#and now that they’re back in season and i can keep a whole drawer of them in the fridge and they’re so fucking crisp and juicy and tasty….MM

[goblinbabe666]

there really is something to be said about eating an entire raw tomato standing over the sink. just absolutely ham-fisting that shit into my face hole. juice running down my chin and hands. i am primal and i am free.

[writingsfromhome]

School Photos

A/N: just a quick fluff one-shot to get me back online. happy August and fellow Leo season.

————————————————

“Please!” He begs for the umpteenth time. “Just one picture! I just wanna see one!”

“No! Mum look at me, all albums will be burned if you show anything.”

My family chuckles at my persistence but I was serious. Bringing home my uni boyfriend was going good so far. The only thing I had to avoid was him seeing pictures of me as a child.

“She had braces, even had to wear the headgear sometimes.” My brother teases.

“Shut up!” I glare.

“Yeah and she was obsessed with dolphins so anything she wore had them. And if they didn’t—mom didn’t she have these pictures you ironed on for her.”

“Oh!” Mom gasps. “I remember! The patches, the dolphin patches she bought from that one store um-“

“Remember when she wanted a mole so bad like Aunt Jess that she drew one on.”

“No way, I need to see the proof.” Harry grins, taking in my humiliation like a chilled glass of wine.

“She did it the whole summer until I told her it looked like shit on her face.” My brother says. “It was a kindness now that she looks back right yn?”

“Oh aren’t you Mother Teressa.” I mock. I didn’t want Harry to see me like this either—bothered and acting childish with my brothers but I had to pick and choose my battles here.

“Ok lay off her now boys, let us enjoy the pie your mum made.” My dad swoops to my rescue and I give him an appreciative smile.

“Daddy’s girl.” My brother mutters. Mom scolds him but she’s biting back a laugh. Ugh my family was infuriating.

Since we’d arrived late, right before dinner, Harry hadn’t seen my childhood bedroom so once we’re done around the table we head upstairs.

In between dinner and dessert I’d rushed up with an excuse for the loo and made sure to hide any evidence of my face between the ages of 5-16 in my room.

Now, I give Harry a tour of my childhood bedroom.

“I can imagine you sitting here sketching,” Harry brushes his hand along the oak desk dad had built for me in year 4 and has sat against the window since.

So much of my history lived in all these objects. I was happy that Harry could see it all laid out here, know the past parts of me he couldn’t exactly meet.

Not that he needed to see physical copies of all my past parts.

“And this is my shrine to Jesse McCartney.” I open the top drawer meant for pencils and small items but instead a poster of his face was glued down and tiny trinkets laid around including the ticket from the I went to one of his performances.

“So this is your man on the side. Keeping him tucked away at home hm?” Harry tugs the drawer more to reveal all of my teenage crazy.

“I was obsessed. He’s still a very attractive man.”

“That’s weird.”

“What? That he’s attractive?”

“No, he looks nothing like me.”

“Why would he-“ I roll my eyes when I realize what he’s getting at. “Well you should be flattered you don’t look like my childhood celeb crush. That’d be creepy.”

“I think this is a little creepy.” Harry crosses his arms and leans against the table. I take him in where he stands; he felt so much bigger than my childhood bedroom.

“It’s what teenage girls do. Ask your sister I’m sure she had one of these too.”

“So you’re okay showing me this,” Harry tugs my hand. “But not any pictures of you-“

“No. That’s not happening.”

“I promise I’ll still love you.”

“They’re just embarrassing!” I whine. “I always had a phase I was going through. I don’t want you to see any of them.”

“Why?” He cups my face. “It makes you interesting! I showed you the phase where I spiked my hair every day and thought I was in a boy band.”

“Your hair didn’t even spike,” I laugh into his chest, remembering the photo I had taken a copy of with my phone. His hair had looked like he woken up and taken a chainsaw to it.

“See you’re allowed to laugh at me!”

“Nooo,” I wrap my arms around his waist. “No photos. Now subject change: we’re meeting all my friends tomorrow so what do you want to do today?”

“I can crash.” Harry says. He brushes my hair back and gives my head a kiss. “Driving for 4 hours was more tiring than I thought.”

“Okay,” I was fine with cuddling and going to bed even though it was only 9. As long as I was with Harry, everything felt fun. We’d been dating for over a year now and I loved him in a way I never loved boyfriends from the past. I think he was the real deal.

We lie on my small bed and talk until we doze off. The next morning we wake to the smell of breakfast and my parents spoil us with food and laughter.

I give Harry a tour of my hometown before we meet with my friends from school. Everyone and their partners love Harry and I can’t help but beam as he fits seamlessly into the other half of my life.

He catches my eye every now and then and the smile he gives me makes me fall in love with him all over again.

After an evening spent with family at home and another early night, Harry and I head out to go back to uni the following morning.

Goodbyes are long and multiple hugs are involved all around.

As we settle in and head back onto the motorway, Harry points to the sun visor.

“Sun in your eye?”

“No?”

“Why don’t you flip it down?”

“It’s not?” I look him over. Was he okay?

“Just flip it down yeah? In case.”

“Okay?” I slowly flip the visor down and I gasp. “How could you?”

His laughter fills the car as I stare in horror. Tucked into the mirror is a school picture of me, probably Year 6. My braces are full on while I grimace-not even smile-into the camera. I’m wearing a tie-dye dolphin shirt with dolphin clips in my hair. My hair is in plaits except one of them is already fallen out; I’d probably been rough on the playground. It’s all topped off by a silver chunky chain I’d stolen from my brother—thinking it was real silver and would make me look cool.

“It’s my favourite picture of you,” Harry plucks it off and I realize I should have nabbed it while he was laughing. “I don’t think anything can top it really.”

“Harry I beg you to give that back.”

“Nope.” Harry pops the p with joy. He tucks it into his shirt pocket.

“Harry!”

“I love you. Looking at the picture just makes me love you more.” He glances over at me and pats my thigh. “Can you smile like that for me?”

“This is so unfair!” I cross my arms and face the front. “Who betrayed me?!”

“My lips are sealed.” He was having too much fun. I would get my family to crack—dad would probably tell me. Unless it was him.

“I’m gonna go for her for Halloween.” Harry says, trying to get through my wall of silence.

“Fine.” I sit up with an idea and flick through my phone for the picture I’d been keeping. “I’ll go as him.”

I wait for Harry to look over at me and gloat when his face falls.

“You’re not supposed to have a copy of that!”

“Well. We’re even now.”

I plant a sweet kiss on his cheek, feeling better already.

“You’re so lucky I’m driving.”

“You’re lucky or I would have wrestled that photo away from you ages ago.” I say and Harry looks at me skeptically. “I grew up with brothers don’t underestimate me.”

“Fine. Fine. We’re even.” Harry agrees. “And for the record. I love you. And I love her too.”

It’s true that what he says thaws me a little, the little girl in me, but I don’t let it show right now. I just look out the window and mumble a love you too. His hand comes down on my thigh and, still looking out the window, I intertwine our fingers. He could drive me crazy but it was true for me too. As much as I laughed at his photo, I loved him and that little boy too.

“You’re never visiting my parents ever again.” I tell him.

His only response is bringing our hands to his mouth.

I melt in my seat a little.

Whatever.

[cryptidsurveys]

❄️ Wednesday, November 6th, 2024. ❄️

We got our first snow of the season!

Do you think it’s cute when you’re going down the road and see a dog with its head hanging out the window? It's cute, but I'm also like please don't jump, please don't slip, please don't fall…

Do you know what a capo is? I don't.

When was the last time you wrote down a schedule? I'm not sure. I did manage to keep up with a calendar for a few months, but I was writing things down after the fact, like a very short form diary to look back upon.

What does your favorite hair tie/accessory look like? I don't wear any accessories in my hair.

When was the last time you used a touch screen monitor? My monitor is a touch screen, but my cats use it more than I do. ;D

Do you have a favorite kind of milk? 2%, whole, etc? Almond or whole milk.

Have you ever tried Parmalat milk? No.

Are there any buttons on your keyboard that you don’t know what they’re for/never used? Yeah.

Have you ever had to take prenatal vitamins? No.

Do you have anything unusual tacked onto your walls? No. It's all pretty "normal" stuff.

Do you have a favorite drummer? I don't.

Do you like to earn your own money or do you prefer that your parents/family buy you things? I am on a disability income, but I am very close to being able to work and earn at least that much on my own. I'm thinking of applying and becoming officially employed at the animal shelter the next time there's an opening in cattery.

Have you ever heard of the man with rubber skin? That feels familiar, but I'm not sure.

Does anyone in your family play in a band? What band? No.

Why do you think a lot of girls claim to hate the color pink? Yesterday, Hannah (coworker) mentioned that she doesn't own anything pink, but she didn't outright say she hated it. It's probably just a preference thing.

Are there any symbols that have personal meaning to you? i.e: dice, a necklace, etc. What are they? Not really.

What’s the biggest spider you’ve come across? The one on the laundry room wall at the shelter was pretty big. I don't know if it was quite as big as the one that got into our house when I was a child - fear might have magnified that memory - but it was definitely not going to fit into the water dish that Riley brought out to capture it. :') (Lol, sorry to my fellow survey takers who absolutely hate spiders!)

Have you ever been bitten by anything poisonous? No.

What brand is your remote? RCA - etc. N/a.

Do you know anyone who has been knighted? I don't.

Have you ever heard of the band Goatwhore? No.

Have you ever met someone who thinks they are a rockstar because they can play Guitar Hero? No.

Which Mario game would you say is your favorite? That is, if you even like Mario? I enjoyed Mario Kart and Mario Party when I was younger, but I haven't played any of the more recent games.

Do you have one of those creepy family members that no one really talks to? I probably wouldn't use the word "creepy" to describe them, but my sibling has some serious issues, especially highlighted by the recent drama. My dad and I no longer have contact with them, but my mom still keeps in touch.

Do you have a DeviantART account? I don't.

How many quarters would you say you had on you right now? I don't have any quarters on me, but there's a stash of change under the bathroom sink that contains at least a few dollars' worth.

Have you ever seen any Bruce Lee movies? Possibly. I can't think of any off of the top of my head, though.

Ever started watching a movie, then forget why you watched it in the first place? I've stopped watching movies that didn't hold my interest, but it wasn't like I forgot why I started watching them.

When was the last time you used a hot glue gun? I don't think I've used one since I was in school.

Do you have a junk drawer? Lol pretty much all of my drawers are junk drawers.

Have you ever gotten wasted off cough/cold medicine? Not wasted, but high.

Did you know that if your baby’s gums are hurting you can rub whiskey into them to numb them? Maybe I'm wrong, but I don't think that sort of thing would fly these days…?

What’s your opinion on thoroughbred racing? It's not something I've looked into in order to have an informed opinion.

Ever watched Jerry Springer just to remind yourself that your life isn’t as messed up as theirs? I mainly watched it for entertainment purposes.

Have you ever had acne? If not, you’re so lucky. Yeah.

Have you ever been spelunking? I've never been spelunking, but I have visited Cave of the Winds and Carlsbad Caverns.

Ever walked into a facility of the opposite gender - like restrooms? Yeah. The bathrooms at the animal shelter are kind of a free-for-all because there's almost always a kitten or two being housed in at least one of them while we wait for space to clear in ISO/cattery. Sometimes a small dog, but that's less common. There's one kitten in the women's room and two in the men's room right now, and the ones in the men's room have ringworm so only management/vet techs can enter. There's a unisex bathroom at the entrance, but I don't often use that one. Oh, and they're all "single stall," so it's no big deal either way.

Ever lost your car in the parking lot? If so, did you use your car alarm to find it again? I haven't.

If you’ve ever ridden a roller coaster, which one was your favorite? I've been on a few of them.

Has there ever been a Christmas where you had to do without gifts-wise? I've never had to do without, but there have been years without gift-giving. It's just not as important or exciting to me anymore. My mom and I did exchange a few gifts last year, though.

Do you type with capital letters and proper punctuation? For the most part.

What’s so cool about Sweden? I'm probably most enamored with their forests and arctic landscapes.

What’s your favorite piece of your silverware and why? I don't really have a favorite piece of silverware.

If you’ve ever had a crush, what is the most embarrassing thing that has happened to you around him/her? Idk.

Have you ever pet a tarantula? No. I cared for them while I worked at the pet shop, but I never handled them.

Have you ever been to the Olympic Games? No.

Have you conquered any fears recently? Yeah.

If you’re in school, and have a bookbag, what does it look like? I'm not in school, but I take a light gray backpack to the shelter.

Have you ever shopped for clothes at a thrift store? If not, why is that? Plenty of times. I love thrift shopping.

Let’s say you win a trip to Australia (if you already live there, then you’ll go to Russia.), at any city of your choice. What would you like to see first and why? I don't know. I'm not all that interested in visiting Australia.

Have you ever written your own Bucket List? If you haven’t seen the movie, it’s a list of goals to accomplish before you die. Yeah. Aside from building a secure and comfortable life for myself, the main things I would like to do are visit Japan and hike either the Colorado Trail or the Appalachian Trail.

[differentkettleoffishalltogether]

Show Me [Part 1/2]

Summary: Spencer finds out his girlfriend’s a virgin. But she wants him to change that.

A/N: This is an anon request that I loved writing. This is Part 1 and I’m working on Part 2 right now! If you like this and wanna read some more of my stuff check out my Masterlist, or my series, I’m On Fire.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Mostly smut, and a lil fluff

Warnings/Includes: smut, graphic descriptions of sexual acts, oral (male receiving), fingering, slight hair pulling, please let me know if there’s anything I’ve missed!

Word count: 3k

Request: “Omg I’ve just found your account, you’re an amazing writer! If you’re taking requests, could you write something with virgin!reader and like season 13/14 Spencer?”

Read Part 2 Here

They’ve never had sex.

They’ve kissed though. They’ve kissed so much it made Spencer feel like a teenager, well what he assumed it was like to be a regular teenager.

They’d kiss everywhere they could, in his bed, in her bed, in his kitchen, in the car, in hotel rooms, one time in a supply closet at the BAU. But mostly they ended up on Spencer’s couch. The first time they did anything more than just kissing was on Spencer’s couch, it wasn’t exactly planned it just, happened.

They were making out and she was lying beneath him, there was a sort of comfort in the feeling of his weight on top of her, keeping her fixed beneath him. She’d worn a pretty short dress for their date earlier, one she knew Spencer liked, but after all of the squirming and moving it just sort of rode up.

She didn’t feel it happening but when Spencer came up for air and looked down at her, all he could see was the skirt of her dress, bunched up around her waist, and the little pink panties she had on underneath, absolutely soaking wet.

He let out a small chuckle, looking back up at her, “Have you been wet this entire time?” he smirked.

She doesn’t think too hard about it. She’s so turned on by the way he looks right now, his hooded eyes and his softly parted pink lips are so distracting that she forgets he’s never seen her like this before and she nods.

“Mmhmm” she hums, and bites her lip in anticipation of his next move.

“Can I touch you?” he asks, soft and gentle and she nods again, a little too shy to do much else.

He starts by touching her above her underwear, pushing against the cotton, moving it around between her folds with one finger. She was already moaning and writhing beneath him with that simple touch.

When he tucked a finger inside of her panties he shouldn’t have been shocked but he was. She was so wet, almost screaming in pleasure below him and he’d only grazed her clit once or twice. He thought she might combust when he sunk just one finger into her and she was so tight and clenched around the digit. Squirming even when he was motionless inside of her.

It wouldn’t have taken long to actually make her cum, that was obvious. But he was having so much fun with it that he decided to drag this out for as long as he could. Bringing her to the edge over and over until she was literally begging him for release. By the end of it she was completely spent, her arousal coating her thighs, his hands, and a little of the couch. He took off her panties and stashed them in his pocket and she really wished she didn’t find that quite as hot as she did.

He doesn’t want to test her limits again right away, he wants her to come to him when she's ready. But it doesn’t happen again for a while. They go back to their usual dance, making out like teenagers, sometimes for hours until the point when one of them has to leave, or sleep, or they’re both called away on a case.

It’s not until a whole month has passed that things change again.

Y/N sneaks into Spencer’s room one night while they’re out on a case. He’s a little shocked to see her but he’s happy none the less. What’s shocking him more than anything is the skimpy little nightdress she’s got on, and how more notably it seems like she’s not wearing a bra underneath it.

“What are you doing?” he asks when he opens the door to her, and what he wants to say is ‘you can’t be out in the halls looking like this’, and what he really means by that is, ‘you can’t be in my room looking like this because I’ll never recover’.

“Can I come in?” she asks softly, and almost a little worried, so he steps aside to let her in.

They sit on the edge of his bed, her posture is rigid as she sits, and she takes in a deep breath before she speaks again.

“Do you like the way that I look?” she asks, tentative, and his heart just about breaks. Of course he did. He had since the second he laid eyes on her.

“Yes, oh my god. You’re the prettiest girl I think I’ve ever seen?” he rushes out, his hand reaching out to touch her bare shoulder in a comforting gesture. But she doesn’t look relieved or satisfied by the admission.

“But do you—�� she braces herself, “do you think I'm sexy?”

He’s got no idea what’s happening, if she didn’t look so serious he’d think this was some kind of joke. “Are you serious?” he gasps, “Are you kidding me?” he hops off the bed and sinks to his knees in front of her.

“I don’t know how I got so lucky. You’re the prettiest, sexiest, woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.” he tries to reassure, placing his hands on her knees and looking up at her.

“Then why don’t we—” she’s not even sure what she’s trying to ask, “Why do we only kiss? Don’t you want to...” she trails off, and there’s something endearing about the way she can’t even seem to bring herself to say any explicit words out loud.

“Don’t I want to sleep with you?” he guesses, knowing it’s the right answer, “Y/N, I want to sleep with you so, so badly. I think about it all the time.” he confesses and her eyes blow wide.

“You do?”

He nods eagerly, “All. The. Time.” he emphasizes, “When you play with your hair in work, when you fall asleep on my lap while we’re watching a movie, when you kiss me for hours, when you bite your lip while you’re concentrating, when you wear that little navy pencil skirt, when you show up to my hotel room dressed like this” he gestures to her nightdress, “or when I think about your little pink panties in the top drawer of my nightstand” he whispers the last part.

“I just thought…” she searches for the end of the sentence, “I thought you didn’t want to?” she pouts.

“I thought you weren’t ready” he says it so earnest, and he means it. He’d never want to make her feel like it wasn’t her choice.

“I haven’t— I’ve never— I’m a virgin Spencer.” she confesses, and she doesn’t look at him while she does, too shy from the admission.

“That’s okay” he moves his hands up to grab hers gently, gazing up at her with nothing but adoration in his eyes, “I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do”

“But I want to, with you” she looks at him now and her gaze is so soft that he melts.

“I want to as well. But not here.” he sits back up on the bed next to her, “It shouldn’t be in some cheap motel with our co-workers down the hall. We can do it at my place, or yours, or we could book an actual nice hotel room in the city somewhere? Whatever you want.” she nods at him and smiles.

“I’d like that a lot” she looks happy now, content and relieved, “but could we maybe still do something now?”

He’s taken aback completely, “Did you have something in mind?”

She looks shy again, and he has to coax it out of her, squeezing her hands in his and giving her an encouraging kiss on the cheek.

“When you touched me on your couch that time. I wanted to do something for you, but I wasn’t sure— I didn’t want to get it wrong so I just chickened out” she admits.

“What did you want to do?” he pries gently.

“I wanted to use my mouth” she breaks eye contact when she speaks. He can’t take it anymore so he tilts her head softly with one of his hands so she has to look directly at him again.

“You wanted to use your mouth on what?” he’s doing it on purpose to get her out of her shell.

“On your— on your cock” she whispers out like she's embarrassed to even say it at full volume.

“You wanted to suck my cock?” he asks and she can feel the heat rising in her cheeks as she nods.

“Please?” she asks, and he never thought he'd have a girl this beautiful asking him if she could ‘please’ suck his cock. How did he get this lucky?

“Only if you want to”

“I really do” she volunteers, “but I need you to tell me… how?”

“So you’ve never done it before?” he asks, he’s been aware she was a virgin but he’s got no idea what she had or hadn’t done before. She shakes her head.

“When you, touched me, that was the first time anyone other than me had well…”

“And you’ve never touched anyone else?” he asks, soft and sweet, rubbing his thumb over and back on the top of her hand.

“I have.” she says, “With other boys when I was younger but never anything more”

“Okay” he says encouraging.

“How do we start?” she looks less nervous now that it’s all out in the open.

“Like we always do” he breaks out in a smile as he leans in to kiss her. Her lips are so soft against his, perfect as always.

He pulls her toward him and parts their lips long enough to tell her to sit on his lap. She obliges, she loves to sit like this while they kiss, he knows that too. Sitting this way she can feel him as he starts to grow hard beneath her, only the thin fabric of his boxers keeping him from her.

His hands hold onto her thighs, digging his fingernails into the sides of them as she moans into his mouth. He chances moving one of his hands up her side, and as he hovers it above her chest he breaks apart from her for just a moment. “Can I?” he asks, and she nods before he places a hand on her breast over the fabric of her nightdress. And he knew she wasn’t wearing a bra.

He couldn't stop himself from bringing the other hand up so he could cup both breasts. Massaging and kneading them, feeling her nipples begin to harden and stand out from the satin fabric.

She grinds down against him momentarily and her eyes grow wide. “Are you?” she looks down between them, clearly feeling him.

“I’m hard Y/N” he says softly, and she looks almost giddy.

“I’m ready” she breathes out and swings off his lap, taking charge now that she’d worked up some confidence. It’s not like she had no idea what to do. She’s watched porn, she’s read a few things about it, but she also knew there was no way to really know what it was like without actually doing it.

She kneels down in front of him, pulling apart his knees so that she can nestle down in between them. She’s the one that pulls down the waistband of his boxers, just far enough so that she can pull his cock out.

She feels stupid in a way. She hadn’t given much thought to how it would look but it was different to what she’d anticipated. It was flushed pink, and leaking from the tip. And it was bigger, or thicker maybe, than she’d been expecting. She had a vibrator at home and it didn’t look like this. For one thing it was purple, but it was also smaller than this. For a moment she's nervous before she realizes that this is Spencer. And she could never feel nervous with him.

“Is everything alright? If you’ve changed your mind—” he starts and she shakes her head probably a bit too vigorously.

“No! It’s just— bigger, than I was expecting” she says holding it loosely in her hand.

“Oh” he says, unable to his his surprise, “thank you?” She giggles at him, unaware she’d actually been paying him a compliment.

“What do you like?” She asks, peering up at him and fluttering her eyelashes like she’d done this a million times before.

“Well, um,” he’s the one with the shaky breath now, and he’s not sure when he got so nervous, “I guess if you lick it first, that always feels good” he’s barely got the sentence out and she’s on him. Licking a long stripe up the underside of his cock, right along the vein, reaching the tip and swiping up the pre-cum leaking from the slit there. He’s got to struggle not to throw his head back in pleasure instantly, he wants to see it, wants to watch all of it.

She takes her mouth off of him and looks up with those doe eyes again, and now that he’s looking he can see down her nightdress. He’s got a perfect view of her perky nipples, turned on beneath the fabric and his dick twitches at the sight.

“Like that?” she pulls off him to ask, and he can barely breathe.

“Fuck Y/N! Exactly like that” he groans, chest heaving, his hands clawing at the duvet.

She smiles up at him, “and then what?”

“Uh, take it in your mouth, you don't have to take it the whole way down, just as far as you feel comfortable with” he assures her, trying to steady out his breathing. He doesn’t want her to gag or anything. “then just use your hands for the rest.”

She nods, thinking for a moment before bringing her mouth back down to him. This time she licks him again, all the way up and around the tip, just a little slower than before. Then she wraps her plush lips around the head of his cock. He moans louder than he meant to as she starts to sink down on him, further and further, taking him in inch by inch.

She didn't quite get the whole way down but she got way further than he thought she would. Taking in as much of him as she could she began to rise up again. It took a little adjusting to make sure she was breathing in and out through her nose, but once she got the hang of it she began to pick up the pace.

Sliding up and down against him, the feeling of her warm, wet mouth was almost too much. He’d gotten himself off to thoughts of her for months now and it just didn’t compare. Not by a long shot, he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer.

She stopped after another minute and looked up at him, “Is it okay? Does it feel good?” she asks, unsure.

“Jesus, fuck. Y/N, it feels so good. You feel so good” he gasps and she looks delighted.

“Would you, maybe, put your hands in my hair?” she asks, a little nervous, and he’s shocked for what feels like the 100th time this evening, “I like how it feels” she says, shy and unsure. So he sits forward, leaning down a little so he can take her face in his hands.

“How did I get so lucky?” he plants a kiss on her lips and moves his hands from the side of her face into her hair. Gathering it up into a ponytail and gripping it firmly. She lowers down again, wrapping her lips around the head once more and sinking down. Bolstered by his compliments and ignoring her nerves she forces herself to sink further down on him this time. Taking him as deep as she possibly can until she can feel him hit the back of her throat for the briefest moment before she has to pull back.

But the strangled moan that he lets out when she’s got him that far down is so gorgeous that it might be the only noise she ever wants to hear again.

He pulls at her hair roughly as she starts to move faster and faster, and she moans at the feeling. The vibrations she creates around his cock just make him pull even harder, letting out some of the pent up tension.

“Fuck, Y/N, I’m so close. You can stop.” he forces out with shallow breaths, but she doesn’t budge. He tries to pull her off him using his grip on her hair but she resists, and she just keeps on moving. Up and down his length, taking down as much of him as possible on each stroke.

“Fuckkkk” he moans out as he releases, and he can feel it pumping into her throat as she swallows around him.

When she pulls off, and she’s looking up to him for approval, her eyes wide, her lips and chin coated in spit and cum as it drips down, he knows without a doubt that she’s the sexiest thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

“Was that okay?” she asks hopeful.

“Was that okay?” he rushes out in disbelief, “Get up here.” he helps her off her knees and pulls her onto his lap again, holding her close. “I can’t believe you.” he shakes his head and pulls her in for a sloppy kiss, he can taste himself on her tongue as they mold together.

“That was perfect, beyond perfect, fuck” he wipes her chin with his thumb, it doesn’t do much but it’s a gesture.

“Are you okay?” he asks softly, brushing her hair back with his hands, and she’s just looking at him, beaming.

“I liked it” she says, like she can’t really believe just how much she enjoyed herself, “I can’t wait to learn more.”

Read Part 2 Here

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@pinkdiamond1016​

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[elysianslove]

Hiii! I loved your Iwa fluff headcanons and was wondering if you could do one with Suna? thanks <3

yesyesyes i would love to!!! iwaizumi’s version. 

↬ when suna was younger, he really, really wanted a pet bunny. like he really, really loved bunnies, and would beg his parents day and night for one. he even made a really badly edited powerpoint on bunnies and why he deserves one (aside the editing, it was a very persuasive powerpoint. they filmed him while he presented it and the video haunts him to this day). his parents were relentless, though, and didn’t get him his bunny. instead, though, they surprised him with a cat. a cat isn’t as high maintenance since they’re very independent creatures, but can also be very fun. they figured any pet would make him happy. they were wrong. suna hated her so much and would never interact with her. like to the point where he nicknamed her “bitch” and now she mainly answers to that instead of her name. but all that only worked against him, and the cat just kept getting more and more attached to him.

↬ suna now loves her so much, and she’s just as attached to him. like he would kill for her, honestly. it’s his cat >>> everyone else. he has an album on his phone dedicated to pictures and videos of only her, and her bed is in his room because she always ends up sleeping there anyways. he realized later on when he grew older that a cat was the perfect animal for him, and he’s not sure if it’s a parents thing and they really knew or they were just winging it and hoping for the best, but she’s his favorite ever and he would risk it all for her.

↬ his favorite sleeping position with her would be when he’s casually laying on his back scrolling through his phone and she comes and crawls along him to lay on his chest. the warmth he feels within his chest like he just gets so giddy.

↬ suna is crazy obsessed with serial killer documentaries, horror movies, unsolved mysteries, everything like that. his favorite pastime is watching and reading these things, but honestly, it’s not even a like, “wow that’s so cool,” and more of a, “suna what is wrong with you???” type of thing, because he’s the type to have like insidious 2 in the background as he does his homework or gets ready or something. it’s kind of scary how unfazed he is with things like that.

↬ but! yeah he’s extremely brave when it comes to horror movies, borderline unhinged, but his biggest fear? his phobia, if you will? spiders. insects in general, really. he will scream like a sixth grader that’s yet to hit puberty if he sees a spider crawling near him. once he was peeing in the miya twins’ bathroom and some kind of cockroach crawling on the wall and nearly fainted. thank god he was already peeing because he would’ve pissed his pants either way. it’s so embarrassing for him, so he’s so good at hiding it. he just freezes impossibly when he notices an insect and doesn’t take his eye off of it until someone else notices it and kills it. there was this instance when they were at a training camp and he kept feeling as if something was crawling on him, but assumed it was just really hot and his skin was tingling from that. something was crawling on him, though, and it was not just really hot. Top 10 Most Traumatic Moments of his life, especially because atsumu’s first instinct was to record the whole thing.

↬ suna is extremely, and i mean extremely, touch-starved. physical touch has always made him uncomfortable for a reason unknown to him, so he never really accepted hugs or kisses from his family, and would feel so icky if he was roped into a group hug b by his teammates. so when he met you, he thought you’d be so against the fact that he’s uncomfortable with it, because who would want a partner that doesn’t wanna touch or be touched? turns out he actually craves it, and needs it badly, he just needed to take his own time and pace approaching it, and with how understanding you were, he doubted he could ever figure this out without you. he just took it slow, you know? but the more he touched you — held your hand, pinched your cheek, rested his head on your shoulder, pecked your lips for a few seconds longer than last time — the more he wanted you.

↬ when suna became comfortable with the thought and idea that yeah, he actually craves physical touch so damn bad, he wouldn’t stop touching you every second he could. he became insanely clingy, no matter if you were in public or alone. just always has a hand on you at all times. when he’s alone with you, he’s always trying to cuddle with you. you wanna sit and chill on your phone and not really talk? sure, just come do it with your head on his chest. you wanna watch a movie and munch on some popcorn and possibly share a drink? of course he’d love to! just come sit between his legs with your popcorn on your lap so he can steal some and also offer you some sips from the drink. you don’t wanna hug him after a game cause he’s too sweaty? that’s too bad, he wasn’t asking for permission. so you see, suna is a clingy mf. like latches onto you like a koala clingy <3

↬ suna’s music taste is very diverse. his favorite genre is alternative and rock, like the neighborhood, arctic monkeys, etc, but he also loves, loves loves glitchcore music, but also will un-ironically listen to kpop, and rap, and hannah montana’s old music too because why not. he just doesn’t care. if a song is good, it’s good. so what if it caters to a bunch of 12 year olds and not him? who decides that anyways?

↬ suna is very good at hair. like so good. as his sister started to get older, and her hair grew longer, she would sometimes ask him to do it for her before school. at first he was terrible at it, except maybe ponytails cause his hair was long enough at some point to push back into a ponytail, but everything else like parting her hair for pigtails or doing braids or a bun… he was just awful. so, in response, he’d just practice. he’d watch videos as he’s doing his little sister’s hair and be so focused, with his tongue sticking out a little and his eyes squinting as he tries to get it accurate. eventually, he becomes a master at it! you find this out when one day, as you’re just over at his house, his sister comes into his room with a hair tie and a brush and he just carries her up onto his lap and braids her hair as he chats with you and it was so endearing and so impressive and you genuinely believe that was the moment you realized you were in love with him.

↬ he offers to do your hair for you all the time now!! especially if you’ve just showered and are too lazy to brush it and tie it in some way, so he does it for you. he’s actually so, very gentle when brushing your hair, you don’t even feel a thing. if anything, it makes you really sleepy.

↬ when he joined the national team and started to become more and more of a public figure, he’d send you really explicit fan art of him and other teammates he was shipped with just to piss you off. if he was feeling really bold, he’d send you smut written about him. he says he wants to make you jealous. he just wants to provoke you in every way possible, really. one time someone made an edit plot twisting you and him to him and like atsumu so he downloaded video star and made such a bad edit of you and him and posted it on his twitter and instagram and it went viral. like it was one of those edits of just pictures flipping and hearts flashing and lights spasming all over the screen it was so bad it made you cry with laughter. that was his way of telling the world, no one but this person for me, right here <3

↬ i think he’d be very good at doing chores and cleaning and all that, despite how lazy he is. i just think it’s a habit kind of thing, where he grew up doing laundry and making his bed and cleaning his room and washing the dishes that he genuinely doesn’t mind doing it cause it’s natural for him. and he’s learnt to enjoy it.

↬ suna’s favorite color was deep, deep purple at some point, but now it’s between green and black.

↬ he’s caught up with all seasons of keeping up with the kardashians. please don’t ask him why, he doesn’t even know.

�� once when you were out with him you just gave him a rock that was on the floor and he’s kept that rock with him ever since. like it’s in the drawer next to his bed and sometimes he just takes it out and holds it in his hand while he’s doing homework or scrolling through his phone.

↬ he spams you a lot. like at any time time of the day he just sends you a million videos of him doing the most mundane things; he sends you a video of him eating some almonds and at the end it’s just him going, “i’s good,” or him lip-syncing a song you sent him to listen to, or him trying to do eyeliner because why not. or maybe it’s pictures of him and it’s always ridiculous: him exaggerating him thinking, and then captioning it “thinking,” or just a picture of him on the roof with a peace sign and a pretty smile, or a close up photo of his face saying, “miss u.”

↬ he also spams you with memes all the time. and there’s no set type, it’s just all kinds. really corny memes and really cursed memes, wholesome memes and also memes that bully you. it’s all about the versatility.

↬ suna loves to sleep, he really does, but before meeting you, the only place where he could properly fall into a deep sleep was his bed. after meeting you, anywhere where you were next to him was the perfect place to sleep. if he had your presence near him he could sleep, it didn’t matter, especially if he was resting on your lap or shoulder or gripping onto your hand or resting his legs on your lap. he just wants you close to him, you know? like he feels so safe and comfortable when you’re around, it kind of scares him if he’s honest.

[inkykeiji]

day 3 ❅ you are my home, my home for all seasons

don’t cry snowman, don’t you fear the sun, who’ll carry me without legs to run?

day two ❅ day three ❅ day four | series masterlist

characters: todoroki touya | dabi ft. todoroki natsuo

genre: smut + angst

notes: WAAAAH okay listen i swear to god this was not supposed to be as long as it is. uhhhh just over half of this is smut, pls pay attention to the warnings below n stay safe! <33 | title credit: snowman by sia

warnings: 18+, pseudo-incest (stepcest), one (1) non-graphic fist fight, tense family dynamics, generally toxic relationships, size difference, drug use, threesome, rough sex, cumplay/snowballing, a hint of mindbreak, slight dacryphilia, slight degradation

words: 7.7k

synopsis:

And the way his eyes glitter as he gazes at you, the way his fingers trace your jaw and then smooth down your hair, melts all of the anxiety and anger that had been building in your chest, burns it all to ash and sweeps it away just like that, with that one look and that gentle caress.

Because his sapphire eyes hold so much love it’s almost suffocating, overwhelming in the best way, has you endlessly craving more, more, more; and his soft touches speak volumes, rough hands scarred and stained with blood he’ll never be able to wash off, so tender when they touch you like this.

I think…I think he really loves her.

And suddenly, none of it matters anymore, Fuyumi’s words and Rei’s worry no longer holding any weight. All that matters is that you love him, and he loves you, and that’s all you need.

    ❅           ❅           ❅           ❅           ❅           ❅    

It storms, the day of December 23rd; a nasty blizzard that has the wooden shutters banging against the outside of the cabin, harsh gusts of air rattling the glass windows as it viciously hurls snow and ice against them.

“God, you can’t see fucking anything!”

“Language, Natsuo,” Rei chides softly, bottom lip caught between her teeth as she stares out at the white, at the nothingness, just endless swirls of deceptively pretty snow, being tossed in every direction by fierce winds.

“We can’t even see the cars, and they’re only a few feet away!” Fuyumi whines. “So much for tubing today,”

“That’s alright,” Rei says, forcing her lips into a smile as she turns towards her children. “We’ll just have to find other ways to entertain ourselves, that’s all,”

And not one of you misses the uneasy trembling in her voice.

      ❅           ❅           ❅

“Up,”

Black obscures your vision for a moment as Touya tugs his shirt over your head, a shiver coursing through your body as your skin is exposed to the cool air of your shared bedroom.

“You cold?” Touya teases, tweaking a peaked nipple.

“Niichan!” you whine, swatting at his hand, blood rushing to your face, cheeks tingling with embarrassment.

“Cute,” Touya smirks, the tips of his fingers caressing a burning cheek before he turns away, rooting through a drawer and looking for your dress today. “It’s adorable that you’ll let me stick my cock in you, or fuck your throat, or coat you entire body in cum, but you still get embarrassed by those little things,”

He turns back to face you with a stupid, goofy smile on his face, though his eyes are shining with mirth, and you can’t help the soft giggle that bubbles past your lips, sprinkled throughout your shy little shut up, niichan!

It’s routine at this point, your actions entirely automatic as your naked body slides off the bed, Touya kneeling to pull a fresh pair of panties—lavender today, trimmed with lace and ribbon—up your legs, lips scattering a few kisses along your thigh as he does so. Arms raise into the air, almost expectantly, as Touya straightens up again, slipping a long sleeved babydoll dress over your head—crushed velvet and plum purple, this time—helping pull your arms through before smoothing it down your body.

Stepping back to assess you, to admire you, Touya dusts his hands together. “Do you think you can pull on your tights by yourself today?”

Your eyebrows furrow, but you nod anyways. Of course you can, you’re a big girl, you know.  

“Perfect.” He turns on his heel. “Then, I’ll be back,” he tosses over his shoulder casually, as if there isn’t a blizzard raging outside. “Stay put, yeah?”

“Wait, what?” tiny finger curl in the material of his sleeve, tugging a little. “You’re going out in that?”

“Just for a moment—”

“Niichan!” the honorific comes out as a gasp, your hand smacking his bicep. “Do you have a deathwish?”

“Baby,” he begins, gently taking your face between two large palms, voice supercilious as if speaking to a child. “I need to smoke, or I’m going to crawl out of my fucking skin, do you understand? Natsuo’s gonna come,”

“I wanna—”

“No.” he says instantly, eyes flashing, your body instinctually cowering from his tone. “I’ll only be a minute, I promise,” he presses a kiss to the tip of your nose. “Relax, it’s just a little snow! I want you to sit here like the perfect little good girl you are, and not move until I come back, okay?”

Lips pulling down into an involuntary frown, you nod in his grasp, watching him go with a little pout. It’s only after you hear the backdoor slam, pulled shut by the sheer force of the wind, that you hear them.

“He’s got her entirely brainwashed!” Fuyumi’s muffled voice carries through the walls.

“I’m not quite sure that’s it,” Rei responds, trying to gently reason with her daughter.

“Oh my God, what are you talking about!”

You creep off the bed, springs squeaking under your weight.

“Fuyumi,” Rei sighs, and you imagine her pinching the bridge of her nose. “When’s the last time you saw Touya smile like that? When’s the last time you saw your older brother this happy?”

Bare feet make the softest little pad…pad…pad… against the hardwood as you tiptoe towards the door.

“Mom…” Fuyumi trails off, her voice softer when she speaks again. “It doesn’t make it right, though,”

The brass knob turns slowly, carefully, silently, and you pull the door open just a crack, just enough to push your ear close to the sliver and listen.

The master bedroom is at the end of the hallway, but the door is wide open, their voices floating through the vacant corridor.

Rei responds after a beat of silence. “Would he stop even if I told him to? Is it even worth the fight, at this point?”

And she sounds so sad, so defeated that it drives a dull, throbbing ache deep in your chest, a hand coming up to press against your body, trying to quell it.

“I think…” Rei trails off, and your breathing halts. “I think he really loves her,”

Her words probably shouldn’t inspire such wicked sparks of joy that shoot through your veins and up your spine, but they do, and you have to press your lips together to keep a giddy smile from spreading across your face. So other people do see it.  

“Oh God, give me a break, he’s—”

“I’m serious, Fuyumi,” Rei cuts her off sharply, voice curt. “I haven’t…He’s never stayed with someone for this long, never cared about anyone as much as he cares about her—you can see it in his eyes,”

“But—But she’s his sister, mom!” Fuyumi cries. “It isn’t okay!”

“Keep your voice down,” Rei scolds, sounding exasperated. She’s quiet for a moment. “You’re right. It isn’t okay. But I…” her voice fades, and you think you hear sniffling, the thought stinging your own eyes. “I can’t take that from him, Yumi, I just can’t,”

A tense silence settles, and you can hear your own heartbeat in your ears, body rigid and tight as you wonder if the conversation’s over.

“She doesn’t deserve that, you know. He doesn’t, either,”

Fuyumi’s words, murmured so quietly you have to strain to hear them, light a ferocious fire in your chest, sending scalding fury burning through your veins. How dare she!

Your teeth grind together, hand gripping the doorknob so tightly it begins to jiggle. How dare she insinuate that Touya doesn’t deserve your love. How dare she imply that he isn’t capable of loving, when she barely knows a goddamn thing about him.

Sparkling cobalt flashes through your mind, accompanied by that pearly, lopsided smile and that thoaty, syrupy voice that’s always dripping with just a touch of indifference, and your heart swells.

Touya takes care of you better than anyone ever has in your entire life. Touya makes sure you’re well fed, well groomed, well dressed. Touya ensures your final year university assignments get done in a timely manner, buys you whatever you want, whenever you want it. Touya provides for and cares about and loves you.

How dare she pretend as if she understands any of that, as if she knows anything about your relationship at all, as if it’s any of her damn business in the first place.

“What about her father? What does he think about this whole situation?” Fuyumi asks a few moments later, when it’s clear Rei isn’t going to respond, capturing your attention again, jaw clenching.

Another deep sigh, one that surely has her chest heaving with the force of it, echoes down the hallway. “He refuses to talk about it any time I try to bring it up, so I’ve stopped trying. He’d rather just…not know, I guess, ignore it and pretend it doesn’t exist, and just look away. I don’t—I don’t think he can bear the thought, so he just…doesn’t.”

Exhaustion is heavy in your step-mother’s voice, weighing down her words and diminishing the flames raging in your chest to smoldering embers, hand relaxing its grip around the doorknob.

“If that were me and Natsuo—”

“That’s enough,”

“Or me and Shouto—”

“I said, that’s enough, Fuyumi.” Rei snaps, and you flinch—in all the years you’ve known her, you’ve never heard her use that tone of voice. It’s unusual, unfamiliar, unsettling.

Heavy footsteps begin stomping up the stairs, cutting off your thoughts, and you yelp softly, scampering back towards the bed. Touya pushes through the door a moment later, eyebrows knitting as azure eyes dart from your untouched tights, still sitting neatly folded on the bed where he placed him, to your bare legs, then drifting up to your face.

“Why aren’t your tights on, princess?” he tilts his head, a smile playing at his lips, more relaxed now that he’s smoked. “Willfully misbehaving? Or are you not such a big girl after all?”

And the way his eyes glitter as he gazes at you, the way his fingers trace your jaw and then smooth down your hair, melts all of the anxiety and anger that had been building in your chest, burns it all to ash and sweeps it away just like that, with that one look and that gentle caress.

Because his sapphire eyes hold so much love it’s almost suffocating, overwhelming in the best way, has you endlessly craving more, more, more; and his soft touches speak volumes, rough hands scarred and stained with blood he’ll never be able to wash off, so tender when they touch you like this.

I think…I think he really loves her.

And suddenly, none of it matters anymore, Fuyumi’s words and Rei’s worry no longer holding any weight. All that matters is that you love him, and he loves you, and that’s all you need.

      ❅           ❅           ❅

By the late afternoon, you’ve all begun to get antsy, resulting in Rei feeling like her kids are actual children again and wracking her mind for an activity to keep you all occupied. She decides on baking and decorating gingerbread men and then a Christmas movie marathon after dinner, gathering the family in the kitchen as her hands nervously rearrange the ingredients she’s laid out on the table.

Everyone’s already a little on edge, shoulders tense and tight any time Touya and Shouto are in the same room together, and you swear the air is electric, cracking and popping with shocks and zaps anytime one of them bristles at something the other said.

Like a storm is brewing.

The entire family works hard to keep them as far away from each other as possible, and attempts to minimize any type of contact at all: seating them on opposite ends of the table, keeping them sandwiched between moderators—family members who speak cautiously in gentle voices, who carefully and dutifully steer the conversation away from a fight—and even going as far to give each ‘group’ their own mixing bowl and baking tools.

The ingredients, however, they have to share.

It feels like a competition: who can make their dough the fastest, who can decorate their cookies the nicest, who can stay the most faithful to the recipe, who’s cookies taste the best.

And yet, none of these efforts seem to matter, because Shouto’s very presence, Shouto’s very existence, infuriates Touya to no end. They clash like thunder and lightning, silent strikes of white-hot fury that you can almost see flashing through the air—Shouto snickering quietly, or making some snide comment muttered under his breath, or reacting to something Touya does with a roll of his eyes or a scoff—followed by a clap of menacing thunder; rumbling—a tremorous growl deep within Touya’s chest; and roaring—the way his deep voice booms through the space; and rolling—his hand clutching you: your hand, your thigh, your wrist, anything he can latch onto to keep him grounded, to keep him sane.

It only continues to build as the day progresses, explosive magma rising higher, and higher, and higher with each spiteful word spit through clenched teeth, each ridiculing laugh ringing out around the room, each malicious look shot in the others direction, until it finally erupts, spouting blistering lava that scorches everything in its path, that seeps through the cracks, beginning to corrode that mask Shouto has been steadily chipping away at.

It was bound to happen eventually—no matter how hard any of you had tried to pretend, you had all known it. It had only been a question of when.

The answer to that question, apparently, is after dinner.

You aren’t even sure how it began, exactly, busy washing dishes with Rei in the kitchen, but your blood runs cold when you hear Natsuo quietly urging Touya to stop, don’t, it isn’t worth it, and Touya growling at Natsuo to let go of him, don’t fucking touch him.

Rei hears it too, of course, because the plate she was scrubbing slips from her hands and cracks as it collides with the aluminum sink, sheer panic etched into her face, wiping sudsy hands on her cardigan as she hurries towards the voices with you in tow.

Shouto’s barking out a laugh as you both round the corner—a harsh, almost piercing sound that echoes throughout the cabin, void of any humour.

“I’m not afraid of you anymore,”

And though his face is harder than marble, eyes positively glaring at his eldest brother, his voice shakes a bit.

Touya picks up on it, of course, because Touya picks up on everything.

“That so?” He asks casually with a shrug, eyes beginning to glitter as Shouto involuntarily shrinks away from him. “Shame. Whaddya say we fix that?”

Touya has always been quick, has always been seemingly one or two steps ahead of everyone else. He reaches around his body, lithe fingers running along the waistband of his jeans, and groans out a curse when his hand meets nothing—Nastuo still has his gun.

That’s fine, he shrugs a little, dangerous smirk on his face as Shouto’s eyes watch his hands with laboured breathing as fingers dip into his front pocket, curling and finding it empty—Natuso still has his blade, too.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Touya hisses, Natsuo’s words from after the snowball incident echoing through his mind. You can have these back, he had said sternly, as if speaking to a fucking toddler, when you’re in your car, behind the wheel, all packed up and ready to go Christmas Day.  

Well, that’s alright, Touya supposes, because his fists are weapons in their own right, too, aren’t they?, large hands flexing before curling into tight balls, sapphire eyes glinting in the warm light, teeth bared in a petrifying smile as he cracks his neck.

And it all happens so fast, like a cat pouncing on its prey, nothing but a blur of ivory and black colliding with crimson and cream, a mess of bruised knuckles and split lips and flowing scarlet—so much scarlet, streaming from noses and smeared across cracked picture frames, seeping through little slashes and spit from between clenched teeth.

Something shatters, someone screams, but it all sounds muffled to you, distant and far away as you stare dazedly at the mess of limbs on the hardwood floor a few feet away, watching as brilliant galaxies of periwinkle bloom rapidly on smooth skin, and everything feels numb.

Natsuo manages to catch Touya, receiving an elbow to the stomach in the process as he hooks his arms under Touya’s and hoists him off of their baby brother. Shouto leaps to his feet, ready to lunge at his now incapacitated brother, but your father grabs him before he can, holding him back, arms wrapping around him in an iron grip.

The softest sob sounds, all eyes snapping towards it.

Rei stands with her arms wrapped around herself, gleaming grey eyes darting between her eldest and youngest, and everything stills.

“You leave my sight for two seconds—” she starts, blinking hard as fat tears roll down her cheeks, the rest of the sentence getting lodged in her throat. “Two seconds, a-and—and you—I am so—so—”

She’s unable to force the words through her trembling lips, but she doesn’t need to.

I am so disappointed in you.

Natsuo’s able to haul Touya off to the first floor washroom, curses still spewing from your niichan’s lips as he thrashes against his brothers grip, volatile and malignant and stuffed full of hostility, his rough voice breaking with them. His eyes look glossy, and you think he may even be crying, though it’s hard to tell with his aggressive writhing in Natsuo’s strong arms, muscles bulging under the thin material of his shirt.

Touya’s hands tremble as he taps out those little round pills, as white as the snow outside, a few clattering to the floor during the process. Your fingers knot together in front of your body, wringing and unwringing as you watch Touya toss several in his mouth, dry swallowing them expertly before leaning against the counter, fingers curling around the edge, exhaling a shaky breath.

“Sh-Should he be taking that many?” Your eyes dart to Natsuo, who’s propped up against the bathroom door, your forehead creased in worry. He laughs a little, coos at you as if you’re so cute for worrying about your niichan, like your niichan didn’t just down four oxys at once—before bothering to clean himself up, before bothering to do anything—and wraps an arm around your shoulder, tugging you towards him.

It’s comforting, and you automatically snuggle into the warmth, still shaken up from the events that occurred in the past twenty minutes, burying your head in his chest and inhaling, letting the palliative scent of fresh mint and lemon with a hint of blue raspberry fill your lungs.  

He needs them, Natsuo tells you in that gentle voice, in that trusting voice, his thumb rhythmically stroking your back, voice vibrating against your cheek and reassuring you that It’s alright, he’s fine, he just needs a little something to calm him down, to sedate him.

This is the best option, he promises you, stone eyes soothing and familiar when you gaze up at him, bottom lip caught between your teeth. With the snow storm happening outside and all.

He has a point, you guess. Whether you like it or not, Touya’s still undoubtedly trapped in this tiny cabin with Shouto for at least the next twelve hours.

It’s a low dose, he ensures with a kiss pressed to the side of your head, “Gave ‘em to him myself,”

You feel like you can breathe again, Natsuo’s calming words taming the irregular palpitating in your chest, soft fingers swiping across your cheeks, catching glistening tears as he consoles you.

It’s okay. He’s okay. He’ll be okay.

What Natsuo doesn’t tell you, though, is that Touya needs them in more ways than one, that Touya actually ran out of the oxys he had brought for the trip, the ones that were supposed to last him the full five days, and that Natsuo’s pulled from his personal stash to give him more, because the last thing anyone needs on top of this disaster is Touya suffering a fucking opioid withdrawal.

He leaves to check on Shouto shortly after, muttering something about shoving a few pills down his throat, too, to mellow him out.

You pretend not to hear it, rushing towards Touya the moment the door shuts, latching onto him from behind and nuzzling your face into his back, tears threatening to suffocate you again.

Touya turns in your grasp, wrapping large arms around you and squeezing you to his chest, clutching you like a lifeline as his fingers dig into your flesh, head dropping and cheek resting against the crown of your head as he repeats Natsuo’s words.

It’s okay. He’s okay. He’ll be okay—as long as you never leave him.

And you won’t. You wouldn’t. You never will.

      ❅           ❅           ❅

The movie marathon, to everyone’s surprise, proceeds as scheduled. It’s awkward, and no one actually wants to be there, but Rei’s face is still stained with tears, streaks of sticky salt decorating her cheeks, and none of you have the heart to leave her when she throws on some staticky old cartoon and collapses on one of the couches—not even Touya.

No one talks about it, either. No one talks about the shards of broken glass Fuyumi swept from the floor, or the ugly, weblike crack Shouto’s head left when it whacked off the drywall.

There’s nothing to talk about, you guess, bitterness stinging the back of your tongue, sinking in your chest, as you snuggle into Touya’s lap.

But Touya’s feeling better—Touya’s feeling good, large hands running down your bare thighs, kneading the flesh before he drags them back up, under your dress, the thick quilt draped over your lap obscuring his actions from the others.

“N-Niichan,” you whisper, turning to shove your burning face in his neck and whimpering when he chuckles lowly, a dark sound that has scalding heat pooling deep in the pit of your stomach, that has your thighs clamping together and trapping his hand.

“Shh, behave,” he murmurs into your hair, waiting for your thighs to relax before his hand continues its ministrations, creeping up, up, up until he reaches your clit, flicking his thumb over it once. A gasp spills from your lips, and Touya pinches the sensitive bud, lips at your ear. “I said, behave,”

So you do—or, you try, legs spreading wider for him, molars sinking into the flesh of your inner cheek to keep from mewling. Because that’s all you want, really—to be good for him, to be his good girl, to help him forget, to do anything you can to alleviate his stress and make him feel better.

Touya teases you for the entirety of the marathon, continuously driving you to the edge and teetering you on the cliff, tempting you with the fall, the plunge, the release, before dragging you away from it, only to repeat the process again, and again, and again. Skilled fingers have it down to a fucking science at this point, circling your clit in quick, hard motions, until your thighs are trembling and your hips are pathetically trying to buck into his touch. Such reactions are always his cue to stop, to back off, immediately slowing to unhurried figure eights, sometimes pressing his fingertips into your hole just a little through the thin cotton of your panties. And then, he waits, waits until every muscle unclenches, relaxes, until your breathing evens back out and your whines fade, decreasing in frequency, until the gentle, featherlight touches of nimble fingers against your swollen clit have almost put you to sleep, just to simply begin it again.

The bulge in his jeans strains eagerly against the denim, and it’s hard, so hard, pressed up against your thigh. Long, slender fingers catch your wrist when you try to cup it, to offer him some relief, sapphire eyes flashing as he shakes his head slowly. A deep pout etches itself into your face, you just want to help, but Touya growls in your ear, orders you to stop being a fucking brat, chest rumbling against your back.

And by the end of it, you’re covered in a glistening layer of sweat, legs quivering so bad that you’re barely able to stand, the cotton of your panties soaked all the way through and sticking uncomfortably to your aching pussy, your slick slippery on your inner thighs after having seeped through the thin material.

Everything hurts, muscles feeling like they’ve been filled with sand, Touya chuckling as he stands and stretches his hands above his head, cock still straining painfully against black denim, and murmuring about how cute you are when you’re tired.

“Tired,” Natsuo snorts with a roll of his eyes, just after the rest of your family has trudged up the stairs to get ready for bed, Fuyumi struggling to support a barely coherent Shouto.

You look over at him, head quirking curiously.

“You two were misbehaving,” he smirks, glancing between your faces self-righteously. “You were quite naughty tonight, don’t you think?”

Pricks of humiliation crawl along your skin. He noticed?

Of course he did, how could he not? His voice is sharp, stings like a slap to the face, a tone you don’t hear very often from him, and it wasn’t very fair to make him sit through that and not be able to touch, was it?

“No, it wasn’t,” Touya agrees with a shake of his head, sounding almost solemn, though amusement glitters in his azure eyes, a hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. I think we should make it up to poor Natsuo, princess. Don’t you?

They’re looking at you like a pair of starving jaguars, stone and sapphire eyes glinting dangerously in the hazy yellow light the little lamp provides as they prowl towards you, trapping you between their bodies and the edge of the couch.

“I-I…” your voice dies in your throat, eyes darting between the two men as your heart begins to race. You don’t know, you aren’t sure, is this even allowed?  

Then they’re laughing at you, cooing at you as their hands paw at your body, pinching and cupping and squeezing, Touya murmuring about how you’re going to help Natsuo out like a good girl while carrying you up to your shared bedroom and placing you on the bed, Natsuo following close behind, shutting the door with a gentle kick of his foot.

Then Natsuo’s crawling onto the bed beside you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I bet you look so pretty when you cum, baby,” His voice is low, rough, and it makes your stomach flutter.

His words pull an unexpected gasp from your throat and your eyes find his, blinking twice in genuine question. “D-Do you think about that?”

“Fuck,” he nearly whimpers, sharing a look with Touya, who chuckles smugly, leaning against the wall a few feet away, arms crossed casually over his chest.

“I told you,”

Forehead wrinkling as your brow furrows, your gaze darts between the two of them, unsure of exactly what it is they’re talking about.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” Natsuo breathes, eyes hooded as they scan your body slowly, working back up to your face as he grinds the heel of his hand against his hardening cock. “I think about it,”

The burning deep in your belly flares at his dark stare, thighs rubbing together as you hold his eyes, sweet little pants escaping your parted lips. Make it up to him, huh?

“I wanna—” you start, looking over at Touya and swallowing thickly. “Can I cum on his cock?”

Natsuo chokes on a whine the moment the words leave your lips. “Christ, niisan, she’s gonna kill me,”

Touya huffs out a little laugh, though his eyes do not leave yours as he considers.

Usually, the answer would be no, absolutely not. Touya has always refused to share your pussy with anyone—that was his and his alone. However…

If there’s anyone he would even think of sharing it with, he supposes it would be his brother.

“You wanna cum on his cock, baby?” he asks slowly, sapphire eyes watching you sharply, analyzing every micro-expression, every twitch of your brow, every quiver of your lips.

You’re unsure if it’s a trick question or not, but you’ve learned that it’s always best to be honest with your niichan—he’d know instantly if you were lying, anyway—so you nod, sucking on your bottom lip. “J-Just once,” you add, after a beat of silence.

“I mean, it is Christmas…” Touya trails off, looking over at his brother, who’s glassy gaze is glued to your face. “What do you say, Natsuo?”

“Seriously?” his eyes fly to Touya’s, wide with disbelief, not nearly as bold as he was in the living room. “I mean—I don’t—I’m not here to overstep any boundaries—”

“I know,” Touya cuts him off calmly. “I trust you,”

Trust. That’s rare with Touya, an honour to be told, and Natsuo’s eyes soften.

“It’d be a privilege to have you cumming on my cock, baby,” he tells you, voice so gentle, so sweet, so sincere, foiling the dirty words spoken.

But your fingers are trembling, tangled in your lap, and your heart is racing, pounding against your ribcage, and your mouth is dry, throat stuffed with cotton. Blood rushes in your ears as you look over at your niichan again, worried, scared. Is this a test? Is he really allowing you to ride someone else’s cock?

A frown materializes on his face and he stalks forward, stopping in front of you and reaching out to cup your cheek and tilt your head up, thumb caressing your cheekbone as he stares down at you.

“What is it, baby?”

“C-Can I really?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper. “You won’t—You won’t be mad?”

Both men coo and Touya laughs, eyes shining in the dark. “No, I won’t be mad, princess,”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” he nods, hand moving to pet your hair once. “Now, come on,” he gives you a light slap to the cheek, eyes darting to the bulge in Natsuo’s grey sweatpants. “Can’t wait to see you take that monster, baby,”

Monster isn’t exactly an exaggeration.

He’s bigger than Touya—not by much, maybe an inch or so longer, but considerably thicker. The head of his cock glimmers, decorated with a pearl of precum, thick and veiny and nowhere near as pretty as your niichan’s.

“Look at her,” Touya teases from his spot across from you, now perched on the edge of the other bed. “She’s already salivating over it,”

And it’s true, at least in part, your wide eyes glued to Natsuo’s cock as endless heat gushes, throbs, between your legs, little cunt suddenly feeling very empty. Touya’s been teasing you all damn night, an intense neediness building in your chest, powerless to stop the pathetic little whine that gets caught in your throat when Natsuo shifts on the bed, rearranging himself slightly and patting his spread thighs.

“C’mere, baby,” he’s saying as you climb over him, massive hands clutching your hips as you hover above his cock. “Lemme give you what you need,”

And the high pitched moan that slips from between parted lips as you sink down onto him is nothing short of pathetic. Natsuo emits a breathless little laugh as dark grey eyes watch the way your face screws up in discomfort, little whimpers spilling from your lips as he splits you in half.

“Aw, baby,” he murmurs, never slowing his pace as he forces your hips down, down, down. “We didn’t prep you properly, did we?”

No, they didn’t, neglecting to stretch you out at all, copious amounts of your own slick the only thing aiding Natsuo’s cock as he shoves it into you.

“Your fault, you know,” he whispers in your ear as he finally bottoms out. “If you hadn’t been so greedy, so eager to hop on my cock, maybe I would’ve let’cha cum on my fingers first. But what more could I expect from a slut?”

Your eyes snap open, inhaling sharply, unused to hearing Natsuo talk with such derision, unused to the way it makes your stomach positively swoop. He’s already looking at you, a small grin on his face, and, oh, he knows.

Natsuo doesn’t afford you a second to adjust to his girth, though, immediately bouncing you in his lap like you’re just some toy for him to use, hips bucking up into you wildly, malicious laughter escaping his chest as you whimper out Hurts, Natsuo, i-it hurts, Touya snapping at you to be a good little whore and just take it.

But the stinging fades quickly, like it always does, finally yielding to that heady mix of pain and pleasure, and it feels so good, the stretch is so good, Natsuo is so good.

Natsuo snickers, berating you for your extremely limited vocabulary, and you’re so cute, all stupid and fucked out like that from bouncing on his cock—you’re so fucking easy, aren’t ya?

His degrading is punctuated by his hard thrusts, blunt nails biting into the flesh of your hips as he fucks you, as he uses you, each piston of his hips forcing you closer and closer to that edge, the one Touya has already dangled you off of so many times tonight.

Todoroki cock must really make you dumb, huh? Turns you into nothing but a drooling, senseless little cocksleeve, isn’t that right, baby girl?

You’re having trouble concentrating on anything, really, overwhelmed by sensations and sounds, by Natsuo’s steady stream of words and the smack of your ass against his thighs.

Can’t even answer me, foolish little girl, already drunk with cock and we’re just getting started.

Yes, you whine, nodding your head in lazy little jerks, pushing the word out of your slackened mouth. Yes, yes, yes!

Your skin is crawling, itching, blazing, your head lolling to the side, connecting with glowing sapphire, and you swear you can feel his gaze on your body, leaving a trail of blistering heat in its wake.

His cock is still so hard, but he doesn’t touch it, completely captivated by you. He doesn’t ever want to forget this, he tells you, unblinking eyes searing into yours, wants to see the way your face contorts in ecstasy when you cum all over his brother’s cock, wants to commit it to memory.

And it’s Natsuo’s mean, belittling words, spoken in that saccharine sweet patronizing voice paired with each rough drag of his thick cock, plus Touya’s shallow breaths, little gasps and inhales, the way his dark eyes almost sparkle as he watches you, that have you creaming on Natsuo’s cock embarrassingly quickly.

Your eyes don’t leave his, though, sapphire all you can see as your orgasm tears through you almost violently, the pulsing release almost painful after being edged for so long, little pussy aching as it clenches around Natsuo’s cock.

A pathetic little whimper slips through your lips as your body collapses against Natsuo’s firm chest, head automatically nuzzling into his neck. His cock is still so hard inside of you, twitching as your hips involuntarily shift a little. Strong hands find your waist, a patronizing chuckle blanketing you as they begin to knead your flesh.

“Idiotic little girl, we aren’t done yet,”

The words are harsh, almost spit out with that small chuckle, dripping with condescension and rolled in icing sugar—and his tone is so ridiculing, speaking to you as if you’re so dumb, so silly and God, you really do go so stupid from cock, don’t you?

Another laugh rings out—niichan’s this time, and he’s saying something—something about Natsuo’s cum filling up that empty head of yours, you think—as Natsuo roughly rearranges your pliant body, pushing your head into the mattress and yanking your hips up.

It’s hard to focus on the words being spoken, brain hazy and floating on post-orgasmic clouds, but you’re fairly sure Natsuo’s promising to make good use of your cute, empty little skull, telling you it’s the perfect little cumbucket.

But Natsuo’s arrogance fades, finally, morphs into high, needy mewls and quiet little moans, interspersed with sharp intakes of air, sucking in curses and your name as he repeatedly rams into you, thrusts growing sloppier, massive hands keeping your hips held up.

“Oh, Christ,” the curse leaves Natsuo’s throat in a pitiful whimper. And although they were talking about it, joking about it, a mere twenty minutes ago, Natsuo knows he must still get permission. “Niisan, can I—can I cum inside?”

And his voice is so whiny, as if he’s begging Touya to say yes, harsh breaths ghosting over your bare back, cool against your heated skin and mingled with little half-grunts, ones that hitch in his throat as he continues to pound into you, pace never faltering.

Desperate pleads begin spilling from your lips almost instantly, urgent and uncontrollable, brain mushy with thoughts of ice cold hands on your waist and a thick cock buried within you, intoxicated by the scent of cool mint and tangy lemon.

“Oh, please, niichan, please,” you’re sobbing into the mattress, bleary eyes squinting as they try to focus on the watery blur you assume is Touya, still seated on the other bed. “Please, want his cum, want his cum for Christmas,”

“Holy fuck,” Natsuo’s gasps out brokenly, a loud moan reverberating in his chest. “Please, Niisan,”

Touya chuckles, and if it weren’t for the slight breathlessness to his voice, you would have figured him entirely unaffected. “Yeah, fine, go ahead,” he says passively, as if it makes no difference to him. “She’s a little cumslut, anyway,”

A steady stream of overlapping, practically incoherent thank you’s flow from yours and Natsuo’s mouths, getting lost between pitchy mewls and the slap of skin against skin as his taut hips meet your ass.

“Nat—Natsuo-nii!” you cry, so fucked out that the honorific doesn’t even register in your mind, blissfully unaware in that moment that you’re older than him, little hole pulsing around his thick cock. “Natsuo-nii, please, please, give it to me,”

“Oh God,” he chokes on the words, gurgling them in his throat.

His hips piston into you once, twice, three more times, and then they’re stilling, pressed flush against you as he falls forward, sweaty chest pressed against your back, strong arms caging you in as his cock throbs, filling your little cunt with powerful spurts of thick cum.

It’s like a rush of frost through your veins, not scalding the way Touya’s cum is, sending vicious shivers skittering across your skin. It’s soothing, almost, cool and pleasant and has you pushing back against him, hips wiggling a little as you try to milk him for just a bit more. Plush lips find the back of your neck, pressing kisses along your sweaty hairline, a tongue darting out a moment later to lap at the salty substance.

He stays pressed against you for a moment more before straightening up, pulling out with a hiss and heavily collapsing back on his heels, legs tucked under himself.

“Let’s see,” Touya’s saying, as if he’s asking Natsuo to show him his homework, not to examine his brother’s cum leaking out of your aching cunt. “God, look at that,”

You whine a little, hole fluttering as Touya gently blows hot air against it, and Natsuo groans out a curse, voice raw and wrecked.

Hands—Touya’s hands, you can tell, you’re sure of it—curl around your hips, halting them from their slight swaying. A soft, surprised yelp gets caught in your throat when you feel something wet, something warm, something strong, lick along your slit.

“Aw, niisan!” Natsuo scolds, emitting an indignant sound from the back of his throat. “That’s so…That’s so…” his voice tapers off into a soft whine that has Touya chuckling against your swollen lips, the tip of his tongue flicking against your clit teasingly before he pulls back.

But, wait, that isn’t fair!

“Niichan,” you whimper, hips squirming in his loose grasp. “Niichan, want some,”

“Yeah, baby?” he asks, hands running over the smooth skin of your ass, thumb caressing his scarred name. “You want some of Natsuo’s cum, too?”

“Please,” you beg, hole clenching again at the thought. You can feel it oozing out of you, thick and cold, and hate the thought of it being wasted on the bedsheets.

You expect Touya to swipe nimble fingers along your slit and gather cum to feed you, gasping loudly when you feel his tongue on you again. The strong muscle laps at the cum trickling down your inner thigh, then it’s curling against your cunt, inside of your cunt, collecting as much of the syrupy substance as it possibly can.

A hand fists in your hair, using it as leverage to yank your head up. Your mouth falls open instantly, expectantly, and Touya lets his younger brother’s cum—now watered down with his own saliva—dribble from his mouth into yours.

Natsuo chokes something out—you aren’t sure what, you weren’t listening, hyper-focused on the way sapphire burns into your skull as cream coats your tongue—and Touya’s open mouth molds into a sinful smile, still drizzling the sticky, viscous substance into your mouth, letting his tongue hang out of his mouth as gooey strings of white drip off of it.

“Such a greedy little baby,” Touya says after he’s emptied his mouth, voice almost affectionate. “Now be a good girl and swallow. Swallow for Natsuo,”

And you do, of course, because you are such a good girl, such a good girl for Natsuo, such a good girl for your niichan.

“You guys are nasty,” Natsuo almost pants out, failing to keep the whine out of his voice, gunmetal eyes scanning your little hole, licked clean and now gleaming with Touya’s saliva. “Fuck, that was—hey, wait…What’s this?”

“About time you noticed,” Touya mutters, and your heart sinks.

You know exactly what he’s looking at.

A beat of silence passes, and you keep your head buried in the sheets, terrified to move even an inch.

“What did…Did you…?”

“Yeah, with a soldering iron,”

“Jesus Christ,”

“I deserved it,” you whine out, muffled by the mattress, guilty tears springing into your eyes. “I was—I was very bad,”

Glowing ruby and soft, fluffy tufts of silvery-blue hair flash through your mind, eyes squeezing shut tightly as stinging spears rip through your chest, straight through your heart and right to the core of your body.

No. Now is not the time to think of him. It is never the time to think of him.

A tiny sniffle escapes, your chest hiccupping with it, and you clench your teeth hard, so hard your jaw aches, in an effort to keep any other sounds from escaping. Touya hushes you, large hand warm and heavy and oh so familiar on your lower back, thumb caressing the silky skin just above the swell of your ass. You’re good, he tells you, voice quiet but firm, and you nod into the sheets.

“That is so fucking hot,” Natsuo breathes out, eyes flying to the brand again, his voice breaking you out of the reverie you nearly fell into. “Can I touch it?”

The question startles you—no one else has ever touched it except for Touya. Your mouth stays shut, body stiff and still, waiting for your niichan to make the decision.

“Sure,” Touya finally answers, your entire body flinching when Natsuo reaches out to trace the name with his pointer finger, first forward; T, O, U, Y, A, and then backwards; A, Y, U, O, T, the letters echoing through your mind in Touya’s smooth, deep voice as he does so.

“Holy fuck,” Natsuo whispers as he sits back again, the bed jiggling a little with the motion. “That’s…”

Touya gazes down at it as he blows air out of his mouth, fingers running across it slowly, feeling the slightly raised letters of his name in an almost gentle caress.

He didn’t expect it to scar as bad as it did, his name forever etched into your skin in thin silvery streaks that almost shine when the light hits them right, but you didn’t seem to mind. It’s pretty, you had told him, in that gentle soft voice that makes his chest feel as though it’s blooming its own tiny ball of sunlight. It’s yours, niichan.

He wonders what Shouto would think, if he knew, how he’d feel, if it would make his throat burn and his eyes sting and his chest stutter, if he would weep for you. Touya hopes he would.

“Mine,” he whispers, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to it, his tongue darting out and laving over the entire name once before the tip traces the letters. “Mine.”

“Yours,” you whimper, hips greedily pushing back again. “Niichan, niichan, please,”

He hushes you, tells you he’ll give you his cock now, quiet, quiet, rearranging your body so you’re on your side and bending your legs, pushing them up towards your chest and revealing your little cunt to him. Large hands drag your hips to the edge of the bed, sure to keep the ass cheek with the brand facing upward, facing him.

The gentle clinking of his belt has your toes curling in anticipation, the head of his cock nudging your little hole a moment later.

He delivers one quick thrust, burying himself in your snug little cunt in a singular motion, groaning about how you’re still so tight, how you still feel so good, even after being pounded by his brother.  

His pace is merciless from the very beginning, hard and fast and so fucking deep, pulling broken cries and rough little whimpers from your raw throat, one of his hands on the mattress to stabilize himself while the other weighs down on you, pinning you to the surface.

“Niichan!” you’re squealing, Touya’s blunt nails digging into the meat of your thigh as he uses it to steady you, large hand splayed out on your skin. “Niichan, nii-niichan, it hurts,”

It more than hurts—hurts doesn’t even begin to describe the excruciating thorns of pain intermittently racing through your upper body as he slams against your cervix, shooting straight to your core and festering in your throat. You can feel them collecting in the column, wedged tightly between the gummy walls, and you choke on them, gag on them, coughing around them as you urgently gasp in air.  

“But you can take it though, right?” he pants out, cobalt eyes wide and frenzied as they burn into your face. “You can take it, because you’re a good little slut for niichan, aren’t you?”

Salt stains the back of your throat, tears and snot mixing as you sob into the mattress, face half-buried in the rumpled sheets.

Yes, yes, oh God yes, you want to be good for him. “Uh-huh,” you breathe out, the noise stuttering past your lips in time with the quick snap of his hips.

And, fuck, you’re so fucking beautiful like this, so fucking hot, taking his cock so well when he’s giving it to you so hard.

“Good,” he gasps, eyes zeroing in on his name etched into your ass, peaking out from between his thumb and forefinger, glimmering when it catches in the pale moonlight. “So fucking good for me,”

Because you are, with your dedication, and your submission, and your pure devotion to him as he brutally fucks you, taking everything he gives you, taking it so well.

And it’s these thoughts, swirling in his mind as you gaze up at him, a mess of sweat and drool and cum, teary eyes dazedly watching him like he’s some sort of god, that have his hips stuttering, filling you with cum, thick and hot and so much, your body going lax under his grip as he chokes out how much he loves you.

Senseless gurgling bubbles past your lips as you try to move, try to roll onto your back or uncurl your limp body, whining softly when you find that you can’t. Two silhouettes loom over you menacingly, the sound of laughter and mingled voices blanketing you, murmuring words you can barely make out. Another pathetic whine hitches in your throat, tongue sluggish in your mouth as you try to speak again, losing the battle with your heavy eyelids a moment later, finally engulfed in darkness. 

[baronessblixen]

Ficmas Day 9 ~ fuzzy socks (from this list)

Set around late season 6/early season 7, wc: 864. Tagging @today-in-fic

Cold Feet

They’re at Mulder’s apartment, working late. Empty takeout containers grace the coffee table like a modern take on home decoration. Mulder, however, barely even sees them.

His whole focus is on Scully, who’s sitting on the couch, her feet awkwardly folded under her body. Her glasses dance precariously on her nose as she concentrates on the file before her. Her eyebrows knit together as if she were in deep thought.

But he knows her, has perfected his observations these past few years. It’s obvious to him that Something. Is. Wrong.

“Scully?”

“Hmm?” She doesn’t look up from the file and scribbles something down.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine,” she replies in typical Scully-fashion, still not paying him any attention. He rubs his forehead, keeping his eyes on her. Maybe if he stares long enough, she will give in.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Clipped and to the point. He knows exactly which report she’s working on and it’s not that interesting.

“Scully.” No reaction.

His desk chair swivels when he gets up and then, finally, Scully looks up to see what the noise is all about. She glances up at him over the rim of her glasses. Sexy.

Focus, he reminds himself as he inches closer to her. There’s enough space for him to sit next to her so he does. He tries not to invade her personal space but can’t help peeking over at her notes. Her handwriting is worse than his own but just like he’s learned to decipher her, he can read it.

“Huh,” he says. “Considering how busy you just seemed, I’d assumed you would be further ahead.”

“Mulder, what is it?” She closes the file and gives him her most exasperated expression. A look he secretly loves. “You know Skinner wants these on his desk first thing tomorrow morning. We won’t get them done like this.”

She waves her hand in between them. It’s difficult to hide his smile from her. He doesn’t know what she thinks he’s trying to do here but it’s interesting. Very, very interesting. First things first though. He turns serious again and puts his hand over hers, once more surprised how small hers is compared to his.

“You’d tell me if something were wrong. Right?”

“Yes,” she says, surprise washing over her face. “Of course I would.”

He nods. “Then why don’t you?”

“Mulder, I’m fine. Just a bit cold, but-“

“You’re cold?” He’s up in an instant, striding into his bedroom to collect his afghan. “Why didn’t you say something?” He puts the blanket around her, wrapping her up in it as well as he can.

“Mulder, wait. Mulder, stop.” He lets go off the blanket and stares at her. “Thank you,” she says, giving him a smile. “It’s um- very nice of you.”

“You should have said something.”

“My feet just get so cold ever since Antarctica. It’s okay.”

Her feet. He looks at them. Now he understands. That’s why she sat that way. Her feet under her, trying to get them warm.

“Wait here,” he says, disappearing back into his bedroom. Where did he put them? He rummages through his drawers, leaving unspeakable chaos. Not that he cares. His fingers meet warm, soft material and he smiles, knowing he’s found what he was looking for.

“Mulder, what-“ Scully, the afghan currently wrapped around her feet, starts when he returns. He gently unfolds the blanket and covers her ice-cold feet with his hands. She hisses.

“I wish you’d said something. Here, put these on.” He slips one and then the other fuzzy sock over her feet. He can feel her eyes bore into him as he handles her with the utmost care. A memory pricks at his mind: he’s done this before. Not as slowly, not with as much care. They’re no longer in Antarctica, but the ramifications continue to affect them.clean-up

“Why do you have fuzzy socks?”

“Hey, you’re not the only one who gets cold feet. Is that better?”

“Much. Thank you, Mulder.”

“You really should have said something. Next time you’re-“

“Next time I’ll say something, I promise.”

“I’ll make us some tea.”

“You have tea, Mulder? You keep unfolding like a flower.”

He winks at her before he jogs into the kitchen to boil water for their tea. When he walks back into the living room a few moments later to ask Scully what kind of tea she wants, he finds her asleep on his couch, half sitting up and half laying down.

He chuckles softly. Gently, he takes her glasses off and puts them on the coffee table, shoving the trash away to make room. He will clean it up in just a moment.

Careful not to wake her, he lifts her legs and helps her lie down fully. He makes sure the afghan covers her fully and tucks the corners in to make sure she’ll be warm and toasty. Especially her feet.

“Sleep well,” he whispers, dropping a kiss to her temple. She mumbles something but slumbers on. After a quick clean-up, he takes the file Scully has been working on and gets comfortable at his desk. It’s going to be a long night.

[chanluster]

non ducor duco | {m}

oneshot | historical! au | gang! au | 15.2k words 

“The most notorious gang leader in Victorian London can gouge out the eyes of men, steal from the corrupted rich, and terrify an entire city, but cannot figure out a few complicated feelings with you.”

s u m m a r y >> the leader of the sons of seoul, the wanted criminal mastermind, christopher bang, has the courage to commit any deed save for confronting you, his most trusted accomplice, about his feelings. however, when opportunity arises, in the shape of an invitation to a grand seasonal ball, to take down his fated enemy, he takes you to the heart of a lavish estate, both of you unaware of actions that occur inside, and after the mission.

w a r n i n g s >> gonna be using chris instead of chan cause it’s set in 1860s london, chan is a dom of course, jisung and changbin are dumb and dumber, are also massive cockblockers, some cliché scenes cause i’m a sucker for them, sexual! tension!, gore, foul language, making out, dirty talk, aggressiveness, semi-public fingering, unprotected sex (stay safe homies!!), oral (f. receiving), multiple orgasms, chan has a thing for being called his korean name, whack spelling for ‘cum’ as ‘come’ cause technically that word didn’t exist in 1860s, there is a plot so there will be build up

a / n > > so i went way over the 10k originally planned lmfaoooo but i hope y’all enjoy this oneshot! i worked my ass off on it and hopefully y’all can appreciate gang leader chan in 1860s london cause honestly i’m a 100% whore for that concept

back to masterlist

IT WAS A UNIVERSAL LAW THAT ONE MUST NEVER FUCK WITH CHRISTOPHER BANG. EVER.

Whatever charge you may have against him, it must be withdrawn. Whatever he had done to you — robbed you, murdered your son, destroyed your entire existence — it did not matter. There were always limits, and trying to challenge this specific criminal would only result in your undoing.

It seemed the target, cornered before you and the very man himself, did not fully understand this order.

Chris Bang, in all his midnight suited glory, took a step towards the cowering man, the ends of his longcoat trailing him in the air. His gloved hands locked behind his back, a grave curve of his lips as he addressed his next victim. “Mr. Shaw, we know you have the documents.”

This said Mr Shaw hastily shook his head, raising his hands in immediate surrender. “Please, Mr. Bang,” he whimpered. “I have no inkling of what you speak of!”

“Don’t you dare lie!” You interjected, sliding out your knife, pointing it towards him. “We received reports of you. Don’t you dare forget the monthly checks we’ve sent for its safekeeping!”

“I was taking care of it, Miss!” He backed further, until the wall of his office stopped his escape. “They came to the office though.”

“Who did?!” You demanded, but the way Chris’s hand fisted in irritancy answered your question.

The Mayor had taken their shares. Once again, the tyrant had robbed them off their fortune. 

“Mr. Shaw,” the man beside you started. The raw, dark matter in his voice had the owner’s eyes widening in pure fear. “Who was it specifically?”

“A really large man, about seven foot for sure…God, he had cuts all over his face, slight stubble,” he answered, knees slightly shaking. “Please, Mr. Bang, I have a family, children who have not grown—”

“Why is it that whenever man is at his weakest he mentions his loved ones?” A few stray locks escaped from Chris’ raked hair, caressing the ragged scar from his brow down to his cheek. “Why do you think that I’ll suddenly take pity because you have others who will mourn your existence?”

These questions had the man collapsing, leaning completely against the wall for support. You stole a glance at Chris, wondering if he was now capable of extracting the very souls from men. “Do not keep toying with me, Shaw,” he warned, leaning in slightly. “I know you have information.”

A soft, helpless whine escaped from the owner of the building. “Then-they'll kill me,” he mumbled, looking up at the criminal with desperation. It was a shame that never worked on a man with no sympathy.

“I can kill you too,” Chris countered, and in a flash a sleek, pocket knife appeared in his gloved hand, and hovered it right under Shaw’s chin. “So how about you tell me what you know, and I can prolong your imminent end, hmm? Does that seem fair enough?”

You almost felt sorry for the man. “H-his men…” tears formed in his eyes. “His men kept calling him Carter.”

“Brilliant,” you muttered. ‘Scar’ Carter, the Mayor’s link to the crime world, the dirty dealings of London. Carter, the lapdog of the socialites. The most irritating, disgusting son of a bitch you had ever encountered.

“I see.” The knife stayed, caressing the manager’s skin. “Now I know they’re to sell the documents. The bastard is greedy.

“Question is, Shaw, where is the transaction going to take place?”

Dear God, the man looked as if he was about to piss his trousers. “The ball.” He tried to gulp, but felt the curve of the blade. “The Mayor’s brother is holding a masquerade ball in a few days, and Carter already had a client. They’re going to do the dealing there, I swear on my children!”

A harsh scoff emitted from the criminal. “You better hope for the sake of your sons that you aren’t lying.” 

“Did you get the invitations?” You asked, eyes darting around the dirtied room, the messy desks and chairs lopsided from your searching. 

“Yes, yes!” He pointed to a set of drawers. “There are two in there!”

You walked towards the destination, opening the drawers and sure enough, finding the gold-edged enveloped, addressed to Shaw and his wife. “Are your names inside too?”

“No, just the envelope, but that is not important! I promise!”

You pocketed the invitations inside your coat pocket, joining your leader’s side again. Chris, after a minute of heart-wrenching silence, stood up, freeing Shaw’s neck from the knife, sliding it within his belt.

“That wasn’t so hard, now was it?” His eyes were still upon the man when he said, “Let us return.”

The both of you were ready to leave when you heard Shaw’s sudden protests.

“The Sons of Seoul, everybody!” He declared, almost hysterically. “Coming in, fucking everything up, and leaving as if nothing had ever happened!”

Chris paused in his tracks, a quiet stillness passing over his whole figure. 

“What are you going to do now, Mr. Bang?” He hissed, slowly sliding up. “Are you going to infiltrate the biggest ball of the season? Create a bloodbath on the dance floor? It’s what you love to do so ardently, no?”

You heard the harsh spit smack on the office floor. “Stop meddling with the business of the British socialites. Go back to the gutter you crawled out of.” The next words overflowed with hatred. “Go back to where you really came from, you slit-eyed prick.”

Your eyes flashed in shock, swerving around to see the raging expression on Shaw’s beady little face. Fisting your hands, you were ready to knock him out when you felt the man beside you move.

Chris whirled around, eyes promising a horrifying future as he pounced upon the manager.

A yelp was heard as Chris’ fingers dug at the corner of Shaw's eyes, and relished the cries of terror as with a roar of his own, he squeezed with his thumb and forefinger, swelling the balls of vision from their sockets. With a loud pop! the two eyes tore from their origins, gooey residue trailing down his face as Christopher Bang palmed the two organs in his hands.

He observed his victim bellowing in pain as he fell to his knees, hands covering his bloodied sockets. A ghostly smirk accompanied his lips. "Better slit-eyes than none at all."

You had to suppress the severe shivers that threatened to break your stance. 

Shaw broke the universal law. His undoing was inevitable.

He flung the eyes upon the owner, and turned on his heel, eerily cool as he walked out of the office, blood and goo still on his black gloves. Not a hair ruffled upon his pretty head. 

You spared a look at the victim, crying out in infinite pain, hands on his sockets still. “Do not fuck with Christopher Bang,” was all you said, before following the devil out of the building.

The afternoon London heat hit you as you exited the offices, Chris waiting as he examined the filthy streets surrounding you. People of all classes strolled by, beggars on the street asking for two-pence, children selling newspapers down the corners, and carriages riding away on the wide roads. The man still did not clean his gloves from the mess, and you pointed this out as you arrived at his side.

“It does not bother me,” he waved you off, but you brought out your leather skin.

“Bring your hands out,” you ordered. 

Chris scowled. “I said I’m alright,___.” He began walking forwards, towards your humble abode, not far away from your starting point. “Besides, whoever strolls past us, they’ll second guess their evil intentions against us.” You glanced over the strange looking fellows, scattered across the roads. “Shows I am not afraid to get my hands dirty.”

“Whatever,” you mumbled. “Dirty pig.”

You felt daggers glaring into you. “What did you say?”

“You heard me,” you said, turning a corner, already catching sight of the docks. “I expect this behaviour from Jisung. Perhaps even Changbin, but not from you.”

“Enough with this,” the man ordered, irritancy clear in his voice. Grumbling, you walked beside him in silence, the Thames entering your vision. You wished it would have radiated a rich, clear blue body of water, but from the stench which even reached your nose, it would be impossible. The river, a dump for the sewers, the rubbish disposed daily, was a toxic mass of water, and the cause of thousands dying from drinking its contents. When you first joined the Sons you nearly drank from the river, being saved only by Chris’ rough hand slapping the cup away. You remembered you received a harsh scolding from him that day, immediately providing you with clean water after to quench your thirst. 

A small smile curved onto your lips at the memory.

“Hand it over.”

You perked your head up to see his filthy, gloved hands out. “What is it?” You asked. 

“The water.”An irritated sigh escaped him. “I’ll clean the bloody gloves.” 

Your smile grew as you handed him the leather skin. “But only because I don’t ever want to be associated with Jisung and Changbin,” he added, and you only laughed, watching the man rub the mess off his attire as you both arrived at the docks.

The first sounds heard were not of the boats bellowing at port, nor the waves lapping in underneath the stilts. 

No, all you were welcomed with was a string of curses, spat by Seo Changbin.

“You fucking bastard, how dare you—”

“Here we go again,” you caught Chris muttering, who quickened his pace, thundering to where the two of his sidemen fought, caught in a scrap.

Han Jisung’s whines were carried through the river air, burning into your eardrums. “Bin, no, I said I’m sorry—!”

When you caught up to Chris, he opened his mouth, exasperation clear in his voice. “Boys!” He exclaimed.

Immediately the fighting ceased. The boys addressed, Changbin atop Jisung, ready to throw the final punch, turned back to see his leader scowling. Jisung let out a yelp, throwing the former from him and scrambling to his feet. Changbin followed suit, a little more slowly after rubbing his side in agony.

“Why the fuck,” Chris started, pointer finger darting between his two men, “Are you both fighting again?”

Changbin, fixing his ruined locks with his hand, shot his best friend a glare. “He took my fucking scones again.” He groaned, much too loud. “God, I specifically stored them in a place where no one would find them, but this greedy pig still managed to snuff them out!”

Jisung, a slender and more comical figure, crossed his arms, raising his chin in stubbornness. “I did not see a bloody name on them! Tell me Bin,” he matched his opponent’s stare. “Did you write down your name with blood-red ink across the scones? Because I certainly did not see the words Seo Changbin scrawled on the surface!”

“Argh!” The elder of the two turned his raging gaze towards the leader, who was watching his subordinates with slight distaste. “Chris, permission to cut off his tongue for being the bane of my existence?!”

Chris only stepped past them, heading for the big wooden table situated near the gang’s warehouse. The sounds of ships sailing in the dirty waters thrummed to the port, shouting heard all around over new, imported goods. “Another time, Changbin,” he only said, bringing out a chair and sitting down, propping an ankle over a knee. “I have encountered enough organ slicing for the day.”

Jisung’s face twisted in awed curiosity, settling himself down beside Chris. “Without me?” he let out a disappointed whine, turning to you. “I trusted you, at least!”

“I was surprised myself, Ji,” you argued, raising a hand towards the aloof man as you sat opposite your friend. “I didn’t know Chris gouged out Shaw’s eyes until they were in his hand!”

“You truly are a selfish man,” Changbin complained, plopping himself on the last seat. “Alway keeping the fun for yourself and ____.”

You did not really know why your face flushed a little at his charge, but you made sure to whack Changbin in the gut, earning a pained groan from the boy.

Chris locked his hands upon the table. “Well, gentlemen, then it is time for you to join in on the entertainment.”

The two boys exchanged confused glances. On cue, you brought out the pair of invitations within your coat pocket, tossing them to the table. “The Mayor’s brother is holding a ball,” you explained, rolling your eyes at the boys tearing open the envelopes, yanking out the oblong, cartridge paper, details inked with a precise hand. “Since it does not have names, anyone can enter the estate.”

Jisung let out an excited yell, grabbing onto Changbin’s arm. “Binnie, we can actually have some fun!”

“Not so fast, boys,” Chris said, tightening his gloves. “The invitations are not yours.”

Changbin’s face immediately fell. “Are you fucking kidding me—”

The elder held out a finger, silencing the complaints, but not the quiet grumbling of his members. “As I was saying,” he continued, hands interlocking once more, “____ and I will use the invitations to get inside, with the two of you as our bodyguards.”

“Marvellous!” Jisung exclaimed, sarcasm practically dripping on his words. “Absolutely fan-fucking-tastic!”

“Jisung,” Chris warned, “How about you clean the shit off the docks instead?”

“Chan,” you murmured, causing him to glance at you. His sour expression almost softened at the word, the name which only few have ever said to him. You pondered at the time the two boys, sat to your right, tried teasing him with this name, and nearly earned an ass-beating. You, on the other hand, rather liked the way the name sounded on your tongue. 

Perhaps, you wished dearly, he liked the way it sounded on your tongue too.

The man, after a pause, averted his eyes from you, focusing them on his comrades. “You both can still enjoy the festivities, but you have to keep a low profile, because while ____ and I are socialising and distracting the guests, you both need to find Carter.”

“Is he at the party too?” Changbin propped his elbows on the table. “Lord above, I’ve been wanting to kick his arse for a while.”

“So you both just frivol away, then?” Jisung whined. “I want to drink and dance!”

“And you both will,” Chris persisted. “We all will keep a lookout for Carter and his dealings, and if any of us find him first, you report to me. At my signal, you and Changbin will break through their trade. I will be behind you as long as I slip away without anyone discovering our motives.”

You look to your leader. “There’s another problem.”

The three all turned to you. “If we are to go to the most lavish ball of the season, we certainly need to dress for it.” Suddenly, you sounded like a little girl when you pointed out, “I do not have a gown to wear for the evening.”

An eyebrow raised upon Chan’s face, while Changbin and Jisung snickered, puckering their lips. “Aww, poor little ____ has no lace to woo the rich men!”

You made to slap the pair’s arms and narrowly missed, glaring. “As if you animals have any decent attire to wear for the ball! When was the last time you wore a proper tailcoat?”

That was enough for their teasing to cease, but Changbin was adamant. “Don’t throw me in with Jisung! He doesn't even bother to shower!”

“Oi, you bastard!”

The pair were ready to fight once more when Chris cleared his throat.

“You’re right,____.”

A glance at the man who said it. “I have only seen you in stealth gear and rags, the first time I met you.” He leaned back in his creaking chair. “Perhaps it is time to flower you up a little.”

Jisung and Changbin were about to chuckle once again when you shot them a dirty look.

“I will order evening attire tomorrow,” Chris decided. “They will arrive on the day of the ball, which is adequate enough timing. 

“Now,” he declared, standing. “Are we all aware of what we have to do?”

The two boys turned sheepishly to you, who sighed and addressed the leader. “You and I attend the ball with these two fools as our bodyguards—”

“Hey!”

“____!”

“We maintain a believable facade and enjoy ourselves while also looking out for Carter and the documents. Once we find out where he is, Changbin and Jisung take him away, and we slip out of the party unnoticed.”

Chris, after a pause, nodded, a ghost of a smile upon his lips. “Good girl.”

And just like that, he left the table, your eyes a little wide and heart a little raced. 

When Chris retreated into the warehouse, the two boys turned their malicious gazes towards you, smirking much too wide for your liking.

“Do not,” you snapped, cheeks burning deeper, earning a smattering of laughter from the bastards.

“Whatever you say, good girl,” Changbin simpered, Jisung repeating the damned endearment until you hastily stood from your chair.

You rewarded them both with your middle finger before storming back into another warehouse, Chris’ words still engraved in your mind.

Just as Christopher Bang had predicted, the new attire arrived on the day of the ball. 

More planning had been explained, more additions to the grand scheme of the evening which was mere hours away. The gang was ready, but you can never be perfectly anticipated for any ideas gone amiss.

You even taught Jisung and Changbin to dance, ranging from the Polka to the Viennese Waltz, which was popular amongst high society in the growing years of Queen Victoria’s reign. They were terrible at the start, both of them always falling on each other, but with hard effort they learned quickly, almost perfecting the art of leading your partner on the ballroom floor.

You had not bothered asking the other if he wished to learn. There was something about him which made you think that he could do anything. Not once had he ever doubted your theory.

It was as if there was nothing in the world he could not know like the back of his gloved hand.

Thoughts like these were what filled you with such awe for him. Such deep-rooted pride that you worked under this man. Those thoughts did, however, curve into darker corners — when his midnight-lined eyes and raven figure haunted you in restless nights. 

You aggressively shook your head, swinging your legs over the dock. Sitting upon the wood, you watched the sun descend slowly, the stark yellows and whites of the sky beginning to darken. Ships docked and stayed, men with their filthy language and filthier intentions flocked outside, and strange women with too-tight corsets and lips too rosey, smirking at the newcomers, carrying out their own ways of living.

Sometimes, you’d watch this run-down life move on in this exact same spot, thanking the lucky stars for not being one of the boys with the weights on their backs, nor the girls with the untied top corsets. You thanked the same man, who brought you out of that hell, giving you the chance to fight all this wrong embedded in London. 

You also thanked him, especially that day, for calling you that endearment. 

God. The man was a criminal, yet you were the one being imprisoned. 

“____!”

You turned, heaving to your feet when you see Jisung running to you, packages in his hands. “Your gown’s inside!” He exclaimed, gummy smile lighting up his entire face. 

Throwing you the box, you caught it just before it flew into the Thames, shooting the boy a wary glare. “Careful,” you said, looking over the silk ribbon tied into a perfect bow upon the middle. Although there were greater happinesses in life, small ones such as new dresses had you in near giggles.

“I’ve got my very own tailcoat now,” Jisung yelled, ripping open the packaging, about to whip out his new clothing when you waved him to stop.

“Do it inside, Ji, or you’ll ruin your outfit!”

“Trust him to fuck up a perfectly new suit before trying it on,” Changbin’s voice drawled through the dock, who held a box of his own. “Also, the boss is saying to quit dallying and start dressing!”

You obliged, holding onto your box tenderly as you entered a little building beside the main warehouse, consisting of everyone’s rooms and privies. Your eyes glanced to Chris’ bedroom door before pushing open the door to yours, stepping inside to the small, yet decorated space, filled with a board of knives and bows displayed upon one wall and an erratic strokes of paint brushed along the textured surfaces, courtesy of Jisung and Changbin’s lack of motivation to finish your room. An undone bed was tucked into the corner, and a large mirror stood on its curled railing in the other corner, revealing yourself, hands underneath the package.

The sun fell further, sky being painted with dark oranges and purple and pinks, staining your bedroom the colours of soft autumn as you put your package on the bed, untying the ribbon and unboxing the whole treat. 

The first glance of the dress had you smiling in pure incitement.

You brought the dress out of its box, letting it trail free right down to your toes, holding it to arm’s length to examine the details : it was a mysterious, dark red, a colour which instantly attracted attention within the golds of the ballroom. The neck line was low, dipping just enough to tempt until it swelled over for the openings for the arms, black ruffles on the fabric to accentuate off shoulders. The intricate, midnight detail was stitched to perfection, creating a network of swirls upon the bodice before flaring out into the wider skirts. Dear God, you had never seen such an exquisite dress on any noble lady in this damned city.

Your smile grew a little wider. Christopher Bang, once again, has not disappointed. 

You turned it on it’s back, mouth parting in surprise at the silk lacing, undone and trailing down the dress, waiting to be tied and admired. Realising that we’re you to wear this, the entire ball would see your back half-exposed. Even the man you’re to be escorted with.

The thought alone made your insides sing. 

Chris had ordered this dress. He knew what he was acquiring for you, what he asked you to dare. 

Well, you were happy to oblige. Something within you wished to see his eyes blaze at you in the gown.

Closing the curtains of your room, you quickly lit up a metallic lamp, orange light leaking onto your dresser and walls.  Setting the source upon a stool, you began shedding your coat, tossing it on the bed before going to the dresser.

You spent about ten minutes on your hair, lifting locks upward and curling them into a messy bun. You brought out clips of pearls, attaching them at the back of your hair, letting the few stray curls bounce along your ears and neck.

After finishing your hair you began shedding your clothing, excitement rushing in your gut at the thought of wearing the ballgown. When you were adorned in nothing but your underthings, you grabbed onto the arms of the new dress, entering one leg into the opening before sliding the other. You raised the gown, fitting the bodice upon yourself and the short sleeves cuffing just under your shoulders. 

Looking over your shoulder at the back, it was bare before the mirror, saving your rear only with a small dip which was edged with more black lace. The laces for tightening the back still hung uselessly, begging to be entangled with their partners.

And you tried to oblige. You truly did, straining your hands behind your back and trying your hardest to tie the laces with the opposites, of creating a pattern adequate enough for the ball and announce your preparation. Unfortunately for you, your fingers refused to assist you that moment in the evening. 

Letting out an irritated sigh, you called for your friends.

“Jisung!” you shouted, hands endeavouring still. “Changbin!”

Your back still to the door, you waited for the two fools to arrive, but no one came. Again, you called their names, but to no avail, only silence answering you.

“I swear to the Lord,” you muttered, arms now starting to hurt from the stretching. You were about to bring the warehouse down with your roar when you heard the door quietly creak open, the sound of boots emitting against the floor. 

“Ah, finally,” you began as you turned around, hands clutching the bodice of the dress, ready to be irritated by your comrades when all words abandoned your tongue.

There, standing by the door, in all his midnight-tainted glory, was Chris Bang.

You hated how your eyes widened at the sight of him. 

The man always took care of his appearance, but that evening he had truly outdone himself - His infamous woollen longcoat was hung over his arm, exposing his black tailcoat, shining slightly in the flickering lamp light. His waistcoat underneath fit snug, and his white cravat tie peaked just above the lapels, caressing his Adam’s apple. His raven locks were slicked back, a few stray flyaways drooping over his forehead. The gloves were worn still, skin never exposed.

You caught his eyes flicker, something within stirring at seeing you, holding onto your dress in case it fell to the floor. The prolonging silence was shattered when you forced yourself to speak.

“Chris,” you said, because his name was the first thing, the only thing you could comprehend.

He, too, inhaled, slowly. “Jisung and Changbin...they’re outside, so they could not hear.”

“Oh.” 

Another round of silence. God, you wished you could just say something to him, anything which wasn’t a single syllable—

“____.”

You snapped into focus. “Yes?”

“Why did you call them?”

Blinking, you stumbled, “I, I just needed help with…” your hand gestured to your back. “...with the laces.”

There was an indecipherable undertone in his next words. “You could have called me.”

“You’re here now.”

Again. The world-heavy pause upon the both of you. 

A few more seconds ticked by when Chris set his coat upon the dresser chair. His eyes never left yours.

“Turn around.”

You dragged your gaze away from his as you complied, baring your back before him, laces dangling. His footsteps sounded from behind you, and his presence was felt, large and magnetic.

Leather sliding from skin, you sensed his eyes on you, taking in your illuminated skin. You had the greatest urge to shiver, but suppressed it, waiting for his next move.

A small breath hitched in your throat when Chris grabbed onto the first pair of laces and tugged them back, pulling you to him. 

Almost too conveniently, your rear backed against his crotch, and a minute noise escaped you before putting some distance between you two again. You instantly regretted the action, already missing the mere caress of what lay underneath his trousers.

“Stop fidgeting,____,” he ordered, and you immediately stilled, the tug still adamant at your back. Almost disgraceful how quickly you listened to him.

Slowly, he tied the first bow, right to the small of your back. When he started on the second, though, the first touch of his fingers against your back threw you off guard.

You should have expected this. You should have known from the start of his task that his fingers would graze your skin but each caress was like a lick of fire, threatening to singe the skin. Your breath caught in your throat, each time Chris touched you.

Those damned fingers skirted upwards, tying up the laces with such delicacy it nearly softened your stance, if only you didn’t notice his growing warmth. You realised with no small amount of pleasure that he, too, was possibly flustered.

Christopher Bang. Flustered over a girl.

You almost gasped when his hands brought a few stray curls over your shoulder, the dip of your neck exposed as he began the final bow of your gown. The process was excruciatingly slow, each little caress enough for you to turn around and—

And what?

How you desperately wanted to find out. 

Sensing the ribbon curling upon your neck, you understood. 

“It is done,” he whispered, and you shifted at the sigh which kissed your skin. God, he was so close, you were scared that if you turned around his lips—

You did not need to worry when you felt strong hands grip your shoulders, whirling you around in a sudden fashion. Your eyes widened at the close proximity of his face, his beautiful fucking face, and the warm, slender hands on your naked shoulders.

“Chan,” you let yourself say, and you swore the criminal’s eyes darkened. His grip on you tightened.

Perhaps he would have closed the distance, saved you from desperation when someone knocked on the goddamn door.

“___?!”

“Hurry up, the carriage is waiting!”

“Women, honestly—!”

You yelped at the sound of your friends bellowing behind the door. Even Chris looked a little surprised, a slight tick in his jaw as the noise grew louder.

Grabbing onto your skirts, you thundered towards the door, furrowing your brows as you twisted the knob, opening to see the same two idiots, shooting you irritated glares. 

“Is Miss Fancy-Shmancy finally ready?” Changbin drawled, propping a hand upon his hip, tails of his coat dangling behind him.

“Madame certainly took her time,” Jisung went on, sauntering into your bedroom without a care. “Might as well not attend the ball at all—”

His incessant rambling was instantly ceased when he saw Chris standing before you, putting on his gloves. His face was impassive as ever, save for the jaw still tightened.

“Oh, Chris,” he said, and started backing away to the door. “The carriage is outside.”

“Let us go, then,” he only replied as he grabbed his longcoat, strolling out of your bedroom, leaving your skin tingling and heart confused.

Changbin watched Chris exit the building, turning to you with a raised brow. “What was the Mr. Thorns-up-his-arse doing in your room?”

You scoffed at the nickname, picking up the invitations from the dresser. “He was just helping me.”

Jisung’s lips curved into a smirk. “Helping you…?”

“Stop it!” You demanded, but both of the boys could see the blush on your cheeks, even from the dim lamp light. 

“Come on, now,____,” Changbin said, holding out an arm, and hitting Jisung’s arm to do the same. “Let us follow Chris before he shouts at us for keeping you here.”

“Don’t say such things,” you cooed, looping your arms with the two boys. “He will kill you outright instead.”

Laughter emitted from the two, leading you out of the room, down the halls and soon the building.

The carriage was waiting at the entrance of the dock, horses neighing softly at your arrival. Jisung opened the carriage door, letting you climb inside. Chris, inside already, held out a hand, you taking it as he had you sit beside him. His hard figure brushed against your shoulders, reminding you of his fingers on your back not too long ago.

Just like that, you slumped against the seating. That man was truly going to be the death of you.

When the two boys scrambled inside, Chris’ hand thudded against the roof, indicating it to start riding. The carriage obliged to his command. 

The small, interwoven streets widened as the carriage rode upon the main roads, going faster with each signal of Chris’ hand. The inside was alive with Jisung gloating shamelessly over his checkered waistcoat, with Changbin giving reassurances for his “ugly face ruining the clothing.” You laughed at every jab the two threw at each other, but would tense at the erratic touches Chris’ knee would send with every shake of the vehicle. Although the many layers of skirts cushioned these brushes, the blood rushing to your cheeks was evidence enough - everything he did made you so unhinged.

Soon, the big roads led from filthy, back-to-back housing to larger homes, the further the dirty central city strayed from you. A few touches of countryside teased your view when you saw mansions, estates the size of neighbourhoods gracing the surroundings. The carriage began to slow down, as more people adorned in fine attire entered your window view, no doubt going to the same destination as the gang.

The most illuminated estate welcomed you as the carriage stopped right before its vast, colourful gardens, smattering of couples taking intimate walks along the hedges. Chris, noticing the destination, opened the door, Changbin following suit. As the former got out he held out his hand to you. Surprised by his sudden manners, you took his hand, stepping down from the carriage, careful of your skirts as they brushed against the pavement. Jisung and Changbin were right beside you, uttering the driver to come back within a couple of hours.

“Now,” Chris began, bringing your hand to his arm. “You both stay behind me and ____. You wouldn’t need invitations if you both act like our bodyguards.”

“Right behind you, boss,” Jisung chanted, counting his knives inside his coat pockets. Changbin took one of the weapons from him, sliding it up his trouser sleeve, securing it with a leather ankle strap. 

“Right.” the gang all looked at each other, silent understanding passing between all of you.

“Let’s ruffle some rich feathers.”

With your hand still on his arm, the leader of the Sons of Seoul led his gang inside of the massive estate. 

Guards at the entrance shot you grave looks as they stopped you. “Invitations,” they said. You obliged, bringing out the golden paper. They looked over, convinced, and gave them back to you.

You and Chris were about to enter when Jisung and Changbin were stopped behind you. “Protection,” Chris said, but the guards were unconvinced. 

“They need invitations too,” was their answer.

Dread, slight yet present, began to fill your stomach. Has the mission failed before it could even begin?

“I suggest you let them in, too,” Chris only said, black eyes piercing the two men with a glare. “Or my friend hosting this party will hear of this inconvenience.”

That seemed to stir the guards, for they said nothing more, letting your friends enter the estate. Jisung and Changbin made sure to smirk at the men before sauntering inside behind you.

Your eyes, upon stepping inside the main hall, were welcomed with paradise. 

Gold. gold upon gold was painted, lined, moulded everywhere, upon the walls, on the floor, on the painted ceiling, hypnotising you with its kaleidoscopic pattern. Swirls of white and silver journeyed along the walls, and the floor bore solid treasures, sculpted into the ground and shining exquisitely from the chandelier lighting. Hundreds of lords and ladies, businessmen and escorts populated the manor, either being moved by the orchestral band, dancing, helping themselves to food from the lines of dishes or simply mingling among others.

It was the chaos of the rich. A place you didn’t quite fit in.

You stole a glance at the man beside you. Even though he looked contained as ever, you felt his arm tightening all over. Perhaps he knew he did not belong in this world either.

The grim understanding was cut off when Changbin’s shrill gulp sounded from behind you.

“Scones!”

The man immediately dashed towards the food section, earning blatant laughter from his friends as Jisung stepped beside Chris. “Once he’s done stuffing himself, we’ll get into positions.” He skirted his eyes over the buzzing crowd. “I have already spotted some of Carter’s men in different corners of the hall, so we can see where they’re going to go.”

“Any signs of Carter?” you asked, already feeling suggestive eyes on your body, the dark red curves of your figure. 

“He’ll show himself soon,” Chris promised, beginning to take a step forward. “The bastard thrives in attention.” He turned to Jisung. “Make yourself scarce.”

He then saw Changbin making himself much too comfortable with the jam scones rapidly declining in his wake. “And for God’s sake, control Changbin.”

Jisung shook his head, mocking a salute before strolling to his friend. You and him were left to your own activities, and soon you felt the tug of his body, leading you further into the hall.

You looked up to see him scouring the room. His brows furrowed slightly, that stiffness felt underneath your fingertips. “Chris,” you called to him, and were answered with an uncertain stare.

“I’m alright,” he said, walking along the lines of the dance floor, looking away when he gave you the false assurance. 

You did not know what was going on. In other missions his composure would never falter — this was what he was so notorious for, being calm despite the anarchy around him. Never before had you seen him so tense.

“Stop it.”

You blinked back into reality. “What?”

“You’re doing it again,” he hissed, raking his hand through his hair. “Looking at me that way. Like I’m about to snap.”

A pout formed on your lips, looking up at him underneath your lashes. “I can sense you’re distressed.” You squeezed his arm in comfort. “I cannot help if I worry for you, Chris.” 

With small surprise, you found him soften, only slightly. “I just…” he sighed in exasperation. “I hate parties.”

You understood the connotations. Wealthy parties. The men and women who throw them. 

“And I, too,” you agreed, earning a soft snort from the man. Your heart warmed a little at the sound, and thankfully the tension faded between the two of you, not necessarily from each other but from the socialites around you.

Your heart, however, received no such rest, beating much too loud for your liking. 

The two of you took another turn of the room before a low, arrogant drawl paused you both in your tracks.

“Mr Christopher Bang.”

You and your leader both sighed simultaneously. 

Turning, you tilted your head upwards to none other than ‘Scar’ Carter, smirking ridiculously down at the the two of you. He was something out of a children’s book, the grotesque villains with wanned skin and beady looks, ready to pounce and make you disappear without you ever realising. Although young, he looked to be in his mid-forties, unkept locks and curled moustache, being played by his fingers. 

He held out his other hand, extending the smile to the man beside you. “Always a goddamned blessing to see you.”

Chris assessed his hand for a moment before he let go of your grip on his arm, slipping off his gloves. His own olive coloured hands were roughened, no doubt from years of manual labour. He took Carter’s hand, shaking the greeting in place, and the latter turned his enemy’s hold, looking over at the new image inked upon the hand.

“What is this, Chrissy?” He mused, the nickname causing the said-man’s lips to twitch. “Some flowery poetry?”

Your eyes strayed to what he meant; just under his thumb, where the joint began, was a tattoo, inked deeply in a cursive hand. It was a phrase you had never knew the meaning of, nor had you asked, but the Latin was beautiful on his textured skin.

NON DUCOR DUCO.

“Not poetry, Carter,” he only said, tracing his sole tattoo with a finger. “But something I live by.”

Despite Carter towering over the man, Chris Bang pinned him with a piercing glare. His signature phantom smile appeared on his lips. 

“I am not led. I lead.”

The giant’s shit-eating grin faltered. You could not help but let a small chuckle escape at his reaction. 

And maybe you shouldn’t have shown amusement, because when he focused his animalistic gaze upon you, you had the sudden urge to hold onto the man beside you again.

“Ah, Miss ____,” he jeered, mocking a deep bow which you did not return. “Chris’ little...protégée.”

He then held out his hand to you, and you knew it was not to shake the gnarled fingers. “Would you do me the honour of dancing with you?”

You scoffed, anger bubbling within your veins. How dare he even ask you, after all the trouble he had caused for the gang? Smirking as if it was all a little game.

Your mouth parted, ready to reject him outright when a warm hand settled on your back. 

Chris’ fingers stroked the exposed skin, skirting over the lacing, and despite the heavenly feeling, you knew what this signal really meant. 

Distraction. This would be the perfect opportunity to divert Carter’s attention while Chris joined in the other’s search. Listening to the instrumental, you realised that would spare them another five minutes.

Reigning in your fury, you offered the bastard a thin-lipped smile before taking his hand, already missing the mere touch of another seconds before.

Carter led you to the dance floor among the other dancers, you hardly radiating the same enthusiasm as the others accompanying you. The man’s other hand, one still holding yours, snaked around your waist, and you hated how it felt against your back, pure distaste staining your features as he tried to impersonate the idle lace curling that Chris did.

As if it physically hurt, you propped a hand upon his shoulder, and when the music began, the game started.

The giant kept ogling at you as the sly grin appeared on his lips. “I must say, I am very envious of Chris.”

You matched his stare. “Of course you would,” you only said, trying your best to sound like your leader, who was an embodiment of calmness. “You can never be the man Chris is.”

“Oh, I did not mean by what he is, my lady,” he corrected. “I meant by what he has.”

He pulled you to him, much to close, and you hissed as the fingers behind you played on your back. “He is much too lucky to possess a creature like you, Miss ____.”

Good God. If he endeavoured to make you as uncomfortable as possible, then he was doing a splendid job. You regretted ever listening to Chris, but for the plan, you will do what is necessary.

As if on cue, you felt dark, piercing eyes on you. By the little hairs which stood at the back of your neck, there was no doubt who watched over you, murmuring progress with Jisung as he sipped wine on a tightly held flute. 

“Tell me, sweet,” he began once more, making you lose your thoughts, turning about the room as the music went on. “Why do you work for a man like him?”

You sighed at the question. Truly this man did not know how to initiate small talk. “Why is that any of your concern?”

“Because I’ve seen you in action,” he answered, and you could not mistake the awe that threatened to expose in his voice. “You have incredible potential, my lady, and it pains me that Chris does not use you properly. You waste your efforts in a silly gang.”

His condescending speech made you dig his nails in his hand. “Careful, Carter,” you seethed, watching his face crumple in pain from your action. “The silly gang you speak of will not hesitate to obliterate your entire organisation. And neither will I.”

Rage flashed in his eyes as he grinned at your claim. “I doubt the esteemed Christopher Bang would even let you participate,” he drawled, grazing his fingers against your back. “You being his whore is enough for him.”

You parted your mouth in slight shock. The reaction quickly evaporated with pure, unadulterated fury. A lot of people speculate your true relationship with Chris, but your own demeaning always struck deep. How dare people think that you only have the power you have because you slept with the greatest criminal in the city? 

With your head raging, you sent your low heel down upon Carter’s boot, a yelp escaping the man as his dancing faltered, grip on you loosening. Fortunately for you, the orchestra smoothed their music to a close, and small applause rang around the room, you joining as you smiled at Carter’s slight groaning.

When the giant looked at you again, all his arrogance was gone, instead a face of wrath. “You bitch-”

You were sure he was going to strike, despite hundreds in the ballroom. Even your smug demeanour dampened when you saw his bear-like hand raise when its journey was paused.

Ceased completely as Chris’ hand wrapped around Carter’s wrists.

Your leader’s smile was sharp, like a decorated dagger. “Are you already creating a scene, just when you finished the first dance?”

Carter, dumbfounded by his enemy’s sudden presence, waved off the foreign grip on his hand. “You are never going to find the documents,” he crowed, glaring at the two of you.

Chris, the magnificent bastard, only kept his magnetic smirk as he took your hand, enveloping his fingers with yours. “We shall see about that,” he promised, and dipped his head in adieu, turning on his heel and taking you with him. 

You felt your heart flutter when his grip on you stayed, even when Carter stomped off into the crowd. “Bastard,” you hissed. A hum of agreement followed. 

Soon, music began to play a sensual tune, and you looked to the couples joining in the main circle of the floor. You made to leave that area when you felt the man refused to be led. 

You looked back, noticing an uncertain emotion swirling in his eyes. “The dance is about to begin.”

“So?” he merely said, hands still clasping yours. The people around you began to take positions. 

“Chris,” you got out. “You do not dance.”

A small smile enveloped his mouth at the claim. He answered in wrapping a hand around you, making you suck in a breath. You caught sight of the tattoo inked on his skin as he raised his hold on. NON DUCOR DUCO.

I am not led. I lead.

“You’re right,” he admitted. As the first tune of the violin settled in the ballroom, the man took a step. “But I let it slide on special occasions.”

You did not reply, only staring at him as you happily let him turn you about the dance floor.

Your assumptions were correct - Chris Bang was a wonderful dancer. The man already possessed a natural smoothness in his usual movement, but the way he led you across the room gave fluidity another meaning entirely. His hand on your back was an anchor to reality, keeping you from dreaming away in the skies above, and his fingers, interlocked with yours, were a silent promise that he was never letting you go. 

You were so caught up in your fantasies that you did not hear what Chris said until he called your name. 

“____.”

You perked up, raising your brows. “Yes?

“Did Carter say anything to you?” His fingers on your exposed skin began to caress you, and it took a lot within you to stay calm. “You were seething while you both danced.”

Oh, so he was watching you. The information didn’t help your nerves. “He was being his usual, charming self,” you drawled, careful of your feet. 

He paused a bit at your unhelpful answer. “I see,” he got out, index curling with the ribbon of your back. You let out a shuddered breath, not going unnoticed by the man. 

You changed the subject, focusing on the mission. “Are Jisung and Changbin still searching for the documents?”

Chris, on the note, twirled you delicately, and brought you back into his arms. “They have discovered the hideout, and have taken down half the men,” he informed, and you sighed in relief. “They’ll find what we’re looking for soon.”

“I hope so, too,” you murmured, listening to the music ascend in its pitch. 

So much finery radiated in this room. As your eyes drifted to the surroundings once more, you became slightly envious of the family fortunate enough to reside in this estate, and drink in the liquid gold splattered everywhere in the vast hall. Complaints were heard from a rather nasty woman, who screamed at a young servant for spilling wine on her oh so expensive dress, and the jewellery which glittered upon necks and ears. 

This. you hated this. Despised the wealth which accumulated in this ball, this entire neighbourhood. Not months ago you were about to die from the lack of food in your stomach. No doubt these people simply relished another one of these many balls, occurring every season.

It was the only reason the Sons of Seoul existed in the first place. To battle the ranks of the rich, and establish a sense of justice which had long faded from London.

Perhaps Chris sensed your growing disgust at the environment, for he sighed. “I hate these people.”

You nearly smiled at how similar you both think.

His touches still had you nearing closer to him as he continued, “I hate how everyone here can simply enjoy themselves without a care in the world. I hate the Mayor for letting this chaos happen as he sits back on his arse, corruption spiking under his office.”

His anger grew. “I hate that pig-headed prick Carter and all the trouble he’s brought me. I hate that he stole those documents and constantly fucks with me as if we two had not crawled out of the same hellhole.

“And God,” he snapped, pure venom now lacing his tongue, “I hate how he was touching you as if you were no one but his.”

Your eyes widened at the confession.

He groaned out in frustration, fingers tightening on your hand. “I hate how Jisung and Changbin walked in on us this evening. Despise that the moment I was about to close the distance they burst through the door, leaving me helpless. And I hate feeling helpless.”

You did not know what to say, what words to comfort him with. Not when you were thinking the exact same thing, and felt the exact same agitation, particularly at your core.

The man leaned in, eyes heavy lidded. “You know what I hate the most, ____?”

Gulping, you let out a little, “What?” afraid of what he was going to reveal.

His tongue ran along his bottom lip, fingers continuing their teasing.

“I-” he seethed, gripping your back tightly. “Fuck, I hate how ravishing you look in that dress.”

You parted your mouth in shock, blushing the colour of roses. “Why do you hate that?” you only asked, breath almost lost in your lungs as your blood began to thrum beneath your skin.

His eyes lost all dreamy light when a small curve enveloped his lips. “Because, my dear ____,” he muttered hoarsely, each breath ragged, “It makes me think of all the things I want to do to you.”

The strong hand on his back was felt much more, fingers playing with the laces of your dress. You nearly cried out in front of a hundred people over their idle play, and his bold, bold statement.

Chris relished in your whimpering reaction. “Aren’t you going to ask me?” he whispered, leaning in till his mouth hovered near your ear. “Do you not want to know what I wish to do to you?”

“What,” you rasped out, grip tightening over his neck. “What are you going to do?”

His husky chuckling nearly sent you over the edge. “I’ll find a nice little space, away from Carter and all these people,” he began, breath caressing your skin. “Then I’ll kiss you slowly, like so.” he pressed a chaste kiss underneath your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “These hands of mine will roam all over, but they will gladly trail up your legs, ____.

“And God, when my hands stop at your sopping cunt, I’ll make it cry with my fingers.” He drummed his fingers on your back. “One.” Tap. “Two.” Tap. “Three of them.” Tap. “Perhaps you’d like more.”

You whined into his shoulder, feet stumbling as you clung onto him tighter. “M-more,” you pleaded quietly, so careful to keep dancing, move along to the music. 

“Of course you would,” he only cooed in your ear, and you were scared you would collapse over his words. “Luckily for you, I wouldn’t be finished with you either.”

Your hand, clasped in his his, squeezed at his words. “Chris, please—”

“Yes, just like that,” the man mused, whirling you on the dance floor. “Just like that, you’ll beg me to send you over the edge, but I won’t let you be satisfied so easily.” 

On God and all his subjects, if he did not cease his filth you were going to come onto the floor by his mere words. You could tell Chris noticed, almost reading your mind as the ghost of a smirk widened. “Already afraid, love?”

Love. 

Dear, fucking God.

“You see, ____,” he muttered, leading you to the final round of the song, the steps of the dance going faster. “I won’t let you be satiated with just my fingers.”

And as he broke his hold on you, twirling you with his tattooed hand, he pulled you to him, one last time, crushing you against his granite chest. 

His eyes bore into yours when the last string of the violin wailed around the hall. All you could see was pure, unadulterated desire.

“I will have you writhing with my cock.”

Your eyes never left Chris’ as the music finally came to a close, gaze blurring at the dark promise. Applause scattered around the ballroom, yet your hands stayed upon his arm, the other enveloped in his.

You caught the words once more under his thumb. NON DUCOR DUCO.

Indeed you do.

“Chris,” you breathed out, waiting for him to let you go. He did no such thing.

Feeling a few suspicious eyes on you, your feet backed away from the man, hands escaping the feeling he emitted underneath your touch. 

A whine threatened to escape you when you saw his desire had not dampened. His hands shook, only slightly, and your stomach erupted into a million butterflies, journeying lower and lower. 

You wanted him. You wanted him so badly you feared you would faint on the dance floor. 

Excusing yourself, you hastened your footsteps, sending a few smiles to passerbys as you picked up a flute of champagne, hurrying down long hallways, catching a few couples leaning towards each other. When you found a grand wooden cabinet beside another door, no doubt a guest room, you slumped next to it, breathing loud and ragged, too affected by a certain man’s eyes and the hidden intentions underneath. You drank the entire champagne in one gulp, propping the flute on a servant’s tray as he rushed by.

“____!”

Gasping, you turned to the source of the voice. The voice which filled you with such unexplainable hunger you had to clench your thighs as it drew nearer.

Footsteps thudded against the carpet, and you squirmed at the sight of Chris Bang, storming towards you with a ferocity which had your knees near buckling.

“Where,” he began, voice an octave lower as he stood not a foot from you, smacking his hands against the wall, caging you with his presence. “Were you trying to lead me?”

“Somewhere where they cannot see us,” you responded, excitement clear in your voice. The ballroom chatter was still within your range, so technically, anyone could wonder down these halls, look over the cabinet and catch you both. 

The throbbing inside you didn’t particularly care. 

“And what do you want me to do,____,” he murmured, and his voice was glazed with pure lust,  “Which the world cannot see?”

“I…” slight shame tried to course through your body but the overflowing desire was too strong. Not when your tongue was not afraid to voice what was in your heart the moment you first saw him. “I want you to do all those things you said. I want you to ruin me.”

And perhaps that was all he needed, when Christopher Bang pressed his lips against yours and answered your prayers.

He was instantly rewarded with your surprised whine, drowned out by the movement of his mouth as his hands left the wall, holding onto your face. His thumbs caressed your cheeks as he led the fiery kiss, opening your mouth to let the little noises escape.

“Chris,” you tried to rasp out, but his lips refused once more as he tilted your head, gaining full access and truly discovering the sheer pleasure oozing from the swell of your lips. God, he had gone through every experience which gave him a sense of thrill, but the kiss he shared with you brought him a new, foreign high — as if he tried the drugs he had seen on the streets for the first time, and becoming addicted on the first dose. 

You broke the kiss, gasping for air as the two of you shared a carnal gaze, chests rising at an unsteady rhythm. Chris was ruthless, only sparing you for a few seconds before pouncing back in on your mouth, this time tongue playing along, asking to be let inside and slide along the inner workings. You would have been a fool to refuse him.

The moment you opened your lips for him his tongue slithered inside, sliding it along the roof of your mouth, while his hands left your face and instead gripped onto your waist, driving you further against the wall, snuffing out any distance which dared come between you and him.

A slightly moan bubbled within your throat when he began to roughen your lips, capturing your tongue before closing the seam of your mouth within his own, repeating the action until you didn’t know whether you were sane or absolutely fucking crazy.

You were sure straight after when one of his hands began sliding down. Down. He hurriedly broke the kiss, letting out an angry groan at the never ending skirts which met with his fingers. “Fuck this dress,” he cursed as he descended a little, peppering kisses upon the corner of your mouth, your jaw, your neck, trailing until he found the hem of your skirts.

Bunching them up with his one hand, he lifted the fabric, baring your legs to the dimmed chandelier light from the main hall. His hand trailed right up to your core, a single layer hiding it from Chris’ fingers. The poor, soaked fabric could not ever compete, when the criminal, with a single finger as he scattered kisses upon your face, hooked under the lacey underwear, sliding it down your thighs. So much desperation lurked he did not even bother to slide it down to your ankles,  a chuckle rasping out of him as his fingers skimmed your upper thighs to find them dripping with the suppressed arousal.

“My poor, poor, darling,” he whispered in a menacing tone, the other hand caressing your face, “Couldn’t contain yourself for me?”

“Ch-chan,” you heard yourself say, because at this point your soul was not present, probably lurking in seventh heaven where this man was taking you. 

Hearing his name on your slurred mouth only had him plunging the first finger inside you. 

You let out an obscenely loud moan, which was immediately followed by hushing. “Don’t make a sound,” he demanded, smiling slyly at your whimpering, “Or else I stop. Understand?”

You could not nod fast enough, and he huffed out a laugh before sliding the second finger in, rubbing against your slit, drawing circles upon your throbbing skin, testing the rather sticky waters of you and your fucked out state. 

Satisfied, he delved the two fingers in deeper, pulsating against your walls until they hit a certain spot which had you crying out in pleasure. Chris’ heavy lidded warning flashed in his eyes.

You nearly cried when he began to slide his fingers out over your moaning, your hand immediately stopping him from pulling out further. “Ch-Chan,” you pleaded, pleaded like the whores you heard on the docks, but you didn’t care, did not give a single fuck when those fingers needed to be inside you again. “Chan, please, I’m sorry—”

“One more fuck up, ____, and these—” his fingers plunged back into you once more, hitching you upwards with the sheer force, “—will be back out.”

Nodding hastily, you left your hand on his wrist. Chris continued to work so deliciously inside you that it took every ounce of strength left in you not to bring the manor down with your moaning. The whimpering could not be contained, but the criminal let that slide, finding great contentment every time you begged for more.

He curled his slender fingers, acquainting himself with that same bloody spot which had you seeing stars. Your hands gripped onto his neck for stability, nails digging into his shirt. How you wanted it off, along with all the damned layers he adorned.

The way he played with your sweet spot had you feeling heavy, a pleasured ball of pain forming at your lower back. You knew you were being led to an edge, an edge you could not, did not want to escape, and when you pulled away from Chris, looking into his eyes, he instantly understood.

“Oh my, love,” he simpered, his free hand thumbing your cheek. “Does someone want to get fucked against the wall? When I’m not even finished with them yet?”

Tears lined your eyes, cunt throbbing almost painfully around his fingers. “Chan, I’m going to—ah!” you cut off, closing your eyes as you barely held on to your last grips of sanity. “Chan.”

Your weakened, fucked out demeanour had the most dangerous man in London fearing for his own senses. He wished nothing more than you screaming his name for the whole city to hear, and with you, looking at him like that…

Oh, he was definitely going to drive you over the edge.

Christopher Bang nearly carried out his promise when a shrill call interrupted you two. 

“CHRIS! ____!”

“WHERE ARE YOU—?”

Your lust-glazed stare cracked as you blinked. “Chan,” you said his name, but the man let out an enraged roar. You felt the hollow emptiness when those golden fingers were pulled out of you, sticky residue coating his skin. The footsteps grew closer, the volume of the shouting increasing. 

Chris brought out a white handkerchief, cleaning your mess on his fingers rather aggressively. “I’m going to fucking kill them,” he guttered out, making your legs tremble. To your utmost misery you felt the orgasm, so close before, fading from existence, and you made a silent vow to break Jisung and Changbin’s legs the moment all of this was over.

Speaking of the Devil, the two hastened, opening all doors and closing them till the two stumbled upon the both of you, infuriated and worryingly turned on.

Changbin looked at the deflated expression on both of yours faces. “Chris? ____?” His eyes narrowed, trying to work out the reasons for the slight electric atmosphere he suddenly entered in. “Are you both...alright?”

“Perfectly,” the man answered in a ragged hiss, sliding on his gloves again, smoothing over his raven locks. “Now why the fuck are you both here?”

The two boys did not understand their leader’s anger. Choosing to let the snipe slide, Jisung said, “We’ve caught Carter.”

That seemed to send you and Chris back in reality. Well, not really, when your core still throbbed, the pleasure fading with each passing second.

“Where is he?” Chris flattened out his coat. “Where are the documents?”

Changbin brought out a small file from inside his waistcoat, holding it out for the former. “Right here.”

Chris took the file, skimming through the contents. His previously angered expression relaxed, just a fraction, and he held onto it as he set his powerful gaze on you all. 

“Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

The four of you managed to slip away easily, you trying your hardest to fix yourself after the whole fiasco in the hallway. Your heart was still running a mile per minute, refusing to calm as your mind relived the events. The original carriage which you all arrived in was now accompanied with another one, with a dark figure hunched over from the window’s view.

“We threw the giant fucker in another carriage,” Changbin said, laughing as he recalled the takedown with Jisung. “Man could not believe he was failing!”

Chris ignored his story, turning to you all as he stood before Carter’s carriage. “You three, take the free one,” he ordered, his eyes rooted on you. “I will journey home with him.”

“But Chris,” you began, taking a step towards him, “Let me come with you.”

You caught a glimpse of the desire which swirled in his eyes, not long ago, and perhaps that was why he held your arm in his now gloved hand. 

“Go,” he only said. “I have a few things to say to him alone.”

After letting you go, nodding at the boys behind you, Chris Bang stepped inside the first carriage, slamming the door shut. The metal wheels screeched as the whole thing began to move, accelerating away.

You watched the carriage fade from view, Jisung and Changbin stepping beside you.

“What happened, ____?” the former asked, the other trying to comfort you with his gaze. 

Silence was their only answer, as you turned on your heel, climbing inside your designated ride and watched the stars twinkle from the window.

The two members of the gang really tried their best.

As you all journeyed home without your leader, the pair told their tale of how they took down Carter and his men, Jisung adding exaggerated gasps as Changbin demonstrated each kill he thrust upon his victims. You offered them a few laughs, giving them your attention, but really your mind was somewhere else, specifically a midnight-tainted criminal who nearly brought you your undoing.

You were insane. Insane as you thought of him, insane as you remembered how wonderfully he had you writhing over him, just by his fingers. The mindless pondering alone had your cunt pulsating, and you deserved an award for how unaffected you acted with your friends. 

Soon, the carriage slowed to a stop, and you perked up, not realising you had already arrived home. 

You waited for the boys to exit before you stepped out of the carriage, the only light on the docks emitting from lamps and the night sky, reflected on the surface of the river. The first carriage was already there when your feet met the concrete floor, and when you turned to the man who reigned in your mind he had his signature expression, an aloof distaste as he walked over to his gang. 

“Jisung, Changbin,” he called, and the boys responded. “Lock the carriage door,” he ordered, jerking his chin towards his transport. “We will bring him out in the morning.”

“Chris, should we not throw him in the cellar?” Changbin glared at Carter’s direction. “Bastard might escape.”

He only slid his hands in his pockets, you catching the dried blood on his gloves. “Oh, don’t worry about that,” he said, striking a step towards the building. “He’s not going to disturb us tonight. I can promise you that.”

Jisung cursed low along with you, only watching the man walk back to the bedrooms. Bidding goodnight to your friends, you followed Chris’ trail, opening the door and stepping inside the hallway.

You saw him before his bedroom door, bringing out a rusted key. His eyes slid to you as your feet brought you to your entrance. You looked back, waiting as Chris unlocked his room and began to enter.

He turned back, something dark and twisted still lurking in his eyes.

You waited, so patiently at the words you wished to hear, of him finally ruining you.

Instead, you received something else entirely.

“Goodnight, ____.”

And closed the door behind him.

Your heart dropped. 

Fell to the floor, and shattered under the criminal’s bloodied boots. 

The light of the hallway flickered as you stood rooted to the doorway, eyes staring at Chris’ door as if looking at it hard enough would get him to change his mind.

What did you know. The man is not led by exterior forces. Only by his own will.

When you gathered up the strength to the slam the door shut, you slumped against the wood, hating yourself for the tears which threatened to break the lines of your eyes. This was pathetic — utterly disgusting that you were about to cry over his decision.

But you could not help it. You were so enraptured by him. Hell, you were ready to throw yourself in the fires of damnation for him, as he whispered filth all the while rutting against you. Why had that suddenly changed?

“Argh!” You screamed, stomping over to the lamp, light now long extinguished. You relit it’s spark, illuminating the room once more, and set it on the stool before recklessly plucking out the pearls in your hair, a few tears daring to trail down your cheeks. 

Fuck him. Fuck him for making you so rattled. Fuck him for having that effect on you.

You looked into your mirror and cursing yourself for the disheveled appearance. Again, the consequences for letting yourself fall for him.

“To hell with you Bang Chan,” you cursed. 

You were about to untie your dress when your bedroom door was nearly ripped off its hinges. 

Flinching, you grabbed the dagger on your dresser, raised to cut down whoever stupid enough to barge in on an assassin at midnight.

You were met with Christopher Bang. 

And the disorder he brought with him.

Chaos reigned in his figure; his tousled locks, his star-struck expression, his rolled-up sleeves and his pandemonic eyes, all working together and against each other to create the man you had never seen in your life. 

Good God. What had happened to him?

“Chan?” You got out, dagger now brought down. He said not a single word in response as he slammed the door shut, hard enough for the entirety of London to hear. 

Instead, he imprisoned you with his stare, almost giving you his chaos. The chaos you had always shared with him since the moment he picked you off the streets.

No, he said not one word — only took the steps needed to march towards you. You could only watch with widening eyes when he grabbed your face in his rugged hands and collided his lips against yours. 

You did not even hesitate to comply, hands grabbing onto his shirt, pulling him as close as you possibly could, so afraid that he would disappear from your grip if you dared let go. With the way he moved his mouth along yours, however, already opening up the familiar workings, you had a feeling he was not going to abandon you now.

When he broke away, breathing already erratic, his hands slid down to your neck, thumbs caressing the length of your throat. “I couldn’t,” he started, and he was sprinkling kisses all over your face. “I couldn’t leave.”

“I was scared, Chan,” you confessed, fisting the material harder. “I thought you truly did.”

His eyes focused on you. Within the turmoil, there was a promise. “Never,” he whispered, leaning in. “Never again.”

And suddenly his lips were on you, and the desperation was so rooted he nearly stole the very breath from your lungs. The sheer intensity, the longing implied broke your heart to the point you attached yourself to him, wrapping your arms around him and refusing to ever let him go.

The rather soft kiss began to heat up, as Chris broke the seam of your lips, swirling your tongue in his, already receiving incoherent praise from deep down your throat, making the man smile against his lips as he continued. 

His hands slid further down, right to the small of your back, where he began to untie all the little bows he created for you at the dawn of the evening, the little touches of fire singeing you still. It was fascinating how effortlessly he loosened all the laces, fingers sliding through the patterns until one by one they fluttered down, until the dark red dress slackened around your chest. 

A small gasp escaped you as Chris, while creating a trail of kisses down your jaw, right down to your neck, grabs the dress from your sides, hitching it down until it falls to the floor. Leaving you practically naked save for the scraps covering your dangerously soiled underwear. 

Chris paused from his ravishing, taking a much too long look at your skin, glowing from the lamp light, and before he could stare any longer you brought your arms to your chest, suddenly becoming a little too embarassed to let him see you at your most vulnerable. 

The supposedly unfeeling criminal, however, nearly broke into a smile at your flustered nature, and grabbed onto your wrists, opening the lock to your breasts, peaked by his actions, and the thought of what was to come.

The soiled underwear was about to drip at this point.

“You’re exquisite,” was all he said, making you almost burst into tears at the praise. You pressed a long, heart shattering kiss upon his mouth, and he responded perfectly, hands sliding to your naked waist, each drum of his fingers like a tug towards a dangerous edge. 

Things began to take a turn, open mouthed kisses being plastered on the skin of your throat as the man pushed you back, further and further until the back of your knees hit the bed, stopping you in his tracks. His grip on your waist directed downwards, planting you on the mattress as his mouth descended to your collarbone, down and down until he licked your peaked nipple in a way that had you moaning obscenely loud. His husky chuckle resonated along your skin, still not pausing his trail until he hit the end of the dip of your cunt, barricaded by the fabric. 

The moment he looked up at you, that alone made you nearly undo yourself. By the increasing volume of your breathing, Chris seemed to realise so too.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” he got out, watching you whimper at each touch caressing your hips. “Already about to come when I haven’t even done anything?”

“Ch-Chan,” you pleaded, wishing for those damned fingers of his to plunge inside of you. The son of a bitch was taking his time, making you wait knowing it pained you to stay like this. “Chan—”

His name on your tongue had him gritting his teeth, hands on each of your side grabbing onto your lace, and sliding your underwear down, all the way till it fell free from your legs and threw it across the room, forgotten when Chris parted his mouth at the moistened treasure between your legs. 

Those roughened hands steeled their grip on your thighs, pulling you closer till you sat right on the edge of the bed, cunt mere inches from his face. You could not even comprehend the insanity of this situation, that the hidden fantasies you dreamed of shamelessly were morphing into reality right before your eyes.

“So, so pretty,” he murmured, blowing a little air on your slick folds, earning himself a sucked in breath from his truly. “So pretty and wet, and all because of me.”

You let out a ragged breath, words of filth sounding so foreign on his tongue. It was not like he didn’t talk like the sailors living near you on the docks, but these dirty words and dirtier intentions, now all directed at you, made you feel so flustered, in a wondrous way you could not possibly describe. All you wanted was for him to keep singing this filth till you blacked out.

Chris, with the force of his hands, spread your thighs a little wider, and without warning broke his tongue from the seam of his lips, planting it upon your slit and moving it slowly over the surface.

That alone made you cry out in ecstasy.

But that was only a test, a taking on of foreign surroundings before truly welcoming himself, and by God, did he welcome himself in as more than a guest, when that tongue slid deeper and performed strokes which had you seeing all the stars in the universe. 

What was first slow teasing then became a starved hunt, tongue relishing in the sweet arousal you emitted, lapping it up brazenly as if he had been wanting to do this for a long, long time. Your blubbering grew louder with every lick, fisting the sheets behind you with such ferocity you were sure they’d tear. 

And if that wasn’t painstakingly enough, the man spread your legs a little wider, his tattooed hand, two fingers out, sliding straight inside you, making you mewl at the way they tightened they walls they journeyed in. Curling, just like they did earlier in the evening, they took their time finding the certain little spot which had you bringing the house down with your cries. 

“Ch-Chan, please, please, I’m going to—AH!” You rasped out, when the said-criminal found the sweet little undoing of yours and stroked your fingers along the sensitive spot, making that bundle of pleasure resonating in your back appear once more, like a low throbbing begging to be released.

His tongue had not given you any breaks, still working ruthlessly along your clit and you cried for him to give you that sweet release, to just let you come but he had not let you be satisfied this easily. No, he wanted you writhing underneath him, wanted the final ruination to be from underneath his trousers, angered as it outlined against his leather.

You craned your head back, screaming out his name because you knew all else had abandoned you. “Chan!” Looking down, his mouth very much occupied with your cunt. Your orgasm was reaching, was on the very edge, and if he kept working on you like this he was on his way to taste the consequences of his actions.

Something about that image made you want it as a reality with a worryingly strong intensity. 

“Chan, I’m going to—” you were about to warn but were interrupted by a squeeze of your thigh, done by yours truly as if he knew. And as if he knew, the two fingers began pumping much faster, harmonising along with his tongue, and the two actions at once, fucking you with that rapidity was so pleasurable that, with the first earth-shattering cry of the night, you were driven over the edge, releasing your orgasm straight into the criminal’s face.

You felt the work of his fingers slow down, along with his tongue, that with one, final lick, he retreated from your cunt, fingers still inside you as they comforted your aching core with slow, soothing strokes. 

When he looked up at you, though, with your residue mostly upon his mouth, scattered on his cheeks, and basically a bit of everywhere, that sight alone nearly caused you to come all over again. 

Perhaps that was his intentions. 

Because when he licked his lips clean of your mess, ever so slowly, as if enjoying your orgasm like a man starved, you instantly saw in his eyes that this night was not over yet. 

“Already so good, so wonderful,” he mused, slipping his fingers out, both hands now resting on your thighs. “Coming so quick even though I had been saving for the last.”

You knew exactly what he meant, but still had the nerve to ask, “The last?”

He raised a groomed brow, and that gesture was so breathtaking, more so when he raised himself slightly, so he knelt eye-level to you. “Don’t act oblivious, love,” he mused, leaving your thighs to your disappointment, but quickly diminishing when his fingers worked on the buttons of his shirt, slowly popping upon, each patch of skin being revealed like a show of your own. “We both know this isn’t how it’s going to end.”

Shivers crawled down your spine, but you only watched as the man finished undoing his shirt, peeling it off of him and throwing it amongst the other clothing. You nearly let spit trail down your chin at the sheer finery of his muscle alone, sharpened at his arms, his chest all the way down to his v-line, which dipped dangerously low. With no small amount of pride, you also noticed the large, angry outline of Chris’ cock, begging to be set free. 

The man caught you blatantly staring, and a shit-eating grin twisted his glistening lips. “You may do the honours if you’re so keen.”

Blushing, you mumbled a shut up, but was captured by Chris’ lips, tasting your own arousal on his tongue, as his grip on you led you further into the bed, while you fumbled on the buttons of his trousers, popping them open one by one when you broke from the kiss, your turn to shower him with more along the veiny expanse of his neck as you pulled his trousers down, tossing them among the pile.

When you saw the slight-stained underwear of his, you felt the familiar throbbing again, so affected by how you affected him. Noticing your apparent pride, he pressed his lips upon you in a searing kiss, peeling off any last scrap of clothing and forgetting that too among the other clothing.

And by God, when Chris Bang’s cock escaped from his underthings your mouth actually watered at the sheer size it bore. Husky laughter resonated in your ears, and you flushed the colour of blood when he caught you staring much too audaciously than he would have imagined. 

“Already fantasising about my cock?” He slurred, the tattooed hand curling stray hairs from your sweat-slick, flushed face. The way you scrunched your nose, clearly flustered by his comment, melted his stone cold heart, as he caressed your cheeks with his fingers. 

You did not answer him, only whispering his name along his skin, waiting and waiting for the man to drive that force home inside you. “Chan,” you murmured, and the name you kept saying like a religious chant, like it was the only word that mattered, was what brought him to grip his cock, directing it against your entrance, the still slick folds which grew more wet every time the tip caressed the sensitive skin. “Chan, please—”

“Please what?” He demanded, demanded because he needed to hear you precisely want you wanted. The words he practically prayed would be on your tongue the moment he kissed you for the first time this evening.

Obliging him was like second nature. “Please fuck me, Chan,” you breathed out, holding onto his shoulders, knowing you were going to need a hell of a good grip for what was about to arrive. “Please, just ruin me with your cock.”

A malicious smile curled upon his lips. “Good, good girl,” he purred, and began the descend which you dreamed of the very first night you realised you were ridiculously attracted to him.

His cock slid inside you, and with a soul-wrenching whine, was perfectly snug as the journey went on, and on, and on, until you were certain you could not take anymore, despite the man retaining a few inches. He was slow at first, making sure you were not going to be pained by this action. Although your nails dug into the granite muscle of his shoulders, you only egged him on. “M-more,” you only said, and he readily obliged, until you felt him all around you in your body, as if he had filled you up to the brim. 

“Ready?” He asked, and when you nodded, he rested his forehead against yours as gently, he began to pull out. 

You nearly whined at the lack of inches filling you up, but then he brought his cock back in, creating this hypnotic rhythm which was so unimaginably ethereal you felt yourself float amongst the clouds. Each thrust out and thrust in was a drive in and out of reality, with Chris Bang holding the tether of your survival, pulling you in and out of his mercy. 

Gradually, he began to fasten, panting as his drove into you with more force, and when the momentum hardened, you felt your soul leave your body. His cock created wonders for you, having you scream in unimaginable pleasure, and driving your nails into his back was not enough, your lewd moaning not enough given to his sheer skill, his pure simplicity in bringing his cock back and front which had you seeing stars. Hell, Christopher Bang showed you undiscovered universes, leading you across galaxies and unfamiliar cosmos, each thrust in a different vision, and when he lifted your leg a little higher for more access, you feared that you would wake the whole docks with your groaning, for this criminal, this heartless criminal provided you with the whole universe with the simple strokes of his cock inside you, and all you could offer him were screams. 

Even your reactions were pure Beethoven to his ears, relishing in your fucked out state as he gave you all he asked, driving you to the edge of the world. You, finally, clashed your lips against his, offering him sloppy, open mouthed kisses all over his face and neck, and that alone had him greeting his teeth, knowing his own release was near. You were going to die if he was not given the same pleasure as you, so you reacted with each of his touches, each of his thrusts, him practically pistoning you upon this bed which very much would break. 

“Ch...Chan…” you grated out, eyes blurring, vision completely fucked, “I’m...I-I—”

“I—fuck,” he too got out, for your last love mark painted onto to the curve of his neck nearly had him ruined. “I’m going to come, too, love—”

“Chan!” You whined, because the throbbing was there, and was so close that if the man did not send that last thrust home then it was all for nothing, everything that had ever happened will all be for nothing.

But he listened. The man who did not listen to anyone or anything listened, and pounded his cock so hard in approval that it had you crying out to the cosmos as you finally let go, orgasm spilling out from whatever space the residue could find between his cock. Your own release had Chris groaning louder than he had even done this entire time, praising you unconditionally, until the filth was cut off by a low curse, with his own release barrelling into you, some joining your spilled mess upon the sheets.

Chris let out a shuddering breath, slowly crossing his movement inside you. Carefully, when you stopped digging your nails into his shoulders, he pulled out, reaching for the blanket untouched and bringing it over you and him before collapsing beside you. Both of you breathed as if you had held your oxygen for a thousand years, chests rising unevenly. 

A silence hung over you two, heavy yet not uncomfortable, lingering in your bedroom. Chris sat up a little, using your pillows behind him as comfort as he raked his hair back, sweat-slick all over, much like you. You held the blanket right up to your chest, hair in disarray, much like your heart. The poor organ threatened to collapse at the events.

Sneakily, you caught a glance at the greatest criminal in London, staring off at the distance, mouth set in a concentrated line. He looked dashing even in his post-sex state, the lines of his chest still stark against his sweat. You truly had never seen a man this beautiful in your life. 

He turned his head to you, catching your staring, and when you tried to look away he captured his chin with his fingers, making you meet his fierce stare. Although dark, the lust had satiated, and instead held passive affection. Well, you hoped it did.

“Why do you still look away?” He demanded in a low, tired voice.

You tried to slide your gaze to the lamp, but was too bewitched by his midnight eyes. “Because you’re beautiful, Chan,” you answered, feeling the blood rush to your face. 

He cocked his head, damp curls sticking to his face. “You say that as if you are not,” he countered. 

You did not say anything then. Even so, he received your answer. 

“____,” he said in a low tone. The grip on your chin loosened, and the hand went to your cheeks, cupping your face. “You are truly flawless. Don’t make me have to make you believe that.”

A small smile hinted at your lips. “And what if I still don’t?”

His answering smirk sent butterflies tumbling once again. After a moment, as if hesitating, he then snaked his arm around you, pulling you closer to him. You were surprised when his one hand fully encircled you, while the other hand, the tattooed hand, rested upon your head, stroking your hair with his slender fingers. You did not pull away, was never going to, only wrapping your arm across his chest. 

It was the first time you had ever seen Christopher Bang hug someone in his life.

“Chan?” You asked.

“Hmm?”

“Why did you get that tattoo?”

He paused for a minute, never ceasing his fingers intertwined in your locks. After a small sigh, which you felt beneath your own fingertips, he said, “It is simply something I live by. 

“Non ducor duco. No one will lead me, love. Only myself.”

You pondered over the roots of this phrase, of the significance for the man you lay with. 

“Good,” you said after a while. “I wouldn’t want anyone leading you either.”

With that, you gave into the soothing movement of Chris’ fingers, working lazily in your hair. And while you dozed off to sleep, the criminal mastermind of the biggest city in the world pondered some more, specifically over his motto.

NON DUCOR DUCO. A phrase which had stayed true for so long no one could ever change it.

But after tonight, as you slowly dozed off under Chris’ caresses, he wondered whether there isn’t one person he wouldn’t mind being led by. 

And as he stole a soft glance at the specific person beside him, he knew. 

He knew that although he will be led by no man, there is one woman who he would, to his own shock, happily be led for. 

So, with that new, and slightly terrifying revelation, Christopher Bang went to sleep, knowing that someone had fucked with him and gotten away. 

And he was willingly going to let it happen. 

[mooshys]

take-out menus aren’t meant for ordering

genre: fluff

word count: 1.5k

synopsis: a slight character study for miya atsumu between a conversation with his brother and the writing of his vows. the word “slight” being underlined, highlighted, and circled multiple times.

There is a take-out menu laying on the empty counter of Onigiri Miya, spread out completely flat so that it is no longer in its trifold state. The paper has a nice gloss to it, giving an even sheen when underneath the low lights. Its pages are filled with professional pictures of the food offered, appetizing from a single glance and even more-so with the descriptions added underneath them.

But, sitting at the counter and staring at the empty spaces on the page, Atsumu isn’t looking to order. At this point in time, he’s too frustrated to even think about eating. He makes sure his struggle is known, groaning just loud enough so that his brother can hear him.

And, by the fifth prolonged sigh, his brother notices.

Osamu thinks it’s annoying. Really annoying. He wonders why his brother always decides to settle all his baggage into his restaurant instead of actually finding guidance from a trained professional.

(Free therapy, he thinks. He should give himself a raise for having to deal with his brother when he’s working behind the counter.)

“What’s the matter, ‘Tsumu?” Osamu finally asks in an attempt to get his brother to stop making his restaurant feel so gloomy. He’s glad it’s only the two of them during the odd hour because he’s sure Atsumu would have driven people out with his attitude.

Atsumu exhales, so deep and long that one might think he has some sort of pre-existing health condition. His pause before speaking makes Osamu think he’s preparing a soliloquy. 

“I can’t think of anything to write.”

Osamu raises a brow. Then he chuckles. “Can’t do much of that if you don’t have a brain to start with.”

He quickly dodges a pair of wooden chopsticks thrown in his direction and laughs as his brother seethes in his seat. Predictable as always. He didn’t even need to rely on his twin telepathy to know Atsumu’s next move.

“This is serious!” Atsumu yells out. His voice echoes and Osamu puts on his Totally Serious Face to show his brother that he does cares (at least a smidgeon). “The vows. I can’t think of anything to write for ‘em.”

Now, Osamu stares at him with more interest, a twinkle in his eyes that gleams only for a second before he throws his head back to give out a hearty laugh. It’s the kind of laugh Osamu does when he’s really, really happy. Like when the entire Inarizaki crew surprised him for his birthday by buying him out for the night, or when he won two thousand yen from the lottery. While Atsumu sits in disbelief (because was his suffering truly that hilarious?), Osamu shakes his head to compose himself again.

“C’mon, it shouldn’t be too hard to come up with something,” Osamu says. He points to a blank space on the first page. “Start it off right next to the tuna onigiri, that’s real romantic when you say your vows with our number one seller in mind.”

Atsumu groans again. How can he be joking at a time like this? When it feels like his life (his love life, that is) is at stake? He was about to yell out a slew of vulgar words, but his stomach interrupted him, choosing to speak up with a loud grumble. Red in the face, Atsumu shuts up, shrinking in his seat under the gaze of his brother.

“No wonder your brain capacity’s lower than usual,” Osamu teases. “You’re hungry.”

“Whatever.”

“The usual?”

“...Whatever.”

Osamu rolls his eyes. “Quit actin’ like a baby.”

“I’m not actin’ like a baby!” Atsumu cries out in a manner that reminds Osamu of a baby. “I can’t keep puttin’ this off! In a week, I’ll have to say this in front of everyone and they’re gonna think I’m an idiot because I can’t come up with anything good!”

“Trust me, nobody’s gonna think you’re an idiot at your wedding because of your vows,” he replies and bites his tongue to suppress the insult following. “If you write it too deep and poetic and pretty, then everyone’s gonna think you hired someone or that you copied it off the internet.”

“But—”

“Trust me,” Osamu repeats. He doesn’t look up as he molds the rice in his hands, creating a triangular shape. Years of practice have allowed him to do it so easily, so perfectly that Atsumu can’t help but stare. “Say the things that come easy for you. The things you’ve said before and the things you’ve been meaning to say. That’s what you should write.”

With the exception of the sound of tuna searing in the back and the occasional drip from the faucet nearby, there is a serene quietness shared between the two. Atsumu mulls over his brother’s words, thinking that it honestly sounds like advice that you would have given him, but he brushes it off and then looks back at the blank spaces in the take-out menu. The empty spots are almost inviting him to scribble all over.

“Alright,” Atsumu says as he clicks the pen in his hand and starts jotting any and all thoughts. “Think she’ll be mad I wrote my vows on a menu?”

Osamu chuckles as he places the plate of onigiri in front of his brother.

“Absolutely not.”

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

There are two take-out menus stored in a little box hidden in the bottom drawer of your dresser. The paper for both of them are wrinkled and yellowing, a clear testament of the time that has passed since first exchanging them. Scribbles of ink take up the empty spaces, the words uneven and crossed out and misspelled after multiple attempts to write from the heart.

At times, you find them in the midst of cleaning or a sudden remembrance whilst watching a film. The box is dug out from the neatly folded shirts and shorts meant to be worn in the upcoming summer season, and, upon lifting the lid in one gracious motion, the vows are always there, waiting to be read again and again. Each time, something new pops up, strikes you with a “I can’t believe I didn’t notice that!” moment as your fingers gently trace over his words.

Sometimes it’s the slight change in ink color when it comes to your name, an indication of the writing becoming lighter. (A pause in thought? Whenever you asked him, he would scratch the back of his head and shrug his shoulders.) Others, it’s the way entire lines are crossed out because he kept misspelling the same word multiple times.

Very Atsumu-ish, you muse with a silent chuckle. 

Atsumu-ish. Because the words erratic and unorthodox and lively and everything in-between just aren’t enough to describe his entire being, so Atsumu-ish became the one true representative of whatever he had up his sleeve.

(It started as a joke between you and Osamu wanting to tease Atsumu when he was being outlandish, but then it spread to the rest of the circle and was kept as Official Inarizaki Alumni Vocabulary when Kita mumbled “Atsumu-ish” without a hint of jest in his voice, completely serious about its usage.

“Atsumu-ish,” he pondered loud enough so that the rest of the guys could hear him. “I’ve never thought about it like that, but I guess you’re right.”

And it stuck with everyone else, causing Atsumu to sulk about it for five whole minutes as he whined and groaned about “Osamu-ish” and “Suna-ish” not being a thing to which Kita gave a straight answer: they’re not you. His truthfulness made Atsumu slump in his seat until you squeezed his hand from under the table and whispered that his name just rang in a special way.

He liked the sound of that and straightened his back when you teased him about it again.)

Atsumu-ish, Atsumu-ish, Atsumu-ish.

At this point, you had repeated it in your mind so many times that it started to sound a bit weird. His name echoes once more, making you pause as you stare at the old take-out menus. It did start to sound a bit strange now, but you most certainly aren’t sick of it.

(You don’t think his name would ever tire you out. Decades, centuries, millenniums, and through whatever multitude of lifetimes the universe has to offer, you think that you’ll always hold the way his name sounds close for comfort, like a seashell pressed against your ear.)

When you read through his words, you can tell he put a lot of time into writing what really matters to him. He’s always been one to say the first thing that pops in his mind (brash and honest to a fault), but seeing that struggle for the right string of words, for the right day, and for the right moment in time just reminds you that he’s always been the kind of person who says the things he does because he cares. 

His words are a little blunt, almost unrefined, but it’s so easy to see how he wanted his vows to be perfect. Perfect in the Miya Atsumu kind of way. 

And only Miya Atsumu would write his vows on the take-out menu of his brother’s restaurant.

Atsumu-ish, you think again with a chuckle as you admire the two take-out menus—from the same place, a coincidence that makes you laugh at the thought of his brother dealing with you two separately. Both are a little bit worn, but the words are easy to read. 

Easy to love.

Much like himself.

[boldlyvoid]

Hypothetically | Chapter 25-27

summary: Reader and Spencer were friends in kindergarten, she watched him grow up and explore the world while she was still trying to catch up to him. now that they work together, they fall in love incredibly fast.

friends to lovers, case of the week style story

A/N: Set between seasons 4 and 6, not following canon. all original crimes based on real-life stories.

Warnings 18+: Murderers, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Blood, Guns, mentions of autopsy, Fluff, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, bed-sharing, Riding, Unprotected Sex, Virgin Reader, Case of the Week, original crimes, Food mention, Smut, Oral Sex, Light BDSM, Pregnancy, Pregnancy Talk, obgyn appointments and info, Home Invasion, Past Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Emotional Manipulation, Grooming, Pedophilia mention, non-con oral (male receiving), Pregnant Sex, Daddy Kink, Breeding Kink, Homophobia, conversion therapy

Word Count: 18k

chapter 25

“What do you mean we’re working a missing dog case?” Hotch questioned his whole entire life at that moment as Mindy and Garcia explained the case they think they found.

“Sir, I promise you’re going to want to listen to this,” Garcia said softly, her green dress and pink hair pom-poms really reassuring him that everything was fine.

Y/N watched him roll his eyes and wish he was somewhere else, he had been getting more and more fed up with work lately. Having a hard time with Strauss, his wife, and the job in general. After Hayley almost died last year and being stabbed, he had the worst luck on the team.

“It’s going to take a minute for you to see what we see,” Mindy matched Garcia’s aura perfectly, dressed in a cat sweater.

“All 5 of these families have reported dogs missing in the Sacramento area. You think that’s not that weird, they’re probably stealing dogs for fights and step one in the serial killer handbook. But you’d be wrong,” Garcia explained, flipping from photos of missing dog posters to murdered families.

“The dogs go missing right, the parents put all their information onto a flyer, the flyer gets plastered into the neighbourhood where everyone sees it. The unsub takes the flyer, and the dog and returns it to the family just to get inside of the house. He learns what their safety protocols are like and then he decides to break in and murder,” Mindy laid it all out easily for them to follow.

“Is there any evidence that the killer is the dognapper?” Prentiss asked, chewing on the end of her pencil as she tried to wrap her head around it all.

“No,” Garcia pressed her lips together quickly. “But! Family number 5, they were murdered on Friday. Their crime scene is the newest, it’s where we’ll get the best idea of what’s going on.”

“Sir,” Mindy added. “If I’m correct about this, another family is going to die in 2 days. There’s been another small dog reported missing in Sacramento, the same type of family and everything. It’s a signature if I’ve ever seen one.”

“Send us everything you have, wheels up in 20,” Hotch sighed, taking his things and leaving the room.

“Is he okay?” Y/N asked Rossi.

Dave and he were the closest, Hotch never told his secrets of personal gossip to anyone else. He knew Rossi understood family problems the best. Having been married and divorced 3 times each.

“Don’t repeat this, Garcia that means you,” he teased her quickly. ���He asked Hayley if she wanted more kids, after seeing you and JJ expanding the BAU’s gifted children program. She said she’d only have another baby if he took a few years off.”

“Oh,” Y/N wasn’t surprised. If Spencer wasn’t in the BAU he probably wouldn’t get it either. “He’s young, he can come back at any time, as you did.”

“Which is what I said to him. He just doesn’t know how he’d fill all the time yet, he doesn’t have an interest in fishing or cigars like moi,” Rossi explained. Standing up and straightening out his suit, “not to mention the writing chops to keep your brain fresh.”

“Come on grandpa, it’s time to board the plane you can brag later,” Derek patted him on the back. “Some of us like to stay active and have fun on our time off.”

“I’ll have you know I’m very fun,” Rossi argues as they leave the room. They were like a bunch of teenagers sometimes.

“Well, I’ll see you in a few days, just be in Vegas by Sunday at 2 pm,” Y/N frowned at Spencer. “Call me when you’re free?”

Spencer leaned in and kissed her softly. Rubbing his hand over her belly as he did so, saying goodbye to the little dude in there. “Be good, take care of each other.”

She smiled, wishing he didn’t have to go again. “We always do, come home to me safely boy wonder.”

In Penelope’s office, Mindy had basically moved in. It was big enough for the two of them and they worked together anyway. Sharing all the computer space, rolling around each other like crazy people as they switched jobs. That meant that Mindy’s office became Y/N’s office when she stayed back on a case.

Y/N would be 33 weeks pregnant as of Thursday, and officially Mrs. Dr. Reid by Sunday.

If everything went according to plan. This case seemed simple enough to get them home in time. If not, the flight from LA to Vegas wasn’t even that long. Y/N and Will had a plan if this was to happen, JJ and Spencer would head right to Vegas while Will and Henry flew in with Y/N. All she really needed was her wedding dress and hospital go-bag, and Spencer.

She wasn’t going to go into labour any time soon, Matty was still way too high and she was barely even having Braxton hicks contractions yet. If her body wasn’t practicing, surely it wouldn’t just start. She was a planner, she planned everything and this pregnancy didn’t seem to listen. All she wanted was for him to be born on or after June 10th, healthy and happy, that’s her only wish.

She hated cases like these, ones that made her sit behind a desk and just look at everything till it made sense. But it never did, not in her brain. Thinking like an unsub was the only time it made sense, but she never understood it. Kidnapping a dog just to kill a family was never going to be something one could just understand.

The only idea she had was to get someone inside the newest victims’ house and just wait for the unsub to return the dog. It would be the easiest way to bring him in for questioning. So she called Hotch.

“Hotchner,” he answered shortly.

“Hey, I was just wondering if you had a plan yet? If not, I’ve been thinking.”

“We’re trying to find a way to get eyes and ears inside the vics home,” Hotch explained, it sounded like he was driving and yelling over the speaker.

“I was thinking you could send in Reid or Morgan posing as a tutor or coach of some kind, then you can hide the equipment in the bag they bring in, it would be the least suspicious,” she ran her thoughts through to him.

“That would work, I’ll have the team see what we can do from our end,” Hotch ended the call abruptly. Still in the bad mood from when he left.

She couldn’t blame him, it’s a hard spot raising kids and having this job. Y/N and Spencer were still trying to figure out how they were going to pull it off. She couldn’t imagine what it was like for Haley, always being alone with Jack and half the time her life was in danger. The risk that came with the job almost didn’t feel worth it, especially when it meant losing your family on top of everything else.

They sent Derek in, with Penelope in his ear, as he set up the cameras and microphones. Setting up 24/7 patrol across the street in a model home. Meaning that Y/N’s job was basically over and all she had to do was kick her feet up and eat snacks until she could go home.

—

Spencer crawled into bed 2 days later around 4 in the morning, cuddling into her without even taking off his work clothes. She barely slept when Spencer wasn’t home, she opened her eyes when she noticed he was there, as if she hadn’t even slept yet.

He smelled like hotel soap and stale airplane air. “Hi,” he whispered as he tried to cuddle in close to her, being held back by her belly.

“Home just in time to have to fly out again,” she smiled at him softly.

“I know,” he sighed. “I doubt the bureau would like us if we used the jet to travel to a wedding. It’s bad enough we have one and no other unit does.”

“Are you excited or nervous?”

“Both.”

“Mmm,” she hummed along. “I’m nervous.”

“Why?”

“I still haven’t written my vows and,” she stopped herself, frowning a little as Spencer laid a hand on her face.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s all happening so fast. I feel like I haven’t had a chance to enjoy any of it and I’m worried if this is how fast the lead-up is, then how fast will the night be over?”

“Oh bunny,” he cooed. “I’ll make sure we get a moment alone, how about we sneak off during the party and go to the swing and just spend time together? Really make the most of our day.”

“Okay,” she smiled again. “A part of me wishes it was just us.”

“How about this,” Spencer said as he sat up, turning on the bedside lamp before getting out of bed. He looked through his underwear drawer and pulled out the box the rings were in. “Marry me, right now?”

“What?” She laughed.

“Just me and you, marry me?”

“It won’t count this way?” She rebutted, sitting up as well as she squinted in the light. Trying to wake up more.

“you’re not religious and you hate the government even though you work for them,” he reminded her. “Having a sheet of paper and dedicating my life to you are two completely different things.”

“I told you I don’t have my vows ready!”

Spencer sat on the bed, sitting directly across from her as he placed the rings on the bed. Taking both her hands in his as he looked into her eyes. “Just make it up?”

“You’re insufferable,” she teased him.

“And you love me,” he teased right back.

“Fine, Spencer Reid, you big fuckin’ dork,” she couldn’t stop herself from laughing. “My whole life I’ve just wanted to love you. I don’t know how I managed to pull it off, but here I am."

She let out a long, shaky breath as she continued. "You complete me, I don’t feel right when you’re not around and I never want to lose you. Marrying you means more to me than just becoming your wife, I don’t care about the term or the tax benefits," she laughed as a tear fell down her cheek. he wiped it away quickly.

"I was perfectly content just being in your rotation. Being your partner for life is a blessing to me, I’m going to love you forever.” She picked up and ring and put it on his finger.

His eyes were glossy as he watched her shaking hand slip the ring over him. He loved her more than he even knew how to describe at the moment.

“Do you remember that one time you asked me to show you how a real man loves a woman?”

She laughed, looking down at her gigantic belly. “Kinda hard to forget when I’m carrying around this extra 30 pounds.”

“It reminded me of a quote I read on a swing one time,” he said softly, watching her eyes gleam as she knew where he was going.

“The unqualified truth is, that when I loved Y/N with the love of a man, I loved her simply because I found her irresistible. Once for all; I knew to my sorrow, often and often, if not always, that I loved her against reason, against promise, against peace, against hope, against happiness, against all discouragement that could be. Once for all; I love her nonetheless because I knew it, and it had no more influence in restraining me, than if I had devoutly believed her to be human perfection.”

“What’s that from?” Y/N couldn’t stop the tears from falling down her cheeks, she had never known what book he was reading. She always wondered what his thoughts were in that moment when their eyes locked in remembrance all those years ago.

“Great Expectations by Charles Dickens,” Spencer replied, starting to cry as well.

That’s when she remembered it, looking over at the book that had been sitting on his bedside table for months. It was the book he re-read the most, the book he was reading that first night in Wichita when she asked to crawl into his bed. The book he put down before they conceived Matthew. The whole time she was falling in love with him, the way she did as a child, he was reading the same book because it reminded him of her.

“I didn’t expect that book to hold such a place in my heart the first time I read it. I only brought it to the park with me that day because it was the closest book to me, and I was having a really hard day,” he stopped to wipe his tears softly. “Yet somehow, every single bad day in my life has been made better by you. You’re my greatest expectation, and the only one I’m trying the hardest to live up to.”

“I love you,” she replied to him softly. Holding his face in her hands now as she stared into his eyes, “you’re always going to be everything I’ve ever wanted and all I’ll ever need. You’ve met every expectation, and beyond.”

“I love you,” he smiled. He took her left hand off his cheek, sliding the silver band over her ring finger, pressing it snugly against her engagement ring. “forever.”

“And then some,” Y/N added before kissing him softly.

She smiled against his lips, sitting back and looking at him with complete wonder. “Dr. Y/L/N,” she teased him, pretending to tip her imaginary hat.

“Agent Reid,” he copied her causing them both to laugh again.

“So when is our real anniversary then?” Y/N asked softly, trying to remember what day of the month it was.

“It’s April 20th.”

“Our anniversary cannot be 4/20!” She panicked. “Oh. My god!”

Spencer laughed from down deep in his gut, laying down against the sheets as she smacked his arm lightly. “I’m serious, but that’s so funny though,” she laughed too.

She laid back against the sheets then, Spencer cuddled into her side. His face in the crook of her neck while laying a leg over hers. She held him as close as she could, Matthew really starting to get in the way of everything she did now.

She let out a deep breath as she settled with Spencer against her. “I love you so much, my husband.”

“I love you more, my wife,” he replied. The words sounding like heaven on his lips.

chapter 26

She let out a deep breath when the dress actually zipped up. She was so worried that in the last 2 weeks her body had completely changed. JJ finished with her zipper, fluffing her dress and making sure everything was in place.

Her mom was wiping her tears for the 4th time in the last hour, Y/N couldn’t stop laughing every time she heard her sniffle. It didn’t feel as life-changing as her mother made it seem, Spencer and Y/N were already married in her opinion, this was just a nice formality for their parents.

She could hear all the people talking in her parent’s yard, a few kids yelling as they ran around each other. People were already drinking, there was food and snacks all around. It was just a big party where they were going to tell everyone exactly how much they loved each other.

As much as she was ready mentally, her body was shot. The butterflies in her stomach wouldn’t leave, the baby was kicking from the anxiety in her body no matter how hard she tried to calm down. It was nerve-wracking to be so open in front of so many people.

It was even worse with the fact she hadn’t seen Spencer since yesterday. As much as he claimed he wasn’t superstitious, he really didn’t want to see her before the wedding. Claiming his mother was the worried one, Y/N let it slide no matter how much she hated sleeping in her childhood bed all by herself with a mini-gymnast in her stomach.

“Are you ready?” JJ asked her softly.

She nodded, looking in the mirror at herself one last time. “Can I have a minute?”

“Sure,” JJ smiled, taking Debbie with her as they walked out of her room.

She stood in the window, opening the blinds and looking out towards the swings once again. Spencer was sitting there, swinging while staring at her window.

She smiled, feeling the butterflies leave her system in a beautiful flurry as their eyes locked. She was ready, she had always been ready to marry him.

She walked out of the room and down the stairs, holding the railing carefully. She was just wearing a pair of crocs under her dress, not trusting her big clumsy ass with heels.

She waited in the foyer as Emily walked across the street to gather everyone. She was officiating for them, Spencer wanted her to be the one to marry them, she was the closest thing to a sister he had.

Every single important person in their lives was in the crowd. Even Spencers father was there, in the back, quiet. Diana was happy to see him, Spencer felt indifferent. Gideon came too, which made it a little easier.

They all walked across the street then, gathering at the end of the makeshift aisle they laid out in the park. Penelope played a simple wedding march, starting the ceremony officially.

Everyone stood, turning towards them. Chloe went down first, dropping flower petals in big clumps here and there before running towards her mom. Then it was Y/N’s turn, opting out of the whole bridesmaid’s thing for the sake of not having to pick and choose between her co-workers and sisters-in-law.

Her dad extended an arm for her, she took it as she softly smiled at him. He looked like he was trying not to cry, “ready?”

“Let’s go,” she whispered.

Seeing Spencer at the end of the aisle was like a dream. She began to walk towards him, every step closer made her heartbeat louder and louder in her chest. Before she knew it she was standing in front of him, her dad giving her a soft kiss on the cheek before handing her over to Spencer.

The idea of giving her away was weird. He wasn’t giving her to him, he was simply helping her reach him. And he always had been.

Spencer’s hand was soft in hers and they stepped towards Emily together.

The music stopped then, causing them to turn to each other and smile. It was time.

It felt more like time stopped, however, getting a sort of tunnel vision for each other as the rest of the world faded away.

“Welcome everyone, you can take a seat,” Emily cut into the moment. “A few weeks ago Spencer asked me if I’d marry him off to his best friend, I of course said yes because who can say no to that face?”

Everyone laughed as Spencer blushed. “Spencer is the smartest man to work in the FBI, we’re not afraid to admit that. From the day I met him, he was nothing but informative and kind, as well as shy and personal. It took a while to learn anything about him, but once you get to know him he’s like an open book. And it’s a good story.”

“Like most good fairy tales, it’s a story told in two parts. Starting with a meet-cute of cosmic proportions, a plotline that would make any other ’right for each other at the wrong time,’ story run for the hills,” Emily exaggerated.

“And finally, a reunion,” her voice was soft then. “I’ll never forget the day Spencer held the door open for Y/N, she walked in with a smile on her face that was almost as big as Spencers. He introduced us to a childhood friend that day, not realizing she would become part of our family.”

Y/N felt herself getting a little choked up, seeing Penelope and JJ wiping their tears just off to the side.

“It’s a story best told in the first person,” Emily laughed at her own joke. “So, without further ado, ladies first,” she instructed, stepping away from the altar to keep the focus on them.

“Well?” Y/N shook her head at him, motioning with her hand for him to start speaking. Making everyone laugh once again. Spencer’s smile was adorable as he giggled.

“Would you say— hypothetically, of course, that soulmates are real, Doctor Reid?” She questioned him softly.

He nodded, “I would.”

“Good,” she smiled. “Because I think you’re mine. And I think I’ve known that for a very long time. There was something about you, that first day I saw you. You weren’t shoving dirt up your nose or pulling on my hair. You were reading a book, I believe it was Matilda, you were all by yourself and you looked sad.”

“Me, being me,” she laughed to herself, “I marched over to you and I asked if you wanted to play in the sandbox with me. One small gesture changed the entire course of my life, you became a friend and then a stranger again in the blink of an eye. I know what it’s like to know of you and not be in your presence and it’s the worst.”

She didn’t want to cry, but she knew she was about to. “I know you’re my soulmate because my soul physically aches when you’re not around. Like magnets, I’m pulled towards you and I’m willing to crush anything that gets in the way. You and I were once the same cosmic rock just floating through space, separated for millions of years until the time was right.”

“I found you right when I needed you,” she wiped a tear off her cheek quickly. “When we needed each other. And I’m never going to let you go.”

She turned towards Emily, grabbing a ring from her. “With this ring, you’re tied to me for eternity now, the way things always should have been.”

“I love you,” Spencer whispered, wiping his own tears before holding her hands again.

“Your turn, pretty boy,” she teased him one last time, laughing to try and stop the tears.

“Most of you know the story,” Spencer began his speech. Staring into Y/N’s eyes, trying to forget there was an audience.

“We met in kindergarten, she was wearing a sundress with green and pink flowers, much like today. You had bangs back then and a cute pink bow in your hair. And you were as stubborn then as you are now,” he smiled. “Mrs. Richardson had told me twice that we weren’t allowed to put water in the sandbox, no matter how important it was to the construction of my model pyramids. That’s why I was reading my book. You went to your backpack, grabbed a water bottle, and poured it right into the sand without thinking twice about the consequences.

“I didn’t really see you again until I was 13, I sat on that swing with my copy of Great Expectations by Charles Dickens while you sat in your window way up there.” He pointed at her house, past the swing set. “I’ll never know what you were reading or what you were thinking, but I have the exact moment I saw you ingrained in my memory,” Spencer’s words were soft as his thumbs ran over her hands.

“Out of my thoughts! You are part of my existence, part of myself. You have been in every line I have ever read, since I first came here, the rough common boy whose poor heart you wounded even then. You have been in every prospect I have ever seen since – on the river, on the sails of the ships, on the marshes, in the clouds, in the light, in the darkness, in the wind, in the woods, in the sea, in the streets.” Spencer recited from memory.

“You have been the embodiment of every graceful fancy that my mind has ever become acquainted with. The stones of which the strongest London buildings are made, are not more real, or more impossible to displace with your hands, than your presence and influence have been to me, there and everywhere, and will be. Y/N, to the last hour of my life, you cannot choose but remain part of my character, part of the little good in me, part of the evil. But, in this separation I associate you only with the good, and I will faithfully hold you to that always, for you must have done me far more good than harm, let me feel now what sharp distress I may. O God bless you,” Spencer’s voice trailed off to a whisper as he reached the end.

“I read that quote moments before seeing you again, and part of me knew the universe had greater plans for us. And I knew, Love her, love her, love her! If she favours you, love her. If she wounds you, love her. If she tears your heart to pieces – and as it gets older and stronger, it will tear deeper – love her, love her, love her!”

“With this ring,” Spencer finally added. Lifting the last ring from Derek’s extended hand, placing it on Y/N’s ring finger where it belonged. “I vow to love you till my very last moments, and if heaven is real I’ll be waiting for your loving embrace.”

She wiped her tears quickly, looking up as she tried to stop her mascara from smudging. “You’re a dick sometimes,” she started to laugh before hearing the crowd do the same.

“You love me,” he teased her.

“I do,” she smiled, pulling him in and kissing him hard on the lips. Getting lost in his embrace as the world around them stopped.

—

Having every single person that she loved mingle around her parent’s backyard felt a little surreal. Her father and Rossi were smoking cigars together on the desk, Levi and Will were discussing training stories while Chloe and Henry chased each other around the yard.

Emily and Noelle were slowly dancing in their own little world to the music that played, not too far from Haley and Arron who had the same idea. Jack was talking to Derek, sharing stories about their favourite superhero.

Diana and Debbie were going around making sure everyone had a drink or a snack, discussing their children and showing off to everyone that was there. It was a lot to take in, but she wouldn’t change it for the world. This was the most perfect little wedding she could have ever asked for.

Spencer never left her side, holding her hand where ever she went for the majority of the night. Knowing she hated being the centre of anyone else attention, calming her down from all the eyes that were on her.

“Do you want to go to the swing?” He whispered in her ear when they were finally alone.

“Please,” she looked up at him with pleading eyes. Wanting to just be alone with him for a while.

She snuck out of the yard and across the street, Y/N sat down on the swing for the first time in years, her big belly thanking her for the relief. Spencer pushed her lightly on the swing, helping her swing in the late-night spring breeze in rural Nevada.

The light in her bedroom was still on, illuminating the empty room she called hers for the majority of her life. Still unable to process the fact that she did it, she married Spencer. She made a life in his orbit, she was happy and loved and making a family with the man of her dreams.

This was the best revenge she could have ever gotten on any childhood bully or predator in her life. Pure happiness, that no one could take from her. Knowing she did this on her own, meeting Spencer out of the blue and building a life of joy and peace was so unbelievably wonderful.

“Tell me what you’re thinking about,” Spencer asked softly as he continued to push her on the swing.

“I’m just amazed that I did it,” she said softly.

“Did what?”

“all this,” she waved her arm out in front of her. “I grew up, I made friends and a family and found the love of my life even after believing for so long that I never would.”

“the universe had better plans for you than you thought,” She could hear the smile on Spencer’s face as he spoke. “You’re so deserving of the world and then some, you’re worth the universe to me. Brighter than any star in the sky, more powerful than the big-bang.”

She dragged her feet along the sand, stopping the swing abruptly before turning around to see Spencer. His eyes glistened in the moonlight or the streetlight. Either way, his brown eyes were glowing as she looked up at him softly.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“For what?”

She wrapped her arms around him as best as she could, pressing her cheek against his chest softly. “For showing me that love is real.”

“Being able to love you has been the best part of my life.”

She pulled him into another kiss, holding his face softly as she peppered kisses to his lips over and over. “You get me forever.”

“And then some.”

“Hypothetically,” she teased him lightly. “Anything is possible when the two of us get together.”

“I love you,” was all he could say before kissing her again.

They could hear the music travelling across the street for the yard, she wrapped her arms around him and swayed to the beat. Taking a moment completely alone with him to just appreciate him. To hold him close, hear his heartbeat through his suit jacket and just take it all in.

The rest of her life started at that moment, the birth of a new future. One with endless possibilities, endless happiness, and the most love in the whole world.

Soulmates, 500 years in the making.

Placing 500 more years of possibilities in the hands of Fate, who cradled them in her loving embrace. Making a future for them unlike any she’s made before.

Epilogue

2020

The birds chirping used to make her wake up with a smile, now it made her panic a little. She was so overly used to being woken up to a baby crying, a kid with a tummy ache, or the sound of fighting coming from the cribs in the twin’s room.

When it was quiet she worried, opening her eyes and looking around to see all 4 of her children cuddled up around her and Spencer. Completely asleep, and absolutely adorable.

Matthews’s face was beside hers on the pillow. His long hair falling over his face, just like his fathers used to all those years ago. She kissed her baby on the forehead, unable to fully understand that he was 10 now.

The twins were in the middle, Harper and Derek were attached at the hip all day long. Sleeping basically on top of each other, it was the only way they were peaceful. Since being squished together in the womb, they’ve become best friends and each other’s comfort person over the last 6 years.

Alice on the other hand was a daddy’s girl. Probably because she got the most time with him, 2 and a half years’ worth of all Spencer’s love and affection.

Spencer had quit the BAU when they got pregnant with their last baby, deciding he wanted to be with his kids full time. He wanted to be more present, to make more memories and just be a good dad.

Every morning Alice would find her way into the bed, she’d do whatever it took to get between Y/N and Spencer, cuddling into her father’s arms and going back to sleep. Almost every time, she would push her mom’s arms away, waking Y/N up in the process just to smirk at her as if to say; “haha my turn.”

She loved her little family. And they loved her too, she had been out of town for a week on a really bad case that required all hands on deck. They called her every day, begging her to come home soon, breaking her heart. So it wasn’t a surprise to see all of them snuggled in, taking in all the time with her that they could.

Matthews’s eyes fluttered as he woke up, his big beautiful brown eyes looking at her softly. “Mom,” he said softly with a smile before wrapping his arms around her neck and snuggling into her. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, Mr. Magoo,” she whispered into his hair, holding him close. He still smelled like her little baby, only bigger as he rested against her.

“Are we still going to Uncle Dave’s tonight?” He asked as he settled against her, wanting her to run her fingers through his hair. It calmed him as it did for Spencer, soothing his mind as it ran a million miles a minute.

“I think so,” she replied, picking him up softly and laying on her back more. “I think all your cousins are going to be there too.”

“Even Jack?” He asked, sitting up with wonder in his eyes. Jack was 15 now, and just the coolest dude in Matthews’s life. Much like how Spencer looked up to Hotch in the beginning.

“Even Jack!” She whispered with enthusiasm, trying to keep the others asleep but it was too late.

“Mommy!” Harper cried, pushing Derek away from her as she leaped into her mother’s arms.

“Hi sweetheart,” she couldn’t stop herself from laughing as she got smothered in hugs from the twins.

Spencer looked over at her then. Alice was snuggled into his neck, one hand on his shoulder, the other in his hair. She had always played with his hair every chance she could get. Especially whenever he held her or gave her a ride on his shoulders as they walked through the park.

“Hi,” Spencer smiled.

There he was, the love of her life. His smile made her feel at home, the love between them only growing every morning when they laid eyes on each other.

“Are you going to say hi to mommy?” Spencer asked Alice, rubbing her back softly.

She raised her hand to wave softly before dropping it back onto Spencer’s head with a smack, “ow?” He laughed lightly, making her bounce on his chest and laugh in response.

She was always quiet in the morning, leaving all the talking to her siblings. She was the calmest of them all, she was also the easiest of the 4 of them. She didn’t cry unless she was desperate for food or attention, she slept through the nights and was just all around not fussy at all. A literal blessing to their lives.

The twins were a lot, they knew they would be. She doesn’t miss the days and nights of them taking turns screaming. And she definitely doesn’t miss the ache of her body as two babies sucked her dry for almost 6 months. Breastfeeding kicked her ass the most, eventually making her lose too much weight and faint from low blood pressure, it sucked.

The outcome was beyond worth it. Derek and Harper were the craziest, funniest, loudest 6-year-olds in the whole world. If they weren’t writing a show, pretending to direct a spooky movie or pulling pranks on their father, they were planning to.

They had a specific dynamic, Harper was the planner and Derek was the do-er. Harper would come up with the sneakiest, worst ideas a child could have and somehow always managed to convince Derek to do it for her. A modern-day Jekyll and Hyde terrorized her home.

But Matthew, He was the sweetest. Being a single child till the age of 4 meant he was around Spencer and Y/N all the time, just the three of them. He’s shy but outgoing, he speaks his mind and he isn’t afraid to share his thoughts and feelings. He’s the best part of both of them but with all the confidence to follow his dreams. He was handsome and smart, he was sweet and kind, he was her baby. Forever and always, no matter how big he got.

He’s smart like Spencer, but not jumping through elementary school as fast. They agreed to let him decide when he turned 14. He deserved the chance to grow up with his own age group, to make friends and memories that were good and happy, to build the confidence to stand up for himself and others before he finished school. He didn’t mind it, he enjoyed helping other students when he finished his work early and asking for extra credit assignments.

And he liked being in class with Roz LaMontagne. They were smitten with each other from day one, always holding hands and playing nicely. JJ and Y/N always felt bad peeling them apart from each other at the end of a playdate, they were best friends.

It was like Roz had 2 older brothers with Henry and Matt, the 3 of them being so close in age they were often mistaken for triplets, with JJ and Y/N being their lesbian moms. It was a ruse that came in handy when they saw men checking them out, or when they wanted a family discount at the zoo.

Her life felt perfect, it was far from it in reality but she was happy with that. She worked long hours, her kids missed her every day, she didn’t see Spencer as often as she’d like and she was always tired. But that was what it took, she would work herself to the bone in an instant if it meant that she could come home and be snuggled like this every time.

“How was your week?” She asked Harper, brushing her strawberry blond hair behind her ear as she cuddled into her other side. Now having 3 children laying on top of her.

“Dad took us to the air and space museum,” Derek answered for her.

“No way!” Y/N enthused. “You need to tell me everything you learned!”

“The Museum is the largest of the Smithsonian's 19 museums and its Center for Earth and Planetary studies is one of the Institution's nine research centres. More than eight million people a year visit the Museum's two locations, making it one of the most visited museums in the country,” Matthew explained, remembering the sign at the entrance from memory.

“Wow, what was everyone’s favourite part? Maybe we can go again soon and you can all show me?” She suggested, riling them all up till they were bouncing on the mattress and screaming suggestions back and forth.

“Okay, okay,” Y/N settled them down. Watching them all sit-down and smile as they tried to stop laugh and listen. “Why don’t we go get breakfast and spend the morning together before we get ready to go to Aunt Penny’s party tonight okay?”

“I thought it was Uncle Dave's party?” Derek asked.

“It’s at his house but you know how aunt penny plans,” Y/N smiled at him. “How about you all go get dressed and pick something nice to wear while I talk to your dad for a bit?”

“Anything I want to wear?” Harper questioned her, very serious.

Y/N laughed, shaking her head, “something nice, but yes your choice.”

“Yes!” Harper screamed, hopping off the bed making the whole room shake as she ran down the hall. The sound of her bare feet slapping the hardwood carrying through the hallway in an echo.

“Matty, I’ll dress Alice, can you just watch her for a minute?” Spencer asked as he placed Alice in the middle of the bed.

“Sure,” Matthew smiled. “Come on Ali, I’ll read you a book?”

She put her arms out for her brother to carry her, and soon enough it was just Spencer and Y/N all alone again. Spencer and her both falling back against the pillows and sighing in the quiet.

Spencer pulled her into a hug, wrapping himself around her as he kissed her cheek, “I missed you so much, I hate when you’re gone.”

“That’s why I wanted to talk to you,” she said softly. “I got a job offer last night, and I think I’m going to take it.”

“What is it?”

“VICAP and the BAU are merging, even more, I’ve been asked to be the Chief of VICAP to personally overview the program and pass the information along to Prentiss,” She explained. “It would be a 9-5 thing, 5 days a week. I’d be home for dinner and all weekend long. We could have another baby or go on vacation? You know the possibilities are endless.”

Spencer kissed her again, “you’d be able to help people and be home all the time.”

“Exactly,” she smiled into his embrace. “I told them I’d let them know later today, they want me to start next month.”

“Follow your gut,” Spencer whispered, happy at the decision she was making either way.

“My gut is currently saying ‘feeeeed meeee’, so let’s get going!” She cheered as she tried to escape from his embrace.

He just held on tighter, tickling her stomach and kissing her neck, “help!” She cried, joking obviously and the kids knew that. Sure enough, 4 pairs of feet came running back into their room, dog piling them.

“I said help! Not suffocate me?!” She teased them as Spencer let her go, each taking a child and tickling them instead. Everyone was screaming again, giggling from deep in their stomach, feeling sick from how happy they were.

She loved every moment of it.

—

After 10 years, the BAU had gone through a lot of changes. Everyone seemed to come and go at least once, some leaving for good when their families started. But there were a lot of new faces now, once someone was on the team they were family.

It was a rare occasion for everyone to get together, especially now that almost everyone had kids. Spencer and Y/N went from being the 2nd set of parents to aunty and uncle to 8 kids in 10 years.

That meant that there were currently 12 screaming kids terrorizing Rossi’s beautiful backyard as the adults sat around the fire. “Please tell me no one here has a baby announcement to make, I don’t think I can handle a thirteenth,” Rossi complained, grey hair making him look more like papa Rossi than uncle Dave now.

“No,” everyone said in unison, laughing at the abundantly clear meaning. They were all too tired to do it all again.

“Like Spencer’s mom said, why have another when you can stop at perfection?” Emily joked as she leaned into Noelle’s embrace. “PJ is the best little guy in the world.”

“Spencer makes some great kids,” Y/N laughed. Remembering that time Emily nervously asked them if Spencer would be the donor for her child. Wanting her kid to be born with the best DNA she could think of.

“That he does,” Noelle smiled, looking into the yard to see PJ, Michael and Hank roughhousing like they always were.

They all had kids fairly close together, always making sure each new member of the BAU's gifted children program had friends who were more like family in their lives. Their small chosen family expanded not only in size but with the amount of love they shared for each other.

Henry was 12 now, Jack 15. They had always gotten along well together, being a little more on the nerdy side. They welcomed Matthew into their little group with open arms, as well as Roz.

Hotch ended up becoming Section Chief, taking a desk job so that he could spend more time with his family. They welcomed Jessie 6 years ago, right around the time Y/N had the twins. She was a spitting image of Haley with all the stern seriousness of Hotch. Seeing her and Harper try and work together was always funny. Harper and Derek were always trying to start shit somewhere, while Jessie ran to Y/N to tattle on them. It was the funniest dynamic out of all the age groups, and it was only going to get worse as they grew up.

“I don’t know,” Y/N sighed, looking at her kids as they all smiled and laughed. The joy they brought her was unimaginable, “I think 5 would be interesting.”

“You’re a psycho, and I should know, I’m an expert,” JJ just shook her head, blinking at the craziness. “I can barely handle 3.”

“Alice was so easy though,” she whined. “All of them were good, I miss having a baby who wanted to cuddle with me. It’s not fair Spencer gets all the attention now.”

“You could always quit, they’d love that,” he teased her softly, not wanting to wake Alice as she slept on him, tired from playing with everyone during the afternoon.

“My new position is going to be better for us,” she smirked.

“What position?” Penelope yelled at her.

“I’m going to be the VICAP unit chief,” she smiled, watching them all light up as they congratulated her. Starling the sleeping Alice on Spencer’s chest.

“I think I’ve done enough fieldwork, I’d like to cook more dinners and read more bedtime stories now,” she smiled. “I never thought I’d say that.”

“I don’t think any of us did,” Haley added. “I never expected Aaron to slow down, but when he did I think it was the best thing he chose to do. Jack and Jessie love having him around all the time.”

“To 10 plus years on the job, 10 years of friendship and the 12 new lives we brought into this world,” Y/N said as she lifted her can of ginger-ale, everyone following with their own drinks.

“To family,” Prentiss added.

“To family,” they all repeated.

Taking a sip before smiling at each other, everything ended up okay. It was more than they ever expected, and everything they hoped for.

—

The kids all fell asleep on the ride home. Spencer and Y/N each taking one of the twins upstairs first, placing them in their beds softly before returning to the garage for the others. Finding Matthew trying to carefully bring Alice inside to help his parents.

“Hey Matty it’s okay,” Spencer whispered, placing a hand on his back. “you go inside with your mom and I’ll take care of this.”

“Okay,” he replied, extremely tired as his eyelids drooped.

Y/N wrapped her arm around his shoulders, he was almost as tall as her already and she wasn’t ready for that. “Come on my baby,” she whispered as she led him into the house and up the stairs.

She helped him change into a pair of pyjamas before helping him into his bed, covering him in his adorable planet-covered sheets. She tucked him in nice a snug before sitting on the edge, looking down at him as he closed his eyes and settled in.

She brushed his brown curls off his face, making way for the kiss she was about to leave on his forehead. “Goodnight my Matty Magoo, I love you to the moon and back.”

“I love you to the edge of the milky way,” he replied with a small smile. “I’m excited for you to be home more. Dad worries about you and it makes him sad, I like seeing you both happy together.” He rambled all his thoughts out at night just like Spencer did.

She kissed his head softly, holding his cheeks in her hand as she looked into his beautiful brown eyes. “You are so sweet, have a good sleep and I will see you tomorrow. I love you.” She told him again, and she’d tell him a million more times if she could.

“I love you, too, mom,” he smiled one last time before closing his eyes.

She shut off his lamp, closing his door on the way out.

She stood in the hallway then, a hand on her heart as she thought about just how much she loved him. JJ wasn’t kidding when she said you grow a love so big you’d kill for them.

Back in the twin’s room, she made sure they were comfortable for the night, taking Harper out of the crazy dress and pants she picked out for the day. Tucking both of them into their little beds, kissing their heads before turning on their nightlight. They didn’t like the dark, and they liked to keep their door open a little so buddy could sneak in.

In her own room, she found Spencer in bed, shirtless with a book. He got sexier as he got older, it was impossible and yet it happened. Every year he looked different, in a wonderful way.

His hair was fluffy, his tummy was fuller— a dad bod as Penelope would call it. He wore glasses all the time now, having a hard time reading without them. It made him incredibly hot.

She changed into a cute pyjama set, satin shorts and a spaghetti strap top, wanting to get his attention away from whatever book he found this time.

She could feel his eyes on her as she changed, not wanting to look at him and make him stop.

He put his book down when she got in beside him, still on the right side after all these years. “What?” She asked him as he kept staring at her.

“Were you serious?”

“Yes I do think you’re sexy, I didn’t think you could read minds too?” She teased him.

“Funny,” he smiled at her. “Do you want another baby?”

She shrugged, “we could Russian roulette this and just see if it happens?”

“Seriously?” His voice dropped, softer than normal. “Because I would have 16 more kids with you if you wanted. They’re all so amazing, every time.”

“I know,” she felt her heart melt. “Matthew said you get sad when I’m not here, he worries for you.”

“All week, Harper wore her regular outfits because she likes making you laugh with her silly ones,” Spencer told her. They liked to share secrets about their kids at night. Basically profiling them.

“I love them,” her heart felt like it was going to burst.

“Come here,” Spencer requested, waiting for her to sit on his hips and look down into his eyes like she always did. She brushed the hair off his face, holding his cheeks in her hands.

His eyes are so much like Matthews, but it was Alice who looked the most like him. She had his nose, his chin, she was tall and skinny and just the most adorable copy of him. Every feature on him was in one of their kids, he saw the same thing in her.

“Are you sure?” She asked him softly.

“The only thing in the whole world that I know for certain is that I love you and this family. Even gravity is simply a hypothetical, but you and me… I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” his words soft and his expression softer.

She kissed him, pressing her lips against his for the first time in a while. It always felt like coming home, this was where she was meant to be.

When she pulled back all she wanted to do was look at him for a minute, to imagine what new little face the two of them could make together. All 4 of their children were so perfect, she couldn’t imagine a 5th possibility.

“Put a baby in me,” She whispered.

She didn’t have to tell him twice, he reached over to the night table to turn off the light before kissing her neck softly. His big, warm hands wrapped around her back, pulling her in closer to him.

He was so much different now from the first time they did this. Confident, stronger, older, but he was still her soft boy. He held her with care, kissed her like she was made out of glass. The contrast of his actions and the feeling of his rough hands on her body made her feel like she was on fire.

He pushed the straps of her shirt off her shoulders, dipping her back a little so he could kiss her cheek. He pushed her shirt down, freeing one of her breasts, holding it softly in his hands before kissing the newly exposed skin.

His tongue swiped across her nipple, making her gasp and grip his arm as she rutted into the feeling. He cradled her head in his hands, laying her back with her head now at the foot of the bed.

Still, between her legs, he pulled the satin shorts down slowly to see she never wore any underwear under them. He smirked, running his finger softly over her vagina, watching in awe as she spread her legs wider for him.

She could see how hard he was, his erection making a tent in his boxers as he teased her softly. “Still so perfect,” he praised her. “Look how tight you are, sucking my finger inside that tight heat.”

She tightened around him on purpose then, feeling his finger slip in even more. “Fuck,” he gasped. Moving down more to place a kiss on her clit.

Her breathing picked up then, even after 11 years of sex with this man, the thought of his tongue on her still made her shiver. He was just that good, always getting better every time he dove face-first into her.

Her back arched the second his tongue connected with her clit. Pushing herself into his tongue more and more as he explored her. Two fingers were inside of her now, Spencer’s mouth kissing and sucking and licking every single inch of her pussy as she quietly gasped into the darkness.

She wanted to scream for more, she always did, but she couldn’t anymore. There were 4 sets of ears just down the hall trying to have a peaceful night’s sleep, she had to remind herself of that every time.

“Fuck, Spencer,” she whispered, biting her lip so nothing else slipped out.

“What?” He whispered against her skin, kissing her groin and lower tummy.

“Please,” she begged softly, sitting up and climbing onto his lap once more. “Daddy?”

It had been years since she said that to him, not able to utter the words once he actually became a father. It lit a fire in him, pulling her in closer before he ripped the shirt off her body.

He held her against him, kissing her neck as he basically growled at the feeling. Becoming almost feral with the thought of fucking her. She was in love with the feeling, when he got rough with her it was the best.

She enjoyed every second of it, knowing she’d wake up in the morning with beard burn on her neck and between her thighs, not giving a single fuck. It was so worth it, the tickle of his facial hair on her skin beside his mouth, she craved it.

“I need you out of those boxers, sir,” she panted, holding his hair as he continued to kiss her neck.

He pulled off her, looking at her in the darkness with lust-filled eyes. “Lay back,” he instructed her.

She always listened, laying back against the pillows as he freed himself from the confines of his underwear. Crawling on top of her and hovering slightly as he looked down at her. He brushed her hair off her face, kissing her lips lightly before smiling.

“Tell me again what you want?”

She smirked, “I want you to put a baby in me, fill me up. Let me make you a daddy again?”

The noise that left his throat was enough to make her clit twitch again, it was deep and guttural and beyond sexy. He became an animal on nights like this.

She spread her legs again, wrapping her knees around him as he pulled him in against her body. “Fuck me, Spencer.”

He lined himself up with her quickly, dragging the head of his cock through her folds a few times before he began to push in. Little by little, achingly slow. Teasing her, knowing just how badly she wanted him to pound into her.

“Yes,” she sighed as he bottomed out, dropping her head back against the pillow softly.

Her hands roamed his back, waiting for him to start to move again. Digging her nails in when he finally did, pulling out slowly before pushing back in with effort.

“Ah,” she moaned softly, covering her own mouth as he started to move faster.

“Shhh,” he reminded her, kissing her neck again as he found his rhythm.

“Shut up and fuck me then,” she sounded desperate. “Please,” she added. Not wanting him to stop out of spite.

“Shut up and take it,” he ordered, placing his own hand over her mouth as he fucked her harder.

She couldn’t believe it, he was holding one hand over her mouth while his other reached for her clit, making her jolt forward at the contact. It was everything she wanted, it was rough and powerful and just the best reminder that she belonged to him.

Spencer was hers, she was his, they created this entire world together. She felt so overwhelmed, she wasn’t aware that she was crying at the pleasure till Spencer moved his hand off her mouth to wipe off a tear.

“Keep going,” she encouraged him. “Please, please.”

“Shhh,” he soothed her, “I’m going to make you feel so good bunny, you’re going to be so full, so beautiful carrying another one of our babies.”

That did it for her, she tilted her head back as she arched her back. Pulling Spencer’s fingers into her mouth so that she wouldn’t moan too loud as she came on his cock.

Spencer shuttered at the feeling, fucking into her with vigour as he tried to hold in his own moans. Sounding more like a whimper when he finally came, spilling into her with the force of a Mack truck.

He dropped against her body then, breathing deep into her neck. She wrapped her legs around him tightly, holding him inside of her so nothing slipped out. “Fuck.”

“I love you,” Spencer breathed against her skin.

She ran her fingers through his hair softly before kissing his forehead. “I love you more.”

They stayed like that for a while, only pulling apart finally to get cleaned up. Spencer turned back on the light, helping her to the bathroom quietly before stripping the sheets off the bed.

She returned to a freshly made bed and a dressed Spencer waiting for her. She put her shorts and a t-shirt back on, slipping into bed and cuddling into him once more. Having to look presentable for when the kids eventually came running into their room at 7 am.

She sighed into his embrace, smiling softly against his skin. “What was that Buddha quote you told me all those years ago?”

“When you meet your soulmate, remember that the act to bring you together was 500 years in the making. So always appreciate and be kind to each other,” Spencer replied softly.

“Goodnight, Spence,” she kissed his jaw softly as she snuggled in closer.

“Goodnight, bunny.”

the end

[roberttchase]

Fluffy - comfort for brettsey 🥰

This...got away from me a bit. I didn't mean for it to get long, but I'm a big comfort fan. This is set late season 8, when the pining was intense. Enjoy 2k of sick, soft Matt and overly worried Sylvie.

“Has anyone seen Casey?”

Herrmann shakes his head from where he’s talking to Mouch about an idea for Molly’s. When Sylvie gets a head shake from both Ritter and Gallo, she sighs, not sure what else to do. She’s looked everywhere- his office, Severide’s office, the locker room, his rig, the common room. He’s nowhere to be found. Grabbing water from the fridge, the paramedic huffs and heads back to the bunk room, when she collides with Stella in the doorway.

“Woah! What’s up?”

Looking up, the blonde meets her best friend's eyes. “Have you seen Matt anywhere?”

Stella cocks an eyebrow and tilts her head a bit, a smug look overtaking her features.

“What?”

“Nothin’ just...I may have seen Matt somewhere,” her tone is teasing, and Sylvie wrinkles her nose at how foreign it sounds for the firefighter to say the mans first name.

“If you have something you want to say…” Sylvie inclines her head towards the other woman, who smirks.

“Nope,” Stella pops the end of the word, then rolls her eyes. “Last I saw, Casey was heading towards the turnout room to see what jackets needed to be ordered.”

“Thank you.” Sylvie turns before she can get another word in about her and Matt, and heads out to the apparatus floor. Moving past the squad table, she half heads Tony and Capp talking about some movie, but her head is mostly focused on finding the Captain, wanting to tell him about the good phone call she’d had with Amelia and Scott the night prior. Taking a left into the turnout room, she pauses when she sees the person she’s been searching for.

Matt’s leaning against the wall, clipboard loosely in his hand, head tilted back, eyes shut. He looks tired, like he’s purposely chosen this room to be in so the chaos of the rest of the firehouse can’t touch him. She debates on turning and leaving, letting him have some time alone that he clearly needs, but then she’s brought back from her thoughts when Matt makes a noise.

“Hey, sorry. Got lost in thought. Fancy meeting you here.” Though he smiles, it doesn’t reach his eyes like usual, and Sylvie’s already letting her eyes sweep over him, checking to make sure he hasn’t hurt himself.

“It’s okay, I can go and let you have some alone time.” She says it lightly, as if to be joking, but she’s serious. She doesn’t want to keep him if he needs to decompress- they’ve all been there- even if she hasn’t heard of any bad calls for truck today.

“No, it’s fine, like I said, lost in thought,” he clears his throat and stands up straighter. Sylvie swears she can almost physically see him put on his Captain persona. She hates it, hates that he can’t just be himself, even if she does understand it. She’s the paramedic in charge, which means she’s responsible for her and Foster. Matt’s responsible for the whole house.

Taking a breath in, Sylvie’s about to start telling him how her phone call went,  but she’s cut off when Matt coughs. The firefighter ducks his head away and into his arm, letting the coughs come as quietly as it sounds he can manage, finally straightening back up and clearing his throat again.

“I’m sorry.” He’s blushing, Sylvie notices, which is kind of adorable.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You know you can talk to me Matt.” She reaches her hand out and puts it on his shoulder, their eyes meeting. She tries again. “What’s going on?”

Matt hesitates, swallowing, and then rubs at the back of his neck, avoiding her gaze, eyes snapping down. “I’m just….I don’t….” She gives him a reassuring squeeze on his shoulder as he tries to explain. “I didn’t really sleep well last night. Guess it’s just catching up to me is all. Don’t feel all that great. But it’s fine.”

Oh. Without thinking, she moves closer, her hand moving from his shoulder upwards, palm gently connecting with his forehead. It’s warmer than it should be. Frowning, she notices his eyes have shut at the contact, and he looks younger. Matt’s eyes flutter back open when she moves her hand.

“Come on…” Sylvie jerks her head towards the door, walking through it, knowing Matt will follow. Sure enough, he does, even if he looks confused as he trails after her and into the ambo when she opens the back doors. “Sit.”

She almost laughs when he sits on the bench to the side immediately. Turning, the paramedic rummages through one drawer, and then another until she finds the small, white, plastic instrument. “Put this under your tongue.”

“Bossy...Sylvie, this is silly, I’m f-“

“If you say you’re fine, Matt Casey…” she trails off and lowers her stare at him. Slowly, he takes the thermometer she’s holding out of him, a little plastic cover on the tip, and guides it under his tongue. As they wait, Sylvie’s struck with how young and vulnerable he looks. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen him sick before, or if she has, it’s been when he’s hiding it.

After another fourteen quiet seconds, the shrill repetitive beep sounds, and Matt takes it out, glancing at it. His shoulders sag and he lets out a breath, and it’s all the confirmation she needs to know he’s got a fever. Taking it, she looks at the little screen that’s lit up red, the numbers ‘100.5’ flashing.

“Matt.” She knows he must feel bad. Keeping her voice low, she hesitantly reaches out and brushes some hair away from his forehead. The atmosphere around them is suddenly, intensely intimate. She finds that she doesn’t mind, that it doesn’t bother her. “I’ll tell Bo-“

“No! No, I’m...I can do my job just fine Sylvie. It’s barely anything, really. I’ll be alright.”

The look Matt’s giving her makes her nod, but then she levels him with her own. “Fine. But I’m checking your temp every hour. If it hits 101 I’m telling him. That’s putting yourself and your team at risk.” She knows he wants to argue, so she goes for the low blow. Her hand is resting on his arm now, but she has no intention of moving it. If she’s honest, she has no intention of ever breaking this spell cast around them, but, as if the universe wants to tease her, the alarm goes off for ambo and squad. Of course.

“Be safe out there,” Matt says with a genuine smile this time, getting out of the rig slower than usual, as if his body aches. She’s sure it does, even if he won’t admit to it. She moves to the front, and just barely catches the look Foster gives the Captain as she jumps in. Watching the rear view mirror, she sees Matt slip into the firehouse, unnoticed with all the commotion. Maybe he’ll get some rest.

Sylvie fully intends to bring Matt back a smoothie, but while they’re on the way to the coffee shop that has the best ones in Chicago, they’re called to another company's scene to help transport another victim. By the time they’re leaving Med it’s close to ten at night, both she and Foster are tired, and the idea to bring back a smoothie isn’t even in her mind anymore.

They get back to an empty firehouse. Sylvie wonders how long they’ve been out, and after checking with one of the temps in the bullpen, it sounds like they’ve been gone a while. She hopes it’s not a bad fire, though she’s sure if it was they’d have heard about it by now over the radio or from main. Starving, the paramedic goes to root around in the fridge, but when she opens the door, she sees two covered plates with a little sticky note on top.

Saved for Brett and Foster. DO NOT TOUCH.

It’s written in Matt’s neat but scribbled handwriting, and it makes her body feel warm. Even when he’s not feeling well he’s looking out for her. As she heats the plates up, Sylvie hears the apparatus bay doors slide up, and the missing rigs park back in place. Minutes later everyone is bustling in looking exhausted.

“Bad?” Emily asks as Stella drops herself into a chair next to them at the table. When the firefighter only grunts, they both wince sympathetically.

“Not bad, but we had two back to back calls. Even if they weren’t bad, it was just…a lot.”

Matt walks in and heads straight for the bunk room, not acknowledging anyone. Sylvie watches him go, playing with her watch anxiously. Stella shrugs when they make eye contact, as if to say she doesn’t know what’s going on either. Deciding to take action, she excuses herself and grabs her plate, ignoring the looks from her friends. The paramedic follows the same path the man had, but when she gets to his quarters, she sees the door is shut, and the blinds are drawn. Worry pools in her stomach.

Quietly, Sylvie knocks, knuckles hitting glass. When she’s been standing there for almost fifteen seconds, the blonde starts to turn to leave when the door opens, revealing a disheveled Matthew Casey. His skin is just slightly paler than normal, dark circles under his eyes becoming more visible. What stands out to her is the way he’s got his right hand’s fingers pressed gingerly against where she knows his lymph node would be on his neck.

“Hi...you can come in, sorry. I just don’t have the mental capacity to deal with Severide right now.” His voice is just shy of raspy, though that could be from having to call the shots at the scenes.

Stepping inside, Sylvie sits on the mans bunk, then pats the small open area next to her, hoping to coax him onto it, and eventually get him to lay down and rest. “How’re you feeling?”

Matt freezes, then shrugs. “Like I have some silly little bug that you’re getting too worried over,” he decides, looking at her pointedly. Setting her plate in her lap, she mirrors the same gesture she had done earlier, hand going to the firefighters forehead again.

“You feel warmer. Why don’t you get some rest. You can do paperwork later, you need to get some energy back up if there’s another call,” Sylvie tries to reason with him. It’s a testament to how he must be feeling that Matt just nods. She’s about to move when he puts a hand out on her knee.

“Will you stay? Just for a little while.”

Her first instinct is to pull him into a hug and hold him close. Instead, she nods and smiles. “Mind if I eat while I’m here?”

“Of course not…” Matt shifts so that he’s lying on the bed instead of sitting. The space makes Sylvie move too, sitting next to Matt, propped against the back wall. Eating with her right hand, she reaches out her left and plays with Matt’s hair hesitantly. She pauses when he looks at her.

“No, no...you can keep...it feels nice.” The pink on his cheeks increases tenfold, and Sylvie wishes she could take a photo. Instead of responding, she merely continues the motion, and soon Matt’s asleep head falling to her shoulder.

Looking down, she tries to memorize how he looks, so young and at ease, sleep allowing him to get away from the heaviness of being a Captain. The urge to kiss his hairline is strong, but instead she continues to play with his hair, mind wandering and imagining what it would be like to get to take care of him every day, call him hers. There are worse ways to spend shift.

[raysofcrosby]

Give us the preview bestie 👇🏽👇🏽👇🏽

hehehehe i also have ethan’s reaction typed up too if we want that 🤪 but without further ado, here it is💛

*wltay bonus chapter spoiler beneath the cut—unedited of course*

She shut the drawer and walked into her and Matt’s bathroom, leaning against the bathroom counter and staring down at the box as she exhaled heavily, opening it and tilting the three tests out of the box and into her right hand. Suddenly, she felt that same fear she had back when she was 17, even though she was older now and her situation was different. Caroline wasn’t a 17, almost 18 year old high school senior whose boyfriend was going off to live and play hockey in another country. She’s a 28 year old woman with two degrees, a successful job and is set to get married in two weeks.

But standing in right now holding the box of pregnancy tests, she was more nervous than scared. Her and Matt had talked about having another baby, but were going to wait until after the wedding to actively try for one. That gave them enough time to settle down and unpack in the house they’d bought in the same neighborhood that Gio and Lauren live in and came highly recommended, just at the end of the season and were set to move into in August.

Which meant that they weren’t going to try for another baby until that August and September time frame, which would put them at a summertime delivery, where Matt wouldn’t have a 50/50 chance of being away for a game or God forbid, a long road series in the States or anywhere else in Canada.

Yet if any of these tests said positive, then that meant they could be sitting at a much earlier time frame— depending on how far in the pregnancy she was…if she was even pregnant. For all she knew, the stress and fatigue she’d felt really were from dealing with school and finalizing the wedding details. And that sudden craving could’ve just been her body saying “hey, calm the fuck down and have some ice cream and fries,” instead of “hey, lol…you’ve got a baby in here!”

“Hey, we paused it for you cause I know how much you love Tim Riggins,” Matt laughed, walking into the bathroom, his right thumb pointing back over his shoulder as he stopped in the doorway “What’s that?”

“I bought it at the gas station before we picked you up.” Caroline handed him the box, still clutching the three tests in her right hand as she draped her left arm across her stomach. Matt turned the box over, his eyebrows furrowed until they raised as his eyes skimmed the pink front.

“Have you taken them yet?” He asked, lowering the box as he looked at her.

She shook her head, sighing heavily. “I’m 28 years old. I’ve been here before…” she looked at him, a frown on her face. “So is it bad that I’m absolutely terrified?”

He placed the box down onto the counter and walked in front of her, stepping close and trapping her in front of the counter as he reached up and cradled her face. “You’ve got me this time,” he whispered, his thumbs brushing against her cheeks. “I’m right here and I’m not leaving. I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

“This...it’s earlier than what we wanted,” she whispered, looking down at the tests in her hands. “We’ve got so much stuff to do to get settled...if these come out positive and I’m pregnant, then–”

“Then we’ll just have to shake it up,” he replied, getting her to look at him again. “There’s nothing that can’t be pushed back and we’re not doing this alone, Care. We’ve got our families, we’ve got friends here to help us out. We’ve got this...so stop psyching yourself out and pee on the sticks, okay?”

Caroline laughed and nodded, standing up and resting the tests down onto the counter, before standing in front of the toilet and turning around. “Can you get me a cup?”

“A cup?” Matt asked, furrowing his brows. “Don’t you just pee on the sticks? Why do you need a cup?”

“Because it’s three different tests and each needs to be peed on for a certain amount of seconds, Matthew. And who’s to say I know how long I need to pee for,” she sighed, looking at him. “Please, just get me one of those plastic cups from the pantry or something?”

Matt nodded and walked out of the bathroom, sliding the door partially closed behind him. Caroline unbuttoned her jeans and slid them down along with her underwear before sitting down on the toilet, awkwardly waiting for Matt to come back.

“Okay one, Ethan’s FaceTiming Melody and says to tell you hi,” Matt said, pushing the door open before walking into the bathroom and closing it behind him. “And two, here’s your solo cup.”

Caroline took the cup and looked at him. “You’re staying here?”

“I mean…yeah? You peeing in front of me isn’t something that bothers me. I’ve literally been inside-“

“Okay but please just…wait out in the bedroom or something? Just so I can pee in peace without you staring at me.” She sighed.

“Sure, I’ll let you pee in peace,” he laughed, walking over and kissing the top of her head before walking back towards the door, sliding it open and walking into their bedroom before sliding the door closed.

Caroline tried not to think about how nervous she was or how stressed she was going to be if she was in fact pregnant. Instead, she focused on their upcoming wedding in two weeks. How everything back home in St. Louis was prepared and all of their stuff for the wedding had already been shipped down. Now all they needed to do, was make sure their mail was redirected for the summer, their fridge and freezer were empty and make sure they were at the airport in two days time to catch their flight.

She folded up some toilet paper, placing it onto the counter before resting the cup on top of it, then moving to finish up before going on to washing her hands. Her hands weren’t even shaking as he unwrapped each pregnancy test and unfolded the instructions, making sure using this cup was an okay method to do.

One by one, she dipped each test into the solo cup, holding it for the allotted time before resting it back on top of the instructions until all three tests were done. She rid of the cup, pouring it into the toilet before flushing and tossing it into the bathroom trash can, reminding herself to empty it before they went to bed.

She washed her hands one more time before she walked over to the door and opened it to see Matt leaning against the wall just outside of it. “Permission to come into the bathroom now?” He smiled, standing up straight.

“Permission granted smartass,” she laughed softly, rolling her eyes.

“How long does it take for a result?” He asked, leaning against the bathroom counter and looking down at the three tests.

“They’re three different tests,” she said, reaching behind him and grabbing the box, turning it around. “The digital is three minutes, the rapid test is 45 seconds and the early result is a minute.”

“Oh shit,” he huffed, looking at her. “Do you just want to wait the whole three minutes before looking at them all? That way if there’s a mixed result we’ll know?”

“Yeah, that’ll probably be best,” she nodded, crossing her arms as Matt pull out his phone.

“Three minutes starting now,” he said, starting the timer and putting his phone down on the counter before grabbing her hands and leading her out of the bathroom and over to the bed. “And we’re waiting out here so you don’t stress yourself out staring at the timer.”

Matt sat down first, reaching out and holding her hands again as he pulled her closer and she stood between his legs. “What are you thinking about?” He asked, his hands coming up the backs of her thighs.

“Just how I can’t believe I might be pregnant. I’ve never missed a shot, and we’re always careful about having sex near the time period where I’m set to get a new shot.” She sighed, resting her hands on his shoulders before moving them down his back. “And if we do, we use a condom just to be sure.”

“Maybe you’re not pregnant and you’re just stressing yourself out,” he shrugged, tilting his head up at her. “Why do you think you’re pregnant anyway?”

“I was craving a milkshake and fries.”

Matt snorted. “That’s it? All this panic because you wanted a milkshake and fries?”

“It was one of my top cravings when I was pregnant with Ethan,” she pouted, linking her fingers together at the nape of his neck. “But I’ve always been stressed, exhausted, a little achy-“

“You also just wrapped up your first school year here while planning a wedding in St. Louis and I literally had to carry you to bed last week because you fell asleep grading extra credit assignments on the couch.” He laughed, fingers brushing against her thighs. “Maybe your body is just telling you to relax a little and indulge in some sweet and salty treats.”

She slid her left hand down beneath the collar of his shirt, fanning them out across his back as her right hand fiddled with the chain of his necklace. Matt’s gaze still on her own as she sighed. “What are you thinking about?”

“What we’re going to do if you’re pregnant or not,” he said, shrugging.

“And? What’s that?”

“Well, if you are pregnant, then once E goes to sleep we’ll celebrate in our bed,” he smirked, wrapping his hands around her thighs before tugging her onto his lap, her knees on either side of him as he rested his hand on the curves on her ass and placed soft kisses up the side of her neck. “And if you’re not, once E goes to bed we’ll come right back in here and spend all night trying until you are.”

Caroline rolled her eyes, trying to shove him back. “You’re so annoying,” she laughed, trying to wiggle out of his arms as he blew a raspberry against her neck. “Matthew!”

“Might not want to do that,” he laughed, holding her tight in his lap. “I really don’t want to have to walk back out into the living room with a raging boner, where our 10 year old son is currently waiting to finish the show.”

“Speaking of raging boners,” she sighed, leaning back against his arms hugged around her waist. “That book my Dad told me to order? The one that’s by the same Doctor who wrote that care and keeping of you book I had when I was 10, but this one is for boys puberty? It came in the mail and is currently sitting by the front door, waiting for you to open it and present it to your son.”

“Oh, now he’s my son?” Matt laughed, groaning soon after. “Do we really have to? I mean he’s only 10-“

“10 and already needing to wear deodorant, Matthew. Boys start puberty at 11, but can start as early as 9. He hasn’t asked any questions yet, but I think it’s best if you just sit him down one day and go over the book.”

“Why don’t we go over the book, hm?” He smiled, pressing a kiss to her lips. “I’m sure he’ll want the mom support there.”

“I’ve already dealt with 4 year old Ethan asking how to get his penis to go back to being floppy, Matthew. At the breakfast table, with my parents and Andrew sitting there.” She smiled, patting his shoulder. “I’ve done my duties of awkward boner talk, now it’s your duty as his loving and supportive father. Besides, I doubt he’ll be comfortable asking me any questions. He still can’t be around me in his underwear unless he has shorts on.”

Matt pouted, sighing. “Fine. Tomorrow we’ll go out and have a fun guys day before I ruin it with your puberty book. Or I could pull an ultimate embarrassing dad move and do it on the plane,” he smiled.

“That’s guaranteed silent treatment,” she laughed, kissing him. “But Ethan’s pretty good with body talk since my Dad’s a pediatrician and I’ve always answered questions as appropriately as I could whenever he did ask. He just won’t want to talk about it with me.”

“Yeah, well I-“ Matt’s generic iPhone sound erupted from the bathroom, signaling that the timer was done. They both looked over towards the bathroom before back at each other, Matt’s hands moving up towards her lower back. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, kissing him one more time before sliding off of his lap and standing up on the floor with his assistance. Matt grabbed onto her hand and intertwined his fingers with hers before bringing it up and kissing the back of her hand.

They walked into the bathroom, Caroline stopping just before they reached the tests and turned around, looking at him. “I take one and you take one? Should we pick up all three?”

Matt laughed. “Relax. We’ll each grab one, then, if needed, we’ll pick up the third.”

Caroline nodded, staring at the tests before picking the one up on the left, Matt reaching for the one in the middle as they both looked down for a result. Caroline had picked up the digital test, because her answer was staring right back at her.

YES

“Did you get a defective test?” Matt asked, furrowing his brows. “I thought the lines were supposed to be super faint or something.”

Caroline looked over at his test, seeing the bolded second line before grabbing the last test on the counter and seeing the same result. “No, they’re not defective. That just means I’ve got some serious hCG levels going on.”

“So you’re pregnant?” He asked, looking up from his test.

Caroline nodded, turning the other two towards him and laughing quietly. “I’m pregnant.”

Matt exhaled softly, blinking as he stared at the three positive results before the corners of his mouth turned up into a smile. “You’re pregnant. We’re having a baby.”

[snowpiercer-recaps]

Season 1, episode 6: Blame it on the Bogie

Spoiler alert!!! This is a rewatch recap of Snowpiercer s1e6: Trouble Comes Sideways. Naturally, it is full of spoilers for that episode. However, it also contains spoilers for some other episodes of season 1 and season 2. You have been warned!

Osweiller’s having a shave and monologuing about how, actually, some peoples’ lives are better on the train. The other scenes under the monologue include some pale goop leaking into an electrical box, some dark goop leaking out of Layton, and Clay handing out flyers for a general strike. It’s gonna be a busy episode!

After the opening credits, the engineers are altered to an electrical short at subtrain platform 312. Bennett volunteers to go, and Javi is a little bitch about it. Bennett gets all the fun jobs! Bennett doesn’t have to follow protocol! Bennett knows exactly how to handle the situation: he’s a little bitch right back! Does Javi want to invoke Wilford’s no fraternising in the engine rule? Javi points out that Melanie said they’d keep Wilford’s order when they stole the train - but hey, if she can let LJ off at the trial, then she can shag the help, too. They’re both really mean today! Bennett goes in for the kill:

Listen. I know that, realistically, Javi is probably just referring to having to lie about the whole ‘Melanie is Wilford’ thing. But I’m choosing to interpret this as him also confirming that he’s gay. Congrats, Javi! I love your shirt, by the way!

Next door, in the bunk room, Jinju is trying to get Melanie to meditate. I have never identified with Melanie Cavill more strongly than in this scene: she fidgets around for about ten seconds, then completely gives up. They discuss the strike plans. Jinju asks her what she’s going to do, and Melanie replies, “I’m going to crush it.” Girlboss! Crush those workers! What a capitalist hero! Then, to make sure she gets in her first HR complaint of the day, Melanie asks about Jinju’s wedding night. But we learn that there was no wedding night. Brakeman Bourgeoisie didn’t come home.

We immediately find out why: Till was searching for her little brother all night. When she finds him the next morning, she tries to apologise for smashing his skull in and leaving him for dead in the drawers car. As always, Osweiller’s a dick about it. This time, though, he's kinda justified.

In the Chains, Layton is still having a rough time in withdraweral. Zarah comforts him after a nightmare, and when he calms down a bit he asks her how he ended up in her container. Zarah tells him all about Josie’s quest, and that his curse is now lifted. Then, she asks him why he was in the drawers. He did what he was supposed to, so why would they punish him?

Given that Zarah outed Layton as a detective so that he could come uptrain and stop them pinning Sean Beef’s murder on her, surely she’s not ignorant enough to believe that people only get drawered when they deserve punishment? Anyway, they don’t dwell on that inconsistency in her character; Zarah and Layton quickly descend into their usual routine of yelling at each other about their breakup in the Tail.

But what’s not usual is Layton’s level of aggression: just one of many fun drawer side effects he’ll experience this episode! Zarah does what Roche has been itching to do for [however long has passed since episode 1], and slaps some sense into him. Layton asks whether Zarah is going to turn him in, and she tells him she won’t. But they are both still very angry with each other.

Outside, Melanie is being escorted through the Chains by three Jackboots. She’s treated to some unimaginative but semi-accurate insults from angry Thirdies.

Just wait til they see what Audrey gets up to in season two!

Melanie climbs up onto a little stage and gives a speech. She reminds the Thirdies that their labour is their ticket. When someone tries to speak out against Melanie, the Jackboots promptly beat them to a pulp. Melanie finishes up quickly: if the strikes go ahead, then ten randomly-selected striking passengers will be forced to switch places with ten tailies. It sounds highly unlikely to me: if Layton knew too much to go back to the tail after a couple of daytrips around the train, then surely the Thirdies who have lived there for seven years also know too much to be sent there? But it’s a good bluff - she’s definitely given the people something to think about. Audrey and Clay, however, still seem pretty determined to go ahead.

As soon as Melanie’s speech is over, Josie invites herself into Zarah’s container. Do people not knock in Third? Josie passes Zarah in the tight doorway to remind the audience just how much they hate each other, then rushes over to Layton. Layton needs to leave: Zarah’s container is the first place Melanie will look when she realises his drawer is empty. Layton and Zarah haven’t had a chance to make up from their fight yet, and Zarah looks so heartbroken when she asks if she'll see him again.

But Josie doesn’t have time for sympathy! There can be no more contact between Zarah and Layton, for their own good. Can she do my next breakup for me, please? Zarah reminds them that she’s not the enemy, and gently hands Layton some clothes. The man can barely stand, which begs the question: did Josie and Zarah just have to work together to dress him? THAT’S a scene I wanna see! Imagine how hilariously awkward that must have been for everyone!

Josie carries Layton back through the Chains, and they catch each other up on their secrets as they stagger towards the clinic. Josie explains that she swaps out with Astrid to sneak uptrain, and Layton explains why he got drawered: he figured out that Wilford isn’t on the train, and that Melanie is just using Wilford’s name. Layton doesn’t want anyone else to know yet - not until they figure out how to best use the secret. In that case, discussing it in a public place might not be their best move? Whatever!

Down in the subtrain, Bennett checks out the electrical short. Lots of different things are sparking, especially something outside. Shit.

Josie has managed to carry Layton all the way to the third class clinic, where Dr. Pelton is waiting for him with all her usual tact and charm.

Dr. Pelton puts up a little quarantine sign to prevent anyone walking in, and asks Layton to lie down on the bed. Josie helps him to remove his coat, and he snaps at her before promptly falling over. The drawers have really fucked him up! Josie lifts him onto the bed, and I really love this dynamic of tiny Josie throwing him around! Dr. Pelton is very familiar with withdraweral symptoms, and lists some off while Layton tries to resist examination. Josie insists that he lets the doctor check him and, yeah, I’d be kind of scared of her, too?

Dr. Pelton cracks out her best medical lingo and tells Layton that his “melon” might feel bad for days. Layton is too fucked up to understand and/or believe Josie when she explains that Dr. Pelton is an ally. And not just to the revolution! She is very supportive of Till and Jinju's marriage!

Layton immediately slurs out an accusation that Pelton knows so much about the drawers because she’s working with Melanie and Creepy Klimpt. The doctor remains pretty chill about it, even when Layton yells at her to make a guess about what the drawers are for. She tells Layton and Josie that there are hundreds of drawers, used for a variety of concerning reasons - namely mass incarceration, human experimentation and extrajudicial punishment. Yikes! She then refers to it as “[Melanie’s] own little North Korea”, which is somewhat problematic but also interesting! As far as Sean Beef and LJ knew, the drawers were Wilford’s plan. Maybe Dr. Pelton also belongs on the list of characters who suspect Melanie is Wilford?

Next, we catch up with Till and Osweiller. He’s busy telling her about his plans to blackmail her for an endless supply of seafood. If anyone finds out that she knocked him out and let two tailies loose in Third, she’d lose her job and an arm. And because that wasn’t mean enough, he adds that Jinju would dump her if that happened. Ouch! He’s such a dick!

The Brakemen head over to Walter the papermaker, to question him about the strike flyers. Osweiller steals some of Walter’s food, apparently just to taunt Till. When Walter insists he doesn’t know anything about the flyers, Osweiller assaults him. Walter looks to Till and begs her, “Please help!” But, if Till wants to keep both of her arms, she’s powerless to stop her little brother from being a dick. Walter finally reveals that it was Clay who made the flyers. Osweiller claims he’s having fun! Till looks nauseous and weary.

Down in the Tail, Suzanne has died. That’s the problem when the only doctor is also the community’s only Princess rescuer! Lights closes Suzanne’s eyes, while Big John tries to console Patterson and Winnie. Murray puts a load of unnecessary pressure on a kid who literally just watched his mother die, and Patterson decides he doesn’t want a ceremony. Lights and Murray cry together, and Lights comes up with a plan to lift everyone’s spirits: the rock climbing club are gonna join forces with the cinema club!

For Melanie's first flirt of the day, she visits Bennett in the subtrain. She puts on a nice warm coat, but honestly I can’t see it helping much when her legs are completely bare from the knee down? Her feet must be freezing! (not that I’m one to talk about femme fashion.)

We learn that the electrical short has caused a break to seize. Bennett seems pretty relaxed about it, but Melanie points out that the bogie motor can’t take the heat from all the sparks. They need a breach team, immediately. Shouldn’t Bennett have figured that out? Would they have avoided the incoming disaster if he had acted sooner? I'm gonna blame Bennett for this whole thing.

Up in the clinic, Layton is still being a dick to Dr. Pelton. We find out that she recently joined the rebellion because she just became one of the ten percent of passengers who have a little red X on their file. She doesn’t know what it means, but there are rumours of a list of enemies of the state. The doctor thinks that Melanie would be stupid enough to display information like that on a passenger file, where everyone could see. Interestingly, Layton and Josie both have passenger files. Melanie and co. must have much more information than we realised about the Tailies!

In the primary school, Boki is using a tiny model of Snowpiercer to tell the kids how cool the Breach workers are. That’s Breach workers, not ‘Breachmen’! Boki wants the kids to learn inclusive, feminist language, and I approve! He gets the kids to listen to the train’s ‘music’, and it’s very sweet. Then, Melanie comes to interrupt the lesson: Mr. Wilford needs Boki to help switch out the bogie motor. Before leaving, Boki ruins all the fun by using his last few seconds in the classroom to attempt to indoctrinate the children into the Wilford cult.

Miss Gillies tells the children to get back to work, and Melanie decides to wander through the class and distract Miles. Sure? Miss Gillies doesn’t seem at all bothered by the intrusion, so I guess Melanie must make a habit of disrupting the class to chat about the gifted kid’s homework.

In the Nightcar, Zarah is looking worried. From the other side of the room, Miss Audrey immediately notices. She takes Zarah aside for a scene that’s about to set a whole new ship asail. Zarah warns Audrey how awful the tail is, and says that she doesn’t have Audrey’s courage. In other words, Zarah isn’t going to join the strike. Audrey points out that leaving your husband to move to a place you’ve never been and work a mysterious job with a bunch of people you don’t know is actually pretty courageous. Then, she drops this line:

Can season one Audrey adopt me, please?

Audrey then notices Zarah’s got her hand on her belly. Did she eat dodgy noodles again? Not everyone can stomach that new beef. Wait, no, that’s not it... Zarah’s a woman in her thirties who just had sex with her ex! She must be pregnant! Audrey goes straight ahead and congratulates Zarah which... Sure? Maybe they’re close enough that Audrey can be relatively confident that Zarah would be pleased to be pregnant. But given that they’re literally about to strike in protest of their living conditions, Zarah's partner was recently murdered, and she’s fresh off an argument with her ex-husband who was just falsely imprisoned... personally, I think I would have gone with a more cautious reaction than ‘congratulations’.

Melanie interrupts the moment with an announcement over the PA system: there’s a mechanical disruption in car 780, and some services will be closed until it’s fixed. In the clinic, Josie realises that the announcement means she has to get back to Sanitation duty. She’s going to leave Layton with Dr. Pelton. Layton has another little ragey withdraweral moment, and Josie tells him to slow down. It's a nice switch from their positions in episode one, when he wanted the revolution to go slower! He grabs her hand as she’s leaving, and sneakily steals her friendship bracelet. Lights is gonna be so upset!

Layton isn't particularly subtle about his escape, and Sweary Josie quickly chases him through a few cars. But he eventually manages to lock a gate behind him, blocking her path. Layton is determined to find Melanie in car 780: he might not get a better chance to reveal that he’s escaped from the drawers and doom them all!

Melanie and Ruth are doing today’s daily flirting on the move. I can’t say I blame Ruth: Melanie looks so much more comfortable in this black outfit than she does in her hospitality teals, and it’s nice to see her happy. Ruth asks Melanie how Mr. Wilford’s doing, because he’s been making some unusual choices recently, and Ruth is concerned. Then, in true Ruth fashionc, she takes it too far. She thinks that, by indulging the Thirdies at the trial, Mr. Wilford was asking for the strike action. “You can’t spare the rod with these people!” Yikes! Melanie decides that the best way to handle this is to be patronising. Because... of course she does. Ruth plays along until Melanie disappears down to the subtrain, then gives us the best Grumpy Ruth expression yet.

While the breach team are taking out the broken motor, Layton is stumbling around the subtrain looking for someone to threaten with his scalpel. Luckily, Melanie walks right up to him. He grabs her and rants about lists of people getting thrown into the drawers, and we discover that Melanie has a bit of a knife kink. Fun!

Meanwhile, next door, a chain breaks sending a heavy mechanical part smashing into Engineer DiMarco. The camera gets splattered with fake blood, and then the heavy thing drops. Whatever it hits, it causes the train car to sway around on the rails. In turn, the car pulls some other cars with it, resulting in passengers all over the train getting thrown about in a very fun little montage! Boki and Ben peer down into the sub-subtrain to figure out how fucked they are.

Talking of sub, Melanie desperately explains to Layton that the drawers are ‘not a prison - they’re a lifeboat’. Four hundred people have been selected for diversity, health and skills, to ride out the freeze in a drawer in case there’s a deadly mold outbreak on Snowpiercer. Or in case there’s a deadly mechanics issue. Like right now. Layton stops threatening Melanie with the scalpel and lets her go fix the train.

Melanie needs to cool off after discovering some fun new things about herself, so she heads down to the sub-subtrain to take a look at the issue. Bennett can’t get a reading from one of their sensors. Someone’s going to have to go outside and check it. Boki is RIGHT THERE, so they’ve definitely given up pretending that Melanie isn’t an engineer. She insists she’s heading out, and suits up. Javi radios in to get an update, and they figure out that the whole train is going to derail in eight to fourteen minutes if they don’t fix the issue.

In the Brakemen's lockup, we catch up with Till and Osweiller who are bracing on the bars of the cell. Till finally says what we’ve all been thinking since episode one:

She’s right, and she should say it!

Till explains that she’s growing a moral compass: that’s why she knocked her little brother out and aided a fugitive! She’s not gonna follow laws when those laws are wrong! Sweetie, you’re in the wrong profession. She tries to have a heart-to-heart with her little brother, and he tells her to bugger off.

Down in the Tail, they’re going ahead with the matinee showing of Frozen 3. Lights uses the spy hole to project an image of the outside onto a white sheet, for the whole Tail to see. I love her.

Uptrain, Ruth scuttles into the non-torturey hospitality room to make an announcement. Can all passengers please remain calm while they die? LJ flicks one of the few remaining unbroken dishes off a First class table while the rest of the First class passengers cower on the floor around her. She’s awful, but she’s iconic. The tailies are enjoying Frozen 3, even though the picture's upside down.

The engine has reached the bridge! Melanie has six minutes to fix the deadly mechanical fault. To do so, she has to dangle upside down out of a moving train. She really should have let Bennett and his long arms do this job, because she can’t fucking reach the broken tube. Did she seriously not think to bring something with her in case this happened? Are three thousand people about to die because Melanie [redacted] Cavill forgot that humans have evolved to use tools? Has she learned nothing from all those eugenics books?

Ruth goes off-book to deliver a very emotional speech about how she just knows they’re going to make it! Maybe some passengers find it comforting, but the ones we see certainly don’t: Zarah cuddles up to Audrey in the Nightcar. Jinju cries alone against the door of her apartment. And, in the clearest sign that at least some passengers are convinced they’re about to die, Till holds her little brother’s hand. He doesn’t even tell her to bugger off this time.

Layton’s hangover is wearing off, so he goes for a little run through the derailing train. He arrives back at the clinic to a warm welcome from Sweary Josie.

These characters really know how to choose their last words!

Layton tells her that he didn’t kill Melanie. The damage is bad, and all he could think was that he wanted to see her. Aww. They cuddle and cry on the clinic floor.

Meanwhile, Melanie… still isn’t using a tool to reach the loose wire? Seriously!? Luckily she manages to reach it anyway, and jams it into the socket just in time to save the train from falling off the bridge.

The all-clear is called, and we take another quick tour of the train to catch up with some of the main characters. Zarah and Audrey hug more. Ruth clutches her chest and does the W salute in the non-torturey hospitality room. Electricity is restored to the Tail, and Winnie looks behind the projector screen to remind us all that she’s really fucking cute. Layton, Josie and Pelton laugh together in relief.

In the lockup room, Till and Osweiller notice that they’re still holding hands. They quickly drop them, and silently agree to never speak of it again. Then, he opens up: he was thinking about his mum at the end. He’s not going to tell on his big sister. She should probably go and check on her wife.

Back in the subtrain, Melanie has returned. Boki declares, “Ten fingers! One nose! Okay! We did!” What a guy! Then, Bennett takes the energy right down by telling Melanie, “You’re kind of amazing.” It’s one of the lamest lines I’ve ever heard, but Melanie seems to like it.

Next, Till finally shows up to her new apartment. She’s carrying a bag and a picture and crying, so you know she’s finally ready to commit! She apologises for fucking up last night and then asks “What if I’m not the person you think I am?” They’ve been married for one! fucking! Day! Jinju is very sweet and forgiving, but their relationship is clearly doomed already.

In the Chains, Boki and Bennett get a hero’s welcome. Boki is fucking loving it.

Somehow, the responsibility of giving the speech falls to… Bennett? Okay!? His words don’t make a lot of sense, but luckily everyone has already started drinking. By the time he ends by shouting the word “roaring!”, the crowd cheer anyway. They toast to the engine eternal and the great Mr. Wilford.

As Miss Audrey and Clay walk through the car, Melanie spots an opportunity to gloat. Given that everyone almost died today, they’re too busy celebrating to strike. Audrey fires back that the celebration will end, but Third’s grievances won’t. Mr. Wilford won’t always have a disaster to save him. Season one Audrey is so fucking great. Melanie is riding too high to believe her, though. She tells Audrey to read the room. Why are half the arguments in this show so flirty? (I'm not complaining - just wondering!)

Meanwhile, Doctor Pelton is letting Josie and Layton stay in her apartment:

Josie and Layton have a very quick chat, but he doesn’t want to talk about Melanie. Josie suggests that he should pick a topic, then. He picks sex. They kiss and strip to gentle piano music. She’s already thrown him onto Zarah’s bed yesterday and the clinic bed today, so decides to make it a hattrick and chuck him onto Pelton’s bed, too.

In a shocking turn of events, despite the extended sex scene, there’s not a single shot of a naked ass! This is the first episode with no naked bums! Those of us who have seen more of the show know that the assless streak doesn't last. Still, it was nice to have hope for a while.

In the final scene of the episode, Melanie is looking haunted in the non-torturey hospitality room. Miles comes in to see her, wearing WILFORD BRANDED TRAIN-PRINT PYJAMAS!

Let’s just talk about that for a moment, shall we? It makes sense that there are Ws all over the train. It even makes sense that the jumpsuits and uniforms have some Ws on them. But why did Wilford Industries branch out into designing children’s clothes? It’s fucking wild! I can barely concentrate on anything else in this scene. These pyjamas are incredible! The “important” part of this scene is that Melanie gives Miles a symbolic caliper that Mr. Wilford once gave to her, and tells Miles that there’s something Mr. Wilford needs from him. BUT THE PYJAMAS! Never mind all of Miss Audrey's outfits, THIS is the best fashion moment in the show. Stunning.

[yoonjinkooked]

Kitchen Confidential | Jin | FINAL

Pairing: Seokjin / Reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: Enemies to lovers, chef AU

Warnings: explicit sex, cursing, no longer a slow burn ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°), unprotected sex (don’t do that), traces of a biting kink, oral (f receiving), short handjob, feelings. A LOT of mentions of food, so you’ll most likely be very hungry for both food and Kim Seokjin. 

Word Count: 9k+, previous chapters total to 16k

Summary: After years of annoying the life out of you, your rival, Kim Seokjin, pushes you a step too far and he knows it. As angry and resentful as you are, you don’t realize that something has been brewing under the surface for years. This weekend, that will change.

Read previous parts here: 1  /  2  /  3  

SPINOFF ANNOUNCEMENT: COMING SOON, JUNGKOOK’S STORY IN THE SAME UNIVERSE AS KITCHEN CONFIDENTIAL

A/N: And it’s done! This one took a while but I’m proud of myself for finishing this fic. I’m more responsible with my writing each day, and that includes actually finishing the stories I start. I have a few ongoing ones and a few wips that I am yet to post but Jungkook’s spinoff will come soon. If all goes according to plan, I will have about...20ish fics in 2021? So, let’s hope all DOES go according to plan. Thank you for following through with this story. Let me know what you think! 

Yesterday was something else entirely.

You may or may not have called Jungkook more than ten times. Of course, you had complete faith in him and deep down, you knew he was more than capable of running the kitchen without you but it didn’t hurt to check, did it? So you did. Ten times, before he threatened to block your number, which then had you dialing Namjoon. You had reassured him that your leg is perfectly fine and that you are perfectly capable of standing through service for one night. He insisted that you should rest and that they have everything under control. Which you believed, you really did but you still wanted to check. You’ve stopped calling when he threatened to fire you.

Today was a different story. With no news of a fire breaking out in Bonsai’s kitchen, you were noticeably more relaxed, ready to spend the entire day with your leg propped on a pillow, a tube of ice cream in your hands while rewatching the first season of The Office. All was going according to plan by the time the doorbell rang.

Looking at the clock, you see that it is only 7PM - Bonsai was still open, probably ready for dinner rush hour. It couldn’t be Jungkook and he is quite literally the only person who drops by unannounced whenever he pleases. Did you order food and had a memory blank? You were going to order the house specialty from that new fancy Italian place at the other side of town, just to keep an eye on competition. But did you actually order it? Or are you going crazy?

The doorbell rings again and begrudgingly, you start getting up. “Coming!” you yell, grabbing your wallet as you go, wondering if you even have enough spare change for a tip. No longer wobbling, you simply walk slowly and unlock the door, your jaw dropping when you open it.

On the other side of the door, with a goofy smile on his face and his hands full of paper shopping bags is no one other than Kim Seokjin himself.

“Hi,” he offers a greeting and you could swear you see nerves hiding behind the smile - sure enough, when you stay silent for a second too long, still too confused to speak, you see the tip of his ears turning red. That always used to happen whenever one of the teachers at culinary school was about to taste his dish in front of the entire class. And you probably shouldn’t be aware of that.

“Um… to what do I owe the pleasure?” you ask, once you can finally speak.

“I took a day off,” he announces, as if that is the only explanation you need. “I figured since you’re still officially on sick leave and your leg must hurt, you probably don’t want to cook,” he trails off, his ears now becoming redder. “I guess I just wanted to do something nice.”

“You want to make me dinner?” you check if you heard him correctly. This entire situation seems like a figment of your imagination, a very bizarre one at that. And you don’t even want to know how he knew where you live - that can of worms is not going to be opened.

“Yeah,” he nods proudly. “I mean, I’ll eat too, if you let me,” he jokes and when you stay silent, the smile slowly melts from his face. Realizing that you are leaving him hanging, you step aside to let him in.

“Come on in, the kitchen is the second door on the right,” you inform him and watch, still in a state of shock, as he takes off his shoes in the hallway before making his way down the hallway. That’s when you finally snap out of it, realizing that you won’t have enough time to process this as it’s happening. “What are we making?” you ask as you follow him into the kitchen.

“We are not making anything,” he emphasised as he sets the bags down on the kitchen island, before turning to face you with a stern expression, which instantly makes you feel like a scolded child. “I will be doing all the work as you sit back, relax and have a glass of wine. Unless you’re taking meds for your leg? I didn’t think of that,” he mumbles softly, frowning at the ground.

“No meds,” you inform him. His solemn expression turns bright so fast, you think you might be experiencing whiplash. What the fuck is going on here?! “What are you making?”

“I was wondering what would make an enjoyable, hearty meal that could speed up your recovery process,” he starts explaining. You want to tell him that a leg injury can’t be cured with food but you bite your tongue, not wanting to appear hostile, especially not when he’s in the middle of his grand gesture. You watch as he starts taking the ingredients out of the shopper bags - not one, but two bottles of Pinot Noir, the expensive kind too, followed by mushrooms, a whole bunch of veggies and one gigantic chunk of meat. It’s wrapped, but judging by his choice of wine, it has to be beef.

“You’re making beef stew?” you guess, surprised but not disappointed by his choice of dish. He, on the other hand, seems offended.

“What do you take me for?” he asks, very obviously exaggerating his reaction. “I’m a trained chef, Y/N. I’m making beef bourguignon.”

“Which is just a slightly fancier version of a beef stew,” you laugh, using humour to avoid thinking about the cook and prep time of beef bourguignon - at the very least three hours, even more if you want to Julia Child it and let it simmer properly. More than three hours with Kim Seokjin, in a row, without anyone around to hide behind? “Sounds good!” you lie, trying to look excited because you truly don’t want to ruin something that just seems like a nice gesture.

“Perfect!” he beams at you. “Now, where do you keep your chopping boards?”

No, you don’t have the time to think about it, not while it’s literally ongoing. You shake your head and decide to roll with the punches. “I want to help you, though. I can’t just sit here and let you do all the work. Not to mention how wrong it feels to have someone cooking in my kitchen,” you add, realizing that no one other than yourself ever cooked here - no one, ever.

“The cupboard under the sink,” you tell him as you sit down drag a chair towards the kitchen island, worried about the predicament you are in. First, the feelings, the ones you have shamelessly pushed under the rug and had refused to acknowledge. They have blindsided you and you can’t even properly define and understand him and now he is here, in your apartment, your kitchen, making dinner.

Not to mention that you aren’t exactly wearing your Sunday best. He’s all jeans and an elegant blue sweater, while you’re in mis-matched sweatpants and sweatshirt, which are both a size or two too big for you. Your hair is a mess and frankly, you can’t even recall if you’d washed your face this morning. You are a mess, both physically and emotionally and he has cornered you, most likely without even realizing it.

“In that case, you can peel and chop,” he starts laughing at your exasperated expression. “Come on, don’t look at me like that - I’m trying to do something nice here. The point is for you to relax and enjoy a good meal, a meal that someone else has cooked for you. And if you do insist on helping, then you can peel and chop.”

There’s a lump in your throat and you think you know why. It’s the feelings, they’re making you feel touched by his actions. He is spending his day off here, doing something nice for you, on his own free will? Just a week ago, all of this would have been a major red flag. And now it’s just something that makes you feel thankful, giddy even.

“Give me my peeler then,” you say, holding the palm of your hand open, waiting.

He smirks at you, shaking his head with what looks like disbelief and you smirk back, unable to stop yourself. The not so subtle stare off between you isn’t uncomfortable. It’s miles away from the feeling you had over the weekend, when you were straight up avoiding making direct eye contact with him. This time, you’re keeping it up, smiling when he is the one who breaks. He turns around and opens one of the drawers, finding the peeler on the first try before leaning over the island and handing it to you with a smirk still present on his face.

“Let’s start working, chef.”

The decision to slow down with the wine after your first glass was a good one. Not only is the wine one of the best ones you’ve tasted in a while, you also wanted to keep a clear head. Alcohol tends to greatly weaken your brain to mouth filter and that can’t happen when you’re one on one with Seokjin. You don’t want to ruin the evening. 

It felt as if he was the same Seokjin he was back when you first started school. The interesting, charming guy with a good sense of humor. He can still act over the top, which he did, but he was more toned down than usual. Is usual even the right word? It’s not, not when you don’t have much to compare it to. This is the first time the two of you have been alone for more than a few minutes, simply talking and enjoying the conversation. 

“You can’t be serious,” Seokjin laughs, putting one of the plates that he was washing back in the sink to turn around and give you a doubtful look. “You mean outside the subway, right?” 

“Nope, it was below ground, right around the corner from the trains,” you confirm, remembering that day clearly. “I remember that I was starving, so maybe that’s why the croissant was so good. It was cheap, on a Parisian subway and it still is my favorite food memory from Paris.”

“You’re picking that subway croissant over… ratatouille or bouillabaisse?” 

“I said favorite, not the most delicious one,” you point out with a laugh. “Travelling and eating go hand in hand, at least to me. Wherever I went, I’ve made a point to spend a good amount of my budget just on food. I’d go where the locals go, try food I didn’t recognize… Honestly, I miss that. I’m limited to one vacation a year and it’s usually just one destination.”

“I get that,” he tells you as he continues washing the dishes, which he insisted to do, despite your multiple offers to at least cover the clean up part of the evening. “A good friend of mine lives in Greece, owns an amazing restaurant. I’ve gone there for the past three years and don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining, I live for Greek food. But I want to explore more, you know?” 

“That’s very relatable,” you sigh, suddenly feeling a little bit regretful. “I’ve been to Italy, Japan, France numerous times, had the most amazing experiences but there are so many other places waiting to be discovered and I just play it safe. I want to go somewhere and try… I don’t know, all the weird stuff that sounds unappetizing but is actually the local specialty. I’m a bit tired of the classic dishes that end up on our menus and comfort food.”

“What’s your favorite comfort food?” Seokjin asks you, as he finally wraps up his work and joins you, sitting across the island and reaching for his own glass of wine as you try to think of an answer. Comfort food by taste or comfort food by memory? 

“I have to go with potatoes.” 

He chokes on his drink, making you laugh at his reaction. Once again, you are met with a look of disbelief. “Are you kidding me? Potatoes? Out of all the food in the world?”

“You said comfort food, not favorite food,” you remind him with a grin. “And yeah, it’s potatoes. They’re so simple and versatile and you can do whatever the hell you want with them. When I was a kid, my mom used to make me and my brother these stuffed, roasted potatoes. I don’t even know the ingredients honestly, I’ve never tried making them myself like that. To get that original comfort food taste, it has to be made by my mom. No one else.” 

“I’m a professional chef and I still fully acknowledge that I’m nowhere near as good as my mom is,” Seokjin’s admission makes you laugh but you understand it fully. “She used to make the most amazing mac and cheese. Unlike you, I did try to recreate it - I followed her recipe to a T and still ended up with a sad imitation. Nothing ever beats the food you grew up eating.”

“Are you close to your family?” you ask and regret it immediately, wondering if that is too much, if you’re asking questions you have no business knowing answers to. You’ve known Seokjin for years but you could hardly call him a friend when you know so little about him. 

“Yeah, I’d say so,” he nods, not even hesitating to share information about his personal life. “I visit them often and I try to go fishing with my brother as much as I can. What about you?” 

“As close as we can be,” you shrug, reaching for your wine. “You know what our working hours are like and as much as I want to drive and see them on the weekends, I often just can’t. And my brother lives abroad with his wife and kids, so we rarely see each other. We facetime often, though. His kids are already starting school next year.” 

“I have a niece,” Seokjin smiles with that cute, content smile that now feels familiar. You wait as he pulls out his phone, turning it to proudly show off the photo he selected - it’s him with a child in his arms, a little girl with the cutest face, big smile and tiny little pigtails. She can’t be more than three years old and she looks so happy to be held by her uncle. 

“Oh, she is so cute! She adores you, doesn’t she?” the words leave your mouth before you can stop them. 

“I think she loves me more than her parents,” he admits, breaking into a fit of laughter. “She doesn’t let go of me, which I don’t mind, I adore the kid, but she just fuels my mother’s need for more grandchildren and when she clings to me… well…” 

“Oh, I know,” you wave your hand. “Mine have two grandchildren and not a single reunion passes without them wondering when I’m going to reproduce.” They mean well, you know that and you don’t hold it against them. There are just times when they make you feel like you’re not doing a good enough job with the life they’ve given you, just because you haven’t had kids yet. Yes, they mean well but that’s not something you often want to hear.  

“Do you want kids?” he asks. It should feel weird, it really should, talking about these things with him. It’s personal, too personal even, but you feel so at ease around him tonight, you can’t be bothered to care. It doesn’t feel wrong, not in the slightest. 

“One day, yeah,” you shrug, seeing as this wasn’t something you thought about often. When you’re single and haven’t had a serious relationship in years, kids are on the back burner. “What about you? I don’t know why, but I never pegged you for a parental type.”

“You don’t know me very well then,” he laughs and the way he does it is so… cheeky and teasing. If anyone else was sitting here with you right now, you would swear on your life that they were flirting. Without a doubt, the teasing smile and raised eyebrow would make your mind go in that direction. Seeing as this is Seokjin, you can’t be too sure. It goes against everything he has ever said and done. But like a curse, Jungkook’s words come back to haunt you again. Would it be so weird to think that he likes you? He is here, after all. 

“You’re right,” you nod as you put down your glass. “I don’t know you very well, do I?” he seems surprised at your question, even going so far as to look uncomfortable. Only for a second, before he offers you a smile. 

“What would you like to know?” 

“Why are you here?” you ask. It wasn’t what you were planning on asking, not by a long shot. You wanted to ask stupid questions, to find out what his favorite movies are, what’s his most embarrassing memory - the things you know about your friends. A game of 20 questions was what you had in mind when pointing out that you don’t really know a lot about him but when the opportunity presented itself, your self control had other plans. And seriously - why is he here? 

Seokjin blinks a couple of times, seemingly needing time to process your question and think of a decent answer. “I wanted to do something nice,” he shrugs, giving you the same excuse that he had given earlier. You didn’t doubt it much then but now you’ve started wondering. “We’ve decided to start over and I… wanted to extend an olive branch.”

It makes perfect sense and you don’t believe a single word of it. “Why are you really here?” you push, following your instinct. Said instinct might be affected by the feelings but it’s there. And if there is one thing you’ve learned in life, it’s to follow your gut feeling - always. 

Seokjin chuckles nervously and lo and behold, his ears give him away. “Do you think there’s an ulterior motive here?” he asks, shaking his head. He’s a decent actor, but not nearly as good as he thinks he is. He’s way too defensive for someone with no ulterior motives. “I didn’t poison the beef bourguignon, if that’s what you’re aiming at,” he adds, pointing back at the stove, where your dinner has been slowly simmering for about an hour now. 

“No, I don’t think you’re trying to poison me,” you chuckle, shaking your head, wondering if you should just stop talking and drop the whole thing entirely. “I thought that… You know what? Never mind,” you decide, knowing that some questions are perhaps better left unanswered. “Tell me, what’s your favorite TV show? Are you a binger or a once a week type of guy?” 

“Y/N, you don’t get to change topics on me like that,” Seokjin looks serious now, refusing to break eye contact. You struggle to not look away, knowing that you have pushed it too far and now you’re unable to backtrack. He won’t let you. “What did you think?” he asks. 

What’s the worst thing that could happen if you answer truthfully? He could laugh at you and that’s pretty much it. And if he does start laughing, you can play it off and join in on the joke. And if he pulls the ultimate dick move and tells your mutual friends about it, you can always deny. 

“The things that happened over the weekend had made me wonder,” you tell him, deciding to leave out the part when Jungkook opened your eyes to this possibility. “Some of the things that you’ve said kind of got my wheels spinning, you know?” you ask. As he swallows a lump, still not looking away from you, you decide to rip off the bandaid and throw your theory out. “Call me crazy and feel free to laugh and tell me I’m a fool but… Seokjin… do you like me?” 

Zero emotions are shown on his face. It’s the most perfect poker face that you have ever seen - exposed forehead, full lips and all. Self confidence was never a strong suit of yours, except in the kitchen of course, but you know better than to try and backtrack now. Seconds ago, it was still salvageable. Now, you’ve said it and it’s out in the open. You were either right or wrong. 

You wait, not backing away from the nth stare down of the night. You wait, letting him have his time to prepare an answer, whether it’s the truth or a lie. If your suspicions weren’t correct, wouldn’t he have already said something? 

“What gave me away?” 

And there it is. Jungkook was right and you were blind. How are you supposed to feel now? Relieved? Worried? Panicked? Amused? None of those make sense, nor do they describe the way you are feeling now. With Seokjin looking at you as if he has finally given up, finally surrendered, the only emotion that you can single out with clarity is curiosity. 

“Wow. I mean, I wasn’t sure, I half expected you to laugh mockingly or something,” you admit, finally looking away and shaking your head, as if that’s supposed to get your thoughts in order. “The other night, when you said that you just did it to make me laugh… I thought, maybe…” 

Lies. Jungkook figured it out, and even then, you refused to believe. Even now, you’re still expecting Seokjin to start laughing, claiming that he had pulled off the ultimate prank. He doesn’t - in fact, he looks more serious than you’ve ever seen him. 

“Makes sense,” he lets out a dark chuckle. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Or pissed at myself. I’ve said too much, I’ve set myself up,” the way he runs a hand through his hair, with that solemn look on his face makes him look… hot. Like, really hot. “But at least it’s out in the open, right? Now you know.” 

“Wait,” you raise a hand. “I have no idea what you’re trying to say. Like… since when? How? Why? I… I don’t get it.” 

“Since when?” he laughs. Now you’re borderline worried, the guy looks like he’s going to experience a mental breakdown any second now. “Pretty much for as long as we’ve known each other. I know, shocking,” he adds, seeing how your eyes had widened when you heard his answer. “To think how I thought that I was obvious.” 

“Oh no, you weren’t,” you sit up straighter, your voice raised up a notch. “You were anything but, Seokjin. I thought you despised me! That I was your arch nemesis or some shit like that.” 

“Well, maybe I wasn’t obvious to you but I was to others, I’m damn sure all of Catnip knows by now,” he tells you and he looks as if he is calming himself down. His voice is lower and he’s no longer making eye contact, but staring at the island between you. “What I said was true, I did do it to make you laugh and somewhere along the way, I’ve pissed you off, so much so that you went on thinking that I hated you. Which I don’t, by the way. Never have.” 

“You… you are a horrible flirt, you know that, right?” is all you can say now, still trying to wrap your head around the fact that the man had a crush on you for years. This time when he laughs, it’s not the dark tone that his laughter had just moments ago. This time around, his laughter is very much genuine, but it also dies down fast. 

“I’m very much aware of that,” he confirms, finally looking your way again. There’s not a trace of positive emotion on his face. It’s as if he has completely given up on this conversation ending with a positive outcome. You can’t blame them for that - given the questioning that you’re putting him through and your history together - if you were in his shoes, you’d also see this as an uncomfortable rejection conversation. 

Is it, though? It would be, if it weren’t for the feelings. They’re there. You have no fucking clue what they are, much less what they mean but they are there and you can’t ignore their existence any longer. They remind you that once upon a time, he really did make you laugh. That this whole dumb rivalry made you want to work harder and be better, even if it was for the petty reason of simply being better than him. The feelings remind you that you did always consider him attractive, that that stupid smile that he has when he’s truly happy and content does things to you. The feelings remind you that you can recognize the tell-tale signs of his embarrassment. You might not know him well, every line and crevice, every positive and negative but you still know more than you had originally thought. And you want to know more. 

“Why?” you ask, knowing you won’t have a peace of mind until you know, even if asking such questions might make him feel uncomfortable. “Why me? I just… I don’t get it.” 

“Neither do I,” he answers immediately, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t have a big reason behind it or a particular moment when I realized. Liking you was instant. Of course, it didn’t develop into something… deeper straight away. That part lasted years, but it was impossible not to like you, Y/N. We’re chefs. We make food, that’s our job - our job is to take food and cook it, presented in a visually appealing manner and charge for it more than we should. And you take such a simple, almost meaningless thing and turn it into an art form.” 

Although touching and meaningful, his words confuse the life out of you. “You like me because I’m a good chef?” you ask, wondering if you’ve missed something. 

“I like you because of the dedication you give to it,” he elaborates. “That stupid excercise that we did the other day didn’t let me do you justice. The look on your face that you’ve had on that first day remains the same now, whenever I see you taking the simplest ingredients and turning them into art. I have admired that and it’s one of the reasons why my eyes would look for you every damn time we were in that test kitchen. You were there and so focused, so beautiful and so damn good at what you did. And smart, funny, a good leader and a good friend. It also didn’t hurt that you look damn hot when you’re focused on something.” 

The last part he adds, almost like an afterthought and it makes you laugh. He laughs too, when you make eye contact. The feelings have gone haywire. You officially have no control of them because the things that he has said about you, you recognized in him as well, at one point or another. He is so good at what he does, dedicated and driven, while also being a good leader and from what you’ve seen, an awesome friend. To others he was funny - to you, he was a pain in the ass that just so happened to look damn hot when he was focused on something. 

“I don’t know what to say,” you admit when you start feeling as if the silence is lasting too long. 

“You don’t have to say anything,” he waves his hand, dismissing your suggestion and once again, confusing the hell out of you. “It’s out in the open and now you know why I was an idiot for all those years. I meant what I said when I told you that I wanted us to start fresh and be friendly with one another. I’m a big boy, I know that what’s not meant to be is not meant to be.” 

“No, you’re not,” you shake your head, amused at the confusion etched on his face. “You are childish and often petty and honestly, at times you are the most insufferable being on this planet and I can’t even begin to describe how confusing it is that I find that endearing.” 

As you listed all the things he is, you watched as his face fell, but you didn’t have a chance to feel bad about it, not when you know that despite all of that, he’s still a good guy. He’s still Seokjin, with all his quirks and insufferable moments. And as much as you might want to deny it, you like him. You really do like him. 

“Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t always endearing - in fact, more often than not, you were a real pain in the ass. You’re not a big boy who can handle rejection well and I don’t want to see you handle it. I don’t want to watch you struggle to get over this crush of yours for weeks, months even. I also don’t want to watch you finding it easy to get over it, completely forgetting all about it in a matter of days,” you tell him and you’re not even sure if the words make sense but they go out of your mouth and into his ears, making his eyes go wide. 

“Y/N, what are you trying to say?” 

“I have no fucking clue,” you shrug, getting up from your chair. “I didn’t have enough time to process any of this. Just minutes ago, I thought there’s no way in hell that you’re that dumb to pull a third grader flirting technique,” you keep talking as you walk over to him, watching him as he turns to face you, slightly alarmed by your sudden proximity, even if there’s a good two feet between you. “I’m not fully aware of what I’m saying, or feeling for that matter, but I do know that I am feeling something. Don’t ask me to define it, cause I can’t, not in this mindfuck of a plot twist that my life did not prepare me for. I just know that I want to test something out.” 

“Test? Test out what?” he asks as you take the final step to close the gap between you. 

“This,” is all you tell him as you grab a hold of his cute blue sweater and pull him closer, not wasting a single second before you press your lips to his. Neither of you moves for a moment or two, he out of shock and you out of pure confusion because why the hell are you kissing Kim Seokjin?! A few seconds pass and it’s he who starts moving, bringing life into your dead kiss. And the moment he does, you feel it in the pit of your stomach that there is nothing, absolutely nothing wrong about this. When he puts his hands on your sides, you let yours move from where they were clutching onto his sweater up and around his neck, pulling him down, closer to you. The strands of hair that reach the nape of his neck feel like silk under your fingers and when you feel his tongue graze your bottom lip, you softly gasp. 

That makes him pull away - that little gasp of yours seems like a wake-up call for him because he is pulling away, his eyes wide, making him look as if he thinks he is imagining all of this. He looks shocked but he is not letting go of you and your hands are still locked behind his neck. 

“Kissing you is good,” you conclude. “I want to keep doing that.” 

“Zero complaints here,” is all he says before he stands up and kisses you again. Without breaking the kiss, he twists your hips to the side, making you lean back on the island, the edge of the surface pressing into your back as he essentially cages you. 

It’s funny, how many things about him you never really realized. For example, how tall he actually is and how much he has to bend down in order to kiss you, which he does, diligently. You also have never noticed how clear his skin is, not until your fingers grazed his cheeks softly. He was in front of you, right in front of you, all these years and until tonight, he was nothing more than an annoying guy with a good face. How wrong you were… 

“Of course, you’re a good kisser too,” he sighs as he breaks the kiss, leaning his forehead on yours, his eyes still closed. “Are you an overachiever in every aspect of your life?” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” you tease, chuckling when he backs away, startled. 

“That’s not… I wasn’t trying to insinuate something,” he defends himself immediately. 

“But I am,” you giggle at the way his eyes widen. You can’t blame him - this night has made you go from zero to sixty in no time. That realization does make you nervous but you’ve already decided to push it back and just do whatever it is that you want to do. “I’m telling you, I don’t want to think or define. We can deal with that later. Now, I just want… you.” 

Seokjin takes a second, gulping, looking at you as if he is waiting for you to laugh in his face or take the offer back. When he stays silent for what you deem as a bit too long, you smile softly at him and drag your thumb across his bottom lip - it’s so soft and inviting, already red from the kisses that you’ve shared. You want him and he needs to stop second guessing that. 

Whatever it is that he was looking for on your face, he seems to have found it because he’s suddenly kissing you again, with a lot more ferocity than he did just moments ago. That was a kiss, a first kiss, a getting-to-know-what-this-feels-like kiss - this is a kiss. Hands digging into your skin, tongue driving you crazy with gasps and heavy breathing kind of kiss. 

You are the one who pulls away but you stay silent, taking his hand into yours and leading him towards the door. A silent moment is exchanged when he looks at the stove, where your dinner is still cooking, then back to you. Beef bourguignon takes hours to make and given the years of expertise between the two of you, you’re comfortable with leaving the stove on. So you laugh and he does too, before you pull him into the hallway. 

Along the way, you kiss, hit a few walls and your sweatshirt is left discarded on the floor - you don’t have time for another freakout at how ridiculously unprepared you are for this because the way he looks at you kills the little insecurities that haunt you. His eyes scan over any area of skin that they can see while his fingers slide over the very edge of your bra, tickling the skin they graze. Goosebumps cover your skin and you all but slam him into your bedroom door. 

“Woah,” he laughs. “Never thought you were this impatient.” 

“I’m usually not,” you admit with a shrug. 

“I’m not complaining,” he laughs as the two of you waddle towards the bed, still pressed to one another. You smile as you push him gently onto the bed. He looks up at you, mouth open and eyebrows raised. “Oh, I am not complaining at all!” 

Smiling, you straddle his lap and pause for a second, taking a moment to get used to what’s happening. Unlike you, he is patient - he simply looks at you, a strange mix of awe and giddiness written on his face. His hands are glued to your hips and he runs his thumbs in circles, gently. It looks as if he’s relishing the moment and letting you take the lead in what’ll happen next. “This is really happening, isn’t it?” you ask, your chest filling with pride when he shows you that signature smile of his, the one that causes a ruckus among the butterflies in your stomach. 

“I think it is,” he leans closer to you, connecting his lips to your neck and that one, simple action is enough to make you realize that if he’s down, you’ll be more than happy to take it all the way tonight. Neck kisses are a universal weakness and you’re gladly going to let him use it to his advantage. “If this ends up being a wet dream of mine, I’m going to be so pissed when I wake up,” he admits before nipping at your skin, an action that elicits a whole new wave of horniness to take over you. Neck kisses are bad enough - neck bites will be your downfall. 

“If it is a wet dream, come and find me when you wake up and tell me what you’ve told me tonight. Then we’ll see what we can do about it,” you joke, laughing even harder when he grabs a hold of you and moves you down on the bed. This is the first sign of initiative that he has shown so far and you are not complaining. It’s your turn now to gulp as he hovers above you, looking down at your body like he is seconds away from eating you alive. 

“I thought you were hot before but I never thought you were hiding all of this under your clothes,” he tells you as he pulls down on the straps of your bra - at least your underwear is a matching black set, if the rest of you is a mess. Lifting your back from the bed, you help him take the fabric off and he grins up at you once your boobs are out in the open. “Chef’s uniforms really didn’t do your boobs justice.” 

“You’ve seen me in casual clothes plenty of times,” you laugh at his antics. He’s known you for years, there’s no way he didn’t catch a good view of your cleavage in all that time. 

“Not nearly as often as I should have,” he mumbles and before you have a chance to talk back, he leaves you speechless as he attaches his mouth to you, immediately giving your nipple a gentle bite. Eyes rolling into the back of your head, you do your best to stay silent - there’s no way in hell Seokjin won’t be cocky about this later and you don’t want to give him too much material to work with right off the bat. 

It doesn’t take long for you to realize that one of the hottest things about being with Seokjin like this is simply seeing Seokjin like this. There is just something so inherently hot about the way his eyes close as rolls his tongue across your nipple. He makes the sight even hotter than the action itself, especially when he reaches for your other breast, gently playing with it as he pleases. Simple actions like that are already driving you nuts and you can only worry about what’s to come later. And it gets worse - turned on by the sight, you reach for him, moving the hair away from his eyes and the second you two make eye contact, a moan leaves you - a loud, shameless one at that. You could swear his eyes twinkled then and there. 

“Please tell me you have a condom,” he starts kissing down your body. 

“If you’re clean, you don’t need it. I’m clean and on the pill.” 

He suddenly stops kissing you, choosing to laugh instead. “You’re telling me that a week ago you could barely stand being in the same room with me and now you’re letting me sleep with you without a condom?” 

“I mean...” you shrug, joining in on his laughter. “I’m sure stranger things have happened.” 

“Not to me they haven’t,” he jokes, before immediately turning serious. “Are you sure you want this? I really don’t want you to regret it,” he admits. 

“The only thing I’m going to regret is letting you take the lead because you’re taking too long and you’re still in your clothes.” 

“Easy,” he laughs as he hooks his fingers past the waistband of your sweatpants and slowly starts pulling them down, leaving your underwear in place. “Eat what makes you happy, they say,” he says and you roll your eyes. Of course, leave it to Seokjin to think pussy. 

“They also say don’t play with your food,” you playfully remind him as you kick off the pants. He doesn’t laugh - instead, he reaches for your leg and softly caresses it. 

“Is your leg going to be okay?” he asks and if you weren’t whipped beyond belief before, you are now. Even you have managed to completely forget about your injury but he hasn't. Even now, Seokjin finds ways to prove you wrong and show how thoughtful he actually is. 

You simply nod and that’s confirmation enough for him. His hand trails up and on the inside of your thigh pausing before touching your wet underwear. He gives you a questioning look, not touching you until you confirm that that’s what you want. You nod quickly and in a matter of seconds, the last of your clothes is on the floor, and Seokjin is diving right in. 

Despite complaining that he’s taking too long, you realize that he’s not the one to tease - at least not tonight. His mouth connects with your clit almost immediately and it’s enough to make you moan again. He licks, sucks and grazes his teeth against it, letting you hold onto his hair like your life depends on it. He’s good, which makes perfect sense because leave it to Kim Seokjin to give you the best oral sex of your entire life. You won’t tell him - not now, perhaps not ever, cause he doesn’t need that to get into his head too, but good lord is he good. 

“Can I?” he asks, tracing his finger across your opening. 

“Seokjin, at this point you can do whatever the fuck you want,” you laugh, a laugh that turns into a moan when he sinks his finger in, curving it up immediately and making you arch your back. 

“Is this good?” he asks and the feelings go berserk again. In your mind, it can’t get any better than a man that actually pays attention to what his lover enjoys. 

“More than,” you moan as he adds another finger and effectively ends your conversation. He is driving you crazy - something that you’ve noticed before, when you side eyed his chopping skills years ago, is how he has beautiful hands with long, almost elegant fingers. Never did you think that those fingers would be inside you, making you count your blessings and struggle to not moan out his name. A struggle that you have lost when he puts a third finger to use. 

You want more - as amazing as it is, you want more. You want to kiss him, to feel him inside you, to make him feel as good as he is making you feel now. As much as you didn’t want to stop him, as much as you’d gladly spend hours like this, you wanted and needed more. 

“Seokjin, stop,” he does so immediately, looking up at you in worry. His face is covered in your wetness and the sight makes you want to cry. He has never looked hotter than he does right now, between your legs, the evidence of your pleasure all over his face and his hair a mess because of you. “I want you. Wanna kiss you.” 

“But you taste heavenly,” he pouts, turning his head to leave kisses on your thigh. 

“I’ll taste heavenly a bit later too,” you push, knowing that no matter how good this feels, it can get better for the both of you. “Come on, I want to see you.” 

Grinning, he gives your thigh a quick bite - the man has a biting kink, there’s no denying it. While that’s something you’ve never given much thought before, you are now finding it very enjoyable. What’s even more enjoyable is the sight of Seokjin taking his sweater off. You’ve known he’s handsome, you’re not blind, but never in a million years would you think that he’s so well defined. He’s not buff, far from it. He is just so perfectly defined, every muscle on his stomach noticeable and if you’re being completely honest with yourself, lickable. 

He undresses quickly as you ogle at him, your breath hitching the moment he drops his pants. 

“Well, that explains a lot,” you comment as you eye his dick - hard, girthy and surprisingly big. 

“What?” Seokjin is confused and you giggle at the way he hides his dick with his hands. “You think I’m compensating for something?” 

“Quite the opposite,” you answer honestly. “I imagine it’s easy being so full of yourself with a dick like that.” 

“Is that an insult or a compliment?” he laughs. 

“Both,” you would have been more cheeky if he hadn’t started stroking himself, the sight driving you absolutely crazy. “Please. I want to feel you.”

You don’t have to say it again - he moves to loom over you and finally, after what feels like hours and not mere minutes, you can kiss him again. The taste of you on his tongue doesn’t bother you. It’s the opposite, actually, making this moment and Seokjin himself even hotter to you. He lets you push him down onto the bed and without breaking the kiss, you station yourself above him. For the first time tonight, his hands grab a hold of your ass and he squeezes - hard. 

Both of you stay silent as you move, putting your arm between the two of you to grab a hold of his dick as you kiss. He lets out a groan the moment you wrap your hands around it. Movements gentle and slow, teasing even, knowing that this is the only chance you get to focus on his pleasure. You’d gladly take him into your mouth but you’re much too impatient for that tonight. A brief hand job will have to do, and judging by his reactions, it’s more than enough. 

You are surprised at how vocal Seokjin actually is in bed, not that you’ve given it much thought before. He’s not holding back, his moans low and deep, not embarrassed in the slightest to show you how good you’re making him feel. After one particular, higher pitched moan, you decide to do the same. You were holding back before, stupidly worried about your own dignity and giving him material to tease you endlessly. You won’t anymore. 

Biting your bottom lip and pulling it as he breaks the kiss, he leans back, looking at you with lust in his eyes, his cheeks the exact same shade as the tips of his ears. You want to take a photograph, to memorize the sight of him being turned. It feels like a privilege that only you have and you want to commit it to memory. “Y/N, please,” is all he says. 

Slowly, you line him up to your entrance and with your bottom lip between your teeth, you sink down on him. Immediately, the both of you groan at the feeling. Him being inside you feels right in all the wrong ways, a feeling so right that you know you’re going to miss it when it’s gone. 

He is the one who moves first, lifting his hips to get you to move. Smiling down at him, you grab a hold of his shoulders and slowly move your hips, letting him almost slip out of you before swallowing him whole again. Each roll of your hips faster than the previous one, not even a minute passes before Seokjin moves his hands away from your ass and pulls you directly on top of him, chest to chest, lips stuck in a slow kiss as he slams up into you. 

“Fuck, you feel so good Y/N,” he tells you and follows it with a particular hard thrust that makes you grip his shoulders harder, holding on for dear life. Having never been with him before, you couldn’t tell if he was close or not. You weren’t, yet strangely, that doesn’t bother you whatsoever. That can be dealt with easily - now, all you want to do is enjoy the feeling of him slamming into you, hard and fast, and the sight of him barely keeping it together. 

“Happy to hear that,” you giggle before said giggle is rudely interrupted with another harsher snap of his hips. “Fine, fine, you’re not so bad yourself,” you tease and the look he gives you is enough for you to know that you’ll regret saying that. Immediately. 

Without any warning, he flips you around and slams you down on the bed, his dick never leaving you. Before you can even react in any way, your healthy leg is pushed up towards your chest and Seokjin slams into you with a purpose. “You talk about how I annoyed the life out of you, pretending like you’ve never bickered back with that mouth of yours,” his words are menacing and incredibly sexy, but the way he is eating you up with his eyes kills any doubt that his words are actually resentful. “I’m glad I’ve found a way to shut you up,” he announces and as if you weren’t losing your mind already, he sneaks a finger between your legs and pinches your clit, eliciting the loudest moan of the night. “Or maybe not.”

“Seokjin!” 

“Fuck, you sound so hot screaming my name,” his pace speeds up, knowing that your orgasm is right around the corner - his thrusts become more shallow but his fingers rub your clit in the speed of light. “Come on Y/N, come for me.” 

As much as you wish that your body complied and let you come on his command, it didn’t happen that way. It took a few thrusts more, a few more harsher movements of his fingers, but by the time your orgasm has washed over you, you were gasping loudly, digging your nails into the skin of his back. Your brain was mush and you could barely recognize the words he’s saying, something about how you’re squeezing him so good. He doesn’t stop moving, helping you ride out your orgasm to the point of overstimulation. Coming out of your post-orgasm haze, you fight the overstimulation and focus on him, noticing how his thrusts are getting more erratic. He looks so out of it, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, his shoulders red with how strong you are gripping him. Slowly, you slide your hands up and around his neck, pulling him down to you, ignoring the painful stretch in your leg. 

“You can finish inside me,” you tell him, hushing his loud moan with a kiss. It’s a hectic kiss, your lips barely moving because he’s gasping into your mouth and you’re moaning at the feeling of his dick twitching inside you. “Seokjin, please come for me.” 

Was it you begging for him to come or a creampie kink, you have no idea and you don’t particularly care because the moment he comes and starts filling you up, you’re on cloud nine. It feels as good as an actual orgasm, to know that you, your body, the way you made him feel was enough to make him explode, very literally. You were the one helping him now, lifting up your hips as he stood still, his face buried in your neck, his groans filling your ear. His dick is still twitching but his body has completely given up - he drops your leg and practically falls on top of you, having enough strength and sanity to soften the blow with his hands. 

His hands give up slowly and in a matter of seconds every inch of him is pressed up against you. You don’t care, too busy relishing the feeling of his breaths on your neck and his cum slowly dripping out of you and around his dick. God, you wish you could see it but the position won’t let you. Instead of pushing him away to get a better view, you close your eyes and let your body calm down together with his. 

His weight on top of you should feel suffocating but it’s not. It feels comforting and right, which scares you to an extent but not enough to chicken out and push him away, especially not when he starts kissing any parts of you he can reach, focusing on your shoulder. After a few moments he rolls over but stays close, his hand draped over your side. You look at each other and it’s impossible not to smile because he is beaming. You can’t remember if you’ve ever seen him this happy. You must have - it’s just that you probably weren’t paying attention. 

“So… that happened,” he speaks up first. 

“Yup. Talk about a plot twist, huh?” you joke, shaking your head as you realize how weird this is on paper. “Culinary school Y/N never thought a day would come when she’d have sex with Seokjin.” 

“Yesterday’s Seokjin never thought a day would come when he’d have sex with Y/N,” he laughs, shuffling closer to you. By the looks of it, he is a cuddler and you have zero complaints about it. You let him hold you, snuggling against his chest, enjoying the moment a lot more than you ever thought you could. “Let me take you out, Y/N,” he tells you. He seems earnest and a lot more hopeful than he was back in the kitchen. “You found it in you to put the tension behind and give us a shot at being friends. Why not give this a shot, too? I like you a lot and I’ve liked you for a while… maybe you could find something to like in little old me?” he shrugs. 

“It’s already too late for that,” you laugh, lowering your head to leave a few kisses on his chest. “I’m still not ready to define it and put it to words but I’d be happy to go out with you,” you admit. 

“It might not take us anywhere,” he shrugs, making your head bounce with the movement. “For all we know, you might realize you do hate my guts after all. But maybe we end up getting along better than anyone would expect?” 

“Seokjin… with your cooking skills and your oral skills, we’re already getting along very well, if you ask me,” you joke but after a few seconds of laughter, he sits up and pushes you away. 

“The beef bourguignon!” he gasps. The sight of Seokjin running out of your bedroom, naked, to check on the food brings tears to your eyes. You can even hear him berating you, yelling something about how this is not a laughing matter but that only makes it more comical. Isn’t it ironic how now, he can make you laugh without even trying? 

The beef bourguignon didn’t burn. It was the best beef bourguignon that you’ve ever had. The entire evening was one of the best in your recent memory. Whether it was the dinner, his sweater that you were wearing while you ate, the wine, the shared shower or waking up the next morning in his embrace, the time you’ve spent with Seokjin was enjoyable, perhaps even meaningful and definitely worth repeating. 

As long as you are both willing to give it a go, it’s worth it. And it has to be kept between the two of you, at least for now. Cause as much as you like Seokjin, his cooking skills and his dick, your group of friends will never, ever, let you live this one down. Although, for all of the above… it might just be worth it. 

THE END 

[worldsover]

Wintertide Inside ft. Gahyeon

length ✦ 4841

genres ✧ cockwarming; anal; gf!Gahyeon

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Maybe it’s obvious, but you’re thankful for Gahyeon’s ass. A simple contract—if you need a cocksleeve to wrap you or if your girlfriend needs a toy to fill her, neither of you would say no. You’re nominally in charge today but the outcome’s the same either way, with cum seeping from both ends of her tract and your cock sore in the best plight a man can have. 

Swift moans interject her snoring to surface you from your nap, probably because of flashes of biting air that creep in from some draft in the room. Her red crop-top is the only article of clothing on her scrumptious physique while you’re completely stark.  Don’t want to get up so you hold her somehow closer with no worry for your own frigidity. Gahyeon is tiny in your entwine. As you emanate heat from your torso to her back, she returns it tenfold between her legs. 

The incongruity of her pussy is that it’s both uncomfortable and comforting.  Stressfully tight and lovingly wet, while grueling clenches verge on coaxing yet another orgasm from you. Its quaver can be measured in millimeters when your cock etches its shape more permanent. Yesterday’s regrets and tomorrow’s worries become dust in your brain as it toils to memorize each of her inner folds.

Therefore more than the mouthwatering shape or size, you’re grateful for the cushion of her buttcheeks because it rivals your couch’s plushness and distracts you from your imminent peak, your third or fourth today. Losing track is easy when she keeps your cock incarcerated for so long. The threat of climax fades away and returns as quickly while single pulses reiterate how close to the edge you are. No lights on in your living room. Don’t need them. Nothing in your head other than Gahyeon anyway.

Rays spill through the thick curtains and a sliver barely misses her eyes to fall on yours instead. However, she rouses too from her sleep when a pillow between her legs slips to the floor. Nothing funny but you both giggle.

“How’s your nap, babe?” you say. 

She twitches at the warm air tickling her ears, and cold the rest of her skin, but you manage to keep most of your body stationary in Gahyeon’s embrace. Gahyeon yawns and stretches her arms, pushing back on the edge of the couch. “I think I had an amazing dream. Brr.”

“Dummy, you don’t dream until you hit R.E.M.” You point and she bends down to grab the thick blue blanket that fell on the floor. A small hum arises from you at the slight shift in angle. Look at the white clock above the TV and point again. “It’s only been like twenty.”

Gahyeon hands the blanket to you and you swathe it around your two bodies, calming both of your shivers. “Felt like forever. Pff, I was trying to be all romantic.”

“Why be romantic when-” Your words fall to breathy laments when the smoothest swing of her hips turn millimeters of movement to centimeters. The friction from only fractions of your length force a whimper out of her as it does a throb from you.

Gahyeon’s moans turn to more desperate whimpers in kind. Her hand aims below her crop-top and your shaft feels the curious kneading of her fingers below her belly button. Another throb. “Fuck. I still feel your cum inside. It’s almost too much.”

“Then why are you grinding so much? I’m barely running on empty.”

Your head is so fuzzy, you can’t tell how she manages to get on top of you while keeping your cock inside the entire time. For as savory as it is to look or smell or listen to her cute grunts, the only sensation that passes to your mind is her tightness twisting around your shaft. 

Gahyeon sits up and collects a bit of leakage with a finger, provocatively sucking it. “Nice try but I know the taste of your fresh load.”

“Fuck, you make my cock so sensitive. Such a good cumslut.” 

She gulps and bats her eyes so you pull her hair down, and your lips converge. Your core reignites when Gahyeon starts jolting her hips down hard on yours, and you note that her walls aren’t just clingy with your semen but that her pussy is lubricious with girl cum. It’s her turn to be the fucktoy but she’s stalwart in riding you. You’re in no condition to object. 

Gahyeon looks up at the clock and she slows down though not fully arresting her momentum. “Wait a sec, why didn’t you tell me the time?” she says after a thrust and a pant.

You shrug and she blows air out of her lips. Not a mind reader here.

Her pussy almost snaps shut when she gets off you. She steals the blanket while she’s at it. ”Right, should’ve told you to remind me. How am I supposed to focus on the performance later with this in me the whole time?” Gahyeon says, wiping the sticky load dripping from her other lips.

“Man, the blanket’s gonna be sticky now.”

“Sorry babe, I’ll try to do a better job keeping it inside me, okay?”

Stand up and grab some tissues for the fluids coating her groin before you clean yourself the same. You shiver at the air occasionally sweeping the room because you don exactly one less garment than Gahyeon, but it’s about making a statement. It’s your apartment dammit so you can be nude at any hour if you want to be. 

Widen the curtains and suffuse the room with natural white light. Look outside, your undraped stature proud and unsympathetic to the outside world to which you expose yourself. Sky and trees are near monochrome as the snow piles up on the grass which adds to the subtraction of color. 

“You’re so weird,” she says. Your dick flops as you turn around and flaunt your butt to mother nature itself, knowing its coldness towards you isn’t solely metaphorical in this season.

“This is our first winter together, my first new year in my own apartment. I have to be excited.” You raise your arms.

“Fair. You wouldn’t be here without me.” A signature curly smile and she joins your side to admire the snowy sight, letting you share in some—no, not all—of the warmness of the blanket.

“I mean if we were normal, I wouldn’t have left.” You hug Gahyeon and give her a smooch on her forehead. “But I needed my own place for my little cum-hungry, cum-greedy cockwarmer.”

Pink always spreads her cheeks at your brazen words. Her tummy presses on your softening cock and brings it back to life but she backs away. Gahyeon brings the back of each of her hands to her sides. “Right, speaking of which. Can I take one of my panties from your drawer?”

“You didn’t bring any? Hold on, that was supposed to be a secret!” you say.

“Yeah, obviously I know about them, stupid. You didn’t even notice when I packed a couple in there myself when you moved, did you?” 

She’s right, you didn’t, so shake your head. Gahyeon giggles then gives you the blanket again before she heads to your room. “I’ll be back soon, okay!” she yells while you fiddle with the thermostat. 

Grab some tortilla chips from the pantry then sit on the couch bundled in the blanket and turn to a channel that’s just playing a loop of a fireplace. At least the crackling sounds realistic with your speakers. 

In only a few minutes, she already has a full winter outfit on, a bright tomato that would stand out sorely in the snow. The apartment is already a lot mellower so you put the blanket away to wash later. Gahyeon is enticing no matter what she wears but you’re warm inside seeing your girlfriend wrapped up, though warmth also comes from the humiliation finally setting in from the contrast between her state of dress and yours.

“Did you hear me? I said I’ll be back soon.”

“Come on, the apartment isn't that big.” Get up to kiss her goodbye. ”Hurry back. There should be plenty of sun left and I wanna see the sun shine on your face with my cock in it.”

Open your laptop on your coffee table and promise to yourself that you’ll finish editing that teaser. It’s just a little distraction when you pore over videos you worked on recently, just reviewing your work to get ideas for how to cut. However, like a good and fully whipped man, one thing leads to another, one Dreamcatcher music video later—you’re proud of working on that one—and you’re back to the fancams of your girlfriend dancing. A similar, but less revealing crop-top, brief black shorts that strut the beautiful width of her thighs that you live between. Losing much weight, they’re still ample enough to stifle your cock on their own, without her amazing pussy’s help. Your erection should be exhausted but it returns at the sight of the jiggling. Two hands begin their work as Fly High plays.

A fluffy red jacket slams into your head. “You slob, put some clothes on!”

“What are you doing home?”

“Look at all the snow! What are you doing naked?”

“It���s my apartment, dang it! You know I’m naked all the time.” Didn’t mean to raise your tone there but she looks a touch distressed. You run up to her and give her a heavy drawn-out embrace.

“Babe,” she says, a little reluctant in the hug.

“I’m sorry. Please, forgive me.”

“No babe, it’s fine.”

“I was jerking it to you if it helps.”

“That doesn’t help, stupid. You’re gonna get this dress messy!” Gahyeon grabs your dick which leaks some precum. She bites her lip.

“Oh, sorry,” you say. You back off and retrieve the parka that fell on the floor and from all its pockets spill condoms like a deck of cards and a bad hand.

“Holy shit,” Gahyeon says. Whatever minute ire that remains burns away at her adorable laughter mixing with yours.

“Fuck, imagine if someone caught you with those.”

“Shit. Yoobin almost put her hand in my pocket for no reason.”

“Nah, she would’ve laughed just as hard.”

“You’re right.” Gahyeon bends down to pick the condoms up and you take your sweet time to help her. “We haven’t used these in so long,” she says.

“You wanna? Old time’s sake? Ha, fuck no.” Feeling bad for making her do all that work to appreciate her ass even in the baggiest pants possible, you spank her.  Wait, that’s not the solution. ”You should change first. I’ll clean up.”

There’s grey shorts and a plain white shirt in the dryer, so grab them. Gahyeon returns with her hair in twin buns, a short pink skirt and a white long sleeve half-shirt that manages to show off her cleavage from the top and the bottom.

“I hope that’s not a stage outfit.”

“Of course not. I just wanted to look more like a dumb slut for your dick.”

And with that, thoughts empty. As she crawls towards you, grab a wad of her hair. “So it’s like that today. Well shit, good job.”

“Thank you!” Only the corners of Gahyeon’s lips turn. “A good toy only has one purpose.” 

Fulfill that purpose and shove her head down to its rightful place. Gahyeon takes a single stroke into her throat, with nary a sound as she takes the entire length into her practice throat, but she pulls her lips back up to your cockhead. “You’ll be good there?” you say.

“Mhm,” she says with her usual mouthful.

You get a bit of video cutting done for an hour or so with her lips on your cock head, occasionally patting her head. Occasional moans slip out but you keep focused and erect at the same time. At some point during your work, you offer her one of your earphones to listen to your synthwave music. Despite maintaining an enthusiastic hold on your tip, Gahyeon looks a little tired from kneeling so long.

“Aww, baby, do your knees hurt?”

“Mm, I’m fine,” she mumbles while keeping her lips on your tip.

“Why are you pouting a little then?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Hey, come here.”

Stoop to give her a passionate, drawn-out kiss, though it always turns out the same. You realize how long you could do nothing but make out with your girlfriend. You love the way Gahyeon competes with you, where your tongues battle and you each threaten to suck the air out of each other’s lungs. It’s impossible to keep your heart’s pace steady and you’d be remiss for your hands not to dig into every inch of her skin as she wanders the same on you.

Of course, there’s only one place those hands could lead to. Smack. You swear her ass ripples. “Now get back to sucking slut.”

You wipe the drool off your face but you interrupt her doing the same; she looks good messy. Gaheyon lays on the couch with her head on your lap. You can’t see her face but if she needs to get a better angle to watch Knowing Bros, then so be it. Her lips fasten your cock just the same. She sticks her ass up and a reflective circle seals her asshole.

“Where’d you get that?”

“Friend got it for Christmas, secret Santa.”

“Bora?”

“Mhmmmm-” Gahyeon draws out the vibration of the last consonant on your cock. 

A couple of hours later, you finish your work and send emails.  Once in a while you stroke her hair but she gives more suction in response, sending you ever closer to release. How greedy of her, she’s certainly swallowed enough cum just from premature singular pulses but Gahyeon doesn’t stop when you lay down the law and slap her ass.

“Whose turn is it. huh?”

Every hit of her ass emboldens her sucking, as she goes deeper.

“So you wanna be a brat? I said, whose turn is it!”

She gags for the first time in a while, spewing much spit, when you pull slowly but abruptly on the shiny buttplug after slapping her ass a final time. Lube spills out.

Gahyeon breathes heavy breaths on your cock. “Fuck. I’m sorry, sir.”

“Woah. Now that’s new.” 

“I guess it just came out naturally. Sir.” She licks up the froth on your cock.

“I don’t mind if you say it.” You circle her asshole with your finger and taste the lube. Sugary but you can’t think of the flavor. Not that you can think of much of anything.

“Only if you call me ma’am when it’s my turn.”

“Deal.”

“Thank you sir.”

She keeps your cock snug in her mouth. Browse your phone and decide to get some Jjamppong delivered, perfect for the cold.

“Gahyeon? Babe?”

Was she really? Incredible. She manages to doze off with a cock filling her mouth. That’s new. For all the times you’ve fallen asleep during tantric sex, it’s always been inside her pussy or asshole. How she incessantly drools while her head wriggles nearly makes you unload on her unconscious tongue but you hold it in, allowing only a few spurts to leak.

Unfortunately, you have to wake her up when you get the order from the door. You have to get some final work done but she eats dinner, sitting your dick. Your laptop is on her lap while you rest your chin on her neck. Tickled, Gahyeon giggles in between slurps of noodles. The lack of movement agonizes both of you but it keeps you focused. You could spend all day fucking each other; in fact, you have.

The winter sunset lights your room the colors of candy like artificial strawberry and sweet tangerines, though snow still storms down to desaturate the world. You’ve had enough productivity for one day. Gahyeon shares the soup with you, but after she sets the bowl down, she twists her hips in a quick motion and you explode without warning. Five or six? It’s only a curt removal of your soul from existence but you puff and pant anyway.

“Fuck, I’m sorry sir. I should’ve warned you.”

“It’s fine.”

“But I can’t let this cum go to waste, can I?” At some point during your orgasm, she withdrew herself and now she’s licking up and down your soft shaft to clean any cum that you didn’t shoot inside. “Damn, I just wanted to get my vibrator.”

“It’s okay Gahyeon, get it. I. I definitely need some time to recover.”

“I guess even you have your limits.” She grins, then leaves for the bedroom.

Gahyeon returns and a loop of a pink wire sticks out from her pussy. Now the only thing she wears is that thin strip of a top. Take off your shirt to match. “The egg this time?” you say.

She nods. “Here’s the remote.”

Get your Switch and play some Smash while she washes some dishes and organizes clothes that she’s brought over. Apparently you mix your clothes with hers often, which shouldn’t be such an issue considering how different your sizes are. Every time you lose a game, you turn on the vibrator for a few moments. You get a kick out of watching her buckle. If only you could do this while she performs live.

“You wanna head to the bedroom? It’s getting dark, uff.” A quick press of the highest setting and Gahyeon’s knees knock together. It never takes too long for you to get hard again when you see her put all effort into standing. “You- Ahhh, fuck, I love you. I hate you.”

Maybe it’s because you have yet to turn the intensity down. With a full hand on her ass and the other on her back, carry her to the bedroom but her wriggling hobbles you. An early left turn.

“I already showered earlier. Sir, please I’m getting so sensitive.” Gahyeon rotates through many different faces, from agony to excitement to pleasure. 

Set her down in the hot tub and her crop-top lands in the laundry basket perfectly.

“Nice throw.” Gahyeon high-fives you. She almost distracted you with that great throw. “Tsk. You’re still keeping that vibrator in you. Just what you deserve for making me cum when I didn’t even finish eating.”

Your apartment is relatively small for its price, but there were certainly no expenses spared for the bathroom. Both your shower and your jacuzzi could fit three people. It has the biggest panes of glass and provides no privacy but you love the ambiance especially during a night shower. Gahyeon’s moaning goes from having a quick rhythm to intense, long held notes. She’s playing with herself in any way that she can to make her climax, manically stroking her clit while she teases pulling the metallic plug in her ass. Turn off the lights and cocoa candles fill the scent of the room. Finally, remove her vibrator and buttplug.

“So fucking yummy. Come here,” you say, holding her neck carefully as you get in the tub to crash your lips into hers. After what feels like hours of kissing even if it is only a few minutes, you lay down in the hot-tub and Gahyeon straddles your thighs. 

“So which is going to be?” She glances next to the sink. ”Guess the lube isn’t for my pussy. Wait, why’d you turn on the water? It’s gonna wash away the lube. Woah, isn’t it my turn-” 

When you pull her groin up to your face, extra force on her clit shuts her up and nearly instantly drives her to orgasm. Gahyeon always grabs your hair and locks her legs together when you make her cum with your tongue but especially after all the stimulation of the vibrator, you have difficulty breathing. It’s worth it. She whimpers as your lips work relentlessly on her pussy but you settle down after a while. Hot jets of water blast on your back along with her legs. Gahyeon continues riding your face while she talks about her performance. Apparently the snow had a lot of the production people hold up. She brings a dewfall and you could taste her syrup forever but your cock aches once again. Maybe it’s asking you to chill out and that it needs a break, but if that were true, it wouldn’t be as hard as ever. 

“I’ve had enough of your pussy today,” you say.

“Really sir? Didn’t know that was possible.” Gahyeon needs no directions, your tongue licking up her body as your hands pull her last garment away.

“Siri, play relaxing radio. I’m staying in your ass until I cum.”

The middle of an R&B chorus plays. You get up to take the lube and Gahyeon drains the tub until only a little water remains. Her fingers wander and she vigorously rubs her clit while a curious thumb circles her asshole. Take a glob of the vanilla flavored lube and spread it on your fingers. Gahyeon sucks on your index, which goes straight to her asshole. Its wetness helps the tight ring expand slowly around it and the familiar pucker on your finger excites you. Get underneath her so that she’s laying on top of you while you sit back against the tub.

“God. I’m never getting used to how big you are.”

There it is. The tip of your cock vanishes into her tight asshole and you try to hold in a high whine, though Gahyeon lets out plenty of squeals as lube makes the entrance slick, squishy noises. Let her ass sink in with only her weight and it wraps down your shaft inch by throbbing inch. At last. She’s all the way down. If only you could see her face, but the position is comfortable and you get the pleasure of sucking on her neck while playing with her tits from behind.

The glow from the moon finds an angle into your room, mixing candle flame yellows with its white. Fierce winds push the falling snow outside of your window sideways. You’re warm nonetheless.

Midnight, the radio says as a new host talks about the inclement weather, but it’s not enough to keep you from kissing up and down Gahyeon’s back. Play with her nipples and the miniscule action not only gets them hard, but makes her ass’s folds react and roll to the pleasure. The breeze blows, a more important sound manages to distract you.

“Sir, do you hear that?” Gahyeon says.

“Yeah!” You hum along to the melody of Jazz Bar. “Hey, that’s you singing.”

“It’s not even one of our title tracks. I have to tell the members.” 

Gahyeon almost gets up from her but her head turns and shakes, realizing your thickness twitching as she almost fully unsheathes her ass. “Fuck.”

“Hold on. What’d I tell you?”

“Oh shit. Sorry. Sir. I can tell them later.”

“You know what. Just for that.” Pick her up, holding her thighs carefully to keep your cock in her asshole. The position is awkward, but you manage to lay her down prone without withdrawing your erection. 

“God, I love the way your cock hits.” All agreements and contracts are lost when you look at how the fat and muscle collects in Gahyeon’s full ass. A single thrust in and you can see the weight of the smack of your groin on her cheeks, so you endeavor to learn more about physics, even during the snow day. Slam into her and as you go in and out, Gahyeon yells and swears louder and louder, threatening to let all the neighbors know. No, of course they already know. It makes your eye contact with them hilariously awkward and it makes Gahyeon’s mask and disguise even more necessary.

“What a bad girl,” you say with a powerful shove.  ”Can’t even be a good cockwarmer, god.” Plunge and dive, your cock tries its best to widen her asshole but no matter what, it strangles your shaft taut. “Your butthole is just too. Fucking. Tempting.”

“Yes! Yes! Sir please, I’m going to- I’m just about to. Fuck. Shit I was so close.”

Chuckle at seeing her distraught face. “I’m getting some beer. Also, I want to finish in the bedroom. More comfy.”

She takes a minute to find her breathing but she gets up and grabs the lube. “Don’t have work tomorrow?” Gahyeon says.

“Lemme check.” When you both get to the bedroom, you check your phone. Nothing til noon. Perfect. Grab some beer in the minifridge in the corner of the room, while Gahyeon fixes her hair and lays down on the bed. She pats the mattress with both hands next to her. Missionary, it is then.

A hand to her chin. “Wait a second, didn’t you say you weren’t leaving my ass until you came. Hmm,” Gahyeon says. She gives a quick smooch and smiles naughtily. You could stare at her lips upturning all day. It’s her signature weapon.

Take a sip of the bottle of Cass. “What are you gonna do about it?” She digs her nails into your back to pull you and your cock finds the purchase of her asshole anew. In between thrusting motions, you take bigger swigs of the beer and offer some to her. She spills a bit on her tits and you lick it up. Suck on her tits as she pounds her ass into your erection. 

“Stretch me out, fuck me harder. Harder, sir!”

“God, mmmm, ugh., ugh.” Can’t speak much anymore.  Both of you love dirty talk, Gahyeon especially knows how to whisper to tickle your ear but she also knows how to scream to get your instinctive side out. You hold her neck as you hold the bottle, careful and secure. Her tightly drawn anus responds the same as her pussy when you choke her, as they each try frenetically to wring you dry. However, the friction of her ass, even with all the lube, arouses your cock harder somehow. This is the life you chose, in a way the most tiring work you could ever imagine.

Gahyeon grabs tighter and her whole body ripples at the force that you both put in. Not a single qualm about your lifestyle. Any pretense of space between you two is gone as every inch of your skin slaps against each other. A final gulp from the bottle.

“Right there, right there, yes sir, baby. Cum with me!”

There isn’t much of you left but it’s still a flash freeze, a blizzard and pouring hail slamming into you when you cum, and she shakes doubly so in her orgasm as she’s had double yours today. The throb of your shaft doesn’t match the squeezing rhythm of her sphincter and inner walls which makes your cock spurt with more intensity than you could think possible, even bearing your stamina. Your sticky semen replaces the slippery lube inside her ass but you didn’t need its stickiness to slow your rhythm as your dick gets softer. You let minutes pass anyway to feel her muscles react to the load sloshing around and so that it’s not as difficult to extricate your softness from her greedy butthole, though it takes a slow removal anyway with its tightness. Both of you limp over and Gahyeon is fast asleep, but you scramble to return the buttplug and keep the cum inside.

“Keep warm! It’s going to be like this all winter. Tomorrow, it’ll be a high of -5 and a low of -20 and that snow will keep piling up-” Turn down the volume so that it’s not muted but soft enough that you can hear the wind howl past your windows just as loud. Nothing amazes you more than the tiny idol asleep and cutely snoring while her pussy throttles your shaft. Looking at Gahyeon’s ass and feeling her shake it as you try to fall asleep, something tells you it’ll be the warmest winter you’ll ever have.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

AFF, AO3

Something quick with my favorite kink for my second favorite in Dreamcatcher. Also got a draft for my ultimate bias but that’ll take time as well. Woops, yet another thing to procrastinate on while I shirk on both real life and writing.

[booksforevermore13]

Lilies and Lilacs (with a side order of Coal)

Summary:

“You like plants, I like animals. It’s the whole bloody ecosystem here.”

“Damn right.”

Ginny’s unsure whether to buy lilac lilacs or purple lilacs. They look the same to her, but to Harry, she knows it will make a difference. After all, it’s their anniversary.

Read it on Fanfiction if you prefer!

...

‘Now that the season had warmed, growing in the bonniest of purple locks, came dancing lilac.’

Ginny read off the placard for the hundredth time that evening, unsure how lilac could dance, and confused as to why they were being called bonny.

The only thing even remotely making sense to her was the fact that they were purple. Or perhaps, it was lilac, much like its name, exactly like its name, yet, Ginny couldn’t recognize it.

To be fair, and to her credit, the lilies had been easy to find. They were white, and she’d seen them before, too many times to count. White lilies in early summer. That’s what he’d told her once. She’d loved it ever since.

As for her, ‘lilacs growing in early May’, was as good as it got. Ginny liked them the most. But she’d not bothered about the colour. She just liked how they looked.

But now that she was actually at Florean’s, colour seemed to be a defining factor in everything.

Oh, bother.

She’d just have to settle on the lilac lilacs. It all looked the same to her.

“I’ll take these too,” she decided, pointing at a dozen pale purple flowers, and then looking at Mr. Florean. He was a very patient man, something she was hugely glad of, for her zero-to-none knowledge in flowers was nothing to be proud of, especially when she was in love with a botanist.

“Anything else, Miss Weasley?”

“No, that’s it. Just the lilacs and the lilies.”

The man nodded, and Ginny stepped away as he reached over to bunch them together.

“Would you like to keep the leaves on?” he asked, and Ginny nodded promptly, wondering how either way could make a difference.

“The young ones or all of them together?”

Young ones? Young leaves? They were dead either way, how did it make any difference calling them young or old?

“Just, uhh….” she shrugged. “Whatever looks best.”

Mr. Florean nodded, looking less than displeased and Ginny looked away, unsure as to how she could, at least, appear a little less ignorant. True, she had had to study Botany in college, but the dissection of a xylem stem had been far easier than this.

When it looked like he was done, she stepped forward again, placing two ten-pound notes on the counter. Mr. Florean looked at them, then with one hand, he ripped off a piece of sellotape, stuck it over the cellophane, and with the other, kept the two notes in the drawer.

“Is it exactly twenty pounds?”

“Nineteen,” he answered, and handed her a few spare coins.

“Thanks.”

Then he gave her the bouquet, asking whether she’d like a bag or not, but Ginny didn’t spare one extra minute standing. She couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

The only reason she had been there in the first place was because it was their anniversary, and she had wanted to do something she hadn’t done before. Ginny had never given flowers to Harry before, and though it had seemed a bit too trivial at first, flowers were his forte. He loved them. And even though he didn’t necessarily study them, there always seemed to be a spare rose or a white daffodil in their apartment.

And though she didn’t bother about them much, she always liked it when he came back home with a flower in hand.

She had given him flowers on their first date, their first anniversary, and the first time they’d moved in together, she’d seen a vase of sunflowers in his apartment.

That’s why she liked lilacs. It was the first flower he’d ever given her. And it had been the first flower she had actually taken the time to look at.

They seemed special at the time. They still did.

“Harry,” she called, as she locked the door behind her.. “I’m home.”

Maybe he hadn’t arrived yet.

Ginny slipped out of her heels, setting her bag down on the floor. Bouquet in hand, she proceeded to find a vase in the house, something that wasn’t very hard to do, as she set the flowers on the kitchen table for a while. There was one in the kitchen, a tinted glass piece, and she was satisfied when she stepped back to see her work.

They looked pretty.

And it was the best she could do.

Flowers weren’t her forte. It was his.

Ginny smiled as she heard the door open, hurrying across the floor in her socks. Yellow wool and polka dots. She looked like a bloody bee in them.

That’s why she liked them so much.

“Harry?” she called, and she frowned as he heard a yelp and the door bang close.

“Harry?” Ginny went over to the door, turning the knob to open it, but it was pulled back shut on the opposite end.

“How are you home so early?” She heard his voice and frowned, pulling open the door again. She wasn’t able to.

“Harry,” she chastised. “Open the door.”

“No, hang on a sec.”

She looked at the door in confusion, turning the knob again, but it was again, quickly pulled back.

“What in the world are you doing?”

She heard rummaging on the other side, his footsteps. She tried to turn the knob again, and then stopped as she heard a light patterning of steps. Then she heard a bark, and a shhh, and she stilled, her eyes wide with shock.

This time, when she opened the door, Harry didn’t pull back.

“Oh my god,” she gushed. “Oh my god, bloody freaking hell Harry –“

Harry grinned back, and Ginny couldn’t take her eyes off the small bundle in his arms. He was holding a tiny white Golden Retriever, and while both of them were looking at her, she couldn’t take her damn eyes off the pup.

“He’s adorable!” she whisper-screamed, laughing, and stroking his fur, just on the brink of squealing like a little girl.

Harry laughed, handing her the small pup, and Ginny giggled as she cradled the little bundle. The pups put his tiny little paws just under her face, looking up at her with big black eyes, and Ginny felt like a bloody five-year old, beaming at Harry as the pup snuggled in close to her body.

“My god, Harry, he’s beautiful.”

“I know.”

Ginny smiled up at him as he wrapped his hand around her waist, pulling both her and the pup closer to him. The pup was barking now, licking her elbow as he struggled to get free.

Harry laughed, and Ginny bent down, putting him on the ground.

“What’s his name?” she asked, as he sped off across the living room, sniffing around the sofa, the book-shelf, tentatively stepping on the mattress.

“Figured you should be the one to name him,” Harry shrugged, as if he’d not just given ehr the best gift ever, and Ginny, in a burst of emotions, threw her arms around him, pulling him down in a kiss. He responded just as enthusiastically, wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her off the floor.

They laughed as they broke apart, several sunlit moments later – or it just might have been the sound of frantic yapping that brought them back to their living room. Either way, she smiled at him, and they both bent down together, as the pup ran over to them.

“He looks like a,” Harry hesitated, “an Oscar?”

Ginny clicked her tongue, as she scooped him up in her lap. “How about Snow?”

“That’s too common.”

“Waffles.”

“Sounds like food.”

“It is food.”

“No, it’s breakfast.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

Harry laughed, and the pup plopped down on its back as Harry gently stroked his face. After a while, Ginny spoke up again.

“We can’t exactly call him pup now, can we?” she said indignantly. Then, as if she’d just found out something groundbreaking, she hurriedly got up, nearly slipping in her socks.

“Where’re you going?”

“My phone. This, we need Google for.”

“No, don’t go,” Harry protested, pulling her down again. She fell on his lap, and the pup jumped up on, yapping in a most adorable fashion, and they burst out laughing, falling to the ground together, Harry’s arms around her waist.

“You’re an idiot,” she said, kissing his cheek fondly. The pup jumped in between them, and Harry smiled as he licked Ginny’s eyes, her face.

“How about Storm?” he suggested.

“No.” Ginny looked at Harry. “Coal. He looks like a Coal.”

Harry smiled, and lifted the pup onto his stomach. He smiled as the pup barked, and stroked him on the cheek.

“Hey Coal.”

Coal barked back.

…

“You bought flowers?” Harry asked incredulously and Ginny stuck out her tongue at him, preparing the powder Harry had bought for coal. Milk powder, and she’d made it a thousand times before, for every other dog that came into her clinic.

“You never buy flowers.”

“I know it isn’t quite impressive, compared to – “

“They’re beautiful,” Harry interrupted. “They really are.” He smiled, and she was glad he thought so because really, that’s all she had been going for. “I love them. I love you.”

Ginny smiled, leaning forward as Harry kissed her, cupping her cheek as he lost his hands in her hair. Then, as if she’d just remembered something, she pulled back, pointing at the lilac lilacs, or whatever the hell they were.

“You do not know how long Florean kept me waiting for that. Seven different colours he showed me, and they all looked exactly the same.”

“You did not!” Harry said, in mock horror and Ginny chuckled. “God, Gin, that is inexcusable.”

“What is?”

“You know what! I’ve literally told you, Gin, like a dozen times before.” Harry smirked, before continuing, “all lilacs have a chromium pigment in their petals – “

“Okay, okay,” she raised her hands in mock surrender and Harry shook his head in exasperation, but he was smiling. “Don’t need a botany class here, I already had enough of those.”

She kissed him again, leaning away before he could bring her closer. He raised an eyebrow, shooting her a mirthful glance and Ginny smirked.

“You like plants, I like animals. It’s the whole bloody ecosystem here.”

“Damn right.”

…

“Shh.”

Coal stirred, whining in his sleep as Ginny turned up the volume on her laptop.

After she’d fed the little guy, he’d very promptly decided to sleep on her for the rest of the night. Ginny’d had no objections with that whatsoever, but halfway through the movie, her back had started to hurt. Just a little.

Harry’d stepped in then.

“I think you’re a better bed than me,” she whispered, and he smiled, looking at her as if he knew something she didn’t.

“Naturally,” he shot back, and laughed as Ginny shoved him lightly on his ribs.

She pushed herself up, leaning against Harry, as she watched Coal’s gentle breathing. “What do you want for dinner?” she asked absentmindedly, running a finger along Coal’s soft, white coat.

“You’re cooking?” Harry asked, and Ginny looked up at him, eyebrows raised.

“You think? I don’t want our anniversary to end with me poisoning you.”

“I didn’t say that,” he protested weakly. “I just, you just…uh, you make very nice bananas,” he offered, and Ginny shook her head as she paused the movie.

“Where you going?” Harry asked, as Ginny threw the blanket off her legs.

“To make you a banana.”

“Hey, hey.” He smiled, as he pulled her back closer to him. Ginny smiled as he nuzzled his face into her neck, letting her head fall back on his shoulder. Being a vet hadn’t been very forgiving on her back, and long, strenuous hours of surgery where she had no idea whether the animal would recover or not, hadn’t helped. She closed her eyes, sighing in relief, but she knew his eyes hadn’t left her.

“You’re staring.”

“I know.”

“I think,” she snapped open her eyes, and raised her hand, brushing away his hair from his forehead. “We should just order pizza and stay like this all night.”

“Mmmhmm.”

“And binge watch Fast and Furious in one go.”

“Until you fall asleep,” Harry mumbled, and Ginny looked up at him, eyes narrowed.

“Lighten up, will you?” she whispered, and Harry laughed, his green eyes sparkling under his glasses. Somehow, Coal had managed to right himself with one paw over Harry’s glasses, and said Harry hadn’t bothered to remove it. They looked adorable together, and Ginny took in the sight in front of her for a second, before looking around the bed for her phone.

“I’m keeping this for later,” she whispered as she snapped a picture.

Then she kissed him, soft butterfly kisses that slowly deepened as her hands tangled in his hair, his on her waist, keeping them (and Coal) steady together. Ginny gently took off his glasses, keeping them beside her on the bedside table.

“You know why I like flowers so much?” Harry said between kisses and Ginny smiled against his lips, waiting for an answer.

“It’s because they remind me of you,” he finished.

Ginny pulled away, looking into his eyes, green like the southern sea. Brown to green. She cupped his face, brushing his hair away with her thumb and smiled, not quite sure how she’d respond to that. All she was thinking right now, all she could think right now was how much she loved this man. This adorably dorky man, who she loved with all her heart.

So she told him. Exactly what she was feeling.

Even though he knew every time.

“I love you,” she said, as she kissed him.

“I love you,” he replied. “In every way possible.”

They looked at each other, and Ginny smiled, laughed. With him, she felt like she was feeling everything. And it felt so damn good.

She lifted herself up, and as she brought him closer to kiss him again, she laughed as Coal whined in his sleep, his paws scrabbling against Harry’s shirt.

“I think Coal’s jealous.”

Harry laughed, adjusting his small body over his stomach, and looking back at her again, his eyes gleaming with affection.

“I would be too.”

..