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yanderedrabbles · 2 months ago

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Yandere Yakuza - Valentine's Special

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

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

One problem though. Your yakuza boyfriend does not approve.

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

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

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

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

He frowns. "Naze? [Why?]"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You got a boyfriend?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sweeter than normal," he breathes.

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

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

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

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

"Perfect. I'm really thirsty."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What are you doing here?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"How long?" he asks quietly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He did mention that earlier.

"Can I guess what it is?"

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

"Chocolate."

"No. Not this time."

"Hmm... Flowers?"

"They make you sneeze."

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

"A puppy?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You like it?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Will you be my Valentine?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His lips barely brush yours.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He pauses on the threshold.

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

"Only if we're newlyweds."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Impatient aren't we?"

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

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

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

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

"Move in with me."

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

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

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

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

"I-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#Not 100% sold on this one chat #I'm so late but shush #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere x reader #yandere drabbles #yandere scenarios #reader insert #x reader #yandere oc #yandere oc x you #Yakuza #Valentines #Valentine's Day #Yandere Valentine

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animamii · 2 months ago

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Part deux of Toji's Valentine's Surprise

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Your body locks up. Your breath stills. Toji—in the flesh—is standing in your living room, looking smug as hell, arms crossed over that broad chest like he knew he just rocked your entire world.

"You should see your face, princess," he chuckles, tilting his head. "Like you seen a ghost."

Your mind is racing. He’s supposed to be locked up. This is impossible. And yet—he’s here. Solid. Tangible. Real. Smirking at you like he didn’t just pull off the stunt of the century.

"You—" You inhale sharply, fists clenching at your sides. "How—" You don’t even finish the question before you smack his chest, hard enough to make your palm sting. He doesn’t even flinch, just grins like he enjoys the reaction.

"Miss me, baby?" His voice drops, smooth and teasing. Still the cocky bastard he's always been.

"Are you insane?" Your voice comes out breathless, uneven. "You’re supposed to be—"

Toji hums, unfazed. "Supposed to be what?" He steps closer, looming over you with that tantalizing smirk he always adorns. his presence thick and heavy—dangerous and intoxicating. "Locked up? Far away from my girl? Mmm, nah. That was never gonna last."

His girl. That shouldn’t make your stomach flip the way it does. Especially after all this time, but it does.

"You’re reckless," you breathe out, but your voice betrays you—too soft, too shaky. You forgot just how little he made you feel, like a little lamb standing in front of the big bad wolf.

"Yeah?" He reaches out, fingers brushing along your jaw, tilting your chin up. "And yet here I am, standing in front of you. Right where I belong." You swallow hard, heart hammering against your chest. His thumb traces your bottom lip, a touch so familiar, so effortlessly possessive, it makes your knees weak.

"Say it," he murmurs, eyes hooded. "Say you missed me."

You hate how easy it is for him to unravel you. How he knows you did. Toji leans in, his breath warm against your ear as he whispers, "Or do I gotta remind you how bad you missed me?"

Your breath catches. You should shove him away. Should demand answers. Should do anything other than what you do next—fisting his shirt and yanking him down into a teeth clashing kiss.

Toji chuckles against your lips, the sound low and deep, like he expected this reaction all along. His hands—warm, calloused, and oh so familiar—find your waist, pulling you flush against him. It’s been too long, and your body betrays you, melting into his touch as if he never left.

"You’re crazy," you whisper, looking up at him with those wide eyes that he's always loved.

He grins, lips ghosting over your jaw before pressing a slow, lingering kiss just below your ear. "You say that like it’s a bad thing."

Your fingers tighten around his shirt, the fabric bunching between your fists. "It is," you hiss, but your body betrays you, tilting toward him when he moves. "You—Toji, you broke out—do you have any idea—"

"Shhh." He silences you with another kiss, deeper this time, his grip tightening around your waist. "We can talk later."

You should be more worried. Should push him away, demand answers, tell him this is reckless and insane. But the moment his hands slip lower, gripping your thighs and lifting you effortlessly, you’re wrapping yourself around him, letting him carry you to the bedroom like you knew this was how tonight would end. It was Valentine's Day after all.

Toji kicks the door shut behind him, smirking down at you as he lays you on the bed. His eyes—sharp, dark, hungry—roam over you like he’s memorizing every inch all over again.

"Missed you," he mutters, voice rough, as his hands slide up your thighs, pushing that silky dress higher.

You swallow, lips parted as you try to catch your breath. "You’re insane," you whisper again, but it comes out weaker this time, more breathless.

Toji smirks, dipping his head until his lips brush against yours again. "And yet," he murmurs, voice thick with amusement and something darker, "you’re still here. Wrapped around me like you never want me to leave."

You shudder. "I hate you."

He laughs, a quiet, knowing sound, before pressing his lips to your throat. "Liar."

Your breath stutters when his lips drag down the column of your throat, slow and deliberate, like he’s savoring the moment. Like he knows he has all the time in the world. His grip tightens on your thighs, his body pressed between them, and it’s infuriating—the way he’s taking his time, the way he’s acting like he never left. Like he never spent months locked up, sending you teasing, filthy little letters to remind you he still owned you.

"Toji—"

"Shhh, baby," he murmurs against your skin, voice thick with amusement. "S’been too long. Lemme take my time with you."

He’s impossible. Infuriating. But your body betrays you, arching into his touch, fingers threading through his dark hair as he kisses his way lower. You hate how much you missed him—hate how, despite every part of you screaming that this is reckless, stupid, you can’t bring yourself to stop him.

"You’re a wanted man," you remind him breathlessly, grasping onto some semblance of control, but Toji just grins, his teeth grazing over your collarbone before he presses a kiss there.

"Yeah? And?" His fingers hook under the hem of your dress, sliding it higher. "That stop you from wanting me?"

You glare at him, but the effect is ruined when he tugs the fabric over your hips, leaving you bare beneath him. Your pulse pounds, heat rushing to your cheeks, and Toji just chuckles, gaze darkening as he drinks you in.

"Fuck, baby," he rasps, running his hands up your thighs, rough fingers making you shiver. "Been waitin’ for this. Dreamin’ about this."

You should push him away. Should demand answers. But instead, your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him back down until his mouth crashes against yours. All that could wait for later, right?

Toji groans into your mouth when you pull him down, all teasing amusement vanishing as his body presses flush against yours. His hands are rough, calloused from years of fights and cold aridness of prison, but they touch you with a hunger and gentle warmth that makes your breath hitch. His knee slots between your legs, pressing just enough to make you whimper, and he smirks against your lips.

"Missed me that bad, huh?" His voice is thick with pride, like he knows what he’s doing to you. Like he couldn't wait to make you melt like this.

You glare at him, chest heaving and lips glossy with swapped saliva. "Shut up, Toji."

He chuckles, low and dark, before flipping you onto your stomach in one swift movement. A startled gasp escapes you as he presses his weight against your back, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear.

"That any way to talk to the man who just risked everything to see you?" His voice is silk and gravel, smooth yet dangerous, sending a shiver straight down your spine.

You swallow hard, pressing your palms against the sheets, heart hammering. "You’re insane."

"Yeah?" His hands slide down your sides, slow, possessive. "And yet here you are, lettin’ an insane man touch you like this."

You open your mouth to snap at him, but then he bites down on your shoulder, just enough to make your breath stutter. You feel his smirk against your skin, feel the way his grip tightens like he’s testing you, waiting for you to fight him, to push him away. But you don’t. Instead, you press back against him, feeling the way his body stiffens for a brief second before a deep, pleased growl rumbles in his chest.

"Fuck," he mutters, voice raspier now. "That’s my girl."

Your stomach flips. Your fingers curl into the sheets.

"Toji—"

His hand slides under your chin, tilting your head just enough for his lips to brush against yours. "Say it." His voice is low, insistent. "Say you missed me."

Your throat tightens. You hate how easy it is for him to pull the truth from you.

"I—" Your voice shakes, but the words tumble out anyway. "I missed you, okay?"

Toji groans like he felt those words, his hand sliding down your stomach, fingers toying with the waistband of your underwear. "Yeah?" His breath is hot against your ear. "Show me, baby."

And then his hands are everywhere, his mouth pressing desperate, feverish kisses along your spine, and you let yourself get lost in the way he devours you like a man starved. Like he’s spent every second of his time locked up thinking about this. About you.

Toji moves like he owns you—like he never left, like he never spent months locked away with nothing but memories and filthy daydreams of you to keep him sane. His hands are rough, greedy, sliding over your skin like he’s trying to make up for lost time. And maybe he is. Maybe that’s why his mouth trails fire along your spine, why his grip tightens every time you sigh his name.

"Fuck, baby," he groans, fingers digging into your hips as he flips you onto your back again. He looms over you, eyes dark, wild, hungry. "Look at you. Been dyin’ to have you under me again." His dark blue eyes scan over every inch of you, burning it into his memory. The way the silk clings to every curve, the lacy trim that is snug against your breasts, the way one straps slides off your shoulder.

Your breath is uneven, chest rising and falling as he takes his time devouring you with his gaze. He licks his lips, dragging a hand through his messy black hair, and the sight alone makes your stomach tighten. It's as if he spent all his time in prison getting even more sexier.

"Toji," you whisper, fingers ghosting over his jaw, the scar on his lip. He catches your wrist before you can pull away, pressing a kiss to your palm, slow and lingering. Like he needs to feel the warmth and softness of your skin, of your touch.

"Say it again," he rasps. It's music to his ears, hearing it in person rather than through a grainy prison call. Seeing it, the way your pretty lips move as every syllable spills out.

Your throat tightens. "Toji."

He groans, like he felt that in his chest, before surging down to capture your lips again. It’s not just a kiss—it’s a claim, a demand, a promise. He presses himself against you, and it’s impossible to ignore how much he wants you, how much he missed you too.

"Missed you, baby," he mutters against your lips, his hands sliding under the silky slip dress he sent you, pushing it up, baring more of you to him. "Thought about you every fuckin’ night. Couldn’t even sleep without—"

He cuts himself off with a curse, shaking his head like he’s annoyed at himself for admitting it. But the way his grip tightens on you, the way his lips move over your skin, says everything he won’t.

You bite your lip, fingers threading through his hair as he kisses a path down your stomach. "Then why’d you leave me?"

Toji stills. His breath hitches against your skin, just for a second. Then he exhales, slow and controlled, before pressing one last kiss to your hip.

"Didn’t wanna drag you into my shit," he finally mutters, voice rougher now. He lifts his head, meets your gaze. "But guess that was pointless, huh?"

You swallow hard. "Yeah," you whisper, tugging him back up, pressing your forehead against his. "It was."

His lips curl into something between a smirk and a grimace, like he knew this was coming but hoped you wouldn’t say it. He sighs, cupping your face, thumb stroking along your cheek.

"You mad at me, baby?"

You exhale, your fingers tightening in his hair. "Ask me later."

Toji chuckles, low and dark. "Yeah?" He tilts your chin up, kissing you again, slower this time, deeper. "Guess I’ll have to make it up to you first."

And he does.

Over and over again.

Happy Valentine's Day.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡

Part twoooo!! I love this sm idk I luv itttt. Requested by the lovely @cheolliehugs

tags ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ @psoycy @yourname-exee @fandomsearcherforcuntymen @universallydepressed13

ꨄ︎ comment to be added to tag list for the lockedup!toji series ꨄ︎

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katescorner · 2 months ago

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iwaizumi didn't forget about valentine's day. he had it circled and highlighted on his calendar. he just . . . lost track of time until suddenly it was nine at night. he's lucky he didn't get pulled over on his way home. "sorry. i'm sorry. i—" he stumbled through the door. he felt terrible, but he paused at the sight of you setting the table with a soft smile. "you're home just in time." he blinked, "i am? i thought i was late. i lost track of time. i swear i had tonight down in my phone though. i even set up reminders." he felt terrible, but you weren't mad. you weren't even upset. instead, you laugh a little. "hajime," you say, walking over to your boyfriend to give him a kiss on the cheek. "i'm dating the athletic trainer for the mens volleyball olympic team. not to mention you have the work ethic of a stubborn dog. did you think i'd be blindsided by your lateness?" he didn't have an answer for you as his cheeks turned pink and a swell of appreciation grew in his chest. all he could think about was how lucky he was to have you. so later that night when you'd finally fallen asleep, he looked at engagement rings online.

series masterlist link

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itelya · 2 months ago

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Nanami Kento doesn’t usually celebrate Valentine’s Day, as he considers it a commercial holiday. For him, love is proven every day, not just one day a year.

Nanami Kento changes his mind when he sees your enthusiasm for the day approaching. He then decides to give you a special day, just for you. After all, what wouldn’t he do for his pretty girlfriend?

Nanami Kento buys and prepares everything needed to make this day as pleasant as possible. He chooses fresh rose petals, a carefully composed bouquet, ingredients, some decorations, and a gift that he hopes will light up your eyes. He also reserves activities that he is sure you will enjoy.

Today is Valentine’s Day.

Nanami Kento gets up early and discreetly to start preparing breakfast and decorating the room. He takes care of every detail, making sure that everything is perfect.

Nanami Kento is almost done when you wake up, troubled by his absence and drawn by the sweet smell floating in the air.

Nanami Kento hears you cry out in surprise as you discover the balloons hanging from the ceiling and the roses arranged around you.

Nanami Kento smiles as he slowly approaches, his tender gaze fixed on you. Then, without a word, he places a delicate kiss on your forehead and offers you the pretty bouquet with your favorite flowers.

Nanami Kento suddenly lifts you in his arms, as if you weighed nothing, and takes you to the kitchen.

Nanami Kento has prepared a brunch worthy of a five-star hotel. Soft pancakes, fresh fruit, golden pastries, steaming coffee… How could he do all that without you realizing it?

Nanami Kento doesn’t answer, just sitting you on the table, his hands sliding gently over your hips. His gaze on you is so sweet that you can't help but kiss him. He's so cute.

Nanami Kento shares this brunch with you in a peaceful atmosphere. You chat about everything and nothing, simply savoring this moment together.

Later in the day.

Nanami Kento suddenly tells you to get dressed, because he wants to take you somewhere. He takes you to a photo studio, filled with all kinds of sets and accessories.

Nanami Kento observes your excitement and feels a gentle warmth invade him. You take romantic, cute, funny photos. He captures each of your smiles, each of your laughs. His gaze shines with infinite tenderness.

Evening arrives quickly.

Nanami Kento then takes you to a chic and intimate restaurant, chosen with care. He watches your face light up as he discovers the place. His heart melts.

Nanami Kento listens to you talk throughout the meal, but he mostly just watches you. His girlfriend is so pretty.

Nanami Kento waits until dinner is over to take a black box with the brand name in gold out of his pocket and place it in front of you.

Nanami Kento watches your expression change as you open the box and discover a delicate gold necklace, adorned with a small, finely crafted pendant.

Nanami Kento gently brushes your cheek and whispers that this piece of jewelry immediately reminded him of you, elegant and timeless.

Nanami Kento watches you put the necklace around your neck and smiles as he sees how perfectly it fits you.

Nanami Kento admires you one last time before leaning towards you, his gaze burning with barely contained desire.

Nanami Kento has only one thought in mind: to devour you.

happy valentine's day 🌹

This drabble will be adapted into a oneshot so if you want to be tagged comment! ⟢�� masterlist

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sunsburns · 2 months ago

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no. 1 party anthem — clark kent (superman) ! ᢉ𐭩

⟢ synopsis. what was supposed to be a night for work takes an unexpected turn when you run into clark kent—alone at a restaurant, waiting for a date who seems to have no intention of showing up. poor guy.

⟢ contains. clark kent x reader, ots and lots of fluff! it is one of the more romantic things i have written, cute blind date, characters are dumb, set up date, lois is a mastermind, i do not know anything about journalism, pinning from both sides but too shy to do anything about it.

⟢ word count. 5.8k+

⟢ author’s note. i can’t get this man outta my head pls help me 😣 the voices!!! also feel free to imagine this as any clark (and i mean any i swear: comic book, adventures with superman, tom welling, david corenswet, henry cavill, or even reeve)

“Hey, you’re gonna hate me but I’m gonna be like 10 minutes late. You go ahead and check in and order. The table should be under my name. I’ll pay the bill. I’m so sorry!”

You weren’t exactly surprised when the message lit up your phone screen. You rolled your eyes, exhaling through your nose. If there was one thing you knew about Lois Lane, it was that urgency wasn’t always her strong suit—unless it involved an exclusive scoop or a headline-worthy disaster with Superman. Still, considering this was supposed to be a work-related meeting, you had half-expected her to arrive early, not leave you waiting.

You typed out a quick reply, telling her it was fine when it really wasn’t, telling her to take her time when you wished she wouldn’t. Then, slipping your phone back into your bag, you made your way toward the hostess stand.

“Table under the name Lane?” you asked, offering a polite smile.

The hostess nodded, flashing you a warm smile in return. “Right this way.”

As she led you through the restaurant, you took in your surroundings with subtle curiosity. The place was charming—exactly the kind of cozy, floral-accented spot Lois would dig up for an ‘informal work chat.’ The kind of place that felt like it had stories tucked between its soft candlelit tables and ivy-draped walls.

You tried to dress the part, too—professional but approachable. You weren’t here for a casual dinner, after all. This meeting was supposed to be a quick sit-down with a lawyer Lois had arranged, someone who could confirm a few key details for a piece you were both working on. A case involving a corporation and some shady legal maneuvering—Lois had the sources, but you were the one handling the research. You’d spent the past week buried in legal jargon, piecing together statements and contracts, and now you just needed a professional to verify what you suspected before the article could go to print.

By the time you reached your table, you were already running through the questions in your head, mentally preparing for the conversation. The restaurant wasn’t grand, but it was stunning in its own way. You admired the decor, taking in the quiet hum of conversation and the delicate clink of silverware.

At least if Lois was late, you had time to go over your notes one more time.

You ran your hands over your portfolio, smoothing the cover absentmindedly as you flipped through the pages. The neatly typed notes stared back at you, but none of the words really registered. All you could do was wait—for the lawyer, for Lois, for some sign that this wasn’t going to be a complete waste of time.

With a sigh, you reached for the glass of wine you ordered a few minutes ago, taking a slow sip before setting it back down. You had to pace yourself, or you’d drain the whole thing before anyone even showed up. You checked your phone, hoping for an update, but the screen remained frustratingly blank.

Disappointed, you rested your chin on your hand, eyes drifting across the restaurant. The warm glow of golden light reflected off polished wood and delicate floral centrepieces, the soft murmur of conversation blending with the occasional clink of silverware. Your waiter had already stopped by twice, politely offering more appetizers while you tried not to look as painfully alone as you felt. If they came by again, you weren’t sure if you’d accept out of politeness or embarrassment.

And then, just as you took another sip of wine, a familiar figure walked through the entrance.

Clark Kent.

You blinked, watching as the hostess led him inside, guiding him through the rows of neatly arranged tables. Even from where you sat, you recognized the way he carried himself—like he was constantly trying to shrink his presence, shoulders slightly hunched, movements careful and deliberate. It was ironic, really, considering how much space he naturally took up. Clark was tall, broad-shouldered, and impossible to miss, yet he carried himself like he didn’t want to be noticed.

You knew him, but not really.

Not as much as you want to.

You were office acquaintances at best—two reporters who shared the same workplace, desks across from each other, but rarely the same conversations. There had been moments, though. Fleeting ones. Catching his lingering glances during late nights at the Daily Planet, both of you working in near silence, save for the tapping of keyboards. A handful of polite exchanges over the coffee machine, his voice always gentle, soft-spoken. And then, of course, there were the times someone would call out "Hey, Smallville!" across the office, earning a sheepish smile from Clark as he adjusted his glasses and ducked his head.

He looked nice tonight. Not too different from his usual work attire, but more relaxed. A crisp button-up, sleeves pushed up just enough to reveal a strong line of his forearms, dress pants fitted just right. He had forgone the tie, leaving the top button undone. Simple, but put-together. Effortless in a way that shouldn’t have been so charming, but somehow was.

And then you realized the hostess was leading him closer.

You quickly dropped your gaze, staring into your half-empty wine glass like it suddenly held the secrets of the universe. The last thing you wanted was to be caught staring, especially while sitting alone, nursing a drink, and very clearly sulking.

Maybe, just maybe, if you looked busy enough, you could avoid drawing any attention at all.

And for a moment, it worked.

You picked up your phone again, checking the time for what had to be the hundredth time that night. With a little too much urgency, you started to type out a message to Lois—something casual, something that wouldn’t sound desperate, something that would make it seem like you weren’t upset about currently sitting alone in a nice restaurant, swirling the last remnants of your wine waiting for her to get there. You were so focused on forming the perfect text that you almost missed it—

Your name.

Spoken softly, but clear. Familiar.

Your fingers hesitated over the keyboard. The voice had a weight to it, warm and steady, like someone genuinely surprised but pleased to see you. You swallowed and glanced up, feigning a search for the source before your gaze finally landed on Clark.

He wasn’t seated directly beside you but rather at the table across, angled just enough that you had to turn your head slightly to meet his eye. His lips curled into a sheepish smile, glasses slipping just a little down the bridge of his nose before he quickly pushed them back up again.

“Hi.”

That was all. Just hi. Simple, unassuming, but it made something settle in your chest, something you hadn’t even realized was tense.

You couldn’t bite back the smile forming on your own lips. “Hi, Clark.”

“Hey.”

A kind man with few words.

Though you’d heard him talk endlessly before, especially with Lois—deep in discussion, debating headlines, getting lost in conversations about ethics and reporting. But with you, it was always something short and sweet. A few words here and there. And yet, even the simplest conversations had a way of lingering. Would it be silly to admit that your brief, slightly awkward chats with Clark kind of made your day? Even when it was just him asking to borrow an extra pen?

God, you felt like a teenager again, having a crush on a classmate.

You watched as he rubbed at his cheek, the scruff there catching the soft glow of the restaurant lighting. His pointer finger rested idly at the seam of his lips, and you forced yourself to focus—not to stare at his mouth, not to let your gaze linger anywhere it shouldn’t.

He was your coworker, for fuck’s sake.

A really pretty one.

A really kind, really good-looking coworker.

You exhaled lightly, pressing your fingertips against the stem of your glass as if that might ground you. “It’s nice to see you.” The words came out before you could stop them, but they were true. It was nice.

It was almost like he perked up at that, his posture straightening just a little. “Yeah, great to see you too. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I... I could say the same.” Your cheeks were starting to hurt from how much you were smiling. You tried to temper it, but it was hard when Clark Kent was looking at you like that—all honey-eyed.

“Are you here for work?” he asked, casting a pointed look at the portfolio by your hands, stacked neatly beside your drink.

You glanced down at it as if you had momentarily forgotten it was there. “Um, yeah. I’m meeting with a source, so... they should be here any minute.”

Clark’s brows lifted slightly. “It’s your story on LexCorp, right?”

Your fingers, which had been absently tracing the condensation on your glass, paused. “Yeah, it is actually.” You blinked at him, a little surprised. “How’d you know?”

His smile was almost bashful, his hand brushing the back of his neck in that way he always did when he was being modest. “Oh, I just remember you mentioning it a few days ago. It’s a great story.”

Something in your chest tightened—not in a bad way, just in a way that made you feel warm all over. You hadn’t expected him to remember, let alone bring it up. The conversation you’d had at work had been so brief, just an offhand remark about how you were stepping outside your usual comfort zone. No one else had really asked you about it since.

“You think?” You huffed a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “I thought it was kind of a stretch. I mean, like—a stretch from what I usually write, you know? I don’t really deal with politics and corporate stuff and all that.”

Clark shook his head, that gentle, reassuring look in his eyes making it impossible not to believe him. “I’m sure it’ll be great. You’re an amazing writer.”

You were smiling even wider now. Compliments weren’t uncommon at the Daily Planet—people gave each other nods of approval, a “good job” here and there. But Clark said it like he meant it, like he had read your work, thought about it, believed in it.

It reminded you of the time he had quietly left a sticky note on your desk after an article of yours had been rushed to print. Really great work on this one! -CK. You’d found it hours later, after everyone had gone home. It had been such a small thing, but you’d kept the note tucked inside your notebook anyway.

You felt your cheeks warm. “Thanks, Clark. I think you’re a great writer too.”

He ducked his head slightly, smiling. “Thank you.”

There was a beat of silence, not awkward, just something familiar to the pauses between you two at the office. Expect this time you didn’t have any work to distract yourself with. You hesitated before finally breaking it.

“If you don’t mind me asking… what’re you doing here?”

“I, uh… I have a date, actually.”

“Oh.”

It wasn’t a big deal. It shouldn’t have been a big deal. But for some reason, you felt your stomach drop slightly, and you almost wanted to smack yourself in the head for not catching on sooner. Of course, he was here on a date, looking like that—all charming and shy.

He even smelled good, like fresh linen and something warm, something undeniably Clark.

“I know how it looks,” he started, and you noticed the way his shoulders began to hunch in on themselves like he was trying to make himself smaller. “Feels strange. I don’t think I’ve been dating since college.”

You let out a breath of amusement, nodding slowly. “Wow. Uh—good for you, though. I’m happy for you.”

“Yeah, I mean…” He hesitated, then glanced up at you, a little sheepish. “Can I be honest?”

“Of course.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing. It’s a blind date, so I have no idea what this person looks like or who they are.”

You blinked. “You don’t know anything?”

“They’re a friend of Lois.” He exhaled lightly, shaking his head. “But that’s as much as I got.”

“Oh.” Your lips parted, then closed. “I’m sure you’ll do fine, Clark.” You shot him a small, hopefully reassuring smile. “I’ll be here for moral support.”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “You’ve got your thing to worry about.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t help a friend out too.”

The words left your mouth before you had a chance to really think about them. Friend. You wondered if you could even call yourselves that. You were more acquaintances if anything—a friend of a friend. But Clark always did little favours for you, and he was always kind to you.

Like the time he had grabbed you a coffee when you’d been stuck in a seemingly endless editorial meeting, dropping it off at your desk without a word. Just a small smile, a quiet “figured you could use one.”

Or the time he’d helped you carry an entire box of research binders up three flights of stairs because the elevator was down. He had done it without hesitation, without you even asking, took it from your hands like it was weightless.

Then there was the time he had lent you his jacket when an assignment had left you stranded in the rain. It had been late, the Daily Planet nearly empty, and you had been standing by the windows, arms wrapped around yourself, shivering slightly as you tried to figure out how to make it home without getting completely drenched. Clark had passed by, paused, then shrugged off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders before you could protest. “Just give it back tomorrow,” he’d said.

But it wasn’t just him.

You had done things for him too.

The time you had stayed late to help him rework an article after an editor had torn through it with a red pen, sitting beside him as the newsroom emptied, tossing ideas back and forth until it finally felt right. He had looked at you then, something warm in his eyes, and said, “I owe you one.”

Or the time he had misplaced his glasses—how he had checked every possible spot, growing more and more flustered, only for you to walk over and pluck them from where they had been resting atop his head. You had laughed, shaking your head as you handed them back. He had gone pink in the ears, mumbling something about being forgetful, but the way he had smiled after made you think he didn’t mind the teasing.

Then there was the time you had covered for him when he had mysteriously disappeared right before a meeting. Lois had been looking for him, impatient and muttering about how he always seemed to vanish at the worst times. You had lied—just a small one. Said he had mentioned stepping out for a quick errand, and that he’d be back soon. You weren’t sure why you had done it.

Helping him out never hurt. So it shouldn’t hurt one more time.

Well, maybe it would. Just a little bit.

It might hurt your pride, mostly.

“Besides,” you continued, “I’ve been here for almost twenty minutes and no one’s showed up.”

“That’s... odd.”

“I know,” you muttered, glancing at your phone again, the screen glowing with no new notifications. You hesitated, thumb hovering over your messages before sighing and picking it up. “Can you excuse me for a second?”

“Of course,” Clark said, ever patient, though his brows knit together slightly in concern.

You slid out of your seat, weaving through the dimly lit restaurant. The warm hum of conversation filled the air, glasses clinking, silverware scraping against plates. A jazz melody played softly from the speakers, almost drowned out by the occasional burst of laughter from a nearby table. You stepped toward the front, near the entrance, where it was quieter, and pressed the phone to your ear.

Lois hadn’t answered your last two—three?—messages. You tried calling her once. The line rang and rang, then went to voicemail. You exhaled sharply and called again, tapping your fingers against the wooden counter near the hostess stand.

On the last ring, she finally picked up.

"Hello-?"

“Where are you?” You didn’t bother hiding the frustration in your voice, pacing a little near the door.

"I'm... on my way, I swear."

“You said that almost half an hour ago, Lois.”

"I know, I know—I’m sorry. I was just about to call—"

You pinched the bridge of your nose, inhaling through your teeth. “And the lawyer, do you know when they’ll get here?”

A pause.

"I… I don’t know."

Your stomach dropped. “You don’t know?”

"No… now that I think about it… I don’t think I confirmed a time."

“Lois,” you breathed, dragging a hand down your face.

"I’m sorry. Maybe we should rain check. I’ll leave them a message or something and we can do this another day."

You glanced back toward your table, then toward Clark, who was politely minding his own business, idly staring at his menu. Your eyes flickered to your untouched portfolio, the very reason you had come out tonight in the first place.

“I need the papers approved by Wednesday.”

"And it’s Saturday night. You have plenty of time."

“This is rich coming from you,” you deadpanned, rubbing your temple.

"I know, just… maybe it’s a sign you gotta take things slow. You know, focusing on yourself instead of work. Maybe you should go to a club or something."

You scoffed, barely biting back an incredulous laugh. “Lois… this fucking sucks.”

"I’m sorry. I’m sorry. It’s all my fault, okay? I’ll take you out tomorrow for brunch, swear on that. I promise. And I’ll transfer you for whatever you order tonight. Keep the receipt and give it to me."

You sighed, glancing down at your shoes. “I’m just gonna go home.”

"What? And waste a perfectly good night? You should stay out, meet new people, socialize with things that aren’t your laptop. Doesn’t that sound nice?"

You exhaled, staring blankly at the floor tiles. “I think a movie from my bed sounds really nice.”

"I’m not even gonna fight you on this."

“Bye, Lois.”

"Bye. Love you."

You ended the call with a quiet sigh, lingering in place for a moment, letting the frustration settle. You had spent the entire day mentally preparing for this meeting, running through questions, making sure every document was in order. Now, all of it felt like wasted energy.

With another steadying breath, you pushed off the pillar you had been leaning against, shoulders still tight with frustration, and made your way back to your table. The restaurant hadn’t gotten any quieter in your absence—if anything, the crowd had only grown as the night grew longer.

Clark glanced up as you returned, and the way his expression softened told you everything—he didn’t even need to ask how the call had gone. He just knew.

Still, before he could say anything, you beat him to it. “Your date’s not here yet?” You sank back into your seat, brushing a stray napkin aside as if the small action would help ground you.

Clark shook his head, and he didn’t seem too disappointed. “No, not yet.” He tilted his head slightly, studying you in that quiet, observant way of his. “Is everything alright?”

You blinked at him, still half in your own thoughts. “Hmm?”

“The phone call,” he clarified, “you seem… a little… annoyed.”

That was putting it lightly.

He hesitated, like he wasn’t sure if he should push further, then asked, voice gentle, “Do you want to talk about it?”

The simplicity of it—the way he just offered, no pressure, no expectations—unravelled some of the tension in your chest.

“I don’t wanna bother you about my stuff,” you said honestly.

“It’s no bother.”

You glanced up at him, at the unwavering patience in his expression. “You’re really sweet, Clark. You know that, right?”

A faint pink dusted the tips of his ears. “I wouldn’t say that…” He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck.

“It’s in your nature?” you teased.

He let out a small, awkward laugh, shaking his head. “I definitely wouldn’t say that either.”

That made you smile—something small, something real.

“Well, it’s true,” you insisted. “Must’ve been the way you were raised.”

“Must’ve been.”

Before you could say anything else, a waiter arrived, carefully setting a starter plate and a drink down in front of Clark. He thanked her politely, offering a small nod before she walked away.

“I, uh…” He gestured to the plate. “I ordered some nachos if you want some.”

You raised a brow. “Shouldn’t those be for your date?”

He gave you an easy, lopsided smile. “They won’t have to know.”

A small chuckle slipped out before you could stop it. “Thanks.”

“Of course.”

The nachos were surprisingly good, crisp and warm under the layer of melted cheese, but you barely tasted them. Instead, your focus kept drifting—to Clark, to your phone, to the door.

At first, you thought about calling it a night. You could have told Clark you were heading home, and he probably would have understood, probably would have even offered to walk you to your car or wait with you for an Uber. But something stopped you.

Maybe it was the way he seemed at ease, talking to you like there wasn’t anywhere else he’d rather be. Maybe it was how easy it was to talk to him tonight, without work looming over you, without deadlines keeping your conversations clipped and efficient. Or maybe—maybe it was the nagging feeling in your gut that kept telling you he was waiting on someone who wasn’t going to show.

You hated that thought.

You didn’t say anything, though, not when another ten minutes passed, not when he checked his phone for the fourth—or was it fifth?—time. You just sat with him, keeping him company, even if you dreaded the moment someone else walked through those doors.

Clark kept insisting his date would be there soon. But every time he said it, the confidence in his voice waned.

By the time another twenty minutes passed, you were sitting with your phone open in your lap, ready to call an Uber. You should go home. It had been a long day, and you weren’t exactly in the mood to be out any more. But you hesitated when Clark spoke again.

“They should be here any minute now,” he murmured, more to himself than to you.

You glanced up at him, watching the way his brows pinched slightly as he checked his phone again.

He had said that before. More than once.

You were starting to feel bad for him.

You couldn’t imagine what it felt like to get stood up for a date (work was something else you could get over by tonight but a date?)—to wait around, watching the minutes tick by, hoping that maybe, just maybe, the person you were waiting for was running late instead of ignoring you altogether. And worse, you were starting to get peeved. How could anyone ghost Clark Kent?

But you didn’t say anything. Because he didn’t seem upset.

Or maybe he was just pretending not to be.

Either way, you didn’t want to remind him of the rejection. If he was pushing through it, then so were you.

It wasn’t until another thirty minutes flew by—until the sky outside had fully darkened, the city lights reflecting off the windows—that you finally exhaled and set your phone down.

“My source isn’t coming.”

Clark blinked at you, pulling his gaze away from the door. “Oh?”

“Yeah, there was a mix-up with the times or something.” You waved it off like it was no big deal, even though frustration still sat heavy in your chest. You weren’t nearly as mad as you had been earlier, but you had still wasted your night on something that should have been simple.

Clark studied you for a moment, then gave a small, almost amused huff. “Looks like we’re both out of luck then.”

You watched as his gaze flickered back toward the entrance, and then, after a beat, he sighed.

“I don’t think my date’s coming either.”

Your stomach twisted.

“I’m sorry, Clark,” you said, and you meant it.

“Don’t be,” he told you, and before you could say anything else, he was already flagging down the waiter, asking for the bill. Then, as casually as if he were asking about the weather, he turned back to you and said, “Wanna get out of here?”

You blinked. “And go where?”

He shrugged, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Anywhere. I don’t mind.”

And somehow, that was how you ended up walking down the streets of Metropolis, shoulder to shoulder with Clark Kent.

The night air was crisp, cool enough that you tugged your coat tighter around yourself. The sidewalks were busy with people, cars rolling lazily through the streets, their headlights casting soft glows against the pavement.

You weren’t sure how you had gotten here—how a frustrating, dead-end night had turned into this. But you didn’t hate it.

In fact, you were enjoying every minute of it.

The streets of Metropolis buzzed with an early-night energy. Neon signs flickered, storefronts cast golden light onto the pavement, and the hum of conversation from passing pedestrians filled the air. You walked close to Clark, close enough that your arms brushed with every step.

The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable, but there was something trusted about it—something new.

You risked a glance at him. He was looking straight ahead, hands tucked into his pockets, shoulders relaxed. But when the light of a passing car swept over his face, you caught the way his jaw tensed slightly, like he was thinking about something.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” you asked.

He turned to you, his expression unreadable for a split second before softening into something reassuring. “Yeah. Why?”

You lifted a shoulder, tucking your hands into your coat pockets as you shrugged. “Just… getting stood up sucks. I figured you’d be at least a little upset.”

Clark exhaled a small huff of amusement. “I mean, yeah, I guess I could be. But I’d rather not waste my night sulking about it.”

You nodded, accepting his answer. But then, after a few seconds, you heard him add, quieter, “Besides… I’m having a nice time.”

Your stomach did an embarrassing little flip.

You kept your gaze forward, pretending like those words didn’t sink into you in a way that left you warm despite the cool night air.

“Yeah,” you murmured. “Me too.”

The conversation lulled again, but this time, it felt different. More aware. More weighted.

And then Clark suddenly spoke.

“Can I show you something?”

You blinked at him, surprised by the shift. “Uh… sure?”

He smiled, but there was something almost shy about it, something hesitant like he was second-guessing himself. “It’s not far.”

Curious, you followed his lead, stepping off the main sidewalk as he turned down a quieter street, where the glow of streetlights gave way to something softer, something greener.

Within moments, you realized where you were headed.

The city park.

You’d been here plenty of times before—Metropolis had its fair share of green spaces, a welcome contrast to the steel and glass of the skyline—but Clark led you past the more well-known paths, past the benches where couples sat talking in hushed tones, past the fountain that usually served as a meeting place.

Eventually, he guided you toward a narrow, gated pathway, tucked between a stretch of trees. He reached for the gate, pausing before glancing back at you.

“It’s, uh… it’s kind of a secret spot.”

You tilted your head, grinning. “Secret?”

His lips quirked. “Sort of. I mean, it’s public, but not many people know about it.”

“Riiight... totally not a cheesy thing to say.”

“Just, come look.”

You watched as he pushed the gate open, stepping aside to let you through first.

You hesitated for only a second before slipping past him, your shoulder brushing lightly against his chest as you stepped inside.

And then you saw it.

A sheltered little garden.

It wasn’t grand, but it was beautiful. A small, enclosed space, with an arched trellis overhead wrapped in evergrowing vines. Flowers bloomed in neatly arranged clusters, their colours muted under the soft glow of the moon and city. A narrow stone pathway curved through the space, leading to a bench beneath another canopy of vines.

The whole thing felt… unreal. Quiet. Removed from the city entirely.

You turned in a slow circle, taking it all in. “This is…” You exhaled, searching for the right word. “Wow.”

Clark smiled, stepping further in behind you. “I found it by accident a while ago. It’s kind of nice, right?”

You let out a breathy laugh. “Yeah. Kinda nice is an understatement, Smallville.”

The two of you lingered in the quiet, the city’s distant sounds muffled by the greenery around you. And when you looked at Clark again, you caught it—

That brief hesitation. That barely-there glance.

Something unreadable flickered across his face before he cleared his throat, looking away, suddenly busying himself with adjusting his glasses.

It was awkward. Endearing.

And for some reason, it made your heart beat just a little faster.

You swallowed, forcing yourself to break the silence. “So, what, you bring all your failed dates here?” you teased lightly.

Clark huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “No. Just you.”

His voice was light, teasing back—but something about it stuck with you.

Just you.

You had no idea what to say to that.

So instead, you just smiled. And hoped the darkness hid the warmth rising in your face.

Clark shifted beside you, tucking his hands deeper into his pockets, gaze flickering toward the night sky. Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, “Just... don’t tell Lois about this place.”

You turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Or else it’ll be on the front cover of the Daily Planet and it won’t be so secret anymore.”

You snorted. “Figured.”

Then, almost immediately, your lips twisted into a frown. “Ugh, you know what? I’m still kinda pissed off with Lois.”

Clark’s eyebrows lifted. “Lois? What—why?”

You sighed, rubbing at your temple. “She was the one who arranged the whole meeting with the lawyer today. My source. She forgot to confirm or something and cancelled last minute. Can you believe it?”

Clark blinked. “Not really.”

“Yeah, me neither. She’s probably got caught up with Superman again or something—I don’t know.”

Clark’s head tilted slightly, brows drawing together. “Sorry? Superman?”

You waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, it’s just an inside joke between us and our friends. Since she’s so close with the guy, we joke that whenever she’s acting weird, it’s because of him.”

Clark let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “Does she usually?”

“Not really. But we like to watch her squirm when we bring it up.” You smirked. “Anyway, I don’t know what’s gotten into her. She’s been acting weird all week.”

Clark hummed, his gaze thoughtful. “Yeah, I noticed that too. When she was telling me about this date, she just... wasn’t herself, I guess. Left a lot of things in the dark.”

Your steps faltered slightly, your brows knitting together as something in his words made your stomach twist. You turned to look at him, trying to piece together the implications of what he was saying.

“Wait—” You exhaled, mind racing. “Lois set you up?”

Clark slowed as well, blinking as if he’d only just realized you hadn’t put it together yet. “Uh… yeah?” He frowned slightly. “I did say my date was a friend of hers.”

“Right.” You blinked, mind catching up. “Sorry, I must’ve forgotten.”

You stared at him.

He stared back.

The sounds of the city—distant honking, the chatter of pedestrians, the hum of neon signs—faded into a dull blur. It was as if the entire world had taken a collective breath and was holding it, waiting for the two of you to catch up.

Your lips parted, but no words came out. The pieces clicked together—Lois arranging your meeting, forgetting to confirm, being strangely vague about the details.

Oh.

Your stomach flipped as realization crashed over you like a tidal wave.

Clark’s eyes widened just a fraction, his breath hitching. And then, almost at the same time—

“…No way.”

You exhaled a quiet, incredulous laugh, shaking your head as your mind reeled. Clark let out a chuckle of his own, one hand running through his hair, his fingers ruffling the strands at the back of his head. His ears—just barely visible under the glow of a nearby streetlight—had turned the faintest shade of pink again.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

You just looked at each other, as if confirming that, yes, this was real, and yes, Lois Lane had absolutely just played matchmaker.

“Well,” Clark finally said, voice warm, laced with amusement. “At least we won’t have to spend the whole night getting to know each other.”

You laughed, shaking your head in disbelief. “Yeah. Guess not.”

The tension in your shoulders, the nervous energy, the awkwardness of the night—it all melted into something else entirely. Something softer. Something that felt… kind of nice.

Clark was still smiling, his blue eyes bright behind his glasses, and you had to resist the urge to look away, to keep from giving away the way your heart had started beating just a little faster.

He shifted, his hands slipping into his pockets as he glanced down for a second before looking back up at you.

And then, with just the slightest hint of something almost timid in his voice, he asked—

“Can I be honest?”

You tilted your head. “Sure.”

“When Lois was telling me about the date... I was hoping it would be you.”

“…Really?”

Clark nodded, lips pressing together like he was debating whether he should keep going. But then, in a quieter voice, he admitted, “Yeah... It was the only reason I agreed. And when I saw you at the restaurant, I was really excited—until you told me you were there for work.”

You let out a soft, breathy laugh. “Sorry I let you down.”

His head snapped up. “No.” He shook his head, quickly, almost too quickly. “You didn’t.”

Your stomach flipped.

“I still had fun,” he added, a little sheepishly.

You chewed the inside of your cheek, heart beating faster than you’d like to admit. “You should’ve just said something.”

Clark exhaled a laugh, glancing down again. “I know. I just... I’m not really good at this stuff.”

You smiled, nudging him lightly with your shoulder. “You’re doing pretty good so far. Had me swept off my feet.”

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice just a little lower, a little softer.

“Oh yeah.”

A pause. A lingering look.

And then—

“We should do this again.” His lips curled, a little nervous but hopeful. “On purpose next time.”

You grinned widely, feeling warmth spread through you, from your chest to the very tips of your fingers.

“Yeah,” you murmured. “I’d like that a lot.”

922 notes · View notes

witerh · 2 months ago

Text

Happy Valentine's Day, sweetheart! || husband re:di daddy!leon

NSFW!

warnings: porn with a plot, fluff and smut, comfort, cook in the kitchen, blowjob, face riding, cunnilingus, pet names: «baby girl», «princess», «baby»

note: Happy Valentine's Day to you! I admired the idea of one of the drabbles, so thanks to the author for the idea! (I lost it, eh)

rating: mature

summary: you wakes up early to make you two breakfast so that it makes him happy on valentine's day after his mission!

With the sun rays flowing in through the curtains, your eyes flutter open, your blurred vision focusing in on the gorgeous man lying near you.

You start the night laying on his chest, but after turning through the night, you two never failed to end up in this position.

You thrived on the feeling of his heavy palms on the yours body, his nose snuggled deep into the crook of your neck, hot breath burns your sensitive skin and his herculean arms wrapped around you enough so that you weren’t going anywhere; not on this morning.

His snoring was not quiet, but you learned to love it. It become the music to your ears with the opening of eyes.

And it only takes you a few seconds for it to get it. A couple of flutters of eyelashes and awakening came with the thought that this it...

It’s Valentine’s Day.

You smiled weakly, excited about all things you have planned for Leon. It was necessary to part with the warm bed and sneak out of the bedroom (don't forgot about softly kiss his forehead) and into the kitchen.

You weren’t too worried, though. Leon didn’t get to sleep in a lot like this due to his work, but when he did. You were safe. You start listing in your head all the things you wanted to make for him.

You were a jack of all trades in the kitchen. He loved coming home from missions, leaving his bike helmet to the side while he reached out to you as you cooked a hot dinner. His mouth is already watering at the sight of the warm plate on the kitchen table.

Gratitude in the form of a juicy kiss on the lips. Oh, shit!

You slave away in the kitchen, frying the wafers and topping them with cream and sliced strawberries, making sure everything was perfect.

You go to check on the sleeping husband. He’s still knocked out thankfully, except he’s on his back now, hugging a pillow.

You notice that the blanket wasn’t on him anymore, which allowed you a beautiful view: his dark hair sprinkled with hints of gray tussled from his sleep. His thick neck, chest and arms, peppered with dark hair as well, resting beautifully. His soft midsection, rising and falling with each snore. Near his happy trail was a prominent tent, the print of his huge dick tightening his briefs.

You bit your bottom lip at his morning wood. God, this man was too perfect for his own good.

You could feel yourself salivate as you remind yourself of all the other things you had to get to like decorations or lighting the candles or the rose petals… It doesn’t take much for you to give into your urges. He won’t miss the candles or any decorations anyways…

He’ll appreciate what you’re about to do way more.

You silently climb onto the foot of the bed, your face dangerously close to the bulge. You give it a small caress, your hands gently molding around the shaft on top of the fabric of his boxers. You look up when you evoke a barely audible groan from Leon , who’s still asleep.

You apply just a little more pressure in your next caress, this time making his dick twitch and his hips faintly buck up into your hand, his instinctive neediness signaling you to proceed with your lustful endeavor. You then lift the band of his boxers, his completely hardened cock immediately springing up.

You have to literally suck in your lips to muffle a moan. Your eyes drink in his perfectly shaped bush at the end of his delicious happy trail, the pumped veins going up his shaft, the singular drop of pre-cum already running down, and finally his fat tip. He was perfect.

You use the juice already there as lubricant, slowly stroking his dick, the other hand on his thick, hairy thigh for support. You start to feel Leon‘s thighs contract and hips slightly bucking up some more, little grunts escaping his lips. His arms tense up as well, his muscles clenching around the poor pillow. His small, slow thrusts drove you crazy, not able to wait any longer to put your mouth to use.

You test the waters by giving his tip soft licks, swirling your tongue on it in lazy, annoyingly slow circles.

This grants you a few quiet hums from him, his belly and round pecs rising and falling faster, his body telling you to keep going for him. Faint «mmhm's» were sighed in his sleep, brows furrowed, lips in a pout; signs that you were doing amazing. You then take him in completely, hollowing out your mouth for him as much as you possibly can, because as mentioned before, this man is big.

You bob your head slowly a few times. It’s when you pull him out with a wet pop! and start treating it like your own popsicle does his eyes finally slowly open, his lips curling when he looks down at his now very cock drunk girlfriend with a satisfied smirk. His chuckle is low and silk-like, his morning voice making your cunt clench around nothing.

"Well," his breathing remains labored, his jaw hanging open, "Good morning to you too, —… Mmfuck." He says as you maintain eye contact, your lips wrapped around his long and thick member, tongue tracing along a vein.

You pull away with a wet smack before saying: "Happy Valentine’s Day, Daddy", in the most sing song tone of voice. Leon tuts at your adorable yet seductive response, "Hey baby, so thoughtful good to me…do that again..." he pleads. "Oh!"

"Like this, Daddy?” You ask, lapping your tongue over his tip just the way he likes it. "Oh-oh fuck… yeah, just like that, princess, go-o-od girl-l-l..." his head falls back against the headboard for a moment to sigh before looking back down at you again, seeing his balls in your mouth as your thumb works on his sensitive tip almost making him instantly burst.

You know he’s getting close when he starts panting, propping himself on his elbows and reaching a hand out to your scalp, gently applying pressure now that he’s in your mouth again.

“Aw shit…. I’m close, baby, almost there… fuck, takin’ my fat cock so well, princess…” He mutters apologies and thank you’s as he relentlessly rams into your mouth, his bush managing to meet the tip of your nose almost every time. He growls as he starts greedily thrusting his hips, face fucking his release into you.

You take your sweet time pulling him out of lips, making sure to get every drop, your eyes on his the entire time. Once he’s out of your mouth, he sees you swallow, "Open," and you do as he asks, "ehh, so-o good girlie!"

You begin to sit up, wiping your mouth, "Only for you, baby… C'mon, there’s some things in the kitchen for yo—"

“Whoa-whoa-whoa,” He grabs your hand as you’re about to leave the bed and pulls you toward himself, “I didn’t say we were finished, did I?”

You fall into the bed again, Leon guiding your hips onto his lap as he sloppily makes out with you, his tongue practically down your throat.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he mumbles against your lips. He lays back down on the bed, “C’mere, pretty.”

He brings his hands up to his face motioning for you to sit on your «throne».

Placing your hands on his body for support, you scoot your way up to his face, Leon’s grin getting wider as your wet cunt comes into full view. “So perfect for me, fuck,” His voice is sweet and tender now, planting a few equally tender kisses on your inner thighs, making sure to show them some love before you squeeze his head between them like a plushie.

“You are such a beauty, you know that, baby? Wanna make you feel good, baby.”

“Mhm,” You nod, biting your lip as the breath of his voice tickles your womanhood.

If Leon could, he would just live in between your thighs just like this for all of eternity. His absolute favorite place in the whole world.

Your hands use the edge of the headboard as support, tentatively hovering your hips over his face as he showers your inner thighs with loving pecks and nibbles, the smack of his lips making your pussy clench again. One of his big hands steadies your hips with a tight grip, the other moving your panties aside to reveal your unshaven lips. "Prettiest pussy ever. Fuck, you’re so wet, princess, did I do that?"

You sigh when his lips kiss your clit, his tongue following shortly after by flicking it a couple times. You hear him grunt beneath you after having to lift his head off the bed to reach your hole. "Baby, sit down. All of your body weight." He's short with his words. It sounds more like an order than a request.

"But Leon—" He breathes out, "You're really testing my patience, baby." And with that, his massive hands wrap firmly around your waist and pull you down, a yelp falling from your mouth as he feasts on your sensitive pussy. Leon is the definition of a munch. His head movement adds to the stimulation, moving it up and down, side to side.

His nose, the perfect size and shape that brushes against your clit while he simultaneously slurps and tongue fucks your cunt. The vibrations of his «mmph» the scruff of his face rubbing against your inner thighs, and softly pressing your clit between his tongue and front teeth were the cherry on top.

Your sounds are pornographic as he eats you out. When you're unable to sit up straight anymore due to the immense pleasure, you lean back, hands landing behind you on his soft pecs, pushing into them in an effort to get some kind of break, but Leon wasn't having it. Plus, he was way stronger than you.

A small part of you wondered how he was going so long without coming up for air, but you quickly answer your own question when you remember that your man loves to eat, and when he does, he’s like a starved man. Each time you pushed, his grasp only got stronger, but as much as you pushed, you truthfully didn't want him to stop. Ever.

"L-leon…" sigh, "I-I can't," you cry, unable to speak without stopping mid-sentence to let out a whine, "I'm so close, Daddy, don't stop, please, don't stop-don't stop!" You became a broken record, all sense leaving your body.

The only thing on your mind was Leon's mouth ravishing your weeping cunt. You sat forward again, now tugging on his hair, making him hum further. "Mmmph, fuck!... don't worry... I'll give you whatever you want,"

You began to literally ride his face, desperately chasing your climax with his hands slapping against your ass. Leon was in heaven with this view, bucking his own hips into the air from how perfect you looked like this.

“Mmm… such a dirty fuckin’ girl you're,” smack, “wakin' me up like this…” smack. An octave lower, and the wet, sucking sounds of his mouth helped uncoil the knot in your stomach, bursting on his handsome face.

Your hips stutter and your jaw falls open when you cum, Leon greedily drinking in your juices as if he’s been stranded on the Sahara for set weeks. You could’ve split his skull into two, that’s how hard you pressed your thighs together, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. Leon finally let you go, allowing you to sit on his chest now, both of you catching your breaths.

He smirks back up at you, and you roll your eyes, blushing. "Awww, my princess gets all shy when I make her cum, ehhh?" With Leon’s big hands as support and guidance, he rolls over, so he’s still in between your legs, but you’re now the bottom, and him the top.

Then he goes in for a romantic kiss on the lips. You feel safe and taken care of while feeling his body weight on you again, his muscles against yours and his big muscly arms wrapped securely around you.

You can feel his cock twitch against your too much stimulated cunt, completely soaked from his second climax from simply eating you out, no doubt. He moves any hair on your face aside, caressing your cheek when he does. "Happy Valentine’s Day, baby girl. Have I told you how much I love you?"

You manage a tired smile, “I love you, too.” you chuckle, “Oh! I completely forgot you must be hungry, baby…” you say, as you start getting up.

He gently stops you, and you lay back near him.

"Baby, I think I was very hungry before, but you fed me."

552 notes · View notes

lqveharrington · 2 months ago

Text

Valentine’s Day | D.M.

summary: you and draco got a little too carried away before valentine’s day dinner.

pairing: draco malfoy x fem!reader

includes: fluff, kissing, cursing, all the good valentine’s day things, mentions of pregnancy

a/n: sorry this came out two days late! i got really busy! happy v-day!

There were multiple things Draco Malfoy detested in life. One thing he hated the most was Valentine’s Day. The entire holiday was far too pink for his liking and baby cupid freaked him out. In his opinion, if one needed a holiday created to simply show love to their partner, they were doing something wrong in the relationship.

Of course, Draco knew to love and cherish you—but he didn't need a stupid holiday to tell him that. He would love you everyday. Fortunately, he lucked out when he found out you weren't one to want flashy declarations of love and decorations of the stupid holiday.

The only thing you did want was his everlasting love.

“What’re you staring at, Dray?” You ask when you catch him staring through the bathroom mirror, his body leaning against the door frame.

You narrowed your eyes when he approached you—his warm hands snaked around your midsection and pulled you flush against him, his lips coming down to kiss the back of your neck. You hummed at the feeling and finish applying your red lipstick, touching up the edges.

“You.” He murmured and thumbed circles through the fabric of your dress, repeatedly kissing different areas of your neck until you squeezed his hand to stop. “You look delicious, darling.”

You grin brightly at the compliment, snapping your lipstick shut and meeting his eyes through the mirror once more. His grey eyes reflected nothing but pure love and devotion—your heart beating faster with each second he spent merely watching you.

“Thank you.” You finally say after clearing your throat and spun around the space to face him properly. Dusting off invisible specks of dirt from Draco’s suit, you tilt your head up and gently pull him down by his tie. “You look quite handsome yourself, my love.”

Draco’s lips curved into his signature smirk when his hand resting on the curve of your hip pulled you flush against his chest. “Only the best for you.”

“Flattery will get you no where, Malfoy.” You whisper and press a soft kiss to his lips before whisking yourself away toward the bedroom—Draco following suit with a dazed expression.

He had made a reservation to one of the most prestigious restaurants known to both the wizarding world and the muggle world many months ago—for this exact date—hoping to surprise you with the opportunity. You were indeed surprised, but you were more shocked by the fact that he would rather drive to the restaurant than simply apparate at a nearby safety spot.

“Are we ready to go?” You ask as Nova slips underneath your outstretched hand, purring when you scratch the top of her head.

Draco adjusted his collar and glanced down at his watch. As usual, you both ran earlier than expected. He nodded and moved to your side, allowing Nova to slip under his hand as well. Her black fur matched Draco’s suit and your dress—which felt odd to wear on Valentine’s day, but neither you nor Draco cared for the stupid holiday theme.

You smile when Nova went to curl around Draco’s arm, her purrs becoming softer with all the attention he was giving her. Changing your attention toward the bedroom, you tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear and looked at the top of the dresser.

“Have you seen my clutch?” You peel open one of the closet doors, the rows of clutches and purses lined up with all their elegance but none of them fitting.

Draco stuck his hand out, the chain of your clutch resting on his two fingers. “Right here.”

You let out a breath of relief and took the leather from him, kissing his check. He always knew what was going through your mind and you were more than welcome to let him take care of you sometimes.

“Thank you.” You lace a hand with his and move to leave, only to be stopped by him the second your hand found the silver handle of the door. “What?”

You watched as he brought a finger to his lips, tapping them as if they were begging for something.

Draco’s free hand snuck across to your waist, “One more for the road?”

You squinted at him before putting your index finger up—indicating the number one. “Fine, but only one.”

Pansy checked the clock hanging on the wall before stomping up the stairs of Malfoy Manor—Talos, the black newfoundland dog you and Draco adopted, following closely behind. She knew what time your reservation was at, and if you drove now, you would be cutting it close to being late.

Blaise followed Pansy and Talos up the stairs, rolling his eyes at his girlfriend’s peeved expression. No matter what occasion or event, she would always be the same punctual person she was back at Hogwarts. Everything had to be absolutely perfect—even if she had nothing to do with it.

“Hey! You guys are gonna be late!” She knocked on the master bedroom door, Talos joining in and pawing at the door. Pansy grinned at the dog before repeating the action, voice becoming louder and louder until Blaise covered her mouth. “Hey—!”

“Don’t be vexatious, Pans.”

“Don’t call me annoying!” She pulled away from Blaise and glared at the wooden door—almost taunting her as the time ticked by. Pansy banged on the door with more aggression, “Hello—!”

Before she could even knock for the hundredth time, you yanked the door open and stumbled back at the sudden sight of her fist. You blinked before stepping around her, Talos jumping up at the sight of his parents. Draco caught the dog’s paws and narrowed his eyes at the suddenly amused duo, unaware of how stupid he looked.

You gave them a weak grin, smoothing your hand over your dress and running your fingers through your hair. You did everything you can to avoid eye contact with them as you tried making it down the manor’s stairs.

You forgot that Blaise and Pansy were even over. They offered to watch Talos and Nova while you and Draco were out to dinner, but you didn’t know that Pansy was going to practically knock your door down after you both strayed from the meticulous schedule she had conjured up in her mind.

It wasn’t your fault you were going to be late to the reservation—no—it was Draco’s fault.

Obviously.

Pansy caught your shoulder and handed you a makeup wipe, pursing her lips to prevent her from laughing at your reddened face.

It was clear to the other couple what you were up to before exiting the bedroom. Your lipstick stained Draco's lips and jaw—honestly, they were more surprised that the two of you had it in you still. It had been years—two years to be exact—since they had caught the two of you doing something as scandalous as this.

Blaise clapped Draco on the back while snorting at the sight, earning a glare from the blonde himself. It looked like Draco was a child learning about his mother’s makeup for the first time.

“I take it you enjoyed snogging the wife, yeah?”

Draco wrinkled his nose at Blaise’s terrible idea of a joke, taking the wipe from you to free himself from your stained kisses—unfortunately. “You won’t miss your prick of a boyfriend, will you Parkinson?”

“By all means, take him away.” She waved a dismissive hand toward the two men before holding a mirror out and helping you reapply a fresh coat of lipstick.

Unfazed by the threat, Blaise still grinned like an idiot. If being friends with Draco taught him anything, the only real threats to worry about were the ones that involved the use of Draco’s wand.

By the time you finished reapplying your makeup, your face was still burning hot with embarrassment and Blaise wasn’t helping with his stupid face. Seeing your discomfort, Pansy dragged Blaise back downstairs and scolded him like a mother would to her son.

Draco continued to glare at the other man as he descended the stairs, his head leaning close to yours that his lips brushed against your ear. “Is it too late for me to unfriend him?”

You tilt your head up and shoot him a small smile, nodding when he kissed the side of your head. “I think so.”

He huffed but hid a smile that wanted to present its way onto his face. There was no way for the both of you to get rid of Pansy or Blaise—they were so crucial to your life. Removing one of them would be like destroying the structure of perfectly beautiful building.

Besides, who else would babysit for free?

As you and Draco made the trek down the stairs—his hand warm against your back—Talos and Nova weaved around the both of you, knowing that you were both to leave them alone with their aunt and uncle for a while. You scratched Talos’ ears when you made it to the landing, kissing him on the head and promising to be back as soon as possible.

Both animals pawed at you and Draco before rushing off to god knows where. You shook your head at them before lacing a hand with Draco’s, smiling softly at the two of them. Little did Talos and Nova know that there would soon be another Malfoy running around with them.

You sighed softly and looked over at Pansy—who now looked ticked at her boyfriend for acting childish at the age of twenty-two. “We’re leaving you two in charge. No funny business in our home.”

“Me? Never.” Blaise says with faux-delight, once again earning a smack to the chest by his beloved. “Bye, you two! Have fun!”

Ignoring him, Draco nodded toward Pansy before grabbing the car keys and letting you say your own goodbyes toward the duo. Well—just Pansy.

“Call the restaurant if something happens, we’ve yet to figure out our own cellphones.” You clarify and glance at Draco who merely shrugged. You two were so behind the times, you weren’t sure how to even work a muggle cellphone. “Either way, just call. I’ll see you later, Pansy. Love you!”

She nodded and watched you leave the manor before she yanked the door open and called out to you, “Don’t have too much red wine! You’ll flush your cheeks out! Bye!”

Your eyes widened and embarrassment flooded your cheeks again, your hand subconsciously slipping over your lower stomach. Her intention was pure but without context, your mind automatically went to the tiny tiny baby growing in you.

“Maybe we’ve been friends with them for too long.” You mumble and enter the passenger side as Draco moved to the right hand side, the engine humming as he started the car.

He grinned at your comment, left hand coming down to rest on your leg. “I told you.”

You tilt your head toward him, catching his grey eyes before he could start driving. You had to admit, seeing Draco do something as mundane as driving made your heart race a little more.

“Without them, we would’ve never met, my love.” You smile lovingly toward him.

“Best thing that’s ever come out of being friends with them.” Draco whispered before leaning over the console to give your a quick kiss to the lips. “I love you.”

Your smile brightens as you separate from him, taking the time to wipe the lipstick off his lips. “I love you too, Dray.”

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superbat-love · 2 months ago

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Bruce calmly ate his meal, barely glancing at the scuffling alphas. Gasps rippled through the crowd when the table beneath them collapsed with a loud crash.

With his meal gone, Bruce stood, grabbing both alphas by their necks and pulling them apart with surprising ease. Ranken swung at Bruce, his fist glancing off his cheek. Bruce slammed a well-placed punch into Ranken’s stomach, doubling him over.

The beta event organizer rushed over, visibly frazzled. "Is everything alright here?"

Bruce dusted off his shirt. "Everything’s fine, Ranken just wasn’t a fan of our table decor."

Ranken glared at him, clearly torn. Reporting Bruce would mean admitting that an omega had just bested him in a fight. He gritted his teeth. "You’ll regret this," he said to Bruce, stomping off.

The organizer pinched the bridge of her nose. "Mr. Wayne, this is becoming a pattern. At this point, you don’t need a matchmaker—you need a miracle. I suppose I’ll have to schedule you for the next mixer."

Horrified, Bruce grabbed Kal’s arm and pulled him forward. "Actually, I’ve found my match."

Kal blinked in surprise but caught on quickly. "Uh, yes. I’m his match."

The organizer sighed, clearly unconvinced, but handed them both invitations for a private dinner. "Alright, I’ll be seeing you both at the next round. Until then… good luck."

Bruce and Kal left the dining hall together. Kal looked contrite. "Bruce, I’m sorry I ruined your night."

Bruce glanced at him. "Well, at least I had half a decent meal."

A car pulled up to the curb. Bruce paused, plucking an errant flower off his shirt, and tucking it into Kal’s pocket with surprising gentleness. "See you next weekend,” he said before stepping into the car.

The car disappeared into the night, leaving Kal standing on the curb, his heart pounding.

The Omega Queen AU

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ofstarsandvibranium · 1 year ago

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Bucky Barnes + a bouquet of flowers 💐

Except Bucky is the one receiving the flowers...

a bouquet of their favorite flowers

Prompt List

Bucky has always been a traditional guy. Every time he asks you out, he always brings you a bouquet of your favorite flowers. But this time around, on Valentine's Day, you decided you'd be the one giving him flowers.

At six o'clock on the dot, Bucky showed up at your door step dressed to the nines. Honestly, if you didn't have dinner reservations, you might've just decided to stay in for the night. But this was your first Valentine's Day together and Bucky wanted it to be special.

Per usual, Bucky hands you a bouquet of your favorite flowers. They're just as vibrant and beautiful as the previous ones.

"Thank you, Bucky," you kiss him on the cheek and rush to put them in the usual vase in your kitchen.

You then come back to him with a bouquet of red chrysanthemums, "And these are for you."

His eyes widen in surprise, "What? For me?"

You nod, "You deserve pretty flowers too, Buck."

He smiles at you, "Why need these when you're the prettiest flower of them all?"

You laugh, "Alright, smooth talker. You're keeping those flowers because I didn't know what your favorite flower was, so I did a bunch of research on the meanings of flowers and decided on these ones."

He chuckles, "You didn't have to do that. Roses would've been fine."

"Roses are so basic," you say with a scoff.

"So what do these ones mean?" he asks as he raises the bouquet.

"It means 'I love you'," you say softly and it brings a big smile to Bucky's face.

"I love you too, baby. God, do I love you so much," he places his bouquet down and pulls you in for a deep kiss. He holds you to him as if he slackens his grip, you'd float away from him.

When you pull away, he rests his forehead against yours, "Words cannot describe how much I love you," his whispers then steps back. He fixes his jacket and holds his hand out, "Shall we?"

"We shall," you reply, placing your hand in his and you both head to his car to celebrate the day of love.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine #gn!reader #gender neutral!reader #valentine's day drabbles

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issysh3ll · 2 months ago

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Valentine's ♡ Chris Sturniolo

Summary: Chris devouring his favourite gift Warnings: SMUT, oral (f receiving), squirting, public?(kinda) Wordcount: 700

This whole day has been about you. Right from the start Chris made sure you felt special. Waking you up with breakfast in bed, taking you out for the most adorable picnic date with painting and homemade snacks. And to top it off, his gift to you was so personal. Wrapping up the night at the same drive in theatre where you had your first date seemed like the perfect end.

The drive in movie theatre is quiet. Every car in the lot is filled with couples watching attentively as the latest romantic film plays out on the huge screen ahead. The only sound that can be heard is the muffled car speakers echoing the audio of the film.

But in your car, there are other noises...

"mmph, fuck." Chris's voice is muffled against your pussy. His tongue lost deep inside you, and his lips gripping sloppily to your clit. Your back is pressed firmly against the back seat with one of Chris's hands resting on your stomach to keep you in place.

It's been like this since the movie started, but you're completely unaware of what's going on outside this car. The only awareness you have is of the man between your thighs, worshipping you like you're the best gift he'll ever receive. Which is what he told you when you tried to hand him the actual gift you bought.

Now that gift lies discarded on the passenger seat. Chris's focus is instead on your clit throbbing between his lips. Each movement of his mouth sends flames of burning pleasure through you, and as his tongue swipes up through your folds, circling over your clit you cry out.

"Ah! Chris— s-so good."

Your moans seem to spur him on, his efforts intensifying with each pleasured sound that leaves your lips. Every gasp has him sucking the sensitive bundle of nerves further into his mouth, each whimper earns a teasing glide of his tongue over the burning point of pleasure.

His fingers dig into your thighs, pulling you closer as he devours you with growing desire. And as your legs begin to tense, he never relents. Drawing you impossibly further into his mouth and doubling your pleasure all over again.

If this is how it feels to burn, you'd gladly light a match.

Every inch of your body is alight with pleasure, pulsing and aching for release. "Chris, so close. I need—"

Before you can finish the sentence, he gives you exactly what you were missing. Driving his tongue deep into you once again and running it against that spot inside.

Your vision goes hazy as the fire takes hold, pleasure burning out of control. Your hips fly off the car seat, thrusting up to meet Chris's mouth as your release torches through you.

Every inch of your body is spasming, completely senseless contractions running through every muscle. And as you lose control, it feels so good. To revel in the searing bliss overwhelming your senses. With no room for thoughts in your mind, Chris's next words ring through you easily. "Give it to me, baby. Push."

And so you do, with no effort at all, the slightest push down of your body sends the most satisfying spray of release into Chris's waiting mouth. His tongue laps at you eagerly, cleaning up the mess gushing out of you until there is none left.

Your body relaxes, the fire easing as Chris's mouth lets up, his lips moving to kiss up your body instead. Once he reaches your face you see him, looking more beautiful than ever. A sloppy grin is pasted over his face, dazed eyes hanging low and you, dripping down his chin.

"Happy Valentine's Day." Chris grins, wiping at his chin. “Best gift ever.”

Masterlist

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yanderedrabbles · 2 months ago

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💕 Yandere Valentine's Day Gifts ♥️

Prompt: You own the local flower shop. It's Valentine's Day. Which customers will be popping in?

Yandere! Sugar Daddy calls you two weeks before Valentine's to order fifteen separate bouquets for his darling. Every exotic and rare shade that roses come in.

"I want them delivered fresh. Early morning please."

"Yes sir, I can manage that," you tell him, still reeling at the ridiculously large amount he just paid you.

On Valentine's Day, his maid let's you and your crew into his penthouse. You can't help but let out a low whistle when you see the size of the place.

He directs you to set the bouquets out around the living room. The morning light from the floor to ceiling windows catches on the glitter you dusted across the arrangements.

He has a sort of nervous energy - arranging and then rearranging the flowers. You sometimes hear a thumping, banging sound from deeper in his penthouse but when you ask him about it he says its just the building creaking. You don't know much about skyscrapers this high and so you let it go.

When it's all finally to his satisfaction, he tips you and your crew very generously. As you leave, you see him setting out a whole slew of iconic Tiffany jewellery boxes.

His darling will be showered with the most expensive love money can buy. Whether they want it or not.

Yandere! Bisexual Best Friend breezes into your shop like a true haute couture diva. He looks over his designer sunglasses and snorts with disdain at the traditional red bouquets.

"Nothing so cliche for my girl," he tells you.

He orders pink and white camellias, with sprigs of baby's breath. He has you wrap the stems in matching pastel paper. When you ask him if he'd like to include a card, he writes his message in a beautiful, looping cursive.

'I know no boyfriend will get you flowers that you actually like. That's why you have me. Happy Valentine's Day gorgeous.'

"Very elegant," you tell him.

"Thanks. I'm meeting her for brunch and drinks after this."

He shows you his other gift for his darling. A bottle of expensive perfume, in a glittery blush pink box.

When you ask him if his friend has any dates planned, he tilts his head and smiles without any warmth at all.

"Not if I can help it."

Yandere! Actor doesn't come into the shop or call you directly. It's his hurried, harried assistant that places the order.

"Five dozen roses in a single bouquet. I'll bring you some chocolate that he wants between the flowers. Oh, and a card. Don't forget the card."

When she drops off the chocolate for you to use in your arrangement, you can't help but want to look up the price. Everything from the packaging to the hefty weight of each chocolate screams luxury artisanal brand.

The final arrangement is beautiful, but in a looking-good-on-camera sort of way. You don't know the order is for him until his assistant accidentally let's it slip who her boss is. Your eyebrows shoot up but you manage not to ask any questions. A billionaire and now a celebrity. Seems like everyone wants to be extra romantic this year.

"What does he want on the card?" you ask, pen poised.

"Oh, he sent one for you to use." She hands you a card printed on thick cream paper, elegant in its minimalism. You glance at the writing before you can stop yourself.

'A star like you deserves all the flowers. Happy Valentine's dollface.'

Cute. The exact sort of thing you'd expect from a heart throb like him.

It's only when you see him and his darling on the red carpet later that night - his arm around their waist the entire night - that you begin to wonder if there's more to their relationship than meets the eye.

Yandere! Werewolf shows up right before you close, hands on his knees while he catches his breath. He ran straight to your shop after football practice and there's still grass stains on his chin.

"Oh god, tell me I'm not too late for roses." He looks so worried that you take pity on him and agree to look in the back for any bouquets that might have slipped under the radar.

He must be supernaturally lucky, because you manage to find a dozen red roses. When you get back to the front, he's taken out the rest of his gifts from his backpack.

There's an overstaffed werewolf plush, an extra large leather dog collar, some pre-packaged bones and a chew toy.

"Interesting selection," you say as you ring up his flowers.

He rubs the back of his neck. "Yeah. They uh... have a dog. It's mostly for the dog."

You get the sense he isn't being entirely honest, but you're not the type to pry. When you're done, he shoots you a gorgeous smile.

"I totally owe you one. You really kept me out of the doghouse."

He's just about to leave when he suddenly remembers something. He digs in the pocket of his letterman jacket and pulls out a clear packet of candy hearts. You look closer and realise he must have picked out individual sweets just for their message. They're repeated again and again.

'Be mine.'

'Yours forever.'

'Kiss me.'

"Do you think these are canine safe?" he asks you. You think about it for a second and then nod.

It's only after he's left that you wonder what sort of dog would want to eat candy like that.

#Yandere Valentine's Day #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere drabbles #yandere scenarios #yandere x reader #reader insert #x reader #yandere oc #yandere oc x you #Valentines special #valentines day

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kiszjuli · 2 months ago

Text

・── completely .ᐟ (J.JH)

(재현) ; fem!reader x jeong jaehyun

──in which jaehyun is patient and loves you completely.

genre. fluff, little angst. romance. ; tags. loving!jaehyun x hardtolove!reader. jaehyun sweetest boy. words of affirmation. jaehyun basically reassuring reader he’s not going anywhere.; w.c. 1.6k

the room was dimly lit, the soft hum of your record player filling the quiet space between you. jaehyun sits across from you on the floor, his back against the couch, one arm resting on his knee as he watches you with that unreadable expression—the one that makes your heart beat a little faster every time.

“what?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

his lips curve into a lazy smile. “your favorite love song,” he pipes, tilting his head. “tell me.”

you hesitate, suddenly feeling shy under his gaze. “why?”

he leans forward, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. his fingers linger just long enough to make your breath catch. “cause i wanna sing it with you.”

your heart stutters even more if it was even possible.

you swallow, pretending to think, but the truth is, you already know the answer. it’s the song you play when you’re alone, when you let yourself get lost in daydreams you won’t admit out loud.

you say the title, barely audible, and jaehyun grins like he just won a game you didn’t know you were playing.

he grabs his phone, scrolling until the melody begins to play, then shifts closer, close enough that your shoulders touch.

“sing with me,” he murmurs.

baby, tell me your favorite love song i wanna sing it with you

jaehyun’s fingers trace slow, absentminded patterns along your arm as you lie beside him, the room bathed in soft, golden light. neither of you speak for a moment, just breathing in the quiet, the warmth of each other’s presence.

then, his voice comes, low and gentle. “tell me something you’ve never told anyone.”

you swallow, turning to face him. “why?”

he shifts, propping himself up on one elbow, his gaze steady. “because i want to know you,” he says simply. “all of you. not just the easy parts.”

your chest tightens.

it’s one thing to show someone the pieces of yourself that are whole—the smiles, the laughter, the carefully put-together parts. but this? the things you’d rather leave hidden? that’s different.

still, jaehyun waits, patient as ever, like he has all the time in the world.

so you take a breath, hesitating before you speak. you tell him about the things you don’t say out loud—the fears, the insecurities, the past that still lingers in the corners of your mind. your voice wavers, but he doesn’t look away, doesn’t let go of your hand.

when you finally stop, the silence stretches between you, and for a second, you wonder if you’ve said too much.

but then jaehyun exhales, his grip tightening around your fingers. “thank you,” he murmurs. “for trusting me with that.”

you blink. “now you can’t leave, because you know.” you half-tease. but he stays serious in his response.

he gives you a small, knowing smile before pressing his forehead to yours. “never.”

take it right from the start tell me who you are every piece of your heart every bruise and scar

it was a quiet night, as you lay curled up against jaehyun. his arm is warm around you, his chest steady beneath your cheek, and for once, your mind isn’t racing—just slowing, settling into the comfort of him.

until he speaks.

“you’re thinking too much.”

you huff, tilting your head up to look at him. “maybe i just enjoy using my brain.”

he grins. “dangerous habit.”

you flick his arm, earning a low chuckle, but the moment lingers.

“what were you actually thinking about?” he asks, quieter now.

you hesitate, fingers mindlessly tracing the fabric of his shirt. “just… wondering how we got here.”

jaehyun hums, nodding like he’s deep in thought. “well, first, you annoyed me. then, you continued to annoy me. and somewhere along the way, i decided i liked it.”

you scoff, pushing at his chest, but he catches your hand before you can pull away. his fingers curl around yours, grounding, steady.

“hey,” he says, more serious now, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. “i know what you mean. but this isn’t some dream or lucky accident.” his gaze holds yours, unwavering. “it’s real. and i’m gonna prove it to you—every second, every day.”

your heart stumbles, warmth creeping up your neck.

you try to play it off, rolling your eyes. “that’s a lot of pressure, don’t you think?”

jaehyun smirks, leaning in, his voice a teasing murmur against your skin. “nah. i’m pretty good at it.”

when he kisses your temple, pulling you even closer, you choose to trust him.

every second from now i’m gonna love completely

jaehyun doesn’t say anything at first. he just watches you, eyes soft but unreadable, as you sit curled up on the couch, arms wrapped around your knees.

you’ve been quiet and distant all night.

he doesn’t push. doesn’t demand an explanation. but when you exhale a little too sharply, pressing the heels of your palms against your eyes, he shifts closer.

“let me in,” he murmurs.

you shake your head. “it’s not that easy.”

his hand finds yours, thumb brushing over your knuckles. “it doesn’t have to be.”

your throat tightens. you don’t want to weigh him down, don’t want to dump all of this—the exhaustion, the stress, the things you don’t know how to fix—onto him. they weren’t his problems, and you didn’t want them to be

but jaehyun just squeezes your hand, like he already knows what you’re thinking.

“you don’t have to carry it alone,” he says, voice low, certain. “whatever it is. however heavy it feels.”

you swallow. “i don’t want you to feel like you have to—”

“i want to,” he interrupts, his grip firm but gentle. “i don’t care how heavy it is. i’ll carry it too.”

the words settle into your chest, something cracking open just enough to let him in.

don’t care how heavy the hurt is i wanna carry it too

good times

laughter spills between you as jaehyun wraps his arms around your waist in the kitchen, the scent of something slightly burnt lingering in the air. the dinner you attempted to cook together had ended in disaster, but neither of you cared. not when your arms found their way around his neck, not when his deep chuckle vibrated against your skin as he pulled you closer.

“this is your fault,” you tease, a smile spreading across your face.

he grins, leaning down until his nose brushes yours. “pretty sure you were the one who set off the smoke alarm.”

you swat at his chest, but he only catches your wrist, pressing a featherlight kiss to your knuckles. “good times, huh?” he murmurs, his voice warm, easy.

you nod, heart swelling. “the best.”

bad times.

the door clicks shut behind you, but the silence lingers, heavy and suffocating. you sit on the edge of the bed, arms wrapped around yourself as if that’ll hold you together. jaehyun kneels in front of you, his hands reaching, hesitant, before resting gently on your knees.

“talk to me,” he says softly, looking up at you.

your throat tightens. “i don’t know what to say.”

he doesn’t push. doesn’t rush. just stays there, his presence steady, unwavering.

“you don’t have to say anything,” he murmurs. “but don’t shut me out.”

your eyes sting, the weight of everything pressing against your chest. he squeezes your thighs gently, grounding you.

“i’m here,” he continues, voice steady, sure. “for all of it. the good, the bad, the days that don’t make sense. you don’t have to go through it alone.”

your breath stutters.

“i love you.” he says softly.

he means it. he always does.

through good times, bad times, red lights, stop signs the one thing you should know is my love will always ring true, ooh.

you finish speaking, the words hanging in the air between you like a quiet confession. the vulnerability feels raw, but with jaehyun, it’s almost like it was meant to be shared—like he’s always been waiting for you to let go of the weight you’ve been carrying around.

the silence stretches on for a moment, but it’s not uncomfortable. jaehyun doesn’t rush to fill it. instead, he takes a deep breath, his gaze never leaving yours, as though he’s carefully absorbing everything you’ve said.

when he speaks again, his voice is softer, but it carries a weight of its own. “you know, i’ve been waiting for you to say that,” he says, his words almost a whisper, like a secret shared between the two of you.

you blink, surprised. “what do you mean?”

jaehyun reaches across the table, his fingers brushing yours for a moment before he gently takes your hand in his. his touch is warm, grounding. “i’ve been waiting for you to trust me enough to share it all,” he says, his voice steady. “and i know it’s not easy for you to open up, but i’m not going anywhere.”

you can’t help but feel a flutter in your chest at the sincerity in his eyes. he’s not just saying the words. he’s showing you that he means it.

he leans in a little closer, his other hand coming up to gently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch tender. “i love you. now, tomorrow, a year from now…always. ,” he says, his voice low and filled with meaning, like a vow.

the words sink in, and for a moment, everything else falls away. there’s no more hesitation, no more second-guessing. it’s just you and him, and a love that feels both new and inevitable all at once.

you let out a soft breath, your heart racing, and you finally allow yourself to believe him. you squeeze his hand, your eyes locked with his. this—what he’s offering, what you’re beginning to feel is something real. something you’re ready to embrace completely.

and in that moment, you know, without a doubt, that this is just the beginning.

every second from now i’m gonna love you completely.

—

🎧— completely - jaehyun

( jaehyun birthday boy post ! )

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