#Best organic baby massage oil

[peachigummi]

is that right? ☏ mattheo riddle.

summary: both your parents had set up an arranged marriage. you both simply tolerated it for the most part, as it really was in the best interest for your respective families. over the year, you started to really develop feelings for each other - especially in wanting to expand the family name.

pairing: mattheo x fem! reader

warnings: 18+ jealousy, smut like literal major baby making so there is unprotected p in v and creampie, so breeding!kink, oral sex (giving and receiving), fingering, choking, gagging, slight bondage, almost public but not really?, cock warming... maybe slight daddy/mommy stuff naturally?. i think that's pretty much it fluff at the end. he is rough but talks you through it, praise!kink.

note: this is my first time ever writing smut...omg i almost didnt finish writing this LOL i had to stop midway then I had the post clarity and that shameful feeling HAHAHAH

word count: 7.5k

(slightly not really proofread...again)

reblogs & comments are appreciated! i hope you have fun!! tell me what you think!

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Both your parents had set up an arranged marriage for after you and Mattheo graduated from Hogwarts. You've been married for over a year now, living in a manor that housed both families. There was definitely some tension occurring, recently you’ve both started to further develop feelings. At first you tolerated your union as his family wanted to continue with a strong and pure bloodline, and your family simply wanted protection. 

You were sitting at your vanity, brushing your hair when Mattheo walked out of the bathroom with wet hair and a towel around his waist. He gave you a smug look, heading to the walk-in closet, dropping the towel and slipping on his underwear, his back turned to you. You wouldn’t help but press your thighs together at the sight of him, you quickly return to brush the knots from your hair. 

From the vanity mirror you look at his chiseled back muscles. He still looks as good as the first day you met him. You had the luck on your side for that, at least the partner in your arranged marriage was good looking…yet you craved having a chance to fall in love organically. You could count on a single hand how many times you and Mattheo had been physically intimate. 

Mattheo put on a shirt and grey sweats, shit, before walking out of the closet to approach you. “I’ve heard from your parents that you’ve been talking to another guy at work?” he says calmly but firmly.

You thought about it for a second, “Charlie? Yeah, he’s in training.” After graduating Hogwarts you were able to quickly land a job with the M.O.M. while mattheo stuck with DAD…aka the family…business. I moved on to rub body oil on my legs and arms, not looking at him.

He tried to not pay any attention to you as you moved your hands in tight little circles. Mattheo would love a good massage right about now too, he took a step back and sat on his side of the massive bed, “and what do you talk to him about?”

“I mean,” you scoff at him, “Mattheo, it’s just training protocols. Showing him around the work area, how to do things, where things are at. Not much else to it than that.”

He clenched his jaw, he couldn’t deny that he had an attraction to you, but he always told himself to ignore it, “that’s it?”

“Yes, that’s it.” You stood up from the vanity, clicking closed the boy oil. Setting it down where it belonged, you enjoyed having a tidy space. You sat on your side of the bed.

He looked at the way your hips swayed in your night dress as you walked to your side. You turned your head to look back at him. He looked so tense, “I hope you’re not lying.”

You stayed quiet, of course he wouldn’t trust me. You had never given him a reason not to even before the start of this arrangement, so it annoyed you when he doubted you. That might just be his nature though. You slid into the satin bed sheets, they were nice and cool to the touch, much needed after a long day at work. You turned your bedside lamp off, encasing your both in darkness. Mattheo laid beside you, he usually took to his side, but tonight he was feeling a bit off so he wanted to be close to you. Not making physical contact but enough to where you notice his warm body. 

You kept your eyes open, your back turned away from him, what was he doing? He never slept so close to you. After a long period of silence you spoke up, feeling brave because it was dark. You wouldn’t see his expression and he wouldn’t see yours, “are you jealous, Mattheo?”

He sneered at the question, as if the idea of him being jealous was a crime, “of course not. I’m just concerned that you’re doing something you shouldn’t be.” There was a small hint of jealousy in his voice, he hated to admit it but he didn’t like the idea of you with another man.

“I might have not had a choice, but I don’t plan to step out of this marriage. You have nothing to worry about.” You tried to scoot closer to the edge of the bed, trying to build distance from him, “I wish I could say the same with you…and your assistant.”

His face looked offended, but you couldn't see it, you could hear it in his voice, trying to keep it cool. “My assistant? You’re the only one that is allowed in my office.”

“That’s not what Draco told me.” Mattheo was able to recruit Draco back into the business. Draco was nice to you, he was like a brother figure. Your families were close. They would have arranged a marriage with him instead, but his mother decided against it. She believed in falling in love, and making the choice Draco’s. “He warned me to never let you go on any work trips or work late over time. He doesn’t trust your assistant. Draco told me she wants to take any opportunity to have you alone, where no one can see you two.”

Mattheo gritted his teeth as he listened to you. He didn’t appreciate that Draco was telling you things about him, in fact was pissed. He sat up in bed, turning on his bedside lamp. He looked at you with furious eyes, “Draco has no idea what he’s talking about. My work assistant wouldn’t do such things!” That was a lie and he knew it.

“I trust Draco. Don’t you speak ill of him. Why are you defending her?! YOU’RE the one who should be telling me that you wouldn’t do such things with her!” You couldn’t help your own jealousy come forth, you nearly fell off the bed.

He grabbed your arm to pull you back on the bed. Mattheo spoke with a calm and firm voice, “you have my word that I have never, nor will i ever, do such things with my assistant. No other woman can have me the way you do.” He admitted with a smirk, grabbing your chin and lifting it up so your gaze would be on him only.

You didn’t thank him for catching you, but you were glad he did. You lost your concentration for a split second at his admission. You regained yourself, “fire her then.”

He laughed at your demand, “fire my assistant?” A wicked thought passed through it. He could use this to his advantage to make you feel jealous, test the water on how you felt about him, “Why would I do that? She helps me.”

You crossed your arms, “you have three choices.” You count up with your fingers, “You either fire her. Let me choose an assistant for yourself. Or you hire me to be your new assistant.”

He raised his eyebrow at your offers, but still kept his cool, He didn’t want to show how turned on he was by how demanding you were being at the moment, “you’re giving me an ultimatum…” he smirked slightly, “and you think I’ll just do as you demand?”

“You better mattheo. If you don’t want to take it for purely my sake, do it for your bloodline.” I rolled my eyes. Fighting back the blush, thinking one day I will carry his child. 

He groaned at the mention of the family purity, “is that right?” he said in a frustrated tone, “you know as well as I do that this marriage is a duty to our families.” He sighed. “Very well, i’ll take you up on your offer, be my new assistant.”

Your eyes grew wide. You didn’t actually expect him to take that choice, far as you could tell he enjoyed being away from you even if it was at work. “I’ll call my work in the morning. See? Not so bad that I was training Charlie, he can take my place.” You tried to read his face before laying back down, this time closer to the center of the bed.

He turned off his lamp again, “let it be done. But remember, as my new assistant, I won't go easy on you.” He teased, there was a small smile on his face he couldn’t straighten out.

You reached out to pinch his ear, “don’t let it get to your head. I’m still your equal as your wife. Don’t forget about that.” You turned your back to him once again, closing your eyes.

His smile only got bigger at how fierce you were being, he must have struck a chord. He has never seen you so jealous. “Yes, yes… of course my love.” he mocked in a quiet voice as he inched closer to you, laying by your side. Not making much contact, but enough to tease you. You rolled your eyes, he only ever used pet names to tease you. You wanted them to mean something. You remembered the way he came out of the shower, you thought about his wide shoulders, his collar bones.. You scoot your ass closer to his hips. Two can play at that game.

Mattheo’s breath hitched, “what do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m trying to sleep. Goodnight.”

He was so close to snapping at you, but he didn’t want to take the bait, “night.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The next morning you woke up early to call and explain why you were leaving the ministry. You had to come up with a solid unsuspecting excuse. Mattheo’s family would not be too happy with it, being their spy and all, but if it meant my marriage could be successful, so be it. 

You were at the dining room table, it was empty. Everyone in the manor wouldn’t wake up for another half hour or so. Yet there was Mattheo in his black suit, “morning.” He found it amusing you were already ready for the day. He looked you up and down, a wave of lust surged through him. He thought you looked quite lovely, he almost said it outloud but resisted the urge.

“Good morning Mr. Riddle, sir.” You stood up, pulling his seat out. You rolled my eyes, but smiled sweetly at him, “I’m ready for my first day.”

He chuckled softly at how polite you were being, “are you now? And what are you looking forward to most today?”

One of the maids came by to set mattheo’s breakfast down. I smiled at her and waited until she left before continuing, “Sir, I'm looking forward to you firing your current assistant… in front of me.” You batted your lashes at him. Knowing you were going to meet her for the first and last time, you took extra care in how you looked.

“You really want to witness her losing her job, don't you?” He bit the corner of his mouth. 

“She should have watched the way she was acting with you, if she really cared about her job security.” Our blended family began to slowly trickle into the dining room, you laid a hand on Mattheo’s shoulder. you kissed his head. We made the appearance of a blissful marriage around them, not wanting a rift to occur between the families, “I'll meet you at the car in 15, darling.”

He tried his hardest to maintain his facade as you kissed him and left. He again watched you walk away, your perfect figure made his body tingle with desire once more. He excused himself from the table.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Mattheo turned the car off and unbuckled his seatbelt first to get out so he could open your door, “are you ready, my dear?” he questioned though he knew the answer. He didn’t think there would be any hesitation from you in regards to what was about to happen.

You nodded, straightening out your skirt. You followed him into the building. You felt uneasy to be around so many people who have caused harm and were plotting to do more. At least your family was safe, as long as you were with the Riddles.

Mattheo noticed and held your hand as he led you to his office, “Nothing is going to happen to you.” He offered you a chair in front of his desk before going around to sit at the main chair.

You couldn’t help but smile, you let it drop just as quick too. It’s all just part of the agreement. If something were to happen to you, poof~ there goes the bloodline. 

“Good morning, Mattheo.” A woman with a sickly sweet, sickly high pitched voice said with the entry.

He gave her a brief glimpse, he could already tell he would get a headache. His assistant was wearing a tight fitting top with a ridiculously short skirt, she was pouring him a cup of coffee.

You watched as his eyes followed her, gripping tightly at the chair’s arm. Draco was right, no one in their right mind would think of dressing that skimpy for work, if they were truly just there to get shit done. “It’s Mr. Riddle to you.” You said taking your left hand to your chin, making sure your wedding ring was up and front ready to gawk at.

Mattheo looked at you, he loved the way your demeanor was changing. He could see the jealous and possessive energy oozing off of you. He found it quite intriguing, a part of him wanted to test your limits. He reached out to accept the cup of coffee from his assistant, “is it just like how I like it?” “Yes Mr. Riddle. Just how you like it” she said, leaning over to him, finishing the stir. This made her skirt even tighter and her breasts were there to peep into.

You stared at Mattheo hard, expecting him to say something to the woman. He felt you, he had to admit he also was quite displeased at how his assistant behaved around him, but it was all fun and game.

“Now, what do I have scheduled for today?”

Before the woman could answer you interrupted. “I know one thing you have scheduled, Mattheo.” You tapped your foot. You needed her gone. Now. Draco - you’ll have to thank him at the next dinner party. You should have done something sooner. You can’t believe your husband was letting this slut work around him, dictating what he did by the hour.

Mattheo’s eyebrows slightly rose in surprise, he was a bit caught off guard at your interruption. He was so amused by how impatient you had become.

“Well we do have a meeting to go with the Boyles in an hour, can this wait?” His assistant said puffing her chest out to make it appear larger. You hated that she said we instead of you. That bitch. You got up from your seat, going around the desk to stand behind Mattheo. You snaked both arms over his shoulders and down his chest.

He held back a groan as your soft touch distracted his thoughts for a moment. He loved that you were making it clear he was yours. He snapped out of it when he remembered he was still in the presence of his assistant so he looked back at her, all the mock gone from his voice, “i’ll be quick… You’re fired. You're no longer needed here.”

The blood drained out of the woman’s face, her shoulder’s immediately fell. You gave her a fake condolences look.

“W-wuh why? What did I do? Is this because of the office party last week? It won’t happen again, it was wildly inappropriate.” She composed herself, taking a stab at you with the last portion. You brought your hands to Mattheo’s shoulders and squeezed hard slowly, as to not bring attention to the action.

His eyes darkened, “You knew the rules. My father specifically told you when you started not to try anything with me. But even after making it clear, you still chose to try and make a move on me at my own party.” His voice was deep, hiding the amusement that lay underneath.

Even though you hated the confession, you couldn't help but appreciate Mattheo’s honesty. You lessened the grip on his shoulders, rubbing out the part you dug in your nails as a way of saying thank you.

“I was so drunk Mr. Riddle. I’m terribly sorry. I really need this job. I thought you were needing something else…I thought you weren’t getting pleased right. Mattheo, I'm sorry don’t fire me.” You wanted to scream as she pleaded. You can hear the poison off the back of her tongue. Seriously, that Bitch! With that comment you returned to dig your nails into Mattheo.

“My needs are none of your concern.” Mattheo spat at her, but she was right. He has been craving a certain kind of touch for far too long now. He did enjoy a good begging, no matter who it came from, but he wasn’t going to go against his marriage. 

You felt him hold your left hand, flipping it so that both the back of your hands were facing the woman, he was showing your matching rings, “I am perfectly happy in my marriage.” You couldn’t help but wonder if he meant that, or if it was just for show. I was happy too wasn’t I?

The woman looked at your hands that were pressed together, despite her disappointment, she knew there was nothing she could do so she bit her tongue and nodded in response. You watched her every movement, as she collected herself. She still didn’t bother pulling down her skirt or buttoning up her shirt, it was as if she still wanted Mattheo to see what he would have missed out on. To leave this image with him as a parting gift.

He simply stared at the clock, “you have three minutes to collect your things before security arrives to escort you out of the building. Do not leave anything behind because it will be incinerated. My father will deal with your severance…if he gives you anything. Especially after I tell him why I had to fire you.”

She turned to the door, stole a glance back at Mattheo, and left the room. You stayed put behind Mattheo. You didn’t want him to see your face just yet. You needed to cool down. 

He groaned loudly and leaned back into your touch, rubbing a hand over his face, “I don’t even know why I kept her for so long. She wasn’t even that good at her job” he smirked, still wanting to test you.

“Don’t play stupid, I know I won't. Clearly there was something going on!” You scoffed, “to think you were getting so mad at Draco for warning me!”

He took your hand pulling you over to sit on his lap, “there was absolutely nothing going on. I didn’t ask her for anything outside of work related things. I would have never let her touch me, she thought I was unhappy in our marriage.”

“Why would she think you were unhappy hmm? Why was she assuming, let’s be honest, she assumed correctly that you weren’t getting needs met. How were you acting with her, tell me now.” You couldn’t help but feel like a little girl on his lap, a little girl who was throwing a tantrum for not wanting to share a beloved stuffed animal.

He rested his chin on your shoulder as he spoke into your ear, “it was probably because I was often short tempered with her, but I promise it was mostly due to her not doing her job correctly.” His lips brushed against your neck.

Yeah that kind of sounds like Mattheo, he liked things done a certain way, and he didn’t like when it veered off the track. But then again, even in school he was a massive flirt. So how much was the tension between the two due to his short temper and how much was his charm? 

“She’s not worth even a moment of your thought.” He mumbled against your ear, sending a shiver down to your core. He placed a gentle kiss right under your jaw. His hands ran down your thighs, squeezing ever so lightly.

You let out a faint moan, “Mattheo…” You couldn’t remember exactly the last time you were like this, it was very rare. While in school, you remembered how everyone wanted him. He allowed them to play games with him, he loved to toy with them too. But the girls knew, they ultimately knew they had no chance ending up with him. Our arranged marriage wasn’t a secret. 

He continued to press kisses over your neck, occasionally nipping and sucking gently on your skin, enjoying the way your body responded to his touch. He grabbed one leg and forced you to face him, your knees now on either side of his thighs, straddling him. He then wordlessly cast a spell on the door with his wand, so it wouldn’t be opened. He didn’t even look at the door, he didn’t need to carefully aim. You could feel your core getting embarrassingly wet at the simple gesture. “Mattheo, we shouldn’t..” you panted. 

“Maybe you’re right…” He responded, though he didn’t stop his ministrations. He captured your lips with his, kissing you hungrily as he pressed his body against yours. His hands exploring over your body. 

You let your hands go up the back of his neck, tugging at his dark curls. They were so soft and velvety. Fuck. He felt so good, you could feel him press against yourself. You forgot how big he was, you wanted to just dry hump him to feel satisfied with yourself right now. You couldn’t bring yourself to it, you tried to speak between his hasty sloppy kisses, “Matty…you do have a meeting soon.”

He loosened his grip ever so slightly, “then do your job. and cancel. it.” He said through gritted teeth, planting kisses on your collarbone. Without looking he pulled his phone closer to you. He hoped you would make the right choice.

You nodded shifting in his lap, earning a groan. What a start to my new job. “What’s the extension to Boyle’s assistant?” You grabbed the receiver trying to hold it and keep your breath steady. Mattheo whispered it against your ear lobe. You grew impatient once more as you continued to hear it ring on the other end. C’mon answer.

“Hello, how may I direct your call?”

“Hi um” you looked down at Mattheo’s sweet brown eyes that were following you, pleading with yours, you tried to get him to pause with his lip exploration for a second, “I’m Mr. Riddles’ new assistant - we..I..we..sorry he needs to” damn ..girl I NEED TO! Mattheo muffled his own giggle with his hand. Enjoying how you kept messing up, obviously your mind has started to get clouded.

“Y/N/N?” The woman on the other receiver said, your old nickname from school.

“Oh my god, Daphne? Hey! I didn’t recognize your voice…!”

He watched you with slight amusement.

Daphne started to ramble on about how she started at this job, on any other day you would have totally loved to entertain her and catch up. You got along very well, but you cut her off as she explained, “um Daphne, we should go out for some coffee soon, we can talk then. It’s just that Mattheo needs the meeting with the Boyles rescheduled.”

“Oh..okay..is everything alright? It was an important meeting…”

Not as important as this.

“Everything is fine, is there a different time we can meet? Push it back a couple more hours?” You looked over at his schedule that his previous slut of an assistant left. You both ended up agreeing on a later time, you quickly thanked her and said goodbye. You clicked the receiver down, putting the do not disturb on for good measure too. 

“Where were we?” you shyly said, looking at his eyes that were gleaming with desire and excitement.

“I was thinking we could restart from here..” He readjusted you back on his lap, slipping a hand under your skirt skimming along the line of your panty. 

You missed his touch, his hands could sometimes be so cold to the touch that they felt like they left a burning trail. He pulled back slightly, picking you up by your ass to set you down on the edge of his desk. He used his hands to open your legs wider, ever so gently “Is it okay if I touch you right here?” you were already nodding before he finished, “Use your words with me. Do you want me to touch you here?” He padded his thumb against your core, still over your panties. “Yes Mattheo, please please touch me.” 

“That’s my girl.” He smiled proudly, he could already feel the want and need pouring off of you, and it was driving him equally if not more insane. He pushed your skirt up higher, revealing yourself to him. Ran his hands over your hips massaging them as you had done the night before. They felt so soft and squishy. 

You couldn’t help but throw your head back, leaning on your forearms. You moved your head forward to look at him when he retracted his hands. He had sat back down in his chair, admiring how he had you. You felt like you were under a microscope, to be so exposed. You tried pressing your legs back together.

Tsk, tsk, tsk, “don’t hide. Let me see you.” he pushed your knees back apart to regain his view. He pulled your dominant hand forward, he also leaned forward so you could touch the side of his face, “show me how you please yourself.” He watched with a hungry expression, clearly enjoying how you blushed and got flustered. Mattheo gently rubbed his thumb along your burning cheek softly, then traced it against your bottom lip asking for entry, “there’s no need to be shy with me, my love.” His voice was sweet and soft, “I promise I wont judge you, you are my wife after all.”

You let his thumb go into your mouth. You sucked on it, not once breaking eye contact, “shit y/n, that’s my pretty princess.” with his free hand he slid underneath his own pants and readjusted himself into a comfortable position. He took your dominant hand once more, putting it over your core. “Show me.”

You hesitated again to make a move on yourself, Mattheo pulled his thumb out of your mouth so he could wrap his hand around your neck, “don’t make me say it again.”

Oh my shit. “Sorry” you managed to choke out through his alternating grip intensity. You went over your panties to play yourself. You were so wet. Your hand was shaking with nerves as you rubbed over your entrance, letting your slick arousal coat them before moving them between your folds and finally at your clit. Mattheo was looking down at your movements. The hand that wasn’t around your neck, he helped by holding your panties out of the way, “so pretty, you’re glistening.”

“You..you have this effect on me Matty. This is all for you.”

“Good, you’re mine.” He choked you hard then lessened it once more, “and i'm yours.” He kissed you again before watching you play with yourself. You kept rubbing your clit for him. He let go of your neck, you felt your blood rush back to your brain. Mattheo unbuttoned your top, unclasped your bra and started to play with your breasts. Alternating and teasing each nipple. “So perfect.” He grinned against your nipples, biting it and blowing cool air on it. You yelped and he covered your mouth, “shhh.” He unlatched himself from you and sat down. He rubbed himself through his pants before undoing his belt. His eyes never left your wet core, it was purring for him.

He let out a small sign, laughing. You felt insecure for a split second, “what?”

“Nothing..you’re just doing..it wrong”

“Huh?”

“Here let me help you, princess. I’ll show you how I'd do it.” he moved his chair closer, moving your hand away. He just rubbed the middle and ring finger along your heat, it grant him a moan, “y/n, as much as I love hearing you like this. You’ve gotta stay quiet.”

You bit your lip hard, “I’ll try Mattheo but..”

“None of that, you must do as I say.” he gently inserted one finger inside you, curling it up against your wall. You moaned louder. He whipped his single digit out, “you’re so needy, even with a single finger? Sweet Salazar, what am I going to do with you? You’re hopeless.” He let out a haughty laugh.

“Baby..please.” You watched him stand up, taking his belt off the loops of his pants. You thought he was finally doing to give you what you wanted most, but instead he just wrapped it around your head, tightening it around your mouth, closing it.

“I’m really sorry I have to do this baby girl, but you just wont keep your mouth shut.” He wasn’t a bit sorry, you can tell by how he looked down at the sight of you. He was actually quite pleased. He gave you a kiss on the forehead, it was a sharp contrast to the leather belt wrapped around your mouth. Seeing you like this was beyond his wildest dreams, gagged before him. Mattheo sat back down continuing where he left off, but this time he inserted two of his fingers. He didn’t allow you to adjust to them. The belt indeed muted your cry. It hurt, you didn’t dare use two of your own fingers on yourself, and here he was with hands that were twice the size of yours.

“You’re doing so well for me, princess.” He whispered, inserting his fingers all the way and pulling them out the same. You felt a tear running down your cheek. He began to rhythmically curve them when they were inside you. The pain was quickly subdued with pleasure. You laid back on the desk arching yourself so he could go in deeper, “so now you want more huh?”

Still fingering you, he went back to suck on your nipples. He towered over you, you shook your head, “what is it?” He looked at your concern. You looked at his fully clothed body, wrapping your hand around his tie. You were naked, apart from your skirt, but it was so bunched up at your hips it didn’t matter. You couldn’t  be the only one bare right now, you want to see his body, “how are you still bossy with your mouth shut?” He laughed, pushing your hand away, “news flash, I’m your boss now. You don’t tell me what to do.”

Despite his words, he did take off his tie first, wrapping it around your wrists, goddammit, before taking off his suit jacket and unbuttoning his shirt only half way. You could look at his chest that was peaking. You felt yourself drool against the belt.

He sat back down and continued to finger you relentlessly. He pulled out and tasted his fingers, “too bad you’re gagged. I would have liked you to taste yourself. At least I have your cunt to myself.” he welcomed himself into you again. He slowly ran his warm tongue up your slit, stopping at your clit. He did this a couple of times. It was so agonizing. Your eyes were bobbing around unable to stay open. With your hands tied you were still able to hold his head down to stop and focus on your clit.

Mattheo would have swatted your hands away, but he needed your touch as well. He wanted to make you feel amazing, he wanted you to forget your name and only respond to “wife”. But god did he also just want to already bury his cock deep inside you to feel some relief. He needed to be patient.

Your breath began to get shallow and unsteady. He groaned against your clit, your pussy was repeatedly clenching around his fingers, indicating you were close. 

His lips curled devilishly, he was thinking about denying your orgasm. He only wanted you to cum on his cock and nothing else. The only reason why he didn’t is because he loved the taste of you too much to stop, “you can do it, doll. Come for me let me taste it.”

You began to shake and grab a fist full of curls as you came. He gradually slowed down, helping you ride out your orgasm. You felt so relaxed.

He looked so full of himself. He pulled his face away from you, his lips were red and swollen from his own work. Mattheo held up his right hand, the one that was fingering you, you could see the wetness on it. 

With his clean hand he pulled down his pants and underwear in one quick motion. Rubbing his cock with his right hand, letting your cum wet it. He used two fingers to beacon you over, before he realized you couldn’t move.  He left your wrists still tied, and pulled you forward onto your feet. “Look me in the eye, princess. Do you promise to be quiet now?” 

You could only nod. That was enough for him, because he had other plans to occupy your mouth. He removed the belt around your mouth. With your still bonded hands you wiped the spit around your mouth, “God, damn.”

He laughed, “I don't remember being called God before, but you can't continue with its use.” 

Before you could reply with something snarky, he pushed you down onto your knees and had the tip of his cock at your lips, “Sorry, I can’t actually trust you to be quiet, so open wide and take it.”

You obeyed. Though you could only take nearly half of it before it started your gag reflex, “i love that sound baby,” he signed, “is it too big for you?” He didn’t really care for an answer, of course it was. It would have just inflated his ego more. 

“C’mon and let me in more.” slobber just kept going down your chin and onto your breasts. He bucked his hips at the sight, “you’re so fucking pretty.” Mattheo gathered your hair into two bunches, using them as handlebars. He was straight throat fucking you at this point. You began to feel faint, and he saw it too, so he pulled his cock all the way out allowing you to breathe. “You’re doing so good.” He kissed you on the lips, using his shirt to help clean your chin.

You were just about to say thank you when he reinserted his cock into your mouth. You pull your head back and he actually allows you. With your bound hands you stroke the portion of his cock that you couldn’t take in, pumping it. Admiring the veins running down it . You wrap your lips around his lip, swirling your tongue around. His precum was like a classified drug to you, it was so delicious. You kept at your pace wanting more to come out, “you’re obsessed” Mattheo pointed out thrilled.

“Talk to me, love” He touched your ear lobe. 

You spoke to him with his cock still in your mouth, so it slurred your speech, “yob ase s’ gob.” 

He chuckled but groaned with the vibrations your voice made, “what was that?”

You stopped sucking, “you taste so good!” you smile at him. This brought him to his knees, literally he kneeled beside you, he removed the tie around your wrists rubbing them for you. Both your eyes are on the same level now.

“You really are beautiful.” He said causing you to blush. “Don’t turn all shy on me now, princess.” he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear in a soft gesture. “We’re far from being shy with each other right now.” Mattheo kissed you.

“I just like hearing you say that, my king.”

With a voice filled with affectionate warmth, “when you call me that it makes me want to keep you by my side forever, my precious princess.” He began to kiss you harder, “I want to keep you forever.” He pushed his soft side out of the way and pushed you onto your knees in front of him You arched your back so your ass was in the air, “this is what you fucking teased me with last night.”

You laughed, “yeah I know.”

“So you wanted this bad huh?”

“Yess Matty I want you.” 

He admired the scene in front of him. He kneaded your ass, biting it and making your cry again. “Don’t make me use the belt again.”

“I’m sorry, I’ll be quiet now.” You cupped your own mouth. You saw his jacket on the floor and took it under your head.

“You’re so obedient, it's very good. How haven’t I bred you sooner? I want you pregnant with the next Riddle heir.” He ran a hand slowly over your back, gently but possessively.

“I have actually been thinking the same thing. My body is ready for your seed, im..im ready for it.”

When you agreed with his wish it only made something in him pop, something shifted in Mattheo’s eyes. The hunger and desire growing. 

He spat out at your spread exposed pussy, as if it wasn’t already sopping wet. He just liked the idea of having his bodily fluids in you. He rubbed his full length on the outside of your slit, teasing you, “you think your tiny pussy can take my cock better than your mouth?”

Shit…actually that was an honest question. The few times you tried already, you were only able to take in 3/4th of his length before tearing and asking him to stop. Plus you both haven’t fucked in a long while, “Matty, I’ll try by best…” you sounded a little uneased. 

He pulls on your arm turning you to look behind at him, “We don't have to rush this. But I promise i’ll make it good for you if you let me. You’re my wife and you will be the mother of my children soon enough.” He let go of you, bending over to kiss your shoulder blades, biting them roughly before going to your ear, “I’ll try to take it slow, but I really need you to take all of me in, darling. I need my seed to make it directly into your womb. I don’t want it to possibly drip out. You can do it.”

You moaned at his words of encouragement, you will try your best. He continued to stroke your hair, “listen to me: you’re my everything. And I won't let you get hurt, okay?” He kissed your temple, “if it is too unbearable, just tell me and I'll stop. Nothing is more important to me than your comfort and trust…but I do want you to give me a baby. A couple of them.” He laughed like his usual self, “so please try hard to take me like a good girl.” 

You pulled at his hair harshly, “just fuck me Riddle.” with that he slapped your ass leaving a red welt in the shape of his hand and squeezing it to lengthen the pain, “atta girl”. He finger fucked you a little bit more before realigning the tip of his dick to your hole. 

You closed your eyes, and he began to press into you. It wasn't so bad, actually it already felt amaz - -- okay nevermind. He felt you squeeze around him, and he stopped to reassess the situation, “please princess, let me in.”

“Matty I don’t…I dont think I can” you gripped onto his jacket for dear life.

“You can and you will.” He reached over to rub your clit, it helped relax you and he kept sinking deeper and deeper in you. You bit the jacket. It was a crazy mix of pain and pleasure.

“There we go.” he was satisfied, he was finally balls deep inside you, “see I knew you could do it.” He stayed still trying to let your pussy try to adjust around him, “you’re so fucking tight. Actually, I was having second thoughts, but here we are.” He said proudly kissing your neck from behind.

“You’re so fucking huge Mattheo, you’re too good to me.” 

“I adore you” he whispered, “there’s no one else like you. You’re…you’re the love of my life. Both our parents saw that before we did. They knew we were meant for each other when they arranged our marriage.” He groaned as you squeezed him purposefully this time.

“I love you Mattheo. I do.” You manage, your words felt true to each other. With a tender grip he starts  to move his hips slowly away from you only to slam back in. Watching your face for any sign you wanted him to stop but all he got was a smile and, “I’ll give you as many children as you want.”

Without proper warning he quickened his pace holding you face down to the floor. You closed your eyes tightly, locking your jaw. You inhaled his smell through his jacket. Pain was being replaced with a pleasurable numbness. Your brain was going utterly stupid, “make me pregnant Mattheo. Let me make you into a proper daddy.” 

He chuckled at that, “fucking take my dick then. I’ll make you the most beautiful mommy there is. You're such a good wife and I know you’ll be the best mother to my children.”

Mattheo pressed his hand just under your belly button, he took one of your hands and pressed it there with you, “can you feel my cock, darling? You can feel it through your tummy.”

“Yes I can. I feel so full.” You moan.

His grunt and thrusts began to get sloppy, his balls slapping against your clit. It made you roll your eyes behind your head, “princess, I think…” 

“Me too, let's cum together. Let's mix ourselves more.” You raised your ass higher, tilting it ignoring the back pain you were getting.

“I’m going to fill you up even more,” he whimpered, his voice faltering as if he was about to cry, “don't let anything drip out. Take it all in okay?” You nodded, holding your head up and twisting it so uncomfortably around to the side so you can watch him release himself into you. What a sight for sore eyes. 

His curls were plastered onto his forehead with sweat, his cheeks were flushed. Mattheo’s eyes looked back at your eyes with a longing you haven't seen before, “I love you Y/N. thank you thank you thank you.” He began to repeat, as he shot a large load into you. He was right, you could feel your tummy grow already. You followed shortly after, squeezing and milking his cock out more.

His breath was coming out in ragged gasps as he came down from his climax. His body was trembling, but he held you tightly. His face buried in the crook of your neck, “that was incredible.” He looked at you with adoration and contentment, “you’ve given me everything i’ve ever wanted. Thank you.”

“Thank you for choosing me after all.”

Mattheo was about to pull out, but you didn’t allow him. You pulled at his shirt, making him spoon you on the floor. You wanted to warm his cock, but also use it to continue plugging in his cum inside of you, to be marinated. You told him this too, and he flushed, “hey you said we wouldn’t be getting shy with each other, it’s too late for that.” He laughed making his dick still twitch inside you, you let out a moan. He grinned mischievously. You gave him an uncertain look.

Mattheo looked at the clock “yeah we should probably just move the meeting to a different day.”

“Do I really have to call it in again?”

“Yes yes you do, you’re my new assistant remember?” 

“Yeah and soon to be the mother of your children too.”

He wrapped his arms around you in a loving embrace. “I promise to take care of you and our little ones,” he said with sincerity, “You’ll be the most beautiful, loving mother, and I'll support you every step of the way.”

He tugged on the phone’s cord, pulling it so that it drops on the floor beside the two of you, “go on call again. Move it for next week.” He starts kissing your jaw again, moving his hips and slithering his hand back to your clit, “I hope you didn’t think we were finished, I think I can give you more of my cum to hold.”

“Mattheo…” 

[boyfiechan]

[Party Favor]

…or the one where you're just two responsible adults planning your best friends’ joint bachelor/bachelorette party—until the box of sexy party supplies arrives and things spiral wildly out of hand.

Bang Chan x Reader Notes: Friendship and glitter on genitals, I guess. Content Warnings: AFAB reader, best friends to lovers, a hell lot of kissing, mutual pining, aphrodisiac use, mentions of drinking, explicit sexual content, sexy card games, fingering, use of pet names (baby), dry humping, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, use of warming gel and sensation enhancers, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), dirty talk, mention of sex toys, multiple orgasms, creampie, use of handcuffs, banter during sex, chaotic horniness. [22k words]

The box sat between you on Chris’s kitchen island like some cursed artifact neither of you wanted to be the first to open. You were supposed to be working—finalizing the plans for Mina and Jae’s joint bachelor and bachelorette parties, putting the finishing touches on the schedule, talking through guest lists and food allergies and whether the Airbnb allowed glitter—but instead, you were both just standing there, staring at a giant, metallic-wrapped package that had arrived earlier that afternoon with no return address, just a handwritten note that read, Have fun. You’re welcome. -Cousin Yujin. Chris had carried it inside like it weighed a hundred pounds, half-laughing, half-grimacing as he dropped it onto the counter. She said she was sending some party supplies. I thought she meant streamers, he said, still catching his breath. Not a whole suitcase full of questionable decisions.

You didn’t open it so much as peel it apart cautiously, as if expecting it to hiss or glow or otherwise confirm your suspicion that this would be a very different kind of planning session. The first layer revealed a cascade of pink and red tissue paper, scattered with tiny heart-shaped confetti, and beneath that—chaos. A deck of cards with the words Naughty Challenge in sparkly foil, a pair of red satin blindfolds, plastic handcuffs, massage oils in a variety pack labeled Dessert Flavors. A single feather tickler. A tube of something called Arousal Gel, which you held between two fingers like it might bite. Chris leaned in beside you, lips twitching with a suppressed laugh. Is that… whipped cream flavored? he asked, peering over your shoulder. You checked. Strawberry cheesecake. He let out a low whistle. Classy.

You weren’t quite laughing yet, but the absurdity of it all had begun to settle in—this was your job now, apparently, organizing not just a party, but a themed weekend that walked the line between slightly wild and entirely too intimate. You were both trying to do right by your friends, to make sure they had a celebration they’d remember for the right reasons, and yet here you were, elbows-deep in what looked like a bachelorette party starter pack from a very risqué Etsy store. Chris picked up one of the dice, a soft, neon pink set with verbs on one and body parts on the other and rolled them idly on the counter. Kiss… neck, he read, then looked over at you with mock solemnity. Very educational.

You leaned against the island, arms crossed, watching as he turned over one item after another. He wasn’t rushing—more curious than anything, like he was cataloging evidence and here was something comfortable about it, the way you could both hover here in this liminal space between teasing and planning, between two friends who’d known each other too long to be shy but not quite long enough to ignore the tension. You think they’ll actually use this stuff? you asked, nodding at the pile. Chris shrugged. Maybe some of it. Probably not the aphrodisiac serum. He held up a little amber bottle and squinted at the label. ‘Heightens arousal. Do not exceed recommended dose.’ Sounds intense. You smirked. Bet it’s just honey and cayenne. Or snake venom, he offered. Real test of love—survive the honeymoon.

It wasn’t awkward, not exactly, but you could feel a kind of charged stillness creeping in as the initial laughter faded. The box had gone from hilarious to oddly thought-provoking, as if you were both slowly realizing you’d just been handed a pile of questions you hadn’t planned to ask each other, not explicitly, not like this. Chris nudged a card your way—Act out your partner’s fantasy—and raised a brow. Think we need to screen these before game night? he asked. Some of these are kind of… a lot.

You hesitated, then nodded. Probably smart. I mean, we can’t exactly have Jae doing body shots off his fiancée’s cousin in front of his mom. Chris grimaced, then laughed under his breath. Okay, yeah. We screen them. He paused. Should we—like—actually go through a few? Just to get a feel for what we’re working with? He wasn’t looking directly at you now, more at the cards, the bottle, the chaos you’d unearthed together, like he was trying to keep it casual, and it was casual, just curiosityl just research, two responsible people doing their due diligence. Still, the question hovered there in the space between you, quiet and warm and just a little off-center, like maybe neither of you wanted to admit you’d already been wondering the same thing.

It had always been like this with Chris, comfortable in a way that was easy to forget wasn’t necessarily normal. He was the kind of friend who snuck snacks into your tote bag at the movies and remembered the name of your high school dog even though you only mentioned it once, smart, unflinchingly reliable, a little chaotic when bored—but gorgeous in a way that still, occasionally, knocked the wind out of you when you looked too long. Which was why you didn’t, usually, at least not on purpose. He was built like someone who accidentally became a Calvin Klein model and never told anyone, all long limbs and lean muscle and that infuriating combination of soft eyes, dimples and a sharp jaw. He didn’t act like he knew it, though, walked around in perfectly clean sneakers and a identical rotation of hoodies like he wasn’t an accidental heart attack waiting to happen. You had a whole system worked out for ignoring it, finely tuned over years of close proximity and just enough inappropriately timed thoughts to make your own life difficult, and besides, it was funny, you two were funny—quick banter, loud opinions, inside jokes that made other people squint. It worked, it had always worked.

Still, there was something about tonight that felt a little off-center, not bad, just off the usual track. Maybe it was the wine you’d cracked open an hour ago, or the slow glow of sunset spilling across the kitchen, or maybe it was the undeniable weight of the box sitting open between you, full of things neither of you were really pretending to ignore anymore. You could tell Chris felt it too, not in any obvious way, but in the way his movements had slowed just a bit, more deliberate, like he was giving the moment more room to breathe.

He picked up the deck of Naughty Challenge cards and fanned them out like a magician about to do a trick. Alright, he said, tone light, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. One test round, purely for quality control. You pick. You raised an eyebrow but reached anyway, plucking a card from the center. ‘Give your partner a compliment in the sexiest voice you can manage,’ you read aloud, then looked up, unimpressed. This feels like a trap. Chris laughed. Come on. Low stakes. I’ll go first.

He cleared his throat dramatically, then turned toward you with an exaggerated smolder. Your spreadsheet skills, he said, voice dropping an octave, make me feral. You choked on your sip of wine, sputtering as you doubled over against the counter. You’re a menace. He smiled. I’m a menace with a healthy appreciation for color-coded tabs.

It was stupid. Ridiculous. The kind of joke that should’ve fallen flat but didn’t, because it was him, because he could make anything sound almost sincere, just for a second. And then he was looking at you, and you were still laughing, but the space between you had shrunk without either of you moving. Just a hair, just enough to notice.

You flipped the card around in your fingers, trying to keep your face neutral, but you could feel the warmth rising in your chest, just below the surface. Okay, you said slowly, my turn. He tilted his chin up, mock-expectant as uou licked your lips, pretending to consider your options. Your arms, you said finally, pitching your voice low and overly breathy, are very… efficient. For carrying things. And lifting boxes. Big boxes. Chris stared at you a beat, then cracked up, resting both hands on the counter as he laughed. Wow, he said, wheezing a little. Are you flirting with me or hiring me for a moving company? You shrugged. Why not both?

The laughter lingered, but the air shifted again, subtly, the way a room quiets when someone walks in. You didn’t move away, neither did he and there was something about the fact that you could both feel it, but neither of you said anything, that made it feel heavier than it should’ve. Not awkward, just aware, a pause held between jokes, like the next card might change something if you weren’t careful. Or maybe if you were.

Chris tapped the edge of the deck against the counter like he was about to deal blackjack, eyes still a little crinkled at the corners from laughing. Alright, he said, voice mock-serious, we’re on a roll. Let’s see what other emotionally devastating challenges this box has for us. He slid another card from the pile and read it with the kind of gravitas usually reserved for Oscar speeches. ‘Demonstrate your favorite sex position. Using interpretive dance.’ He blinked, you blinked and for a long second, neither of you moved. Then you both completely lost it.

Chris doubled over against the counter, forehead pressed to the cool granite like he needed divine intervention. No, he gasped. Absolutely not. I’m calling the police. You were crying laughing, hand over your mouth, barely able to breathe. This box is unhinged, you wheezed. Yujin needs to be on some kind of government watchlist. Chris nodded rapidly, still recovering. She just sent us a live grenade. This is psychological warfare.

But then, because neither of you had ever been good at letting a joke die, you straightened up, wiped your eyes, and said, Okay but hypothetically, if I did have a favorite… And before Chris could stop you, you stepped back from the counter and started miming an aggressively interpretive series of hip rotations that could only be described as deeply confusing and possibly inspired by modern jazz. I call this one ‘Anxious Cowgirl,’ you announced, waving your arms like you were on a deranged cruise ship. Chris groaned and covered his face. I’m begging you to stop. I feel like I’m going to get arrested just for witnessing this.

You’re just mad because you’re about to get outdanced, you said, pointing at him. Let’s go, best man. Show me missionary with meaning. And somehow, somehow, he did, with the stiff awkwardness of a man deeply regretting his life choices, Chris shuffled out from behind the counter and launched into something between a body roll and a mime of spiritual suffering, hands raised like he was trying to summon something holy. This is called Two Minutes Before Cramps, he said solemnly, hips moving like they were operating on a six-second delay. It’s mostly forearms and disappointment. You collapsed onto the barstool, laughing so hard your stomach hurt. Oh my god, stop. That’s actually worse than mine.”

Lies, he shot back, pointing an accusing finger. Yours looked like a Zumba class for the recently divorced.

The energy was ridiculous, you were both borderline crying, red-faced, breathless, drunk not on the wine but on the sheer absurdity of what your night had turned into, but underneath the chaos, there was that little pull again, that thing you kept pretending wasn’t there. Because every time he looked at you too long, or your arms bumped, or he laughed with that quiet, real sound that he didn’t share with everyone, something in you pinged. Nothing big, just a moment, a shift, a question that hadn’t been asked, but maybe, maybe was getting a little closer to the surface.

Still, you weren’t touching that yet, mot with a ten-foot feather tickler. So instead you leaned back, wiped your face, and said, Okay, final round. Let’s find the dumbest one in here.

Chris, ever the overachiever, picked up the instruction booklet and squinted at the fine print. There’s one called Sensory Temptation Roulette, he said slowly. You blindfold each other and take turns guessing which body part the other person is touching you with. He paused. There’s a note here about ‘only consenting players should participate,’ which feels like a red flag.

You blinked. Do you think they mean like… elbow? Nose? Or… You trailed off, eyebrows raised. Chris didn’t answer, just held your gaze for a second too long, then very calmly picked up the blindfold from the box and held it out to you.

You stared at it. Then at him.

Then back at it.

You are so lucky I’m bored.

He grinned like he’d just won something, all bright teeth and boyish smugness, the blindfold dangling from his fingers like a prize. No one’s ever said that to me in a flattering context, he said, stepping closer, enough that you could smell the faint trace of his cologne, something warm and clean and irritatingly good, and see the slight flush in his cheeks that may have been from laughter, or the wine, or maybe just the rising temperature of this whole stupid, spiraling idea. You took the blindfold slowly, holding his gaze as if you were about to sign a legally binding document, and looped it over your eyes with exaggerated care. Alright, you said, sitting up straighter on the barstool. Let the scientifically rigorous examination of sensory nonsense commence. I’m ready for my doctorate in Guess the Body Part. You heard Chris laugh softly, close now, and then the sound of him moving, the quiet shuffle of socked feet on tile, the rustle of fabric as he adjusted or considered something behind the veil of your vision.

You tried not to anticipate where the touch would land, you really did, but there was something about being blindfolded—about giving over that sliver of control to someone you trusted, who also happened to be annoyingly hot and standing much too close—that made your brain short-circuit. When it came, it was light, barely a brush at all, somewhere on your forearm, and you startled a little at the unexpected texture. Okay, you said slowly. That felt… weirdly soft. Was that your cheek?

Chris made a buzzer sound with his mouth. Incorrect. That was my chin. Very different. My cheek is much more emotionally available. You snorted, blindfold shifting slightly as you laughed. My bad, I’ll recalibrate my cheek-to-chin radar.

The next one landed on your knee, a gentle bump that felt like knuckles, maybe. Knuckle? you guessed, biting your lip. A beat. Close. Elbow. He sounded weirdly proud, like his joints were something to be admired. Bonus points for not screaming. Most people panic when approached by a stealth elbow. You smiled in spite of yourself and it was really stupid, all of it, delirious and strange and deeply unserious, but there was something oddly sweet about how carefully he was doing it. Not teasing, not pushing boundaries, just playing the way you always had, except now you were blindfolded and he was touching you, and your skin was starting to keep score.

The next touch was slower, not rough, but deliberate, the back of your shoulder, maybe, or the top of your arm—warm and solid and unmistakably him. You felt it in your spine, that little flicker of tension your body tried to dismiss as nothing, just nerves or the wine or the thousand other excuses that didn’t account for the fact that his hand lingered. Fingertips, you said, and it came out quieter than you intended. Chris didn’t answer right away, just a small pause. Then: Yeah. His voice had dropped a little, still playful, still soft, but you could hear the shift too, subtle and unspoken, like the space between a joke and the moment it stops being funny, not because anyone said so, just because the air got heavier.

He stepped back, or maybe just stilled, and you exhaled slowly. Okay, you said, lifting your hands to the blindfold, my turn. I’m ready to exact blindfolded revenge. But when you pulled it off and looked at him, Chris was already watching you. He had that same grin, but it had changed, barely, into something steadier, something with less teeth and more weight as his gaze dropped to your mouth for half a second, then snapped back up, like he caught himself mid-thought. You felt it like a tug, small, sharp, not enough to pull you in—but enough to know it was there. You held out the blindfold. Your funeral. Chris took it with a shrug, but the way he tied it on was slower now, more thoughtful, like the whole thing had become a different game.

The blindfold settled over his eyes with practiced ease, like he wasn’t blindfolding himself in the middle of his own kitchen while his best friend loomed dangerously close with vague intentions and a wildly fluctuating heart rate. Chris adjusted the knot at the back, then held out his arms in theatrical surrender. Alright. Do your worst. But just know—if I scream, it’s only because I bruise easily and have a complicated relationship with trust. You rolled your eyes, grinning despite the thrum of something slower moving beneath your skin. You’re the most dramatic man alive, you muttered, stepping closer, already scanning the possible points of contact like this was some kind of twisted impossible math question. You weren’t nervous, not exactly, but there was a new sort of buzz threading itself through your limbs now, an awareness, taut and unfamiliar, that hadn’t been part of this game until just recently. Something about seeing him standing there, all stillness and stupidly good bone structure, mouth pulled into a smirk that he probably didn’t even know was doing things to your brain that it made it a lot harder to treat this like a harmless joke.

You went for easy first, brushing the edge of your forearm lightly against his collarbone, a soft pass that made him flinch just slightly. Was that your… wrist? he guessed, head tilting in thought. Wow, you deadpanned. No. That was literally my entire arm. Do you think I’m a small bird? Chris laughed, bright and sudden, the sound echoing in the kitchen. Sorry, sorry. I got distracted. It felt… graceful. He grimmaced. You’re unbelievable, you muttered, but your voice had gone soft at the edges. You were too aware of how close you were, too tuned in to the way he was still smiling even though he couldn’t see you, the kind of smile that always made you want to nudge him just to see how much further it would go.

Next you tapped the side of his neck with the tip of your nose, because you couldn’t help yourself, because it was stupid and unexpected and you wanted to see what he’d do. He jolted like you’d electrocuted him, swore under his breath, then stood perfectly still. Okay, he said slowly. That was… something. Was that your elbow? You leaned back with a grin, the air between you now oddly charged. That was my nose, you absolute himbo.

Jesus, he whispered, laughing nervously. Why is this starting to feel like foreplay? And just like that, the breath in your lungs turned into something else. You weren’t sure if it was a joke, half of what you said to each other was, but you didn’t laugh this time. You didn’t say anything, neither did he.

For a second, the silence stretched out, not uncomfortable, just expectant. You stared at him, blindfolded and a little flushed, his mouth parted like he was waiting for your next move and for once, you didn’t second-guess it, you stepped in again, closer this time, letting the tip of your fingers trace from his wrist to the inside of his elbow in a slow, unhurried pass. His breath caught, visibly, audibly. And when you stopped, he didn’t guess, didn’t speak. Just stood there, waiting. You swallowed, your voice was quieter now, unsure but steady. You gonna guess? Chris tilted his head slightly. I don’t think I care what part that was.

The silence after that wasn’t funny, wasn’t filled with jokes or banter or pretend. It was thick with something else, something that looked a lot like choice. You could feel it rising between you, soft and slow, unspoken and undeniable, something you couldn’t unplay and still, neither of you moved.

Chris was the first to crack. He cleared his throat, untied the blindfold with a flick of his fingers that was way too casual to be real, blinking like he’d just returned from war. Okay, he said, voice an octave too bright, so that game is obviously cursed. We were one round away from accidentally getting engaged. You laughed, high and nervous, stepping back like there was a trapdoor under your feet. Yeah, no, that felt like a gateway drug to emotions. Absolutely not. You turned back toward the box, sifting through the chaos of cards and packaging and absurd neon-colored nonsense like it was a life raft. Let’s eat something weird and reset our brain chemistry.

Chris, already halfway through inspecting what looked like edible lube in a tiny foil pouch, raised an eyebrow. Do you want the one labeled body chocolate or sugar lips? Because one of these sounds like a drag queen and the other sounds like an HR violation. You snorted and grabbed the one with a sketchy cartoon strawberry on the label. Let’s go with the one that looks the least like it’ll send us to the ER.

You peeled it open, sniffed it cautiously, then gave him a look. Why does this smell like Dollar Store Nutella? Chris leaned in, took a whiff, and recoiled instantly. That’s not Nutella. That’s Nuthella. As in, you’d have to be out of your mind to eat that. Your snorted. Oh, come on, you said, scooping a fingertip’s worth and sticking it in your mouth. It can’t be that— You froze. Chewed, slowly, then made a face like you’d just been betrayed by a trusted family member. It tastes like a candle. A very sexy candle. Chris burst out laughing. Give me that, he said, grabbing his own sample with way too much enthusiasm and popped it into his mouth, immediately making a noise of profound regret. Oh no. Oh no no. Why is it spicy? He paced a tight circle like a soccer player trying to walk off an injury. It tastes like someone dipped chocolate in cologne and then lost a bet.

I think it’s supposed to ‘awaken your senses,’ you said, flipping the package over. It’s definitely awakened my gag reflex. He flopped into the stool across from you, still grimacing, and picked up one of the tiny heart-shaped mints labeled Intimint Explosion. Dare me? he asked, already unwrapping it. Absolutely not, you said, but he popped it into his mouth anyway. He blinked, paused, then his face twisted into something between alarm and existential confusion. Okay, wow. That’s… aggressive. My tongue is having a religious experience. There’s like… phases.

You were cackling now, hunched over the counter as you rummaged through the next layer of the box. Alright, you said, breathless, we need a palate cleanser before one of us has to file a report with the FDA. You pulled out a plastic contraption shaped like a miniature cactus and turned it over in your hands. What the hell is this? A novelty back scratcher? A massage tool for emotionally distant partners? Chris leaned in to inspect it. No, no, look—it has a little switch. And like… these soft spinny things? He flicked the switch and the tiny rubber nubs started twirling with an aggressive buzz that neither of you expected. You both stared. Then looked at each other. Is it… for your face? you asked slowly. Chris tilted his head. Maybe your nipples?

That’s not the same category, Chris. You said, raising an eyebrow at him. Well, I don’t know what people are into! Don’t judge my ideas. You set it down like it might explode and pulled out the next item, a tiny feather on the end of what looked like a miniature riding crop. Okay, this one’s easy. This is obviously for… uh… You trailed off, twirling it between your fingers, then looked up at him. Okay fine, what the hell is this for? Chris took it, spun it once like he was about to do a magic trick, then flicked it gently against his own arm. I think it’s supposed to be seductive, he said, eyebrows raised in concentration. But I just feel like I’m being interrogated by a fancy bird. You doubled over laughing again, nearly crying now as he fanned himself dramatically with it and said, in a horrible British accent, I demand to know the whereabouts of the Duke's underpants!

It was good like this, stupid and unhinged and exactly the right amount of unsexy, just long enough to forget the undercurrent of whatever had passed between you during that blindfolded pause. You could feel it, still, flickering at the edge of things, but right now, wrapped in laughter and candle-flavored regret, it was easy to let it wait.

The laughter eventually tapered into something breathless and warm, the kind of quiet that came after a proper, cleansing laugh, where your face hurt and your stomach ached and you felt slightly high on nothing at all. You were sprawled across one stool, chin resting on your arms, and Chris was opposite you, still fidgeting with the feathery interrogation wand like it had secrets to reveal. Between you, the box lay half-unpacked, its contents scattered in an impressive array of shapes and suspicious functions, looking more like the inventory of a very unserious wizard than anything remotely erotic.

You reached blindly and came up with a sleek little thing that looked like an alien’s idea of a slingshot. Okay, you said, turning it upside down, this one feels like it’s for clamping… something. Maybe ears? Nose? A very specific kind of grief? Chris leaned in, elbow on the counter, eyes narrowing as he took it from your hands. I think this is one of those things that either goes very right or ends your relationship in five seconds. He tested the springy arms against his fingers, winced immediately. Yup. That’s going directly into the Maybe Not pile.

You reached for a wrapped chocolate heart still floating at the bottom of the box and unwrapped it like it owed you something. Okay, but real talk, you said, chewing slowly, is it getting weirdly warm in here? Chris was already halfway through another one, despite his earlier condemnation, and looked mildly betrayed by his own decision. Yes, he said through a mouthful, and also… is your mouth buzzing? Because mine is. Like… subtly. In a way that feels both delightful and deeply concerning.

You paused, tongue pressed to the roof of your mouth. …Yes. What the hell did they put in these? Is this FDA approved? You both stared at the shiny wrapper, no ingredients listed, just the words Velvet Ecstasy in swirly gold font, like it was a flavor and not a threat. Chris squinted at it. Do you think it’s like… some kind of low-grade aphrodisiac? Because that would explain why I suddenly want to flirt with the toaster.

You snorted, shifting in your seat, only now realizing how your skin felt a little more, like your clothes were one layer too many, or the air was just a few degrees too humid. Nothing dramatic—just enough to make you cross and uncross your legs under the counter, like you were trying to resettle your own mood as Chris seemed to be feeling it too; he’d stopped toying with the feather and was now fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie, sleeves pushed up to his forearms, a light flush blooming at the base of his neck that might’ve been from laughter, or something else.

You reached into the box again, half for distraction, half because you were starting to feel too still. Alright, what’s next? you muttered, pulling out a smooth, curved silicone object in pastel pink. You turned it over once, then twice, then just stared. Okay. No idea what this is. It looks like a spoon from the future. Chris leaned in, peering at it like it might read back to him. Is that… a tongue thing? Like, a licking simulator? His eyes widened. Is that a robot tongue? You were horrified and fascinated in equal measure. Why is it shaped like a ladle? What kind of tongue has depth?He tapped it against the counter experimentally. Maybe it’s for ice cream. Emotional support ice cream. You grinned, finally setting it down with caution. No way. That thing has main character energy. It vibrates, I promise you.

Everything in this box vibrates, he muttered, tossing aside a suspiciously shaped ring with flashing LED lights. This one looks like it’s powered by rage and the tears of failed exes. The heat was building again, subtle but steady, underneath the humor, under the dumb jokes and the silly guesses. That candy was doing something, slow and creeping, just a haze at the edges of your skin, a heightened awareness that made you notice things like how close Chris’s hands kept drifting when he leaned in to see what you were holding, how his voice had gone ever so slightly lower, more deliberate and the tension wasn’t sharp, not yet, just simmering, waiting, sitting between you like another item you hadn’t unboxed yet.

Still, you kept reaching for distraction. Okay, final item, you said, pulling out a silk ribbon with tiny loops sewn into the ends. This looks innocent. Like something from a bridal shower. Chris took it from you and raised an eyebrow. That’s a wrist restraint, he said, voice far too casual. That or a very dramatic headband. He stretched it between his hands thoughtfully. Also, very soft. That’s a plus. He toyed with it. What, are you rating these now? you teased, leaning back on your palms. Gonna start a blog? Chris’s Kink Korner?

He grinned without looking up. I mean, might as well. I’ve seen enough tonight to qualify for a part-time job at a sex museum. He met your eyes then, still playful, still amused, but lingering just a second longer than before, and suddenly you were both quiet again, not like before, but almost, a shift, just a breath deeper than the last.

Chris set the ribbon down like it might whisper something compromising if he held it too long, and then he dragged his fingers through his hair in that familiar way that always made him look effortlessly hot and vaguely distressed, like a model who’d just gotten bad news in a shampoo commercial. You watched him without meaning to—tracked the way his eyes flicked toward you and then away, the subtle clench in his jaw when he bit back a grin, the silence was friendly, mostly, but beneath it was that same low hum, the weird edge that had crept in with the candy, winding tighter every time your knees bumped or your laughter ran too long. Still, neither of you said anything about it. You just sat there, elbows on the counter, surrounded by silicone and satin and glittery wrappers, pretending you weren’t both just a little warmer than you should be.

So, he said finally, clearing his throat as he reached for another chocolate heart and inspected it with the vague suspicion of someone handling a live grenade, do we think these are actually, like, scientifically engineered? Or is this just placebo horniness? He tossed it into his mouth before you could warn him, chewing like it owed him an answer. You leaned over, one brow raised. I don’t think there’s any science involved in something called Velvet Ecstasy, Chris. That sounds like a band that opens for Boyz II Men at a Valentine’s Day concert.

He snorted, one hand over his mouth like he was trying to chew through regret. Okay, but real talk, my face is kind of tingly. Like... arousingly tingly, is that a thing? He blinked. Do you want it to be a thing? you countered, mostly to distract from the fact that your skin was buzzing too, in all the inconvenient places. Not hot, exactly, but sensitive, like your nerves had been turned up a click. You weren’t thinking about Chris touching you, not really—but you were starting to wonder what it might feel like if he did, purely for research.

I think I’m gonna sue whoever made these, he muttered, grabbing his water like it might help. Not because they’re dangerous, but because now I have questions about my body I didn’t need to have tonight. You laughed, still fiddling with the ribbon absentmindedly. Oh, come on, maybe it’s just psychosomatic. Like ghost horniness. He blinked at you. You’re not allowed to say ghost horniness in my kitchen, he said. There’s boundaries.

You held up your hands. Okay, fine. Let’s go back to identifying mystery toys. It’s safer. You leaned into the box again and pulled out something shaped like a cross between a banana and a lightsaber. It was smooth, lavender, slightly curved, and more menacing the longer you looked at it. Okay, you said, turning it in your hands. What is this and why do I feel like it knows my deepest secrets?

Chris took it from you slowly, brows lifted. I don’t know, but if this thing ever starts talking, I’m burning it. He pressed a button and it whirred to life with a low, oscillating hum that was alarming. He froze. Nope. No no. Why does it sound like it’s about to summon something? You were laughing so hard now that your stomach hurt again, that warm, sweet ache that felt like safety and something else you couldn’t quite name as you reached for the toy and turned it off before it could open a portal to hell. That’s going straight into the Oh My God pile. Chris nodded solemnly, setting it down between the feather and the spinning cactus. That pile’s getting a little too powerful.

And then, as if summoned by the room’s growing warmth or the subtle pull of that unspoken thread, he glanced over at you. Really looked, this time, not like a joke was coming, or a dare, or a one-liner. Just looked, and the moment slowed again, just briefly, not enough to be awkward, just long enough for something to flicker behind his eyes. This is kinda fun, huh? he said, voice lower now, a little more grounded. Like… I didn’t expect it to be fun. I thought it’d be weird.You tilted your head. It is weird.

Yeah, he said, grinning, but like… in a good way. You looked at the chaos around you, the melting chocolate wrappers, the haunted vibrator, the tiny cactus. And then back at him. Yeah, you said quietly. In a good way.

You didn’t mean to grab something interesting, honestly, you were just stalling, sifting through the half-empty box for the sake of momentum, for something dumb enough to laugh about again—something that didn’t taste like perfume or hum like a spaceship. But your fingers closed around a slim, rectangular box near the bottom, tucked beneath a foil packet that said Cupid’s Syrup in a font that made your stomach turn. You pulled it out, inspected the cover. Dare or Bare: A game for the emotionally unstable and mildly horny, it read in looping pink script.

You held it up. Okay, this one’s already threatening me personally. Chris leaned over, squinting. Dare or Bare? That sounds like something invented in a college dorm. He snatched the box from your hands and popped it open, rifling through the cards inside. Oh yeah. This one’s dangerous. I love it. He pulled out a random card and read aloud with mock drama: Let your partner kiss any body part of their choosing—or take a shot of tequila with Tabasco. He looked up, deadpan. Wow. Nothing like an ultimatum between physical vulnerability and gastrointestinal distress. You leaned in, intrigued now. Alright. So we’re just… doing dares or mildly stripping?

Not even mildly, he said, flipping another card. Remove one item of clothing—or let your partner ask any question and you have to answer honestly. You raised a brow. Okay, this just turned into Truth or Strip. Chris grinned, already pulling out the little spinner wheel that came with the set. Which, incidentally, is exactly the right level of emotional risk for a Wednesday night.

You both knew you shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t, there was just enough of that candy lingering in your bloodstream to make everything feel a little more fun than it should be, a little looser around the edges, like the world had slouched sideways and neither of you had the good sense to sit up straight. And now Chris was holding out the spinner, casual to a fault, like it wasn’t the gateway to imminent chaos, like the smooth way his thumb tapped against the plastic wasn’t betraying how eager he actually was to spin the whole night off its rails. His knee bumped against yours beneath the table, the faintest nudge, and you felt your own self-control slip another inch, your heartbeat knocking just a little faster as the room leaned into the kind of silence that always meant trouble. You exhaled, the word dragging out on the tail of your breath, Okay, okay, tugging your legs up onto the stool, folding them beneath you, settling in like you weren’t already standing at the edge of a very, very stupid decision. But we set rules.

Chris nodded, solemn in a way that barely contained the smirk threatening to pull at the corner of his mouth, his hands stretching out in a half-hearted peace offering, palms open, fingers twitching with barely concealed amusement. Obviously, he said, voice smooth, almost reasonable. No questions about exes. No dares involving bodily fluids. His gaze slid over to you, steady and sharp, waiting for you to tack on more boundaries, waiting to see just how far you’d go before you flinched. You lifted a brow, chin tilting slightly, deadpan. No removing pants. His lips twitched, and for a second you thought he might let it go, but his eyes flicked to yours, dark with that particular glint you knew too well, the one that always spelled trouble long before he ever opened his mouth. Speak for yourself, he muttered, the words low and half-swallowed, like he hadn’t meant them to slip out, but he did, and the air around you shifted, light and charged. Before you could swat at him, his fingers wrapped around the spinner and set it loose, the plastic clicking and ticking in sharp little bursts, both of you leaning in slightly, as if proximity might somehow influence fate, as if it wasn’t already too late for that.

The wheel slowed, the pointer stuttering over the final few notches before landing on a card marked with a flame, and Chris wasted no time plucking it up, turning it over in his hand with a kind of lazy confidence, the kind that always meant he was about to make things worse. His eyebrows lifted, mouth curling into something delightfully smug as he read the dare aloud. Let your partner sit in your lap for one minute — or send a risky text to the last person you slept with. His gaze drifted back to you, slow and deliberate, his eyes already laughing before his mouth had the chance to. He tilted his head, shoulders relaxing into the inevitable, and the grin that split across his face was all teeth and mischief, bright and boyish in the worst way. So. You wanna—?

Absolutely not, you snapped, reaching out before the words had even fully left your mouth, snatching the spinner from his hand, your fingers brushing his in the process, warm and steady and stupidly solid, like touching him didn’t already do enough damage on its own. His laugh was soft, a low sound that felt like the slow boil of something just beginning, and you pretended not to notice the way your pulse stumbled as you spun the wheel, watching it go around and around, the room tilting slightly with every click until the pointer landed, quiet and decisive, on a blue truth card.

You plucked it from the pile, trying for casual, clearing your throat as you read, the words catching somewhere halfway through. What’s something you’ve thought about doing with the person in front of you but never said out loud? The second the sentence hung between you, the air felt different, heavier, sharper, like the room itself was holding its breath. You didn’t look up right away, too aware of the sudden stillness that had settled over him, the faint, unspoken shift in the shape of his silence. When you finally raised your gaze, his eyes were already there waiting, wide and startled, his expression balanced precariously between a smile and a choke, like the game had finally outplayed him and for once he didn’t know whether to laugh or lie.

Well, he said slowly, one hand drifting to his jaw, thumb brushing along the edge in absent circles, his voice warm and dry like he was stalling for time, I was going to say ‘stealing your hoodies,’ but now I’m thinking this game has a vendetta. The corner of your mouth twitched, a smile threatening to tug loose despite the heat crawling up your neck, your fingers tightening slightly around the card, knuckles whitening with the effort it took to stay still. You’re allowed to say that. That’s harmless.

Oh, sure. His head tilted, eyes narrowing just enough to spark a different kind of tension, voice dipping a shade closer to the line between teasing and dangerous. But now it sounds like a metaphor. The air stretched thin between you, a taut string pulled tight, and you held his gaze a beat too long, the question still lingering, still open, still waiting. Your voice came quieter, softer, heavy with the dare you couldn’t swallow back. What were you actually going to say?

The hesitation barely lasted a second, but you felt it, the faint stutter in his breath, the twitch of his fingers tapping once, twice against his thigh, the way his tongue flicked out to wet his bottom lip like the answer sat there, sweet and sharp, waiting to cut. Then the smile came, small and sly, the kind of grin that always meant he was about to say something dangerous but not quite criminal, the kind of look that never failed to unravel you. Yeah, nah. I’m not touching that one, he murmured, voice a little lower, a little softer, thick with all the things he wasn’t saying. Spin again.

The next few rounds passed with the kind of laughter that made your cheeks hurt. Chris took his hoodie off when a card demanded it, revealing a tight black T-shirt underneath that you pretended not to notice and you admitted to having a weirdly vivid dream about him last year, though you refused to explain it. He let you draw a heart with whipped cream on the side of his neck as punishment for skipping a card about sending a flirty voice memo. You both agreed to burn the box afterward, and slowly, too slowly to catch until it was already happening, yyour laughter kept brushing up against something warmer. Something charged.

Then Chris drew another card, the motion slow, almost absent-minded, his fingers hesitating at the edges like his brain had only just caught up to the fact that he was still playing. The room had gone quiet again, thick with something that wasn’t quite laughter anymore, and when he flipped the card over his eyes flicked across the words, lingering there a moment too long, his mouth twitching with a sound that barely qualified as a laugh — more like a breath that got trapped on its way out. He didn’t look up. He just sat there, turning the card between his fingers, thumb brushing slow circles over the paper as though it might soften the meaning, as though it might change the rules if he waited long enough.

Okay. This one’s… another soft huff of air, that same laugh-shaped breath, one that had no place in the tightness of the room, Let your partner whisper something they’ve always wanted to do to you — into your ear. If they do, you each keep all your clothes on. If not, both lose one layer. The words hung there, suspended in the dim light, pressing in on both of you from all sides. Your heart stuttered, sharp and unsure, tripping over the space where it should’ve landed cleanly, and for a second you couldn’t tell if it had stopped or simply skipped so hard you’d missed the beat altogether.

Chris finally glanced up, the weight of the moment tipping his head slightly, his gaze flicking toward you with something more cautious, more careful than before, like he was testing the air between you before stepping into it, like he wasn’t sure if the ground had shifted or if he’d just imagined it. He held the card out toward you, his hand steady but his eyes not quite matching, and his voice came quieter now, lower, the kind of soft that people used when they were offering you an out. We can skip, he said, like the words were some kind of life raft. We probably should.

But you didn’t reach for the card, you didn’t move at all, just sat there, staring at him, watching the tension curl around the space where the game used to be, realizing somewhere between the silence and the shallow rise of his chest that the shift had already happened. It hadn’t been the card, or the chocolate, or the dares. It wasn’t the game, not really, it was the way his voice had changed when he said your name two dares ago, the way your knee had stayed pressed against his for far too long without either of you adjusting. Somewhere between the whipped cream and the fourth dare, you’d stopped pretending this wasn’t real.

Your lips curled, slow and reluctant, a smile so small it barely made it to the surface, like you were still deciding whether it was safe to let it stay. Cautious, measured, but there, all the same. Okay, you said, voice soft but steady, your head tilting slightly, inviting the rest of the moment to close the distance for you. Come here, then. And just like that, the room folded into itself, the noise bleeding away until all that was left was the sound of his breathing and the long, quiet stretch of space that had never felt so impossibly close.

Chris didn’t speak, didn’t joke or stall or give you the easy out he usually would’ve offered without thinking, he just looked at you like he was recalculating something, something important, and then stood slowly, that soft grin slipping into something quieter as he rounded the counter. His movements weren’t dramatic, but they felt louder than they should’ve been and you could hear the way his socked feet shifted across the tile, the faint creak of the stool beside yours as he took the seat, knees brushing yours for the second time tonight—but now it didn’t feel accidental, but a dare in itself.

He leaned in close, closer than he ever had, and that was saying something, and tipped his head so his mouth hovered near your ear. You caught the faintest hint of chocolate on his breath, still warm from laughing, and your body locked up like it had just remembered you were alive in real time. His hand braced gently on your thigh, not grabbing, just grounding, the kind of contact that made your thoughts scatter like marbles on a floor. His voice, when it came, was barely above a whisper. I’ve thought about kissing you when you’re mid-laugh, he said, slow and steady, like each word had weight. Like… when your head tips back just a little, and your eyes get kind of shiny? I always wonder if you’d let me. Then silence. Not long, just enough, enough for you to feel it, really feel it, settling under your skin like warm water in your chest.

When he pulled back, he didn’t look triumphant or smug, he looked nervous, quiet, in a way you’d never really seen on him, like saying it had actually cost him something. You weren’t sure what your face was doing, but you knew you were blinking too much and swallowing like your mouth had suddenly forgotten how to be normal. Your pulse was doing gymnastics in your throat and you didn’t even realize your hand was still on your lap until your fingers twitched against the hem of your shirt. Chris cleared his throat and made a vague gesture toward the cards. So, uh. Technically I didn’t lose any clothing, so… I win, right? he said, with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

You laughed, finally, but it came out a little breathless. That’s not how emotional nudity works. He smirked at that—your Chris again, quick and full of mischief—but there was something in his posture now, something more alert. He wasn’t hiding it anymore, neither were you as you reached for another card. It was just easier than speaking. Alright, you said, throat dry. Let’s level the playing field. You handed it to him. You read this one.

He took it, eyes flicking down. Then his eyebrows shot up. Lick something off your partner’s skin—or let them draw something NSFW on your body blindfolded. He glanced up, and this time, the tension didn’t creep in, it slammed. You sat perfectly still for a moment, like your body was trying to decide whether it was allowed to want anything in this room, then you leaned back slowly, tilting your head. What counts as NSFW? you asked. Your voice was too calm, it didn’t match the heat curling in your chest. Chris blinked at you, then laughed, surprised. Wow. We are really doing this. You nodded once. Apparently, we are. And there it was again, that pause, the one just before the shift.

Chris stared at the card like it was a prophecy, some kind of ridiculous challenge issued by the universe that he’d been accidentally training for his whole life without knowing. You watched the wheels turn behind his eyes, the quick flick of thought, mischief, restraint, something warmer. It hit you all at once how stupidly gorgeous he was—how annoyingly sharp his jaw looked from this angle, how his lashes curled just enough to make you resent the unfairness of genetics, how his lips were parted slightly, caught between a grin and something else, something quieter. Your stomach fluttered without your permission, not a dramatic swoop, but something real enough to make you fold your arms, like your body was trying to protect the thought from forming too clearly. Chris rubbed the back of his neck, leaned back on his stool, and blew out a breath that bordered on a groan. Okay. Listen. I’ve made a lot of questionable decisions in my life, but I don’t think I’ve ever licked something off a friend before. I feel like that’s a line you cross and never come back from. You tilted your head, barely suppressing a smile. So draw on me, then.

That’s somehow worse, he said, laughing under his breath. Because then I have to think about it. I have to picture it. That’s practically a creative writing assignment. You were already reaching for the whipped cream again, amused and reckless and not nearly as unaffected as you wanted to be. Okay, fine. I’ll go easy on you. Just a classic little doodle. Maybe a peach. A heart. A deeply disturbing banana. He groaned again, leaning forward until his elbows hit his knees and his hands dragged down his face. Jesus. You’re trying to kill me. This is murder. You breathed a laugh. You picked the card. No backing out now. you reminded him, already shaking the can. I didn’t pick it, he said, the devil did.

But he was smiling again, almost helplessly, the way he always did when he lost a bet, or a game, or his composure. And then he was sitting up straighter, pulling his shirt off without ceremony and tossing it over the back of the stool like it was no big deal, even though the muscles in his shoulders tensed as the cotton slid off. His chest was lean, warm-toned, familiar in that distant way, something you’d seen before, at pools or late nights or friend group sleepovers, but never quite like this. Never under lighting this soft, never while his eyes locked on yours.

You swallowed once, then motioned for him to turn around a little and he did, back to you now, the ridge of his spine shifting subtly as he leaned forward. You knelt behind him on the stool, bracing one hand on his shoulder to keep your balance, the other holding the can like a paintbrush. You hesitated, then pressed the nozzle gently against the space just beneath his shoulder blade, drawing a lopsided heart that began to melt almost immediately against his skin. Jesus, it’s cold. Chris twitched. Yeah, well, you murmured, leaning closer without meaning to, you’re warm.

You hadn’t meant it to sound like that, not really, not like it meant something but the words hung there between you anyway, soft and weightless and still somehow too heavy, stretched thin with all the things you weren’t saying. He didn’t answer, didn’t shift, didn’t even lift his head. He just stayed where he was, sitting perfectly still, his shoulders faintly rigid, his head bowed slightly like the air had changed and he was bracing for it, like your fingertips brushing across his skin were doing far more than they should for something so innocent. You leaned back a fraction, putting just enough space between you to breathe, eyes flicking over the smudged, sticky shape left behind on his shoulder, the uneven edge of it catching in the dim light. There, you murmured, clearing your throat around the sudden dryness that wasn’t there before, All done. You’re a masterpiece. It came out lighter than you felt, thin and a little off-balance, but you let it stand.

That’s… generous, he muttered, voice dipping rough and quiet, glancing over his shoulder at you, his mouth twitching but not quite forming a full smile. I’m not even gonna ask what it’s supposed to be. His eyes lingered on yours a little too long, like he already knew, or like he was trying not to guess.

You pushed off the edge of the stool, hands brushing down your thighs as you reached for a napkin, trying and failing to rub the sugar from your fingertips, the stickiness clinging stubbornly no matter how many times you swiped. A melting heart, you offered, casual but quiet, the words folding smaller as you spoke them. Very symbolic. He raised both brows, slow and questioning, like he could already feel the shift tightening between you. Oh?

Yeah, you said, the shape of a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth but never quite making it there. It’s about two people getting in way over their heads with a stupid game. The silence stretched between you again, but this time it wasn’t empty. You were halfway back around the counter, trying to smooth your expression into something neutral, when his voice caught you, low, steady, a little too careful. Can I try mine now? The question stalled you mid-step, your pulse giving a sharp, unsteady kick as you turned back to face him. Your what?

My turn, he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, as if the ground hadn’t shifted at all. His gaze held yours, quiet and steady. The other option. Your breath hitched, barely enough to notice but enough for him to see. You blinked once. You want to lick—

No, he said, and the word softened under the weight of the small, crooked smile that followed. But I want to try something. Something not on the card. His voice wasn’t teasing anymore, not sharp or playful the way it had been earlier, just soft, softer than you’d expected, like he was already halfway past pretending and before you could ask what he meant, before you could even reach for the space to wonder, he stepped toward you, slow and careful, his body shifting like he was moving through deep water, like every inch forward was measured and deliberate, like he was giving you every second you needed to stop him. His hand found your wrist, light, barely there, just enough to guide, not enough to hold, and the way he touched you wasn’t reckless or bold or rushed. It was quiet, sure, almost tender, like maybe the game had ended a long time ago, and neither of you had noticed until now.

It should’ve felt too intimate, too sharp, but it didn’t. It just felt like gravity, like momentum that had been building long before this night, long before the chocolates or the spinning wheel or the whipped cream heart dissolving on his back. You swallowed, but your throat stayed dry. This part of the game has no rules, he murmured, just loud enough for you to hear, as he pulled you toward him with no real urgency. So technically we can do whatever we want. That made you laugh, breathy and strained. Pretty sure that’s exactly how people ruin friendships. He tilted his head. Or evolve them. You rolled your eyes, too fast, too nervous. Alright, Plato. Just tell me what I’m agreeing to.

He didn’t answer, just looked down, then back up, something unreadable working in the line of his jaw. Then, with a low hum of resignation, he reached for the whipped cream again and held it out like a truce offering. You blinked at it. You’re kidding. Chris just raised his brows. Game’s still on, right?

That was the out, right there, you could’ve said no, could’ve laughed it off, blamed the sugar and the cards and the tension and gone right back to sorting ridiculous plastic toys with your clothes on and your friendship intact, but you didn’t. You took the can, slowly. Where? you asked, and your voice sounded foreign in your throat—too soft, too steady. He watched you for a second, then stepped closer, close enough to touch, close enough that you had to tilt your chin a little to keep eye contact. Anywhere, he said. Dealer’s choice.

You should’ve picked somewhere safe, his forearm, his collarbone, maybe even the ridiculous whipped cream heart that was half-faded now on his shoulder, but your hand moved before your brain caught up, and you tapped the can gently against the center of his sternum, just above the hem of his shirtless chest. You sprayed a small dollop there, round and ridiculous, already softening with his body heat. This is getting weird, you muttered. Chris’s voice was lower now, the kind of voice that only existed in quiet rooms and slowed time. It’s just the game.

You nodded, like that made sense. Like you weren’t very much aware of the fact that he was about to lick something off his own chest because you’d put it there. But he didn’t. Not exactly. Instead, he looked at you once more, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes, then reached for your wrist again, guiding your hand forward, slowly, toward the spot you’d just marked. Here, he said. You do it. Your mouth went dry. Chris. He didn’t drop your gaze. It’s just the game.

And that was all it took, one more silent agreement, one more shrug of permission between two people pretending they weren’t doing exactly what they’d always said they wouldn’t. You stepped in, leaned forward, pressed your hands lightly against his chest to steady yourself, fingertips grazing the edge of the spot. And before you could overthink it, your mouth was there, warm, quick, tongue barely flicking the cream away before retreating again. He didn’t move, but he exhaled sharply through his nose, like the restraint cost him something. You stepped back slowly, suddenly aware of the way your palms still rested on his skin, the way the space between you didn’t quite cool. That’s not how you play this game, you said, a little breathless. He didn’t smile. No, he said. It’s not.

You turned toward the box again, desperate for distraction, for something—anything—to do with your hands, and grabbed the nearest toy without looking. It was a pair of fuzzy pink handcuffs, the metal heavy and cold and absurd between your fingers. Great, you muttered, holding them up. Finally, something wholesome. Chris laughed, that low familiar chuckle that made your stomach pull tight. You planning on arresting me for inappropriate gameplay? You tossed them at him. Don’t tempt me.

Chris tested the hinge of the handcuffs like he was auditioning for the world’s softest dominatrix-themed magic act, giving them a little dramatic shake before clicking the second cuff around his own wrist. Well, he said, lifting your joined hands up between you with a sage nod, I hope you weren’t planning on using the bathroom anytime soon. You raised a brow. You’ve chained us together and you didn’t ask for consent. Wow. I’m calling HR.

That’s fine, he said, gesturing with his free hand toward the mess of glittery boxes and melted chocolate casualties strewn across the counter. I think the entire bachelorette planning committee resigned three dares ago. Honestly, we deserve it, you said, giving the cuffs a little tug, He grinned, that boyish, bright kind of grin that always made you feel like you were about to get in trouble in a fun way. You realize we’re stuck like this until someone finds the key?

What do you mean someone? you asked, your voice pitching up just slightly, the first flicker of mild alarm tightening your throat. Your gaze snapped toward him, watching his face carefully. Did you already lose it? Chris blinked, a beat too slow, too casual to be believable. No? His mouth twitched, like the lie tasted funny even to him. You narrowed your eyes, tipping your head, waiting. That wasn’t very convincing.

Okay, maybe it fell under the couch when I was opening the box, he admitted, lifting his hands in mock surrender, but let’s not panic— You let out a sharp gasp, grabbing his arm in theatrical betrayal, your fingers curling tight around his sleeve. Christopher Bahng. He froze for half a second, lips twitching at the edges before he tilted his head at you. You never use my full name unless you’re mad or drunk. The words came out flat, dry, a little too honest. I’m both.

That did it — he cackled, the sound bursting out of him unrestrained as he doubled over, the handcuffs at your wrists tugging tight with every movement, your balance shifting closer as the chain shortened the space between you. His laughter only grew harder at the sight of your unimpressed glare. This is exactly the kind of chaos our friends would expect from us. I’m gonna give the toast at their wedding like, ‘Remember that time we accidentally handcuffed ourselves together and emotionally compromised your bachelor party plans?’

You raised your wrist, the weight of the cuffs tilting your arm slightly, metal cool and unyielding against your skin. And they’ll be like, ‘Yes, because we had to saw you apart with a bread knife,’ you deadpanned, your fingers flexed, testing the give — there was none. How do these feel both flimsy and unbreakable? Chris straightened, still slightly breathless, the warmth of his grin lingering even as his voice dipped into mock wisdom. That’s the magic of cheap kink gear, he said sagely, his thumb brushing along the edge of the cuff where it sat against his own wrist, the lightest of touches betraying just how aware he was of it.

You gave the cuffs another gentle tug, testing the play in the chain, and when you moved, Chris moved with you, closer, unintentionally, until the length between your bodies evaporated into heat and breath and proximity so palpable it felt engineered. It should’ve felt awkward, but it didn’t, just heavier than it should’ve as quiet crept back in, slow and sudden, and the laughter stuttered between you like it had been knocked sideways. You both stilled, just for a second, just long enough.

You felt him first—the way his chest rose unevenly, like he was holding in a breath without realizingl then the weight of his gaze on your mouth, brief but sharp, gone again before you could read it. Your linked wrists hovered between you, hands tangled in a strange, quiet knot, and you realized you’d both stopped pretending this was just a bit. There was no punchline now, no safe word for what this had become, only that quiet, gut-deep awareness that you’d crossed into something neither of you had named yet.

Chris didn’t move, but something about him had shifted, shoulders squared but not in defense, mouth parted but unreadable, like he was waiting for a sign you didn’t know you were supposed to give. Your gaze flicked down, just for a breath, to his lips, just curiosity, you told yourself, just a reflex, just— His voice, when it came, was barely more than a whisper. If I kiss you right now, he said, still not moving, we’ll have to blame the game. You didn’t speak, too startled by the clarity of it, by how your body suddenly felt light and weighted at once. Do you want to? you asked. And your voice didn’t even wobble.

He didn’t answer, not with words, just leaned in slow, careful, like a hand reaching into fire to test for heat. He didn’t close the distance all the way, just enough that you could feel the breath between you change, that warm, syrupy tension pulled taut as a wire, your noses almost brushing, your mouths aligned in the kind of delicate stand-off that shouldn’t have felt as intimate as it did. And then, of course, your cuffs slipped, just a little, a clumsy, stupid jolt as your linked hands dropped between you, and your shoulders crashed forward. Your forehead bumped his chin, and Chris yelped like he’d been tased. Ow—fuck—my jaw.

You stumbled back, laughing so hard your lungs burned, the sound shaking through you as you doubled over, your cuffed hands pressed tight to your ribs like they were the only thing holding you together. Oh my god—did I break your face? Chris groaned, one hand dragging over his jaw, fingers testing the spot where your heads had collided, but there was more amusement than injury in his eyes. No, but we definitely broke the moment, he managed, lips quirking crookedly. That was almost hot, you know. I was gonna go for like, a cinematic-level kiss.

You looked like you were trying to taste my soul, you wheezed, struggling to catch your breath between fits of laughter. I was scared. He snorted, the sound dissolving into more laughter, his head tipping back slightly, cheeks pink and voice still a little breathless. You should be. That much sexual tension should be a controlled substance.

The room slowly quieted around the tail-end of your laughter, the sound fading but the glow of it still lingering between you, leaving you both breathless and dumb and bright with it, but the air hadn’t quite gone back to normal, not entirely. That almost-kiss hung there, weighty and unspoken, suspended in the quiet space between your smiles, between the clumsy press of your cuffed wrists and the way neither of you had stepped back for real. Because you both knew exactly what had almost happened, and neither of you had pulled away.

Chris didn’t try to smooth it over with a joke this time, not right away. He just stood there, hand still absently rubbing at his jaw, mouth parted slightly like he was still thinking about where yours had been a moment ago. The laughter faded between you, trailing off into a soft, breathy kind of hush, not uncomfortable, but aware, a quiet that buzzed around your skin like static, humming beneath the shallow rhythm of your breathing. You were still cuffed together, hands awkwardly joined at your sides, like the game hadn’t quite let go of you yet, like it was still watching, waiting, pressing at your backs with a nudge and a smirk and the kind of permission neither of you wanted to admit you wanted.

Well, Chris said finally, his voice low and rough, like he hadn’t quite caught his breath. That went almost exactly how I planned. You snorted softly, eyes fixed on the floor. What part? The sexual tension or the headbutt? He grinned at that, the edge of it a little crooked. Ideally, less dental trauma. But otherwise? I’d say we’re right on schedule. You lifted your cuffed wrists between you with a wry twist of your mouth. Schedule for what, exactly?

He didn’t answer right away. Just looked at your joined hands, then at you, then down again, like he was thinking way too hard about something that should’ve been stupidly simple. Nothing, he said. It’s just the game. Right? You nodded once, too quickly. Obviously. Nothing weird is happening.

Totally normal amount of eye contact, he agreed.

And tension.

And proximity.

And thoughts that we’re absolutely not having.

Exactly.

You stood there in silence for another beat, too long, too loaded, the air straining under the weight of everything neither of you were saying. Then, as if some invisible wire finally snapped, you both lunged for the game box at the same time, hands colliding mid-air with a soft, clumsy smack. New card, you both blurted in unison, voices a little too bright, a little too rushed, like kids caught sneaking candy before dinner, scrambling to cover the evidence.

Chris reached it first, fingers closing around the stack with theatrical triumph, and with an exaggeratedly solemn voice, he plucked a card free and read: Feed your partner something without using your hands. You blinked, staring at him, the words landing hard enough to make your pulse skip. This game is trying to kill us. He nodded, lips pressed together in mock gravity, though his eyes still danced. It’s sentient and wants us dead.

But even as the joke lingered, his gaze drifted toward the counter, scanning the scattered wreckage of snacks like he was actually weighing the options, fingers twitching slightly where they hung from the cuffs. There was something about the way he looked so focused, so casually unbothered, that sent another ripple of nerves straight through you. Okay, he murmured, still surveying the damage. What do we have left that won’t immediately make me look like I have a food kink? You gestured lazily toward the closest optio, a slumped, half-melted square of chocolate beside the game box. This seems least awful. Chris grimaced, nose wrinkling. It’s literally melting. That’s gonna be disgusting.

Then pick something else, you shot back, still lingering somewhere between laughter and something far more dangerous. You have teeth. Figure it out. That crooked, slow-burning grin started creeping onto his face, his eyes locking onto yours, sharp and playful and unmissably charged. Do not tell me to figure it out while we’re handcuffed. That’s not fair.

You should’ve rolled your eyes, should’ve shoved his shoulder and kept the banter going, but your laugh came a little too soft, a little too breathless, and your chest felt light in a way that had nothing to do with the sugar anymore. He kept looking at you—really looking, gaze lingering like he was learning new parts of you by accident, or maybe on purpose and then, without bothering to be subtle, he leaned forward, picked up the drooping piece of chocolate with his mouth, clamping it between his teeth, and tilted his head at you. You froze, the moment crystallizing around you, sharp and too sweet. Chris.

Mhm? he hummed, lips barely parting around the piece of chocolate.

You look like you’re about to kiss me. Not feed me. There’s a difference. His eyes flicked down, catching on your mouth, hovering there like gravity had its own ideas. Doesn’t have to be, he murmured, voice low and thick behind the chocolate. That shut you up, cut clean through your defenses, right to the part of you that had stopped pretending this was just a game hours ago. You stepped forward before your mind could catch up, letting instinct fill the gap, noses brushing, the heat of his breath mingling with yours, the scent of chocolate sharp and rich and unbearably soft between you. His lashes dipped low, eyes half-lidded, restraint hanging by a thread.

And then, slow, slower than either of you meant for it to be, your lips brushed his. Barely, a whisper of a kiss, light enough to question if it even happened at all, stolen through sugar and bad timing and the kind of mutual impulse that made your heart feel like it wasn’t yours anymore. He didn’t deepen it, didn’t push, just lingered there, close enough to still feel your mouth, the chocolate long forgotten, your hands tangled helplessly between you, the cuffs a cold reminder at your wrists. When he finally exhaled, it sounded like he’d been holding that breath for hours. Still the game, he whispered, voice too soft, too strained. But this time, not even he sounded like he believed it.

It wasn’t even a decision, not really. One second, you were standing there with your mouths barely brushing, your hands tangled between you and your breath too loud in your own ears, and the next, something in both of you gave way, like gravity just tipped the wrong direction. Like the joke had run its course and now all that was left was the answer that had been humming beneath every dare, every glance, every breathless laugh.

Chris kissed you like he’d been waiting to do it for years—no hesitation, no teasing, no half-measures. Just full contact, lips parted, tongue pressing past yours with a heat that startled something loose in your chest. You made a noise you didn’t recognize, sharp and soft at once, and he swallowed it, one hand still caught in the cuffs and the other coming up to cup your jaw, gentle in a way that contrasted the hunger behind it. There was nothing casual about it, nothing safe, he kissed like he meant it, like this wasn’t part of the game anymore.

The chocolate was gone in seconds, melted somewhere between your teeth and his, but neither of you noticed. All you could register was the taste of sugar and sin and him, his mouth warm, insistent, moving against yours like he was trying to memorize the shape of you from the inside. His body pressed closer, one step forward, and your backs hit the edge of the counter, he didn’t pull away, just angled his head, deepened the kiss, and groaned low when you leaned into it. Your cuffed hands twisted between you, caught in the fabric of his jeans now, tangled in the ridiculous pink fuzz and his body heat and the rising tension you couldn’t laugh off anymore. Your knees buckled slightly, not because he was forcing anything, but because your whole body felt like it was pulsing under your skin, like the air had thickened, like every brush of his mouth sent another wave of warmth sinking deep, curling low in your stomach.

And god, the aphrodisiacs. You hadn’t noticed them at first—had been too busy joking, dodging tension, pretending you were immune—but now it was like every nerve in your body had a direct line to your skin. Everything felt too sharp, too good, his hand slid from your jaw to the back of your neck, fingertips threading into your hair, and it sent a shiver down your spine so strong you gasped into his mouth. Chris groaned again at that, breath hitching, and his free arm curled around your waist, pulling you flush against him like he needed to feel you without even thinking about it. The heat was unbearable, or maybe it was perfect, you couldn’t tell anymore.

You pulled back just a little, just enough to look at him, to see the flushed tilt of his mouth, the blown-wide pupils, the stunned expression barely softened by whatever restraint he was still clinging to. He was breathing hard, so were you, your hearts were practically racing in sync. You… You could barely find the words, lips swollen, throat dry. That wasn’t the card. Chris looked at you like you’d told him the sky was red. I don’t care. You blinked, dazed. You’re supposed to care.

He laughed once, short, breathless, a little shaky. I think I stopped caring somewhere between the chocolate and the part where you made that noise. You opened your mouth to fire back something clever, but nothing came out. Your head was spinning, your body was buzzing, everything under your skin was burning slow and hot and deep.

He didn’t kiss you again, not yet, but he didn’t back away either. Just stayed close, forehead brushing yours, the cuffs between you pulled tight, still locked, still binding. You could feel the tension radiating off him like a furnace, could feel his thigh pressed hard against yours, the subtle shift of muscle as he tried, tried, not to let it all go. Still blaming the game? you whispered, barely able to hear yourself. Chris nodded once, slow and quiet, like the movement cost him. If I stop, I won’t stop.

And you believed him. It happened the way everything else had, with momentum instead of permission, like the moment already existed and all you had to do was step into it. Chris looked at you like he didn’t know where to start and also like he’d already decided, his hand, still tethered to yours, twisted slightly so your fingers slid between his, and the intimacy of that one tiny motion almost undid you. You leaned in at the same time he did, mouths crashing together again, and this time there was no pretending, no joke to hide behind, no breath left to spare for denial.

His tongue met yours with more urgency, more heat, and your back arched as he pushed into you, his free hand landing on your hip with enough pressure to make you gasp. You felt it, how hard he was, how ready, and when your hips accidentally brushed his, both of you let out these quiet, ragged sounds, like you couldn’t believe it was actually happening. The counter behind you dug into your spine, but you didn’t care when all you could feel was him, his mouth, his hands, the way he kept shifting like he wanted more contact and didn’t know how to get it fast enough. Your cuffed hands fought for space between you, tugging, fumbling at his waistband like you were both half-drunk on sugar and whatever the hell was laced into those ridiculous party favors.

Chris’s lips trailed down your jaw, his breath warm against your skin, before his teeth scraped lightly over your neck. A soft whimper escaped you before you could stop it, the sound vibrating in your throat. This is a bad idea, you breathed, the words leaving your lips breathless, but your hands were already tugging at his shirt, already letting him press closer, feeling the heat of him between your legs. Terrible idea, he muttered against your skin, voice wrecked and raw, as if he were barely holding it together. The worst.

You swallowed, eyes fluttering closed for a moment. You’re supposed to be the best man, you whispered, voice faltering under the weight of the situation. And you’re the maid of honor, he replied, his lips dragging back up to yours, the kiss deepening instantly. This is just… diplomacy. You couldn’t help but laugh, a helpless, delirious sound, your body moving before you even meant to, grinding up into him, your hips jerking instinctively. You’re such a shit.

And you like it, he groaned, kissing you again, deeper this time, full of heat, all tongue and teeth, the urgency between you overwhelming. His hand grabbed your ass, pulling you closer, making your breath catch painfully in your chest. Jesus, you like it.

You moaned in response, the sound thick and raw, because you couldn’t think anymore. Everything was blurring, your thighs parting around him, the roll of his hips against yours, the way your wrists were pinned between your bodies like you couldn’t possibly separate even if you tried, every inch of you felt like it was reaching for him, your skin burning under the pressure, every inhale soaked in him, his scent, his heat. There was no slow build now—just sharp, desperate movement, your body clinging to his like it already knew the shape of this, like it had always known.

Chris’s hand was under your shirt before you could even register it, his callused palm dragging up your stomach with deliberate slowness and when his thumb found your nipple through your bra, you gasped so loud it bounced off the kitchen walls, sharp and needy. Fuck, he muttered, breath shaking, his forehead pressing against yours again, the tension crackling between you like static. Tell me to stop. You couldn’t. You wouldn’t. You’re the one who started this.

I didn’t think you’d let me. His voice was hoarse, raw, barely contained. I didn’t think I’d want to. He stilled, his eyes searching yours in the dim light, chest heaving with every shallow breath. So what now? he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, thick with anticipation. We just—fuck each other in the middle of the bachelor party planning?

You kissed him again, silencing any more words with the press of your lips, dragging his bottom lip between your teeth, just to feel him shudder, the pulse of his body under yours. I mean… we’ve done worse. He laughed then, but it was barely a sound, cracked open, raw, real. You’re high on sex chocolate. You nodded, your fingers still tangled in the fabric of his shirt. And you’re handcuffed to me. He tilted his head slightly, his voice darkening with a teasing edge. I’m never getting out of these, am I?

Not if you keep touching me like that.

The words hung there, a challenge, a promise until his mouth was on yours again, and you weren’t laughing anymore. Just breathing hard, just moaning into each other, already half-undressed, already lost. The last thing you heard before you lost the thread completely was Chris whispering against your lips, Still blaming the game, like it was the only thing holding him together. And maybe it was, maybe it was the only thing holding both of you together, or maybe, just maybe, you’d already given in.

You didn’t even make it out of the kitchen, the counter cold under your thighs, your jeans halfway undone, the hem of your shirt bunched up around your ribs where Chris had pushed it earlier in a moment of hunger he hadn’t even tried to disguise. His hands were everywhere, broad palms dragging slow and deliberate over your sides, your thighs, the small of your back. His lips were red, kiss-bitten, his chest rising and falling like he’d just run a marathon, and the way he kept looking at you made it feel like your body was something he’d just discovered and now couldn’t stop needing to learn. But still, somehow, you hadn’t quite crossed that last line, your clothes partly on, your bodies caught in that hazy, frayed edge of foreplay where nothing had been decided but everything was possible, which, naturally, is when Chris spotted the bottle.

It was small and pink, the label curling at the edges like it had been sitting in the box too long, a little faded and worn. He picked it up with two fingers, like it might explode at any second. Okay. What the hell is this? His voice was laced with both curiosity and hesitation, the mystery of it hanging heavy in the air between you as you blinked down at it, still breathless, your heart thudding in your ears, the buzz of adrenaline mixing with something hotter. I think it’s… a warming gel? you ventured, unsure, but intrigued by the way the bottle seemed to pulse with its own promise.

Chris turned the bottle slowly in his hand, squinting at the text. ‘For use on sensitive areas. Results may vary. Not for the faint of heart.’ He looked up at you, his brows raised in disbelief, and then a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. That sounds ominous as fuck. You leaned in, your voice low and teasing. Sounds like a dare. Your eyes narrowed playfully, a dangerous spark igniting between you. Chris smirked again, his gaze full of challenge. Everything with you is a dare lately. The way his words dropped between you felt like an invitation, one you couldn't ignore as you grabbed the bottle from him with your cuffed hand, your fingertips brushing his in the process, just skin on skin, but it felt like a match striking, sparking something fierce and immediate. We’re already doomed. Might as well commit, you muttered, your voice thick with something that bordered on reckless.

Chris watched you uncork the bottle, his expression shifting to one of fascinated dread, the kind usually reserved for horror movies or impossible deadlines. What’re you gonna do, just… slap it on my neck and hope for the best? he asked, voice a little tight, like he was already regretting this. You shrugged, your lips curving into something mischievous. Unless you’d prefer I go for, like, direct application.

His mouth fell open slightly, eyes wide with disbelief. You're insane, he whispered, his voice catching in the back of his throat, the words laced with a mix of teasing and something darker. You laughed, but your cheeks burned with the weight of your own words. I’m kidding. Mostly.

Still, the curiosity was stronger than either of you expected as you squeezed a little of the gel onto your fingertips and, without overthinking it, reached for his collar. Your fingers brushed against the soft fabric, pulling it aside to smear the gel across the warm skin of his chest, just above his collarbone. He hissed—not in pain, but surprise—and his hand twitched against your hip like you’d just shot electricity through his veins. Holy shit, he muttered, blinking rapidly, his voice rough and unsteady. That’s—uh. That’s definitely not faint. You leaned back, studying him with a mix of fascination and amusement. Is it burning?

No, it’s like—fuck, it’s warm. Like really warm. And kinda… tingly? But not in a bad way. Just in a… He trailed off, his voice taking on a husky edge, low and uncertain. Okay, now I’m scared to know what it does to, like, actual sensitive areas. His eyes were dark, his pulse quickening and you raised an eyebrow, wickedly amused. So we’re not doing a field test? you asked, the words dripping with challenge, the air thick with anticipation.

Chris gave you a look, half impressed, half terrified, that made your stomach tighten in ways you didn’t expect. I don’t know whether to kiss you or sue you, he muttered, his voice rough with the mix of amusement and tension. You dipped your finger in the gel again, this time dragging it lightly along the inside of his wrist, just below where the cuff bit into his skin. He exhaled sharply, the sound a soft, jagged gasp that made your thighs clench, and his body jerked like he couldn’t control the reaction. Jesus, this is evil, he groaned, his voice trembling, heavy with both pleasure and disbelief.

Pretty sure this is what witches used in medieval times, you whispered, leaning in close enough that your breath ghosted across the skin of his neck, just below his ear. Bet you feel it everywhere now. You pressed your lips just below his ear, feeling the shudder that ran through him at your touch, the tremor in his body unmistakable. I do, he groaned, his voice cracking at the edges. It’s like—fuck, you don’t feel that? His eyes were on yours now, pupils dilated, his breath ragged as his entire focus locked onto you.

You raised a brow, a teasing smile playing on your lips. I haven’t tried it yet. Your voice was slow, deliberate, the words slipping out like a dare of their own. His eyes snapped to yours, dark and swimming with something you couldn’t quite name. Do it, he said, barely more than a whisper, the words laced with desire and something dangerous. I dare you.

Your heart punched your ribs, and before you could stop yourself, you were sliding your free hand up under your own shirt, smearing a dab of the gel just beneath your bra, right over your sternum. The warmth bloomed almost immediately—subtle at first, then sharper, like the touch of his tongue had been replaced with slow, creeping fire. Your mouth fell open, a soft moan slipping out before you could catch it, and Chris’s reaction was instant, his hips bucked forward, like the sound of you unraveling was too much. Okay, he rasped, watching your face with something dangerously close to reverence. That’s it. That’s illegal. That sound. You laughed, breathless, dragging your hand down to grab his shirt. The game made me do it. Chris leaned in again, kissing you like he meant to ruin you for every other person who’d ever tried. Then let’s keep playing.

It spiraled in the way only things with too much tension and too little denial ever could. The kiss deepened immediately, messier this time, less polished, tongue, teeth, a quiet gasp swallowed between mouths that couldn’t get enough. Your cuffed hands twisted in the space between your bodies, useless and clumsy but still greedy, and Chris didn’t seem to care, his fingers spread wide against your thigh, dragging up, up, until they found the curve of your hip and pulled you flush to the heat of him, hard and insistent through denim. The movement made you moan again, soft, wrecked, and the sound drew another kiss from him, open-mouthed and unrestrained, like he was trying to answer it with his body. The gel still burned gently where you’d touched it, a slow ember low in your sternum, and the warmth seemed to echo, to chase itself through every place his hands found.

He broke the kiss only long enough to press his forehead against yours, both of you panting like you’d been running. I don’t know if it’s the chocolate, or the game, or just—fuck—it’s you, but I can’t stop. Your voice came out rough, ruined. Then don’t.

Chris kissed you again, slower now but deeper, and you could feel the way the air shifted between you—less chaos, more control, but only just. You arched into his body as he finished unbuttoning your jeans with his free hand, his fingers fumbling slightly but determined, like he couldn’t not try. You could feel how badly he wanted it, and it lit something in you that went straight to your core and still, even now, there was a layer of ridiculousness to it all—the way your arms kept getting tangled, the absurd pink cuffs tugging at your balance, the scattered game cards still spread across the counter beside you. He was halfway through sliding your zipper down when he paused, breathing heavy, and glanced at one of the cards lying crooked beside your leg.

Okay, he said, voice hoarse, like he was struggling to catch his breath, his eyes flickered to the card in your hand. Tell me you didn’t plant this. You blinked down at the card, the words staring back at you like a joke you weren’t sure you wanted to get. ‘Give your partner a lap dance.’ You burst into laughter, the sound shaky and breathless, but the moment it escaped, a moan hitched in your throat when his fingers accidentally brushed too close to the waistband of your underwear. The heat from his touch lingered there, making everything a little sharper, a little more aware. That’s not even physically possible right now. You laughed again, but it sounded more like an exhale than anything else.

I mean, Chris said, voice dropping into that teasing tone that had been there all night, eyes darting down to where your thighs were still wrapped around him, define ‘lap.’ His grin was smug, a little too confident for your liking, but you couldn’t ignore the way his words made your pulse trip a little faster. You narrowed your eyes at him. I swear to god, if you make a stripper joke right now—

Hey, I’m just respecting the integrity of the game. You shoved at his chest, laughing, but the motion just made your hips grind into his, and whatever grin he’d had faltered immediately. His hands gripped your waist like he needed the grounding, like he was holding on to the last sliver of control, and when you looked at him again, really looked, you realized how thin the line was beneath all the jokes. He was flushed, breathless, jaw tight like he was holding himself back with both hands and losing the grip second by second. Okay, he murmured, voice dangerously quiet now. Tell me if you want me to stop. You didn’t even hesitate. I want you to keep going.

The shift was subtle but irreversible. His hand slid under your waistband, the heat of him stealing into the place you’d started to ache, his fingers moving slow, deliberate, teasing. You gasped, clutching at his shoulder, your cuffed wrists making the angle awkward but not impossible, and Chris groaned softly at the sound of you breaking again. You’re so wet, he whispered, eyes locked to yours. Fuck. Was it me or the gel? You couldn’t answer, not properly.

Does it matter? He smiled then, slow and devastating, like he knew the answer, like he didn’t care either way, and bent to kiss the edge of your jaw, trailing his mouth down to your neck. It’s the game, he whispered, against your pulse. It’s definitely the game, you echoed, even as your head tipped back, hips rocking into the press of his hand.

Neither of you believed it anymore.

Chris didn’t rush and that was the part that undid you, really—not the heat, not the jokes, not even the cuffs biting gently into your skin. It was the fact that, once he had you squirming and gasping and whispering his name through your teeth, he slowed down. Like he wanted to feel every second of it, like he'd been dying to do this and wasn’t going to waste the opportunity by rushing through the best part. His fingers stroked low, slow, maddening, just enough to tease, to draw that unbearable ache into something sharp and consuming, but not enough to tip you over, and the whole time, his mouth never left your skin. He kissed the hollow of your throat like it was sacred, licked just below your ear like he wanted to ruin you with subtlety, not force as you tangled your hands in the front of his shirt, or tried to, the cuffs making it awkward, ridiculous, but somehow more intimate, like even your restraint was shared now. I can’t— you gasped, hips bucking up against his hand, —I can’t think when you do that. Chris just smiled against your neck. Good.

Asshole.

Yeah. He glanced up at you, his expression half-wrecked and fully focused. But I’m your asshole right now, aren’t I?

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out, wild and breathless, and Chris grinned against your skin like he’d scored a point. It wasn’t supposed to be funny, none of this was supposed to be anything, you were supposed to be planning a party, you were supposed to be friends, but here you were—his fingers inside you now, slow and careful, coaxing little moans out of your mouth like he’d found a new language and wanted to learn every word. You rocked into his hand without thinking, chasing friction, chasing him, and it hit you all over again: this was Chris. Your Chris, the same one who’d spent years making fun of your terrible coffee habits and sending you cursed memes at 3 a.m, the one who'd picked you up from your worst dates and made you laugh until you cried, and now he was here, in your space, in your body, undoing you with a touch that felt more reverent than reckless.

You caught his eye again, dark, heated, a little stunned, and something in both of you slipped. You should try something, you whispered, trying to find steady ground and failing. You know. For science. Chris cocked an eyebrow, fingers curling just right. Are you offering?

I mean… Your breath hitched. We have, like, an entire box to get through. He kissed you once, slow and hot, then pulled back with a crooked smile. That’s true. Wouldn’t want to waste the budget. You half-laughed, half-moaned, and reached awkwardly for the box with your limited range of motion, dragging it closer along the counter with the heel of your hand. Chris kept his fingers moving—lazy, deliberate—while you fumbled through plastic-wrapped nonsense and tiny bottles with blurry labels. You found something round, neon pink, and utterly confusing.

Chris tilted his head, gaze fixed on the object in your hand like it was a riddle he didn’t want to solve, the teasing grin still there. Honestly? I have no fucking clue. His voice was soft, but the words had weight, like you were both caught in something that was spinning too fast for either of you to control. You squinted at the tag, still not quite believing what you were reading. Vibrating tongue ring. You said it with the same detached humor you tried to put into the rest of this ridiculous situation, but you both knew this wasn’t just a joke anymore. A heavy silence hung between you, and then—

Oh, absolutely not, Chris said, his grin widening into something darker, more dangerous, like he was daring you to make him. You stared at him, biting back a grin that threatened to spill over, fighting against the absurdity of the moment. You scared?

I’m not putting that anywhere near my mouth after it’s been in this box, he muttered, half-disgusted, half-amused, but even through the playful refusal, you felt that edge still there, like every word was tinged with something deeper. You waggled it at him, voice mock-serious. The people demand sacrifice. It was a silly thing to say, and yet it felt true, felt right in the moment, like you were playing a role in something far larger than either of you had intended.

He leaned in again, close enough that you could feel the heat of his breath against your skin before his lips pressed softly against the corner of your mouth. He pulled back just enough to whisper, They’ll have to settle for this. The words were barely there, a soft promise that you couldn’t ignore, and for just a moment, the world seemed to shrink to just him, just that kiss, just the breathless, burning tension between you.

And then, in a move that was so deliberate, so intentional, the joke fell away entirely. The playful mockery dissolved in your throat, swallowed up by the desperate, strangled sound that left you instead, a sound that was more real than anything that had come before it. The touch of his hand, the way he shifted his weight against you, the heat of him pressing so close—nothing about this was a game anymore. You clung to his shirt like it was the only thing holding you together, your chest tight with need, your voice barely a whisper when you managed to force out the only thing you could say. More.

He kissed you like he heard that word on a deeper frequency, like it wasn’t just a request but a revelation, something he’d been waiting for without realizing it. His fingers slid out of you slowly, deliberately, dragging slick down your thigh as he leaned back, breath still shallow. You watched him through the haze, chest heaving, pulse pounding in your ears like it was trying to keep up with the sudden, disjointed rhythm of everything inside you. He looked wrecked, flushed and wild and barely tethered, the pink plastic cuff still dangling between you both like the world’s worst and most brilliant joke. You were sitting on the edge of your kitchen counter, jeans undone, lips kiss-bruised, thighs parted for your best friend and somehow, impossibly, it wasn’t weird.

Chris’s hands slid to your hips, gripping gently but with that quiet, coiled strength he always carried around like an afterthought. His gaze flicked over you, like he was memorizing, like something in him had shifted and he couldn’t quite pretend otherwise. And then, with zero warning, he grabbed one of the novelty bottles from the box, the tiny one labeled sensation enhancer: edible and held it up between you with a half-smirk. You dared me to try something, he said, still breathless, still flushed. You narrowed your eyes. That’s technically not edible in public. He popped the cap with his teeth and raised an eyebrow. So good thing we’re not in public.

And just like that, you were laughing again, high and unsteady and so far past the point of return that nothing felt real anymore. Chris dipped his finger into the gel, held your eyes, and then dragged it slowly, teasingly, over the inside of your thigh. Not where you wanted him, not quite, but enough to make you jolt, to hiss, to shudder. The gel was cold at first, then warmer, then impossibly hot, and you gasped, clutching his wrist like that could slow him down. Still funny? he asked, voice low and nearly smug.

Shut up, you breathed, already falling apart. He leaned in, brushing his lips over yours, his voice a thread of heat. Make me. You did. You kissed him like it was the only language left in your mouth, tangled and hungry and real as his hands slid back into your jeans, tugging them past your legs with just enough care not to rush, and you lifted your body to help him, legs shaking slightly. He paused only long enough to press one more kiss to the inside of your knee, soft and slow, and then he looked up at you, eyes heavy-lidded, reverent. You could see it on his face now—the shift, the way he was no longer pretending it was the game, or the chocolate, or the bottle in his hand. This wasn’t a joke anymore, this was you, and him, and a choice. He kissed up your thigh, slow and devastating, and your hands shook where they gripped the counter behind you. Still okay? he murmured and you nodded, voice barely there. Yeah.

Still the game? You didn’t answer. Neither did he.

He just kept going.

The moment he dropped to his knees, something in your chest cracked wide open, like the heat between you wasn’t just a slow burn anymore, but a kind of collapse. You were breathless, legs parting instinctively as Chris settled between them, his hands firm on your thighs, grounding you while everything else spun and his mouth hovered, not quite touching, his breath a warm tease over where you needed him most. You were still mostly dressed—jeans bunched awkwardly around your feet, shirt rucked up just enough to bare your stomach—but it didn’t matter. You felt exposed, devoured, like he was already tasting you just by looking.

His lips brushed against your inner thigh again, deliberate now, slower than before. You realize, he murmured, voice dragging low across your skin, this is gonna ruin all our future game nights. You let out a shaky laugh, the sound brittle with want. Only if we tell anyone. Chris chuckled, quiet, dark, and pressed a kiss just beside where you throbbed, still not giving in. You gonna keep it a secret?

He looked up, eyes hooded, lashes casting shadows over his cheeks. I could. Don't want to.

You weren’t sure if he meant the kiss, or the fact that your best friend was currently peeling your underwear down your legs with the same care he gave delicate electronics and bad injuries, measured, focused, unshakable, but you didn’t ask, you couldn’t. Because then he did kiss you there, properly this time, and everything inside you tilted like the room had gone off-axis. The sensation enhancer burned slow and deep, a creeping heat that made every pass of his tongue feel supernatural, unreal. He moved carefully at first, like he was listening to your body more than anything else, adjusting the rhythm of his mouth to every twitch, every breathless curse, every time you gasped his name without meaning to.

You’d imagined this before, more than once, in weak moments, when sleep wouldn’t come and the memory of his laugh had stayed in your chest too long, but nothing about those fantasies had prepared you for the real thing. Chris was good at this, almost too good, confident, thorough, unhurried, like he'd dreamed it too and was determined to get it right.

Your cuffed hands clawed at the counter behind you, desperate for something to hold on to, because your legs had already stopped obeying commands. You could hear yourself falling apart, the wet, obscene sounds of his mouth, your breath catching with every pass of his tongue over your clit, the muffled curses you kept trying to swallow and couldn’t, the heat from the gel had spread now, pooled deep in your core, and every time he moaned against you—like he was the one losing control—you swore you saw stars.

Chris, you breathed, broken and unsure if it was a warning or a plea. He hummed into you, the sound low and guttural. Say it again. You whimpered. Chris—fuck—please. His grip on your thighs tightened. Tell me what you want. You bit down on your lip, hips stuttering against his mouth. Don’t stop.

He didn’t.

His mouth stayed locked on you, wet and filthy, tongue flicking, curling, fucking you through every twitch and roll of pleasure until the pressure finally broke and when it did, it shattered you. The orgasm hit hard, violent, your back jerking clean off the counter as your whole body seized around the sharp, dizzy heat of it, his name torn out of your throat over and over, wrecked and hoarse, until there was nothing left but the sound of your own ragged breathing. Still, he didn’t stop, not until your legs were shaking around his head, not until your body sagged back against the counter, spent and soaked, your mind stripped clean, eyes glassy and lost.

And then—then—he pulled back, chin slick, pupils blown, and looked at you like he’d just climbed out of a dream and couldn’t believe it was still happening. You were boneless, ruined, barely able to sit up, but you still reached for him, awkward and tangled and desperate to feel more. Chris smiled, breathless, and stood, dragging you in by the cuffs until your foreheads met again. So, he murmured, nudging your nose with his, I think we need to give this party box a five-star review. You laughed, wrecked and breathless. We haven’t even gotten to the toys yet. Chris kissed you again, slow, deep, reverent. Then I guess we’ve got work to do.

Chris kissed you like he hadn’t just pulled you apart with his mouth. Like he wanted to start again from scratch, rebuild you slowly this time, piece by shaky piece, his lips were hot and unhurried, his hands still wrapped around your waist, guiding you off the counter with a care that bordered on reverence. Your legs barely held you, shaky, wobbly from the come-down, but he caught you, steadied you, murmured something soft against your temple that sounded suspiciously like got you. And for a second, in the quiet hum of the apartment, you let yourself rest there, half-dressed and cuffed, your breath syncing with his like it had always been meant to.

But then Chris glanced toward the living room. The couch, wide, soft. Closer than the bedroom but far enough from the kitchen to pretend you were making a more responsible decision. He raised an eyebrow, barely suppressing a grin. We’re not stopping here, right? You scoffed, chest still heaving. Do I look like I’m in any condition to walk? His arms slid under your thighs and back in one clean motion. Good thing I work out.You yelped as he lifted you, laughing into the crook of his neck. You are so full of shit.

He grinned, carrying you bridal-style through the apartment with an ease that was so Chris—half cocky, half chaotic, and entirely unbothered by the fact that your jeans were still around your ankles and you were cuffed like a tragic bachelorette party prop. He dropped you on the couch with too much enthusiasm, and you bounced once, landing in a sprawl that made you laugh again, limbs everywhere, your shirt riding up your ribs before kicking the fabric stuck to your feet. You’re lucky I’m too weak to kick you.

You’re lucky I didn’t just drop you.

Debatable. Chris dropped down beside you, legs spread wide, one arm thrown lazily along the back of the couch, but the second you sat up to face him, straddling his lap with your bound wrists tucked under his jaw, the energy shifted again, still playful, still ridiculous, but hotter now, closer. You could feel him under you, hard through his jeans, and the friction when you settled down against him made both of you stutter.

His hands gripped your hips like he was trying to be casual and failing spectacularly. So… we’re still blaming the game, right? You rolled your hips just once, slow and experimental, and watched his breath catch. Obviously. He groaned, dragging his hands up under your shirt to grip your waist properly. This is such a bad idea. You rocked again, deliberately now, and his head fell back against the couch. Yeah, but it’s fun.

The grinding continued slow, the kind of slow that felt more like teasing than relief, your hips rolling down against his in loose, clumsy drags, both of you laughing under your breath one second, gasping the next when the friction caught just right. It was filthy, uncoordinated, desperate, the kind of dry-humping that belonged to backseats and dark corners, all hunger and no patience, your bodies clashing together with clothes still hopelessly in the way. His hands locked tight around your thighs, fingers bruising at the curve of them, dragging you harder onto the thick bulge straining behind his jeans. You could feel the solid shape of him pressing against you, the rough seam hitting your clit with every rock of your hips, each brush sparking another low, breathless moan into the sloppy kiss he caught your mouth with.

His lips wouldn’t stay still, greedy and wandering, wet kisses trailing from your mouth to your jaw, your throat, then back again, like he couldn’t decide where to taste first, like he couldn’t get enough of your skin on his tongue. The heat between you bloomed faster than either of you could keep up with, the damp ache soaking through his pants, through the layers between you, and you couldn’t stop, couldn’t even slow down. Each grind made you hungrier for the next, chasing the high you could feel slipping just out of reach every time your hips lifted, only to crash down again even harder.

You feel that? he rasped against your mouth, voice so tight it barely held shape. How wet you are? The words were wrecked, shameless, his mouth brushing over the corner of yours, teeth catching on your bottom lip and you could only nod, dragging yourself against him, desperate and shaking. I can’t stop. His hands locked down on your thighs, pulling you in even closer, and the kiss that followed was messier than the rest, teeth knocking, breath tangled, a sound ripped straight from his chest like he was already half gone. Don’t.

You dry-humped him like a pair of kids too horny to know better, or too far gone to care, slow, grinding friction that bordered on unbearable, his cock thick and straining beneath his jeans, yours soaking though the fabric, every shift of your body sending sharp little jolts down your spine. Every time your clit caught on the seam of his fly, your breath punched out of you in broken gasps, the heat building so fast it made your vision blur. His voice cracked against your ear, breath coming harder now, hips twitching up beneath you. You’re gonna make me come in my fucking jeans.

The confession hit like a shock, sharp and hot, your whole body tightening in response. You bit down a moan, rolling your hips again, slower this time, crueler. Not unless I beat you to it. His mouth crushed against your shoulder, a low, helpless groan rumbling through him like the threat of breaking. This is the best fucking game night ever. You could barely manage the breath to answer, your body too wound up, too focused on the tight, obscene friction building faster and faster with every drag of your hips. Yeah, you whispered, voice shaking, and you meant it. God, you meant it.

And then somewhere between the breathless laughter and the cursing and the dizzy, relentless pace of your grinding, the air changed, the heat crested too high, the game tipped too far, and suddenly it wasn’t funny anymore. It was raw, it was real, you shifted a little too hard, hips driving down against the hard line of his cock, the friction tipping straight from playful to punishing, and the sound he made wasn’t a laugh this time—it was a choke, a curse, a warning.

Chris stilled beneath you, his hands flexing hard around your hips like the only thing keeping him from snapping was the sheer effort of holding on as his forehead dropped to yours, breath sharp and shallow, voice so low it barely made sound. I’m gonna lose it. You could feel him throb through the denim, every twitch against you making your pulse skip, your body tightening around the weight of it. You moved, just once, slow and deliberate, grinding down in one long, aching roll of your hips. Then lose it.

His eyes snapped open, wide and dark, searching your face for any trace of doubt, and when he didn’t find it, when you only nodded, heartbeat sitting like a lump in your throat, something in him broke. His hands moved, sliding up under your shirt, fingers dragging against bare skin, slow and reverent, like he was trying to commit every inch of you to memory. The ache of him pressed hard between your legs, trapped behind denim and cotton, hot and heavy and so fucking real, and when he kissed you again, rough, deep, no more jokes, no more games, it felt like something sharp split you wide open.

His fingers fumbled at his jeans, urgent and clumsy, yanking at the button, the zipper, trying to free himself without pushing you off. You couldn’t help, your wrists still bound and useless between you, so you just leaned in, caught his mouth in another kiss, teeth dragging on his lip, swallowing the growl that rumbled through him when he finally shoved his boxers down and freed his cock, flushed and leaking, the head slick and desperate. You looked down, breath catching in your throat, stomach flipping, because this wasn’t almost anymore—this was happening, this was real.

Are you— The question barely made it past his lips, voice cracking on the edges, raw and fraying apart from the inside out. Yes. The word broke sharp from your mouth before he could finish, your body already moving, your hips shifting in one slow, trembling roll, lining yourself up, the head of his cock pressing flush against your dripping heat. Your hands were useless, still bound at the wrists between your bodies, but you didn’t need them, the rest of you was already leaning into him, shaking, bracing, drunk on the sharp, staggering ache of what was about to happen. Are you?

Chris looked at you like you’d knocked the air from his lungs, his eyes wide, black with hunger, the last scraps of control fraying away under your stare. His head gave the smallest nod, jaw clenching so tight it shook his voice when it finally pushed free. God, yes.

His hands caught your hips the moment you started to sink down, fingers clutching hard enough to bruise, steadying you as your body slowly gave in to him, inch by inch. The stretch burned, sharp and deep and unrelenting, your body fighting the intrusion and begging for more in the same breath, muscles clenching down, struggling to adjust as he opened you up. Your breath shattered against his shoulder, the softest, sharpest gasp catching in your throat, and the cuffs clinked between you with every tremor as you fought for balance.

Chris groaned, the sound broken and hoarse, his head falling back against the couch as his cock pushed deeper, splitting you apart in the sweetest, filthiest way. He was so thick it made your head spin, the dull ache blooming into something close to unbearable, but you didn’t stop, couldn’t, your fingers fisted in the fabric of his shirt, your whole body shaking, barely hanging on as you sank the last few desperate inches until you were fully seated, the base of him pressed tight against you, buried so deep it felt like he lived there, like you were built for this exact kind of stretch. You couldn’t move, not yet.

The air felt too heavy to breathe, the moment too sharp to survive, your heart pounding wild and frantic behind your ribs. His hands smoothed up your back, slow, reverent, as though the motion alone could anchor you both, as though he was still trying to convince himself this was real. Your foreheads met, slick and trembling, and the only thing either of you could do was hold on, suspended between the ache and the heat, caught in the weight of the moment.

You okay? he whispered, voice ragged, like speaking hurt. You nodded, throat tight, the words barely squeezing free. Yeah. You? Chris huffed a sound, half a broken laugh, half a low, desperate groan. His thumb traced slow circles at the small of your back, grounding both of you in the quiet, in the way your bodies fit together so perfectly it was almost cruel. I’ve wanted this for so long, I don’t even know what okay is anymore.

You kissed him before he could say another word, lips catching his, slow but hungry, your body pulsing around the thick weight of him still stretched deep inside you. And then, when the ache softened just enough, you started to move.

The first roll of your hips was careful, tentative, your body adjusting to the impossible stretch all over again as you lifted and sank, grinding in slow, tight circles. Every shift sent new shocks of pleasure through your spine, heat tightening low in your belly, the friction a perfect, aching tease and Chris hissed, his mouth dragging across your jaw, your shoulder, his hands sliding down to grip your ass, fingers digging deep into soft flesh as though he could hold you there, make you stay, make the moment last longer. Fuck, baby, he breathed against your neck, voice falling apart with every word. You feel so fucking good—you’re so warm, so tight—fuck.

The way he said baby made your stomach twist, sharp and sweet and dangerous, and you didn’t call him on it, didn’t tease, didn’t joke, didn’t breathe a word about how much you liked it. You just moved again, grinding your hips harder this time, letting the angle shift until the thick head of him pressed flush against that deep, sensitive spot that made your mouth fall open, a moan breaking free before you could swallow it down. His hips twitched up, chasing the friction, building a rhythm between you that made the couch groan beneath your bodies, every thrust a little more reckless than the last. Your cuffed hands curled into his chest, needing something, anything, to cling to while your body threatened to fly apart. Your thighs trembled with every bounce, sweat slicking your skin, your breath nothing but gasps and broken sounds against his mouth.

Chris’s voice wrecked itself on the next moan, a helpless, hoarse string of curses whispered straight into your ear. You feel unreal. You’re gonna kill me. You’re so fucking tight, I can’t—shit—I’m not gonna last. You clenched around him on purpose, the sharp squeeze pulling a gasp from his throat so raw it sounded almost like a sob. His fingers bruised into your hips, holding you still, his self-control snapping by threads. Don’t, he warned, voice dark and shaking. Don’t do that unless you want me to lose my fucking mind.

Your lips brushed his, voice barely a whisper. What if I do?

His eyes met yours, and the shift that had been happening, slow and creeping, winding around the edges of your friendship for months finally snapped its teeth. He wasn’t just fucking you, he wasn’t just lost in the moment, or the heat, or the years of tension finally unraveling. He was having you, all of you, slowly, completely, like he wasn’t going to stop until he’d memorized every sound, every twitch, every single piece of you that would give itself up under his hands. And the truth was, you didn’t want him to stop, not now. Not ever.

You moved together, tangled and desperate, until the line between pain and pleasure blurred, until the room disappeared, until the only things that existed were his hands, his mouth, the heat building between your bodies, the stretch of him inside you, slow and thick and deep. Time didn’t matter, nothing did when Chris’s grip on your hips was bruising, his hands dragging you down, forcing you to take every inch, every slow, deep stroke until you felt like you were being split apart. His head was tipped back, mouth slack, brow pinched in the kind of concentration that only ever shattered at the very end and you could feel how close he was, the way his cock twitched inside you, the way his breath hitched every time your body clenched around him, instinctive and greedy. Fuck, baby, he rasped, voice wrecked, barely able to get the words out. I'm so—

But you already knew, you could feel it in the way he started to thrust harder, sharper, losing the smooth rhythm in favor of something more desperate, more broken as you met him, hips rolling down to meet each thrust, grinding when he bottomed out, tightening around him until he groaned so deep it vibrated against your chest. Your own orgasm had been coiling for minutes, strung tight on the edge, your clit aching from the relentless friction, your whole body tense and trembling, teetering on the brink. And when he shifted just right, the angle a little sharper, the thrust a little deeper, it hit, sharp and unforgiving, your muscles locking down around him as the pleasure rolled over you, thick and hot and endless.

The cry tore from your throat before you could stop it, high and broken and raw, and your body clenched around him so tight he swore, a breathless, hoarse plea of your name as his hips jerked up one last time, burying himself deep, holding there, locked to the hilt as he came. You could feel it, the hot pulse of him spilling inside you, thick and messy, filling you until the slickness dripped back out around the base of him, your bodies so wet and filthy it only pushed your own pleasure higher, leaving you shaking and gasping against his shoulder. Chris held you there, both of you wrecked and spent, his hands smoothing over your back with a tenderness that didn’t match the filthy mess between your thighs, the slow, warm trickle of him still leaking from where he was buried deep inside you.

Neither of you moved for a long moment, you just stayed, still joined, bodies locked together, hearts pounding in the same wild rhythm and let the aftershocks bleed through your bones, through your skin, through the space between you that wasn’t really space at all anymore. And then, out of nowhere, Chris muttered, I think I got glitter on my dick. You blinked, pulled back just enough to look at him, and sure enough—there it was. A faint shimmer, low on his stomach. From the untouched glitter lotion, the bachelorette tiara? Who the hell knew anymore.

You started laughing, the kind of laugh that spilled out reckless and unfiltered, all loose limbs and spent lungs, too empty and too full at the same time. It wasn’t graceful, it wasn’t soft, it wasn’t even a choice, it just tore through you, bubbling up from the wreck of your chest until your whole body trembled with it, half from the aftershocks still rippling through your muscles, half from the sheer absurdity of the scene laid out in front of you. The room was trashed, your bodies were worse, everything sticky and tangled and stained with sweat and the kind of mess that would cling to your skin long after the sun came up.

God, you wheezed, forehead dropping against his shoulder, the curve of his neck still damp and warm against your cheek, we’re gonna have to sanitize the apartment. Chris let out a broken sound, a laugh, but worn thin, the edges frayed and heavy, like it hurt to pull it out of himself. His chest shook under you, arms still looped lazily around your waist, fingers tracing slow, thoughtless patterns against your bare skin. Sanitize? he echoed, voice rasping through the word. Baby, we’re gonna have to burn it down.

You stilled. Your lips quirked slow, teeth sinking into the swell of your bottom lip as you lifted your head, meeting his eyes—those wide, dark, still slightly dazed eyes—and let the silence stretch, let the weight of that one unintentional slip sink into the air between you. Baby, huh? you teased, voice syrup-sweet, tilting your head just enough to watch him squirm. You really are soft for me. Chris groaned, dragging a hand over his face, scrubbing it back through his damp hair, like he could physically wipe the word out of existence. But his mouth was twitching, fighting a smile he was too worn out to win against. Shut up, he muttered, but the color creeping up his neck gave him away.

You grinned wider, the taste of it still sitting sweet and smug on your tongue. Not sorry about it, are you? He didn’t answer at first, just exhaled slow, dragging his thumb lazily along the inside of your thigh, his gaze trailing the movement like he was memorizing the shape of you all over again. His voice was lower when it came, soft and unshaken this time. Nope, he said simply. Not even a little.

You let the silence settle again, heavier now, not awkward, just thick, charged, like the current between you hadn’t dulled at all, even with your bodies spent and the last threads of your clothes hanging crooked, half-peeled off. His hands were still on you, your wrists were still cuffed, the metal biting red rings into your skin, and neither of you had made a single move to fix it. Speaking of, you hummed, flexing your fingers in front of his face, the cuffs jingling like some ridiculous badge of honor, you planning on letting me go or am I your prisoner now?

Chris blinked like he’d forgotten entirely. Honestly… he drawled, lips twitching, I kinda like you restrained. You arched a brow, breath hitching in something that wasn’t quite a laugh. Christopher. His fingers slipped up to the latch, slow and a little reluctant, and when the metal finally popped open, your hands dropped free, sore, tingling, but missing the weight almost instantly. Before you could pull away, he caught them, turned your palms up, and pressed his mouth to your wrists, once, twice, slow and unhurried, lips brushing the tender skin like it was some private ritual only he understood.

You let him, you let him even when your pulse jumped under his mouth, even when your throat ached with words you weren’t ready to say. Because the second he let your hands go, the second you shifted to climb off his lap, your legs rubbery and trembling and nowhere near trustworthy, his hand wrapped around yours again, anchoring you back, his thumb swept slow over the same angry little cuff-mark on your wrist, the gesture too gentle for the way he’d wrecked you minutes ago. So… he started, voice light, too casual, like he could bluff his way past what just happened, we’re still calling this a test run, right?

You snorted, staggering to your feet, steadying yourself against the back of the couch while your body remembered how to exist without him inside you. Your hips ached, your thighs were sticky and sore, and you could feel his cum leaking down your legs, messy and warm, dripping onto the floor as you shuffled toward the kitchen. You tossed a look over your shoulder, half-laughing. Sure. Let’s call it that.

But the second you turned away, you felt it, the way his eyes tracked you, the weight of his stare dragging over the stretch of your back, the bruises blooming along your throat, the way your knees buckled slightly every few steps. You heard the couch shift, his soft exhale behind you, and then his voice again, quiet this time, like a confession.

Need help, baby?. It slipped out before he could catch it. raw, unfiltered, like it belonged to you now. You paused, the glass you’d been reaching for still dangling from your fingertips, and glanced back at him, smile slow and sharp as a blade. Again? you teased, head cocking to one side. You’re really leaning into it, huh? Chris didn’t flinch, his gaze held steady, no panic this time, just calm and sure and worn thin with the truth.

Yeah, he said, voice steady, lips quirking into the softest, smallest smile. And I’m not taking it back.

[bloodchapell]

I would like one from Xeno and/or Staley of how they would be before, during and after pregnancy.

soon to be dad — xeno / stanley

what to expect: suggestive, fem/afab reader, modern au, not stanxeno lmoaoa

your sword's note: thankyu so much for the request dear anon! i only know the basics of pregnancies so i hope this is accurate. more on my mistresslist

xeno

before:

better believe this is a planned pregnancy, this guy is too elegant to have an unplanned baby

after marriage, you both agree that you want a family, but decide to wait for the right moment. once you both feel like it, you start making preparations

everything has to be perfect for the decision to be made. you two have attended parenting courses, gone to therapy, learned everything there is to know, diet is balanced, the finances are good and there is extra money just in case

okay now everything is ready, the only thing missing is getting down and dirty. i feel like he would be saying "we are trying for a baby☺️" to people, kinda offsetting

it takes a few tries, you get oddly upset once you realize you are not pregnant this month again and he comforts you saying you can keep trying (lmaoo)

during:

your period is a single day late and you already know

regardless, you wait a week to take a pregnancy test, and once it comes positive, you get ecstatic

you plan a date for the reveal, he kinda already knows because by that point you would be fussing about not being pregnant yet (this mf knows your cycle). on the date, you finally tell him that you two will be parents. he lifts you up immediately and kisses you

the first trimester is a roller coaster. you don't get morning sickness but the exhaustion has you sleeping all day. he is asking you often how you are doing and does the chores for you, let's you do stuff around because he knows you like being independent

during the second trimester your tiredness calms finally, your bump starts showing and the baby starts moving. xeno is fascinated by this. once the doctors know the gender of the baby, you have a gender reveal party. "hey baby, i am your uncle stan and i think you are going to be american as fuck... i mean, i think you will be a boy."

you and xeno wanted a boy, you got a boy

hormones get the best of you and you yell at xeno for taking so long at work (he took the usual amount of time)

by the third trimester, you take time off your job and stay at home. xeno massages you with oils and talks to the baby about god knows what

after:

your due date was approaching. a week left, everything was ready, the little baby seat in the car and the bag with clothes, you expect your baby to be elegant and therefore on time but your water breaks two days before the due date at 3am

it was a fast delivery, so fast that the baby was out while you were still waiting. you are sitting waiting as the nurses organize the bed for you to lay and you feel the pain become unbearable. the nurse checks and says "well the baby's head is out" oops, a few pushes after, the baby is out

you sit baffled at the bed while the doctors check the baby, the pain still haunts your body but it doesn't matter once they give you your little baby

xeno is scared. he holds the baby awkwardly and looks at him in awe

once back home, you rest and he takes care of everything, there is a big plate of food in front of you and he holds the baby while you eat, then after a bath for you, you lay down holding the baby and he sits besides you admiring you both

stanley

before:

better believe this was not planned

you and stanley had talked about kids, agreeing that maybe in the future you guys can consider it

the way in which things developed was a little different. after coming home from an oddly tortuous mission, he needs you so bad. he has you pinned down, holding your thighs while he fucks you so hard and for some reason when he says that he is close you close your legs around his waist and whisper "put a baby in me, stan..."

he took it literally :/

during:

days go on like normal, everything is fine, life is resumed... until your period is late, you panic and take a test. "you got me pregnant stanley, i am going to kill you!" he is sweating bullets when he hears that, but solves it with, "being a father, i can do it."

since xeno just had a baby (no, not in the mpreg way, in the 'his partner had their baby' way), you both go visit them and their little bundle of evil to ask for some advice

during the first trimester you have violent morning sickness and can only eat bread and milk for breakfast, eggs are a big no, it goes away fast but oh boy was it hell

stanley is so scared of you. mind you this guy is special task force elite soldier leader all that, but even though your belly starts swelling with the baby and you look adorable, one sight of you is making him kneel down and clean the floor and apologize for not being able to carry you up and down so you don't have to walk

in the second trimester you have to go to one of the ultrasounds on your own. you learn that you are having a girl and once you are home you spoil it for him. "i am so excited for our little girl to come home." you say with a grin and he crumbles (he had been so excited to make a gender reveal party)

"hi baby, i am your uncle xeno and i know you will be a menace to society. now gender wise, i am inclined to believe you will be a girl." stanley wanted a boy, you wanted a girl. once he learned he was getting a baby girl (after he recovered from crumbling apart) he was ennamoured

he loves laying by your side and caressing the baby through your skin

has to see you eat the most absurd food combinations. "i am not buying you some honey for those pickles, that has to be radiactive." with a single look though, he is already getting on his car to get the honey

his ford mustang can't fit a baby seat so he has to buy a boring SUV, he hates it but when he installs the seat he doesn't mind it as much

after:

your baby was on time with her due date, there is no rush. you and stanley know what is happening once the water breaks, so he drives you to the hospital calmly

it was a long labor and painful as hell, it is possible you broke a bone in stanley's hand while you squeezed it when pushing

you cursed loudly, mainly at him, and he just nods

"you are so strong" he keeps praising you and encouraging you

the baby finally comes out and she cries, you sigh relieved, the doctors check her. before seeing her though, stanley makes sure you are okay and kisses your forehead thanking you for birthing his baby

she is so tiny and her little brows are furrowed. "she has her mommy's attitude already." stanley laughs holding his baby. seeing the little girl in his hands that has your eye color and his blonde hair ignites a sense of protection in him like no other

he actually has to step out for a second to not cry when the nurse gives you the baby and you two spend your first moments together

"stanley the baby is crying!" you shake him in bed. out of all the sleepless nights on missions, the sleepless nights of the newborn days are the worst, he gets up barely functioning and walks to the baby's crib, picking her up and singing the same song he has been singing for the past days in a robotic tone to try to calm her down but she is fierce and keeps on crying

[drghostwrite]

Snowed in

Pairing: Arizona Robbin’s x preg!reader

Summary: After all they went through Arizona and her wife finally get their baby, but what happens when the due date is approaching and a blizzard blows through Seattle.

******************************************************** “We expect for atleast 12 more inches of snowfall before 9pm tonight, to make matters worse roads are becoming extremely dangerous due to black ice, and snow drifts. We encourage all to stay inside and all necessary personal to stay safe and warm as it is going to be a long night in Seattle.” You stood in your living room watching the live emergency weather forecast.

“Ugh…” you groaned to yourself, you could hear your wife moving in the kitchen and decided to go see what she was up to. Walking in you saw her moving around your stove.

“Arizona?” You called. She turned with her signature ‘light up a room’ smile holding two mugs in her hand. You smiled lovingly back at her in her pajamas making you hot chocolate because you were both stuck here with nowhere to go.

“We’re snowed in… and that calls for hot chocolate!” She said excitedly walking a mug over to you and you stood at the end of the island, farthest away from the stove, she ran her hand along your lower back as she stood facing you.

You stared down into the cup of warm brown liquid, “Y/N is everything okay?”

“for now…” you said quietly, though you were happy to be with her you couldn’t say that you weren’t slightly worried.

“what’s on your mind?” She asked as you turned to face her, you mustered up a smile.

“it’s nothing, it’s just…” you shrugged and laughed a little as to ease her worrying about you.

“Is it the baby?” She asked a hand coming down to caress your very swollen baby bump.

“no no baby’s okay.” You smiled, a hand coming up to her cheek as the most gentle and reassuring expression came over her face, you placed a soft kiss to silky lips.

“Okay, look if it’s this weather I promise you it’ll be okay… I’m not going anywhere I already told Webber that I’m staying with you in case anything were to happen… not that it will, cause our little one has got a couple more weeks to go.” She said calming your nerves. She ran a very soothing hand along your bump, one of the only people other than you that could calm your baby when they decided to do kickboxing with your internal organs. You absolutely loved how she would talk to your bump, one time in the OR your baby decided to give you a little scare and she was there at your side in mere seconds talking to your belly, calming your baby while you held a human heart in your hands. Another time you got stuck in a 16 hour trauma surgery and your muscles had locked up, as soon as it was over she was right next to you doing her best to work them over as you let tears fall over how sore you were never once leaving your side.

“hmm…” you said leaning forward to rest your head on her shoulder wrapping your arms around each other, your bump pressed firmly against her, she could feel your baby kicking. You decided it would be best to pull an early night and around 9 you headed to your bed letting a movie play on the TV not that you paid much attention to it bc Arizona had got the lavender oil out and was giving your muscles a much needed massage, lulling you into a much needed sleep, she knew you were absolutely exhausted and so she pulled the covers up wrapping her arm around you running a hand over you bump and softly whispering making sure to calm the baby so you could sleep.

Well that was until 3 hours later…

she turned over and found you no longer in the bed next to her, she slowly sat up seeing a very dim light seeping through the crack in the bathroom door.

“Y/N?” She called out.

“I’m okay just go back to sleep.” You responded, you lied to her, you thought you were feeling cramping but unsure so you didn’t want to worry her. You waited holding your breath until you didn’t hear any stirring in the bedroom. Assuming she had fallen back to sleep you let out a sigh, hands on the counter you leaned trying to stretch. You returned to the bed crawling in next to her watching her chest rise and fall softly, rubbing soothing circles on your bump as you tried going back to sleep.

It only lasted 20 minutes before you were back in your bathroom, leaned on the kitchen counter one hand gripped to the sink while the other pressed firmly into your lower back, “Hhhnahh…” you let out a stressed breath, you took some deep breaths, you thought you heard footsteps and looked out into the darkness of the room through the crack in the door, you could see the moonlit outline of your wife still in bed.

“Oh god…” you said feeling another cramping sensation. This time you didn’t hear her call your name as you were focused, you didn’t realize she was up until she was standing in the doorway eyes squinted at you taking in your distressed form.

“Y/N, baby are you okay?” She gently made her way to your side.

“I’m not sure…” you said looking at her letting the demeanor fall.

“Okay let me feel…” you slowly nodded as she put her expert hands on your bump feeling for any signs of distress from baby. That’s when she felt it the muscles tightening against her hands, “Y/N how long have you been feeling this?”

“a couple hours maybe.”

“okay, well you’re definitely contracting.”

“what, no, Arizona I can’t.”

“why?”

“cause it’s to early, an-and we’re stuck here what if something happens?”

“okay it’s okay, we’re both trained for this first of all, I can get Addison on the phone, and we have all the supplies we need.” She said holding your hands, before you could continue you felt a contraction coming in this one stronger than the others.

“okay…” you nodded resting your head on her shoulder leaning into her, she moved quickly after that, prepping all supplies and calling Addison updating her on what’s going on, she also called Bailey to see if they could get anyone there but everyone was having trouble in the weather. You were in the bathroom leaning against the sink again when you felt it, the liquid running down your thighs onto the floor creating a small puddle around you.

“Arizona?” You called and she was at your side in seconds.

“yea love?”

“um…” you said looking at your feet.

“oh okay, your water broke…” you weren’t moving so she wrapped an arm around you one hand under your bump, “it’s okay, just means baby is on its way.”

“I-I can’t do this…” you said still processing as she helped you out of your now soaked leggings.

“yes you can, you’ve got this, soon we’re gonna meet our beautiful baby…” she smiled at you and for a moment everything seems to melt away.

——— time jump———

“Gaahhh…” you screamed feeling baby drop.

“okay baby it’s okay.” Arizona ran a hand up and down your leg, as her other held your hand.

“Y/N deep breaths, Arizona how’re mama and baby doing.” you found yourself on your bathroom floor leaned back against your bath tub, Arizona was monitoring progress between your legs with Addison on the phone trying to get to you ASAP. You didn’t want to do this on your bed and the idea of a water birth was annoying you so this was your best option and Arizona was going with it.

“We’re close to crowning I can just barely see baby’s head.”

“Okay that’s good, you know the drill, just have her push when her body feels the need and watch for tearing.”

“Nnghh… God this hurts.” You gritted out.

“I know baby.” She squeezed your hand tightly.

“Y/N I’m ten minutes out, trying our best to get to you.” Addison explained.

“I’m not sure this baby is gonna wait.” You said out of breath already, another contraction cutting you off and you pushed.

“Yea Addison this baby is not waiting, another push Y/N…” you pushed through another contraction.

“mmm it burns, Arizona… God it burns.”

“Ring of fire…is she fully crowning?”

“Yea, I can see the top of baby’s head.” Arizona let out a breathy laugh, tears filling her eyes threatening to fall.

“Okay just breathe, Arizona just talk me through it...” Arizona lifted the towel over your legs, checking progress again.

“Addison the baby is right there, I can see it… come on Y/N you’re so close.”

“okay mama on this next contraction I don’t want you to push, it might help if you take quick small breaths almost like you’re panting, let your body do the work.” You heard Addison through the phone, you let out a long groan in protest before you felt another wave coming.

“Ariz-oh god…nnghh.”

“Breathe baby, pant, like this” she rubbed up and down you leg and started panting showing you what to do. You squeezed you eyes tightly feeling your baby move down. “Okay Y/N big push on the next contraction.”

“Whoo…” you pushed air out, moaning through the breathing, you squeezed your eyes shut tucking your chin to you chest pushing hard, your lips parted as you gritted your teeth.

“okay heads out, our baby’s head is out...” she let another small laugh under her breath, slow tears fell as she watched your baby made it way into the world.

“Arizona I’m on my way, I’ll be there soon…” she heard the dial tone as the phone hung up.

“Okay, one more push… just one more big push.” You nodded at her, tears of exhaustion and desperation to hold your baby fell down your face. You gritted your teeth, letting out one last moan of desperation as you pushed feeling your baby slide into your wife’s arms.

You listened as your baby’s cries filled the room, opening your eyes you saw as tears rolled down Arizonas cheeks as she held your baby who was softly wrapped in one of your towels. “It’s a girl… we have a baby girl.” You smiled softly at her trying to will your very sore muscles to move, before you could say anything you heard footsteps and saw as Addison turned the corner coming into view. She took in the sight before her you leaned against the tub Arizona still between your legs holding your baby, she walked in touching Arizonas shoulder letting her know she was there. She quickly shifted in next to you handing you the baby, you looked down in awe and to Arizona who leaned in placing a kiss on your lips, she rested her head on the side of yours as you both looked down at your baby.

“Addison, I have a baby girl.” You looked up and smiled tiredly at the redhead.

“I see,” she said running a comforting hand over your leg, “Y/N I’m just going to check and make sure you’re okay.” You grimaced and nodded giving her permission. She lifted the towel one hand slid under placed on your lower belly, she looked up at Arizona who was watching you hold your baby, she looked down confused making eye contact and Addison nodded.

“Hey Y/N?”

“Yea?”

“We need to get you to the hospital.”

“Um okay… and the baby?”

“she’s coming with us.” You nodded slowly. The other two women nodded to each other and quickly helped you out to the car, Arizona with the baby and Addison helping you up, you all climbed into your suv knowing it would do better in the snow.

5 minutes later and you were very slowly on your way to Grey-Sloan, Addison was driving next to you as Arizona sat in the back holding your baby in the carrier. You groaned shifting in the passenger seat, feeling your muscles tighten again. You were groaning and it went on for 15 more minutes progressively getting worse before you spoke up.

“Arizona…” you reached a hand back and she took it quickly, “right here I’m right here.”

“it’s coming again.” You grimaced letting out a small whine, your eyes were closed as you fought the exhaustion.

“what… what’s coming again?”

“the contractions.” You said swallowing hard letting your head fall to the side your hand still in hers. She looked up at the mirror meeting Addison’s eyes, Arizonas mouth fell open realization starting to dawn on her. You felt as Addison quickly pulled the car over, she came around to your side of the car opening your door and unbuckling you, “Y/N I want to get you in the back seat.”

“But…”

“Y/N please just trust her.” Arizona said sliding into the drivers seat placing the carrier next to her trying to keep your baby calm. Addison helped you into the back seat, you reached grabbing the handle above the door leaning forward one hand wrapped tightly under your still swollen bump, Addison slid in next to you rubbing your back.

“Mmhhh… Arizonaaaa…. another one, it hurts.” You said gripping Addison’s hand.

“Okay I need to see what’s going on, come here.” She helped you shift putting your back on the door and lifting your legs you pushed one against her hip as she sat between them, she quickly took her jacket off putting it over your exposed middle, looking under her jacket she saw it, you were crowning again. She looked up rubbing a hand on your knee.

“Twins, and it looks like baby number two is ready to make their entrance.”

“baby number two?”Arizona looked back in the mirror.

“you didn’t know?”Addison asked.

“twins… we’re having twins…I found out last week, I was gonna surprise you.” You said through gritted teeth.

“Right now that doesn’t matter this baby is coming, Arizona I need you to stay calm I don’t wanna have to explain to Bailey why three of her surgeons were in a car accident.”

“it’s coming…” you groaned out you pushed feeling the baby shift lower.

“Okay we need to do this quickly… Y/N I know you’re tired but I need you to give it everything.”

“it hurts.” You let out a small whine.

“I know but you can do it.”

“come on baby I know you can do it.” Your wife encouraged.

a couple pushes later and you pulled up outside the ER doors, your car door whipped open revealing a very concerned Bailey, Jo, Grey and Kepner waiting with a gurney. Addison got out holding one baby while Arizona had the other, Bailey helped you onto the gurney pulling the white sheets up over you, Arizona stepped in next to you walking with the gurney.

“Hey…” you smiled softly at her.

“Hey, love it’ll be okay, you’ll be okay.” You nodded. You heard as Addison gave report to the others, Jo had an OB team ready to treat you and Bailey had a team ready to take care of your babies, Kepner and Grey were there to keep other at bay.

“Looks like you have two beautiful healthy babies, but let’s get in here and get you checked out.” Bailey said wheeling the gurney.

“Whatever you say boss.” You chuckled as they got you in to be checked out.

[5starbabystrollers]

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[her-reawakening]

Hi, bitches.

*Gossip Girl intro voice*

Her Reawakening is inspired by my very own frontal lobe developing. Let's give it up for her! (applause emojis)

I've found myself in a life long rut. For some reason, I'd thought my life would magically take a u-turn and everything would work out in my favor without my having to work for it. I don't know what kind of delulu I was in but to my shock life doesn't work that way, and it's much harder without a plan.

So let me hold myself accountable here. My future self will definitely read this, and then I'll feel embarrassed about not having done a gotdam fuck thing.

It might have to do with the poison of Social Media which I am apparently very susceptible to, but I have this immense pressure and anxiety to be HER. I want to tear my skin off and put a new one on overnight and reawaken as Her, She. It's so frustrating not being able to do that. You know? Hehe...

I know I can become that version. And you can thinkpiece as much as you want on the dangers of women's toxic and impossible beauty standards on social media but I don't care. *laughs evilly* This is the world we live in and I'd rather enjoy the benefits of being an Angel on Earth. I've only just accepted that I'm starting at a certain point to reach my ideal version, so we're off to a good start. Hopefully whoever reads this will be able to learn from my experiences.

And this is not just the embodiment of beauty, but physical excellence, mental wellbeing, mindfulness, spirituality, social experiences, academic achievement, financial stability etc etc. <3

I want to sleep like a baby knowing I am doing my best to create the life I ENJOY living. I want to be the cuntiest, most solid version of myself. Every breath I take will be proud of me just because I am so excellent.

I have a few goals in mind at the moment.

Eat whole foods 95% of the time.

I am a particularly sensitive person, inside and out. My organs won't accept heavily processed food without making me feel sick, especially with gluten and dairy included. In my experience I have to eat as close to Whole as I can so I will actually feel like a real and functional person. To put this in perspective, eating this way for me is like putting the most expensive oil made for your car and also deep cleaning and detailing inside and out and getting brand new tires and a new paint job. It is a truly incredible feeling and I highly recommend anyone tries it out.

Also, cut out caffeine. I don't want to shock my poor body by going cold turkey so I'm going to slowly cut down my dosages everyday, take it early in the morning (but after two hours of being awake) and drink a lot water with it as well.

Green juices are amazing and my go to for breakfast. They help me feel so revitalized and give me a serious buzz.

I will grocery shop on Wednesday and Prep on Thursdays to avoid feeling overwhelmed of doing it all in one day.

2. Exercise regularly

Workout out 4/wk and Yoga 3/wk

I'm starting out with running since I'm not familiar with the proper forms you need for weight training. I add progression to my workouts of course, one minute longer, .5 miles longer, etc. I also do stair masters, and some leg machines that don't scare me. The glow I get from combining exercise and eating well is insane. It does take a week of 100% commitment for me to get to this 'candlelit within look' but I've done it before so I know I can do it again! I'm going to work out Mon/Tue and Fri/Sat and do an hour of yoga Wed/Thur/Sun! :)

3. Gua Sha/Face massage

I hold all of my tension in my face and traps, so I plan on getting masseter botox for a softer face and TMJ, which is a huge pain for my jaw! In the meantime I will face massage deeply every other day, at 8PM. I eventually want forehead botox as well to help with my frown lines. As an alternative I stick with forehead stickies and it makes a difference.

This is all I want to incorporate right now. They are my most bother some insecurities so I'll do myself the favor and create habits that support them :) I don't want to overwhelm myself and give up completely by too many goals.

Cheers to an update by next Monday!

Xoxo

[reallygoodblends]

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Related readings

What is Whipped Tallow Balm?

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Is Beef Tallow Non-Comedogenic? Everything You Need to Know Read more

Why Are Hot Flashes So Common (and What You Can Do About Them)?

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Whether you’re a health enthusiast, a fitness seeker, or a family looking for purity in your kitchen — Nature’s Adhaar A2 Gir Cow Ghee is the gold standard you’ve been searching for.

What is A2 Gir Cow Ghee?

A2 Ghee is made using milk from indigenous Gir cows, a native Indian breed that naturally produces A2 beta-casein protein — a superior alternative to the more commonly available A1 protein found in hybrid or crossbred cows. The A2 protein is easier to digest, rich in nutrients, and supports brain, heart, and joint health.

Unlike commercial ghee that may come from factory-farmed cows or through mechanical processes, Ayurvedic A2 Ghee Benefits by Nature’s Adhaar is crafted through a Vedic Bilona process — ensuring purity, potency, and nutritional superiority.

The Bilona Method: Ancient Wisdom, Modern Benefits

Most commercial brands use machines to extract ghee quickly and in bulk. At Nature’s Adhaar, we don’t believe in shortcuts. We follow the ancient Bilona method:

Boiling fresh A2 milk to remove impurities.

Curdling the milk naturally using a desi culture.

Hand-churning the curd bi-directionally to extract butter.

Slow-heating the butter on a wood-fired stove to yield golden, aromatic ghee.

This traditional process not only preserves vital nutrients but also enhances the digestibility, aroma, and shelf life of the ghee.

Why Nature’s Adhaar A2 Ghee is the Best in the Market

Jungle-Grazing Gir Cows

Our Gir cows are not confined to sheds. They roam freely in forest-like environments, walking 7-8 km daily and feeding on over 100+ varieties of herbs, shrubs, and grasses. This natural, stress-free lifestyle results in highly potent, nutrient-rich milk — a major reason why our ghee is superior in taste, texture, and therapeutic value.

100% Organic & Chemical-Free

From the feed of our cows to the final packaging, every step is chemical-free and organic. No growth hormones, no antibiotics, and no preservatives. Just pure, unadulterated Buy A2 Ghee Online, made with love and intention.

Ayurvedic & Medicinal Benefits

Nature’s Adhaar Ghee is not just a cooking medium — it’s a superfood with Ayurvedic roots:

Boosts immunity and digestion

Lubricates joints and supports flexibility

Enhances memory and brain health

Promotes detoxification and gut balance

Aids in skin glow and hair health

Health Benefits of Nature’s Adhaar A2 Gir Cow Ghee

Health Area

Benefit from A2 Ghee

Digestion

Stimulates Agni (digestive fire), supports better metabolism

Heart Health

Rich in Omega-3 & CLA, reduces bad cholesterol

Joint Lubrication

Acts as a natural lubricant, eases stiffness

Brain Function

Supports memory and cognitive clarity

Skin & Hair

Nourishes from within, promotes natural glow

Weight Loss

Improves fat metabolism and energy production

How to Use A2 Gir Cow Ghee in Daily Life

Cook With It: Use it for tadkas, sautéing, or frying — it has a high smoke point.

Consume Raw: Add a spoonful to warm water or milk in the morning.

Apply Topically: Use it on dry skin or scalp for nourishment.

Ayurvedic Cleansing: Ideal for nasya (nasal drops) or ghee pulling for oral health.

Baby Massage: A safe, natural alternative to synthetic oils for infant massage.

How to Identify Genuine A2 Ghee?

There are many brands claiming to sell A2 ghee, but here’s how you can spot the original:

✅ Made only from A2 Gir Cow Milk ✅ Prepared using Bilona Method ✅ Golden-yellow hue, granular texture, rich aroma ✅ No chemicals, no preservatives ✅ Clear lab test reports and traceability

At Nature’s Adhaar, we check every box. Transparency, tradition, and trust define our brand.

Buy A2 Gir Cow Ghee Online – Why Nature’s Adhaar is Your Best Choice

When you buy from Nature’s Adhaar, you’re not just purchasing a product — you’re supporting ethical dairy farming, cow care, and a return to natural living. We’re not just a brand — we’re a mission to revive India’s ancient food systems.

✔️ 100% Authentic & Lab-Tested ✔️ Delivered Across India ✔️ Secure Online Payments ✔️ Eco-friendly Packaging ✔️ Farm-to-home traceability

Conclusion: Make the Switch to Purity

If you truly care about your family’s health and want to invest in pure, ethical, and nutrient-rich ghee, look no further than Nature’s Adhaar Bilona Ghee Online. It’s more than a kitchen essential — it’s a lifestyle choice rooted in Ayurveda, sustainability, and ancient Indian wisdom.

👉 Order now from our official website and feel the Nature’s Adhaar difference.

“Go back to your roots. Eat pure. Live healthy. Trust Nature’s Adhaar.”

[divinecardinalstore]

Massage Oil for New born baby essentials

Nurturing Your Newborn: Why Lavender Baby Massage Oil Enriched with Organic Almond Oil & Vitamin E is a Must-Have in Your Baby Essentials

When it comes to caring for your newborn, every product you choose must be gentle, natural, and effective. From soft clothing to safe skincare, parents today are more conscious than ever about what touches their baby’s delicate skin. One of the most soothing and beneficial routines you can introduce early on is baby massage. And when it comes to selecting the right oil, Lavender Baby Massage Oil enriched with Organic Almond Oil and Vitamin E stands out as a nurturing, calming choice for your little one.

In this article, we explore the benefits of incorporating this massage oil with the goodness of natural ingredients into your baby's daily routine and why it's becoming a staple in newborn baby essentials.

The Tradition of Baby Massage

Baby massage is an age-old tradition practiced across many cultures. It strengthens the parent-child bond, promotes better sleep, improves circulation, supports digestion, and contributes to a baby’s overall development. But the type of oil you use plays a crucial role in making the experience enjoyable and safe.

That’s why more and more parents are turning to Lavender Baby Massage Oil, especially ones that are free of synthetic fragrances and enriched with organic almond oil and Vitamin E for that extra dose of nourishment.

Why Lavender Baby Massage Oil?

Lavender is renowned for its calming, sleep-inducing properties. It not only soothes the senses but also promotes relaxation, which is vital for babies adjusting to the world around them. A gentle massage using lavender-infused oil can ease restlessness and prepare your baby for a peaceful sleep.

Moreover, Lavender Baby Massage Oil is typically hypoallergenic, making it a great choice for sensitive skin. The natural scent is not overwhelming and helps create a tranquil environment for your newborn.

The Power of Organic Almond Oil Enriched with Vitamin E

When combined with lavender, Organic Almond Oil Enriched With Vitamin E turns into a powerhouse of nourishment. Almond oil is rich in fatty acids that deeply moisturize and protect a baby's delicate skin. It's light, non-greasy, and easily absorbed—ideal for daily use.

Vitamin E, on the other hand, is a natural antioxidant. It protects skin cells from damage and supports healing. Babies are prone to dry patches, rashes, or tiny skin irritations, and Vitamin E helps soothe these concerns while maintaining the skin's softness.

Using massage oil enriched with organic almond oil and Vitamin E ensures that your baby’s skin remains supple, smooth, and well-nourished.

Massage Oil with the Goodness of Natural Ingredients

Today, parents are increasingly choosing massage oil with the goodness of natural ingredients over chemical-laden alternatives. Why? Because a newborn’s skin is up to five times thinner than adult skin, making it more vulnerable to toxins and irritants.

Natural oils like lavender, almond, and coconut are not only safe but also offer therapeutic benefits. A quality baby massage oil will be free of parabens, sulfates, artificial fragrances, and mineral oils. Instead, it will be infused with natural plant-based ingredients that work in harmony with your baby’s skin.

So when you choose a Massage Oil With Goodness Of Natural sources, you’re choosing health, safety, and sustainability.

How to Use Lavender Baby Massage Oil for Best Results

Here’s a simple routine you can follow to make massage a beautiful part of your bonding time:

Choose a warm, quiet room – Make sure your baby is calm, fed, and not too sleepy or cranky.

Warm the oil slightly by rubbing it between your hands.

Start with gentle strokes, beginning at the legs and moving up toward the chest and arms.

Use slow, circular motions on the tummy to aid digestion.

Massage the back gently, avoiding the spine.

Always watch your baby’s cues. If they’re enjoying it, continue. If they seem uncomfortable, stop or adjust your technique.

Using lavender baby massage oil enriched with organic almond oil and Vitamin E will make this experience even more relaxing and nurturing.

Why It Should Be in Your Newborn Baby Essentials Kit

With countless baby products available in the market, it can be overwhelming to decide what is truly essential. A Massage Oil for New born baby essentials should tick all the right boxes: natural, nourishing, gentle, and beneficial.

Here's why it deserves a spot:

Promotes Better Sleep: Lavender naturally helps calm the nervous system and encourages longer, more restful sleep.

Moisturizes and Protects: Almond oil and Vitamin E nourish and protect your baby’s skin from dryness.

Builds Bonding Moments: Massage time is intimate and emotionally enriching for both parent and child.

Soothes Discomfort: Helps ease symptoms like colic, gas, or minor skin irritations.

Chemical-Free and Safe: Ideal for daily use without worrying about harsh reactions.

Adding a massage oil with goodness of natural ingredients like lavender and almond oil to your baby’s daily routine is a wise and thoughtful choice for long-term skin health and emotional comfort.

[alzarijosephblogs]

Best Baby Massage Oils for Stronger Bones and Better Sleep

While choosing the best baby massage oil for your newborn is a task, we all know that fresh, cold-pressed, organic, natural seed oils with loads of antioxidants and mild fragrances are highly nourishing for a baby’s delicate skin. There are quite a few brands that promise to be the best massage oil for baby but always end up using harsh chemicals and sulphates that can harm your baby’s gentle skin. Fortunately, there are many more natural alternatives present, which is why you don’t have to rely on packaged chemicals to give baby massage, for stronger bones and better sleep.

1. Coconut Oil

Virgin coconut oil is lightweight and rich in medium-chain fatty acids, which have antimicrobial properties to maintain skin health. This baby body massage oil gets easily absorbed in the skin and contains lauric acid, which supports bone health by aiding in the absorption of calcium and other minerals.

2. Olive Oil

This is one of the best massage oils for baby, packed with antioxidants and vitamin E, which not only soothes but also nourishes and protects your baby’s skin. It contains oleic acid, a monounsaturated fatty acid that supports bone health through calcium absorption, making your baby’s skin soft and supple.

3. Almond Oil

Almond oil, also known as a massage oil for newborn baby, is rich in vitamin E and helps repair and protect the skin barrier. It contains omega-3 fatty acids, which have anti-inflammatory properties and support overall skin health and bone density. It is gentle with a mild fragrance and can promote better sleep among babies.

4. Jojoba Oil

Jojoba oil closely resembles the natural oils produced by the skin and is the best healthy massage oil for baby that gets easily absorbed, promoting relaxation and sleep. It is rich in vitamins E and B-complex, along with anti-inflammatory properties that can soothe irritated skin and promote healing.

5. Avocado Oil:

Avocado oil is the best baby massage oil and is loaded with vitamins A, D, and E, which nourish and protect the skin from impurities. This oil massage for babies contains oleic acid, supporting bone health by enhancing calcium absorption and reducing inflammation.

6. Sesame Oil

Sesame oil is a natural baby massage oil that is rich in vitamin E and antioxidants, which help maintain skin health and safeguard against damage. This oil massage for babies contains sesame and sesamolin, compounds that support bone health by improving mineral absorption and promoting relaxation. Sesame oil contains calcium and other minerals that not only promote bone development but also calm your baby for a restful sleep.

Above are the names of the oils that are the best oils for baby massage and have added benefits. If you’re wondering how to massage a baby's body with oil, then the answer is to start slow and rub gently to enhance the absorption. When looking for the best baby massage oil for newborns, always go for the natural options that can protect and soothe your baby’s skin, along with other benefits.

[santaispa]

Massage Center in Business Bay Dubai - A Haven of Relaxation and Rejuvenation

Business Bay, Dubai, is known for its high-energy lifestyle, luxury living, and corporate excellence. Amidst the fast-paced environment, massage centers in Business Bay offer a sanctuary of relaxation, providing an escape from daily stress. These centers employ professional and trained therapists and masseuses who specialize in a wide range of massage techniques to cater to diverse needs. Whether you seek relief from muscle tension, stress, or simply want to indulge in a moment of tranquility, the massage services available in Business Bay ensure a refreshing and invigorating experience.

Types of Massage Services Offered in the Best Massage Center in Business Bay Area

Different types of massage options are offered by the professional therapists and masseurs in a world-class massage center in Business Bay Area.

Swedish Massage

Swedish massage is one of the most popular and widely practiced techniques. It involves long, flowing strokes, kneading, and circular movements to promote overall relaxation. This massage is ideal for reducing stress, improving circulation, and easing muscle tension, making it a perfect choice for first-time visitors.

Deep Tissue Massage

Designed for individuals who experience chronic pain or muscle tightness, deep tissue massage applies firm pressure to target deep layers of muscle and connective tissue. It is particularly beneficial for athletes, office workers, and anyone suffering from muscular discomfort due to prolonged sitting or physical exertion.

Aromatherapy Massage

This type of massage combines the benefits of Swedish or deep tissue techniques with essential oils that promote relaxation, healing, and rejuvenation. Different essential oils are used based on the client's needs, such as lavender for stress relief or eucalyptus for muscle relaxation.

Thai Massage

A traditional healing technique that involves stretching and acupressure, Thai massage is performed on a mat while the recipient remains fully clothed. It improves flexibility, relieves muscle tension, and promotes energy flow within the body.

Hot Stone Massage

Hot stone massage utilizes heated stones placed strategically on the body to enhance relaxation and relieve muscle stiffness. The warmth of the stones improves blood circulation and helps in melting away tension, providing a deeply soothing experience.

Reflexology

Reflexology focuses on pressure points in the feet, hands, and ears that correspond to different organs and systems of the body. This technique helps in improving overall well-being, reducing stress, and enhancing the body's natural healing processes.

Prenatal Massage

For expectant mothers, prenatal massage provides gentle and soothing techniques to alleviate pregnancy-related discomforts such as back pain, swollen ankles, and fatigue. This service is designed to provide relaxation while ensuring safety for both mother and baby.

Sports Massage

Tailored for athletes and active individuals, sports massage helps in preventing injuries, improving flexibility, and enhancing recovery. It involves a combination of stretching, deep tissue techniques, and targeted pressure to optimize physical performance.

Massage Center in Business Bay, Dubai - Visit Santai Spa

For those seeking the ultimate relaxation experience in Business Bay, Santai Spa is an excellent choice. Offering a serene ambiance, highly skilled therapists, and a range of luxurious treatments, this Spa ensures that every visitor leaves feeling revitalized. Whether you need a therapeutic deep tissue massage, an indulgent aromatherapy session, or a tension-relieving hot stone treatment, the world class Spa provides a holistic approach to wellness. Step into an oasis of tranquility at this Spa and let skilled professionals take you on a journey of complete relaxation and rejuvenation.

[seowhisperer]

Gentle Touch for Sensitive Skin: Baby Massage Tips for Delicate Newborns 

 

Baby massage is a timeless practice that fosters a deep bond between parents and their newborns and brings various potential benefits. A soothing touch can enhance your baby's overall well-being, from promoting relaxation to supporting healthy growth. When it comes to the products used for such an experience, choosing organic, chemical-free baby skincare items can make all the difference. Let us explore how to give your newborn a comforting massage while ensuring their delicate skin is treated with the utmost care.  

Why Baby Massage is So Beneficial for Your Newborn? 

A simple massage can go a long way in promoting a baby's physical and emotional development. Research has shown that regular massage sessions can:  

Help improve circulation and digestion.  

Provide relaxation, aiding in better sleep patterns.  

Foster a secure bond between you and your newborn.  

Support healthy muscle and bone growth.  

It’s not just about touching; it’s about creating a calm, loving environment where your baby feels nurtured. This unique experience strengthens your connection while offering comfort and care.  

Setting the Stage for a Successful Baby Massage  

Before you begin your massage, setting the right atmosphere and ensuring you’re ready to proceed in a relaxing way for you and your baby. Here are some things to consider:  

Choose the Right Moment: It’s best to pick a time when your baby is calm, awake, and in a good mood. Avoid massaging your baby immediately after a feed or when they’re too tired.  

Create a Peaceful Environment: A warm, quiet room with soft lighting helps create the perfect space for a relaxing massage. Play some calming music if it helps to set the tone.  

Selecting the Right Products: Choose a newborn baby massage oil that’s gentle and made from organic, chemical-free ingredients. These products are designed to be kind to your baby’s skin, keeping it moisturised and healthy.  

Ensure Clean Hands: Before starting, wash your hands thoroughly and make sure they’re warm, adding to your baby's comfort.  

How to Approach Baby Massage with Tenderness? 

A newborn’s skin is delicate, and their body still adjusts to the world around them. When massaging your baby, think of it as a gentle and calming experience that provides comfort rather than a technique to follow strictly. You should always apply very light pressure and slow, soothing strokes. Here are some general steps to guide your practice:  

Massaging the Legs and Feet  

Start by placing your baby on a soft, clean surface like a towel or changing mat. With a small amount of newborn baby massage oil, gently stroke their legs from the thighs down to their feet. These slow, downward motions help promote relaxation and can also aid digestion.  

Gentle Strokes on the Arms  

Next, move on to your baby’s arms. Lightly hold one arm and massage it from the shoulder to the hand. Always use smooth, even strokes, being mindful of your baby’s sensitivity to touch. Repeat on the other arm.  

Tummy Time  

Gently massage your baby’s tummy using your fingertips with soft, circular motions. This area can be particularly soothing, and keeping the pressure light is important, allowing your baby to feel relaxed. Following the body's natural digestive flow, a clockwise direction may feel more natural.  

The Back and Spine  

When it’s time to massage your baby’s back, lay them on their tummy, ensuring they’re comfortable. Use broad, gentle strokes along their back, starting from the neck and moving down toward the spine, avoiding direct pressure on the spine.  

Soothing the Face  

The face can also benefit from a gentle massage. With clean hands, lightly trace small, circular motions on your baby’s forehead, cheeks, and chin. Avoid the area around the eyes, as this can be more sensitive. The key is to keep the motions soothing and soft.  

Safety Guidelines to Keep in Mind  

Baby massage is meant to be a peaceful and enjoyable experience for both of you. Keeping the following safety tips in mind ensures a pleasant and safe massage:  

Test the Oil: Before applying the newborn baby massage oil on a larger area, conduct a patch test on a small part of your baby's skin to check for any potential allergic reactions.  

Light Pressure Only: Remember that your baby’s skin and muscles are delicate, so always use a gentle, light touch throughout the massage.  

Watch Your Baby's Cues: Pay attention to your baby's body language. If they seem uncomfortable or fussy, stop the massage and try again later.  

Avoid Certain Areas: Some areas of your baby’s body, such as the soft spot on the head and the spine, require special attention. Always avoid applying direct pressure to these sensitive regions.  

The Role of Organic Baby Skincare Products  

When selecting products for baby massage, it's essential to prioritise those that are gentle and safe. Organic baby skincare products offer the advantage of being free from harmful chemicals, additives, and synthetic fragrances. Their natural composition ensures that your baby's skin remains protected and nourished without the risk of irritation or allergic reactions.  

By choosing trusted products, such as organic newborn baby massage oils, you can create a more peaceful experience for your baby, knowing you are using safe and practical items that cater to their sensitive skin.  

A Final Embrace  

After the massage, take a moment to cuddle your baby and bond further. If there’s excess oil on your baby's skin, gently wipe it off with a soft, clean cloth. Dress your baby in loose, comfortable clothing, and let them bask in the calm, soothing effects of the massage.  

Baby massage is more than just a physical act; it’s a nurturing experience that helps foster trust and security between you and your newborn. By gently selecting natural, organic products, you can create a peaceful and loving environment that benefits you and your baby in the long run.  

[budsorganics]

The Best Maternity Stretch Mark Cream: Nourishing Your Skin Naturally

Pregnancy is a beautiful journey, but it also comes with significant changes to a mother’s body. As the baby grows, the skin stretches to accommodate, often leading to stretch marks. These marks, while a natural part of the process, can be a source of concern for many expecting mothers. The good news is that using a high-quality Best Maternity Stretch Mark Cream can help minimize their appearance while keeping your skin healthy and nourished throughout your pregnancy.

Stretch marks, also known as striae, occur when the skin’s elasticity is pushed to its limits. During pregnancy, this is most common in areas like the abdomen, thighs, hips, and breasts. While genetics play a role in determining whether you’re prone to stretch marks, proper skincare can make a significant difference. A maternity stretch mark cream can help by improving skin elasticity, providing deep hydration, and promoting regeneration.

The best stretch mark creams are those made from natural and organic ingredients, as they’re gentle on the skin and safe for both mother and baby. During pregnancy, avoiding harsh chemicals and synthetic additives is crucial, as these can cause irritation or even pose risks. Natural creams harness the power of plant-based ingredients like shea butter, cocoa butter, and essential oils, which are known for their moisturizing and healing properties.

Shea butter is a staple ingredient in many maternity creams due to its ability to deeply nourish the skin. Rich in vitamins A and E, it works to improve skin elasticity and reduce inflammation, making it perfect for stretched and sensitive skin. Similarly, cocoa butter helps lock in moisture and create a protective barrier, ensuring your skin remains hydrated for longer.

Other essential ingredients often found in top-rated stretch mark creams include almond oil, jojoba oil, and aloe vera. Almond oil is packed with vitamins and fatty acids that promote skin regeneration, while jojoba oil mimics the skin’s natural oils, providing lightweight hydration. Aloe vera, on the other hand, is celebrated for its soothing and healing properties, helping to reduce redness and support skin repair.

Vitamin E is another key component in many Stretch Mark Cream Pregnancy. This powerful antioxidant helps protect the skin from free radicals and aids in the repair of damaged tissue. Collagen-boosting ingredients are also essential, as they work to restore the skin’s natural structure and elasticity.

Using a maternity stretch mark cream isn’t just about the product itself—it’s also about how and when you apply it. The earlier you begin, the better your chances of preventing stretch marks or minimizing their appearance. Start using a cream as soon as you discover you’re pregnant, applying it to areas prone to stretching. Regular application, ideally twice a day, helps maintain skin hydration and elasticity throughout the pregnancy.

Applying the cream with a gentle massage can enhance its effectiveness. Massaging stimulates blood flow and helps the active ingredients penetrate deeper into the skin. It also provides a moment of relaxation, a small but meaningful way to practice self-care during this transformative time.

While many stretch mark creams are designed for use during pregnancy, they can also be incredibly beneficial post-pregnancy. After giving birth, the skin continues to change as it recovers. Continued use of a stretch mark cream can support this recovery, helping to fade existing marks and restore the skin’s firmness.

Choosing the right product involves considering your skin type and any specific needs you may have. If you have sensitive skin, opt for a hypoallergenic formula free from artificial fragrances and parabens. For dry skin, a cream with intense moisturizing properties is ideal. Always read the ingredient list carefully to ensure the product aligns with your preferences and safety concerns.

Investing in a quality maternity stretch mark cream is more than just a beauty choice; it’s an act of self-care. Pregnancy is a time to celebrate your body and its incredible ability to nurture new life. Using a cream that supports your skin’s health and appearance can help you feel more confident and comfortable as your body changes.

The best maternity stretch mark cream is one that nourishes, protects, and soothes your skin naturally. It’s a small yet powerful tool in your pregnancy journey, offering peace of mind and tangible results. By prioritizing your skin’s health with natural and effective products, you can embrace the changes of motherhood with grace and confidence.

[organicdew]

Best baby massage oil | Organic Dew

Organic Dew Best Baby Massage Oil is a natural, gentle oil enriched with organic ingredients likeDesi Ghee, Chandan, Bala, Lakshadi . It nourishes, moisturizes, and soothes baby's delicate skin, promoting relaxation. Free from chemicals and synthetic fragrances, it's ideal for sensitive skin, ensuring a safe, healthy, and calming massage experience.