#AND SHE CALLED ME DARLING<3<3 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cheftsunoda · 19 days ago

Note

Hiii, I had this idea for Kimi where the reader is the youngest Leclerc, 18, but the Leclercs don't see her, they ignore her. Still, she's been dating Kimi for like a year (she moved to Italy when she was younger with her godparents or something), and I was wondering if you can make it like a 2-3 parts??

he put me first — ka12

smau + blurbs

kimi antonelli x !estranged leclerc sister reader

yn always fell on the back burner for her family, never truly seen. her father was the only one who ever made her feel like she mattered. when he passed, the distance between her and her siblings—charles, arthur, lorenzo—only grew wider. she felt more like a shadow than a sister. desperate to escape the weight of monaco and the name that never really felt like hers, she left for italy with nothing but a suitcase and a tearful phone call to her godparents. that was five years ago.

a year into her new life in bologna, she met a boy. kimi antonelli—soft-spoken, kind-eyed, and utterly unlike anyone she’d ever known. they were just kids when they met, but something about him felt like home. they’ve been inseparable ever since. now, five years later, both 18 years old, yn and kimi have been together for three years. he’s the only person who’s ever truly seen her. but everything changes when kimi is offered a spot in formula 1. because standing on that grid? is her brother. and kimi has no idea who she really is.

(a/n) : amazing idea anon! part two is already finished and will be posted in a few hours. i wasn’t sure if you wanted a happy or sad ending so i wrote both :)

fc : darianka on ig

part two here

—

5 years ago…(Before YN privates her instagram and goes radio silent.) (age 13 1/2)

yn_leclerc

57,089 likes.

yn_leclerc : au revoir pour toujours (goodbye forever)

—

username00 : hope this poor girl finds peace wherever she ends up

username15 : her family never deserved her truly and she must be so upset about the passing of her father

username20 : is she leaving monaco fully?

username17 : is this leclerc’s little sister??

username10 : yes

username17 : starting his f1 debut with family drama yikessss

username50 : grief is hard especially when you don’t have a good support system. we love you, yn.

liked by yn_leclerc

username11 : y’all act like this is so out of left field when none of the leclerc’s acknowledge her publicly and charles was legit asked about his family in an interview and said he had ‘two brothers’. I hope this poor girl heals.

username22 : the poor thing just lost her father a year ago and has been living in agony ever since. she seemed like she had no one to lean on.

—

yn_leclerc has unfollowed charles_leclerc

yn_leclerc has unfollowed arthur_leclerc

yn_leclerc has unfollowed lorenzotl

yn_leclerc has unfollowed leclerc_pascale

yn_leclerc has made her account private.

yn_leclerc is now its_yn on instagram.

—

3 months later

charles_leclerc has requested to follow you.

Block? Account is now blocked.

—

The house was quiet. Too quiet. No footsteps in the hallway. No one calling my name. Just the ticking of the clock above the kitchen sink and the sound of my own breath as I stood by the door, suitcase in hand, trying not to shake. I looked around one last time. The living room still had the blanket folded the way Papa used to do it. There were photos of us smiling—when I was younger, when I thought we were happy, before the silence swallowed everything after he was gone.

No one had come to stop me. Not Charles, not Arthur, not Lorenzo. I don’t even know if they noticed I was leaving. Or maybe they did and just thought I’d come back like the youngest sibling who didn’t know any better. But this time is much different.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. A message from my godmother: “We’ll be at the airport in Bologna when you land, darling. We’re so glad you called.”

That was the only text I’d gotten all day. The car ride to the airport was a blur—buildings passing by like ghosts, my reflection in the window looking pale and unfamiliar. I clutched Papa’s old scarf the entire ride, fingers curled tight around the soft wool, as if holding on to it meant I wasn’t fully leaving him behind. When I reached my gate, I felt something shift. Not relief. Not excitement. Just this aching hollow where my home used to be. Boarding was called. I stood. Walked. Didn’t look back.

As I sat by the window and the plane began to taxi down the runway, I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. The tears came quietly, without a warning—just like the grief did. Just like the loneliness that had made a home inside me the day they stopped looking at me the way he used to.

I pressed my forehead to the cold glass and whispered, “au revoir, Papa.”

And I left. Forever. Or so I thought.

—

The air in Bologna was different. Warmer, softer, like it wasn’t trying to weigh me down. The sun stretched low across the sky as I stepped out of the airport, suitcase dragging behind me, heart heavier than anything I was carrying.

My godmother spotted me first. She didn’t say anything right away—just pulled me into a hug, the kind of hug that said I know you’re not ready to talk, but I’m here when you are. I clung to her like I was drowning.

The drive to their home was quiet. The roads curved through terracotta buildings and narrow alleys lined with vines and shutters and chipped paint that somehow looked like art. Everything felt old, but in a comforting way. Like maybe it had survived too much and was still standing anyway.

Their house was small and warm and smelled like garlic and old books. My room overlooked a garden with a lemon tree and chipped flower pots and two cats who seemed entirely uninterested in my arrival.

I set my suitcase down and sat on the edge of the bed. Everything was quiet again—but this time, it didn’t feel suffocating. Just… unfamiliar. I checked my phone. Nothing. I told myself it was the time difference. That maybe Charles was racing. That Arthur was busy with training. That Lorenzo had work. That someone—anyone—was thinking about me. But the silence didn’t change.

That first night, I couldn’t sleep. I kept staring at the screen, refreshing my messages. Waiting. Hoping. A stupid part of me thought I’d hear a knock at the door. That someone would get on a plane. That I’d wake up to a missed call or a message that said “Come home.”

But it never came. And deep down, I already knew it wouldn’t.

So I turned off my phone. Slipped under the unfamiliar sheets. And let the sound of Bologna—distant voices, the creak of old floorboards, a cat meowing in the courtyard—slowly lull me into something close to peace.

For the first time in a long time… I didn’t feel like a burden. Just a girl with a second chance.

—

I didn’t want to go. My godfather insisted I needed “fresh air and new faces.” I would’ve preferred to stay hidden in my room, curled up with a book or pretending I wasn’t still checking my phone every hour. But he was persistent in the gentle way only he could be — and before I knew it, I was being walked down the stone path to a small karting track just outside the city.

It smelled like rubber and oil and sun-warmed concrete. I hated it immediately. It reminded me of home — not the home I was trying to forget, but the one I couldn’t stop missing. There were a few kids scattered around, helmets under their arms, laughing and comparing lap times. I hovered awkwardly near the fence, hands in my sleeves, trying not to make eye contact. That’s when I saw him.

He wasn’t loud like the others. He was off to the side, squatting next to a kart with grease on his fingers and a serious look on his face. Blue eyes narrowed in concentration, curls messy under the weight of the sun. He glanced up at me. Just once. And then again — longer this time. Not in a curious, who’s the new girl kind of way. But softer. Like he already knew I didn’t want to be there. He wiped his hands on his suit and walked over, quiet steps across the pavement.

“You don’t like racing?” he asked, his Italian smooth but slow. Like he was trying not to scare me off.

I shrugged. “It’s complicated.”

He nodded like he understood more than he should for a boy his age. “I don’t like people watching me when I drive.”

I blinked. “Aren’t you supposed to be used to that?”

He shrugged back. “I race better when no one’s expecting anything from me.”

I looked at him then — really looked. And for the first time in weeks, I didn’t feel like I was about to cry.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Kimi,” he said simply. “You?”

“YN.”

He smiled, just barely. “You look like you needed someone to talk to.”

I didn’t say anything. But I stayed. And so did he. We sat by the fence for the rest of the afternoon — not saying much, just watching the karts fly by. He offered me half of his water bottle and didn’t ask why my eyes looked red or why I flinched every time my phone buzzed. He just… stayed. And that was enough.

—

a few months later

His room always felt lived in. Not messy, just… honest. Trophies tucked into corners like he forgot to show them off, books stacked sideways on a shelf, a blanket half-hanging off the bed from when we’d watched a movie the night before and fallen asleep mid-scene. I was sitting cross-legged on the floor, picking at the frayed end of the rug. Kimi lay on his stomach across the bed, chin resting on his arm, eyes lazily watching me in that calm, patient way of his.

“Do you ever miss home?” he asked quietly, out of nowhere.

I froze for a second. Then shrugged, trying to play it off. “Not really.”

He raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound true.”

I didn’t answer. He didn’t push. Just waited, the silence stretching softly between us, like it always did when he sensed I had something I was trying not to say.

“I used to think it was normal,” I said finally. “To feel invisible.”

His expression didn’t change, but he sat up, like my voice had shifted something.

“They were busy. All the time. With important things. Big things. I was just… there. A shadow in the background. Quiet, easy to forget.” My fingers curled around the edge of the rug. “The only one who really noticed me was my dad.”

Kimi’s brows furrowed slightly. Still quiet.

“He made me feel like I wasn’t just an accident. He remembered things, small things. He showed up. He listened. And then… he was gone.” My throat tightened. “After that, it was like I stopped existing to them.”

I could feel my eyes sting but I didn’t let the tears fall. Not yet.

“I kept waiting for someone to knock on my door. To ask if I was okay. To notice I was breaking. But no one did. So I left.”

Kimi didn’t say a word. Just leaned down and passed me one of his racing gloves like it was a stress ball. I took it without thinking, gripping it tightly in my hands.

“I thought they’d message. Call. Ask me to come back. But they didn’t.” My voice cracked, just once. “They never did.”

A long beat passed. And then he said softly, “They don’t deserve you.”

I looked up at him, startled.

“I mean it,” he said, eyes steady and a little sad. “Whoever—wherever they are… they don’t deserve you.”

And that was the thing about Kimi. He never needed all the details to understand exactly what I meant. He slid off the bed and sat beside me on the floor, shoulder to shoulder. He didn’t say I’m sorry, or It’ll get better, or You should call them. He just sat there — present, quiet, and unwavering. For the first time in a long time, I felt like someone had chosen me. Not because of a name, or a title, or an obligation. Just… me.

—

The days had started feeling softer. Lighter. I wasn’t exactly happy — not yet — but I was starting to breathe again. I saw Kimi almost every day. We didn’t always talk much, but it didn’t matter. There was comfort in his silence. In the way he didn’t ask questions I wasn’t ready to answer. In the way he made space for me without trying to fix me. That night, it was raining. Not a thunderstorm — just a steady, quiet drizzle. We’d been watching a movie on the old TV in his living room, but we both lost interest halfway through. Now we were just sitting in front of the window, side by side on the floor, watching raindrops slide down the glass. His shoulder brushed mine. Not on purpose. Not entirely on accident either.

“You seem… lighter lately,” he said after a long stretch of quiet.

I looked down at my hands. “I guess I am.”

He nodded like he already knew that. Like he could feel it in the way I laughed a little easier. Like he saw the part of me that was slowly, finally, healing. I glanced at him. His curls were damp from earlier, still soft and sticking to his forehead. He had that look again — thoughtful, half-serious, like he was about to say something important but didn’t know how.

“Do you ever think about…” I started, then stopped.

He tilted his head. “About what?”

I swallowed. “Us.”

There was a pause, long enough that I thought maybe I’d ruined everything.

“All the time.”

My breath caught. He looked at me — really looked at me. “But I didn’t want to push. I didn’t know if you were ready.”

I blinked hard, my throat tightening. “I don’t know if I am. Not really. But I want to be. With you.”

He reached out slowly, giving me the space to move back. I didn’t. His fingers brushed mine, then threaded through them like it was the most natural thing in the world. And then, gently — so gently I almost thought I imagined it — he leaned in and kissed me. It wasn’t fireworks or heat or any of the things I thought a first kiss had to be. It was soft. Slow. Careful. It was safe.

When we pulled apart, he didn’t say anything right away. Just rested his forehead against mine and whispered, “You don’t have to run anymore.”

And for the first time in years, I believed that.

—

3 years ago (private IG) (age 15)

its_yn

liked by kimi.antonelli and 428 others.

its_yn : so proud of my boy <3

—

view 25 comments.

kimi.antonelli : mia bella regazza. ti amo così tanto ❤️ (my pretty girl. love you so much)

liked by its_yn

its_yn : je t’aime ma chérie

yourbff : so cute 😊

liked by its_yn

username22 : so she is missing for two years and pops back up with some random prema guy. hm

username17 : let her be. its clear they didn’t care for her. she has a new life.

liked by its_yn

username8 : she has grown so much in just two years, beautiful girl.

liked by its_yn

—

3 years ago (Age 15)

The paddock was buzzing with energy. People rushing around, shouting in Italian, cameras flashing. I stayed close to Kimi’s side, his hand occasionally brushing mine, grounding me. He introduced me to a few mechanics and an engineer, but I barely registered their names. My stomach was already tight. Then I saw him. It was just a glimpse — the back of his head at first, the familiar tilt of his shoulders as he laughed with someone near the Prema hospitality area. My heart stopped. Arthur.

I hadn’t seen him in two years. I didn’t even know he was racing for Prema now. My eyes locked onto him like a ghost had walked into the room. He hadn’t changed much. Taller, maybe. Sharper around the edges. But still him. He turned a little — not toward me, just enough for me to catch his profile — and I froze. My breath vanished. My chest started to cave in. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move. I turned sharply and pushed through the crowd, barely hearing Kimi call after me.

I found a quiet spot behind one of the team trucks, crouched down and pressed my hands over my mouth to muffle the sound of my breathing. Too fast. Too loud. I didn’t know if it was fear or guilt or some horrible mix of both, but the world was spinning.

A few minutes passed before I heard footsteps approach — soft, careful ones. Kimi didn’t say anything. He just sat beside me on the concrete, close but not touching.

After a moment, he offered me his water bottle and looked at me gently. “You don’t have to tell me,” he said. “But I’m here if you ever want to.”

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. Not because I was sad — but because he never asked for more than I could give. Never pushed. Never demanded an explanation or a name. He just waited.

“I didn’t know that someone I used to know would be here,” I whispered after a long while.

Kimi nodded once. “It’s okay. Take your time.”

I wiped my face on my sleeve and stared down at my hands. “I thought I was far enough away. That I could breathe here.”

“You still can,” he said, soft but firm. “You’re safe. I promise.”

He wrapped me into him and pressed a soft kiss to the top of my head softly humming into my ear.

—

I hadn’t planned on staying.

After seeing Arthur, every instinct in my body told me to disappear — to slip away before he could look up and really see me. But then Kimi found me behind the truck and told me quietly, “My family’s here. Come sit with them, yeah? I think you need them today.”

He was right.

So now I sat in the Prema grandstand with Kimi’s little sister curled up beside me, legs swinging, playing with the bracelets on my wrist. His mother had tucked a handkerchief into my palm and told me, “You look pale, sweetheart. You need sugar,” before pressing a warm piece of cake into my hand from her bag.

They always treated me like I belonged — like I wasn’t this strange, fractured thing still learning how to be whole. Kimi’s father stood beside us, arms crossed, watching the track like a general watching his son go to war. The cars screamed past us in blurs of color, and every time Kimi’s flashed by, his sister would squeal and clap, and I couldn’t help but smile. Even through the noise, the nerves, the ache in my chest — I smiled. Until I saw the flash of red out of the corner of my eye. Arthur. He was walking along the lower row, near the barricades, clearly heading toward the engineers and team leads. A pass swung around his neck. He hadn’t noticed me — yet — but the sight of him this close sent a bolt of ice straight through my chest. I sat up straighter, turned my head slightly, trying to hide without drawing attention. My breathing quickened. Kimi’s father noticed instantly. He didn’t say anything. Just looked down at me for a half-second, eyes sharp and knowing, before taking a small step forward and positioning himself directly in front of me — calm, casual, like it was coincidence.

But I knew it wasn’t. He stood just enough in Arthur’s line of sight to shield me completely. He didn’t even glance back. Just crossed his arms and watched the race again like nothing was wrong. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. Not from fear this time — but from something deeper. Something I hadn’t let myself feel in a long time. Protected. Accepted.

The little girl beside me leaned into my shoulder and said, “Papa says Kimi drives best when you’re watching.”

I blinked fast and gave her a watery smile. “I think so too.”

Arthur passed by without noticing me. And I exhaled. Kimi’s father gave the smallest nod without looking back — a silent I’ve got you. And for the first time since I ran away from my old life, I didn’t feel like I was running anymore.

—

present day

The Antonelli kitchen felt like the safest place in the world. It smelled like basil, fresh dough, and melted cheese. Kimi’s mom was humming as she shaped dough into little hearts, laughing every time her kimi threw flour in the air like confetti. His dad was outside with the grill, pretending to be a world-renowned chef. Maggie was sat on the couch on her iPad, picking out what she thought I should wear on my first magazine cover. And I was leaned against the counter next to Kimi, our elbows brushing, my cheeks still warm from all the attention. They were celebrating me. Me — the girl who once ran away in silence. Me— the girl who was just picked up by one of the biggest model agencies in the world.

“Model status suits you,” Kimi teased, reaching over to flick a piece of mozzarella off my shirt. “Soon you’ll be too cool to sit at my kitchen table.”

I snorted. “Right, because Vogue’s dying for a girl who cries watching dog videos and can’t walk in heels.”

He smirked. “That’s exactly your charm.”

I didn’t respond — not out loud. Just looked at him the way I always did when I didn’t have the words to say thank you for staying. For loving me when I couldn’t love myself. His phone buzzed on the counter. Once. Twice. Then nonstop.

Kimi’s dad poked his head through the back door. “Tesoro, your phone’s vibrating like it owes someone money.”

Kimi chuckled, swiping it up and answering casually.

“Ciao, Kimi speaking…”

Then came the pause. I watched it happen in slow motion — the shift in his voice, his posture, the disbelief spreading across his face like sunlight cracking through clouds.

“Wait—really?” he said, straighter now. “Like… official? For this season?”

The phone slipped from his ear a moment. He looked at me — stunned. Breathless. And then he laughed. Just once. A sharp, stunned sound.

“They want me. Formula 1. I’m in.”

The room exploded. His mom gasped, then started crying. His sister squealed so loud the dog barked. His dad came rushing in, hugging them both, eyes glassy with pride. Kimi turned toward me, beaming, his arms already opening like they always did when the world became too much. And I stepped into them — because I loved him, and he had worked for this his whole life, and nothing in the world could’ve made me prouder.

But behind my smile, a storm was brewing. F1 meant exposure. Paddocks. Media. Faces from a past I’d hidden like a wound. It meant Charles. It meant the life I left behind — the life I never wanted to explain — was about to come crashing into the one I’d built with Kimi. He pulled back slightly, still grinning, forehead pressed to mine. “Can you believe it?”

I nodded. Swallowed the lump in my throat. “Of course I can.”

But deep down, I wasn’t sure who I was more afraid of facing — the brothers I’d run from…Or the boy I loved who still didn’t know.

—

twitter!

f1gossipgirls : Let’s get to know our newest rookie— Kimi Antonelli. It was just announced that the 18 year old will be taking Lewis Hamilton’s (big shoes to fill) spot at Mercedes. Born and raised in Bologna, Kimi is the son of racing driver, Marci Antonelli. He has had back to back Direct-Driver European Championships and he won his first title in 2022 F4 Championship with Prema racing. He has been a member of the Mercedes Junior team since 2019. Now— we know what you are all thinking ladies. Does he have a girlfriend? Are we getting a new wag? Short answer being, yes— he does have a girlfriend. 18 year old, YN, who just recently signed with one of the world’s biggest modeling agencies and we do have to say…she is quite gorgeous. Her once-private Instagram account recently went public — and fans immediately noticed Kimi appearing in multiple soft, cozy photos going back years. No tags. No captions. Just vibes. She has also appeared on Kimi’s account many many times. However— F1 fans are clocking something. She looks familiar— with some insisting they’ve seen her around the paddock long before she ever appeared on Kimi’s feed. Let us know what you think below!

view 120,090 comments.

username00 : is this the YN?? like the one we all know.

username20 : WAIT. am i insane or does she look like she could be a leclerc??

username17 : because she is

username20 : huh?

username17 : the leclerc’s have always had a little sister— she was just always left behind. she disappeared shortly after their dad died. guess this is where she was

username15 : my friend is one of the people that still had access to her instagram while it was private and before she deleted all the family stuff. it is most definitely the same yn.

username000 : OMG OMG yn return to the paddock was not on my 2025 bingo card

username7 : this is the drama i needed this season to open with YES MAMA

username11 : wow she has grown up so much. she is stunning. definitely can see those leclerc genes

username0 : her and kimi are so cute omg. they’ve been together since they were 15

this tweet has reached 500k retweets.

—

third person point of view

It was a quiet evening in the Leclerc apartment. The windows were cracked open, letting in the soft hum of the sea below, and the TV played old F2 highlights that neither Charles nor Arthur were really watching. The off-season had given them rare downtime — but lately, neither of them had really known what to do with it.

Arthur was half-scrolling through Instagram, letting the silence settle between them. Then he stopped. His thumb hovered over the screen. His body went still.

“Charles,” he said, voice tight.

Charles didn’t look up. “What?”

“No—Charles. Look.”

Arthur turned the phone toward him. It was a post from a well-known F1 gossip page. The caption wasn’t what caught Charles’s attention, though. It was the photos — grainy at first, then clearer, softer. A girl in a sun-drenched field. On a balcony. Sitting next to Kimi Antonelli, smiling like the world wasn’t heavy anymore. Her smile. Her face. It couldn’t be. But it was.

His breath caught. “No…”

“It’s her,” Arthur whispered. “It’s YN.”

They both stared. It had been five years. Five years since she’d vanished overnight with nothing but a vague message and a suitcase. Five years since they’d called her phone, left angry voicemails, waited by the door. Five years without their little sister. And now here she was.

Not a girl anymore. Not the quiet, overlooked youngest who used to sit at the end of the dinner table, trying not to take up space. She looked like a woman now. Confident. Radiant. Her curls were longer, darker. Her cheekbones sharper. Her eyes… the same, but older. Like they’d seen more than any eighteen-year-old ever should have. Charles swallowed hard, eyes locked on the screen.

“She’s stunning,” he murmured, almost like the words had escaped him before he realized he said them.

Arthur didn’t respond right away. His throat was tight. “She looks… happy.”

Charles nodded slowly. “Yeah. She does.”

Another beat passed.

“She went public,” Arthur added. “Her account. It’s not private anymore. That wasn’t an accident.”

Charles took the phone from him, scrolling carefully through her feed. The soft aesthetics. The little captions. Kimi in the background of nearly every photo, his arm around her waist, his chin on her shoulder.

“She really stayed gone,” Arthur said. “She meant it.”

And it hurt. It shouldn’t have surprised them — not really. But it did. They’d spent so long pretending she’d come back on her own. That time would heal things without them having to face what they’d done — or failed to do. But now, the girl they barely said goodbye to had grown up into someone they didn’t even recognize. Someone who had built a life without them.

“She’s with Kimi,” Charles said, staring down at one of the photos. “She’s been with him a while, I think.”

Arthur looked over. “Do you think he knows who she is?”

Charles shook his head. “If he did, we’d have known a long time ago.”

Silence stretched between them again. Then Arthur said it — the question neither of them had said aloud in years.

“Do you think she hates us?”

Charles stared out the window, jaw tight, eyes glossy.

“I think… she had every right to.”

—

2K notes · View notes

prosypepper · 8 months ago

Text

this is love ft. kento nanami

a/n: a few sappy slices of life with my main man :3 enjoy as i dig up motivation to finish kinktober. 18+ mdni!

"honey?" kento's voice is muffled through the door as he calls out to you, "everything okay?" the door rattles as he tries to open it, knob jingling.

"uhm, yeah! everything's fine!" you nervously shout, much too loud, and rush to unplug the iron that had melted your husband's favorite shirt. you panic and yelp when the hot iron scorches the side on your hand, throwing the stupid device to the ground in a clatter.

"why is the door locked—are you okay?" he asks, voice becoming more concerned as he hears the movement inside.

"i'm—i'm fine! promise! just give me a minute!" you're rushing into your shared master bathroom to run cold water over your hand, and kento’s using a screwdriver pulled from thin air to break into your bedroom. tears well in your eyes when you catch the sight of kento seeing his favorite shirt burnt and melted to his own ironing board. "i’m so sorry…"

in reality, he doesn’t care about the shirt—he’s already at your side to inspect your burnt hand. after a few seconds, he speaks.

"did you try to iron my shirt for me?" nanami asks, a small smile on his face, "you didn’t have to do that." he turns off the faucet and takes a small towel to dry your hand off.

"i tried to, i’m sorry—i didn’t know it would do that." you apologize, looking down at the cold tile flooring in defeat.

"oh, honey." he coos, "it’s only a shirt."

"have you seen your father?" you ask your son, yū, who’s sat at the dining table, eating breakfast. he shakes his head no, and when you look at your daughter, mayu, she does the same.

"jeez," you grumble to yourself, bedroom slippers pattering down the hallway as you go to search for your husband. saturday mornings were his time to sleep in, but realistically, he never slept past 9am. and currently, it was nearing 10am.

you check everywhere. he isn’t found in the bedroom, living room, his office, the garage, the patio or in the little garden he kept. upstairs, downstairs, everywhere, he isn’t there. and when you check in your bedroom for the last time, you hear a soft buzzing coming from the bathroom. upon entering, you see your husband bent over the counter, leaning close in the mirror as he shaves his stubble with an electric razor.

"there you are—when did you get that?"

kento had always been a clean shaven kind of man, going to a barber shop once every two weeks for his straight razor shave. it hadn’t even crossed your mind he didn’t go after work yesterday.

but when he looks at you—you burst out laughing. he’d shaven most of his beard off, but a few fuzzy patches remained on his cheeks, along with a mustache grazing his upper lip. peach fuzz and a few knicks litter his chin. this was the first time you’d seen him unable to do anything perfectly. and he looks ridiculous.

"is it really that bad?" he groans, pouting when you wrap your arms around yourself in a giggling fit. you shake your head, although your unforgiving laughs are a testament to the opposite.

"no—no, let me help," you say after calming down.

after gathering a new razor and some shaving cream, you sit atop the counter and your husband stands between your legs. kento is surprised how flawlessly you shave his face, without creating any more marks or cuts. you giggle and kiss him, getting some shaving cream on your face.

"ken?" you shout from the kitchen, where you’re sat, working on your dissertation. it’s been a long road of blood, sweat, and many, many tears; but you’re finally getting towards the end. about to earn a doctorate.

"yes, darling?" kento replies, walking into the kitchen on queue, his timing impeccable.

"can you read over this paragraph, please?" you kindly ask of him, pointing to your most recent written paragraph. he leans over you, planting one firm palm on the table, the other on your back; his eyes read along the sentences and his fingers tap along your spine.

"ah," his finger becomes more focused on a certain word, "wrong 'there', honey."

"no it's not..." you instantly retort, squinting your tired eyes to read over your writing. and you're right, it was the correct one the first time. this was his version of teasing you. but kento couldn't keep up the face much longer before he's giving in with a shit-eating grin you didn't see that often. "you're funny." you groan as kento stands back up.

after reading over the paragraph for about the nineteenth time, you notice kento silently slipping you some tea before turning back around to keep himself busy with cleaning. you absentmindedly take a few sips, then some more...and you find yourself becoming more and more sleepy...

and you're out like a light, forehead pressed directly against the table as a puddle of drool forms on the papers below. kento already has a warm blanket straight from the dryer to drape over you, and you stir just enough to get comfy on your arms.

kento knows that his back will hurt in the morning, but he sits around the corner of the table next to you, settling his head into his arms to drift off to sleep alongside you.

music of your taste plays rather quietly in the kitchen. you stir the pot of soup and inhale the flavorful aroma that wafts through the air.

kento sets two bowls next to the stove, then rummages through your silverware drawer to find two spoons. the kids are at their grandparents for the weekend, it's only you and your husband, converted into the duo you were long ago.

you step away from the stove to go fill up two glasses of wine, the brand kento had as his favorite had slowly turned into your favorite over time, too.

kento fills up the two bowls to the brim of the delicious food, grinning on the inside at the simplicity of it all. just you and him. he lids the pot with the matching glass top and makes his way over to the table.

you set out place mats for the both of you, then place the wine glasses in their prospective areas. kento places the bowls on top of the mats as you grab the spoons from the counter.

in the kitchen, your bodies subconsciously dance around each other. carefully, in perfect tune and pace. delicate steps of a routine formed over so much time together.

in the universe, your souls are tied, striding alongside one another in each lifetime repeated.

and this, is love.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujustsu kaisen x reader #kento nanami #kento nanami x reader #nanami x reader #kento nanami fluff #nanami fluff #jjk fluff

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strwberrybils · 25 days ago

Text

SOMETHING NEW with caitlyn kiramman

୧ ‧₊˚ your sex life with your girlfriend, caitlyn, was sweet, but a little too…vanilla. so, you tell her exactly what you want, and she fulfills your wishes in more ways than you could think of.

pairings and aus. oldergf!caitlyn kiramman 𝑥 fem!reader

warnings. smut. swearing. light choking. orgasm denial. mention of a safe word, though not used. cum play. bondage/tying up. mommy kink. caitlyn being a big softie for her gf.

gabi’s quick thoughts. none. just this. sorry for the bad ending oops i really had nothing to say </3

word count. 5.5k

masterlist ‧₊˚ taglist

you don’t even knock.

your nerves are too loud for politeness, and your thoughts have been spiraling all morning. you need to say it now, or you won’t say it at all.

you and caitlyn had been dating for months, and she was absolutely lovely in every way. she was passionate, full of care, and she always told you how special you were to her, which, you appreciate.

but, there was something missing.

you and caitlyn first had intimacy around three months in. it was the most romantic and sweet thing you had ever experienced, and after, she held you for hours until the both of you drifted off to sleep.

however, now a couple months later, you were wanting a bit more. it was relatively the same each time— you had gentle sex, with light kisses and fragile touches, cleaned up, and fell asleep. it wasn’t that you hated it— no, quite the opposite— but you were dying to try something new from time to time. you were just too scared to tell her.

would she be down for it? or would it be repulsive to her? you had no idea.

caitlyn was always pretty closed off when it came to talking about fantasies or things she wanted to try, which was a surprise, considering she had four years on you, and was way more experienced. you honestly didn’t have a clue if she was into anything other than standard vanilla sex, and at first, it didn’t raise any questions. but you were burning with passion, for such a deeper need that she could only fulfill.

so, here you stood, right behind her closed door with clammy hands and a heart beating with anxiety. it wasn’t that you feel like you couldn’t talk about it, but everything was just so new, and the fear of messing up swallowed the desire to be direct with what you wanted.

reluctantly, you pushed the door open, and stopped dead in the doorway.

“cait, can we talk—?”

there are guards in her room. two of them, standing straight-backed near her window like they’re made of stone, and you have to take a double-take to make sure that they’re even breathing. caitlyn is sitting at her desk, reading something with too many signatures at the bottom, completely honed in.

she looks up, startled, but clearly pleased to see you. her eyes soften, “darling—”

“i didn’t know you had people in here,” you mumble, one foot already back in the hall, regretting every step that led you here. you should’ve just waited, or called— but it was too late for that now.

“what’s wrong?” she stands from her chair, already walking toward you, and you already know that there’s a slim chance you can get out of this. her voice lowers, gentle, like she thinks you’re hurt. her chin tilts, “you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

you hesitate. you were going to wait until tonight, to maybe whisper it in her ear while you curled up beside her, or maybe say it in a way that didn’t feel so serious. but now you’re standing here in front of her, heart stuttering, hands cold, yet the words are burning up the back of your throat.

“honey, just tell me. surely it can’t be that—“

“i wanted to talk about… um… our sex life.”

it gets so quiet that you hear one of the guards clear his throat in attempt to mask clear discomfort, and caitlyn blinks. her cheeks flush instantly, a pink hue blossoming over her cheeks, spreading to the tips of her ears. you can’t feel her, but you know she’s burning hot.

“oh,” she says stiffly, pretending to cough, “oh. well then, um…g-guards, you may be dismissed.”

they file out wordlessly, though one of them definitely walks a little faster than the other, and you swear that you can hear one of them pretending to gag, followed by a giggle as they leave. the door shuts with a soft click, and you’re left alone with her, the tension humming in the air like static.

you fiddle with the hem of your sleeve.

“i shouldn’t have just…said it like that,” you murmur out nervously, still messing with the loose frays on your sleeve. “i didn’t know they were gonna be in here, and now you probably think i’m—”

“no,” your girlfriend cuts in quickly, “i mean— yes, they were here, but no, i don’t think anything bad. just… surprised.”

“you never talk about it,” you say, quieter now, trying to avoid eye contact as best you could. “…and sometimes i feel like i shouldn’t bring it up because you’re always so composed. i just feel like everything’s so taboo between the two of us.”

she takes your hands, thumbs brushing over your knuckles, and looks at you with sweet, glossy eyes. her voice softens, “oh, i’m sorry, darling. i just… i’ve never been the kind of person who finds it easy to talk about those things. even when i want to.”

you nod, heart slowing down. she was right— knowing her upbringing, that probably wasn’t her focus at all. sure, she’s had flings and short-lived relationships, but you were the first girl that she was really with. none of this probably came easy for her, and you didn’t blame her.

“babe, i wanted to….um. try…some things?” you confess, twisting your foot against the hardwood floors awkwardly. you swallow, trying to ease up, “something new. but not just that— i want us to be able to talk about ‘it’ without it feeling so… fragile. like if i say the wrong word, you’ll shut down. i’m scared of that.”

caitlyn exhales like she’s been holding her breath since you walked in. she pulls you in, forehead against yours, a gentle hand coming up to rub the small of your back, lowering gently to the lowest part.

“i’m not shutting down,” she whispers into you, “i’m just… learning how to be more upfront about things. when i was younger, it wasn’t really on my mind, you know, love?”

you close your eyes, leaning farther into her embrace, letting her arms fully close around you, circling around your back and up your shoulders. “do you wanna talk now?” you ask her, your voice low, but oozing with nervousness.

she kisses your cheek, then your jaw, then a little lower, lips brushing your neck, sending gentle chills up your spine. you shiver against her as she pulls your face up with her hands, eyes boring into yours.

she cracks a gentle smile, “we can talk, and then maybe… we can show each other what we want.”

you smile, a little breathless.

“okay.”

and the moment the words leave your mouth, you see something shift in her. it isn’t anything like usual— hesitant and reserved, but instead, it’s something akin to a quiet focus.

she doesn’t rush at all. she lifts your hand to her mouth first, pressing a kiss to your knuckles like it’s the most gentle thing in the world. her voice is barely above a whisper as her eyes flutter up at you— her usual glassy, bright blue eyes now shadowed over with something you don’t recognize.

“tell me what you want to try.”

your cheeks heat, but you hold her gaze, careful not to falter. this is what you’ve been wanting for so long, and now that the moment’s finally here, you want to do any and everything but back out.

“i want you to stop being so careful. with me.”

she tilts her head, partially in confusion, partially because she wants you to elaborate more. so, you clarify.

“you’re always gentle, and so very sweet. which…i love that, don’t get me wrong— but i want more than just sweetness sometimes. i want you tell me what to do and when to do it— i just…i want you to do whatever you want.”

her eyes flick down to your lips. she’s listening attentively, taking in each word like it really matters— which, to her, it does.

you’re slightly nervous now, and a little embarrassed, heat flaring in your cheeks. you physically can’t look at her without doubling over, and you do so— falling into her, saying the rest against her collarbone, your voice barely above the sound of her breath.

“i want to see what you’re like when you’re not being nice. i want…i want you to be mean. rough with me.”

something flickers in caitlyn, and you feel her nod, her hand coming up to gently stroke your hair. “are you sure?”

“yes.” you reply almost instantly, and that’s all it takes for cait.

she doesn’t rush, but there’s a purpose to her actions now, a confidence that settles into her spine as she backs you toward her bed. the air shifts with it, and you feel your heartbeat speed up, anticipation curling in your stomach when she kisses you differently this time.

not the soft, tender brush of lips she usually gives you before sleep or bidding you goodbye. this one is deeper, hungrier, like it’s making up for every time she held back. her hands stay at your waist for a second, then trail lower, fingers slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, testing the waters just a little bit.

she pulls back just slightly.

“i want you to tell me if i go too far,” she says, and she’s nothing but serious. you nod fervently, but she shakes her head, her index finger curling underneath your chin and tilting it up, forcing you to look at her.

“tell me.”

“yes ma’am.” you squeak out, nodding again, your skin tingly and hot.

“what a good girl.” she coos, and before you even have enough time to react, her hands find the hem of your t-shirt— which, is really her’s— pulling it off, her fingers brushing over every inch of your smooth skin like she’s committing it to memory. she kisses the space below your collarbone, then lower, and lower, and when you gasp her name, she murmurs “yes, love?” like she’s teasing, but her hands are shaking just a little.

she’s nervous, but she masks it well. you can tell she’s starting to ease up by the way she kisses you and grabs your ass, and not just a little tap like she usually does. her hands are roaming all around you, hungry for you, desperate to make you feel good.

you reach for her shirt too— unbuttoning it, one by one, until her chest is bare beneath you, excusing a black, lacy bra that she’s wearing. her hair falls forward, brushing your shoulder, and she leans in again, mouth hot against your neck now, teeth grazing just enough to make your breath hitch.

you discard her shirt to the floor like it’s worth nothing, grabbing her face to pull her lips back onto yours. you’re both messily trying to reach the bed, stumbling over shirts and other items that are scattered about her bedroom.

cait pulls you down onto her crisply made bed, covers shifting as she flips you underneath her with a swift movement, not breaking the kiss. a tiny moan passes through your lips as her fingers toy with the waistband of your jeans, and you can practically hear your own heartbeat in your ears, anticipation rising.

she shifts down to kiss your jaw, then your throat, then across your chest, slow and methodical like she’s tracing a map she’s read a hundred times but only now dares to touch. she presses her thigh between yours, and you arch into it, your breath catching in your throat.

“c-cait—”

“i know,” she murmurs, her voice dripping honey as she shifts down, her hand reaching the button on your jeans. as soon as she looks up at you for confirmation, you breathe out a helpless plea, and she nods, grinning.

she slides her fingers onto the buttons, undoing each one carefully, amused at how shaky you get with each one she takes out slow and purposeful, until you’re gasping her name again, this time raw and open.

with a little bit of force, plus your shimmying, she moves your bottoms down until they reach your ankles, sliding them off and throwing them behind her without another look.

caitlyn gives you a half-smile when her eyes land on your pretty blue panties, the one with the lace and bow at the top that she had picked out for you. you offer up a sheepish smile, legs squeezed shut, “hi.”

“hi, pretty,” she gleams, tapping your thighs lightly, “open ‘em.”

you oblige, your legs spreading slowly for her, and she lets out a quiet giggle when she sees the giant wet spot at your core. she wets her lips with her tongue, “eager much, huh, babe?”

you grow shy, your head falling into your shoulder as you nod silently.

“let me take care of you.”

caitlyn’s face falls in between your thighs, kissing them repeatedly, landing on all your sweet spots that she knows all too well. both her hands find the waistband of your panties, pulling them down, and you shiver at the new temperature of air.

she, once again, throws your underwear onto the floor like it’s a piece of trash, cooing out at how pretty you look— and she tells you that, too.

“you make it so hard to hold back,” she whispers honestly, “i…i don’t think i want to anymore.”

“then don’t.”

and she doesn’t.

“just—“ she brings her wrist up to her mouth, her teeth trapping the edge of a hair tie as her hands cup around her scalp, pooling her hair into a ponytail. she slides the elastic up her fingers and your eyes are glued to her, watching her nimble fingers dwindle, securing her hair and blowing a loose piece away from her face.

your feel your eyes widen, just a bit. you don’t have much time to react before her middle and ring finger are placed against your sopping pussy, collecting your juices on her fingertips, spreading the wetness to your clit, teasing you. you shudder.

“w-wait, caitlyn,” you interrupt before she can go any further, and she looks up at you, “hm?”

“…nevermind.” you shake your head.

she hums, but she’s not convinced. her hand slides up to your thigh, slower now, more deliberate. she squeezes it gently, “no. there’s something else.”

you bite your lip.

she shifts closer, blue eyes watching you with that sharp, focused look that always makes your stomach turn instantly.

“you promised,” she reminds you gently, “that you’d tell me what you wanted.”

you hesitate. it’s not that you don’t want to— it’s just… different this time. harder to say. it’s more than just her changing her demeanor, it’s an action, once that you weren’t sure if she’d be interested in.

“is it something you’re afraid i won’t like?” she asks gently, not pushing, but just out of pure wonder.

you shake your head.

“then what is it?”

your voice is barely a whisper when you say, “you’ll think it’s too much.”

caitlyn’s gaze softens, but she doesn’t let up. she leans in, brushing her lips just below your dripping core.

“tell me anyway.”

your throat works as you breathe out, honest, “i want you to tie me up.”

there’s a beat of silence, but it’s not uncomfortable. you can tell she’s thinking about what you just said, gears turning like she’s full of ideas.

she pulls back just slightly, just enough to see your face. “you want me to—”

“not in a scary way,” you rush out, cheeks burning, “just… soft. but firm. like you’re in control. i don’t know.” you look away from her, “gosh, i feel stupid.”

“look at me,” she says, and when you do, her expression makes you forget how to breathe. she’s not judging you or looking hesitant, but instead, her eyes are lit up like she’s been wanting to do that all along.

“you’re not stupid,” she says slowly, “you’re perfect.”

you barely get a sound out before she speaks again, “stay right there.”

you nod, breathless, and watch as she stands up and crosses the room— calm and composed, but she’s got a new pep in her step. she opens a drawer at her desk and rummages around for a second before she returns with a soft, navy silk scarf and that look in her eyes again, the one that makes your knees go weak even when you’re lying down.

“hands up.” she orders, and it isn’t laced with that usual tenderness— no, this was a command, and you follow it.

you lift them slowly. you’re nervous and excited all at once, and the mixture is dizzying. she moves to the side of the bed and she binds your wrists together behind your back, gently but tight enough that you can feel it. her fingers linger after, tracing the new vulnerability she’s created.

“still okay?” she asks, watching your face to make sure you’re alright.

you nod again for what feels like the hundredth time, “yes, please. i need you.”

cait smiles. not her usual amused, aristocratic smirk— not at all. this one is deeper, much darker, and you whine at that, at that look, where you both know the exact same thing.

she’s gonna make you fall apart.

she kisses down your neck, your chest, taking her time while your arms stay pinned over your head. she moves lower until she’s sprawled underneath you, her nose laying on top of her clit. she starts off slowly, licking into you slow and precise, holding your thighs open as you gasp her name. you squirm and she presses your hips down with a firm hand, murmuring against your skin, “easy, love. i’ve got you.”

and you know she does.

her tongue finds your clit almost instantly, toying with the sensitive bud. you sigh, basking in her touch, fingers curling in the sheets where you can, the scarf tight behind your back as your body arches helplessly.

you can’t even hide how loud the moan is. it slips out like a secret, but it’s still very audible. you weren’t expecting her to be this good at what you asked for, nor this focused. this deliberate.

caitlyn doesn’t say anything at first— she just hums low, like she’s pleased with herself. her lips are soft, her tongue precise, her grip on your thighs firm and immovable. it’s everything you asked for— commanding, but still cait, like always.

then, suddenly, her lips pull away from you with a pop, and you whine out helpless, body shifting on the covers. she pulls her fingers to her mouth and wets them, eyes glued on you, lining them up with your wet pussy. slowly, she pushes them inside you— so deep that you can feel it so high up. she curls them tight and you gasp, and then, she’s gone.

caitlyn pumps her fingers in and out in a harsh rhythm, fingertips curling as her thumb comes up to rub your clit in sloppy, quick circles. it’s nearly too much for you— it throws you into a haze of nothing but pleasure, the only sounds filling the room being your heavy breathing and the wetness from your cunt. she’s unrelenting, and it’s all you could ever want.

you whisper her name like a prayer, squirming beneath her touch, but she tuts at you mockingly.

“don’t run from it,” she murmurs, lips brushing against your sensitive thighs, “you said you wanted me in control, didn’t you? i’m just giving you what you asked for.”

you whimper at the words, your body already on edge, your wrists aching in the best way. you want more. God, you want so much more.

you don’t even realize you’re crying out until her fingers quicken even faster— rapidly pushing inside you with practiced ease, curling just right, drawing a gasp from your throat that’s half-shock, half-desperation.

“f-fuck, cait—”

“that’s it,” she praises, voice low, “take it. be a good girl and take it.”

your legs are shaking, and she’s not even moving that fast. that’s the thing— she’s not trying to break you, but she’s trying to unravel you.

her thumb circulates against your clit as her fingers work you open, and your whole body stutters beneath the intensity. you’re so worked up that you almost try to reach out before realizing that you’re tied up— you’re twitching, gasping, panting like it’s too much, but you don’t want her to stop. not even for a second.

she leans forward, teeth grazing your skin, “you like being tied up for me?” she asks you softly, but mockingly, “you like not being able to touch me? hm?”

you nod desperately, your head thrown back as a string of curses slip through your teeth, “i love it,” you take a second to breathe, “i love it— please, c-caitlyn, don’t stop—”

your girlfriend chuckles— low, dangerous, but seemingly affectionate. her pace quickens slightly, and she’s cooing little praises beneath you as your back arches. you’re so close that it hurts.

“you’re so pretty when you’re like this,” caitlyn tells you, voice raw now, and her usual sweetness is long gone. “falling apart for me, making all these sweet little sounds— fuck, i need you.”

you feel your walls tightening around her, crying out against her palm, practically begging for whatever else she can give.

you feel your legs shake and your breath hitch, and you’re so close you feel like your body’s gonna snap. “c-cait, cait, baby— i’m gonna—“

but caitlyn… caitlyn has other plans.

just when you’re about to tip over the edge, she pulls back— fingers drenched, eyes dark, her breathing steady, while yours is completely shattered.

“you thought you were gonna cum, didn’t you?” she questions, thumb tracing a line over your inner thigh as she looks up at you with that look, and you shiver at that.

you nod, dazed and wide-eyed. “yes— baby, please, i—”

“did i say you could? did you even ask?”

your breath catches in your throat again, this time from the shift in her tone. it’s not cruel, no, never cruel— but stern. in control, just what you had asked for.

“well, n-no,” you admit, voice small, “but i thought—”

“you don’t get to think tonight,” caitlyn cuts in gently, and she leans up and kisses your trembling lips, “you asked me to take charge. so i am. you’ll cum when i want you to.”

your head drops back against the pillows, a whine building in your throat. she’s already kissing her way back down your body, hands pressing your thighs wide open again.

you’re too sensitive now. every touch feels like a wild fire. your toes curl, your spine twists, and her tongue is back on your clit like nothing ever stopped— but you know now. you know she won’t let you finish, at least, not until you ask nicely— and even then, you know who’s really in control.

and somehow, that makes it worse, yet so much hotter.

you cry out again, hips lifting, your legs shaking, and the feeling is so much stronger than before, but she pulls away just before you can get close.

again.

“caitlyn,” you’re literally begging now, tears stinging against your eyes, “please, i’ll do anything, i’ll be so good. but i just need—”

“i know,” she whispers, kissing the inside of your thigh gently, and it’s reassuring, “i know, darling. you’re doing so well. but not yet.”

you lose count of how many times she edges you like that— over and over, winding you up like a string she’s pulling tighter and tighter, and refusing to let you let go. she holds your hips down when you squirm, hushes you when you sob, kisses you so sweetly, and still won’t let you fall apart.

“tell me your safeword,” she murmurs, hands smoothing over your stomach with one hand, the other still buried deep inside of your cunt, fingers still at work. “just so i know you still remember.”

you nod through tears, eyes blurry and unfocused, “blueberry.”

she kisses your thighs, “good girl.”

then, she starts all over again. not completely— just enough to work you back up, her mouth replacing her thumb on your clit, and you feel like you’re seeing stars.

you bury your face in a pillow, the need for stability gnawing at you. you can’t hold on, so you smush your face into the silky case, still wrecked. “please, cait…honey, i-i want to cum. i need to. i’ve been so…so good— and it hurts. please, cait!”

caitlyn pulls away from your pussy and hums, thinking it over a few times, and then she grins.

“on my fingers or my tongue?”

you blink, gasping, surprised that she was even going to let you finish off. “wh-what?”

“you get one,” she tells you, “and you better cum hard, because i’m not letting you get another one.”

it doesn’t take much thought to answer her question. you choose her tongue, which she favors, and it’s inside you in seconds.

and when you cum— finally, completely, crying into the sheets— you scream her name like it’s the only thing that’ll save you. your whole body locks, and she talks you through it the entire time.

“yeah, that’s it, darling— cum for me.”

“such a pretty girl.”

“i know, i know, but you’re a big girl. you can take it.”

you don’t remember how long it takes for you to catch your breath. you just know that when you do, caitlyn’s right there, smiling. she’s brushing your hair back, her thumb tracing your cheekbone. “still breathing?”

you nod. barely.

“good,” she says, kissing you slowly, sweetly. “i love you.” she reminds you.

you’re still laid out beneath her, body flushed and soft from the first round, when your free hands reach up to touch her again. your fingers trail up her clothed thigh, light and wanting, but she catches your wrist— not roughly. just firm.

you pause, eyes flicking up, “you don’t want me to touch you?”

caitlyn hesitates. she doesn’t pull you away, not exactly, but her grip lingers for a second, her thumb rubbing absent circles into your skin.

“i do,” she affirms softly, “i do, it’s just… i want to treat you tonight.”

you blink, a little breathless, “treat me?”

caitlyn exhales, and it’s a little shaky. her cheeks are flushed, and you can tell she’s nervous from something she hasn’t said yet, something she’s clearly been holding back.

“it’s stupid,” she murmurs, half-smiling like she’s already bracing to be teased, “i’ve just… i like being the one in charge. with you. i like taking care of you. and…” she trails off, lips parting like she’s not sure if she should finish.

“caitlyn,” you call out her her, and she hums. “baby, you can tell me. this is for both of us, and if you want something, i want you to let me know.”

“okay,” she whispers slowly, more to brace herself than to respond to your statement. her eyes cast downward like she’s suddenly shy, and you blink up at her, surprised. “i’ve been thinking about something, a word— something i want you to say. but only if you’re comfortable.”

you nod, a little nervous now, but curious, “kiramman, spit it out.”

you can tell she wants to, but she’s reluctant. she shakes her head and pulls you into her by your hips and kisses you, her fingers dancing against your nude hips, and you forget all about it. not wanting to push her. she throws your leg over hers, her hands roaming all over. she moans into you, “i want to touch you again.”

you feel like your skin is ignited. you’re wanting more than you can handle, your sensitivity still heightened, but you don’t care. you let caitlyn flip you underneath her, let her place sloppy kisses all over your body, let her tongue graze your clit until your legs shake.

she finds herself under you once again, her tongue drawing sloppy figure 8’s on your clit, then down to your pussy. you’re so sensitive that you’re already getting close, and caitlyn can tell— she always does.

when you whimper out, she shushes you, “stop that, darling, let mommy make you feel good. it’s okay, i know— i’m not going anywhere.”

you stop. “caitlyn?”

she stops, and looks up at you. “yes?”

“what did you just say?”

she draws a slow breath in, “w-what do you mean?”

“let who make me feel good?”

there’s a pause, and you raise an eyebrow at her, smiling. she looks away for a second and almost laughs— and you know she’s embarrassed, which makes your heart squeeze.

caitlyn sighs, “you’ve never called me anything like that before. but sometimes, when you let go like that… when you let me take care of you…” she swallows. “i think about you calling me…you know—“

“mommy?”

“right.” she agrees, looking anywhere but in your eyes.

you stare at her for a long moment, heart skipping. caitlyn, flushed and trying so hard to stay composed, still has her hand pressed to your thigh. she's avoiding your eyes, which is rare. but you know her now— know her well enough to see the part of her that tries to hide when she's so vulnerable.

"you could've just said that," you murmur, voice breathy, warm. "you know i'd do anything for you."

her gaze finally meets yours, and something in it softens. she’s still shy, but she’s loosened up. "it's not just about the name, it's... what it means when you say it."

"and what does it mean?"

caitlyn takes a breath, then crawls back up over you slowly, her body sliding over yours. her hand wraps gently around your throat— not squeezing, just holding— and the shift is immediate. she's in control again, and she knows it, basking in it.

"it means you're mine," she whispers with a smile, “and i take care of what's mine. always.”

you whimper at that, at the return of her weight. she watches you unravel beneath her again, and it must be all the permission she needs, because the next second, she's kissing you— rougher this time, messily, like this is the last time.

quickly, her hands are between your legs again before you can say anything else, parting you with the same unrelenting precision she always has. she fingers you like she knows you inside and out, because she does. she’s so deep that it almost hurts, but the pleasure’s greater than the pain, and you moan out at that.

“cait, please—“ your sentence dies on your tongue, and just when you start to squirm, chasing the edge, she pulls back.

“ask nicely.” she orders you, and without thinking, you plead, your head dropping into her shoulder.

“please— m-mommy, please let me cum—“

the groan she lets out is deep, guttural, like you've just unhinged something in her. she doesn't waste another second— her fingers press inside you, slow but firm, and her mouth is back on your throat, your chest, anywhere she can reach. her other hand holds you down when your hips buck, and when you whimper again, she shushes you gently.

"just relax. mommy's gonna take care of everything."

and she does.

she builds you up so slowly you feel like you're losing your mind, touching you just how you like— soft but commanding, her pace teasing yet cruel. you squirm, and she tightens her grip on your hip.

you feel the coil in your stomach pulse, and you cry out, back lifting off of the covers, but caitlyn doesn’t stop. she just kisses your shoulder, “cum for mommy, baby.”

you feel everything in you snap open, your body shaking in periodic spurts, your back falling back into the sweaty covers beneath you. caitlyn helps you ride out your high and you swear you’ve died and came back to life.

you both sigh and fall into the sheets, looking at each other before giggling silently. caitlyn cups your cheek, “was that…okay?”

“yeah,” you nod and kiss her plump lips, “more than okay.”

₊⊹ taglist: @drunkinyourbenz

#gabi's works ‹𝟹 #caitlyn kiramman x reader #caitlyn x reader #caitlyn kiramman #caitlyn arcane #league of legends caitlyn #caitlyn x y/n #caitlyn x you #caitlyn x female reader #caitlyn kiramman fluff #caitlyn kiramman x fem!reader #caitlyn kiramman x you #caitlyn kiramman smut #caitlyn kiramman x female reader #older!caitlyn kiramman #oldergf!caitlyn kiramman #arcane works. ₊⊹#arcane

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kissandtellus · 1 month ago

Text

Doctor’s Orders

Synopsis: Zayne is a husband & father first and foremost. Seeing you with your first-born strikes a need in him. He needs about 3 more carbon copies of you, STAT!

Warnings: Breeding, tracking ovulation, mention of pregnancy, praising, dirty talk, pwp, smut.

Zayne entered the apartment with the front door shutting firmly behind him. He ran a hand through his messy hair before tugging on the tie around his neck. Exhaling softly, he slowly made his way to the living room area. The sight of his wife and infant daughter together immediately brought a soft smile to his face.

He came up behind you, resting his chin on your shoulder as he peered down at their sweet daughter. "You're both still up at this hour?" he murmured, his voice weary but laced with affection.

He gently takes Luna from your arms, cuddling her close as he sits down next to you on the couch. “Let me hold my little angel for a bit... You look tired too." His thumb softly stroking Luna's cheek as he leans his head against yours.

You take a deep breath as Zayne takes her in his arms, sitting beside you on the couch. “She wanted her ‘Baba’, I also think she’s cutting teeth.” You wince, rubbing your sore breast from breastfeeding.

Zayne let out a low sympathetic hum as he took Luna from your arms, cradling the baby gently on his lap. "Poor little one," he murmured, his expression softening even more as he looked down at their baby.

He ran a finger lightly across her tiny cheek, feeling for any signs of swelling or irritation. "You're right. It does look like she's teething. I'll have to look up some remedies for that tomorrow," he said, his mind already going into his 'doctor mode.'

The one year old tiredly blinked up her her father, a chubby hand reaching out to grab at his glasses. “Ba…Ba.”

Zayne chuckled softly at Luna's attempt to grab his glasses. He gently captured her little hand in his, holding it in place. "No, no, darling. Not the glasses," he murmured, a hint of amusement in his voice.

He couldn't help but feel a burst of affection for his daughter. Even after a long, hectic day at the hospital, coming home to this sight always melted his heart.

"How many times has she been fussy tonight?" he asked, turning his attention to his wife.

"She's woken up a few times, mostly from pain, I think. But she's been calm since I called you," You reply, your gaze lingering on the two of them for a few more moments before shifting your attention to the folder that Zayne had set on the coffee table.

"Long shift?" You ask. "You look exhausted."

Zayne sighed, his shoulders sagging momentarily. "Long and exhausting," he admitted, his fingers still gently holding Luna's hand in his. "Non-stopping surgeries, a few emergency cases... the usual, really."

He leaned back against the couch, his gaze drifting to the folder that you’d been eyeing. "Why? Something you need from there?" he asked curiously.

"Just wanted to see if you had any new articles for me to read," You say with a teasing smile. "You know I like looking at all those impressive medical terms you use."

Zayne chuckled softly at your remark, the tiredness in his eyes replaced by a touch of affection. "Ah, my little medical term enthusiast," he said, shaking his head slightly. "I'll make sure to leave my most complex articles scattered around the living room then.”

You roll your eyes playfully in response. "Oh, what a gift that would be," You reply, unable to suppress a soft laugh. "I'll have to clear out an entire shelf for all your medical jargon."

Zayne's smile widened, a glint of amusement shining in his tired eyes. "Just be careful not to read too much," he teased. "You might start sounding like a doctor yourself, and then what will I do?"

You let out a small laugh at his comment. "Oh, don't worry, I doubt I'll ever get to your level. Unless... you're secretly planning to retire and pass on your wisdom to me?"

Zayne's eyes softened even more, his expression growing more serious for a brief moment. "And leave my job? Not a chance."

There was a hint of protectiveness in his gaze as he looked down at Luna, who was now dozing off peacefully in his arms.

You reach over and grab Luna’s tiny little hand, flipping it over to show Zayne the smallest layer of ice over her palm. “Looks like someone inherited Baba’s evol.”

Zayne's eyes widen, his attention immediately snapping down to Luna's hand. He carefully examined the fine layer of ice coating her palm. A mix of surprise and fascination washed over his features.

"So she did..." he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. He gently ran a finger over the ice, feeling the coolness on his skin. "It's... early. I didn't expect her to start showing signs of an evol so soon."

Zayne carefully shifts Luna in his arms, his thoughts consumed with worry despite his efforts to hide it. He remembers all too well the struggles he faced himself with his evol - the loss of control, the accidents, the guilt.

He lets out a soft sigh, his gaze fixed on Luna's peaceful face. "She so young..." he mutters, his voice tinged with a hint of dread. "What if... what if she can't control it?"

You reach over and gently place a hand on his arm, sensing the worry in his voice. "Hey," you say softly. "She's your daughter. She'll be fine."

Zayne's shoulders tense for a moment, his gaze still fixed on Luna's face. He knows you are trying to reassure him, but the memories of his own struggles with his evol still linger in his mind.

"I just... I don't want her to go through what I went through," he says, his voice quivering with a mix of fear and protectiveness.

You press a warm kiss to his lips, resting your forehead on his. “You’re perfect. The best father she could ask for, and the best husband I could ever dream of. We’ll get through this together.”

Zayne closes his eyes, his tension softening at your words and touch. He takes a deep breath, the weight of his worries seeming to lighten marginally.

"You have too much faith in me," he murmurs, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "But... I suppose if I have you by my side, I can face anything."

He opens his eyes, his gaze meeting mine with a mixture of love and gratitude. "Together," he echoes.

Zayne is a master of putting Luna back to sleep after a fussy night.

He’s also a master at dragging you back to your bedroom, kissing you within an inch of your life. Despite his exhaustion, he needs to be inside of you. Needs to praise you for being such an amazing mother.

His breath hot against your neck as he presses you down onto the mattress, his hands already working to remove your clothes. “I missed you," he murmurs, his lips finding yours in a passionate kiss. His body presses against yours, the scent of the hospital still clinging to him.

Zayne slips two long and icy fingers into your warm cunt, cooing in a calm voice he might use to tell his patients about their diagnosis.

His fingers expertly curl inside you, hitting that perfect spot that makes your hips buck against him “So wet for me already..." *His voice is low and husky, filled with desire* "I've been thinking about this all day..." *His thumb circles your clit as he adds another finger.

He continues to finger you slowly, his icy touch contrasting with the warmth of your insides. “You're so tight and warm... It's like coming home." His free hand roams over your body, squeezing your breasts and rolling your nipples between his fingers. “I love seeing you like this.”

You choke back a soft whine. Usually you would be so overstimulated from having a one year old hanging off of you all day. But with Zayne it was different.

Noticing your reaction, he smirks against your lips, knowing exactly how to drive you wild. “You're so sensitive tonight..." *He whispers huskily. “Does my little wife need more?"

You grasps at his shoulders like a lifeline. “M-mmh! C-condom, I’m-“

Before you could finish, Zayne finishes it for you.

“You’re ovulating.” He says as if he’s talking about the weather. with his free hand he flicks the screen of his watch towards you, showing you the calendar he has set on his watch of your ovulation cycle.

His eyes darken with a primal desire as he looks at you, his fingers still moving inside you. “I've been tracking your cycle, love." He murmurs, his voice low and commanding.* "And today is the perfect day to fill that womb with my seed."

You give lighthearted protest. It’s not that you don’t want another little Luna running around. It’s moreso you are so cockdrunk already you’d give your husband anything he’d ask. “You want anothed?” You whimper out

His lips quirk into a smirk at your whimpering protest, knowing that you're already so drunk on his attention and affection. “Yes." He replies firmly, his fingers curling inside you as he finds that perfect spot. “I want another little girl, just like Luna."

You don’t really remember how your knees got pushed up next to your ears, but what you do remember is the delicious stretch of his cock in your sloppy cunt.

He enters you slowly at first, savoring the feeling of your warmth enveloping him completely. “So tight..." *He groans, pushing deeper until he's fully sheathed inside you. “This is where I belong." He starts moving, his pace steady and deep.

You are digging your nails into his back, holding on for the ride. One hand is angling your hips, pushing up one leg higher than the other. His other hand is gripping the headboard. Through lidded eyes you can see the way his ice Evol slips from his palm, starting to freeze the mahogany wood.

He notices your gaze on his hand and smirks, knowing that your attention is split between the pleasure and the display of his power. “Fuck, you feel so good." *He groans deeply, thrusting harder into you. “So warm.” he emphasizes.

His thrusts become more urgent, his hips slapping against yours with a wet, rhythmic sound. The headboard creaks under his grip, the ice spreading further as his control slips away to pure primal need. "My patient is speakin’ to me..."

You realize he’s not talking about you, he’s talking about your noisy pussy that’s pulsing around his length, dripping onto the expensive silk sheets.

He leans down to whisper in your ear, his voice husky with desire. “She wants me to breed her." He thrusts harder, hitting that spot inside you that sends sparks flying behind your eyes. “And I'm going to give her exactly what she wants. Doctor’s orders.”

Your back arches when the curve of his cock presses just so into your cervix.

He sees your reaction and does it again, purposely hitting that spot with every thrust. “There it is.” He murmurs, watching your body respond to his touch.* "Right there.” His voice is strained with effort as he fights off his own release.

But Zayne is a good husband. When your contracting womb begs for his seed, who is he to deny you?

With a final, deep thrust, he buries himself completely inside you. His release is intense, his hot seed filling you up and spilling out around his length. The ice spreads across the headboard and down the wall as he comes undone, marking the room with his power.

The room immediately drops in temperature. Zayne draws back as much of the ice as he can, the exaustion from such a long day catching up with him.

He collapses onto the bed beside you, his body still trembling from the intensity of their coupling. The room is now a chilly 40 degrees Fahrenheit, the ice slowly melting back into his palm as he regains control over his powers. “…Love you," *he murmurs sleepily against your neck.

The expression on Luna’s face when you all tell her she’s going to be a big sister is all the encouragement you need for another 2 years of sleepless nights.

#lads #lads x reader #love and deepspace #lads smut #doctor zayne #zayne smut #zayne #zayne myth #zayne x you #l&ds zayne #lads zayne #zayne love and deepspace #zayne x mc #zayne x reader #dr zayne

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cosmicporos · 6 months ago

Note

What would Arcane characters call their partner? What pet/nicknames would they use?

AHHHH THIS IS SO CUTE! Thank you anon :3

Synopsis: A lot of little cut scenarios where arcane characters call you by cute pet names!

Characters: Sevika, Vander, Silco, Caitlyn, Ekko, Viktor

((awkward Ekko x reader, Teasing Viktor x reader (he calls you an airhead…))

Warning: Angst for Silco, called you “Pet” but ends with comfort!

Not proofread

Sevika

Nicknames for you: Darling, Dear, Sweet thing, Babe, Dove.

Okay maybe I’m over sentimental but imagine her calling you Dove because you bring her so much peace in life. So you’re quite literally her little peace dove.

Sevika leaned against the bar, her mechanical arm resting on the counter as she watched you move around the room. It wasn't anything special-just you tidying up after a long day-but to her, it was everything. "You know," she started, her voice low and gravelly, "you've got this way of makin' the world feel... quieter."

You paused, glancing at her with a small smile. "Yeah? That a good thing?"

She smirked, pushing off the bar to walk toward you. "It's a damn miracle, is what it is. You don't know what it's like Dove… how loud it gets up here." She tapped her temple with a finger, her gaze softening. "But then you show up, and it's like everything just... stops."

Your cheeks warmed at the sincerity in her voice, but you kept your focus on folding a stray cloth. "I didn't think I was doing anything special."

Sevika snorted, stepping closer. "That's the thing. You don't even try, and still... you're it for me. My peace. My little Dove."

Vander

Nicknames for you: Peach, Love, Sweet Pea, Darling, Sunshine, Lass/Lad.

The Last Drop was unusually quiet. The usual clatter of mugs and background chatter of conversation was replaced by the occasional cough or sniffle from the makeshift beds spread around the common room. Powder, Mylo, Claggor, and Vi lay bundled in blankets, their fevered faces flushed as they sipped the herbal tea Vander had brewed.

"Peach," Vander called softly, his deep voice cutting through the stillness as he approached you. You were perched on a low stool, dabbing a cool cloth against Powder's forehead. He knelt beside you, resting his broad hand on your shoulder. "You've been fussin' over them all day. Why don't you take a break, huh? Let me handle things for a while."

"I'm fine," you said, though your hands trembled slightly as you wrung out the cloth."They need us."

He tilted his head, giving you that steady, knowing look of his. "And I need you to take care of yourself, Peach. You're no good to anyone if you run yourself into the ground."

Powder stirred, her small hand reaching out to grab yours. "Don't go," she mumbled, her voice weak.

You smoothed her hair back, glancing at Vander. "See? They need me."

Vander sighed, his lips twitching into a faint smile despite himself. "Stubborn as ever," he muttered. "Alright, Peach. We'll do this together, then."

Silco

Nicknames for you: Darling, Precious, lovely, Pet, Beloved.

After Jinx’s fiasco over at Topside it was obvious Silco was more than simply stressed.

In fact tension in the room was palpable, suffocating as it weighed down on your chest. Silco's piercing gaze bore into you, his lips pressed into a thin line. You'd overstepped-at least, in his mind-and now his sharp tongue was letting you know it.

"Stay out of matters you don't understand, pet," he snapped, the word cutting and cold as it left his mouth.

You flinched, the sting of his words settling deep. Your jaw clenched, and you refused to meet his gaze, instead focusing on the cracked edge of the table.

“I was—I was only thinking about Jinx.” You gulped down the bile that burned in your throat. “Temporary keeping her from missions is keeping her safe.” You spoke finally looking up at him with your wet pathetic eyes.

The silence that followed was deafening. Silco's breath hitched as he realized what he'd said, the regret settling in almost immediately. His tone had been cruel, and the look on your face drove a pang of guilt through his chest.

“I apologize…” he said softly, his voice no longer harsh. "That was... uncalled for." He spoke as he stood up, fixing his cuffs as he walks over towards you.

Silco stepped closer until he was within arm's reach. "I shouldn't have said that. You didn't deserve it," he murmured, his voice low and steady. “You mean too much to me for me to speak to you that way."

When you still didn't respond, he hesitated for a moment before tilting your chin up with his gloved fingers, forcing your eyes to meet his mismatched ones.

"Forgive me," he whispered, his tone sincere. "You are not my pet. You are my beloved. The only one who stands beside me, who understands me."

Caitlyn

Nicknames for you: Petal, Cheeky one, Muffin, Trouble, Dearest.

Flour completely dusted the countertop and your face as you tried to knead the dough. Caitlyn stood across from you, her sleeves rolled up, an amused smile playing on her lips.

"Petal," she said, tilting her head, "you're supposed to knead it, not wrestle it."

You huffed, brushing flour from your cheek. “It's sticking to my hands! I’m not sure how else I’m supposed to tackle this.”

Caitlyn chuckled and walked over, gently taking your hands in hers. "Here, let me show you." She guided your movements, her hands warm and steady.

When the dough finally started to cooperate, you couldn't resist smearing a bit of flour on her cheek. She froze, then slowly raised an eyebrow. “Trouble," she murmured, her voice teasing.

You grinned, backing away. "You love it."

Her soft laugh filled the kitchen as she grabbed a handful of flour. "Oh, I do. But you're not getting away with that."

Ekko

Nicknames for you: Firefly, Sugar, babe, baby, Cutie

You sat on a spinning chair in ekko’s workshop mindlessly spinning while watching him work. He was trying to fix a circuit board, but his focus seemed to drift in your direction. You caught him glancing at you a few times, his brow furrowed as though he was thinking of something important.

After a moment of silence, Ekko cleared his throat, his usual confidence wavering slightly. He set down his tools and looked at you with a small smile, hands shoved into his pockets. "Hey, uh... can I tell you something?" he asked, voice a little too casual.

You raised an eyebrow at his sudden and strange behavior. "Sure. What's up?"

He scratched the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze. "Well, I've been meaning to call you something... I dunno, it's just, uh, you're always so sweet, you know?" He glanced up at you briefly, cheeks turning faintly pink. “So, I was thinking... Sugar?"

There was a long, awkward pause. You blinked, processing the nickname, unsure how to respond. "Sugar?" you repeated, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Really?"

Ekko's face reddened even more. "Yeah, I mean-because, uh, you're sweet... like sugar? You know?" He shrugged, clearly flustered now. "It's not like, weird, right?"

You couldn't help it you laughed, the sound light and teasing, but not unkind. "I don't know, Ekko. It's a bit... unexpected," you said, still grinning.

His gaze shifted, suddenly looking embarrassed. "Okay, okay, I get it. That was dumb, huh? Just trying to be smooth, but I guess it's not my thing." He shifted uncomfortably.

against his arm, your smile softening. "It's cute," you said, voice warm. "But I think you can do better."

He met your eyes, a sheepish grin finally breaking through his awkwardness. "Yeah? You think so?…Well, I'll keep working on it then."

Viktor

Nicknames for you: Beautiful, Trinket, Dearest, Cheeky, Airhead, Sweetling.

You were fiddling with a complicated piece of tech, the gears and wires all tangled in a way that made your focus drift. Viktor stood beside you, watching with a raised eyebrow as you muttered to yourself.

"Careful, darling," he teased with a sly smile, his voice smooth and mature. "An airhead might break something important."

You shot him a playful glare, a little flustered. “I'm not an airhead! Besides…I'm working on it!" you said, trying to hide the embarrassment in your voice.

Viktor chuckled, reaching over and gently fixing the wires with practiced hands. His tone softened as he met your gaze. "I didn't mean it, Sweetling. You're far from an airhead. You just... get a little lost in your thoughts sometimes." He smiled warmly. “And I think it's kind of endearing."

You felt your heart warm at his change in tone, the teasing replaced by something far more tender. "Geez thanks, Viktor." You pouted and sighed out quietly.

He smiled and chuckled softly, his hand now brushing against yours. "Anything for you, Sweetling."

HOPE YOU GUYS LIKED IT<3 thanks so much for all the support on my last post :>

FEEL FREE TO LEAVE A REQUEST AND COMMENT IF YOU ENJOYED IT! (I love reading comments and any feedback!)

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hoonsluvr · 2 months ago

Text

CHERRY

박성훈 ꒰ park sunghoon ꒱ — genre; summer au, best friend’s older brother, forbidden romance, smut, a bit of fluff, angst ୨ৎ cw; p in v, unprotected sex, spit, choking, gagging, oral f.rec, mating press, edging MDNI. ⟡ synopsis; you never thought that an unexpected obsession formed during your trip to southern italy would teach you one life’s cruelest lessons — never fuck your bestfriend’s brother ୨ৎ wc; 4.8k — library ⭑.ᐟ

inspired by; cherry - lana del rey

isla yaps; hii, this is my first work so i’m a bit nervous!! lmk what you think of the layout and feedback in general is appreciated! :)

Was it wrong that you felt happy when your parents announced they wanted to take a vacation alone this year?

You sit opposite them at the dining table, your mom explaining herself for the hundredth time over. Clearly she felt guilty about it but you didn't mind. “You know its our anniversary during that time darling and I hope you understand that we love having you with us, of course we do, but 50th anniversaries are rather special and we’re booking a honeymoon resort.”

You feign a look of sadness to act like you’re listening but your mind is already elsewhere. It wasn’t that you didn’t like spending time with your parents, that wasn’t the problem at all, but now that a family vacation was out of the picture, joining Stella’s family in Italy was back in the conversation.

Soojin, or Stella as she liked to be called was your best friend, your ride or die. Years ago, when you moved to a new town, the Park family were your next door neighbours and you and Stella quickly became close, bonding over your hatred for the town and its people. You two had always felt suffocated in its environment, the way everyone knew everyone’s drama, everyone’s problems, everyone’s secrets. You promised each other that one day you would escape and explore the world together for that very reason.

You were over at her house so much that you were basically a part of the family. You had your thumbprint on their security system, the password to the garage door, and even your own designated chair at the dining table. Her mom used to jokingly call you two sisters, but honestly, that didn’t feel far off. You and Stella had grown up together, seen all of each other’s phases too. The cringe phase, the boy-obsessed phase, oh god- the emo phase, and yet your friendship was still going strong. From weekend sleepovers where you giggled and gossiped all night long to crying on each other’s shoulders after not feeling accepted in school, to smoking your first blunt together, you two had been through every whirlwind experience together. After all these years, you still struggled to express just how much admiration you held for her.

And now, it had come. This was the last summer you had left with her. In 3 months you were going to head North to New York City, to pursue a degree in arts while Stella would remain in your hometown. When you broke the news, you expected her to be angry at you because of the promise you made to travel together forever, but she simply smiled and told you she was proud of you and that she always knew you would make it far.

You felt a pit in your stomach thinking about being apart, you had never really imagined life without her, so imagine your relief and excitement when she proposed that you join her family on their vacation to Italy this summer. One last chance to have the time of your life with your best friend while you were both still young? No one could catch you dead saying no.

“Mom, please.” You beg, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from frustration. You sit across from her on the kitchen island, sipping on a mango smoothie as she prepped dinner for tonight. At this point, the conversation had been going on for far too long and both of you were running thin on patience. “I just don’t understand why you won’t let me go.” You huffed, used to getting your way.

Your mother sighs. “Sweetie, I’ve explained this to you. The Parks have done so much for you, your entire life! I just don’t want you to be a burden on them when they’re trying to have a family vacation. They're extremely sweet for offering but it’s a tough situation.”

“Ugh!” You exclaim and your mother shoots you a don’t-be-so-dramatic look. “They offered to have me! And besides, with you and daddy going to Mexico and Stella going to Italy, I’m going to be alone this summer. My last summer before college is going to be spent wasting away. It’ll be years before I see Stella again!” You pout, your eyes sparkling with hope as you see her expression soften, triumphant that you clearly struck a soft spot.

“We’ll see about it darling.” She sighs.

Even with her weary expression, all the tell-tale signs were there. She had been convinced. You stand up, satisfied as you go to text Stella the news.

And that’s how you find yourself going to the South of Italy for three weeks with the Parks: Stella, her mother and father, and her older brother Sunghoon.

Sunghoon had always been a little shy and introverted making him hard to talk to, your four year age gap not doing much to help create a relationship either. Despite that, Sunghoon had always tried being sweet to you. After many attempts of trying to talk to him over the years, you finally managed to break his shell the one time he rescued your prized possession, a teddy bear plush named Ben, from a tree branch. You still remember the warm hug he gave you when you cried over Ben’s stitching being torn and ever since that day, although you wouldn’t call yourself friends, the relationship shifted. It changed from nods of acknowledgement to smiles, from waves of greeting to hugs.

During your last years of middle school, you even developed a small crush on him but you never once told Stella, knowing she would have killed you. Once you turned fourteen, Sunghoon left to go for college and you hadn’t seen him since then. You had no idea what he was like now, his personality, his likes and dislikes, his interests. Honestly, the thought worried you a little. You just decided you would try sticking to Stella on the trip, hoping that things wouldn’t be awkward.

Only if you knew. Only if you knew what was about to happen, you never would’ve chosen to go on that godforsaken trip.

The last minute nature of your decision to join the vacation meant that tickets weren’t available on the same flight as the Parks, so you booked one for a flight that arrived in Italy just two days later. You didn’t mind however, you were just excited to spend time with Stella.

And so you arrive in the quaint beach town of Taormina, located on the shorelines of the island of Sicily. The drive from the airport to your location spans over rugged hills overlooking the Loian sea. You maintain small talk with the barely english speaking driver, chatting about what to do in town and what beaches to visit. A gasp leaves your mouth as the taxi comes to a halt outside a stunning Italian villa style Airbnb. You know the Parks aren’t exactly middle class, neither were you, but you weren’t expecting this much grandeur.

Cobblestone bricks line the pathway to the house, leaning up against the ivy covered walls. Heaps of colorful potted flowers are placed at the entrance and a wooden gazebo in the corner catches your eye. Stella is sitting in the gazebo, sipping tea. When she sees you, she jumps up in excitement and rushes over.

“You’re here!” She squeals and twirls you around as you both laugh excitedly. You hear claps of joy from the back as Shin-ah, Stella’s mom steps out of the front door, her husband, Ji-hun in close pursuit. You quickly wish the driver goodbye and thank him before hugging them both fondly.

“Gosh, we only just saw you a month ago and you’ve already become prettier!” Shin-ah exclaims, making you blush and immediately resort to your usual ‘humble’ deflections that you recited out like a poem whenever she complimented you.

You lean to the side, getting up onto your tip-toes to get a glimpse of the dark haired boy who just stepped out of the door. Sunghoon. His short black hair was now grown out into a mullet and he no longer held the smiley expression that his face once always used to carry. You glance at his arms, his thin tank top showing off his muscles, a striking difference to his previously scrawny build. He looks so different. He’s grown now and more confident, no longer the sweet, shy boy you used to crush on. Theres no doubt, Sunghoon Park has matured. He’s a man now. A fucking gorgeous man, that too.

Sunghoon murmurs a half-hearted greeting towards you, reminiscent of the way he used to speak to you before you two became comfortable. You’re not surprised-it had been years since you’d seen him. Traces of your previous dynamics were long gone by now. You return the soft greeting as Shin-ah ushers you into the house, Stella following behind, wheeling your luggage in.

“You must be hungry, come, we’ve already set the table.” And sure enough, the intricately carved wooden dining table was all set up with dishes, cutlery and a large pizza in the centre. Dinner with the Parks is comfortable as you go back and forth with them, discussing the trip’s itinerary, recent stories and more.

Shin-ah glances at Sunghoon before turning back to you. “So, you and Sunghoon haven’t seen each other in a while. He’s been asking what you’ve been up to.” It was horribly obvious that Sunghoon couldn’t care less about what you’d been up to. His mouth opens in annoyance at his mother’s words. “What? No I—" But he’s cut off by a sharp nudge from his father who scowls at him. Embarrassment pools inside of you and you laugh awkwardly before Shin-ah nods encouragingly for you to continue.

“Well uh— I’m going to NYU after this summer. I’m going to be studying art history and I’m hoping to get an internship with a local gallery this summer, after the trip of course. But yeah…” You trail off awkwardly as Sunghoon pretends to be interested. An awkward atmosphere settles over the table and you finish in silence.

After dinner, you head up to your room that you’ll be sharing with Stella. You’re sitting on the floor, unpacking your suitcase while she removes her makeup.

“Hey,” she turns to you, “I’m sorry about what happened with Hoon earlier. I don’t know why he’s acting like that.”

You wave it off. “No, don’t worry about it at all, it’s all good. I’m sure it’ll settle down in a while.”

She nods comfortingly but deep down you feel a little hurt. You knew that it wasn’t going to be the same but you didn’t expect him to be so cold.

After a few chaotic days of what felt like never-ending sightseeing and cold shoulders from Sunghoon, you finally collapse onto a picnic blanket out in the back-garden, your white sundress pooling around your knees. You roll over onto your stomach, kicking your legs into the air as you grab your book, the pages soft between your hands as you slowly flip through, trying to find where you left off. Pop. The sound of plastic popping as you open the box of glowing red cherries next to you. Your favorite.

You're a few pages in when a soft voice calls from behind you. “Hey.” You glance behind to see him standing there in a loose white shirt and khaki shorts, holding a book. He laughs softly as you scramble to straighten yourself. “No need for that, you can sit however you want.”

“No, no it's okay,” you shake your head, sitting up straight now, confused at his cheerful demeanour “what do you need?”

“I was wondering if I could join you,” he tilted his head, “you seem to be having fun.”

You squeeze internally. Something about Sunghoon was making you nervous right now but you plaster on a sweet smile nonetheless, “of course.”

You’re hyperaware of his every movement as he approaches and sits down next to you on the blanket. He holds up the book he had and it takes you a second to realise that both of you had gotten the same book to read, ‘To Kill a Mockingbird’. You smile at him, “that’s funny.”

“It is, isn’t it?” He hums. “How’s Ben doing?”

You laugh, the anxious feeling in your stomach fading a little. There’s no need to be nervous in the first place, it’s just Sunghoon. “He’s doing okay. No more accidents since the last.”

The two of you fall into silence. He coughs. "Listen... I uh— I didn't mean to act that way when you first came."

You nod almost immediately. "You don't have to explain yourself, I get it, it's fine."

"No, I was acting like a jerk for no reason. I mean- you know how I am with people at first and I hadn't seen you in a while, it just took me a while to get used to. That's not an excuse for how I acted though, I'm sorry."

You peer at him. "I get it, I figured that's the reason you were acting distant. It's okay. I'm glad we can be pause normal again." You both look at each other and for a second you feel him glance at your lips but his eyes move away so fast, it's impossible to tell. He smiles softly at you.

Your legs are crossed as you lounge lazily on a chair on the balcony, taking in the view of the salty sea, waves lapping against the rocks. Once again, a box of perfectly round Italian cherries lay on the table behind you. You couldn't seem to get enough of them.

“You must really like these.” Sunghoon murmurs from behind you, pointing at the box of the sweet fruit. You smile lazily at him, not surprised by his interruption. Somehow, he had been finding you in all sorts of odd places recently, almost as if he was looking for you from the second you disappeared from view. It didn't take a genius to figure out that Sunghoon thought you were pretty. You realised fairly quickly from the way his eyes flicked up and down whenever he saw you, resting on your tits for just a second more.

“They’re my favorite.” You nod, grabbing one and popping it into your mouth as he watches. Maybe it's the way he’s staring at you hungrily but a newfound confidence takes over you. You reach for another cherry but this time, you make sure to hold eye contact with him, looking up with big bambi eyes as your tongue swirls around the sweet fruit. You bite into it and the red juice dribbles down your chin, your eyes glinting. His finger instinctively reaches down, a millimetre away from your chin before you nod to give him permission.

He swipes at the juice on your chin, before pulling his finger back, licking it slowly. Your throat suddenly feels like it’s constricting. You should not be doing this— holy shit you should not be doing this. You stand abruptly, coughing slightly. He doesn’t react much but a slight smirk plays on his face. Pause. “I should go,” you stutter as you rush into the house, heart hammering in your chest.

You try your best to ignore him for the next few days because you had no idea what possessed you to do that. Your mind constantly replayed the moment. The way he stared at you. The way he touched you. The way he licked his finger. God you were so fucked. Every time you saw Stella, you couldn’t help but feel guilty but then you tried comforting yourself. It wasn’t like you had done anything wrong, nothing actually happened.

You didn’t even notice what you were doing at first, your actions seemingly innocent in your mind. You just wanted to make the most of the summer clothes you owned and the heat in Taormina was intense, right? But your skirts were growing shorter and shorter by the day, your bikinis became skimpier and skimpier. That, accompanied by the way you tucked your hair behind your ear when he came around, batted your eyelashes at him, knowing it made him crazy-you hadn’t even realised but that little incident between the two of you had made you develop a little obsession with Sunghoon Park, just like the one you had all those years ago. And you were desperate for his attention now.

Right from your shiny olive skin that glistened in the Italian sun to your long hair that swayed as you walked, Sunghoon Park knew you were gorgeous, even more so now that you were making it painfully obvious. He knew. He knew you were doing all of this entirely on purpose but that didn’t mask his staring as you lather on sunscreen, resting beside him in the sand in a floral pink bikini.

You know you have him.

"Hey can you help me with this?" You ask softly, holding out the bottle of sunscreen towards him. His jaw ticks but he takes the bottle from your hand.

"Actually," you smile sweetly, "on second thought, I think I'm done, what do you think?"

If looks could kill, you would strike dead at this very moment from the way he was looking at you. “What’s your game?”

You stare at him, not expecting him to say those words so soon. “What do you mean?” You pout, pretending to be oblivious, a little upset that you didn't get to have that much fun with him before he called you out.

He scoffs. “You know exactly what I mean. Don’t play dumb. You like teasing me and then pulling away at the last moment, don’t you?” When you don’t respond, his expression hardens. “You’re trying to win a game you don’t even know how to play.”

Before you get the chance to respond, the two of you are interrupted as Stella runs to you, laughing.

“Hey are you having fun?” Stella smiles down at you.

“I’m having a great time, thanks.”

She nods as she moves to sit down on the sand, between you and Sunghoon.

Theres a moment of silence before you speak. “Hey Stells, thank you for letting me come. I appreciate it a lot. I would’ve had a terrible summer without you and I’m just really glad we get to spend time together before … you know …”

She smiles at you again. A genuine smile. “I’m gonna miss you. A lot. And I know you’re worried but i’m not, because I know we’ll always be friends. We’ve been through everything together and stupid New York isn’t going to change that.” As she pulls you in for a hug, you feel a pang in your heart. You love your friend and the last thing you want is for her older brother to come between you. But you just can’t help yourself.

You glance up at Sunghoon who's watching you two hug with an emotion in his eyes that you can't quite place. He meets your eyes and you shut yours, unable to look at him any longer. You hold onto Stella tighter, suddenly feeling disgusted with yourself. You're sickening. Sickening and selfish.

Your phone screen shows 4:36AM and sleep wasn’t coming. You sit up, rubbing your eyes as you glance at Stella snoring beside you. You get out of bed slowly, the wood creaking beneath you. You desperately needed a walk to clear your mind. Stepping into your fuzzy slippers, you leave the room, entering the narrow corridor outside. Sunghoon’s door stands tall in front of your face, which you would have normally ignored, except today, streaks of light peek out of the crack at the bottom. Why is he awake?

You know you shouldn’t. You know you really shouldn’t but you do it anyways. You knock softly. A few moments pass and you think he might not come. Right as you’re about to leave, the door clicks open and he stands there in grey sweats, shirtless. You choke a little but he doesn’t notice, neither does he seem surprised to see you.

He looks you up and down and you realise what you’re wearing—a tiny pink lace-trim nightgown, barely covering anything. He’s smirking now. “Come in.”

“Uh I—“ You start to say as you begin to regret your decision but you’re cut off by his harsh tone, his smirk now faded, replaced with a hardened expression.

“That wasn't a question. Come. In.”

You swallow nervously as you follow him into the room and shut the door behind you. Sunghoon sits on the edge of the bed, motioning for you to stand in front of him. You do as he asks and now you're staring down at his face, your silky hair hanging loosely, brushing against his cheeks. He starts to grab harshly at your waist and you gasp slightly.

"You think this is funny huh? Playing all these games? Do you have any idea what you're doing at all?" When you don't respond he starts again. “What? Cat got your tongue? Are you all nervous now? Don't be, you started this after all."

You breathe out shakily, hands finding his neck. "Please—"

"Please what?" His smirk is back, he likes that he's finally the one in control. "Say you want me."

"God I want you, I do." You whine pathetically. And whatever little power you may have had over him was gone, he had claimed it back. His dark eyes glint sinisterly as he stands, picking you up by the waist and placing you down onto the bed. Your legs are raised, being held up by his hands as he presses kisses on your left ankle. He slowly makes his way down, nuzzling his nose into your inner thighs. His teeth lock onto your panties and you gasp as he drags them off, discarding them on the floor, leaving you exposed.

"Fuck you're beautiful."

He dives in again, his nose pressing against your clit as he laps harshly at your folds. You throw your head back, a jerk reaction to the sudden sensitivity. You cry out and feel him immediately stop what he was doing. You whine softly in annoyance. "Wow baby, it seems like you really want my sister to know I'm fucking you right now." You swallow harshly as his eyes shoot daggers at you. "Keep. Quiet."

He's looking at your pussy now. You wait, burning to see what he would do. And he spits on it. You gasp, biting your lip to stop the moan. He spits right on your pussy, using his fingers to spread his saliva around your messy area. He begins to lick up your folds again, pressing his tongue down on your clit.

You can't handle it. It's pathetic but you already feel a knot building up in your stomach. "Hoon— I'm going to—"

"Not yet," he spits out, coming up.

You moan weakly in protest but he doesn't seem to care. "You don't deserve to cum yet. You've not been a very good girl have you?" You shake your head.

His hands reach for his pants now, pulling them down in one quick move and you could see how painfully hard he is. Your eyes widen as he pulls out his cock. It was big. Too big. Bigger than you'd ever had before and you didn't know if you would be able to handle it. He laughs, looking at your expression. "Don't worry baby, we'll make it fit."

He pushes your legs up all the way and you were practically bent in half in front of him, your knees blurrily shifting in and out of your peripheral vision. He lines his cock up with your entrance and rubs the tip across your wet folds, groaning softly as his eyes shut. Without warning, he pushes it in and you shriek in surprise, causing him to shove his fingers into your throat. You're choking around his fingers now as he thrusts into you, quickening the pace. Tears stream down your face as you gag, you're close again, you can feel it, but so can he. Just as you're about to reach your high, he stops his motion again and you lean back into the bed, panting hard. You're desperate for release now but as you stare up at his fucked out face through your lashes, smirking down at you, you know he's not going to give you that release anytime soon.

So you go four more rounds. Four more rounds of chasing that desperate high that he pulls away from you at the last moment. You're fucked up now, sweating and panting, your hair splayed across your face as you cried and cried, begging him. The sun had risen now and it pooled in through the window, enveloping you in a warm glow, making your tan skin look golden.

"God baby, you look so fucking sexy right now." Sunghoon reaches an arm towards the desk nearby, where a small pile of digital cameras lay. Stella's digital cameras. The one's she had excitedly bought for the trip, wanting to capture every memory. He points the lens of one of them at you and you don't even have enough energy to protest. Click. And just like that, a picture of you in one of your most fucked up moments was captured forever. He tosses the camera aside, turning his attention back to you.

"You up for one more?"

Strings of gibberish come out from your mouth and he chuckles as he pushes into you once again. He thrusts in and out and you're moaning loudly this time but neither of you cared anymore. You're so sensitive at this point that it doesn't take long for that familiar feeling to arise again. This time, Sunghoon lets you have it. You let out a strangled moan as you feel your orgasm wash over you. Pure fucking euphoria. He collapses on top of you after cumming as well. You reach out, your hands tangling in his hair, stroking his face gently.

You realise you haven't kissed yet. You lean down, placing a gentle kiss on his pink lips. He kisses you back immediately but there is no lust behind it. "You're a goddess, you know that?" He speaks, muffled against your arm. You laugh this time, reaching for the camera next to you. Click. Another picture. But this one is much cuter, the two of you staring into the camera, laughing as your arms are wrapped around him. Click. And another. He's kissing you and you just want to stay in this moment forever.

The remainder of the vacation is spent stealing glances and kisses with Sunghoon as you two sneak away at random times together. You visited his room every night, sometimes it was sex and sometimes you just wanted to cuddle.

If there was one thing you were sure of by the end of the vacation, it's that you were madly, madly in love with him. And he was in love with you too.

1 month later

You step into your room, flopping onto the bed, exhausted from your shift at the gallery. You pull out your phone to texts from both Stella and Sunghoon. Sunghoon's reads 'see you tomorrow :)' while Stella had texted to cancel your bar plans for the night, wanting to hang out at home instead. You almost feel relieved, too tired to even think of going to the bar. Instead, you quickly change your clothes and head over to the house next door. Shin-ah opens the door and she's delighted to see you as ever.

After exchanging some small talk, you head upstairs to Stella's room, briefly glancing at Sunghoon's door.

"Hey Ste—“ You stop. She isn't there.

You look around, confused for a moment before realising she's sitting outside on the balcony.

"Hey, what's up?" You smile at her as you take the seat beside her.

She doesn't respond, staring straight ahead into the pink sky. She's holding an envelope, nothing too special, just a plain white envelope.

"Do you know what this is?" She speaks for the first time, holding the envelope up, still refusing to look at you.

Your eyebrows furrow. "No?"

She breathes out, finally turning to meet your eyes. You recoil slightly when you see the wild anger looking straight at you. She opens the envelope slowly, almost teasingly. "You know..." She trails, "I recently sent in the film from the trip to be developed."

Your stomach drops.

She knows.

The envelope is finally open and she pulls out three photos. The first one of you laid down on the bed, fucked out with his cock still inside you, then you and Sunghoon are hugging naked, then you're kissing.

You're going to throw up.

"Look at me." She speaks softly, gently, but her voice is full of venom.

You look up to meet her eyes but you just can't do it. Your world is spinning.

"I want you to go to New York," her voice drops to a whisper, "and never come back. I never want to see you again. I never want you to see my brother ever again. Do you understand?"

You're nodding now, pleading silently, tears streaming down your face but you know it's not going to do anything.

She takes your nod as a yes. "Good, then we're clear."

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moonstruckme · 26 days ago

Note

blanket fort - “thank you for picking me up- i know it’s late.” with fwb!sirius maybe? I’m thinking like.. you’re not together but you call him cos you need him and he comes right away <33 do with that what u will hehe

Ahhh thank you mal <3

cw: alcohol, attempted sa (mentioned, not in the scene)

fwb!Sirius x fem!reader ♡ 969 words

You like it a lot when Sirius calls you his. It’s usually by accident. He calls you lots of things—gorgeous, sweetness, dollface—but never in the same tone as when that incriminating my slips out. My darling, he’d said once, teasing, trying to get you into the shower with him (it worked). Another time, kissing overstimulated tears off your face before they could fall onto his pillowcase, my lovely girl. Sometimes, you think it’s a little pathetic of you—not very feminist, that’s for sure. You like being independent. You aren’t anybody’s. You shouldn't want to belong to someone. But you do, and not just anyone; you want to belong to Sirius.

So it’s possible that it’s only wishful thinking, when cool fingers brush the hair from your face and you think—you hope—you catch a murmured, “Oh, my girl.”

Regardless of what you may or may not hear, you’d know the feel of that hand anywhere.

Sirius is waiting when you unstick your lashes, looking down at you with an amused uptilt to his perfect mouth. He pushes more hair away from your eyes. The surface of the restaurant table feels nice against your cheek.

“What happened to you, hm?”

“I don’t know,” you reply drowsily. “What happened to you?”

Sirius huffs out a laugh. “Well, I was sitting at home thinking about this bird.”

“Gross. Is she pretty?”

“Stunning. I figured I’d call her to see if she was thinking about me too, so I did, and do you want to know what she had the gall to tell me?”

You put a hand under your cheek, angling your face to see him better. You are intensely curious. “What?”

“She said that if I wanted to fuck her, I had to come and pick her up at the fancy hotel downtown. So, here I am.” He gives you a once-over. “I don’t think we’re going to be fucking, though.”

You frown. “No?”

“No, sweetness. Sorry.”

“Why not?”

“I’ll tell you about it tomorrow.” He strokes your cheek, smiling in a way that makes you feel all melty soft. “Hey, stay put for me a minute.”

Staying put feels like all you know how to do. You assume Sirius goes somewhere, but you don’t notice. You blink, and he’s back in front of you, a glass of water in his hand where there wasn’t one before. He gives your shoulder a pat.

“C’mon, sit up.”

“M’okay,” you say, even as you do as he tells you. Your head spins once there’s no table to stabilize it. “I don’t need anything to drink.”

Sirius’ eyebrow flicks up. “Who says it’s for you?”

“Oh.” You’re strangely put out. “It’s not?”

“No, it is.” He cracks, grinning. “Just have a little for me, babe. For my peace of mind.”

You whine as he puts the glass to your lips, but you don’t have much choice. The water presses insistently at your mouth. Sirius holds the side of your face as you take it down, so that’s nice, at least.

You breathe out after swallowing. You hadn’t noticed your throat hurting before, but it does feel better now. Sirius wipes a dribble from the side of your chin like it’s nothing.

“I asked you to come here,” you say, “didn’t I.”

Sirius’ lips quirk. “Demanded was more like it.” You put a hand over your eyes, and he tsks, laughing. “What, lovely, was it a bad night?”

“Bad date,” you moan. “So boring. Worst conversationalist in the world, I could swear he was trying to get me liquored up.” The smile fades from Sirius’ face. You like this, strangely. You want his sympathy. “He’s staying here, you know. That’s why we met at the hotel for dinner, I was just too stupid to think of it.”

“He tried to take you up to his room?” he asks.

You make a wry sound. “Yeah, but he didn’t seem to like when I said I was too drunk to do anything.”

Sirius skims you over. You don’t know what he’s looking for, or if he finds it, but his expression is uncharacteristically humorless when he nods. “Good girl.”

You eye him. “Because I’m not having sex with other people?”

“Because you’re looking out for yourself.”

You sit with that for a while. You wonder if Sirius would be angry if you had gone up. Sober, that is. You wonder how he’d react if you told him about it later, what he’d think of you sleeping with someone who wasn’t him for a change. What would he think if he knew you only came on this date as an act of desperation? That you’d been so lovelorn, so pathetically hung up on him, that you’d gone out with the first person who made themselves available to you?

Fortunately, you still have enough of your wits about you to know you’d hate yourself for asking.

“So,” you say instead, “are you going to take me home now?”

Sirius grins. “I suppose I am.”

You muster your best grin in reply. “I know how you love to take me home.”

“Shush, lightweight. Drink your water, then we’ll go.”

You pick the glass up to appease him. But when you only have a few more sips before leaning your head on his shoulder, Sirius doesn’t complain.

“Can I ask you something weird?” you murmur.

“Nothing’s ever stopped you before.”

“You’ll do something for me?”

“Hm, depends.” Sirius is teasing, but when you fall silent his tone gentles. “What is it?”

“Call me something nice?”

You shut your eyes. Just inebriated enough to ask, just sober enough to be embarrassed. You’re sure he’s going to laugh at you.

Sirius’ kiss lands softly atop your hair. “I’ll call you whatever you want,” he says, in that tone, that soft, incriminating tone, “my sweetheart.”

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