#*pops champagne* IT BEGINS

[eroselless]

I LIKE THE WAY YOU KISS ME 

Summary: You and Lando need to talk after what transpired on the car ride to the hotel. What will you both decide? [2.5k]

[lando norris x reader ]

MASTERLIST | Part 1 - LAY UR HANDS ON ME

Warnings: 18+ for explicit language and smut, unprotected sex, oral, missionary

Note: Thank you all so much for the love, support and patience! I wanted it to be spicy but also a little soft, I hope it comes off that way. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it <3 I hope it's alright that I tagged everyone who commented on part 1! Happy reading, love you all!

The tension in the air is palpable. It’s fog clinging to the morning air, waiting to dissipate. It’s a sink threatening to overflow, every passing moment teetering closer to the edge of chaos. It’s a champagne bottle, waiting for just the right push to pop. Lando stands with his back to the hotel door as you stand in front of your bed, fidgeting with your fingers. The silence in the elevator and the walk to the room is almost frightening. The adrenaline from the car ride had slowly faded as you stood, frozen in place. Your palms feel sweaty, your heart pounding in your chest. You both stand in the limbo of uncertainty’s clutch. 

“What if we just –”

“We can pret –”

Your words collide in the air, an awkward and strained laugh escaping the both of you. Doubt begins to gnaw at your mind, maybe he’s regretting it? You wonder. Maybe he was in need of some release and you happened to give it to him. 

“If you want,” you begin tentatively, voice barely above a whisper. “We can pretend this never happened.” 

Lando takes in a sharp breath, nodding. He shifts from foot to foot, bottom lip curled between his teeth as he nervously bites into it. He blinks, eyes watering. His chest begins to tighten up and he feels like he could break down then and there. Maybe in the spur of the moment, his lapse of judgment was the final straw that broke the camel's back and you’re eager to forget about the eventful ride over.  

“Is that what you want?” he asks, sitting down on his bed. His voice is quiet, barely audible as he twists his fingers in his hands. He can’t bring himself to meet your eyes and stares down at your shoes. 

A heavy silence envelops the room, and for a moment, the world seems to hold its breath, anticipation building in the man who sits before you. Blinking the tears that had snuck into your eyes, you shake your head. Your chest feels heavy as you answer him.

“No.”

The single word cuts through the air like a knife and hands there for a second. Time stands still for a moment as Lando’s head whips up to look at you. Time crashes down over you as he collides with you.

You weren’t quite sure of what you expected from your first kiss with Lando yet as his lips brushed with yours you couldn’t help but be struck by how perfect his lips felt on yours. His hands are cradling your cheeks, fingers pressing lightly into your skin as if he’s scared he’ll shatter you like fine porcelain. There is a delicate urgency in how his lips dance over yours. Years upon years of longing rising to the surface of your skin. His tongue slips past your lips, he can taste the remnants of the wine from earlier, a mixture of desire and indulgence. 

His hands move with a purpose, one gently placed at the joint of your jaw, a possessive gesture that sends a thrill of anticipation coursing through your veins. The other rests firmly on the small of your back, pushing you closer with a quiet promise of ecstasy to come. He nudges your chin up with his hand, moving slowly and carefully. 

He pulls away, eyes droopy and half-lidded with desire. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip, pulling it down slightly. You’re both heaving as you stand in the middle of the room, taking a moment to admire one another. The youthfulness and beauty of his face are so much more evident up close. It's nothing short of captivating. You had always thought he was handsome but now you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. You can count the freckles scattered on his sun-kissed skin, the speckles of colour in his eyes are like shards of glass and his long lashes frame them beautifully. 

His hands fall from your face, sliding down and behind your shoulders. “Turn around,” he says. You comply, moving to face the other way. His hands move over the expanse of your back and you get a flashback to the moment you sat in his lap, just under 15 minutes ago.  His breath is fanning on your back, a familiar chill surging through your body again. 

His fingers land on the zipper of your dress, tugging on it as he asks for your permission to take it off. You nod, collecting your hair to one side. He pulls the zip down, fingers dragging lightly over the increasingly exposed skin. He presses his mouth tenderly to your spine, pulling a shaky breath from your lips. He pushes the straps of your dress off your shoulders, sending the fabric to the floor. It leaves you standing in your underwear, having foregone a bra. You turn around to face him, eyes scanning his face once again.

His lips find their way to your jaw, nipping lightly at it. You push his blazer from his shoulders, moving to unbutton his crisp white shirt. 

He shoves you lightly but with enough force to send you falling back onto the bed. He can’t help but admire you as you lay there. Your hair is out in a halo around your head and you're propping yourself up on your elbows, eyes wide as you gaze up at him.

He pulls his trousers off and you can see the shape of his cock through his boxers. Lowering himself on top of you, he litters kisses over your chest, lips coming to wrap around a pebbled nipple. You arch your back slightly at the feeling of his lips over the sensitive bud. Your hand goes to his hair, threading through it as he pushes his face further into the plushness of your tit. His other hand is snaking down your body, snapping the waistband of your underwear. 

Your breath hitches in your throat as he moves down, sitting back on his knees. He pulls a leg up over his shoulder, beginning to trail kisses from your ankle to your knee. Your skin is soft and warm, goosebumps starting to bloom over it. 

You’re nervous as he makes his way up your thigh, teeth teasingly dipping into the soft skin. You let out a gasp as he does so, moving his lips to your other leg. In an instant, he’s back at the top of your leg, at the junction where they meet. He kisses the damp fabric of your underwear, eyes peering up at you. 

“Can I take these off?” He asks innocently. You hesitate, heart threatening to pop out of your chest. You nod, chewing on the inside of your cheek. His fingers hook around your underwear, pulling them down swiftly. Your knees come together on instinct.

He lets out a small chuckle, moving onto the floor in front of the bed. He pulls you to the edge by the crook of your knees, pressing a kiss to each one. 

“I want a taste.” He hums, only causing your heart to beat faster. His hands move up to take hold of your hips, pressing his cheek to your knees as if to ask are you ready? He waits until you’ve given him a small yet decisive yes before gently pulling your legs open. He goes straight to your sex, pressing his lips to your folds before spreading them open, making a v with his fingers. He teases you, letting out a single soft puff. His tongue darts out, dragging over the sensitive flesh but not over the part where you need him most. This causes your hips to buck up, aching for more of his touch. He continues, now plunging his tongue inside you.

“Fuck –” you moan out, body beginning to tremble with need as he shoves his face even closer. Your fingers pull harshly at his hair as he flicks his tongue expertly at your hole, his groan sending vibrations through your body. His fingers grip tight at your hips, grounding you in place. He sends a red-hot feeling through you as he fucks the muscle into you steadily. It pokes into a spongy, sensitive spot within you. He pulls away, blowing gently at the wet skin. 

“God, baby. You taste so fucking good.” 

He slips a finger in, thumb moving in careful circles over your clit, eliciting more moans from you. A smile is playing on his lips, as you feel yourself teetering towards the edge, a coil tightening in your gut. You cry out, a wave of pleasure washing over you. Your hips are bucking and your legs try to close around his head.

He doesn’t stop licking and sucking at you, easing you down from your orgasm. Your chest heaves and you shake breathlessly. He pulls away, his face glistening with your juices. His eyes sparkle with lust as he presses his lips one more time to the skin of your thigh. It’s a look you’d only imagined in your mind. 

He stands over you, admiring how you look with your cheeks flushed and a light layer of sweat on your skin. Your chest is rising up and down quickly as you come down from your high. You’re staring up at him, eyes hazy and lips parted. You look ethereal, a piece of art hanging in a museum, the image of perfection. 

Regaining your breath, your hands work on Lando’s boxers, pulling them down and letting his cock spring free. It taps lightly at his stomach, a bead of pre-cum on the red angry tip. You wrap a hand around it, thumb going to run over the crease of the head. Lando hisses and shakes his head at you begin to jerk your hand. His voice is strained as he tells you no.

“Not tonight,” he says, tongue heavy in his mouth. “Just need to be inside you.”

You nod, moving up the bed, into its centre. He crawls over you, showering your body with kisses as he does so. A kiss right over your pubic bone, one on your ribcage and the last one over the corner of your mouth. 

He stares into your eyes as he pushes in, bottom lip trapped between his teeth to keep him quiet. He fills you in a single movement, one powerful thrust. Your breath hitches as he does so, lips forming a tight o. You can feel his cock hit you just at the right spot, the pleasure making your eyes roll back. The squeeze of your cunt around his cock was better than Lando could have imagined. 

He’s pushing your knees up and wrapping your legs around his waist as he starts a slow grind. He rolls into you, pushing deeper and deeper as he goes. He feels so good, it’s almost unbearable. You’re completely at his mercy, his touch spreading fires in you, wherever it goes. 

You're writhing beneath him as he kisses you. His tongue is darting into your mouth, stealing your breath away. 

“You’re so pretty like this, baby” he says over the sound of himself sliding in and out of you with ease. The sound is slick and wet, it’s filthy yet it only makes you fall deeper into pleasure’s embrace. Your body molds perfectly into him and you find yourself wondering how you’d never noticed that before. All those times when he held you, when you held him. There were so many signs and you were both oblivious to them. 

He pushes down on your lower tummy and it presses something deeper within you. It pulls a whine from your lips as your hands find purchase on Lando’s shoulder, pulling him down so you’re almost chest to chest. 

“You’re doing so good for me” he mumbles, lips against the shell of your ear. You clench around him, the words only spurring you on. He continues to fuck you into the mattress, stroking your walls just right. 

“Lan, I –” you begin to say. The buildup is getting too much as you feel yourself swing closer to your climax. Lando can feel it too. The spasming of your body, the slight arch of your back. The air is knocked out of your chest as the moment hits, pleasure crashing over you. His name falls from your lips like a mantra and he only pushes faster. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for you now. He thrusts into you one last time before he tips over the edge, losing himself then and there. 

You feel him let out a gasp as he collapses over you in a sweaty mess. His body is heavy laying on top of yours but it isn’t uncomfortable.  His skin is sticky and his breath fans over your neck. You’re both breathing heavily as the energy in the room begins to diminish. Your hand goes to thread through his unruly curls as he peppers light kisses to the column of your throat. 

He gets up after a few minutes, telling you to sit still as he does. He returns with a towel, gently cleaning up the mess you’ve made together. He tosses it away and crawls back towards you, pulling the cover over the top of your bodies. 

He stills against you, face nuzzling into the crook of your neck, mind only filled with thoughts of you. He can only really think of how flawlessly you fit together. Or the feeling of how delicious you feel pressed up against him. 

“I’m sorry it took me so long to make a move,” he says, peering up at you. You smile, shaking your head. “And I’m sorry for not saying anything sooner.” 

You both carry on there for a second, his cheek now pressed to your chest. His eyes have begun to flutter close as the gentle sound of your breathing slowly lulls him to sleep. His fingers are softly tracing circles on your ribcage where he holds you. There are no words exchanged between the two of you but there’s so much said in the silence as you cling to each other. 

“Lan..” you whisper, voice soft. He hummed in response, squeezing you. You nibbled your lip nervously as the words waited in your mouth.

“I love you.” his fingers stop in their tracks. He let out a gentle, barely audible chuckle. You’re unsure of what his reaction is.  He rises to his elbows and bounces slightly on the mattress, pressing a kiss to your stomach. 

“Say it again,” he whispers, voice husky. His fingers are now prodding at your side and you let out bouts of laughter as he does.

“I love you.” he nips at the soft skin of your neck, evoking a laugh out of you. His energy seems renewed as his lips continue their dance over your skin and he gradually makes his way up to your face.

“I love you too,” he says, his smile wide, pulling you on top of him. “And I don’t think I’ll ever stop.”

@noneofyourfbusinessworld

@shellybee456

@m4rt10ne

@roostersluvvr

@playboygeniusphilanthropist

@landoslutmeout

@mlfdcm

@landosmybf

@fortunatelychocolatefest

@katieschry1

@scopeiguess

@idontcare011

@mylifeislikecandycanes

[dreaming-medium]

Stray Kids Kinktober Day 6

Stray Kids Kinktober Masterlist

Frottage - Bang Chan

Word Count: 8.8k

Summary: Being an award winning actress isn’t as easy as some might think. Award shows themself are one of the more difficult events to tackle. But luckily, during this ceremony, you get to meet some of your favorite idols, and they get to meet their favorite actress.

—————————————————————

“And after the awards ceremony there’s an after party at The Plaza.” Your agent’s voice is strictly business in the back of the limousine. 

You’re playing with the fabric of your gown while absentmindedly listening to her. 

“Do I have to be on set tomorrow?”

“Yes, your call is at 9:00 AM. Transportation will be at your hotel at 7:30.”

You groan and look up at the ceiling. “Why do they always put these award shows on weekdays?”

“Your weekends aren’t exactly free anymore, either.” 

Yes, you’re aware. 

The life of an actress was not easy. Especially an award winning one. Right now, you are the hot, new, up-and-coming actress that everyone has their eye on. The actress that every director wants in their movie, their TV show, their commercials– everything.

Currently, you’re in the middle of filming a TV show that has a high fantasy aesthetic to it. You’re the main role in the show, the main badass warrior that everyone roots for. The kind of character that has a million and thirty Tik Tok edits of her.

It’s one of those shows where your character is constantly going through the wringer. The amount of bruises that you have to sport on camera increases each day; real and fake. 

Your nerves begin to creep up on you the closer you get to the award venue. 

Red carpets were one of the hardest parts of the job. Memorizing lines? Easy. Learning blocking and fight choreo? You do that every day. 

Talk to strangers and pose for pictures? No, thank you. 

Who were you wearing again?

“This dress is Gucci, right?”

“No, it’s Christian Siriano. I’m glad you asked. Your jewelry is Gucci and your shoes are Prada.”

You stare at your agent blankly, she hasn’t looked up from her tablet once. You were not made for this part of the job.

“Jesus…” you sigh and lean back into the cushioned seat. 

“While we’re at it, do you even know what award you’re up for?”

“Outstanding Lead Actress in a Drama Series, right?”

“And?”

“And?” you repeat incredulously. “I thought I was only up for one!”

Finally, your agent looks up with a smirk. “Trick question, you passed. Proud of you.”

You can’t help but laugh and look out the window. “You know I’m nervous as all hell, don’t test me.”

“Don’t be nervous. I’m sure you have this in the bag.”

“That’s exactly what I’m nervous about. I have to get up, walk up those stairs in these Gucci—“

“Prada.”

“Prada shoes. And then make an acceptance speech in front of everyone. Millions of people. No pressure.”

She laughs and looks down at her tablet again. “You’re very charming and everyone loves you, you can talk the paint off a wall, Y/N, just be yourself.”

Grumbling, you cross your arms over your chest. But you can’t sit still in that position for too long at all. You’re too fidgety. 

In front of you, there’s a chilled bottle of champagne. You pour it into one of the flutes and sip it entirely too fast for the quality of the drink. ‘Sip’ is putting it gently, you down it. 

A second glass is poured, but you choose to hold that one in your hand tightly. Absent-mindedly, you swirl the champagne around, watching the bubbles form and pop up at the top. 

A few moments of silence pass, you begin to mutter to yourself to ease the stress. “Christian Siriano dress, Gucci jewelry, Prada shoes. Christian Siriano dress, Gucci jewelry, Prada shoes..”

The crowd starts getting louder the closer you get to the event. Cameras are already flashing outside your limousine. 

“I haven’t even told you who’s going to be there.”

Your agent sounds extremely smug all of a sudden. When you look over at her, there’s a cocky smirk on her face. 

“Who?” With that look, you’re not even sure that you want to know the answer. 

“Maybe put the drink down before I tell you. Wouldn’t want you to spill it on your…”

“Christian Siriano.”

“Christian Siriano dress.”

After downing the contents once more, you put the glass down. 

“Okay, who?”

Her smile grows even wider. “You know Stray Kids, right?”

Your face pales, even under all that makeup all the color drains from your skin. 

“They’re going to be there?”

She knows, she knows you’ve been a fan for a while. You were a Stay before fame came your way. 

Your agent smiles and nods, the light from her tablet illuminating her face. 

“Don’t play with me,” your voice is strained. “That’s mean.”

You’ve been keeping your admiration of them on the down low for so long. Now that you’re in the public eye, you have to be very low key about things. 

It was killing you. 

“They did a soundtrack song for a show, it’s up for an award.”

You were nervous before. Now you’re downright hysterical. 

“They’re going to be there? All eight of them?”

“To my knowledge, yes.”

The limousine comes to a gradual stop. The screams outside are deafening, even through the car doors. 

“Will I see them?” You ask, gathering your skirt up to try and assist with a graceful exit out of the limo. 

“Probably!” There’s a little hint to her voice that you can’t quite put your finger on. What is she doing? What does she know? 

The driver comes around the limousine and you take a deep breath, activating your celebrity face. 

It’s never hard for you to muster a genuine smile. You’re humble about your life, you know how lucky you are. Thinking about how far you’ve come is all the motivation you need to let the corners of your lips perk up.

“Ready?” Your agent asks.

“Yes, ma’am!”

The door opens and the roar of the crowd goes insane. You’re practically blinded by the flashes of the cameras. 

You do your very best to keep a level head and follow the instructions of the security team around you. 

In the meantime, as you walk into the venue, you turn and smile at the fans behind the barricades. 

Sending them hand hearts, waving enthusiastically back at them. You look up at your head security guard.

“Can I please go sign a few autographs?”

He looks down at you, obviously annoyed. But annoyed in the fatherly way. Just by the look on his face, you knew he was going to say yes. 

You quickly pick up your skirt and walk over to the barricade. The screams get louder and louder the closer you get. 

“Hi! Hi!” You greet all the fans as they scream for you. So many different objects are thrust over the fence for you to sign. 

You grab a marker and begin leaving your signature over everything in sight: posters, shirts, books. 

Several selfies are taken with you. Every single fan is so sweet and kind that you can’t help but spend extra time with them. 

They reach out and grab your hands, you hold them back and have conversations with them. 

You always do this. It’s something you’re very well known for. 

“Miss Y/N.” your security guard says gruffly behind you. 

“Okay, okay. I gotta go, guys. It was so nice meeting you, and it was nice seeing you again!” You point to a fan that you recognized from a convention you attended a few months ago. 

After blowing a few more kisses, you leave the barricade and head towards the red carpet. 

If it was up to you, you would’ve stood there and talked with your fans all day and never gone into the awards ceremony. They’re the reason you’re here, after all. 

Walking along the carpet, you plaster a smile on your face and wave to all the photographers. You stand still right in the middle of the space and strike several different practiced poses. 

You make sure to look in all different directions and show off the dress hugging your body beautifully. 

It’s a dark yellow gown with huge puffed sleeves that sit off your shoulders. The center of the gown dips down to show off your cleavage. The rest of the skirt poofs out in a princess style. 

It’s absolutely gorgeous. Crafted to show off your body in the best way.

All the photographers call out your name, all of them trying to get your attention. 

You wave to several that you recognize and say hello to others. 

Your short minutes on the red carpet run out and you quickly make your way across to the other side to link arms with your agent. 

She pats your arm, “Great job! Now for the hard part.”

On the other side of the red carpet there are several different magazines, websites, and other fashion sources lined up with interviewers stationed in front of cameras. 

“I studied for this, remember?” you tease her and hug her arm closer before letting go. 

The first interview you do is with Vogue, they had grabbed your attention so fast you almost got whiplash. 

How’s the show? Who are you wearing? Are you nervous about tonight?

These are all questions you prepared for.  

Next interview was with Vanity Fair. You had recognized the interviewer, so you approached her first. 

“Y/N!” Her face lights up when she sees you.

“Hi!” you answer just as cheerfully, wrapping her in a big hug and then holding her out at arms length. “How have you been?”

“So good, you?”

“Can’t complain– busy. I’m so glad to see you!”

“Me too! Do you have time for an interview?” She asks hopefully. 

“I always have time for you.”

She says thank you and her camera man gets into place. A second microphone is handed to you. Before you can blink, she’s in interview mode. 

You smile and listen to her introduction.

“I am here with, Y/N L/N, star of the Emmy award winning show, Kings and Pirates. How are you doing tonight, Y/N?”

You lift the microphone up to your mouth and speak into it happily. “I’m doing great, thank you! Always a pleasure to be talking with you on the red carpet.”

“You flatter me, Y/N! Now tell us the obvious question here: Who are you wearing?”

“I am wearing an original Christian Siriano dress, Gucci jewelry, and Prada shoes.”

“The entire outfit is beautiful! An amazing dress to hopefully show off when you win Best Actress tonight…?”

You laugh humbly. “I don’t know, there are so many amazing actresses nominated tonight. A girl can hope, but when I see the other names around mine, I can’t help but be anxious.”

The interviewer opens her mouth to ask another question, but the crowd absolutely erupts in cheers. Louder than when you got out of your limo, louder than some concerts you’ve attended. 

“Oh my god, I think someone important just showed up.” You joked into the microphone. 

Both you and the interviewer are looking across the carpet, craning your necks to see if you can get a glimpse of whoever just stepped out. 

“Minho! Hyunjin! Felix!” Crowd members scream out several names and your heart rate skyrockets. 

“Oh my god, it’s Stray Kids.” You accidentally say into the mic. 

“Oh wow! Are you a Stay?” She asks you. Your head whips around and a dark blush covers your cheeks. 

Laughing nervously, you look down at the ground, suddenly sheepish. “Ah… well, yeah. I’ve been a fan of theirs for years now.”

“Did you know they were going to be here tonight?”

“I was told it was a possibility, but I didn’t want to get my hopes up.”

Joke after joke makes the interviewer and her cameraman laugh. 

The interview continues without a hitch. But the entire time all you want to do is turn around  and see if you can catch a glimpse of Stray Kids. 

Yes, you’re famous. But you’re just a Stay at heart. 

You say your goodbyes with the interviewer and turn to move onto the next one. 

A gasp catches in your throat as soon as you step away. 

All eight of them are right there, doing their own interview with Buzzfeed. They’re smiling and laughing about something. 

You’re just able to stare. They’re right there. You’ve never been in the same space as them. 

Act professional, Y/N! Stop acting like a fangirl, you’re literally on the clock right now!

Their laughter is contagious and you find yourself smiling as you turn away and walk to another interviewer trying to flag you down. 

“… excited to maybe meet tonight? You guys are usually at music award shows, so this is definitely new for you! There’s some new faces that you probably have never seen before.”

“We actually were just talking about this on the ride over,” Chan says to the interviewer, ever the front man. “We’re all huge fans of Kings and Pirates, we watch it together every week when new episodes come out. We joked that it would be an amazing opportunity to say hi to Y/N L/N.”

It’s like the red carpet is pulled right out from underneath your feet. 

“But that would be like trying to get a private conversation with royalty, you know?”

You? They want to meet you? They watch your show? Every week? Together? 

“I think I just saw her around…” the interviewer trails off, by her tone you can tell she’s looking around for you. 

Act casual, Y/N. Pretend like you weren’t listening to every word of their interview closely. Act normal for once in your life.

“Ah, no way.” Chan’s thick accent reaches your ears. He sounds so shy by his tone. Several other members murmur and tease one another. 

“Oh, there she is! Y/N!” The interviewer grabs your attention— she technically already had it. 

The members begin to get louder when you turn your head to look at the entire group of them staring at you. 

When your eyes meet all of theirs, each of them freeze like a deer in headlights. Do they even know who they are?

You can’t tell if you’ve gone sheet white or bright red. Your heart is beating so fast it might explode. 

The interviewer waves you over, you look over at the other one you were walking to and hold up a finger to say ‘one moment’ before walking over to the large group of them. 

“Hi, hi!” You cheer casually when you come up next to them. 

All right members look absolutely starstruck. Jeongin’s eyes look like they might bug out of his head. 

They all bow politely when you join the group. 

Chan’s bow is a second later than everyone else’s. He’s too busy staring in absolute disbelief. 

“Y/N! It’s so nice to see you!” the interviewer says. You think you recognize her from another event. 

“You as well,” you respond with a beautiful smile.

“Let’s get you a mic— oh, we have no more— maybe someone— can share?”

Chan is the member closest to you, he immediately angles the mic your way. He does it so fast and eagerly it almost hits right into you. 

You giggle and thank him, “Thank you! It’s good to see you too,” you repeat and step a bit closer to him to make sharing easier. 

He smells so good. You can feel his body heat radiating onto your bare shoulders. Thankfully, the outdoor chill isn't affecting you much due to your adrenaline being so high. 

“Y/N, before I ask anything else, I do need to ask who you’re wearing.”

“Oh, a Christian Siriano original with accessories by Gucci and shoes by Prada.”

“Absolutely stunning,” the interviewer compliments. 

A light giggle comes from your chest and you go to thank her. It’s under his breath but you hear Chan say something along the lines of ‘that’s an understatement.’

“I did call you over here for a specific reason, besides the fact that we would love to interview a nominee for Best Actress. It seems you have eight fans all eager to meet you!”

You turn and look over at the members with wide eyes. “Oh my god!” You say out loud and your hand flies to your chest. “I am literally honored!”

“You know Stray Kids?” The interviewer asks. 

Well, if they already said they were fans… 

You lean down into the mic and laugh, “I have been a Stay for so long, are you kidding?”

Every single one of them don shocked expressions. Chan goes stiff as a board. 

You look at each of them with one of the most gorgeous smiles across your face. “When I was called over here with you guys I thought I was going to pass out. I had your discography playing in the room while my stylists got me ready.”

All eight of them move around like little kids meeting their idols for the first time. They each stare at you with literal stars in their eyes. 

“The first album that caught my attention was In Life, actually. Haven is my favorite song.”

You rain compliment after compliment down on them.

“It’s truly an honor to meet you, we’re all such huge fans.” Felix is the one that breaks the silence into the mic. The rest of them all nod eagerly. 

“Since we’re all fans of Kings and Pirates,” the interviewer brings your attention back. “Do you think you could give us a small spoiler for the new season coming out?”

“Ah,” you laugh and look around a bit, sucking your teeth in thought. “I reaaally shouldn’t, but…” You look to the side to make eye contact with all the members but Chan’s piercing gaze is the one that stole your breath away. 

His stylist had done his hair in such a natural, curly way. Every single strand is sitting perfectly on his head. The makeup on his face highlights his features angelically. 

Especially that beautiful nose of his. 

Each of them wore black tie suits with a bit of personal flair on them. Chan’s entire suit, including the undershirt and tie, was black. 

It takes a moment for your brain to reboot, not that anyone noticed. To them, it just looked like you were thinking of a small spoiler to give away. 

“I think that fans can look forward to seeing an old face that we previously had to say goodbye to.”

Jeongin eagerly grabs Han’s arm and says something in his ear. The two of them start whispering about what the spoiler could possibly mean. 

The rest of them all move around anxiously. Except Chan. He continues to stare at you with his lips parted slightly. 

You hold his eye contact for one more moment before looking back at the interviewer with a sinfully sweet smile. 

“Wow!” She says over-dramatically on purpose, “I think us fans have a lot to look forward to. Best of luck to all of you with your nominations tonight!”

“Thank you so much!” You chirp into the mic and stand there with a smile while she does her required sign off to go back to the main camera back in LA. 

During those few moments, you feel Chan shift his weight so that his entire arm brushes against yours. Goosebumps immediately fly up your shoulder and through your neck. 

It takes every muscle in your body not to react to it.

He’s still holding the mic between the two of you just in case you need to speak again. You want to turn your head and look at him so badly. 

You want to talk to him in the worst way; ask him questions about the music, even just how his day is, anything. 

The cameras cut and you instantly let out a sigh of relief, next to you, you see the eight of them deflate a bit too. 

The interviewer says her thanks and the crew takes the mics back from everyone. 

“It really was a pleasure meeting you guys,” you say with your hand on your heart again. “Words cannot describe how honored I am to be talking to you all.”

“Are you kidding?” Chan jokes. “We all feel the same way. I don’t think we even thought we would be able to stand near you tonight.”

You laugh and see your agent signaling you out of the corner of your eye. 

“Bah! I’m just a girl, really! Best of luck to you guys tonight, I’ll be cheering extra loud from the crowd when you win!”

“The same goes for us,” Chan smiles. He sticks his hand out and you immediately grab it. 

Electricity shoots up your arm and you have to bite your cheek to keep yourself from screaming. 

Your hands shake and you say your goodbyes to each of the members before walking away to your next interview. 

As soon as they think you’re out of earshot, they all begin talking rapidly to one another about you. 

“Can you believe it?”

“She’s a Stay!”

“Oh my god, I think I blacked out, did that really happen?”

“You lucky bastard, you got to shake her hand and share your mic with her.”

“Stop acting like a middle schooler.”

Their voices fade into the background the further you get from them. You just can’t help but smile and look down at the floor sheepishly. 

---------------------------------------

“I’ll find you after the awards show, okay, hon?” Your agent catches your attention as you walk into the auditorium. 

She grabs both of your forearms lightly and kisses your cheek. “Best of luck to you, don’t make yourself look stupid on stage.”

That last part is whispered into your ear and it makes you laugh. “I won’t! I won’t!”

She says her goodbyes once more and you look up at the usher waiting for you. 

This award show has its nominees all sitting around large dinner tables. There’s about ten people per table. 

For your show, you were the only one nominated for an award tonight, so not even your director or crew was here to sit with you. 

The usher held out his arm for you to take and you did so with a gracious smile. There’s a reason you’re known for charming everyone you meet. 

He leads you through the vast room. Several fellow actors call your name and greet you, and you respond to each one happily. 

“Here we are, Miss Y/N.”

No way. Absolutely no way. 

Seated around the entire table are the eight members you saw mere minutes ago, their manager taking the ninth seat. 

Sure enough, your name is printed on a sign draped over the back of the chair. 

Minho looks up at you first and waves sheepishly. You immediately wave back.

If Lee Minho waves, you wave back. 

“Hi again!” You greet them all before turning up and gently laying a hand on the usher’s bicep to thank him. He bows his head once and walks off. 

Chan, who was seated next to your empty chair, practically springs out of his seat and stands next to you. 

“I can’t believe this,” you tell him with a wide smile. He mirrors it and holds his hand out to the chair. 

You laugh while he grabs the back of it and pulls it out from the table. 

It takes a little bit of special maneuvering, but you manage to fold your poofy skirt down in order to sit down. Chan pushes your chair back in and takes his seat next to you. 

He now sits on your left, Seungmin on your right. 

“I guess I would’ve met you guys tonight regardless, then!” 

“It seems that way,” Chan answers. He reaches up and rubs the side of his neck with his hand. 

Now, from years of being a fan, you know that’s a nervous tick of his. And with your friendly nature, all you want to do is soothe him. 

“It’s like I’m getting a deluxe, VIP fan meeting. When Stay watches the award ceremony they’re all going to put a bounty on my head.” 

They all laugh and you turn to look at Seungmin, “Can I have an autograph before I die? I didn’t bring any of my albums with me, though.”

He laughs at your joke and your heart smiles with his beautiful grin. 

“I knew I should’ve brought a photocard with me.”

Behind you, Chan shifts around. “You bought our albums?”

You turn back to him, “Of course I did. I wanted to support you guys. Best way to do that is streaming your music and buying the albums, right?”

“Yeah,” he answers nervously, his bottom lip pulling between his teeth. “Yeah, you’re right. Just didn’t think I’d ever meet a celebrity I admired and find out they’re a Stay.”

You giggle and lean forward on the table. “I hope that’s not weird. I think I would’ve exploded if I didn’t tell you guys how big of a fan I was.”

“Not weird at all, just unexpected.”

“I guess I feel the same way, especially after hearing that you guys watch the show.”

“We love the show!” Han tells you from across the table. “Sometimes Minho will cut dance rehearsals early for us to go back and watch it.”

“Seriously?” you ask. “Wow, that really means a lot, you have no idea.”

“It’s easy to be a fan of yours,” Chan grabs your attention. “You’re one of the kindest people we’ve met in a while.”

Oh, you are practically kicking your feet around. 

“Fame is a whole other universe to tackle. I wanted to make sure I treat my fans and everyone around me the way I wanted to be treated before all this happened to me. It’s important not to lose yourself. But I know you guys all know that already. You’re masters at it.”

“Hyunjin still lets it get to his head.” Felix jokes. 

“What!”

The pre-show continues like this as the rest of the celebrities file in. Many stop by your chair and say hello to you.

With each one, you get up out of your seat, hug and kiss them hello, then sit back down only to be interrupted again. 

“You certainly are popular,” Chan comments after you say goodbye to a fellow actor. “That last guy crossed the room to come say hi to you.”

With a giggle, you joke, “Is someone jealous?”

He stiffens for a moment, his back going straight and he clenches his fists on the tabletop for a moment. “No.”

His answer is not firm at all. 

Before you’re able to analyze it, producers come out among the audience to tell everyone the cameras are about to begin rolling. 

“When is your award in the lineup?” You whisper over to Seungmin. 

“Right before yours, actually.”

“Maybe I’ll see you all backstage then.”

You both smile at each other and shift back in your chairs. 

Several cameramen come out into the audience with their large sets of equipment. One of them is very obviously hovering by you. 

You know he’ll signal you if you’re being shown. The teleprompters strategically placed along the venue also show what is being broadcasted. 

Opening music begins playing and the lights dim among the audience. The centerpieces on the tables give off an evening glow. 

A waiter comes over and places your drink on the table. You actually had forgotten you requested one before sitting down. 

You thank him and he takes his leave. 

“What’s that?” Chan whispers in your ear. 

“Espresso martini,” you answer. “Wanna try?”

Chan looks over at his manager, who is busy watching the host make his opening speech. He nods quickly and leans down, taking a long sip off the top. 

A tiny ‘mmm’ comes from the back of his throat and he looks at you while licking his lips a bit. 

“Oh that’s delicious.”

“And dangerous.”

You lift the glass and take a long sip from it and place it back down on the table. 

“I got my first major role fresh out of college. I’m still learning how to not rely on alcohol to have fun.”

Chan just laughs and both of you direct your attention to the host on stage. 

“-and if all else fails, we have our lovely knight in shining armor to protect us, tonight.”

The camera man turns and has the camera on your face. You smile brightly and blow a kiss into the camera. The entire audience lets out several positive reactions. 

When the camera cuts away, you let out a sigh of relief. “I knew they were gonna do that.”

You take another large swig of your drink. It’s almost empty already. Curse these fancy people and their tiny portions. 

Chan leans over and suddenly his hot breath is on your skin. Goosebumps rip down your body and you can’t suppress a shiver. 

“Careful,” he whispers lowly. “I don’t think you want to be stumbling onto the stage.”

“I think you underestimate my alcohol tolerance, Mr. Bang.”

You both make eye contact.

The audience applauds as the host leaves the stage and the first announcer comes on. Both of you clap and Chan leans away from you. Out of the corner of your eye, you see his tongue dart out to wet his bottom lip before he pulls it between his teeth.

His cologne lingers around your senses even after he’s gone. 

Dammit, he’s right. But, my god, you need another stiff drink.

---------------------------------------

“And here are the nominees…” The announcer says into the mic. The entire table is holding their breath. 

This was it, this was Stray Kids’ award. Your jaw clenches with anticipation as the names are read off one by one. Individually, you crack each of your knuckles anxiously.

All eight of the members are staring up at the screen, each of them have their own nervous ticks. 

You reach under the table to try and comfort Chan a bit, your hand landing on his knee. He jumps in place at the table at the contact.

Without looking at each other, he places his hand on top of your and squeezes a bit.

“It’s going to suck when I have to sit here by myself after you guys win.” you whisper to him.

“If we win.”

“You’re going to win.” You squeeze his knee again.

“And the winner is…” 

You suck in a breath, all of them stiffen up. Cameras are pointed at each of the nominees tables. 

“Stray Kids!”

Immediately, you spring out of your seat with a gleeful cheer. Clapping your hands together and smiling at each of them. 

Without a second thought, Chan wraps you into a grand hug, pure joy written across his face. Your face morphs into a shocked one, but you hug him back happily.

He’s so warm. His hug is so tight.

After a few heartbeats, he tears himself off of you with an unreadable expression. All eight of them walk up to the stage and grab the award from the presenter.

Sitting back down, you take a second to catch your breath. 

So badly, you want to focus on their acceptance speech, but all you can think about was the way Chan held you. It went straight to your heart, and thanks to the alcohol in your veins, it traveled a bit south as well. 

Nervously, your hand comes up and rubs at your chest by your collarbones, a small nervous tick of yours.

The table feels so empty without the eight of them there. Their manager is the only one left sitting there with you. He’s watching their speech intently.

Both of you stand and clap once more as they walk off the stage. All of them pushing each other gleefully and playing slap ass. It makes you giggle.

All of the lights around the room shift again and another announcer comes into the stage. The same camera man as before comes around the side of the table to stand closer to you.

The announcer goes through their speech about how important actresses are, how each of you stood out, how it was an honorable nomination. Your heart is in your throat, you can feel each thud against your ribcage so closely. 

No one was next to you to hold your knee. 

“And the nominees are…”

Various clips of the other nominees in their element flash behind their names.

Your name is third. Several different dramatic scenes play out within the five second window. They chose some of your best scenes for that little animation. The next few nominees flash after that.

“And the winner is…”

You suck in your breath.

“Y/N L/N! King and Pirates!”

The entire audience erupts in cheers. Practically everyone stands up on their feet.

You bury your face in your hands in disbelief. 

“Oh my god!” you practically yell as you stand up. 

An actor from the next table places his hand on your back to help you out of your chair. You smile gratefully at him and make your way up to the stage. 

During the entire walk, several different people offer you their congratulations, you thank each of them, shaking their hands. 

Climbing your way onto the stage, you make your way over to the announcer, kissing their cheeks as a thank you and turning to speak into the mic.

“Oh wow,” you laugh into the mic, looking down at the award and then back up at the audience. “I know everyone says this, but I really did not expect this! I mean, have you seen any of the other shows?”

A gentle laugh comes from the crowd. 

The rest of your acceptance speech is short, sweet, and to the point. The timer on one of the teleprompters definitely motivated you to speak quickly. 

As you walk away with your award, music plays behind you. A stage manager comes up to you and ushers you through the wings.

Several more congratulations come your way, you respond to each of them humbly.

You turn a corner and are met with a cheer even louder than the one from the auditorium full of people. 

All eight members of Stray Kids are clapping for you, jumping up and down in excitement. Your enthusiasm immediately matches theirs as you come up to them.

“I can’t believe it!” you say loudly, holding the award out to look at. “I think I’m dreaming!”

You turn and look up at Hyunjin, “Pinch me, I have to be asleep!”

He laughs at you and lightly grabs your arm. You yip dramatically and look back down at the trophy. “Nope, definitely awake!”

“If you guys would please find your seats, we need to clear this hallway.” a stagehand ushers your group away. He turns and looks down at you with a soft smile, “They wouldn’t leave until you came back.”

“Aww,” you coo to all of them. Your arm wraps around Jeongin’s, who happens to be the closest at the moment. “You guys are too sweet!” 

Your head rests on his arm and you hug it close as a thank you. He pats your hand and bends his arm to escort you back to your table.

A pair of deep brown eyes burn into the side of your head the more you grab onto Jeongin. Not that you noticed. 

Walking through the hallways, you see one back hall that has signs for the bathroom.

“Actually, I’m going to run to the ladies’ room before going back to the table. I’ll meet you guys back there. Do you mind taking this back to the table for me?”

You drop Jeongin’s arm and hold the trophy out to him. The maknae is hesitant, but takes your award anyway. You laugh at him and rub his arm before you head back to the bathroom.

“Am I allowed to be holding this?” he asks as you walk away.

The venue was a grand, old hotel, you follow so many twists and turns to get to the bathroom. Was there even one back here?

Did you take a wrong turn? There aren’t even workers back here. 

You definitely aren’t supposed to be back here. Turning back and finding another bathroom is probably the best option at this point. 

A gentle grasp on your wrist makes your heart jump and a gasp tear from your throat. Frightened, you turn around and raise your hand to hit whoever snuck up on you. 

“Y/N! It’s just me!” Chan says quickly, cowering behind his hand just in case you still swing. 

“Ugh, Chan! You scared the shit out of me!”

“Sorry, I called your name a few times, I guess you didn’t hear me.” You shake your head, he sucks his teeth. “That explains it. Staff told me there’s no bathroom down here, I wanted to grab you before you got too lost.”

Chan chuckles nervously, you laugh too. “That explains it. I guess those signs must’ve been extras that they printed for the venue. Who knows?”

It’s now that you notice he’s still holding your wrist tightly in his hand. His hand is so warm, so soft. 

He nervously licks his lips and his eyes look all around the hall, anywhere but at you. His throat bobs with a gulp. 

“I don’t ah— I don’t believe I gave you a proper congratulations. So, congratulations on the award. You deserve it.”

“Oh!” You giggle. “Thank you! And a hearty congratulations to you as well, I can’t think of anyone who’s worked harder than you guys.”

Taking another step closer to him, you turn your wrist around and take a hold of his hand.

“I also can’t think of any other celebrities I would want to celebrate with.” The corners of your lips pull into a grin, Chan’s twitch as well. “You guys are so sweet, cheering for me. Made the win that much better.”

Slowly, his ears begin to turn red and his jaw clenches a few times. His chocolate brown eyes flit all over your face and around the hall. His nerves on clear display. 

“Yeah, well, you deserve it, so.” Chan clears his throat and adjusts the tie around his neck. “I can’t take credit for it, it was Changbin’s idea to wait for you and all.” 

You reach up on your toes and press a long, soft kiss to his cheek. With his lips right by your ear, you’re able to hear him gasp under his breath and then stop breathing. 

Underneath your lips, you feel how much heat is radiating off his smooth skin. It’s like you kissed a frying pan. 

“Thank you, Channie,” you whisper against his skin. 

The hand around yours twitches and tightens. 

You press another kiss to his cheek before going to back away. 

Quicker than you can blink, Chan’s free hand comes around your body and holds you against him. His hand curls around you to press into the small of your back. 

Your head tucks under his chin, ear against the dip of his throat. His heart is beating just as fast as yours. 

“Not yet,” he whispers so quietly you almost didn’t hear it. “Please, not yet.”

Your heart thuds in your chest at his words. How could you not? The Bang Chan is asking you to stay closer to him for just a little while longer. The same man you’ve admired from a distance for years. 

The man who created such a deep parasocial relationship with you that it took a lot of self reflection to bring yourself out of it. And now, here you were, in his arms in real life, tucked away in the hallway of this hotel. 

Smelling his expensive cologne and aftershave, listening to his shallow breathing, the entire world seems to stop. If your past self could see this, she’d probably pass out. 

Hell, you might pass out now. 

You squeeze his hand once and he responds with a grip of his own. 

Slowly, you pull your head back to gaze up at him. He stares down at you with the most thoughtful expression. 

Eyes are windows to the soul; and right now, his soul is so flustered and fulfilled at the same time. 

“I can’t believe tonight is real,” you murmur. 

Several times, you catch Chan’s eyes flicking down to your lips. Each stolen glance adds another butterfly to your stomach. 

His hand on your back pulls you even closer. 

“You keep talking as if you’re not one of the biggest names in the world right now.” he teases and you chuckle softly. “If anyone should be pinching themself, it’s me.”

His breath is cool and minty. Yours is tinged with espresso. 

Your tongue comes out and licks your bottom lip before you pull it between your teeth. Chan watches, trying not to make it obvious. 

“Can I try something?” Your question is deathly quiet. If it wasn’t for the silence of the hallway, there’s no way he would have heard it otherwise. 

“Yes,” he replies immediately. It comes out as a huff; quick, short, and desperate. 

“Close your eyes, Chan.”

He listens right away, his eyes snapping shut. 

You hesitate for a split second, just taking in his ethereal beauty. Every curve of his gorgeous, blemish free face. It’s not fair.

Both of his hands twitch, his jaw clenches. 

You lean up slowly and press a featherlight kiss on his plush lips. 

His shoulders seem to sag inwards, a large, relieved exhale leaves his nose. 

Fireworks explode behind your eyes, tingles shoot down into your fingertips. 

You pull back after a second, his eyes open a bit and Chan stares down at you, his lips parting for a moment. 

He stares intently into your eyes, as if trying to read you or see something within them. 

Without breaking eye contact, he leans down and kisses you again. You melt into the kiss with half lidded eyes, they unfocus as you fall further into his kiss. 

Chan pulls back for a moment to turn his head and capture your lips once more, his bottom lip slotting between yours. 

Both of your eyes shut. 

Your hands move and you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling his head closer to yours as he kisses you like his life depends on it. 

Chan holds your waist with both hands, the heat from his hold going right through your dress. 

Each kiss is hot and heavier than the last. His grips at your dress grow needier and needier by the second, he can’t hold you close enough to his body.

Within moments, you’re both opening and closing your mouths, with open mouthed, wet, sloppy kisses. His eyebrows pull together.

Erotic pants fill the empty hallway.

You ever so gently bite down on his bottom lip and pull your head back. 

Chan sighs and his half lidded, hazy eyes look down into yours as his lip snaps back after you release it. 

He takes two long steps and walks you backwards until your back hits the wall. 

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs against your lips before capturing them in another heated kiss. “You’ll have to tell me. I can’t do it myself. Not when I’ve wanted you for so long.”

Your fingers thread up through his hair on the back of his head and you pull him closer against you. 

Tangled tongues and gentle grunts mix together. 

“What if I don’t want you to stop?” you ask lowly in between kisses. 

Chan groans and presses his entire body into yours. 

You felt like you’re on fire with the way you’re so feverishly pulling him closer. 

One his hands moves up and down your waist. The puffiness of your skirt getting in the way of his hips grinding directly into yours. 

“So beautiful,” he mutters between kisses. “So gorgeous.” Kiss. “Wanted you for so long.”

It’s your turn to moan at his praise, you suck on his tongue and his eyes roll back in his skull. 

When you pull away from each other panting, you look around in the hallway. There’s a door right next to you both, where it leads, you’re not sure. 

Chan kisses your cheek and then makes his way down your neck with his lips. 

“Chan,” you moan out. 

“Yeah, baby?”

Fuck. That goes right to your head and makes your stomach flip. 

He presses another wet kiss to your exposed collarbone and your head tilts back, knocking against the wall. He’s making it impossible to try and get any words out.

The hand on your ribcage squeezes when you let out a breathy exhale. 

“Did you need something?” he mouths against your neck and bites down right after. 

Oh, that cocky motherfucker. 

“Fuck, Chan…!” You pull at his hair. 

He brings his head up with a dopey look on his face, eyes half lidded and hazy. 

“Hm?” he hums and leans in, pressing another kiss to your check. 

One of your hands comes down and runs over his chest. You grab a hold of his tie and twist it around your hand before yanking on it. Your lips are right next to his ear and you make sure to let out hot exhales.

Chan gasps and presses a hand on the wall next to your head to keep his balance. A shiver wracks his body.

“You’re starting something you can’t finish.” The low, gravel timbre of your voice shocks even you for a moment. It’s raspy and sexy. It has an effect it has on Chan immediately. His pupils dilate and he takes a sharp intake of air.

“Oh, princess,” Chan bites your earlobe before blowing against it lightly. “I’ve never started something I didn’t intend on finishing.”

God, his voice. It’s like running your fingers over velvet. You yank his tie to the side and drag him towards the room like he’s on a leash.

Chan lets out a surprised grunt, but follows you nonetheless. Just like your little puppy begging you for your attention.

The entire walk over to the door, his hands are on your body. Anywhere Chan can reach, he’s touching you. 

When you push open the door, you’re happily surprised to find an empty dressing room. All the lights are off– perfect.

Once you both are inside, the door shuts and you push Chan against the back of it. Your lips desperately smashing together.

He’s everywhere on your body. His hands don’t stay in the same place for more than two seconds before he’s groping somewhere else. 

Blindly, he reaches for the door handle and clicks the lock in place. 

Your fist is still tightly curled around his tie, you wind it around your hand a few more times while your tongues tango. Sinfully wet noises emanate from your locked lips. Your other hand runs down his chest to unbutton his blazer.

Chan pushes off the wall and shucks the blazer off his shoulders, dropping it onto the ground. 

Never once do his lips leave yours. He’s intoxicating, you can’t get enough and neither can he.

He backs you up again until your ass hits a counter.

In one smooth movement, Chan reaches down and grabs your waist and lifts you onto the countertop. Your legs part and he stands in between them.

“This fucking dress,” he growls against your lips and nips your bottom one lightly. Desperately, he begins grabbing at the fabric, bunching it up around your hips. Underneath, you’re still clothed in stockings, corsets, spandex shorts, and many more.

He doesn’t seem to care. With both hands now grabbing your nylon-clad thighs, he brings both of your legs to wrap around his waist.

As soon as both of your hips meet, moans leave both of your mouths and you swallow each other’s. He’s hard as a fucking rock against you. So many layers of clothing separate the two of you from one another, it’s endlessly frustrating.

You pull his tie even tighter and one of his hands comes down to grip the edge of the counter for balance. 

Your hips roll against his once and he has to tighten his grip so much his knuckles turn white. 

“Do it again,” he whines against your mouth.

Who are you to say no? 

Again, you roll your hips up into his. This time, his hard cock rubs right against your clothed clit. It’s just enough to send a ripple down your legs and into your toes and they curl in your Prada heels.

You don’t stop in between hip rolls this time, you do it again and again and again. Each one feels better than the next.

It’s like your head goes underwater, deep within the riptide of the oceans of pleasure. 

And by the noises that are coming out of Chan’s mouth, you know he feels the same way. 

His hips begin to meet your thrusts with his own. Both of you are grinding into each other like teenagers in your parents’ basement. 

But you both are so needy at this moment that you’ll take anything you can get to scratch that insatiable itch. 

With each thrust, his exhales get heavier and heavier, whimpers and whines come out in between them. 

Your head kicks back against the mirror behind you after one particularly delicious roll. There’s no way you’re even on planet Earth right now with how much he’s making your body thrum.

“Fuck, babygirl,” he moans out and kisses your bare shoulder. 

You pull on his tie absentmindedly while you cry out when he thrusts even harder. 

“Wanna hear those moans with you on my cock,” he hisses when your legs tighten around his waist. “If I’m making you feel this good without touching you, think of how loud you’ll scream when I can finally fuck you into my mattress.”

“Chan-!” you whimper, your eyes squint closed, mouth falling open.

How is he so fucking good at this? Those dancer hips are merciless. It sends just the right amount of pleasure through your body.

“You know that Vogue photoshoot you did last month?” he moans into your ear, his lips right next to it. 

Your Vogue photoshoot was a borderline boudoir shoot. Only a black sheet covered you in most of your shots.

All you’re able to do is whine out an “uh-huh”.

“Babygirl, I can’t even think about that shoot without my cock getting hard. God, fu–huck! Shit.”

He’s going to make you cum just by grinding on you. You can feel it coming closer and closer. 

One of his hands travels up your body to grab at the side of your neck, his thumb caressing your jawline while he licks and nips at the other side. 

“Want you to pose like that for me. I want you all to myself.” He sounds like he would eat you whole if he could. And fuck, you would let him.

He could tell you to get on your knees and bark right now and you would.

“Close, Chan…” you whimper.

Just hearing that he’s going to make you cum makes his eyes roll in his skull. Every single wet dream of his is coming true under his own two hands. He has Y/N L/N’s legs wrapped around his waist, his cock pressed against her clothed cunt, her skin in his mouth.

Is this what winning felt like?

“You gonna cum for me babygirl?” he hisses and bites your neck.

“Yes! Shit! Don’t stop, please!”

When you try to meet his thrusts, your hips stutter, they’re unable to keep up with how fast he begins moving.

“Need you to cum, babygirl, need it so bad. Need it like I need oxygen.” Chan’s hand moves and he pulls your lips together.

He’s all consuming.

Three more thrusts and your body seizes, your orgasm gripping you so tightly that you think you might black out. 

You break free from his kiss to throw your head back. It thuds against the mirror. Your legs tighten around him so much he can barely move.

Chan rolls his hips a few more times, letting you ride out your mind-blowing orgasm. Each one is slower and more sensual than the last.

After a few seconds, your legs loosen up a bit around him. Chan trails softer kisses down your neck, over both of your collarbones, then back up to your cheeks.

They’re gentle and sweet. So different from the way he was absolutely devouring you mere moments ago.

“Chan,” you pant out. “Let me help you.”

“Soon, baby. Not here.”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a gold card– a hotel roomkey. 

Chan leans forward and presses a long kiss to your swollen lips. While he’s attached to you, he slips the roomkey into the top of your dress where your breasts sat.

“The Mark, room 103. Fuck The Plaza, you have your own afterparty to attend to.”

[charles-leclerizz]

🏎️ ๋࣭ ⭑ flustered tweets

🏁 Pairings : Max Verstappen X fem!Reader

🏁 Warnings : suggestive sexual themes, touching, kissing, licking etc. no explicit content, swearing, Daniel Ricciardo being a menace.

🏁 Word Count : 3.3k words (3352 words)

🏁 Author's note : First suggestive conntent on this blog! woo-hoo, light the fireworks. But I do hope you enjoy and as always please leave a comment or reblog, since they do fuel my motivation. <3 Note that word dividers are by @cottage-writings and as always, translations are available via radio comm.

🏁 Music player : Love by Lana Del Ray

You smile to yourself as you stare at your television screen, the metallic box was currently projecting your boyfriend’s face, post-race, red faced and sweaty. Positively gorgeous. His blonde hair was mused due to his helmet and droplets of water leaked down from the strands to his forehead, trickling down his temple to his chin where they dripped down to his fire-proofs. It was nearing the end of the interview, and that meant his favourite questions would begin to pop up, the personal ones.

“So Max, how’s the missus doing? Based off her Instagram it looks like you both are very happy.” The man holding the microphone smiled at the driver, who rolled his eyes playfully at the memory of the multitude of stories that you would post by the hour, in fact he was 99% sure that you had posted at least 5 whilst he was in the car.

“Yeah well, it’s a dream being with her, it really feels like I’m on cloud 9.” He gushed, a rare occurrence for the notoriously grumpy man, but as soon as you were brought up in conversation, it was as though he was a wilting sunflower that was just introduced to sunlight, “I’m doing all of this for her.” Max admitted bashfully.

“Well, if that isn’t proof of the it couple on the grid, then I don’t know what is.” The interviewer admitted, grinning at the lovesick expression on your boyfriend’s face, “But before I let you go, the fans were in uproar a few days before the race. Based on a tweet made by a fellow driver on the grid.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, as if his humorous actions would jog Max’s memory.

You, on the other hand, knew exactly of the tweet Mark, as he introduced himself as, was talking of. It was tweeted by none other than Daniel Ricciardo, the cheeky bastard decided to divulge the fans with a tidbit of information about Max and your sex life.

Just walked into the 2-time WDC and his girlfriend doing it like bunnies. Somehow, this man is never embarrassed.

You remember that day like no-other, it was the moment after the Spanish Grand Prix and Max had just won.

“I’m so proud of you,” You breathed against his lips, holding his face between your palms as your fingers fisted his hair, close enough to the root that he groaned outwardly. The scent of victory wafted from him as one of your hands snaked down between the two of you to unzip his race suit. Allowing you to push him against the hotel room wall and move down to lick thick, wet stripes against his pulse point, revelling in the taste of fresh champagne.

“heilige shit,” he breathed out, gnawing at his bottom lip whilst the hands that rested on your waist tightened and bruised his fingerprints against your skin.

 “Geliefde.” Max whispered, bringing his left hand up to grip the nape of your neck and guide your face away from the fifth fresh hickey you were creating on his muscle, towards his own, gazing into your eyes with a heavy stare.

“Yeah?” You answer, blinking rapidly to clear the misty haze that overtook your brain, all you could think of was the delicious way that his suit hung low from his hips and how tight his fireproofs were, exaggerating his muscular pecs that strained against the protective layer.

His chest rose and fell rapidly as you scratched your nails lightly down his scalp towards his thick collar that stuck to his body, “Maxie?” You prompt, fluttering your eyelashes at him.

He chuckled at your act, wrapping a large hand around your neck and squeezing gently at the sides, just enough for you to gasp, “What do you think the press will say huh? My girlfriend got too horny watching me win?” He guided you towards the freshly made bed, pushing you down to a sitting position as your knees hit the back of the padded mattress, “It’s okay though, mijn mooie vriendin-“ He paused, moving his hand up to cup your jaw and pull at your lower lip, parting your mouth until you obediently allowed him to slip his thumb in, “I only do this for you.” He murmured.

Max nudged you further, watching contently as you fell onto your back, sinking into the thick blanket and released his thumb with a loud pop. You laugh a little at his proclamation, “Really? You do this for me?” You bite your lip, fiddling with the comforter beneath your fingertips, pushing off from the bed as you anchor yourself on your elbows.

“You doubt me?” He arches an incredulous eyebrow at you, bending down to part your knees, “dat zal niet lukken.” He murmured, getting down onto his knees to hook your thigh onto his shoulder, allowing him to twist his head and kiss the sensitive skin, “What should I do to prove it to you? Huh?”

Max chuckled as you slipped your hand beneath the waistband of your shorts, pushing them down suggestively and he would’ve given into your request had it not been for the interruption.

“HEYYY CHAMP-“The friendly boisterous voice of a certain Australian rang through your hotel room, causing you to jump and grip your boyfriends head, which had merely jolted slightly before coming to rest against your opposite thigh, uninterested.

“Daniel.” Max deadpanned, his cerulean eyes merely slackened, cracking a lazy smile as his friend stopped in his tracks, blocking the door from what seemed to be at least half of the grid, “Must you really bother me?”

“Sorry man,” you heard Lewis call out, chuckling loudly as a familiar French cackle sounded off after a lewd comment sounding like, “damn he’s pussy-whipped”. You whimpered with embarrassment, falling back against the bed as you covered your face, hiding the blotchy blush that covered your face.

“Max” You whined, twitching your leg so that he could get up and most likely go out to celebrate, “Get up, we can continue this later.” You assured him, already imagining the dress that you would wear.

“See what you did wankers?” He called out, barely lifting himself up, “Made my girl embarrassed.” He admonished his colleagues.  Max looked up at you, cooing at your red face, “It’s okay, Mijn liefje. I’ll get them to leave.”

“Guys lets go” Lando called out, “Let the guy get his dick wet.”

“Ew gross.”

“Not my fault you’re single fuck-face.”

You groaned, “Guys!” The crowd settled at the sound of your harsh, crackly voice, “It’s fine, let us at least get ready?”

“Yes ma’am” Charles shouted, which was soon followed with sounds of violence and pathetic groans.

Max kissed your cheek, getting up from the floor to go and slam the door in the few faces, but before you could hear the satisfying wood beat against the hinges, Daniel had whispered, “How the fuck are you not embarrassed?” Which prompted more snickers and a flurry of agreements about your lover’s lack of humiliation.

“You should be embarrassed ass wipe.” Max chuckled as he pushed the group out of the doorway, “Walked in on me about to get the best meal money could never buy.”

If you thought about it too much the humiliation would creep back in, along with the curiosity.

Later that same evening, when your friends and you had gone out for dinner, your face was still flushed and any thought that led back to that moment in the hotel room would lead to you shaking your head promptly and diving back into conversation. Whereas Max was comfortably seated next to you, chatting happily as he sipped more alcohol from the flute by his porcelain plate whilst his free hand rested on your thigh, slipped underneath the silky material of your sundress.

It was as if the moment never happened and he was already fantasising about getting you back into the room, ready to bend you into different positions that would make your legs shake hard enough into next Sunday. He did infact, manage that.

Max laughed on your television screen, turning to look at Daniel, who was animatedly doing his own interview, “Yeah well, it’s hard to embarrass me,” he inhaled sharply through his teeth as he shrugged nonchalantly, “It really was just an inchident.”

Max winked cheekily at the camera as Mark laughed and patted his shoulder, “Nice to see Max, have a good one,”

“You too,”

You huffed out with amusement as you pointed the remote at the screen a certain calm filling the apartment as the light blinked away from the box in front of you. The sun was slowly setting on the streets of Monaco, a subtle signal that meant that your boyfriend would soon be returning home to you. Max would claim that home was where you were, but you could tell that the large penthouse was probably the closest alternative to the driver, it was a joint investment as a couple, the first of many and it was beloved by both of you.

Large windows that overlooked the high-end shopping district which curved with the positioning of the building, an oblong shape that influenced the soft edges of the entire apartment. The home was out of your Pinterest board, soft plush coaches and tall glass vases that littered every free surface, Max had claimed 2 of the 4 bedrooms, one of them being his office and the other being his specialist home gym. The third was saved for guests and the fourth, that resided on a separate floor; took over the entire area and was your shared bedroom. Luckily on his and your salary, the home was merely a drop in the ocean, along with the numerous pretty pennies you spent on furniture.

It was in other words, your baby.

Jimmy and Sassy slinked between your legs as you walked to the kitchen from your spot on the largest couch that was turned inwards to face the TV that was mounted within the ceiling, dropping down mechanically at the push of a button and retreating into the seemingly solid concrete at another. You had done exactly that, dismissing the piece of tech to show off the full-length balcony. Cooing at your fur-children you picked them up in one hand, “Come on guys, let’s finish dinner,” You kissed their heads, chuckling as they nuzzled into your face before letting them down on the floor in front of the sink when you went to put on a pair of gloves and fish out dinner from the oven.

The tell-tale chime of your elevator and the mechanical tone of the keypad informed you that Max was home, along with the cats going off to welcome their father from a long day of work,

“Hey guys,” you heard him greet the children whilst he kicked off his shoes and tucked them along with his jacket into the small cupboard that sat within the wall in the entrance hall. You turned away from the oven, placing the entire grill onto the kitchen island as you huffed happily at the dish within the Tupperware as Max walked further into the house and towards the kitchen, where you stood patiently, the soft sounds of the Vitamin String Quartet playing in the background.

“Hey, schat,” He murmured, eyes softening at the corners as he rushed to your side, tugging you away from the counter to wrap his hands around your and bury his head into your neck. You giggle at the tickle of his hair against your skin and bring your hands down to cover his that were wrapped around you, “Hello my love,” you whisper, turning your head slightly to kiss his forehead.

“You cooked,” He stated happily, smiling against you.

“I did.”

“I’m happy,” He confirmed, removing himself from your neck whilst keeping a firm hold on your waist, “How was work?”

“Same old same old, people want to invest in stocks, I do it for them. Very boring.” You rush through your day, recounting the odd events that went on in the office, “But I saw your interview, watched it on the archive.”

“Hmm,” He hummed, knowing that when you do watch the interviews, you normally do it to hear his voice and see his absurdly attractive post-race glow, not listen to the odd mechanical language and repeated statements of, “-push the car harder next race.” Or “-really disappointed this time.”

“Heard what you said about that tweet Daniel made,” You feel him kiss the skin behind your ear before snorting.

“What else could I say? Man doesn’t think before tweeting.” Max grumbled.

“Made me think-“

“Oh no.”

“Stop it.”

“Okay,”

“Anyway, made me think that I actually have never seen you blush.”

“I’m sure you have,” He assured you, untangling himself from you to get a chilled water bottle from the fridge behind you. You twist your body around, leaning back against the counter to watch his movements with squinted eyes.

“Hmm,” You tap your chin for a few seconds, “Nope, never.”

“Schat, it’s been almost two years,” He paused to crack off the top of the bottle, “I am positive you’ve seen me blush. And even if you haven’t, it’s no big deal.”

You huffed and crossed your arms childishly, “But I’m your girlfriend!” You reached out with your hands to grab his own slutty-man waist.

“Thanks for the reminder, had het anders niet geweten,” Max chuckled, allowing you to pull him by the waist to rest his abdomen just above yours.

“It’s a big deal Maxie, I’m meant to be able to make you blush,” You pouted up at him, scratching your nails up his spine, grinning as he shivered against your hold.

He took a final gulp from his bottle before minutely shifting to press harshly against a cupboard to reveal a hidden bin that popped out at his commend. Max dropped the empty plastic into the metallic cylinder and pushed the sliding contraption in again. He turned back to you, focussing on your large unblinking eyes and wet, pouting lips.

He held your face tenderly, kissing your forehead with his own, “S’okay schat, somethings just aren’t meant to happen.”

You pull away at his statement.

Like hell it won’t

“Nope, that won’t do,” You tug at his arm, guiding him into the separate dining room, a large area that was painted an off-white creamy colour, containing a brass sputnik chandelier that hung low against the white marble dining table which had at least 12 separate chairs tucked beneath its oval body. You pulled at the upholstered chair and dug your hand into the tactile Borg fabric before seating Max, who patiently trailed behind you whilst holding the separate doors open, allowing you to execute your plan perfectly.

You stood in front of the man, who was sat with his legs spread graciously in front of him with his large palms splayed against his slightly-less than normal skinny jeans. It was going to hard, yes. Harder than a diamond heist, to extract the long sought over blush from this well practiced stoic man. But you were determined.

Starting easily, you planted your hands on the arms of the chair and leaned forward, close enough that your noses were touching and lips ghosting over each other’s.

“What about this?” You whispered, eyes fluttering closed as you could begin to feel the small grooves and indents of his lips against yours along with his tongue licking at your bottom lip.

“Don’t think so, love.” He murmured back, laughing heartily when you groaned and pushed at his chest.

“Ok that’s it, take it off.” You folded your arms, tapping your foot impatiently.

“Woah, at least buy me dinner first?” Max’s eyes widened as you growled playfully and tugged at the hem of his branded red-bull shirt, “O-Okay okay, chill out you horny demon.”

“Good,” You huff, undoing the buttons of your light blue shirt, until you stood in just your bra and a long pair of silky lounge-wear pants, “We aren’t leaving here until you blush at least once.” You promised him, grinning manically when he stared at your chest.

You re-started once again, barely brushing your lips against the shell of his ear, smiling to yourself when his breath hitched and he groaned, “Anything?” You breathe out, licking slowly, lustfully at the sensitive skin between his ear and the nape of his neck.

“No,” Max denied, squeezing his eyes shut when you took the skin of his collar bone between your lips, sucking lavishly until you were sure of a dark blue love bite before moving inwards, littering the pale canvas with your marks.

“Come on Maxie, you know you want to,” You crooned moving further down, until your face was between his pecs and your hands were braced against the muscles, you dug your nails into his skin before dragging them slowly downwards whilst keeping your eyes locked with his, waiting for the victorious rosy tint to paint his face.

No luck.

“Maybe we should just give up? I can think of a lot of things I can do,” He just barely moaned out from between heavy pants whilst your mouth had made its way to his navel, leaving a wet trail in its wake. You shook your head slightly, flicking your eyes down to where your tongue lay flat against his stomach, “Are you fucking kidding me?” You complained, biting his abs.

“What? I can’t help it,” He defended, holding his arms up innocently before clenching his jaw shut when you began to fiddle with the button of his jeans.

“Yeah?” You challenge, getting up from the tiled floor to swing one leg to one side of his waist while the other sat on the opposite side, allowing you to straddle him and sit directly on his crotch whilst raising an eyebrow at his rolled back eyes.

“What about now Maxie?”

You winded your hips once. Twice. Until he came to hold your love-handles with a tight, possessive grip. Max leaned up, capturing your lips in a heated kiss, you whimpered when one of his hands slipped beneath your pants to snap the elastic of your underwear.

You pulled away, burring your hands in his hair and letting the soft strands flow through your fingers, “What about now?” You murmur, pushing yourself against his palm whilst arching your back. He hissed, smirking at your determination.

“Nope.” He removed both hands from your body to fold them behind his head and lean back, “Now what, schat?”

You slumped down and pulled at your bra strap contemplatively, “Dinner.” You stated simply, clambering out of his lap.

“That’s what I tho- wait why are your clothes on?” He asked you incredulously, pointing at the significant tent in his jeans.

“Max Emillian Verstappen I put a lot of effort into dinner tonight,” You scolded him with your pointer finger as you slipped on your shirt, leaving the buttons undone.

“W-what the-“ He spluttered reaching for your hand, “Seriously don’t do this,” he whined, adjusting his jeans with an uncomfortable expression.

“That’s what you get.” You shrugged, leaving him in the dining room, not before you bent down in front of him- swaying your hips suggestively as you collected his shirt from the floor and throwing it at him, “Don’t come out without your shirt on.”

The door slowly creaked shut, leaving Max still shirtless, flabbergasted at his inability to blush.

Well, not really.

He groaned loudly, balling up his shirt to hide the angry red flush that creeped up his cheeks and took over the entirety of his chest, ears and neck.

“HAH!” You called out, re-emerging from the door with a bang, “I KNEW IT.” You had your phone in your hand, displaying a perfect picture of his flustered state, the blonde was buried within his team’s shirt and was very obviously scarlet, “NOW THE WORLD WILL KNOW!” You shouted victoriously, jumping up and down in your spot, shirt still unbuttoned.

You squealed when Max jumped and growled at you, “Get back here, I’ll give you something to tweet about.”

📻 Kcccchh.... come in.... come in...translatiion available...over

📻 Kchh...Dutch....to english....over

heilige shit - Holy shit

Geliefde - Love [r]

mijn mooie vriendin - my beautiful girlfriend

dat zal niet lukken - that won't work

Mijn liefje - My darling

schat - Darling/Love/Babe [term of endearment]

had het anders niet geweten - wouldn't have known otherwise

[lettersofalover]

-> adore you | paige b

paige x black!fem!college!athlete reader

genre: fluff

authors note: she’s for the girls and yall go together. read bad

from the moment you woke up in your hotel room next to paige until now, about to step on to the espy’s red carpet, you were anxious. you were a famous athlete in your own regard but the spotlight had never quite been on you the way it was now - helping team usa win gold, setting a personal record and a uconn record, all while being in a loving private relationship with paige. everyone knew but nobody told. the athletes at uconn had each others backs and without a doubt, paige had yours. she popped candy into her mouth mindlessly as you got your hair and makeup done in the chair. “when you get on stage, not if but when,” she said matter of factly, “there’s going to be a countdown. don’t pay it any mind. just say what you want. literally, whatever. except curse words, they’ll fine conn for that.”

you couldn’t help having paige’s voice echo through your head, somehow drowning out the noise of the photographers. it was already a sunny day in california and the size of lights made you struggle to keep your eyes open. paige was coming behind you and suddenly all the photographers focus was on the both of you. the speculation had always been there, but there wasn’t any concrete proof. paige shot you a big smile and an awkward thumbs up and you covered your mouth to laugh. the shouts of the photographers were so deafening you couldn’t make out what they were saying until paige approached you and locked her fingers with yours: “they want us to take photos together.” she whispered in your ear before dropping your hand. the moment her hand left yours, the comfort was lost.

“just focus on something in the distance.” she whispered and wrapped an arm around you gingerly. you leaned into her touch, thankful to have her by your side. the contrast of your outfits made for a subtle declaration of your relationship. as the moments passed of you switching between a wide smile and a soft one, paige stopped the photographers for a moment and stood in front of you.

“what?” you mumbled, scared that you had done something wrong. did you look too cozy? was it obvious that you were dating? you were beginning to breath harder as paige reached up to fix your hair.

“wait let me fix your hair.” she mumbled, with her eyes focused on your delicately designed hairstyle. she was taking the job of fixing you so seriously that she had her tongue slightly out of her mouth in the process. “i think i got it,” she said turning away but immediately turned back, “one last thing, hold on.” she smiled and twirled of on the curls around her finger and it immediately came back to life.

“good?” you asked and the flutter of lights and the shutters of cameras began again. paige grasped your forearms and nodded.

“you look stunning.” she said loud and proud before facing the photographers once more.

—

they didn’t sit you with paige and it depleted your spirit. you kept calm conversation with the people surrounding you - a few athletes, an executive board member from uconn and other old men who were keen on getting you to explain your tennis career and why you hadn’t gone professional yet.

“i love uconn, my family is there, my team is there, even my girl- my best friend is there.” you corrected yourself. they all nodded in understanding but one of the more assertive man said, “you know college is always there. you should go while you’re still in your prime. you can get the money and find a nice husband while you do so.” he sipped his champagne with a smile that was confident - as if he gave you the most precious bit of information to skyrocket your career.

“i didn’t come to school to get my mrs. degree.” your voice was laced with snark. men like him wanted nothing but money as their main objective. it was never about the passion. as if she could sense the solemn energy radiating off of you, paige walked to the table and began introducing herself. they fawned over her for a few minutes and you were able to still your beating heart for a few moments. once paige spoke them all, she made it to you and dropped onto the balls of her feet next to your chair.

“you’re up next, yeah?” she said, her glimmering eyes scanning your face. “remember: go at your own pace, don’t let them freak you out.” paige squeezed your hand three times, saying “i love you.” it was a code you two developed when you first started dating. it was a way to express the love you shared subtly.

“you got this.” she said as she rose to her feet and said her goodbyes.

“what a nice young lady.” one of the gentleman said, watching her walk away.

“she’s amazing.” you agreed as the lights dimmed and the first presenter walked to the stage.

—

you couldn’t believe it was you who won national women’s college athlete of the year. you couldn’t move from your seat for a long while, hands covering your face ready to swipe the tears that were pouring down your perfectly made up face. you stood from your seat and held the bottom of your dress, walking slowly and as steady as you could. the yelling behind you was a roar of applause and shouts of your name from your fellow uconn student athletes and the loudest of them - was your girlfriend, paige. you stood at the stairs for a moment, unsure of your balance in the heels that adorned your feet. before you knew it, paige’s hand was in yours, helping you up the steps. she squeezed your hand three times and you smiled at her once you finally made it on stage. she shot you another cheesy thumbs up and the audience laughed.

the microphone was louder than you expected as you loosed a breath. your eyes scoped the audience, looking for that familiar face. everyone was in their seats, except paige. she was recording you and your acceptance speech and it was adorable.

“gosh,” you said looking down at the trophy before back up, “i don’t even know where to begin. i never thought my journey as an athlete would bring me to this moment. i was just a little girl years ago, watching uconn athletes and dreaming to be where they were. to stand alongside the greats and be in the arena where they existed. i never, ever,” you sniffled and wiped at your tears, “expected to be a part of uconn the way that i am now. i never knew love like this existed until uconn became my life. i have a thank you list that’s a mile long - so i’ll spare you all,” you laughed and the audience followed, “there are not enough words to describe the family and love i found while being an athlete at uconn. to my people, i love you and to my girlfriend, i adore you. thank you for believing in me and thank you for all those tough training sessions where you kicked my ass - it got me this trophy!.” you laughed and the crowd erupted in applause once more and you could’ve sworn that your girlfriend paige, was the loudest.

—

paigebueckers: after party with my girl, my national women’s college athlete of the year. she learned it all from me. so proud of her.

kkarnold: she’s really that girl

azzifudd: the dress is stunning just like her

paigefan1: so happy for yall 🥺

paigefan2: my heart, i cannot take it anymore

paigefan3: she’s so in love with her and i love it

[highvern]

Aphrodite

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x fem!reader

Genre: smut, friends to lovers, established relationship, fluff at the beginning

Warnings: bathroom sex, kissing, groping, fingering, dirty talk, dom/sub dynamics but they’re both actually switches (Mingyu is a service top), cumshot, Mingyu is still obsessed with titties, hair pulling, choking (hand around throat but no breath play), doggy style, unprotected sex (not endorsed by author), praise kink and strength kink go burrrrrr, there's a little bit of fluff/angst at the beginning (care/comfort) because she had a hard day at work, porn with feelings

Length: ~3k

Note: Drunk Goggles couple's bathroom scene mentioned in Discovery! the first third is so cute i actually had to close my laptop and step away while editing it so please enjoy my brain rot lol. its implied reader is on birth control and Mingyu knows it but still wrap it before you tap it guys. This was drafted as "Champagne Confetti" but i couldn't post it with that title with a straight face

ALSO stream Mamamoo Wheein's new album In the Mood! Aphrodite was a huge inspiration for the sweeter parts of this fic

read more here

The knob of your bathroom cabinet is digging into Mingyu’s shoulder uncomfortably and his ass freezing on the hard tile, but neither register in his mind much. His sole focus is on listening to you vent about how shitty work was as you wash up behind the flimsy curtain only a few feet away.

“Oh and then she had the audacity to say I should have been more prepared for the meeting! As if she didn’t send me the info an hour before!” You babble, head popping out to look at him. 

Mingyu tries and fails to stifle the laughter bubbling at the sight of your shampoo Mohawk.

“What a bitch!”

“Right?!” You move back into the spray and out of sight.

“She’s just mad because you’re better at her job than she is.”

“I wouldn’t be if she actually did her job.” You sigh.

“I’m sorry baby.”

“‘s not your fault Gyu.”

“Do you want me to beat her up?”

“Yeah, because sending my gigantic ass boy toy after her is gonna get her off my back.” You call, closing your eyes as foam rinses from your hair down your skin.

“The correct term is boyfriend.”

“The correct term is baby daddy.”

“You’re fucking nasty.”

“You love me.”

God, I do.

But it’s too early to say those words with the level of earnestness he feels so Mingyu bites his tongue.

Steam and lavender soap tickle his senses as you wash away the evidence of your previous distress. Your manager is number one on Mingyu’s incredibly short shit list.

Mingyu had barely waltzed through the door of your apartment after work, excited to spend the evening cuddled on the couch with a movie like you do every Thursday. He nearly shit himself when he found you sitting at the kitchen counter, tears staining your face and eyes rimmed red. You dove into his chest and cried for an over hour, unable to speak as wretched sobs escaped your throat. He’s never felt so helpless as he sat there, stroking your back as he held you, whispering gentle affirmations into your hair. It was his idea for you to hop in the shower once you calmed down enough to assure him you weren’t injured and “no, no one died.” 

The entire time, Mingyu sat close by listening intently, chiming in occasionally with agreements. He hadn’t follow you into the stall, void of the desire to worsen your mood. Shared showers were not a favorite in this household. Either it ended after two minutes to move to the bed or one of you hopped out, annoyed that the other was hogging the hot water and leaving them in the cold. Mingyu wanted you to relax but the only way he could relax was to make sure you’re actually okay. Which is why he is planted on the ground near the door like a guard dog, keeping an eye on you in case the tears returned; numb butt and sore shoulder be damned.

The squeak of the faucet signals the end of your bathing, echoed by the ruffle of the curtain as you push it aside to exit the tub. He keeps his eyes trained on your face, a smile spreading at the glow radiating from the apples of your cheeks void of the earlier splotchy dullness. You already look a million times better than when he entered your home.

Mingyu is trying very hard to be a supportive boyfriend while you continue to rant; but it’s challenging when the actual woman of his dreams is standing only feet away, completely nude and soaking wet, skin flushed from scrubbing and glistening in the warm glow of the light above the mirror. It takes all his might to ignore the swell of your breast and gentle the sway of your hips, or the curve of your thighs as you stretch for your towel on the rack above the toilet. The movement sends droplets falling in staccato from your hair plastered against your head onto your shoulder before trailing down your front, tracing dizzying patterns across your skin. His very own Aphrodite, exiting the sea to fill his heart.

“I hope she gets fired soon. I know I didn’t look like an idiot in that meeting, it was all her.” 

“No one thinks you’re an idiot.” He looks down at his hands playing with the cuff of his sweatshirt to distract himself from how you start twisting to towel off, body bending and stretching suggestively as you concentrate.

“She definitely does but who cares.”

“Feeling better?”

“Yeah, actually.” You smile, towel wrapped around you snugly as you step away from the tub and towards him. “But I could still really use a hug.”

“I can do that.” 

Mingyu jumps up from his place on the floor, beaming at the soft look on your face as he tangles you in his arms. He plants peck after peck across the crown of your wet hair, nose filling with the scent of your shampoo as he squeezes you against him tightly. The remaining moisture on your body is wicked away by the soft fabric of his sweater, covering him in wet spots along his front and down his arms.

“You’re the best.” You sign into his chest as he leaves a kiss on your hairline.

To distract himself from what he really wants to say, Mingyu blows a wet raspberry against your forehead.

“Nope! Never mind!” You squeal, trying in vain to break out of his strong grip. “Get away from me!”

“But baby you just said I was the best!” He counters, arms tighten to prevent you from wiggling lose.

“No, you’re gross and I hate you!”

“GASP.”

You can only roll your eyes at your boyfriend's dramatics.

“You hate me? I wipe your tears, clean up your snot, order us take out, and you hate me?” Voice rising in pitch, he gapes at you.

“You ordered take out?”

“Focus on me! I’m hurt. Devastated!”

“Oh no, what will I do?” You deadpan, but the twitch of your mouth betrays your amusement.

It’s a dangerous game given you’re still locked in his arms and his penchant for being over the top.

“I’m deeply deeply wounded missy. So there’s only one way I’ll forgive you.”

“And what’s that?”

“Kiss?” He says with puppy dog eyes and puckered lips that makes him look like a fish.

“Oh my god!” You cackle at his ridiculousness.

“Oh, there she goes again! Do you not care about me at all?”

His question is punctuated by him collapsing against you and fake crying. Laughter bubbles in your chest like champagne. Mingyu makes you feel better without even trying.

“Alright, come here you big baby. Let me give you a kiss.”

Matching smiles meet in a sweet kiss. In your relationship, one kiss frequently becomes ten or twenty so there's no shock when you keep planting pecks against his lips before moving to tickle them across his cheek, brow, and tip of his nose. Mingyu is all smiles and giggles under your lips as you move back to his mouth.

The short kisses become heated swiftly. You wipe the smile off his face easily enough, thanking the universe it takes almost nothing to get Mingyu started (not that you’re any better). You’re impressed he didn’t jump you when you stepped out of the shower in all your naked glory. Honestly, you’re a little disappointed he didn’t. But now with your towel unraveling from your tussle, pressed against his solid frame as you nip his lips, you know it’s a matter of seconds before Mingyu crowds against you and makes you feel a lot better.

Like clockwork, a simple hum in the back of your throat paired with your nails trailing down his chest sets Mingyu off. He turns with you still in his hold, lifting you up and depositing you on the cool marble of the countertop, pushing your legs apart to make room for himself. Clumsy hands push your towel away, giving him access to play with your chest. When the nail of his thumb scratches your nipple, you arch against him with a sigh. The shift breaks your lips apart and Mingyu wasted no time diving for your throat.

Apparently tonight is one of the few nights Mingyu wants to be a little more demanding with you. The hand not plucking your chest moves the tangle itself amongst the wet hair at the crown of your skull, giving a firm tug that has your spine arching, stretching your neck with a whine to give more space to bite along your throat. Teeth scratch against the cords of muscle, but his tongue soothes the abused skin immediately after; even when he’s rough, he treats you like a princess. You feel yourself clenching around nothing at the maddening combination of sensations.

“Please, Gyu”

“Please, what?” He asks, not budging an inch from where he latches to your collarbone.

“Touch me.” You whimper.

His mouth replaces the hand pinching your chest, sucking your abused nipple into his blistering mouth. The hand that was on your chest, skates down between your thighs, pushing your legs further apart, letting your foot find purchase on the handle of the cabinet next to you to spread you wide.

He starts slowly, middle finger parting your downy lips to trace from your entrance to your mound. The calloused pad of his finger nothing more than a gossamer touch against your heat, maddening as it teases you. Curling your hips upwards, you give him more space to circle your entrance before he dips his middle and ring finger inside, thumb stretching to caress your swollen clit.

“So wet already.”

“If you had a boyfriend that treats you how you treat me, then you’d understand why.” You pant into his hair.

“Think I understand plenty.” He replies, moving your hand to caress his dick where it sits tented in his shorts.

The bathroom is filled with shameless whines and puffs of breath as you work each other up. You’ve successfully gotten a hand into his underwear, fisting the head of his cock in a tight rhythm just how he likes. The other busies itself scratching down his back as he preps you for what's to come by twisting two fingers inside you, heel of his hand grinding against your clit with every thrust.

“Need you inside.” You whisper into his mouth.

“Yeah? Want me to fuck you?”

“Mhmm,” your tone is verging on pathetic but his reaction washes away any embarrassment.

“Then be a good girl and turn around.”

Mingyu steps back, giving you space to quickly jump off the counter to turn your back to him. He busies himself with removing his sweater while you settle on your elbows, ass pushed out in front of him teasingly. It gives him pause, easily distracted by the arch of your spine and the subtle jiggle of flesh as you rock from one foot to another. You watch in the mirror as he blinks lazily, using one hand to push down his pants while the other cups a cheek, squeezing it in his palm. When his shorts are finally pooled around his ankles, he steps closer to let his length rest on your ass.

You can feel his leaking tip brush your tailbone, leaving a faint trace of dampness across your skin as you roll on to the balls of your feet to grind back on him. The rigid velvet of his shaft has arousal dripping down your thighs crudely.

You watch his face with rapt attention in the mirror. He’s hypnotized by how his cock looks pressed snug against your rear, resting hot and heavy in the valley of your cheeks. His throat bobs with a harsh swallow; hands wrapping around your sides, lazily tracing the curve between the bottom of your ribs to your hip bones. Mingyu’s hips move of their own volition, rutting across your ass as his cock continues to drool on your skin.

“Fuck,” he whispers.

“Come on baby, I had a hard day. Need you to make me feel better.”

Mingyu's eyes find yours in the mirror. You know the pout on your lips will get you everything you want. Mingyu knows it too.

“Condom,” he prompts. 

There’s a stash in the drawer to your left but Mingyu is fully aware he lacks the will power to reach over and grab one when his hands are filled with something so much more enticing right now.

As you shake your head with a mischievous quirk of lips, he’s pretty sure you’re playing a cruel joke on hum.

“Shit,” He curses. “Are you serious?”

“Fuck me, Gyu.”

Palming his cock, Mingyu recites a silent prayer that he doesn’t blow his load immediately. This is the first time he gets to fuck you raw and goddamit if it’s short lived. Tracing his tip through the mess between your legs, he collects your arousal to lube him up. He can feel how soaking you are at the idea of him fucking you without the barrier of latex, inner thighs smeared with your essence. Hopefully you’ll come as quickly as he probably will.

“You’re so dirty, letting me stuff you with my cock like this. Aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” you gasp when he nudges your clit. “Your dirty girl.”

“That’s right, my dirty girl.” He growls as he pushes inside you.

The first inch has you both closing your eyes, vision filled with stars. As nice as he feels bare inside you, it’s the mental is getting you off more than the physical. Every time Mingyu stretches you out on his cock is a treat, but the knowledge that the flared head of his cock pressing deep inside is leaving traces of his seed along your walls has you breathless. You’ve never let anyone else fuck you like this and a part shielded in your chest hopes he’s that last to.

Mingyu is more or less losing his shit behind you. The scorching wet clamp of your silky inner muscles that he’s only felt on his tongue or fingers is better than he could ever imagine. Your pussy gushing to coat his cock as he splits you open has him on the verge of tears. When he’s settled in, your ass pressed firmly to his pelvis, you wiggle against him.

Mingyu responds by pressing forward, pinning your hips to the counter harshly to prevent you from moving again. You’re clenching around him so hard, it takes all of his self control not to cum. 

“Fuck, you feel so good.” You mewl.

You’re really not helping.

“Calm down.” He grits out, both to himself and you.

“Need it.”

“Oh you need it?” He chides, delivering a bruising thrust.

You reward him with a sharp whine.

“Calm down baby, I'll give it to you. Always do, don't I?”

One hand circles the base of your throat, not squeezing; just resting the curve against his palm as his thumb trails along the side of your neck. It stops your breath anyway. But then Mingyu leans down to press his chest with your back, face coming into view right over your shoulder to whisper in your ear while looking you in the eye through the mirror.

“But you gotta be a good girl and spread it for me.”

You heave at his words, afraid you might pass out. Hands scramble to grab your own ass cheeks, pulling the flesh apart so he has a clear view of your pussy sucking him in as he starts curling his hips inside you.

The way he’s fucking you is vulgar. Hand wrapped around your throat as the other moves back into your hair, your own brushing the tops of his thighs as he cants against your ass, balls slapping against your pussy with each thrust. Mingyu leans back to watch himself disappear into your cunt, pulling you up into an arch. The feel without a condom is melting his brain but the visual absence of latex is doing incredible damage to his psyche too.

You both are a mess of sweet whines and rough groans, bathroom echoing with the clapping of skin and wet squelch of your full pussy. Breaking his focus on the way your entrance stretches to accommodate his thick cock splitting you open, Mingyu looks in the mirror to watch the way your tits bounce in time with his hips; your mouth open in a silent scream, eyes misty with delirium as you watch him watching you.

“Feel so fucking good like this, shit.” He pants. “Hear how wet you are? Fucking love it don’t you?”

Your head falls forward pathetically, only stopped by the palm still resting around your throat. When Mingyu gives a tentative squeeze, you whimper a quiet agreement. He watches as you force a hand between your thighs, fingers rubbing your clit in tight circles to push you closer to the edge.

“Gonna come,” you whine.

“Yeah?” Mingyu asks, excitement clear as day. He tilts his hips to fuck deeper, stretching you just a little bit wider on his cock to send you home.

“Fuck!” You sob, tensing as your orgasm washes over you. 

Every muscle in your body ignites, squeezing impossibly tighter as electricity snaps through your nerves, licking your veins and exploding your field of vision in a blinding white. Like a taunt bow string being released, you curl in on your chest as you clench around your boyfriend’s cock, gushing down shaky thighs. Your free hand grips the edge of the sink, holding on for dear life as you twitch in his hold.

“Where do you want it?” Mingyu cries, two seconds behind you and using his last functioning brain cell to not piss you off by assuming he can finish inside despite wanting nothing more. “Gotta tell me where you want, Y/N.”

“On me, wanna feel you on me!” You cry, still playing with your clit as you pry open teary eyes to watch Mingyu from the mirror.

A bright red blush spreads across his chest and up his neck, glistening with beads of sweat and condensation from the steam clogging the air. His bottom lip swollen from where it's locked between clenched teeth, neck straining and biceps bulging from his harsh grip on your body. He has enough sense of reality to slip the hand around your throat into your hair, gathering the strands in a makeshift ponytail to keep it out of the way of the mess he’s about to make.

He pulls out with seconds to spare against a tsunami of pleasure that begins to surge through his body, beginning in his balls and crashing outward to swamp his nerves. It ripples across his skull, raising goosebumps in its wake as it ebbs through his blood stream. Mingyu’s abdomen flexes as he fists his cock still slick with your combined arousal over your ass; thick streaks of his seed rushing forward. You feel a hefty rope land between your shoulder blades, the sticky heat intoxicating as it trickles down your back. A few drops sputter on the dip of your spine and your hand still spreading you wide, decorating you in his own diamonds.

Mingyu can’t help the way he stares at your hole, obsessed with how you clench around nothing like you’re missing something. He wishes he was watching you squeeze around his dick, his cum dripping out of you with each pulse of muscle. Maybe someday he’ll get to.

As your orgasms subside, weariness circles on the edge of your senses. Two sets of eyes flutter shut, chests heaving and hearts beating in time. Unwinding his hand from your hair, Mingyu lets it gently rest next to your hip on the counter, preventing him from collapsing against you and into the sticky residue he’s left. He can’t feel his legs, head empty of coherent thought. Unconsciously, his thumb traces the dimple at the base of your spine, the gentle caress grounding him to his body. 

The quiet of the bathroom is only disturbed by the hum of the overhead fan. You both are spent, muscles weak and nerves fried. Occasionally a deep breath interrupts but it's peaceful as you bask in each other's presence. 

“Oh my god,” you pant, breaking his trance. 

“Hmm?”

“How did you get cum on the mirror?”

[suguruplsr]

All The Time

✰ ✰ ✰ he can fuck you all the time..

જ⁀➴ ty guys for 200 followers !

song rec: All the time by Jeremih

,, suguru geto x wife!reader , pet names (baby, princess) , oral (m & f) , somnophilia , degradation , phone sex , fingering , jerking off , slapping , oral fixation? , reader calls him daddy (once) , idk

Early in the morning's when I think about you

I hit you like what you sayin'

in the mornings when I wanna fuck you

Yeah, I hit you like what you sayin'

I could fuck you all the time

I could fuck you all the time

Suguru’s tired eyes scanned your sleeping form. Your naked body was curled up beside him, his forearm stuck in your tight hold. Sometimes it bewilders him that you’re his wife, yet the silver ring he could feel cold against his skin was a reminder. Along with the fact that only he could see you in your raw natural beauty, even when you’re not aware of him adoring you.

He turns on his side, pulling you up and indirectly smiling at the small groggy sounds you made. He places a chaste kiss on your soft lips, almost tasting the cherry chapstick you always make sure to put on before bed. His lips eventually find the buds of your nipples, all perky and pretty from the cold air exposed to your skin.

A small whine leaves your mouth as he sucks off your nipples with a small ‘pop!’, his hands travel along with your body with grips and touches of absolute admiration. Causing you to turn in your sleep when his hands dip between your thighs. Two fingers drag along your wet folds, already beginning to soak them. His pretty wife was thinking about him even in sleep, how adorable.

“Sugu..?” You murmur, stirring at the feeling of the bed shifting and him slipping from your hold. “g’morning baby.” Suguru smiles up at you, pulling your legs to lay on his shoulders so he could sit between them. “s’too early for this..” You huff softly, tiredly watching him line his cock with your soaping pussy, “shh, just let me have this..”

M-O-E-T

That's what the fuck we be sippin'

That's what the fuck be drippin'

My Trap house still tippin'

Suguru’s lips hungrily push against yours, the taste of champagne staining his lips. both of you left little care for the expensive clothing you two wore as you try to peel them away. “had me suffering for hours because you look so sexy.” suguru groans, his hand finding placement around your neck while his other held your waist. “so needy..” you tease, undoing his tie, which you sure was too tight from how he kept adjusting it at the party.

“not my fault. fucking touchin’ me while i’m talkin’ to Satoru. dirty slut.” he chuckles, kissing your shoulders as his hands lower to cup your ass through the silk dress, “not my fault. you got hard.” you mocked, smirking when he bites you. you undid the hair tie that kept his hair in a high ponytail. sure the new hairstyle was hot, but whenever his hair was untamed and tickling your skin while you fucked, it turned you on.

“nah, gotta keep my hair up for when i eat this pussy” Suguru grumbles in your neck, his hands running up your body to roll down your sleeveless dress. much to your dismay. “i like it down like this.” you whine, feeling him lift you up against the wall— intertwining your legs around him, you swiftly unbutton his shirt as he pulls down the dress to your midsection.

“pretty..” suguru mumbles, dipping his head and latching his mouth onto your nipples, making your pussy throb at the feeling. “Sugu..let me touch you.” you huff, tugging his hair. he pulls away with a smile, kissing you fervor that made you wrap your arms around his neck— only for him to pull away. Suguru gave you a teasing smile, “beg again and i’ll let you.”

Face time when i’m gone

She gave me dome from a distance

“and that’s basically it, i’ve been so bored without you here.” You sigh. Suguru’s been gone all week, making sure to call you whenever he was free to make up for being missed time together. “really? thought you said you could handle being away from me.” Suguru chuckles, ignoring the small tinge of guilt he felt for palming himself in his sweats, all because of the sound of your voice. “I can, I just don’t like it when you are. I miss you so much.”

Fuck, why did your voice have to sound all cute and whiny. so innocent, and here he is, spreading his legs and rolling down his pants, freeing the strain in his pants, “tell me how much then, because, god, i m-miss you too.” he stammers, his hand running tight along his girth, trying to imitate exactly how you do it. his thumb smearing the precum around the head of his cock. You hum, pausing for a moment before lowering your tone, “I don’t think you want me to tell you in the way I'm thinking baby.” You chuckle as he stays silent, only hearing the small wet sounds of him jerking off his cock.

“m’sorry, just—“ “but i do wanna lick up your cum sugu..” you cut him off with a small whine, already knowing that he loved it when you were vocal about what you wanted. “y-yea baby? what else? gotta hear how nasty you wanna be.” Suguru’s breath hitch, his moans becoming louder as his cock twitched in his palm. You open your messages with him, one hand reaching inside your shorts and circling your clit through the fabric, “and i wan’ you to stuff my throat. gotta swallow all of it right? look at what i'm sending you baby, i bought them just for you.” you gasp, your middle finger filling your cunny.

Suguru eagerly clicks on the notification, a guttural sound escape his throat, “oh, black looks so, f-fucking, hot on you baby. fuuuck.” he blanks, ropes of cum spurring onto his chest at the sight of your lingerie pictures. “can’t wait for you to see em’ when you get back.” you smile, sending him the request to switch to facetime.

And she love to climb on top

she love to walk off limpin’

“aht, i wanna ride you today.” you push Suguru down on the bed with a smile. you both had came home after an eventful day, and perhaps some teasing at dinner that left you two all hot and bothered. quickly coming home and undressing each other before reaching the bedroom. “I can't say no then. at least I get a good view in return..” he chuckles, holding your hips and slowly gliding your pussy over it cock. “You didn’t have a choice anyway. i been wanting to take the lead for a— mm, a while now.”

the head of his cock prods at your hole, a small hums leaving you as it slowly slides in, “yea?” he grunts, his hands gripping your waist tighter when you take him all in one go. “Sugu.. so fucking big” tears prickle in your eyes as you press his chest, the thick girth was always a challenge for you, no matter how long you’ve two been together. but you take it, every time. “don’t tell me you’re complaining, you said you could do it.” Suguru grins up at you, his messy hair sprawled out beneath him— eyes looking up at you with a glint in them that would’ve made your pussy wet if you weren’t stuffed full.

“n-no. i can do it. just— fuck.” Suguru gives a light smack on your ass at the sound of your stammers, finding it amusing. he was always so handsome beneath you, but he was so fucking smug it made you want to wipe that smirk off his face. you rolled your hips slowly before beginning to ride him, “look at you, being a big girl now. so good f’me.” he groans, hands reaching up and squeezing your breasts, pinching your nipples and making you whine, “no touching. you were being mean.”

you halt, swatting his hands away and getting an idea— you pin his hands beside his head, your back slightly arched as you rode him. “c’mon baby, don’t be like that.” you clench around his cock, the low tone of his voice going straight to your pussy as you grind down on him. “no, you said I can lead, so don't switch up now.” a small pout tugs at your lips, slamming down on him and taking him to the hilt, loving how his head throws back, a loud groan slipping from his lips. “oh shit— sorry baby. just keep taking me, just like that.” he fumbles over his words, his cock throbbing as you make it a mission to milk him. thoroughly.

Pimps up, hoes down

Legs up or toes down

Why she jock me?

‘cause she knocked-knee'd

And we got trees, so mary go round

“Suguru.. wanna suck you off.” you laid your head on his thigh, looking up at Suguru while he smoked his thick blunt, one of his new flavored ones. you were splayed out beneath him in your knees, all pouty and cute for him, begging to have his cock in your mouth. he couldn’t help but finally give in when he notices your hand dipping below your silk nightgown. “nuh uh, move that hand.” his gaze hardened, his hands finally unzipping his fly. “c’mere.”

you quickly move closer between his legs, helping him roll down his pants before sitting up and taking his thick length in your hand. “but let me finish this first.” Suguru sighs, spreading his legs to let you have more access— he takes another drag of his blunt, a sick smile curling when he sees your eyes narrow, “oh c’mon Sug—“ “you rushin’ me?” he cuts you off, making you falter and bite your lip.

you stay silent, avoiding his intense gaze and trying to ignore how your pussy throbbed form his demanding tone, “i asked you a question.” he scoffs, the smoke leaving his lips in small little ‘o’s. he reaches over and lays the blunt in the ashtray on the table, then pulling you in for a kiss. you weren’t sure what flavor the wrap was, maybe mango? but it left you in a small haze that made him laugh, “answer me and i’ll give you what you want baby.”

“i wasn’t rushing you. jus’ wanna taste you.” you mumble, fuck, his cock was so pretty, head tinted with an aching red that almost had you drooling. “i know baby.” Suguru whispers, his hand running behind your neck and slowly pushing your head down, making you take his his cock down your throat. he leans back with a small groan— you immediately getting to work, “what do you say baby?” he chuckles, pulling your head back and seeing the spit smearing around your lips, “thank you daddy.”

Gotta know I ate it

She so sweet, now and later

“fucking love this pussy.” Suguru moans into your pussy lips. It's been hours since he hand dragged you from your laptop containing your work. whispering sweet nothings in your ear, and pampering you. which led to him eating you out without a single thought. the slick of previous cum dropped down his chin, rubbing against the inner of your thigh as he lolls his tongue in your pussy, “you’re doing so good Suguru, makin’ me so happy.” you whine, trying to not pull his hair too hard.

he hums, vibrations stimulating your cunt so well, he licks up all of your wetness, moving to your clit and leaving kisses that make you squirm, look down at him, “m’gonna cum again Sugu! you’re so pretty down there.” you gasp, tugging his black tresses while your other hand grips the large arm around your waist, “go ahead princess, taste so fuckin’ sweet.” the drags of his tongue on your pussy had you nearly suffocating him with each squeeze of your thighs.

Suguru’s voice slurred as he licked up your slick, bringing a hand down to play with your sensitive bud, “Suguru!” you shudder, letting out a loud cry as your orgasm washes over you. finally, he pulls away, still fixated on your soaking pussy. he pulls you closer, your legs beginning to dangle off the bed as he spread them, “what a mess. bet it felt so good huh?” he smiles, his fingers playing with the cum dripping from your hole. “mhm, you’re the best Suguru.” you moan softly, biting your lip when his fingers dig into your pussy.

Suguru pulls them out and then sucks off his fingers, staring up at you. “still gotta clean you up, but gimme a kiss.” he smirks at the way your face scrunches up at his request, yet your thumb cleans off the cum coating his chin when he presses his lips against yours. making you get a taste of yourself.

I want that all the time, all the time

I’ma give you all mine' when it’s..

[br7ght]

It's your reward Millie Bright x Mary Earps x Reader

summary: You've scored the winning goal at the World Cup Final and you've got two women ready to give you your reward.

warnings: dom!millie, sub!mary, brat!mary, sub!reader, threesomes, sex toys, strap-on, cunnilingus, fingering, praise kink, daddy kink (only if you squint), this fic is actually too filthy to write out all the warnings

pairing: millie bright x mary earps x reader

word count: 8000+ [you're welcome ;)]

Just a side note, this was my biggest challenge yet so feedback would be appreciated! Also, there is definitely a shit-tonne of typos, but you'll let me off once you've read it

“I can’t believe you scored the winner!” Mary squeals in genuine excitement, throwing off her jacket and jumping on top of you as you sat on the bed. It was the night after the World Cup Semi-Final win and the entire team had been out partying, a lot of the attention all focused on you. All the kindness from the girls was something you never really got used to, it made you blush uncomfortably. Yet when it was Mary grabbing your face and telling you how happy she was for you, you melted into her touch.

“You played well darling; you made us both so proud.” Millie beamed; her eyes glowing at you as if she held sunlight in her gaze. You felt your cheeks flush, going all shy as you were sure that you must have been bright red at the praise you were receiving from both girls.

“All I did was kick it at the right time, you were the ones stopping them from beating us.” You spoke truthfully even though you knew that your goal was easily the best you’d ever scored. It flew into the top left corner and even you were shocked that it went in.

“God, so humble.” Millie teased, stroking a strand of your hair behind your ear, her thumb caressing against your blushing cheeks. “I think this all calls for another drink, go get that bottle Maz.” She instructed, gesturing towards the fridge that had an unopened bottle of champagne that Millie had bought in anticipation of the win that she knew deep down you’d have tonight.

“I don’t think she needs anymore alcohol.” You giggle, watching Mary walk to the fridge, clear to everyone in the room that she was beginning to feel the small effects of the alcohol she had consumed with the rest of the team. She popped open the bottle, overexcitedly cheering as the champagne began to pour from the top, clasping her tips over the leaking bottle to stop it from making a mess on the hotel floor. You and Millie were in stitches as you watched her chaos erupt in front of you both.

“The rest is for you, golden girl.” Mary smiled as the red returned to your calmed cheeks. She walked towards you, a stumble in her small steps as her thumb brushed your bottom lip, tipping your head back as she tips a little into your mouth.

“You really are our golden girl aren’t you.” Millie hummed, her hand still playing with your hair, taking a strand, and twirling it around her finger. Despite the small time you’d spent together as a three they both knew exactly how to make you squirm underneath them. Both of their hands on you and you were burning up in front of them.

“Watching you score that goal had made me so fucking hot for you.” Mary exclaimed, her body connecting with yours in a passionate flurry of arousal, straddling herself over your lap, your face in her hands and she pulls you in for a kiss. The feeling you got when her lips clashed into you, her heated frustration was contagious. She swiped her tongue across your lip, tasting the champagne on her mouth. Her tongue was moving with yours with such urgency that you didn’t see Millie reposition herself behind the other woman. Without hesitation, Millie pulls back on Mary’s ponytail, inciting a sharp gasp from the shorter woman.

“And what about you hm, making that incredible save against the best striker in the world.” She pulls Mary in for a rougher kiss, her head turned towards Millie at such an uncomfortable angle, but it allowed you the perfect view of Millie’s tongue swiping into her mouth, her hand reaching down to hold her by the throat. Their lips were moving together in such a way that made you wonder what they looked like together before they added you into the mix.

Everybody knew that Millie and Mary had been hooking up for months, they weren’t exactly subtle about it, making bold moves on each other at social events and then leaving together early on into the night. That’s why you were so confused when Mary made a move on you at the last Christmas party, that was until you found out that Millie had basically told her to do it. Mary had admitted that she was eager to hook-up with you and Millie wasn’t one to limit her, wanting her to do the things that made her feel the best she possibly could. Finding out that the two of them had discussed you in a sexual manner was something you found impossible to put to the back of your head and it all blossomed from that moment. Now here you were, Mary straddling over your thighs while Millie choked the woman who dominated you in such a way that you found it difficult to believe she was in this position.

“Now do you want to help me reward her.” Millie spoke into her ear, her heavy breath beating down against her neck, talking about you as if you weren’t underneath them both. Millie released her hands from her throat as she nodded eagerly, allowing her to turn back and look darkly into your eyes, her arms wrapping around your neck and pulling you back into a deep kiss. There was something about the way Mary would draw you into her body, making you tremble just at the feeling of her lips on yours. “What colour are you at?” She directed at you, you were fairly new to their dynamic and Millie liked to make sure that you were both entirely comfortable with everything she suggested.

“I’m completely green.” You smile, Mary nodding in agreement.

“Take her top off then baby.” Millie directed to Mary, the bed indenting slightly as she knelt beside you both. She complied immediately, never usually doing what Millie told her to do, but she wanted nothing more than to see your nipples harden when they make contact with the air of the room you all inhabited together. Once your top had come over your head, Millie’s fingers attacked the hair tie that was holding your hair loosely together, fanning your hair out over your shoulders.

You barely had time to think before you felt Millie’s hand snake around your body, grasping at your bare breasts, taking your nipple between her fingers, making you softly gasp into Mary’s mouth. This drove her crazy, her hips involuntarily grinding against your lap at nothing but the sound of you. Millie sensed her arousal and she wanted to make sure she felt as equally as important, finding great pleasure at having two women riled up in sexual frustration in front of her.

“I think you should get a reward too sweetheart.” She whispered into Mary’s ear, “You’ve made me so proud.” It was Mary’s turn to take Millie’s praise, both of you victims of her words that were making you simply kiss each other harder and with more desperation. Her hand found its way into Mary’s hair now, pulling her away from your lips and guiding her head towards your chest. Without much more prompt, Mary’s tongue swirled around the edge of your nipple, teasing you gently before taking it into her mouth. You feel your back arch against her lips connected to your chest so perfectly, your nipples hardening against her tongue as she increased her pressure, wanting to hear you moan so perfectly like she knows you can.

“I want you to ride her face while I give her a reward for playing so well.” Millie demanded and if you weren’t moaning desperately before, you certainly were now. Your eyes were wide, Mary’s gasp at the request vibrating against your nipple as she continued to tease you with her tongue.

“Is that okay with you baby?” Mary asks you, your breasts in her hands now as she kneads them underneath her palms, not wanting to let go of you as her desire to have you grew stronger.

“Fuck yes, Mary please.” You beg, her nails gripping into the sides of your chest at your pleading. She asked you with desperate eyes that you’d never seen before, she was usually so in charge of you and yet with one ounce of Millie’s praise and she was ready to give it all up.

Before you could even finish your train of thought, Mary was pushing you down the bed, sliding your skirt from your waist and both of the women smirk as they found nothing underneath. “Oh baby, you didn’t even wear underwear to the party.” Millie glowed, her proud smile telling you that you’d done something right. In Millie’s eyes you were the perfect submissive, you barely ever stepped a foot out of line, and you would do anything to make her happy with you. Mary was different. She challenged Millie a lot of the time, finding pleasure in being bratty, especially in comparison to you.

“Now my perfect girl, spread those legs for me, let me see how wet you are for us.” Millie had barely strung her sentence together and your legs were wide open, and Millie smiled down at you, dragging her fingers across your inner thighs. She could see you glisten on the inside of your legs, your lack of underwear meaning your arousal had spread down your legs.

“Mm absolutely soaking for us, and I bet this isn’t all from now, is it?” Mary asked you; her natural dominance always found a way to shine through, even when it was clearly Millie who held the control. You shook your head at her question, and you heard them both let out a scoff at the thought of your arousal starting to drip down your legs at the celebrations earlier just at the idea of coming back to this room with them.

You had your eyes shut in anticipation of what was to come, always feeling overwhelmed when the attention was completely on you. Mary was sat to the side of you, her clothes quickly chucked on the floor, her fingers pinching your nipples lightly, not enough to hurt you but enough to make you squirm under her touch.

“Mary baby, come keep her legs open and her mouth shut for me.” She instructs adding a sharp slap to her ass as Mary obliges, not even having to think about her body as she turns herself around. Mary knelt over your face, leaning down against your stomach, her hands gripping your thighs to keep them apart. Millie lies down between your legs, dragging her fingertip up and down your slit a few times, making you tremble at how light her touches were. As soon as Millie made contact with you, Mary let her body drop against your face and you followed Millie’s teasing on Mary’s folds, copying the same strokes she made but with your tongue.

Mary was anything but a quiet lover, she was the loudest of all three of you and those noises that she made was anything but innocent. You savoured the taste of her, this was one of your favourite things and they both knew this. You loved having her toned thighs squeeze against your head as she grinded down against your tongue, controlling her own pace as she rode your face. You remembered exactly how Mary liked to be ate, the exact twists and swirls of your tongue that made her head go fuzzy. You felt gentle kisses being placed against your clit, gasping against Mary which made her nails grip harder into your thighs, her hips moving against her will. The mix of Millie’s fingers teasing your entrance and the soft gentle movements of her lips against your folds was mind-blowingly pleasurable for such light touches.

“Fuck Fuck you feel so good, you’re so fucking good with that tongue of yours darling.” Mary gasped, her voice hitching over certain words as you quickened your pace, desperate to make Mary weak at the knees, you wanted her thighs to tremble around your face and you quickly gained this small pleasure. As Mary praised you, Millie teased a fingertip into you, her mouth around your clit making you a moaning mess against Mary’s cunt as the rest of her finger followed. Lost in your own pleasure you forgot to remember how Mary was staring directly at Millie going down on you along with slowly pulling her finger from your pussy before inserting it again, your arousal slick against her hand.

Once you were stretched around her finger you began to rock against Millies’s hand, giving her the signal that you were ready for her to thrust properly into you. Your moans were muffled and drowned out by Mary’s breathy gasps; the high-pitched sounds suddenly being cut off as Millie’s spare hand found its way around her throat. “God you both sound so fucking hot.” Millie let out, coming up for air and focusing on finding the points on Mary’s neck to clasp harder against, knowing that would send her into overdrive, her wrist slamming against your skin as she equally continues to fuck you at the same time.

Every time you felt Millie curl her fingers against your g-spot, the swirling of your tongue on Mary’s clit got quicker and you increased the pressure and you finally got what you wanted, her knees started to give way and you were convinced that the grip of her nails on your thighs was going to leave bruises. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop, your mouth feels so fucking good.” Mary managed to let out as Millie let go of her throat, allowing a full stream of oxygen enter her body.

“Don’t you dare fucking come Earps, I mean it, I want her to come first.” Millie ordered, her thrusts into you still getting quicker, her thumb nudging against your clit with every movement. Millie liked to dictate the act between you three, getting off on both of you listening and acting how she asks of you. She rarely got what she wanted as Mary enjoyed ruining this simple pleasure for her, and it didn’t look like this was going to change as you harden your tongue, flicking her swollen clit back and forth, knowing this would send her over the edge every single time.

“Mils she feels too good, I can’t stop, I want to cum on her face.” Mary gasped, her voice break paired with her shaking legs signalling that it was too late to listen to Millie’s orders now, she was going to cum on your face no matter what Millie wanted. You were beginning to get close, each thrust met with her thumb sliding against your clit.

“Mary, I’m warning you.” But by the time Millie had even finished her sentence, her words were cut off by Mary’s moans, her hips jerking uncontrollably against your face, you found your hands on her thighs, pulling her down closer as she rode out her orgasm. Before you had chance to join in on the high all contact from you was removed. You whined, your building orgasm stilling.

“You are so fucking good with your tongue.” Mary let out; her head hung as her body calmed after the shocks through her body started to relax. You were still underneath her, the frustration between your legs at the loss of contact so close to your orgasm doubling the arousal to your surprise. It had turned you on more than you thought it would.

“Clearly too fucking good considering you couldn’t do what I asked.” Millie growled, grasping a handful of Mary’s hair, and forcing her to meet her gaze. Millie was met with a smirk, no level of remorse shown for disobeying her orders and she knew that Mary was going to be as much of a brat as she could, like usual, still refusing to submit to her without a fight. “Get on your knees now.”

“Make me.” Even you knew that was a mistake as you felt Mary being forcefully pulled off your body, hitting the ground with a thump. You watched in suspense as Millie placed her on her knees, knowing that Mary needed more than you did to submit fully to her. Your eyes were darting back and forth between the two women, observing how Millie grasped Mary’s face in between one hand.

“You’re going to stay like this, you didn’t listen to me, and you need to learn to be more like y/n.” Millie demanded, looking directly into Mary’s eyes, her smirk wiped completely from her face, and you felt your legs squeeze together at the combination of the praise but also the view of Mary on her knees for her. “Don’t do anything stupid, trust me you’re on your last chance.” She warned, her thumb sliding down against her bottom lip. “Colour?”

“Green.” Mary revealed in true honestly. As much as she didn’t want to admit how much she was enjoying being forced onto her knees on the cold wooden floor, her gaze still being able to catch glimpse of you lying there in suspense of what was left to come, she wasn’t going to lie about it.

“That’s a good girl.” Millie was the only one left with a smirk on her face, looking in awe at Mary finally on her knees for her, silence overwhelming the room as she walked over to the bed, straddling your body and stroking your hair behind your ear. With every touch your breath was shaking.

“I bet you’re desperate for a release after she ruined it for you hm?” Millie asked you directly, both of your eyes diverting to glance at the goalkeeper. She was sensing from your desperate groans and small squirms that you were accidentally edged by her. “Tell me what you want as your reward for doing everything I’ve said, you’ve earned it from being so well-behaved.”

You didn’t know what to say, at this point Millie could do anything to you but that’s not what you really wanted. You three had only shared a few moments together like this and usually the focus was completely on you, but this time had been different. Millie was trying to make Mary just as submissive as you, rather than letting her take turns. You wanted to watch Mary struggle against Millie’s fight for dominance, one that you knew Millie wouldn’t lose. From the second you watched the heat between them tonight you were so curious as to what they would look like together, alone.

“I want to watch you fuck Mary.” You whisper and Millie stops stroking your hair in shock, that’s not what either of them were expecting. You glanced again at where Mary was knelt, and she was smirking at you with her wide eyes, and you felt the heat between your legs burn against your thighs. You didn’t understand how Mary could have this dominating effect on you while she was forced to be on her knees.

“I’m sure that can be arranged baby.” Millie reassured, reaching for her bag, and pulling the strap the inner pocket. Your eyes widened at the sight; you’d never introduced toys between the three of them. You knew that Millie and Mary would be much more experienced in that field which made you all the more excited to watch them both together. “Do you think you can take it first, just for a little while, I’ve never wanted to fuck that beautiful pussy more than right now.” Her words were so gentle towards you, just filled with lust and desire to have you there and then. You nod, your eyes brushing over the sheer length of the toy, as she slipped the harness over her thighs, pulling the straps tight, fixing it into place.

“C’mere Baby.” Millie’s voice was calm and soft, different than when she was talking to Mary. You felt her hand against your face, brushing her fingers down the length of your jaw. She took your hand, squirting some lube against your palm. “Get it ready.” She instructed yet her tone of voice remaining gentle as you took the length of the strap between your fingers, spreading the lube against the silicone toy. You flicked your wrist up and down it, not once making eye contact with the blonde who was looking down at you as you moved your hand. She placed a kiss against your forehead, tilting your chin up to look at her. In that moment when your eyes met hers you forgot that Mary was down on her knees just watching the two of your together. This was a completely different dynamic than anything you three had done before, it was always a joint effort, but the addition of such slight voyeurism was making you more desperate than before.

“Please Millie, I want you to feel your cock inside of me.” You spoke, the innocence to your voice differing completely to what Millie was used to with Mary being so bratty all of the time. While Millie loved Mary’s bratty side, she was beginning to fall for your well-behaved submissive act too.

“Lie down baby, let me make you feel good, you deserve it.” She whispers in your ear, her breath grazing your skin as your back hits the bed. Her hands were on your chest, your legs spreading open for her without request. “See, this is how you behave.”

Millie was edging towards your aching opening, teasing you with the head, wanting to get as much of you on her strap. Her hands loved to explore your body, making you tremble under her touch as the head pushed against your clit, feeling the shock rock through your skin. You knew not to beg too much, knowing this was one of Millie’s frustraters, you knew that she liked you to be grateful for everything she gives you, even if it is teasing you into oblivion.

“Breathe for me baby.” Millie instructed as she held the strap in her hand, guiding it towards your entrance and pushing the tip inside of you. You felt yourself begin to stretch around her and the moan that escaped your lips had Mary’s eyes locked onto your face, watching desperately at your reaction as Millie pushed inside of you. “Take your time.” Millie continued to coach you through it, knowing that it was an overwhelming feeling as she continued to push until she felt resistance.

“Fuck Mils, you- I- you feel so good.” Your voice was shaking, barely able to string a sentence together as your eyes slammed shut, your body getting used to the feeling of stretching around Millie’s cock. Her hands were soothing, tracing shapes against your skin as your lips clamped together, your eyes fluttering open to look at Millie’s awe stuck face at you taking her strap so well.

“Look at what you’re doing to her, she can’t stop looking at you taking my cock.” Millie breathed, her voice has deeper than usual, her hips beginning to rock into you, taking it slowly, working you up. You turned your head to look at Mary, her eyes locking to yours and you decide to look at her while Millie took her first full thrust into your body. Her tongue licked her top lip, taking her bottom lip into her own mouth as she watched you moan, looking directly into her eyes.

“You look so pretty like that.” Mary spoke, her head tilting as she smiled at you, disobeying Millie’s order to stay silent earning her a sharp look from the taller woman. You felt her thrusts getting stronger in response, her hands found their way to your hips, holding you down and slamming you against her thrusts. You thought you were going to explode from Millie’s strong hips slamming against your body alone, but now your body was moving to her pace too you couldn’t stop the endless strings of moans that were escaping your lips, and you didn’t even try to stop them. You could feel her in your stomach, each thrust seeming to go deeper and deeper into you. You were getting close, the orgasm building each time Millie rolled her hips, the strap hitting your spot with every thrust.

“Mils, I’m getting close.” You whimper, your legs beginning to tremble, your back arching slightly towards the taller woman. She slows her thrusts, stroking your skin as she pulls out of you. You go to open your mouth in protest but she places her finger against your lips.

“I know I know but trust me it will be worth it later.” She smirks, her hands travelling down your body, still looking at you in disbelief that she’d just had her strap inside of you. “It’s time for your reward remember.” She says, looking over at Mary who looked like a desperate mess on her knees against the cold floor.

You instantly forgot your own frustration, sitting up against the back of the bed as Millie shuffled towards the edge of the bed to where Mary was kneeling impatiently. “Now what am I going to do with you hm?” Millie spoke, her gentle voice was gone and in replacement was a dominating tone that you she had never used on you before.

“Guess we’re both going to find out.” Mary smirked, her brattiness coming out in full force now. The blonde had Mary’s face in her hand, roughly jerking her head up to look up towards her.

“God you are such a fucking brat.” The taller woman spat, shaking her head in disbelief at the woman still on her knees for her. She pinched her nipple between her fingers making Mary gasp at the sharp touch. She stood up, the strap she’d used on you still glistening in your arousal at her hips. Mary’s face was directly in-line with the dick, looking at the remnants of you with a huge smile on her face. “You wanna taste her? We both know how good she tastes.” Millie teased, looking back over at you, your legs slightly open allowing them both to see you dripping at your entrance. Mary licked her lips in suspense, nodding her head. “Go on then.” Her left eyebrow raised, gesturing Mary towards the strap, clearly not what she was originally agreeing to.

“Millie we both know I’m not going to do that.” Mary protested, but Millie nudged the strap towards her lips, her hand on the back of her neck. Her lips were not opening at the request, but once the strap made contact with her, she opened her mouth in response to the taste of you against her lips. Millie took her chance against her open lips, sliding the strap harshly into her mouth. She spluttered, but the taste of you against the strap let her swirl her tongue around the head, gripping the back of Millie’s thighs as she thrust into her mouth.

“This is my new favourite way to keep you fucking quiet.” Millie stated, her eyes never leaving Mary’s as she took the strap in her mouth, looking up with lust behind her eyes. Millie was harshly thrusting into her throat now and you could feel your cunt ache in desperation at watching the two of them together.

“Deeper baby, that’s it.” She had her hands wrapped up in Mary’s hair, forcing her to gag on each thrust. She looked up at Millie, taking her in, the way she was stood looking down at her.

Millie pulls out of her mouth, smirking at the saliva dripping from her lips. Mary’s cheeks were flushed red as she makes eye contact with you again, almost nervous at how she’d just sucked you off of the strap, gasping and moaning at the taste of you. You felt that even you were having an effect on her now, one that was slowly breaking down her bratty walls. “You looked like you enjoyed that.” Millie mocked, knowing the red in her cheeks was from the pleasure she just received from the humiliation.

“I did that for the taste of her, not for you.” Mary tried to change the subject, bringing the focus back to you being used for their little game of power play, but the flush on her cheeks was giving you and Millie a different view of why she enjoyed that.

“Sure, you did sweetheart,’ Millie teased, brushing her thumb down Mary’s bottom lip, “It suits you being on your knees for me, sucking me off like that.” The red in her cheeks was growing, her eyes rolling at the comment.

“Now are you going to fuck me in front of her or not?” Mary was growing impatient, her knees beginning to ache against the floor, her body slumping against her thighs as she struggled to keep her core tight.

“Only if you beg for it.” Millie responded quickly, barely thinking about her words, and knowing exactly what to say to make Mary tremble underneath her. “Considering you’re already on your knees I’m sure that will be easy enough for you.”

“I’m not begging for anything.” She protested and you could feel the arousal between your own thighs growing at her disobedience. Millie let out a mocking laugh, knowing that Mary would be begging because she wasn’t planning on doing anything to her until she does.

“Then you’re not getting anything.” Millie turned away from her, looking back towards you. She was making her way back between your legs, painfully slow, giving Mary enough time to regret her decision. You watched in awe as the strap hung from the blonde, giving you a telling look that made you know that Mary was going to give in within seconds.

“Please Millie, I’m sorry, come back.” Millie smirked at you when the submissive words came from Mary’s lips. You’d never heard her apologise, never seen her on her knees like this and it was something you could get used to.

“I think you’re using to wrong name sweetheart.” Millie was really lapping it up now, feeling confident at how you were being able to watch Mary in her submissive headspace. This was never something that you’d imagined them being like, presuming it would be a heated fight for dominance, but Millie wasn’t having that today, she wanted to show Mary off to you.

“I’m not calling you that, not until you’re inside of me.” Mary was still not quite where Millie wanted her to be, but she was beginning to get desperate to watch Mary take her cock herself. Millie stuck her hand out and Mary took it, slowly allowing her to stand up and meet her at the edge of the bed that you were watching from.

Their lips met with such urgency and desperation, Mary’s hands snaking around the back of Millie’s neck, pulling her in closely and tightly. The shorter woman was whining against her lips, aching with frustration. “Please can you fuck me now, I need you.” Even you felt your breath hitch at Mary’s pleading, her flushed cheeks and begging eyes driving Millie crazy. With no hesitation, Millie turned her round, shoving her into the bed on all fours, standing behind her and slapping her ass swiftly once before roughly grabbing her waist, pulling her back into her.

“I don’t think you’re even going to need warming up.” Millie scoffed, her fingers dragging through her folds with ease as her arousal had been building up at watching you take the strap a few moments before. “You’re fucking soaking, I knew you wouldn’t be able to handle watching me fuck another woman without you.” She wiped her fingers down her back, her body arching into her touch. Mary’s head was hung, her hair falling across her face as Millie was degrading her infront of you.

You shuffled a little closer, not trying to bring attention to yourself but wanting to be able to physically feel the heat that was growing between the two women. You could see Millie push the strap against her cunt, harshly rubbing between her thighs and catching the top of her clit with her strokes. Mary was gasping every time she edged closer to her entrance, you could see her body reacting to each touch.

“Fuck please Mils.” Mary begged, the bedsheets bundled in her fists, Millie roughly pulled her hair back, forcing her head up and you saw her eyes for the first time, your lips clamped together along with your thighs at the look she gave you. She pushed just the tip of the strap into her folds, and you watched her eyes widen and her mouth hung slightly ajar. Millie didn’t push any further, as if she was waiting for another plead from the brunette. “Fuck fine, Daddy please I need you.”

With that she thrust fully inside of her, gripping her hips so tightly as Mary effortlessly moved her hips back into her with every movement. You barely had time to recover from Mary calling Millie Daddy as you watched the two bodies move together in such desire, awe stricken from what you were watching. You could see Mary’s chest rising and falling rapidly from the pleasure she was getting from Millie grinding her hips roughly into her. Millie was looking smug with herself, forcing Mary’s hips to keep up with her relentless pace, Mary’s sudden submission to her making her groan with each thrust. “Take It baby, take all of me like a good little girl.”

Her hand was on Mary’s back, pushing her weight onto her so her face was shoved against the mattress, her ass stuck up higher allowing her to pump harder into her. Mary was a moaning mess against the sheets, her hips still pushing back against the strap. The sharp and breathy whimpers she was making as her grip on the sheets got stronger was making your pussy ache, your legs crossing trying desperately hard not to touch yourself as you watched them. Mary was moaning Millie’s name, her words just tumbling out of her mouth with no thought behind them as her face was continually shoved into the bed with each pump into her cunt.

You weren’t only admiring Mary now, your eyes caught gaze of the strong arm that was pinning her against the bed. The sleeved muscular arm that flexed hard, Millie still with her sports bra on, her face glowing pink as she worked harder into Mary. There was something so mesmerising about those two together, with Mary so submissive to the taller woman, taking all of her. You were still edging closer to the two of them and when Mary felt your presence she gripped hold of your hand, digging her nails into your skin making you wince but also making your heart grow warmer. Millie caught glance of this and the smirk she had been wearing turned into a smile as she continued pumping into her.

“If only Mary would take a leaf out of your book baby, then she wouldn’t have to look like such a desperate mess.” Millie said over the top of Mary’s endless moans, her grip still getting tighter around your hand. You tucked Mary’s hair behind her ear, catching a glimpse of how desperate she really did look.

“Do you think I could have a turn, since I’ve been so good for you.” You whispered nervously, not sure what had come over you. You rarely asked for anything, usually enjoying the feeling of not knowing what either of them were going to do to you. Millie’s thrusts slowed down, tilting her head to look at you, melting at the doe eyes you were giving her.

“Oh baby, you’re getting all jealous hm, you want me to fuck you again?” Millie said, her voice again naturally going all soft on you, like she couldn’t ever say no to you even if she wanted to.

Your skin shivered at the request, but you felt your head shaking, a confused look plastered on both of their faces. “I, uh, no, I want to do what you’re doing.” With that Millie’s movements had stilled completely, leaving Mary a whining mess against the bed.

“Fuck that’s so hot, you’re so hot.” Millie groaned, pulling out of Mary who was looking at you as with such desperation, giving you silent permission to do anything you wanted to her. She reached for your face, pulling you into a heated kiss as she removed the strap while your lips moved against each other’s. “It is your reward baby, come here then.” Millie says, urging you up off the bed and helping you into the harness. It felt so powerful having the strap around your legs and Mary waiting desperately for you.

“I want to see your face, Mary.” You asked, your voice not quite as demanding as Millie’s, but Mary complied nonetheless, turning herself round and her mouth instantly opening as she looked up your body, the strap round your waist.

“Aren’t I lucky?” Mary smirked, her eyes not once leaving your body and you felt yourself getting nervous, not wanting to embarrass yourself infront of the two of them. Millie was just stood watching, frozen infront of the scene unfolding between the two hottest women she’d ever laid eyes on. The way Mary was looking at you, her legs spread as you kneel between them, you’d never done this before, not to someone else but you’d watched as other people had done it to you and you were certain you were going to shock them both.

“Confidence baby, make her feel how you like to feel.” Millie whispered into your ear, sensing the nerves that were radiating off of you, she planted a kiss on your cheek before moving to sit behind Mary, resting her head against her stomach, wanting to feel part of it all. “I’ll keep her still for you, she’s a squirmer this one.” She hooked her legs around her back of her head, bending her knees and holding Mary’s hands flat against the bed, stopping her from moving around too much, allowing you to work this out in your own head.

“Please, I need you to fuck me, I want to feel you inside of me baby please.” Mary begged; her eyes filled with lust as she looked at you shaking infront of her. This gave you the extra confidence that you needed, fully fitting into the role as best as you could. You looked down at her and you decided you were really going to make sure she felt like your reward.

You guided the strap to her, doing exactly what Millie did to you, teasing her with the head. She was so desperate for a release that she wasn’t going to let you tease her like Millie had, pushing her hips up to meet you, silently pleading for you to skip this step. You looked as Millie nodded at you to continue, Mary’s chest lifting and falling as she waited for you to fuck her. Her back arched as you pushed the entire strap into her, and the moan that escaped her lips was the best one yet.

You started with a few slow lengthy grinds into her, pulling all the way out and re-entering her again, making her stretch around your strap. You watched the way her body reacted to each fully thrust, watching as you pushed it into her. You wanted to be closer to Mary, readjusting to lean forward over her body, your hands either side of her body as you thrust your hips a little harder. She was moaning your name into your ear, and you leaned down to kiss her fiercely, not once taking your focus off the rhythm you were building.

“Yes, baby girl, just like that!” She moans, her legs wrapping around your waist, pulling you into her.

“You’re doing such a good job taking her cock baby.” Millie said, squeezing her hands a little harder for encouragement. “And fuck you look so hot fucking her.” She said honestly, feeling her arousal growing as she watched your body finding its own rhythm, one that was drawing pretty moans and gasps from Mary. You were watching Mary’s face react to each thrust, trying to find the sensitive spot inside of her that you knew would prove yourself to her. She called out your name and you didn’t move from your position, applying a few more thrusts into her, hitting it with every single one, your name escaping her lips each time.

“Let me ride you baby, please I’m begging you.” Mary let out as you hit her spot again, you look at Millie for confirmation and she had the biggest smirk on her face, nodding her head at you as you pulled out of her. You barely had chance to get off of Mary before she had her lips crashing against yours, that same animalistic kiss that she gave you when you were usually in her position. Millie moved out of the way, patting the bed where she was sat and Mary pushed you back onto the bed, ready to take some dominance back from you. You were distracted as Mary’s tongue swiped against your lip, letting her in and she was kissing you as if it was the first time, she’d tasted you. Millie was rummaging around in her bag before bulling out a small bullet vibrator.

“Do you want this to help you get your release my pretty girl.” Millie praised, waving it infront of your face and you were nodding with eagerness, gasping as Mary was still kissing you, straddled on top of you, ignoring the strap that was behind her. She moved up off you, allowing Millie to slot the vibrator into the right place, not switching it on but keeping her hand on the button as she sat on the bed next to you.

Mary was hovering over you, but with the vibrator sat perfectly against your clit you knew that you needed nothing more than to feel like Mary was going to making you cum. She starts to take the strap and you grab her hips, pulling her all the way down onto you. With that Millie pressed the button and the vibrations against you mixed with the way Mary was gazing into your eyes, her moans barely escaping her lips as she started to rock her hips against you. You were the desperate mess now, jerking your hips up into Mary as her hand found its way around your neck, leaning over your body, her breasts right in front of your eyeline. You gasped as she squeezed harder, beginning to fully thrust into her as she slammed her body down against the strap.

“Fuck Mary you feel so fucking good.” You let out in a spluttering mess as you watched her body eagerly bouncing up and down, you were mesmerised by both the orgasm growing inside of you and the way her body looked taking you so desperately. You watched her eyes roll back as you pushed her hips down on you harder. Millie started tracing circles against your skin, leaning in, her mouth trailing over your exposed neck, leaving occasional marks by nibbling against your skin.

 “I’m getting so fucking close, fuck Mary you look so fucking good like this.”

“Go on baby, cum for us.” Millie spoke against your neck, taking your skin in-between her teeth, soothing the immediate pain with her tongue.

“Come inside of me sweetheart.” Mary grinned as your moans became higher pitched with each one you let out of your open mouth. She was still grinding her hips against you, and Millie’s fingers were toying with your nipple as you got closer and closer and each time you thought you were going over the edge it kept building instead. You figured this was a result of the edging earlier but as your head threw back into the pillow and the feeling of Mary’s body slamming against the vibrator against your clit, you chanted out both of their names as it finally washed over you. Mary was riding you slower, letting you uncontrollably thrust your hips up into her.

You didn’t get a chance to recover, Mary’s body tiring as she was still grinding her hips against the strap. The vibrations didn’t stop, but you watched Millie finally take her underwear off, kneeling back onto the bed. You were so sensitive, and the vibrator being pushed consistently against you was overstimulating you.

“Did you want the vibrator off before I get off on that tongue of yours for the first time?” Millie asked gently, stroking your face as you shake your head, wanting to feel the overpowering vibrations take-over your body as the older woman rode your face. Millie had never let you do this before, she barely ever received when you three were together, preferring to get off on making you two feel incredible.

“That’s my girl.” Millie smirked, looking at the way your body was desperately still trying to push Mary over the edge of her own orgasm. You took one last look at Mary whose moans were becoming breathy and laboured before Millie kneeled over your face, your tongue immediately searching through her dripping folds, wanting to make her feel as good as she makes you, wanting to prove yourself to her.

Unlike Mary, Millie was not a loud lover, but the gasp she released when your tongue swirled against her clit, barely touching her made you instantaneously increase your pressure. The two were facing each other, both on top of you, both using you to get off and it was the hottest you’d ever felt. She tasted different to Mary, but equally as addictive as you lapped your tongue around her opening.

Your hands were gripping the back of Millie’s thighs, and you could hear them kissing, their bodies melting into one another’s as they both chased their long-awaited orgasms. You could hear how close Mary was, her hips moving quicker again but not in any sort of rhythm, just doing anything to feel the strap inside of her.  Millie reached her hand to Mary’s clit, stroking small precise circles over the top of it and you swear you could feel her clench against the strap you were wearing.

“I want you to hold that orgasm love, wait for me to get there.” You heard Millie say, her voice was no longer dominating, it was shaky and desperate as she lowered herself further down against your tongue. You flatten your tongue, letting her grind her hips against your face.

“Mils hurry I can’t hold it much longer.” Mary’s voice was broken up by her own moans and you felt Millie’s legs begin to tremble underneath your touch, remembering exactly what you did with her tongue that pushed her over the edge, her thighs squeezing so hard around your head you couldn’t stop even if you wanted to. All you could do was listen to them both reach their orgasm together and the noises they made harmonised one another and both of them using you to get off had quickly become your new favourite thing.

Millie was the first to collapse, Mary still riding out her orgasm and you lifted your hips in an attempt to aid her in pushing through it. Millie quickly got off your face, a devilish smile across her lips as she looked at your face, your hair messed up and your cheeks painted scarlet, her arousal fresh around your lips. She kisses you first, her hand stroking through your tangled hair. Mary had lifted herself off the strap, helping you out of it while Millie planted kisses all over your face. She collapsed on top of you, her body finally giving in, wrapping her arms around your body.

“That may have been the hottest thing we’ve ever done.” You said honestly, finally catching your breath back. “Seeing you like that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” You directed towards Mary, and she hid her face in your arm, getting all flustered at your words.

“I don’t tend to make a habit of it.” She whispered into your arm, her body flush against yours as Millie lied down next to you, wrapping her own arm around your neck, joining in on the group hug.

“You should.” Millie grinned, her hand patting the top of Mary’s head, “I enjoyed seeing you get so flustered and desperate.”

“It certainly was an experience.” You said, looking down at Mary who had finally shown her face, her eyes swiftly looking back at the both of you before squeezing you both tightly in her arms.

“Well, it won’t be the last, I’m sure.” She said, her cheeks flushing red again and Millie mocked her, pinching her cheek and shaking her head with her hands. “Right, that’s enough now, just give me a hug.” You both obliged, feeling the warmth from both of them right in your chest.

(well done for getting through it, hope you're not feeling too much)

[repulsiveliquidation]

Chosen Family

Leah Williamson x Reader x Arsenal Women.

word count : 2.8k

this was meant to be a blurb but oh well

warnings : mentions of death, swearing, it's kinda sweet...?

“While we have valued your skill addition to the team, we cannot find any reason to retain you and that it why we are terminating your contract, effective immediately; other teams will bid for your purchase by the end of the month.”

That was the last thing that you heard until you stopped listening. The room began to feel small. It was spinning, your head just immediately began to throb. Combined with the need to throw up was the cherry on top. You blinked at your agent, who was stone-faced but determined to fight for you, in a plea to let you leave. He nodded and leaned in to talk to you. “Go, kiddo. Find the girls, I’ll sort this out.”

You scramble out of the room, not caring what the board thinks. You run; fast. Tears are cascading down your face, hot and frustrated ones. Your legs knew where to run, where to find your beloved girls.

//

19 and fresh out of your first senior Lionesses call up, was a day you didn’t think would come. You were on the plane back home from the 2023 World Cup a little gloomy; a text from Leah changed the whole day around for you. It was a simple one, curt and just what you expected from the North London girl.

“Welcome to Arsenal.”

You were playing for Brighton Albion right now, while you loved it there, Arsenal was your well-known dream. Going through the academy was the best thing that ever happened to you but when you didn’t get moved up to the first team and instead bought by Brighton, you immediately made it known that if ever they were interested, you’d even transfer for free (your agent did NOT like that.)

The girls cheered and clapped, celebrations were in order for the youngest Lioness. They popped champagne (you sneaked a flute, Alessia winked at you), food was eaten with more enthusiasm.

When you stepped on that pitch for the first time as part of the First Team, you cried. Leah made fun of you for a week but you didn’t care. Your dream was now your reality. You made it. Your parents passed away when you were 14 from a car accident, they were both die hard Arsenal fans, it was your fathers dream to see you in an Arsenal shirt with your last name on the back. You were at this facility that day, that day was the hardest day of your life. Today came a close second.

//

“I’m sorry daddy.” You whisper, fresh tears pricking in your eyes. You push open the changing room door and walk in, the girls immediately quieten down when they see your tear-stained face.

“You’ve only been gone a half hour, you miss us that much?” Leah jumps up enthusiastically and walks over to you to pull you into the changing room.

“Leah, shut up. What’s wrong, kleintje?” Viv asks, pulling you into her arms. Everyone’s mood changes when they realize they’re sad tears.

“They’re getting rid of me.” You say quietly, muffled into Viv’s chest. She kisses the top of your head, rare affection from the Dutchwoman, before pulling your head away from her chest.

“Say again for me love?”

“They’re selling me, they fired me.”

“They can’t do that.”

“They just did.”

You’re crying again, now passed to Beth’s arms as Viv, Leah, Alessia, Katie, Lotte and Stina begin to march out of the room angrily. You beg them not to, crumbling to your knees.

“Please, you shouldn't have to fight for me. They’re just throwing me away…I-I thought I was good enough to b-be on the team! Like a fucking whore, sold to the highest bidder!” you’re heaving, their eyes soften and they rush to you; Leah getting to you first. She kneels before you and pulls you into her arms, cradling your crying head against her chest.

“Hey, stop that. They’re not selling you, we will make sure of it. They can’t, not like this.”

“What if you can’t? What if you can’t stop them?”

“We never play football again, darling. It’s that simple.” Piped in Alessia, anger seething behind her eyes.

“I couldn’t make you all do that.”

“Watch us. Every single one of us. I might bleed North London but no one treats my family this way. You’re our baby, no one messes with this family.” Leah said, everyone in the room nodding their heads in agreement.

“What did your agent say, darlin’?” asked Katie, coming up beside you to rub your back just as your agent walked in.

“You can ask him.”

“Cut the shit, Tony. What did they say?” Leah pounced on him, he only shook his head slowly.

“I told them that the transfer window was long closed. Turns out that that doesn’t really matter when you fire a player; they’re just sold like any other player that can be sold. I know you girls are mad for her; please don’t do anything stupid like all quit football altogether.”

“How the hell did you figure that out?”

“I’m an agent for a reason. I’m also her guardian, I know you lot well enough to know you’d do something like that for my Y/N.”

“Why the fuck are they selling our best forward then?”

“I don’t know. I’ll be damned if I don’t find out.” He walked over to you, the girls help you stand.

“I will not stop until I find out why, kiddo. I promised your father I would take care of you, I intend to do that. Do you trust me?”

“With my life, Tones.”

“Atta girl, I know you’ll be in good hands with these girls. I’m sorry, but training will have to be at home till I can find out why you’re out of a fucking job. I love you, Martha wants you over for dinner on Saturday; bring her some of your cookies will you? You lot are invited if you’re interested.” he kisses your forehead and walks out of the room, already calling people on the phone.

“Come on baby, let’s get you home.” Beth cooed, Viv immediately grabbing all your things from your cubby. 

“Pack her a bag and take her to mine, she stays with me till this is over.” Leah tells the two, they nod and usher you out before you can make any form of protest.

The drive to your apartment was a quiet one, Beth sat in the back with you while Viv drove. You could tell she was mad, her jaw clenched as she was mumbling under her breath. You reached over an arm and grasped her shoulder, she visibly relaxed and looked at you through the rear-view mirror.

“We’ll figure this out, lieveling. Don’t you worry.”

//

Arsenal Women look to sell Y/N L/N to the highest bidder in a sudden dropping of her from the squad. Teams like Manchester United and Bayern Munich are among those highly interested in the prodigy forward from North London.

//

“Hi angel, the guest room is all set for ya. You’re welcome in my bed if you’d rather; fair warning, I am a snorer.” Leah winked at you, helping you take your bags into the house.

“I know you do, Kiera told me at camp one time.”

“That sneaky woman. I’ll be having a word with her, pet. Come on in, make yourself at home. The rest of the girls are on the balcony, they really invited themselves over you know; how rude, coming into our home like that!”

Our home, she said. You really didn’t need to worry with these girls, they’ve got your back.

//

Leah had to drag you to training although technically you couldn’t participate. It made your heart ache, being there but not being able to play. Jonas shot you a sorry look, allowing you to steal a football and kick it around on your own. The girls were all feeling sorry for you, one of them always coming over to check on you each hour.

Lotte walked over after their 6 a side scrimmage, spraying you with her water bottle before you shot up and chased her around the pitch.

You finally caught her, cursing her long legs. She merely side hugged you, kissing your warm, sweaty forehead.

“That take your mind off things for a bit, little bit?” she asked, her choice in nickname made you smile.

“It did, thanks Lotte.” You lean into her and say, both of you watching Katie spray her water bottle at Beth and before you knew it everyone was doing the same. It made you heartily laugh, all the girls more than happy to get their shirts soaked if it meant little bit was smiling for just a little bit.

//

“I’m afraid I can’t let you in here, Ms. L/N.”

“She’s with me, Ben.”

“I’m sorry Leah, she can’t be on the training pitch. Boss’ orders.”

“Well, she’s coming with me and we’re going to see about that. Come, Y/N.”

You trail behind Leah as she walks with determination to Jonas’ office. He’s in a meeting, she simply does not care.

“I’d like to know why she can’t come to the training ground and whose idea was it to do so.”

“It came from upstairs Leah, it was on my table this morning. I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t even try to do anything about it? She’s still a part of this team!”

“I’m sorry Leah, she isn’t. She can’t be here.”

“Go downstairs and put your boots on, Y/N. Un-FUCKING-believable.”

“Leah, I’ll just get an Uber and g­–”

“I said, go downstairs and put your fucking boots on. Now.”

You walk out of the room and do as she says. She comes back out to the pitch 20 minutes later with huge smile on her face, winking at you.

“All sorted darling, nothing to worry about. Sorry if I scared you.”

You run and hug her, she merely smiles wider and kisses your head.

“Thank you Leah,” you whisper, only meant for her to hear.

“Anything for you, my love.”

//

“What are we feeling for dinner, darling?” Beth called as you were sitting in their living room playing Fifa.

“I don’t care, but a pizza sounds fucking delicious right now.”

“Language! Leah is a horrendous influence on you. Sausage and banana peppers?”

“Sorry, mum. Yes please.”

Beth walked in and rolled her eyes, picking up the takeaway menu stack near the tv.

“What is this that I hear that I’m a bad influence?”

“Leah!” you yelled, jumping up from the couch and jumping into her arms. You had grown quite attached to the older woman, her fierce protective nature from the start of your journey of international football along with the move to Arsenal had made you fall in love with her. It was a secret you were willing to take to the grave if you got to enjoy her and not risk losing her.

It had more to do with the age gap, it wasn’t monstrously large but it would turn heads either way with you being a teenager still. You turn twenty in less than a week anyway, maybe if you could muster up the courage you’d tell her.

“Hello, pea. Beth bullying ya?”

“No, she said my swearing is because of you. But we’re getting pizza!”

“That sounds lovely, angel. I love pizza, pizza loves me. Wanna see if you can beat me at a game while we wait?” she says, pointing to the paused football match on the tv.

“What’s in it for me?” you tell her cheekily, grabbing a second controller for her.

“You’ll have to beat me to find out, doll.”

Viv walked in, standing with Beth as they watched the two of you playing.

“So, who’s gonna tell them?” Viv asks bluntly.

“They’re right knobheads the pair of them. It could be written on their foreheads and they’d miss it.”

//

You were more than happy to have a little cake and a song for your birthday. Years without parents who died around your birthday made it a sore subject. Tony and Martha made it better though, both of them really did try their best to make sure you were well cared for and for that you were forever grateful. No one texted you all day though, you’ll be honest, it made you a little sadder. You were just about order some takeout when Leah walked into the house with balloons, cake, the girls, and much more. Katie led the chorus for ‘Happy Birthday’ so offkey you were sure your ears were genuinely bleeding. She pulled a party hat on your head and kissed your forehead, holding your face in her hands and she whispered, “Happy Birthday, little bit.”

You were crying, touched by their kind gesture. Only Leah knew the extent of why birthdays were a little sore for you, a proud smile on her face as the rest of the girls busied themselves with laying out the food and putting the decorations up. She smiled at you, eyes full of love like you were the only one in the room.

She walked up to you with the cake as Stina lit the candle, her bright smile on her face.

“Make a wish, pretty girl.” She said, you closed your eyes and made your wish. You blew out the candle; the cake was handed off to Viv.  

She pulled you into her arms, kissing your nose. She had that same look of pure adoration on her face; you were scared of asking the question itching on the tip of your tongue. Luckily, Leah asked it for you.

“Happy birthday, special girl. Can I take you out on a date sometime?”

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to ask you that.”

“No time like the present, kiddo.”

She leaned in and kissed you softly, your lips molding perfectly to hers. The room cheered loudly, Beth yelling at the top of her lungs while Viv looked like a proud parent.

//

“Did your uncle ever mention that he was suing the guy who got into that accident with your parents?”

“No, I thought they didn’t know who it was.”

“Well, they do. He knows you too.”

“How the hell could he know me.”

“He’s the scumbag who hired you then fired you.”

“What are you saying, Tones?”

“When the lawsuit came in and the names were revealed he realized that someone leaked the information he tried so hard to keep buried and your name was in there. He thought you figured it out and were coming after him through your uncle. So, he fired you. Probably thought that would send a clear message that he could ruin you.”

“Tony, this is a lot to take in.”

“I know, kid. You leave it to me, you hear? Especially leave your new girlfriend out of it. She’s great but fucking scary.”

“Tony, it’s on speaker!”

“I know where you sleep Tony.” Leah supplied happily.

“Shit. Please kid, between the two of you only yeah? I love you.”

“I love you too, Tones. Send Martha my love.”

“Sure thing. Be safe, please?”

Click.

“What the hell am I going to do, Lee?”

“We’re gonna fight baby. Every single one of us. We got ya.”

“Tony literally just told you, you couldn’t kill the guy.”

“I will if I have to, you’re my girl now. You’ve always been my girl but now circumstances have changed. I know a guy who knows a guy; I’ll do it with my bare hands if I had to.”

“Tony was right, you are mad scary.”

//

Arsenal Board member sentenced to 10 years in prison for countless charges. The Plaintiff, Y/N L/N was rewarded with an undisclosed settlement for damages that caused the death of her parents 6 years ago, which turned out to be a massive coverup. Her position as forward on the Arsenal Women’s team had been reinstated effective immediately.

//

“We did it, little bit.” Lotte hugged you, the rest of the girls filtering into your home. Okay, it was Leah’s and she did just ask you to move in with her but it was nice to have someone to share a home with.

“I’m so proud of you, kid.” said Katie.

“You’re stronger than you look, Y/N/N.” said Stina.

“I have pictures of you on the stand!” said Alessia.

Their words were drowned out by the sound of a certain blonde and blue eyed, Milton Keynes accented, Lioness captain that was praising you.

“You did perfectly today, pea.”

“Thanks Lee. I couldn’t have done it without you. All of you.” You turn and face all the girls and continue.

“Without you all, I don’t think I would have been able to get through the past few weeks. You’ve all shown me what real family looks like and I can’t thank you enough. I love you all from the bottom of my heart.” You were crying, wiping away tears before Alessia yelled “Group hug!” and you were wrapped up in many arms.

Once they let go, Leah came up behind you and kissed your cheek. You lean back into her, rubbing her strong arms that were around you.

“Thank you Leah, for everything.”

“Anything for you, my love.”

[pupkashi]

new year, new superstition

whoever said red underwear on new years brings love was onto something

a/n: happy new years [eve] !! i cannot wait to spend another year with y’all and making more silly stories that i hope u guys will enjoy :3 let me know what y’all think of this silly thing i thought of at 4 am <3

wordcount: 1,246

masterlist

you never believed in myths dealing with the new year. you never cared to run around with a suitcase or wear polka dots or to start sweeping and somehow eat twelve grapes all in under a minute.

and you most definitely never went out to buy yellow or red underwear to wear on new years.

until today, when you consciously wore your red pair of underwear, what’s the harm? it won’t do anything anyway you thought to yourself, continuing to get ready for the party your friend had invited you to.

your friends cheered as you they spotted you among the crowd of people, motioning for you to join them as they said hello, handing you a champagne glass as scooting over so you could take a seat.

after a couple minutes of talking you excuse yourself to the bathroom, hurrying as you check the time.

11:56 pm

you’re walking quickly, stopping in your tracks when you can’t find your friends.

there’s a light tap on your shoulders, “excuse me,” the voice is unfamiliar, making you turn around quickly. you’re greeted with stunning blue eyes and snowy bangs falling into them, a charming smile on the strangers face.

“hi,” you smile softly, not wanting to seem rude, “can i help you with something?” your head cocks to side a bit, confused as to why this drop dead gorgeous man was tapping you on the shoulder minutes before midnight.

“yes actually!” he grins, “see my best friend over there, thinks i have no game,” he points at the bar, you subtly glance over, seeing a man with long black sipping on a drink, observing the two of you, “he thinks i won’t be able to find someone to kiss by midnight.”

you stare at him dumbfounded, what the fuck was going on. “so you want me to..?” you trail off, staring at the much taller man as he ran his fingers through his hair.

“kiss me at midnight, yes,” he grins, “only if you want of course! if not feel free to walk away,” you weigh the pros and cons of the situation.

pro’s: you kiss a hot guy on new years, he proves he has game

con’s: ?

“yeah why not,” you laugh, “I’m y/n” you smile, the man flashes you a smile before replying, “satoru!”

the people around you begin to countdown and you step closer to satoru, giggling when his arm snakes around your waist, pulling you a bit closer. you let your arms snake around his neck.

“five! four! three-!”

“can i kiss you?” he breaths out, you nod, crashing your lips onto his as balloons fall from the ceiling, fireworks popping can be heard from outside as everyone cheers.

your lips fit together perfectly, you can taste his vanilla chapstick and the champagne he was sipping on. satoru feels like he’s on cloud nine, smiling widely when you two pull away.

“happy new year, satoru” you grin, lips still tingling as he smiles back at you.

“happy new year y/n” he replies, about to say something else when your friends find you, quickly whisking you away. you look back at him, an apologetic smile on your face as you wish your friends a happy new year.

it’s almost an hour later when you’re walking out of the building, tugging your jacket a bit closer to you when the cold breeze hits you.

“you cold?” the voice makes you stop in your tracks, a smile fighting it’s way onto your lips when you turn around, bright blue eyes meeting yours.

“aren’t you?” you reply, watching as he approaches you with a grin, he shakes his head.

“only been out here for twenty minutes” he laughs, teeth chattering a bit. the sound makes your mouth fall open, laughing softly.

“why have you been out here for twenty minutes? you don’t even have gloves on oh my god!” you squeal, instinctively taking his hands in yours, face burning when you realize how much larger his were than yours.

“didn’t wanna miss you,” he admits, cheeks even rosier than before as he looks at you, “couldn’t leave my new years kiss without getting to know them a bit more” he smiles, “especially when they’re an amazing kisser,” he teases.

you can’t help but roll your eyes, a bit embarrassed as you tug him back into the lobby of the building.

“if you wanted my number all you had to do was ask” you reply, satoru wiggles his nose a bit, smiling at you and humming.

“yeah but then i wouldn’t get to talk to you while i slowly unfreeze” there’s a flirty glint in his eyes, his gaze makes you look away for a second, flustered as you try to think of something to say back to him.

“we’ll what kind of person would i be if i left you hanging after giving you the best kiss of your life?” you laugh, watching as his smile grows even wider, giggling at your words.

you can’t help but immediately become even more attracted to him as he laughs, dimples popping out and making you swoon.

the two of you talk for a bit longer, deeming him warm enough to live before you’re scribbling your number onto his palm, kissing his cheek and waving goodbye.

you wake up the next day with a message from an unknown number:

it’s satoru :)

would you wanna get lunch sometime ? you see my best friend thinks i have no game … :3

you can’t help but laugh, biting your lip as you reply to his text,

well what kind of person would i be if i didn’t help prove him wrong :/

satoru swings his feet as he reads your reply, shoving the phone in suguru’s face, sticking his tongue out before texting you.

maybe he should be glad shoko accidentally washed his clothes with hers that one time, turning all his whites red.

he’s glad he wore that pair of white turned red pair of boxers that night, he can’t imagine a life where he didn’t have you in his arms right now, celebrating new years together once again.

it’s just the two of you in your house this year, 24 grapes in a small bowl on the table next to you, giggling softly as you cuddle together on the couch, watching the live feed of the countdown.

“kiss me at midnight? I’ve got something to prove to my best friend” he smirks, you can help but roll your eyes at him, sitting up and grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, pulling him gently.

“oh shut it” you smile, crashing your lips onto his as the clock strikes 12 fireworks displaying on the tv screen, lighting up the entire living room.

you pull away quickly, grabbing the bowl as the two of you scarf down the grapes, laughing when satoru almost chockes on one of them. as the final chime of the clock sounds you press a kiss to your lovers lips, both of you smiling as he chases you for one last kiss.

“happy new years sweetheart” he mumbles, grinning when you card your fingers through his hair.

“happy new years angel boy,” you reply, pressing a kiss to his dimples before landing on his lips once more.

safe to say the two of you definitely believe in the new years myths now (suguru tells satoru he should get the credit, not shoko’s terrible laundry skills).

taglist: @chilichopsticks @anime-for-the-sleepless @4sat0ruu @safaia-47 @nanamikentoseyebags @fushironi @nineooooo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @gojoshooter @sat6ru @beautiful-is-boring @sweetheart-satoru @luna0713hunter @torusmochi

[tunatoge]

pairing: satosugu x reader

a/n: happy new year to you lovely folk :) ty for making 2023 an amazing year! here's to 2024 :D

the winter air bites into your cheeks as you snuggle further into your thick coat, rubbing your stinging cheeks into the collar of the puffy material. shoko chuckles at something utahime says a few feet away from you. a small smile pulls at your lips at the sound and you ignore the way your cheeks burn even more from the little motion. 

satoru and suguru stand on either side of you, satoru huddling closer to you and practically leaning himself over the top of your head. suguru rolls his eyes and takes your hand into his, stuffing your entwined hands into the pocket of his thick black coat. someone on the rooftop across from you and your friends screams and suddenly begins counting down from ten. 

“ten!” they scream, laughing as they hiccup around the word. 

suguru leans closer into you, huddling you further into his and satoru’s sides. 

“nine,” he says softly. you look up at him, watching as the chilly wind sweeps his long hair across his face. 

“eight~” satoru purrs in your ear, smiling widely when you turn to look at him. his eyes are bright behind his ridiculously dark sunglasses. he takes your other hand into his, thumbing at the dry skin on the back of your hand. 

“seven,” shoko calls from behind the three of you. she nurses a glass of champagne (it isn’t her first and won’t be her last one of the night). 

“six,” utahime huffs, rubbing her cold hands together despite wearing warm gloves. she bounces back and forth on the balls of her feet. 

the person on the other rooftop continues counting down, cheering loudly with their friends. satoru groans loudly into your ear and you jump at the sound. 

“this is taking forever,” he whines. 

you laugh, “someone’s eager for the new year,” you tease, squeezing his hand tightly. 

suguru laughs, “he’s probably more eager for the new year’s kiss.” he pulls out a ziploc bag full of grapes, “wanna’ throw in another superstition, satoru?” he asks, shaking the bag in front of satoru’s face. 

satoru scowls, “you’re just as excited as i am for that stupid kiss–” he starts, his brows pinched in mock annoyance. 

you grin into your coat, “one,” you whisper at the same time as the crowd a rooftop away screams it into the air around them. fireworks pop loudly further into the city, sending colorful sparks into the sky. 

you stand on the tips of your toes and press a kiss into the corner of satoru’s mouth, his lips pulled back to continue his bickering with suguru. he freezes when your lips brush over his skin, so gently he barely registers it and so abrupt he isn’t able to turn his face to properly kiss you before you turn to suguru. suguru grins smugly at satoru, taking your chin into his hand–despite the bag of grapes–and plants a warming kiss to your lips. you hum delightfully at the feeling before you pull away and turn to satoru, letting him pull you into a rough kiss. before he can lick his way further into your mouth, you pull away and lean back on your heels, smiling happily into the cold night. 

“happy new year!” you cheer happily as your two boys stare down at you. you squeeze both of their hands, grasping their knuckles tightly between your cold fingers. 

“happy new year,” suguru responds, his pretty lips upturned into a smile. “to the both of you.” he looks at satoru. 

“happy new year,” satoru whispers back, leaning forward to kiss suguru before planting another kiss on the top of your head. 

[n3ptoonz]

OMG OKAY SO I JUST READ YOUR RECENT HEADCANONS WITH EARTHREALM BOYS AND HOW THEY'D REACT TO READER RIDING THEM AND I LOVE IT SO MUCH AND IT GOT ME THINKING

How would they react to reader pegging them HEHEHE 👁️👁️🙏

mk1 hcs: how the earthrealm guys react to pegging

sorry i took so long to get to this anon! life is on my asssss and kept getting random spurts of writers block but WE HERE

warnings: explicit, smut elements, fluff elements, sub men obviously, sphinx might have favs idk tho😹

Scorpion

When you suggested pegging for the first time, it intrigued him. He'd always been down to try something new, especially if you bring it to him since he does it more

Y'all would be reeallll slow in the beginning. Luckily you knew all about preparation and making sure he was relaxed and okay the whole time. It didn't take long for him to get used to it, and even take a liking

He'd prefer for it to be a regular thing after his looonngggg days after work. There's nothing he needs more than to either be treated with tender, love, and care or just straight filthy coitus with him seeing stars and his hair tangled to all hell

The first few times he was a shy boy, cute lil whimpers here and there. Now? Doesn't give a damn, he will be as vocal as he feels like. You're gonna be the one who wakes up with claw marks and bite marks in the morning

Sub-Zero

Huh? You want to what? Were you inside of his head or something? How'd you know he wanted you to absolutely mix his guts whenever he gives you attitude? Something ain't right

He only acts reluctant because he didn't wanna look eager, but the man was waiting for this moment. The second you suggested it he was like "okay i'll say yes after like the third time i gotta look cool." when whole time he wanted to fall to his knees and hug your thighs in agreement

Don't try to go slow the first few times. His patience is shorter than his temper, this mf is the most power bottom individual in the bedroom. After he's gotten used to it he'll 'allow' you to go the romantic route (he's such a lil bitch for it we love it)

He barks orders at you like you won't grab his face and give him a taste of his own medicine. One good time where you're hovering over him, a thumb on the inside of his cheek while he drools and you fuck him like your life depended on it. Mission success!

Smoke

He's the one who brought it to you. Any objections? I think tf not. He isn't saying it aloud, but his eyes are silently begging you to treat him like the town's whore

He likes both the romance and the pure filth. It's entirely up to you; he will never say no to anything you suggest. Fuck him like you're mad at him or go slow and steady while you kiss his jaw and play with his hair and sing his praises

Any and all positions available. If you can somehow prone this big boy, DO IT. He'd totally ride you too if you really down for the count. We are troopers around this bitch!

Sometimes it would concern you how rarely he tapped out, especially when shit was getting intense and didn't calm down for a while. If you were absolutely demolishing his ass, you'd see a pool of drool escaping his lips, his eyes glossed over, his whines and moans gradually getting louder, and when you asked if he was okay, he would nod and give you a thumbs up like he didn't just bust 3 times in a row

Johnny Cage

Every time I do any sexual hcs of this mf, I will continue to say he's a brat. I do not care. He's a fucking diva and will dare to bark orders at you too like you're not the one who brought it up

Y'all know that Meg the stallion lyric where she's like "no don't fuck me like that fuck me like this"? THATS HIS ASS. He KNOWS it'll piss you off but go one of two ways: you indeed do fuck him like that but added aggression, OR! you stop completely and pretend like you're gonna leave the room. Works every time

He thoroughly enjoys straight up sex over romantic sex, but every once in a while he indulges in popping champagne, throwing down rose petals, and playing sexy music in the back to set the mood. Ol dramatic ass

Remember how I said in my riding hcs that he records everything? Yeah. Even as far as come to you and be like "okay so like what if we sold these? i could cut your face out if you want-" and you're like !1!2? HOWEVER ik some of yall are FREEKIE FUCKS. If you say "fuck that leave my face in it", prepare to never need a job ever again

Kenshi Takahashi

Surprisingly is down with it. That's what #love does to a mf. He's like Kuai, anything you want you shall receive. If you wanna play around in that ass, say no more!

97% of the time wants to go slow and steady. He just loves looking at your face with the power of Sento while making love. Tell him how much you love and appreciate him and how he's doing so good for you and he'll instantly become the butter to your bread (like melting- ok y'all get it cool)

That 3%?? He would be on his knees and begging you to fuck the stress out of him. He's had such a tough week, just shove his head into the pillow and get to work!

If it's missionary just grip his neck, get real close to his face so he can feel your breath, and welcome him to pound town. All aboard the slut-Kenshi-out train

Raiden

Secretly a whore. The first green light into pegging territory, you could see his pearly browns sparkle in excitement and eagerness. He's relatively chill and calm about it at first because he didn't want to scare you away, but that's gone in an instant when you actually do the deed

Walks up to microphone Raiden...enjoys the prepping damn near more than the actual pegging. This pretty boy sure loves to see you break out the lubricant and gloves just so you can get him ready. Bro is on the edge of the bed swinging his feet while you have the most devious look in your eye

He's 50/50 on sensual nights vs getting down and dirty. Literally has zero preference, just spread him!

Back to how I said he's secretly a whore, sometimes he does subtle things that get you riled up throughout the day so you can take it out on him later. It's kinda funny sometimes cause he can be vocal but he's more shy than ever, but he'll break soon, trust

Liu Kang

Out of everyone he'd probably enjoy it the most. Now hear me out, he's not used to something like this, so it may take some convincing, but it's very little. It's good that he was mortal before so this level of intimacy isn't completely out of bounds

Once you get the stamp of approval and you try it for the first time, he's in love. It's like all he wants to do. Like holy fuck, where has this been for all these eons? This is the ultimate relaxation and he gets to forget his worries for a few hours??

He's so fascinated that he'd be the one introducing YOU to different types of straps all the way down to the patterns. "A dragon one... have you heard of this one?" like damn bro we get it you fw dragons (literally 😹)

Given how calm he is he prefers slow and sensual. It's only when he's truly curious that he'd be like hmm...it certainly wouldn't hurt to try (prepare for his godly stamina to have you on the brink of death btw). also, there's no way he wouldn't request for his hair to be pulled 😮‍💨

Kung Lao

Kung Lao my beloved. Morphs into alpha with huge muscles and impeccable imagination. Kung Lao, the egotistical and prideful man he is would think he has the up on you simply because he brought it up before you did. This fine ass man can and will come prepared on his own, case full of toys and all

And if I said he likes to be tooted up with music in the back and you pulling his hair while being used like a barracks bunny, would you arrest me?? For speaking TRUTH? He's a whore your honor

He don't give a damn about slow and steady but he'll do it if you want to. Just know it will never end in slow and steady, the pace always seems to be picked up and all of a sudden he's strap-warming you as a punishment (he literally wanted this to happen)

Idek what more to say Kung Lao is a slut and I need him in a way that's concerning to women's suffrage. I will make that hat chucking dimple having sexy ass man a fucking mother, just you wait. [he is one of the first I will breed]

[globalrebrand]

Wedding Bells pt. 1

Proposal and Engagement Headcanons for Vil Riddle & Malleus! Wedding + Honeymoon headcanons coming soon!

A/N: I'm back...for now 💜

Warnings: GN! Reader, fluff

Vil Schoenheit

The Proposal

Who proposes is the primary question? Vil would adore it if you proposed, but at the same time he has such a perfect vision in his mind of what his proposal to you would look like.

He loves you and won't critique your proposal per-say, as long as its sufficiently meaningful, romantic and well thought out, but a lazy proposal would be unforgivable. Do you not know him at all?!

Quite honestly, the best move is buy an engagement ring for Vil and wait for him to propose to you, and don't worry it'll happen sooner than you think and it will be pretty easy to tell what he intends to do when he invites you to join him for a drive and requests that you get dressed to the nines.

One late summer evening Vil will take you on a surprise outing. You'll arrive at intricately sculpted ivy cover iron gates that open as Vil drives up a winding tree lined road with your hand in his. He'll pull up to a beautiful mansion that had to be well over 150 years old, with warm beige brick, stained glass windows and iron balconies. The architecture is indicative of traditional manor home styles in the Shaftlands large and towering. The home sits right on the lake near the largest for celebrity filled metropolis in the Shaftlands, but not right in the hustle and bustle of the city.

Together you tour the property and beautiful surrounding gardens. Vil tells you that there's 500 acres of land and that he intends to develop it to start his perfume and skincare line. Naturally you question about the purpose of this beautiful manor and Vil tells you that he'll answer that question in just a second.

You ascend to the second floor of the empty manor and you start to hear a string quartet. Vil leads you through a bedroom to a large terrace that is covered in fresh florals with a table set for dinner.

He pulls out your chair and the two of sit together for dinner, but before that can even happen Vil begins his speech as he motions for the server to bring an open aubergine colored velvet box with the most tastefully massive engagement ring you've ever seen, from a storied jewelry brand Vil recently received a major endorsement deal with.

"You've taught me what true beauty looks like and I know that I am only at my most beautiful when I can love and be loved by you. Would you do me the immense privilege of being my spouse?"

Of course you're crying at this point but you don't forget you original plans as you shakily reach into your purse with an airy laugh and pull out a matching aubergine velvet box and say "I couldn't agree more" and lean forward to present him with an engagement ring of his own.

Vil is absolutely stunned and quite literally squeals with delight as tears threaten to spill from the corners of his eyes.

He tells you the ring is absolutely perfect, (you asked his father for help because you knew you could not get it wrong) but first affixes the one he got you on your finger before holding out his hand and allowing you to place yours on his lithe ring finger. Then he pulls you up and brings you into a passionate kiss as the string quartet plucks away under the moonlight and the server begins to pop the champagne to celebrate your upcoming nuptials!

The Engagement

Buckle in. If you thing Vil was serious about the others affairs in his life, he's possible even more so when it comes to wedding planning.

Suddenly you get invited to a reoccurring bi-weekly meeting with Vil and one of the most noted wedding planners in all of Twisted Wonderland.

In the Shaftlands it's good luck to get married a year to the day of the proposal which puts everything on a very, very, very tight timeline.

Vil's impulse is to do something extravagant and glamorous...and expensive. You urge him to interrogate why he thinks you both need a destination engagement party and weeks long destination wedding to celebrate you love for each other. Your preference would be something elegant and still quite luxurious but considerably more modest in scale and cost. Not to mention will make that year timeline attainable.

After some thought Vil concedes that you're right, he admits that he has so many magazines that want to cover the affair that he felt pressured to so something truly spectacular, but you're the most important person to him and if that wouldn't make you happy, he doesn't think it would be worth the effort. Don't think this will stop him from being a bridezilla though.

So you both agree that you'll work on renovating the beautiful new property Vil purchased for the two of you and hosting your wedding on the extensive grounds with a considerably more modest amount of your friends and loved ones.

But now you're completing home renovations and planning a wedding which was quaint on paper but actually a logistical nightmare in reality.

Now there's a chance Vil is the only one working so you have the time to focus on organizing the wedding with the planner and figuring things out with the contractors and interior designers.

But say you're also a model or performer, or just very committed to your field of work and don't have the time for planning, things become a bit strained.

You and Vil hardly see each other between his work and yours, or if you're a kept partner, even just him being preoccupied but still wanting to call the shots even though it feels like you're doing the majority of the work is enough to cause a bit of tension.

But you and Vil couldn't have gotten to where you are without good communication so you express to him your anxiety about planning a wedding and a house and he enlists his father to support you when he can't, which proves to be a pretty good fix. You don't have to worry about Vil not liking a choice you made because his father will tell you exactly how his son will feel about it.

And Vil is still has involved as possible, you go furniture shopping often with the interior designer and are slowly working your way through configuring everything for both your home and you wedding.

After a lengthy engagement the details will finally be ironed out, your wedding will be held by the lakeside of your new home and the reception in the vast landscaped lawns. The hope is that your guests will also warm your home, the doors will be open so late summer air can filter through the space along with your loved ones joy and laughter. Drama is the theme, black dahlias and burgundy striated lilies. The ceremony will be held at dusk and the goal is to party with friends as long as energy is bright and inviting.

Malleus Draconia

The Proposal

Malleus moves quickly to lock things down. He wants a forever partner to save him from his loneliness and build a happy family with. He is not fucking around when it comes to marriage. Malleus moves fast on a human time scale but with absurd quickness on a fae one.

His family members are dubious when he tells them of his plans to propose, after all he's only known you five years which is basically a fae month, but after meeting you their fears are assuaged and his grandmother give him her blessing to propose shortly after, letting Malleus knows she thinks you'll make a lovely consort.

The proposal itself will be rather unconventional.

Malleus will likely take you to some ruins. He doesn't have a good sense of human traditions and his understanding of romance is rather limited. After all, he intends to devote himself to you wholly and completely, what could be more romantic than an undying love?

But don't worry it won't be the glitz and glam of the other suitors but it will still be exceedingly romantic in the most natural and effortless way.

You'll traverse the ruins at dusk together, your pathways lit by fireflies and the gentle chirps of the nightbirds in Briar Valley providing musical accompaniment.

You and Malleus will talk about everything and nothing, he's always found you the most compelling conversationalist and while he's feeling a bit more emotional during this night hike it doesn't stop him from getting lost in conversation.

Malleus adores you but normally is much more discrete with his compliments, tonight they seem to be free flowing. He's deeply reflective about your relationship saying that you a precious little human have taught him more about love and life in his limited time getting to know you than in his entire hundred+ years of life. (Lilia would take great offense at this but Malleus means every word)

After hours of meandering that seems to pass in moments for the both of you Malleus will take you by the hands and deposit a ring in your hand that he seemingly conjured out of thin air.

He tells you it was his mothers ring, and that his grandmother gave it to him you that he could propose.

As you look into your hands you realize you're holding a truly ancient piece of jewelry, a large luminescent emerald flanked by intricate silver work. It's history makes it priceless.

You question why he would give you something so precious and he make short work of clarifying his intentions.

"You are most precious to me child of man. [Name] I wish to devote myself to you entirely for the rest of your days. Please accept this ring and with it, all of my love. Marry me, beloved."

You start to cry and Malleus is taken aback, he thought you would be over the moon at his gesture but it seems you're not? He asks if you're ok and you emphatically nod declaring you accept his proposal.

He questions the tears and you tell him that humans are soft emotional creatures who cry when overwhelmed and that his love has overwhelmed you.

He tells you that his pleases him to hear and he was well aware of the hyper emotional nature of humans, its one of the things he loves best about you.

The Engagement

It's a royal wedding! Which means shit loads of planning. Much to Malleus’s chagrin, he can't simply marry you the next day. A ceremony must be planned, guests and foreign dignitaries invited. There's quite a bit more at stake considering his status, but Malleus couldn't care less. He's rather impatient to get to the ceremony. He just wants to be married to his child of man today! Is that so much to ask?

His grandmother is deeply involved in the wedding planning. So is Lilia, but more so for moral support and less for help with making aesthetic decisions. They both guide you on the traditions and expectations of weddings in Briar Valley.

You'll find Malleus has lots of opinions about how the wedding should look. Usually he defers to your tastes but if he has strong objections he will surely let you know.

One of the key traditions is that the ceremony begins at night fall and lasts until dawn. Seasonally winter is the preferred times since dark fae enjoy long periods of night. Additionally the customary color for wedding attire is surprise, surprise, black. A white dress or suit is entirely out of the question is you want to respect fae traditions.

Malleus's grand mother informs you that the expectation is that there will be a lot of entertainment for guests and that you and Malleus need to decide on a suitable theme and various acts.

There's also the matter of your preparation for the role of consort. You'll need to endure near round the clock etiquette courses and lessons on the history of Briar Valley so that you can be a worthy consort the a king.

You certainly signed up for a life with Malleus but you didn't know about all of these other matters you needed to attend to...

Now when Malleus sees you crying he asks if you're overwhelmed with happiness or saddens. This time you tell him its frustration, you don't feel equipped to be his spouse, all of this royal wedding planning and preparation is daunting.

Malleus desperately wants to alleviate your frustrations so he takes a more concerted role in the wedding preparations and your lessons.

This helps quite a bit, with Malleus as your teacher you feel more connected to him and his ideas on the various options for the wedding make it easier for you to make a decision.

Together you decide on a midnight winter circus theme. The wedding will of course be held at the royal castle, but with magic guests will be able to traverse the grounds comfortably at night in the dead of winter. The royal will be covered in winter blooms, like crocus and snowdrops. The decorations will largely be monochrome and the jovial nature of the theme more subdued. The gardens will become festival grounds with all kinds of magical entertainment for guests and of course ample spaces for dancing.

You quickly learn to appreciate the fae and their fanciful approach to weddings now that Malleus is your guide and you certainly can't wait for the festivities. Just keep telling yourself the every completed lesson means you're one step closer to marrying the fae of your dreams.

Riddle Rosehearts

The proposal

Riddle is a traditionalist and his proposal will be very much in line with that aspect of his character.

He will at the very least book a private room in a high end restaurant with your favorite cuisine. Normally he doesn't drink much if at all, but his nerves are getting the best of him. Of course he knows you love him, you supported him through his medical licensing, put up with his nightmare of a mother with grace and poise and you've been living together for over two years and seriously dating for four. The time seems right, you are both settle and you mentioned something about buying a house together in the next year. So obviously you don't want to go anywhere...right?

You might actually not get the sense that this particular dinner is about to be a proposal because Riddle frames it as a celebration for his acceptance into his residency. Which you're more than happy to celebrate, he'll have also booked tickets to you favorite type of theater, whether its a play, musical, symphony or opera. He wants you to feel known and thats why he's worked so hard to orchestrate the perfect evening.

Now course after course will pass like normal, and by his third glass of wine, Riddle will finally have the courage to make his move.

He'll steer the conversation in the direction of your futures together and it fills him with confidence to hear you gush about the house you want together, and he chuckles when you say, "as far from your mother as possible."

Riddle tells you that he'd like to make all of that a reality for you and then gets on one knee, pulling a small red velvet box from his suit jacket pocket.

"[Name], I cannot conceive of future without you, you are my heart. Please marry me."

He keeps it short, simple but heartrendingly earnest. He's not the best with long soliloquies so please don't be offended by his brevity, he means every word.

Of course you say yes, leaping into his arms, and tackling him to the ground in the private dining room. He's incredibly red and this is the main reason he opted to do things in private, he would be horrible embarrassed if anyone saw him blushing so profusely!

He slides the ring on your finger and its a precious heart shaped diamond. Riddle tells you if your think its too sappy you can both go back and select a different one but you assure him it's perfect and that it will always remind you of him.

The show you attend after dinner is wonderful and you two cuddle with each other in Trey's bakery, drinking champagne, nibbling on a strawberry cake, and planning for your future as Trey makes himself scarce as he closes up shop.

The Engagement

Congrats, you're marrying the love of your life, but that means you're also gaining quite possibly the most terrifying of mother-in-laws in the process.

You're familiar with her controlling antics and her general disapproval of your entire existence. You could be the most accomplished person in any field and she still wouldn't think you were good enough for her son. It's like that, passive aggressive and sometimes openly hostile comments about your inadequacy whenever Riddle isn't around.

You and Riddle both made sure you'd saved up a good amount of funds for your wedding so you wouldn't have to rely on help from his parents at all. The last thing both of you needed was his mother thinking she had any legitimate claim to your decisions in the wedding planning process.

Riddle defers to your judgement for most details relating to the wedding. He makes sure he attends all of the related appointments you would like his attendance at, venue tours, meeting the caterer, cake tastings, etc.

His mother isn't including in the decision making process, but his mother finds a way to become outraged by essentially every decision you make once word gets back to her.

You decide to go with Trey's family bakery for the dessert? Are you fucking crazy? That much sugar will absolutely poison all of the guests! What about the plant based baker she offered? Do they get no consideration?

You make a point to not invite her to your dress/suit fitting but she'll find out your selections through tiresome needling, and obviously false promises of not making any judgements. She'd likely find your dress immodest or your suit selection tasteless.

Riddle does his best to act as a buffer and he's considerably more confident and adept at dealing with his mother but he can sense that things are taking a serious toll on your mental health so he issues an ultimate in a fit of rage after you come to him in tears after no longer being able to tolerate being berated by his mother.

"[Name] is the love of my life and if you have cannot treat them with kindness then you have no place at our wedding. Am I understood?"

Hearing Riddle tell off his mother on your behalf was a huge turn on and also very vindicating! Without her interference it was amazing how smoothly everything went. You can Riddle decide on a spring wedding in a celebrated botanical garden in the Queendom of Roses for your wedding. Trey's family bakery has been conscripted for the desserts and cuisine will be sufficiently light and healthy seasonal spring affair. The attire for the guest is semi-formal and the colors are warm pinks, yellows and lilac. The guests have been invited and thankfully all of Riddle's most cherished friends from school will be in attendance.

Now that all the details are ironed out, you and Riddle eagerly anticipate the big day!

[sapphire-writes]

The Au Pair (modern!HOTD) part 2

Part 1 ~ Part 2

pairing: Daemon x fem!Reader x Rhaenyra

summary: Your job nannying for the Targaryens takes an unexpected turn.

warnings: 18+ (explicit sex, oral fem receiving, fingering), slight power imbalance as they're your bosses, language

word count: 4.0k

note: part 2, it's about to get spicy in here! I hope you enjoy!

Days go by like you’re living in a dream. You’ve fallen into a solid routine with the boys, ushering them out to the school in the morning, and taking them to the park (mostly to gossip with Shae). You can’t help the gnawing feeling inside you, waiting for the shoe to drop. It’s almost been a month and you’re still around. As Shae said, previously unheard of. 

“They’ve got some wedding this weekend,” Shae says waving to one of the kids.

You’re sitting on your usual bench with her, sipping on a hot drink, rocking Joffrey’s carriage with your foot slightly. He’s out cold, snuggled up with his favorite plushie, a soft dragon egg. You raise an eyebrow at Shae.

“A wedding sounds fun!” you tell her.

“There'll be some drama, that’s for sure,” she teases, “I’ll have plenty of gossip to spill when we get back.”

“If I’m still here,” you joke, causing her to frown.

“It’s still going well though, right?” she asks.

“Yeah it's literally perfect,” you tell her, “though I feel like I’m walking on eggshells now.”

“Keep your head up, you’re doing great,” Shae says, rubbing your shoulder.

You glance at your phone, noticing the time.

“Shoot, I should get them home,” you tell Shae, calling to the boys.

Jace and Luke bound over to you. You hand them their jackets, helping Luke with his. He enjoys the extra attention as you zip him up. Luke is such a little love. He thanks you, and you wave goodbye to Shae, heading back to the highrise. It was such a nice day you decided to walk to the park not far from the Targaryen home. 

Daemon and Rhaenyra aren’t present when you arrive, though the home office door is shut so you assume Rhaenyra is finishing her day. You sit the boys at the counter in the kitchen, plating the dinner that has been prepared by the chef. You lean against the counter, joining them. 

“I don’t like peas,” Luke says, pushing them about his plate.

“They’re better if you mix them with your mashed potatoes,” you tell him.

Jace reaches over to Luke’s plate, swirling his fork in his mashed potatoes and gathering some peas on his plate. Luke lets his elder brother, before scooping the mix onto his fork and shoving it into his mouth. 

“Much better,” he says through a bite, causing you to smile. 

The front door opens then, and Daemon walks into the kitchen, phone against his ear.

“Then we’re going to have to figure this out,” he says roughly, to whomever he’s on the phone with. 

He smiles at the boys, before continuing his conversation. Daemon sounds stressed, and you think it's best to remove yourself and the boys from the kitchen.

“Let’s go to the theater room,” you tell them, clearing their places, “and give daddy some space.”

Daemon wasn’t paying attention before, lost in his conversation with his partner, but you have his attention now. His violet eyes meet yours and you feel a blush begin to warm your cheeks. Daemon smirks slightly, before returning to his conversation. 

You hope you haven’t put your foot in your mouth. You take the evening to yourself after the boys go to bed. A bottle of champagne with a silver bow was left in your bathroom as you returned to your room for the evening. Rhaenyra is too kind to you. You pop the bottle and pour yourself a glass, settling into a soothing bubble bath.

Long after your soak, as you’re reading in bed, a soft knock comes to your door. You had just reached a rather spicy chapter, your mind completely entranced in the text, lower lip caught between your teeth. You jump slightly at the knock, before opening the door and revealing Rhaenyra. 

Her silver hair is flowing freely over her shoulders and she wears a red silk pajama set. She smiles at you. 

“Hey, Rhaenyra,” you say, feeling warm from the champagne. 

“I just wanted to apologize for being so absent today,” she tells you, “work just got away from me.”

“There’s no problem at all,” you tell her, shaking your head, “seriously, it’s what I’m here for.”

Rhaenyra smiles.

“Daemon and I wanted to offer you tomorrow evening off. Laena has agreed to take the boys for a sleepover, and we figured you deserved a night off,” she tells you.

“Thank you so much,” you tell her, unable to stop yourself, “seriously, you’re so thoughtful with the gifts, and now the day off- I really appreciate the kindness.”

Rhaenyra cocks an eyebrow slightly at the mention of gifts, but you don’t really notice. You’re too lost in the sparkle of her violet eyes, her playful smile, and the way her eyes flicker around your face. She watches you with such rapt attention it makes your heart beat faster in your chest. 

“We really like you,” she tells you, reaching out to stroke your cheek.

Your lips part, and you cannot help but let your gaze fall on hers. Pink, plump, and waiting. You blink rapidly. She’s your boss.

“We would really like to keep you,” she tells you, “So we like that you’re happy.”

She strokes your cheek a final time before pulling away.

“Enjoy tomorrow night, have fun, and go out!” she tells you.

As she turns her eyes flicker to the champagne bottle, the half-full glass. She smirks.

“Enjoy the gift,” she tells you, bidding you goodnight. 

You leap back onto your bed as she leaves, rummaging in your nightstand drawer. Your hand finds your vibrator immediately. Surely, fantasizing about your boss isn’t bad? I mean, you’re only human after all. It takes a couple of rounds before you’re finally able to find sleep. 

The next evening you call your best friend, letting her know you’re free. She’s more than excited that you finally have a break. You decide on a pretty fancy club, for drinks and dancing. A much-needed night with your friends. A short silk dress clings to you, the perfect going-out dress. You’re wearing your favorite heels, strappy black ones that creep up your calves.

You’re having a good time, a couple of drinks in when you notice a flash of silver. Daemon Targaryen is there, clad in his signature suit, with rings on his fingers catching in the light. You turn quickly as his head turns your way, tapping your best friend.

“I’m getting another drink!” you tell her above the music, heading toward the bar.

You lean against it, putting in your drink order, trying to steady your nerves. You take a sip from your drink as someone comes up beside you. You know it's him before you look, from the smell of his cologne paired with some expensive cigars. You’ve heard Rhaenyra scold him for smoking but know he does it anyway when out with his investors. 

“I can go somewhere else,” you tell him.

“Why would you do that?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” you answer, clearly flustered, all batting eyelashes and rosy cheeks.

Daemon wants to devour you whole. Leave nothing behind. Trailing you across the club and over to the bar has made him feel like a predator chasing its prey; his cock hard in his pants. 

“I just imagine you don’t want to see your au pair when you’re trying to have a night out,” you tell him, nervously licking your lips. 

Daemon watches you, taking a sip from his drink.

“I don’t mind at all,” Daemon murmurs, leaning closer, “in fact, it’s nice to see you having fun and enjoying yourself.”

You shiver at the feeling of his breath on your ear. You shouldn’t be so turned on by this, he’s your boss. You really like working for them, working with the boys and you really like Rhaenyra. This is wrong. This is wrong. 

“Thank you again,” you tell him, moving away a bit, “for the night off. It’s really nice of you.”

Daemon nods, noticing your retreat. You glance at the section of the club your friends stand in, they wave at you, beckoning you over. 

“I should go,” you tell Daemon.

“Behave yourself,” Daemon tells you, “and have fun. I’ll see you at home.”

You can’t stop the jolt of pleasure that lands between your legs at his tone. You nod, not trusting your voice, and make your way over to your friends. 

“Who was that Daddy you were talking to?” your friend asks, eyes wide.

“Girl!” you hiss, “That’s my boss.”

Her mouth drops open in surprise as she cranes her neck to get a better look. 

“How do you even work, with all that walking around?” she asks.

You chuckle, taking a sip of your drink.

“You should see his wife,” you tell her, blushing.

She squeals.

“Dirty girl! How do I get your job?” she whines and you laugh some more.

The evening is spent drinking and dancing, harmless fun. Daemon remains in the VIP section, lounging on a couch, sipping his whiskey while conversing with colleagues. His eyes remain on you throughout the evening, keeping you under a watchful eye. You catch him looking several times, a thrill running through you each time you do. It’s harmless fun, right? You’re not actually doing anything. 

As you’re dancing with your friends you feel a hand snake it's way around your waist and you turn, meeting the eyes of a man with dark curls and warm brown eyes. 

“Hey there sexy,” he murmurs, not removing his hand. 

He’s cute. You blush, flattered by the attention. 

“Um hello?” you say, eyes flickering to his hand on your waist before giggling.

“I’m Quoren Martell,” he tells you, continuing to dance with you. 

You tell him your name, enjoying his boldness. You converse with him for a while, and let him buy you another drink. He’s charming and goes out of his way to make you laugh. Quoren Martell is just what you need to get this thing with Rhaenyra and Daemon out of your system. You’re just desperately horny, and a one-night stand will cure that. 

“You want to get out of here?” Quoren murmurs in your ear, “Head back to mine? I have a spectacular collection of streaming services, all the movies and shows you can dream of.”

“Oh really,” you say chuckling, “you want to watch a movie with me?”

“I want to do a lot of things with you,” he answers honestly.

“Let me just run to the bathroom, and let my friends know,” you tell him, smiling. 

You are pushed by people in the club and find your best friend in the bathroom, fixing her makeup in the mirror. 

“I’m going home with that guy, Quoren,” you tell her.

She groans, giving you a quick hug.

“What about your sexy boss?” she asks, pouting.

“Haha,” you tell her rolling your eyes, “I love you, you good?”

“Yeah I’m good,” she says smiling, “have fun, be safe, and leave your location on please.”

“Always,” you tell her, kissing her cheek.

 You walk out the door and down the hallway, heading back toward the music, when a figure walks toward you in the opposite direction. You expect them to keep walking by you, but suddenly hands are on your waist, pressing your back against the wall. You gasp, looking up at the stranger’s face, startled. There’s only a second to realize who it is before he slams his lips to yours. 

Daemon.

His mouth is warm and demanding as his tongue splits your lips apart before darting into your mouth. You moan as his hands squeeze the meat of your ass, pressing you closer against him. Dameon brings one hand to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss. Your arms wrap around him, nails dragging against the expensive fabric of his suit. 

Daemon releases your lips, tugging on your lower one harshly with his teeth before bringing his attention to your neck. Whimpers leave your lips and you thrash against him desperately. You can feel him hot, and hard against you- holy shit he’s huge.

It’s enough to rip you from your thoughts previously clouded by lust and you push against him, wiggling out of his grip. Oh no, oh nonononono.

Daemon lets you go, though a surprised expression is on his face as you flee away from him down the hallway. 

Shit. 

You’ve ruined everything.

You’re going to get fired. Maybe slapped. Probably both. 

Oh no, Rhaenyra. 

You hope you can somehow make it back to the highrise before Daemon and explain yourself. Your leg nervously taps in your Uber and you fly out of the car once it stops in front of the building. You push by the doorman and stress the entire elevator ride. 

You don’t bother to remove your heels, running straight for Rhaenyra and Daemon’s room, crashing through the door. Rhaenyra is seated on the couch, feet tucked up underneath her. She looks up as you enter, her brow furrowed in concern.

“Darling-” 

“I need to talk to you,” you gasp, “right now, I- Rhaenyra I am so sorry.”

She gets up, embracing you as tears leave your eyes. You hate that you’ve probably hurt her. She seats you on the bed, sitting next to you, stroking your hair as you tell her what happened. 

“I would never, ever want to betray your trust,” you tell her, “I love this job, I love working for you so much, and this will never happen again, I promise.”

“Oh, sweet girl,” she says, holding your face in her palms, wiping away your tears with her thumbs. 

Your eyes search her face, trying to gauge her feelings, but her expression gives nothing away. Like always, you can’t help but look at her lips, so pink and rosy and begging to be kissed. Rhaenyra’s eyes flicker to yours quickly and you blink. Surely, you’re now seeing things.

But then she leans forward. 

Her lips are just as soft as you have imagined, and you let yourself get lost in the kiss for a moment, before pulling away just as she slips her tongue into your mouth. You gasp, standing up from the bed, trembling. 

“Well,” a voice says, causing you to turn. 

Daemon leans in the doorway, smirking at the sight in front of him.

“Getting started without me?” he says, loosening his tie.

Rhaenya makes a clicking sound with her tongue, reaching to grab your hand. You look at her in confusion. 

“It seems you were getting started without me,” she purrs, tugging you closer. 

Daemon throws his tie on the bed, moving to loosen his cufflinks. 

“It wasn’t my fault,” he tells Rhaenyra, “I had to do something, did she tell you the whole truth of it?”

“What?” you say, now thoroughly confused.

“Ah,” Daemon says, shaking his head, “See? She’s trouble, I told you.”

“I don’t understand,” you tell them, feeling Rhaenyra stroke the back of your hand. 

“She was being a little tease,” Daemon says, ignoring your statement, “about to go home with some silly little boy.”

His words sting. For some reason, you feel embarrassment flood through you. Rhaenyra looks up at you, noticing your pout. She places her hands on your waist.

“We’ve been interested in you for quite some time now,” she tells you, rubbing circles against your hips, “and we believe you’re interested as well.”

Oh shit. 

They know you’ve been thinking about them. Both of them. Your eyes flicker between the two of them.

“I-I’m sorry-”

“What did I tell you about being sorry?” Rhaenyra scolds, “You’ve nothing to be sorry for. We just need to know. Do you want us, baby?”

This is not happening.

“She asked you a question,” Daemon tells you impatiently. 

Rhaenyra gives him a stern look before her gaze softens as it returns to you. 

“I’m not…” you pause, trying to wrap your brain around the situation, “I’m not losing my job?”

Rhaenyra chuckles softly.

“No dearest,” she answers, “we very much wish to keep you, sweet girl.”

You look between them once more.

“Okay,” you breathe, “Yes. Yes, I want you.”

Rhaenyra purrs happily, like a pleased kitten. She pulls you between her legs, grabbing your ass with both hands. She captures your lips in a kiss once more.

“We should be punishing her,” Daemon scolds as Rhaenyra pulls you closer.

“Hush you,” she says to Daemon, as she begins to kiss your neck, “She didn’t know she did something bad.”

“Then she’ll learn for next time,” Daemon says, watching closely. 

You whimper at her touch, as one of her hands snakes up your back to the zipper of your dress. She drags the zipper down, letting the silky material pool at your feet. You’re not wearing a bra, the dress didn’t allow for one, so your breasts hang heavy and needy, nipples pebbling as the air touches them. 

Rhaenyra drags her hands up your sides and you bite your lip, trembling under her touch. 

“Don’t be so cruel, my love,” she scolds Daemon, “not during our first time. We must be gentle with new toys.”

Her hands reach your breasts and she massages the soft mounds in her hands, eliciting a moan from you. Daemon walks closer, you can feel him pressing in behind you as Rhaenyra takes your right nipple into her hot mouth, swirling her tongue over the hardened peak. She sucks the puckered bud hard and you arch your back into her. 

You feel Daemon’s lips caress the side of your neck and your lips part as you tilt your head to allow him better access. Rhaneyra moves her mouth’s attention to your other breast as Daemon sinks his teeth into your shoulder. You cry out, flinging your hand back and grabbing a fistful of his silver hair, the other hand gripping Rhaenyra’s head against your breast. 

She laughs against you as Daemon’s hands move to your panties, dragging the lace material down your legs. The noises you’re making are obscene already at their attention and Rhaenyra releases your nipple with a wet pop. 

“Needy little thing you are,” she murmurs, dragging her hand across your dripping folds, “and so wet already.”

Daemon has crouched beside you, hands on the straps of your heels. 

“Leave those,” Rhaenyra tells him, “I like them on her.”

You feel her slender finger teasing at your entrance, and Daemon lifts your leg, spreading you wide in front of Rhaenyra. 

“I want to see this pretty cunt of yours,” she tells you, curling a finger inside of you.

Your hands dig into her shoulders, your mouth falling open as she slips a second finger inside, slowly curling them against your silky walls. The pleasure blooms in your abdomen like a rose stretching toward the sun. 

“You’ll spoil her rotten,” Daemon says, before capturing your lips in a kiss as Rhaenyra continues curling her fingers inside your pussy. 

She merely chuckles at Daemon. 

“Oh I will, hmm?” she teases, “I’m not the one who’s been leaving her special treats. You think you’re clever, don’t you? Sneaking around at all hours, thinking I won’t know.”

Daemon’s hand moves to your neck, deepening the kiss for a moment before breaking away. 

“Are you angry with me?” Daemon asks her, as Rhaenyra dips forwards, circling her tongue on your clit.

“Please,” you moan, thrashing against her mouth, against his hands that hold you firmly in place.

“Of course not,” Rhaenyra says, answering him, ignoring your plea with another small lick of your clit, “She’s been so good to us, she deserves it.”

Daemon’s hand travels from your neck to toy with your breasts as your orgasm creeps nearer with every stroke of Rhaenyra’s fingers, every flick of her tongue. It’s all too much and suddenly you’re crying out, clenching around her fingers, your arousal dripping down your thighs. 

“You taste as sweet as you look, darling girl,” Rhaenyra praises, removing her fingers from your center. 

Daemon flips you on your back, dragging you to the edge of the bed by your thighs. Your eyes widen at the sight of his massive cock, as he fists it in his hand. The flushed tip is weeping, anxious to split you open. You nervously glance at Rhaenyra who strokes some hair from your face. 

“He’ll be gentle, sweet girl, won’t you, my love?” Rhaenyra says, stroking your face.

Daemon drags his cock along your sopping folds, from your entrance up to your clit. He taps the sensitive button with his fat tip, chuckling as you squirm from the sensation. 

“For tonight, at least,” he says, watching his cock spread your folds once more.

Daemon presses the tip against your hole, pushing into you slowly, stretching out your tight walls. You moan at the stretch his cock gives you before you are silenced by Rhaenyra’s fingers in your mouth. You suckle them, gazing into her eyes as Daemon presses your thighs into the mattress, spreading you wide. The sleek black materials of your heels catch the light as he begins to thrust into you.

You whimper around Rhaenyra’s fingers as his cock splits into you so deliciously, Rhaenyra whispering sweet praises into your ear all the while.

“Fuck you feel fantastic,” Daemon groans, rolling his hips. 

Rhaenyra removes her fingers from your mouth, trailing down between your breasts, down your stomach to play with your clit. You moan as her nimble fingers circle your clit, a juxtaposition to the hard thrusts Daemon gives you. 

“Such a good girl,” Daemon praises, “She should put that pretty mouth to better use Nyra.”

He swats away Rhaenyra’s hand, replacing it with his own, large fingers pinching at your clit. It’s rougher than Rhaenyra’s touch but you find yourself twitching against him at the pleasure it gives you. Rhaenyra rises from the bed, riding herself off her bottoms before crawling up toward your face. She straddles it, lowering her dripping cunt onto your mouth.

You greedily part her soaked lips with your tongue, nose nuzzling against soft silver curls to nudge at her clit. You dip your tongue inside her, relishing the taste of her, the sound of the soft moans that leave her lips. Your tongue explores every inch of her, pressing into different places that elicit more pretty sounds, more desperate grinds against your face. Your chin is dripping with her as you suckle her clit.

“She’s a delight,” Rhaenyra moans and Daemon angles his hips, thrusting against a spot that paints stars behind your eyelids.

You moan against Rhaenyra’s sweet cunt, burying your tongue inside her, stiffening it so she can swirl her hips around it. As her moans reach a new pitch you know she must be close. Eager to please you lap at her greedily, bringing all your attention to her clit until she’s trembling on your face. 

“Such a good girl,” Rhaenyra croons, “Daemon, be sweet to her.”

Daemon snaps his hips against you and Rhaenyra leans down, pressing her tongue against your clit as the head of Daemon’s cock rubs against your spongy walls. The pleasure is too much and you’re cumming once more, clenching around Daemon's fat cock. He thrusts into you a few more times before pulling out and finishing on your stomach. 

Rhaenyra pulls herself off of you, and Daemon releases your legs. Your heels are still on, the feeling of being naked with just them on is strange. Daemon walks to the bathroom and you hear him start to fill the tub before he returns with a towel. He gently cleans you, as Rhaenyra draws shapes on your stomach with your fingers.

“We’d like it very much if you stayed, darling,” Rhaenyra tells you, “the children adore you. We adore you.”

She places a kiss on your shoulder. You want nothing more than to stay with them. Both of them.

“I want to stay. With you. Both of you,” you tell her, and she smiles.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Rhaenyra tells you.

“As am I,” Daemon agrees. 

______________________________________________________________

note: hope you enjoyed! as always, comments, likes & reblogs are greatly appreciated, I love hearing your thought! until next time, ily!💖

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[moonchildstyles]

s'entendre

élan part five: y/n's first night out since the gala couldn't be that bad. right?

wordcount: 14.4k+

—————

(Y/N) couldn't help the frown that landed on her face as she looked in the mirror. 

While her time in Paris had been the best she'd had in a really long while, it wasn't necessarily showing. At this point, she'd missed three of her facial appointments, her skin beginning to cry out from the lack of treatment. Her nails were barely hanging on, her acrylics grown out past the point of comfort. While her mental state was beginning to grow to a wholly positive place, the rest of her wasn't really catching up. 

To top it off, her makeup wasn't cooperating either. Maybe she should really get a glam squad like Harry thought—at least then she would have a chance at being on time for events with a fully formed face.

With Emma joining them in Paris for the weekend, Francesca had insisted they go out and visit the nightlife. Of course, the one night she knew there would no doubt be photos caught of her just from the way her friends were still very active on their social medias, would be when her makeup cooperates the least.

Letting out a rumbling groan, (Y/N) was that close to calling off the night as another smudge of mascara blobbed on the crease of her eye. 

Like always, Harry popped his head inside her bedroom, a pinch in his brows appearing as he took in the otherwise safe room. 

"What's the matter, hm?" he asked, stepping inside her room. His reflection was made in the mirror, a clear view of his eyes stitched on her as she gazed at him through the glass. 

It was a bit petulant, her reaction, with the way she puffed out her bottom lip with a pout. "My skin doesn't look good, and my makeup is only making it worse." Before she could even finish her statement, Harry was shaking his head, lips thinning as if he was bored with the fact she couldn't see facts right in front of her. "Harry, really," she argued against his silent protest, "My makeup looks so weird, right now." 

(Y/N) watched as he settled in behind her, his arms crossing over his chest. His eyes flittered over the mirror, ever-observant. 

"You're very funny sometimes, you know that?" 

That only strengthened the frown on her lips and pinch in her brow. "I'm not being funny right now." 

Dropping his gaze, his features facing the floor, Harry shook his head again. Down the slope of his nose, she swore she saw the edges of an easy smile. Looking up, only traces of amusement lingered on his lips. 

"That's what you think," he countered cryptically, "Let me know when you're ready." 

With that, Harry popped out of her room as quickly as he joined her. Sweeping her eyes away from the doors he exited through, returning to the mirror set in her vanity, she took in the planes of her face. 

Though she could still see texture and bumps, pores and blemishes, it didn't bother her so terribly for a moment. Even the sight of her outgrown nails with dull edges didn't pick at her nerves. 

If Harry didn't think she looked silly, even after he witnessed the glamour she preferred in New York, then maybe it wasn't so bad. 

Even if he didn't say he thought she looked pretty, he thought her complaints against her features were outlandish enough to laugh at. 

Suddenly, she didn't feel like agonizing over her skin anymore. She looked just fine, she decided. 

—————

"Tell me again how you're going to tell me if you're uncomfortable or want to leave." 

Outside the windows at her back, the underground of Paris whirled past, the train moving quickly under the treasures on the surface. The car was on the quiet side for the night, the hour still early before others drunk on champagne would be stumbling through. 

Looking up at Harry through the fan of her false lashes, she repeated the same thing he told her at least five times before leaving the penthouse: "If I can, I need to come and tell you right away. But, if I'm in a situation where I can't reach you, I'm going to look at you and nod three times." 

That slow blooming smile touched the corner of his mouth, sot lips curling as he gazed down at her. "Perfect," he praised her, adjusting his hands from where they were curled around the rail on either side of her, "Jus' remember that for me, please. You're going to have a really fun night, I jus' want you to be safe." 

"Okay," (Y/N) nodded pliantly, gaze dropping down to the slope of his neck, "I—um—I also don't want to drink a lot tonight." 

"Okay," Harry answered cautiously, voice trailing off. 

"I know that's not a rule or anything, but I just... I don't want to get too deep tonight or anything," she explained in a small voice. While she wanted to unwind and play with her friends, she wasn't interested in stumbling around or blabbing things to anyone willing to sit and listen. She hoped she wouldn't have to worry about any photographers, but that didn't mean some couldn't pop up and take pictures of her with glazed eyes to feed into the narrative being spun back in New York. 

Understanding, Harry nodded his head, the green of his eyes softening as he allowed his gaze to slide across her features. "Okay," he said, "We can do that. I'll keep an eye on you, but if y'change your mind, that's okay, too. Whatever is going to make you happy tonight." 

Overhead the feminine French voice blinked over the intercom, arrival times appearing on the small screen at the head of the car. Harry looked over his shoulder taking in the printed times. As much as she teased him, he really was making progress in understanding the language, enough so that he was readily taking on the details of the night and keeping track of her. 

Allowing her eyes to skip over the line of his profile. Dressed low-key as usual, dark colors to help him sink into the background, the softer tones of his skin were left to jump out. The brown shades of his hair made way for sun-dappled blonde strands to make their way through, highlighting the swirling curls. His eyes were bright and clear, framed by dark curling lashes. His skin was creamy and warm, a gentle tan from the summer sun being highlighted from the dotted freckles on his nose and the rosy flush on his cheeks. 

"Thank you," she blurted. 

"Hm?" Harry hummed, turning to face her once more, brows raised. 

(Y/N) felt her skin heat as she processed her action. She hadn't meant to say anything.

"Thank you," she repeated, "For doing all of this. Helping." 

"It's m'job," he answered simply. 

That was a fact (Y/N) couldn't forget, that thin veil between being a constant barrier. "I know, but," she swallowed, feeling a bit silly now knowing that he noticed that line just as much as she did, "It's just a nice feeling—like you care, and all." 

The contact he made with her gaze was easy and open, unwavering. "It's because I do care." 

Just then, as convenient as ever, their arrival was announced. The train slowed to a stop, passengers readying to exit the car. 

Letting go of the rail, Harry wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "C'mon," he murmured, keeping her close as he guided them into the fray of the moving passengers. 

(Y/N) followed absently wherever he needed, her heels hitting the ground in quiet clicks. She wasn't sure what the squeeze in her lungs and stuttering in her chest meant, but feeling Harry at her side made it that much more prevalent.

—————

Looking ahead, (Y/N) spotted the line leading up to Francesca's club of choice for the night. Waiting patrons were roping around the sidewalk, chattering with cigarettes in hand, impatient at the wait time. Even from where they were, out on the sidewalk leading up to the bouncing building, pumping music could be heard. (She's ninety-eight percent sure it was a Dua Lipa song, but she couldn't hear it exactly). 

Harnessed in neon pink tubes was the name of the club: Rêve. 

At her side, Harry ignored the end of the line, taking her to the front just as Fran had instructed. 

A burly bouncer sized them up, already doubting them after they cut the wait. (Y/N) offered her tabloid bunny smile, Harry the structured pillar at her side. 

"Salut! Nous sommes ici pour rencontrer des amis sur un stand VIP, l'un d'entre eux ayant réservé pour la nuit," she chattered, keeping her eye contact with the bouncer. 

The bouncer didn't look entirely impressed as he listened. His gaze inched from hers to land on Harry. "Nom?" 

"Francesca Polair—nous sommes deux de ses invités." 

The bouncer's eyes tripped down her form, taking in her shimmery dress and lengths of skin on display. "Pièce d'identité?" 

While she reached for her small bag with her ID inside, the bouncer unclipped a small tablet that was hung from his belt. Handing over her passport, she watched as he squinted at the American identification. Nonetheless, her name inevitably matched that of what was on Fran's guest list. 

"Vous êtes prêt à entrer. Est-il avec toi?" He asked, eyeing up Harry at her side. 

"Oui, cela devrait également figurer sur la liste. Harry Styles." 

This time the bouncer didn't properly look at the tablet, instead, taking her word for it though he still shot Harry a suspicious look with the way he lingered at her side. 

Holding open the door, he nodding at (Y/N) to push past. "Les tribunes sont au fond, derrière la piste de danse."

"Merci," she murmured, stepping past him with Harry just a step behind.

Inside, the bass of the music that could be heard outside was that much louder, lyrics in French that were too loud for her to focus on enough to translate in her head. The space was dark, leaving only strobing beams of multicolored lights to throb through the club, the only stable beacons being that of the bars lining some of the walls. 

Concentrations of people were found on the dance floor and the bars, leaving walkways in between to travel through. Staff and bottleservice workers traipsed through, fluorescent drinks with herbs perched on the rims were stationed on trays next to full bottles of sparkling liquor and beers that probably had no business being as expensive as they were. 

The VIP section was a straight shot down to the back, easy to spot given the second bouncer manning the entrance and the stream of bottle service staff making their way there. Harry reminded her of his presence with a hand hovering on the small of her back, over the glittering fabric of her dress. 

"Alright?" he asked, dipping down close to her ear in order for her to hear. 

"Mhm," she hummed, nodding her head with stray baby hairs tickling the borders of her face, "We just need to get back there to Fran and Emma." 

Harry followed her line of sight towards the booths lining the back. In that way he always did, a reflex that had to have come from years in his line of work, he took inventory of the path to the back, noting the bodies in the way and the easiest route back. 

"Okay," he murmured, looking determined when he positioned himself in front of her with his fingers looping around her wrist. 

He took the lead then, ensuring her path was clear as she stepped behind him. She couldn't hear if he was speaking over the sound of the music, but she wondered if he was muttering something to those around them that had them parting, no one able to even brush against her as she slipped through the crowd. She could feel eyes landing on her back as she stepped through, but no one stopped her, no one raised a camera at the spectacle. 

Before they could even reach the bouncer, a pitched scream that careened over the pumping music had (Y/N)'s eyes snapping up the raised level that the booths were situated on. Glowing like a mermaid with big waves in her hair and slinky blue dress adorning her body was Francesca, bright smile that much whiter under the lights as she spotted her best friend. The almost empty drink in her hand was perfect evidence of just how she was able to pitch her voice so high. 

"(Y/N)!" she bubbled, racing out of her chosen booth on Bambi legs, "You're here! I missed you so much—come here, come here!" 

She all but pushed the bouncer aside as she met them at the entrance to the section, the top of the small trio of stairs being where she stopped. The bouncer didn't stop them as Harry pulled her into the safety of the VIP area. Francesca barely glanced at her bodyguard before she had (Y/N) wrapped up in a hug, her glass precariously teetering on her shoulder. 

"Emma brought Stavros so she's been all over him," Francesca whined, "I was scared you were going to leave me with her." 

"I told you I was on my way," (Y/N) giggled, peeking through the fluff that was Fran's hair to spy Harry standing off to the side in wait of her. She shot him a look, widened eyes with a quiet smile as if to let him in on the inside joke that was her friend's drunken blubbers. 

"I know, but I forgot. It doesn't matter, though, everything's okay now," Francesca rushed out, pulling away from the hug to pull (Y/N) towards the chosen booth for the night. Suddenly, she seemed to finally notice Harry was there as well, despite the fact that he had been the one leading her into the section in the first place. "Harry! Hi," she bubbled, waving at him with her drink in hand. 

"Hi, Francesca," he said, giving her a nod in greeting before his eyes met (Y/N)'s. It was his turn to give her a small look, their own moment of amusement over her. 

"Are you partying with us tonight?" she asked, eyes bright at the idea of Harry joining in on the fun. 

Harry shook his head, features schooled away from that quiet look he shared with (Y/N). "Not tonight—'m on duty." 

"That's a bummer," Fran pouted. Turning towards (Y/N), she seemingly forgot what had her bummed in the first place, instead replacing her sullen pout with a mischievous smile. "But, are you ready for a drink? We have a couple bottles at the table if you want to do shots!"

Before (Y/N) had a chance to properly answer, Fran led them to the secluded booth off to the corner of the roped off section. There, Emma and Stavros were canoodling away in the padded corner just as Francesca had complained, Emma with her hand sitting on the bare section of chest her boyfriend had on display with his barely buttoned shirt. He looked a little too satisfied with her attention, the way he was sinking into the leather booth and spreading his legs as if inviting Emma further. (Y/N) couldn't blame Fran for panicking at the idea of being left alone with the lovebirds for the night. As happy as they were for lovestruck Emma, the public intimacy was a bit much. 

True to her word, on the round table in the middle of the half-moon booth were two bottles of expensive liquor. Tiny shot glasses were standing in a stack by the bottles, a pair already having been used. 

Just as Francesca moved to pour (Y/N) one of her own small glasses, she was stopped with a hand on her arm. "I don't want to do too much tonight, Fran," she told her in her ear, hoping she could hear her over the music, "I have pilates in the morning, then I was going to hunt for a new nail studio." 

"Oh!" Fran chirped, the remains of her drink sloshing in her glass, "Why didn't you say so? We'll just get you a vodka soda then, so you stay hydrated." 

Before (Y/N) could even laugh at her friend's well-intentioned solution, Francesca was already flagging down one of the bottle service workers to place another order. (Y/N) didn't try to stop her, more than willing of this to be her drink of choice for the night instead of a round of shots. 

Emma, suddenly breaking out of her love bubble, noticed (Y/N) for the first time despite having been standing by their table for a handful of minutes now. "(Y/N)!" she cheered, eyes glazed and lips puffy, "Look, Stavros, (Y/N)'s here!" 

"Hi Emma," (Y/N) greeted, reaching across the table to give her a short hug, "Hi Stavros." 

"(Y/N)?" Stavros repeated back to Emma, a confused pinch between his brows. 

"You met her at the Gala, remember?" she answered, attempting to jog his memory, "She was in the pink dress with the little bag." 

"Oh, yes!" Stavros perked up, looking to (Y/N) with recognition in his eyes, "The crying girl, yes?" 

Underneath her skin, (Y/N)'s blood simmered with embarrassment. With Harry being the only person she'd been around since leaving New York, and Francesca being well aware of how unnecessary that night was to bring up, no one had brought up the Gala and the contents of the night to her face. She knew that was what many people in attendance were going to remember her for, but she didn't think it would be so blatantly broadcasted to her face. 

Emma shifted her gaze to (Y/N), most likely knowing through Francesca that the Gala was a topic that was off limits for the time being. The silence between the trio lasted a beat too long for (Y/N)'s comfort. She swallowed down that prickling embarrassment, instead giving a smile.

"That was me," she laughed it off, "Hopefully I'll stay out of trouble tonight." 

That seemed to be enough to quell the lovebirds' nerves, allowing Emma to smile and laugh along while Stavros gave a peal of laughter that was too enthused for (Y/N) to believe he actually understood what she said. Nonetheless, the awkward beat had been extinguished and now only lived in (Y/N)'s head for the time being. At least no one else was listening, Francesca too busy with her ordering and Harry just a few too many feet away to catch specific conversations. 

"How have you been, (Y/N)? I've barely been able to talk to you since you left," Emma started up, leaning forward to give (Y/N) all of her attention. 

Though she was sure it was a way to fill in the gaps of the conversation and pave over the bump Stavros left in the night, (Y/N) was grateful for the change in subject, recounting her time in the city. Francesca eventually settled in beside her in the booth, giving her own commentary on the things (Y/N) had already shared with her over dinner. Harry was stationed a few feet away, allowing her some space and privacy for the night though she could still feel his eyes landing on her every now and then as she gesticulated through the story of their day of sightseeing.

Soon enough, drinks arrived at the table along with a wish for their group to have a fun night. Her vodka soda bubbled in hand, the first sips holding the aroma of the rosemary sprig that was lanced through the cubes of ice. Francesca and Emma on the other hand downed a pair of shots while Stavros cheered on his girlfriend. 

By the time the burn had left Francesca's throat and she unclenched her eyes, (Y/N) had only made it through a couple of short pulls of her light drink. Francesca looked at her with bright eyes, the strobes from the dance floor tinting them a vibrant blue.

"Let's go dance, c'mon!" she bubbled, already standing on her wobbling legs before she finished speaking. 

Peeking around her, she found the dance floor crowded but nowhere near packed in the way some of the spots in New York could get at this hour. The music was good enough, and she didn't plan on wasting her first night out with friends over a throw away comment from Emma's boyfriend and the fear that she might embarrass herself again. 

Allowing Francesca to sweep her away, Emma and Stavros unsurprisingly staying back for a moment, (Y/N) found Harry's eyes for a moment. He looked at her with that solid eye contact he never wavered on when it came to her. A slight pinch lingered between his brows.

She shot him a small smile and a single nod.

She was going to have a good night. Harry didn't need to worry.

—————

"I love this song!" 

(Y/N) let out an easy, boisterous laugh at Francesca's bubbling comment, throwing her head back with her eyes closed. Did she even know this song? Given the fact Fran's French was nowhere near as refined as (Y/N)'s, there was a high chance she didn't understand a single syllable pumping through the speakers. Nonetheless, (Y/N) kept dancing along with her friend, hands twisting high above her head with her hips swaying.

More than one drink had passed through her hands, a couple passed the limit she set for herself at the start of the night. She would be fine, though, she was sure. She was barely even tipsy, she thought. The Cosmo in her hand was slick against her palm, having replaced the vodka soda she started with.

Across from her Francesca was having the time of her life with Emma and Stavros rounding out their group. Harry was somewhere in the distance, keeping an eye on her. More than once, he checked in from across the room, even sending for another drink for her when he heard her complaining of needing another. He treaded around her carefully, ensuring he didn't infringe on her night while doing his job to the best of his ability. 

At the top of the night, she noticed a few eyes on her, some whispering with those wandering eyes landing on her a few too many times. Though she would love to assume they were only speaking of her dress or sharing comments about the state of her dancing, her years in the light pushed her to speculate these were people who recognized her. As more drinks started flowing, her inhibition for the night waning, she let it go when she caught glimpses of phone cameras trained in her direction, a few people even daring to make their way closer to her on the dance floor. 

Harry kept a careful eye on the situation, watching her movements and keeping track of those around her. (Y/N) was sure a few of the times he stepped in to grab her another drink or check in on her, it was nothing short of a tactic to separate her from the others on the floor, reminding them that she wasn't a gazelle to be preyed on. 

Suddenly, a pair of hands slid around her waist. She jumped in her skin for a moment, her heated skin erupting in goosebumps. Though her dancing lagged for just a moment, she honestly didn't really care about the touch. With her eyes closed, and head trained towards the sky, she halfway figured it was Emma who was dancing with her, having abandoned her boyfriend to cuddle up for a moment. 

Until she heard Emma's tittering laugh from a space away. In front of her. 

Blinking her eyes open, (Y/N) took stock of those around her. Emma was stretching up to her tiptoes as she sealed her lips to Stavros', her hands locked in his hair, only pulling away when he whispered something to her that made her laugh. Francesca was off to the side of her, making moony eyes at an unfamiliar man in front of her, there chattering silent under the thrumming music. On her waist was the hand of someone she didn't know. 

Stumbling in her spot, she tried to whirl around in an attempt to see who exactly it was that was behind her. The hand on her waist tightened, steadying her as he leaned down with his mouth by her ear. 

"Sorry, chérie," an accented voice said over her shoulder, "I didn't mean to scare you." 

Unable to help the peal of laughter that fell from her lips, (Y/N) realized something just then. 

She was drunk.

In a different moment, with a different drink in her hand (probably water), she wouldn't have been quite so welcoming to having someone touch her and use a pet name so casually. 

Instead, she didn't really mind. She could only laugh and hang onto his hand, keeping herself steady as she tipped her head backwards to see him. 

"It's okay," she slurred, "I just wasn't expecting that." Blue eyes stared back at her, topped by black brows. He smelled like smoke and vodka Red Bulls. "Who are you?" 

The man laughed at her blunt question, the sound mixing with the music. "I am Marc," he told her, eyes shifting over her head to where Francesca was standing, "And that's my friend, Alain. We thought you and your friend were beautiful, so we wanted to introduce ourselves." 

"Oh, okay," she sounded, matching his line of sight a little too quickly with her hair fluttered around her face. Much more stable on her feet again, she spun on her heels, facing her mystery man—Marc—properly. "Nice to meet you," she bubbled, taking an absent sip from her drink, "I'm (Y/N)." 

Dipping down, Marc pressed a swift kiss to the soft of her cheek. "Nice to meet you, (Y/N). I've been having to work up the courage to come talk to you since I first came in here." 

While in the back of her muddled mind, (Y/N) knew well that he was feeding her nothing but lines, she wasn't sure if she cared. There had been enough times she had been seduced by a French accent and enough wine to know that this was just one of those things. French men were much more romantic in her experiences, their lines matching the intimacy they were seeking from her. 

Was it such a bad thing to revel in the niceties, though? The last time someone had openly flirted with her now ranked in the top five worst nights of her life, so it felt a little more than nice to have someone piling compliments and cushioned flirting. Was it such a bad thing to indulge herself? To soak in a second of outside validation?

Though the standard wasn't that high, at least he wasn't grabbing her face and demeaning her. 

Letting her hesitations go, drifting to the back of her mind with the help of the alcohol train running off the tracks, she leaned towards him with a giggling smile. "Well, I'm happy you did," she beamed, her eyes hooded. 

Taking another pull of her drink, her straw hit the bottom with only ice clinking against the glass. She almost wanted to whine at the sight. She had been hoping for more. 

"Do you want me to get you another?" Marc asked, nodding towards her drink when she looked up at him. 

"Um, hold on," she told him, already craning her neck to look around him in hopes of spotting someone else.

(Y/N) scanned the blur of bodies for Harry. It didn't take long to see the only sober person in the crowd, his gaze sharp and commanding through the strobing lights. He stood off the dance floor with his arms across his chest. Raising his brows, he matched her gaze. Canting her head, she raised her glass over her head as if that was enough of an explanation. 

Harry gave her a small nod before she was looking back at her new friend. 

"One of my friends has been getting me drinks tonight, actually. So, thanks, but I've got it." A hiccup punctuated her words. 

Marc looked over his shoulder, surely spotting Harry who was making his way through the crowd to her. "You said he's your friend?" 

"Uh-huh," (Y/N) sounded, wanting to see Harry herself but instead opting to sway to the sound of the music. He'd be here soon enough. "He's technically my bodyguard, but he's my friend.

"Bodyguard?" Marc repeated, looking back towards (Y/N).

Even though her vodka-soaked thought process, she noted the way he didn't seem too put off by the fact she had any kind of security detail. Maybe, that was that French disposition—the inability to care that much—but that wasn't something she was able to think about for very long. 

"Uh-huh," she answered nonetheless, a hiccup making her pause, "It's a long story. I'm from New York, and there's been a lot of stuff going on, so, yeah, he's my bodyguard." 

Speak of the devil, Harry popped in then, having elbowed his way through to stand at (Y/N)'s side. He didn't pay Marc a single moment of attention, looking only to her with his secure gaze. 

"Y'want another, or water?"

While she couldn't deny she was reveling under Marc's attention, it was also very clear to herself how much she preferred Harry's eyes on her opposed to her new companion. There were sparks of relief upon seeing him within touching distance again, knowing that he was right there. If there was anything she needed, he was there now to remedy her situation. She knew he was taking note of everything, uncaring of whether or not her makeup was intact, assuring that she was safe and taken care of. 

But, Marc actually called her pretty. He won for the night, (Y/N) decided.

"I think I want another, but then I want water," she shouted over the music, giving Harry her glass for him to discard at the bar. 

Raising a dark brow, Harry gave her that amused look. "That's what y'said last time." 

She laughed easily at his prodding, her grin stretching wide over her lips and head dropping backwards. "I know," she sang, "But I mean it this time." 

"Whatever you say," he teased, "But I'll get you another. Jus' stay right here and wait for me." 

"Merci," she crooned to him, suddenly remembering Marc's presence when he squeezed at her waist. 

Before (Y/N) could offer for Harry to grab Marc a drink while he was at the bar as well, Harry was already off. He made a quick detour, checking on her friends then sinking into the thick of the crowd once more. 

She hadn't even known she was watching the space he disappeared into until Marc snaked his hand up the line of her spine, palm flat against her back as he pushed her into him. (Y/N) turned her attention to him, mouth in a small gape as he matched her gaze head-on. His eyes were a lot icier than she remembered. 

"Do you maybe want to go sit down for a second somewhere?" he asked, dipping down to press his cheek against hers with his lips by her ear, "It's hard to hear you out here." 

"In a second," she answered, hiccuping against his chest, "I need to wait for him." 

"You have a booth for the night, though, right? Up in the VIP section?" he pressed, seemingly not catching her caveat in sneaking away. 

"I-I do, but Harry—my drink." 

"I'm sure he'll be able to find you up there, don't worry," Marc insisted, herding (Y/N) off the dance floor and towards the sectioned off dais. 

Though her footing wasn't the most stable at the moment, (Y/N) still attempted to dig her heels in and stay put. Harry told her to stay here. She had promised him she would keep his job easy while in Paris, and she knew that sneaking off wasn't something that would abide by that promise. 

Out of nowhere, Francesca's hand clasped around her shoulder. In her other hand was Marc's friend's arm, her eyes hooded and glazed. 

"Let's go up to the booth," she drawled, words a little slurred. 

"Are you sure?" (Y/N) asked, the slightly more sober of the duo, "Harry is supposed to come back over here; he told me to wait." 

Francesca shook her head with her fluff of styled hair. "He'll"—hic—"He'll be able to find you. It's okay." 

It wouldn't be so bad if Francesca and Emma were up there with her. Harry wasn't stupid either, the next place he would look after the dance floor would have to be the booth, right? it would be okay. 

Giving a nod to Fran, (Y/N) allowed her to lead their small group towards the VIP area, Marc and his friend happily intermingling with the group and Emma and Stavros bringing up the rear. 

Despite her hesitancy, she did feel a bit better by the time she scaled the small set of stairs. She was nowhere near sober and the music wasn't much quieter than down on the floor, but at least here she wasn't stuffed between bodies. She could open her eyes and see stretches of the floor, her body touching non-humid air again. 

She was happy to see the booth once more, grateful to take a seat and get the pressure off her feet and the heels she had strapped around her ankles. Though Marc didn't slide in beside her like she expected. Instead, stood at the head of the table and lent down to speak to her. 

"I have a couple of other friends I brought tonight. Do you mind if I go get them? I'm their ride so I don't want them to worry," he told her, looking innocently with icy blue eyes. 

"Friends?" (Y/N) asked, unsure if it was the alcohol or the outlandish request that wasn't computing. 

"Yeah, just a few. They're down there," Marc recited, casting a thumb over his shoulder. "I'll be right back, okay?" 

With that, he was heading back down the entrance of the VIP area, leaving (Y/N) and the girls behind. 

Fran, little black straw in her mouth with water finally having been poured in her glass, lent across the booth, gently touching (Y/N)'s shoulder. When she turned, she caught the woozy smile on Francesca's face. 

"Your guy is really cute," she said, her words dissolving into laughter. 

"Yeah," (Y/N) answered absently, "But, did yours tell you that they're bringing friends over here?" 

"Yeah," Fran simply repeated, taking another long sip of her water. 

While it didn't particularly soothe her that Francesca didn't seem to care about the new uninvited guests, she figured there wasn't much else she could glean about her thoughts while in her drunken state. Instead, she let Francesca insert herself into Emma and Stavros' conversation, while (Y/N) searched for Harry. Soon enough, she spotted him approaching the dais, pink drink in hand and water in the other. There was a particularly stern set in his jaw, clearly disappointed. 

Coming to the booth, he ducked down to place the duo of drinks in front of her, the water closer to the foreground. He looked at her through the fan of his lashes, lips a stern line as he lent across to talk to her. 

"I thought y'were going to wait for me down there," he told her, lips by her ear. 

"Um, yeah," she responded, dropping her gaze to the cranberry juice heavy Cosmopolitan she ordered, "That guy—my friend—, he said he wanted to talk to me here so it was a little bit quieter. But, now he's getting some friends he said he didn't want to leave behind." 

(Y/N) didn't have to see Harry to know he was particularly unimpressed with this new information. "He said he's bringing friends? To come and sit up here with you?" 

"Yeah," she told him, voice small with a nod of her head. 

The more she said it out loud, the less and less of a good idea it sounded to her ears. 

"Okay," he sighed, pulling away to match her eye contact head-on, "'M going to be right there, then." Behind him, he pointed at the glass railing that reinforced the boundaries of the VIP section, a good place for him to take up post and keep an eye on her. "Make sure y'stay with Emma and Francesca, okay? Don't let them get separated from you. Remember what we talked about that I need you to do if you're uncomfortable." 

Swallowing, (Y/N) nodded her head, looking at him with wide eyes. Though the scene around him blurred a little too much, vodka-tinted vision, she made sure she locked eyes with him. "Okay. I remember." 

That seemed to quell him enough, though that set in his jaw never loosened. "Good. I'll be right there, just grab me if y'need me." 

With Harry blending into his post, his eyes unwavering on her form, (Y/N) attempted to settle herself with sips of her water. Soon enough, a larger group of people infiltrated the VIP section, their access to get through having been the fact two of the members had been previously seen with (Y/N) and Francesca. 

The group of friends looked a lot different than what (Y/N) had expected. Two more men had joined the fray, along with three women. The entire friend group being that of seven people, adding into the group of four that were (Y/N) and her friends. 

"Thanks for letting me bring them up here," Marc said, sly smile on his lips when he slipped into the booth beside (Y/N), "They really wanted to meet you guys." 

"Y-Yeah, of course," she stuttered out, though Marc clearly stopped listening before she even started. 

His eyes wandered to one of the women he brought up, watching as she flagged down a bottle service worker. (Y/N) could hear her rattling off orders in French, pointing back at Francesca and (Y/N) settled into the booth. While she was busy, the others had descended upon the liquor already on the table, draining the bottles.

"What's wrong?" Marc asked, voice a tad too sweet. As if he didn't have a single idea of what she could be bothered by. 

"There's just a lot of people," (Y/N) answered, clutching her glass of water tight. If she had the attention to spare, she would have looked towards Francesca for assistance, to see if she was the only one thrown off. But there was too much happening, and she couldn't even see Harry through the new mass forming in their booth. 

Marc waved her off carelessly, "Don't worry about them. Just have fun, chérie. The night is still young." 

Around her, she saw the maelstrom that had begun. Drinks were flowing, Francesca happily distracted with Alain, Emma and Stavros in their bubble, and a few of the new additions to the table pairing off with affectionate hands. There was only one woman left—the one that had initially flagged down the bottle service worker—who was carefully watching Marc at (Y/N)'s side. 

Everyone was having fun, she figured. The two bottles they had on their table had been drained with Francesca a moment away from catching her man for the night in a kiss. Even the woman with eyes on Marc was swaying to the music, empty shot glasses in front of her. 

(Y/N) did want to have fun. 

"C'mon, dance with me," Marc persuaded, standing up with his hand held out for her to take. 

After a beat of hesitation, (Y/N) took his offered hand and joined him, paying enough attention to the music above to let everything go just a hair. With Marc egging her on, a hand landing on her waist, she swayed along to the beat, hanging more fun the less she thought. 

It wasn't until she took a sip of her water that Marc interrupted her. 

"No, have fun, chérie," he pressed, taking the water out of her hand and reaching for the abandoned Cosmopolitan. 

"I don't know," (Y/N) started, intending to reject the drink until it was shoved into her hand. 

"Don't be boring, chérie," Marc chided, as if he were close enough to her to tease, "Don't let it go to waste, at least." 

While it wasn't solid logic considering (Y/N) was the one paying for her drink, it was enough of a persuasion to work on her muddled brain. She pliantly fit the thin black straw between her lips, allowing herself to drift into the moment. It wasn't so bad, she decided. The extra people weren't so bad in their sanctioned area. It didn't even bother her that much when three more bottles were delivered to the table, sparklers and all with a procession of excited staff fueling the fire. 

"I told them it was alright to order some bottles for the table," Marc sounded over the music, looping an arm around her shoulders to press her to his chest, "I can pay you back though if you want, I just kind of figured it would be okay since you're from New York and all." 

Looking to the table, she saw as the rest of his friends swarmed the table, Alain even abandoning Francesca to join in the rounds of shots. (Y/N)'s name wasn't even officially on the table, but they'd still managed to put things on her tab. 

Floundering over her response, (Y/N) could feel her mouth gape before closing once more. In this moment, more than anything she wished she hadn't drank so much. This wouldn't be much of a struggle if she could manage to focus or not dredge through miles of muddy tracks in her head. It was easier to let things go at the moment instead of allowing the bubbling blow up that would have transpired earlier in the night. 

"Um—Just, don't order too much," (Y/N) conditioned, her brows coming together in a loose pinch. 

"It'll be alright," he assured her, that arm around her shoulders tightening to get her eyes back on him, "C'mon let's finish our drinks." 

Marc's free hand came up to urge her drink up to her mouth. (Y/N) hesitated for a moment, contemplating for a split second. While it was annoying, the extra bottles ordered in her name at the table, but it wasn't so bad. The night was going fine enough, and Marc was nice. She didn't want to ruin anything or make any kind of scene in the middle of the club. Harry's eyes were no doubt trained on her. 

Even with her father countries away at the moment, she was sure he'd find a way to punish her accordingly if Harry had to report anything unpleasant back. 

Pliantly, (Y/N) pulled the thin black straw between her lips, taking down her Cosmopolitan.

—————

Unsure of how she got here, (Y/N) couldn't help but to stare wide eyed at Marc and his—surprisingly enough—girlfriend dancing on the table. 

At least she assumed that was his girlfriend, with the way his tongue was down her throat and hand was on her ass. 

Honestly, she couldn't be that surprised, considering this woman was the same one that had been staring possessively the whole time Marc was interacting with her. But, how they ended up on the table, dancing to some French song she was not sober enough to understand, (Y/N) did not know. 

Around the table, the rest of that friend group had grown just as rowdy. The floor was sticky with spilled drinks, the waitstaff offering dirty looks from the amount of times one of the couples had attempted to smoke, and the neighboring tables were beginning to lose patience with their chaos. 

Francesca was definitely out of her head for the night, every sip of alcohol definitely hitting her system heavily. While she may have had qualms with the etiquette of their unwanted guests if she were sober, she definitely didn't with the way she was willing to ignore as much in favor of dancing and playing with Emma when she wasn't busy with Stavros. Emma's boyfriend, being the most sober of the group, was less than impressed, whispering something into Emma's ear that (Y/N) hoped was a game plan to get out of here. 

Searching through the mass that had been created around the table, (Y/N) tried to spot Harry. She wanted to get out of here. There was no reasoning with the way these people were behaving, and she wanted to get out of here before she was pushed too far. 

Suddenly, a strong hand landed on her shoulder. Turning on her heel, she startled at the touch. 

Harry stood behind her, his jaw set and brows in a furrow. Dipping his head down, he told her, "We need to leave." 

Even with her head swimming, (Y/N) jerkily nodded her head. "I don't want to be here anymore," she answered, "Th-They're being crazy." 

"Yeah." His answer was simple and stern, flicking his gaze up to the couple dancing on the table. His eyes blazed at the sight of Marc, definitely having played with (Y/N) through the night to get up to this section. "C'mon," he prompted, using his hand on her shoulder to help guide her through the booth before meeting him on the other side. 

Despite her drunken legs, she dug her heels in. "But, Fran and Emma." 

"I'll call them a car, we jus' need to leave before this gets any more out of hand. Tell them we're leaving." 

Nodding, Harry let go of her before she tried to swim across to catch Francesca. Even when she grabbed her hand, Fran kept dancing, on a different planet that kept her eyes plugged and head drowning. 

"Francesca!" (Y/N) shouted, trying to be heard over the music. 

"(Y/N)!" she answered, barely glancing at her with a flip of her hair before she was dancing on an odd rhythm. 

Attempting to catch her attention once more, (Y/N) was stopped as Marc leaned down, his lips swollen and eyes glazed.

"You're not leaving, right?" he yelled over the music, his words watery and slurred, "You're supposed to stay and party with us, New York!" 

(Y/N) stammered over an answer. "I—um—" 

"We've seen those pictures of you, we know you like to have a good time! You can't leave yet!" 

Worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, part of her chest felt a little too tight. Of course, they knew who she was. Of course, they'd seen photos of her. 

"I'm sorry, I don't feel good," she responded, uncaring if he could hear her over the music anymore. 

Something shifted in Marc, then. His features morphed almost before her eyes, his eyes darkening and brows tightening. "How are we supposed to pay for all of this, if you aren't here?!" 

"I'm sorry, but I'm not staying here," she affirmed, shaking her head, "I'm grabbing my friends and—" 

"Wow," he spat, cutting her off, "You really are a bitch—just like everyone says," 

Stepping up behind her, Harry placed a stern hand on Marc's chest, pushing him out of (Y/N)'s space. 

"Back off, unless y'would prefer to have a problem," he started, his rough voice heavy over the music. Marc teetered off balance, the woman at his side having to steady him as he looked at Harry with offended eyes. 

"Who a—" 

"We're leaving," Harry cemented, ignoring whatever Marc was going to try to say, "You are going to find a way to pay for all of this, or you'll be hearing from me again. You're not going to be taking advantage of her." 

There was no room left for Marc to argue before Harry wrangled up the girls, Stavros helping to guide both Fran and Emma out of the booth. 

"C'mere," Harry said, offering (Y/N) his hand to help her climb over the back of the booth. 

She happily took his hand, carefully stepping over the faux-leather with Harry grabbing her waist to help her over the structure. Tottering on her heels for just a moment, Harry didn't linger for very long before he was rushing her out of the VIP section. She could feel dirty looks on her back from the staff, but she didn't care at the moment. 

Instead, she clung to Harry as they caught up to Francesca and Emma, Stavros heading their line on his much steadier feet. The closer they ventured to the exit, the more and more drunk she felt. The more removed she became from the pumping music and the other alcohol-soaked bodies, the more the real world was not suited to her current state. 

"Careful," Harry murmured in her ear, righting her from a stumble she hadn't realized she made. Slipping an arm around her waist, he curled his hand around her hip.

"Sorry, sorry," she answered, fixing her gaze on her feet in hopes of staying cautious like he asked. Absently, she grabbed his hand on her hip, laying her palm against the top of hand with her fingers curling in-between the gaps of his.

Harry pulsed his hand, both her hip and fingers cradled in his hold. 

Stavros pushed the exit door open for everyone to follow, the first light of the outside world glimmering into the otherwise dark club. Even with the alcohol muddling her thoughts, (Y/N) still caught the way Francesca stumbled back when she stepped out, her hands blindly reaching up to cover her eyes. 

(Y/N)'s steps slowed, bright flashes pinging out on the sidewalk. Those people—the ones who stole their table and tacked (Y/N)'s name on the end of their bill—they wouldn't have posted about her, would they? While she might not be as hugely followed out here compared to New York, there were definitely international publications that enjoyed snapping her photo and selling it off. 

Heading up the rear, Harry continued to pull her towards the exit, even when (Y/N) saw another round of flashbulbs go off when Emma made her appearance out on the concrete. Shouted questions in French could be heard, bubbling just over the sound of the music. 

"Stay with me," Harry murmured to her, "There should be some cars waiting, jus' stay steady, (Y/N)." 

She wanted to listen, she really did. But, the shuttering cameras and bright blinking bulbs was enough to get her hesitating just enough that she couldn't keep up. She didn't want to be seen like this, not after the way this night had turned out. 

As attentive as Harry was, always observant, he was on a mission and that didn't include (Y/N) dragging while he tried to get her to a safe place. 

As he tugged her over the threshold of the door, Stavros still holding it open, she stumbled against Harry's pulling, her heel catching just right. Flashes twinkled in her face, cameras blinking as photographs were taken of her stumbling outside, clinging to Harry with her breath caught in her throat. The toe of her pump dragged over the concrete, her lost balance weighing her down until Harry righted her, steadying his grip around her waist with his free hand reaching for her hip.

"Y'alright?" he murmured to her, suddenly breathless as he helped her back onto her feet. 

"I'm okay," she told her, voice a peep under the bright attention. 

Pressing questions were spewed in her direction, many asking who Harry was, why she was in Paris, and how drunk she was. (Y/N) ignored them all, focusing on following Harry who now led the group towards the waiting cars. 

"I'm sorry," he whispered, voice low for her ears only, "I didn't mean to trip you." 

(Y/N) shook her head. "It's okay," she assured him, eyes on her feet to calculate her steps, "I just want to go home." 

"We will." Harry's simple answer was just that before he quickened his pace, allowing (Y/N) to keep up as they pushed through the throng of photographers waiting outside the club. 

With Stavros heading up the back of their procession, many of the paparazzi were unable to follow any of the girls without getting through him first. As kind as he was, she could tell he used that Greek glare to his advantage, acting as if he couldn't believe they were following him while being an oblivious block in the road. 

That extra distraction allowed Harry to lead the group somewhere safe, around the side of a building a little too narrow for anyone else to follow. Two black sedans were parked against the curb. 

Without hesitation, Harry adjusted his grip on (Y/N), practically hugging her to his chest. She curled into him, fitting her forehead against the column of his throat with her arms a bundle between them. Harry cradled her with his arms around her waist, keeping her safe with him after the chaos that erupted. 

She could hear him speaking over her head to Emma and Stavros, ensuring they were going to take care of Francesca and that he had taken care of the fees of their reserved vehicle. She wanted to participate, tell Emma she was sorry for the night's turn and assure Stavros that every night (Y/N) was involved in didn't dissolve into a scrambled mess, but instead she kept herself warm against Harry's chest and let him do the talking for them. She would call Emma later she decided—maybe text her if her hangover didn't allow phone calls in the morning. 

"That one's yours," Harry directed, (Y/N) noticing his words only when he unlinked an arm around her to point, "It was nice to meet you. Get home safe." 

Stavros answered back in broken English while Emma was busy herding Francesca along with them. Muttered discussion could be heard with the driver of their vehicle before car doors were opens and slammed shut. The sound reverberated for a moment, before silence settled. 

"Our turn?" (Y/N) asked, pulling away to look up at Harry holding her. 

His lips were thin, eyes downturned as he gazed at her. "C'mon," he responded, loosening his hold in exchange for leading her towards the single waiting sedan

He took charge, speaking to the driver through the rolled down window, even if his French was less than stellar. Once all the details and verifications are figured out, Harry helped her in the backseat, pushing her in first before leaning in and helping her buckle up. While (Y/N) had anticipated that cushion of space to be between them as usual, he surprised her by sliding in right at her side, a long arm laying across the top of the seat behind her head.

Peeking through the rearview mirror, (Y/N) caught the driver eyeing she and Harry, her brown eyes fluttering with recognition. (Y/N) curled into herself then, dropping her gaze to her hands in her lap while Harry's dropped to the cuff of her shoulder. In French, he reiterated the address of the penthouse when their driver didn't immediately pull away from the curb. 

Once the road was under their tires, the sound of the gear shifting and setting them off away from the club, (Y/N) felt herself begin to relax. Even if their driver knew who she was, it was a less daunting experience than waiting outside of a paparazzi litter club while waitstaff inside were no doubt spinning rumors about her low class and patrons were spitting over the fact they had to foot the bill they ran up. 

Casting her memory back to the front of the night was enough to exhaust her into slumping against Harry's shoulder. 

"I want water," she blurted out, nestling into the divot between his shoulder and chest. 

Harry pulsed his arm around her frame, keeping her warm against his chest. "I'll get y'some water as soon as we're back, yeah?" 

"I want to take my makeup off, though," she mused, a pinch appearing between her brows though her eyes fluttered closed. 

"We'll take your makeup off when we get back, yeah? First thing." 

"I want food, too." 

A breathy laugh disturbed where she was cuddled into him. "I'll get y'something to eat when we get back, yeah?" 

Mulling it over for a lingering second, (Y/N) agreed with a nod of her head. "Yeah," she parroted, pleased enough with his operation. 

The gentle motion of the turns and slow stops the car made was enough to settle (Y/N) into a light trance, her head filling with sleep-puffed clouds. She forced herself to stay awake, hoping the elapsed time was as long as it felt. 

"I didn't get to say bye to the girls," (Y/N) said, hoping to keep herself awake enough for Harry to get her water, food, and her makeup off like he promised.

"I told them you'd call, or you can text them later," he explained, shifting over the leather of the seat.

"You don't think they're mad, right?" she pressed, voice quieter, "That I ruined everything with those guys?" 

A pause of silence sat as the third passenger for a moment, heavy before Harry spoke. "Of course, they're not. 'S not your fault any of that happened—you're jus' too nice sometimes, that's all." 

"No one's ever said that about me before." (Y/N) couldn't help the short smile that tickled the corners of her mouth. 

"What do you mean?" 

"That I'm too nice," she beamed, snuggling closer to Harry, "Usually it's the opposite." 

Perfect timing came in the form of their cab stopping outside of the building, easy French words coming from the driver as she turned to talk to Harry. (Y/N) could vaguely hear him thanking her and sending payment off through his phone, before he was sliding across the leather with her in tow. 

"Careful," he crooned, offering a hand as she followed in teetering steps.

(Y/N) laced their fingers together without a second thought. Harry solidified the hold in a pulse of his fingers around hers. 

She was a step behind him with a blinking flutter of her lashes, forcing her eyes to adjust to the world once more after being shuttered for the duration of the drive. The warm lighting of the building helped her find her footing in the real world, no longer neon like the club or fluorescent like the flashbulbs of cameras. Harry kept a steady grip on her hand, taking her to the leisurely paced elevator. 

Staying stuck to his side, huddled into a single corner of the whole cubicle, soft music filled the space between them while (Y/N) recounted the night. While she definitely was not sober, stepping away from the high paced environments allowed her mind to iron out some of the details she didn't think twice about earlier. 

"I don't like when people talk to me like that," she murmured, the number on the carousel just blinking past two. 

"What do you mean?" The warmth of his gaze landed on the side of her face, his hand heavy in hers.

"That guy," she started, her breathing stuttering through the beginning of a hiccup she swallowed down, "The one at the club. He was mad that I wasn't going to be there to pay for what he and his friends ordered. I think he knew who I was even though he pretended he didn't. He called me a bitch." A beat passed. "I think that girl was his girlfriend, too—the one on the table with him." 

Harry stood quietly at her side, the ever-sturdy pillar. He listened, observed. Took everything in, as he always did. 

That silence stuck with them as the elevator chimed as they reached their floor. The doors parted for Harry to usher her through, taking her to the door before unlocking the knob and helping her forward. It wasn't until they were alone, in their private space, that he spoke again.

"I did hear him say those things," he murmured, his voice tight. 

"It was mean, wasn't it?" she asked, kicking her shoes off by the front door, her toes aching after holding her weight for the night. 

"It is," he affirmed, waiting for her to grow steady on her feet before he started towards the kitchen. True to his promise, he started with a glass of water for her, setting it on the counter before he was raiding the cabinets for a snack. He didn't look at her when he spoke again, keeping his attention forward. "You know none of that is true, though, right?" 

"Hm?" (Y/N) hummed, sipping her water with her eyes trained on his back. 

Returning with leftover gougères from the day before (Harry had become really fond of bisqué now that she showed him it didn't matter the season, soup was always a good choice), he set the cheese-baked pastries as her side before he leveled her gaze. 

"No matter what he said,'' Harry started, his words slow and deliberate, "You're not a bitch,"—he all but choked around the word—"It's not up to you to pay for him and his idiot friends. He was trying to take advantage of you." 

"I know," she swallowed, the words hitting a soft part of her muddled brain, "B-But now there's another person that thinks I'm bad." 

"I don't think that, though," he said after a beat, his voice considerably softer, matching the moss of his eyes, "Fran and Emma don't think so—neither does Sully. We all know who y'actually are, and I think that counts for something." 

Standing quietly, bare feet against the tile of the kitchen, (Y/N) allowed his words to swim in her brain. She soaked them in as much as she could, the weight of them heavy. 

"You really don't think so?" she pressed, dropping her gaze to the collar of his fitted shirt, "Even after... everything, and all the stuff my father told you?" 

Harry shook his head, a loose curl splaying across his forehead. "What your father says, means nothing to me. Everything I've seen, is y'trying your best. You're put in hard situations, and then expected to know how to handle them on your first try, all while everyone watches. It's not fair." 

Overloaded, (Y/N) tried to cling to every word he was saying. She dearly hoped she would remember this in the morning, or at least the feeling of it all. The feeling of that light hope in her chest, brighter than that of whatever French bisqué she made or fanciful purchase could inspire. 

Harry understood her. 

"That's exactly how it feels sometimes," she confided in him, blindly reaching out in hopes of catching the hem of his shirt before he did her one better and bundled both of her hands in his own. "I love Fran, I do," she told him, letting his gaze with her own soft eyes, "But, she doesn't understand me like that—like you do." 

"I wish more people understood you," Harry murmured, his words quiet enough (Y/N) wasn't sure if she heard him right. 

"You're like my best friend, now," (Y/N) responded, hoping he could catch her sincerity even if she was a little plastered. 

Those searching eyes traipsed around the planes of her face, skipping along every contour and highlight. She wished she knew what was going on in his head, what thought he had when he catalogued her like a fine gown. 

"C'mon," he beckoned her, unlacing one hand from hers only to grab the plate of gougères, "Let's eat, then we'll get ready for bed." 

(Y/N) pliantly followed, the Eiffel Tower glimmering through the windows of her balcony.

—————

Slipping out of her bedroom, (Y/N) cast her eyes around in hopes of finding Harry lounging about. 

Last night was a whirlwind that ended with her snuggled in her bed, makeup off and hair braided back but still in her dress. She woke with a half eaten gougère on her bedside table, alongside a glass of water and a small bottle of aspirin. While parts of the night were muddied, many things were still clear—including the way Harry handled her and helped take care of her friends. 

That also meant she remembered the small string of photographers that had waited outside the club, cameras flashing as she stumbled over her own feet. 

Against her better judgement, she couldn't help but to check her phone after blinking the sleep out of her eyes, wanting to see what exactly—if anything—was being written by her. 

The photos were the first things she saw, many of them favoring headlines featuring a specific shot of her clinging to Harry as she almost fell, the hem of her dress riding up and Harry's grip strong around her waist. The nature of their relationship was once again called into question, as if his hold was anything but protective. Some even captioned the photos of him whispering to her, apologizing for tripping her, as him whispering sweet nothings into her hair. 

Honestly, many of the articles were on the tame side, the headlines being nothing more than clickbait. The worst they spoke on was her "leg-baring dress", while much more of the pieces were spent speculating about Harry once more and recounting the 132 Gala news. 

She'd definitely seen worse about herself. While none of this was the preferred outcome, it was one she could get through. Hopefully, with the time zones, her father wouldn't see the news just yet. 

After washing her face and brushing her teeth, she left her phone on her bed while venturing outside the suite. Instead of finding Harry like she hoped, she was instead left with a view of an empty apartment, a single glass of her purple smoothie left on the counter.

A smile bloomed on her fatigued cheeks when she noticed the dirtied blender in the sink, scraps of fruit having been tossed in the trash with a freshly wiped down countertop. Harry had to have made this one. 

Maybe that was why it tasted that much sweeter when she took the first sip. Even without the matcha and collagen she usually requested, she felt much more awake. 

Straw tucked between her lips as she sipped her smoothie, (Y/N) debated tracking down Harry to his bedroom, wishing so badly she could see him again in the right-frame of mind. 

Those reassurances he uttered to her the night before were sitting in her head, perfect like a present waiting for her to wake up to. Perhaps that's what had made the sensationalized stories about her much more palatable. What did it matter what they and anonymous blogs said when Harry reiterated how many people in her life knew her and cared for her. 

Turning back towards the living room, she spotted him through the crystal windows on the balcony doors, coffee in hand as he made a home in the lounger. She tried not to overthink it all as she crossed the room, gently knocking on the door before pushing it open. 

"Morning," she murmured, stepping out onto the balcony with him.

Harry's posture straightened, his sleepy eyes gazing up at her through the shadow of his lashes. "Morning. How are you feeling?" 

Taking a long sip of the smoothie, she hoped he caught the way almost a third of it was gone already. "Definitely been better. So much for not drinking, right?" she joked, taking a seat beside him in her own lounger. 

"Y'weren't too bad," he answered, his own amusement leaking through his words. "Y'don't feel sick or anything?" 

Turning her gaze towards the city, she watched the sun rise over the Eiffel Tower, remembering what it looked like with all the twinkle light just hours before. 

"No, I'm alright. Thank you for getting me food and medicine and everything." 

"Of course," he answered simply, taking a sip of his own coffee. 

From the corner of his eye, his gaze lingered on the smoothie in her hand. The ghost of a dimple touched his cheek. 

For the first time in a while, especially after everything she had read being posted about them—about him—, she didn't feel the need to explain or apologize. 

Harry knew her. He knew her enough to know the difference between tabloid features and facts. Even knowing what would undoubtedly be said about him if he were pictured so closely with her—whether it be because of his job or the fact she felt she could call him a friend—he didn't shy away from holding her tight and making her feel safe in the midst of everything. 

Instead of offering any kind words, (Y/N) scooted her chair that much closer to his, eyes on the Tower. 

—————

"(Y/N), how many times do we have to talk about this?" 

Without missing a beat, (Y/N) kept cleaning up the kitchen after having made lunch for she and Harry, her father's voice nothing more than dull background noise as she left the call on speaker. The mute feature was being utilized as he raged at her, not a second thought in her head being spared over his grilling. 

It was a waste of time, she decided. That was the kind of mood she was in today, and that was the kind of daughter he would be getting. Though, to notice at all, would mean that he would have to actually pay attention and let her speak instead of spilling off rhetorical questions before hitting her with insults once. 

It'd been a full day since the articles had been posted about her, more and more photos resurfacing of her stumbling outside and being led away with Harry, while blogs were posting grainy photos from the inside of the club before things went downhill. She knew a phone call like this was coming. 

The only new addition to this particular berating, was the silent audience that was sitting on the couch. 

Harry, leaning against the arm of the couch, had his arms crossed, one hand at his side in a heavy fist with the other cupping his chin, elbow bent to rest on his other wrist. His gaze was unfocused, a piece of flooring holding his attention while he listened to whatever it was that her father was serving up for the day. 

From the way his features pinched and this fist as his side progressively tightened into a white-knuckled grip, she could only imagine the kind of things her father was sharing. He didn't even know there was an audience there to listen in, let alone that it was Harry. No filter was being applied as he spoke. 

Wringing out her washcloth in the sink, (Y/N) tuned in just enough to hear a question that had her hands stuttering.

"Is Harry not enough for you?" her father asked, disappointment dripping from his tone, "Do I need to find someone else to look after you? Do you need a whole team to keep you in line?" 

She rushed to pick up her phone, taking the call off speaker and mute as she pressed it to her ear. 

"No, no," she interrupted him, uncaring of the snap that would be given back for cutting him off, "Harry's doing a good job, just... You know how I am." 

Turning her back to Harry as she spoke, she attempted to find some kind of privacy as if she weren't the only one speaking in the room. He could hear every word—every plea she was about to make to ensure he kept his job with her. 

While she took it as a positive that her father wasn't suggesting to replace Harry, she definitely didn't want anyone else added to the mix. Harry is more than enough for her. 

On the other end, her father scoffed. "Don't I," he mused, (Y/N) able to imagine the rolling of his eyes through the phone. "I don't know what to do, (Y/N)," he started, heaving a sigh, "I've reached out to publicists and handlers, and anyone in the industry to help. No one wants to touch your reputation. It's preceded you at this point, no one wants to work with a brat. I don't have many options left." 

Grateful for the fact her back was facing Harry, she felt a warmth hit under her skin. It was a humiliating thought—knowing that others all around her had spoken so lowly that even publicists that deemed any publicity as good publicity wouldn't touch her. 

"I know," she conceded, swallowing around her dry throat, "But, I don't think any more security is a good idea. It would look bad, don't you think?" 

She was grasping at straws a bit, hoping to dig into the image he held so dear. The one thing he cared about when it came to her. 

A beat passed before he spoke once more, his voice distant and musing. "Now, you're thinking. I think I might have another idea, then."

"Oh?"

"Yes, I think I have an idea," her father perked on the other side, "Let me make a few calls and then I'll get back in touch." 

"Okay, u—"

"In the meantime, (Y/N)," he cut her off, "I'm going to make it especially clear—again—that you need to have your head on straight. You're not making anything easy on anyone when you act like this—myself and Harry included. Stop being selfish and think before you act." 

His tone was definite. Everything he said was nothing more than a slightly different variation of everything he'd already told her. She needed to try harder not to make everything her fault. 

"I know," she answered, a detached response that had been drilled into her, "I'm working on it." 

"Good. Talk to you later." 

With that, before she had a chance to utter her own goodbye, her father hung up. Dead air filled the kitchen as she pulled her phone from her ear, slipping the device into her back pocket. 

"What was that?" Harry asked, not waiting for her to face him before firing off. 

Taking in a deep breath, (Y/N) turned to look at him, fiddling awkwardly in the middle of the small kitchen. "He said he wanted to get you more help—like, more security—, but I was able to get him off that idea. Now, he says he has another idea, but he won't tell me about it until he calls later. He said he had to talk to a few people first." 

Unimpressed, Harry hummed in response. His gaze finally focused when it landed on her face, his pupils exacting and calculating. "Does he always talk to you like that?" 

That wasn't what she expected of this inquisition. She suddenly felt uncomfortable under his eyes. 

"Sometimes," she answered, trying to keep her features a blank slate, "Only when I mess up, though. It's not a big deal, I never listen anyway." 

His gaze was unflinching, unwavering. "Are you sure?" 

"I'm sure," she said automatically, no longer wanting to speak of her father or his words. "Anyway, I feel like he's just going to open a foundation in my name or something—that's his big idea. He does it every once in a while, just to make us all look charitable." 

Harry traipsed his eyes over her form, taking in every detail of her body language and every minute frame of an expression. She felt exposed the longer he watched her. 

Eventually—finally, finally—he released her, standing from his station on the arm of the couch with a sigh. "Whatever he comes up with, I'll be there, yeah? We'll work it out together." 

Even Francesca, her best friend and closest person, hadn't been able to promise what Harry was giving her. She knew he really would be there with her, every step she took now coming with a pair. 

(Y/N) allowed a gentle smile to bloom on her features, watching as he softened some. 

"Yeah."

—————

Unable to help herself, still curious to the fact this person had found her Paris address, (Y/N) opened the flap to the newest letter that had been dropped in her mailbox. 

The admirer's newest perspective came in high quality photos from the club. There were photos of her dancing with Marc—though his face was marred with markings she was too scared to investigate further. There were photos of her sipping drinks with Francesca and Emma before the night devolved, Harry noticeably cropped from the shots though (Y/N) knew he wouldn't have been that far away. Similar markings to what had marred Marc's face reappeared, this time sketching around her face in rudimentary hearts and shapes. Those made her feel the most queasy. 

On the backside of some of the photos, it seemed this person felt they had inside information, claiming to know she hadn't wanted to dance with Marc. They apparently knew she hadn't wanted to go out at all, that she was much too private for this kind of scene and someone had to be forcing her to do this for some reason. It hadn't been her fault that she had stiffed the table (a fact that was far from the truth, seeing as how no one from the club had contacted her or Francesca. Something had to have been worked out). It hadn't been her fault that she left with Harry the way she did, curled into his arms and clinging to him like a vine. She would have never touched him if it was up to her own accord—at least that's what the admirer claimed. 

Everything was written in short, messy sentences, barely legible as if written with the author's non-dominant hand. The rest of the story lay in the typed letter she knew was tucked inside the envelope, the musings of someone determined to fit her into the box of their liking. 

Her palms felt sweaty as she looked at a photo of her face, the lens having zoomed in to catch the pucker of her lips around the cocktail straw, eyes glazed in alcohol. 

How someone had snuck a camera in and Harry hadn't noticed—or at least mentioned it to her—she didn't know. And a part of her didn't want to. 

It was easier to ignore this whole thing, she decided. Bundling the pictures back into the envelope, (Y/N) rushed to place it in her room, the bottom drawer of her vanity gaining a new addition. 

—————

Staring at her phone, (Y/N) couldn't feel anything but dumbfounded as she reread her father's messages.

Dad

         I have a friend from the country club that is interested in taking you out on a date. He's planning on flying out to Paris by the end of the week, and I expect you to go out to dinner with him, to show him and the world why a man like him would be willing to go out with you. 

        He's a successful philanthropist with a good reputation. I think he's the perfect person for you to get to know, and learn how to behave with. It will be good for you to be seen with him. 

          Be on your best behavior.

This was not at all what she could have ever imagined his big plan would be. More than a little far off from the suspected charity Gala that would be thrown in her name. 

She'd been set up before with the sons of investors and introduced to men he thought would help further him in his dealings. All of those instances had been made in the name of his business—made for his best interests. Never had he set her up with the intention of strengthening her reputation or showcasing her for nothing other than publicity. 

Though, from the way her father spoke, she doubted the other man knew it had anything to do with her reputation. As far as he knew, he was being set up with a friend's darling daughter for a romantic evening in Paris. 

The thought had (Y/N) cringing. 

She was supposed to go on a date? To convince people she wasn't a bitch?

(Y/N) was angry. Uncomfortable. Upset. Anything that was the opposite of happy was pulsing through her veins. What was her father thinking?

Did Harry know anything about this?

Heavy in her middle, (Y/N) wanted to rush to Harry's side, ask him if he knew anything about these plans. If he did, she wanted to assure him that she had no feelings tied to this man or this date—that he was nothing to her mind. She wanted to tell him she didn't want to go on this date, that she was being forced to see another person despite having purely opposite feelings. 

She wasn't sure why exactly she felt it was so important to make that much clear, but it was enough to get her off of her bed and out to the living room. 

Sitting on the couch, was Harry with a book in his hand, the cover showcasing the name of a famous French designer. He bookmarked his place with a finger as he looked up at her, taking in her shower-softened form and silky pajamas on her form. 

"Going to bed?" he asked, the gauzy curtains having been dropped around the windows to the balconies. 

Suddenly, she felt a bit silly having bustled out of her room the way she did. What did it matter if Harry thought she wanted to go on a date with this man? Why would he care about who she dated? All he needed to know was where she was going and if he would be needed for security.

"In a minute, but—um—" she started, fiddling with her phone in her hands. 

Shifting on the cushion he'd taken up, he narrowed his gaze with a pinch to his brows. Properly marking his spot, he left his novel to be placed at his side, the full of his attention placed on his client. 

"Is everything alright? Did something happen?" His gaze skipped over her form, examining for any bit of her that needed his help. 

"I'm okay," she assured, shifting on her feet, "It's just..." Harry waited patiently-impatient, unwavering eye contact. "My dad texted me," she blurted. 

"Yeah?" he pressed, his elbows setting on his knees as he leant towards her, "What did he say?" 

Swallowing, she tried to shrug in nonchalance. "You know how he said he had an idea after those pictures of us at the club?" she questioned, listening for Harry's hum of acknowledgment before continuing, "I guess his side was to set me up with someone he knows from the country club. For a date. This weekend." 

Forcing the words through her throat, she watched and waited for Harry's reaction. Though he was much better than she ever would be as keeping a poker face, everything internalized. 

"Yeah?" was his only response. 

"He said this guy has a really good reputation, with charities and all. He's hoping that being seen with him will help make me look better—PR and all." She struggled around the next bit of information, unwilling to say it out loud as if it would make it real. "I think he really wants me to date him, though—this friend. I don't think he knows my father's setting it up the way he is.

Contemplative and deliberate like always, Harry waited before pressing, "Do you know this man? Or would this be the first time you meet him—for this date?"

"I-I'm not sure who it is, but if I knew him already I think my father would have said so. I think this weekend would be the first time." She was more than embarrassed the more he asked. What kind of child had to be set up on playdates so they learned how to behave?

"This isn't the same man that made you uncomfortable before, then?" Harry's voice suddenly held an edge, recalling Barron at the 132 Gala. 

"No, not him." 

"Okay," he mused, the gears in his brain almost visibly grinding away as he thought through every and any scenario. "Do y'want me to be there with you?" 

The edge of her phone case became the most interesting thing in the room then, her fingers picking at the molding. She swallowed, remembering that trapped, angry feeling she had when she read his messages the first time. 

"I don't want to go at all," she started, fitting her bottom lip between her teeth. "I don't know, maybe we could go out this week, and I'll make a scene or something? It could make him mad enough that he calls the whole thing off, and we won't have to deal with it at all." 

"No, we're not doing that," Harry immediately intervened, frustration lacing through his tone, "'S not worth him getting upset with you over." 

"I know," she told him, a defeated slope to her shoulders, "But, I don't want to go. Especially not with him—whoever he is. I-I'd rather stay with you." 

The air softened around them as the words hung between them. Peeking through the fan of her lashes, she caught the easy stare he gave her. 

"It's going to be alright, (Y/N)," he assured her, his frustration having melted into something soft and pliable, "I'm going to be there with you." 

"I'm sorry," she reflexively shared, her tongue working before her brain.

"What for?" 

For going on a date with someone that isn't you. 

"I don't know," she answered, "For taking up your weekend with something stupid, I guess."

"And what else would I have done instead?" Harry countered, his tone anything but biting, "Y'act like I'm not here jus' for you." 

While she knew he didn't mean it the way it sounded, there was a small hand in her heart that clutched at the idea. 

"Don't worry about it for now, yeah? Jus' sleep on it, and we'll take again in the morning. If there's anything else we can do, we'll figure it out then. Okay?"

He was always so in control, the voice of reason she lacked in these moments. 

"Okay. Thank you." 

"I've got you," Harry answered simply, reaching for his book once more. "Goodnight, (Y/N)." 

Sparing one last glance at her bodyguard huddled on the sofa of her Parisian apartment, fashion book in hand, (Y/N) inched towards her bedroom feeling a touch lighter.

"Goodnight, Harry."

—————

s'entendre is a French word for the feeling of understanding someone; to get someone

only a few more parts! thank you sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and if you have any ideas or whatever please send them in!

[spidybaby]

Hi♥️

Can we get a Gold Digger Part III?

Gold Digger | Part III

Summary: Feeling fearful and insecure about the future after a downfall is what kept you away.

Warnings: cursing.

A/N: I've been trying to finish this for a long time. Not able to find the inspiration. Buuuuut, after the Euros match, I totally find the guts to open my drafts and finish what I've been procrastinating. Hope you still find this interesting and read it. Love you all 💛 sorry about the time.

Part one | Part two

London - Seventeen months later

"I think you're ready to go back. The question here is if you feel ready"

"I am. I think I've been ready for a while now."

"And what's stopping you?"

"What if we don't work out?"

"Time is unpredictable."

"What if he realized that I'm not what he wants anymore?"

"You know that is not the case. You told me that."

"I'm scared."

"It's okay, it's going to be fine."

Paris - Eighteen months later

14:35 p.m.

"So, can we say you find the one?" Julien, your friend asks you. "Because I think you have."

"Yes, I found the one."

He clapped happily, popping the champagne he had for this special moment.

You were looking for an apartment. Returning to Paris after more months of being out, he helped you look for the perfect place to return to your parisian life.

"I want to make a toast, for the girl I love the most, and the one I know is ready to shine in all the meaning of the word."

"Je t'aime." You smile, giving him a hug. He was a big part of your return to France.

After graduating, you got an opportunity to go to London with the company that you always wanted to work for.

They were expanding their business and chose París to begin. Since you knew the language and had your whole education there, they naturally asked you to take over the company.

"Let's get this paperwork done with and you and I are going on a furniture hunt." You say, grabbing your pen, walking to the entrance while drinking your champagne.

Paris - Kylian therapist office

"Did you bring the letter I asked you to write?"

"Oui, I wrote my heart out."

"Okay, know follow my instructions. Go home, have a shower, have a nice dinner and some wine if you want to extra relax. You told me you have a fireplace so, turn it on and burn the letter."

"Don't you want to read it?"

"No, I'm not, but you can do a last reading before the burning. This will end a cicle, this means you understand that it happened."

"It happened." He nods.

Parc des princes

- 5:30 p.m. -

"Kyky" neymar shouts from the inside of the stadium. "Want to come with us tonight? Bruna and I are doing a special dinner with friends."

"I can go a little after dinner, I have to do something first."

"Do you have a date? Hmm?" Ney poke his stomach, making Kylian laugh and smack his hand away.

"No, just something I have to do tonight. But for that pasta Bruna makes I'm definitely having a cheat day." He laughs, giving Ney a hug while they exit to the field.

The training goes fine. He let his frustration on the field, turning it into magic while he moves the ball with his feet.

"I miss Sergio. I feel like a part of me is gone, " hakimi says, faking crying and making everyone laugh.

"You miss Sergio more than your ex." Neymar shouts from the other side of the field.

"That's it, Junior."

Kylian laughs at the two guys running around, having fun.

Fun is something he ultimately didn't have. The transfer market is happening. After the higher-ups decided to announce to the world that he didn't want to stay till the end of his contract. The whole internet was a mess.

His parents had long talks with him about his career. Telling him what to do. He's young, too young to be this worried about life.

But he knows that without the help of his parents, he wouldn't be where he is right now.

"Ethan, don't sleep. That ball was an easy catch."

"Who's the boss here? Luis or you?"

"Just do what I say." He says, hitting his head in a joking manner. "Do you want to come with me to Ney tonight?"

"Nah, mom wants to go get this couch she's been obsessed with for the last month. The store lady told her that they only had one in existence and she wants it."

"Okay." He says, continuing with the training.

- On the other side of France -

"I want another couch, like one for the bedroom. I saw a beautiful one on pinterest."

"Do you have an idea if there's a store that sells this here?" He asks, looking at the pictures.

"Yes, I actually called like an hour ago, and they told me they will have one in existence. But they're unpacking it, so it's going to be in exhibition in like an hour. Let's go."

Julien shrugs, grabbing his coat and walking behind you to the elevator. "The PSG has a game this Sunday."

"Nice." You say, ignoring his intentions. "I need a charger."

"Don't give me that attitude." He hits you with the newspaper on his hand. "You know why I say this."

"I know, but like I said. Everything has a time, and I need to find my time to do what I need to do."

"Okay, no biggie."

You call an Uber to take you both to the mall. The store is located in this mall that's a little far from your house.

When you arrived you both check stores and pick some things to decorate. Julien knows the vibe you want for this apartment.

"Hey, I'm going to check the couch to see if it's worth the price." You pat his shoulder. He was trying to find the perfect "dinner plates."

You check some emails while you walk there, not paying attention to anything else. Once you arrive, the lady who spoke with you told you the couch was just about to be ready.

Letting you walk to the store, you check other furniture that might be a good competition for this one.

You wanted something that you could relax without replacing the bed, but you also don't want to do work on the bed.

An "L" shaped couch picked your attention. It was in a dark brown color. The couch was beautiful, pretty similar to something that has your mind burning.

"Mademoiselle, we have the couch ready if you want to see it."

"Merci, I want to ask, do this couch come in a cream color?"

While the lady shows the colors of the couch you were eying while you two walk over to the pinterest couch.

You turn your back to the other one. Even when you don't want to accept it. It reminds you of the one you had on the room you shared with him.

"I think I want the other one more."

"We have it in three colors. Shall we go to see the other options? We have them on our second floor."

"Oui." You nod smiling.

While you walk upstairs, there are two people walking in the store, two faces you know more than enough.

"Ethan, can you please put the phone down? I want your help."

"Fine, but after this you're taking me to eat."

Fayza laughs. "It would have been cheaper to come alone, I see."

"Having a daughter was also an option." He laughs, his mother hitting him on the back of the head.

They were scolted to the couch, and Fayza immediately loved it. Picturing it in the perfect space in her house.

While they get checked out, you were trying to decide between a light brown or a cream dirty white color.

"Okay, this one would be."

"Amazing, if you follow me back to the first floor to get everything settle, your address, the payment."

You texted Julien, finding he was waiting for you at this restaurant. Asking him to send you a picture of the menu so you can pick while paying.

You lift your head back to the room, finding a face looking at you curious. The way Ethan eyes light up when he confirms it's you.

- Kylian's House -

The music in the room is calm, a nice jazz to relax his muscles. The outfit is ready to go out. But he has to burn his past to prepare to start a new present.

But he can't let go of the envelope. He's holding it tight, holding it like his life dependent on it. Maybe because what's written on it made his life take a turn.

He sighs, leaving the letter on the couch. He was feeling ready when he spoke with his therapist, but now that he actually has to do it, it is like a burning sensation.

Does this mean he has to burn the feelings he has for you?

After all, it's been more than a year, and you haven't come back to him. He was working hard.

But his year wasn't the best, the club fighting with him, the press fighting with him and even Paris people mad at him.

All he wanted to do was go back to when you would be there for him after the long training hours, after the comments, after the thick and the thin.

But he can't, and he regrets it all the time.

- Neymar's house -

"Vamos Kyky, good thing you came, Bruna was asking about you"

"I bring her something."

"She's going to love it. Let's go inside."

The majority of the team was there. They were celebrating the news of Neymar and Bruna.

He was happy, even though Neymar and him had some shady times, he was friendly after all, for the sake of the team.

"Hakimi, stop with the potatoes, Luis is going to kill you, man."

"Shut it Mbappe, you were eating chocolate last week, and nobody told you shit."

They all laugh. He loves these times because that distracts him. That makes him feel less alone at home. Where no one was waiting, where no one was thinking about him.

The time with his teammates was good. He drank some cocktails. He was going to regret it tomorrow, but he needed them.

"How are the kids?" He asks Achraf, they were walking to their cars.

"They're with their mom. They are so big, I had to buy them everything again because they grew out of the clothes."

"In Spain?"

"Yes, I can't wait to see them, Hiba is bringing them here and they're staying a few days."

He's happy for his friend, after everything for him his kids were the most important thing.

"Dude, I really miss Verrati."

"I can't believe he's gone, he would have chug that bottle down and be fine tomorrow."

"I want to ask you something, Kicks." Achraf sighs. "How are you? I know you have been down, you know I'm here."

Was he okay? Was he bad? Was he sad? Or angry?

He's feeling everything and nothing at the same time. It's like this for time to time. Sometimes he's fine, happy. But then everything in him feels down, feels blue.

"Don't worry, I'm fine. It's just I guess the season."

"You know I'm here. Right?" Achraf repeats.

"I do, and I'm thankful for that."

- The furniture store - Hours prior

"When did you come back?" Ethan throws himself at you, who with open arms receives the hug. "This is such a surprise."

"Hello, roots."

"Mom, look who's here." He says, letting you go.

Fayza turns at the call of her name, her eyes illuminating at the sight of you. She can't deny how much she misses you.

"Ma belle." Same as Ethan, she hugs you tightly.

"Hello to you two, I've missed you so much."

"When did you come back?" Ethan repeats.

"I been here for a few days now." You confess. "I'm going to be working here."

"So you're back for good?"

"Yes, roots. I am." You hug him back again. "I'm so happy to find you, I missed you a lot."

"We missed you too. You look so good. I was so happy when you told me about your job opportunity."

Fayza and you were close. She went to your graduation, gave you a gift for your birthday, and texted you on Christmas day, on the new year. She was like a mother to you.

"I wanted to be stable here with everything before telling you."

"Oh I'm so happy you're here." Ethan jumps a little. "Even Melissa is going to be so happy."

You wanted them back, wanted your little family bond back, but first got to get the boy back.

"I hope to see you guys again, maybe for a coffee or a chocolate."

"Wait, let's go to dinner." Ethan suggests.

Thankfully, Fayza notices the way you don't want to disappoint Ethan. "Maybe later, we have to go home because you haven't done your homework."

"Oh no, roots go home and finish that homework." You joke, pinching him on the ribs. "We can meet some other time for chocolate or a coffee."

Your conversation was interrupted by the worker who handed Fayza her card. The other worker is waiting for you to complete the sale.

"You guys have the same number? If you do I'll text you and we can meet up, okay?"

They both agree with the plan, saying their goodbye, and with another round of hugs, they left the store.

It's undeniable that the Paris Saint German sucks. They have some good moments, and they have some bad. But the bad ones have lately been much more than the good ones.

The last matches were bad, barely even working as a team. It was like if eleven players were there doing their own thing. No union, nothing.

Some people will say "oh but then won the last two," but with the lack of technique they have, it was a big surprise.

The Clermont team was doing so much better. Leaving zero chances for the team. And it was obvious that they were lacking something because it was almost the end and no goals.

Twitter was crazy about the fact that "The Kylian Mbappe" didn't scored against Clermont.

But it's not on him. It's on the team. It's on everyone. Even the new coach. Galtier did so much shit that you can't change in a few days.

You turn the tv off, angry at the result. Stupid game, you thought. Even if it was a repetition, you were mad as if it was live.

Your phone vibrates, picking your attention. You opened the notification, and it was Ethan who sent you a reel about cookies in a new pâtisserie in Paris.

You needed to use your new oven to see if it was working properly. Also, you bought this chocolate that was really good with some butter cookies.

So you invite him to come over, wanting to release some stress and feel some normality again.

The match against Newcastle was bad. The team lost 4 to 1, and the team was struggling.

You notice how Kylian was down. He's not in good shape. Not physically but mentally. Something that makes you worry.

His knee was bothering him again. He had to leave the field because of the pain. Thing that worried you even more.

You wanted to pick up the phone and message him, telling him that whatever is crossing his mind is just there, in his mind.

"Y/n?" Julian says, waving his hand in front of your face. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, sorry. I got lost in my thoughts."

"Notice that." He laughs, he guessed what you were thinking but didn't say it.

"I wonder if he's okay. He looks tired."

"Text him." He shrugs. "I mean, you came back for a reason, do it."

You tap your nail to your phone. You wanted, but what if he has someone else with him already telling him all the things you should be telling him?

"Not yet." You say, getting up and walking to your fridge. "Ice cream?"

- Dressing room - Parc des princes -

"Guys, honestly, we have to keep going. Don't let this bring you down." Luis, tell the team.

The dressing room has this quiet aura. Everybody is thinking of those four goals that nobody stopped, Donaruma feeling bad, the defense guys feeling the same.

And Kylian, even worse. He's thinking of the shots he missed. The moment where he had opportunities and missed them.

His knee hurts. He's tired. He's not focused on the field. He's just not in his prime. That's obvious to everybody.

Especially to the press, printing his mistakes as the first pages, making his missing shots as their conversation on sports programs. Making the Twitter people feel confident about the shit storm they're giving him.

"Kylian, can I have a word with you?"

Luis Enrique and he walked to the corridor. The other team was happy, leaving. Saying their goodbye to the two of them.

"How is your knee?" He asks, he notice the faces he is doing while walking. "You sure you want to play next match? You still have the euros."

"I'm good, I promise sir."

"Promise me something. If you feel like you're overworking your knee, you're telling me. I prefer to sit you for one or two matches instead of you missing the season and euros."

"I promise."

After the talk, Luis advised him to take some recovery therapy. More therapy, he thought.

The drive home was felt long. His chauffeur was quiet, noticing his demeanor. He needs a hot shower and a good night sleep.

He slams the door of his room. Almost ripping this t-shirt, throwing it with all his force to the wall. He wants to scream but won't.

The shower was more than hot. It was burning. But it was all he needed. To feel something again.

He hated to do skin care, thinking all he wanted at night was to sleep, but you taught him to take care of his skin. Creating a night and morning routine.

Even when you're not there, he still did it.

While he stares at his reflection, on the big mirror above his bed, he doesn't know what weights more.

His regret or the ring that sits and collects dust in his nightstand.

That same ring he bought two days before that night.

The same one he was putting on your finger. Now, sure, he will have to throw it away.

Sure, he won't be having nobody next to him to reassure him everything was going to be alright.

Sure, he won't be thinking of raising children with anybody else.

Sure, he won't be thinking about buying a retirement house with a big backyard where to watch his grandkids playing.

Sure, there won't be anybody after you.

Unsure about you being his future.

"I need the last reports of the head office so I can start to organize everything and have it ready for the opening."

You were working on a meeting, having to multi-task and focus your attention between the meeting and what your co-workers were saying with the football game that's happening.

The Rennes game was better. They were winning. This was the last game before the Euros.

You wanted to see Kylian with the team of Les Bleus. They somehow cheer him up. They were like an energy drink for him.

Olivier, Antoine, even the coach. They were all like a family, and they were there for each other, no matter what.

Fayza invited you to the match, she knew you wanted to talk to him but didn't knew how. Ethan and her decided to keep your return a secret, letting you announced it on your own.

She sent you a jersey with his number on it. You try it on, smiling at the reflection. He loved seeing you in jerseys with his number on it.

And you loved to display your support for your boyfriend. Showing up at matches with his number on full display, showing the people you were his. And he was for sure yours.

You opennyour phone, going to instagram to see his page, you feel like a stalker. But it was the only thing you dare to do right now.

You turn the tv on, wanting to see something while working. And the first thing that pop up is a football news channel. They have Kylian picture on display.

"Kylian Mbappe leaves training to go to Bondy. The player suffered a family lost and asked his trainer Deschamps for permission to go back to his hometown to say his goodbyes."

You want to text Ethan, but you don't want to disrupt them. You wanted to know what was happening.

So you have two options. Achraf or Tchaga. Both will eventually tell Kylian you reach and asked about him. Both were only one call away.

You go for the second option. Having a little more trust in this one. You search for his number on your contacts.

The phone rings until you hit the voice-mail. You block your phone again, questioning if you had to try again or maybe just wait and speak with Fayza or Ethan later.

You take the jersey off, changing back into your pajamas, ready to be comfy again.

The vibration of your phone alert you, thinking it was from work you walk slowly to the device. But once you're close, you notice the name in the screen "Tchaga"

"Hello"

"Hey, long time no see, how are you?"

You smile at the greetings. "I'm good, how are you, scissors?"

"Been better, have a cold. But you didn't call me to know that. Tell me, how can I help you?"

"I heard the news about Ky, and I don't want to bother him or his family. But I want to know if I can help."

"I'm actually planning on going to Bondy, would you like to come with me?"

You wanted to scream a yes. But you have to be rational and think if this is something that he would want.

"I don't want to be a bother."

"You will never be a bother, not to him or his family. Get ready and pack something to change just in case."

"What? Wait, what if he doesn't want me there?"

"Bébé, he's been in a shit whole without you, so get your pretty as to the closet, change into something, and send me your location. I'll be there in an hour." He says, hanging up the call.

You do as you were told. Sending him your location and the parking code.

Running to the bathroom to have a quick shower and get ready.

After that, you took a black legging, a white blouse with a little London eye on the side. You white sneakers. You add some blush and mascara, just to add something to your face.

You pack the basics and the clothes Tchaga told you to pack. Just to notice you were done in time. Tchaga texted you that he was in the basement waiting for you.

- Bondy - Later that day

Kylian was exhausted. He feels sad and tired. He feels like crying. But won't.

The room feels cold, barely any air. Of maybe it's just him having difficulty breathing. Maybe it's the last few, maybe it's the lost shot, maybe it's the team.

"Kyky"

Ethan was worried about him. He notices everything. How his brother has such prominent bags under his eyes and is losing a little weight.

How he chooses to sleep instead of doing the things he loves. How the whole "mbappe saga" destroyed a little his confidence.

"Want to tell me what's going on?"

Kylian scoffs, he can't believe that his little brother is the one worried and not the other way around.

"I'm supposed to be asking you that, Ethan."

"Well, if I'm worried about you, I'm going to ask and help.It's not like it's a crime being down."

"I just want this bad time to end."

"It will, don't worry, Ky, you're so strong."

He smiles, patting his brother on the shoulder. Ethan offers him a cookie. Knowing he likes them.

"Tchaga told me he was coming. He's probably about to be here." He sighs, not sure what else to do. "Let's play some fifa, I have the app on my phone."

He smiles, heartwarming with how much Ethan is doing to make him feel better. "If I win, you do the dishes."

"Deal."

While they got some distraction, you and Tchaga were stuck in traffic. You feel anxious. Maybe it was the drink you got at Starbucks, maybe the fact that after almost two years you and the man you love were reuniting.

"You need to stop with your leg, bébé." Tchaga says, putting his hand on your knee to stop it from moving. "The car is moving with you, and it's making me nauseous."

"Sorry, I'm just nervous."

"Okay, I want to know, let's get deep." He laughs, turning the car off and turning to you. "So you left after graduation, not blaming you tho, I would have done the same."

You smile at his rambling. You missed this so much. Maybe not the topic but the talk.

"The thing here is, you're back, but are you back for him? I know you came back to work. You just told me that."

"Get to the point." You laugh.

"My point is, don't rush me. We're not moving." He says sassy. "Are you taking him back? Are you sure you want to go back and take up every challenge you guys may face?"

You don't have to think your answer. You knew what you wanted way before stepping back into French territory.

"I wouldn't have come back if I wasn't sure that I wanted that."

-Bondy - 9:30 p.m. -

"Mom, I'm going back to the house, Tchaga is coming and Ethan is tired. Do you need anything else?"

"No, go and have a good sleep, baby."

He hugs his mom, kissing her cheek and leaving back to her house. Ethan and him walked over there. The night was calm.

"You know what I want?" Ethan asks.

"Yeah?"

"I want some chocolate with butter cookies." He says, caressing his tummy.

He nods, agreeing with how much a good chocolate and some good butter cookies will heal the day.

"Y/n used to make some amazing cookies. Never knew how to make them, but we can try doing them some other day."

Ethan was talking about other things, how he can't wait to see on the match against Netherlands.

When they got closer, he noticed the car of his friend. Tchaga went out, walking up to him and hugging him.

"Hey, Ethan, why don't you help me with something that's on the co-pilot side." He says with a smirk.

The teenager nods, not thinking about anything else walks to the door. He opens it, seeing you. He wanted to scream, but you shush him putting your finger over your lips.

"Hey, get inside, I will take care of this."

Both men nod to his words, walking inside while they talk, Tchaga was telling him about the crazy traffic and how a little trip turned into almost half a day one.

"What are you doing here?" He whispers while Tchaga walks into the house with his brother. "No that you aren't welcome but you surprise me."

"I wanted to make sure you guys are okay."

"Okay, sweet." He laughs, opening the door for you to get out. "I am, but I'm not if he is."

"I've been worried about him, his whole attitude, he not even being on the press conferences of les bleus."

"Yeah, my parents and I are worried. He won't open up to us." He sighs, tired of seeing his brother like this. "I just want him to go back to the happy Kylian."

"Hey, do you think you can give me some time alone with him? I want to talk."

"God, yes, let's go." He slams the door, grabbing your arm and practically running inside. "Stay here, I'm going to ask Tchaga to come see something so we can leave."

You nod, closing the door. He dissappear into the corridor. You open your bag to spray some mint scent into your mouth, take a small mirror to check that you look decent.

You hear two voices coming down. Tchaga and Ethan walked quickly to where you are. Excited about you and Kylian talking again.

"Okay, he's in the kitchen, go." Tchaga push you a little.

They both left the house. You stood there for a little while. Feeling the senses come back to you. You were about to meet up with him.

You walk slowly to the kitchen, hearing some music playing. You can't get cold feet right now. Not after spending hours in the car just to come see him.

His back is facing you. You run his whole figure with your eyes, smiling at the fact that you're matching without planning it.

You nock on the wood door that's at the entrance. He turns without looking, typing something on his phone.

"Hey E, I found a good recipe for those cookies."

"You can't bake even if your life depends on it." You laugh lightly.

He has to blink several times, scared this would be a fever dream and not you in front of him. With your rosey cheeks, you nice smile and the same shinning eyes he loves.

"I can write the recipe for you. That way, it's similar." You speak again. "But if you don't know how to use your oven the I don't think it will work."

He's still speechless, thing that worried you. He does the same thing you just did to him. Scan your whole figure.

"How?"

"I been on Paris for some time now." You confess, "I wanted to call you, I just felt so scared you weren't going to answer."

"Why wouldn't I?"

You shrug, not really feeling like explaining your insecurities to him. "Just, my mind playing games."

He wants to hug you, missing the feeling and warmth only you can give him. He wants to open his arms around you.

Fuck it, he thought.

Opening his arms while walking to you. You drop your bag to the floor, opening your arms to him.

The hug was like a band-aid. It was what your hearts needed. Like when you put something back together and it just fits so good you can't even see the damage.

"I miss you so much." He hides his face into your neck. Kissing it. "Please don't go, I can't take being away from you again."

You kissed his shoulder, feeling the moment you dreamed about it, the whole thing was better than your dreams.

"Can you look at me?"

He broke the hug, hands on your waist so you couldn't run. It's not like you're planning on doing it.

"If we're doing this again, I need you to really fucking trust me." You laugh, maybe out of nerves. "Babe, I would never be with you for your money. I am with you for your heart, for your soul, you're my fucking soul mate and I can't let you go. But if you fucking pull some shit like that I will make sure you are dead."

"I swear on everything I have, I swear on the kids we don't even have yet, that I won't pull nothing like that. Have all my money, have all my properties, what's mine is yours. I was stupid enough not to back you up, and that was the worst thing I ever did."

You shut him up with a kiss. The way his lips are just like you remember, as soft as before, as warm as before.

His hands on your back, pulling you as close as he can. While your hands are on his face. Not wanting to break the kiss.

When the air becomes a necessity, you both can't stop looking at your eyes. The eyes never lie. They tell our secrets. And if anybody sees the way your eyes look at each other, they will see heart shapes on them.

You hear someone clearing their throat. Making you both turn. "Well, hello, I didn't mean to interrupt. But I want to drop this off on the counter."

He let go of his hold, helping his mother with the box she had in her hands. "Oi, that smile was lost until today." She jokes. Making you blush. "Well, I'm going to sleep. Y/n, belle. This is your house. Make yourself conformable."

You nod, wishing her a good night. Once she's out of the kitchen view, you return to the arms of your love.

"By the way, please go to sleep, we have to get Kylian to training tomorrow."

Tou both laugh at her words. Not promising anything. Not after that long.

The game was good, Kylian just scored two goals. He was not only the captain but was the reason they won the game.

The crowd was crazy about it. people were sure he wasn't going scored the two goals that were sending them to the victory.

But oh boy, how wrong they were.

You walk with his mom and Ethan to the outside of the stadium. You were happy for him.

"You know, when he used to say you were his lucky charm, I was like, iugh disgusting. But I think you really are a lucky charm."

You laugh, hitting his arms. "I can go to your matches, maybe I can give you some of my luck."

"No need." Melissa interrupts, smirking. "He has his own lucky charm. Just a little shy to admit it."

"Oh shush." Ethan says, blushing like crazy.

Once you're on the basement of the stadium, where the private parking lot is. You all got into Kylians car.

"Hey, so you do like dudes with a car but without a license." E jokes, remembering the message you sent him.

"Careful kid," you warn jokingly. "You will be walking home if you keep with those unfunny jokes."

The whole trip was Ethan and Melossa fighting about something they saw on tik tok, making jokes about it and Fayza and you being confused.

When the time for Ky comes back home hits, Fayza, Ethan, and Melissa left. Letting him enjoy his night.

"Hey, handsome." You welcome him with a hug. "You did amazing, it was one of the best games you had this season."

"Another way of you telling me my club sucks."

"Shhh, just take the good part." You shush him with a kiss.

"Are we alone?"

You nod, kissing him again. You never had enough when you're with him. It was like a kiss with a candy. You love it and refuse to give in.

He picks you up, making his way upstairs. Almost falling, thing that made you laugh. It was like the beginning. And you loved new beginnings.

- Five months later -

"Ready?" You ask, putting on your seat belt.

He nods, he was feeling anxious about this decision, but you made him understand that it was a necessity.

During the little drive, he told you about some plans Luis has with the team as they were going to the last games of the Ligue 1.

"I never asked you this, but do you ever get free Uber eats?" You ask, confused. He plays for the Uber eats Ligue.

"Why would I get free Uber eats?"

"Uber eats Ligue 1"

"Bébé, just no."

You laugh at his expression, but you had to ask. It was something that had your curiosity.

You park outside the house, Kylian quickly exit the car and run to your side. He was a passenger princess, but he was a gentleman.

"Thanks, Mister Mbappe." You kiss his cheek, taking his hands on yours.

"You're welcome, Miss fiancé."

You knock on the door. You can't help but deep the hold on his hands. It was something that was necessary, you repeat in your head.

The door is open by a woman. She happily lets you inside, offering you something to drink.

"We're okay, thank you."

"He's in the garden. He's reading."

He leads the way to the garden, opening the door and letting you step outside first. The Parisienne air is cold. Good think there's some sun after the cold cloudy winter.

"Père."

Wilfrid smiles, leaving his book on the little table. He was excited about meeting you. He wanted as much as everybody a new beginning.

"Hey, you need to put on a jacket, is cold outside." He warns his son, hugging him. "Hey, Y/n."

"Hi, sir."

"Can I give you a hug?" He asks, hopeful that you will allow him to. "Aftet all, you will be my daughter in law."

You hug him, you left all the pain and resentment in the past, that was hurting you even more.

"Sit, please."

You loved the way his garden looks, wanting to stole some ideas for the new place. "I love the roses."

"They are looking good today. The sun is helping them to look good." He cuts one that's close to the table. Giving it to you. "Tell me. You guys came for a reason."

Kylian looks at you. He wanted you to be the one to talk. He nods his head once you look at him. A sign of support.

"I want to leave all in the past. We want to start a clean new beginning. And we want you on it. You're his father, and we're going to be family. So I. Well, we want you to be there for us."

"I want that, I know I have a long way to you, but please, now that my heart is full with good intentions."

"We know, père." Kylian says. "That's why we wanted to do this."

You feel out of breath. But at the same time, lighter, like taking something off your shoulders. Your life was taking a good turn.

You chatted with his father for a while, sharing some wedding details. Your plan was to have a wedding once the season finishes. So you can have a honeymoon and some free time with him.

You grab the hand of your fiance, the ring he gave you shining. You knew that even if it was hard, you needed to leave the past in the past. Just lean about it.

🪷🪷🪷

🏷: @slayweirdosaway @voguebikini @ironmaiden1313 @magicalfundragon @nightlockcornucopia @christianpulisic10 @bellinghambby22 @noodle81937 @moonlightholland22 @germanapples @paniwiaderko @megannandrewss @unstablefemme @suzysface @nightlockcornucopia @ama1a2 @topguncultleader @lunamelona

[chimivx]

champagne confetti.

pairing: Idol!Yoongi x Female!Reader (ot7 minus two) (vegas addition)

summary: Jungkooks secret listening party is full of surprises.

word count: 7400

warnings: 18+, adults doing adults things and talking about adult things, no explicit sexual content, drinking, mentions of miscarriage/pregnancy talk, IF I MISSED ANYTHING PLEASE LET ME KNOW!!

a/n: I was supposed to post this in the beginning of January. Apologies for the delay, been goin thru some things. Love you all. xo. This feels like an ending... But, I dunno... It also feels incomplete...

~ october 11th, 2023 ~

It took three rings for her to answer the phone.

Leaning over the bathroom counter, iPhone propped up against the mirror, your lips were pressed together firmly, an unreadable expression as Sunny’s bright smile popped up on the screen and fell within milliseconds, her pink glossy lips frowning. Behind her, palm trees and sunshine, a backdrop she’s become accustomed to, one she belongs in front of.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, squinting. Voices chattered in the background, a prominent one belonging to none other than Khloe Kardashian herself.

Taking a deep breath, you asked, “You’re filming?”

“No, having dinner with the girls,” she spoke fast, her eyes locked on you. “What’s going on? You okay? Dae okay? I can fly back.”

A small smile broke onto your lips. Nerves jittered in your veins, your heart beating a little faster than it should be. “We’re okay, just finished breakfast. She’s running around my room right now, she’s obsessed with Kook’s dirty ass song. We’ve had to listen to it everyday. Everyday, Sun. I hate it.”

“The Jack Harlow one?” she asked, and your grimace answered for you, making her cackle.

“First Seven, now this,” you said, teeth clenched. “What happened to sweet baby Jungkook?”

Sunny’s laugh sounded through your phone once more, triggering the pitter patter of little footsteps to come barreling into the bathroom door. “Honey, you’re funny, you know who changed that man.”

Your smile grew, shaking your head because you knew damn well who changed that man. Glancing to your right down at the floor, a two year old in pastel yellow footed pajamas was watching you, holding onto the doorframe with her little hands. There were messy pigtails in her hair, black as night, the skinny rubber bands slipping out after a good night's sleep. Eyes wide, the ghost of a smile on her face, she knew who you were talking to. 

“Hi,” you said to her, and she giggled, her cheeks squishing her eyes like her fathers would.

“Dae?!” Sunny called, lurching forward in her seat. She excused herself from the table and hurried into whoever’s house she was at, walking into a hallway grander than your own. Your daughter’s lips parted, curiosity written all over the face she stole from your husband. 

“Who is it?” you asked, keeping your eyes on the toddler as she walked toward you, wrapping her arms around one of your legs.

“Where’s my girl?” Sunny’s tone was eager, all she could see was the top of your head. Crouching down to pick Dae up, you propped her on your hip and grinned as Sunny gasped. “Hello, beautiful!”

Dae smiled, looking down at the phone, then looked at you, putting a finger between her little teeth.

“Say hi to Sunny,” you nodded, brushing leftover crumbs from breakfast off of her pajamas. “Tell her you haven’t brushed your hair yet today.” Another dramatic gasp came out of the phone, catching Dae’s attention.

“Baby, you tell your mother I blame her for that.” Sunny clicked her tongue. “You can’t even reach your hairbrush, it is not your fault.” She squinted at the screen. “She had those rubber bands yesterday, Honey, get them out!”

Dae was laughing, Sunny’s silly tone making her giggle in your arms, subsequently making you giggle along with her. “Dae,” you said softly after a breath, your daughter pointing her gaze at you. “Tell Sunny we’ve been really busy.” Your Californiacated best friend froze, her sculpted eyebrows furrowing a bit.

“Busy,” Dae said, copying you, her listening ears on full alert. Her little voice soft, smooth, the words broken as she tried to pronounce everything correctly.

“I’ve been gone for two weeks,” Sunny deadpanned. “How busy can you be?”

A laugh escaped you, Dae smiling back at you.

“Hey,” Sunny whined, “I’m over here, girl party, I want in on the secret,” she glanced around the room she was in, “I’m alone, promise.”

Your girl threw her arms around your shoulders, burying her head into your chest. Taking a look at Sunny, you laughed again at how smushed she looked on the screen, like she was trying to push her way through. Tapping your daughters back a few times where you held her, she perked up, still wearing a smile.

“Do you want to show Sunny?” you sighed, the nerves spiraling out of control.

“Show Sunny,” Dae said, drumming her hands on your shoulder.

“Show me what?!” Sunny cried from the phone.

A sudden deep breath shot through you. Dae, studying your form, placed a hand on your cheek, getting you to look over at her. You’ve seen the sparkle in her eyes elsewhere, in someone you’ve been without for a few weeks now. Someone you both had to say goodbye to, a day you wished to never have to relive.

She was half his, Dae was. Half Yoongi. A part of him you could still hold onto during these long months he’d be gone. It was never certain when you’d get to see him again throughout his service, but you held onto to hope that it was sometime soon. Especially now.

“I love you,” you whispered to your baby.

Dae, without missing a beat, whispered, “I love you.”

~ november 4th 2023 ~

Music played throughout the room soft enough to still be able to hear the person next to you speaking, yet loud enough to keep conversations private. Dressed in all black, flowing pants and a long sleeved bodysuit, you walked throughout the room with your chin held high, eyes searching the place for a familiar face. You’d come with Sunny, but she was stolen away from you the second you stepped in the door.

The night was alive, this venue buzzing with excitement and happy vibes as people who were both close friends or acquaintances of Jungkook came together to celebrate his brand new album, Golden. After listening to him, and watching him work on this project for ages, it meant so much to be able to be a part of this night. He was the last one to put out any solo music, meaning this was a celebration for the end of an era, and you were not ready for the start of the next one.

The one where you’d have to do life without any one of the seven boys around.

Greeting a few familiar faces, and a few new ones who just started to pay attention to you this year because of what went down in February, you moved throughout the room with a sprinkle of attention on you. During Yoongi’s tour that you were very much involved with, your daughter included, your entrance into the media world exploded. After February and the announcement, of course word of his family spread like wildfire, but the tour brought it all to life.

Now that he was gone the people who spoke to you tonight gave you the sympathetic half smile and nod, asking you how you and Dae were holding up without him. To each and everyone of them, you’d grin and shrug, letting them know this was no different than him being on tour, or him going away for work. Time spent a part was the story of your life. Especially after the last three years with your daughter.

Though, you weren’t going to lie, this go around the time a part was rough. You aren’t able to call him whenever you please, nor was he able to jump on a plane, or get in a car and come home to you whenever he felt like he needed just twenty minutes of your time. He truly was absent, and it sucked. Your two year old didn’t understand it, though she was used to her father being away. That much she got, but when it came down to not being able to see him through a phone screen as often as she pleased, she became a pouty mess.

Within the last month Dae has definitely become more clingy than you’d have wanted, but you knew that was just because she was having some big feelings that she didn’t understand yet. Both you and Yoongi prayed that this wouldn’t have a large impact on her and her development as she got older, her father being gone for such a chunk of time in her early years of life. You made it a point to talk about him every single day, play his videos, play voicemails he left you in preparation for this, listen to his music, and show her pictures of them together.

It wasn’t a worry she’d forget about him, it was a worry that she’d forget how he loved her.

The two of you had just watched a video of him talking to her before you left the house to come to the party, the clip leaving you in tears. He was in his office sitting in the leather chair at his desk, his hair messy over his forehead and his eyes tired. The weeks before he left were brutal for you both. He spoke to her with intention, repeating on and on how much he loved her, and how much he missed her, that he was proud of her and that she would see him very soon.

He tried his hardest to not shed a tear, but it happened anyway, and in true Yoongi fashion he laughed it off. After speaking to Dae he turned his words to you, knowing you’d be watching with her. He didn’t do this every time, he left other things just for you, so it was a complete surprise. As expected, your husband declaring his love for you, in front of your daughter, left you in tears.

But, the story of your life, right?

Smoothing your hands over your middle, smiling at a group of girls walking past you who had bowed their heads, you approached the bar, finding exactly who you were looking for. The boy dressed in all white towered over you, the view of his back from behind unbelievable. He stood next to Namjoon who was just as tall as him, but not nearly as wide. The maknae passed him a while ago.

Pushing between both of them, just below their shoulders, a smile pulled at your lips as they stepped away from you, then gasped once they realized it was you.

“Honey!” Namjoon cheered, slinging an arm around your back to give you a hug. Throwing both of your arms around his broad shoulders, you pulled him close and squeezed him, standing on your tiptoes.

“Hi,” you said quietly, pecking a quick kiss to his cheek. “Missed you guys,” you sighed, turning to Jungkook who waited patiently for his hug. “You’re all too busy now.” You barely had your arms around him before Jungkook was lifting you off the floor, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “Kook!” you giggled. “Put me down, I’m fragile!”

“Fragile,” he laughed, following directions, making sure you were balanced in your black boots before he let go of you. “I’m so glad you’re here,” he smiled at you, one that was all too big.

“Me too,” you returned the smile and snatched his hand, giving it a squeeze. 

“How’s the baby?” Namjoon asked, leaning against the bar with an elbow. Whirling around, you shot him a wide eyed look. “Dae?” His smile relieved almost every nerve that sparked in your heart.

“Dae,” you breathed. “She’s amazing.” The boys smiled, always happy to hear you speak of your daughter. “She’s… doing her best right now. We both are. She misses him.”

Namjoon pursed his lips and gave you the sympathetic nod so many other people have already given you. “Understandable,” he said. “It’s tough.”

“It is,” you shrugged. “But, we knew it was coming, so I’m… somewhat alright. It’s just hard to try to explain it to a two year old.”

A bartender sped by the back of the bar to refill glasses with Golden etched on them, placing down new ones for those who had just shown up, you included. Champagne bubbled in the glass that you were definitely heading home with. Jungkook grabbed two, holding one out for you to take.

“We’re not sad today,” he grinned. Glancing at the glass, you gulped and looked up at him.

“I’m not gonna drink, Kook,” you said quietly. Namjoon, already downing half his glass, perked a brow.

Jungkook nodded and turned toward the bar to place the glass down, but then froze, facing you without doing so. “Wait, hang on,” he said. “Where’s she at?” His eyes narrowed.

“Sunny?” you questioned. “Somewhere around here, I think-”

“No,” he cut you off, grilling you with his gaze. “Dae.”

A nervous laugh escaped you. “Kook, she’s not here.”

“Liar, where is she?” He did a once over of the room, his hardened gaze falling upon you again.

Rolling your eyes, you sighed, placing a hand on your hip. “She’s at home, probably begging Branson to play that god awful song you made about ejaculating on someone's face.” Behind you Namjoon lost his mind, nearly spitting out his drink. You shot him a look over your shoulder. “You’re not off the hook Mr. Smoke Sprite.”

Jungkook would have laughed if his jaw hadn’t fallen open in shock, a big ol’ smile behind it all. “She doesn’t like that song.” His whisper was laced with disappointment, eyebrows twisting into a knot in the center of his forehead.

Thinning out your lips, you nodded. “Loves it, Jungkook. She loves it.”

“Oh no,” he groaned, rolling his head back, taking a gulp of champagne. “Don’t let her listen to it, not my girl.”

“Now, whenever you feel like making a song like that ever again, you think about her,” you started to smile, knowing your words would make an impact. “You want someone to treat her like that when she’s all grown up?”

He scrunched his nose and pouted at you. “No,” he mumbled.

“Exactly,” you nodded once and took the champagne glass from him, taking a sip before stopping dead in your tracks. Processing your situation, Namjoon and Jungkook sandwiching you at the crowded bar, there really was no way for you to be sneaky about this. With the glass in your hand, you sideyed them both, a mouthful of champagne marinating on your tongue. Closing your eyes, you took a breath and accepted your fate, a stream of champagne falling from your lips back into the glass in your hands.

“I knew it,” Namjoon muttered. You could hear the smugness written all over his face. You gave him the quickest look without giving anything away, and turned to Jungkook whose face was screwed up, completely confused.

“Just drink it, Hon,” he laughed. “Dae’s home, you’re here to be you, you don’t have to worry about…” Voice trailing off, he paused and eyed you curiously. Then it all seemed to click at once. “Are you lying?” Testing the waters, he held in his jitters, but you could see it all building up beneath the surface. “You’re ly- Shit, no you wouldn’t do that… You’re… Honey, you swear?” 

Taking a long deep breath, you placed your glass on the bar and shrugged your shoulders. He exhaled heavily, a single laugh coming out with it. He held his arms out at his sides, putting his own glass down, trying to gauge how you were feeling by your body language. Namjoons eyes flickered between the two of you, allowing you your moment before he stepped in.

“It’s, like… brand new. Really brand new,” you said, raising your eyebrows. “Sunny knows, but that’s it. I’m not trying to… get anyones hopes up.” Speaking carefully, like you were warning them, Namjoon was the only one to nod in respect for what you had said. Jungkook understood of course, but his heart always got the best of him first. “I found out three weeks ago, I’m barely two months in.”

“Holy shit,” Jungkook whispered, pulling you into his arms. He shared a look with Namjoon, one you thankfully couldn’t see, a slightly worried one. Laying your head on his chest, the chains he wore cold against your cheek, you closed your eyes and let his hands on your back soothe some of the anxiety you’d been feeling since you saw the two little lines in your bathroom back in October. “I’m so happy for you, Honey.”

“Thanks, Kookie,” you said, painting a smile on your lips. “I haven’t been able to say the words yet,” you admitted, pulling back from him. Hugging Namjoon who congratulated you quietly, you couldn’t help but laugh. “Thirty years old and I can’t say the words.”

“That’s okay,” Namjoon said, embodying the word empathy.

Letting his calm, peaceful aura bleed into yours, you bobbed your head. “It is okay,” you repeated, not allowing you to gaslight yourself. Averting your gaze to the bar you shrugged your shoulders once more. “I just hope I have the courage to say them to him.” The boys were quiet, focused on you, listening intently. “It’s a shitty time for this to happen, I think, but not in the sense that… Well, you know what I mean?”

“Course,” Jungkook said, brows pointed.

“It’s just with Dae already having a hard time, Yoongi having a hard time, me, myself having a hard time,” you paused to collect your thoughts, squinting down at the wood. “What we just went through not even a year ago? I am just freaked the absolute fuck out that I’m going to go through it alone this time.”

“You can’t do that to yourself,” Namjoon spoke with ease. “Don’t add any more stress onto this. Timing may not be ideal, but it never was for you guys. If anything… this is right on point.”

“Shit, Joon.” The words tumbled from your lips in an exasperated burst. Throwing your arms back around him, you held him tight. All it took were two simple sentences to almost flip your mentality completely. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“I was totally thinking the same thing, by the way,” Jungkook said, making you smile. Turning toward him, he had his arms open waiting for you to jump back into them. Falling right into the trap, you pulled him close and kissed him on the cheek.

“I love you guys,” you said, grabbing both of them by the arm, giving them a small shake. “Keep it a secret, yeah? No telling boyfriends.” You narrowed your eyes and pointed at them playfully. 

Namjoon lowered his head with a chuckle and raised his glass in promise. Jungkook rolled his eyes and took a large gulp from his glass. “What boyfriend?” 

“Oh, come on,” you sang, tilting your head to the side. Jungkook settled his gaze on the party, eyes scanning the room with, you now notice, anticipation. “Kookie, don't do that to yourself.”

After another swig of his drink he twisted around to face the bar and smirked. “Promise I’m not a masochist… Even though he’s already got a song.”

“Hon-naaay!” Jimin’s high pitched, full of energy, singsongy voice flooded the air. Jungkook shot you a look over his shoulder as you pouted your lips at the same time.

Shooting your best smile at a now blonde Jimin you opened your arms, ready for him to fall into them dramatically as he would, but he stopped short. His own smile faded on his lips, to something soft while he looked you over, and it was like you could see the gears turning in his head. He held a glass of champagne in a Golden glass in one hand and the other found sanctuary on his hip.

“Hi, pretty,” you said in a voice you would use while talking to Dae. Jimin didn’t crack, he was honed in on you. Dropping your arms, letting them fold over your chest, you tilted your head to the side in question, though you weren’t sure you wanted, or were ready, for him to respond. 

In touch with his femininity a thousand times more than the others, the way his eyes scanned over you flipped your stomach. Jimin, like a woman, moved through his day to day like he was in touch with the moon, being guided through life by the space being without even knowing so. He made it through his days subconsciously following the twenty-eight day cycle a woman's subconsciousness was wired to.

He figured you out with one look.

Taking you in his arms tight, his head laying on top of yours, he sucked in a breath and released it with his words. “Hi, pretty.” Leaning back a bit, your lips parted to say something, but Jimin took a finger to your jaw to shut it. Then, he tapped your closed lips once and shook his head gently. He didn’t need the words.

“Taehyung not attached to you?” Namjoon asked, sipping his glass with composure, his curious eyes flickering over to Jungkook a couple times.

Jimin pulled away from you and shrugged. “He was, he probably found something better.” 

You weren’t positive, but you’re certain Jungkook mumbled, “Impossible,” under his breath.

“Sunny came with me,” you spoke up quickly to muffle anything else that would come out of the boy's mouth whether or not he had intentions of anyone hearing him. “He might be with her.”

Jimin’s eyes narrowed. “Mmm,” he hummed, shaking his head. “Don’t think so, she was hanging around Mingyu last time I passed her.” The name spewed confidently from his mouth, a subtle look of shock something you all shared, even Jungkook.

“Tell her she won’t have any luck,” Jungkook grumbled, having not turned away from the bar once. He hasn’t looked at Jimin since he arrived over here.

Swatting your hand at his shoulder with disappointment, Jimin gave him a somber look, the empath in him you knew was hurting too. Namjoon watched the scene ensue peacefully, waiting patiently for his moment to step in, if needed. They haven’t been a proper group for months, but that didn’t mean those dynamics were erased.

“Sunny is dating somebody, Kookie,” you said. “You know that. She wouldn’t ever hurt him.”

“Jin,” Jungkook said, finally turning around. “We can say his name. Jin. They may hate talking about it, but we can. Besides, he’s been away for so long now, bet she misses him. Not surprised she’d go for the biggest guy in the room.”

“Jungkook,” Namjoon chimed in, his glare one you never wanted to be on the receiving end of. The rest of the youngests second glass, that you’ve been around for, went down easy.

“I’m just saying,” he laughed to himself.

Both you and Jimin watched him in shock. Words like that, implying what he was implying, have never come out of Jungkook, nor has he ever thought them up before. The implication that Sunny would be untrue to Jin, that one’s partner being away for an extended period of time meant that everyone acquired, or wanted to act upon these thoughts.

“What does that say about me?” you asked, looking up at him, remembering the days of when he was a mere few inches taller than you.

“What are you talking about?” he shrugged sloppily. You could feel Jimin’s gaze watching you.

“I’ve spent more time away from Yoongi our entire relationship than Sunny has from Jin in the last year or so,” you said. “And I’m about to do it for another two-ish years.” Jungkook was silent. “In fact, until Jin comes back next summer, I’ll be without all of you. So, pick someone for me, Jungkook.” The boy didn’t move. “If we’re comparing sizes, who’ve you got?” A quick glance at Jimin. “Taemin?” A quick glance at Jungkook. “Jay?”

“From Enhypen?” Namjoon chimed in again. Cringing, you looked at him for a second.

“He’s a baby, nevermind,” you muttered.

“He’s also like, six feet tall,” Namjoon chuckled.

“Oh, I know,” you tapped Jungkook’s white jacket, “Your Seventeen boy can hook me up, it’s Jeonghan right? Always has longer hair? Think he’ll be into me?” Jimin held in a laugh, turning to keep it hidden. Jungkook sighed. “I’m married, I got one kid and another on the way, let’s see how well he plays daddy, huh?” 

“Okay, I get it,” Jungkook breathed.

“Jeonghan’s got that broodiness about him, right Joon?” Glancing over your shoulder, the eldest in the vicinity nodded without entertaining you with a smile. “He’ll fulfill the stereotype, it’s perfect! Dae might not even notice it’s-“

“Okay!” Jungkook turned up the volume, a couple party goers looking his way as they passed by. “I’m sorry! Jesus Christ, Honey.”

Pressing your lips together you smoothed a hand over his shoulder and gave it a squeeze, leaning in toward him. “I get you’re hurting,” you said just for him to hear. “But you keep bleeding onto everybody else, and that’s not fair. I love you, but saying stuff like that will only hurt others. Imagine if Jin heard that. He’s been in love almost as long as you, Kookie.”

The way he looked at you put a knife through your heart. “How do I fix it?”

“A lot has changed in the last year and a half. Really fast, too.” Wrapping your arm around his, you held him close. “We’re all adjusting in our own way, it’s a really weird place to be in. I mean… I have to go home with Jeonghan now.” He cracked a laugh, thankfully.

“You guys would pair up nicely.”

“Kookie, hush,” you laughed, shaking his arm. “You’re both about to go through a bigger change, together. Even if you can’t be… together, at least you can be together.” You squinted, hoping any of that made sense to the twenty-six year old.

He started to nod, easing some of the tension settling within your chest. “I get it.” He looked at Jimin briefly, who had taken a spot beside Namjoon, the two whispering about who knows what, and you wonder if it’s related to what you’re talking about now. “I’ll be with him most of the time too, until we get to Hobi, so…”

Your eyes widened as his did. “Hobi,” you both groaned together, falling into giggles shortly after.

“You’re really gonna need each other if you have to deal with him,” you said. “He’s a drill sergeant in rehearsals, good luck with him in the military!” Jungkook squeezed his eyes shut, throwing his head with a laugh. “I only wish you guys would get to see more of Yoongi,” you said after a breath.

Jungkook met your eyes, then his gaze traveled to the party behind you, a small smile pricking on his lips. “We’ll still get to see him, Honey.”

Toying with a zipper on his jacket you shrugged and took a deep breath. “I know, but I mean… I wish he got to be with you guys the whole time. He was worried about…” Looking up at him you paused, pressed your lips together with a smile, then shook your head. “Nevermind.”

Jungkook didn’t push on the matter, instead he bobbed his head in understanding and then ushered you to turn around in his arms. “Surprise.”

If your heart had the possibility to burst into flames, it would’ve. Swelling within your chest, your heart rate skyrocketing beyond belief, you didn’t even have the means to gasp in utter shock. Frozen where you stood, Jungkook's hands slipping off your shoulders, the three falling into quiet giggles, you couldn’t process any of it.

Dressed in all black, down to the thick knitted beanie on top of his head and the sneakers on his feet, Yoongi, with Taehyung's arm linked in his, had the tiniest smile on his lips as he came toward you.

“I come bearing gifts!” Taehyung cheered, giving Yoongi a small push closer to you.

Words escaped you, your mind unable to string any letters together to say something to him. Instead, you tipped your head backward and burst into tears.

A laugh slipped past his lips. He knew that was coming. Following your lead, he waited for you, and when you opened your arms he fell right in, scooping you off the floor, burying his face in your neck. 

“Hey! Careful, she’s frag-…” Jungkook’s voice tapered off quickly, his focus landing elsewhere, his lips pursed nonchalantly.

His words barely registered with either of you. There was very little anyone could say or do in this moment that would take away from the man you held in your arms.

Back on your feet you wasted little time, wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close into a kiss, one long and entirely overdue.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” you whispered, pressing your forehead to his.

Yoongi’s gaze ate away at your face, his eyes studying you completely. “I wanted a drink,” he shrugged, and you smacked his chest with your hands, a smile corrupting you. He smirked. “Came to see my girl,” he cooed, pressing a kiss to your lips. “Don’t tell Jungkook.”

“He knows,” the youngest said from behind you. Yoongi laughed, and your heart was squeezed between your lungs, the beautiful sound warming your skin.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him, you couldn’t believe that he was standing here in front of you, holding you, kissing you, smiling at you. It’d been a month and twelve days since you last saw him, since he held your daughter, and that thought fueled the tears that fell.

A month and twelve days has happened before, unfortunately a couple more days longer than this, but it made that reunion all the more sweeter. Of course that was before Dae, before marriage, so it didn’t cut as deep, but it was still hard. Holding onto him now, knowing your daughter was snug at home in the house you built together, unsure if whether or not he was able to come see her, you felt the need to squeeze him tighter, like your grip around him would keep him stuck here forever, and they’d never be able to take him again. 

Wiping the tears off of your cheeks with his thumbs, he kissed the tip of your nose and tried to twist you in his arms so you could both face your friends, but you wouldn’t budge. Laying your head on his chest as he tried to move, you heard him huff a laugh toward you trying to occupy the same space as him.

Your subconscious was screaming at you. The inner workings of your natural biology, your primal instincts if you will, were firing off like crazy, keeping you latched onto him. You needed him. And not in the way one would assume.

You needed his attention. You needed his care. You needed his protection, his energy, his love, his support.

Most reunions looked something like this, you and Yoongi unable to take your hands off one another, but this one was different. You were clingy, nearly shutting off your brain entirely because he was in the room and you didn’t need to do any of the thinking. The party became a distant noise to you, something you weren’t even worried about anymore, same for your friends behind you.

You felt Yoongi looking down at you, and when you tipped your chin up to meet his knowing gaze, the way you bat your eyelashes had him whisking you away to someplace quiet, a different room vacant of all people. He found a couch in the dimly lit room, a sitting area formed in front of a smaller, empty bar. Sitting you beside him, he smiled as you tried to crawl into his lap.

“Hi,” he whispered in the quiet, brushing his fingers over your cheek. Your arms found their way around his neck again.

Your gaze danced about his face, taking in every inch, every little imperfection, memorizing more so than you already have. “Hi,” you whispered back. The two of you watched one another for a minute, the music from the main party room thumping against the walls, laughter and happy chatter ringing just below it. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” he said without missing a beat. “Dae’s not here, right?”

Gulping, you nodded. “She’s at home,” you mumbled. “Can you come see her?”

Yoongi flattened his lips. “I dunno.”

Your grip around him tightened. “S’okay,” you tried to smile. “She asks for you everyday.” Tears welled in his eyes, ones he blinked away. “When we’re not listening to 3D she asks for your songs.”

“3D,” Yoongi groaned, rolling his head back against your arms. “Still?”

“Still,” you deadpanned, and once he caught a look at you, you both broke into a laugh. “I gave him a talk, don’t worry.”

Yoongi sighed, shaking his head. “Nothing gets through his head now, Park scrambled it all up.”

“Yeah,” you agreed. “They’ll be okay, though. I hope.”

Yoongi’s nod was solemn before he drug a finger beneath your jaw. “How ‘bout you? You okay?” The bad electricity sparkled in your veins, enough of a twinge to make you shift on his lap.

“I’m okay,” you said without an ounce of confidence. His smile was slick, his fingers dragging down the side of your neck now.

“Why you gonna lie?”

“I’m not,” your half shrug didn’t convince him.

Narrowing his eyes, his gaze somehow softened at the same time. “Honey,” he crooned, his voice like velvet. “Talk to me.”

“I’m…” You were hesitant, cutting yourself short right when the words were about to tumble out of you full force. He waited patiently. Swallowing the lump that lodged in your throat, hoping to ease the nausea that started to fester within you, you nodded, small, and whispered, “I’m pregnant.”

His expression didn’t change, didn’t falter, didn’t exhibit any signs of any other emotion other than patience. He only managed to whisper, “Yes you are.”

Your brows plummeted. “Who opened their mouth?”

Yoongi massaged the back of your neck with his fingers, sighing. “No one, Honey, it’s just…” he glanced between you, gesturing to how close you were to him. “You only get like this when you’re carrying one of my kids.”

Blinking, you purse your lips. “Do not.”

He laughed, bobbing his head. “Do to, it’s happened twice before.”

The words turned your skin to ice, Yoongi taking note of the utter fear that washed over you. Sliding his hand over the back of your head, he laid you on his shoulder, pressing his cheek to your forehead, taking a long deep breath. For a few minutes you both relished in the quiet, admiring the party from afar, the touch of one another enough to clearly communicate what you were both feeling.

Nobody knew what had happened in detail aside from Sunny and the boys. Branson knew bits and pieces, he was around for that week, helping to take care of Dae and the house if nobody else was able to. Not one of them talked about it. Even if you were to bring it up somehow, they didn’t linger on the topic long. It was for you and Yoongi to discuss, to share, to have. He was your son, you were the only two to ever know him.

“You don’t wanna know what I’ve thought about already,” you said. Yoongi gave your head a gentle scratch.

“Probably the same things I’m thinking right now,” he whispered. Looking up at him, his face still radiated patience, a calmness that radiated to you, though you could see the worries spinning inside his head. Curious about it all, you know you might not need to hear it. The one thought that gutted you both… He wouldn’t be here this time. “Mother fucker,” he mumbled, shifting his focus to you.

“Let me hear it,” you said.

“No, it’s just…” He collected his thoughts for a second, a laugh escaping him. “How is it this possible that we’ve got such… exquisite timing?!” He started to make you laugh. “You’d think by thirty we’d have it figured out, right? What’s wrong with us, babe!” Giggles galore. “At twenty-seven, the proposal planned, did it happen? Nope! Global pandemic and major surgery. Twenty-eight, my third album almost done, your projects lined up waiting for you, did they happen? Nope! We had a baby instead. Twenty-nine… You somehow say yes to marrying me. I think, finally, we’ll plan the wedding of your dreams. Did it happen?”

“Yes,” you chimed in, watching him in awe. He shot you a small smile with a wink.

“Thanks for that,” he breathed. “But, then the hiatus came, and the lawyers for the restraining order, and Dae turned one, and you were pregnant again, and I knew the announcement was coming after the Busan show, and…”

“And then we got married,” you said, sitting up to hold his face between your hands, delicately dancing your thumbs over his cheeks. “Saturday, November fifth. The most perfect day that happened a year ago, tomorrow.” He smiled, his cheeks squishing in your grip. “The trees were yellow, and orange, and bright and beautiful. The breeze held off until we finally kissed, making sure our guests were warmed by the sun before Autumn made an appearance.”

“Dae pulled the bow out of her hair during our vows,” he said, and you both laughed. 

“She is her mothers daughter,” you raised your eyebrows with pride. “I warned Sunny, I really did.” His smile settled, eyes gleaming with a sappiness that tugged at your tears. “It was the most wonderful day, D. Everyone was there, even your little boy.” A sudden breath shot through you. “Then, yanno, Jin left, and we had a month or so to pull ourselves together before I was thrown to the wolves.”

“It wasn’t enough time,” he muttered, and you nodded.

“I agree,” you whispered. “But, we made it. And after Hobi left we went on tour, and fuck, D, talk about the most amazing three months.”

“That really was the best,” he grinned. “Having you both there with me, jeez.” A happy roll of his eyes made you smile back at him. 

“Dae had more fun than either of us,” you scoffed.

“She sure did,” Yoongi said. “Remember the show Hope and Jin came to?”

“Of course I do,” you said. “That was the last one.”

“Yeah,” he breathed, a longing look spreading to his eyes. Questioning him with a small sound, he smirked. “It’s just… that show, that night… I thought, this is it. Thirty years of my life and I’ve got everything I’ve always dreamed of, everything I’ve always wanted, everything I could possibly need. You, Dae, the boys, Army… You.”

The tears were falling now, you could feel them.

“After everything we’ve been through, all that life has thrown at us- no, catapulted at us,” you both shared a laugh, “Onstage, I couldn’t help but realize, and recognize… Holy shit, we made it.” He wiped your tears, kissing your cheek. “And, I don’t give a fuck, Honey, we’ll make it again. And again. And again, goddammit. Unbelievably bad, shitty, fucked up timing is who we are. Since the start. July sixteenth, twenty fifteen.”

“A New York curb,” you whispered.

Yoongi beamed. “A dangerous New York curb,” he snickered. “Making people fall in love and shit?” A laugh came out of you within a breath, only Yoongi able to make you laugh and cry at the same time.

“Namjoon said something earlier,” you sniffled, taking his hands within your own. “Like what you just said, how the timing isn’t ideal, but that’s who we are. That this is right on point.” 

Yoongi let your words sink in, let his leader's words sink in, comforting him the same way they did you. “He’s right. He’s always right.”

“Unfortunately,” you joked and he cackled. “The only thing that’s keeping me from going totally insane is knowing that by June Jin will be here. Regardless of what schedules he’ll be involved with, if any, he’ll be here. Accessible.”

“That makes me feel better, too,” he sighed, then licked his lips. “How… How far are you? Do you know? When did you find out?” The questions tumbled out of him at lightning speed, each answer you had for him getting lost between each one.

After a giggle, you said, “October eleventh, I found out. Dae was dancing around our room, she left me to do it all alone, the stinker. 3D is more important to her, I guess.” Yoongi scoffed. “I wasn’t feeling so good, thought it was just leftover nerves after you leaving, thought I was late for the same reasons, but when I checked I was really late, so I took the test just to be safe. There were no hopes up or anything, no nerves because I really didn’t think it’d be positive…”

Yoongi listened with intent. “Didn’t think it would be, or didn’t want it to be?” He asked you genuinely, no discomfort wrapped around the question at all.

“I kept thinking… if this is positive, then what the actual hell am I going to do?” He nodded, his hands holding you carefully. “We didn’t say what we’d do, because we didn’t think this would happen. D, we need to start putting together plans ‘cause at this point I’m starting to think you could sneeze on me and I’d get pregnant, and if timing isn’t our thing then we need to be prepared for it all.”

Swiping his thumb over your lips he smirked. “Where’s the fun in that?” Giving you the smallest kiss, he said, “We could plan out every last little detail, babe, and I can ensure you, somehow, someway, the universe would laugh in our faces. Loud.”

He was right. Even on the day of your wedding, the most planned out day of your life, things went askew. The birth of your daughter didn’t go to plan, that entire fiasco turned into a legitimate emergency. You could have every detail splayed out, even the fine writing between the lines, and life would find a way to toss the cue cards in the air, laughing as it did. 

“This is a blessing,” Yoongi said, his voice shifting to something soft. “And, entirely on time for us, as fucked as that may sound.”

“It does make sense, doesn’t it,” you agreed. Sitting here with him, reviewing your lives, this brand new little one seemed to fit right into the insanity. The tiniest spark of hope ignited inside of you, one that you were nervous to share with your husband, but you were certain that he could feel it too. 

You both wanted a second child, you wanted Dae to have a sibling, a sister or a brother. The two of you realized during your first pregnancy and throughout Dae’s first year of life that you wanted multiple, more than two. However, after the last year you were content with just one more. If there were anymore to follow, so be it, but this second one was a must.

Deep within both of you you knew that this child would be your third, and that would be something you held close to your heart for the rest of your lives, letting Dae and your future children know that they once had a brother who loved them too much that he had to find solace within the clouds, so he could watch over and protect his family.

Yoongi nodded, slowly, knowing exactly what was going through your mind. As a tear slipped down his cheek he threw his arms around you and rocked side to side, pressing a hundred kisses to your shoulder. His lips traveled up your neck, making you giggle, until they found your lips, kissing you slowly, drinking this moment up, the both of you wishing you could drown in it. 

“An August baby,” Yoongi whispered, pulling from you with a breath. You smiled.

“An August baby,” you repeated. “The end of summer’s gonna get real busy for us.” Yoongi’s smile grew, it grew so big he had to laugh.

“Oh my god,” he exhaled, his words barely audible. He kissed you, and then he kissed you again. “I love you so much.”

Letting your hand fall down to his left shoulder, you gave him the gentlest squeeze, and smiled. “I love you too, D.”

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