hiii! could u do something about malachi and gf!reader where they’re on his house, watching movies or playing games and at some point they start making out and after a while get caught by his parents and she’s like all shy after that even tho his mom loves her and doesn’t care
Pairings: Malachi x fem!reader
WARNINGS: makeout, caught by parents
WC: 0.9k
Library // Join the taglist!
It was the kind of Saturday that begged for laziness. No obligations, no deadlines—just you, Malachi, and the creak of his old ceiling fan turning slow circles above his bed. His parents were home, but downstairs, voices drifting faintly from the kitchen as they fussed over dinner. Up here in his room, though, it felt like your own private bubble.
Malachi sprawled across the bed, socked feet dangling off the edge, while you leaned back against his pillows with a controller in your hands. The TV hummed with the glow of some action movie neither of you were really watching.
"You’re cheating," you muttered, narrowing your eyes at him as he beat you in yet another round of the racing game.
"I’m just better," he shot back with a smirk, tossing his controller aside like he hadn’t just spent the last five minutes button-mashing like his life depended on it.
You threw a pillow at him. He caught it with a laugh, the kind that shook through his chest and warmed you all the way down to your toes.
"Fine," you said, pretending to be annoyed as you dropped your own controller. "You win."
"Finally, some respect around here." He leaned back, folding his arms behind his head with mock arrogance.
You rolled your eyes, but before you could fire back, he crooked his finger at you. "C’mere."
There was something in the way he said it - soft, but commanding - that made your heart skip. You tried to play it off, sighing dramatically as you crawled over the comforter toward him.
Malachi didn’t give you a chance to settle anywhere else. The moment you were within reach, his hand slid around your waist and tugged you down onto his lap. You let out a startled little laugh, bracing your palms against his chest.
"Mal..."
"Shh." He tilted his chin up, eyes flicking from your lips back to your gaze, waiting.
You didn’t make him wait long. The kiss was tentative at first, just a brush of lips. But Malachi wasn’t built for hesitation. He deepened it almost immediately, his fingers tightening at your hip as if daring you to pull away.
You didn’t.
Instead, your arms looped around his neck, drawing yourself closer until you could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat under your palms. His lips moved against yours with that mix of confidence and hunger that always left your head spinning.
Minutes slipped by unnoticed. The movie became background noise, the only real sound the quiet hitch of your breaths and the faint rustle of blankets as you shifted against him.
At some point, you ended up straddling him properly, knees bracketing his hips. The new angle made you gasp, the press of his body against yours undeniable. His hands slid lower, resting at your waist but not pushing - just holding, grounding, like he wanted you to set the pace.
You did. Tentatively at first, a subtle roll of your hips. The friction made you shiver, burying your face against his jaw as your cheeks heated.
Malachi’s grip tightened, his breath catching. "Babe…" His voice was rougher now, softer at the edges.
The sound of it spurred you on. You rocked against him again, slow, experimental. His lips found yours once more, hungrier now, swallowing your shy little whimpers as if he couldn’t get enough.
It was dizzying - the warmth, the closeness, the way his hands splayed against your back like he never wanted to let go. You lost track of everything except him.
Until the door creaked open.
"Malachi..."
You froze. So did he.
His mom stood in the doorway, one eyebrow raised, though her expression was more amused than scandalized. Her gaze darted between the two of you - your flushed cheeks, your position on his lap, his guilty stillness.
"Dinner’s ready in ten," she said evenly. Then, with a small smile, "And hi, sweetheart."
Your whole body went hot with embarrassment. You scrambled off his lap like you’d been burned, practically tripping over the comforter as you tried to put some distance between you.
"Uh...hi, Felicia," you squeaked, refusing to meet her eyes.
She chuckled under her breath, clearly entertained, and closed the door behind her.
For a long moment, silence filled the room. You sat on the edge of the bed, face in your hands, wishing you could vanish. Malachi was still leaning back against the pillows, trying very hard not to laugh.
"Babe…" he murmured, reaching out to tug gently at your wrist.
You shot him a mortified glare. "Don’t."
"She doesn’t care," he said, chuckling softly. "Seriously. She loves you. You could set the house on fire and she’d still invite you to dinner."
"That makes it worse!" you hissed, burying your face in your palms again.
Malachi slid closer, prying your hands away and pressing a quick kiss to your temple. "No, it makes it better. Means we don’t have to sneak around."
You groaned. "You’re impossible."
"Yeah," he agreed with a grin, pulling you back into his chest, "but I’m your impossible."
Even though your cheeks stayed pink all through dinner, his mom was as warm and kind as always - asking you questions, slipping you extra helpings, and even winking when Malachi wasn’t looking. He, of course, couldn’t stop smirking every time your knees brushed under the table.
And later, when you were curled back up in his room, he whispered against your ear, "Told you she doesn’t care."
You swatted at him, still embarrassed - but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips.
