart.

Feixiao prided herself on discipline, but even she could appreciate a bit of indulgence—especially when it came to you. Finding you slumped over your desk, completely passed out amidst a sea of reports, she let out an exasperated sigh.

“Really? Again?” she muttered, but there was no true annoyance in her voice, only concern.

She bent down and easily scooped you up, her strength making it effortless. Your head lolled against her shoulder, and she could feel your warm breath against her collarbone. A rare, soft smile tugged at her lips.

“You’re lucky I like you,” she whispered, carrying you to your bed with a gentleness that few got to see from her.

After settling you in, she tugged the blankets up to your chin and, without thinking, reached out to ruffle your hair. You stirred slightly but didn’t wake, instead mumbling something incoherent. Feixiao snorted.

"Fine, fine, I won’t tease you too much about this tomorrow," she said, leaning back against the wall.

But she didn't leave just yet. Not until she was sure you'd stay asleep.

Phainon found you in the same state he often found himself in—hunched over, exhaustion winning over determination. The flickering candle beside you barely illuminated the half-written notes under your hand, your breathing slow and steady.

He knelt beside your chair, carefully observing your peaceful expression. "You’re too dedicated for your own good," he murmured, though admiration tinged his voice.

Without hesitation, he lifted you into his arms, his grip steady yet gentle. Even asleep, you instinctively curled into his warmth, trusting him completely. The realization made his chest tighten in an unfamiliar way.

As he laid you down, he lingered for a moment, brushing his knuckles lightly against your temple. "You fight hard, but even warriors need rest," he whispered.

Before leaving, he adjusted the blanket around you and blew out the candle, ensuring that, for tonight, at least, you’d rest properly.

[paucubarsisimp]

hii can u do reader x pau cubarsi, they are coming back from date and reader is in heels and her feet hurts so Pau carries her to home? ❤️

carry you

pairing: pau cubarsí x reader

summary: in which pau carries you home

warnings: none

a/n: i have like 5 requests for pau but i’ll try to post them tmrw bc im too sleepy to write rn

the night had been perfect.

a quiet dinner tucked into a cozy spot near plaça reial, soft lights strung overhead, laughter shared over dessert, and pau reaching across the table every few minutes just to hold your hand. he looked at you like nothing else in the world mattered — and honestly, to him, nothing did.

the streets were calm now, bathed in the golden glow of streetlights, your heels clicking gently against the stone. you walked hand in hand, your fingers laced with his, still high off the sweetness of the night.

but about five blocks from home, your steps started slowing.

pau noticed immediately.

he glanced over, brows furrowing. “baby?”

you tried to play it off, giving him a small smile. “my feet are just a little sore. it’s fine.”

“how sore?” he asked, stopping in his tracks.

“like… they might fall off.”

his eyes widened, and you both laughed, but before you could say anything else, he bent down and—without hesitation—scooped you up into his arms like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“pau!” you squeaked, looping your arms around his neck in surprise. “you can’t just—”

“i absolutely can,” he said, already walking again. “you’re in pain. i fix it.”

“by carrying me through the streets of barcelona like i’m a princess?”

he smiled down at you, that soft, shy smile that made your heart melt every time. “you are a princess.”

you rested your head on his shoulder, cheeks warm. “you’re ridiculous.”

“i’m strong,” he said, adjusting you easily in his arms, “and in love. let me be ridiculous.”

your heart fluttered at how effortlessly he said it — no hesitation, no fear. just truth.

you looked up at him, taking in the way the light hit his features, how his jaw tightened every time he stepped off a curb just to make sure you didn’t jostle too much. how his hands were gentle but steady, like he’d carry you forever if it meant you were comfortable.

“you really don’t have to,” you whispered, already completely at ease in his arms.

he looked down, eyes soft, voice even softer. “i want to.”

and that was pau — always noticing the little things, always ready to take care of you before you even asked.

by the time you reached the building, you had nearly fallen asleep against him. he shifted you slightly, unlocking the door with one hand, then kicked it shut behind him and carried you all the way to the couch.

he set you down carefully, like you were something fragile. then he crouched in front of you, gently slipping your heels off one by one, his thumbs brushing softly over the sore spots on your feet.

“thank you,” you whispered, leaning down to kiss the top of his head.

he looked up, smiling, his hands coming to rest on your knees. “for carrying you?”

“for loving me so much.”

he leaned up to kiss you—slow, sweet, like the perfect exhale after a perfect night. and then he pulled you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you.

“always,” he murmured. “every step. every street. wherever you go… i’ll carry you.”

and you believed him.

with pau, love never needed to be loud — it was in the quiet gestures, the soft kisses, the steady hands under tired feet.

and in moments like this, you knew: you were safe. you were loved.

you were his.

taglist: @barcapix, @universefcb, @nngkay, @joaosnovia, @ilovebarcaaaa, @levidazai, @hollyf1,@mxryxmfooty, @halfwayhearted lmk if you want to be added!

[pien-art]

Moiraine taking a break bc that is what she deserves !!!

prints available here :3

[skitskatdacat63]

Local feral animal gets coaxed into domesticity ! Discovers comfort !

[sttoru]

 𝝑𝑒 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. nanami kento always hurries home towards his pregnant wife, you, to compensate for the time he spends at work.

tags. sheriff!kento nanami x pregnant wife!reader. fluff, sfw. wild west!au. girl dad kento lets go. reader gets called ‘sugar, darling, wife’. not proofread. wc around 1k

you’re comfortable laying on the couch, nibbling on a piece of bread, when you hear the familiar footsteps on the porch of your cozy home. the front door opens with a faint creak and reveals no one other than your husband, kento, in his work uniform. he’s home earlier than he normally would be.

“evenin’, sugar,” kento steps into the house, his tall frame filling the doorway. he looks over at you, a small smile spreading across his exhausted face as he takes in the sight of you sprawled out on the couch.

his eyes soften when they land on the swell of your belly–reminding him of the life you’ve created. both you and the child growing in your stomach are the reason why he works so hard every day. to provide for you and make the pregnancy as easy as possible for your body.

“hi, honey,” you greet him back with a big smile, “how was work?”

it never fails to make you happy; seeing your husband back home after spending the first half of the day alone. knowing kento is out there making sure you and your baby have food on your table at the end of the day is heartwarming.

kento closes the door behind him and the latch clicks into place. “the usual. nothin’ out of the ordinary today. thank the lord,” he answers. he sets his stetson hat down on the hook near the entrance and starts unbuckling his gun belt, the weight of the revolver and ammunition clinking softly. he hangs it up carefully before taking a couple steps towards you.

“aht-aht, don’t ya go gettin’ up now, sweetheart,” kento chuckles as he notices your attempts to get up to greet him like you usually would do. before your belly got this heavy, that is.

he holds out a callused hand towards you, silently urging you to take it. the last thing he wants is for you to pull a muscle. “i’m right here,” he reassures you as he kneels down in front of the couch.

you lean in for a kiss and your husband instantly does the same. his lips linger on yours for a good few seconds before he pulls away. he cups your face with one hand while the other comes to rest on your rounded belly, palm molding to the gentle curve of it.

“y’re getting’ more beautiful every day,” kento praises in a low yet soft voice. he dips his head to press a kiss to your stomach and closes his eyes, “our little girl ‘s also growing well in there, hm?”

“of course,” you reply with a giggle. your hand comes to cover the one on your belly, your hand smaller than your husband’s. your wedding rings shine beneath the sunlight filtering through your windows and it reminds you of the love you share for each other. your eyes meet kento’s and you’re about to lean in for another kiss when you feel your child kick. 

kento’s eyes widen the second he feels a small but distinct movement beneath your belly, your child stirring within you. a slow smile spreads across his handsome face, his eyes crinkling at the corners before he glances up at you with pure adoration. “that–” the blonde man doesn’t finish his sentence, simply looking back at your stomach with pure love and wonder. his thumb gently rubs small circles over the spot where your child had just made her presence known.

“that was our little girl saying hi to her daddy,” you comment with a giggle. you said it half-jokingly, but kento seems to have taken it seriously.

you’re not sure if he’s fighting the tears or if he’s just blinking rapidly and turning his head sideways so you wouldn’t see the emotions playing out on his face. probably both.

kento clears his throat before nodding. he rests his head gently against your stomach, stubbled jaw tickling your bare skin. “hi there, baby girl. You recognised my voice there, didn’t ya?” he chuckles softly, his voice raw with emotion that he tries to suppress. you can’t see his face like this, only the top of his head, but you’re sure that he’s experiencing all kinds of things at the moment.

you run your fingers through his fluffy blonde strands, the hair gel he uses in the morning almost gone by now. a few seconds pass and another faint kick on the side of your belly makes your husband’s breath hitch. it never fails to fascinate him, to make him feel a great sense of joy. 

“i can’t wait to meet ya too,” kento continues, holding a conversation with your unborn daughter like she’s responding to him. in a way she is, with the occasional kick. he sighs in pure content as his muscular arms wrap around your middle, keeping you close to him while he kneels in front of you. 

what he’s feeling is indescribable. a couple moments pass before he tilts his head back to face you again. you cup his face and rub at his cheekbones, smiling at the loving way he’s staring at you. “you’re gonna be a great father, ken,” you whisper. you’re sure of it. he’s a great husband and will be the best father to your child.

kentk smiles back at you and nods. “thank you. I will try my best, for both of you,” he replies with a determined glint in his brown eyes. his large hands massage your belly before giving it a final kiss. “I promise,” he whispers against your sensitive skin.

it’s a promise he will keep no matter what, until he draws his last breath on this earth.

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ butterfly ♡

♡ Pairing: personal trainer!boyfriend!mingyu x chubby!fem!reader

♡ Genre: fluff/smut/comfort

♡ Summary: When your boyfriend leaves his phone behind after a cozy morning at home you decide to do something sweet and bring his phone to him at work but an unexpected interaction leaves you questioning yourself and if you truly deserve your place in your relationship.

♡ Word Count: 6.3k

♡ Warnings: some body image insecurities/comments about the reader's body from someone else but plenty of comfort from Mingyu for them, unprotected sex, shower sex, a lil nibbling, lots of kissing, a lil manhandling, no pulling out, a lil nipple play, pet names (baby, sweetie, good girl).

♡ A/N: This is the first fic that I've written in a long, long, long time so I'm sorry if I'm a little rusty at this. I just wanted to write something comforting and sweet for all of my chubby babes out there. I also have to thank @anyamaris for supporting me in writing this and checking in on me so much. I love youuu.

Peace. That’s all Mingyu knows when he’s around you. Even in this moment.

Lost deep in some dream he probably won’t remember, his arms wrapped around you as you snuggle against his bare chest lost in dreams of your own. He’s never felt safer. He’s never felt more at home. Wild horses couldn’t drag him away from this bed that you share together. Nor could his morning alarms that have gone ignored one after the other until his phone seemingly decided he was a lost cause and went back to sleep itself. 

How can you blame him when he was set up for failure to begin with? The sound of rain beating against the window of your 3rd story apartment, drowning out the rest of the world so that it feels as if he’s on a planet of his own. The warmth of the fluffy cotton blankets he’s been swimming in all night, protecting you both from the crisp chill of the early morning. The softness of your body pressed to his, every breath of yours so gentle and sweet. So perfectly timed with his that you’re almost dueting a lullaby, dragging him deeper and deeper into his slumber. He could stay like this all day—snoozing the hours away, blissfully unaware of the fact that he has actual responsibilities—but someone else has other plans. 

The bedroom door creaks open but only barely. Just enough for a chubby orange cat affectionately known as Jellybean to skip her way into the bedroom and fling herself onto the bed. It’s 30 minutes past breakfast time and in her mind she’s withering away. If you two sleep any longer there’ll be nothing left of her to feed. Navigating the mess of blankets, she stops right on Mingyu’s chest, close enough for her fur to tickle your cheek. The cold, pink tip of her nose nudges at Mingyu’s chin. It’s time to wake up. 

“Mingyu, stop, that tickles” you mumble, cuddling closer to him. 

Mingyu shifts in bed, reaching down to stroke your hair, “Babe, are you licking me?” 

His hand comes down onto Jellybean’s back and it occurs to him that the hair he’s feeling isn’t yours. It’s also purring. Tilting his head up, he cracks one eye open to see the hungry little face staring back at him. 

“Bean, what are you doing up here?” he giggles, petting the crown of her head so that her ears perk up. 

You let out a groan, knowing that if the kitty’s on patrol then sleepy time is over. “Come on, you can’t eat your dad.” 

Scooping her into your arms, you force yourself up in bed only for Mingyu to drag you back down. Even half asleep he’s twice as strong as you. Not that you’re complaining. 

“Where are you going?” he pouts, kissing you on the cheek, “I’m not finished with you yet.” Jellybean chirps, pressing a paw to his lips as he comes in for another kiss and Mingyu frowns like a disappointed child. Curved by a cat.

“Cut it out” you say half heartedly, a barely awake smile on your face, “Bean is hungry. Plus you have work today don’t you?” 

Mingyu’s eyes widen in shock. His heart sinks to the floor. It hits him all at once. The realization that he has no clue what time it is when he probably should. He nearly knocks the two of you off the bed as he bolts from the bed, grabbing his phone and staring in complete terror at the sight of the four missed alarms on his lockscreen. The usual glowing, honeyed tone of his skin turns pale as the panic sets in. It’s 7:45am. Work starts in 15 minutes. Fuck. 

“So I guess you’re not eating breakfast” you tease as he tears out of the room, darting to the bathroom to brush his teeth. 

A few seconds later he scrambles back in, a toothbrush wedged between his pearly whites. He mumbles something, probably a comment about how you have a smart mouth and you’ll pay for it later, but you can’t take his threats seriously when he’s completely naked running around the bedroom like a chicken with its head cut off.

You try to be respectful to his current struggle, averting your eyes elsewhere, and yet they keep drifting back to the sight of his body. Those well defined arms, those abs you could spend all night running your fingertips across, an ass you could bounce a quarter off of—

Mingyu slips his underwear on, popping the toothbrush out of his mouth, “Am I a piece of meat to you?” 

You nuzzle Jellybean closer to your chest, offended at the audacity of your boyfriend to say such a thing. “Mingyu…”

Crawling back onto the bed, he brings his lips inches away from yours, a flirty grin playing on his them. “I can be a piece of meat to you if you want. I can make time. Just get the brat out of the way and…”

It’s oh so tempting but someone has to be the responsible one and, as much as you hate it, it has to be you. Stroking his cheek, you stare into the prettiest brown eyes you’ve ever seen and say words that pain you. “Not a chance. You’re already late for work.” 

Mingyu raises an eyebrow, shocked by the amount of restraint you’re showing. “If I’m already late. Why not make it later?”

His hand smooths over the blanket, massaging your plush thigh through the fabric. Now your body’s awakening in more ways than one. You dish out a light slap to his cheek, fighting off the tingle coming over you. “We’ll have time for that later but for now…work.”

Mingyu only stares back at you, devouring you with his gaze, patiently waiting for you to break but you never do. How he finds your stubbornness so annoying and so hot all at the same time is a mystery he’ll never solve. 

“Fine” he groans, giving you a toothpaste laced smooch on the lips before disappearing back into the bathroom. 

As he leaves, you let out a sigh of relief. “Close one, huh, Bean?” 

Turning the poor, starving kitty loose, you drag yourself out of bed and slip into the t-shirt thrown over the back of a nearby chair. You figure if Mingyu has to be productive then so should you. The walk to the kitchen feels eternal. You’re still yawning and rubbing your eyes when you fill Jellybean’s bowl with food, nearly losing your balance as you bend over to set it on the floor.

You consider for a brief second heading to the bathroom to get started on your morning routine but by the sound of it Mingyu’s bouncing off of the walls in there. Figuring it’s best to stay out of the way, you pop open the fridge and set out in search of a breakfast of your own. Having recently gone grocery shopping, the shelves are filled with every delicious food your heart could desire and every single dish requires you to cook. 

“Why does everything need to be cooked?” you whine, head thrown back in agony. “I don’t wanna.” 

Mingyu flies past you, grabbing his keys from the kitchen counter, “Then don’t. Order out.”

“I thought we weren’t ordering out. Saving money and all that.”

“You can use my card. Just order the food, okay?” 

You stand there in silence staring into the void, hearing him but too lost in thought to acknowledge it. The ingredients in the fridge stare back at you. A useless array of items if nothing’s done with them. Mingyu slaps you on the butt. The quickest way he knows to snap you out of it. 

“Hey!” you squeal, spinning around to slap his hand away. 

Flinging the refrigerator door closed, he pushes you up against it, sweeping you into a kiss much deeper than the last. Not as tinged in toothpaste but more minty than you’re used to still. “Order the food” he mumbles, trailing kisses down your neck, “Promise.” His hands slip beneath your shirt, delighting in the plushness of your lovehandles. He’s getting himself started again. He probably shouldn’t but he can't help it. He never can with you. 

His palms are cold, sending a chill up your spine that makes you arch into him. “I promise” you relent, knowing you’re in no position not to give in. 

Giving your body one last squeeze, he swirls his tongue around yours, snatching himself away just as you’re really getting into it. “You said ‘later’, remember?” he teases, heading for the door. 

Picking up a nearby spatula, you wind your arm back in his direction. “I could throw this at you!” Your aim is immaculate. You have full faith in your abilities. Too bad Mingyu’s shoes are on and he’s already halfway out the door by the time you make up your mind to do it or not. 

“Love you!” he shouts over his shoulder, disappearing into the hallway, leaving you defeated and too horny for 7AM in the morning. 

“Love you too” you huff, tossing the spatula back onto the counter. You’ll get him when he gets home or he’ll get you. That second one doesn’t sound so bad actually.

Sparing another glance at what’s in the fridge, you abandon any thought of financial responsibility and make your way back to the bedroom in search of your phone. Jellybean pays you no mind as you pass. Her food has been secured. You’re on your own. Turning back into your bedroom, you spot a phone at the foot of the bed. You scoop it up, flopping back down onto the bed. You nearly melt into the comfort of it, contemplating just going back to sleep and forgoing breakfast altogether but you know you can’t. You promised Mingyu afterall.

There’s just one problem. You can’t unlock your phone. Tapping in the code, you frown as the phone rejects it. It’s fine. Maybe you put it in wrong. You did just wake up. Putting the numbers in again, slower this time, you’re met with the same result. Incorrect. Then you notice it. This phone’s wider than yours and thicker too. That isn’t even your lockscreen. 

“Shit! Mingyu!”

Phone in hand, you race out of the bedroom and into the living room as fast as your legs will carry you. You push the window nearest to you open with every intent of screaming his name out at the top of your lungs—he always parks his car across the street in perfect shouting distance—but it’s no use. His car’s already gone.

Without thinking, you scurry back into the bedroom and hop into a pair of sweatpants. You pay no mind to the messy state of your hair or the mismatched rain boots that you throw on. Breathless, you race out of the door, car keys in hand, to catch up to your boyfriend. Two minutes ago you were threatening to throw a spatula at his head. Now you’re dropping everything to make sure your baby has his phone. 

Ah, romance. 

It’s not that you don’t know where your boyfriend works. 

It’s more so that you only have a vague idea of where your boyfriend works. You know that it’s some super nice gym tucked away on a quiet street downtown, somewhere in the general vicinity of a bookstore. Or was it a thrift store? A thrift store that sells books? He’s driven you past it a few times when the two of you were headed out for dinner with friends but you’ve never actually been there. Had you considered that before you left the house you might’ve just waited for him to double back for his phone but knowing your boyfriend he wouldn’t have noticed until it was too late. 

Thankfully you didn’t get yourself completely lost. You recognized a few things here and there. Not enough to keep you from wasting a half hour driving in circles but enough to find it eventually. An unintended perk of  having wasted so much time is the current absence of rain. The clouds are clearing up, tiny slivers of sunshine breaking through as you push your way into the sleek air conditioned gym.

With all its shiny silver decor and glowing white accent lights everything here feels so sterile. The aesthetic is definitely clean. Almost medical in a way. On the walls are posters with barely dressed, muscular figures posing proudly on them. Motivational words paint the bottom of them. 

No excuses. 

Work harder.

Smile. Sweat. Repeat. 

You hear the faint sound of a 2000’s pop mix streaming from speakers strung high in each corner. In the distance there’s the thud of sneakers hitting a treadmill at full speed. Clearly this playlist has someone going hard. Good for them. You can’t say that you’ve ever been a gym girl. It’s never been your thing.

Honestly, when you first met Mingyu it was one of your biggest insecurities. A personal trainer who spends all of his time at a gym and a chubby girl who doesn’t even have a membership. What could you possibly have in common? As it turns out, everything. Well, almost everything. Mingyu never made you feel weird about it but, catching your reflection in a nearby mirror, you remember why you did. 

Most of the time you feel secure. Mingyu makes sure that you do. But there are other times, like now, that you question what exactly he’s doing with you. Fresh out of bed in your house clothes, wedged between “Sweat Is Just Fat Crying” and “No Days Off”, you feel utterly unfit to be here. 

“Um, excuse me, can I help you with something?” the receptionist calls out to you. 

“I—uh—” you stutter, blinking yourself back down to earth. Straightening yourself up a bit, you shyly approach the front desk and the drop dead gorgeous girl who runs it. 

In her expensive workout gear and her high slicked back ponytail, she’s the tiniest bubbliest thing you’ve ever seen. Her name tag reads “Lexi” and truly, what else would her name be? 

“Can I help you?” she repeats, twirling a gym branded pen around her fingers. She looks at you curiously. She’s smiling from ear to ear but you can feel her judgement...or is it all in your head? 

“Yes” you manage to get out, shrinking into yourself more and more by the second, “I’m looking for Kim Mingyu.” 

“Oh!” She seems thrilled at the sound of his name, “One second.” 

Swiveling around in her chair, she picks up the phone and clicks the button for the intercom. “Mingyu to the front desk please. Mingyu to the front desk.” Hanging the phone up, she turns her attention back to you. “He’ll be up in a second. So, have you been here before?”

“Aah, no. I haven’t—”

“First timer? Slay queen. It’s never too late to make a change.”

“Well, I’m not here for—”

“You’re gonna love, Mingyu. He’s great really. He’ll have all that extra weight off of you just like that.” 

She snaps her fingers. Poof. Magic. Chubby girl be gone.

“I’m actually—”

“And don’t tell him I said this…” she leans forward to whisper, a secret between two girls, “He’s, like, super hot. If getting in shape means getting a guy like that what other motivation do you need, am I right?” 

You woke up this morning feeling so nice. Loved. Desirable. How can all of that change so quickly? 

“Baby, what are you doing here?” Mingyu asks, freeing you from the smothering confines of this conversation. He appears around one of the corners, pulling you into a bear hug, “Everything okay?” 

“Baby?”  You catch the receptionist mouthing to herself. For her it’s the shock of the year. Of the century even. 

“Mmhmm” you nod, using what minimal free space you have to hold his phone up, “You forgot this.” 

“Oh my god, thank you. You drove all the way here for me?” Mingyu’s face lights up enough to blind you to the confused expression on your new friend Lexi’s face. Almost. 

“You’re the sweetest thing ever, you know that?” he gushes, smushing your cheeks together and kissing you all over your face. 

“Gyu, cut it out, there’s people around” you giggle, wiggling in his grasp. 

After a few more kisses he turns you loose, taking his phone and shoving it down into his pocket. “Now that you’re here, you wanna come meet my coworkers?”

That wasn’t a question. It was more of a command. You wanna come meet my coworkers? You’re gonna come meet my coworkers. Taking your hand, he’s got his heart set on dragging you to the back, but you resist, putting your full weight into staying right where you are. 

“I forgot. I have some errands to run.” You’re proud of yourself for thinking quickly on your feet. 

Mingyu turns to you, confused. “Errands? What errands? I thought today was ‘bedrot’ day. You even sang the celebratory ‘bedrot’ song last night.” 

You just laugh him off, gently running your hand along his bicep. “Well, ya know, a girl can’t bedrot forever.” Looking around the gym you see another poster. Another slogan. “No days off, right?” 

Unimpressed with your regurgitation of some cliche quote you saw on the gym wall, Mingyu narrows his eyes at you, more suspicious than ever. 

“Baby, I’m serious” you say, doubling down on your lie, “I’d love to meet them but I really do have to go. Another time?” 

The thought of meeting his coworkers makes you nauseous. The idea of what they’d think of you—of you two together—is enough to make you want to evaporate. What’s even worse, despite your insecurities, is the idea of Mingyu being upset with you. You give him the puppy dog eyes, the hardest thing for him to resist, and he melts that instant. 

“It’s okay, sweetie. Do what you need to do” he smiles and relief washes over you, “They actually invited me out for drinks tonight so you can come too, right?” Mingyu looks so hopeful, so sickeningly adorable. How dare he.

You clear your throat, forcing yourself to look happy about the trap you’ve fallen into. “Right. Sure. Drinks. Tonight.” 

A delighted Mingyu gives you another hug and a quick kiss. “Good and thank you again. I owe you” he winks and you wave goodbye, watching as he heads back to work and leaves you with the unrelenting stare you’ve been trying to avoid this whole time. 

“Have a nice day” you mumble, scurrying back towards the front door. 

Something is said behind you. The stiff, uncomfortable farewell of a person who realized that they’ve just said all of the wrong things. Even if she were to apologize now it wouldn’t matter. By the time you hop back into your car you’re already spiraling. Any thoughts about grabbing breakfast are pushed to the farthest reaches of your mind. You don’t wanna eat. You certainly don’t wanna go out for drinks later. All you want is to pick up the pieces of your shattered self-confidence but they’re scattered all over the floor of that gym and there’s just no way you’re going back for them.

Bedrot?

No, couch rot, actually. You aren’t sure if that’s a thing. If not, you’re pioneering it. The queen of couch rotting. With the exception of feeding Jellybean her dinner and a few quick trips to the bathroom, you haven’t left your spot on the couch all day. It’s almost 6PM. Not that you’d know the exact time. You haven’t so much as glanced at your phone since you got in. Your only hint of the hours having passed by is the arrival of dusk quietly creeping in beyond your curtains.

Draped across the couch, you stare at the TV as scenes of a show you’re hardly watching flash on the screen. You’ve cried, you’ve slept, you’ve cried again. When you’re feeling down a couple of naps typically do the trick. They make you forget all about the problem, if only for a little bit, but how can you forget the problem when you can’t stop wondering if you’re it. Is it really such a hard thing to imagine? That Mingyu could be your boyfriend and not your trainer? Is it really such a stretch of the imagination? 

“If getting in shape means getting a guy like that what other motivation do you need, am I right?”

Does everyone think that? That to earn someone like your boyfriend you need to get in shape? Get thinner? The possibility weighs you down like an anchor, assuring that you’ll never stop drowning. Never stop wondering. 

You’ll have to come up with an excuse for tonight. Something believable. Maybe you’ll say that you aren’t feeling well. You have been lying around the house all day. Method acting is what they call it. You never did order that food. He can check his card and see that you haven’t. Even more support for the fact that you just aren’t feeling well. As much as you want to meet his coworkers, you think, mentally rehearsing your story, the alcohol would only make things worse but he should go and have fun. 

“Next time” you’ll say, “Pinky swear.” 

A new episode of your show kicks on, a wistful theme song playing as the leading actor’s faces and names fade in and out. A rose tinted sequence of beautiful faces. You close your eyes, pulling the blanket over your head. Time for another nap—maybe this will be the one that fixes it all—but there’s no time. The sound of a set of keys jingling on the other side of the door sends your lids shooting back open. The door knob turns. The curtain’s rising. You hear those familiar footsteps. It’s time for your performance, kid. Begin scene. 

“Sweetie! Are you here?” Mingyu calls out, kicking his shoes off. He scans the apartment, noticing that the only source of light is from outside and what little is provided by the TV. 

You cough weakly, sitting up on the couch, “I’m here.”

Why did you cough? Terrible acting already. No Oscar for you.. 

Mingyu leans over the back of the couch, arms thrown over your shoulders. “I’m sorry. Did I wake you up?” 

“No, I was just resting. I haven’t really been feeling so good today” you say, trying your hardest to look and sound the worst that you can. 

Circling around the couch, Mingyu kneels in front of you, taking your hands into his. With your eyes all red and puffy it’s an easier sell than you expected. His face twists with worry and you can’t fight the guilt brewing inside of you at the sight of him. 

“What’s going on? Are you sick? Do you need to go to the hospital?” 

“No, no. It’s not that bad” you assure him, subtly gaining strength in hopes that it’ll ease his concerns. “It’s just a stomach bug or something.” 

“Lay back down, okay?” he insists, thumbs petting the back of your hands, “I’ll go make you some soup.” 

“Mingyu, you really don’t have to” you start but he’s already guiding you back down onto the couch, hurrying into the kitchen to get some soup started for you. 

The clanking of pots and pans fills the space where any further protest from you might fit. “You just rest!” he shouts, “Let me take care of everything and don’t worry about tonight. We can always wait until you’re feeling better.”

You sink further into the couch at his words. “Until you’re feeling better” means he’ll bring it up again. It means you’ll have to fake sick every single time he mentions it but how long could you play that card before he started to get suspicious? Mingyu can only be distracted by his concern for you for so long before he suspects the truth, that you’re just trying to avoid it, and you’ll have to tell him why. 

“Mingyu, can you come here?”

Too busy raiding the fridge for ingredients, Mingyu barely hears you. “Hmm? You say something?” 

“Come here for a second, please!” 

You push yourself up on the couch, tossing the blanket aside. Mingyu’s there in a flash, ready to do whatever it is that you need. His eagerness to help you only makes you feel worse for having lied to him. You pat the cushion beside you and he takes a seat, bracing himself for whatever news you’re about to break to him. 

“Are you pregnant?” he blurts out and you clutch your chest in shock. 

“Pregnant? What? No. I’m not pregnant. Why would you think I was pregnant?” 

“Messy hair, baggy clothes, you’ve definitely been crying all day, and the ‘stomach bug’” he says, making air quotations at your fake ailment. “I know what that means, I’m not stupid.” 

Even at your lowest moment you can’t stop the laugh that escapes you at how absolutely adorable he is. “Oh, my love, I’m not pregnant.”

“Then what is? Tell me” he begs too sincerely to deny, “You know whatever it is, I’ve got your back. We’re a team, remember?” 

Leaning your head on his shoulder, you lace your fingers between his and settle into the comfort of his presence. Why are you lying to someone you don’t have to lie to? Mingyu’s your person. What is there to hide?

“You know the receptionist at the gym?” 

“Yeah, Lexi, what about her?”

“She…well…she thought I was your client.” 

“Why would she think that?” 

You pause, giving him time to process it. You can feel it when he does. His body tenses, the energy in the room shifting at the realization. 

“Did she say something to you?” he asks, standing up as if he’s ready to run back to that gym to confront her. 

You’re positive that he would. Mingyu’s probably the most gentle man you’ve ever met, you’ve rarely seen him get angry or raise his voice, but when it comes to you it’s never a problem to get a bit out of character. 

Your chest aches recalling the interaction. The casual tone of her voice. The shock on her face when he called you baby. “She was just surprised. I guess I can’t blame her. A girl like me walks into a gym asking for you and what else is she supposed to think? You’re literally built like a god and I’m built like—” 

Mingyu interrupts you on purpose, refusing to let you even attempt to put yourself down. “A goddess. You’re built like a goddess. Stand up.”

“Mingyu, no” you protest but he insists, grabbing your arms and forcing you up from the couch. Gathering the loose fabric of your t-shirt in his fists, he brings it flush against your body, defining every curve. “This body is the body of a goddess. It’s the body of the woman I love. I think it looks perfect next to mine.” Mingyu’s eyes are brimming with admiration and all he wants in this world is for you to feel it but you just hang your head, unable to meet his gaze. 

“But that’s not what other people think.”

“I don't give a shit what other people think. Look at me.” He scoops your cheeks into his hands, giving you no option other than to look at him—to accept the way he looks at you. “When we’re together I think that I can’t imagine being with any other girl. I think I’d lose my mind if I ever woke up next to anybody else. Don’t you feel that way too?”

Of course you do. That’s the silliest question he’s ever asked. You wouldn’t trade being with him for anything. It’s never even crossed your mind to question it. “I always feel like I’m right where I should be when I’m next to you, Mingyu.”

“Because you are,” he smiles, kissing the bridge of your nose, “You belong with me and nothing anyone else says could ever change that.” 

If you had any tears left to cry, even a single one to spare, you’d shed it for him and it wouldn’t be one of heartache or pain. It’d be pure love. Pure appreciation for the existence of a man who can so effortlessly fight off the fears you can’t face on your own, making them feel smaller and smaller until the only thing you can feel is his love for you. 

“I’m gonna go shower. Come with me” he says, his palm skating down your arm to take your hand in his. 

This time you don’t resist. Not when he leads you down the hall to the bathroom, humming as he flicks the light on. Not when he strips you of your clothes, slowly peeling them away until they’re nothing more than a pile of fabric at your feet. And certainly not when he wraps his arms around your naked figure, his tongue exploring your mouth as he pulls you under the warm water sprinkling from the shower head. 

And just like that you’re right back to where you were this morning. Before you walked into that gym, before the insecurities. You’re on your own planet again. Just the two of you. His soapy hands gliding along the contours of your hips. Your fingers combing through his slick, dark hair as he kisses his way down to your chin, burying his face in your neck to nip gently at your sensitive skin. You let out a whimper, your body shivering in his grasp, and Mingyu laughs, never sick of how cute you are when you make that sound. 

Your back arches, jutting your pillowy breasts forward, tempting Mingyu to take one into his hand. He can’t fight the urge to touch you. To feel the weight of it in his hand. So soft and bouncy. Your perky nipple slips eagerly between his fingers, just begging to be pinched the slightest bit. 

“Mingyu” you moan, nibbling at your bottom lip, a flash of heat hitting you so intensely you’d swear someone changed the water temperature. But no, it’s only Mingyu. It always is. 

“Do you remember what you were wearing the first day we met?” he whispers, his voice lost somewhere between lust and fluffy nostalgia. “It was really hot out that. I was walking through the park when I saw you in that crop top and those shorts…fuck…I know I shouldn’t have looked at you like that but your body was so beautiful, baby. Your belly. Your hips. Your thighs.”

Mingyu’s hands patiently glide down your figure, taking their time to indulge in the shape of you. It radiates from him—the admiration, the longing—and it has you melting. You part your lips to release another floaty moan and Mingyu’s right there, his mouth pressed to yours, hungry for the taste of it on his tongue.

“I can’t forget your face” he hums, breaking from the kiss, stars dancing in those brown eyes, “It’s my favorite thing about you. Just look at you.” One hand dances up to stroke your cheek while another dips between your legs, his fingertips ghosting your clit just enough to make you tremble. “You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. Especially when you make faces like that.”

You don’t want to make faces. You want to look cool, calm, and collected—completely unaffected by his teasing—but it’s nothing you can help. Your body reacts to him just the way he wants it to every single time and there’s nothing you can do about it. Nothing he wants you to do about it. 

“Don’t start” you warn, playfully swatting him on the back of the head. Instinctively you wrap a leg around his waist, your actions immediately betraying your words. 

“Start?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed, “I don’t know what you mean. Start what?” 

Mingyu plays innocent but in the blink of an eye he sweeps you off of your feet, your back pressed to the wall and his arms tucked behind your knees. You lock your arms around his shoulders, terrified that you’re about to come crashing to the ground. 

“You can’t just pick me up like that!” 

Mingyu laughs, shifting your weight to make sure you’re secure, “I can actually. Don’t worry. All this muscle isn’t for nothing. I’ve got you.” He locks eyes with you, as serious as he’s ever been.

“I said, I’ve got you” he repeats, rocking his hips so that the head of his cock brushes your slit. You’re dripping, already clenching, and the slick warmth of you coating his tip has him licking his lips. “Just relax, okay? Can you do that for me?”

Relax? And put your full weight onto this man? You can’t. He’s out of his mind. He’s insane. He’s lifting into you and every thick, wonderfully veined inch of his cock makes you care less about how heavy you might be. The only thing on your mind is the motion of his hips, every stroke of his cock making your body sing the sweetest of songs. 

If he were honest he’d say that holding you up was harder than he thought but not because of your weight. Your walls are so velvety, hugging his length like you never want to let go. The pleasure’s almost too much. It takes everything in him to keep himself from falling apart. 

“Love you” he whispers, nibbling at your bottom lip, “Love you so much.” 

 “Love…mmph….you…aah…too” you squeak, the smile on your face making his heart skip a beat. 

Mingyu thrusts into you harder one good time just to watch your eyes roll back. Your nails dig into the tense muscles of his back but he’s too high from the feeling of you for the sting to feel anything other than good. 

“Say it again. Tell me you love me too” he demands, fingertips digging into the flesh of your thighs. 

“I love you too” you utter between sloppy kisses. 

“And you belong with me.”

He’s throbbing so deep inside of you that you’d swear you can feel it in your stomach. Your vision’s hazy. Your pulse is racing. It feels as if your very cells are vibrating. “I belong with you”. 

“That’s it. My good girl. My perfect girl” he coos, feeling you tighten around his cock. “Aww, you gonna cum, baby?” 

“Mmhmm” you whine, mindlessly riding his lap, desperate for more. 

This image of you will be burned into his mind for weeks. Legs around his waist. Pinned to the wall. Beads of water glimmering on your naked form. Clenching. Needy. Juices leaking down his cock as you cum around him, your walls spasming wildly as you take every inch. Every thrust. Every drop of him when he finally breaks, filling you until the warm white liquid’s dripping from your pretty slit. 

Are you levitating? You must be because he can’t feel himself holding you and you can’t feel yourself being held. You’re just here together floating in ecstasy. Peacefully. Effortlessly. As it should be. You can’t discern how much time has passed when Mingyu’s carefully lowering your legs, refusing to let you go until he’s sure you can stand on your own. 

“I’ve gotta get away from you” you tease, hopping out of the shower as quickly as your wobbly legs will let you, “You’re trouble.” 

Mingyu shuts the shower off, jumping out right after you to drag you back into his arms. “But you like trouble” he says, assaulting your left cheek with kisses. 

You roll your eyes and pout but you know he’s right. Any trouble you get from Mingyu is trouble you want. You couldn’t go without it. “Maybe.” Grabbing your towel, you tuck it around your body before tossing Mingyu his. “Now hurry up and get ready.”

“Get ready for…”

“I thought we were meeting your coworkers for drinks.”

Mingyu freezes, his system’s malfunctioning. He’s sure you didn’t just say what you said. “I thought you didn’t wanna go.”

“People change their minds, baby. Especially when they have boyfriends like you who make them feel like the prettiest girl in the world” you say, pinching his cheek, “I wanna be wherever you are. Unless you don’t want—”.

“Shut up, we’re going” he interrupts, “But first I gotta talk to you about something.” 

“Okay, what is it?” 

“We can’t talk about it here. It’s better if we talk in the bedroom.”

You stare at him skeptically, arms folded across your chest, “What can you talk to me about in the bedroom that we can’t talk about here?”

Mingyu lulls you into another tender kiss, sliding your towel up to massage your ass. “Get in there and I’ll show you.” 

You place your full trust in him, letting him blindly back you out of the bathroom and down the hall where your bedroom awaits, kissing you and caressing you, throwing off your entire sense of direction. It occurs to you as you cross the threshold of what you assume to be your bedroom and your towel hits the ground that you probably aren’t going out for drinks tonight. 

Chances are you’ll spend the night in instead, ending your day the way it began. Tangled in the sheets. Lost in him. Lost in each other. And that suits you just fine. You’ll see his coworkers when you see them. There’s no nervousness about it anymore. No fear. You’ve never known peace the way that you have with Mingyu. As long as you’re together everything’s as it should be and nothing can make you question that ever again. 

[satellite-evans]

home

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Summary: Lando feels good about life, because of you.

Word count: 3k+

Warnings: tooth aching fluff

A/N:

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

Happy reading xxx

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

Lando was feeling good about life.

It wasn’t just because he was an F1 driver, making more money than he knew what to do with. It wasn’t just because he had millions of fans cheering for him every weekend or because he had a solid team backing him up, pushing him to be his best. It wasn’t even because he had a podium finish fresh in his mind, the sweet taste of champagne still lingering on his lips.

No—what made him feel good about life, what made everything else pale in comparison, was you.

Lando never thought he’d be the type of man to turn down wild nights out for cozy evenings at home. If someone had told him years ago that he’d be willingly spending his free time doing skincare routines, building 1,000-piece puzzles, or just lying around watching movies he’d seen a hundred times before, he would’ve laughed in their face. But then again, he never thought he’d meet a woman like you.

You were his anchor—the calm in the middle of his storm. In a world that never seemed to slow down, where every second was measured in tenths and every move scrutinized, you were the one thing that made time stop. To him, you were the soft colors that breathed life back into his world, painting over the black-and-white monotony of airports, circuits, and hotel rooms. With you, life didn’t feel like an endless race. With you, he could finally breathe.

Of course, there were moments of doubt. Late at night, when exhaustion crept in and his thoughts turned against him, his mind would whisper cruel things—You don’t deserve her. She could have someone better. Someone who’s around more. Someone normal.

But then he’d see you, and those thoughts would vanish, replaced by the overwhelming gratitude of simply having you in his life. The way you looked at him, the way your fingers absentmindedly played with his hair, the way you smiled when you blushed, the way your presence alone could steady his anxious heart—it all reminded him that he was exactly where he was meant to be. With you. Loving you. Being loved by you.

Yeah, he was feeling good about life.

“Babe, I’m home!”

The words left his lips before he even stepped fully into the apartment, his voice carrying that unmistakable warmth of someone who had been counting down the seconds to this moment.

Eight hours of flying, dodging as many cameras as he could, and narrowly avoiding a speeding ticket on the drive back—but none of that mattered now. The race weekend had drained him, his body still vibrating from the adrenaline crash. His arms ached, his mind buzzed, and for a brief moment, all he wanted was to collapse into bed and sleep for days.

But then he saw you.

You were curled up on the couch, wearing that old college sweater he loved so much, paired with bike shorts that showed off the curve of your legs. Your glasses rested on the bridge of your nose, and your hair was tied up in a messy bun—one of those effortlessly cute ones that made his heart clench in his chest. AirPods in, fingers dancing across your laptop keyboard, and lips curled ever so slightly in that way they always did when you were concentrating.

Lando smiled.

God, he had missed you.

Quietly, he made his way over, careful not to startle you. The moment he was close enough, he tightened his arms around you, letting his chin rest against your shoulder as he took a deep breath. You smelled like vanilla and something faintly floral, something undeniably you. It was comforting in a way he couldn't quite put into words.

You tensed for a split second, surprised, before realizing who it was. A small, breathy laugh escaped your lips as you pulled out an AirPod.

“You’re home,” you murmured, a soft smile creeping onto your face.

Lando hummed against your skin, pressing a lazy kiss to your shoulder. “Mhm. Missed you.”

Your heart swelled at the raspy warmth in his voice. You knew he was exhausted—the subtle heaviness in his tone, the way his body sagged against yours, the way his arms clung to you just a little tighter than usual. The adrenaline from the race was probably long gone, leaving only the bone-deep fatigue that came after pushing himself to the limit.

You turned in his embrace, finally facing him. His curls were a little messy, his eyes slightly red-rimmed from the flight, but there was something else there too—something soft. Adoration.

“I missed you too,” you whispered, reaching up to brush his hair out of his face.

Lando sighed at the simple touch, leaning into your palm like a cat seeking warmth. “I swear, I almost crashed like five times just trying to get here faster.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart did a little flip at the idea that he was so eager to be home. “Maybe don’t do that next time?”

“No promises.” He grinned, the exhaustion momentarily lifting as he pressed a quick, playful kiss to the tip of your nose. “You’re kind of a good reason to speed.”

You shook your head, amused, but let him pull you closer, pressing your forehead against his. The room was quiet but all you could hear was his breathing, steady and grounding.

“Did you eat?” you asked, rubbing soothing circles against his back.

Lando groaned. “Not really. Had, like, half a protein bar and a gross airplane meal.”

You frowned. “Lando.”

“I know,” he groaned again, burying his face into your neck like a dramatic child. “I was too busy being a world-class athlete, okay?” His words were muffled against your skin, and you giggled at how ridiculously clingy he was being.

“Well, world-class athlete,” you teased, threading your fingers through his curls, “how about you let me make you something? You need real food.”

Lando made a low sound of approval. “Marry me.”

You laughed. “That’s your proposal? Because I offered you food?”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his lips quirking up into a smirk. “I mean, yeah? I feel like that’s a solid reason to propose.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“But you love me.”

You shook your head, smiling. “Yeah, I do.”

Lando’s expression softened at that. His thumb brushed over your cheek, his voice dropping into something quieter, more serious. “I love you too. More than I know what to do with.”

The sincerity in his tone made your breath hitch. There were no cameras, no fans, no flashing lights—just the two of you in this little moment, wrapped up in each other.

You pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, feeling him sigh against you as he melted into it. Slow, tender, unhurried. A stark contrast to the fast-paced, high-pressure world he lived in.

When you finally pulled away, you smiled up at him. “C’mon, let me feed you before you pass out.”

Lando groaned dramatically but let you take his hand, letting you guide him toward the kitchen.

As you led him, he tugged on your hand slightly, forcing you to slow down. You turned back with a questioning look, but before you could say anything, Lando wrapped his arms around you again, hugging you from behind as you walked.

“Lando,” you laughed, trying to shake him off. “You’re making this really hard.”

“I am really hard.”

You gasped and swatted at his arm. “Lando Norris!”

He laughed, his grip on you tightening as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. “I’m just saying, you’re wearing those shorts, and I haven’t seen you in, like, more than a week. My brain isn’t functioning properly.”

“You literally got here five minutes ago,” you pointed out, but your voice was softer now, teasing.

“Exactly. Five minutes too long.”

You rolled your eyes but let him hold you for a few more seconds before finally prying yourself away. “Food first, then cuddles.”

Lando groaned dramatically again but relented, dragging himself toward one of the kitchen stools while you moved around the kitchen. He propped his elbow on the counter and rested his chin in his palm, watching you with an appreciative glint in his eyes.

“What?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as you grabbed a pan.

“Nothing,” he said, his voice lazy and laced with exhaustion. “Just admiring my beautiful, amazing, perfect girlfriend who takes care of me when I forget how to function like a normal human being.”

You snorted. “You mean when you refuse to function like a normal human being.”

“Semantics.” He waved a hand dismissively.

You shook your head, amused, and started preparing something quick but hearty—something you knew he’d devour the moment it hit the plate. Every now and then, you’d glance over at him, and he’d still be watching you with that lazy smile, his eyes soft and heavy with exhaustion but full of warmth.

As you stirred the pan, you glanced at him again. “So… P3, huh?”

Lando’s lips twitched into a small smile. “Yep.”

“I’m so proud of you.” Your voice was gentle, but there was no mistaking the sincerity in it.

His smile grew, his eyes flickering to yours. “Yeah?”

“Of course. You drove like hell out there.” You turned back to the stove. “I was watching and nearly had a heart attack a couple of times.”

Lando chuckled. “Yeah, me too, honestly.”

“How close were you to crashing?” you asked, casting him a suspicious glance.

He hesitated. “Mmm… I’d say reasonably close. But it’s fine! Car’s in one piece, and I got the podium.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Lando.”

He grinned. “I swear, I had it under control.”

“Uh-huh. And what about Oscar? How’s he doing?”

Lando sighed, rubbing his face. “He’s good. He was frustrated after the race, though. He really wanted a podium.”

You nodded. “Makes sense. He’s been on fire lately.”

“Yeah,” Lando agreed. “He’ll get one soon. I told him that.” He tilted his head slightly. “You’ve been keeping up, huh?”

You shrugged. “Of course. What kind of girlfriend would I be if I didn’t?”

Lando’s heart swelled. He knew you always supported him, but hearing you talk about it so casually—like his world was naturally part of yours—made something warm settle in his chest.

“Well,” he said, watching you flip something in the pan, “now that we’re talking about me, how was your week?”

You sighed dramatically. “Oh, you know. Riveting. Classes, work, not crashing million-dollar cars—normal people things.”

Lando smirked. “Sounds dull.”

“Horribly dull,” you teased. “But, on the bright side, I did find a new coffee shop. They have the best croissants.”

His ears perked up. “Better than the place we went to last time?”

You considered this. “Mmm… I think so. You’ll have to come with me to judge.”

Lando grinned. “Deal.” He paused for a moment before adding, “Speaking of which, I brought you something.”

You turned, raising an eyebrow. “You did?”

He nodded and reached into his bag, pulling out a small paper bag. “Got it from this bakery near the paddock. Thought of you.”

Your heart melted a little as you took it. Inside was a delicate-looking pastry, slightly squished from travel but still intact.

“You’re the best,” you said, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of his curls.

Lando smiled, tilting his head up to steal a kiss from your lips instead. “I know.”

You laughed and playfully pushed his face away. “Okay, okay, let me finish cooking before you distract me again.”

Lando sat back with a satisfied sigh, watching you move around the kitchen. The warmth of the apartment, the scent of food filling the air, the sound of your voice—it was everything he didn’t realize he had missed so much.

Lando let out a deep sigh, tilting his head as he watched you. “You know,” he murmured, “I could do this forever.”

You glanced at him, smiling as you stirred the pan. “Do what?”

“This. Us. Just… coming home to you, watching you, being with you.” He rubbed his eyes, his voice slower now, like the exhaustion was finally catching up to him. “Feels like the only real thing in my life sometimes.”

Your chest tightened at his words. You turned off the stove and walked over to him, placing a gentle hand on his cheek. His skin was warm under your touch, slightly rough from travel, but so familiar.

“I’m always going to be here,” you murmured, running your thumb over his cheekbone. “No matter how fast life moves, no matter how crazy things get—you’ll always have me.”

Lando leaned into your touch, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “Promise?”

You smiled, tilting his chin up slightly so he’d look at you. “Promise.”

His lips quirked up, and he sighed again, this time softer. “God, I love you.”

You kissed him gently in response, lingering just long enough to let him feel the weight of your words without speaking them.

When you pulled away, you tapped his nose playfully. “Okay, now eat before you pass out at the counter.”

Lando started practically inhaling his food while you watched him with a fond smile. His eyelids were heavy, and his posture had started to slump, but he was stubborn—too stubborn to admit just how exhausted he was.

“You know,” you mused, propping your chin on your hand, “you don’t have to eat like someone’s going to steal your food.”

Lando glanced up mid-bite, mouth still full. “Can’t help it. Your food is that good.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I’m glad you like it.”

After finishing his meal, Lando leaned back in his chair with a satisfied sigh. “I’m officially the luckiest man alive.”

You smirked. “Because I fed you?”

“Because you love me and you fed me,” he corrected. “Both are equally important.”

You rolled your eyes playfully but stood up and began collecting the dishes. Before you could take his plate, Lando grabbed your wrist. “Hey, leave it for later. Come sit with me for a bit.”

You hesitated for a moment, glancing at the messy kitchen, but the way he was looking at you—soft, hopeful—made you relent.

“Fine,” you said, letting him pull you toward the couch.

Lando flopped down dramatically, pulling you with him so you landed against his side. He immediately curled around you, resting his head on your shoulder while reaching for the remote.

“What do you want to watch?” he mumbled, already sounding half-asleep.

“You pick,” you replied, shifting so he was more comfortable against you.

He flicked through the channels lazily before settling on some random sitcom. Within minutes, his breathing had slowed, and you could feel the full weight of his body pressing against yours.

You glanced down at him, biting back a smile. “Lando.”

“Mhm?”

“You’re falling asleep.”

“No, I’m not,” he murmured, shifting slightly.

You snorted. “Yes, you are. Your eyes have been closed for the past five minutes.”

Lando groaned but didn’t move. “Just five more minutes,” he bargained, voice thick with exhaustion.

You sighed, threading your fingers through his curls. “You need a shower, love.”

“Mmm,” he hummed, clearly not registering what you said.

You let him sit there for a moment longer before trying again. “Lando, come on. I know you don’t want to move, but you’ll feel better after a shower.”

He groaned dramatically. “Don’t wanna.”

“Don’t care,” you teased. “You’re going.”

Lando finally opened his eyes, pouting like a child. “What if I just sleep here?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Then I’ll drag you to the shower myself.”

His lips twitched into a small smirk. “Kinda hot.”

You swatted his arm. “Lando.”

He sighed heavily, knowing he wasn’t winning this battle. “Fine,” he muttered, reluctantly peeling himself off the couch.

You watched him shuffle toward the bathroom, looking half-dead on his feet. He paused at the door, turning to give you a dramatic look. “If I fall asleep in there, it’s on you.”

“I’ll come rescue you if I hear a thud,” you teased.

Lando muttered something under his breath but finally disappeared into the bathroom, and you shook your head fondly.

While he showered, you took the opportunity to clean up the kitchen. You moved quickly, wiping down the counters, washing the dishes, and tidying up. It didn’t take long, and by the time you finished, you could hear the faint sound of the water shutting off.

Lando emerged a few minutes later, hair damp and a towel slung around his neck. He was already dressed in one of his oversized shirts and a pair of soft shorts, looking far more awake than before.

You gave him an approving nod. “See? Told you you’d feel better.”

He walked over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “I hate when you’re right.”

You smirked. “Happens a lot, doesn’t it?”

Lando huffed but didn’t let go. “Come do skincare with me,” he murmured against your neck.

You laughed softly. “So now you want to do skincare?”

“Only if you do it with me,” he said, pulling back to give you that boyish grin you could never resist.

Shaking your head, you let him drag you to the bathroom, where he already had his collection of products lined up on the counter. It was funny, really—how he used to laugh at the idea of doing skincare, but now, he was the one reminding you about it.

As you both went through the routine, Lando kept sneaking glances at you in the mirror. “You’re so pretty,” he murmured, watching you apply your moisturizer.

You rolled your eyes, trying to fight the warmth creeping up your neck. “You tell me that every time we do this.”

“Because it’s true every time.”

You turned to him, dipping your fingers into his moisturizer before smearing a small amount onto his nose.

“Oi!” he yelped, laughing as he reached for your face in retaliation.

You squealed, dodging him. “You started it!”

Lando grinned, finally rubbing in the moisturizer you gave him. “I like doing this with you,” he admitted. “Makes me feel all… domestic and stuff.”

You smiled, leaning against the counter. “That’s because you are domestic, Norris. Face it—you like the simple things.”

He hummed, considering that. “Maybe. But only because I get to do them with you.”

Once skincare was done, Lando grabbed your hand, leading you back to the bedroom. He practically flopped onto the bed, tugging you down with him.

“You are so dramatic,” you muttered, laughing as you adjusted yourself beside him.

“Shhh,” he mumbled, already pulling you closer.

You shifted so that you were both tangled together, legs intertwined, your head resting against his chest. His fingers lazily traced patterns on your arm, and you could feel his breathing slow.

The room was quiet, the only sound being the soft heartbeats.

Lando sighed, his lips pressing against the top of your head. “This is my favorite part,” he murmured sleepily.

You looked up at him. “What is?”

He tightened his hold on you. “This. Just being here. With you.”

Your heart melted, and you nestled closer, pressing a soft kiss against his collarbone.

“I love you,” you whispered.

Lando smiled, his voice barely above a whisper. “I love you more.”

Within minutes, his breathing evened out, his body completely relaxed against yours. You stayed awake a little longer, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, feeling the warmth of his arms around you.

Yeah, life moved fast. It was chaotic, unpredictable.

But right here, in this moment—with him—it was perfect.

[vi-steponmeplease]

ˋ°•*⁀➷ loser!gf ellie

synopsis: just some random headcanons about what it'd be like to date loser ellie who's js so obsessed with you.

notes: never made any headcanon posts before, so don't mind the setup lmao i have no clue what i'm doing

tw: mostly fluff but there are some smutty hcs (oral — e!receiving)

✧₊⁺ to begin with, ellie defo prefers cozy 'netflix n chill' date nights over dressing up for fancy dinners.

✧₊⁺ cuddling up on the couch with you is something that never fails to make her heart swell, no matter how long you’ve been together.

✧₊⁺ but mostly because it gives her a chance to imagine what domestic life with you might be like—though she’d never admit it, afraid it might seem like she’s moving too fast.

✧₊⁺ she’s a sucker for resting her head on your chest while you thread your fingers through her hair, gently massaging her scalp as the two of you watch some cringey movie you’ll inevitably fall asleep to halfway through.

✧₊⁺ on the rare nights you don’t doze off, ellie grabs her brown acoustic guitar adorned with spongebob stickers and serenades you with a gentle melody while you rest your head on her shoulder.

✧₊⁺ when you’re out with friends, ellie—being the absolute dork she is—seizes the opportunity to practice tricks on her scratched-up skateboard, determined to one day impress you with her skills (even though she can barely land a kickflip without bruising herself)

✧₊⁺ when she eventually heads home with fresh scratches and deep purple bruises on her arms and knees, she does her best to patch herself up and cover them with makeup, hoping you won’t notice.

✧₊⁺ walking around town with ellie is always chaotic, as she can’t help but scream with excitement at the sight of every cat she sees.

✧₊⁺ bonus points if she’s eating chips—she’ll immediately tear open the bag and try to feed the poor animal junk food, no matter how much you explain it’s unhealthy. she just wants the cat to be happy and fed.

✧₊⁺ speaking of cats, she's defo the type to snap 0.5 pictures from every angle, proudly maintaining an entire folder dedicated to her feline encounters.

✧₊⁺ you got her a dino necklace for her birthday, and she’s never taken it off since.

✧₊⁺ ellie also has a whole mini-figure collection of the reptile and loves sending you pictures of two dinos kissing, always captioning them with: us!!

✧₊⁺ this girl lets nothing—absolutely nothing—distract her from a videogame. but the moment you so much as call her name, she’s running to you like a stray dog that just found its owner.

✧₊⁺ sometimes, you sit on her lap as she plays, watching her screen and asking the silliest questions. she always answers with a smile and a soft kiss on your cheek.

"what about there? would you die if you went inside that room?" you ask, your arms draped around her neck as you tilt your head to get a better view of her game.

she chuckles softly, pressing her lips to your jaw before fiddling with the joysticks. "judging by the fact that it’s pitch dark in there, i’d say… probably, yeah."

✧₊⁺ the room eventually falls silent, her focus fully locked on the game. but when she glances down a few moments later, she finds you fast asleep, your head resting on her shoulder, and she can’t help but smile.

✧₊⁺ you’ve never seen a room as messy yet effortlessly aesthetic as ellie’s. somehow, the clutter only adds to her charm and uniqueness.

✧₊⁺ sometimes, as you sit on her bed scrolling through your phone in comfortable silence, ellie sketches little drawings of you.

✧₊⁺ by now, her sketchbook is filled with portraits of you—you’ve become her muse.

✧₊⁺ she used to get shy about showing you her artwork, hesitating before every reveal. but after seeing your excitement over one piece, she proudly gave you a full tour of her sketchbook, secretly basking in the joy of being the reason behind that pretty smile of yours.

✧₊⁺ one time, ellie asked you to press your lipstick-stained lips onto a piece of paper, saying she wanted to create something abstract.

✧₊⁺ that moment quickly escalated into her kissing you with urgency, her lips trailing heated breaths down your neck and collarbone. before you knew it, you were lying on your back, clothes discarded on the floor, as she devoured you like a prisoner savoring a last meal.

✧₊⁺ ellie had never tasted pussy before, but she didn’t need any frame of reference. she’ll always insist yours is the best she could ever have.

✧₊⁺ she’s a soft dom, big on praise—even when you’re the one between her legs.

ellie’s head falls back against the wall, a low groan slipping from her lips as your tongue flicks against her clit. you wrap your lips around the sensitive bud, watching her face contort with pleasure.

“fuck, baby. just like that,” she grunts, her hand threading into your hair and tugging gently to bring you closer. “you’re doing so good.”

✧₊⁺ in the end, ellie is just a hopeless loser who’s madly in love with you and would do anything to make you happy.

[littlepeach-world]

Safety Call

Pairing: Frontman/Hwang In-Ho x Reader

Summary: When an unwelcome stranger disrupts your night out with friends, you call In-ho for help. 

Warnings: Angst, Alcohol, physical altercation, harassment, Protective!Inho, Soft!Inho.

Word count: 1.4k

Notes: I love protective Inho, so I decided to write this. I hope you like it!

You stand near the doorway, noticing the stern yet concerned look in In-ho's eyes as you finish getting ready. His presence is a mixture of authority and a hidden worry that only you can see through.

"In-ho, I'll be fine," you say, turning to face him with a reassuring smile. You know how to ease his fears, how to comfort him. "It's just a few drinks with friends."

"I know," he replies, his voice steady but low. "But be careful. Call me if anything happens."

You chuckle softly, walking up to him and placing a tender hand on his cheek. His skin is warm under your touch, and you let your thumb gently caress his cheekbone. His eyes soften slightly at your intimate gesture. "I promise I will. Besides, you don't have to worry too much. You have my location and are always tracking me when I go out." Your eyes sparkle mischievously as you say this, and you can see his lips twitch, almost forming a smile.

His hands find their way to your waist, pulling you closer until there’s barely any space between you. "Just be careful, Y/N," he murmurs, his forehead resting against yours for a brief, tender moment.

Before you can respond, In-ho leans in and presses a gentle kiss to your lips. The kiss deepens slightly, filled with the tenderness and concern he holds for you. He then begins to pepper kisses over your face—your cheeks, your forehead, the tip of your nose—eliciting a soft giggle from you.

"I love you," you whisper, your heart swelling with emotion.

"I love you more," In-ho replies softly, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that takes your breath away.

You feel his breath on your lips, and for a heartbeat, you’re lost in the depth of his gaze. You give him a playful salute before stepping out of the apartment, aware of the mix of anxiety and love swirling within him. As you walk away, you can feel his eyes on you, a silent promise of his unwavering protection and affection.

—

The bar is bustling with life, filled with laughter and music. You navigate through the crowd until you spot your friends—Eunji, Yuna, and Jian—already seated at a cozy corner booth. There's a celebratory air as you greet them warmly and enthusiastically wish Jian a happy birthday, wrapping her in a tight hug.

"Happy birthday, Jian! How does it feel to reach this milestone?" you tease, causing the group to laugh.

The night is filled with dancing, laughter, and sharing stories—moments you know you'll cherish. The hours slip by effortlessly, the energy of the bar feeding your spirits. You take turns on the dance floor, twirling and swaying to the beat, losing yourself in the music.

However, the joyous atmosphere is suddenly interrupted. A man, clearly intoxicated and insistent, stumbles over to your group. His persistence in trying to join in your celebration is neither welcomed nor appreciated.

"Come on, ladies, let me buy you all a drink," he slurs, leaning too close for comfort.

"Come on, you know you want to hang out with me," he mumbles repeatedly, his words barely coherent. Despite Jian and the others insisting that he leave, he continues to bother you all.

"Seriously, we're not interested," Eunji says firmly, trying to wave him off.

Your warm demeanor turns serious. You step forward, positioning yourself between the man and your friends. "Okay, that's enough. You need to back off now," you state clearly, your tone leaving no room for misinterpretation.

He doesn't seem to get the hint, remaining obstinate. Your heart quickens, a mix of annoyance and unease settling in, but you maintain your composure. Excusing yourself for a moment, you pull out your phone and quickly text In-ho, explaining what's happening:

Hey. There's a drunk guy at the bar who won't leave us alone. I'm handling it, but just wanted you to know.

As you hit send, you look back at your friends, their faces showing a mixture of worry and solidarity. You know they'll have your back, but it's reassuring to have In-ho in the loop.

Not long after, you hear your phone ping with a response: On my way. Stay safe.

You take a deep breath, feeling a bit more at ease knowing In-ho will be there soon. For now, you tighten the circle with your friends, each of you drawing strength from one another as you continue to ward off the unwelcome intrusion.

—

Receiving your text, In-ho's face hardens, his normally calm expression tightening with a mixture of concern and anger. His initial worry morphs swiftly into a cold, determined resolve. He doesn’t hesitate; there’s no time to waste. Grabbing his jacket, he quickly notifies his guards about the situation, ensuring they are prepared for any potential dangers. With thoughts of your safety driving every step he takes, he heads out the door.

The journey to the bar feels longer than ever, each second ticking by painfully slow. His mind races with possibilities of what could be happening, each scenario pushing him to move faster. When he finally arrives, there's a palpable shift in the atmosphere. In-ho's presence is commanding, a figure of undeniable authority and strength stepping through the threshold. The dim, chaotic ambiance of the bar quivers under his scrutiny. Conversations pause, patrons instinctively stepping aside as if drawn by an unspoken rule of respect and fear.

As he weaves through the crowd with purpose, his eyes scan the room until they lock onto you. Instantly, a wave of relief washes over you. You see him, your guardian, your firm anchor in the tempest. The storm in your heart subsides, if only for a moment, at the sight of him.

"Is there a problem here?" In-ho’s voice is icy, cutting through the noise of the bar like a blade. The man bothering you turns to face him, eyes filled with a mix of anger and fear. The authority in In-ho's demeanor is unmistakable, and it quickly becomes clear to the harasser that he's made a mistake.

The man's bravado falters for a moment, but then he straightens his shoulders and narrows his eyes at In-ho. "Mind your own business," he sneers, attempting to regain some semblance of control over the situation.

In-ho's expression remains unchanged, his gaze unwavering. "I'm warning you. Leave now."

The man hesitates, but his foolish pride gets the better of him. He clenches his fists, his jaw tightening. "I said, mind your own business!" he shouts, attracting the attention of nearby patrons.

In-ho sighs, a glint of anger flickering in his eyes. Normally, he would have laid the guy out without a second thought—no questions asked. But he remembered how much you had voiced that fighting scares you. He's trying his best to honor that. "This is your last warning. Walk away."

Instead of heeding the warning, the man foolishly tries to swing at In-ho in a last-ditch effort to save face. In one fluid motion, In-ho dodges the punch and delivers a swift, powerful jab to the man's jaw. The impact sends the man stumbling backwards.

Before the harasser can recover, In-ho steps forward, his movements precise and controlled. He catches the man's arm, twists it behind his back, and restrains him with an ease that speaks volumes of his training and strength.

"That was a mistake," In-ho says, his voice low and dangerous.

Within seconds, two of In-ho's guards appear at either side of him. They take the man away, their grip unyielding as they escort him out of the bar.

In-ho turns to you, his earlier concern evident in the way he carefully scans you for any signs of harm. His eyes trace over your form, checking for bruises or cuts, and only when he's reassured that you're physically unscathed does his expression soften into one of gentle protectiveness. "Are you alright?" he asks, his voice tender and filled with genuine concern.

Satisfied that you’re not hurt, he meets your eyes, offering a comforting presence amidst the chaos that has unfolded.

You hug him with gratitude. "Thanks for being here, It means a lot to me."

He holds you close, his grip reassuring, and kisses your head softly. "Don't thank me. It's my job to protect you."

As you leave the bar together, a small smile tugs at your lips. Despite the challenges in his life, In-ho’s presence brings a sense of warmth and stability to your world. Together, you find balance and understanding in each other's company.

In-ho gently takes your hand, his grip firm and protective. "You're never leaving my side again," he says, his voice filled with unwavering determination.

[bachissidehoe]

in which you're Reo's princess, and Nagi's his treasure. (w.c. 1049)

At first, you found it strange the way Nagi Seishiro would so casually throw his arm around your shoulder and hold you close to his chest. You were Reo’s girlfriend, after all. The girlfriend of his best friend.

“What are you playing?”

He sighed. “It would be a hassle to explain. You can watch though.”

And you did. You sat next to him on the couch, forcing your gaze past his toned muscles and shaggy, tangled hair to watch his little mobile game.

“Come here. It’s hard to play when you’re leaning on my arm.”

And he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you into his side so he could access his screen better. Apparently, this position made him more mobile.

You were flushed. You didn’t think something like this would be allowed. You were nestled into the gorgeous, soft body of your boyfriend’s best friend.

“Oh cute! My princess and my treasure.”

That’s all Reo had said when he saw you. It surprised you, to say the least.

But it’s not like you were complaining. Where lying on Reo’s chest was warm, Nagi’s was cool. Where Reo was obvious with his praise, Nagi was nonchalant. You found yourself wanting the affection of both of them, in a weird way.

And it started to be less surprising when Nagi asked to hold you. In fact, you started to hope he would.

“Your thighs are soft, like pillows. I need a nap.”

And Nagi collapsed, right there on your thighs, letting his eyes flutter shut. So calm.

“Aren’t they?” Reo agreed from the opposite couch, encouraging the physicality.

What the two didn’t notice was how you shifted in your seat, affected by the warm breaths that dusted your inner thighs. It wouldn’t be comfortable for the snowy haired boy to sleep in a puddle, so you held on for dear life, your hands clenched around the fabric of the couch rather than tangled in his messy hair.

You hadn’t realized the effect Nagi Seishiro really had on you. How his subtle, casual affection had trained you to become a secret mess for him. For your boyfriend’s best friend.

But Reo- your smart, charismatic, beautiful boyfriend- he had realized. In fact, he’d been encouraging this for a reason.

“You’re bothered, aren’t you princess?”

For a moment you thought you may be in trouble. It’s wrong to get turned on by your boyfriend’s best friend. But the look on Reo’s face, the devious smirk, said otherwise.

So you nodded.

“How cute.” He moved to hover over you, Nagi still restful on your thighs. “My princess and my treasure get along so well.”

It became pretty obvious what your boyfriend wanted after that. You just didn't realize how you didn't notice it before. The way he looked at Nagi. The way he encouraged you two. He wanted Nagi just as badly as you did.

The burning growing between your thighs wasn't enough for just Reo to satisfy anymore. And he knew that.

"Princess, hm? That what you want me to call her too, Reo?" Nagi mumbled, his groggy eyes opening just enough to look up at your flushed face.

"You should." Reo pulled Nagi upward by his shirt, removing him from the comfortable spot he created on your thighs.

Nagi complained the whole way up, of course, he was never one to enjoy being forced out of a cozy position.

"You should also let her ride you." Reo smirked, bringing Nagi's face close to his, nearly touching his lips.

You gulped.

But Nagi Seishiro was less than nervous, the nonchalant type of person he was. He only glanced back at you, not struggling at all under your boyfriend's tight hold on his shirt.

"Yeah fine." Nagi agreed.

It was hard for you to tell whether Nagi really wanted to fuck you, whether he was interested in you at all or if he wanted to shut Reo up. But as it turned out, Nagi Seishiro was stubborn and ruthless. He wanted you just as badly, his cock constantly straining against his shorts whenever you were close to him, wanting any excuse to stuff his face into your pretty thighs. But he'd never admit it.

Not until you were bouncing on his thick cock, mouth hung open and hands relentlessly tugging on his hair. Right there on that couch. With your wet cunt soaking him, your movements squeezing juices into a messy coating for Nagi's bare thighs.

That's when Nagi Seishiro decided to be honest. "Fuck, I needed you. Fuck~ yes I need~ ah-"

And Reo couldn't have been happier about the beautiful scene he created. "You don't mind, hm? Can't expect me to just watch." He lined up behind you, letting his familiar, flushed tip plunge into the depths of your unused hole, forcing you to lean forward onto Nagi's chest.

"I'll get ya both off. Fuck~" Reo spat, his thrusts creating the friction both you and Nagi so desperately craved, your heavy breaths mixing into each other in the small space between you.

And you kissed him, because you couldn't help it. Your sloppy, drooly lips pressed to Nagi's in a desperate display of hunger.

As it turned out, Reo had been thinking about this for a long time. Longer than you had. Longer than the stubborn Nagi Seishiro had.

He rocked his hips in perfect rhythm, your cunt sliding and squeezing around Nagi's perfect cock while your ass was lubed and stuffed by your pretty boyfriend.

Reo was right about getting you both off, too. It took him practically no time, with your clit rubbing against Nagi's skin and the friction forcing Nagi's tip into your g-spot over and over again, it wasn't difficult. But that didn't matter to Reo, he never specified how many times he expected to get you two off. And it became clear very quickly that once wasn't enough for him.

He'd been holding back his desires for too long, he deserved to see you shaking, tears streaming down your face, cum dripping from all your holes. He deserved to see Nagi fucked out, hair sticking to his forehead, arms wrapped around you and lips attached to your bruised neck.

Your boyfriend deserved that much. After how long you made him wait to fuck his princess and his treasure.

[3verythingiknowaboutlove]

first fall of snow

how spencer guesses you're pregnant before you actually tell him

fluff word count: 1390 warnings & tags & stuff: pregnant reader, slight issues with mother mentioned?, non-graphic vomiting, mentions/allusions to winter holidays being celebrated, kinda spencer's pov but still 2nd pov, reader is scared spencer will leave her lol, anxious!reader in general, mentions of death?, probably medical inaccuracies ive never been pregnant author's note: hiiii i'm forcing myself to post this because if i don't then i'll never post and i'm being BRAVE. i hope it can be a little comforting maybe. i've realllyyyy been struggling with my take on spencer's characterization lately soo this was kinda like a bootcamp/exercise situation into his mind and less an expression of my writing skills, iykwim. let me know your thoughts if u have any! i love you & have a splendid day!!

Spencer is walking—speed walking—toward his car, away from the case he just finished, away from serial killers and guns and geographical profiling and death.

He places his feet carefully on the snow-covered sidewalk with each step, the cold air biting at his face. He barely notices it, absorbed in the path ahead, as the snow provides a satisfying crunch underfoot—a nice background to his perpetually racing mind.

He doesn’t like the winter. It’s always too harsh outdoors, and too stuffy indoors, and he’s trapped in a suffocating haze no matter where he goes. 

His phone starts to vibrate gently in his pocket, interrupting his racing thoughts for a split second. His pace falters as he pulls it free, a quick smile tugging at the corner of his lips when he sees it’s your name on the screen.

“Hi. How are you?” he asks after picking up, watching his breath come out in puffs of vapor in the cold air.

Winters, however, have gotten progressively better each year he spends with you.

“...I’m okay,” you say, though the crack in your voice reveals the all-consuming ache in your bones and mind.

“No. You’re overwhelmed,” he guesses in his matter-of-fact way, voice gentle. You huff out a soft laugh at his ability to read you, never getting old.

“Yeah, I guess. A little. The holiday season, you know. Are you on your way home?” you ask, voice softer now. You’re sitting on the couch of yours and Spencer’s cozy apartment, wrestling with a blanket to cover your lap, and bouncing your leg relentlessly.

“I’m walking to the car now. Hey, have you done the crossword today?” Spencer asks, words a familiar, tender remedy for your nerves. You told him a long time ago that hearing his voice makes you feel better, and there are times, like these, where he just knows it’s what you need. You rest our head on the arm of the couch, curling up.

“No, I didn’t have the time. Why?”

“There was an interesting question about causes of death in Shakespeare plays, but they completely messed up the part of speech. It read, ‘Popular ways to die by the hands of England’s national poet’. I thought it was ‘poisons’ at first, but it was actually ‘stabbed’, even though the correct answer grammatically should’ve been ‘stabs’ or ‘stabbings’,” he says, his car now in sight through the steady sprinkle of snow coming down. “Do you think I should send an email to let them know? I guess stabbing does make more sense, though, versus poison, because throughout his works, thirty characters out of his 74 that died were stabbed compared to only four that were poisoned. Three were stabbed and poisoned. Did you know that two were actually baked into pies, which is a-”

“Oh my god, the pie,” you groan, cutting him off mid-sentence, sitting up hastily, the blanket falling to the floor.

“Pie?”

“Yeah. My mom coerced me into making it to bring tomorrow.” You pad over to the kitchen and crouch down to peek through the hazy glass of the oven, inspecting it. “Oh,” you murmur. “It’s…not pretty.”

He sandwiches the phone in between his ear and shoulder, gently opening the door to his car to sit down as he listens to you. He turns the heat on, exhaling in an exhausted relief, hovering his hand over where the air comes out. 

“Can you tell me what it looks like? Maybe I can help,” he suggests, leaning back against the headrest and letting his eyes close for a second. You put the phone on speaker, setting it on the counter as you bend down to take it out. “Don’t burn yourself,” he adds, hearing what you’re doing.

“I’m not going to burn my-” you cut yourself off with a huff. “Whatever. It’s just really messy. There’s like… liquid overflowing where the lattice should be.”

He hums. “How long has it been cooking for?”

“45 minutes. My mom sent me this one ancient recipe that I had to use written on parchment paper from like 70 years ago, and it does not have a bake time listed, so I’m just eyeballing it.”

“Okay. You could either put it back in the oven in hopes that more of the liquid will evaporate, or you can leave it out to cool down and hopefully thicken,” he says.

“What do you think I should do?”

“I think you sound exhausted and need your sleep.” 

You sigh, staring at your mess of a pie, hopes that you’ll appease your mother this year slipping further and further away, soon to be completely buried by the snow.

“Hey. I’m sure it’ll taste really good. Besides, people still liked Shakespeare, and he wrote about much worse pies than you could ever make.” 

A smile pulls at your lips.

“Yeah. Okay. I’ll just leave it out to cool and head to bed. Will you stay on the phone a little longer?” you ask, padding over to your shared bedroom.

“Of course.”

He doesn’t start driving as you talk, not when nearly 2000 people die per year due to driving on icy roads, and two thirds of them were people who were reported to not be paying close enough attention.

And especially not when 54 hours ago on your last phone call, he noticed a drastic shift in your behavior, and was quickly able to tell that you were pregnant. 

He had too much waiting for him at home to be spinning out on black ice because he was talking to you and not watching the road.

He chooses instead to look outside at the falling snow, blanketing the city, his city, the very first for D.C. to have this winter out of the septillion snowflakes planet earth receives each year.

…

Spencer gets home a little later that night, holding another pint of cherries in his hands. Not for the pie—which he turns to see resting on the stove and winces slightly at—but for you. 

Cherries, with their 342 mg of potassium per cup, help replenish lost electrolytes and can soothe nausea.

He’s expecting it to start any day now.

He quietly steps into the bedroom, setting his bag by the door to be dealt with tomorrow. The soft glow of the lamp that was left on, presumably for him by your endlessly considerate heart, provides just enough light so he can get changed. He then finally clambers into bed next to you, one hand reaching out to lace in your hair, moving his fingers to gently scratch by the nape of your neck. He lifts the other to rest, like you're made of a delicate china, on your lower stomach, sighing in pure relief the second it makes contact.

You turn sleepily, humming when you’re met with the sight of him. “Spence,” you murmur, contented.

“Hi. I really didn’t mean to wake you up. I’m sorry,” he says, so quietly.

“I'm glad you did. I like it when you wake me.” You tuck yourself closer to him. “I love you.” His hand comes to trace gentle patterns all over your back and arm, and he gives you a little kiss, adoringly.

“Go back to sleep. I love you.”

You let your eyes shut once again, this time much easier now that he’s with you. You inhale his scent, which you swear could repair anything broken or lost in this world. You exhale, wondering if he’d still hold you the same way after learning that you’re carrying his child. 

It’s a scary thought, but you’re comforted by his warm touch, pushing you farther out into the deep sea of sleep.

Once your breaths get steady and your mouth parts slightly, he adds, in a whisper, “Both.”

…

The next morning, when you’re hunched over the toilet bowl, Spencer is there with you, rubbing your back and wiping your teary eyes. You look up to him after brushing your teeth, and no words are exchanged. He tugs you into his arms, silently quelling any of the countless anxieties swarming your mind, at least in this moment.

His hand comes up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. He lets it rest there, cupping your jaw.

“Let’s go shopping after breakfast today, okay? You need prenatal vitamins.” He presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

“And a new pie.”

[prettygirl-gabi]

Special Guest

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

POV: First-person

Fandom: UConn’s Women’s Basketball

Word Count: 1,500+

Summary: we have a special guest for the podcast

Tags: @paigeshirleytemple , @unknowngirlypop , @paigeluvvr , @melpthatsme , @authentic-girl03 , @lessi-lover , @courtsidewithlani

I adjust my mic and glance at Kayla, who’s lounging comfortably against my pillows, setting up her recording equipment.

“So, let me get this straight,” I start, tilting my head at her. “You, Kayla Williams, decided that my dorm—my bed, specifically—was the best place to record this episode?”

Kayla smirks. “You act like this isn’t the most comfortable setup ever. It’s cozy, it’s intimate, it’s giving vibes. Plus, do you really think I was about to record in one of those stiff chairs in the common room? Be so for real.”

I shake my head, laughing. “You just didn’t wanna book a studio.”

“Correct.” She grins, popping a piece of gum into her mouth. “Now, get comfy, and let’s start—”

Before she can finish, my dorm door swings open, and in walks Paige.

Scratch that—drags herself in.

She looks exhausted, still in her practice gear, her low ponytail a little frizzy from sweat, and her duffle bag barely hanging onto her shoulder. She doesn’t say anything, just lets out a deep sigh and makes a beeline for my bed.

“Uh, hey?” I say, watching as she tosses her bag to the floor, taking her ponytail out and flops onto the mattress like she’s been carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.

Without hesitation, she burrows into me, laying her head directly on my stomach, her arms loosely wrapping around my waist.

I blink down at her. “Paige?”

She hums in response but doesn’t move.

Kayla raises an eyebrow. “Yo, is she good?”

“She had morning practice,” I explain, running a hand through Paige’s locs. “Guess it wiped her out.”

Kayla snickers. “Nah, this is crazy. She didn’t even say hi.”

I poke Paige’s shoulder. “You good, baby?”

Paige nuzzles deeper into me, sighing. “Mhm.”

“Wanna move?”

“No.”

I glance at Kayla, who’s grinning like she’s witnessing something hilarious.

“Oh, she’s whipped,” Kayla says, adjusting her mic. “You sure you still wanna record? Your girl looks real comfortable.”

I glance down at Paige, who’s already breathing slower, her body completely relaxed against mine.

“She’ll be fine,” I say, settling back into the pillows. “If she’s tired enough to fall asleep while we talk for an hour, she probably needs the rest.”

Kayla shakes her head, still smirking. “Alright, your relationship is crazy soft, but let’s get into it.”

She presses record, and just like that, we start the episode.

—

Thirty minutes in, Paige hasn’t moved an inch.

She’s completely knocked out, her breath warm against my hoodie, her arms still lazily wrapped around me. Every now and then, she shifts, sighs, or tightens her grip, but for the most part, she’s dead to the world.

Kayla, of course, is having way too much fun with this.

“Okay, so what I’m gathering,” she says, pointing at Paige’s sleeping form, “is that you got this superstar, face-of-UConn-basketball, Paige Bueckers, so down bad that she literally needs to be on you to function properly?”

I roll my eyes. “She’s just tired.”

Kayla gives me a look. “Nah, see, I’ve known Paige for a while, and I ain’t never seen her like this with anyone else.”

I fight a smile, absentmindedly running my fingers through Paige’s hair. “She likes being close to me. Is that a crime?”

Kayla grins. “Not at all. It’s just hilarious how you try to act all nonchalant about it.” She leans toward the mic dramatically. “Y’all, let it be known that Paige Bueckers is a clingy girlfriend. Possibly the clingiest.”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “She’s not that clingy.”

Kayla gestures at Paige. “Bro. She fell asleep on you mid-podcast. You might as well get her a ‘Property of Y/N’ shirt at this point.”

I bite my lip to keep from laughing. “She does have a hoodie that says ‘Y/N’s Favorite.’”

Kayla howls. “Oh, nah! That’s crazy. Ain’t no way.”

I nod, grinning. “Got it for her last Valentine’s Day.”

Kayla wipes a fake tear. “This is beautiful. True love.”

I shake my head, still smiling as we move on to the next topic.

—

By the time we wrap up the episode, Paige is still dead asleep.

Kayla stretches, cracking her knuckles. “Alright, that’s a wrap. Great episode, and we got bonus content of you being the human equivalent of a teddy bear.”

I snort. “Glad I could provide entertainment.”

Kayla stands, gathering her stuff. “I gotta bounce, but good luck getting your girl off you.” She nudges Paige’s leg. “Yo, Bueckers, you alive?”

Paige groans, barely lifting her head. “Barely.”

Kayla smirks. “Your girl’s free now. You gonna let her move?”

Paige ignores her, instead snuggling back into me, her voice muffled against my hoodie. “No.”

Kayla cackles. “Yeah, I’m outta here.”

She gives me a knowing look before heading for the door. “Text me when you finally escape.”

I roll my eyes. “Bye, Kayla.”

Once she’s gone, I glance down at Paige, brushing a few stray locs out of her face. “You good, sleepyhead?”

Paige hums. “Better now.”

I smile. “You slept through my whole podcast, you know.”

She grins sleepily, eyes still closed. “Best nap I’ve ever had.”

I sigh, shaking my head. “You’re so spoiled.”

She finally cracks one eye open, looking up at me with that soft, lazy smile of hers. “By you? Absolutely.”

I can’t even argue with that. Instead, I kiss her forehead, letting her sink back into me.

She’s gonna be wide awake later, and I should make her get up soon.

But for now?

I let her stay exactly where she is.

---

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

                 -Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

                             -prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[plutotheplum]

Take a Chance with Me

zayne x fem!reader

summary: zayne gets called into work, so you bring him dinner.

cw: nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, established relationship, smut, fluff, handjob, oral sex, p in v, office sex

wc: 4.4k

a/n: based on one of zayne's text messages! he's so domestic boyfriend core. this is basically just some soft, fluffy smut before i write a dawnbreaker angst fic :3

also on ao3!

Akso Hospital is quieter at night than it is in the day.

You’d been expecting the bustle of nurses and doctors when Zayne had texted you saying he’d been called in on short notice, preparing yourself for some sort of emergency. Thankfully, it didn’t seem that was the case, most likely a pressing surgery that had come up for Zayne.

Sometimes, you wished he’d take more days off. It was a little selfish to want to be wrapped up in Zayne’s arms all the time, but you couldn’t help yourself, the comfort and warmth his body provided was like no other. It was what you had been doing earlier that night, cozied up next to him on the couch, with a fluffy blanket pulled up over you both as he’d spoken to you about one of his past surgeries.

Zayne’s voice had a certain lull to it, the low murmur of his voice making your eyes droop until you’d curled up into his chest, face pressed into his neck and fallen asleep before the takeout you had ordered even arrived. 

Jenna’s missions had kept you on your toes for the entire week, your body exhausted and dazed under the constant stress of fighting Wanderers. Zayne gave you the solace of being able to unwind, although your boyfriend was as stern as ever, he was everything you needed. 

That was until you’d woken up and realized he was gone. Zayne had made sure you were tucked in, a pillow placed under your head comfortably, and your hair brushed away from your face. You’d been disappointed, but the moment you were awake, you couldn’t find it in yourself to go back to sleep, no matter how hard you tried.

It’s why you’re here now, the takeout bag clutched in hand with a couple of paper plates and forks stuffed inside, as you wait patiently for the elevator to drop you off at Zayne’s floor of the hospital.

And of course, I can’t wait to see the person delivering it.

Zayne’s text flashes through your mind, and your grip on the bag of takeout tightens. It wasn’t fair how a simple line of text could make your heart race and your mind swirl with emotion, a sense of yearning taking root within you. 

You spy Yvonne sitting at the front desk and you give her a small wave before approaching her.

“Hi,” Yvonne greets, smiling up at you, “here to see Doctor Zayne?”

You nod in response, holding up the bag of takeout. “He got called in before we could have dinner, so I figured I’d just bring it to him.”

“That’s nice,” Yvonne says, her fingers tapping against the keyboard, “Doctor Zayne finished up his surgery about an hour ago. He’s probably resting in his office.”

“Thank you, Yvonne,” you chirp, giving her smile and another wave before making your way towards Zayne’s office.

It’s tucked away into the corner, his name engraved on the plaque that sits adhered to the surface of the door. The door’s unlocked, but you’re not surprised, he probably left it open for you. Turning the handle, you poke your head in to find Zayne’s head resting on his outstretched arm against his desk.

His eyes are closed, so you step in quietly, trying not to rustle the bag of takeout too much and let the door lock behind you with a quiet click. Zayne remains motionless and you tiptoe towards him, setting the bag down beside his desk. He looks peaceful like this, his lashes kissing his cheeks, face relaxed as his chest rises and falls with every breath.

You’re not quite sure what you did to deserve someone like him. Zayne is sickeningly gentle and even more sickeningly patient with you. He treats you like you’re precious because to him, you are. You’re more precious to him than any award he could be given, more precious to him than the highest praise he could receive from any senior doctor in Linkon and beyond. You’re the only thing that truly matters to him.

Zayne’s devotion runs deep. It soothes your frayed nerves, and has lodged itself inside of you deep within your viscera. Sometimes, you think about clawing out the protocore-embedded heart in your chest and handing it to him. Zayne would take care of it, you’re sure, as he does now. 

He stirs for a moment and you still, slowing your breathing so as to not wake him. Your hand reaches out, brushing his hair out of his eyes, fingers tracing the curve of his cheek. Zayne’s nightmares had gotten less frequent recently and you were thankful for it. He needed the rest. You lean in a little closer, unable to help yourself, letting your lips brush across his cheek in a fleeting kiss.

The hand on your wrist startles you for a moment before you realize Zayne is awake, his head lifting lazily and his eyes blinking open blearily.

“You came,” he murmurs, voice laced with sleep.

“I said I would,” you say softly, cupping his cheek and smoothing your thumb over it. Zayne leans into your touch, letting out a heavy sigh as though some impossible burden were lifted off of his shoulders. You watch as his eyes flutter shut and let him nuzzle into your palm, his lips kissing the inside of your wrist.

Breaking through the relaxed atmosphere, your stomach growls and you flush, cheeks heating up. Zayne lets out a low laugh, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you onto his lap.

“You should’ve eaten,” Zayne says, brushing his hand over your hair.

“I wanted to eat with you,” you mumble, pouting petulantly.

He hums, reaching for the bag of takeout, taking out the plates and forks along with the food. It’s impossible to stop yourself from nosing into his cheek, lips pressing soft kisses along his jaw and across the expanse of his cheek.

“I missed you.”

“It’s only been a few hours since I last saw you,” he muses, tilting his head up to meet your eyes.

“So? I still missed you,” you reply, arms tightening around his neck.

A smile tugs at his lips, a knowing look in his eyes. He presses the fork of food up to your lips and you open your mouth obediently, letting him feed you. Zayne rubs his hand up and down your back from time to time, his lips pressing against your cheek with every bite he feeds you.

You curl into him when he finishes feeding you, letting your face find its way back home into the crook of his neck, carved out just for you. Zayne tightens his arm around your waist, thumb stroking over the curve of your hip every now and then as he eats.

“I love you,” Zayne says quietly, the fork settling against the plastic takeout container.

“I love you too,” you say, trying to press yourself closer into the heat of his body.

It frustrates you, not being able to be as close to him as you want. The sense of it not being enough, despite being flush against him, gnaws at you. Zayne knows this of course, can see the little downward pull of your lips whenever you get like this and try to meld your body against his as though you’re trying to burrow through his clothes and into him. He’d let you, if it was possible, keep you safe behind the curve of his ribs and close to his heart.

He slides his hand into your hair, cupping the back of your head to tilt it upwards. You smile up at him fondly, eyes fluttering shut when he brushes the tip of his nose against yours.

“I love you,” Zayne repeats, kissing the corner of your mouth.

“I love you t-”

Your voice is muffled when he slots his lips over yours, drawing you into a slow kiss. It’s sweet, the way he presses his lips to yours in a tentative question as though asking for permission even though he knows you’ll give it to him. Your head tilts, your hand sliding into the softness of his hair, nails scraping against his scalp gently. Zayne shivers and leans into you further, his hand squeezing at your waist.

Longing unfurls in your gut, the slow, syrupy sweetness of his kiss sinking through your flesh and encasing your soul in a warm embrace. You’re shifting on his lap, moving your body so that you straddle him, knees bracketing his hips. Zayne chases after you when you break away, not letting you leave him for long, guiding you into another kiss.

His hands have begun to drift, smoothing up over the skin of your thighs, squeezing at the flesh before sliding under to grab at your ass. You smile against his lips, fingers splaying across his throat before dragging down to hook into the knot of his tie. You tug downwards, loosening his tie from around his neck. 

“We can’t,” he whispers, glancing towards the door.

“I locked it,” you murmur, kissing him softly, “please, Zayne?” Your fingers go further, beginning to unbutton his shirt all the way. “I need you.”

Zayne stares up at you and sees the neediness in your expression, the haze that comes over your face whenever you ask him for his cock. He finds that he can never deny you.

“Okay,” Zayne says quietly, squeezing your arm, “okay, sweetheart.”

You palm him through his trousers, feel him beginning to grow in the confines of his pants. Zayne tries to bite back the noises you elicit from him, but it’s impossible when you look at him like that, your eyes all starry and cheeks flushed. 

“You’re always taking care of me,” you whisper, palming his bulge a little more firmly, “let me take care of you now, Zayne.”

Zayne lets out a shaky breath and you smile, pecking his lips gently. Pulling his belt buckle free, you undo the button to his trousers, dragging the zip down to see his boxers. There’s a dark spot on the fabric and the sight has you licking your lips, grasping his half-hard cock through his boxers.

He lets out a strangled groan, his head falling back against his chair, hips bucking up to chase more of your touch.

“You’re teasing me,” Zayne grits out, his knuckles white with how tightly he’s gripping the armrests of his chair.

“‘m making you feel good,” you correct. 

Your hand pulls his boxers down, and his cock slaps against his abdomen, thick and tip flushed prettily. Zayne’s fully hardened now, the tips of his ears reddening as you wrap your hand around his cock.

“Fuck-” he pants, running his hand through his hair, “d-don’t stop.”

“Not going to,” you whisper, hand tightening around his cock.

Zayne groans again, his thighs falling open a little more. Your other hand cups his heavy balls, massaging them gently, lips finding his again as his pre-cum wets your hand. He kisses you desperately, hips bucking up into your hand. Zayne pushes at the straps of your dress impatiently, pulling it down along with your bra to find your breasts.

“So pretty,” Zayne murmurs, hand splaying across your back to make you arch into him.

He mouths across your collarbone, all the way to your sternum before drifting down to try and stuff the entirety of your breast into his mouth. A breathless laugh leaves you, thumb swiping over the sensitive tip of his cock. Zayne’s thighs jump, his grip on you tightening, tongue alternating between flicking over your nipple and swiping over the whole of your areola.

Spit drips from his mouth, a thin strand connecting his glistening lips to your hardened nipple. You catch it with your thumb, feeding it to him, letting him suck your thumb into his mouth. He moans around it and you whine, cunt clenching at the feeling of his warm mouth over your skin. It has you feeling debauched, your own mouth opening to let a glob of spit drip down and onto his cock. Zayne’s cock twitches and he presses himself against you, his face tucking into the crook of your neck as he pants.

“Sweetheart,” he grunts, his cock fucking into your hand, “you feel so good.”

You mewl in agreement, hand slipping into his hair again. Zayne lets out a low whine, his eyes fluttering shut as he curls his own hand around yours, tightening your grip. You move your hand faster, swipe your thumb over his fat, leaking tip more frequently and tug at his hair to tilt his head and kiss him.

“You’re throbbing,” you whisper, lips brushing over his with every word.

“You tend to have that effect on me,” he replies hoarsely.

His cock throbs almost on cue, another glob of pre-cum spilling down the side of his length. You squeeze your hand tighter, dragging it upwards to see more pre-cum spilling out of him the tighter you squeeze. Zayne sounds utterly gone, mouthing at your chest to distract himself, lips wrapping around your other breast this time. 

He stares up at you, amber-green eyes shining in the light as his mouth stays enveloped around the fat of your breast. You bite your lip, giving him a dazed smile and lowering your head to nudge your nose against his. Zayne forgets about your breast, tilts his head up to meet your lips in a sloppy kiss.

“Cum for me, Zayne,” you whisper sweetly, kissing the tip of his nose, “wanna see you cum.”

Zayne moans unabashedly, his heart fluttering at your words. His hips buck up one last time before he cums, squeezing at your sides roughly as his forehead falls against your shoulder. Hot, thick cum smears across your hands and you hum happily, giving his cock one last teasing pump. Zayne shudders at the sensation, grunting softly as he catches your wrist to stop you from playing with his sensitive cock.

“You made a mess, Doctor Zayne.”

He huffs out a laugh, leaning back in his chair. You stay perched on his lap, watching as his cock softens. Zayne takes your hand before you can lick his cum off of your palm, his handkerchief swiping over your sullied palm and fingers, cleaning your skin.

Zayne kisses you again, squishes your cheeks to make your lips pucker out for a moment and smiles at the sight. You frown when he moves you off of him only to realize that he’s standing up as well, pushing your shoulders gently to make you sit down on his chair.

He sinks to his knees and you bite your lip, body taut with anticipation. Zayne pulls your socks off, his thumbs pressing into the arch of your right foot. You sigh at the sensation, eyes slipping shut.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, placing a reverent kiss to your ankle.

Your heart lurches, lips trembling as he caresses your calf. Zayne kisses up the length of your leg, up your shin and past your knee, his fingers squeezing at your flesh. He drags his lips across your inner thigh, landing soft kisses to your skin. His scarred hands graze over your panties, knuckles pressing against your swollen clit for a moment before he kisses your panty-clad pussy. 

Zayne repeats the same sequence of actions for your other leg as though he were worshiping you. A part of you wants to cry at his display of affection. There’s a lump in your throat with how nicely he’s treating you, but you swallow it down, losing yourself in the fond gaze he gives you.

“You’re too good to me,” you whisper, fingers running through his hair.

“I’m not,” he replies, kissing your pussy again, “I just love you.”

You swallow harshly and Zayne smiles, his fingers pulling down your panties. He thumbs apart your folds and lets out a shuddering breath when he realizes how wet you are. 

“All for me,” he murmurs, watching the clench of your pussy around nothing, “you’re all mine.”

You whine in agreement, back arching as he licks over your cunt. Zayne kisses your clit and buries his face into your pussy, licking and sucking without abandon. You can barely stay on the chair with how much you’re squirming and writhing under his mouth. Zayne winds his arms around your thighs and holds you in place, his mouth making lewd noises as he makes out with your pussy until your cries grow louder.

You hope his office is soundproof, but when Zayne sucks your sensitive clit into his mouth, you lose any sense of where you are, letting out pitchy, shuddering gasps as your feet press up onto your toes, digging into his back. 

“Zayne!” you cry, tugging at his hair roughly. He groans into your pussy, enjoying the sting of pain across his scalp. He buries his face deeper, kissing and licking until your pussy is puffy and slick is pouring out of you uncontrollably. “N-nghhh- no, Zayne. You- you have to fuck me!”

“Okay,” he rasps, pulling back when you tug at his hair, “up, my love, get up.” He taps your thighs and you stand up on shaky legs, pulling him closer by his tie to kiss him.

Zayne kisses you as you paw at his broad shoulders, pushing his shirt off to grasp at his muscled arms and back. He squeezes your waist, kneads the fat at your hips before he’s spinning you and bending you over his desk.

Your dress is flipped up, a squeak escaping your lips when he brings his hand down, slapping your ass. A giggle makes its way out of you and you rise up on the tips of your toes, wiggling your hips and ass for him playfully.

Zayne groans at the sight and slaps your ass again. His fingers spread apart your asscheeks, his eyes feasting on the sight of your glistening, puffy pussy again. You cry out when you feel him shove his face back into your pussy, licking over you messily and without abandon until you reach back and push at his head weakly.

You let your hips sway back and Zayne grasps his cock, pressing it against your greedy cunt. He curses as your pussy sucks him in, his hand balling up the fabric of your dress into one hand, keeping you spread as he watches you take his cock, inch after inch.

You let out a strangled gasp, the air being punched out of your lungs as he fills you up. Zayne is big and thick, his cock splitting you open, forcing your pussy to take him, carving the shape of his length inside of you. Your nails dig into his desk and neither of you seem to care as a few patient files slip off of the edge of the desk, the paper fluttering to the ground.

“Always so tight,” he hisses out, his hand curling over your hip, “such a good girl for me, sweetheart.”

Your head falls against the wood of his desk, teeth sinking into your knuckles as you try to muffle your noises. Zayne notices and lets out a tsk, his arm reaching for yours and bringing it behind your back.

“None of that,” Zayne chastises, “I want to hear you, my love.”

He does hear you when he presses your lower back down, his hips thrusting forward. You cry out, moaning and mewling as his cock sinks into you repeatedly. Zayne drapes himself over your back, kissing up your spine and landing a soft kiss to your shoulder, hips humping into your ass. The squelch of your cunt should be embarrassing, but it happens whenever Zayne fucks you now, you get so horribly wet whenever you see his cock and he touches you.

You turn your head back to kiss him and Zayne groans into your mouth, licking into your mouth before he’s moving back to fuck you properly. Your knees would buckle if you weren’t bent over the desk. His name plate inches closer to the edge of the desk with every thrust Zayne delivers to your pussy.

Zayne pants and grunts; you look back to find his face flushed, his eyes closed and brows drawn together tightly. He looks handsome, face twisted with pleasure and want; unadulterated passion.

“Zayne- o-oh yes-” you whimper when he pins you down, his hands grasping your hips roughly.

He ups his pace, the desk rattling, his belongings hitting the floor. Each snap of his hips leaves you reeling and you’re sure you’re seeing stars in the darkness of your closed eyes. 

“Good girl,” he groans, unable to stop himself from landing another slap to your ass, “my good girl- fuck- I love you so, so much, sweetheart.”

You’re practically sobbing, walls clenching around his cock so tightly that he’s cupping your jaw and drawing you up so that your back is flush against his chest. Zayne bends his knees and fucks up into you. Your nails scrape against his arm, head falling against his shoulder as his hand slips down to rub your clit.

“Take it,” Zayne whispers, nipping your earlobe, “take it, baby.”

His calloused fingers on your clit too much and your body is seizing up, the coil of pleasure inside of you snapping until you moan loudly, his hand slapping over your mouth when the beginnings of a squeal make its way out of you with how oversensitive you are. 

Your body shudders as you cum, and you try to push his hand away from his clit but he sinks his teeth into your shoulder in warning, rubbing tight circles until he cums, his low grunts filling your ear as his hips slow into a stuttering mess. Zayne bends you over the desk again, shuffles forward until his hips are flush against your ass, balls pressed against your clit, his cock stuffed inside your pussy snugly.

“I love you,” you whine, feeling his hot cum fill you up.

“I- I shit-” Zayne gasps, thrusting his hips forward a few more times as he feels your walls clenching around him tightly, milking every drop of thick cum from him, “Hah- I l-love you too,” he stammers, slumping over you.

You mewl under his weight, his softening cock slipping out of you. Zayne’s cum mixed with your arousal drips down your thighs, smearing against your skin. He lifts himself up after a few moments of panting, using his desk for support. You turn around, rising up on shaky legs and even shakier toes to cup his cheeks and kiss him.

Zayne wraps his arm around your waist, pulling your body flush against his. He deepens the kiss, lowers his head for you so that you can sink down flat onto your feet again. Your tongue tangles with his, hands stroking over his hair soothingly as you give yourself to him, body and soul.

You can feel his smile against your lips, the drag of his lips across your cheek and the side of your head to press several kisses to your forehead.

“I hope your office is soundproof, Doctor Zayne,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around his middle and letting your chin rest on his chest.

“I hope so too,” Zayne says, flushing lightly.

You laugh, kissing the underside of his jaw. You help him pull his shirt on again, buttoning up the front of it and tighten his tie again. Zayne wipes the insides of your thighs with a few tissues, discarding them in the bin beside his desk, helping pull up your panties over your hips.

He fixes the straps of your dress, fingers brushing over your shoulders gently and the place where his teeth had sunk into you.

“Take the day off tomorrow,” you say to him as you help gather the patient files that had fallen off of his desk.

“You know I can’t,” he sighs, shaking his head.

You pout, widening your eyes and batting your eyelashes up at him in an attempt to give him the most pleading look you can muster.

“Please?” you say, sidling up to him again, “you’re overworked, Zayne. Take the day off, hm? We can relax together.”

Zayne stares down at you, his lips pursing for a moment. It never takes much convincing. As soon as the words are out of your mouth, he feels compelled to listen.

“You’re a terrible influence, sweetheart.”

You smile up at him giddily, wrapping your arms around his neck. “‘m just taking care of my lovely, handsome, perfect boyfriend.”

“Fattening up my ego, huh?” Zayne asks, dipping his head to steal a kiss from you.

“No,” you say, shaking your head. Your voice softens slightly. “I- I do mean those things, Zayne.”

Zayne falters at the hint of vulnerability in your voice. He can see that you’re shy about it with the way your eyes dart away from his, you always have been whenever confessing your more heart-felt feelings. 

“If you insist,” he says quietly, trapping your chin between his fingers to bring your eyes to meet his again. “But I think you’re the perfect one.”

You flush at his compliment, swatting his chest. He laughs, grabbing your fist to press a firm kiss to your knuckles. Zayne’s laugh fades when he stares at your hand, his brows furrowing for a moment.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, your own brows furrowing as you stare at your bare hand. There’s nothing on it, nothing of concern anyways.

“Ah,” Zayne clears his throat, giving you a smile, “it’s nothing.”

It’s strange. He can’t help but think your left hand looks oddly bereft in the light. 

Zayne thinks a ring would fix the problem. 

He dips his head, pressing another chaste kiss to your lips as he takes your hand, leading you out of his office, letting Yvonne know that he wouldn’t be available tomorrow.

Zayne drives you home, despite your insistence that you could drive instead, his head shaking sternly as he’d ushered you into the passenger’s side. You’re curled up in bed with him, blankets pulled up over both you, the heat cocooning you in. 

“Despite your Evol, you’re so warm,” you mumble drowsily, face pressed into his chest.

“That may be because of the blankets,” Zayne says, amused.

You scoff, but you don’t have it in you to come up with some witty remark, instead letting him play with your hair.

“I’ll make you breakfast tomorrow,” you slur, body relaxing further when he scratches your scalp gently.

“I want to spend the morning in bed with you,” he whispers, watching as your eyelids slip shut.

It’s only half the truth. Zayne does want to spend the morning in bed with you, but he also wants something… more.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

You’re asleep when he whispers the words, his lips brushing your forehead.

It doesn’t matter. 

You’ll hear them properly when he gets down on one knee.

[ari-ana-bel-la]

could you pretty please do one with one where the driver (preferably Max Lando or Charles but your choice) is at a race but the child won’t fall asleep without a story from their dad. No pressure but if you could it would be appreciated. Thank you again

Cinderella

The paddock was alive with energy, the artificial lights illuminating the night like a second sun. The hum of engines in the distance and the chatter of team members created a constant buzz in the background. But inside Pierre’s driver’s room, everything was calm. Yn, his perfect four-year-old daughter, sat curled up on the small couch, holding a tablet in her tiny hands as she FaceTimed with her Mama.

“Mama,” Yn said, her voice soft and sleepy, “I miss you.”

Kika’s face on the screen softened into a warm smile. “I miss you too, meu amor. Are you taking good care of Papá?”

Yn nodded seriously, the oversized hoodie she wore swallowing her small frame. It was one of Pierre’s, the sleeves far too long for her arms. “Yes. I even told him to drink water.”

Kika laughed. “You’re such a good girl. And are you warm enough? You look cozy.”

Yn lifted the hoodie sleeve and waved it at the screen. “Super cozy.”

Pierre, who had stepped out briefly to grab a softer blanket for Yn, returned just in time to hear that. He smiled as he walked over, setting the blanket down next to her. “She’s keeping me in check, mon amour,” he said, leaning down to kiss the top of Yn’s head before looking at the screen. “How’s everything at home?”

“All good. But I wish I was there to cuddle our baby.”

Pierre chuckled. “Me too. She’s been yawning for the past ten minutes but refuses to sleep.”

Yn pouted, pressing her cheek into the pillow beside her. “I can’t sleep yet.”

Kika tilted her head. “Why not, bebê?”

“Papá hasn’t told me a story.”

Pierre sighed playfully, shaking his head. “Ah, of course. The bedtime story is non-negotiable.” He turned to Kika. “She’s fighting sleep like a true champion.”

Kika smiled knowingly. “Well, I’ll let you two handle that. I love you both so much.”

Yn’s tiny hand reached toward the screen as if she could touch her mother. “Love you, Mama.”

“I love you too, mea vida,” Kika whispered before hanging up.

Pierre took the tablet from Yn’s hands and set it aside. “Alright, ma petite, let’s get you comfortable.” He lifted her onto his chest, wrapping the soft blanket around her. Yn instantly snuggled into him, letting out a small sigh of contentment.

“What story do you want tonight?” Pierre asked, his fingers lightly running through her curls.

“Cinderella,” she murmured sleepily.

Pierre reached for the small book they had brought with them, flipping to the first page. His voice was soft and rhythmic as he read, “Once upon a time, in a faraway kingdom, there lived a kind and beautiful girl named Cinderella...”

Yn relaxed against him, her small hand resting over his heart. As he continued reading, her blinks became slower and slower, her little body melting further into his warmth. Pierre’s voice softened even more as he watched his daughter fight to keep her eyes open.

“And so, Cinderella and the prince danced all night, and he knew she was the one he had been searching for...”

Yn let out a tiny hum, her breathing evening out. Pierre smiled, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. He closed the book gently, setting it aside before pulling out his phone. Carefully, he snapped a selfie of them—Yn completely passed out on his chest, his arm wrapped securely around her. He sent it to Kika with a simple caption: Our little princess is asleep.

As he put his phone away, he took a deep breath, holding his daughter close. The race, the noise, the world outside—all of it faded away in moments like this. This was everything.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves! I hope you enjoyed reading this story. My requests are always open for you.

-🩷🎀

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Hallo haaalloooo halloo!!!! Ur writing is lovely! I too miss series ENA so can we get some fluff HCs of her with a human partner trying to explain that humans need to sleep? I don’t think enas need sleep so it’s a bit of a silly idea to me. It’s like “ARE YOU DEAD” “wgat”

Most Enas don't require sleep.

You had no idea until Blue-Yellow Ena, who wanted to spend the night at your place, asked why you're dressed in cozy clothing and engaging in a "peculiar routine", as she called it.

The last thing you expected was for her to be confused by the words "getting ready for bed".

"What do you mean? What are we getting the bed ready for?" She asks innocently. "A special occasion?"

As someone from the human world, you thought sleep was a universal experience for all living beings--but apparently for Ena's species, that wasn't the case, judging by her growing curiosity on why you need this "sleep".

Maybe the reason for her dysregulated emotions was that a proper sleep cycle was never programmed into her biology/code(?).

That could also be why other entities in this world didn't like her so much. They sleep, and she doesn't.

Either way, no matter how carefully you explain it, you're gonna be shaken awake by Sad Ena several minutes after you drift off to sleep, assuming you died when you suddenly stopped responding to her.

"NO, NO, NO!!! YOU CAN'T BE DEAD!! HOW CAN I GO ON WITHOUT YOU????"

".....girl wha...?"

"..o-oh! You're okay...?"

You end up letting her cuddle with you, in which your girlfriend returns to normal and feels bad for waking you.

She might not 100% understand the concept of sleep, but....she'll try her best to imitate it.

You've conformed to the "rules" of her strange world, so she could try to conform to yours and your human experiences if it helps you feel more comfortable.

But it's hard when she's still worried about whether you're dead or not, so she remains awake most of the night, keeping her head near your chest to make sure you're breathing.

When Moony hears about this "experience", she'll tease Ena about being a "creep" and a "total weirdo" for watching you sleep.

You roll your eyes to the sky, but Ena just smiles and assures the moon that you're safe and had a restful slumber thanks to her efforts.