#TRYING TO STEAM ROLL MY WAY THROUGH MY BURN OUT which is def a good idea and not me slamming my face into a brick wall

[blushblushbear]

originally this was a rough and I wasn't going to post it but fuck it it's funnier all sketchy lol

uhhhh blood trigger warning????? lmao

[ddaenggtan]

Half-Baked Holiday | ksj | M

Granny Park’s Gossip:

That Seokjin, don’t get me started on him. He’s worked hard to open and run that bakery of his, you know, and I’m so proud that it’s so successful now. Wish he would find a nice person to settle down with, though, he deserves it, as long as he’s been on his own. Well, I guess you can’t really call it alone when he’s got that grump of a best friend always hanging around him. He really should be paying her, what with all the time she spends at the bakery with him. She’s always waking up on the wrong side of the bed, but she’s not so bad when she brings me some of those cookies of his, or just around Seokjin in general, if I’m honest. Too distracted by staring at that pretty face of his, I suppose, though who can blame her?

pairing } seokjin x reader

word count } 12.6K { also on ao3

genre } friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, bakery au, fluff, smut, literally the slightest bit of angst

warnings } fluff, fluff, fluff; jin is an idiot and so is the MC, like they’re genuinely both dumbasses but in different ways; pining; misunderstandings; masturbation, spanking, unprotected sex, oral sex - male receiving, exhibitionism a little, rolling pins are used in ways they are not intended to be used; several mentions of jins squeaky laugh and also his red ears bc they’re my favorite things in the world

{ The Snowball Effect Series Masterlist } 

a/n } whaddup i finally finished this thing barely on time so yEET i yet again maintain my status as queen of last minute deadlines!!!! HBH is my Baby, I love it, it’s my perfect shiny garbage baby, and if you like it, you should DEF check out the others!! They can be read as standalones, but it’s really really really really really really highly recommended that you read them all in order, as they all end up in the same place and there are a ton of little easter eggs and references and shoutouts woven into the entire series!!! Extra special shoutout to the authors of all the other stories, @fortunexkookie (ryn), @taehyungforreal (ashley), @stutterfly​ (kristi, who also made the incredible banners!!!) 

You're a good person. You pride yourself on being kind and giving. Every year you make donations to several charities. You help organize summer fundraisers so kids can eat. You buy the most ethically-sourced groceries possible. You leave your change in case someone else can use it. You always tip at least 20% when you go out to eat. Out of everything, though, of all the good deeds you try to do in your life, there's one thing that makes you a truly outstanding human being. 

You don't lose your fucking mind every time the urge hits you. 

"But how many calories are in the Holiday Donut?" The lady in front of you asks. You can feel your eye twitching and even the young guy behind the register is starting to falter in his bright grin. 

"Um, I'm not-"

"Look lady," You cut in. "You have heard about nearly every thing on the fucking menu. It's a donut, stuffed with strawberry creme and coated in colored frosting and sprinkles. How many calories do you think are in it? Just order the banana nut muffin like you always do, get your coffee, and leave, so the rest of us aren't stuck in a line for another hour." 

The lady looks scandalized as she turns to glare at you, but all it takes is a single cocked eyebrow to send her huffing out the door. She mutters a few choice words under her breath as she goes, but you pay them no mind. 

"Your usual is almost ready, Pumpkin." You level Jin with an unamused glare as he pushes his way through the kitchen doors with a steaming tray of scones in hand. 

"You know I hate that name, Spice," You remind him dryly. 

"You know I hate it when you run my customers off with that dark cloud you call a personality, and yet here we both are," he responds. He just smiles at your eyeroll and you do your best to ignore the fluttering in your stomach. Instead you make yourself comfortable on one of the barstools at the counter. 

Seokjin's bakery is as busy as it ever is; several of the tables are taken, either by students on their nth espresso or families doing holiday shopping or people just looking for a place to relax amidst the bustle of the streets. There's someone perched on the stool at the opposite end, close to the register, but you pay them no mind. You're too focused on the mug Jin slides in front of you - green and chipped on the handle, it's your favorite - and the steam wafting up from the cocoa inside. There's a thick layer of marshmallow on the top and a candy cane sticking out, just like you like it, and a Holiday Bagel on a small plate next to it. 

"Thanks. You're still an ass, though." He has the decency to look offended at your words, and you grit your teeth against the smile that threatens to split your face. He always looks so cute when he's huffy. 

"One of these days I'm going to make you start paying for your food like everyone else, and then you'll start treating me right."

"Sure," You agree in a monotone as you pull your phone out and start tapping away on it. "That'll be the same day that you stop asking me to do your books for you because you can't be bothered."

The sigh that expels itself from his lungs is almost as dramatic as the play he dragged you to the week before. 

"I am perfectly capable of doing my books myself, thank you. I let you do it to keep you busy."

"Mhm, sure, I believe that," You tell him. He scoffs again and you barely register the hand he shoots forward to steal your bagel before you're slapping it away. "You don't even like strawberries and kiwi, Seokjin, and you will lose a hand."

You don't look up from the emails you're sorting through on your phone, but you don't have to in order to know that he's got both elbows braced on either side of you. You've known him long enough to know that this is his Pout Stance, and you dare not look up because there's no denying him when he looks like that. 

"You're so mean to me, Pumpkin. All I do is spoil you with good food and perfect company," he whines, "And what do I get for it? Insults and mockery. You could at least give me a kiss every now and then."

You choke on your cocoa. It burns your nose as it starts to come up that way, and the dark liquid dances across your phone screen as it molds to every crack and crevice. 

"Goddamn it, Seokjin," You sputter. He's already holding a cloth out to you, apology written on his face even as you glare at him. You pat your phone dry as best you can before resigning yourself to the fact that it's just going to smell like warm chocolate and peppermint until the next time your best friend flusters you. 

"To be fair, I didn't expect you to be so opposed to the idea," Seokjin mutters. He continues under his breath as you wave off his attempt to help again, something about him being handsome enough, but you aren't listening. Because that's the only real problem between the two of you. 

You aren't opposed to the idea. It's all you can think about most days; in work meetings, while you're doing paperwork, in team briefings, while you watch TV, when you're asleep. What his pillow lips would feel like against your own occupies nearly every waking thought you have. The others are torn between fantasies of what being his would be like and memories of him in general, neither of which you're lacking in.

You've known Seokjin for years. You don't even know how long since you insist you met when you were twelve and Jin is just as insistent that you met when you were nine. All you remember is being alone on the side of a playground playing hopscotch by yourself and then giggling at something the nice boy had said and then the two of you were inseparable. You aren't even sure how long you've felt like this towards him. It could've been high school, when he was one of the most sought after boys in school and yet still made time to comfort you every time a boy rejected you. Maybe it was college, though, when he was further away than he'd ever been and yet always answered your calls and responded to your texts and you'd cancel dates because he had randomly driven up to see you. Maybe it was after, watching him run his own bakery and do what he loves every day with the brightest grin you've ever seen on his face. 

You can't be sure. All you know is one day you were washing dishes in the back after being his guinea pig for some new creation, and he told some dumb joke, and when you turned around to mock his squeaky laugh like usual, you couldn't. Because he had flour on his cheek and chocolate on his lip and you'd never wanted to kiss someone so bad in your life. 

And then it just devolved from there and now the butterflies in your stomach have just set up camp. It's been too long, but you can't risk your friendship with him over some stupid crush. He means too much to you. 

Your eyes don't leave his back as he disappears back into the kitchen, still complaining about something under his breath, and you suppress a sigh. 

Shopping is the worst. You aren't really sure why you're here, because you hate shopping and you hate crowds and you especially hate holiday shopping because it's like Satan himself smashed the two together. You get all your gifts online or early in the year, you don't go anywhere near a mall from October to March, and it works for you. You don't have to deal with holiday crowds. Ever. So why are you on hour five at the largest mall in driving distance with no breakfast, sore feet, and full bags hanging from every possible place they can?

"Does that really seem like something Taehyung would like, though? I got that jacket for him already, I know, but this seems so much more fitting. What do you think, Pumpkin?"

Oh. Right. Seokjin had showed up at Too Damn Early For A Saturday O'Clock and demanded you accompany him for his holiday shopping. 

"I think that if I don't eat something in the next ten minutes, I'm ripping your head off and eating that instead. And for dessert I'll demolish those fancy chocolates you got for Jimin." A passing mother gives you a horrified glance as she ushers her toddler along and you almost wish you gave a shit. It's the mall, she can't control what other people say in this hellhole. You probably could’ve done without the emphasis on Jimin, though; Jin knows how much you worship those chocolates, you’ve said countless times that they’re better than orgasms, and still, he got some for Jimin and not you. 

You aren’t bitter. Or petty. No. You’re an adult, and you’re not going to pout just because your crush got your mutual friends some sweets instead of you.

"If you touch those chocolates, you're going to march your ass right back to that store and replace them while I return all your gifts," Seokjin quips back. You glance over at him and wrinkle your nose at the two berets he has in each hand. 

"What the fuck are you doing, Spice?"

“Wondering when you’re going to listen when I talk to you,” He responds. He holds both of the berets up for you to view more clearly. “Now, which of these is more ‘Tae’ to you?” He doesn’t react to the blank glare you give him, long since immune to your powers of pessimism, and instead just wiggles the berets in each hand so you actually look at them. 

Neither are to your personal taste; one is diamond-encrusted in some kind of quilted pattern, with some kind of alternating animal print as well. The other is more understated, if you can call it that, with a faux-fur trim, a feathered poof in the center, and a truly obscene pink houndstooth pattern to it. You can’t help the wrinkled nose that the two options cause in you, and you ignore Seokjin’s huff of irritation in favor of looking past him to the rest of the options. You only have to look for a minute to find something better suited, which mostly means Jin wanted to give Tae something truly gaudy on purpose. 

“Here,” You say, stuffing the hat into his hands. He stops mid-rant - something about how you should be helping him more, though you aren’t sure why because he’s the one that dragged you here and is lucky you haven’t bailed yet - and focuses on what you’ve just given him. It’s not a pretty beret, by any means, and is by far the cheapest one there, but it’s got some kind of artful splatter across it in greyscale tones, with a pop of red around the rim to accent it. Seokjin just stares at it for a second before turning his gaze on you, and you shift uncomfortably. 

“What?” You eventually ask. 

“Nothing,” He says airily. “Just surprised.” 

“At what?”

“You paying attention to people and being able to buy good gifts.” He puts the other two back into place and heads towards the registers, ignoring your indignant squawk. 

“I get you perfect gifts every year!” You don’t miss his eyeroll, and it makes you want to strangle him a little. 

“I don’t count,” He tells you as he settles in behind some grandmother buying entirely too many things that have to be for her grandkid. “You know me better than anyone, and you have access to my Amazon wishlist.”

“Yeah, except none of that is on your fucking wishlist,” You mutter. He turns, eyebrow arched and ready to get more backtalk, but you just make a face at him. 

He drags you to five more stores after that and abandons you in the middle of Williams Sonoma. You’re on your third lap of the store, ready to disassemble the fancy grill they’ve got on display to see if he’s somehow in there, when he appears, probably from the ether or some shit. You’re still trying to figure out how he managed to phase through time and space and the massive shelf of Martha Stewart Collection Cookware without you noticing, and in the meantime he takes the massive amount of bags from your hands and deposits something in your palms instead. 

It takes you a minute to register the warmth, but the smell hits instantly and makes your stomach grumble loudly. You’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so fucking hungry. 

“Eat,” Seokjin commands. “We’ve got more shopping to do for the bakery.”

You can’t even argue because your mouth is stuffed full of pizza pretzel bites - the only real reason to come to the mall, in your opinion. You’ve inhaled one serving in record time, and Jin doesn’t even react when you bust into the second one in the middle of some tech store. Instead, he just holds out a hand and waits for you to plop a pretzel bite in his palm. 

It’s hours later, long after you’ve helped Seokjin drop off all the bakery supplies at the shop and carted the presents up to his apartment, that you realize you’re still holding on to the bag from the pretzel place. You’re about to toss it into your garbage when it registers that there’s too much weight for just garbage; curious, you open the bag up and dump the content onto your kitchen counter. 

Inside is a small box of chocolates, the same kind you’d threatened to eat earlier in the day, your favorite flavor and everything, with a small note atop it. 

These were supposed to be part of your gift, but you looked put out when you thought I wasn’t getting you any. Thanks for today. xxSpice

You resist the urge to smile; it’s only right that he give you sweets after the frankly absurd amount of time he’d made you spend at the mall. Still, you can’t deny your lip twitches along with your heart at the knowledge that he’d been planning on including them in your gift. 

And you might tuck the note away behind a postcard on your fridge, but you’re never going to admit to that. 

The next day when you get to the bakery, Seokjin doesn't hesitate to shove you into his small office and push you into his desk chair before he disappears back into the kitchen. The usually cluttered space is empty, devoid of the usual invoices and order forms and whatever the fuck else your best friend keeps on his desk. Even the picture frames have been moved, placed haphazardly atop a filing cabinet. Something flutters in your chest when you notice the one directly facing his chair is one of the two of you.

Taken years and years ago, back when you were first moving into your college dorm, when you were both tired from carrying boxes up the seven flights of stairs to your room. You still remember how irritated you had been when Jin's parents insisted they get a picture of the two of you in your matching university hoodies. You don't remember what it was, but you remember Seokjin cracked some dumb joke or said something ridiculous. He must have, because in the picture, you're looking at him with a softness in your face that isn't present any other time.

Seokjin reappears with a steaming mug and a hand behind his back. The familiar scent of warm chocolate and peppermint hits you, followed closely by the warm-butter sharp-mint honey-glaze smell that you remember taste-testing for him so many times that you're almost positive it’s going to linger on your gravestone.

"That's mistledough." You narrow your eyes, and he rolls his own. His hand pulls out from behind his back to reveal the treat he'd concocted in college and perfected not long after. Shaped like a sprig of mistletoe and a warm honey brown color, the mistledough is easily the best selling product that Seokjin has.

And it's only on sale from Black Friday to the first day of January.

You don't even know what's in it. He's never told you, hasn't let you watch him make it; he'd just show up randomly and shove a weird-shaped treat under your nose and tell you to eat it. And of course you did, because you've been whipped for him since the first day he made you smile on that playground.

It's not important, really. What's important is that he's brought you cocoa and mistledough, which means he's bribing you for something important.

"No," You tell him.

"Please," He pouts. "You don't even know what it is yet." You huff and look anywhere else. His pout is dangerous for you and you know it, and you refuse to be bought for some cocoa and bread.

In an attempt to avoid the puppy dog eyes he no doubt is wearing, your eyes flit around the room. They eventually settle on the mass of shopping bags to your right. You turn, seeing the collection of various wrapping papers on the left and the collection of tape beside them.

"No," You repeat, turning your glare on him. "Wrap your own damn presents, Spice, I'm not doing it for you this year."

"But you do it so much better than I do!" He steps forward, setting his bribes in front of you so the scent wafts towards you that much more. "Your corners are always perfect, Pumpkin, and the edges are so well matched, and you get the pattern to line up perfectly, and-"

"No, Jin," You tell him, already standing. "I told you last year that it was the last time I'd be doing it for you, and that was only because you left it to the day before - again - and had to be in the bakery. I already wrapped all my presents, I'm not doing yours too."

He doesn't even say anything. He just widens his eyes a little and looks down at the scuffed tile floor, kicking his shoe dejectedly against the foot of the desk. There's utter silence in the room, only broken by the muffled chatter of customers and the beep of one of the ovens every few minutes.

You last for a solid ten minutes. You know because the smell of more mistledough fills the air, and you know Seokjin wouldn't try to bribe you with anything that wasn't the freshest batch.

"Why can't you do it?" You grumble, already sitting back down and picking through the wrapping paper.

"I've got like a hundred orders to fill today. That's not even really an exaggeration, either. Soobin's been on cake duty all day so that I can get to work on the mistledough orders and still have time to finish Tae's cake before we leave." You sigh and turn to look at him.

He looks stressed; that's not unusual for this time of year, but it still makes your chest clench. You want to pull him close, run your hands along the furrow between his brows until it's smooth again. Smother him with kisses until he's giggling and happy and remembers that he's a badass culinary god and that he can handle this and that you love him.

"I wish you would tell people no sometimes," You say instead. You slide one of the biodegradable rolls onto the desk and start looking through the drawers for the massive ruler you know is tucked away somewhere. "You can't fill every order. Let people pine for their fancy bread, they don't deserve it anyway."

"You know I can't do that, Pumpkin," He says, breaking off a piece of your bribe and leaning against the tattered desk. "We only just got to where we're steadily in the black, and the seasonal stuff brings in a lot of money. I've got to milk that for as much as I can."

"Yes, because you being overworked and stressed like this is a much better alternative. I'm pretty sure your eyebags have eyebags." You wait for the dramatic gasp, but it doesn't come.

Instead when you look up at him from where you're digging through presents, he's staring at the picture of the two of you. Whatever he's seeing is beyond that, though, invisible to anyone but himself. It's not rare that he gets introspective and quiet; it's actually fairly common when it's just the two of you. You don't know why. You don't want to know why. You just take the moments when they come and wait for him to say whatever he's going to say.

"You're my best friend," is what he eventually says. Your hand stutters where it's slicing paper, mimicking the pang of heartbreak that shoots through your veins. You love being his best friend.

You just wish you were more than that.

"Yeah," You say offhandedly, "No one else wanted the gig, so I guess I'm stuck here." You can feel his eyeroll, but he pats your shoulder as he heads back into the kitchen. When he reappears a while later with fresh cocoa and a bagel, you pretend to be mad that he steals a bite of it until he laughs at your grumbling.

When you leave his smile feels lighter, and you tell yourself you're imagining his eyes lingering on your back as you go.

You’re gonna kill him. You really are. You’re going to absolutely skin him alive, you don’t give a fuck how cute his face is or how hard he makes your heart beat. There’s not a single fucking thing he could say or do that would make up for this. 

Maybe if you hadn’t been out here waiting for nearly twenty minutes. Maybe if your phone showed that he had even opened the last six texts you had sent him. Maybe if it wasn’t Seokjin who insisted on leaving at like ten in the morning to being with, even though you had plenty of time to get there because you didn’t even need to run by the bakery because he’d already put Soobin and Yeonjun through what probably counted as actual military training in order to prepare them for today. Frankly, it’s a miracle Seokjin is even leaving them on their own today, considering how hectic it gets. You’re entirely sure that it’s only because Soobin has worked there since the bakery opened and Yeonjun joined not long after so they both know the ropes as well as they possibly can. And because Seokjin was likely up until an ungodly hour preparing and baking an enormous amount of mistledough for today.

In fact, he’s probably still passed out up there, you decide as you climb out of your truck and head into your best friend’s apartment building. You’re cursing under your breath the entire way, paying no mind to the scandalized elderly gentleman that shoots you a Look. You really are gonna kill him, you decide as you shove the key he made you into the lock and jiggle the handle slightly so it’ll actually turn. You’re going to drag him out of his stupidly comfortable bed and probably try to shove him down the garbage disposal or something. His shoulders may present a challenge, but you are up for it. 

Your mind is so made up that you don’t even register the bags he’s got ready by the door, or the coolers full of groceries that are packed and ready beside them. You just sidestep it all entirely and head down the hall. You don’t even register the faint sounds, muffled by the door to his room, and by the time it all finally reaches your brain, it’s too late. You’ve already thrown the door open as wide as it will go, which means you get a perfect, unobstructed view, even as Seokjin startles and yelps. 

Because of course - of course - he isn’t sleeping or showering or packing. No, instead he’s got his fist wrapped around his cock and is thrusting shallowly into the warmth of his palm. The universe loves to torment you entirely too much, clearly. Why else would it offer you such an unhindered look at the love of your life’s dick?

It’s a nice dick, too. Long and the perfect thickness, a pretty dusky pink head. You can’t lie and say you’ve never imagined what Seokjin’s dick looks like - you basically grew up with him and the others, and young boys talk about their dicks. A lot. Plus, you’ve had a crush on him for several years now. 

You just never could have imagined that it’s so absolutely gorgeous that you can feel your mouth water. It’s impossible to tear your eyes away from it, in fact, until Seokjin gets over his initial shock and shoves his blanket over his lap. 

“What, uh,” He starts, throat rough. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh...you asked me to pick you up, remember? Because your car doesn’t have four wheel drive like the truck.” You learned a long time ago how to avoid being embarrassed around Seokjin, but even that can’t stop the burn in your cheeks as you force yourself to make eye contact with your best friend. It’s a struggle to focus on anything that isn’t the planes of his naked chest, broad and tanned despite the winter weather, but you manage. 

Barely. 

“Right, yeah, but...uh, weren’t you supposed to call? And aren’t you early?” The tips of his ears are as red as your face feels. The contrast between the current situation and his obvious shyness is so endearingly distracting, it takes you a full minute to focus back in on what he’s saying. “--at this point, I mean, I know that we apparently aren’t there yet, but really, I don’t mind-”

“Wait,” You interrupt, “I’m still stuck on how I called you four times, both before I left and en route and once I got here, waited another ten minutes since I got here early because I know you like to be early, and yet somehow this is my fault.”

“Well...you should have knocked! Why wouldn’t you knock when coming into someone else’s apartment or bedroom?”

“Why didn’t you hear me coming? The floor in your hallway is a million years old, it squeaks constantly, how did you miss that?”

“Well, I was a little preoccupied.”

“Clearly.”

“You still should have knocked.”

“Why did you give me a key if you wanted me to knock? And when have you ever knocked on my door when you show up randomly? Besides, I figured you were asleep and didn’t want to wake you up while I took all your shit out to the truck.” His face softens a little, and a shy smile teases at his lips. 

“Thanks, Pumpkin,” he says quietly. Your stomach flips violently at the look on his face and you roll your eyes at it. 

“Yeah, whatever.” You pick up the clothes he already has laid out and throw them at his chest. “Get dressed, you’re buying me breakfast on the way to the cabin.”

He doesn’t protest as you leave him and gather his bags up, balancing them atop the coolers of groceries and snacks he’s no doubt made for everyone. It only takes a little finagling, but you manage to get it all downstairs and into the backseat of your truck. Fat white flakes are falling from the grey sky by the time you’re finished, and Seokjin’s nose and ears are still pink when he eventually gets in as well. You turn the heat up, just in case it’s not residual embarrassment heating his face. 

He doesn’t even say anything except a muffled thanks. After a few minutes, you’ve almost resigned yourself to an awkwardly silent car ride. 

“So…” Seokjin eventually says in a too-casual tone. “About earlier-”

“No,” You hiss before he can continue. “No we are absolutely not talking about what happened.”

“Oh, come on,” He implores as you turn into the first drive-through you can find. “It was bound to happen eventually, considering-”

“We really don’t need to talk about it,” you insist. 

“I’m just saying that I know you aren’t really one for...y’know, sexual activity,” He ignores your open-mouthed gape and continues, “But I have my own needs, and self-satisfaction is the best balance between the two that I’ve found. That said, I’m sorry you had to see it, I know it probably made you uncomfortable. Because. Y’know. Dicks.”

You’re still gawking as he finishes his spiel, and you feel a little like a fish. You surely must look like one, with your mouth hanging open in shock, your eyes as wide as saucers, and the general air of befuddlement that surrounds you. There are so many things you want to say, questions you have, all of them colliding in your brain.

“I like sexual activity just fine!” is what makes it out, just as the speaker beside your window crackles to life. There’s a long, pregnant pause in which you and Seokjin just stare at each other. 

“So...what can I get for you today?” The worker says through the speaker. You want to die, just a little, as you rattle off your order and Seokjin’s to him; the universe hates you, obviously, that’s the only real explanation here. 

“We are not talking about this,” You tell Seokjin firmly as you pull away from the speaker. Your face is still burning, but you refuse to acknowledge it. “You are paying and then we are heading to the cabin and we are not ever speaking of this again.”

He holds his hands up in defeat. You almost believe that he’s dropped the subject, but unfortunately you know him too well for that. Which is why you shoot him a warning look as you pull up to the window and he starts to say something. 

“All I was going to say is that my parents asked about you the other day. They’re mad that you haven’t been by lately.”

“I’ve been busy,” You say as you hand Seokjin’s card to the kid in the window. “I haven’t had time to visit.”

“You visit Jimin’s grandma like twice a week.”

“Yeah, well, Granny Park and I are friends. Not to mention I still have to unseat her as the reigning go champion.” You don’t mention that you’re sneaking her mistledough and cookies so that she won’t blab about the fact that you’re in love with Seokjin. Or that every time you go to his parents’ house, they end up talking about weddings and asking when you’re getting married. You can’t deal with that, not when you factor in your feelings for their son. 

“I’m just saying. You’re like a daughter to them. They miss you. I’m going by there after we get back from the cabin, and I think they’d like it if you tagged along.”

All you give him is a noncommittal grunt and several bags of fast food. You love his parents, you really do. You just wish they didn’t come with the constant reminder that Jin only sees you as a sister.

He lets you eat in silence, though, content to munch on your fries and pretend most of the morning never happened. He sings along to every song that plays on the radio, and it isn’t until you’re about thirty minutes away from the city and doing your best to navigate the roads in the worsening snow that you get suspicious. 

“When you say you like sexual activity just fine-"

“I thought we dropped this!” He sends you a look that just says ‘really?’ and continues. 

“I just want to know what you mean. Because obviously we’re on two different pages.”

“I mean that I like it just fine. I enjoy it, it’s fun, I would like to continue having it in the future. What of that is strange to you?”

“No, I just...I was under the impression that you weren’t interested in that. You never really talk about it, and you’ve never mentioned any...partners, or anything so…”

“I didn’t realize I was supposed to inform you of every person I’ve ever slept with.” You glance over at him, astounded, and are shocked to see that his lips are pursed in a frown and his brows are drawn together. You resist the urge to reach out and smooth the lines on his face. “Wait, are you actually upset about this?”

“It’s just...I’ve told you about every person I’ve slept with.” You wince a little because he’s right. You’ve heard about every single one of his sexual encounters, some of them in great detail, and you do your best not to think about them. “If I had known that you were interested, then-”

“What? You would’ve set me up with one of your friends?”

“Who was the last person?”

“What?”

“Who was the last person you had sex with?”

You look at him again, a quick glance to try to figure out if he’s being serious or not. His face is hard, an emotion you can’t place clear in the set of his jaw and the steel in his eyes. 

“I’m pretty sure there’s an actual blizzard starting around us, and you want to know who I fucked recently?”

“Yeah, I do. Fair’s fair, Pumpkin.” Something in his voice raises alarms in your head. You could insist that you don’t want to talk about it; he’d respect it if you were really serious, you know he would. There’s an edge to him right now, though, one you haven’t seen in a very long time, and you don’t like it. You want to smooth it out, sand it back into the gentle lilt you love.

“Fuck, Spice, I don’t know. That guy from the bar that one night?”

“What night? What bar?”

“I don’t fucking remember, okay? It was like...fuck, years ago, I don’t even remember what he looked like, let alone his name or what bar it was. Are you happy now? For fuck’s sake, I didn’t think I had to report to you every time I wanted to get laid. You’re my best friend, not my keeper. I didn’t think it was any of your business.”

He mumbles something under his breath that you don’t catch; between the sound of the heater going full blast and the Christmas carols he’s got blaring through your truck’s sound system, it’s hard to hear anything. Still, when you glance over at him again, something dark sits in his expression, and you’ve got a gut feeling it’s your fault. 

Things remain tense even after you arrive at the cabin. Seokjin doesn’t wait for you to help him, just loads all of his stuff into his arms and wobbles his way inside while you’re still slinging your overnight bag over your shoulder. The door slams behind you as you enter, caught by the wind of the growing storm outside, and you send what you hope is an apologetic wave to where Taehyung and Star - his girlfriend of forever and one of your closest friends - sit in the den. 

You immediately make your way to the kitchen, swiping a tin of cookies and making hot chocolate, all while ignoring the overly aggressive chopping your best friend is doing behind you. You’re sure Star and Tae aren’t surprised when you flee to the room that you’ve unofficially claimed over the years. 

You stay there for most of the day. The door stays open, just in case someone actually wants to come talk to you; you have no doubt that everyone can hear you cursing at the dog show you’re watching, and at one point you’re pretty sure you hear Namjoon’s voice steer someone away, but you can’t be sure. You don’t even want to be sure. All you really want is to know what the fuck you did to piss your best friend off and get him back to normal. 

You can’t just ask him, though, because he’ll no doubt get even angrier that you don’t already know, despite the fact that you have no way of knowing unless he actually tells you. 

Frustrated, you pick up your phone and flip uselessly through the chat you have with him, trying to find literally any explanation for how he’s acting. The group chat with all the boys plus Star and Cat has been quiet most of the day, only the offhanded comment about someone leaving now or going to be a little late. 

Your chat with just Cat and Star is almost as quiet. There’s a featured video of Seokjin blowing up at Jeongguk a bit too harshly considering the younger had just nabbed some kimchi before dinner, but that’s essentially it. You’re tempted to ask Star to get Seokjin to tell her what’s going on, but not only do you not want to drag her into whatever this is, you also know better. He wouldn’t tell her anything. She isn’t his best friend. 

As much as you’re looking forward to the rest of the night, there’s a sense of dread deep in your bones when you eventually emerge from your room. You only do so because you’re out of hot chocolate and you know that you’ll be dinner if you’re late to eat. 

You wave off Star’s curious look when she sees you; you don’t need her worrying about you, not when she’s got so much else to focus on, if the crutches leaned nearby are any indication. Hobi and Cat haven’t arrived yet, which only adds to the sinking feeling in your gut, but you brush it off. They would call if they had trouble. You know they would. Besides, Cat said they’d probably be leaving late. 

Seokjin doesn’t even look at you as you pass him to get to the dining table, and that hurts more than you’d like to admit. The real sucker punch comes once you sit down, however, when you see a mug of hot cocoa with your signature candy cane placed just to the right of your plate, only to realize that Seokjin’s mug of special coffee he loves so much is placed at the other end of the table. 

Away from you. 

Air catches in your lungs, and it sounds silly that you’re tearing up over your best friend not sitting beside you, but he always sits beside you. Always. No matter what the two of you have been fighting about, he’s always sat beside you because he likes to laugh at the faces you make about the conversations going on, and he feeds you the best bits of meat while you act annoyed about it but secretly love it. 

You knew Seokjin was upset, but you hadn’t realized he was this upset. 

Jimin sits beside you and introduces you to his neighbor, but you don’t even catch her name, just that he keeps calling her Snow and she looks at him like he’s the meal and that there’s a massive purple bruise along Jimin’s neck that you have a sneaking suspicion is her handiwork. She looks vaguely familiar, but you can’t be bothered to place her, not when Seokjin is laughing about something Star is saying and looks entirely too at home down there. 

On your other side, Namjoon and his roommate are talking about a science something or other that they’ve been working on. They’re both so invested in the conversation that neither notice Namjoon dumping the extra spicy sauce over his rice instead of the mild that he prefers. You can’t even bear to listen as he starts complaining to Seokjin that he made the food too spicy and the resulting tirade from the eldest. 

If anyone notices your sour mood, they don’t say anything. It’s not surprising, when you think about it; you’ve long been established as the grump of the group, and you don’t expect that to change, even with the girl Jeongguk brought along that seems torn between whether she actually likes him or not. 

Yoongi catches your eye at one point and you just cock a brow at him. 

“Where’s Jisoo?” You mouth at him across the table. He looks to Peaches, the girlfriend of his that you’ve only ever met once in passing, and looks back at you. You way your eyebrows at him halfheartedly and Yoongi rolls his eyes. It’s disappointing that Jisoo isn’t here. She always provides some sort of entertainment.

If nothing else, she usually provides some semblance of distraction. 

By the time dinner ends, you’re fairly positive no one knows about your spat with Seokjin, or the strange tension between the two of you. You’re sure no one noticed how you didn’t eat much of anything; everyone was too wrapped up in their own conversations and relationships to pay much attention to little old you. 

You really should know better by now.

Jimin doesn’t move from his spot beside you, even as the others begin gathering dishes and your best friend disappears into the kitchen with the promise of cookies and chocolate-covered treats in an hour or two. Snow disappears, no doubt after a silent conversation between her and Jimin, and you roll your eyes at how he watches her disappear into the room they’ve claimed. 

The two of you sit in silence; it’s a game of wits, almost. You know he knows something is up, but you also know that he knows you aren’t one to just offer up your thoughts. But he knows that you know that, and he knows you know he isn’t going to let it go because he can tell something is actually bothering you this time. 

“So are we going to talk about why Seokjin has been so pissy all day and how there’s been a notable lack of Pumpkin by his side, or are we going to continue to pretend that everything’s fine like we did through dinner?”

You wish you were better able to resist him. Maybe your time with his grandmother has weakened you to him, and maybe you should work on being less transparent with him, but either way, you slump in your chair and set your empty mug of hot chocolate down with a thump. You still send him a glare that he smiles through and make a mental note to tell Granny Park that there’s a reason for his sudden need for scarves that she should ask him about. 

“We had a fight.” You eventually grumble, eyes darting to where Seokjin stands over in the kitchen, dipping marshmallows, pretzels, and other treats into melted chocolate. “I think.”

“You think?”

It doesn’t take very long for you to recount the day’s events to him. You even tell him about The Incident from that morning that you walked in on, because once you start talking you can’t seem to stop until he knows it all. 

“And now he’s pissed, I think at me, but I can’t figure out why. I mean, it wasn’t any of his business, but you know how I am with him, so it’s not like I could just not tell him, but I don’t understand why it pissed him off.” You huff a little. The frustration with everything that rolls in your stomach collides with the hurt you feel over Seokjin snubbing you, and it’s so distracting that you almost miss Jimin’s careful whisper of your name. 

“Have you ever considered just asking him?” Jimin says softly. “I’m pretty sure having an actual conversation with him would fix this whole thing.”

“But…” You hesitate, twisting a stray thread from your sweater between your fingers. “Jimin, what if he hates me?” 

There’s a vulnerability to your voice that you hate, one that only Seokjin, Jimin, and Granny Park have ever seen. It’s rare, mostly because you hate feeling vulnerable, but it makes Jimin’s eyes soften ever so slightly even as he bursts into a fit of giggles so powerful that he almost falls out of his chair. 

“This is not helping!” You hiss, shooting a look at where Seokjin is rolling out chocolate chip cookie dough. He doesn’t look up at Jimin’s outburst, but his lips twitch ever so slightly into a frown and the crease between his brows deepens. 

You know that look, too well. It’s his ‘I Do Not Care Even Though I Actually Do But I Don’t Want You To Know I Care” look. You saw it frequently when he first went off to college, when he was constantly worrying about all the boys he left behind in that little cul-de-sac. You really hoped it wouldn’t ever come back. 

“I’m sorry,” Jimin says eventually, wiping a tear away from one eye. “I really am, I promise, I’m just. Oh, I think I might lose a bet.”

“What? How is that helpful, Jimin? Y’know what, where’s that dumb dog thing Yoongi made you, I need to smush its face until I feel better--”

“What you need,” Jimin says as he places a gentle hand on your shoulder to sit you back down in your chair, “Is to stop abusing my lovingly crafted plushies and actually talk to Seokjin.”

“I can’t tell him how I feel, you know this Chim-”

“Did I say confess?” Jimin asks as he stands, eyes flickering to where his neighbor-slash-girlfriend(?) is in their room. “Just talk to him. I mean really talk to him, okay, about why he’s upset. I think you’ll be surprised.”

Jimin doesn’t give you a chance to protest; he’s gone and disappeared down the hallway before you can blink, and you don’t want to know what’s happening in that room. 

Eventually you meander over to where Seokjin is sliding cookies out of the oven, each perfectly placed to allow for the perfect bake. You putter around for a minute or two, opening and closing cabinet doors at random. You aren’t finding anything interesting, certainly not the strength to have this conversation, which is why you’re startled when someone says, “It’s all the way to the left.”

You turn, and Seokjin is absently stirring leftover melted chocolate. When you fail to move, too busy staring at him in confusion, he turns and points to a cabinet beside you. “The cocoa,” He says, “It’s all the way to the left.”

“Thanks,” You mumble as you move toward it. Inside is a box of candy canes and a weathered tin that you recognize from Seokjin’s apartment. Its twin sits in the bakery, right beside the register so that it’s close at hand for when you inevitably come thundering in with a storm cloud above your head. Each holds the special cocoa recipe that Seokjin learned from his grandfather, who learned it from his grandfather. 

You chance a glance at your best friend; he knows how much you love that cocoa. The people in this cabin right now are the only people he’ll make it for - save for Hoseok and Cat, who still haven’t arrived. Seokjin’s ears are burning red, and a weaker person - or at least one less accustomed to him - may have cooed at the sight. But you’ve spent too long building up the walls so that he’ll never find out just what you keep tucked away in your heart. 

“I’m-”

“Sorry.” He finishes for you. “I know you are. And...I forgive you.” You nod at his words; you couldn’t even hazard a guess as to what had actually upset him, but you’re glad he’s forgiven you for it. Still, it nags at you, because what if it happens again? Unlikely, considering you haven’t been able to get laid in actual years because you’re too smitten with the man standing across from you, but still. 

“Are you going to tell me why you were upset, or are you just going to play with chocolate all night?” You eventually ask. He sighs, heavy and long, and turn to lean back on the counter beside you. He’s wearing his ridiculous alpaca apron that you got him for his birthday, and that only makes him more beautiful as he considers what he wants to say. 

Your heart lurches painfully in your chest. He’s everything you’ve ever wanted, and it almost feels like he’s close enough to touch, but you just can’t seem to let your hand reach out to do so. You think if you could, you might be able to grab him and hold on forever, but something deep in your gut stills you. 

The fear of losing him, of losing everything that you have with him right now - late nights at the bakery, shopping for birthday presents, the quiet moments in a chaotic world where you find peace in each other. As much as it hurts to love him, as hard as it is to speak around the words that strangle in your throat that speak truth to every feeling you’ve ever locked in the recesses of your heart, you can’t risk telling him. Because this pining and loving and eventually watching him grow old with someone he loves?

That’s enough for you. 

“I just got jealous, I suppose,” Seokjin eventually says. “I always thought that you weren’t interested in sex, y’know? You mentioned it once in college that you’d tried it, but your little half-frown was there, so I knew you didn’t like it, because you get the same one every time you eat gingerbread because you hate it but you don’t want me to get disappointed that you aren’t eating the houses I make. I just thought it wasn’t something you wanted in life.”

“Um.”

“Which is obviously fine, sex isn’t for everyone, asexual people exist and are valid, as are those that are sex-repulsed, y’know? And I decided a long time ago when I first looked into it all that I didn’t care about sex in a relationship. That’s not the important thing to being partners with someone. But apparently sex is a thing for you, and I just wish I had known that because all this time I could’ve-”

“What, set me up with your friends?” 

“No, definitely not. It’s just that we...I could have...it just hurts to know that you’ll have sex with other people but not with me, even though I respect that it’s your decision to make.”

“What.”

“But I just...I know I’m not entitled to an explanation, but I can’t lie, I would really appreciate one if you can give it. I mean...I dunno, I know that I had sex with other people, but we had that whole conversation in college about it, and you seemed alright with it, so I did. And I always told you about them, because communication and openness is important, and I wanted you to know that I was respecting your boundaries with that while also satisfying my own needs. But it really did feel weird, because...y’know, so I stopped. And I guess I assumed that if you weren’t fucking me, you weren’t fucking anyone.”

“What.”

“I just really care about you, Pumpkin, and I know I know don’t really say it a lot because I’m more of a ‘showing it’ kind of guy, but...I just would have appreciated knowing that. Especially since I’ve always been more than willing to love you like that.”

“Spice,” You say slowly, being careful to keep your face blank. “What the actual fuck are you talking about?”

Seokjin blinks at you owlishly. “What do you mean ‘what am I talking about,’ I thought I was pretty clear. I mean...yeah, I’d love it if you would have sex with me, but that’s your decision, and I’m curious as to your reasoning and logic. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter, which is why I forgave you, because as much as it stings, it’s your choice. And I love you, as you know, so-”

“How would I possibly know that?” Your voice catches a little on the words, probably because you’re having a little trouble actually breathing. Everything is fuzzy and the words ‘I’d love it if you would have sex with me’ and ‘I love you’ are playing on a loop in your brain. Your entire world has just shifted on its axis, and yet Seokjin looks completely unbothered. 

“Maybe because I’ve put up with you so long?” He teases with a fond smile. “I mean, I know we aren’t the type to say the words very often, but c’mon Pumpkin. We’ve been dating since you were twelve, not many would last that long without even a kiss.”

“We haven’t been together since I was twelve, though.” He raises a brow at your confused tone. 

“Okay, thirteen, then.” He says. The confusion on your face must be apparent, because it begins to bleed into his, the beautiful features morphing to mirror your own. 

“Seokjin, I don’t know what you’re talking about. We aren’t dating.”

His expression only gets more confused. 

“Uh, yes we are?”

“Uh, no we aren’t? When the fuck did that happen?”

“When you were twelve, as I said. I asked you to be my girlfriend.”

“I feel like I would have remembered that happening.”

“Then you should go to a doctor, because it definitely did. It was the best day of my life. We were sitting on the playground, it was recess, you were upset.”

“I remember none of that.”

“You cannot possibly have forgotten this!” Seokjin exclaims. “I cheered you up and offered you my cookie, which you ate in like two bites even though I had made it with salt instead of sugar and it had to be disgusting, because some girl had knocked your cupcake into the dirt-”

“Park Sooyoung, that bitch, I remember that-”

“And then,” Seokjin continues, ignoring your outburst, “I was so deeply honored that you ate that disgusting thing that I offered you the equal honor of being my girlfriend. And you nodded and I kissed your cheek and then you punched me in the arm - which hurt, I might add, for days - and then I watched you play Pokemon Sapphire on your Gameboy Advance.”

The memory rushes in, though not exactly how he remembers it. Park Sooyoung had knocked your cupcake out of your hands and into the dirt, and you had been so mad about it that you’d started to cry. Seokjin found you, curled under a tree away from everyone else, and when he eventually learned what upset you, he’d told Sooyoung off like no one had ever seen. And then he’d handed you the best cookie you’ve ever eaten.

You think maybe that was when you first started falling for Seokjin. With the salty cookie that masked the taste of your own tears, and the angry tirade he had gone on despite the two of you not having known each other for very long, with the wide smile and squeaky laugh and ears so red and cute that you couldn’t focus on whatever he was saying and just nodded along to it. 

“Well...why didn’t you say anything since then?” A thought crosses your mind, and it so horror-filled that you have to ask. “Do the guys know?”

“If they do, it’s not because I told them,” Seokjin answers easily. “When you introduced yourself as my friend, I figured you were just a very private person and didn’t want to rub it in their faces or something.”

“Is that why you always drag me along when you, Hobi, Tae, Cat, and Star go out for karaoke?”

“Obviously,” He scoffs. “What could be better than a triple date with your two best friends?”

“Literally anything! Hobi and Cat sing each other the most raunchy things I’ve ever heard, and Tae does all those weepy ballads or indie songs nobody recognizes, and Star’s got those dopey love eyes all night, it’s revolting.”

“You mean like those faces you make at me when you think I won’t notice?”

“I-” You huff, at a loss. “Well what about the other day, with that girl at Mistledough you were flirting with, who was flirting back and-” Realization hits you. “And she’s Jimin’s neighbor girlfriend lady!”

“Pumpkin. Are you serious right now?” He gives you a dry look, but there’s amusement written all over it. “You’ve heard my sales pitch a hundred times. You’ve given my sales pitch a hundred times, albeit with a little more of a monotone and general ‘I’ll kill you’ vibe to it. It was just so she’d buy all the treats I could possibly sell her.”

You make a small ‘hmph’ noise that you aren’t exactly proud of, but makes Seokjin laugh. He pulls you into a warm hug, wrapping his arms around your waist to keep you there. It’s a little awkward, because your arms are still crossed over your chest, but he doesn’t seem to mind and despite all the muttered complaints you give him, there’s nowhere else you’d rather be. 

“So…” Jin says in a too-casual tone after a few minutes. You muffle a groan into his chest, already preparing for the worst. “What kind of sex are you into?”

“Oh my god,” You mumble.

“Wait, you’re right, I’m getting ahead of myself.” He clears his throat and stands to his full height. When he looks at you again, his eyes are full of something you can’t place exactly, but it makes your heart skip nonetheless when he says your full name. “Will you do me the honor of officially becoming my girlfriend? Again?”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes and nod. The grin takes over his face is blinding, worth all the trouble from the day, as is the soft kiss he presses to your cheek. You can’t help but huff when he pulls away from it, even, and he raises an amused brow at it. 

“Does this mean I can finally kiss you the way I’ve been dreaming of forever?” 

You do roll your eyes this time, but you let your fingers dance over his jaw and pull him into a gentle kiss. His lips are softer than they look, which you truly didn’t think was possible, and the way they mold and move with yours is warm and tender. You don’t even know how long you spend kissing Seokjin. Time isn’t real, not now, not with him pulling you closer and pressing warm against you like every single daydream you’ve let yourself have. 

Years of repressed urges and desire come out before you can stop them, though. Your hands move down to rest on Seokjin’s impossibly tiny waist, slipping behind his apron to tease at the waistband of his slacks. Why he insists everyone wear nice clothes to dinner, you couldn’t possibly say, but they make his ass look phenomenal so you never complain. 

The kisses become more heated, his tongue dipping out to taste your lips for a moment. Hands find their way to your ass and palm it greedily, and he tugs you flush against him. A hard length is pressing into you, and you don’t have to guess to know it's not the rolling pin. 

Images - memories - flash through your mind of that morning. Your mouth waters and you pull back from Seokjin. Panting, lips swollen from kisses, and half-lidded eyes, he's never looked better. 

"Can I suck your dick?"

He groans low in his throat and his eyes fall closed. "Fuck, Pumpkin, right here? Anyone could walk by." You drop to your knees as your hands undo the clasp on the pants. 

"Doubtful, they're probably having that post-dinner nap, or playing some game." Anxiety pools in your gut; you know quite a bit about what Seokjin likes in bed, but you've never been sure if exhibitionism is on that list. "Does it make you uncomfortable? I don't have to. I've just been thinking about it all day." 

Seokjin barks out a quick laugh and shakes his head. "No," He says, "I definitely would love for you to suck my dick in this kitchen if you want to."

"Good." You flip his apron to the side and tug his cock out of its confines. You don't bother dropping his pants all the way; there's no time, you're too impatient. "Let me know if anyone shows up." 

Whatever he's about to say gets cut off by a sharp intake of breath as you warp your lips around the head of him. One of his hands moves to grip the counter behind him and the other rests lightly on your crown; he doesn't pull or tug, just keeps his hand as a gentle pressure as you sink him deeper into your mouth.

As much as you've never been one for sucking dick, you're in heaven. There's no other explanation for why it feels this good to have him sitting heavy against your tongue as he hits the back of your throat. There are still two inches left so you wrap your hand around it and hollow your cheeks as you pull back. 

A strangled moan escapes him, and his fingers tighten ever so slightly in your hair. Heat floods to your core and you kick yourself internally because you could have been doing this for years. Your tongue darts out to slide teasingly along the underside of his cock and he reflexively thrusts into your mouth. 

You cough a little and pull back, wiping spit from your lips as you catch your breath, and Seokjin is already spewing apologies. 

“I’m fine,” You say as you sit back against the cabinet, tugging him to stand in front of you. His back is to most of the kitchen and your head rests against the hard wood behind you while you eye the hard wood in front of you. “I can take a little bit of roughness, Spice, don’t worry.”

He looks hesitant so you ghost your fingers along his length to tease him. His jaw clenches at the same time his eyes close and you resist the urge to smile. Tension bleeds out of his shoulders and when he opens his eyes again, he quirks a brow in a silent question and you nod. 

In seconds, he’s in your throat once more, thrusting himself in and out at a slow pace that makes you clench with the desire to feel it elsewhere. You hollow your cheeks and suck properly as he fucks your throat, and he muffles another moan.

“Fuck, Pumpkin, please don’t stop,” Seokjin whines quietly. You smile, just a little, and take him back into your throat for a few seconds before pulling back and repeating the process. Each time he hits the back of your throat, he lets out a muffled groan that only makes you wetter. His cock is thick and your jaw aches and you’re struggling to breathe just a little bit, but the fucked out expression on his face is more than worth it. 

Something clatters in the hallway and you freeze, Seokjin’s cock sheathed to the hilt in your throat. His ears turn red and he starts to pull back, but you stop him with a hand on his thigh. He looks down at you, surprised, and you chance a wink that makes him chuckle. 

Footsteps make their way past, giggles following close behind, and you hear the door leading to the hot tub open and close. After a few seconds of silence, Seokjin relaxes, pulling out of your throat. You take a few deep breaths and glance over to the door, curious. 

“Jimin and Snow,” He tells you, one hand absently stroking along your cheek. “We probably shouldn’t use the hot tub tonight.” 

You wrinkle your nose. “Why would I want to anyway? Have you heard Namjoon’s lecture on what could potentially grow in a hot tub if it isn’t sanitized regularly? It’s not a fun lecture.” Seokjin laughs, squeaky and adorable, and helps you to your feet. He doesn’t hesitate to pepper kisses along your cheeks, and you wrinkle your nose even as tilt your head so he can get the places he missed. 

“Now when you said that you can handle a little roughness…” Seokjin says, voice a soft murmur in your ear. You make a small hum of affirmation, encouraging him to continue. “Does that mean I can spank you for not finishing blowing me, or is that something you’d rather not do?”

“Fuck, Seokjin,” You hiss, rubbing your thighs together. “Now you have to do it.”

He’s got you turned around in an instant, your fancy dress pants on the ground a few seconds later. His hands mold to your ass, cupping the flesh briefly through your underwear before letting his hands fall away. 

It’s methodical and slow and torturous, how he peels away that last layer keeping him from your wetness. You know that the fabric is soaked through, it has been since you first got his dick in your mouth, and Seokjin groans at the sight. 

“Even better than I imagined,” He mutters. Your cheeks heat in a rare blush, and you drop your head down between where your forearms are braced against the countertop. His hand smacks against your ass, lightly, and you choke back a laugh. Is that really what he thinks a spank is?

Another slap hits you, no real force behind it, and you scoff under your breath. 

“What?” Seokjin asks. When you look back at him, he’s expectant, like he knows what you’re about to say. 

“Is that what you call a slap?” You ask. He rolls his eyes and pulls his hand back for another. It already looks unsatisfying, and you can’t help but push him a little further. “I always wondered why your dough doesn’t rise high enough. Guess I know now.”

His eyes darken and a chill comes over you. 

“Oh, is that how this is gonna be?” He asks. He gestures for you to face forward again and you do, curious as to the dark look in his eyes. 

Something hard and cold smacks into your ass, and you yelp in surprise. There’s a little more force behind it, enough to sting pleasantly but not enough to hurt. 

“Is that better, Pumpkin?” He asks. There’s a mocking tone to his voice, but when you look back, you can see the slant of his lips and tension in his jaw that shows he’s concerned. The rolling pin from earlier rests in his hands, and it flares something in your gut. 

“Much,” You tell him as you turn back around. He spanks you with it again, and again, and again, and it isn’t until you feel something wet drip down the back of your leg that you remember the chocolate he was fucking around with earlier. 

“If you get that on my nice clothes, I will destroy you,” You warn him. He laughs a little and there’s a thump as the rolling pin hits the countertop. 

“Is that code for get me naked?” He asks, a laugh in his voice. 

“No, that’s code for lick it up and then fuck my brains out.” 

The laugh in his throat quickly becomes a growl and he sets to work doing just that. His tongue runs over your skin, gently lapping at the chocolate there, and several times he gets distracted leaving purple marks in his wake. He even slides tongue along your slit, long and thorough and quick, and you almost come just from the obscene moan he lets out. 

"Fuck, please, I need you," You gasp out. Seokjin slides a hand under your shirt, massaging the muscles in your back as he does, and stands to his full height.

"Let me know if it hurts," He says softly. His voice is a whisper against your ear and it's never sounded quite so wrecked or beautiful. "I'll stop, okay?"

"If you don't get inside me in the next five seconds, I will go ask Jimin and Snow if I can join them in their kinky hot tub," you growl. 

He curses quietly and thrusts his length inside you. Neither of you are quite prepared for what it feels like, and the moment he gets buried to the hilt, he stills. 

"Shit, Pumpkin, I'm not gonna last long," He mutters. You can't even manage words. The stretch is absolutely blissful, just on the right side of painful when paired with the sting of your still-tender ass. He's the perfect height for this, too; perfectly lined up without either of you having to try very hard. 

He pulls almost entirely out, leaving just the dusty pink head you remember inside. There's not even a chance to whine at the loss, because before you know it, he's slamming back in. 

Seokjin's pace is erratic and harried; there's no smooth strokes here. You're both in too much of a rush, too drunk on the pleasure to want anything but release. 

Hands move along your skin, one lifting your shirt so he can pepper kisses along your spine while the other reaches down to gently tweak your clit. 

It takes three swipes of his finger to have your knees shaking with the power of your orgasm. You clench around him and he stills. You can't think, your brain is absolutely fried at this point; all you know is the feeling of him inside you and the disappointing emptiness when he pulls out. 

Warmth hits your back and Seokjin's moans echo in your ears. You're almost afraid to turn around, afraid this is some hyper-realistic dream.

"Shit, hold on, let me clean this up," he says, panting. You can hear him moving through the kitchen and when he comes back, something cold and wet slides along your back. 

You wait patiently as he cleans you up. He wipes away every instance of cum and chocolate from your skin - though he looks a little disappointed to be doing so, which you file away for later. 

"God, that's so much fucking cum," You say, wrinkling your nose at the mass of wet wipes he tosses in the trash while you fasten your pants once more. 

It's just in time, too, as Jimin and Snow come in from the hot tub, smiling and giggly with each other. 

"Ah," Jimin says, looking between you and Seokjin. "I did lose a bet. Damn, she's gonna be so pleased with herself."

You glare at him, but there's no real heat behind it. The two of them disappear to get dressed in actual clothes, and you and Seokjin set to work plating the cookies and treats he'd made. 

You can't stop the fond look at the rolling pin every few minutes. 

Later, after you discover Cat and Hobi have arrived safely and you make sure they actually eat the plates set aside for them, you're on the hunt for Seokjin. He's disappeared somewhere and it's almost time for the countdown. 

You finally find him - where else - in the kitchen, making a horrified face at Namjoon. 

"What? It was good," Namjoon says with a frown. Seokjin just waves him off and Namjoon shrugs, grabbing a couple glasses of champagne and heading back to Slick. 

You sidle up to him as close as you can get and he wraps an arm around your waist like it's second nature. It's surreal, that the man you love is pressing a kiss to your temple and handing you a mug of cocoa. 

"I'm glad we talked," He says eventually. You hum your agreement; you aren't looking at him, just staring down into your cocoa as you absently stir it with a candy cane, but you do lean into him ever so slightly. "Remind me to bake Jimin a cake."

"Why? What's he done to deserve a cake?"

"He helped me out earlier, while I was cooking dinner. Helped me figure out how to say what I needed to, that sort of thing."

Your face shoots up as your heart clenches in your chest. "Jimin," You echo. "Jimin is why you decided to talk about your feelings." Seokjin just nods, eyes wide and not understanding why you have murder in your eyes. 

"I'm gonna kill him so hard-" You say, already setting your mug down and turning to go find that short gremlin and skin him alive. You don't get two steps before a hand comes to rest on your shoulder, heavy but gentle. 

Seokjin pulls you closer to him, a smile playing on his lips as he does. "Why would you want to kill Jimin for that, Pumpkin?"

"Because!" You exclaim. "Jimin's the only one that knows that I-"

The words tangle in your throat, cloying together into a ball you can't seem to unwind. You're too used to choking it down. You don't know how to say it. 

"That you love me?" Seokjin finishes. You can't bear to look at him, huffing slightly as you turn to stare out the kitchen window at the snow-covered trees beyond. 

Seokjin's hand glides down your arm to wrap around your own, tangling his fingers with yours. With a grace you tend to forget he has, he brings them both upwards until he can press a soft kiss in the center of your palm. 

"Jimin isn't the only one that knows that, Pumpkin," He says quietly. You can feel your ears burning, a pleasant contrast from how it's usually him embarrassed and red. 

"Whatever," you grumble, giving up on your mission to brutally murder one of your best friends. Seokjin laughs, loud and squeaky and wonderful, and pulls you into another hug. 

"I love you too," He whispers. "Now, let's go join the others. I believe you owe me several years of kisses."

"You wish," You mutter half-heartedly. He hands you your cocoa and pats your still-sore ass with a wink.

"That's a great move."

"Really?"

"Yes." There's a pause as she waits for you to remove your fingers from the piece. "If you want to lose."

You offer her a weak glare that she ignores as she studies the board. 

"I'm glad that you and Seokjinnie finally got things figured out. It was very cute to watch, but it was getting a little ridiculous, you know." 

She moves a piece, and you squint to try to help you figure out her strategy. 

"Right, it had nothing to do with your bet with Jimin," You say sarcastically as you move another piece. You eye her, one finger still remaining on it, to try to figure out if it's what she expected. 

"Of course not," She says as you remove your hand. "That was merely a bonus." She immediately lays a piece, gaining even more of an advantage than she already had. 

"Well then," You start as you lay another piece, "I'm sure you know all about Jimin and his neighbor, and Star and Tae I don't need to tell you anything about Yoongi or Cat or Jeongguk, either, probably." 

Her fingers hesitate over the piece she's picking up, and her eyes narrow at you. 

"Ah, don't be so cruel. You're supposed to respect your elders, you know."

"Alright, Granny Park," You say with a rare grin as you glance to where Seokjin is baking a ‘sorry we fucked in your kitchen’ cake and decoration some sugar-free cookies for her. "What exactly do you want to know?

[platypan]

A Strategic Proposal 3/

Part One/Part Two/Part Three/Part Four/Part Five

Robin did not, in fact, return with the unicorn horn. Steve looked up from trying to saddle his anxious horse—she had caught his anxiety, and kept side-stepping just as he tried to slide straps through buckles with shaking hands—and instead of the glint of armor, there stood his queen, shivering in a tatty robe and knitted blanket. She held the unicorn horn over the stall door, and he grabbed it, taking a shuddering breath of relief.

“You shouldn’t need it,” she said, reaching in to pat his horse’s nose and hold her still. “He wasn’t to engage the chimera—”

“Why would you send him,” Steve hissed, yanking the cinch around his horse’s belly. “Why send him at all, if he—if he isn’t—” He took a deep breath instead of yelling at his queen, and tried to swallow down thoughts that Billy wasn’t a strategist, there was no reason to send him, unless. Steve took another deep breath, swallowing hard. “Why—why would…”

“It was an excuse!” she hissed back, flailing an arm so her blanket fell, and cursing as she gathered it back up. “It was near—” She cut off, and Steve waited.

“Near what,” he asked hoarsely, trying to remember the map Robin had shown him. “...it’s near his home,” he realized, feeling the tightness in his shoulders ease. “Is he—why not say he—”

“He is late,” she said, opening the stall door. “He may have encountered the chimera unintentionally, he—he may very well be in danger. I have been trying to find out—Sir Hagen is not responding—” She took a slow breath as well, rubbing the skin between her eyebrows, and he felt bouyed up to know she and Robin were helping. Steve swung up onto his horse, and she grabbed his stirrup. “Wait! Robin is assembling more knights—if he’s fighting, you’ll be little use alone—”

“She can catch up with me,” Steve said, smiling down at his queen, still regal in her favorite soft robe with the holes in the elbows. “I need to find my husband.”

He rode through the night, expecting to reach the hunting ground of the chimera just after dawn. As the sun rose in a reddish, smoky haze, it wasn’t difficult to find where the chimera had been—where the intact armor wasn’t filled with ashes alone, charred bones in melted armor lay under still-glowing craters in boulders. Steve’s eyes stung and watered from lack of sleep, the fumes, and the realization that the fallen knights were scattered, some fleeing, and armed with swords, not the spears and crossbows they’d have taken to fight a beast with fire breath. Travellers.

He resisted the urge to yell Billy’s name, tying his horse in a copse of trees and grass near the road, and trying to keep his steel boots quiet as he walked, watching for the chimera. He found claw marks, once or twice, and his heart nearly stopped at the sight of a knight skewered on the jagged stump of a burned tree, though when he ran closer, he could see the armor was too small, and the curls hanging from her crushed helmet were too gold to be Billy’s.

Steve bent to lean his hands on his knees, breathing shakily, and stuffed his handkerchief inside his helmet to wipe his eyes.

He walked by a pile of half-eaten horses and two knights, and took another few deep breaths before he stepped in close to crouch, his sight blurring, to see whether it was the armor Billy had brought with him. Steve wondered, abruptly, rubbing his eyes, whether Billy’s armor was good enough, good as the Queen’s Guard, and his lungs shuddered in his chest at the thought that Billy’s family might have pinched pennies and Steve’s husband had fought a chimera armed with some sort of—gilt tin. He leaned his face in his hands, remembering it lying around the room, and wondering why he’d never thought to take it to the castle armorer, and made sure it was the best. Steve groaned, trying to remember buckling it on, and whether it had felt oddly heavy or light, but all he could remember was buckling it wrong because Billy was smiling, and had to be kissed.

“If he’s alive, I’ll commission a figure for your chapel,” he muttered, touching the St. George inscribed on his hilt. “I’ll have Billy model. You couldn’t ask for a better model—you—he’s beautiful, he’s strong—he’s brave, he—he’ll—just keep him alive ‘til I find him, I’ll buy candles, I’ll—” he cut off as his throat closed, and he coughed. “Protect his body from harm,” Steve whispered. “Def-defend the happiness of my home from all those who may conspire to destroy it. Give me the strength of your faith and fill me with hope and with the love of God—”

He brushed the ashes and blood away, and didn’t recognize the armor. “...amen.” His whole body trembled, a bit, with relief, and he stood slowly, letting himself mumble the prayer again and again, since St. George himself seemed to be listening. His sword started to glow.

The road seemed as good a place to look as any, and Steve wished Robin would hurry and help him search, wondering how many miles of wreckage he’d have to kick through, and how long Billy had, even with the intercession of Steve’s patron saint. “I will never ask for anything again,” he whispered at the sky, as loudly as he dared.

As he crept along the road, he heard a soft cry, and found one of the Hagenton knights, her leg charred off at the thigh. “Help is coming,” Steve told her, helping her drink a few swallows of water. She nodded, weakly punching the air, and he tied his handkerchief to the tree she huddled under, in view of the road. “Have you seen...anyone else,” he asked, swallowing, and she squinted, her eyes not quite tracking his face.

“Routed,” she rasped. “We were routed.”

“Thank you,” he told her politely, his voice thick, and she squeezed his hand, trying to sit up.

“Some...ran,” she said, her breath rattling as she tried to focus on his face. “May-maybe they survived.”

Billy would not have fled, leaving the others behind to die, he wanted to say, but she was pressing his hands, the white of a rib sticking out of her crushed armor as she tried to touch his face, so he just nodded, helping her ease back against the tree. “Thank you,” he said again, and again, “Help is coming.” He hoped for her sake and his own that they made it in time.

He kept up a series of pleas to St. George, as well as some gentle chiding—it would be much easier, after all, for Billy to stay alive if Steve’s saint was any help at all in finding him, but praying with his eyes closed didn’t give Steve the urge to walk in any particular direction, and he opened them again, rather than fail everything entirely by breaking his ankle by falling into a ditch. “Protect his body from harm,” he whispered. “Defend the happiness of my home from all who may conspire to destroy it.”

His heart thudded in his chest when he saw the curled gilt of Billy’s showy armor on a shape lying crumpled in the underbrush. “Billy,” he muttered, scrambling over the crumbling stone wall at the edge of the road, and running to his husband’s limp form. He yanked the helm up, crouching to see Billy’s wide eyes, hazy and flicking around under the pale, sweaty skin of his forehead. Steam wafted from under his armor, and out of his mouth, and Steve yanked at the wrapping on the unicorn horn, hissing, “Billy.”

“Harrington,” Billy whispered.

“William Hargrove,” Steve said back, wiping his eyes, as he tried to unknot the ceremonial bindings. “Thank you, St. George,” he mumbled, hoping the sincerity made up for the lack of formality. “I’ll get you those candles—”

“I’m dying,” Billy said, oddly forthright.

“No,” Steve hissed, yanking the knots free. “No, you’re alive, I’m here to save you.”

“You can marry someone else now,” Billy laughed unsteadily, and Steve yanked at his husband’s gauntlets, trying to find somewhere he could press the horn against greyish, steaming skin. His veins were black.

“I don’t want to marry someone else,” Steve hissed, “—I want to be married to you,” he said, fighting with the buckles on Billy’s left gauntlet, and squeezing Billy’s unnaturally hot fingers around the gleaming unicorn horn. “Hold this,” he whispered, taking a shaky breath as it glowed and pulsed against Billy’s skin, and his palm turned pinkish again. “Protect him from harm,” Steve whispered again, squeezing the horn so hard against Billy’s skin that his knuckles went white.

“I’m about to turn to ash,” Billy laughed again, tears evaporating into bursts of steam as they slid from the corners of his eyes. “May I touch you?” He pushed the horn away, trying to reach for Steve’s face, and Steve scrabbled for the rolling iridescent spiral and clapped it back in Billy’s hand, sniffling, laughing and grabbing his surcoat to wipe his eyes and nose.

“You’re touching me, you are,” Steve yelped. He held Billy’s hand around the horn, reaching his other arm around to try and unbuckle his husband’s helmet. “You won’t turn to ash,” he hissed. “I won’t let you—Billy, is the chimera dead?”

Billy’s eyes widened, and he tried to push himself up. “Wounded it,” he gasped, as Steve pushed him back down.

“Do you know which way it went, m-my love?” Steve asked, feeling awkward, but Billy went still.

“Oh,” he whispered, his eyes fixed on Steve’s face.

“I love you,” Steve said again, leaning close to see Billy’s expression through the slit where his helm lifted. “Where is the chimera?”

“I died,” Billy whispered, frowning.

“Knight of my heart,” Steve hissed, “You’re not dead. I followed you—where is the beast that felled you?”

“I thought there would be more pain,” Billy mumbled, “—turning to ash,” and Steve groaned, grabbing his husband’s helmet and pressing a kiss to it.

“Shut your mouth, idiot,” he told Billy, pushing himself up to a crouch so he could still hold Billy’s hand around the horn, and watch for the chimera. “You’re alive, and I love you—of course I would love you, you—”

“I can feel your hand,” Billy mumbled some more, sounding aggrieved.

“Yes,” Steve told him, sighing and biting back a smile, “—because I’m saving you, idiot. You can’t die, I replied to all your letters.”

“...my letters?”

“I missed you sliding your hand around my cock all night,” Steve rolled his eyes, feeling his cheeks flush, “—so I read all your letters.”

“Burn them,” Billy whispered.

“They were very interesting,” Steve told him, grinning, and taking a shaky breath at the sight of the pinkish glow showing through the join at Billy’s neck. He squeezed his husband’s hand. “I brought your horse carrots. Now I know her favorite treat.”

“I hope she’s alive,” Billy sighed. “Do you think if we’re both dead, I’ll see her again?”

“You aren’t dead,” Steve growled, banging his free hand on Billy’s armor.

“I don’t mind,” Billy said. “It’s good here.”

Steve thought, biting his lips together. “...I don’t love you.”

“Ah,” Billy sighed. “And I hurt. I am alive, then.”

“Ha!” Steve grinned, leaning in to try and kiss him, again, and having to kiss his helmet. “But I do love you!”

Billy opened his mouth, and closed it again, looking both bewildered and annoyed.

“I would have told you before you rode out,” Steve told him, raising the hand he was pressing the unicorn horn to and kissing it, “—but you rode out while I slept.”

“...you love your queen,” Billy mumbled.

“I love my husband more,” Steve told him, feeling a little awkward at the thought his saint was listening, but sure a saint would understand that Billy needed to hear it. He sent up a silent apology as he reached into Billy’s helmet and pressed a finger over his mouth. “I—it isn’t only—” he bit his lips, thinking, with Billy’s eyes fixed on his face. “You aren’t only my best friend, and—and the person I—I want to show things. Tell things to, talk about—I—I miss you,” he whispered, “—I miss you when you—when you’re on the other side of the room, I…”

Steve trailed off, staring in horror at the tears trailing down Billy’s cheeks. “I love you,” he tried, and Billy made a choking noise. “I’m sorry,” Steve said, watching his husband cry, and yanking at his armor to try and see whether the unicorn horn was working, or whether he was talking like an idiot while his husband died.

“Don’t stop,” Billy told him, laughing as Steve shoved his fingers in every cranny in his husband’s armor, feeling for unnatural heat.

“Protect his body from harm,” Steve hissed around the lump in his throat, wondering whether St. George had stopped paying attention. “Defend the happiness of my home from those—”

“I am well,” Billy told him, grabbing both Steve’s hands away from their frantic prodding. “I am safe, I am well—”

“You are crying—” Steve informed him, feeling his own eyes welling up at the thought that it hadn’t worked, he’d been too late, he’d failed. He’d arrived just in time to tell the truth, and maybe that was all his saint could do, he realized, and he cleared his throat. “I love you,” he said hoarsely, “I—I’m sorry I didn’t know sooner, I—would have told you—”

“Stop,” Billy said, too loud, yanking at the ties on his helmet, and pulling Steve down against him in a clash of denting armor. “I am well, I am saved. Why are you here,” he whispered between kisses, and Steve tried to remember the living chimera wandering about somewhere.

“Had to tell you I loved you,” he panted, still trying not to bawl himself. He rubbed his thumb up and down Billy’s cheek, salt-smeared from his tears, and the sweat from the heat of the chimera’s poison. It felt warm, but nothing like the heat of before, and Steve took a shuddering breath.

“An urgent missive from the queen,” Billy whispered, smiling down at where their hands were still locked around the unicorn horn. “...is...is this a national treasure?”

“Yes you are,” said Steve, hoarsely, feeling clever, and Billy started laughing until he choked, then groaned as he rested his head against Steve’s chestplate. “You need to drink some water, I think,” Steve whispered into his husband’s curls, and Billy hummed, squirming closer. “You taste like you lived on nothing but whiskey for the last fortnight,” Steve coaxed, and Billy started laughing again, shaking in Steve’s arms. “Can you stand?” Steve asked, wiping his eyes and nose, and kissing his husband’s hair. Thank you, St. George, he prayed silently. Please help me get him home.

In the distance came the shriek of the beast.

They both listened, and Billy flushed, smiling down as Steve’s hand tightened on his wrist.

Billy sighed. “It drug people away. They might…”

Steve frowned, sliding his hand up the back of Billy’s head and pulling him into another kiss. “They might be someone’s Billy Hargrove,” he said, nodding, and Billy’s eyes widened as he turned inexplicably red. Steve checked that the unicorn horn was against his husband’s skin again, worried about the heat, but Billy smacked his hands away like Steve was being unreasonable, pulling him into a tight embrace.

“...it worked,” he whispered in Steve’s ear. “I was gray as ashes, remember? I am tired, and...” he swallowed, trailing off as Steve frowned into his face.

“Keep the horn against your skin,” Steve told him, with the narrowed eyes of one expecting to be obeyed.

“I will,” Billy said, smiling. “Only because my husband is worried.”

“Of course I’m worried,” Steve hissed. “I have to get you back to our bed. I have to—I have to commission you better armor—”

“Armor,” Billy blinked. “My armor is—”

“You were poisoned—”

“Its breath is—”

“Maybe I can convince Her Majesty I’ll fall ill if she sends you away again,” Steve mumbled over him. “It happens in ballads, lovers pining—”

Billy started laughing again and crying, and Steve grabbed his shoulders, wondering whether his actions had driven his husband mad. “...let us search,” Billy wheezed, wiping his eyes. “So you may carry me back to our bed.”

“Yes,” Steve nodded, ignoring Billy snickering again. Sorry, St. George, he thought, for talking about beds. Then it occured to him that St. George might have had a Billy as well, and he just prayed,—and thank you. Again. As they walked, he continued to update the saint with as we’re still looking for the chimera, we could use some more help, and could you look for Billy’s horse, and you probably know what we’re doing, from up there, do I need to tell you?

“Do you believe me yet?” Steve asked, and then as Billy grinned at him and stumbled over a charred tree limb, and Steve grabbed his arm, “—not about the bed. Of course I want you in bed, anyone would want you in bed—stop laughing.”

“This is a very strange day,” Billy told him, sighing, and leaning into his side. “I think I...will believe you, but…” he shrugged his shoulders, and Steve nodded, thinking.

“I woke yesterday morning, and I was glad,” Steve said, clearing his throat as they walked north, following the trail of smoking, empty armor and the ever-heavier ash filling their throats and lungs. “I don’t like waking up,” he continued.

“No one does,” Billy put in.

“But I did,” Steve told him. “I smiled before I opened my eyes. I thought I would roll over, and you’d be there, and when I put my arm around you, you’d lean against me, and I’d smell your hair.”

Billy burst out laughing so loudly Steve shushed him, feeling wrong-footed, and wishing he could speak properly and be clear, but Billy dropped into a crouch, hiding his face, and Steve forgot his frustration leaning over him.

“I’m sorry I’m doing this wrong,” Steve whispered. “I thought—I thought you should...know.”

“I love you so much,” Billy whispered back. “So much, I can’t—I can’t even—I can’t—”

“You can’t...believe me?” Steve asked, crouching to try and lean to see Billy’s face.

“I—I’ll try,” Billy said huskily, and Steve nodded, leaning to kiss his husband’s exposed ear.

“I will keep telling you,” Steve told him, “—until you’re sick of it. I told St. George it was important you knew, and if you were alive, I’d never stop telling you—”

“You don’t even go to church—” Billy sniffled, and Steve shrugged, pulling him around for a kiss.

“I think St. George would rather I kept fighting monsters and telling you I love you,” he said, licking his lips, and Billy cried in earnest while Steve kissed him for hopefully not the last time, and busied himself putting both their helmets back on.

[kuuderekweenfics]

Coalesced

Well hello everyone~

I wrote a short piece. It honestly took everything to get this out of me. I got bit by the nasty writer’s block bug and drained all the motivation out of my body. But I managed to make it sweet, despite having a cold, empty void of a heart. 

Because my headcanon of Levi is that he is actually super warm in the sheets (pun DEF intended).

There is deffff some violence in here. So yeah. Let’s do it.

Sweltering steam plows into you, hot and heavy. The spray of blood misses you by a fraction of an inch as you maneuver your way to the nearest, safest rooftop. No one ever talks about the smell: the putrid decay that emanates from oversized, severed napes. They told you it would get easier to bear over time.

After a few years of wearing death’s perfume, you conclude that it really doesn’t.

You check the gas on your ODM gear. Halfway through and your blades are still intact. You take the small reprieve to stretch out your back before scanning the area for your next move.

It’s surreal, seeing Wall Maria claw at the edges of survival; people run every which way to avoid the onslaught of infiltrating titans.

A surprise attack, you had been informed by your squad leader, Zoë Hange, had devastated the defense. It collapsed under the siege of two abnormals: one, larger than any titan anyone had ever encountered in recent history, and two, an armored titan with incomprehensible speed. Hange had directed you and the rest of their squad to clear as many people into safety as possible. Thankfully, the emergence of titans was concentrated to one location, leaving a large portion to find shelter within the inner walls. But those in the Shiganshina District and around its immediate perimeter were not so lucky.

“Yo, it’s time for us to move out,” Lauda barks. Your mission was to save as many lives as possible, not to eliminate titans. You were told orders were final. You were told not to engage once the call was made to clear out. To continue fighting titans was pointless, Hange had said. Not when there wasn’t a single ray of hope to reclaim Wall Maria.

The hair on your neck raises as you hear the high-pitched cry. You are obedient, by all means a great soldier, but you simply cannot ignore the shrieks made by a child. Two stories below, no older than five or six, is a jumping boy, his desperate attempts to reach you failing with each hop. Your eyes connect with his, distressed but hopeful, and he reaches out his arms up toward the sky, toward you, his only willing savior.

To your agitation, you are not the only one to notice the boy. A titan crawls its way over, eyes hollow, appetite insatiable. A small string of curses come out a huff from your lips. You look over your shoulder, Lauda a distant star in the late afternoon sky among the rest of the survey corps. You drop down in the opposite direction, aiming your grapple-hooks into a crumbled wall and fly forward, then swivel immediately left, aiming steel to neck. Because the titan is a crawler, therefore completely exposed, your kill is quick work. You run to the boy, reaching your hand out to take hold of him, eager to get back. Only, his tearful smile is obscured by large teeth that clamp down on him, spattering your dumbstruck face with his blood.

No. No, no. No, no, no, no.

You can feel the hot breath of the titan, an overwhelming smell of corpse, as it hovers over you. It’s too close. You quickly glance to the right and left but all you see is its flesh.

Think. You have to think. Don’t focus on the poor boy you failed to save. Don’t worry about his blood dripping from your hair and cheek.

Move.

Live.

You shoot your hooks into its eyes and propel yourself up to avoid its mouth. You find purchase on its nose and grab a lock of hair, heaving yourself up for an opening to escape. You know its hands will be on you soon, your muscles screaming as you pull yourself up, up, up, racing against time. An opportunity presents itself. Hooks launch and lock onto the wall and you spring to your freedom.

_____________________

“You disobeyed orders.”

“I was trying to save a kid,” you retort.

Hange pouts, their brows furrow with obvious sympathy, but they stand their ground. “I know it’s hard seeing people die. Children die. Hell, I would have probably done the same thing.” They cross their arms. “But Erwin made the call. You were reckless. Some are blaming your previously pampered lifestyle.”

You scoff. Of course someone would bring that up. It was a constant reminder among the Scout Regiment.

Yarckel, the western-most district of Wall Sina, was quaint and content. While it was not as lavish as other areas of the innermost wall, it was an extremely comfortable place to call home. You squashed your mother’s heart the day you told her you had no intention of marrying an old, stuffy politician and all the resolve to enlist in the Survey Corps. Your dear mother nearly turned into a titan herself with how earnestly she chewed you out, spitting names like “wretched girl” for having “silly thoughts of chivalry” in your head.

But you couldn’t imagine yourself locked away in a gilded cage, ever so often forced to be held by too-soft, weathered hands and bred to deliver another generation of vain and greed.

You’d rather die free.

“What’s my punishment, then?” You concede, there’s no way you’ll get out of this one when Erwin has the last say. Hange grimaces.

Uh-oh. This won’t be good. “Let’s hear it then.”

“Latrine duty. For a full month.”

Your heart sinks into your stomach. Latrine duty is, by far, the worst assignment when living with barracks almost completely inhabited by men. You cringe at the mental image of what you found the last time you were tasked to clean the toilets.

You hold back the bile that threatens its way up as you nod your head. “Anything else?”

“Levi will come in each week to approve your task completion.”

Fuck. “May I ask why a Captain is overseeing my work? Doesn’t he have more pressing matters to see to?”

“I think you know why,” Hange chuckles. “Make sure to get into every nook and cranny. I won’t have you making me look bad. Otherwise, Levi will come badgering me.���

______

This might be worse than facing titans.

You scrub the inside of the toilet bowl in the spot most often neglected: the underside of the ring. Grime flakes off in chunks, and you cant help the gag that makes your way up.

The smell burns your eyes. It could also be the sweat. But you’ve decided against touching any part of your face while you’re forearm is deep in toilet water. When you sit in front of the fourth and final stall, you’re thoroughly convinced the northern barracks’ latrine is utilized by heathens.

You’re busy brushing the hinge of the toilet seat when you hear the door swing open. You’re sure you placed the sign on the door barring entry. “Sorry, still cleaning in here.”

The calm tap, tap, tapping of the boot heel sends a shiver down your spine. This isn’t the footsteps of some eager scout who waited much too long to do their business. You keep your eyes forward, staring at the porcelain which provides a full view of what’s behind you in its shiny, white reflection.

You hear him enter the first stall. Each second feels an hour long. You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until your lungs sting for air.

The second stall is next. Then the third. And finally, after an eternity in limbo, he steps behind you. By this point, you had gone back to brushing, mechanically moving your arm back and forth without the same gusto you had earlier. Your heart threatens to break out of your rib cage with each thunderous beat.

“Are you having a heart to heart with each toilet before you clean them? I thought I’d given you enough time to finish up with these.”

“I wanted to make sure I did a thorough cleaning, Captain.”

He clicks his tongue. “Step aside and let me check your work so I can get the hell out of this dump, Scout.”

You stumble out, scraping your back against the edge of the stall; he doesn’t move from his spot and you don’t dare touch him.

As he inspects the last toilet, you hear the soft “‘hmm” roll from his mouth, and you hope this is a small sound of approval.

He walks toward the exit, but turns to you with a recognizable disgust that scares you more than the stare of a titan.

“Good work. I hope you can apply the same level of cleanliness to yourself,” he rumbles. “Look at you. You’re absolutely filthy.”

You should be angry. You should be boiling over at the insult. Instead, you attempt to keep your smile contained.

And all at once you began to enjoy your moments with the Captain, infrequent as they were.

The small exchanges in the mess hall.

The glances in one another’s direction as you file out of meeting rooms.

The quiet, strained growl in your ear as he penetrates you in his quarters as the moon makes its way over the horizon.

It all happens so, very quickly; Levi’s one-off encounter with you. One second you were discussing various teas and which best suited a savory meal, the next you’re hungrily lapping up the precum from his stiff cock, ever acquiescent and flushed.

You bob your head, each time pushing your boundaries as he hits the back of your throat; every gag only adding to his pleasure.

And before you have the satisfaction of watching Levi, Captain of the Survey Corps and Humanity’s Strongest, unravel in your hands (or mouth, rather) he takes hold of your elbows and shoves you on the bed.

He’s surprisingly gentle. The way he manhandles even your own boss makes you think he would be more aggressive, unrestrained.

And while he does hold you with a vice-like grip that will surely leave your hips bruised tomorrow, you realize it’s to assure that each meticulous thrust hits the switch that lights up your brain, igniting your nerves and sending a wave of pleasure crashing through your entire body.

The heat that burns in the pit of your stomach intensifies as he pistons into you, never losing focus on that area that surely makes you see stars.

And you beg for him to go harder, faster, as you clutch at the sheets desperately and push into him in a fruitless attempt to swallow him whole.

But he’s already there, deep within your core; the pumps connecting all the wires to push you both over the edge.

He sputters forward, his seed coating your walls hot and sticky. It’s all you need, his desire to fill you entirely, to drive you into your own divine pleasure. Your breath hitches with the final pump as you both settle on the bed.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

This is not love. Of course it isn’t. You are no fool. But for a few hours, you allow yourself to be tethered. Allow him to stroke your hair with a fondness that is so pure, so different from the usual Levi.

Your breaths in sync, the seconds of comfort engraved in your mind for the rest of your miserable lives. One fleeting moment cemented in time.

And in a blink of an eye, it’s gone.

So as you stare, wide-eyed and frightened, at the Titan who holds you captive in its clutches, inching forward into its acrid breath, you allow yourself to draw back into the depths of your memory.

Your mind takes you back to that night.

And you close your eyes and smile as you relive each second of the night that you and Levi Ackerman coalesced.

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Marked (Part 16)

Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1780

Warnings: None.

A/N: Big thanks to @indecisive20something for the sweet message, which was exactly the push I needed to start on this again. 

I tried not to think about it, because I knew once I started I wouldn’t be able to stop. My heartbeat rattled around in my rib cage in time with the constant loop of What do I want? What do I want? What do I want? running through my head. That was a dangerous question, with answers that twisted around and knotted together and tightened in my chest until I couldn’t breathe.

Work was busy enough that I could manage not to drown in the questions, and then I collapsed into bed and slept like the dead when I got home. So far, so good.

I woke up to a text from Dean.

Still want to get together this afternoon?

Sure. I’m done at 4.

I moved through my day like a robot, like I wasn’t fully present in my own body, everything jerky and automatic. The noise and the smells and the customers trying to get my attention were too much, too loud, interrupting the careful blankness I was clinging to.

I stepped out into the back alley for my fifteen, leaning heavily against the brick wall, and looked up at the grey sky, wishing I could see the stars. My phone vibrated.

I’ll come pick you up, okay?

Okay. See you soon.

I closed my eyes and tried to breathe evenly.

——-

The humid spring air drags at my skin, tugging at my fingers when I stick my hand out the open window and let it ride the pressure of the wind. Dean’s drumming absently on the steering wheel, singing along just a little bit off-key. I turn up the volume. His grin is blinding.

“Let’s just… go somewhere,” I say impulsively, and he’s already nodding.

“Where?”

“I’ve never seen the Pacific.”

The sun is setting as we drive up State Route 1. The light catches pink and orange on the tiny ripples of distant waves, bright gold on Dean’s eyelashes, and he looks like he’s glowing when he smiles. I’m not sure I’ll ever get enough of those smiles.

We park somewhere and hop out of the car, kick off our shoes, set them on Baby’s hood and stumble hand in hand toward the shore. The loose sand is warm under our feet, shifting and sliding with each step. I almost trip, but Dean’s got me, safe and sure, tugging me back to upright with one strong hand.

I shriek when the cold surf hits my toes. The water gurgles in and hisses away, steady, endless. The hems of our jeans are soaked already, but we don’t mind.

When the last rays of sun have faded and the salty breeze starts to nip at my bare skin, Dean wraps me in his flannel and we sit on the hood of the car, sharing the last of the road snacks for our own familiar version of a picnic dinner.

I’d joked, earlier, about driving forever, but the truth is that I want to be home. I miss our bed, the soft blankets that smell like Dean, and I miss the library, and I miss Sam, and all the other mundane bits of our life together. So Dean pulls back onto the highway and we head east, and I fall asleep curled in the passenger seat, the next best thing to home.

I love waking up with Dean, the way he holds me in his sleep, pressed firmly to my back with his arm curled protectively around me, his breath tickling the nape of my neck. I take it in for a few minutes, still and silent, until he starts to stir, his thumb stroking over my collarbone and his nose nuzzling my ear. I hear the happy little noise he makes when he remembers we’re both naked, and even though I’m sore and sated from last night, I wiggle back against him, breath catching when he starts to press gentle kisses to the curve of my shoulder.

I roll over lazily, molding myself to his chest, and kiss him properly. He’s smiling against my lips. When I look at him, he’s looking back through half-closed eyes, sleepy and sweet and soft, the Dean that only I get to see. I love him, love him in a way that makes my heart swell and puts stars in my eyes and brings every other stupid cliche to life. I love him so much I can barely breathe sometimes.

Bonham jumps up on the bed by our feet, whining happily. She’s always so excited to start the day that her entire body vibrates with the wagging of her tail. She wriggles in between us, trying to give Dean his morning face-licking, and even though Dean’s grumbling and swatting at her, he’s smiling with such fondness that I giggle.

“For someone who swore he’d never have a dog…” I start, but Bonham lunges at my face instead while Dean laughs.

“Okay, Bonnie, let’s go,” he says, trying his best to sound annoyed. Bonham waits by the door, ears raised, while Dean fumbles with his pants. I admire the muscles in his shoulders as he pulls on a shirt, half-tempted to drag him back into bed and map the freckles with my tongue.

Sam’s got my favorite mug waiting by the time I shuffle into the kitchen, and there’s a fresh pot of coffee, still steaming hot. Cup in hand, I move through the familiar steps of our morning routine, filling Bonham’s water dish and scooping food into her bowl, ducking under Sam’s arm to swipe a piece of bacon from the pile waiting on a paper towel.

When the jangling of dog tags announces Dean’s return, everything’s ready. I slide Dean’s plate across the table and he gives me a sleepy-eyed smile, already reaching for his fork.

“Love you,” he says fervently, when I pass him his coffee.

“Love you more,” I respond, and I kiss his cheek before settling down in my own chair. Sam heaves a long-suffering sigh, but he’s smiling.

“What’s the plan for the day?” Sam asks.

Dean’s too busy shoveling eggs into his mouth to talk, so I answer: “Checking out that venue I told you about. The one by the lake.”

“Can’t we just elope?” Dean says, around a mouthful, and I roll my eyes affectionately.

“Careful, one of these days I’ll get sick of making floral decisions and actually take you up on that,” I tease. Dean’s the one who wants to go traditional, always has been; if it were up to me, we’d have gotten married in the woods the day he proposed, with nobody but the birds and the stream to witness it.

Sure enough, he huffs and makes some excuse about not disappointing my mother, and Sam and I exchange a knowing look across the table.

Dean’s hand finds mine on the table. He squeezes gently, interlacing our fingers, and I pick up my coffee left-handed, reluctant to let go.

I couldn’t care less about the wedding, about flowers or catering, about whether he’ll wear a tux or his rattiest old flannel, but as far as I’m concerned, the rest of our lives can’t come soon enough.

There’s someone calling my name, I realize. It’s distant and faint, echoing, and I feel a flutter of panic in my rib cage. It’s Dean’s voice, and there’s a harsh edge of fear there that cuts through the warmth in my chest. The taste of bacon is fading, giving way to something metallic and choking. Sam and Dean’s faces are dissolving in front of me, blurring and fading, and when I try to squeeze Dean’s hand again it’s not there.

It’s just not there, and I try to hold on, try not to let it slip away, but it’s no good.

——-

Something in my arm was stinging, biting through the confusion, and I blinked down at it, registering a syringe at my feet. Dean’s face in front of me was pale and scared, but as I watched, the terror turned slowly to relief.

“Oh, thank Christ, holy fuck,” he was saying, rubbing a hand over his eyes, and he sat back, shoulders sagging.

“Do you know where you are?” Sam said gently, and I looked around. I recognized the bunker, the main room, but I realized with a sharp chill of fear that I had no memory of getting there. Part of me was still trapped in the dream, still warm and safe and comfortable, and I wanted to close my eyes and go back, bury myself in that world where everything was exactly as it should be.

“You were attacked,” Dean was saying. The heels of his hands were still pressed to his eyes like he couldn’t bear to look at me.

I scanned through a foggy series of memories, coming up with the alleyway, the sound of footsteps, and then nothing.

“By a djinn,” Sam said, and I stared at him silently.

“They feed on humans,” Dean said gruffly. “They poison you, make you see things… when I showed up to meet you, they said you hadn’t come back from your break.”

“You found me?” I asked. My voice was faint and shaking. He nodded.

My head was spinning. I fought back a sudden surge of nausea.

“Those things I saw,” I stammered. They’d seemed so real, so fucking real I would’ve sworn I could feel every callus on Dean’s fingers, and part of me was straining to hear the tip-tapping of paws and the jangle of a dog collar in the hallway.

“They’re mind readers,” Sam said matter-of-factly. “They can see what you want, more than anything, and they make you think you have it while they keep you sedated.”

I closed my eyes and choked back a sob. My cheeks were burning with embarrassment, knowing that Sam and Dean were witnessing this ridiculous display, but the tears wouldn’t stop.

They can see what you want, more than anything...

It had been a fucking hallucination, all of it, the warmth and the comfort and the dog and the ring, but it had felt so real and so right, and I squeezed my eyes shut tight and wished, more than anything, that I could fall back into that stupid domestic fantasy where I’d finally, finally, felt at peace.

The worst part? I didn’t have to ask myself what I wanted, not any more, not when the answer had played out around me, 3D and high-def and undeniable… but now that I knew, I was faced with the sickening realization that what I wanted was impossible.

That perfect blissful quiet life was nothing more than a dream. Reality was still a fucking mess.

.

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Next part is HERE. 

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If you enjoyed this, please reblog or leave a note HERE. 

[iamwhelmed]

Homesick: Chapter 8

THE FINAL CHAPTER!!!! Aside from the epilogue anyway lol I haven’t decided if I’m gonna make a sequel yet. I might, considering Red X is kind of a loose end here, but hey! Let a girl know if you guys want more! Maybe I’ll throw in some more Batfam, and we’d def get to meet BBRae’s baby :D

Summary:

Read it on AO3

Read it on Fanfiction.net

The doors to the common room slid open, and the rest of the titans turned as Starfire and Terra entered with arms full of bags. Robin smiled, Cyborg waved (“Hey, welcome back!”), Batgirl turned her entire body toward them as she leaned over the back of the couch. Raven glanced over her shoulder, one hand placed tentatively at her stomach. Her eyes, deep and tired but relieved (and at long last, happy), met Starfire’s and twinkled. Starfire smiled back.

“DUUUUDDDEE!!!” Beast Boy, who’d had Raven close enough to be practically sitting in his lap, grinned from pointy ear to pointy ear and leaped over the back and ran at Starfire. She went to greet him, but found he was grabbing her wrist and tugging her toward the couch before she could utter so much as a syllable. Starfire yelped and dropped her things, so Terra laughed and let the bags in her hands plop to the floor equally unceremoniously. Unpacking could wait. “Were you really working as a waitress? And you were good?”

When they reached the front of the couch, Beast Boy took a running head start and leaped at the seat next to Raven, who glowered at him as he hit the cushions and bounced. He grinned at her, wrapping an arm over her shoulders, not sorry, not at all. Starfire remained standing as Terra hopped over the other side of the couch to plop into the seat next to Cyborg, who gave her a welcoming fist bump. “Yes, that is true! Raven and I both took up the employment to earn our stay at the motel!” Raven visibly twitched.

“Wait wait wait,” Robin raised an eyebrow and looked at Raven, who’s expression had only soured as Beast Boy’s face lit up with peerless glee. Robin’s lopsided smirk was just as taunting, filled with curiosity and dancing with amusement. “You got a job? Doing what?”

Raven rolled her eyes. “Bookstore clerk.” Batgirl snorted.

“I have a hard time seeing you in a nametag.”

“I didn’t wear one.”

Everyone started talking. Starfire had tried to follow along, but the words melded into new topics and switched as different voices piped up and interrupted and tore civility apart. In a few seconds it was difficult to pull one conversation from another. Raven was trying to calm Beast Boy down as he pointed an accusing finger at Cyborg for-- something, Starfire wasn’t quite sure. Terra was laughing so hard she was holding her sides, falling over the side of the couch as Cyborg backed into her, away from Beast Boy. His unapologetic grin was towering over his smaller frame despite the vexation radiating off Beast Boy. Raven sat between both parties, lips in a thin, exasperated line. She was huffing and mediating but her veins were popping all the same; Starfire thought, on a shallow level, she may have wished to instead be in their quiet motel room, away from the chaos they’d once been so accustomed to.

Robin joined in egging Beast Boy on, much to the amusement of Batgirl. He leaned back into her when Beast Boy whipped around on him, and she matched Robin’s chuckle with every chiming sound. She wrapped her arms around Robin’s shoulders and she leaned over him to get a word in at Beast Boy’s jest, chest brushing against Robin’s back (Robin leaned into the embrace, seemed positively content). Beast Boy turned round and wagged a very angry, easier to scrutinize than heed, finger at her and Robin. They both laughed.

Starfire did not.

Raven’s eyes met her own after a moment, and Starfire realized that she’d probably read her, because her face, so obviously miffed from conversation, melted with sympathy. Starfire smiled and shook her head. Do not worry, she tried to tell Raven. I am just in need of time. She cleared her throat. “Friends,” the incessant arguing stopped, momentarily. She gave them her best everything is okay smile, her most convincing I am happy to be home and nothing is wrong eyes. “I am afraid I must retire to my room, as I have quite a bit of unpacking to do and I require the shower after my fight with Red X.”

“Wait, you fought Red X?” Cyborg scratched his head, exchanging a look with Robin, who’d silently cocked an eyebrow. “I thought y’all said he helped you?”

“He did,” Raven’s voice was its usual monotone, and she could tell the boys were settled by its familiar drone. It’d been awhile since they’d heard it, awhile since she’d been there to offer her calmer two-cents. “But not before straddling Starfire to the moistest part of the dock.” She shrugged, like what she said hadn’t phased her, but the downturn of her lips and the twitch in her eye said she was still peeved about the night before. Was it because she hadn’t been able to help? Was it because Red X had gotten the drop on them at all? Starfire wasn’t sure, but she nervously waved Raven’s boiling mood off.

Robin, however, was a larger handful.

“He WHAT?” Batgirl had climbed off of Robin’s back and pressed herself to the couch, concerned that touching him would give her third degree burns. Steam was boiling from his ears as his skin flared red. He was grinding his teeth, fingers clenching and unclenching, itching to punch a bad-guy that wasn’t actually there. He seemed to compose himself for a moment, steam simmering to a light cloud, though his skin remained a furious shade. “When you say straddled, you mean--?”

Raven raised an eyebrow, some part of her, the part that’d bonded like a schoolgirl with Starfire in their three months away, rejoiced, amused at the reaction. For a guy who’d knocked boots with another woman, he was awfully put-off. May as well test those boiling waters. “I mean that by the time I came back, I couldn’t tell if he was trying to fight her or--”

“WHOA!” Beast Boy put his hands up in defense, chuckling despite the anxious white of his eyes and the stress of his smile. “Let’s keep this PG-13, don’t want another baby on our hands, do we?” He placed the hand, the one that wasn’t already around Raven’s shoulders, where their child was, looking almost reverently at the small bump hiding under her loose-fitting maternity shirt.

Raven snorted.

Starfire tried, she really did, to fight the heat that was rising from her stomach to her eyeballs, but her face felt hot enough to scorch the very sun her power came from. She covered it with both her hands. “I am sorry! I must be going immediately!” She zoomed out of the common room, flying so fast that they’d all hardly realized she’d left. Robin’s head whipped around, following her, any trace of the boiling rage that had begun to seethe, resting to a dull gas.

Raven frowned. She’d gotten ahead of herself, let the other factors of her situation (their situation) go unresolved. Her problems had been reconciled-- most of them, anyway, not including the gender, the name, the baby shower, and the funds to raise her baby-- but Starfire’s weren’t. She’d still been cheated on, which would have been heartbreaking enough in a normal relationship, but living in close quarters with him, having to follow his every command in the heat of battle… that was going to be tough.

"Do you think he did?"

"...I do not think so, and I am starting to fear that I am correct."

Even without her abilities as an empath, she could feel that absolute loss, the ripping of a soul in two, because somebody she’d trusted-- with her heart, with her time, with her affection-- he’d betrayed her. And she was going to come home because she had no other excuse to stay away, not without her, not without their symbiotic turmoil. She’d been so relieved, so unequivocally happy that Beast Boy had sworn himself to her, that he wanted to raise their child together, that he wanted to be her partner and a parent and remain her lover-- she’d simply forgotten why she’d had company in her state of pandemonium in the first place. What a bad companion she was. Raven sighed and pressed her small hand to Beast Boy’s, squeezing his fingers reassuringly before pulling it from her swelling stomach. He blinked, not rejecting the behavior, but confused by it. “Rae?”

“I’m gonna go talk to her.”

“No.”

Robin, who had already pulled himself over the back of the couch, who had already set a clear path to the common room door, waved one commanding hand in her direction. It was the sign he used on a mission, the sign that said stand down, that’s an order. It demanded compliance, which Robin rarely stooped to when they weren’t on a battlefield. Though, Raven mused, maybe he felt like he was. His gait was stiff, military, and that aura could tower over nearly any enemy, despite his physical height. Terra shifted uncomfortably at the change in demeanor, and Batgirl winced almost knowingly. Cyborg and Beast Boy were unperturbed, though curious, and exchanged glances the way silenced students traded notes.

Had she not been an empath, she might have been just as lost. But Raven could read him, and though he’d need efforts that would be nothing short of heroic, he was intending to see Starfire as her boyfriend, not her leader. He exited the room with a mumble under his breath. “She and I have a lot of talking to do…”

Starfire ran her hands through her hair, untangling it as she went through each tuft. She hadn’t done it in awhile, taken his fingers to it instead of a brush. It was calming, feeling each silky strand pass between the creases of her palm like feathers. She could close her eyes, focus on the small knots and tangles, feel the release of each one with just a little bit of force from her hand. People didn’t bend that way, she wished she could make herself bend that way. It would be easier to force her feelings aside, push them so deep down that the weight of everything else she buried it under would make it snap, make it go away. She wished the right decision was easier to make, but then there would be no point. She was a hero, and heros did the right thing. She vaguely remembered asking (“Must we always be heroes?”), and she saw now that he’d been right, that the right thing, the hero thing, was engraved in her, and she could never really part with it.

“So, are you ready to talk?”

She’d only somewhat registered the door to her bedroom sliding open, but the voice shook her from her stupor much quicker. She didn’t turn to him. Instead, she continued to watch the rising sun as it set on the early hours of Jump City. Her foggy mind told her she should go to sleep, that she usually rose with the sun, that she didn’t usually fall as it went up. The rest of her body, though, it was too wired, alive with emotion, some good and some less kind, to fall asleep. She breathed in, then she breathed out. “Robin…”

The door shut, but she had a feeling he hadn’t left. A few moments later, she heard his footsteps approaching, so she said something. “I apologise for leaving without saying anything.”

It worked. He paused. “You really had me worried.”

“The letter Raven left told you we would return, did it not?”

“That doesn’t stop me from worrying.” He took a few more steps forward, until he was standing at the other side of her bed. She closed her eyes, hoped she wouldn’t feel his weight shift beside her where she sat, because she could not take it, could not take seeing him. Not when this was happening, not when she was fighting herself.

“Robin, do you know why I left with Raven?”

He was quiet, he was contemplating. She usually loved to watch him process, watch the wheels turn as the best detective she’d ever known worked, but not today. Maybe not for a long time. “Not certain. I was hoping you could tell me, but I had a couple theories.”

“Which were?”

“You’re the only other girl on the team, and you guys are pretty close. Pregnancy is a scary thing to go alone.”

There was a silence, reflecting, warm “....Partly.”

Robin shrugged that off and continued. “There was a Tamaranian threat of some kind? Something only Raven could help you with?” She shook her head. Robin laughed, not confidently-- nervously. “Yeah, you’re right, that was a bad one. Um,” he was skimming passed his mind’s folder of theories, she could practically see the manila folder in his hands as he scanned her profile. “You’re… pregnant… too?”

Starfire sucked her teeth, but otherwise refused to dignify him with a response. They hadn’t even participated in such an act together, how would she have been with child? No, he clearly didn’t mean that. He was joking, trying to lighten the mood. Her nose scrunched, but she took another deep breath and released it. She wasn’t here to start a fight, she was here to do what was right for Robin, and for her.

“Starfire--?”

“I understand that you have a special relationship with Batgirl, do you not?”

He seemed to choke, but he answered. “Uh, y-yeah, she’s--uh, she’s family.”

“I was not aware that family on Earth slept with so little garments.”

There came a fracture to the air. She’d taken the first chunk of ice with a pick, and it could only collapse from here. She’d be better for it afterwards, they both would. Even if it felt like that pick was taking pieces of her heart with it. “Uh, Starfire?”

“I am not mad at you, Robin… not anymore.” She began to fiddle with her fingers, letting them twist, letting them grace each other. They were still bruised, still a little red, but she could feel them again. They’d heal. “I am sorry, I should have said this sooner, but I did not have the confidence before.” She could feel her voice getting stronger. Less girl, more Tamaranian Princess. She could hide behind that wall for now. It would crumble when the deed was done, and she could mourn her loss in silence, in her solitary room. She had to hold on until then, press on, push just a little further past it--

“Starfire?” He got closer to her, was coming around the end of the bed, she could hear him. He didn’t sound nervous, no, she’d heard Robin nervous when they’d crashed on that planet, heard him desperate when they’d fallen through together, but this was something different, and she could not place it.

“I love you,” she breathed it, let it break passed the doors and fall into the open, like a wave of fresh air filled her lungs, like a weight she’d had on her chest had been lifted. It was the first time she’d said that, that either of them had said it to each other. She’d thought the implication had been enough, but it had not been, and now Robin stood frozen at her side. She kept her eyes on the sunrise, kept her fingers intermingling because if she stopped moving all at once she was sure she would die. She loved him. She loved him loved him loved him truly. And that would have to be enough. “And Robin, that is why I am letting you go.”

That seemed to thaw him, though his feet remained firmly where they were, no closer, no farther. “W-what? Starfire, what are you talking about? I don’t want you to let me go.” He reached a hand for her, but she turned away, so he retracted it. That tone was back, the tone from before, but it was far more present, persistent. It broke her heart to hear, and she couldn’t place why. “Starfire, please, tell me what’s going on. What is all of this about?”

“It is about what is right, Robin. You once told me that marrying my betrothed was not right for me. And Robin? I fear I am not right for you…”

“What? Where is this coming from? Why are you acting like you’re--youre--?”

“Doing the breaking up with you?” She looked at him then, met his eyes for the first time. He flinched. His eyes widened behind his mask, his fingers twitched uselessly at his sides, and he stuttered.

“Are you?”

She looked at her lap again. “Truthfully, I felt betrayed to find another woman in your bed, before you and I could even culminate the benefits of a romantic relationship. But she is not the evil witch of the wickedness that I thought she was. Batgirl is kind and beautiful and you are so comfortable around her and--!” She stopped herself. She could hear Raven’s voice in the back of her mind. You’re ranting. She breathed in, and breathed out. “I see the way you look at her. It is the way those who have mated look at each other on my home planet. It communicates a lifetime of perseverance and of companionship, but most of all, it communicates inimitable affection.” She shook her head, shut her eyes, tried to keep the stinging sensation at bay. Just a few moments longer. Her hands clenched painfully together in her lap. “Robin, I will not stand in your way if she is the one you truly desire.”

The bed bounced, and she could tell he’d taken a seat beside her. “Who I desire, huh?” She closed her eyes, imagining the pressure of his lips on hers, remembering the way he’d smiled at her and offered her a hand to dance at Kitten’s prom, remembering his arms around her as they braced for Raven’s destiny to swallow her whole, remembering seeing him alive and well and standing atop that hill with that grin she held so dear to her heart. She remembered all of it, let the good memories wash over her one last time before they became bittersweet to look upon. But it was okay, he would be happier after this. No more training sessions that turn into playful kisses on the workout mat. No more glances at each other that the others missed. No more fingers intertwining, no more of his gentle caresses and his adorably awkward date proposals or even his more confident, friendlier offers to grab some pizza and see a movie. She wouldn’t get to lace herself to his arm and hold him close anymore, and he wouldn’t smile knowingly at her when she squeezed. Her fingers knotted uncomfortably in her jeans, pinching her skin beneath. This was for the best, this was for Robin. She nearly missed what he said when he finally spoke.

“She was hurt.” His voice was neutral, betrayed nothing about what he was feeling, though she had many guesses, only a few of which she hoped for. The rest were closer to reality (relief, guilt, happiness), so she buried that hope under caution. Starfire nodded for him to go on. “She’d gotten into some trouble. Knew I was in town. Came to me for help in the dead of night. It’s how my family operates.” She chanced a glance at him, but his eyes were on the sunrise, hands splayed behind him as he shifted to sit at a slant, looking more relaxed than she’d seen him since Slade was defeated (for good). His face betrayed no emotion, and she cursed that mask, not for the first time. “I told her to let me grab Cyborg, but she didn’t wanna wake him. Told me I was more than capable of patching her up, and she was right. I don’t think she intended to stick around for as long as she did.” He paused, then raised an eyebrow at her, tilting his head just enough for her to see his incredulous face. She frowned. “I think she’s stayed here to keep an eye on me, since you went missing and all.”

“Robin--”

His eyes met hers, set, serious, the way he was as a leader, but there was affection there, the kind she remembered seeing so many different times (when they were stranded, Tokyo, when he’d propped open her chrysalis). “I’m not gonna lie to you, Batgirl--” He stopped, seemingly contemplating what he would say next before deciding the risk was worth it. “Barbara and I, we had something in the past, but that’s all it is. The past.” He moved closer, eyes narrowing, one hand gripping her forearm, gently, where it sat between them. She wanted to gasp, but no sound came out when their eyes met again. That was not Leader Robin, that was Boyfriend Robin, Love of her Life Robin, and he had set that steely determination, that unwavering tenacity on her, on getting what he was saying through to her.

Her heart flipped in her chest, unwarranted. Without her permission. He only grew closer. “Nothing happened between her and I. I patched her up and gave her a shirt to sleep in. We’re family, I didn’t think anything of it.” He sighed and shook his head. “Had I known you would, though… Starfire,” he brought one hand up to her cheek, caressed it in his hand. She leaned into it, hoped its comfort would alleviate the tears she could feel starting at the corners of her eyes. Robin exhaled, and she could hear fear, fear she now suspected was of losing her. “I’m so sorry. I never would have let you leave if I’d known this was why.” She smiled at him, and he brushed his thumb against the corner of her eye where a single tear had begun collecting. He smiled back, and she wondered how, in the half a sun’s rotation she’d been back with him, she hadn’t noticed the fondness and worship with which he looked at her. She almost felt like a fool. Three months of wasted time, feeling torn apart by an affair that had never transpired. She leaned even further into his touch, and she heard him stifle a laugh.

“So, you did not have the intercourse with Batgirl?”

“What?”

The warm hand was gone, and she blinked as Robin threw himself against the foot of her bed, eyes wide, face quickly gaining the same complexion as the red of his suit. His hands moved wildly, unsure what to do or what gestures to make. “That’s what you--? Starfire! You really thought I--? That she and I--?” Starfire pouted, and steam blew from his ears for a very different reason this time. He ran a hand over his face. “God, no Star, nothing like that happened.”

“You did not kiss her?”

“No.”

“And you did not partake in the romantic form of bodily contact that is cuddling?”

“Okay, that I can’t say didn’t happen, but it wasn’t romantic--!”

“And you do not wish to leave me for Batgirl or Barbara, whatever her name may be?”

Robin clasped both her hands between his, dopey smile inching across his face. “Not on your life, Starfire.” That did it. The tears started falling, and Starfire reached her hands up to wipe them away, but Robin got to them faster, pressing his thumbs and palms to each drop before it had the chance to fall. She sobbed, and he brought her head into his chest, running a hand through her hair.

“I tried to do the right thing!”

“I know…”

“I tried to let you go, but I cannot!”

“Starfire, you’ll never have to…” He cupped her jaw in his hand and tugged, lightly, enough to draw her teary eyes from his shoulder so she could see him, see his face. His brows furrowed above his heavy-lidded stare, she could see in the narrow of his mask. Her eyes mirrored his despite the puffiness and the streaks coloring her skin, already aflame. He drew her closer, still. “Nobody is going to take me away from you, history or no.”

“Do you promise?”

His voice lowered the way that sent tingles running down her spine and lit her stomach on fire, the way she’d felt many times when he’d kiss the skin before her ear, when his hands would trail somewhere new. That baritone he so rarely used set her nerves fraying without so much as a touch, and he was using it to say: “I swear to you.” He kissed her, in a way so different from how he usually would. The sweet nervous nature he’d usually graze her lips with was gone in favor of something he hadn’t turned loose on her before now-- passion. Desperation. Adoration. She pressed back cautiously at first before he leaned forward. She obliged.

When they came away for a moment, they came right back together again, hotter than before, needing. His hand, she didn’t even know when he’d set it there, it squeezed at her hip and tugged her thighs closer to his, and she wrapped her arms round his neck, parting her lips to grant him entry, and he took it with the thirst of a parched man. His lips melded slowly with hers, but hard. He bit her lip, and she gasped. Robin’s other hand fell from her jaw to run up and down her side, nimble fingers exploring the curve of her waist before he slipped them under her shirt. He only touched the skin that would have been exposed had she been in her uniform, but it was enough to make her shiver. He leaned forward, and she followed until her back was pressed against the mattress and he was bent over her with one hand in her hair. Three months, three months she had been away, and as he grabbed one of her legs and tucked it behind his hip, brushing against her so deliberately that it made her gasp and toss her head back, she knew Robin intended to show her just how much he’d missed her and that lost time. “Besides…” She batted her eyelashes at him, and he gave her that boyish, cocky grin that only he had, that only he could give. There was something dangerous there, behind his mask, a fire she’d never seen before, and it burned the churning wheel in her stomach like little else. “If I’d been with anybody, you woulda heard her…” Her face turned several shades of red.

[katiekitty261]

Extraordinary (Part Two) Young!Michael LangdonXFem!Reader

Here it is, the anticipated second part of Extraordinary. The smut where Michael becomes the Daddy we all know and love. Seriously. This is def less ‘sweet’ Michael, but g o d d a m n 

I hope you all enjoy this. I took a while to write it because I wanted to try and get the transition Michael has from softboy to the dad we know and love. 

(I stared at this gif for like 15 minutes while I was writing this, honestly, I'm fucking gone. the way he looks down oh my)  (gif cred to owner) 

Warnings- SMUT. SMUT. INTENSE SMUT. Fluff too, Dominate Michael is born. 

Word count- 3,000+

“Great job Michael. Everyone else, please follow his lead.” The instructor for this lesson spoke with a stern look.

The other boys looked annoyed. For good reason, Michael was the best. Michael smiled innocently at the others. You wouldn’t expect when you looked at that beautiful being that he was probably one of the strongest warlocks here, but he was Michael Langdon after all.

I sat in the back of the room, my hand propped up my chin as I watched the class.

“That looks fun…” I sighed to myself. I stared into the crowd of warlocks, performing various incantations and spells. all dressed in those outfits that made them look like they were in the most elite private school for boys ever. Well, they were.

It made me laugh sometimes. When I first met Michael, I would have never guessed this is where he would’ve ended up. From t-shirts and ripped jeans to smooth black suits and crisp white dress shirts. The way he styled his hair in the morning, making the soft curls sit perfectly on his head was a mouthwatering sight to watch.

My fingers ached to touch him constantly. I wanted to run my fingers through that perfect golden hair, slide them down his impossibly soft skin. It was a sin for someone to be that beautiful, I was sure of it. Watching him show off in class was the icing on the cake. The way he dominated a room made me want to get on my knees in front of everyone and let him take me right there.

I practically choked on my own tongue when Michael’s mischievous eyes met mine across the room as soon as that thought crossed my mind. He smiled at me like absolutely nothing was wrong and turned his attention back to the others. I placed a hand on my chest desperately trying to slow the beat of my heart.

I liked to imagine Michael wasn’t aware of how badly I wanted him. How badly I needed him. His actions showed otherwise. I felt my breath hitch every time he touched me. Soon, every kiss was full of neediness as I desperately wanted to feel all of him. He loved to tease me. Absolutely taking pleasure in watching me squirm. His air of confidence was intoxicating. If I thought he was attractive before, he was like walking angel to me now. I got chills every time I heard the heels of his shoes click against the floor when he entered a room. Every smile and smirk sent my brain into a whirlwind.

“When are you going to fuck him already? Hearing what’s going on in your thoughts is going to make me explode girl.” 

I had to hold my hand over my mouth to keep myself from spitting out my drink. “You can hear my thoughts?” I asked the boy, he sighed. “We’re warlocks, sweetheart. We can do a lot of things. I’m not the only one too. I guarantee he can hear them too.”

I could feel my face burn in embarrassment. How could I have not imagined this? A bunch of curious warlocks dipping into my thoughts whenever they pleased. I covered my face with my hands.

“Fuck.”

“Exactly, Fuck him. You could cut the sexual tension between you two with a knife.” He patted my shoulder and smiled at me, getting up from the table and walking off, leaving me alone.

For the moment, Michael was doing private sessions with the leaders of the school. A test, he had explained to me. To see exactly how powerful he was. It was the only time I spent without him.

You’d think spending 24 hours a day with someone would get suffocating, but I never felt that way with Michael. I was anxious maybe he felt that way but assured me he never did.

“If anyone else is reading my mind, please fuck off” I stated in my head matter of factly, keeping my eyes trained on all the other boys in the room. A few snickered, another grouped looked embarrassed.

I stood up from the table intent on making my way to the library. Reading books was the only way I was able to learn anything close to what everyone else got to learn. It made me feel a little better about it being here.

I made my way down the candlelit corridors, tracing my hand against the cold wall as I passed them. Everyone was either busy with class or with training, so it was unusually quiet.

“Look at you little lady, all alone for once…” I heard a voice in the shadows, making me stop in my tracks.

“Who’s there?” I stood still. I didn’t recognize the voice, and I had met almost everyone here. An uneasy feeling settled in my stomach.

“You know how much better it was before your little boyfriend got here?” A man stood in front of me. He was stocky, a stern expression on his face as he stared me down.

“What does that have to do with anything?” I said, taking a step back from him. He simply stepped forward again.

“Before he got here… I was one of the best. Now they barely even pay attention to me. Treat me like some average warlock.” He seethed.

“Maybe you are.”

He growled at me, backing me into the wall.

“What did you say to me, little girl?”

“I said, maybe you are. It isn’t Michael’s fault he’s more powerful than you.” I stated, crossing my arms across my chest.

He scoffed, rolling his eyes as he stared down at me.

“You have no idea who you’re speaking too.”

“And I don’t care to know,” I said, I tried to push him away so I could leave.

“You’re not going anywhere.” He grabbed my arm with a bruising force, I whimpered and tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let go.

“Get off me!” I said, he smiled a sickly smile and strengthened his grip on my arm.

“I can’t hurt him, But I sure as hell can hurt you. Stupid Bitch” He began to pull me down the hallway, I tried to hit him, but with the way he was dragging me put me in an awkward position, I could barely reach him.

“Get the fuck off of me!” I yelled, he laughed.

“Who’s going to help you? You’re all alone…” He leaned uncomfortably close to me, his chapped lips a millimeter away from my own as I struggled against him his disgusting breath fanned over my face.

In less than a second, his grip on my arm was lost and I collapsed to my knees. The man who had me in his grip was slammed against the wall with bone-breaking force.

Michael stood at the end of the hallway, looking angrier than I had ever seen him.

“Michael…” I breathed, he was at my side in the blink of an eye. Leaning over me protectively.

“You’re ok… You’re ok now…” he said calmly, rubbing a hand down my back. I glanced up at him, and then looked at the man who had tried to attack me.

He looked like he was in agony, every muscle in his body contracted and he tried to scream out in pain but nothing came out of his mouth.

Michael stood up so he was eye level with him, his eyes burning into him, but he looked eerily calm. His hands folded behind his back casually.

“I would kill you right here, but I’d rather watch you suffer.” His voice was dark. He started to raise his hand, but I grabbed his sleeve before he could.

“Stop Michael.” He looked down on me with a confused expression.

“You’ll get in too much trouble. Let him go.” I said, Michael stared at me for a moment and sighed.

He waved his hand again and the man fell to the ground in a heap. He was breathing hard, I hadn’t seen anyone look so scared.

“You’re a freak…” He spit out at Michael. Standing up and walking away as fast as he could in the opposite direction.

I tightened my grip on his sleeve and he kneeled down next to me, carefully taking my arm gently in his hands as he inspected the bruise forming on my arm where that guy had held me.

“I should’ve killed him. He deserved way more than he got for touching you…” I shook my head and placed my hand on his face, making him look up at me.

“He’ll get what’s coming to him… You don’t need to get in any trouble for it.” I stroked his cheek with my thumb, and he cupped my hand with his and sighed.

“I’m sorry my love…It’s my fault you got hurt...” He pulled me into a hug. I breathed in his scent, instantly feeling the anxiety leave me as he held me.

“It’s not your fault… it’s that gross dick’s fault. Jealousy is a bitch.” He smiled at me, placing a finger under my chin and pressing his lips against mine.

He brought his lips to my ear, “No one is allowed to touch you except me.”

“Michael please… you-you can't say things like that…” I said pulling away, I could feel that my face was already on fire.

“Like what my love?” He said innocently, a sweet smile graced his lips. I shook my head and put my hand on his chest. “You’re a bastard you know that?” He laughed and pulled me into another kiss, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me up so we were standing.

“Your patience will be rewarded.” He pressed another kiss to my forehead. I could feel tingles spread throughout my body at his words. This man really was going to be the end of me.

____________________________________________________________________________

I stepped out of the steaming shower and breathed in the cold air. After drying off, I wrapped a towel securely around myself and quietly stepped into our room. Normally I took my clothes inside the bathroom with me, but tonight I was feeling like I wanted to give Michael a taste of what he made me go through every day, even if he wasn’t doing it intentionally (He was).

Michael was engrossed in whatever he was doing as he sat at the desk, his back facing me. I bit my lip as I held the towel close to my chest, making my way to the dresser which was conveniently right next to where he was sitting. I hadn’t done anything like this before, and I could feel my nerves build inside me as I slowly took steps toward him. He had changed in front of me more than a few times, but he was never fully naked. The way his boxers hung dangerously low on his hips didn’t leave much to the imagination though. I tried to calm my own nerves as I rifled through the clothes, keeping my eyes on the drawer and definitely not peeking at Michael. He was sitting completely still. His grip on the pencil he was holding was tight.

I grabbed a t-shirt and a pair of panties out of the drawer and slid it closed. Part of me wanted to change right there, drop the towel and see if he noticed me, the other half wanted to run back into the bathroom. I didn’t get to make that decision though.

Michael spun around in his chair so he was facing me. A brilliant smile on his face as his eyes skimmed my towel-clad body. I felt caught in the moment, my breath stuck in my throat as his blue eyes studied me like I was a piece of renaissance art. I wanted to say something, anything, but I couldn’t form any words.

His eyes slowly met mine, and in a single breath I was pressed up against the wall, he held my hands above my head so the towel fell to my feet. “Is this what you wanted?” he breathed into my ear, pressing his fully clothed body against my naked one. I could feel his hardness press against me through the fabric and it was making me weak at the knees. He pressed his perfect lips to mine, kissing me generously. His hands let go of my own and tangled his fingers into my hair, kissing me deeper. I let out a little moan as his tongue met mine. I pressed myself against him harder, begging to feel him against me. I wrapped my hands around his neck and kissed him eagerly, gripping his hair as he pressed hot kisses to my neck and my collarbone.

“Michael…” I moaned his name, he sucked on my sensitive skin in response. I needed him. I needed to feel his skin against mine more than I needed air. I gripped the edges of his jacket and slipped it off his shoulders, holding the fabric of the sweater he wore underneath of it with my fist.

“Why does your uniform have to include so many layers…” I said in frustration, he pulled away from me and laughed. He grabbed me by the waist and hooked my legs around him, I squeaked when I felt him press against me, his bulge perfectly positioned at my unclothed entrance. He carried me over to the bed and dropped me on to it. Standing at the end of the bed, my eyes never left his body as he pulled at the bow on his neck, letting the ribbon fall to the floor. Soon followed by the sweater, leaving him in his white button-up and black slacks.

I kept my eyes trained on him as he expertly unbuttoned each button, sliding off the shirt revealing his smooth skin that glowed in the light of the fireplace. When he got to his belt, I couldn’t help but imagine all the things I wanted him to do with it. He smirked at me as he slipped it off and dropped it to the ground.

“Naughty girl are we?” He purred, raising an eyebrow at me. His eyes raked over me again, licking his lips deliciously as he unbuttoned his pants, sliding them down his legs. I could barely keep my thoughts straight when I saw how big the bulge in his boxers really was.

Could this man get any more perfect?

I yelped in surprise as he was suddenly on top of me. He placed kisses all along my skin. Starting from my lips, he worked his way down to my neck, my collar bone and stopped at my breasts. Taking a nipple in his mouth, I arched my back into him. I felt him laugh as he brought his hand up to my other one, kneading it in his hand as he sucked. I could barely contain myself and he wasn’t even fucking me yet. He began to kiss me again, dragging his lips slowly down my stomach, his fingers trailing my sides tickling the sensitive skin.

“You’re so fucking beautiful…” He ran his hands down my hips as he spoke, he slid his fingers against my soaking cunt, dragging them against the folds until they pressed against my clit. I bit out a moan as he touched me, sending a wave of pleasure through my whole body.

“I know what you think about every night…” He whispered just loud enough for me to hear, “When I press up against you when you think I'm sleeping…” He purred again, his hot breath against my naked skin.

He slid two fingers inside me, curling them ever so slightly, but just enough to press against the spot inside me that made me cry out in pleasure. “Mm, that’s right.” He said pressing his tongue against my sensitive clit with his fingers still inside me. “Michael…” I moaned, my fingers found his hair he swirled his tongue expertly around my clit, he seemed to enjoy it when I tugged at his hair.

I couldn’t hold myself back as he slid his fingers in and out of me, hitting that spot over and over, I couldn’t catch a breath. Just as I felt myself tip over the edge, He pulled away from me.

“Michael…” I moaned at the loss of contact, I was so close.

“I want you to cum around my cock…” He smirked, I could feel my heartbeat in my toes at this point. I had never heard him talk like that, but I liked it.

He stepped away from me again, pulling his boxers so he was finally standing in front of me fully naked. His cock was mouth watering. I wanted to stroke him, feel it pulse in my hands as I stroked it.

“Another time, my love…” He said in response to my thoughts, draping himself over me again, pressing a deep kiss to my lips.

Finally feeling his bare skin press against my own was heaven. He pressed his cock against my clit, sliding it down until it was right at my entrance. The stretch I felt from his fingers did nothing to prepare me for what I was feeling now. His cock slowly slid inside me, I dug my nails into his back as I felt the pain of him fully stretching me out. I gasped as his cock was fully inside of me, there was no feeling like it. The pain subsided and was quickly replaced by pleasure as he started to move, slowly drawing out his cock and back in.

“Michael…” I moaned out his name, “Louder (Y/N),” He commanded me, “I want them to hear you. I want them to know who you belong to,” He slammed inside me as he spoke, making me scream his name in response. All embarrassment I would’ve felt was erased by the ecstasy I was feeling with Michaels cock buried inside me.

“Good girl…” his wrapped his arms around me and pulled me up so I was sitting on his thighs with his cock still inside me. His hands gripped my hips as he fucked me, his cock filling me and pressing against my insides with each thrust. I wrapped my hands around his neck and arched my back, every thrust sending a wave of pleasure through me. Even though I was technically on top of him, he had full control over me.

“I fucking love you so much, Michael…” I moaned out, he pressed a greedy kiss to my lips and lifted me up again so I was on my back and he was on top of me again. “I’m all yours…” He breathed out, sliding back inside of me slowly. I felt myself clench around his cock, he began to fuck me at a faster pace. His cock sliding in and out of me at an impossible speed, I couldn't hold it anymore and I felt myself unravel around his cock. “Michael!” I moaned as I came, he wasn’t far behind. With a few more hard thrusts, he leaned down and captured my lips in his as I felt him cum inside me. I reveled in the feeling of him spilling inside of me, his cock pulsing.

“You’re a god, Michael…” I said as he collapsed next to me, my body still reeling from his touch.

“Not quite.” He said with a smirk, pulling me into his arms.

I laid against his chest feeling satisfied and comforted at the same time. He pressed a kiss to my hair, his hands slowly rubbing my back as we laid together.

“Are you happy my love?” He asked. I laughed and nodded, meeting his eyes I smiled at him.

“Infinitely.”

___________________________________

Oh boy. I hope you guys enjoyed this. It took me a while to figure out what I was going to write, but then I saw a request in my inbox for a protective young Michael and this was born. I think I captured his transition into that stunningly sexy Michael we all know in love well. 

Please like, reblog and comment as much as your heart desires <3 

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