#and be smiley and his relationship would go up

[cheeseceli]

Their s/o doesn't like pet names

Pairing: ot8!skz × gn!reader (individually)

Genre: fluff, headcanons

Request: what if the s/o doesn’t like calling them “baby/babe/darling” or whatever and prefers to call them their name? How would they react to that?

Warnings: pet names lmao, established relationship, most of them are somewhat new relationships, "dying" joke at hyunjin's

A/n: I'm being somewhat active here :) | daily click

Bang Chan

‌he doesn't mind being called by his name

‌but !

‌he'd ask you to at least call him by a nick name

‌please don't hit him with the bang chan stuff because he will cry

‌call him Chris! Or channie! Or something like that!

‌just don't go around calling him by the government name please

‌and if you don't mind being called by a petname, he'll get creative with the ways he call you

‌most are sweet, some of them are lowkey embarrassing but it's okay cause you love him

‌if you also don't wanna be called a pet name, he'd call you by a cute variation of your name

‌a nickname

Lee Know

‌ok

‌he is just like

‌ok

‌you tell him "I don't really like pet names"

‌he nods

‌and boom, that's solved

‌wouldn't mind using pet names but also doesn't mind not using it yk

‌lowkey relieved because he had NO idea how to start calling you "darling" all of the sudden

‌he had tried before but cringed and then stepped back

‌so you lowkey saved him here lmao

Changbin

‌yeah you are going to have to tell him

‌loud and clear with all the words

‌otherwise he is NOT gonna get it

‌he will be calling you pet names and doesn't even bat an eye as to why you're not doing the same

‌he's just very excited for being in a relationship with you lmao

‌the exciment went over his head, can you blame him tho

‌so as communication is the key (!) just tell him what's going on and it's chill

‌might be a bit :( at first because he wanted to be called cute stuff as well but he'll be alright, dw

‌will probably try to find a pet name you like or just ask to be called a nickname just like Chan

‌and if you don't want to be called a pet name either that's okay! He will tone it down until there's only your actual name leaving his mouth

‌might slip a babe or honey sometimes but he'll be quick to correct it

Hyunjin

‌was lowkey worried

‌he is very patient and he was just silently waiting

‌and he didn't mind it in the beginning of the relationship

‌but the months passed and you were still on name basis with him

‌so he might or might have not gotten into overthinking

‌tries calling you a pet name instead of waiting for you to make a move

‌if your reaction was ☺️ then he is a bit smiley and a bit ? as to why you won't call him the same

‌then you explain it and things just make sense to him

‌calls you a cute and soft pet name but is okay by you calling him hyune, for instance

‌but if your reaction is 😐 then he is thinking about ways he can bury his head underground

but he will give up on his plans of dying once you explain your reasons to him, he just thought he had done a huge mistake

‌he just needs to make sure everything is alright lmao

‌just explain it all to him and he will be ok

Han

‌i think he would start using pet names for you the moment you called him a pet name first

‌but then you never did

‌so he never did either

‌so he's just kinda like

‌waiting still 😭

‌if the topic does come up and you guys talk about it tho

‌he will finally understand it

‌and will probably laugh about it lmao

‌he's fine about that, he was just worried you weren't calling him anything because of something he did

‌but if it's just because that's what you want then we ball 💃🏻

Felix

‌please explain it to him right away

‌otherwise he'll just think you straight up hate him or something

‌he was also so excited to call you every pet name in the book

‌but you never called him anything but his name

‌and he started to think that he read things wrong maybe?

‌like, he'd be thinking if you ever commented about not using terms of endearment

‌he asks your friends and things like that

‌because he truly doesn't want to mess this up

‌but he was so excited as well

‌the moment he realises that there is nothing wrong and it's just a preference of yours, he audibly sighs of relief

‌also asks you to at least call him a nickname like lixie

‌even though you'd probably be doing this since friendship stage

‌and calls you an exclusive nickname that is not necessarily a pet name as well

‌and it's a win win situation 🙂‍↕️

Seungmin

‌i think that at the beginning of the relationship he was also just calling you by your name

‌and that was it

‌no baby, no love, no sweetheart

‌straight up "y/n" and "seungmin"

‌and he was so chill regarding that

‌didn't even notice

‌until one of the boys are like "why are you guys calling each other by your names even though you're dating for six months "

‌and only then he stops to think that he has no idea why

‌he was just going with the flow

‌once you explain it to him, he'll keep going with the flow

‌he's also very chill about that lmao

I.N

‌lowkey likes this better

‌i feel he wouldn't want to use pet names either

‌at least not in public

‌so you both are like

‌reading each other's minds here

‌pretty much at the same page 😭

‌you both either don't even talk about this considering both of you are okay with that

‌or

‌you end up talking about it one day because one of you got curious maybe?

‌like after a year and a half into the relationship you noticed you never called each other nothing but your names

‌and then he's like "oh so true. why?"

‌you talk about it, find it funny how you both got into a silent and accidental consensus

‌soulmate things

‌and move one with that lmao

Masterlist | you'll probably like: you give them flowers

Reminder this is just fiction!! I'm not trying to portray real life and you shouldn't believe that this is how the members actually are. This is just for the vibe and the delulu!

Taglist (open!): @yuyubeans @dandelions-143 @sleepyleeji @jinnie-ret @sheraayasherrecs @rockstarkkami @urlocalmultigroupfan @aeinzzzketchup @queenofdumbfuckery @sarita-sunday @lezleeferguson-120

Dividers by @cafekitsune | images 1, 2 and 3

[kieranduffysgirl]

John Price x F!Secretary!reader

John price falls for his sweet and shy secretary, despite their differences and her quiet traumas.

word count: 4.0k

warnings: mentions of unhealthy relationships with food and eating disorders, anxiety, shy and sweet!reader, soft and gentle Price, very self deprecating on Price's behalf, affection, pet names (pet, love, lovie, bird), swearing, she/her pronouns.

a/n: I love sad old man Price so much, this is definitely my most self indulgent piece but I wish I had that old man in my life 💘

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"Captain, look nicest way possible but you're having a fuckin' nightmare with paperwork and plannin'...just hire a lass to do it for you." Ghost had muttered as he leafed through the endless piles of outdated paperwork in John's office.

John sighed and waved him off, not in the mood for any lectures or help even though, he knew that he didn't someone to help him. Gaz, Soap and Ghost had already been looking for someone to help him out on the sly, and they had found the perfect girl for the job.

"Mate, I know a girl who can help...I'll give 'er a ring and get 'er to come down and give you a hand, yeah?" Gaz stated as he looked around in disbelief at the state of the office, whilst Soap just laughed and started shoving the paper into boxes for the poor girl to sort through.

"You'll like 'er, Capt...right bonnie lass she is..." Soap mumbled through laughs as John gave him a disapproving glare and continued to type away on his computer and ignore the lads.

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She wandered into the military base with her soft floral dress and kitten heels, hair neatly set in place and a smile that any man would go to war for. John waited patiently for her in the foyer, knowing she would have to sign in and receive her land yard and what not. Gaz had rang her and offered her the job which she jumped at the chance at, due to her office being shut down. John had been anxious about her arrival which the boys had ramped up with various comments about her sweet nature and pretty features.

The second you walked through the door, his attention was completely on you. His mind was reeling and his eyes were scanning over you as you spoke quietly to the man at the front desk and politely greeted any strangers.

Bright eyes. Nervous. Anxious. Quiet. Shy. Polite. Overly polite. Smiley. Kind. Sweet. Caring. Gentle. Delicate. Fragile.

“Evening Sir, I’m looking for Captain Price…could you help me find his office?” her gentle tone broke him out of his thoughts, she was talking to him. Shit, John pull yourself together. Acting like bloody MacTavish because the pretty lady spoke to him.

After a moment of just gawking at her, he registered her words and awkwardly pointed at his dog tags and replied, “That’s me…I’m Captain Price.” His tone was blunt and gruff but still polite, knowing she would likely be embarrassed by the interaction.

“Oh…right, okay…apologies Captain, you all ought to wear name tags or something…” She rambled awkwardly as she busied her hands with her handbag, clearly trying to find something. Her neat brows were furrowed together and her bottom lip was caught between her teeth. He could see the shade of the dusty pink lipstick she wore, the shimmer of the gloss on her lips and her could smell the sweet vanilla of her perfume.

After a moment of searching, she produced a file of information and a small gift box. “These are my records and files, I was told to bring them?” which he replied with a simple’s nod before she continued, “And this is a gift…to say thanks for hiring me…”

He smiled politely and opened the small gift box, producing the small bottle of cologne she had bought for him. A posh, expensive looking bottle with an amber solution. A shy smile graced his face as he held the box tightly and tried to find his words.

"You didn't have to, pet...must have cost you too much," He managed to reply, the sweet term of endearment, Pet, it made her heart sing but made her feel at home.

Her cheeks were flushed a soft pink, her freckles stood out and her bright yet shy eyes held his gaze. She was perfect, she was sweet and polite and so damn pretty. He wanted to wrap his arms around her right there and protect her from everything, he knew he’d have to be brave and push these feelings down and pray she wouldn’t notice.

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By the evening, he had helped her set up her own desk in his office at the base. It was simple with a few draws and a newer computer he had managed to find for her, she added her own personal touches to the desk in the coming days though.

The next morning, she had waltzed in wearing another pale sundress with subtle heels, hair pulled back casually with a ribbon and little, loose curls framing her face. You could hear the soft tap of her heels and smell the comforting vanilla perfume she wore before you could even see her carrying the hefty box of personal items to John’s office. Well their office now.

“Good morning, Captain…” She greeted affectionately as she entered the office and placed the box onto her desk delicately. Her movements were gracefully yet quiet as if not wanting to be too loud or take up too much space.

“John.” He corrected her gruffly as he sipped his coffee and flipped through the pages of notes on his messy and cluttered desk. She waved him off casually as she unpacked her box, despite the differences in their authorities around the base, their personalities and their demeanours, the pair had clicked instantly. She was sweet, patient and kind but could hold her own despite having the personality of a shy mouse. John on the other hand was older, wiser, gruffer yet he liked how she smiled often, how colourful she liked things and he enjoyed listening to her humming and chatting. He felt comfortable around her, she had the peaceful and loving aura that he saw to be rare.

The sound of her humming filled the office, no music was playing but she was humming the tune of an old song John recognised. A small smile graced his lips as he looked up to watch her setting up the frames of family photos, small trinkets and bits of stationary out on her desk. It was all so painfully her, all pretty and clean. Finally, she lifted a small vase out of the box and set it next to her computer.

‘Tomorrow,’ He thought, ‘Tomorrow I’ll bring some flower for that vase’

And he did.

The next morning she came in holding a mug of coffee for him and the brightest smile as she saw the flowers. She slipped the mug into his hands and murmured a quiet “Good morning, John..” and turned away to admire the flowers. A shy smile on her lips, her quiet and sweet demeanour enhanced by her anxious behaviour.

“Think you have an admirer, pet…they were here this morning.” He mumbled gruffly, he himself becoming shy and reluctant to admit that he had been late this morning due to standing in the florist trying to pick out a bouquet for her.

She blushed deeply and chuckled, her words dissolving on her tongue and rendering her speechless. He took note of this, that deep down and behind her chatty and lovely facade she was quiet and shy, as if love came easy for her to give but never receive.

"MacTavish likes you...Gaz too, and I wouldn't be surprised if Ghost has a thing for you...hell half of the base is head over heels for you, lass." He muttered under his breath as he tried to avoid admitting it was him. But she knew, it was obvious.

"I love lillies...my grandma always used to have them in her house," She had said quietly the day before as she sat next to his desk trying to get to know him, "Surely you have a favourite flower, Ca- I mean John?"

They carried this on for a few months, every week a new bouquet would be waiting for her as she walked into the office; which was slowly becoming their home. She had made matching ceramic mugs for them, a photo of them at a celebratory dinner for one of the recruits was hung in the wall, sweet and floral candles littered the room, and John had started writing with colourful pens she had left on his desk. She had infected the office with her sweetness and light, she had also infected John for that matter.

She had been working with him for 8 months, and their next deployment was fast approaching. Since she had been working there she had gotten close to John, too close. Closer than anyone had been for a long time.

It scared him, but he loved it. He loved how her smile bought his back, he loved how her voice was like the songs of the birds, he loved how gentle and kind her words and hands were, he loved how she cared so much for him and the other. He loved her.

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"Price?" Soap had whispered quietly to him as they sat in a booth at the local pub. Price had taken Soap, Ghost and Gaz out to the pub with her to have one last night out before they all went on deployment.

Price just looked up at him as if waiting for whatever comment or ridiculous question he would ask him. He was used to Soap's lack of a filter or manners, which often made others uncomfortable or awkward. But, Soap's eyes were full of genuine nerves and anxiety, his voice was softer than usual too. That worried Price.

Soap's eyes were trained on Price's, usually polite and shy, secretary doing awfully loud and tone-deaf karaoke with Gaz. She was comfortable with the 141 by now, she knew them all and grew to be more like herself with them. But, nothing compared to how she was with Johnathan Price, he had drawn her out of her shell and had become her closest companion.

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She harboured insecurities and trauma, which was obvious to him in the way she avoided loud noises and flinched if people came to close. The way she would refuse to eat if anyone was in the room with her, or how she would push herself to do extra work just to make his life easier. She was sweet and selfless, but it hid the underlying problems she tried to shield from the others. But Price could read her like a book, every page was filled with poetry but the depth hidden between the lines told Price her story.

It had started with him bringing her lunch, just a small gesture of a small dish of soup and his homemade bread slid across her desk. He had left to heat it up for her and came back to offer her it, she had 'forgotten' lunch everyday for the past week, and he didn't like that. She was so kind and gentle to everyone else but towards herself she seemed harsh and cold, it made his heart ache.

"...'s carrot's from m'garden and some other veg...made the bread too, pet." He mumbled as he pushed the dish into her hands which rested on her desk, she couldn't bring herself to look up but he knew that the tears were brimming in her eyes as she shook her head. Her hands were trembling and he could hear her suppressed tears.

"I'm okay...you keep your lunch, John..." She whispered to try to hide the tremble of her voice, she seemed scared or distraught. All he wanted to do was hold and reassure her and feed her all the whole cooked meals in the world. He had the overwhelming urge to protect her. To show her love, to prove her own worth to her.

He shook his head and walked away. She thought he was leaving, so she sniffled slightly and blinked her tears back as she pushed the dish away. Trying to subconsciously push John away before he got too close.

He came back though, wheeling his desk chair over. After settling next to her in the chair he set his dish on the table with hers and whispered, "Made one for both of us...made it for you, lovie..."

Her heart ached and she whispered, "Why?" He had gone out of his way for her...again. He always did. Whether it was flowers or lunch or fresh bread or making her cups of tea or remembering the small details. He did it all off his own back for her.

So, every lunch break he would sit with her and they would eat together. Some days were worse than others but he liked caring for her and making her lunch. She had started eating properly, she looked healthy and bright so he was content. And, on some rare nights she would eat with the 141, as long as John was by her side to whisper reassurance to her with every mouthful.

"My brave girl..." He murmured against her hair as they sat in the cafeteria, they were one of the few people in the room as the night had grown dark but she wanted to try, "I'm so proud, look at you...my strong girl..."

His hand was on her knee and his nose was against her hair in an attempt to keep her calm as she ate. She had whispered that she was ready to try to eat in public, so he chose the night they were on a shift in the dark with few people to try to show her that it was okay. That she was okay.

"That's it...good girl...just one more mouthful f'me and y'there," He mumbled as he watched her tenderly as she ate the small meal. The plate was nearly bare when she started but she had almost eaten it all, the pride running through his body was radiating from him as he pressed himself closer to her and whispered, "I'm so proud...well done, pet..."

That night they had gone back to the office to get some work done but she had broken down. Tears and sobs, pain and pride. She had felt too many emotions but she knew she was safe with him. He built her back up to become the girl she pretended she still was. He never asked what caused it, only found ways to help her and piece her back together. He could see it anyway, he didn't her to relive it, he could see what had broken her in the way moved.

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"D'ya fancy 'er?" Soap murmured as he fidgeted with the pint glass on the table as he turned his gaze back to John. A quiet curiosity in his tone and a wonder in his watercolour eyes.

"I-" John cut himself off as he shook his head and shifted his gaze to her giggling and singing. Her cardigan was half hanging off her shoulder, her smile was brighter than anyone else's in the room and she looked down right beautiful to him.

Soap gave him a knowing look and sighed, "Have you told her?" He asked quietly, shifting over to let Ghost slip into the seat beside him as he arrived back from the bar with more drinks for the group. Soap gave him a look at said 'Don't say a word' as he turned back to John expectantly.

"No," He replied simply, his gaze trained on her, he was always focused on her and they could all see it. Her eyes locked on his, prompting a bright smile and a shy wave across the bar. He could hear the soft jingle of her bracelets as she waved, the tap of her heels as she hurried over to him.

Before Soap could reply, she had hurried over and slipped her cardigan off and settled it in John's lap. "Can you look after this for me...really warm, need a wee...wait which drink is mine?" She rambled in a tipsy manner as she leant close to John, closer than she usually would.

"Of course, pet...leave it with me and I'll make sure it's safe..." He replied softly, his hands finding her waist as he guided her closer to whisper, "you feeling okay...do you need anything...you need me to get you anything?"

She shook her head softly and leant in to kiss his cheek, a contented sigh escaping her under her breath. "No...I'm okay...just don't leave without me okay?" She whispered quietly before hurrying away to the ladies bathroom.

He chuckled softly and ran his hands over the fine, knitted cardigan that was radiating the scent of her vanilla perfume and felt just as soft as her skin. He shook his head to himself and turned his attention back to Soap and Ghost.

"Whipped," Ghost muttered and Soap let out a hearty laugh, a genuine smile gracing his face. Gaz came over absolutely off his face and smiling, his arm wrapping around John.

"Where's your bird...she said she'd buy the next round?" Gaz slurred with a giggle as he slumped against John, clearly feeling the effects of the ridiculous amount of pints he had.

John sighed, like an exhausted old man babysitting his kids. He nodded towards the bathroom door as she came wandering out, towards the group sat at the table. "There's my lass...there she is....my bird" He mumbled as he watched her wander over to him with a tipsy smile.

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That night, they had all headed home but she had left her cardigan with him. He hadn't noticed that he had carried it out of the pub with him, it slipped his mind to pass it to her when Soap helped her into him car as they lived in the same building.

He hadn't realised that he had carried the soft pink garment into his small, comfortable home. He had barely noticed that he had curled up in bed clutching the cardigan close to him.

He didn't notice until he woke up the following morning, his alarm plucking him from his sleep.

Then he realised.

As he lay across his rather large bed for a single man, completely sprawled out, he was subconsciously nuzzling his nose against a piece of fabric. One he did not recognise, one that smelled like something he knew.

The soft knit slid across his fingertips as the realisation hit him. It was her cardigan, and he had bloody taken it home like a fool. And he was cuddling up to it all night as if it was her beside him. 'A new low, even for you, Price...' he thought to himself.

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The next morning, he had gotten over his hang over and dragged himself into work, mainly just to see her at this point. He had stopped by the florist, the bouquet he settled on was beautiful and intricate with the softest colours. A small way to make her smile and to show her that he cared, even if no one else did. Also a small gift to make her feel better about her inevitable hangover she would have.

Upon arriving at the base, he swapped her new flowers onto her desk, tucked her cardigan on the back of her desk chair and made her a mug of tea, knowing that she was probably still feeling rough and would feel sheepish and poorly.

He waited rather impatiently for her, his fingers drumming against the surface of his desk as he tried to read the notes on the upcoming mission. One more day. He had one day until he would be gone for a matter of months. Months to be spent without her.

"Good morning, John..." She mumbled, her usual sunny disposition was hidden in a shroud of illness. She was pale and looked run down, seemed like her hangover hadn't shifted in the slightest.

"Christ, Pet..." He replied affectionately as he gave her a sympathetic gaze. She waved him off and shuffled to her desk, slipped into her seat and pulled the cardigan around her tightly.

"Found that in my car," Lie, "Must have picked it up for you," another lie, he mumbled and sighed as he sipped his tea and watched her lovingly. He always looked at her like she was the only woman that mattered to him, the only girl he needed.

"Thanks..." She mumbled before carrying on with her work, looking completely worse for wear. After sitting and rubbing her temples for a moment, she pulled the cardigan around her and shut her eyes. It smelled of his cologne, the one she gave him on her first day all those months ago.

He watched her protectively for a moment before murmuring, "Got to go to a meeting with Nik, lovie...if you feel too poorly, get yourself home and to bed okay?"

She nodded and sipped her tea, a yawn slipping from her lips as she leant on her head in her hands. Sighing softly, he pushed off his chair and grabbed his stuff to leave but stopped next to her and crouched down.

His lips found her forehead as he murmured, "Look after yourself...I'll be back soon, pet..." as his fingers ran over her hair and she leant close to him and smiled sleepily.

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The meeting ran over, through lunch and towards the evening. He had almost missed the entirety of his last day with her before he left for the mission. He checked his watch desperately, it was well over her finishing hour and the panic was running through him.

As soon at the meeting finished, he rushed back to the office to see her. He wanted to keep close to her now until he had to leave her. But, upon arriving the at the office he saw her at the desk, completely asleep yet waiting for him.

"Love..." John whispered softly as he knelt down beside her and gently stroked her hair. Her head was resting on a mountain of paperwork and her soft snores filled the office. His callous fingers ran over her tresses as he waited for her to wake up.

After a moment she shifted slightly and looked at him with bleary eyes, blinking a few times before sitting up. She yawned quietly and something switched in his head, he wrapped his strong and muscular arms around her and pull her close to his chest without a second thought or any form of hesitation.

"Shhh...'s okay, Love..." He cooed softly as he held her in his lap and settled her head on his shoulder, "I've got you...'s just me...get some rest, lovie..."

She mumbled incoherently for a mere few moments before surrendering to her sleep as he held her close enough to feel his heartbeat. Her nose nestled against his neck and her arms wrapped around him, her fingers curling around the cool metal of his dog tags as she snored into his neck.

He sighed contentedly and pressed kisses to her forehand whispered, "My love..." as he nudged her hair with his nose. A desperate attempt to keep her as close as humanly possible but he would be ripped away from her for months on end.

"John..." She mumbled sleepily against his jaw as her nose brushed against his beard and her lips pressed soft, angelic kisses to his beard, her hand still clutching his dog tags tightly.

"Yes, pet..." He replied quietly whilst his hands splayed on her back drew her closer to him, his eyes closed in pure comfort of being with her.

"Just checking you're still here..." She mumbled before letting herself curl into him and fall into sleep again, feeling safe enough to let him protect and care for her.

He nodded and pressed a kiss to her nose and whispered, "Not going anywhere, Lovie...just get some sleep and I'll be here when you wake up..." His tone wavered slightly as he clutched her tightly. He finally had her where he wanted her, where he needed her to be, he finally had her.

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[currentloser]

don't go home, baby

pairing: kwon ji-yong x reader wc: 4.8k words tags: 18+ SMUT MDNI!, established relationship, mutual pining, submissive gd, dominant reader, fem!reader, oral (reader receiving) summary: What was supposed to be a quiet ride home turns into a an unspoken confession, a bouquet too big to ignore, and a night where enither of you are quite ready to let go. a/n: this is for the gd&top writing event! go check it out!

ao3

The late night stretches across the sky of Seoul as Ji-yong's sleek black car crossed the city scape. As it all came to an end, you couldn't help but watch the sun set out of the passenger window, an invisible timer to when the night would eventually draw to a close. The car stops itself in front of your place, and you unbuckle yourself—

Until Ji-yong's hand has stretched across the backseat and placed itself over yours.

His nails are manicured, his fingers slim and pretty as always. His grip is tight over yours, not claiming but urgent instead. You can feel his heart rate skyrocket even through the slight contact. He hasn't spoken yet, and you slowly move your gaze from his smiley face tattoo looking back at you up to the soft curve of his jaw. His smooth features are lit lightly by the overhead lights and the remaining red tones of late dusk fading away.

“What is it?” You ask first, your hand still moving beneath the contact.

Then, his face shifts into something you were all too familiar with: a playful pout in your direction.

He leans in, tilts his head and gives his best pleading eyes, “Don't go home, jagi.”

You scoff at that, but you don't pull away. Your hand pauses over the buckle and you decide to entertain him, if only for a small moment.

“Why shouldn't I?” You tease, tilting your head in the opposite direction.

Playing whatever invisible game he was pushing onto you. He shifts beside you, as if he's trying to get comfortable in his seat and brushes his thumb against your knuckles. It's a slow, circling motion to soothe you, or maybe himself. He ducks his head a little, shy and boyish the way he always got when he wanted something out of you.

Ji-yong cooes, “You don't have to say yes. I just don't want the night to end yet.”

Out of the corner of your eye you spot your driver tapping on the wheel. Not impatiently, but when his gaze meets yours from the rearview the pressure to answer feels a little more real. Politely, he immediately looks away. You're trying to draw your attention away from Ji-yong’s ridiculously close and pouty face but you're not sure how well it's working.

“This again?” You play lightly, “Are you trying to kidnap me?”

You can hear the grin in his voice when he answers. “Only holding you hostage until the sun comes up. That's not illegal, is it?”

Just as you inhale to say something cheeky back, he leans in before murmuring:

“Wait here.”

Before you can argue, he slips out of the car. You watch through tinted windows as he walks around the back and pops open the drunk. You try to dip your head to get a peek at his silhouette but it provides nothing. Not until it's carefully closed and your eyes wide. At the sight of a ridiculously oversized bouquet. 

Half your brain wonders if Vogue or Chanel has a line of bouquet flowers you should know about, watching as he slides and in. The size of it can barely manage to fit between the seats. It makes him look comically small in comparison. You're worried it will block the view out the back door. He holds it out to you with a box of his head, and a boyish smirk tugging at his lips.

“Now you have to stay.”

Feeling playful, you take the bouquet. Spin it in your hand, once or twice. You consider playing out this game with him longer. Dropping the bouquet and grabbing the handle of the door. Rushing out onto the street to see if he's desperate enough to chase you. You could only imagine the headlines if G-Dragon was spotted among the streets chasing after a mystery person carrying the world's largest bouquet.

“Youre dramatic,” you sigh and look up to the driver, “Keep going.”

The car ride is smooth and silent as the car pulls forward. Ji-yong gized you an amazed gaze as the car pulls forward, but decides not to say anything else. As if he's afraid of breaking the olive branch delicately offered to you. It wouldn't be the first time you had been to his luxury penthouse, and secretly you hope it isn't the last either.

He's lucky he's cute.

When the car pulls to a stop he ignores the driver trying to open his door and practically sprints to open yours. He's slightly out of breath when he pulls it open for you, with a wide and endearing gaze meant only for you. He stretches forward his hand for you to take. You grin and take it, feeling sheepish under his gaze. You squeeze his hand.

“Such a gentleman,” you coo as you follow him, the late night chill breeze hitting you both.

You follow as he unlocks the door and shuts the outside away, kicking off your shoes in the entryway. No matter how many times you visited him you could never quite get used to the stark contrast between his celebrity life and his home. A pile of shoes discarded by the entryway and a large package box used as a table, keys and anything else.

He steps ahead of you, “Do you want tea?”

You nod silently, looking around for a moment before spotting a vase on his table. You step forward, placing the stems of the bouquet down so you're not awkwardly carrying the weight around. Following him to his kitchen, you lean against the wall and watch as he gets to work. Quietly grabbing a mystery package of tea from the cupboards and preparing a mug.

He makes it just how you like it, like always. As he hands it to you he murmurs something about it being a special blend. Unsure of what to expect, you slowly blow over it to cool it down.

As soon as you sip it though, the taste is familiar. Your mind goes to a corner store run by an older woman, and the tea she always offers but you politely declined until recently.

“I didn't know you bought locally,” you watch the steam spread out as you speak over the mug.

He gives you a fake-hurt look before nodding, “That's right. I'm not the same guy who kept caviar in his fridge.”

Then, after a pause, he steps forward to nudge you away from the kitchen and towards his couch, “Come sit. You're making me nervous just standing there.”

You nod at his invitation, carefully and holding onto your cup as you take a seat after his. You choose to sit a little closer than you need to, just enough that your knee brushed against his. Your shoulders touch when you bring the tea to your lips again.

He's blushing again, just barely enough for you to spot the pink at the tips of his ears. It was dangerously endearing how easy he pulled you into his world without you realizing it. A comfortable silence hangs in between you as you finish off your mugs, leaving them empty once you're both finished.

“So what's the real plan here?” You finally tease as you leave your cup to the table, “Im being held hostage with flowers and tea, and then what?”

“This is the plan. I'm just that charming,” he purrs, grinning and all faux innocence.

When he says if, his hand brushed against yours again. He lingers for just a moment too long before he leaves his fingers into yours. You feel the cold press of his rings against your hand, a flash of his colorful nails as he seals your hand with his own.

Ji-yong shifts again beside you, this time getting good and wrapping his arms around your waist, nuzzling up against the side of your shoulder.

“You know what was the first thing I noticed about you?”

You blink in surprise, turning to him, “Hm?”

“You act a lot stronger on the outside than what you are really,” he titls his head up, meeting your gaze with a smile, “I thought, you were a lot like me. We put on armor for the outside world. But I like who you are underneath it.”

You turn your head away, slightly flushed, “So you invited me to wax poetics about how you like me?”

Ji-yong laughs, really laughs at your comment and ducks his head against your shoulder again. It warms through the fabric of your shirt where he reads against you. “No,” he chuckles, “I invited you because I didn't want to miss this version of you.”

You glance at him, eyebrow raised, “What version am I?”

He adjusts slightly, moving himself up. Until his cheek rests against your collarbone. His voice drops a little into a whisper, something deeper. “The one who doesn't dodge compliments, Who leans in when you think I'm not paying attention—”

He pauses, squeezing your hand again. He's getting bold with it, a finger hooking underneath your jacket and placing itself beneath the layers. 

“The one who lets me stay close, and doesn't pretend you don't like it.”

You're tempted to pull back, to fall back into your sarcasm you usually hide behind. Your body doesn't move though. Instead, your fingers curl around the hem of the blanket sitting beside you.

“You're too good at this,” You admit, your voice coming out more raw than you expect.

“At what?” His eyes search yours, despite his teasing tone.

“Making it hard to leave.”

“Then don't,” Your words get a smile out of him. Real, lazy and a little sleepy at the edges. He nudges his nose against your neck, soft and warm. Cat-like. “Stay.”

This time, you feel bold again.

“You're needy, you know that?”

He scoffs at that, but doesn't move. “Needy?”

You nod enthusiastically, “You’ve said yourself, you're like a cat. Clinging to me then pretending like you didn't give me a bouquet the size of a small island.”

He pouts, pushing away from you. Playing with you. “No way.”

He doesn't pull away completely though. As soon as he's done playing, he leans right back into you, reaching up beside your face. He catches a loose strand of hair and gently pushes it back behind your ear. The look in his eyes is somewhere between entirely somewhere else and absorbed in you. When your eyes meet his, you catch him lingering.

His gaze keeps moving. Your eyes, your ear, your mouth. You can count the amount fi times his gaze keeps dropping, and you swear at yourself mentally for never catching onto how obvious he was. You wonder how long he's been admiring like this, like a man that wanted but couldn't have you. You liked it, too, making him really earn it. 

His hand shifts and curls underneath your jaw. He moves forward slightly, his head tipped to the side. You can feel a shift in the space as he gets closer to you. His legs attempt to weave between your own, to pull himself as close as he can get to you.

The moment hangs, almost too intense. You can smell the faint cologne of whatever designer body wash he used and see the dilation of his pupils as he fights his own anticipation. Like a cat spotting a bird from a window and deciding when to strike. You let him wait. Curious for how far he’ll go, you hold the moment as taut as a violin string and let the tension warp and ache.

It’s Ji-yong who breaks first, nudging into you with a cautious, feather-light brush of his mouth. It’s softer than you expect. A touch so gentle it could be considered a suggestion, a question instead of a claim. You’re the one who makes it real, tipping forward with your hand against the nape of his neck, deepening the kiss. He sighs into you.His arms wind firmer around your waist and you’re half-laughing against his mouth, biting back something like disbelief and delight. His arm tugs at you sweetly and pulls you closer. He doesn't slow until your legs are spread on either side of him, seated in his lap. He pulls away minutely, his breath coming and going quickly.

Ji-yong stares up at you, his lips parted and shining, the blush peaking in dazzling color along his cheeks. You’re suddenly aware of the whole sprawl of him—his body under yours, his hands exploring up your back, greedy and reverent at once. It shouldn’t feel like gravity, but it does, like you both slipped into a new law of nature and this is just the proof.

"I didn’t think you’d actually…" he starts, then stops, bashful. You raise an eyebrow, feeling reckless.

“You’re the one who kidnapped me,” you say, voice low.

He grins at that, his tongue darting to catch a smile. “Then I guess I can’t let you escape now.”

The world narrows to the soft blue dark of the apartment, the city noise muffled into hush. He leans up to kiss you again, a little more sure, a little more desperate. You thread your fingers through his hair, and he responds immediately. The thrill of it makes you laugh into his mouth. Ji-yong tastes like smoke and the tea he made, warm and a little herbal. He hooks his fingers into either side of your waist and tugs with a sort of need that feels deeper, growing between the close contact.

You ease your hands up under his shirt, skimming over hard ribs, learning the landscape of his body by touch. For a man who is always performing, always the subject of a thousand cameras, his skin is soft and unassuming. He grins into the kiss; his whole body tilts up to meet you, like you’re a gravity he wasn’t warned about.

When you finally pull back, the air feels charged, humid. Ji-yong brushes his thumb across your lower lip, amusement and worship in equal measure on his face.

“I was thinking about having you like this for the whole night,” he admits, soft and sheepish.

You tilt your head, pressing down against him again. “Can you handle it?”

“You doubt me?” he whispers, and you can’t deny how much you like the spark in his eyes, and the soft laughter he gives you.

The question hangs, but Ji-yong doesn’t wait for your answer. He tilts up, inconveniently beautiful. He presses his smile to the skin just under your jaw, then downward, slow and searching. His hands are everywhere; greedy, graceful, learning your body as if it’s an unreleased melody only he understands.

You feel the couch dig into your knees, the weight of him balanced underneath. The room grows small, air thick as honey. He's not rushed— he's methodical, almost meditative, pausing to look at you for permission and delighting in every new shiver he coaxes.

His hands dip under the hem of your shirt, then pauses.

“Do you want somewhere ah… more comfortable than the couch?”

But you don't. You answer him by trailing your fingers underneath his shirt in turn and pulling his shirt off first. You take a moment to admire the tattoos on the sides of his ribs. Mind Control, Forever Young. You trace your fingers over the letters.

“Maybe I'm doubting you now,” you tease.

He scoffs, like you’d just dared him to break his own record. The dare is alive in the way he moves, how he boldly takes hold of your shirt and tosses it beside his own, joining a small pile forming on the floor. He draws you close again, and this time his touch is more determined. A feverish energy vibrates beneath his skin; he wants to impress you, to prove something with his hands and breath and body. 

He kisses you again, deep and urgent, guiding you with gentle insistence until you’re laid out across the couch and he’s half over you, half cradled by the cushions. His mouth never leaves your skin as he works his way down, from collarbone to sternum, leaving a constellation of heated, reverent kisses in his path. 

“You know, I was always told I’m competitive,” he whispers against your hip bone, laughing low, “but you bring out something else in me.”

“You really look like a- like a dragon. Dragon eyes.” Your gaze trails to his, leaning up into him when he presses a kiss to the button of your jeans. “Don't keep me waiting, Ji-yong.”

He hums, a sound as much through his lips as through your thigh, and fumbles with the button. For someone who spends half his life in clothes crafted by strangers, he's cautious, respectful. His fingertips glide slowly over denim before popping it one-handed. He acts cool, but the quickness of his breath and trail of blush along his neck betrays him.

The city flickers blue and pink through the high windows, painting strange mosaics onto the ceiling and your skin as he slips your jeans down enough to ghost his palm over your thigh. He shivers when he touches you, reverent. Finally, the constant motion of his touch stills over the teasing line of your panties. 

“Go on,” you coach him. “Show me why I haven't left.”

He laughs, but it’s more a sound that wrenches in his chest, and his fingers curl along the seam as he slides them aside just enough to ghost the line of you. The hush that falls is too charged to be quiet; the city outside is nothing, the room filled with the small sounds you both make. Two elegant fingers press over you, tentative at first, growing confident as he feels your hips tip into him.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, not in shock, but in worship. “You’re so… always more than I imagined.”

He exhales and leans in, his cheek nuzzling into the curve of your thigh, his lips hot even through the fabric still teasing over you. You think, in the untethered stretch of that moment, that you could drown in the way he looks at you. He finally grabs onto the fabric with his teeth, tugging them over and revealing your to the cold air around you.

You brace against the couch, and groan when he hesitates again. You wonder if this infinite waiting game is meant to tease or torture. Or both. 

You tangle your hands in his hair in command and he breaks, his lips cool and soft as they graze upward. He had you figured out until now. Ji-yong’s tongue traces upward, patient, never breaking eye contact. The feeling of his tongue is dizzying, building gentle and deep until you arch your hips into him and clutch his hair so tight it must hurt, but he only moans into your skin and holds you closer. 

He works with a precision you didn’t expect; each swirl and flick deliberate, each pause as if he needs a new mental snapshot to remember this, make art of it. He’s greedy in the best way. He wants to taste every reaction, every sound, every breathless curse that happens only here. He keeps you there, trembling on the edge, until your knees shake and his own breath trembles just to hear you. This, apparently, is the memory he wants most: your hands fisted in his hair, your chase for air, the crush of your name on his tongue. 

That’s how you come apart for him, hips and voice in chorus, the city at large and the room shrunk to a single point of gravity, and Ji-yong at its center.

When you resurface, he presses up along your body, all hungry, giddy praise and bright, childlike smile. His lips are slick, but he kisses you anyway. You pretend it’s nothing when you kiss him back, tasting him and yourself, but your chest is shaking when you reach up for his jaw, guiding him back to you.

Using the heat of the moment against him, you roll him with a shove to his shoulder and he drops back into the cushions, laughing. You move over him, knee at his side, bracing yourself above him. Your hands are already working at the button of his pants, and Ji-yong’s eyes go huge as he puts his hands behind his head, elbows sharp against the couch, ceding all authority to you.

“You gonna one-up me?” he dares, breathless.

“Easily,” you reply, though your voice is so soft the words don’t land like an insult. His fly gives easily and you pull at the waistband, fingers mapping the lines of his stomach. For all his posturing, he’s vibrating with anticipation, his chest rising and falling so fast you half expect him to faint.

You take your time, dragging your hands along his skin. You catch him straining through designer jeans and grin to yourself. He may have acted tougher, but here he was melting just for you. When he tries to reach for you, you grab his wrists with your free hand and pin them above his head.

“Don't act like you weren't waiting for this,” you tease, rubbing over the shape of him through fabric. “Could you finish like this?”

The challenge makes his whole face flush, but he doesn’t look away. Instead, Ji-yong nods with that cocky tilt of his chin you’ve seen on glossy magazine covers, but now it’s just for you and just as precarious as it is practiced. “I—” his voice cracks and restarts, his knuckles white where you hold him down, “If you keep looking at me like you own me, yes.”  

You hum approval and let your palm roam, slow at first, savoring the way his body arches for you. The hard line of him stretches and thrums, straining for more friction. You rock yourself just above him, not quite touching, letting him feel the heat and weight of you as reward. 

“Say please,” you prompt, and his groan is almost enough of an answer on its own. He meets your eyes, and for one raw second every mask and performance drops. He’s just a man under you, wanting and grateful.

“What was that?” You tease, popping open the tight fabric and rubbing over his boxers underneath. You can feel the fabric is already damp at the tip, “I didn't hear you.”

It takes him a moment to find the words, and when he does, there’s a roughness in them you’ve never heard. “Please. Touch me,” Ji-yong says, not hiding, even a little. “Please.”

You reward him by taking him in hand, letting your palm slide up, a slow torturous stroke. He gasps, his hips buck despite his grip on self-control, and for a second you almost pity him. Not quite enough to stop. His hands knot against each other where you’ve pinned them, and you feel the trembling in his forearms, the seismic restraint. He could easily overpower you, but he doesn't. He allows himself to be held down.

You lean down, brushing your lips to his neck, and the sound he makes is nearly a whimper. “Is this what you wanted?” you whisper, teeth grazing his skin. He nods, too far gone to pretend otherwise. He looks perfect like this.

You slide your free hand up the ridges of his ribcage, feel him shudder under your palm. The tension running through Ji-yong is exquisite, a livewire hum. His whole frame strains between wanting to hold it together and wanting to be completely, unforgettably undone. You don’t let up, you won’t. You want him to crack, want to see even the smallest fracture in that famous composure laid out raw and trembling for you, just you.

You rock your hips gently for emphasis and his mouth falls open in a silent, breathless gasp. "Good boy," you murmur, half-mocking, half-devotional, and are caught off guard by the desperate, satisfied sound he makes in response. You could drown in how hungry he is for every bit of affection you let him have.

“You like that?” You tease, finally peeling him free from his boxers.

He's not in your hand, his hips bucking more now. You press until you’re up against him, letting him feel the wet between your legs at the base as you rub over him. You grin when he whines and bucks his hips again.

Finally pitying him, you lift yourself from his lap. Not enough to press him closer, but letting him rut against your heat, against the slick dripping from you. Like that, he melts and ruts into you more desperate than you'd seen before. He melted into a more familiar version of himself. Desperate, and a little shy as he thrust against you.

You squeeze his wrists together, humming, “Good boy. Finish for me.”

Just like that, something snaps in him. He bucks quicker, driving himself into your heat without ever pressing into you. You feel it between you when he whines and paints your thighs with it. He's shaking when he does, rutting wildly as the last aftershocks of pleasure leave him.

“So,” you prompt as he finishes, still breathless and probably on an entire different planet, “Are you happy I stayed?”

He tries to regain composure, but all he can do is laugh—wet, wrung-out, a little incredulous. “Way happier than you, it looks like.” He pushes himself up on an elbow, still caged under your thighs, and flicks his gaze up to meet yours. There’s a flush that lingers high in his cheeks. He grins, sheepish and triumphant all at once. “Though I think I have a little catch-up to do.”

You’re already reaching for him, spreading a thin haze of sweat across his chest as you press your palm flat over his heart. It thuds, erratic, eager. With a casualness that belies the afterglow, Ji-yong wipes a finger through the mess he’s left and touches the damp trail to the inside of your thigh. He sucks at his teeth, a gesture so unselfconsciously pleased with himself that for a moment you almost forget to be embarrassed. Almost.

He grabs a throw pillow from beside him and stuffs it under your hips, shifting you down with possessive care. “Stay,” he commands, voice roughened at the edges. 

In a movement he's gone from beneath you to trading places all over again. He wipes his hand again, then leans over you, mouth hot and red-lipped, biting an almost-chaste kiss onto your knee. Then, slowly, he sinks down the length of your body, chasing the taste of you he left unfinished.

This time he’s different—hungry, insistent, nothing withheld. His hands spread your thighs like he’s opening a gift, soft squeeze of each thumb so reverent it borders on worship. This time it's his fingers instead of his mouth working at you. He uses the slick gathered from your thigh, easily spreading you open.

“I can feel your heart beating against my fingertip,” he purrs, curling them up sweetly inside you. 

He ruts behind the motion of his hand, all too obvious and desperate all at once. He presses up inside you, his thumb working over your clit at the same time.

“Keep going,” you pant, struggling to keep up with your authoritative time you managed moments ago.

Ji-yong makes a sound, a half whimper, half laugh. He mutters, “I never want to stop.” Another curl of his fingers, and you tremble, body instinctively clenching around the steady, wicked rhythm. You grab at his wrist, as if that could anchor yourself, and this provokes him only further; his thumb works slick circles and his eyes go obsidian-bright as he watches you strain and break around his hand.

His fingers speed up, ruthless. Your vision whites out for a moment, the world reduced to a pulse at his fingertips and the need to grind down against the heel of his palm. You stifle a cry as you shudder through it. When you collapse back onto the couch, sweat pooling at your tailbone, Ji-yong snickers, slow and lazily pleased, like a cat that’s finally caught its mouse. He wipes his fingers over the inside of your thigh, smearing the mess over your skin.

He sits back, knees folded under him, biting his thumb as if he can’t quite believe what he’s accomplished. “You look good like that,” he says, words a little disjointed, staring at you still trembling on his couch. His eyes roam: your flushed thighs, the way your chest lifts and falls, the collapse of your limbs over his furniture. “You look—” he stops, overfull, and opts to crawl up beside you and press a string of soft, private kisses along your jaw.

You let him, still not quite able to coordinate your limbs. 

Neither of you says much after. The sharp and frantic edges of need are rounded off, leaving only a staggering softness. Ji-yong tucks your head under his chin, wraps his arms around you, sticky with sweat and clutching you like you might evaporate. Eventually your heart rate slows enough for you to surface, his fingers tracing idle nonsense into the patch of exposed skin at your back.

“Don't go home,” you murmur, “should've known you wanted to keep me for this.”

He chuckles, but doesn't deny it, of course he doesn't.

“I love you, jagiya.”

-

tag list: @petersasteria, @sherrayyyyy, @loveesiren, @aizshallnotbefound, @breakmeoff

[cinnbar-bun]

Already convinced just from looking at him haha that design is SPEAKING TO ME LOOK AT HIS GLASSES LOOK AT HIS HAIR AAAAA. I haven’t played that one in specific but I’ll add it to my list >:)

Also that’s awesome you mentioned it, I’ve put Countless hours into the Rune Factory series, you’re already reading my mind woah :0

Certified Ford Classics ™️:

HES SOOOOOO good he’s my favorite bachelor of the game (all the ladies tho are so good I wish we could gay marry 😔💖) and he’s lowkey really funny but also. If you squint??? HES POSSESSIVE AND REALLY OBSESSED?? My fave trope I love it.

Wayne was a close second but tbh he’s not my speed (Bambi I know you’d love him) and then after I dated Ford, Wayne pulls up with this like please. I already feel so bad dude but I’m WITH THE DOCTOR (this is in response to him asking if a guy and a girl could be friends this is PEAK denial) 😭😭😭

[persephoneflouwers]

🫀.

[satoblue]

“DIRTY LAUNDRY” — gojo satoru

satoru hates cleaning day, but after being put on laundry duty, he may find that something good will come from it (or rather — himself). | wc: 4.8k+ (oops)

MDNI, f!reader, established relationship (you’re married :D), satoru being forced to do household chores (the horror), your husband is sick in the head...for YOU, panty sniffing, inappropriate use of underwear, masturbation, no p in v, domestic and disgustingly sweet i would say (sorry heh), lowkey selfship coded bc i would so go off on this man to do work around the house LOL, extra of the aftermath at the end (satoru gets in trouble), not much banter + more so yelling (on your part aha), the only person he fears in the world is YOU. | dividers made by me

There are three hundred and sixty five days in a whole year, and of those many there is only one day during which the earth completes its entire revolution around the sun that Gojo Satoru, the Strongest, despises with a passion — Cleaning Day.

No, there is not a designated day around the world in which all people drop whatever they are doing just to deep clean their entire house, but in the Gojo household, unfortunately, there is. And maybe it is because you, his wife, are his world, so the event feels bigger than it actually is. Though, even with this seemingly romantic sentiment, the poor man feels shivers run down his spine just thinking about what was soon to come.

Do not get him wrong — Satoru loves his home, and only because you occupy the space and fill it with your warmth through every smile you grace him with. He loves how you adorn and furnish it, how you make it yours as the rightful Mrs. Gojo. There was not a single area which did not have the trace and essence of you, his darling wife. Your husband takes into account everything you do, and therefore, notices even the smallest things out of place. He is fulfilled and endeared with the knowledge that his woman has been there, and his woman has indeed made the decision that the strange ball decor you are so fond of and chose to put in a designated area on the shelf in the hallway would no longer be in its usual spot, but five inches to the right of it — and simply because you wanted it there.

You were a little weird like that, but it filled him with immense joy that you were weird about the place you share together and call home. And he, in turn, is very weird about you — something he will prove time and time again. You have a certain flair, a touch that lingers around this place that is so uniquely you. This, unfortunately, also applies to cleaning just the same. Most people have normal fears — spiders, heights, the dark. But Gojo Satoru’s is firstly, his wife, and secondly, a little black smiley face drawn in sharpie with the words ‘Cleaning Day!’ written right beside it which you mark on the calendar to remember. In all truth, he thinks the color of the marker you chose is symbolic in representing the terror and trauma that comes with the day.

Okay, maybe he’s being a little dramatic, but your dearest husband could be walking past the wall where the calendar was hung — and then? His body will have a visceral reaction. He’ll become visibly tense and turn pale. He doesn’t even have to look, he can feel its presence like a ghost. It is accurate if he does say so himself, because that is what Cleaning Day is to him — a ghost, a shadow come to torment him, always lurking and lingering before slowly but surely approaching before you even realize it.

Even so, no matter how much distaste your husband holds towards something so inanimate — there is not a single day that goes by where he does not love and adore you to the fullest. Perhaps that is why you put up with him all the time, because you know the extent of his love for you even when he’s being absolutely insufferable (which he knows himself is all the time). But he also knows this — whenever he is with you, anything and everything is somehow bearable. When he’s by your side and heeding your commands, he is the happiest, and Satoru has no problem spending the rest of his life being told what to do by you and you alone... even if it’s chores too, he guesses.

Though, even with that in mind, still, another thing he didn’t look forward to today, to top it all off, is the tensions that came between you two because of all the stress — and not the hot kind!

“Honey,” you peek in, calling out to your husband by the doorway of your shared bedroom, drawing his attention with your saccharinely soft voice.

There it is.

The trap.

Satoru prepares himself, taking a deep breath.

“I don’t wanna!”, he whines back almost immediately, hiding under the cozy covers that smelt like you, hoping the bed would suck him right in and he’d disappear. You hadn’t spoken on your true intentions yet, trying to butter him up first. It wouldn’t work though because he knew, he always knew.

Your smile strains into something unnatural and scary.

“Stop playing around and get up!” You snap, dropping the act, approaching quicker than the speed of light and ripping the blankets off of him, annoyed you had to play this game of cat and mouse every single time.

Satoru flinches at your tone in exaggeration, straightening up and out of bed like a soldier called to duty. You roll your eyes at his antics. Why did he always feel the need to be so dramatic? Actually, never mind — this was your husband you were talking about.

Crossing your arms, you give him a scrutinizing once-over which would usually have his dick up in no time (it still does) before heaving out a sigh, turning on your heel gracefully as you do and padding out of the bedroom and down the hall, expecting him to follow. He does, albeit, like a kicked puppy rather than the powerful sorcerer everyone knows him to be, and all because of his very, very mean wife — who wasn’t mean all the time, just specifically when he was being lazy or leaving his stinky socks around the house.

“Stop looking at me like that.” You tut in disapproval. Satoru can still tell you care, from the way your brows knit together and your eyes soften just a bit at his fitful demeanor. Your voice grows a tad gentler now. “You’re in charge of the laundry, okay? I left the basket over there —”, you point somewhere to the ground, assigning him with his own special task, but he finds himself barely paying attention to anything (except for your ass that was swaying rather temptingly in front of him).

Cerulean blue stares after you, and he opts for hugging himself like the very definition of a pouty child who had gotten a rather harsh scolding from his parents, sliding his way childishly towards the living space, his Cinnamoroll slippers chafing loudly against the floors. White brows furrow, and Satoru’s eyes widen with his classic pitiful look when you turn your attention to the carpets, switching on that dreadfully loud machine which has even the cat running leaps around the house in fear (of your wrath and said machine). He couldn’t help but be on the same page with his sworn enemy more than today.

“Stupid laundry…”, he whispers to himself, peeking at you from the corner of his eye right after the words leave his mouth to make sure you didn’t hear him over the noise. Heh, can’t be too careful — you tend to have selective hearing.

Flopping side to side theatrically, he makes his way over to the full laundry basket on the floor, lifting it up effortlessly. Satoru looks over at you, pout deepening and jutted lip growing more pronounced by the second as he glares half-heartedly at your back, sending you waves telepathically to turn around and watch as you force your distressed lover to perform labor. It melts away rather quickly, however, his blue gaze softening so easily against his will as he watches you fiddle around, completely in the zone, maneuvering the expanse of the living room with the vacuum in hand, paying him no mind.

The basket almost slips out of his hands as he admires the sight of you performing such a menial task. Honestly, Satoru could stand here and watch you for hours and hours and hours, even if you were doing nothing. But that’s also the thing, you are never doing nothing. You are living and breathing, existing as his wife, and you do it beautifully. Hair messy and clothes shabby, even in your rage — you were the definition of perfection. How could someone have such a powerful hold over him, he could never begin to understand. The love you both hold for each other was far from simple, so perhaps it has something to do with that. It’s like every thought flies out of his head when you fall into his sights like an angel, and Satoru, well, Satoru just goes dumb.

He waits there like an idiot for a couple more moments, taking advantage of the seconds until you turn around and likely scream at him for standing around and wasting time, eyes glued to your figure, tracing all over you, from the top of your head to your sock-clad feet (he wonders if you can feel him touching you with only his gaze), before eventually coming back down to earth.

With a serene sigh and acceptance on his face, Satoru relents, coming to terms with the fact you won’t look back at him and change your mind about him doing chores, the very word leaving a bad taste in his mouth, no matter how big his puppy dog eyes are that he throws in your direction (you were always a cat person anyway). He has That Look, the one that says — ‘Even in my impatience, I will listen’. He can never fight with you, because you are always right. If you say it’s his job to do the damn laundry, then it is. And with that, he gives you one last glance for good measure, sights pointedly lingering on your derrière, before turning and heading straight to the laundry room (taking his damn sweet time while at it).

Setting the basket down on the counter, your dutiful husband sifts through the laundry to separate the clothes into two piles like you taught him that one time. Something about the white clothes getting stained and ruined if they get washed with the dyed fabrics. He didn’t really know about that type of stuff, but he didn’t want to be on the receiving end of your scorn by fucking this up, so he just followed your instructions.

Truthfully, Satoru didn’t understand you at times (though, he supposes he never will). Why would you waste your time on tedious things like cleaning when he could hire help to get it done for the both of you? It’s been that way since he was a child, so he was used to the lifestyle until you came along. He is not lacking in money, and you could finally catch a break instead of complaining about your back all the time . . . Or maybe you like playing as his little housewife. The thought brings his infamous cocky grin to his face before it quickly drops, nose scrunched in disgust at a rather unpleasant smell wafting into his nostrils. 

“What the —”

Oh, it was just his socks.

Satoru grumbles to himself, annoyed and muttering under his breath, barely able to hear himself over the vaccuming in the other room, going on his usual spiel about how much he hates today (and how much he hates his stinky socks — and he knows you wouldn’t disagree with that sentiment), which he wouldn’t have the same confidence saying directly to your face as he continues to dig through the vast mountain of clothes. He releases a long, drawn out sigh, deft fingers hooking into soft fabrics until he pauses, spotting something rather interesting in the pile.

“Eh? What do we have here?”

Taking his arm out from the bin, Satoru’s face lights up with curiosity as he pulls out a cute, pink, strawberry-patterned number with a small bow sewn into the front hem, holding it up to the light, a cheeky glint in his eye. First, his sights dart across the room, waiting for you to pop up around the corner and start berating him for being a pervert at a time like this.

When you don’t, he officially deems it safe, turning his attention back to what was important. He pinches the straps and examines them from every possible angle, a sly smile creeping on his face. He shuts one eye, making optimal use out of the other, intently focused. He has never been more serious about anything. In fact, if he had a tiny magnifying glass in his pocket, it’d be used for moments like this — for him to be weird about his wife’s dirty underwear.

“Oops, I think I might have found something that doesn’t belong to me.~”, he chirps.

Cerulean eyes inspect the (adorable) piece of fabric, and out of instinct, Satoru’s gaze falls on the subtle stains on the seat of the panties, and his smile grows even wider into something cheshire and menacing. He can’t help but let out a low, impressed whistle, eyes twinkling mischievously. Thick fingers trace the stains on the tiny gusset, amusement written all over his face. He giggles to himself.

“Hehe, this is so... cute. Why haven’t I seen these before?”, he inquires to himself with pursed lips, voice laced with feigned innocence as he bats his lashes. Why would you hide these from him? It’s the only possible conclusion he could get to. He’s certain he is well informed in every pair of undies you own — lacey, granny, g-string, thong (and you look unbelievably sexy in all of them). Did you know he’d be gross about these too? Well, you were right.

Satoru slingshots them across the room, and they make a little ping! sound as they hit one of the machines. He repeats the action a few more times but grows tired of it after a few minutes. Next, he tries them on for funsies. But his face soon falls, his pouty expression returning as he tries to squeeze his large frame into them.

“Geez, I’m not that big.”

He wiggles his hips, trying to make them fit, but they’re just too small. He looks down at himself, a mixture of disappointment and amusement on his face, before letting out a loud sigh.

“Aw, no fair! These were supposed to be cute on me too...”

Satoru huffs even more, trying to adjust them so they sit more comfortably, but it’s a lost cause. They were too tight on him, and he’s peeved as well as a little offended he can’t fit into his wife’s underwear like you can his. So, he takes them off, almost tripping over his long legs that get stuck in the holes, before holding them up to his face.

“Don’t tell anyone I did that, okay?”, he whispers to the flimsy cloth in sworn secrecy.

Satoru twirls the panties around his finger, the fabric wrapping around it like a ribbon. The man grows bored, forgetting what he’s in there for in the first place, lips puckered in thought. He spins them in circles, whistling to himself as he leans against the shelf before pausing abruptly. He blinks. An idea pops in his head. He stares at the strawberry-pattern, eyes traveling from the little bow to the sheer white stain. Once again, he looks around the laundry room, ensuring he’s still alone, before slowly bringing the pair close to his face, his twitching nose almost grazing the soft fabric. With caution, he takes a deep sniff, his eyes fluttering shut as he inhales the scent, a throaty moan escaping his lips.

Oh. Yeah. That’s the stuff.

He takes another inhale, face buried in the fabric. He lets out a low, guttural groan, cock throbbing in his pants instantaneously, an immediate reaction, his entire body tensing as the aroma overwhelms him. He goes for another whiff, and then another, his nose pressed firmly against the thin cloth, his breathing growing ragged, becoming intoxicated on you.

Satoru hears the vacuum shut off in the distance and his eyes shoot open, face flushed with arousal and adrenaline. He pulls the panties away from his face with a shaky hand, eyes dilated and hazy with uncontrollable desire. Quickly clutching his treasure close to his chest right over where his heart is thumping loudly against his ribs as if trying to hide them from view — he waits, frozen in place, before he hears it rumbling to life again. A sigh of relief leaves his lips.

He looks down at them again, his gaze lingering on the wet spots before he brings them to his mouth, his tongue darting out to lick the discharge off the fabric. His eyes roll back into his head, a loud pornographic moan escaping his lips as the taste explodes on his tongue. He starts licking faster like it’s his favorite popsicle, practically shoving the whole thing into his mouth to get every drop of your dried juices off it.

“Mmm...”, Satoru whines. “O-oh no... This is...” A shaky breath. “— really bad...” He pants, whispering to himself in a strained voice.

Satoru’s grip on the panties tightens possessively. His breath quickens, cock twitching in his pants the more he breathes in your scent. Those blue eyes are half-lidded, dark and clouded with something primal — a hunger he only gets with you. He pulls the little number out of his mouth, his breathing heavy, a thin strand of saliva connecting them to his lips. He wants nothing more than to taste more of you directly from the source.

A hand flies to his crotch, and he rubs, his cock straining against his grey sweatpants, leaking pre-cum like a broken faucet. The taste of you is driving him insane, and he reminisces on the numerous times he’s buried his face between your legs and ate you out like a man starved, wishing so badly he could do it right now.

Satoru’s muffled sounds grow louder, but it is nothing in comparison to the noisy vacuum in the background — his hand moving frantically against his clothed cock. He’s in a complete daze. He wants more, so much more. He wants to feel your warm cunt wrapped around his cock, squeezing him tightly. Wants to hear your cries and screams of pleasure, and most of all — to see your face twisted in ecstasy as he makes you cum over and over again like the mess you are beneath him when he takes you every night.

With that, your husband rips your panties out of his mouth, drool running down his chin, quickly freeing his massive cock, pre weeping from the tip in globs. He takes the measly cloth, wrapping it around his shaft, using it like a makeshift fleshlight. He starts stroking himself, grunting and groaning loudly as he fucks your underwear. His breathing grows heavier, cheeks pink, eyes glassy, his balls tightening up, ready to explode at any moment.

Satoru’s strokes become faster and faster, his hips bucking wildly as he thrusts into your panties like a madman. The small room fills with the lewd schlicking of his cock and his guttural, borderline filthy sounds. Standing there, he imagines how it would feel to have your hot, tight cunt clenching around his cock instead of this flimsy piece of fabric. Your husband could just go over to where you were now, to the real thing, and bend you over and fuck the attitude and temper out of you. He grits his teeth, practicing self control.

Suddenly, your voice rings out, calling for him over the loud vibrations of the machine. He stills, a pounding in his ears as he holds his breath before he starts stroking himself again at a pace. He could get caught, but that knowledge only serves in making the whole situation hotter, his hand moving even faster as he tries to stifle his grunts. The sound of your voice fuels him, and he can feel himself getting closer to the edge, the thrill of you walking in sending a shiver down his spine and straight to his cock, the massive thing twitching and bobbing in his hold.

Another “Satoru!”, and he leaks.

“A-ah! I’m coming, fuck!” 

And just like he said he would, Satoru cums, his cock erupting like a geyser, thick ropes of hot, sticky seed shooting out of him. He shudders violently, the orgasm hitting him hard, mind going completely blank from the sheer intensity of it all. The only thing on his mind is you. Your husband whimpers loudly, your name tumbling heedlessly out of his lips over and over again like a prayer, giving more energy into the hand working his cock than any chore he’s ever done in his life.

“Oh god… oh god!”

“What?!”, you yell back to him in confusion, blissfully unaware as your voice drowns out into background noise.

Satoru continues to ejaculate, coating your underwear in a thick layer of his white fluid. He keeps thrusting into the makeshift fleshlight, milking himself dry, his entire body trembling. He moans your name again, his cock twitching violently as he pumps more and more out and the fabric soaks it up greedily just like your cunt would, legs going weak and numb from right under him due to the sheer intensity of his orgasm. Meanwhile, you continue to vacuum in the living room, none the wiser.

His movements eventually come to a full stop, sighing in satisfaction with a hoot, staring at your now messy pair of panties. The idiot admires his handiwork with a perverted sense of pride, a wide goofy grin on his face, wiping his slicked cock with them, smearing more of his mess onto it as he shivers at the oversensitivity.

You shout again over the vacuum from the other room, causing him to yelp in surprise. “Putting the clothes in the washing machine should not take that long!” He quickly scrambles to clean himself up, making himself presentable by adjusting his pants, hiding your soiled panties beneath the other clothes before he makes his way to you.

Satoru strolls back into the living room, whistling in satisfaction to himself, hands in the pockets of his sweats, trying to act casual and pretend like he wasn’t just doing the nastiest thing imaginable in the laundry room with your underwear. You stop vacuuming and turn to him, throwing him a scathing look.

He gives you a disarming smile, wrapping his arms around you and burying his face in your neck, giving you a kiss, trying to defuse your fuse with affection and his classic charm. You brush him off, vexed. “What the hell was taking you so long?!” He opens his mouth to speak but you don’t let him. “Never mind.” You groan, “Just... go throw out the trash.” You pause. “Please?”, you add to sweeten the deal.

Satoru winces slightly at first, but then he internally groans. Taking out the trash is one of the most boring chores he has to do. Then you just had to tack on the ‘please’ and his resolve crumbles instantly. Damn it, how could he say no when you asked him so nicely? He sighs dramatically, trying to act put-out by the request.

“Ugh, fineee.” He whines.

You glare.

He quickly shuts up, sensing your growing irritation. He knows better than to push your buttons right now, especially when you are already pissed at him. So, he begrudgingly lifts up the trash bag, trying his best to show off his beefy biceps as he does this, and heads for the door, muttering under his breath about how much of a hassle taking out the trash is.

Right before he makes his exit, Satoru glances behind him one last time, only to see you staring intently . . . at his muscles. Your eyes flit up to his rather quickly and suspiciously, noticing the pause in his movements. “What?”

He smirks, smug in a way that screams Satoru.

“There’s no need to be shy.” He starts smoothly and you quirk a brow, pursing your lips. “You can look. It’s okay to want all of this, babe.” The bastard flirts with a wink.

Satoru flexes his biceps and his back as casually as he can one last time for good measure, grunting and groaning excessively as he does so, and those gorgeous eyes of yours roll in exasperation, but he can still pick up on the small telltale hint of a smile gracing your lips.

There it is.

That smile.

You love it, you love him. No matter how much you play hard to get even though you’re already stuck with him forever, there was a reason why you still chose him out of all the men in the world (and it totally has everything to do with how amazing and handsome he is).

“Just go, you big idiot.”, you speak in finality, your tone conveying what your words fail to express, eyes shimmering with an unspoken emotion. But he knows what it is, and he knows you know it too.

Satoru salutes, body tall and rigid, one hand holding the heavy black trash bag while the other comes to rest just at his forehead. His cute brows scrunch together in playful seriousness, eyes full of respect, unwavering like his devotion towards you. In that instant, the world seems to pause, the gesture being both simple and profound, a silent vow from him to you. It spoke volumes even after all the hassle of today, and you need not ever say more.

“Yes, ma’am!”

He would follow you to the ends of the world.

a while later . . .

Walking into the laundry room, you go to check to see if the wash cycle is complete so you can transfer the wet clothes into the dryer — only to find out he didn’t even start it or anything! With loud stomps, you storm out of the room, making your way down the hall, basket in hand, up to where he’s lounging on the sofa, playing Candy Crush on his phone without a care in the world — but the sweetness of the previous moment would soon dissipate.

“Satoru! You didn’t even put the laundry in the machine!”

Shit.

The culprit jolts in his seat on the couch, looking up from his phone to see you standing there with the laundry basket in your hands, looking like you’re about to explode with anger. He immediately feels a pang of guilt, and a little apologetic, but mostly — fear.

How did he forget to put the laundry in? He quickly pockets his phone and tries to play it cool.

“O-oh, I, uh, must have forgotten. My bad sweetie...” he titters.

“Forgotten?”, you repeat in disbelief and he blinks dumbly. “It was the only thing I asked you to do in there!”

You slam the basket down on the coffee table, making him jump. His eyes widen as you surf through the clothes to separate the clothing into two piles, and in a moment of revelation, Satoru suddenly remembers the little surprise he left in there — and he freezes.

He can only watch on in horror as you begin to touch and examine each and every article of clothing with a keen eye, his heart rate spiking. It is inevitable. You are going to stumble upon the mess he made earlier; the cum-soaked, used panties that he left in the dirty laundry with the rest of the clothes — and you were going to chew him up and spit him out before evidently, killing him.

Fuck.

He tries to speak up, to stop you from continuing, but his throat feels dry and his tongue feels heavy in his mouth. All he can do is sit there frozen, face pale and sweat starting to bead on his forehead as you get closer and closer to finding out.

You huff. “Why do you always act like everything is so difficult? All you have to do is —” You pause, and Satoru’s heart sinks to his stomach.

“What is that?”, you pronounce your words slowly, voice low and full of suspicion, hands getting wet with something sticky and white.

Your husband can feel his soul leave his body as soon as you pull out that cute number which is very obviously drenched (he has a big load). The poor man swallows hard, perspiration pouring down the side of his temple, palms growing clammy.

This is it. This is the end. This was how the Strongest would die — at the hands of his wife.

You look down at the soiled fabric in disgust, grossed out by the tacky mess on your hands. Knowing the type of person your husband is (a pervert), it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what the so-called ‘mysterious fluid’ is.

Satoru sits there, looking like he’s about to pass out, cheeks now pink and sockets round in utter embarrassment, the picture perfect definition of someone who has been caught. A pair of cerulean eyes dart around the room, desperately searching for an escape route while another, sharp and terrifying, latch onto his form — and he knows no amount of sweet talking will be able to get him out of this one.

He is absolutely screwed.

p.s. — satoru is banned from doing laundry ever again. he can’t help but be a little disappointed even though he never wanted to do it in the first place :’(

[suiana]

fellas, have you ever wondered if a man could ever be as adorable and cute as a baby kitten? well now you can experience and love on in real life! suiana presents to you innocent! yandere and smitten reader ❤️

your very own innocent boy who doesn't even know what NNN or OF means. his instagram feed is full of baking and and clothing ideas, he goes out to help stray animals, and he goes on daily walks to the park to reconnect with nature. he has no idea what a skibidi toilet is, brain completely nourished with the books he borrows from the library. yeah, this guy smells like bread and cookies too btw, he does lots of baking. and cooking. have i mentioned he's completely skilled in the kitchen? yeah, he is.

by some stroke of luck, you meet him one day and... look, he's just the cutest thing ever! i mean, he's fashionable, smells good, and was even defending a stray dog from being bullied by some kids. so you ask him out on a date, but the second you ask him the question you swear you could just die on the spot... because tell me why his entire face is red and he's genuinely so happy??? all smiley faced and blushing like a tomato???

oh it's his first time getting asked out and he's flustered??? he's never been approached by anyone before??? he thinks you're really attractive and he would like to go out on a date too??? oh my god guys, he's even asking if you're comfortable with him rambling like this and not trying to get too close without your consent😭

anyway the two of you go out on a date and you think you just might marry him on the spot with how much of a gentleman he's being??? INSISTING on paying for your meal, respecting your distance and being genuinely curious about you on a deeper level. no mention of hooking up, being casual fwb or anything like that. he's... actually looking for a serious relationship unlike your previous partners? holy shit? so you asked him his thoughts on cheating and some other stuff...

"so what are your thoughts on cheating?"

"cheating?"

"yeah, like when you get with someone else when you're dating."

"isn't that illegal?"

HELLO??? he thinks cheating is ILLEGAL??? you had to spend the rest of your date trying not to cry or hug him because he ended up finding out some devastating news.

"yes... cheating is illegal unfortunately."

"I don't know why. it should be illegal, that is a very bad thing to do 😦 do people actually cheat? really? no way."

UGRHGRGR you two end up dating and he's the sweetest guy you've been with. cute date nights, reassurance that you're perfect and enough, handmade gifts and deep talks into the night that deepen your bond together... the only problem is just that maybe he's a little too sweet.

he's constantly buying you gifts, telling you how much he appreciates you and just... being the perfect boyfriend? the perfect clingy boyfriend.

at first you found it cute. but...

why is he so in love with you? why is he so nice? you don't know what to do with a man as sweet as him and can only give into his seemingly harmful actions. you used to think that he had an ulterior motive but... you don't know whether you're being deceived or not. why would you? he's not being manipulative. how could he ever be manipulative? he's just a sweet and nice green flag!

asking you to always be with him? that's just a romantic thing everyone else says. chasing away any people who shows the slightest bit of interest, even if it's not confirmed to be romantic? what kind of boyfriend would he be if he didn't do that? asking for your location if you ever try to go out without him? silly lover, why would you worry him like that?

no no, he's not being possessive. okay, maybe he is. it's just a tiny bit though! surely you're fine with that. after all, he's still treating you like the royalty that you are. he should be allowed some grace for his unwillingness to share.

you're not sure whether or not he's truly innocent or not. was he even innocent to begin with? maybe, maybe not. perhaps it was all just an act...

but you shouldn't think that. why would you think badly of your boyfriend who's only ever been sweet to you? even during fights, he doesn't raise his voice and actively listens to you, trying to resolve the issue. he could never want to hurt you.

after all, he's your innocent boyfriend that you're smitten with, right?

[kaivenom]

Hii, may I ask One piece dilf first reaction to having a wet dream about you? If it's not a problem could you include Benn Beckamn in this one?

Thanks

OP Dilfs reaction to having a wet dream about you

Characters: Doflamingo, Mihawk, Crocodile, Smoker, Shanks, Benn Beckman

A/N: this is pre-relationship.

Masterlist

Dracule Mihawk

He is perplexed, how can he have so little control over himself?

He refuses to jerk off but somehow he still rubs himself a little to feel some relief, and that makes him feel even more like an animal.

All day he feels like he is on a cloud, and if he has a sichibukai meeting, everyone notices it.

It's like he is there but his mind is somewhere else... obviously nobody know but his mind is on his dream about pounding you so hard that he could split your cunt open with your legs over his shoulders.

Worse if you are on the meeting, cause his gaze would accidentally follow you.

Donquixote Doflamingo

He wakes up with a moan that turns into a laugh.

He feels like the most mischiveous bastard ever and he is enjoying it.

He jerks off himself and gets thru the day as ussual, but everyone notices just how he is more smiley and flirtatious.

He keeps himself close to you all day, with a little to much physical contact.

You just think he is doing jokes on you, that today is the day that you have to put up with him and his temper.

But in reality he is trying to make you see how much he wants you, he tries to make you notice his boner and in some delusional way express affection towards you.

Sr. Crocodile

He is in a bad mood for the rest of the day.

He doesn't do anything about the boner and expects it to go soft with time.

He tries to keep his day as normal as he could but the images of you are just getting back.

He sees you on the office and inmediatly fantasize about you riding him on the office chair.

There is a period of time in his office when he is just looking at the ceiling and imagine you entering and getting on the desk ready for him.

That's why he hates dreaming about you, cause then the desire and the longing is to much to handle.

Smoker

He goes to the shower and tries to forget it, but he couldn't forget and his dick is going up and down all day.

He becomes really clumsy all day, to the point were even his subordinates tell him to stay on his chambers/office.

Very conveniently, he gets the clumsier when you are around.

Tripping over his feet, hitting his face against a door or wall, falling due to not seeing the final step on the stair, and more.

He ends up getting on the nursery and rest there a couple of hours.

Then he couldn't help it anymore and starts to slowly and painfully stroke himself, feeling a little guilty but also full of lust.

Akagami Shanks

He jerks off and then tries to rub it off by being the most comical men in the world.

You don't even know what happened but you can just confirm that Shanks will be glued to you all day and he would be all his comedian ass for the day.

Thru the day Shanks try to bury the memory of your ass from behind taking him in four by making new memories more impactful.

But he isn't really good at it cause his intentions show up unconsciously.

Awkard flirting and sexy jokes all day that are little hints.

Benn Beckmann

He smokes more than ussual.

He is so stunned and bervous about the dream that he needs to lit a cigarrette up just to calm his nerves.

He sees you and he tries to ignore you but at the same time he salivates for you, a little to obvious.

He checks you out all day, everywhere and even more when you are talking to another person.

You try to get close to him for anything and he is just standing there completely still.

You assume is just a bad mood day for him, but he is trying to hide his boner from you and trying not to take you on his lap.

[beeing1alive]

Tokyo Revengers Boys, if you kiss them without warning

Note: You are not yet in a relationship in this scenario, but about to be. I hope you like it

Mikey didn't think about it at all and just kissed you back a few seconds later. You couldn't tell by looking at him, but he was naturally uncomfortable. He doesn't regret it though, he loves your soft lips and wants to kiss them again, but he knows that he'll probably have to make the first move.

Darken just looked at you for a few seconds and realised what you'd just done. As always, he tried to play it cool, like he didn't really care, but I can tell you, later that night, he thought about it and he couldn't stop smiling and he hoped that he'd get to kiss you again someday.

Mitsuya blushed, but pulled you close. Honestly, he likes you either way, so why wouldn't he do that, it's one of the best chances he'll ever have. He would have acted on intuition and of course he let you go as soon as he realised what he'd done and apologised. Still, his thoughts kept going back to it, he doesn't know why himself.

Chifuyu definitely enjoyed it and even closed his eyes to savour the moment even more. But unfortunately, this magical moment had gone as quickly as it had come. When your soft lips moved away from his again, he woke up from his own little bubble and got a little scared. Of course, he apologised to you and disappeared as quickly as he could.

Baji took you by the shoulders after the kiss as gently as he could at that moment and asked you what you were thinking. You might think at that moment that he didn't like it but, let me tell you, he loved it. Since that moment, he hasn't been able to think straight or sleep. He wants you to do it again. Again and again and again, but of course he won't tell you that.

Takemichi has stopped breathing, but still puts an arm around you. With his arm gently wrapped around your waist and your face so close to yours, your lips on his. He doesn't quite know why, but he thanked you for the kiss and maybe cried a little, not crying, but maybe a single, happy tear running down his cheek.

Angry returned the kiss. Simply without thinking about it and, in fact, at that moment without any charm. Unfortunately, the embarrassment only came afterwards and, much to his regret, much more strongly than usual. He ran away, to be honest, but he couldn't do anything but think about it all day until he finally lay in his bed and replayed the whole moment in front of his eyes, like a film, over and over again and he also wondered what would have happened if he had stayed there.

Smiley pulled you closer to him and asked you what you thought you were doing. Paired with that mischievous grin, he looked very amused, but don't worry, you'll just have to remain constant, withstand his gaze and, if you're feeling particularly brave, kiss him again. I promise you, his confident facade fell away and he did the anoint like his brother, he ran off to think about it, which he actually did. He couldn't think about anything else, but that's another problem.

Hakkai's brain has stopped working. He can't remember almost anything, just one thing. Your soft, gentle lips on his and how much he longs to kiss you again. He probably left without a word, didn't talk to anyone else that day either, and this memory, this realisation, only came into his head in the evening and he thought about it for the rest of the night and his cheeks glowed red, like fire, the whole time.

Kazutora asked you directly what you had done. He didn't understand why this, objectively speaking, so simple touch felt so good. He's just so starved for touch and will also ask you if you can do it again. Please, just give him another kiss, then he'll be satisfied for a while and think about it for a while until it occurs to him that he might like you. It hits him like a wave of emotions, he wants you to touch him more often, but he doesn't know whether and how to tell you.

Koko was confused but happy and asked you what the kiss was for. For a few seconds he was afraid that you might have just kissed him because you wanted money from him, but this thought quickly disappeared when you told him with that sweet blush on your face that you just wanted to kiss him and hadn't thought about it. He also gave you a kiss and then just carried on with what he was doing before, leaving you confused. But honestly, he didn't sleep that night because he had to think about your soft lips.

Inupi returned the kiss and he loved it, of course he didn't show it outwardly, his usual expression adorned his face, but the slight, sweet blush on his face gave him away. He actually thought about it for a long time and came to the conclusion that he liked you. I mean, what else could be the reason that he wants to kiss you again and again and that he really longs for it?

Hanma teased you about it, but of course he understood that it meant a lot, he's not as stupid as he seems. He laughed about it and made fun of it, but he caught himself thinking about it over and over and he wanted to feel it again. No kidding, he wants to be kissed by you again, but a little more intimate, more personal. As you can guess, he'll never admit it, maybe someday when you're in a committed relationship.

Attention: The characters and the GIF do not belong to me. All credits go to the original owners. If you want anything to be changed or removed please contact me.

[aylinaliens]

langdon and mel already do so many couple-y things that when langdon tries to properly ask mel on a date she doesn’t think it’s a DATE-date

an undetermined time in canon langdon is divorced from abby. it takes them awhile to decide if they want to separate but they eventually do. mel has been a solid friend throughout the whole process you know the whole yadda yadda thing

for the past how many months maybe years, the lines between langdon & mel are fully blurred. they crash at each others places so often they each have multiple drawers in each others houses. their fridges are stocked with the others favorite coffee creamer and yogurt flavor. they go for long walks in the park and explore new & exciting things about this city they call home.

for all intents and purposes they are full on in an emotional relationship without the physical aspect although they have came close a few times

mel is so used to grabbing a meal after her shift with langdon that when he walks in one day while she’s picking debris from a fifteen year old aspiring BMX driver and asks mel if she’ll go out with him, if she doesn’t have any plans how about they check out this new italian place that opened up near becca’s center

mel spares it no extra thought & tells langdon that of course :) she would love to go out with him :) italian sounds nice :) she loves breadsticks and chicken carbonara :)

it’s obviously not a date-date but mel’s patient—lucy, a self-proclaimed daredevil with a clumsy streak—is like looking at the nurse assisting dr. king like 👀 and mateo is like 👀 but mel is too happy picking out the gravel from lucy’s forearm gash and asking her about BMXing that she doesn’t even notice anything amiss

and because langdon is no different from an untrainable husky he’s literally the most INSUFFERABLE guy ever. like he’s going around the er bouncing off the walls so erratically that robby gave him a random drug test because langdon is crashing out big time. all he tells anyone who asks what has him shitting and pissing rainbows is that he has a date…a man is allowed to be in a good mood that he’s going on a date later that night with a women he loves... it takes them .5 seconds to know who he’s going on a date with

mel is her normal self? definitely not acting any different than she typically does any other day???? she declines mohan & santos & whitaker’s offer for drinks after their shifts because she’s going out to dinner with dr. langdon though so it’s 100% confirmed what everyone already knew

perlah & princess are having a field day with the gossip. mckay is 60 dollars richer because she accurately guessed what month the pair of them will officially get together, collins is 80 dollars richer because she was the one who guessed langdon would be the one asking her on a real date first

langdon is being extra smiley with mel…like that man wags his metaphorical tail every time she graces his presence

flash forward to the end of the shift, mel takes the bus home since langdon has to stay a little later and she would like to take a shower before they go out anyways. that works for langdon since he wants to get ready too

since it’s a nice italian place with no prices on the menu (langdon had sent her the menu beforehand, like ten whole minutes after she told him yes) so mel puts on a nice dress, leaves her hair mostly down & natural, and throws on some minimal makeup

langdon is all 🧿👄🧿 when mel opens the door

the two end up going to the restaurant and that’s when mel finds out he had a reservation??? that this place is notoriously hard to get into???? and that he went out of his way to request a table that was on the terrace because it’s more secluded and less stuffy than inside was, which mel appreciates because she would not be able to relax for one second if she was inside

they spend the not-date talking about work and becca and his kids that mel adores and langdon reaches for her hand which isn’t…weird? like…he held her hand as they walked inside the restaurant.

except he’s also saying a lot of leading things that sounds like someone would say on a date but it’s ridiculous because mel and frank are nothing more than best friend? her crush torpedoed soon after he came back from rehab but he has not shown or vocalized that he views mel in a romantic light.

the not-date goes well and then they head off to the park for a walk because langdon said he didn’t want this night to end just yet 🥺

and okay mel has had boyfriends in the past. she might lag behind on cues sometimes but she’s semi-confident when it comes figuring out is someone is attracted to her. the probably with frank langdon is that he has ALWAYS acted this particular way toward her, always looked at her with those striking blue eyes like she was something worthy to stare, the only difference is that in the past few months he’s been more touchy. how would she notice anything was up this time around???

she spends the whole walk analyzing…wait…this is a legitimate date, isn’t it? she didn’t realize it because the two of them do this all! the! time! the restaurant was more pricy and fancy than their usual spots but they have definitely went out for dinner and took strolls through the park

it’s not langdon walks mel to her door and kisses her cheek, telling her he’ll see her tomorrow, that she’s just like ?????? that’s it??? ‘you walked me to my door…are you not going to kiss me goodnight 🤨’

langdon the poor sap does not have to be told twice no sir he thoroughly kisses her goodnight until she tugs him inside because now that they are on the same wavelength she wants to ‘climb him like a tree’ (javadi had said this about mateo one night when she was drunk…weird visual…but it definitely applies in this situation mel does in fact want to do that!!! and more!!!!)

anyways, he finds out many months later that mel didn’t realize their first date was their first date…she can’t be blamed for that considering they went on many non-dates for a solid two years before he officially ‘asked her out’. it’s not her fault she didn’t realize the difference :)

[81pastrys]

virgin!oscar awkwardly experiencing everything, getting the hang of it, and going feral.

Slow Down

Summary— Oscar admits to being a virgin and his girlfriend talks him through how to have sex

Warnings— S. M. U. T. ; virgin!oscar ; talking him through it ; mentions of bj ; fingering ; couples shower ; rough-ish sex

A/N— remember how I said I liked Oscar? Yeah I got carried away.

Oscar One Shots

Oscar was shy, even around his girlfriend. She’d always rile him up or tease him and he’d kind of dismiss her actions saying ‘it’s too early in the relationship.’ It was not. They had been dating around 8 months now and she didn’t mind, maybe he was insecure or shy. They had moments of foreplay but never passed further than that.

Until one day he decided to come clean. She was confused, thinking he was breaking up with her for advancing it or something else. She was terrified to ‘talk’ as he texted. Her hands were clammy and her anxiety was high before he even got home.

When he did he was smiley and greeted her. She was even more confused. He could sense her anxiety and his brows furrowed. “What’s wrong?” He asked. Oscar began setting his things down and she looked at him with sad puppy eyes.

“Are you breaking up with me?” She squeaked. It’s his turn to be confused. He never wanted to give her that impression. He hugged her and promised her that he wasn’t. “Okay, your text was a bit cryptic.” She said.

“Oh, OH, no I’m not breaking up with you darling, there’s something else I want to talk about.” He said. Now he was nervous and had clammy hands. “I talked with Lando, which I know bad idea, but he said I should tell you.” He started.

He was spewing words at her and she shook her head not being able to keep up with his words. “Wait, wait, what?” She asked. She caught ‘virgin’ and nothing else.

“I’m still a virgin.” He said. Oscar was expecting her to be mad and run away, considering he was inexperienced. “Lando said I should tell you so you didn’t think I was like uninterested.” His face was pink and his emotions stayed anxious.

“Okay, but do you want to do that?” She asked. She wasn’t upset or mad, why would she be? “I don’t want you to feel pressured into it because we’re dating.” She assured him.

“No, I don’t, but I do want to, with you, I just don’t know how or what to do.” He explained, stumbling out short fragments of sentences. She figured something was up on that side of him, yeah he would finger her or eat her out but it was nothing crazy or kinky.

“You want to? Like actually?” She asked. He nodded slowly, hoping he wasn’t adding to the effect of her leaving, which she wasn’t. “It’s something you want to try with me?” She was sort of in shock at the information.

“Yes.” He got out quickly. She laughed and he joined her nervously. “Again I don’t know what to do or how to do it.” He nervously rambled on.

“It being sex? We’re adults Oscar.” She was joking to lighten the mood and he laughed genuinely now. “We can do it now or if you want it to be special I mean.” She shrugged not knowing how he wanted to go about it.

“I don’t mind now, if you want to, Lando said something about consent from you.” He mumbled the last part and she giggled again.

“Yes, I consent.” She verbally confirmed. With that, they made their way to the bedroom and he felt out of place. She kissed him gently and began undressing, he followed assuming he should also be naked.

He ran his hands over her body like he always did, making her flinch when he touched the sensitive spots. He was delicate with her, but he knew his way around the outside of her body. Just not how to please her the way he wants to tonight.

“Do you want to start or do you want me to?” She whispered seductively. His dick twitched and she giggled. “I don’t know how sensitive you’ll be, but you might not want to cum just yet.” She informed him.

“What do you mean?” She should’ve known he’d have questions. “Like if you gave me a blowjob?” He asked. She answered his questions with backup information and he understood.

“Maybe we can try that another time, for now I want you to be comfortable and not overwork yourself.” He was comfortable, maybe a bit awkward but that’s how he is. She explained that considering his size she will need a bit of foreplay, which he didn’t mind doing, but he wanted to do it right.

“You tell me what to do, I don’t want to hurt you or get it all wrong.” He stuttered a bit and she agreed she’ll tell him what she likes and not let him guess. She laid in her back and he crawled on top of her, sitting back on his heels.

“Start off how you normally would.” She said. He did, teasing her clit. She had told him in the beginning how to do that, but otherwise he was a confused mess. “You can start with one finger, or two.” She said, his face inches from hers now.

He listened and gently added two fingers, which he’s done before. He slowly thrust them in and out, moaning at her wetness. This turned her on, having to guide him through it. “How are you this wet already?”

She went red in the face before telling him to curl his fingers slightly. He did so and pushed against her g-spot with no effort. “Right there, mhm.” She barely got out. He smirked and began slowly thrusting his curled fingers in and out, speeding up his pace as she moaned and pulled him in for another kiss.

“Every time I hit this spot-“ he rested his fingers on the spongey part inside her, making her legs react and bend a little towards her as she moaned out. “you react beautifully.” He whispered on her lips. He continued, which made her start squirming.

“Holy shit Osc, you’re a natural.” She gasped. She felt an orgasm near and he wondered why her walls felt tighter than before. “I’m gonna cum-“ She strained out as he kept hitting the spot and watching her loose control under him.

“Relax baby, I’ve got you.” He rubbed her thigh and she let her orgasm hit. “Fuck you feel amazing on my fingers.” He said, slowing the pace as she breathed heavily and grabbed his bicep for leverage back into her mind.

“Ok, ok.” She breathed. He pulled his fingers out, her cum coating them. He put them in his mouth and moaned at the taste. “Freak.” She laughed. Oscar let her calm down for a minute, running a hand along her thigh and noticing her breathing even out.

“So, you said if I cum now, it’ll affect how I perform?” He wasn’t asking for a blowjob, but to clarify what she said previously.

“Yes, you’ll be too sensitive.” She confirmed. He gave her a confused look before laughing. “What? I’m serious!” She said.

“I just gave you an orgasm, is that going to ‘affect your performance’ Darling?” He teased. She laughed with him now understanding the confusion.

“No my body is different, since my muscles are relaxed now, I’ll be more capable of taking you, since you’re so big.” She whispered in his ear. He went red again, must have a praise kink. She’ll dive into that later.

He was now lost, they hadn’t gotten this far ever. Since it was so last minute, there weren’t any condoms handy. He knew the idea of how it all works, but he didn’t want to assume and be wrong.

“Now, you can line yourself up, and slowly push in.” She explained. He did so, not pushing yet. “You’re good, keep going.” She encouraged. He hesitated, but slowly eased his way in. She gasped at the initial feeling and he paused.

“Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you?” He asked, stalling his hips. She nodded and he continued the slow pace. Once he couldn’t push further he looked to her blissful facial expression and smiled. “How’s that?” He asked lovingly.

“I’ll need a minute, but yes good.” She said. He kissed her face and neck. She wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist.

“Doesn’t even fit all the way darling.” He whispered. She moaned and wiggled her hips, causing a strained moan from him. “We’ll fix that someday huh?” She moaned again and her body instinctively tightened around him. Her walls hugging his cock. How did he know about teasing her with words?

“You can move, please.” She whined. He was slow and precise in his movements, his mouth hung open in shock of how good it felt. His pace was teasingly slow.

“Can I go faster? Will it hurt you?” He was still hesitant despite being inside her and moving easily with her arousal coating him.

“Please, it won’t hurt Osc I promise.” She moaned. That’s all the confirmation he needed to pick up the pace and pound into her at an ungodly pace. He tightened his grip on her waist as she moaned out. He felt her walls suck him in more and the feeling surprised him enough to slow down.

She whined at the loss, he basically just edged her without knowing. “Fuck, you got so tight around me.” He stuttered, almost as if he was the one who was just edged.

“Do it again, I was close.” She whined to him. His hips listened to her words and he picked up his pace, angling himself to hit her g-spot dead on each time. Her legs began shaking uncontrollably as he felt her tighten again. “Yes, yes, yes please Osc don’t stop.”

He did not hesitate to continue his pace and angle. He watched as her face contorted into pleasure as he felt a gush of liquids around him. He kept his fast pace, his orgasm closer now from how she was squeezing the life out of his cock.

“Not inside, Osc, don’t cum inside.” She reminded him. He gave a few more hard thrusts before pulling out and cumming over her body. She panted and he sat back on his knees. “Jesus you’re either a natural or you were lying.”

He laughed and admired his mess. “I was not lying darling.” He said. “Do we shower, take a bath?” He was back to his nervous self and she giggled.

“We can shower, I’ll show you how we can clean up lazy nights later.” She said. They showered together, washing away the orgasms they shared and then cuddling in bed before deciding on another round to end the night. There was no way of stopping Oscar now, he was a sex demon at heart.

I think this might be one of my longest one shots

@il0vereadingstuff @angelluv16 @kallanfiona @pandabiiissh @itznotsophia

[wonderjanga]

Father’s Day

@autistic-human’s post and @moonlightcycle571’s comment on said post were the inspiration for this one. I love dad Marvel soooooo much, cause I think Billy would try his best to be a good adult figure without even realizing it can come off as parental. He’d just be doing what he would’ve wanted someone to do for him, which was be there for whichever kid no matter what. So what happens when a bunch of angsty teens with trauma meet him? He’s obviously going to try his best to be there for them!

Like Kon, when he first met Marvel, he didn’t really know what to think of the man. He was nice. Almost overwhelmingly so. He also helps Kon with anything if he ever needs help. He’s also almost always around and is willing to talk about virtually anything with Kon too. And this isn’t just exclusive to him, but to everyone. (It makes him feel slightly queasy sometimes. He hasn’t realized what he’s feeling is jealousy whenever his parental figure’s attention is on another kid.) So that’s why when Father’s Day came around and M’gann suggested they all do something for Marvel, he was a little dumbfounded. One, because he just came to the realization that he thinks of Marvel as a kinda dad, and two, because what were they going to do? Marvel isn’t actually their dad, so what if the Captain finds it weird? Kon really doesn’t want to think about Cap finding all of this weird.

The YJ eventually decided to just get Cap a gift. They were all pretty sure that’s what you were supposed to give fathers. Now the question is: what to give him?

Marvel: *goes to Mount Justice to check in on the kids*

YJ: *All in the kitchen fighting about how to frost the cookies cause they all did it differently*

Marvel: *hears them and comes to the kitchen*

YJ: *doesn’t notice him*

Kon: *Does notice and picks up his batch of cookies and goes to Marvel* “Cap.” *presents cookies to Billy*

Marvel: “Huh?” *stares at cookies. Kon’s cookies are a bunch of mishapen blobs with smiley faces* “Are these for me?”

Kon: *nods head* “They’re you.”

Marvel: *takes a cookie with one of the biggest smiles Kon has ever seen on the man’s face* “This is amazing… thanks Kon!” *bites cookie* “They’re really good too!”

Kon: “Really?” *eyes shining at the praise*

Marvel: “Yeah!” *finishes cookie and is about to grab another one*

Other YJ members: *now notice Marvel and Kon* “Wait! Wait! Wait! Try mine next!” *they all proceed to take turns shoving cookies into Marvel’s hands*

Marvel: *eats them all and gives each of them stellar reviews*

About after thirty minutes of Marvel and the kids eating cookies…

Marvel: “What was all this for by the way?”

YJ: “Huh?”

Marvel: “What was all this for? I mean, it’s not my birthday, so…” *doesn’t know it’s Father’s Day*

YJ: “Oh uh… We just felt like it.”

Marvel: “Oh. Okay!” *just happy to gobble the last, remaining cookies* “By the way, this means a lot to me. Even if it was just a spur of the moment thing. I appreciate it.”

YJ: *all super duper uper happy he loves it but trying not to show it* “No problem.” (Spoiler: they’re not very good at hiding it.)

Then there’s Damian. He’s always had a love-hate relationship with Marvel’s happy go lucky, friendly attitude, but it sort of reminds him of Grayson so he’ll never admit it but it’s leaning more towards love. The man has also weirdly never once gotten mad at him, or at anyone as far as he can tell. He’s extremely patient, and the fact that Damian hasn’t pushed the limits of that patience yet is surprising to the young Wayne. The man also knows a surprising about of animal facts and lets him pet his tiger. So that’s another bonus. The man also doesn’t underestimate him solely based on the fact he’s a child. So, when the Father’s Day holiday rolls around, he decides he would reward Marvel for being an admittedly commendable person.

Marvel: *standing by the window of the Titan’s tower, looking at Jump City*

Damian: *appears from nowhere* “Captain.”

Marvel: *jumps before looking to Damian* “Yes, Robin?”

Damian: *holds up Alfred the Cat* “This is Alfred the Cat. I’m giving you the privilege to pet him just this once. Say hi, Alfred.”

Alfred the Cat: *meows*

Marvel: “Hi.” *little wave to Alfred* “Nice to meet you, Alfred.” *shakes Alfred’s little paw before petting him*

Damian: *lets Marvel get a single pet in before pulling Alfred away* “Alright, that’s enough.”

Marvel: “Oh- uh…” *smiles at Damian* “Thanks for letting me pet him, Robin.”

Damian: “Your welcome.” *nods at him before walking off to bring Alfred back to the manor*

Then there’s also Raven. She honestly had no intention of even thinking about the holiday, considering the fact her father is a demon that actively sucks and ruins her life. Then she saw Damian do his thing and after thinking about the Captain and how the man cares for her and her team members… she supposed he should get some type of reward. The man is extremely nice after all.

A little while after Damian’s departure…

Marvel: *back to looking out the window*

Raven: *also appears out of nowhere* “Marvel.”

Marvel: *jumps just like with Damian and looks to her* “Yes, Raven?”

Raven: *presents Marvel with a mini version of himself*

Mini Marvel: *waves to Billy*

Marvel: “Wha?” *bends down slightly to look at Mini Marvel with a confused smile* “Is that me?”

Raven: *nods head* “It’s a new spell I learned. I wanted to show you.”

Marvel: *pokes Mini Marvel in the stomach* “This is… Amazing!” *gives her a wide grin* “You’re amazing!”

Raven: *a little surprised she feels happy at the man’s approval but isn’t really hating* “Thanks.”

Marvel: “Actually, wait. Hold up!” *mutters a spell and in his hand spawns a Mini Raven. He places the Mini Raven in Raven’s palm with the Mini Marvel*

Mini Marvel: *fawning over Mini Raven*

Mini Raven: *blankly staring at Mini Marvel and lets it fawn*

Marvel: “And you’re saying you learned this spell on your own?” *looks away from the Minis and to Raven* “That’s awesome. You did a wonderful job.”

Raven: *doesn’t really know how to handle all the praise* “Thanks… I’m uh… I think I left the stove on.” *instead of heading to the kitchen, runs off to her room*

Marvel ended up later telling the other members of the JL how many gifts he’s gotten that day. They were a little confused and wondered how many kids Marvel could have. But no, they found out that a lot of their own kids think of him as a somewhat father. Also, a few of the adults might’ve thought about slipping Marvel gifts when the man wasn’t looking cause Billy being a dad isn’t just exclusive to the kids.

[auras-moonstone]

kissing ethan on the cheek for good luck or something, but this is before a relationship and he got a crush on ya

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ so scarlet — ethan landry

ᡣ𐭩 word counter: 906

ᡣ𐭩 pairing: football player!ethan landry x fem!reader

ᡣ𐭩 summary: ethan is nervous about his upcoming match and y/n is the only one able to make him feel confident.

the whole group ate silently, trying to ignore the air that was thick with hesitation and tension. no one dared to speak a word, they limited themselves to exchanging glances, pushing each other to be the one to break the silence.

it was y/n who took the courage to say something. “eth… do you want my lunch? i know you love my sandwiches.” she said, seeing as he hadn’t taken one bite from his food.

ethan finally looked up from his plate and sent her a small smile, “no, thanks y/n/n. i don’t think i’ll be able to digest anything.”

the rest of the group was shocked. the reason why no one spoke to ethan before a match was because his mood hung from a thread, and any unfortunate comment made him snap.

with y/n, he was like a puppy. looked at her with soft eyes and would rather bite his tongue than bark at her.

“you’ll do amazing, eth.” she squeezed his hand.

“the rival team is really good…”

“and so is our team.” she said confidently. “look, you haven’t lost a game all season.”

“yet.” ethan added.

“there’s nothing wrong with losing sometimes. it happens, you’re good, but you’re not robots, okay? what’s important is what you do after that. do you sit and just wallow? or do you go through what you did wrong and try to make it better?”

ethan finally cracked a genuine smile. “have you ever thought about being a coach?”

y/n made a horrified face “god, no. i adore you, but dealing with more than one hockey player? i’d rather be burned alive.”

“fair enough.” he laughed and then he opened his arms to hug her. “thank you, y/n/n. you’re amazing, did you know that?” he said in awe, and her heart stuttered.

the group exchanged glances once again, they all wondered the same thing; when were those two finally going to admit their crush on each other?

“it’s nothing. feel better?” she asked softly.

“much.” ethan squeezed her tighter. “i guess i should head to training. i’ll see you all tonight.”

“and get some rest!” he heard y/n yell behind him as he walked away. he wasn’t able to stop smiling all the way to the field.

ethan’s optimistic and confident self surprised the whole team. usually, he was ripping his hair out before games. today, he spoke encouraging words and acted all smiley.

“okay. i’m just gonna say it, what is wrong with you today?” one of his teammates asked.

“nothing. i just have a good feeling about today.” ethan shrugged.

“does this confidence come from your little talk with y/n today?” chad asked

“she’s just good with words, you know?” he said, not noticing how dreamy his voice sounded. the team exchanged smirks.

“we are always trying to build up your confidence and you just roll your eyes.” his teammate said, completely offended.

“do you have a sweet soft voice, a stunning smile and give incredible hugs?” ethan asked.

his friend scoffed “yes, in fact, i do.” and ethan rolled his eyes. “i do! the only difference is that i’m not the one you’re smitten with.”

“i’m not smitten with y/n!”

“oh please, you have a crush the size of the football field.”

“i don’t!” ethan got defensive.

“landry! there’s a girl asking for you outside. i think her name was y/n” the coach said

ethan squealed and his friend gave him the look. “oh, shut up” the quarterback spat harshly before making his way to the hallway, heart pounding madly.

ethan smiled widely when he saw her standing there wearing his jersey. “hey.”

“hi, eth. sorry if i interrupted your pre-game routine.”

he shook his head, unable to erase his smile “you just made it better.”

y/n put her hands in her pockets and balanced on her feet, nervous. “i wanted to see how you were doing. you seemed extra stressed today.”

his heart melted. “i’m okay now. talking to you really helped me.”

“i’m glad i helped. and everything i said, i really meant it. you’re amazing, in and out of the field. we all trust you, no matter the outcome. that’s why we chose you as our friend, and why the coach named you captain. you need to trust yourself as much as we all trust you.”

“well, if my personal cheerleader has so much faith in me i should too.” he joked.

y/n laughed. “okay, i see you’re doing good so i should go back with the rest.”

“thank you for checking on me. i appreciate that.” he said softly, pulling her into a hug.

“good luck, eth.” she said, and without thinking, she pressed her lips against his cheek for a kiss.

both of them took a step back from each other, completely taken aback by the action. blood rushed into their cheeks, turning them scarlet.

“you missed.” ethan blurted out. y/n’s eyes widened a bit, before she started laughing. “and you’re laughing at me. great.”

“i’m sorry.“ she said, once her laughter subsided. “let me try again.”

and then their lips moulded together in an awaited kiss. “mm i think i can miss this game.” he said between kisses.

“i’m sure the coach can let you miss a game for a make out session.” she said sarcastically

“well, winning you is like winning the super bowl. he might get it.” he smirked.

“flirt.” y/n pecked his lips. “i’ll see you after the game. wanna chill at my house?”

“it’s a date.” he smiled and went back inside the locker room. he looked straight and his friend and said, “you were wrong, dude. i don’t have a crush. i think i'm in love.”

[cuteandhughesy]

Is It New Years Yet? ╰┈➤ QH43

summary: friends with benefits is great in theory but when the holiday season approaches, you begin to believe that may no longer be the case.

[word count] 3.9k

warnings: SFW! friends with benefits | friends to lovers | jealousy | angst | kissing | suggestive scenes but no actual smut | read at your own discretion

a/n: based off this request! here it is, the last fic of cuteandhughesy’s christmas special! thank you all so much for the love and support you’ve given me through this special…I can’t thank you enough! stay tuned for my 2025 planner, which I plan to publish within the next few days :)

🎵 is it new years yet? by sabrina carpenter

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

the gold sequins covering your top are extremely irritating, rubbing your underarms raw with their sharp, shiny edges. in an attempt to not freak out and just walk right out the door, you take a long and exaggerated sip from your — 5th? maybe 6th? — glass of bubbly champagne.

beside you, bella gives you a concerned look— taking a much more delicate sip out of her own glass. she's been giving you the same glances for the past hour, and at this point you've completely pretended you weren't aware of them. because you're honestly embarrassed of your own actions— anytime the door of the miller's home squeaked open, your eyes would shoot over at an alarming rate, trying to see who was walking in...trying to see if it was him.

"he's probably on his way." bella's voice is soft—comforting, placing her tiny fingers on your wrist to grab your attention.

you decide to play dumb—nonchalant—though when you've had as many drinks as you've had, is practically impossible. "who?"

this time it's brock who gives you a look behind bella, but unlike the sympathetic look you've been getting from his girlfriend, brock's eyes glaze with vexation. he doesn't save you with sugary words or a reassuring smile, just a deadpan expression. "you know who, y/n/n. quinn."

you laugh through a raspberry, borderline snorting at his words.

brock sighs knowingly, very much used to the whole....thing you’ve got going on with quinn— and your denial that comes along with it.

"why would I care if quinn is coming?"

brock's brows raise. "nobody asked you that."

your face falls, your skin heating up with a mixture of embarrassment and the alcohol running ramped through your bloodstream. "well, I know what you were insinuating."

"wasn't insinuating anything-"

"alright," bella cuts of gently, squeezing brock's bicep in an almost warning manner—she knows better than to not argue with you when it comes to the topic of quinn hughes. "what brock is trying to say is that it's okay that you're looking for quinn, y/n/n. he said he'd be here by now."

you wave your hand, dismissing your friend nonchalantly. "I know. i'm not worried."

bella hums. "okay. but's it's fine if you are."

"i'm not. we're just friends."

anytime somebody would ask about your and quinn's seemingly suggestive relationship, they'd always look at you with disbelief when you'd tell them you're just friends. well, friends that suggestively cuddle, kiss and have sex...but friends nonetheless.

you met quinn in 2018 at a barbecue brock was hosting. you'd been friends with brock since you met at the coffee shop you'd worked at the year before—when you'd spilled his coffee all over the pick up counter right in front of him. oddly enough, he found you charming and the two of you became fast friends.

he quickly brought you into his hockey world, where you met many different people and athletes that soon became your extended friends. when brock introduced you to quinn right infront of the grill at said barbecue lunch, you'd just about died.

quinn was cute in a dorky way, shying away from your strong eye-contact and smiley face. with his quick wit, nerdy tendencies and independence, quinn hughes was exactly your type, and it wasn't long until you two grew close.

your strong friendship eventually shifted into a more sensual relationship, and you found yourselves in a little dance that others know as friends with benefits.

and that worked for you both. not only did you get the fun, relaxed and sweet side of a best friend, but you also got that dirty, dominant and sexy side of a boyfriend. you both basked in the comfortability your arrangement brought, as well as the intimacy shared between you.

but then something shifted. you noticed that you started to really care about how you looked around quinn, and how you acted. you begin to care about how quinn perceived you and what he thought of you. you'd get nervous when he'd lean in for a kiss after a hard game, and when his touches would linger you'd get filled with butterflies. you liked him — you still do.

it's just that…you know you shouldn't feel this way, especially for a friend, regardless of the sexual relationship between you. so you pretend and suppress your feelings in fear of loosing quinn completely—-because you've become completely reliant upon the connection between you, and the thought of losing that is heartbreaking.

bella sighs gently, but knowingly, raising her glass back towards her painted lips. "for sure."

a chorus of cheers sounds all around you, and the sudden shift in energy has you looking back towards the door. you try and peer through the mini crowd, moving through the space around large bodies of athletes to see who's captured the rooms attention.

you catch sight of familiar floppy brown hair, followed by quinn's unmistakable smile. instantly you feel lighter, and the grin that makes its way onto your face is probably embarrassing.

there's a petite blonde girl next to him—with perfect skin and a blinding smile. she daintily wraps her hands around quinn's bicep, eyes wide as she introduces herself to jt miller and his wife.

and just as quickly your smile fades, eyes darting away from the unfolding scene in front of you. bella says your name gently—sympathetically—reaching towards you as she grazes your arm.

you gently shake her off, plastering on a fake smile. "I'm going to get a refill." you shake your half full champagne glass in the general direction of the kitchen, a wordless action that speaks a million words.

it's not that you're upset that quinn's seemingly brought a girl with him to this new year's party. you're upset that it's making you feel so distraught and heartbroken. you shuffle through the room, slinking through warm bodies and smiling faces until you're walking into the kitchen.

you try and keep your unshed tears at bay, breathing deeply as you top up your flute of alcohol. "fucks sake." you mumble to yourself, taking a hearty sip of your drink.

"you good?" the deep voice of elias pettersson has you jumping. the swede is leaning against the counter casually, sipping what looks like glass of white wine, eyeing you amusingly.

"I didn't know you were in here." you say, turning towards the blonde slowly.

he hums, swallowing the mouthful of wine. "quinn here?"

"yup." you nod, popping the p.

"ah yes." elias sighs, looking behind you as he peers into the crowded space. he finds quinn quickly, the captain ever so lively around his friends— he also sees the girl next to him. "he's brought a friend."

you snort. "yeah I know all about being his friend."

the assistant caption eyes you gently, a small sympathetic pull at his mouth. "sorry y/n/n."

you've always liked elias. he's similar to brock in the way they both speak their mind and never feel the need to sugar coat the truth, but elias is often more laid back and less judgmental than brock can be. a lot of the time you think if you weren't in love with quinn, you'd be with elias.

an idea pops into your head, turning your rather solemn expression into a scheming one. you look at elias with a smile, to which he raises his brows questionably. "actually, do you mind helping me with something?"

he squints curiously. "what?"

you walk up to him slowly, your grin unwavering. as you reach elias, you gently trail your fingers down his exposed arm, tracing your nails over one of his bulging veins. "just follow my lead."

—

quinn has looked at you twice in the past 40 minutes...twice. the first time was when you walked out of the kitchen, clutching elias's arm as you leaned into him. quinn's brows pulled together questionably, eyeing you and his teammates close proximity, but you didn't give him the satisfaction of your attention, directing you both towards the heart of the home where the mingling was happening.

the second time was only 10 minutes ago. you'd been watching your friend from a distance, a scowl on your face as you watch that blonde girl whisper in quinn's ear, raised on her toes with a small hand cupped around his ear. quinn had caught your jealous gaze, sending you an irritated look.

you scoffed, quickly turning your attention back to bella and brock, standing only with them while elias was getting you another drink.

you've been pulling out all the stops in an attempt to gets quinn's attention. if you weren't laughing loudly at everything elias said, you were touching him seductively or dancing against him — all things to try and spark jealousy in quinn.

but if anything, it was making you feel even worse about the situation. the weird and heartbroken emotions running through you—combined with the alcohol you'd been continuously drinking throughout the night— has you needing a breather.

you excuse yourself from elias with a mumble about the bathroom, and you don't really hear his gentle response as you stumble away, slinking though the crowded miller home towards the stair case.

thankfully the lighting in the house is dim, so nobody notices you climbing up towards the second floor, barley keeping yourself in a straight line— too caught up in your own thoughts and emotions to focus on anything but.

the spare bedroom is the first room you stumble upon, quickly slipping inside the beautifully decorated space and letting the door click shut behind you. now finally by yourself with nothing but the bass of the music downstairs tickling your feet, you let yourself fall apart.

the tears don't come immediately, but the sobbing noise that leaves your chest is instant and intense. you clutch the pendant of your necklace, grounding yourself as your emotions come bubbling to the surface.

not only are you feeling heartbroken and hurt by your own feelings for quinn, but you're now also feeling guilty for attaching yourself to his teammate all night in some sad attempt at trying to ignite jealousy. usually you'd be more mature about a situation like this, but once again the champagne in your system has other plans.

you wipe your face, praying that your makeup look doesn't go completely down the drain and you still look somewhat presentable. you think it must be nearing midnight, and you're sure bella and brock are wondering where you've slipped away too.

you sigh reluctantly, sniffling away any lingering emotion as you make your way back towards the door. just before you can reach for the handle, it turns before you, the door swinging open to reveal quinn.

his face changes at the sight of you. there's a flash of relief on his face, like he'd been looking for you and has finally found you. but that expression quickly changes as quinn pushes himself into the bedroom, closing the door quickly. he looks irritated—the kind of expression you'd see if he gets asked a stupid question by a reporter.

he looks you up and down quickly, assessing you with an unfamiliar pull at his lips. quinn meets your uncertain gaze. "you fucking elias now?"

you blink in shock, mouth falling open like you're a fish out of water. "what?" you're practically seething, looking at quinn with a distant glare.

he scoffs. "I think you heard me."

his condescending tone has you feeling angry and worse of all, judged—quinn is in no place to judge you after he's brought somebody with him tonight. "what if I am?" you question, irritation clear in your voice. you take a step towards him, anger radiating off of you. "why do you care?"

quinn makes a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat, wide eyed as he steps closer to you. "why do I care? are you being serious right now?"

"yes, quinn." you huff, crossing your arms roughly. "you can't storm in here and start grilling me about what i'm doing in my personal life, when you've brought someone with you tonight. or have you already forgotten about her as well?"

you're being petty, you're well aware of that—but the wrath and embarrassment running through your bloodstream has you not caring.

quinn eyes you again, stepping even closer to you—his movements laced with disbelief and annoyance. "if you're implying that i've forgotten about you…well that's just straight stupid."

you laugh in disbelief. "oh! so now i'm stupid?"

"no — what you're saying is stupid."

you scoff for what feels like the hundredth time this conversation. you don't even want to be arguing with quinn, especially when you're drunk and feeling heartbroken— the latter unbeknownst to him. you swallow gently, attempting to suppress the emotion creeping up your throat. "who is she?"

quinn shakes his head, his expression turning softer as he analyses you—sensing your shift in emotion and body language. "she's nobody."

"she's nobody but you brought her here? that doesn't make sense." your eyes flicker to the shaggy rug under your feet, blinking away unshed tears. you've passed the sheer anger you'd been feeling, left only with disappointment and sadness. "are you fucking her?"

quinn rubs his stubble roughly, and you can practically see the whirlwind of thoughts running through his head. his eyes find your yours, a hard expression in his face. "are you fucking elias? i'm still waiting for that answer. because you seemed pretty cozy with him since I got here."

"yeah," you nod roughly. "and that's no thanks to you, quinn. you haven't even come up to me tonight. god forbid you greet me—your friend—when there's a girl on your arm."

"were not just friends and you know it. so don't start that with me." quinn's tone is firm—warning—taking a step closer to your ridged body. he's now close enough to reach out and touch, and you so badly are craving that intimacy. but you hold back, keeping your expression as neutral as possible despite wanting to close the distance between you.

"oh, okay. what are we then quinn?" you question, your tone hard and determined. in a moment of vulnerability, your expression shifts, voice creaking with emotion. "because i'm so lost here."

quinn's eyes flicker across your flushed face. he's slightly breathless, watching you, like he can't keep his breathing steady. you hadn't even realized that you started to cry until he gently reaches towards you, thumb delicately wiping away the tears before they continue to fall. "fuck, i'm sorry." quinn's other hand runs over your head, flattening down your styled hair. "I hate seeing you upset—hey look at me."

you meet his gaze once again, tearing it away from your shoes. quinn looks extremely guilty and concerned— the latter due to your clear distress and sadness. "i'm such an idiot." he mumbles softly, "you can hit me if you want."

his words, so genuine and lighthearted, has a small splurge of giggles bubbling up your chest. you shake your head, "I don't want to hit you."

the ghost of a smile pulls at his mouth, and he nods once. quinn's thumb gently runs over your cheekbone, soothingly rubbing the high point of your rather warm face. "okay."

his words are so quiet and hushed it has you stomach swooping in a pleasant drop. quinn slowly leans down, running the tip of his nose along the bridge of yours—an affectionate nudge. you tilt your head farther back, allowing the most space for quinn to lean in and press his lips to yours.

it's a familiar and comforting pressure, your lips slotting together like they've done hundreds of times before. your arms uncross, falling limp at your sides as you let quinn hold your face, leading you in the steady exchange.

you sigh into his mouth, a breathy sound that has quinn deepening the kiss. his tongue easily slips past your parted, wet lips. instinctively your hands slip up quinn's chest, resting against his hard pecks. you gently grip the round muscle, nails digging into his flesh as you ground yourself.

your tongues move together slowly and gently—like there is all the time in the world. but, there's not all the time in the world, and you're still heartbroken and confused about everything. not just about tonight, but the entirety of your and quinn's arrangement.

you frown into the kiss, pulling away from quinn. his brows are pulled tight, eyes pinched shut as he collects his breathing—recovering from the intimate moment.

"quinny." his nickname is spoke in a breathy whisper, brushing against his slick lips. the emotion is still clogging up your airway, pushing its way to the surface. "I can't do this anymore."

his eyes snap open, glazed with a mixture of lust from your previous exchange, and worry caused by your vulnerable statement. "can't do what?" quinn's breathes hopefully—nervously.

you swallow gently, allowing yourself to linger in the last bit of time and space where your secrets are kept secret. because after this, all your feelings and love for quinn will be exposed, and the chance of your heart snapping in half becomes much more real—much more terrifying. "I can't keep pretending I don't want more with you. all this time we've been engaging in this friends with benefits stuff, i've been trying my best to not give into the idea of having more. but the more we fuck around with each other—care for each other—the more my feelings grow."

you sniffle, looking up at quinn. you can't read the expression on his face, it's one you've never seen before. he doesn't make a move to speak, only looking at you with that soft warmth in his eyes. you continue gently, "and I don't know how much more of this I can take, quinny. i'm attracted to you in any and every way there is to be attracted to someone. and I know we promised one another this would never happen and-"

you're stopped as quinn brings you into his embrace, pulling you towards his chest while his arms wrap around you in a tight hug. your cheek rests between his pecks perfectly, and that combined with everything else has you breaking down again.

you let out a disgruntled sob, turning to hide your wet face in quinn's shirt.

"I know baby." quinn's voice is so quiet, spoken into your hairline before he presses a firm kiss against your head. "it's okay."

you shake your head against him. "i'm so sorry—i've ruined everything. i've ruined us."

he gently pushes you back, just enough so that he can look at you properly. you're sure you look like a hot mess with mascara tinted tears pooling under your eyes, and a runny nose, but you don't find yourself to care. all you can focus on is quinn’s gentle frown and the way he delicately tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

his hand lingers there, resting around the side of your neck, just above your gold necklace chain. "how have you ruined us?"

his question is so genuine, like he can't even think of a reason of why your confession would change the set arrangement between the two of you. you almost want to laugh—whether it's in embarrassment or disbelief...you're not too sure.

"because you don't want me like that." not only is your timid response a stab in your gut, but it's also a stab in quinn's.

his thumb sweeps across your jawline, his gaze tender and determined. quinn's tongue darts between his teeth, gently wetting the plump skin of his bottom lip. quinn's eyes sweep over your face, his thoughts running a million miles an hour. but then something shifts.

his expression turns into something more determined—more sure, and with a breathy sigh, he speaks. "I brought lyla here to try and make you jealous. which is super shitty of me, I know, but I didn't know how else to like navigate these feelings i've been having for you. especially because I thought they were unrequited."

oh.

oh.

you blink three times, trying to process the words that just left quinn's mouth. "huh?" you babble like a fish, mouth opening in surprise, shock, and above all relief.

the smile that grows on quinn's face is the cherry on top of everything, and the sight of his grin has you knowing that you heard him right. "I've never fucked her or anybody besides you since we started seeing each other."

"you haven't?"

he shakes his head. "no, and i'm sorry because they way I went about everything tonight was just awful." quinn's hands are so warm and steady against your skin, gently tickling your face as he continues to run his thumbs over your jaw.

"i'm not with elias." you admit. "when I saw you walk in with that girl, I wanted to make you jealous…and elias agreed to help me."

his smile widens at your confession, and he doesn't feel so guilty anymore. the same goes for you, and knowing that your love isn't as unrequited as you thought, you feel yourself finally cracking a real smile.

"are you mad at me?" you ask timidly, leaning into the round of quinn's palm.

he pauses in a dramatic faux thought, humming gently. "not even a little bit." quinn cracks, his smile making its way back onto his flushed face. quinn leans back into your space, lips brushing against yours in an almost kiss. "i'm like falling crazy in love with you."

his words are so quiet—so intimate—plump lips brushing against yours as he talks. it's almost ticklish, and the feeling makes you giggle, and you desperately try to squirm away.

quinn chases you, arms tightening around you as his lips find your jawline. he starts pressing chaste kisses against the bone, quickly trailing down your neck.

you sigh in pleasure, eyes flickering shut as you fall into the euphoric feeling. quinn continues his way down, pausing occasionally to suck your perfume flavoured skin into his mouth teasingly.

"say it back." you feel him smirk against you before he gently bites down on you playfully.

you squeal with laughter, continuing your attempt in escaping quinn’s teasing attack. this time, he lets you pull back, watching you with a fond smile.

"say what?" your attempt at faux innocence quickly falls on deaf ears, and quinn begins tickling your side. you laugh again, falling into his warm, familiar chest.

this feels like the relationship you've grown to love with quinn—this is exactly the dynamic you two have created and the reason you fell so easily in love with your friend.

you wrap your arms around quinn's neck, pushing up onto your tip toes so you're at eye level with him. your smile is subtle, but to quinn it's as promising as the world.

"I'm falling deeply and truly in love with you." you whisper, eyes flickering between quinn's.

he closes the gap between you again, connecting your lips in another passionate kiss. this time the exchange is more rushed—desperate—like you're both trying to pour years of suppressed feelings into this one kiss.

and as the sound of new years rumbles through the house, cheers and celebration from friends floating up the stairs and finding your ears— you know there's nowhere else you're supposed to be.

[itsthecline]

Maybank! Reader trying to get Rafe off of her as JJ is face timing her! I need to know how she'd react. I just know Rafe would be such a tease!!!

are you trying to kill me?

maybank!reader x rafe cameron

summary you’re spending time with your boyfriend while jj has been trying to get ahold of you

warnings profanity , jj almost catching you with rafe , secret relationship

a/n oh lord , just know this is not the only time this has happened

18+ minors dni

you were at rafe’s house for the weekend. initially , you were supposed to spend a couple of days in charleston ; there was a farmer’s market going on that you had wanted to go to , but rafe had a meeting in the morning. so instead of a weekend away , you both decided on a weekend at home.

no phones , no disruptions. just you and rafe. you had told jj that some touron was taking you to some place special , seeming unimpressed but still choosing to go. that got him off your back so he wasn’t checking your whereabouts all weekend. if he did , he’d see you were at tannyhill.

“i know you’re upset about not making it onto the mainland this weekend,” rafe apologized from his desk , looking at you as you lounged on his bed, “sorry.”

“baby , it’s fine,” you assured him , scrolling through tiktok on his phone while he finished up some paperwork. “you’re hot when you’re in business mode. i don’t exactly mind,” you added , getting up from bed and stalking over to him.

“yeah?” he smiled , spinning in the chair to face you and give you a seat in his lap, “well i’d hope you’d think so considering this deal will help us in the future.”

rafe was always talking about that. your future together. he constantly told you every move he makes is securing the life that you both wanted. a life away from your families ; a life that you could spend together without anyone else’s opinions.

“i like when you talk about our future,” you admitted , arms coming around rafe’s neck as you found purchase in his lap, “gets me excited. y’know , it’s nice to see how much you care about us.”

“i care about you more than most things,” rafe replied , planting kissing from your cheek down to your neck.

you sighed , really letting the feeling of his lips sink into your sink. “i’m sorry that everything is so difficult,” you sighed , letting your head fall to his shoulder as rafe’s hand rubbed your back, “i wish things were different , and you could be with me in front of everyone. i know it bothers you,” you continued , pressing kisses into the side of his neck and face.

“i would love if i could show you off to everyone. let the whole island know that you’re mine,” rafe agreed, “but i know that it’s not a plausible option until we have the ability to get away if need be.” he was right ; there was no world that you could be publicly dating rafe cameron. mostly because of the stigma around pogues dating kooks , but also because of your friend group’s history with rafe and his friends.

“i love you regardless,” you smiled , looking into his eyes gently. you loved this man more than anyone in your life— besides jj. rafe pressed a smiley kiss onto your lips , picking you up and moving to the bed. his body covered yours as he kissed up and down your neck , getting you to laugh and try to push him off “stop it! are you trying to kill me?!” you cackled , still trying to remove him.

“i think you’ll find your attempts to get me off of you aren’t going to work , babe,” he laughed into your neck , lifting for a second to kiss your face, “it’s cute though.”

“yeah well , it’s not my fault you’re gigantic,” you sighed , lungs not filling as much as usual because of rafe’s weight on you, “besides it’s not like i’m actually—“

your words were cut off when your phone started ringing. you knew it was your phone when you heard the ringtone. it was jj. “who is it? thought we agreed no contact with the outside world.” rafe grumbled , letting his head rest on your shoulder.

“get off of me,” you rushed out , actually trying to get him away now, “it’s jj,” you announced , reaching for your phone on the side table , but you couldn’t because rafe was keeping you in your spot.

“no , we agreed,” he shook his head , refusing to move.

“babe , it might be important,” you huffed , really , truly pushing at him as your phone rang one final time before going silent, “rafe! what if something’s wrong? i gotta call him back. get off , freak,” you were still laughing a little , but only because you could feel rafe chuckling to himself.

you were finally able to reach your phone , grabbing it just as jj called again. a facetime call now. “what could he possibly want that’s more important than me and you fucking?” rafe asked , thrusting his hips against yours jokingly.

“literally the possibilities are endless,” you sighed , accepting the facetime after telling rafe to ‘please shut the fuck up for once in your life’

“dude , i know you said you’re having your romantic getaway weekend with what’s his face , but you will not believe the swell i just dominated!” jj started talking as soon as you picked up , angling the phone so rafe’s head was out of frame.

“wow! that’s cool , bud,” you mused, “but i’m kinda busy , so…” you made a face , knowing jj could tell that you didn’t want to be on the phone with him at the moment.

“ew! i don’t care that you’re fucking some touron , i just had to tell— hey , where are you anyway?” jj asked , squinting his eyes in the sun to try and view his screen and your location a little better.

you glared at rafe when he stifled a giggle. “at some hotel with what’s his face,” you lied , rolling your eyes, “i gotta go , jacky!”

“okay , use protection. i love you. see you in a couple of da—” he rambled before you hung up on him and hit rafe.

“why would you laugh!” you couldn’t help yourself but join in , finally pushing rafe onto his back on the bed and getting on top of him, “you’re a bad influence , y’know.”

“you love it,” rafe smiled , hands finding purchase on your hips as he looked at you.

“debatable.”

rafe sat up , bringing you with him as he leaned against his headboard. “what can i do to swing your vote?” he wondered , pressing soft kisses all over your face, “i’ll do whatever.”

you laughed and grabbed his face , kissing him back. the kiss was practically teeth clashing because of your smiles. “consider me convinced already.”

taglist @maybankslover @annatartastic @maroonz @icaqttt @yootvi @inlovewithmorales

[starkwlkr]

american royalty | max verstappen

kennedy!reader

US GRAND PRIX (TIME SKIP)

Max was in panic mode. Little baby Luke did not want to leave his father’s side. Yeah, it was cute, but Max had to be in the car in five minutes.

“I don’t want to leave you either, baby, but papa has to go race.” Max whispered to the seven month old. It amazed y/n and Max how quickly Luke had grown.

Y/n wanted to burst into tears right then and there in Max’s driver’s room, but she held it in. She loved her boys so much.

“You should go, I don’t want you to be late.” Y/n told Max, which made him frown. “You’ll see us after.” She chuckled and grabbed Luke from Max’s arms. Instantly, the boy started to whine.

“It’s okay, Luke, papa is just going to win the race and then he’ll be back for more cuddles.” Max pressed a light kiss to his son’s head.

Y/n and Max kept your relationship very private so no one apart from their families knew about their relationship or baby Luke. When she did attend a race, she watched from Max’s driver’s room. Usually she was alone, but now she had Luke to keep her company. Before y/n could say something, Max turned to her.

“How much longer do you think you and Luke will be watching from here? Don’t get me wrong, I love you both for coming. I think it would be better if my family watches from the garage.” Max waited for you answer. He was sure y/n was going to be mad at him for even suggesting that idea, but she smiled at him.

“You read my mind.” She kissed his lips.

So without hesitation, Max grabbed her hand and together as a family, they walked in the direction of the Red Bull Garage.

When Max saw photographers start to notice y/n, he grabbed Luke from her and took off his Red Bull hat, using it to shield Luke from the cameras. They both agreed to keep their son away from the media. They quickly arrived to the garage just in time.

“Checo’s wife, Carola, is here. You can sit with her so you don’t have to be alone.” Max said as he led her through the garage. “And she has kids so that’s something you both have in common!” He tried to lighten up the mood.

“We’ll be okay, won’t we?” She tickled Luke’s side, which made the boy giggle.

“Max!” His race engineer, Gianpiero, called out. “Who’s this smiley boy?” He waved to Luke.

“My son, Luke, and this is my wife, Y/n.” Max introduced her to the British man. She didn’t correct Max on the term he used for her, it felt right coming from his mouth.

“Welcome to the Red Bull family!” He smiled at y/n.

After talking for a short time, Max had to leave so he gave y/n and Luke a kiss and a hug then left. She was introduced to Carola. It didn’t take long for the two women to get along.

Halfway through the race, the camera was focused on y/n for a few seconds. She was looking at a different monitor so she didn’t even realize she was on tv.

“And we have American royalty in the paddock today. There she is, Miss Y/n Kennedy, daughter to the late JFK Jr. and his wife Carolyn. Didn’t know she was a Red Bull fan.” Crofty said.

Immediately, Twitter was having a field day.

Y/n’s phone was flooded with notifications, but she ignored them. Baby Luke and Y/n were about to witness Max win.

As predicted, Max came in first with Checo taking second place. While Carola took her kids to watch their dad on the podium, Y/n stayed behind with Luke. As much as she wanted to watch Max, she didn’t want to expose Luke to everyone.

While the Red Bull team celebrated another win, y/n looked down at her son. “I think dad would’ve loved to be here, don’t you think?” Y/n asked. “Mom on the other hand . . . She would’ve loved Max that’s for sure.”

The topic of her parents made her emotional so she stopped talking. But it was definitely clear that y/n’s parents would’ve loved Max. Even if the media painted him out to be some kind of villain, Max Verstappen was far from it.

Max quickly made his way back to his family after the podium celebrations. He was eager to show his son his trophy, but before he could do that, he was stopped by Charles.

“You’re dating THE y/n kennedy?!”

“How do you even know?” Max wondered.

“Mate, you’re trending all over twitter. The cameras showed her, but what I want to know is why didn’t you tell me? I thought we agreed to tell each other everything!”

“You agreed, I didn’t.” Max corrected him.

“Still! You’re basically important in the eyes of america now. So if you get married, does that mean you’re automatically a US citizen and you can be president?” The Ferrari driver asked.

“I’m pretty sure in order to be president you have to be born in the US— why am I still talking to you? I have to go see my family.” Max said as he ran to the Red Bull garage.

“Congratulations, mr. president!”

Of course calling Max ‘mr. president’ became an inside joke in the paddock.

When Max made it back to the garage, he saw y/n talking with several drivers, one being the only American driver, Logan. At least they were keeping his family company.

“When Max is on break, he sleeps through the night, but he wakes up several times when his dad is gone. He’s such a daddy’s boy.” Y/n explained to Logan, Lando and Oscar.

“Of course he is, I’m the best dad in the world.” Max interrupted.

“Look at you, daddy Max.” Lando joked.

“Oh god, mate. Don’t ever say that again.” Oscar said.

“Anyways . . . How’d you like the race, y/n?” Logan asked the kennedy woman. He felt so at home at the moment. He was so honored to even be talking to someone related to the president of his country.

“It was amazing. Luke and I enjoyed every minute of it. Maybe we’ll just have to come back for another race.” Y/n looked at Max with hopeful eyes. Baby Luke cooed at his father.

“We are going to Mexico next and you love Mexico . . .”

“Great, we’ll be seeing the first family back in the paddock. It was great to meet you, y/n and you too baby Luke.” Lando smiled cheekily at the mom and son.

“You know Charles just called me Mr. President and now this? What else is going to happen?” Max laughed.

“Who knows, maybe you might end up being the president?”