#makeout

My first request, omg<3

Matching His Freak

Hudson Williams x gf! Reader ft Connor Storrie.

n/a: i found this so fun to write T*T.

Summary: You’re on the living room floor, absolutely "shocked" by the intense chemistry between your boyfriend, Hudson, and his co-star, Connor, in their new hockey drama.

Warnings: a lot of swear.

just Hudson being freak and a cuddle lover, a lot of swear.

Word count: 636

When you watched some episodes of the show, you were completely in shock at the duality of your boyfriend and his co-star. The chemistry between them was as if they were dating for real, and there you were, sitting on the floor of your apartment living room, hugging a pillow, while Hudson sat on the couch as if he were just watching a show he had seen multiple times.

“Are you kidding me?! You’re not just kissing him! You’re giving him better kisses than you give me! That’s not fair!”

You gasped at the thought of Hudson’s character, Shane, kissing Connor’s character, Ilya, like that—too desperate, like Shane was craving it. You were just trying to figure out if your boyfriend had kissed you like that at any point during all these months of your relationship.

“What can I say? I was craving it. Look, in another scene he’s giving me a blowjob,” he said with a big grin the moment he looked down at your surprised face.

You looked up at him, squeezing the pillow for a brief moment, before gasping loudly and throwing it right at his face.

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! HO—?!”

Your boyfriend let out a small laugh as he threw the pillow back at you.

“Damn. It’s weird watching you fuck someone else. With a man, in this case.”

Hudson chuckled softly; you were funny. A freaky nerd like you matching his freak energy was something he never regretted. He loved you so much.

“Did you at least read the book?”

“Nope.”

“You read about two men fucking in manhwas and you didn’t read this book? What type of fujoshi are you? Think about Yuri on Ice, but about hockey players instead.”

You looked at him with a small frown, wrinkling your nose slightly at the comparison. Seeing you make that face always reminded him that you looked like a rabbit.

“Are you gonna eat me out like him?”

“I can eat you now, pretty girl… Or you can live the whole Ilya and Shane experience.” Your boyfriend lifted an eyebrow at you with a big grin on his face.

“Don’t be a pervert now, weirdo.”

Hudson rolled his eyes. Instead, he sat next to you on the floor, wrapping both arms around your waist, and started leaving soft kisses from your jaw to your lips in small pecks.

“Just asking, though…” he murmured between the kisses before he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck and just stayed there. “You’re not jealous, hm?”

“You want me to be jealous of Connor?”

You snickered, reaching for your phone and typing a quick message.

“Actually, Connor and I have a bet,” you said, showing him the screen where you called Connor. You had Connor on speaker before Hudson could even protest.

“Yo, did he fall for it?” Connor’s voice boomed through the phone, sounding way too proud of himself.

“Hook, line, and sinker,” you replied, high-fiving the air. “He actually thought I was mad about the kissing scene. He even tried to flex his 'craving' by mentioning the blowjob scene.”

“Pffft! Please!” Connor laughed hysterically. “I had to eat a mint before that scene because Hudson’s breath smelled like the tuna sandwich he had for lunch. Worst kiss of my career. You’re the real hero for dating him.”

Hudson sat there, frozen, looking between you and the phone with a look of pure betrayal.

“Wait... you two talk about me?”

“Daily,” you and Connor said in perfect unison.

Hudson groaned, dramatically falling back onto the couch cushions and covering his face with the pillow you had thrown earlier. “I’m calling my agent. I can’t work in these conditions. My co-star and my girlfriend are a synchronized bullying unit.”

“Don’t be a diva, Hudson!” Connor yelled before hanging up.

𝑫𝒐 𝒊𝒕 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝑬.𝑾

𝑺𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔: You do the “seeing how fast my girlfriend melts into the kiss” trend on ellie!!

𝑪𝑾: slightly suggestive!!, but mostly fluff!!

𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: ELLIE WILLIAMS x FEM!READER

The living room was a mess of soft-focus chaos. The warm, buttery light from the salt lamp on the side table cast long, dancing shadows across the rug. You propped your phone against a stack of books, the screen glowing with the countdown timer. 3… 2… 1…

"Ellie," you called out, your voice a little too bright, a little too forced. "Can you come here for a sec?"

She ambled in from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her jeans, a smear of what looked like jam on her cheek. "Yeah? What's up?" Her auburn hair was a mess, tied back in a loose bun, a few stray strands curling around her ears. She looked so utterly, beautifully domestic.

"Just… stand there." You pointed to the spot directly in front of the phone, trying to keep your expression neutral. Your heart was starting to beat a little faster, a frantic drum against your ribs.

Ellie squinted at the phone, then at you, a skeptical line forming between her brows. "What are you doing? Setting up a confession for a crime?"

"Something like that," you murmured, stepping closer. "Just… look at me. Please."

Her gaze softened, the corners of her mouth twitching. She still looked confused, but she played along, her green eyes locking onto yours. They were so clear, like moss after a rainstorm. You could see the faint, freckled constellation across her nose, the way a stray lash caught the light.

The second the timer hit zero, you leaned in.

It started slow, a deliberate press of your lips against hers. Her own were slightly chapped, familiar. For a split second, she was still, caught off guard. You felt the tiny, almost imperceptible hitch in her breath.

Then, it happened.

It was like watching a dam break in slow motion. The tension in her shoulders, the one she always carried there, just… vanished. Her hands, which had been hanging loosely at her sides, flew up to your hips, her fingers digging into the fabric of your shirt with a desperate, needy pressure. A soft, broken sound escaped her throat, a tiny whimper that was swallowed by the kiss. She swayed forward, her body melting into yours, pliant and warm. The skeptical line in her brow smoothed out, replaced by an expression of pure, unadulterated surrender. She wasn't just kissing you back; she was pouring everything she had into it, all her focus, all her energy, collapsing into your touch like she'd been waiting for it her entire life.

You held your ground, one hand coming up to cup her jaw, your thumb stroking her cheekbone. You were the anchor, the steady point in the sudden, overwhelming storm of her affection. You felt the frantic beat of her heart against your chest, a rapid, hummingbird pulse. You could feel the last of her resistance crumble, the last of her confusion dissolving into a haze of want.

You were the one who broke it, pulling back just enough to look at her.

Ellie's eyes were still closed, her lips parted and glossy. She looked dazed, drunk on the simple contact. A slow, rosy flush crept up her neck, blooming across her cheeks. When she finally opened her eyes, they were hazy, unfocused. It took her a second to register her surroundings, to remember the phone was recording.

"Oh," she breathed, the sound barely audible. Her gaze darted to the phone, then back to you. A wave of crimson washed over her, so intense it was almost painful to witness. She dropped her forehead to your shoulder, hiding her face in the crook of your neck.

"Shit," she mumbled, her voice muffled by your shirt. "Was that… on camera?"

You chuckled, the vibration of it traveling through your body and into hers. Your hand moved from her jaw to the back of her neck, your fingers tangling in the soft hairs at her nape. "Every single second of it, Williams. You looked like a fawn learning to walk."

She groaned, a long, pained sound of pure mortification. "Delete it. Burn it. Launch it into the sun."

"Nah," you said, your tone light and teasing. "I think I'll keep it. A little scientific evidence for my hypothesis."

She lifted her head, her face still burning but a spark of defiance in her eyes. "What hypothesis?"

"That you have absolutely no chill." You grinned, leaning in to press a quick, chaste kiss to the tip of her nose.

Ellie huffed, but there was no heat in it. She looked at the phone, then back at you, then at your lips. The flush on her cheeks hadn't faded, but something else was mixing with it now,a dark, hooded desire. Her hands tightened on your hips.

You thought she was going to argue, to make some snarky comment to save face. Instead, she let out a shaky breath, her voice dropping to a low, raw murmur against your skin.

"Do it again."

could you do a (sort of) continuation of it where michael invites her over for another sleepover and finally asks her if she was talking about him and she says yes and they have their first kiss??

before asking her, michael is really shy and fidgety cause like you said "one sentence shouldn't ruin what they have" but he finally decides to ask her

PLS MAKE IT CUTE AND FLUFFY THANK YOUUU 💕💕💕

YOUR TYPE?

Part 2

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ Michael Jackson 80s x Female!Reader

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ Part 1 here

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ Summary: Michael finally finds the courage to ask if you were describing him during your last sleepover, and you happily confirm that he is exactly your type. The realization leads to a sweet, long-awaited first kiss.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ warnings: Kissing, making out. Nothing else.

The week following the sleepover had been a blur of restless nights and distracted rehearsals for Michael. He was the biggest star on the planet, yet he felt like a teenager holding a secret that was too big for his heart. He had replayed that conversation a thousand times, dissecting your tone, the way your eyes had looked, and the way you had tilted your head when you said his name. Was it a joke? Or was it the most daring thing you had said to him?

To you, Michael was acting strange. Not bad strange. Not distant. If anything, he’d been even sweeter than usual, which somehow made everything worse.

He had called you more often, usually late at night after recording sessions, just to complain to you about how his brothers kept stealing food from the kitchen. It was evident that Michael was restless, but why?

He couldn’t stand the not knowing. So, on a humid Friday night, he did what he always did when his world felt off balanced, he called you.

“I have a new movie,” he whispered into the phone. “My mother made the good popcorn. The kind with too much butter. You have to come over.”

You didn’t even hesitate. You never did. But when you pulled up outside Hayvenhurst, your stomach twisted nervously.

You walked into his house. “Michael?” You called out. “In here!” His voice echoed from upstairs.

You climbed the staircase, already smiling to yourself. Some things never change. When you pushed open his bedroom door, you found him kneeling on the floor beside the television, struggling with the VCR.

After successfully winning the battle against the VCR, you had both climbed onto his bed. Back’s leaning against the headboard. The atmosphere was different tonight. Usually, the two of you were a whirlwind of energy, mimicking movie lines, sharing snacks, or engaged in a heated debate. But tonight, Michael was uncharacteristically quiet.

He was fidgeting. His long, fingers were busy twisting a loose thread on a throw pillow, then smoothing the duvet, then adjusting his shirt.

“Michael, you’re going to burn a hole in the duvet if you keep doing that,” you teased softly, nudging his legs with yours.

He jumped slightly, he looked nervous. “I’m just… sorry, my mind is racing.” You gave him your full attention now, he wasn’t usually like this. “About the album?”

“No,” he said quickly, finally looking at you. His dark eyes were wide, searching your face with an intensity that made air feel thin. “Not the album. About what you said last time.”

The playful smile on your face faltered, replaced by a sudden hammering heartbeat. You hadn’t expected him to bring it up so directly.

Michael shifted, turning so he was facing you fully. He looked down at his hands, his thumbs circling each other.

“I thought about it all week,” he confessed, his voice changing like he was sharing an intimate secret. “I kept thinking about that conversation we had.” he paused, biting his lower lip. He looked so vulnerable in the dim light. Uncertainly flickered quickly across his face, it was so subtle.

There it was, your stomach flipped instantly. You sat up a little straight. “The one where you assaulted me with a pillow?”

He smiled faintly. “Before that.”

“Oh.” You breathed out.

“And I thought…” He looked up, his lashes casting long shadows on his cheekbones. “I don’t know how to ask this without soundin’ stupid” He let out a shaky breath.

“You could never sound stupid to me.” You said quietly. His eyes lifted to yours instantly, the sincerity in your voice seemed to hit him hard

Michael looked down again, he seemed so overwhelmed. “You know what scares me?” He admitted quietly. “What?” You said gently. “You’re my favourite person.” The confession came out so honestly that it made your chest psychically ache.

He laughed shakily afterward, embarrassed by his own vulnerability.

“You always have been,” he continued. “Since we were kids. Since before all this stuff happened.” He gestured vaguely toward the world outside his bedroom. “You make me feel normal.”

Your eyes softened. Michael rarely talked about fame seriously. Usually he joked about it or brushed it aside. But now he looked fragile.

“And I keep thinkin’…” he paused, chewing on his lower lip, a nervous habit of his. “What if I say the wrong thing and ruin that?”

You frowned. “You won’t.” You said it so sincere, like you believed it with your whole soul and heart.

“But what if I do?”

“You won’t.” You repeated again more firmly.

Michael stared at you for a long moment, he hesitated briefly. The he whispered, “were you talking about me?”

The room suddenly felt very still. The question hung in the air, vibrating with the weight of twenty years of friendship. You could see the fear in his eyes, the fear that he might be wrong, and the even greater fear of what it would mean if he was right.

You didn’t look away. You couldn’t joke about it this time. You let the truth settle between you, as the natural moonlight streamed through the window. Michael looked terrified after finally saying it out loud. Like he was bracing himself for rejection.

“You really didn’t know?” You asked gently, as you leaned forward. Michael shook his head once. “I hoped,” he admitted. “But I didn’t know.”

You couldn’t help but smile realising how much your answer mattered to him.

“Michael,” you whispered, your voice steady despite the butterflies performing acrobatics in your stomach. “Who else has eyes like yours? Who else could I possibly be talking about?”

The sound after was followed by a silence. It wasn’t tense. It was the sound of a million tiny puzzle pieces finally clicking into place. The look that went across his face was pure disbelief.

“Me?” He said faintly.

“Yes, you.” You laughed.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

Michael stared at you like he genuinely couldn’t process it. The nervous energy still there, but it was overtaken by pure relief. “But… you’re-you’re beautiful,” he blurted out.

You blinked, eyebrows raising. “So are you?”

“No, but I mean-” He got flustered immediately, you could tell he was trying his hardest not to hide his face. “You could have anybody.”

“And I want you.” You laughed.

You could see the red creeping up his neck and evidently across his cheekbones. You had never seen someone look so simultaneously thrilled and overwhelmed.

“Oh my God,” he mumbled, caving in and covering his face with his hands. You laughed at his reaction. “You’re funny.”

“Stop.” He groaned.

You laughed again, grabbing his hands and pulling them away from his face. He looked back at you, eyes warm and impossibly soft.

“You really like me?”

“I’m pretty sure I’ve been in love with you for years.”

The words slipped out before you could stop them. Michael went completely still, even the air seemed to leave the room.

“What?” He whispered.

You felt your face instantly heating up. Embarrassed at the honesty that you accidentally spilt from your mouth.

Michael stared at you. Then he suddenly smiled. That big toothy grin that held so much affection. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that.”

Your breath caught. “How long?”

Michael looked shy again, glancing down. “Maybe since we were sixteen.”

“Sixteen!?”

“I was sufferin’!” Michael laughed, which caused you to burst into laughter. “I thought you were too good for me.” He confessed.

“You’re literally Michael Jackson.” You deadpanned.

“So?”

You stared at him in disbelief. Then you both dissolved into laughter again. The laughter eventually dialled down. The tenderness in the way he looked at you made your heart ache. Without thinking, Michael reached up and tucked your hair being your ear. His eyes lifted to yours slowly, before dropping down to your lips and flicking back up again.

“Can I kiss you?” His voice came out almost inaudible. Your heart nearly stopped. “You have to ask?”

“I’m tryin’ to be respectful.”

You smiled helplessly, and nodded. Leaning in closer towards him. Michael moved forward slowly, you could feel every second of it. And then finally his lips finally met yours.

It was soft, hesitant and tasted faintly of buttery popcorn. He was tentative and sweet enough to make your chest ache. You reached up, your fingers finding the soft hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him a fraction closer.

Michael let out a tiny, shaky sound into the kiss, deepening this kiss. You felt like you were melting. You moved before you could get nervous. Without breaking the kiss you carefully shifted into his lap. One leg sliding onto either side of him.

Slowly, hesitantly, his hands rested onto your hips. His hands tightening, almost like he was scared you’d disappear. Every kiss felt careful and affectionate and full of years worth of feelings he’d kept hidden.

Finally breaking the kiss, you both sounded breathless. You could feel how fast his heart was beating.

And Michael looked at you like he might fall in love all over again.