#it can be really easy to forget the throat/neck does connect with the cheek but if you watch old folks it sags b/c it's much more linked

[dirtyoldmanhole]

feel like the craggier i draw him the more i like the resulting likeness :v

[bittybeanie]

Finally an account that does mob psycho! I appreciate your service! Could you write a scenario about going to the mall with Serizawa? Just looking at the cute stores, buying Seri some new clothes, maybe reader is looking for a fancy dress, maybe they stop by a lingerie store idk 👀 anything would be lovely!

happy to be of service!! this was such a cute idea i couldn't decide what angle i wanted to take, so here are two lil connected snippets! basically, you're both trying to find fancy clothes to wear to an event together- please enjoy!

also on ao3!

(update: this fic has art by the incredible @butterysalt! newly featured in the header, you can find just the art on their page here! go show them so much love!)

"Oh, you can handle it! This is barely anything. Besides, having your hands go numb from too many bags is an essential part of the mall shopping experience. I promise this is so authentic and neccessary." Against your words, you hold out a couple fingers to grab the handles of his bags. He lets go and sighs gratefully, rubbing his hands together to get feeling back into his fingers. You start to lean as you realize the bags were much heavier than you first thought, and you have to do some quick shuffling to avoid toppling over into him.

"I know you said it was easy to get distracted, but I guess I wasn't expecting…"

"Yeah, sorry. I just wanna make sure I don't forget anything we actually came here for."

"I get it. I really don't mind." He smiles that smile at you, the one that always makes your face light up and your heart sing and your worries and doubts and regrets sound like dull buzzing of the past underneath the loud simmer of your affection for him, and he points at a set of chairs in the nearby walkway. "This is my first time having to get so dressed up. I'm learning a lot."

"Well, it's not like I'm a pro at it either. You've seen what I wear to the office sometimes." He laughs and nods, and he tugs gently on your arm to steer you away from bumping into somebody. When your shoulder brushes against his arm, you take advantage of it to lean your head against him before leading him across the stream of people toward the chairs. You set your bags down and roll your wrists, looking around for a map. "I didn't think it would take quite this long to find something good, though."

"I promise, I don't mind." He taps the top of your head with one finger. You hum, so he leans down and presses a kiss in the spot he just tapped. As he stands back up, you lock your arms around his neck and pull him into a proper kiss, albeit one that's much too quick for your liking. You are in public, though, and having him spontaneously combust just wouldn't do, so you'll have to settle for his nervous laughter and wobbly smile for now. "Especially if I get more of those."

"So you're saying you wouldn't mind even if we stopped at every single store, right?"

"Well…"

"Ooh, and what about that one? Something for you, perhaps?" You nudge his side and point your elbow toward the lingerie store just behind you. He barely glances before snapping his head in the opposite direction. When his hand comes up to rub at the back of his neck, you're honestly not sure if his discomfort is emotional or physical.

"I… don't think I'm their target audience." You catch even yourself off guard by how loudly you laugh. You slap a hand over your mouth, clearing your throat in an attempt to disguise your remaining giggles.

"Well, I admit that would be pretty fun to see." You take a mental screenshot of the way his cheeks light up, filing that information away to use later. "But I meant for you. Like… as a present?"

"But you… Oh! I-I-I see! You don't need- I mean I don't need- it's not- we, um. That is-"

"Hey, baby." You tap a finger over his lips, and he stops talking just long enough to nod. "I'm just teasing." His smile is still lopsided and his cheeks are still warm, but his shoulders creep away from his ears when you kiss him, and you think you might just melt from how endearing it is. You pull away to slip the bags back over your arm, laughing when he jerks forward to snatch some away from you. "We should focus on what we came for, anyway. But, if you change your mind, let me know."

He shifts all his bags to one hand and reaches for you with the other, rolling his eyes as he pulls you toward the second floor.

+

You'd be lying if you said you weren't worn down by now. You'd started off hopeful and excited, but one store after another had been a disappointment, and if this one didn't meet your standards you were probably going to have to go home with nothing helpful to show for the hours you'd spent. Serizawa was doing his best to remain cheerful, but you could tell it was getting to him, too. You believed him - and agreed - when he said he was just happy to spend the time with you, but it was way more people than he was used to being around, and you could see the pinch at the ends of his smile and feel the way his hand twitched in yours when the volume swelled. You wanted to get him home.

"Let's make this the last one."

He didn't have the energy to fight you, just nodding and squeezing your hand.

You wander around, scanning the rows of clothing as you make your way down the main aisles.

"Should we just go home? I might just be tired, but I don't see anything good." He hums, low in the back of his throat, so you nod, turning to head for the door. Your arm jerks as you feel resistance, and you look back to find him staring off into the distance.

"Wait." He points to a mannequin in the back corner, then to another a couple racks over. "What about those?"

"Holy shit." They're clearly separate outfits given their distance apart, but everything about them looks like they were made to go together - from the color, to the fabric, to the pattern of how the stitching on the sides is tailored. "Katsuya."

"Hmm?"

"You're a fashion genius."

"I am?"

You don't have time to see his pleased expression before he's stumbling to follow behind you, practically running as you pull him along. You set your bags down to rummage through the racks, and he picks them up just in time to catch the clothes you haphazardly chuck at him.

"Sorry! Stay there!"

"R-right!" He straightens, standing awkwardly still as he waits for you to sprint over to the other rack and find the right size of everything for the other outfit. You sling everything over your shoulder and take the clothes back from him, looping your hand into the crook of his elbow to drag him to the fitting room.

You push the door open for him before slipping in behind him to lock it. He looks a little shell-shocked as he sets the bags down in the corner, and you drop the clothes onto the bench to reach for him. You slide your hands up both sides of his face and pull him down to press a gentle kiss to the tip of his nose.

"Sorry. I got very excited."

"I noticed." He tilts his head to kiss you fully, and your fingers slide back into his hair. "It was cute."

You click your tongue, ruffling his hair as you pull away to hide your flustered state. "Oh, stop flattering me and put these on." You pick his set of clothes out of the pile, wrinkled as all hell by now, and hold them out in one hand as your sift through your own clothes with the other.

"Okay." He gently takes the clothes, a huge smile plastered across his face, and you can't resist the urge to kiss him one more time.

Ordinarily, you would take every chance you had to tease him in a situation like this, but both of you are so tired that you strip without much pretense, throwing your clothes in a pile by the door like it's your hamper back at home. He laughs when you trip trying to take your shoe off and lets you scramble to catch his shoulder, but otherwise keeps his eyes politely in the other direction. It's not until both of you have stopped moving that you look over at each other, and you take a sharp breath in as you survey him.

"Damn." You reach up to straighten his tie, smoothing your hand down his chest as your gaze makes its way down his figure. "You clean up nice, Serizawa."

He's too busy staring at you to respond. You'll take that as a good sign.

"Here, let's see…" You put your hands on his hips to spin him toward the mirror, and he seems to blink himself back to awareness as you take your place beside him. He holds his arm out to let you wrap your elbow around it, and he smiles when you lean against him. "What do you think? Do we look good, or what?"

"Yeah." His voice is breathy, and it makes your own breathing catch in your throat. He pulls his arm out of your grasp and reaches around behind you, resting his hand on your hip to pull you against him again. He presses his nose into your neck, kissing you as soon as you lean toward him, before straightening to rest his chin on your head. You can feel him surveying you more than you can see it, and your temperature shoots up when his hand tightens on your hip.

"Hey…"

"Mhm?"

"Can we go back to that...?"

You blink, looking up at his face in the mirror.

"You said to tell you if I changed my mind, so..."

You bury your face in his chest and let out a breathy chuckle. "Tell you what." You pull yourself away from his side to lay your original clothes out. "When we get home, we can do some online shopping instead." You don't miss the way his gaze hovers as you pull the fabric over your head - just high enough over your shoulder that he could say he wasn't looking if pressed, but close enough that you both know he's staring. "That way we can both be flustered in peace. Deal?" He slips a finger into the knot of his tie and jerks his hand out. It comes easily undone, one end fluttering across his wrist to drape down his arm as he swallows thickly.

"Deal."

[jakekgs]

pretty crier, jake sim.

those pics from that enha concert after jake’s birthday 💔all i know is pain. (this is mostly fluff w a ‘deep’ kiss though!).

your throat grows dry, heart heavier, when you feel his arms around you tighten as another sobs falls from his lips and into the material of your hoodie. with one hand raking through his hair, your other rubbed his back, drawing shapes when the movement tired your muscles.

“i-i’m so..” he stops, catching his breath for a moment. “so sorry.”

“please stop apologising, baby.” your voice is soft, he notices. “you’re allowed to be upset.”

“i’m r-ruining your hoodie.” he attempts to joke, his shoulders easing when you laugh at his words.

“this is yours, not mine. besides, my mascara has ruined more of your white shirts than i’d care to comment on.”

this time he really does laugh at your words, loosening his grip on you to stretch a little and climb a little higher in to your hold. now, he nestles his head in the space between your shoulder and your neck.

“thank you.” he mutters into your skin, lips leaving an even softer kiss there when he was done.

“you don’t have to thank me.” you shake your head mindlessly at his words.

losing someone was never easy, losing a loved one that lived in a different country on your birthday however? that was hard. truthfully, you wanted nothing more than to wrap your boyfriend up in blankets and keep him safe forever, hiding him from everything big, bad and dangerous, but for now holding him was enough.

“i know this probably isn’t the right time, but,” he pulls away from you as you speak, looking up to listen to you. “you’re a really pretty crier.”

at your words, you witness what can only be described as the jake sim blushing. had you not seen it, you wouldn’t of believed it.

with a boyish smile taking over his face, he leans closer to you and kisses you as though he’s never going to get the chance to again.

seeming to forget his inhibitions, your boyfriend leans even further in to you, a hand coming up to cup your cheeks as you angle your head, making it easier for him to deepen the kiss.

“i love you.” he practically whispers against your lips.

smiling like a child, you connect your lips once more before pulling away again.

“i love you too, pretty boy.”

masterlist, requests.

© JAKEKGS 2022

[dreamwritesimagines]

Twisted 29 - Miracles and Endings [Spencer Reid x Reader]

A.N.: Oh my goodness, the last chapter before the epilogue! ❤ Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback my loves, I hope you will like it! ❤ Ilysm! ❤❤❤

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Murder, serial killers, death, mentions of sex, drinking.

Word Count: 4600

Summary: Sometimes, miracles happen.

The following weeks were more of a bliss than you were used to. It was like you could finally breathe, finally lose yourself in peace.

You heaved a sigh and snuggled into the soft covers, not ready to leave the pleasant haze of sleep yet but when you felt the empty space beside you, you opened your eyes and sat up straight in bed, looking around.

“Spencer?” you called out and heard the footsteps in the living room. You yawned as you stretched your body, then pushed the covers off of you, grabbed your dressing gown to put it on and made your way to the living room.

You found him by the desk, busy with something you couldn’t see just yet and you cleared your throat, making him jump out of his skin before he pushed whatever he was holding into his satchel.

“Hey,” you said when he turned to you, “What have you got there?”

“Nothing,” he said way too quickly, “Nothing, I- I didn’t hear you wake up.”

“Oh, clearly,” you grinned before you walked to him and pecked him on the lips, “You’re not thinking about bailing on the brunch, are you?”

“I can’t believe we put your family’s brunch and team’s dinner on the same Sunday.”

“Yes but that way, we can do whatever we want the next Sunday,” you pointed out, “Including staying in bed whole day.”

“The whole day?” he mused and you kissed his lips again,

“I mean, I’m sure we can find something to…entertain ourselves.”

“Oh I’m sure,” he wrapped his arms around you, and your phone beeped, making you heave a sigh.

“That’s our cue to get ready, I guess,” you said, “Before my mom barges in here.”

“Does she even know where I live?”

You shot him a look, “Spencer. Come on.”

“Right.”

You reached out to run your fingers through his curls, “So, your last week at BAU,” you said, “How are we feeling?”

“I mean, I’m already teaching most of the time, it was just…formalities at BAU at this point,” he said, “But yeah. Next week will be interesting I guess.”

“A new slate,” you reminded him, “It will be fun. And you know, I will still love you when you’re this old and hot professor, so keep that in mind.”

Even though your joke was supposed to make him laugh, you couldn’t help but notice that look of hesitation on his face.

“You—you do, right?” he asked, and you raised your brows.

“Hm?”

“You love me?”

You blinked a couple of times, then let out a small laugh.

“Oh wow, sex makes you clingy doesn’t it professor?”

“Y/N.”

“No seriously, having to wait for a couple of weeks because of something so trivial-“

“Broken ribs are not trivial,” he corrected you and you rolled your eyes.

“Whatever. If this is your way of saying last night was mind blowing for you,” you said “So much that it made you forget one very simple fact…”

“Very simple fact, huh?” he repeated with a smile and you nodded.

“Consider this your daily reminder,” you said and stood on your tiptoes to give him a kiss, “I love you,” you muttered against his lips, kissing him again, “So, so much.”

He pulled you closer to himself, deepening the kiss, his fingertips caressing your neck before you pulled back with a sigh.

“We should get ready,” you told him, “No distractions professor, come on."

                                                   ***

Since the weather was so nice and warm, your mother had decided that you could have the brunch outside. The maid let you in and Lily screeched, then rushed to hug Spencer as soon as she saw you two and he lifted her up.

“Is that a new headband?” he joked and she giggled.

“Yes!” she said “Hi auntie!”

“Hi bug,” you kissed her cheek, “What, you like him better or something?”

“No, but you can’t lift me yet,” she said with her nose in the air, “Mama said it’d hurt you.”

“She does have a point,” Spencer pointed out and you narrowed your eyes at him.

“I’m fine!”

“I don’t believe that for a second,” Mina commented from the living room, making Kenzie let out a laugh. Spencer’s phone started ringing as soon as you stepped into the room and he had to put Lily down.

“Excuse me,” he said and made his way to the hallway while Nolan approached you to kiss you on the cheek.

“Hey there,”

“Hey, where’s mom?”

“Upstairs, picking earrings,” he said, “The table isn’t ready yet but if Spencer wants, I have this wonderful coffee, he needs to try it.”

“Why do I get no love today?” you asked to no one in particular and Kenzie smiled before wrapping her arms around you.

“Aw but I love you!” she said, making you grin.

“Only you are going to be in my will, none of these people.” You motioned around the room and Mina scoffed.

“I think I’ll be fine thank you. I’ve seen your wardrobe, I’m not impressed.”

“How dare you?” you gasped, making Lily giggle.

“What’s a will?” she asked and Mina shook her head.

“It’s a grown up document baby.”

“Speaking of grown up documents,” you grinned and turned to Nolan, “Please tell me we won’t have any surprises during brunch. Because me and Spencer have this bet going on—“

“Oh please, he’s not going to ask her here,” Mina said, “It’ll be on top of a mountain or something.”

“Mountains are cold this time of the year.”

“I just want to point out,” you said, “If it is a plan that will take place in near future—Lily, cover your ears baby.”

Lily put her hands over her ears, looking up at you curiously.

“My assistant tried to kill me very recently, so I’m behind my schedule and my client list is full.”

“It’s not full, and you’re not getting out of this that easy.”

“I almost died!”

“Yeah and see, now you have another excuse besides my father is a serial—“

“Can I listen now please?” Lily asked very loudly, making you smile and you nodded so that she could uncover her ears as Mina pulled her to her lap to press a kiss into her hair, fixing her headband.

“Besides, Nolan won’t have something huge, right Nolan?”

“Yeah like… hundred people, maximum.” Nolan stated and you shook your head.

“Unbelievable,” you said, “I’m going outside to get some fresh air.”

You grabbed your cigarette pack from your purse, then made your way to the backyard while the table was still being set, and you lit your cigarette, closing your eyes for a moment, laughing to yourself.

You had already prepared a plan for your mom’s wedding but it didn’t mean you couldn’t whine about it.

You exhaled the smoke, then looked over your shoulder when someone touched the small of your back.

“Hey,” you smiled at Spencer, “Is everything okay?”

He swallowed thickly and nodded, “Uh huh,” he said, “Everything is fine. But um- Luke just called.”

“About tonight’s dinner?”

“No, about um…” he pursed his lips for a moment, “I’m only telling you this because you should hear this from me, not anyone else.”

“Oh God, what happened?” you pressed a hand over your chest, “Spencer, is everyone okay?”

“Yeah!” he said quickly, “Yeah, it’s not like that. It’s just um…”

“What?”

“Lincoln is dead.”

You gawked at him, trying to wrap your mind around it and ignoring the goosebumps on your skin. “I’m sorry?”

“There was an accident,” he said, “Apparently some inmates got into a fight, and while they were closing the doors, there was this glitch so his door didn’t close completely before someone could get into his cell.”

You blinked a couple of times, “A glitch,” you repeated, “What glitch?”

“It’s all automatic, the doors are connected to the security system.”

“What security system?”

He crossed his arms, “I didn’t ask—“

“Yes you did,” you said, “What security system?”

He didn’t even flinch. “Yates Security.”

“You can’t be serious,” you covered your mouth and he shrugged his shoulders, as if it meant nothing.

“These things happen.”

“They don’t just….” you trailed off “That wasn’t an accident, you know it as much as I do!”

“No actually, I don’t,” he said, “I just know that the FBI has no reason to investigate it further.”

You let out a breath, still staring up at him.

“Did you know?” you asked him, “That it would happen?”

“No,” he said, “But even if I knew, I wouldn’t have stopped it.”

You shook your head, “You don’t mean that.”

He let out a bitter laugh, “I do,” he said, “I really do. Hell, I’d help if I knew.”

“Spencer-“

“You don’t think I wanted to do that?” he cut you off, “While we were waiting for you?  I could’ve just gone to his room and make sure it was done. Make sure he wouldn’t wake up again— I was going to do it, Y/N. I stood up to go to his floor, right before a nurse told us that you were out of the surgery.”

You were supposed to feel guilt. You were supposed to feel something, but you knew what he meant. You knew that red haze of anger all too well, that was exactly how you had felt back at the cabin, when Lincoln had mentioned hurting Spencer.

“I… I need to talk to my mom, excuse me,” you said and made your way upstairs to your mother’s bedroom before you opened it.

“Oh welcome honey!” she said, putting her earrings on, “I’ll be right downsta—“

“Lincoln is dead,” you cut her off and she froze only for a moment before she shrugged her shoulders.

“Well, not a huge tragedy.”

“Mom.”

“I doubt anyone will miss that monster.”

“Nolan wouldn’t do it without you asking him,” you shook your head, “It was your idea, wasn’t it?”

She rolled her eyes, then looked at you. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“Mom you—“ you lowered your voice, looking around before you took a step towards her, “I never asked you to do that. I would never. Me doing it is one thing, you doing it—“

“Is exactly the same thing,” she finished your sentence for you, “I made my decision while waiting for you to wake up, Y/N. Don’t feel bad about it.”

“I don’t feel bad about it!” you insisted, “That’s not it! But it’s my mess, you guys aren’t supposed to be involved in this—“

“Why did you go with Lincoln again?” she asked you, taking you by surprise, “You and I both know you were more than capable of taking him down. Remind me, why did you follow him to that cabin?”

That was more than enough to make you fall silent before you shifted your weight.

“I thought he had Lily.”

Your mother smiled slightly, “There you go.”

“Mom it’s different though!” you said through your teeth, “You and Mina—you guys don’t have it in you!”

“We all have it in us, Y/N,” she said, “When it comes to protecting the ones we love. I wasn’t going to let him hurt my daughter and get away with it. I don’t care who gets hurt in the process as long as my family survives.”

A silence fell upon you as she heaved a sigh.

“Let’s go downstairs, I’m starving!” she said and pressed a kiss on your cheek, then walked out of the room while you stood there, frozen.

Through the shock, your mind was slowly putting the pieces together.

When your father had threatened Spencer and you unleashed hell on him, that look in his eyes wasn’t just intimidation. It was a familiar fear because he had seen your mother in you, that was why he was shocked that much.

Contrary to everything he had said, you weren’t really his daughter.

You were your mother’s.

                                                     ***

You didn’t feel bad. In fact, you didn’t feel a damn thing about Lincoln’s death to be honest, this dinner with Spencer’s friends was of higher importance than that monster who had tormented you for months.

Prey dies, predator moves on, your father would say.

Or as your mother had said, as long as your family survived…

“Are you okay?” Spencer asked as he pulled over in front of a mansion that he had said belonged to Rossi, and you turned your head.

“Yeah,” you said, “Yeah, I’m just thinking.”

“About Lincoln?”

“Yeah,” you said, “It’s just that… I think I now understand that everyone has some red lines, right? Maybe I’m not that different than the rest. The rest just doesn’t really think about it, that’s all.”

Spencer tilted his head, “So in other words, I was right?”

“I didn’t say that,” you pointed at him as he grabbed the wine bottle and got out of the car with you, “Speaking of death, my mom and Nolan’s wedding will have one hundred guests.”

“Okay?”

“And they will make me plan it and I’ll die.”

“You won’t die.”

“My mom has the fury of ten brides combined,” you grumbled as you both walked to the mansion, “On a good day, if I may add.”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“I wish I were. Once I showed up to brunch wearing a silver ring,” you said, “She gave me a speech for a whole hour. An hour, Spencer!”

He let out a laugh and rang the doorbell as you shifted your weight, insecurity hitting you out of nowhere.

“Your whole team, you said?”

“And their spouses.”

“So no pressure at all,” you said, making him smile.

“You already know most of them.”

“Yeah but it’s different.”

“How is it different?”

“Well it’s—“ you started, but then the door opened and Garcia squealed at the sight of you two.

“Finally!” she hugged you carefully and then pulled you both into the mansion, “We were wondering where you two were!”

“Can we eat now that they’re here?” Luke called out and Garcia shook her head.

“Unbelievable, honestly,” she said as you followed her to the living room. Everyone was already there, and you greeted them, then Garcia introduced you to Matt’s wife and JJ’s husband before leading you to the kitchen where Rossi was cooking.

You hadn’t really had chance to talk to him a lot during the case, but you guessed it was a good sign that he had allowed Spencer to bring you there, considering everyone in there was either in the team or their spouses.

“Hi,” you smiled at him while Garcia and Luke bickered about food, and the man who was talking to a woman by the corner of the kitchen looked up, then both of them approached you.

“Pretty boy!” he greeted Spencer and Spencer hugged him.

“Hi Derek,” he said with a huge smile, “Savannah.”

“And this must be the girl you kept calling me to get some advice about,” he said and offered his hand, “Derek Morgan.”

“Oh I heard so much about you!” you said as you shook his hand, “Nice to meet you.”

“Not as much as I heard about you,” he said, “This is my wife, Savannah.”

“Hi,” you shook hands with her as well and Derek grinned.

“So now that you’re here, has he ever told you that he once called me at one in the morning to talk about you?”

You let out a laugh, looking up at Spencer who was rubbing the back of his neck, averting his gaze.

“Aw, that’s so cute,” you said, “What did he say?”

“Don’t.” Spencer shook his head fervently and Savannah raised her brows, then turned to Derek.

“Mmm, does this mean we can’t talk about the time he called me to help him decide which magnet looked better?”

Your jaw dropped, “Wait, what?”

“I suffered for two hours, you guys can’t whine about that!” Luke called out, “I was there with him in that damn shop!”

“I’m begging everyone in this kitchen to tell me more embarrassing stories.”

“Oh how about that time—“ Derek started but Spencer cleared his throat.

“Rossi, we brought wine!” he said loudly as he put the wine on the counter and Rossi tilted his head.

“I’m guessing the lady picked that,” he said and you smiled.

“Spencer mentioned you were making carbonara,” you said, “I um- I visited this small city in Italy couple of years back, and the cook there swore by this.”

Rossi stared at you and Derek let out a laugh,

“Yeah, you won him over just like that.”

“Where was it?”

“Parma.”

Rossi put the towel over his shoulder on the counter, “Please tell me you have tried torta fritta.”

“Are you kidding? I basically lived on that for the whole weekend!” you said and Rossi’s jaw dropped, “Seriously, I ate it for breakfast, and then for lunch with—“

“Rich people,” Luke shook his head as he reached out to get the wine bottle from the counter “But now I want to try it out.”

“Have you learned how to cook carbonara while you were there?” Rossi asked and you shook your head.

“Nah I don’t… I can’t cook. I know how to buy stuff but I don’t know anything about food aside from that.”

Luke frowned, “Your parents never taught you?”

“Not really. My mom taught me how to walk in heels and my dad taught me how to stab someone in the jugular.”

A silence fell upon the kitchen and you shifted your weight.

“Wrong crowd,” you murmured and Spencer pulled you closer to him while Luke shook his head.

“No, now we know that you were raised by wolves.”

“Newbie!” Garcia hissed, making him grin.

“This is why you’re no longer allowed to drive my car, Luke,” you said as Spencer rested his chin on top of your head, “No croissants for you either.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” he shot back and Rossi clapped his hands together.

“Dinner is ready, everyone to the living room, come on.”

“Um- Derek, can I talk to you for a moment? And Luke?” Spencer asked and you looked up at him.

“If this is about embarrassing stories, I’m so going to find out.”

“Oh we can tell you,” Savannah motioned between her and Garcia and you grinned.

“Victory.”

“I’ll be right there,” Spencer said and you nodded, then walked to the living room with Rossi, Savannah and Garcia. You took your seat beside Garcia, and JJ frowned.

“Where’s Spencer?”

“Talking to Derek and Luke in the kitchen,” you said while Rossi put generous amounts of pasta in everyone’s plates, and Garcia squeezed your hand.

“I’m so glad you’re okay and here with us now,” she said, “We all are.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that, “Thank you,” you said, “It…it means a lot.”

“So, do you want to hear an embarrassing story?” Savannah asked and JJ turned to look at you two.

“We’re exchanging embarrassing stories?”

“About Spencer’s romantic side.”

JJ let out a laugh, “Oh I have a lot of them, if you’re interested.”

“I’m very interested,” you said and Savannah cleared her throat.

“So do I start with the one when he called Derek right before this…ball you were attending? Apparently he panicked because you looked too good and he didn’t know how to talk to you.”

Your jaw dropped, “You’re not serious.”

“He told me to fix his phone while you weren’t texting him, because he thought his phone was broken.” Garcia tipped her glass towards you as if toasting.

“Oh my God.”

“He walked into my desk when Luke was telling Tara about you.” JJ added and you let out a laugh.

“Am I dreaming?” you asked, “I’m begging you, please give me more stories like these, I thought I was the one who was a mess in the beginning.”

“Not at all, you should’ve seen the texts he sent me.”

That reminded you to check your phone, but then you remembered you had left it in the kitchen and you nibbled on your lip before pushing your chair back.

“Excuse me,” you said and approached the kitchen, the voices reaching you now.

“I just…” Spencer heaved a sigh, “I don’t think you understand.”

“I don’t?” Derek asked, “Spencer, you do realize that I went through the same thing, right?”

“I mean I didn’t,” Luke said, “But I still don’t think it’s that difficult, man.”

“See? He doesn’t understand the stress it puts you under, not me.” Derek said and Luke scoffed.

“You guys faced serial killers, that’s what scares you off?”

Ah. They were talking about changing jobs.

Of course Spencer was stressed about it. Derek had already left the BAU and Luke didn’t, and he wanted to get their opinion.

You knocked on the doorframe and cleared your throat before stepping inside.

“Sorry, I left my purse here,” you grabbed it off the counter and Spencer ran his hand through his hair.

“Oh it’s- it’s okay, we were done.”

“I’m starving.” Luke commented and Derek grinned, and both of them walked out of the kitchen, leaving you and Spencer there. He stared at you like he was almost hesitant and you tilted your head.

“Is everything okay?” you asked, and he cleared his throat.

“Yeah. Everything’s fine.”

“Are you sure?” you stepped closer to him, “Because you know…changing jobs and all, it might be a little stressful.”

“What?” he asked as if he didn’t understand what you were talking about, then it dawned on him, “Ah no. No, I’m not stressed about that.”

“Then something else?” you asked, “Spencer, you can tell me anything, you know that right?”

He squeezed your hand and pulled you closer to wrap his arms around you, “Yeah, I know.”

“But you won’t,” you said with a smile, reaching out to smooth the lines of worry between his brows and he let out a breath.

“I will,” he said, “It’s just that um… not right now?”

“Okay. That’s alright, whenever you’re ready.”

He nodded, then pressed his lips on top of your head.

“I love you,” he mumbled into your hair and you ran your hand up and down over his arm, then pulled back,

“I love carbonara,” you said, making him laugh. “Come on, dinner is getting cold.”

                                                    ***

By the time you got home, it was already night time. You kicked off your heels and made your way to Spencer’s bedroom to change into an oversized shirt, then whined to yourself when you realized you still had make up on.

Well. That could wait until you checked your email.

Apparently, Kenzie had sent you a list of her colleagues that worked as assistants and you really needed to replace Erica with someone hopefully less tendencies to want you dead. You had left your laptop in the living room so you stretched out and made your way to the living room.

“I wish Kenzie could just decide on someone instead of me,” you said as Spencer took a deep breath, looking for something in his bag “It would make it so much easier. What are you looking for? Maybe I saw it around.”

Spencer looked over his shoulder, the look in his eyes softening almost immediately and a smile pulled at his lips.

“What?” you asked, and he held out his hand.

“Come here,” he said and you took his hand before you let him pull you closer.

“What’s happening, professor?” you giggled as he pushed your hair behind your ear.

“You’re so beautiful.”

“I know, it’s the eyeliner.”

“It really isn’t,” he said and a fire crept under your cheeks, making you scrunch up your nose.

“It’s the oxytocin,” you corrected yourself, making him laugh before he licked his lips and grabbed something from his bag.

“I..I got you something,” he handed you something that looked either like a notebook or a book wrapped in giftwrap and you gasped, snatching it out of his hand.

“Thank you! Can I open it now?”

“Yeah,” he sounded breathless for some reason as he stepped back and you turned around, carefully unwrapping it.

Paradise by Dante.

“Spencer…”

“It’s um- it’s a special edition,” he said from behind you, “You should check out the preface.”

You nodded fervently and opened the cover to see this preface, but Spencer’s handwriting caught your attention, and it took you a second to actually acknowledge what he had written on the page.

Will you marry me?

Your breath got caught in your throat and your heart started pacing in your chest, making you stare at the page for a couple of second with your jaw hanging before you looked over your shoulder, then turned around to see him on one knee, holding the tiny box which had the most gorgeous ring you had ever seen in it.

“Oh my God…” you heard yourself breathe out, tears already filling your eyes, “Yes!”

An almost giddy laughter escaped from his lips, “Can I- can I ask first?”

“Yeah! Yeah, I just— Spencer, how did you afford that ring? Not that it—just let me know if you robbed a bank. I feel like that’s something I might need to know.”

Spencer pulled his brows together, “For a person who specializes in weddings, you’re terrible at this part.”

“Because this part isn’t my specialty- just ask me so that I can say yes.”

He smiled as if he was hypnotized, then nodded.

“I um…” he cleared his throat, “I asked your family first because I know how much it means to you to have their blessing even if you pretend like it doesn’t matter,” he said, “And um- they all gave their blessing. Mina sat me down and threatened me for a full hour before that, but she did in the end.”

Jesus Christ, how had no one told you anything? Not even an implication?

“When we first met,” he said, “That morning, I didn’t… I don’t know what I expected, but not you. It was supposed to be just a case, up until that point it was like any other and then you showed up in that hallway and for a second, just for a second, everything got silent in my head. I wasn’t…I’m not very used to that.”

You bit at your lip, holding your breath.

“And then, when I saw you again you told me something about Dante and Beatrice. You said, he sees her as his savior, his light, his eternal love. Even if they weren’t together. It didn’t make sense before, I’d read Dante multiple times but I didn’t exactly understand the depth of love you could….feel for someone that changes you completely,” he smiled at you sweetly, “I do now.”

You could only stare at him,

“So…” he took a deep breath, “The lady who imparadises my mind. Will you marry me?”

You let out a teary laugh and nodded fervently, tears rolling down your cheeks.

“Yes,” you managed to say through a sob and he grinned, then stood up to put the ring on your finger, pulling you into a deep kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck, standing on your tiptoes.

“I love you so much,” you sniffled, wiping at your eyes, “God, you’re….this is perfect.”

His smiled widened and you pecked him on the lips again before hugging him tight and you buried your face into his chest, inhaling his scent.

You had been wrong earlier.

You would get to have your own fairytale ending after all. 

Epilogue

[inkedtae]

orange tree ⇾ knj, kth. [M]

𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ ares!namjoon x mortal!reader (f.) x apollo!taehyung

𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ greek god au, established relationship (w/namjoon), smut, pwp, filth, poly au, 18+

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ⇾ he built you a pathronon but you would like to expand its patrons… at least just for the evening.

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ⇾ 7.4k

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ⇾ dom!namjoon, tattooed!namjoon, silver mullet!namjoon, dom!taehyung, blonde mullet!taehyung, sub!reader, a lil bratty!reader, rough sex, public sex, outdoor sex, angry sex, unprotected sex (wrap it to tap it), humilition kink, size kink, pain kink, jealousy, threesome, overstimulation, degradation, double penatration (in one hole), exhibitionism, voyeurism, multiple orgasms, oral (m. and f. receiving), deep throating, cockwarming, choking, manhandling, body worshipping, pussy worshipping, basically reader worshipping, pussy slapping, cum eating, clit biting, spanking, teasing, begging, spit play, breath play, breast play, pretty much an ungodly amount of filth :)))

𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇'𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒 ⇾ i’m a hoe :))

❧ banner by ⇾ @kimtaehyunq​ (thank you so much friend~)

❧ beta’d by ⇾ @nottodayjjk​ and @uhgood-dooghu​ (a million thanks to these cuties~)

❧ le playlist

⟶ commission for @jamaisjoons through ChangesWithLuv, supporting BLM

Beyond the holy village of Barthes, within a meadow of sun dropped marigolds, you lounge topless underneath an orange tree. Cool winds cut the late summer heat. The breeze hardens your nipples and prickles your exposed skin with goosebumps. Hair tousled, you bite into another orange slice. He did not care for citrus, until he tasted your lips. Then, he planted you an orange tree. He promised you good fortune and a long life. 

“You will want for nothing,” he told you. “Just, behave.”

Behave. A word he’d used often with you. Jaw tense, he’d hiss the warning while fondling your breasts or cupping your sex. When he is furious, he is boundless. He fucks like a titan, remnants of a gracious god completely withering away. Tight grips, rough pounds, and seething threats that promise such painful pleasure, Kim Namjoon is a red hot planet of sexual destruction. So angry, so lustful, he serves you a cockful of discipline and then some. You are helpless. To his wrath, you are subjected. But, you don’t mind. The truth of the matter is, your body is always alive when buried under his. 

“You’re a minx,” a deep voice states behind you. 

You sit up, fruit juice trailing down your arm. Lips in a pout, you gaze up at the tall man behind you. Blonde hair, symmetrical face, sharp collarbone, broad chest and - he smirks - and, oh so sinister. How could a delicate smile be so devilishly sincere? And he brands you a minx… what does this handsome man know of you? How long has he been watching? Swallowing your bite thickly, you try and fail to fathom his beauty.

He pushes himself off the tree trunk and circles around you. His eyes dance around the thin, red blanket, the array of fruits, and braided loaves by the wicker basket before trailing up your exposed legs. A shiver snakes around your curves. The way his eyes devour you makes you think he did not stumble upon this hideaway accidentally. Namjoon took extensive measures to ensure no one would. No, this man knows. He must. Why else would he not question your presence alone under the only tree? He accepts it, expects it. 

Pushing your sticky arms around your breast, you attempt to somewhat conceal yourself and ask, “Are you a traveller?” 

He shakes his head. The wind plays with his hair the moment the sun emerges behind heavy clouds. Its natural glow lights up his figure, in all its holy glory. Well-toned, pierceless, inkless, chiseled features are all too accurate to be human. He is pure. There is very little scarring on his skin as well. He looks down right angelic, prophetic, utterly godly. 

Has Namjoon really entertained your fantasies? You first made the suggestion off hand, completely innocent in your phrasing, until his face fell. Stone fierce gaze slicing through your soul, you couldn’t help but describe an ocean’s worth of desires involving more than one man by your side. You were fucked to tears against the tree until it’s branches were bare and the ground was covered in ripe fruit and loose leaves. You thought that would be the end of it. But now, as you carefully stare at the god while he shamelessly sips on your near nakedness, you wonder just how wrong you might have been. 

“Have you come to watch?”  

“To worship.”

Your arousal slicks your thighs. Pressing your legs together, you suppress the giddy shivers that caress your spine. Though excited, you really can’t believe Namjoon did it. It was a joke but, scanning the sun god’s frame once more, you’re glad he didn’t take it that way. Face flushed, you lie back in your previous position. On your side, breasts on full display, you toss your hair aside. As your lips part to question the details of his intentions, you catch a familiar silhouette by the sea, in the distance. Flickering your gaze between the two men, you wonder if this new god was sent to test your loyalty or limits? The figure nods. You smile.

Attention returning to the golden god, you ask, “Apollo, is it?”

“Taehyung,” he corrects.

“Is that the name you prefer I scream?”

He pauses. Those mismatched eyes widen at your intrepidity. Dazed in confusion, he scans your frame once again, as if reprocessing your presence. He’s underestimated your wits, you realize, but the newfound understanding in his eyes reassures you that it won’t happen again. Good. He’s a quick learner. 

Quirking a brow at the blanket beneath you, he asks, “May I?”

You nod once. He licks his lips twice, bites on the bottom one, then seats himself beside you. On his side, bare chest on display, he takes in the scenery from this new angle. Flowers bloom under a peachy dawn, and the vast fields of greenery wither to sandy shores where the sea waves as a way of greeting. His cocky stare lingers on your boyfriend before settling back to your little shrine underneath the orange tree. It’s a parthenon all on its own, with you as the center of its divinity. This detail seems to intrigue him more than it should, but you assume it might also have something to do with being watched. 

Taking his hand in yours, you feel the dimming warmth of the setting sun. Who’s manning the chariot, you wonder, and would he be willing to let you ride it? Your bones tremble beneath your flesh at the impression of a distant growl. Oh, right. You almost forgot Ares can read your mind. Being something of a soulmate, he’s connected to you in ways other gods are not. Another growl slices through your thoughts. Jealousy sounds so good on him. Hearing his frustrations, knowing he’s enjoying the way you indulge, flusters the anxious bundle of nerves at your core. 

Taehyung chuckles. Inches away now, his hot breath fans over your cheek. Fingers trailing up from your hand, along your arm then to your neck, he wraps his hand around your throat. He presses his thumb in the divet just under your chin, teasing a choke but never actually going through with it. You wonder what Namjoon must be hissing by the sea. What kind of curses is he throwing? Just picturing his furious eyes and cliffed jaw tickles the pit of your stomach. 

“You’re precious,” Taehyung whispers, lips pressed against your chin. “I understand why he hides you from us.”

Us? Olympus knows of your blasphemous citrus temple? Usually, this kind of revelation would grant you a lightning bolt to the heart and an eternity in Tartarus. Only this wakes something different in Taehyung. His breath shallows, erection pokes at your thigh. He’s aroused by the idea of worshipping someone as powerless as a mortal. Or perhaps, you wonder as Taehyung nibbles on your skin, he simply adores displaying his power. Either or, you decide to make the most of what your Ares has granted you. Gaze finding his broad frame again, you let out an exaggerated gasp. 

Namjoon flinches. However, it isn’t until you press your body against Taehyung’s that he cringes. He shifts his weight, fist clenched by his sides and you swear you can see steam hovering over his head. Namjoon is livid. But, Taehyung is oblivious. Too consumed by your pleasure, he tightens his grip on your throat and trails his open-mouthed kisses down to your breasts. Nipple between his teeth, Taehyung groans in hunger. Tongue teasing, he licks to play, not to soothe any of the stings. Your toes and legs hook around his waist. Hips rolling, you tease a preview of what you have in mind.

Taehyung shifts half an inch away though. You know it’s not because he didn’t enjoy the gesture, the throb against your hip reassuring you just how much he would really enjoy it. It still hurts your pride, however. Twinges of humiliation taint your soft features. He offers half a smirk as a means of comfort. 

“He told me you’ve got quite a mouth.”

Is that an excuse or explanation? In both cases, it’s weak. He traces your face, fingertips so soft you almost forget the indirect rejection. Charming, his tiger starved gaze reflects hints of amusement. You’re easy prey, a fact that crumbles your courage. He is not here to coddle your pride, to serve the goddess of this naturous parthenon, but rather to obliviate it. A pitiful pile of pleasure is all he wishes to make of you. Though, now you wonder, is he doing this because he wants to, or because he’s ordered to? 

Eyes darting between Apollo and Ares, you swallow thickly. The wondrous glow in Taehyung’s gaze makes you pause. Perhaps you’ve been too hasty. Perhaps they were both counting on that. The humiliation returns ten fold and prickles your skin upon realizing how careless you have been. Too quick to show your keen interest in devouring a different dose of daylight, you did not make Taehyung work as hard as he should’ve. And knowing that must have been what Namjoon was expecting only festers your heart with anger. This isn’t an opportunity to indulge, you conclude, but to reprimand. The both of them want to sip on your submission. The role of a meek mortal amuses them more than it should. It turns you on more than it should. So, you pull away more than you should. 

Laying back on your elbows, you redirect your gaze to the sky. You can feel both pairs of eyes studying you. Taehyung props himself up on his forearm and looks over at your suddenly calmed features. It’s almost as if you’ve never exchanged a word at all. 

“Funny,” you restart, all cards hidden this time. “He never mentioned you.” 

Angry, confused, perhaps both, Taehyung stares. He blink, blink, blinks before he fully registers what’s been said. You can feel Namjoon’s delight though. The pride he has in the way you sassed a rival resonates deep in your core.

As you shimmy out of your dress, Taehyung finally scoffs a chuckle. You attempt to ignore the way it lights your soul with desire and focus on Namjoon’s silhouette. He looks closer, lurking by the tall grass, though still near the sand. Fully naked, you try to school your features and pretend you don’t notice the way Namjoon’s jaw clenches while Taehyung’s falls slack. Your hands rests on Taehyung’s bare thigh long enough to make him shudder and your boyfriend growl. It’s almost all too easy to push Namjoon’s buttons. He hates it when you do something simply because you can. 

“You abuse your power,” he always tells you. 

And, with a smile, you always reply, “I don’t abuse anything, Joonie. You just can’t refuse it.” 

Taehyung seems to prove this statement now, falling prey to the way you toy with him. Half focused, you’re paying enough attention to him to feel his frustration. Displeased with the way you have your eyes glued on the god of war, Taehyung huffs and inches closer. 

“Do I need to plant you an orange tree?” he teases. Well, he attempts to anyways. The resentment in his tone seeps through instead. 

You bite back a smirk. “You can try.”

His eyes flash with annoyance. Chewing on the insides of his cheeks, Taehyung raises a brow. It’s hard to tell what he’s thinking, but you can safely assume he’s highly debating it. His eyes shift around the tree the two of you currently lounge under. Sparing you a glance, he scoffs. Perhaps he doesn’t think it’s worth it, you wonder. It’s no matter to you. All it really means is more time spent frustrating him, teasing him beyond- 

The ground crackles, splitting open with the presence of new roots. Bare branches rise and twist around the orange tree trunk. The deep green leaves sprout. Then, ripe figs bloom. They dangle closer to you than the oranges do. You don’t have much time to really admire them, however, as a loud rumble rattles your bones. The sound is enough to snap your fearful eyes to the seashore. Namjoon is gone. 

Shit. Have you taken this too far? Namjoon did plant this tree for you. He had never so much so as looked at another mortal. His allegiance, devotion, and adoration has been declared to you on more than one occasion. You are all he ever sees, thinks, breathes. Swallowing thickly, you mentally call him back. It’s all in good fun, you try to convince him. A quiet hum from the other side of the line is enough to soothe your anxiety. You lean back into the other god.

Taehyung couldn’t be less concerned. Instead of searching for Namjoon, as you seem to be interested in doing, he latches his lips onto your shoulder, a single hand cupping your breast. You gasp. Taking this as an encouragement to continue, Taehyung trails a wet arrangement of open mouthed kisses along your neck. Lips pressed to the shell of your ear, he hisses, “Quite a fucking mouth, indeed.” He digs his fingertips into the flesh of your breast and continues, “Might need some good dick to keep it in check.”

The thought is appealing. So much so, that you cannot help the way your eyes widen and glisten with interest. Having his cock shoved down your throat while he growls at the sheer sight of it alone has compelled your undivided attention. But, Namjoon’s rage still scratches at your bones, warning you against playing too much. 

You scoff. “Who says I don’t already have that?”

Taehyung does not reply. Not a smirk graces his lips nor breath escapes him. He simply leans in for a kiss. You find yourself giving in all too quickly. He slides his hand down to cup the space between your thighs and you cannot find it within you to push it away. In fact, you spread your legs further apart and tell yourself it’s reactive. The jolt of your hips up into his hand though… that might’ve been calculative. 

But the simple gesture of rolling your hips into his palm has shown all your cards once more. He reclaims the power, pulling away from the kiss and your sex. He clutches onto your hair, a deadpan expression the only means of emotion now. In huffing silence, he yanks on your hair, guiding your head down to his crotch. You hiss, the gesture proving more pleasurable than painful as you feel a fresh rush of your wetness further stain your legs. 

His silk skirt, pinned up and hanging from his hip by an arrowed, gold pin, lies in a disarried pile beside him. His huge cock is all that stands before you. He’s thicker than Namjoon, but, even with its impressive length, it does not compare to your boyfriend’s size. Taehyung is massive, but Namjoon is monstrous. 

Your mouth still salivates all the same. Tip oozing precum, Taehyung shoves your face against his balls. His thick scent rolls your tongue out. Heavy in lust, he mostly smells of lemons and cream. You’ve always adored citrus… Namjoon knows this well. And though you expected to feel your boyfriend’s anger at this revelation, all you feel on the other side is emptiness. You wonder where he’s gone. 

Or, at least you attempt to wonder. The moment you feel the impression of Taehyung’s weighty balls against your lips, all your thoughts dissipate. You swirl your tongue around each one before dropping them in your mouth. Suckling, drool dripping, your enthusiasm cannot be hidden any longer. Moaning maniactically, your eyes roll back.

Taehyung gasps and hisses. The peak of his groans, however, surfaces when you wrap a hand around his thick cock. You were ready to start pumping until you realized a single hand barely even covers half of him. Both hands wrapped around his length now, you twist and drag them up and down. Every so often, you tighten your grip a bit and let out a throaty moan. He shudders each time, legs trembling from your attention. 

On your knees, with your ass up high for any onlookers to easily see, the wind lashes at your heat. You squeal, then pull his balls out of your mouth to spit on his cock. The thick wad makes it easier to pump him. Brows furrowed, he runs a hand through his golden hair and shakily sighs… then his sight sets on something behind you. He smirks, white canines a dangerous nod to his power. 

A familiar hand rests on the small of your back, the other landing a harsh smack on your ass. You scream and fall forward onto Taehyung, face fully buried in his cock now. He laughs heartily, running a hand through your hair as a weak excuse for comfort. 

The hand behind you does not stop after one smack. It goes in for second, then third, and before you know it, your ass is burning with stings and pussy wetter than the ocean behind you. The pain ignites something viciously erotic, cradling your heart enough to make you whimper. It’s the idea of being used, you assume, and it only makes you perk your ass up higher. 

His raspy scoff makes you shiver, spine tingling with excitement. He gropes onto your ass and grunts, “Don’t try to be a good girl now.” 

Tangling his fingers in your hair, Namjoon uses this harsh grip to shove your face further against Taehyung’s crotch. He pulls back and tries again, making sure your mouth engulfs his friend’s cock this time. 

“You want to suck his cock, huh? Then fucking suck, you little slut,” he growls.

Your face flames with embarrassment. You can’t even bring yourself to meet Taehyung’s gaze. He merely laughs through a moan, leaning back on his hands as he watches you choke on his cock. You really can’t take him all in one go; you haven’t even found a way to take Namjoon in a single motion. But, your boyfriend couldn’t care less. He pushes your head down and keeps it there. Your jaw aches, throat burns, contracting around Taehyung’s thickness enough to make him throw his head back. Tears spill and spill and you foolishly think this will be the height of his punishment. 

Then, in he goes. 

“Such a wet little bitch,” Namjoon hisses as he pushes his cock into your pussy. 

You let out a strangled whine against Taehyung, much to his pleasure, and attempt to spread your legs, but Namjoon keeps them in place. They’re barely a hip’s length apart. The pain prickles against your pussy’s wall, making you gag a sob around Taehyung’s cock. The pressure of Namjoon’s huge dick behind you and the weight of Taehyung’s in your mouth trembles your posture. You shake under the intimidation and it doesn’t help at all that Taehyung’s dick is suffocating you. 

Namjoon pulls your head up the moment he fully enters. Gasping, you try to catch your breath. You inhale deeply each time, worried Namjoon will shove you back down on Taehyung’s cock without warning. Instead, he gives you a quick moment to breathe, ramming in and out of you like he’s riding a stallion. 

Taehyung, eyes half-lidded, admires the way you drool and babble all over yourself. You heave, holding his gaze long enough to realize he’s mocking you, tongue out and breathes exasperated. Then he laughs and Namjoon laughs, and your pride shrivels up. Dignity on the brink of shattering, you try to avoid his gaze, biting your lip to swallow your moans as Namjoon works his way in and out of you. 

But Taehyung will not have any of that. He nudges your wet chin back to him and teasingly pouts. “Is baby embarrassed?” he asks, tone more menacing than that taunting gaze of his. You glare at him, but he doesn’t seem fazed. Cupping your chin, Taehyung squeezes your cheeks to pucker your lips. “Answer me,” he seethes. 

Parting your lips, you’re about to confirm his statement when Namjoon grunts behind you. He  thrusts his hips particularly harder this time and your balance crumbles. You fall over Taehyung. He catches you with his lips, his hand trailing from your face to your neck and gripping onto it like he owns it. 

Namjoon is displeased. With a growl, he snaps his hips up, balls shoving their way in you too. Your teeth knock with Taehyung, causing him to grunt and glare at the god behind you. You watch him stare your boyfriend down while tightening his grip on your neck. He goes to say something, a curse judging by the placement of his lips in his teeth, but Namjoon pulls you out of his grasp before Taehyung can even get a syllable out. 

Replacing Taehyung’s hand with his own on your neck, Namjoon pulls you back up against his chest. His other hand wraps around your waist. Lips to the shell of your ear, he hammers into you and whispers, “Don’t go forgetting who you belong to.”

You hold Taehyung’s hard stare. His face reddens, cheeks drawn into his mouth as he glares. You whimper, pouting and nodding to Namjoon, but neither one of them seems convinced. Taehyung’s brows raise as if you’ve given him some sort of sign, and Namjoon’s hissing warnings against getting carried away. 

“Better not say his name.”

Out of sheer spite, you part your lips to utter the other’s name. However, the word is consequently pounded right out of your mind the moment it emerges. Neither god gives you another moment to develop a reply at all as they battle for your attention. A part of you wishes that each of them simply takes turns, but you already know how useless that would be. Neither one of them will be willing to wait and watch. Namjoon already slipped himself in, the act of watching being too distant for him. 

And it seems to be the same for Taehyung as well. He can’t sit still, can’t just watch you get ravished by someone else. You catch the annoyed twinkle in his eye darkening every time Namjoon makes you scream. Swallowing thickly, Taehyung shifts so that he’s lying by your knees and pulls the plump, upper flesh of your pussy apart. Then, smirking, he dips his head in and enthusiastically sucks on your clit. Teeth grazing, he bites and nibbles, drawing the most high-pitched squeals out of you. Your fingers tangle in his hair, pushing his face further against your pussy. 

Namjoon huffs a groan against your cheek. Pounding in full force, he loosens his grip on you a bit. Your hips jolt forward, Taehyung’s teeth clamping down on your clit. You cry out, both hands back over Namjoon’s arm. The god by your knees did not escape unscathed either, his lips slightly bruised from the hit. He drags his gaze up to you, glare deadly. 

Guts twisting in ecstasy and guilt, you whimper and shake your head. “Sorr-” 

Your apology clinches in your throat as Namjoon tightens his grip on it. “Shut the fuck up, you filthy whore,” he grunts into your hair. 

Taehyung catches onto Namjoon’s sly gesture quickly, hungry eyes aflame for vengeance. “Keep her still, or I’ll fuck her into the ground.” His deep voice tickles the swirling pit of your stomach. So rich and raspy, his dulcet voice guides you closer to your orgasm than you’d be brave enough to admit. 

Subsequently, Taehyung relatches his lips to your clit. Namjoon swallows enough of his pride not to shake him off again. And you shudder as high doses of ecstasy creep over your nerves. It pumps your veins with excitement, anticipation and sheer joy. Even when they’ve mocked you and used you as a pocket pussy- a set of holes, you cannot deny how horny it makes you for them. 

Namjoon huffs your name in your ear, whispering about your tightness, about how he knows how fucking close you are. “Baby is gonna cream,” he mockingly coos. “Do you want him to taste you? Are you that much of a slut, you want another man to taste you? He’ll get addicted.” Namjoon grunts thrice before continuing, “But you already know that, right? You want him addicted. You want him to worship that little cunt of yours, hmm?”

“Yes, yes, yes, oh fuck yes!” you screech. Whether it is in reply to his questions or simply a reaction to the dual assault of your pussy, you’re not quite certain. But, Namjoon is. And he’s irate. Shaking with anger, his pounds reach a pace unknown to gods, even Taehyung raises an impressed brow. 

Your next intake of air cinches somewhere in your throat. You try to scream, to cry, to make some sort of sound as your cum rushes out of you. Gushing, slouching, your pussy makes enough noise that your mouth doesn’t need to. Both men fall victim to it - to you - anyway. Squirming in Namjoon’s hold, there’s very little you can do. Your mind is foggy, vision blurry, but it doesn’t stop either of them. A distant clash of throaty moans fill the fields, though you can’t register much of that either. Your ears are ringing too much to hear more than your own heartbeat struggling to keep up. 

Taehyung growls, his hands constantly knocking against Namjoon’s. Your dazed gaze falls to meet his. Eyes blazed with sexual frustration, he claws at your hips and pulls you forward against him. Namjoon, however, keeps a strong hold on your waist. Your torso’s his for the taking. He grabs hold of your chin and whips your head back to him. 

“You look at me when you cum,” he seethes. “Or you won’t cum at all next time.” 

Half a breath escapes you in response, but it seems to be half a breath too late. Namjoon emits a raspy groan so sinister it would be a crime to simply call it a growl. He roars. You feel the vibrations of the sound in your spine, another dose of your cum rushing through you. Then, all too quickly, he lets go of you. It takes his hands off your chest for you to realize your legs gave out long ago. You instantly fall to your knees. Taehyung is quick to catch you in his arms. Lips inches apart, Taehyung looks ready to share some of his oxygen with you when Namjoon orders, “Turn her around.”

Taehyung glares over your head. Gulping, his lips twitch in a fake smile as he lifts you. You, however, cannot let him give in that easily. Besides, nothing is better than angering the god of war. His stubborn, victory-bound heart will not rest until you submit to him over Taehyung. And, throwing you into the enemy’s arms does not seem like he’s trying hard enough to win, to discipline you. So, after Taehyung turns you around in his lap, you press a passionate kiss upon his lips, slipping your tongue in for good measure. Taehyung snakes his hand between your legs too, fingers playing all too much for you to stay silent. Between kisses, you sneak a glance at Namjoon, finding Taehyung already doing the same thing.  

Towering over you, skin inked, nipples pierced, muscles flexed and slick with sweat, Namjoon huffs. His jaw is locked, a gesture you’ve learned isn’t at all meant to be comforting. With his cheeks sucked in and a brow quirked, Namjoon jerks himself off to the sight of you so openly defiant.

“Open your dirty mouth,” Namjoon orders through gritted teeth. “I need to clean it out.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, his fingers ceasing their movements as he cups your sex instead. “So dramatic,” he teases, earning a cold stare from Namjoon. 

You resist the urge to giggle, having to choose your battles carefully. Taehyung has already gotten too much attention anyways, you decide. Pushing his hand away from your pussy, you ignore the wet kisses Taehyung peppers upon the nape of your neck and gaze up at Namjoon with your mouth open. 

He bites his lip to keep from smirking. And, with a loud, chest drawn groan, he releases his load all over your chin and breasts. The warmth of his cum sets your skin ablaze. It feels just as thick as it tastes. Licking around your face, you try to swallow whatever you can get. A little smile breaks out on Namjoon’s face, swelling your heart with pride. 

However, Taehyung isn’t as moved by the gesture as you are. He tangles a hand in your hair and pulls your head back against his shoulder. “That’s enough of that,” he breathes over your face. Then he wipes the rest of Namjoon’s cum off with the pad of his thumb and pecks your lips. He rubs the cum into your nipples, teasing them between his thumb and forefinger. 

You almost forget Namjoon's presence. That is, until he grabs hold of your ankles and yanks you right out of Taehyung’s hold. With a loud gasp, you’re on your back, legs spread and Namjoon at the center. He gazes lazily down at you, like handling your body is a casual passtime. There is something glittering within that suspicious ease, however. Something cocky, angry, and terrifying. Hand around your neck, Namjoon jerks you off the floor and shoves you back into Taehyung’s arms. 

The golden god catches you with a grunt. He draws his brows together in confusion, silently questioning Namjoon. He parts his lips, but your boyfriend huffs, cutting him off. Namjoon grabs you by your bicep and turns you around to face Taehyung. 

After making sure your legs are spread and straddling the other god’s waist, Namjoon seethes, “The simplest instructions.” His warm tongue darts out to lick the shell of your ear. Between nibbles he continues, “You can’t even follow the simplest instructions. That can’t be easily forgiven anymore, baby.”

You’re not quite sure what he means, considering he’s never punished you in this position before. Usually, being on top is a reward. He grants you a sliver of control, consequence free, when you’ve been well-behaved. This level of generosity is a rarity. However, as Namjoon pushes you further into Taehyung, with you wrapped around his torso, you begin to wonder what kind of punishment you’re in for, and which one of them is administering it. 

Of course, these thoughts are fleeting as Taehyung’s fat cock prods around your pulsing hole. Sparks of bliss set to flames the nerves bunching around your clit. You shudder each time he brushes his tip against it. Petting your hair back just to grab it, Taehyung breathes a chuckle into the crook of your neck. He licks and sucks on your delicate skin like you belong to him. And for a split second, you almost think you do. The sweet, wet kisses and the way he eases into you only just has you forgetting that Namjoon is standing over you, watching as another god worships.

With a smack, your memories jolt back. The sting of both cheeks makes you all too aware of his presence now. You cry out, falling over Taehyung clumsily. The spank hit so hard, so fast that it even has Namjoon hissing from the impact. Even still, he smacks you again and again and again. “You still have no idea what you’ve asked for, do you?” he questions. 

You thought you did. You hoped you did. But, as Namjoon spanks you with added force, you realize just how right he is. You whimper into Taehyung’s shoulder. He’s kept his cock warm in your tight, clenching hole when Namjoon begins to get vicious with his spanks. Chuckling and mocking you in whispers, Taehyung finds your suddenly all too obedient state entertaining. It flames your face with shame, your entire body caught between wanting another serving of cock or slaps. He imitates your whimpers, coaxing more tears out of you before hissing, “If you had any real shame, you’d get off my cock and go suck your boyfriend’s.”

“She’s a fucking slut,” Namjoon answers, landing another slap to your tenders cheeks. “Why’d you stop fucking her?”

Some humanity flashes in Taehyung’s eyes as you nuzzle your face against his. He mutters something incoherent, along the lines of, “She can’t handle it.” 

“She can!” Namjoon grunts as he finally rubs your pain buzzed ass. A shaky whine escapes you and tickles Taehyung’s ear. “You can take it, right, baby?” he asks, digging his nails into your flesh. 

You whine in agreement. It’s not enough. He needs to hear you say- scream it. Grabbing a handful of your hair, he peels you off Taehyung enough for him to get a good look at your face. He folds his hands under his head, smirking at the sight of you so shattered by pleasure of being in pain. Face flushed, wet, cum stained and eyes innocent, your features fold in raptured anguish. 

Namjoon roughly kneads your right cheek while pressing the length of his cock against it. “Can you take the fucking like a good girl?” He mockingly coos. It juts a chorus of shivers down your spine. 

You squeeze tight around Taehyung at the thought. He rasps your name. Namjoon growls lowly, rubbing himself against you as he warns, “You’re not gonna make me ask you a third time, are you?” 

Taehyung shifts his hips, cinching your breath at your throat from the stroke of friction. Why did he have to be so big, so pretty and hot staring at you like that? Why’d you have to go tempting gods you know you can’t keep up with? You regret angering Namjoon, realizing that jealousy is the worst power trip you can feed a god. They both want to watch you fall apart, crumble into a pile of bones. Tears spill at the thought, pussy aching around a cock too big to adjust to. Every nerve feels so sensitive, so overused, yet you need to cum again. 

No. You can’t take it. But, you’ll be damned if you tell either of them that. And as Namjoon lays another sharp smack on your cheeks, tingling with pain, you circle your hips around Taehyung’s and cry out a broken, breathy and utterly desperate, “Y-es!”

Taehyung grips onto your hips, pulling you half out. You expect to be plunged onto his cock with a new degree of force, but find another one attempting to squeeze in as well. Namjoon’s monster cock pushing into your pussy alongside Taehyung’s. Your jaw drops, eyes roll back as that viciously delicious stretch strangles your soul with bliss. He enters you slow, but sharp, knowing full well that the both of them cannot fit. 

Neither cares. Both gods create a quickly speeding rhythm of thrusts into you. Body jolting forwards, breasts shaking over Taehyung’s face and ass bouncing against Namjoon’s hips. He hunches over you to groan your name in your ear, voice husky with lust and dominance. He repeats the word like a prayer. Every syllable drips slow out of his lips like thick molasses when his voice reaches such depth. 

You try to lean back into him, but Taehyung keeps you in place with the tight grip on your hips. “Stay still,” he grunts against your nipple. Then, he sucks on it, teasing the little nub between his teeth. 

You moan a little too loud at Taehyung’s ministrations for Namjoon’s liking. Both hands locked on your ass, Namjoon pushing your cheek up and against Taehyung. You lose whatever balance you had weighted on your arms, falling flat against the sun god with a squeal. His cock fully plugs into you and when he tries to thrust up against you once more, Namjoon growls, “Both of you stay still.”

A shiver tickles your spine with the wind. As Taehyung kisses your neck, you attempt to sneak a peek at your boyfriend over your shoulder and push your ass back into him. He’s sweaty and huffing. The peachy sunset behind him halos around his muscular frame. He’s so pretty when he’s mad, all those veins lacing his inked skin like little spider webs. His gaze finds yours, that annoyed look intensifying in his eyes when you wink at him.

And though it was completely innocent, it still switches something off in Namjoon. He shifts his tight grip on your ass to the small of your back then, all at once, presses down onto it with the entirety of his strength. A series of loud cracks elicit from your spine like the fire of a gun at the start of a race. And away go his hips as he rams in and out of your too full pussy. 

Screams and sudden sobs pour out of you and onto Taehyung as the both of you get shaken by Namjoon’s force. You know your back isn’t broken, blown out maybe, but definitely not broken. You just didn’t think this would be the result of his jealousy and anger. Did he think you were mocking him with that wink, with Taehyung? Perhaps some mocking did occur with Taehyung around, but he’s always liked your snarkier side. He tells you to behave because he knows you won’t and adores it when you don’t. But, maybe you did take it too far, and give into Taehyung too much. You really wish you can say, with all this overstimulating and teasing and taunting, that you regret it all. 

Only, you don’t. 

Clutching tighter onto Taehyung’s shoulders, your tears fall as freely as your broken moans. Namjoon smacks his hips over your ass, pounding your pussy like it’s just you two here. It’s not as though Taehyung is lying under you, obsessing over how tight you are and just how amazing you smell. 

“You know why he’s so mad right,” he questions quietly, voice strained. When you shake your head, he chuckles and whispers, “Because he knows how much better I make you feel.”

The whimper that leaves you was by no means a response to whatever Taehyung was going on about. Though he gives it to you great, he doesn’t compare to your boyfriend. You suppose Namjoon knows this too, somewhere within that deep connection you two share. Still, he holds you further down against Taehyung, practically melding your body into his, and thrusts at an ungodly speed just as he did when he caught you sucking Taehyung’s cock. 

You’re not sure either of them understand the load of pleasure they are washing over you. Taehyung has his giant cock stationed in your pussy with his tip pressing continuously against your g-spot as Namjoon’s monstrous cock jabs at it again and again. 

Body trembling, voice broken, you squeal, “I’m- ahhgh I’m gon-na cuu-uum.”

“Me too,” Taehyung husks in your ear. It has you clenching tighter. 

Namjoon scoffs through a moan. “No, you’re fucking not.” 

“But, Joon-”

A harsh smack against your ass silences your protests. “You know what to do when you’re close,” he grunts.

Yes, you do. But there isn’t much time to beg. You have two huge cocks in you and if he thinks he can coax some sort of plea- 

“Fuck,” you cry as he spanks you again. 

“ASK!” he roars, hands on your back just to make it crack all over again.

Drooling, whimpering, eyes rolling, you somehow find it in you to hold back your orgasm long enough to beg, “Please, fuck, just let me cum! Please, please, Namjoon!” 

“Just fucking let her cum,” Taehyung grunts. 

Namjoon snakes one of his hands up your spine, hips still ramming into you all the same, and latching onto your hair. Slowly, he peels you off of Taehyung and holds you against his chest. You screw your eyes shut in an attempt not to cream both their cocks. 

With his lips at your ear, he whispers, “Look down at him.” After forcing your eyes open and down at Taehyung, who looks all too pleased with your ruined state, Namjoon orders, “Thank him for a good time.”

Panting, lips a spitty mess, you whimper, “Thank you for a good time.” 

Taehyung rubs your thighs. “She’s just as fun when she’s a good girl,” he hisses to himself. 

Namjoon chuckles, wrapping his free hand around your throat. “You’re my best girl either way,” he whispers to you. The praise makes you shiver, your orgasm almost slipping right out of your control. 

“Please let me cum now,” you cry. “Please, I need it.” 

Taking a deep breath of your scent, Namjoon peppers little kisses along your jawline. “Shall we all cum together?” he asks before nodding to Taehyung. The sun god’s hips jolt back to act and soon each one is back to taking turns to smash your already too sensitive spot. 

You nod energetically. Truthfully, you don’t care if either one of them cums, just as long as they let you do it now. 

Taehyung shifts one of his hands further up your hips, his thumb working fast and small circles over your clit. You’re quaking, head thrown back against Namjoon’s shoulders, eyes rolling and screwed shut when Namjoon orders you to look at him. You force them open enough to watch a wicked swirl of power and lust gleam in his eyes. With a single breath, lips hovering over yours, he whispers, “Cum.”

Your vision spots black before failing all together as an extreme dose of ecstasy floods your senses. Their growls collide with your breathless screams in a cacophony of pleasure with each shot of cum they fill you with. And you return the favour, coating each cock with more cum than you think you’ve ever offered. In and out, they still go, desperate to leave you dripping with the impression of both of them for days. 

Namjoon spits in your mouth a bit and chuckles quietly when you still find it in you to swallow it. “You just had to be a fucking brat, hmm?” he groans as both his and Taehyung’s thrusts slow down. “Are you satisfied now?”

You hear his words and think that maybe you are processing them, but you really can’t find enough of your voice or energy to respond. Heaving, you know your body gave out well before he even got you in this position and blew your back out. You don’t even realize that you’re slobbering all over yourself until Namjoon licks it all away. Only little whimpers and whines manage to reply to him. It only strengthens that power blown look in his eyes. 

Taehyung suddenly pulls himself out of you. Or rather, Namjoon pulls you up and off his cock. Then, he stands up on his knees and presses a soft kiss to your mouth, despite Namjoon’s annoyed groan. “And thank you for such a great evening, my-”

“She’s not yours!”

You watch through somewhat blurry vision as the two gods glare at each other. Taehyung then glances over at the fig vines laced around the orange tree. With a smirk, he nods. His hands fondle your breast one more time before he grabs what little clothes he came with. Then, with the sun, he’s gone. 

Basking in the glow of the moon, Namjoon slowly pulls out of you. His touches are now all too gentle to even register, or maybe your skin is simply still on fire from such a rough fucking. Either way, he’s careful in how he handles you now. Cradling you to his chest, he helps you lay down. He kisses your forehead and mutters, “Take a deep breath.” 

You do so. Again and again. When you’re breathing somewhat regulates, your mind finally catches up with where you are now. Resting in Namjoon’s arms, his silk skirt draped over your body like a blanket, you gaze up at the stars. 

“He planted figs,” Namjoon mutters.

You shift against his chest before shrugging. “He did.” You’re not sure why that simple detail seems to tick him off so much. They’re just figs. 

“Do you still like oranges though?”

It suddenly clicks in your head. His anger translating into worry. Does he really think that you’d give him up for Taehyung? He should know you well enough to know he’s your world. And if you weren’t so sore or weak, you would have gotten up and picked the ripest orange and shared it with him. Instead, you turn in his lap, suppressing the urge to hiss at the sparks of pain running up and down your back, and press a soft kiss to his lips. 

“I love oranges.” 

He fights off a smile, but relief reflects in his gaze. “I’m sure they love you too,” he mutters like he hasn’t told you so before. 

It all doesn’t matter too much anyways. He’s yours and you’re his. No other god, no matter how many times they stop by, will change that. This is, after all, your orange tree. 

note; please do not leave hate towards me or any other readers. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work without my permission.

[chiwhorei]

the devil makes

pairing: benimaru shinmon x reader x joker/52

genre: smut, 18+ minors dni

word count: ~2.2k

tags: a touch of branding (he flicks his cigarette at you i just really don’t know how else to tag it), knifeplay (except it’s a playing card, only a smidge of blood), rough oral, face fucking, voyeurism, spit, anal, double penetration, degradation, spanking, belly bulge, it’s a little dubconny but not really?

a/n: my first full fire force piece woot woot! these two characters make me so fucking horny and when they shared the screen my pussy was completely inconsolable. thank you @messwriting and @10millionyearsdungeon for looking over this and always encouraging me.

hymn: wrong by MAX ft. lil uzi vert

you, and me, and the devil makes three.

“Why don’t you cut the shit and tell me what you want,” you pluck the cigarette from your caller’s lips, he presses his saccharine smile down at the edges to feign a pout.

You know better by now. Your legs hang on either side of Joker’s hips, his white dress shirt doing almost nothing to cover skin filled with a new flight of bites and bruises. The last set had just faded when you heard the tell-tale knock at your front door.

His timing is always impeccable, hat in hand and dipping under your doorway just as the wanton throbbing sizzles into a dull ache.

Deeply inhaling, nicotine breaches your throat and prickles past your lungs. You only ever smoke when he’s around. At this point, you’re not sure if it’s a necessity or a habit.

“Do I need a reason to visit my favorite girl?” His voice trails around your skin in tune with a wandering set of hands. It’s infuriating how easily your body relents to Joker’s fingerprints. You’ll feel them like scorch marks for days to come.

“I’m not your girl and I doubt I’m your favorite.” You bush off his quip, cigarette bobbing in your teeth before he pulls it from your mouth to drag. With a flick of his finger, ash falls like burning snow onto the juncture of your collarbone. You wince and fall forward into his chest.

“You’ve proven yourself the most useful, is that better?” Joker pulls you into a searing kiss, pushing tongue and smoke into your awaiting mouth.

“At least it’s more honest.” Joker laughs loudly, his head falling back against the mattress. Your pillows will smell like sage and campfire, you’ll pretend it doesn't lull you to sleep.

“I need your help to, achem, seal a deal of sorts. For the greater good of course.”

Eyes roll upwards, first with guffaw, but any argument melts with the feeling of his lips on a warpath from the angle of your jaw to the swell of your breast.

Joker promises to make it worth your while, in the ways you always seem to let him.

Against all better judgement.

* * *

“Well, Captain,” Joker presses a sharp ace against the curve of your collarbone, leaving a trail of crimson in its wake, “she’s a pretty little toy ain’t she?”

Pleasure coats your tongue, it tastes like blood and incense.

In the short time they’ve been acquainted, Benimaru has learned to be unsurprised with any impromptu meetings Joker could plan.

What Beni wasn’t expecting was your naked, flushed body on the lap of his new associate. He wants to complain about the purple eyed almost-stranger sitting in his private quarters, but any argument flounders for air as soon as you come into view.

You seem completely placid from your position against the anti-hero’s chest, awaiting further instructions with glassy eyes. Any shame you could ever muster lies in a heap of fabric six feet away. Joker always dresses you in something easy to tear off.

“You sure do make an interesting first impression, Joker.” The 7th’s captain walks forward in the dimly lit room, pushing his fingers against your hair and pulling back roughly to steal your undivided attention.

A pretty little toy indeed.

“We’re partners now, Beni,” you can feel Joker’s voice like honeyed venom from behind, every syllable drips against your shoulders, “and partners share.”

Joker flicks the playing card upward, twirling it in deft fingers. You watch his dexterity, the piece of glossy paper is pressed to your lipstick, dragging your bottom lip down slightly before pulling away. A signature painted in soft pink.

The hand on your hip, the one in your hair-- the feeling of two bodies enclosing on you like prey is overwhelming and salacious.

“Does he bring you to do all of his dirty work?” You’re spoken to for the first time, the grip in your hair lifting you from Joker’s lap.

“Only the dirtiest work suits me,” you hold your ground, voice dropping an octave to make both men shudder, “captain.”

Benimaru’s sneer is only an inch from your mouth, his proximity neering closer with every word falling past your lips. If you keep talking like this, Joker won’t want to share his toys anymore.

Pointer finger and thumb come up to cradle your chin, mouth parting with the smallest pressure. Your tongue lulls out slightly, an invitation punctuated with your eyes flitting from his stare to the deep set frown across his face.

The sound of Beni spitting hits your ears, the harsh put bounces against the bannisters. Warmth runs in an indecent trail from the tip to the fattest plane of your tongue.

“Don’t play coy, sweetheart, show ‘em what else you can do with that mouth.” Joker’s palm comes down on your ass cheek hard, a breathy yelp escapes to be swallowed by the man above you.

Beni moves to perch against the desk centered in the ever-condensing room, arms folded across his broad chest. The space feels cold without the body heat you had been stuck in between, you feel exposed fully for the first time since Joker snuck you into company seven.

There’s only a beat of self-cognizance before you’re pushed to the ground by a familiar set of calloused hands. You need no further direction, knees and palms straining against the hardwood as you inch forward.

By the time you’re kneeling in front of Benimaru, his cock is in a tight fist. He pumps himself in long strokes, smearing pre with his thumb to coat the throbbing head. His length is impressive, you can feel saliva pooling in under your tongue as you watch his hand move from base to tip.

The sight almost has you forgetting your manners.

“Will you fuck my mouth, Captain Shinmon?” There’s very little restraint left available behind his icy red irises. Joker sits back in the brown leather chair, a front row seat.

You feel the familiar burn against your scalp with Beni’s searing pull. The red tip hits your mouth and you’re positive a streak of lipstick finds home against your chin.

You’ll be covered in much more before the sun comes up.

His cock is heavy as pushes past your lips inch by thick inch. The groan ripping through your throat is vibrato against the ribbed skin.

“Wow, ah, your sweet little throat was meant for cock wasn’t it?” Tears prick in your eyeline, your vision growing bleary as you swallow. A stray streak of mascara falls down the curve of your cheek before Beni swipes it away. You almost blush. Almost.

He hits the back of your throat with seemingly little effort, you sputter slightly at the burn, your jaw aching to accommodate. Just as you feel him pulling almost all of the way out, Beni slams the full length in again. His pace is brutal and unforgiving. Each thrust earning a new mess of spit and makeup to collect at the edges of your mouth.

“No need to be gentle, Beni, she’s taken a whole lot worse.” You would laugh at the sick curl of Joker’s words if you could. The implication is both irritating and worrisome.

“As much as I would love to cum in that pretty little mouth,” you gasp for air as Beni pulls you off, a thick line of slobber still connecting your bottom lip to his cock, “I really want to feel your cunt wrapped around me instead.”

You hear the sound of Joker’s heavy feet closing in from behind, his grip on the back of your neck to hoist you back up to your feet.

“Partners share, remember?” The lilt in your pursuers voice is sweet in the way sugar free gums rots your teeth. Joker will break you into pieces for the greater good.

It’s sick, absolutely disgusting, how much you crave your own destruction.

“She’s nice and ready for you, captain. Feel how dripping wet she is just from sucking your cock.” His next words suck all of the oxygen from your lungs, he replaces air with tension,

“You can take her cunt, I’m going to fuck her tight little ass.”

“Wait I--” There’s no use pleading, there’s no use in anything but quiet compliance and resolving to the fate of being stuffed completely full.

Four hands are on you, groping the fat on hips and breasts, moving against the pliant skin in tandem. You’re malleable in their hold, hoisted up in Joker’s arms. His grip is unforgiving, crescented bruises are bound to form and be visible for days to come on the inside of your thighs.

Beni captures your lips between his teeth, stealing back your attention with a growl. His kiss is searing, tongue slipping to lash against your own. The stubble grazing his strong jaw is dizzying, he whispers against your lips, licking against your pre-stained mouth. Quiet enough to be either missed or ignored by Joker as he busies himself freeing his cock and grinding itn against your ass.

“Next time I’ll sit you on my face and we can have a little fun one-on-one.” Beni punctuates his promise with a nip to your bottom lip before his hands move to steady you snugly in between two wide chests. His palms rest on the dips of your hips, thumb jutting out to press tightly against your aching clit. The movement rips a hoarse wale from deep in the back of your throat.

“You always cry so pretty, dollface.” Joker’s emboldened by your tears, an invitation to push you farther, you feel two fingers prodding your asshole, using your own slick to assist in his exploration. The sensation is painful and addicting as both digits push past the tight ring of muscle.

His fingers move to work the taught hole open, each ridge of knuckle and callus blurring the line between torment and pleasure. Beni circles your clit, picking up in pace as Joker adds a third finger, the stimulation hurtling you towards orgasm. A litany of please scratch at your throat, begging your captors to steal an orgasm from the pile of shaking limbs in between them.

“Cum, little one, cum so I can fuck this tight little cunt of yours.” Beni’s voice is unmistakably demanding, there’s not a note of suggestion behind his words. Your first orgasm snaps against you like electrocution, buzzing around every nerve.

“That’s my girl,” Joker snickers, feeling the contraction and loosening of your muscles. Your high is the final submission, willing every part of you how they see fit. Little more than a toy, a pawn in a broader game of chess.

“Are you ready for us?” Beni’s voice is framed in question, but you know better than to take it as anything but rhetorical. It doesn't actually matter whether or not you’re ready. What matters is the squeal of pain and temperance that comes from breaking you.

Before you can even nod in agreement, you feel it. The burning fullness, the sealing of a deal between two men that you happen to be placed right in the middle of. Joker’s cock is hot and heavy, sheathing himself in the last plane of virgin flesh. The piercing on his frenum drags against you, a familiar feeling in the most unfamiliar place.

There’s no time to get used to the sensation as Beni is pulling you forward slightly so your weeping pussy is hovering over his length. Your legs dangle, suspended on either side of his forearms. You’re lowered onto the captain, his pace is remarkably gentle as your pubic bone meets the sprawling expanse of wirey hair nestled between his hips. As your skin meets on either side of your weeping body, both cocks sheathed completely inside, the canter of either man picks up brutally.

The sticky feeling of sweat and arousal covers every inch of skin in the room, partnering with the sound of slapping and thrusting that all but drowns out the pathetic whimpers your suspended form can muster.

“I knew you would make yourself useful, doll. My favorite game to play.”

Your head falls forward against Beni, body growing heavy as the merciless, rhythmic thrumming of your abuse. The dull ache of another orgasm drips into your bloodstream. Your abused bundle of nerves become live wires, sparking against Joker’s wandering fingers as they wrap around your front.

“I can feel it, ya’ know, I can feel myself in your stomach.” His taunt is stressed with his palm pressing down against your abdomen before dipping back down once more to pinch your clit.

His rough treatment is the final straw, you scream and cuvulse in the hold of your predators. You squeeze tightly in a succession of muscle spasms that feel like you’re trying to milk both of their own orgasms to crash with your own.

Thick spurts of cum spill into you with a series of deep, final thrusts. You feel your own wetness as it runs down your thighs and ass. Muffled groans from both men fill the stale air as they claim your holes. There’s nothing left in the space between bodies except you caught in the web of spiders, dangling in silken limbs and labored breathing. There’s nothing left to give or take.

There’s nothing but panting and sweat and a deal with the devil.

all writing is dymphnasprose’s original content, please do not repost or modify. do no read my content as asmr.©️

[undersero]

So Well

this is my contribution to march magic, the server collab for @buttershouse

please note: i originally chose for my work to take place during sengoku period japan, but overall there is little significant or identifying factors to support this, so generally it's more of an old world au.

pairing: shinsuke kita x fem reader

warnings: arranged marriage (but kita and reader are in love bc i'm a sap), unprotected vaginal sex, gushing, era-appropriate mentions of the gods/ a higher power, passing mention of era-appropriate expectations regarding sex, flirty and playful kita

word count: 3.2k

**this work is intended for 18+ audiences only. minors do not interact. do not repost this work.**

Kita is a very gentle, loving husband. His hands, calloused from work, always touch you tenderly. Fingertips graze your cheeks as he gazes at you, eyes full of fondness. Soft, sturdy palms smooth over your hair as you lay your head on his chest. Heavy, meaningful nudges as he slides his arms around your waist and smooths his hands up over your breasts. Strong and capable arms tug you into his side while you lay in your bed, being surrounded by his warmth and comfort.

He does little things for you, too. Kita loves preparing your tea for you in the afternoon. It’s never anything special, simple Jasmine tea with a dollop of honey, but he takes great pride in making it for and presenting it to you. He easily reaches tall things and can move things that your arms cannot securely move. More often than you’d initially ever expected, Kita flirts with you- little winks, sometimes he pokes your ticklish sides, tugs affectionately on your hair, kisses the top of your head, bumps your noses together gently.

Kita, who is still so stuck in his ways and his routine, so carefully and lovingly fit you into it so seamlessly it was as if you’d been there all along. He took time for you, to acclimate you into what life on the farm was like; and it was here, amongst all the patience and kind, reassuring smiles, that you truly fell in love with him.

Each morning and each evening, he goes through the garden with you, picking what’s ripe, plucking weeds as needed, and watering. It’s quiet, as things normally are when there’s work to be done, but it’s never awkward. It’s more comfortable than you could have ever imagined. Love doesn’t need constant chatter, and for the two of you, silence works just as well.

Kita is a supportive, loving husband. You couldn’t have chosen a better one if you’d been given the chance.

And if you had been given the chance, if you got to keep what you knew about Kita, you’d pick him every time.

One year ago, when all this started, when you met your future husband for the first time, you were indifferent about the arrangement, and so was he. Being married wasn’t about love or desire, not in the world you two lived in; instead, being married solely revolved around connections, prestige, and social standing. The only silver lining you’d allowed yourself to hope for was that your future husband would be handsome.

And he was. When you first saw him, you were taken aback by his features. You adored and continue to enjoy the direct, honest way he looked at you, how he carried himself with such pride and reliability. The first time you held his hand, feeling it so warm and rough, but gentle all the same, it felt like you’d simply float away, up into the clouds. It was nice. It comforted you, and comfort in love was a luxury you hoped for, but one you never thought you could afford.

One year… it seems both like a lifetime and a second. But now you couldn’t imagine yourself being anywhere else, or being with anyone else. The choice to marry Kita was never yours, but it was one you would make again and again if you could.

Kita, a man of honest words and sometimes hurtful truths, would pick you over and over, too. It was like the gods had been watching you both your whole lives and wove your fates together as a blessing to you both.

Presently, the night is dark and quiet. Millions of stars shine overhead, and a light breeze rustles the broad, green leaves of the trees surrounding your home. Fireflies flicker in the fields and insects chirp. In the distance, an owl hoots. Your barn is closed up for the evening, and from within comes the soft, distant sounds of your resting livestock. All is calm and quiet.

Soft sheets whisper against your bed as Kita pulls them back and slides in next to you. You know he’s in a mood, a playful one, when he gently tugs your book from your hands, careful to slide the bookmark back inside so you don’t lose your page. Even when he’s being frisky, he’s thoughtful, and this fact is just as exciting to you as the way he starts kissing your cheek and rubbing your sides.

“Hope I’m not interrupting,” he mumbles, sliding his lips over to yours. You smile against his lips, sliding your hands through his soft hair and tugging, just a little, at the nape of his neck.

“Only a little bit,” you tell him, giving his hair another tug as he groans at the first one. You nudge your noses together before continuing, “but something tells me you aren’t bothered that you interrupted. Not really, at least.”

He hums thoughtfully, as if considering what you’ve said, though you both know fully well that not only did he know he was interrupting, he’d planned on it and fully intended to do so.

“How lucky I am to have such a smart wife who knows me so well,” he says, sliding his hands over your hair.

“Shinsuke, you flatter me,” you chide, heat blossoming through your body as your heart flutters.

“It’s only a portion of what you deserve, dear.”

“Is that so?” you ask, voice quivering the tiniest bit around the edges. Anticipation sets in.

“Mmmm, it is,” he hums, kissing along your face once again before kissing down to the side of your throat, nosing at your pulse and using a gentle but heavy hand to tilt your head to grant him more access to the soft, delicate skin.

“Care to indulge me?” he asks against your throat, “Let me give you more?”

Your heart pounds harder in your chest and suddenly, the space between you and your husband is too vast. You need him closer, more immediate, you need to feel his skin against yours and his mouth on every part of your body.

“How could I say no when you ask so nicely?”

Your voice comes out like a whisper, it’s shaky and needy in a way you’ve only discovered with this man, with your husband, in your bed. Kita slides on top of you, your book tumbling to the floor with a thump and the noise falling on deaf ears. He quickly slides one of his thighs between yours and captures your mouth in a loving, needy kiss.

His lips are soft, but slightly chapped, a side effect from working long hours in the sun. The way his mouth molds to yours is like a dream, something that brings butterflies to your belly, especially when he’s on top of you like this. It’s something you never expected to enjoy, and never expected to desire.

“You,” Kita murmurs, pulling away just enough to speak, his lips moving tantalizingly against yours, “are such a sweet little thing. My sweet little wife.”

Your cheeks burn as shyness washes over you like a tidal wave. By some stroke of luck, Kita doesn’t dwell on this or the adorable way you get so shy when he speaks so sweetly to you. Instead, he presses his lips against yours once more, kissing you with more urgency than he had been.

His hands, both gentle and rough, slide up underneath your night shirt, caressing your sides. You arch your back slightly, sharply inhaling as his hands softly grope the swell of your breasts, thumbs circling the peaking nipples.

He smiles so wide when you whimper that it breaks the kiss.

“You sound so lovely,” he whispers to you, nudging your noses together. The tenderness in the moment and his action makes you shiver, the trill in your spine increasing as Kita slides a hand out from under the fabric of your shirt and tilts your chin up to meet his gaze.

It’s private and intimate, the way he’s looking at you. His cheeks are a little pink, partially from the sun, partially from the close proximity to you. Your husband’s eyes are dark with excitement and anticipation, though he still looks at you with such warmth and devotion that it’s easy to forget, as you so often do, that you hadn’t picked this man for yourself. But you would, again and again. And he’d pick you.

“I wish you could see yourself as I see you,” he murmurs, more for his own benefit than for yours, as he strokes your face tenderly with his fingertips. Finally, you find your voice.

“I was thinking the same thing about you,” you say, a nervous smile pulling at your lips. “You deserve to see...how… good and wonderful I think you are.”

He smiles again. Your heart stops.

Kita, your loving, gentle husband, always makes love to you. He doesn’t fuck you, he doesn’t have sex with you. He makes love to you, and that distinction is hugely important, though it’s not something either of you really address or talk about. You were his first. He was yours, as was expected, and as was appropriate and respectable.

He touches you with the utmost adoration, each moment your skin is touching is saturated in love and devotion. Kita is careful to make every thrust, every kiss, every touch meaningful, and he never fails. He excels when it comes to making you feel good, when it comes to making you feel like you matter, that you’re the center of his world, even though you’d only wandered into it barely a year ago under circumstances beyond either of your controls.

Kita loves you, he’s gentle with you, but that doesn’t mean he loves you any less hard; if anything, it only makes his love for you more potent, and when he shows you, it’s something so beautiful and pure that you can’t question it, not even if you wanted to. Kita loves you. You know this. You love Kita, and he knows.

Tonight is no different.

As your night shirts come off with the whisper of soft cotton on skin, and as Kita presses his torso against yours, warmth encompasses you. Warmth from proximity, from his sun-kissed skin, from your own love and adoration, and from the butterflies filling your gut. This is neither the first nor the last time your husband makes love to you, but it’s thrilling, as always. Exciting. New. Exhilarating.

Kita smells clean, like soap. He takes great care to wash each day when he returns from the fields; the soft, mild scent fills your nostrils as Kita starts working his lips down your neck once more, hands expertly smoothing over every inch of skin he can reach.

You slide your hands down his sides, one diving between his legs and palming his stiffening cock, a movement that has Kita nipping slightly more sharply on your neck than he had been, and it’s this slight twinge of pain that makes you mewl in delight. It almost feels like Kita’s blushing cheeks will burn your skin, and you love it. You love making him feel this way, making him so bashful… you liked knowing that you had his heart in a special way that no one else would have, and that no one else could know.

Soon, Kita’s breath is labored and his cock is throbbing. His right hand has slid between your legs as well. Deliciously rough fingers slide over your slick, sensitive folds, causing whines and gasps to fall off your lips before you can even register them.

Then, his thumb grazes over your swollen clit, the tiny nub sending a ripple of pleasure through your body that’s so strong it makes you shutter. It isn’t delicate or dainty; your shoulders heave and shake and you gasp, guttural grunt leaving your lips as you do. Something in Kita changes, then, because he’d never heard that sound from you before. He’d never seen you move like that, react to him in such an instinctive and almost animalistic way. He wanted more of it. He needed to make you do it again.

Another swipe. A similar reaction. Another, a similar. Repeat.

Soon, tears sting the corners of your eyes, your hand around Shinsuke’s cock has stilled, hasn’t moved since the first time he touched your clit like that. Wetness spreads through your folds at an obscene rate, making you feel embarrassed but aroused in equal measure. Kita’s eyes meet yours, the darkness of them taking your breath away before his lips crash into yours.

It’s a breathless few moments with mouths and tongues clashing and lips being sharply nipped with clumsy teeth. Your heart hammers against your chest and you swear you can feel the outline of each rib as it does- you swear you can hear each blood cell as it rushes through your ears, you swear the room is spinning as desire overwhelms you, threatens to pull you under and never let you go, threatens to drown you-

“I love you,” says Shinsuke, his soft but ragged-with-desire voice breaking through your thoughts. You blink. The tip of his nose barely touches yours as he gazes down at you with lidded eyes.

Something about his gaze is so intimate that it makes you feel more exposed than you already are in your naked state. You swear that, in that moment, he really sees you, sees everything you ever thought and everything you are, and everything you hope to be. Everything. All of it. Kita sees it and still loves you and that’s terrifying.

But you know that the secrets he sees will be safe. You know he loves you.

“I love you, too,” you whisper, as if you’re in a sacred temple, “I love you more than anything.”

He smiles again, and you’re breathless. And he’s kissing you again.

And then he’s sliding into your core, going slowly and steadily like he always does. It’s natural for him, it’s second nature at this point. Rushing you or hurting you just so he can get some relief doesn’t interest him. If you’re pleased, then so is he. If you feel good, he does, too.

Your cunt is warm and inviting. Kita is amazed with it, as usual, brow furrowing and bottom lip catching between his teeth as he sheaths himself in the wet heat. You’re suddenly so full of him that you swear you can feel the tip of his cock pressing against the back of your throat. It’s still something you’re getting used to, but you trust Kita, and this does feel good, and before your thoughts can travel any further, he’s swiping his thumb over your clit again.

The pleasure that spasms through you is a different kind. Being so full, being so close, it made you feel everything more strongly, and the whine that left your lips was more high-pitched than any you’d let out previously. Your brows pinch together in pleasure as goosebumps cover your arms.

“You like that, hm?” Kita wonders aloud, voice so rugged with pleasure and so playful that it makes you want to scream and start fucking yourself down on his cock as quickly as possible.

He must be able to read your mind. That’s the only way Kita possibly knows what you’re thinking about, what you’re aching for.

And he starts thrusting slowly, his strong hips moving in a slow, strong, reliable rhythm, one that’s steady but quickly has your eyes rolling shut. Shinsuke’s cock, thick and veiny, drags along your velvet walls, nudging against sweet little nooks that make you whimper in pleasure, pressing against little bundles of nerves that make your toes curl.

You wrap your arms around Kita’s neck, wrapping your legs around his waist, in turn pushing him deeper into your cunt, making you both gasp with pleasure. After a moment to readjust, Kita starts rocking is cock back into you again and finds that steady pace once more. He leans in and presses his lips against yours, leading you into a series of messy, loving kisses that only make your head spin even further. You swear your heart may explode with the love you have for this man and for the way he treats you and how he loves you so perfectly, just the way you need.

You pull away after a moment, pressing your face into his shoulder, once again smelling his soap, but now being confronted with his musky, comforting scent that is solely your husband’s.

It isn’t long before you’re grabbing at him desperately, pressing closer as his hips jerk into you at less controlled speeds, signalling to you easily that Kita is losing his grip on any control he has and is quickly giving in to the delicious and carnal offerings of your core.

Kita groans as you rake your hands through his hair, tugging it and making it stand out at all odd angles, disheveling his normally put-together appearance. His eyes are bleary now, dark as you feel his stomach start to twitch and clench against your own, a sure-fire indication that your husband is going to cum, and soon.

Your cunt clenches around Kita as your own orgasm approaches, and instead of the mind-numbing and goosebump-causing pleasure the swipes to your clit brought at the beginning, each time Kita’s thumb presses against your hard, sensitive, aching little nub, shockwaves of pleasure, almost to the point of pain, shoot through your entire body.

Soon, it’s all too much, and you can’t hold yourself together any longer, not when he’s making love to you so perfectly. You clench almost violently before you feel your orgasm burst forth, gushing around Kita’s cock like the water which escapes a broken dam.

And Shinsuke can’t hold on, not when you’re milking him like that, not when you’ve gushed around him so nicely. He cums, hips pressing forward wildly for a few seconds and then stilling as he moans your name, pressing his forehead into the side of your face.

For several minutes, it’s quiet. From outside, the owl hoots once more in the distance. The breeze rustles the leaves and the insects continue singing their nighttime ballads. Your heart, as well as Kita’s, slows from its breakneck pace, returning to normal, and the glowing, warm pleasure that encompasses your bodies ebbs away at its own pace.

You’re almost afraid to let go, clutching your husband so tightly for comfort, like he’s your lifeline, that letting go seems like a huge step you can’t take. Kita sighs, a smile tugging at his lips, and grabs your hips to pull you more snugly to him.

“I suppose I should have bathed after I came to bed,” he murmurs against your skin, and you huff out a giggle.

Bathing is the furthest thing on your mind- all you can think about is being tethered, held to the earth by your husband’s strong arms. You couldn’t imagine life elsewhere, or with another. Luckily, you’ll never have to- you and Shinsuke will live out your days on the farm, surrounded by your rice, your livestock, and a spouse who loves you so well.

**this work is intended for 18+ audiences only. minors do not interact. do not repost this work.**

[xseaxwitchxkpop]

NSFW Alphabet: Sub!Yeosangie Edition

A/N: I couldn't wait I had to do this now lol what is patience??? Also forgive any mistakes I wrote this at like 2am lmfao

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A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Doesn't matter what kind of sex it was, he will always be a content and giggling baby boy afterwards. He absolutely needs nose kisses and boops as rewards, like a cat, and needs to bury his face in your neck so he can smell your scent as a way to calm him and bring him back down to earth. He will also love it when you gently thumb his cheekbones!

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favorite body part on him is probably his hands just because he uses them so often to hide his face when he's flustered. His favorite body part on his partner would probably be the neck because he is another one of the members that values intimacy and there's something very sensual and intimate yet very possessive about his face and head buried in your neck.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

He doesn't really have a strong preference for cumplay of any type and he doesn't have a strong opposition to any cumplay either. So long as you're having your way with and he's living his best sex life, he doesn't care if you spit his load in his mouth and make him swallow it or if you cum in ass with your dick or fake cum

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He'd only have kinky sex as a submissive with a partner he loves and trusts dearly so he's pretty open about want he wants and doesn't really have much of a dirty secret to keep. However, if you pull at his teeth hard enough, you will find out that the one fantasy he has been keeping from you is that he wants you to have him use a hollow dildo on you during his caging period for that extra layer of humiliation and degradation...plus you don't have to be punished when he is also being punished during this fantasy

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He's had hook ups in the past, not a high count or anything, maybe like 5 or 6, but those were always relatively vanilla and/or had him in a more dominant position which he wasn't a big fan of. He knows what he's doing when pleasuring you, that's for sure, but in a solid relationship, he learned to let himself go and found that he absolutely CANNOT go back to even a shadow of a dominant position in bed.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

His favorite position is definitely cowgirl, with you on top. He loves that with this position he has easy access to your thighs and ass, the ease with which you can choke him lightly or more intensely, and the sheer amount of control you have in this position while allowing him to touch you because that's how he grounds himself, always has to be touching some part of you or you touching some part of him.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Sex with Yeosang is light-hearted most of time, very warm, very giggly, very cute, and very humorous. He likes cracking jokes or delivering some dry wit and sarcasm in the bedroom because that's just who he is and he doesn't see why that can't translate to the bedroom. Because of this, I feel he would prefer gentle domination and a partner who should know how to banter well both outside and inside the bedroom. He does like it slow and sensual sometimes, but if he's in a very soft mood, he'll prefer sensual touches rather than sex itself. On occasion he does like it rough and fast, but it's gotta be a VERY specific mood for him.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Like the others, definitely trims but just calls it a day at that. He doesn't really bother with shaving all the way and doesn't care if you don't either.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Another member that values intimacy to the highest degree! Humor is part of how he connects with people and navigates the world, so the same is to be said in the bedroom. He loves when you make him a giggly mess with humor in the bedroom with and feels more connected each time. Surprisingly, he doesn't shy away from eye contact and he actually really likes it because it adds another layer of intimacy to the experience! Also forehead kisses...you might be the dominant one, but there's something so sweet and reassuring and very intimate yet possessive about subs giving their doms/dommes forehead kisses and that's exactly what he does to you! Every single y'all have sex, without fail, no matter how kinky or light.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

The only times he really jacks off is either guided masturbation from you or if he is intensely horny to the point it is literally interfering with what he has to do that day in which he'll just get it done and over with in the shower or a quick one in the bathroom. This has nothing to do with rules put in place, he just doesn't have a high sex drive despite his incredibly dirty humor.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

He's open to trying most things, but not as many things as San. Some of Yeosang's kinks would include choking, biting, hair pulling, light restraints, sensory deprivation, voice kink, temperature play, edging, pegging/anal play, caging, light nipple play, marking, and nail scratching.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Literally any place he can comfortably lay flat because his fave position is cowgirl. One of his top favorites, however, is a rather large ottoman that he has to prop himself up on by the elbows when he leans back in a sitting position so you have to kind of sit on his lap and this forces him to use his lower body strength because he also has to fuck into you if you're fucking him in this position. Also don't forget, when the mood hits him, to rail him on a table or counter or coffee table or on a balcony window with him wearing a skirt and oversized sweater!

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

You commanding him to do something with a gentle and sweet voice gets him going like nothing else. The best part is that you can do this in public very blatantly and none would be the wiser save for you and him. What also really turns him on is when you're very attentive and can read him easily without having to ask or say anything; you do that, he will pounce on you and be the best service top you could ask for.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Touch deprivation. I know I said he is into sensory deprivation and he is -- just more so in the sight, hearing, and scent departments, those he can handle. If he can't feel you somewhere on his body, whether you touching him or vice versa, he will freak out and immediately get pulled out of sub space, even if he's very deep in it (and being pulled abruptly from sub space or dom/domme space is very harsh on the psyche and can take minutes to DAYS to rectify and heal so is a very big no-no in the BDSM community). He also does not like to share at all; you are his and he is yours, no negotiation. He's a very possessive submissive because he trusts you with a side of him that maybe one or two other people know about and that is his safe space -- he cannot have others enter that space because he would no longer feel safe.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

If asked what heaven was, he would respond with you sitting on his face and tugging at his hair. That's his favorite position to give you oral! He also really likes when you go down on him because one wrong move and you could easily bite his dick...it's the power you yield with nothing but your mouth on his most intimate parts and a hand on his thigh and another on his abdomen.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

As I've pointed out earlier, light-hearted sex is what he likes best, so the pace is...moderate? There's nothing pushing y'all to be fast and rough and there's not an air of heavy emotion and lustful passion for each other so y'all just go at a pace that's matches whatever happy and joyful mood and banter is happening. On the rare occasion he does want it rough and fast, he wants to be brutally fucked until he can't think, can't make a sound, tears staining his cheeks, asshole gaping, and drool running down the sides of his mouth, panting to try to catch his breath.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He really doesn't like them. He prefers taking his time and having what could be called "care-free sex."

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

He likes experimenting with new things every once in a while, but for the most part, he likes to stick with what works and if something new works well, he adds it to his rotation.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Can go two or three rounds, depending on his mood and level of exhaustion. With rough and fast sex, he can only take one round unless you decide to overstimulate him (which is every time) in which you can draw out two orgasms, one after the other. But then he is spent and it's aftercare time!

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He's got a set of dildos and anal plugs, mainly to prep himself for you, but you'll sometimes use them on him to fuck him with unless you're using a strap on. He also has a couple of cock cages because he's into chastity and a couple of cock rings for fun, but other than that, he prefers good old touching and teasing with what you and he were born with.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

His teasing comes in the form of banter and benign insults, hoping you'll engage and respond with a hand on his throat or a quick dick grab. Other than that, he isn't much of a tease -- if anything, his partner is the tease to him because it's so easy to make him flustered.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He's certainly not the loudest in the bunch, but if you hit his spot just right, he'll be moaning so fucking loudly that it could be heard on the planet Mars. For the most part, though, he just pants and lets out whimpers here and there, most of his enjoyment is shown through his body language and facial expressions.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

He absolutely lives for wearing lacy lingerie beneath his clothing just for you. He doesn't so this as often as he'd like to because of his job as an idol, but when he can, he takes full advantage and wears a lacy bralette AND lacy underwear that does nothing to support his dick btw.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

His length is average but he is on the girthier side which caused you to have to work yourself open and up to his size. The first time he dove into you wasn't terribly painful, but there was a bit of a sharp pain that quickly disappeared into pleasure.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

I'd say he probably has an above average sex drive, but not necessarily a high one. He is a healthy male who is in damn good shape, so it goes to say that his sez drive might increase a bit because of that. Anyway, sex itself isn't frequent but there are loads of sensual touches all the time -- he can't get enough of you in that sense.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

The atmosphere created with the typical light-hearted sex y'all engage in added with the sleepiness of post-orgasm bliss makes for a perfect concoction of sleeping medication. You're warm and content, he's warm and content, so y'all fall asleep in each other's arms. For the rough and fast sex, though, you have to make sure he doesn't fall asleep immediately so he doesn't go into sub drop, so you do your best to lightly tap him on the cheek and keep him talking, hydrated, and fed.

[littlemisslipbalm]

“Similar Tastes” Pt. 2

Summary: After Harry and you leave the bar, you can’t stop fighting, but it leads to one of the best nights of your life

Did someone order smut with a side of smut and an extra topping of SMUT?!? because that’s what we’ve got and some cuteness at the end but holy shit.

You guys were so awesome about part 1 and then I got some requests to do a smutty part 2 so ENJOY, this sealed my fate to hell so yeah bahah. - not proofread bc the app is trash and posted before I was ready

Word Count: 3.8k | Warnings: SMUT, slight degradation kink?, daddy kink, it’s not as dirty as i thought it was now that i’m writing this warning

Pt. 1

-

“Ouch! Can you scoot back?”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously! I cannot believe you.”

You and Harry hadn’t made it the entire short trip back to his house without fighting. Despite how completely hot you were for each other, the bickering just never seemed to end. Now you were straddling his lap still inside his parked car in his driveway. You had decided kissing would cut out the talking, but now your ass was shoved uncomfortably against his steering wheel and you were feeling extremely crushed rather than sexy. And Harry wouldn’t move.

Harry’s lips peeled off of the side of your neck and glared up at you, “Let’s just go inside.”

You huffed, “Yeah, this isn’t working.”

He popped open the car side door and you climbed off of him and adjusted your top that now had your tits spilling out of it. Harry grinned at the sight, “Don’t need to put those away now, love, ‘bout to see it all soon.”

“Not if you keep speaking to me like that.” You began to stalk up to Harry’s front door, crossing your arms with your head held high. You had begun to question why you had agreed to go home with Harry when he truly could be a total jerk. He jogged to catch up with you and when he reached your side, his large hand landed a slap on your ass and you remembered why, he made you horny.

“Don’t be like that…” He whispered close to your ear and you bucked your head into his shoulder in response.

After opening the door and ushering the pair of you in, Harry’s hands pushed you up against the door with fervor and went to kiss you. As his wet pink lips were about to connect with yours, you turned your head and he only kissed your cheek. Exasperated, Harry’s forehead rested against yours. “What now?”

“Say sorry,” you stated.

“What?!” His head moved back and his eyes stared wildly at you in the dim lighting of the house.

“Apologize for being rude or you can forget about fucking me...all night long,” you smirked, feeling extremely powerful in this moment.

“Y/N…” Harry contemplated it for a minute, to give in and have a good night or continue to fight and do nothing. His growing erection tugged at his attention as it began to press into your leg and he decided his best option was to give in, “I’m sorry.”

“For what exactly?” Your head tilted as a finger trailed down his chest.

“For being rude…”

“And?”

“What else do you want me to say?”

“Apologize for how you’re always stepping on my toes.”

“Am not!” Harry was over your little power trip, “You got your apology, no let’s get back to what we’re actually here for.” He went in to kiss you and you granted him a peck before pulling back again.

“You’re unbelievable, Harry-” He ignored your words and cut you off by moving his mouth down to your neck, beginning to suck vigorously. Your body shivered at his touch, gripping onto his shoulder for some sort of purchase.

“Oh yeah, tell me how much you fucking hate me, sweetheart,” he breathed against your neck eventually. His hands were gripping both of your ass cheeks and the pressure of his dick against your thigh had your wetness growing instantly. Trying to choke down a moan, you whimpered, “I do hate you…”

He licked up the side of your neck and nipped at your ear lobe, whispering he said, “Sure ya do.” He was mocking you and you were loving it, feeling like you were about to melt in his hands. Like you had said earlier, you both had similar tastes in bed. So you felt ecstatic to actually be in his arms right now.

His lips pressed open mouth kisses along your jaw and you were trying, and failing, to keep your panting to a minimum. Your wetness was only growing as Harry continued to press his broad chest against your heaving breasts. He slipped a leg between yours, as he had in the bar alleyway, and pressed up into your clothed heat.

“Fuck..” you sighed.

“Panting like a fuckin’ bitch in heat for my cock, huh? Can feel your wet pussy throbbing for me, pet.” Harry spat out as he continued to suck on every inch of skin that was exposed, from your lips to your neck to your cleavage. It felt amazing, but you wanted more.

Suddenly, Harry flipped your body around so that your front was pressed against the doorway, his hard dick pressed between your ass cheeks. His lips went back to your neck, one of his hands gripped low on your hip and the other went to hold onto your throat. His hold on your neck caused your head to be shoved back on his chest. He was constricting your breathing in the most perfect way, turning you on even more at just the fact that he knew exactly what he was doing. You whimpered out meekly at his words and actions, feeling blissfully overwhelmed. You managed to push your ass up against his crotch more, but that was about the extent of your will power in that moment.

“Remember when you were doing this with that woman? Your little pretty mouth on her neck, your body moving perfectly against hers. Had to force myself to look away, was starting to get hard from just the sight.”

You moaned as you felt Harry’s large hand go down and cup your mound over your pants. You cursed yourself for wearing trousers out, then you wouldn’t have been matching with Harry and he’d now have extremely easy access to where you wanted him now.

Gaining a little strength, you pulled from Harry’s grasp and faced him again. Your hands began to tug at the few buttons that were still done on his shirt. As you worked, you pushed him further into the house hoping he’d get the hint to take you to his room.

“Then that actual asshole came up. You looked fucking hot with all that rage in your eyes,” Harry sighed as he pulled you to his room, his hands never leaving yours even if you weren’t kissing. “Wanted to beat him up, though, for what he said.”

“Yeah, I’d never seen you that angry,” you finished with his shirt and Harry finished pulling it off of him. Your hands ran down his chest, feeling the grooves created by his muscles and seeing the black ink of his tattoos, “Fucking hot…” Then they went for his belt, but Harry stopped you, “You need to be much less dressed, pet.” He tugged off your tiny navy top and you reached around for your bras clasp, again he stopped you and took his own nimble fingers to take it off for you. As the bra slid down your arms, Harry’s lips flew to your right nipple, engulfing it with a slight groan. A hand ran up your naked figure and squeezed at the other one as his tongue swirled at your nipple, causing it to pebble.

Then he rasped, “Pants.” But you simply stood there, staring at him with terribly large doe eyes. You were throbbing for him, but you wanted him to be more aggressive with you. When you did nothing, his mouth and hands left your body and he stood up straight. His large body towered over yours and a smirk grew on his face as he scanned your frame.

“I said, pants.”

“Why don’t you do it yourself.”

“Oh, so you’re also a stuck up princess in the bedroom, too? Makes sense.”

Harry was quick to unbutton your pants and then yank them, along with your thong, down your legs, leaving you completely exposed. As you went to kiss him, he roughly turned you around again, pulling your back into him and sitting on his bed. His arm was wrapped around your waist as his head rested on your shoulder. He widened his legs, causing yours to follow suit, which led you to be completely spread for him. Your breathing was heavy, your tits heaving up and down in anticipation for what Harry was about to do next. With his free hand, he rested it on your right knee and began to drag his fingertips up your thigh at an agonizingly slow rate. Your hips bucked in anticipation when he was about halfway up your thigh. He wasn’t kissing you at all, his wide eyes trained on your lower body on top of his clothed legs. You felt him swallow hard against you due to your movement on top of his dick.

“Keep still, pet, trying to focus.”

His arm around your waist gripped tighter and you let out a shaky breath. His fingertips moved further away from your heat as punishment. Your legs widened, trying to entice Harry to move faster as you laid against his toned body. The heat that his body emitted was burning your skin. The way his soft skin of his chest felt against your back was intoxicated, you wanted to touch and kiss every inch of it. But Harry wasn’t happy with the movement, his hands stopped again. You both were in agony, needy for each other, but the name of the game was ‘similar tastes’, so you both knew you loved the chase.

“I told you,” Harry growled, “to not move. Do you just want Daddy to stop? Is that what you want, pet?”

And there it was. The daddy kink. You moaned loudly at his words, unable to hold back now.

“Fuck you,” you spat.

He tensed, but then he continued his slow travel to your center, his fingers growing impatient. His arm around your waist slid up to your throat again, “Now that really is no way to talk to me now is it? M’gonna have to punish you, yeah?” Your head strained to look back at Harry and he allowed it. Your eyes meeting his and you bit your lip in response, his fingers just at the fleshy crease between your thigh and your pussy now. “You’re filthy, though, so I know that’s what you’ve wanted all along, hmm?”

His rough hand now cupped over your bare mound, “Answer me, pet.”

“Yes,” you whimpered.

“You’re forgetting something…Not gonna touch you until you say it.”

You whispered, almost inaudibly, “Daddy…”

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” He said happily, his voice still containing that low rasp as he gripped over your pussy, not dipping in yet just holding it tightly. His grip also tightened on your neck a bit and you felt completely held up by Harry’s two hands. Your breathing got even heavier and then you screamed. Harry let a single finger slip between your folds and the juices came spilling out around it. You were so wet for him and the small movement had you pushing down hard on his hand. He flicked it up to your clit and swirled around there for a moment before pushing back down and inside your weepy hole.

“So fucking wet, it’s almost unbelievable. Except I know what a slut you are, so fucking needy for my cock.” You had no idea what to say, he knew exactly what he was doing to you and you loved being taken control of like this in the bedroom, even with Harry - maybe especially with Harry.

He took you off of his lap and threw you onto the bed, your body splayed out for him, your dripping pussy glistening up at him through the darkness.

“What? No comeback?” He began, undoing his belt and taking off his pants. His hard cock sprang free, leaving him completely naked as well. “Who knew all I had to do was get you in bed to finally shut you up?” He spread your legs apart again, knees falling out by your hips. He stared down at your naked body and devoured it with his eyes.

“Come on, tell me you hate me. Lie to my face, Y/N.” His body came between your legs, his lips hovering over your dripping cunt for a moment before continuing up your body until he was face to face with you. His now freed dick was laying perfectly nestled between your pussy lips as he stared down at you. The head pressing down on your plumped clit. His neck strained as he held himself up and your eyes flickered down between your bodys to see where they were connected. His golden skin that stretched perfectly over every dip and curve of his body had you screaming inside. This moment was a thousand degrees and you wanted it to last forever.

“Hello? Is there anyone still in there?” Harry took a hand from beside your face and tapped on your cheek. You nodded about to open your mouth and say something coherent. “Actually, you know what, save your lies, I have a better idea for when you can tell me them.”

He leaned down and pressed an oddly sweet kiss to your lips. Then he shifted the pair of you back further on the bed. He leaned back on his knees and gripped his dick in one hand. He reached his other out to your mouth, “Spit,” you easily complied. He switched hands, gave his dick a few pumps and then lined it up with your opening. Without any further warning his thrusted deeply inside of you. For the second time that night, you screamed, and then you screamed out Harry’s name when he gave you a second thrust. He had your body arched off the bed as he sat up on his knees with your legs wrapped around his hips, your heels digging into the top of his ass, and his hands gripping your hips. His abs were rippling as he held the two of you up. But then he stopped, his green eyes were now the color of a dark abyss and they were boring straight through you. You whined out, “Harry, what the fuck?”

“Tell me a lie.”

“What?”

“If you want me to keep fucking your needy little cunt, tell me one reason you hate me. For every lie, you get another thrust of my cock.”

His words with his cock sheathed inside of you almost made you cum right there. His dick was completely stretching and filling you up and you could feel your juices dripping out of where you were connected. You needed him to move.

“I fucking hate you…” you seethed. “Uh-huh, tell me why,” Harry egged you on and began to pull out slightly, the movement making you shudder and struggle for words. “Because you wear the same clothes as me.”

“Good.”

He pulled completely out until just his tip was at your entrance. You felt empty and wanted him back, he pushed harshly back inside, both of you moaned out at the feeling.

“I hate you because you think you’re the best at everything,” you moaned out, Harry thrusted.

“Right back at you,” He growled.

“I hate you because you steal the spotlight.”

“Again, you.” Harry thrusted.

As much as he liked this game he had created, the sweat on his forehead was starting to pool, he needed to fuck you faster or else he was going to lose it. Seeing you laid out around him, writhing in pleasure, panting insults as you gripped the sheets and your tits, it was all too much.

“I hate you...because you’re too fucking slow at this,” you gasped as he gave you another slow thrust.

He leaned forward and kissed one of your tits before sticking his tongue into your mouth and sucking harshly. You kissed back fervently, needing any sort of release from the agony of the pressure building inside of you.

“You’re right, you’re taking too long to give me even mediocre lies,” he whispered once he pulled away.

With his dick inside of you, Harry took your legs from around him and flipped you around him. Again you screamed and Harry smirked at the sound, he loved to hear the way you sounded just because of him. He gripped your hips from behind now, fingers digging into your fleshy hips and ass, marking you as his. He did a quick preliminary thrust to test out the feel of this new position. With your head already pushed into the bed and your hands grabbing out in front of you, you moaned loudly.

“That’s better,” Harry muttered, taking one hand to land a loud smack onto the side of your ass. You jumped forward, but his other hand held you in place. “Be a good girl.”

Then he’s off, his hips snapping into action, pistoning his cock deep inside your folds. The sounds you two made with your body were obscene in the most literal sense. The squelching of your juices when his cock disappeared inside of you mixed with the hearty moans Harry and you were both emitting was a symphony of pleasure.

Eventually your moans turned to high-pitched repeated chants of “Uh-huh” as your release neared. Harry’s hips never slowing down, possibly moving even faster, he enjoyed hearing you come undone beneath him, your body bouncing just with the sheer force of his dick inside of you. “Gonna cum?” His thrusts never ceasing, his chest glistening with sweat as his cross pounded against it with each push inside of you. He rubbed over the red spot on your ass from him slapping you before.

You moaned out, “Yes daddy!”

“Tell me how much you hate me again?” He asks, pounding relentlessly, trying to tip you over the edge. He slaps your ass again, stinging your cheek and sending that feeling throughout your body, “Tell me.” His moans were out of control, yet his voice when he spoke was almost completely calm, if only slightly breathless.

He pulls out, punishing you for not answering fast enough. “Harry…” you whine. He grabs your legs and pulls you to the edge of the bed so now your feet are on the ground. He kicks your feet so that you widen your legs and shoves his angry red cock back inside your walls. He’s just about ready to cum as well, but he wants you to say something first. He begins speeding back up to his original speed as he grabs your body and brings it flush against his. Both your bodies are clammy against one other, beads of sweat running down your spine and between his pecs. He brings one hand to your tit and squeezes it hard, another moan escapes your mouth. Then, his other goes down your stomach and lands on you clit. As he begins to rub, he asks you again to tell him.

Finally, you breath out, in time with his thrusts, “I” “Fucking” “Hate” “You” “Ha-aahhhh” You don’t get to finish your sentence, your body begins to convulse in Harry’s grip, your orgasm overtaking any brain function. His dick is still bobbing in and out of you, but Harry released your body from against his, and you fall back down to the bed.

As he chases his own release, he moans out in complete euphoria how your pussy has gripped and tightened around his cock after your orgasm. It’s like it was milking him and his thrusts became completely erratic. Finally he released, his load spurting inside you and painting your walls with cum. He collapsed on top of your body on the bed, exhausted.

“I hate you, too,” he whispered into your ear, pecking a kiss on your cheek that wasn’t pressed into the bed.

As you laid there, coming down from your highs, you began to feel bits of Harry’s cum drip down your leg.

“Harry, you need to get off of me.”

“But I like it here, feels nice.”

“Your cum is starting to drip out of me, not to mention your dick’s still in there too.”

“Like I said, feels nice.”

He was right, it was hot. Feeling the pressure of him all around you after what had just happened. You were completely consumed by this man. He was everything for however long you two had just been fucking and you had loved it. The way he had taken control, the way he’d made you feel, all of it.

After a few more moments, however, he did listen to your request and slid out of you. He went to his bathroom to clean the two of you up and brought you back a t-shirt so you didn’t have to be naked.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, staring down at Harry who had just wiped down your pussy with a warm washcloth.

He nodded and rose back up to dispose of the washcloth somewhere else, leaving you in the center of his bed, swimming in the random t-shirt he had given you. You had slowly regained your normal pattern of breathing, but you were completely wiped out with exhaustion. When

Harry came back, you asked, “What time is it?”

“Half past 2”

“Shit…” you looked around, not even seeing your own clothes, “that’s late.”

“You can stay here?”

“I don’t have to.”

“It’s okay with me,” Harry shrugged.

“Really?”

“Of course, I meant what I said earlier, Y/N. I care about you, I’m not going to send you out to find your way home at 3 am.” He’d found a clean pair of boxers and slid onto the bed next to you. He tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear and you stared up at him.

“I know what we did just now was, like, a hate fuck...But I don’t hate you, Harry.”

He laughed softly at your words, “I gathered.”

You swatted at his bicep, but smiled brightly, “Shut up!”

“Told you to tell me lies and you told me reasons you hated me, meaning you actually don’t hate me at all.”

“I know that, I was there!”

“Oh my god, it’s never ending with you, huh?” Harry moaned as he wrapped his arms around you and brought the pair of you into a laying down position, with your body on top of his.

“Ok, daddy,” you mocked.

“Hey! I know you liked that just as much as I did,” he huffed.

You grinned, your face millimeters from his also smiling face. “Yeah, yeah I did,” you say. Then your voice grew a lot more serious and a lot softer. You stared straight into Harry’s eyes and his expression grew soft. “Y’know as much as I like passionate, hate sex..I also like, um, y’know, like passionate, loving sex.”

“I - me too. We could try that, too, next time,” Harry’s eyes brightened at your suggestion and he ran a hand down the backside of your hair, petting you softly, comforting you.

“We might need to be a little nicer to each other, in regular life, too,” your statement coming out more as a question. Your fingers fiddling with themselves on top of Harry’s broad chest.

“I think I can manage that. Maybe we can talk about what we’re planning on wearing to places beforehand so that we don’t end up wearing matching outfits.”

“Or! If this ever did become serious, we could be one of those couples who coordinated their outfits.”

You both burst out in laughter at your facetious suggestion. Simultaneously you both said, “Never!”

Harry craned his neck up and planted a kiss to your lips. You smiled into the kiss, pressing your lips down so he could lay back and kiss you more easily. His hand cradled the back of your neck and your lips danced together softly, enjoying each other’s presence.

-

taglist: @delfidemarco @detroitkiwis @burberryharold @avhrodite @iconicharry

@cronias13 @theresthingsthatwellneverknow @harrys-cherrry @harrxier @sltwins @awesomebooklover17 @harrys-stan

[fanfic-me-up]

Tiramisu for Two || Bakugou Katsuki

Synopsis: It’s your five year anniversary and you both agreed: no gifts and no surprises. But when has Bakugou Katsuki ever played by the rules?

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x fem!reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: M/E+, 18+, smut, food kink, finger sucking

A/N: This is for @bnhabookclub​ bingo event! Bingo Slot: Finger Sucking

Thank you @unbreakableeiji​ and @royal-after-dark​ for beta reading! 

Tagging: @keigod​

“I’m home!” 

You slip your shoes and coat off, getting comfortable after a long day’s work. It’s your five year anniversary with Katsuki and you both agreed: no gifts and no surprises. Honestly, you’re perfectly okay with that because you’ve been stressing at work since getting promoted and adding the pressure of anniversary planning to your endless list of things to do would only make you in more desperate need of a massage. 

You expect Katsuki to be cooking dinner like he usually does on his early days, but you find the kitchen empty and no sign of your boyfriend anywhere else in the apartment. You know he’s home because you saw his car.

“Baby?” You call out.

You jump when your vision goes black, a satin blindfold wrapped around your head and tied in the back.

“I thought we said no surprises?” You pout as a hand guides you to the… backyard? You slightly stumble into something and a deep chuckle vibrates against your back. A husky voice whispers in your ear.

“I’ve got you.”

A sense of relief and the beginnings of a heat flood through you at once. Relief because you can finally confirm that yes, it is your boyfriend, and not some serial killer leading you to your doom. And heat because… well, you don’t need to explain that one.

You’re met with a calm breeze brushing your skin and you know you’ve made it outside. Hands untie the knot and the blindfold falls. You gasp as you take in the beautifully decorated garden before you - from the candles to the mouthwatering food to the cozy set up on the grass with sparkling champagne in the middle.

“Happy anniversary, princess.” 

You turn around to see Katsuki giving you that soft smile only reserved for you. He caresses your cheek with his thumb, and you close your eyes, getting lost in the feeling of such a simple touch. He leans down, planting a tender kiss on your lips. It’s the first time he’s touched you since this morning so you allow yourself to melt into the kiss.

But if he thinks he’s getting away with breaking the rules, he’s got another thing coming.

You pull away from his hold to give him a pointed look.

“We said no gifts and no surprises.” You cross your arms so you can let him know that you’re very “serious.” 

Katsuki leans back with his hands in his pockets to give you a pointed look. 

“Babe, how long have we known each other?”

“Eight years?” You have no idea where he’s going with this.

“And in those eight years, when have I ever honestly played by the rules?”

He’s got a point, and he knows it judging by the smirk. Cocky bastard. You roll your eyes.

“Fine. But it’s gonna take a lot more than this to woo me,” you say just to bring his ego down a notch, even though this is seriously one of the sweetest things ever. 

His fingers ghost over the small of your back. You shiver at the breath tickling the shell of your ear.

“Wait till you see what I got for dessert.”

A tray filled with an array of delicious desserts from chocolate-covered strawberries to pints of your favorite flavored ice cream is brought out as your boyfriend places it on the blanket. You involuntarily lick your lips in anticipation for the sweetness about to be bestowed upon your lips. You immediately go for one for the strawberries, but not before he grabs your hand.

“Let me.” He takes one of the strawberries in his own hand, and places it at the tip of your lips. You flush as you open your mouth to take a bite, the juice running down the back of your throat. Katsuki remains eye contact with you, and you realize that it’s not enough, so you begin to lick the remaining juices that slide down his fingers. Your tongue slides down wherever you can reach, coating his thick fingers with your spit. His crimson eyes darken at the action, taking in every trace of movement, as you foreshadow what’s to come.

“Damn, baby girl, you’re really beggin’ for a taste, aren’t ya?”

Heat swirls inside the pit of your stomach, and you crave the delicious ending that’s to come. You bite your lip in anticipation as Katsuki dips his finger in the ice cream that’s begging to be licked off. He brings it to your lips and you open your mouth, like the good girl you are, and lick every bit of it. 

Whoever said vanilla was a boring flavor can suck it as you moan at the taste. Katsuki is enjoying the show you put on because he makes sure to deepen his finger to hit the back of your throat. You choke at the sensation, but you take it in earnest, tears already pricking at the corner of your eyes, as he continues to fuck the back of your throat with his hand.

It’s over too soon as his fingers retreat, a coat of spit connecting his finger to your wanton lips. You’re drawn like a magnet, leaning in, but he pulls away and takes the can of whipped cream in his hand and coats his finger with that instead. You can’t help the way your tongue swipes over your lips, entranced by the way the puff of whipped cream lands perfectly on top of his index finger.

He probes your mouth, getting your lower lip messy with whipped cream, “Be a good girl and open up, yeah… just like that,” he says as you obediently open your mouth.

You make sure to indulge your boyfriend, to immerse him in the fantasy, because it’s what he deserves. He planned this amazing event for your anniversary and you feel indebted, wanting to do whatever you can to repay him. 

You close your eyes, completely immersed in the feeling of Katsukis’ fingers feeling their way into your mouth. You explore every inch, knowing the danger these hands possess, yet the heat between your thighs flares at the idea of sparks crackling in the palms of his hands.

A cute little flush dots your cheeks as you look up at your boyfriend, swirling your tongue along the ridge of his knuckle. Katsuki groans at the sight of your puckered lips, spit dribbling down the side of your mouth, and your eyes glazed over like he’s already fucked you. 

But the night’s just begun. 

You can’t help but moan as Katsuki rips off his leather jacket, throwing you down on the ground. 

“What’d ya wanna try next, baby girl?” 

All you can do is moan at the question. He grunts at the lack of response, pulling his fingers out of your mouth, and you groan at the loss.

“I asked you a question,” he snarls, a dangerous glint creeping onto his face that you never want to be on the end of. You obediently answer his question.

“Tira… tiramisu. I wanna try the tiramisu, please…” you whimper. 

“Good girl,” he praises, dipping two of his slick fingers coated with your spit into the tiramisu that’s sitting prettily on the plate. 

The combination of cream and cocoa powder engulfs your taste buds and you take everything he has to offer, lapping every dip and ridge between his fingers with vigor. You whine when he pulls his fingers out with a pop. He reaches for the can of whipped cream and you’re suddenly hit with the cool sensation of fluff on the crook of your neck. A hot, thick tongue drags up your neck, lapping every inch of whipped cream. You moan when Katsuki sucks at your neck, knowing full well you’re going to wake up with his mark tomorrow morning. A similar slick coats your thighs, and you clench them together in hopes that it will quench the thirst begging to be satiated. 

Katsuki stops his ministrations on your neck to glance down at your thighs. He sends you a devilish smirk and no matter how many times you’ve fucked, you always feel a sense of fluttering excitement as if it were your first.

“Someone’s likin’ this a little too much…” he grinds against the inside of your thigh and you can’t help the desperate moan that escapes your whipped-cream covered lips. He makes it a point to spit directly onto your closed mouth before swiping his tongue to clean up the mess he made. 

Your lips are soaked in his spit by the time he’s finished and the way he continues to grind against your cloth-covered clit makes you buck up to meet his hips. 

He shoves his fingers into your mouth to silence your moans. You’re grateful, because the neighbors could easily pop their heads and witness the debauchery taking place. 

Your thighs are now drenched in your slick as Katsuki continues to fuck your thighs, but before you or him can finish- he wretches your thighs apart and you whine at the sudden lack of friction.

He chuckles darkly, “Oh princess…”, forcing the tip of his thumb into your mouth, “it’s adorable how you think it’s gonna be that fuckin’ easy…”

Your heart stutters, having no idea what your boyfriend has planned, but you don’t have time to think about it as he wretches your jaw open- his other hand coming up to thumb your already hardened nipple. You moan as he rubs and pinches your areola, but it’s muffled as he shoves two fingers into your mouth. You close your eyes, completely in love with the saccharine taste of honeycomb dripping off Katsuki’s fingers. He pulls them out much too soon for your liking and you make this known as you whine, making grabby hands for his thick fingers. He chuckles with no remorse at your desperation.

“I got somethin’ special planned inside.” 

You let him lead you to the bedroom, completely forgetting about the rules of no gifts and no surprises. 

[hinac0lada]

the wrong reasons

RISS’ NOTE: food for .. tsum tsum fuckers <3 this is also dedicated to @agaassi​ !! ilysm mrs. miya mwa mwa big thanks to @drabblily​ for beta reading !

CHARACTER PAIRING: fwb!atsumu miya/f!reader

WC: 5.1k

WARNING/s: nsfw/smut, vaginal sex, blowjob, riding, some cock warming, dirty talk, crying, slight crack + angst + fluff

today was indeed a bad day for you. thoughts filled your head with the recent fight you had with a friend that left your heart broken. but the show must go on, you and your friends with benefits agreed specifically on this day, so you just can't just say no. sighing once the elevator doors open, you make small but quick strides on the way to the front door. you rung the doorbell to his apartment complex, hoping you could get your mind off of your problems for a while with him. 

it was, after all, something he accomplished without fail.

upon hearing the doorbell ring, atsumu loosely hangs a towel over his nape, hair still damp after just having taken a shower. he makes quick strides, soon opening the door with a small grin. "took ya long enough, babe," he greets, eyes watching you enter as he subtly checked you out. 

"head over to the room. i'll be there in a second," he takes the towel hung around his neck to rub his hair before he heads over back to the bathroom. you playfully punched his arm, rolling your eyes with a smile at his use of the pet name you somehow can't get used to. you discarded your shoes, hanging your coat by the rack. 

"alright, babe," you mimicked while making your way to his bedroom, plopping down on the soft mattress and lying down to release the tension while fiddling with the ends of your sleeves. distracted by your own thoughts, you failed to take notice of his presence.

after he's gone to take care of his necessities, he followed you shortly in the bedroom - only clad in loose shorts with a hand running through his half-damp, half-dry hair. 

"so, what'dya wanna do? missionary? doggy style?" 

he stated positions of names that they'd try out. he's not that picky - just a preference as long as he got his dick wet. still, he used to think of fucking you for his own pleasure. nowadays however, he's been slowly easing himself and taking his time. focusing on making it worthwhile for the both of you.

"damn, that's a first.." slightly taken aback by his sudden change of heart, you dodge the towel hurdling towards your direction with a giggle. 

"i'll go with your flow. besides, you're the one who called me over," you point out, removing your sweater, leaving you adorned in a lacy bralette and skirt, ridding your hair from the pony tail.

"what's the plan, tsumu?" you leaned on the bed with your elbows propped up. under that mask of provocation was one of despondence, but you’d rather hide that from him - he wouldn't care anyways. 

atsumu walks over to the bed, knee dipping over as his weight is added on, hand reaching behind you for support while he cups your cheek with his right. 

"ya don't mind riding my cock right? not really feelin' like doin' so much work t'day," he smirks lightly, leaning in to snag a quick kiss, tongue licking over your lip to tease you. he pulls back, moving over to your side as he awaits for your next move.

"alright you tease," you rolled your eyes for the nth time, pulling away from the kiss when you felt like you were getting too into it. what a jerk. nonetheless, your face featured a smirk - one that matches with his own. as if immediately, you straddled him, placing yourself on his lap, clothed sexes rubbing onto each other. your lips attack his soft ones hungrily, hands finding its way to his hair, fingers entangled with his fluffy locks.

a soft groan slipped past his lips, jutting his hips upwards to directly rub his bulge against your clothed heat, hands squeezing your hips - mouth pulling away to kiss your neck, repeatedly attacking and sucking everywhere his mouth got on; teeth nipping on skin, red marks forming after every trail. 

atsumu slowly dry humped you, controlling the slight pace and direction of how your hips rolled languidly against his, but never going further than that. he did say you’d do most of the work. 

"c'mon, doll. m'sure ya could do more," he murmurs against your collarbone, half-lidded eyes flickering upwards to momentarily meet with yours. a calloused hand reached over your behind, cupping your ass and squeezing softly, smirking coyly from the small pleased sigh that left your lips. you let out a sigh of satisfaction from the action - the way atsumu’s hands grabbed onto your ass felt like a puzzle meant to be complete at some point. 

in reality, your half assed humps were a result of your mind overthinking the dilemma you so desperately wanted to forget. " oh, i'll do more just you wait," you snapped back, kisses trailing down to his bulge - ridding him of his shorts and boxers, grabbing his length in your small hands as you slowly pumped it. you lock gazes with him as you took his whole length in your mouth, gag reflexes close to none from doing this countless times.

atsumu lets out a grunt, hand flying towards your hair as he slightly forces you to bob your head faster - tucking away stray hairs that got in the way of your face.

"look at ya, taking my cock like the good girl you are," he murmurs under his breath, groaning from when you started to deep-throat him. his grip soon turned even tighter, hissing ever so slightly when he felt your hands fondle his sack, making his balls tighten from your warm touch. 

"come on, babe. you can do more can't ya?"

you stopped for a second to give him a look as if you were pondering on something - right until you resumed back to sucking his cock almost immediately. your tongue swirled at the tip of his shaft, using both hands to pump his length while bobbing your head up and down. moans vibrate against his dick, the tug at your hair turning you on the slightest. and for a second, you forgot about what you were lamenting about in the first place. your only goal was to please him.

"fuck, suck it just like that," he juts his hips upwards, slowly fucking your throat as he felt your teeth graze the edge of his girth. head thrown back, he let another pleased groan leave his lips. he wasn't ashamed. you sucked his dick so well, why wouldn't he be vocal? dirty praise and sighs were mumbled each time, dick twitching every so often inside your mouth - tongue lapping up by the prominent veins over his cock. "s-so.. fuckin' hot," he sputters, cursing under his breath.

the sight of him squirming beneath your touch was something to behold as you took in his form from where you were. eyeing his expressions full of ecstasy, all the while sucking his dick like no tomorrow. you liked it when he fucked your throat - moaning at the impact of his hips connecting to your mouth; every tug at your precious strands of hair sent a powerful throb in your core. 

your moans were no comparison to his. every lick and suck on his hard cock while each of his groans and grunts grew louder - close to push him to the edge of a climax. you continue to pump his length with both of your hands, quickening the pace.

"shit- i'm close," atsumu releases a ragged breath, feeling his cock throb from the way your hot mouth felt on his sex. he now had two hands on your head, forcibly thrusting his dick in and out of your mouth while your hands still fondled his balls. 

"fuckfuckfuck- cumming- m'cummin'-!" he spurts his load directly inside your eager mouth, groaning in satisfaction with each spurt of cum that shoots from his shaft. he pulls out, a lazy grin contorting on his face. "open yer mouth, babe. let me see you swallow it all," 

the familiar sweet yet salty taste of his cum filled your mouth, leaving some to coat your luscious lips. you slowly opened your mouth enough for his entertainment, gradually swallowing the creamy white substance. 

you licked the remains of his cum that was left on your fingers, moaning in fulfillment at the taste you seemed to have favored. a perk in getting a pro athlete to be your fuck buddy was that they actually had a healthy diet. you zoned out a bit, train of thought still filled with the doubts from earlier. 

of course the fight you had recently wasn't that easy to forget. your (now) ex-friend left you feeling worthless. but there was no time to sulk, no tears left to cry - at least that's what you thought. you didn’t think atsumu would notice anyway.

he pats his thigh, eyes observing your somewhat forlorn expression. "somethin' wrong there?" 

atsumu pulls you up by the arm, easily transferring you to his lap; half-hard groin brushing against your inner thigh. he hisses lightly but still kept his focus on your face. "ya alright?" atsumu wasn't sure when he'd gotten a bit more keen on your attitude since you got here, but he could more or less tell something was bothering you. 

as much as he'd want to stuff you full and rearrange your guts, he'd rather know what the hell made you seem so dull and not happy that you’d just have sucked nearly the soul out of him.

"yeah, yeah- i'm cool.. we're cool.”

you dismiss it almost immediately, attempting to laugh it off in which you kind of regret. it was true that whenever someone asks if you were alright - in which you aren't, you could cry on sight. "nothing for you to worry about," 

you avoid his fiery gaze, eyes flickering everywhere but his eyes as you tried to blink the tears back into your system. before the male could utter another word, you position your entrance on by his erection, folds kissing the tip of his cock. you slowly bring yourself down, letting his shaft invade your velvety walls.

atsumu wasn't able to ask further upon feeling your tight hole suck in his cock. "f-fuck- so goddamn tight," his hands find its way back to your waist, rolling his hips against yours to fully sheath his length inside. he does not believe a single word that you had uttered. you were avoiding it. but how else would he focus his attention on two things at a time when your pussy took in his dick so fucking well? no matter how many times they'd fuck, your cunt was as tight as ever - fitting nicely around him; almost as if your dirty and needy pussy was made for him. 

despite his fair share of past flames, he couldn't get enough of you. even if it was a friends with benefits situation. he doesn't know what it was that drew him to you- being fuck buddies for nearly 3 months and counting has been a wild ride. the mutual agreement between you two was unspoken, but it hangs there. they weren't supposed to fall in love. 

pushing himself back to reality, he thrusts up, cursing.

you let out a shaky moan, the feeling of bliss from getting fucked overtook your senses. his dick felt so good inside; invading your tight walls which only clenched even further around him. your hips started rolling in tandem with his own. you needed this, you wanted this. and yet you couldn't bring yourself to fully enjoy it. 

you felt bad for dragging atsumu into your mess. the male was only looking forward to pleasure after all; at least, that's what you would assume. and if things couldn't get any worse, the tears start welling up right then and there. your whimpers were blended with ecstasy, yet they were full of the gloominess that slowly crept up on you. 

you didn't know if it was the pang in your heart or if it was the pleasure your pussy has indulged in. you felt so pathetic, so stupid. you thought this was the only thing you needed, but in reality, all you needed was reassurance and comfort.

he snaps his hips with a bit more ferocity, grinning when he's elicited shaky moans and whimpers from your ample lips; a vexatious smirk curving on his lips upon feeling you clamp down on his length, eyes nearly rolling back. "yeah, just like that, baby - fuck yourself on my cock- shit-" 

atsumu cuts himself off with a small growl, fingernails digging in on your flesh. he peers back down with one eye open, immediately cutting off the lust and slight ache of his cock upon seeing your eyes well up with tears. he curses under his breath, hand reaching up to wipe them away with his thumb. "hey, hey- why're ya cryin?" slight panic coursed through him. did he fuck up or something? jesus. 

"does somethin’ hurt? was my dick in too deep?" concern laced his voice heavily, even if his cock was still hard.

"n-no it's not.. it- it's just -" and there it was. the water works. tears cascaded down your cheeks endlessly, hanging your head low as your hands violently brushed away the endless waterfall of tears away - as if that could help. you were in too deep in your own misery. 

"i'm s-sorry 'tsumu," you apologize, not expecting to bring your own baggage in your supposed lustful sex. you felt guilty for ruining the mood, for ruining his mood specifically. 

crying in front of him - for the first time - was not part of the plan. at all. but here they are now, in the most awkward situation a fuck buddy could ever face - more specifically to you. you didn't even think he'd care for your well being.

"gosh, this is so fucking embarrassing.." you muttered in between hiccups, trying to hide your face from his view; paying no mind to the fact that his dick was still inside of you.

"shh, shh. s'alright, darlin," he cups your cheeks with both hands, wiping away anymore stray tears free-falling from your eyes. now, this wasn't exactly an ideal situation atsumu would've imagined himself facing. he stays still inside you, having to hold back his need to fuck your insides to calm you down and fix.. whatever the hell your problem was.

"why don't ya tell me what's wrong? we can... ah, wait it out. no needa rush," he slips in between grunts. it wasn't helping that as you cried out onto him even with his cock still inside, you were still tight as fuck. the blonde sighs, adjusting his position for you to be more comfortable, taking mental note of how you’re theoretically cock warming right now. 

"c'mon, (name). talk to me."

it took a while to calm down your sobs, but you eventually got a hold of yourself. it was.. beyond embarrassing, to cry on your fuck buddy's shoulder while he was basically cock warming. it didn't help how your cunt would occasionally clench around his dick whilst venting about the things your ex-friend said. it made you feel like absolute shit. 

you poured your whole heart out for him to see. you would've never imagined doing this with someone like miya atsumu; the guy that took your first - and will probably be your last. despite knowing the fact that you shouldn't have fallen for him, you did. 

"basically.. she made me feel like i'm the scum of the earth," you croaked out, holding onto his broad shoulders for dear life. 

"i'm starting to see why.. i'm really sorry about this, atsumu - we should've just cancelled. but could you blame me? i wanted to.. try to forget about that for a while. with you." atsumu listened to every word as closely as he can. although it was something he might've considered dumb and cared less if it were anyone else, this was about you. he'd be willing to make an exception, even if his cock was still sheathed in your tightness. 

"s'fine, don't worry 'bout it. if this is something that could help you... forget, i'm always willin' to do it with ya," he murmurs, thumb slowly rubbing your cheek as his loopy, brown eyes softened by your fragile state. 

"i'm no good at comfortin'... so, if you'd let me..?" he awkwardly shifts, pushing you back a bit, still letting you keep your grip on his shoulders. sighing, he entangles a strand of [h.c] in between his fingers, bringing it up to his lips. 

"so what about her? fuck her. cut ties with that bitch for all i care. she won't be botherin' ya anymore. not if i have anythin’ to do 'bout it," his tone went down an octave, nearly a spiteful growl leaving his lips.

"don't- don't worry about her, s-she already got what she wanted out of me," you stutter, fingers running through his hair in an attempt to calm him down. your mind was still trying to comprehend that his dick was twitching from inside of your cunt. you let out a breathless moan as you switch places. 

atsumu’s toned body hovered over yours as he gently laid you down - his touch much more delicate than before. it was as if he was taking care of you; a complete contrast to those rough nights where he'd dick you down until you were in tears. your eyes locked onto each other, and for a while it was like time was non existent. as much as they didn't want to admit it, you both fell. and you fell hard. his hips started thrusting on a slower pace, following the beat of your own moans of pleasure.

"that's right, just focus on my cock," he whispers with tongue held taut in between his teeth, hand finding placement back on your hips. 

he can't get it out of his sights - the way your pussy greedily sucks in his length in one go, bottoming out once again. atsumu lowers his head down, lips sucking and nipping on your clavicle as his hips snap against yours, carving the shape of his cock inside your tight and glorious hole. the primal feeling inside him stirs; plunging in and out of you as much as you could take. his thumbs find shelter on your nipples, rolling and squeezing the erect buds as his teeth marked your neck, the fast rhythm he's set on has his balls slapping against your ass - grunts and every curse from the book spewing from his lips from the jubilant fuck. 

"fuckin' take it, baby. shit- you like that? bein' stuffed full. such a dirty girl," his thrusts turn irregular, practically drilling himself inside you; brows creasing from the brutal pace he's challenged himself under. 

he was right when he said you favored being stuffed full by his cock. every snap of his hips meeting with yours sent your body jolts at the violent impact. ecstasy was all you felt - as if you hadn't cried your eyes out a minute ago. your nails clawed at his back from the amount of pleasure your tight cunt was blessed with. your legs could only spread wider, wanting to feel more of his fat cock. "a-ah-uh! 't-tsumu - fuck!" 

you chant his name like a mantra, head being completely empty other than thoughts of the sensual fuck. the chemistry you two had was incomparable to any other. atsumu lets a loud grunt escape, fingernails digging in on your supple flesh. beads of sweat formed on his creased forehead, his left hand switched over to your ankle, stretching your legs even wider as he plunged himself even deeper in your hole - stroking your walls just right. 

the male smirks at a particular whine that left your lips, signaling him that he was pleasantly hammering your sweet spot within moments of being sheathed inside. he captures your lips back in a feverish kiss - wet and sloppy as he let out lewd whispers of how fucking tight your pussy was around him, milking his cock like the good little girl you were. the hand on your hip lowers down back to your pulsing cunt, calloused fingers flicking your slit to increase the pressure on your fucked out state; enjoying how your expression varied from tearful to a full-on rapture. 

"look at your cute lil' pussy, taking in my fat cock so well. s'too big for ya?" atsumu breathlessly chuckles, feeling his dick twitch.

your moans were incomparable to the porn stars that horny teenagers would be more than familiar with. who could blame you though? he was fucking you so damn good. if anyone had to ask you what was your favorite part, it's the way his full length invaded your tight walls - stroking the sensitive bundle of nerves. 

you were filled with overwhelming pleasure, so much to the point that his back looked like a crime scene with red marks all over - a symbolism of how well he fucked you. "fuck - yesyes! h-harder 'tsumu - shit you're so good!" you moaned out, praising his ministrations on your needy pussy; too intoxicated to even care about your foul mouth.

you felt like his kisses were your only remedy. kissing your bruises, your scars and all of your worries and doubts. maybe it was the sex or maybe it was his existence in itself that made you fall.

the scratches and marks left on his back were ones he could proudly wear as battle scars. each cry and whimper from your lips only encouraged him to slam himself in you even more. he swallows every moan, every sigh as he plowed through you like a beast. atsumu’s teeth bite down on your bare neck, littering it with hickies as his thrusts got even sloppier from his impending release. "fuckkk, baby. i'ma cum soon- shit!" he lets out a shaky groan, hips stuttering from how your needy cunt squeezed his shaft so fucking tight.

you could feel the room spinning, moans and sighs of pleasure getting louder and louder in line with the squeaking of the bed, headboard banging against the wall from the amount of pressure atsumu has put in his thrusts. 

"uh- 'tsumu - shit - i-i think i'm," you cut yourself off with a loud whimper as your hands quickly traveled to his scalp that was slightly dampened yet again with sweat. "i'm c-close!" he was pounding your sweet spot over and over again - your screams were high-pitched, lost in the euphoria of sex. but you would've never prepared yourself for the three words atsumu was about to say in the middle of your orgasm.

atsumu lost himself inside your tight walls, sloppy thrusts and loud pants echoing through the room. "fuck, i...i love you-!" his murmur of tenderness almost went by unnoticed as his dick spasmed, feeling it go numb as he cums hard and deep inside your dirty and abused little pussy. 

"shitshitfuck! take it all, baby- fuckin' that dirty hole with my cum," he growls against your neck, biting down as he slammed back inside with every ribbon of cum spurting out of his dick. the blonde lets out another shaky groan, a hiss leaving his lips as he plops his weight on you, letting out a satisfied sigh; feeling your own essence mix with his cum.

upon the release of your juices, you let out a loud cry, volume matching up to his as he felt his dick spurt a load of cum inside. thank the heavens you were on the pill. but despite the intensity of that moment, you never let those words leave your mind. was this his confession? or was it just the atmosphere of the moment? 

you glanced down at his weary expression, his body laying on top of yours. both of your hands reached for his cheeks, cupping it for them to come face to face. (e/c) irises meeting with his - both still dazed from the previous haze of lust. "was that true?.. you love me?" 

at this point, what was there to lose? certainly not the dick that was still inside your cum-filled hole. you proceed to wipe the sweat off of his forehead gently.

the male lets a shaky breath escape his lips, feeling his lungs throb - or was it his chest? he hadn't meant for it to slip out, but he can't take it back now. not ever. "...fuck." he curses, wanting to pull away because he fucking knew it wasn't right. they had a deal. they weren't supposed to fall in love. yet, here he is - the miya atsumu, spilling out his profound love after an orgasm with his fuck buddy. what a time to be alive. 

"..so what if i do?" 

his voice was low and unsure, not having it in him to pull away. not when his dick was still clamped inside your creamy walls. atsumu looks right back at your hazy eyes, not wanting to back down from what he truly felt. 

"gonna leave right after?" even as he tried to hide it, his tone had wavered. this was exactly why he didn't want to fall for anyone - especially his fuck buddy. still, he'd either go all in or not at all.

"dumbass, why would i ever leave you?" 

your eyes softened at the crack in his tone. the hands that were cupping his face slowly eased to much more fond and tender type of warmth, holding his cheek like you were holding the world - your newly found world. 

atsumu’s eyes stayed locked on yours; slightly widened, taken aback by your words. he never braced himself for what was about to come next. your connect your lips with his, seems as though there was more passion put into it. you pull away momentarily, thumbs grazing over his the skin beneath his eye.

"if it isn’t obvious enough, i love you too." you state with a small, shy smile.

"i mean, i thought you would've known by now.." mousy hues widened a fraction, heart thumping against his chest. 

"well, fuck. we had an agreement, didn't we?" he captures your mouth in a lip lock again, grinning against your lips. 

"ya got a real funny way of showin' it," he snickers as he pulls away, gazing down with a soft look, relishing in your touch. yes, he felt sticky, sweaty and overall gross, but he's not letting that ruin this moment of adoration for his newfound lover in bed. 

"i fucking love you."

"wow, i fucking love you too." 

you respond almost in a whisper, eyes never leaving the other. you both were too enamored by each other, failing to realize you were cock warming, yet again. sunset skies eventually transition to the night skies, and after another make-out session in the shower, atsumu insisted for you to stay the night. who’d say no to that? now, you both were laying in his bed; cuddling and talking about nonsense - besides the fact that you were now aware of each other's feelings. nothing was out of the ordinary. 

"nice to know that i make you cum so hard that you confessed you love me too," you chuckle, the image of his fucked out-state confessing would never leave your memory.

the male rolls his eyes as a chortle escapes his lips. atsumu wraps an arm under your waist while the other tucked away hair in the way of your eyes. "darlin', if you only knew how pretty you looked cryin' on my dick i wouldn't have stopped ya," he sighs with content, leaving open-mouthed kisses over your clavicle; tracing up to your jaw. 

"sure yer feelin' fine? ya were on the pill, right?"

"of course. wouldn't want another you running around," you replied, uttering another sigh of fulfillment, indulging the feel of his lips connecting onto your skin. you scoot closer to his side, an arm wrapped around his torso. 

"at least not yet.." you trail off, quite hesitant of his answer. this was all new to you; getting in a relationship with your friends with benefits? it sounds too good to be true - like a really good plot for a movie type of good.

atsumu perks up at this, an excited grin threatening to form on his lips. "soo.. yer sayin' ya do want another me runnin' round here?" he kisses your cheek, hugging you close to his chest. 

"mm, you takin' my last name doesn't sound too bad now, does it?" the thought of kids - hell, marriage itself wasn't a foreign thought in the pro player's mind. it was .. endearing, to say the least. he wasn't opposed to it. it would be nice, wouldn't it?

your cheeks were flushed red at his statement, the red and pink hues vivid even in the dimly lit room. "at least take me out on a proper date then i might consider," 

you teased, giggling at the evident pout on his face. "not gonna lie, miya (name) sounds nice.." you take his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers together, imagining your fingers adorned with rings. 

"say, what would we even tell our kids about how we met?" you question, head snapping towards atsumu’s direction as you heard a snort coming from him.

"oh yeah, it'd be a real kick knowin' their mum cried on daddy's cock durin' sex," he throws his head back as he howls, eyes crinkling from his own comment. 

"don't sweat it, babe. i ain't plannin' on marriage til' the right time.. maybe," he gazes up at the ceiling, now calming down as a content sigh leaves his mouth.

your eyes were set on his face, adoring his features; taking in every single detail - his eyes, his smile, his lips, his jawline, his hair - everything. you never would've thought that you’d meet the love of your life in the form of a 'friends with benefits' situation. it definitely wasn't the ideal way of ever meeting your significant other, but that's the charm of blindly falling in love. they fell in love for the good things, despite starting off for the wrong reasons. 

"i'm starting to get hungry. and no, i am not hungry for your dick." before he could even say anything, you cut him off, knowing him and his dirty jokes.

"i jest," he moves his arms, raising them in mock surrender. the blonde pulled away, sitting up as a hand flew up to cover the yawn that left his mouth. 

"well. whaddya wanna eat? it'll be my treat." for now, he'd settle on easing himself on this. this relationship. dating you. it's certainly a sight to get used to - you, laid in his bed, clad in his shirts that were a few sizes too big on your body. 

maybe in the near future, he'd have little (name)'s running around with his jersey's too.

GENERAL NSFW TAGLIST | @hakueishirei​ @pyblos​ @kxgeyamasmilk​ @kunimwuah @ideshine @janellion @kageyamasbabygorl @miyaosamoo @iinessa @levisackerwoman​ @yams046​ @rainyslvt​ @lightningsistxr​ 

[4stars-uswnt]

Home Is Wherever I’m With You [Christen Press x Reader]

requested by anon: Hey, there just want to drop of this prompt in case you feel like writing it. Reader got home after a few months being away from CP because of the quarantine, maybe a moment of CP confronting R that she’s jealous of R’s teammate that got to lockdown together. Thanks.

A/N: after a week break (for the election and other stresses of life) (and technically i haven’t written in like three weeks bc of life and school), we’re BACK! hope y’all like this one :) and as always, feedback is more than welcome!! anyways, back to your regularly scheduled programming... 

“Hey, baby, I’m home,” you call out, as you enter the LA apartment you shared with your girlfriend, closing the door behind you, “fucking finally.” You mumble under your breath, as you drop your bags onto the floor.

“(Y/N)!” Christen runs from the bedroom upon hearing your voice, but before she can crash into you for a long-awaited hug, you put up your hands to stop her.

“Woah, Chris,” you almost falter at the sight of her pout, “I just got off a plane and came from the airport. I need to shower and get all these yucky germs off me.” You smell your shirt and make a face to exaggerate your point.

“But I missed you.” Christen pouts, and you give her a sympathetic smile.

“I missed you too, babe, but I just wanna be extra safe. Can’t have you getting sick or anything like that.” You wink, as you make your way to the bathroom. “I’ll be out in a minute.” Blowing her a kiss, you disappear down the hallway.

Christen sinks down into the couch, letting out a frustrated groan. If the forward was being honest with herself, she more than missed you; she was jealous. Although she knew that you loved her and only her and the two of you had been dating for almost two years, Christen couldn’t help the green-eyed monster from taking over when she constantly saw you on Sofia Huerta’s instagram.

The past two months, you had to quarantine in Seattle and stay in your apartment that you shared with Sofia during the season, while waiting for COVID to settle down enough for you to travel. During that time, you and Sofia spent a lot of time together, doing anything to keep you entertained.

Unfortunately for you, Sofia had often posted on her Instagram story photos and videos of your activities, whether it be a movie night or a bike around Discovery Park, leading to a very annoyed Christen Press.

It wasn’t that Christen was jealous in the sense that she thought there was something going on between you and the midfielder, more so that she was jealous that it was Sofia that got to spend time doing all that fun stuff with you rather than her.

Too caught up in her thoughts, Christen didn’t notice you plop down next to her. “You there?”

“Hmm,” she turns to face you, “yeah, yeah, just got lost in thought.”

“Well, now that I’m all clean,” you smirk, wiggling your eyebrows suggestively, as you move to straddle your girlfriend, “I thought we could make up for some lost time.”

“I like the sound of that.” Christen leans in closer to connect your lips.

—————

The next morning, after a long uneventful night, you woke up in your own bed next to your girlfriend for the first time in months. Turning over, you smile and admire the sleeping woman next to you. Wanting to do something somewhat romantic, you silently slip out of bed, careful not to wake your girlfriend, and head to the kitchen to make some breakfast.

As you were fixing up some coffee and healthy yogurt, oats, and chia seeds (or whatever healthy stuff your girlfriend puts in her breakfast), Christen was groggily waking up. Rolling over, she reaches out to the other side of the bed, expecting to find your warm body, only to be disappointed with cold sheets. Christen rubs her eyes and sits up, but before she could call out to you, you enter the bedroom, carrying a tray with two bowls and a cup of coffee.

“Good morning, sunshine.” You smile, leaning down to give your girlfriend a peck. “Brought you some breakfast in bed.”

“Thanks, babe.” Christen’s heart melted, as she looks to see what you made. “Aw, and you even made my favorite.”

“Yup.” You playfully boast and wink. “Your favorite for my favorite.”

Your girlfriend can’t help but giggle at your cheesiness. “Well, thank you. I appreciate it, love.”

Right as you go to take a bite, Christen grabs your wrist. “Wait.”

“Whatttttt?” You whine like a child.

“Lemme take a photo.” She explains gently, ignoring your antics.

You roll your eyes, as she takes a photo of your bowls and posts it to her Instagram story:

The two of you spend the rest of the morning in bed, eating breakfast, giggling, catching up, and just enjoying each other’s much missed presence.

—————

Later that afternoon, as the two of you were doing your separate tasks, Christen preoccupied with re-inc and you with your article for the tribune, you finish typing your thought and shut your laptop. You get up from the sofa and approach your girlfriend, who’s sitting at the kitchen counter, wrapping your arms around her waist and resting your chin on her shoulder.

“You almost done?”

“Almost.” Christen hums, smiling slightly, as you kiss her shoulder and then her neck, making your way up to her cheek.

“I’m bored.”

Christen finishes writing her email and then turns around to face you. “Well, what do you wanna do?”

“You’re done?” You ask, feeling slightly guilty from pulling her away from her work, knowing she had more to do.

“I can be, if you offer up a better alternative.” Christen teases.

“Oh, I definitely have something better to offer.” You smirk and bring her in for a deep kiss. You immediately swipe your tongue on her bottom lip, asking for an entrance, which the green-eyed woman grants. Your mouths move in a perfect harmony, like a well-rehearsed dance. As you kiss down her throat, Christen lets out a sigh.

“Yeah,” she breaths, “this is definitely better.”

“Yeah?” You mumble into her neck.

“Mhmm.”

“Well then,” you pull your head out of the crook of her neck, “you’re just gonna have to wait till later because I found this Bob Ross tutorial that we’re gonna do.” You exclaim giddily, and you give Christen’s nose a quick kiss.

“Really, (Y/N)?” She calls out after you, as you go to get the supplies, slightly riled up. But when you come back, balancing canvases in one hand and paints and brushes in the other, Christen completely forgets about her frustration, as she sees your enthusiastic smile.

“C’mon, Chris.” You nod your head for her to follow you into the dining area. “And bring some wine too!”

Christen laughs, shaking her head, but grabs a bottle of rosé and two glasses.

“So what scene are we painting?”

“‘Island in the Wilderness.’” You scroll through YouTube until clicking on the video.

“Sounds hard.” Christen states hesitantly, as she pours some wine for the both of you.

“Eh, it probably is, but that’s the fun of it.” You shrug, thanking her, as she hands you your glass.

“Whatever you say, babe.”

While you’re setting up the canvases on easels and open up the necessary paints, Christen quickly pulls out her phone to take a picture of the set up, once again adding it to her story:

“Ready?” You turn to your girlfriend, about to start the video. Christen nods and picks up one of the brushes.

About 10 minutes into the tutorial, you lean back into your chair, frustrated by the difficulty of the painting.

“Ugh! This is so hard.” You set your brush down, replacing it with your glass of wine. “How does Bob make it look so easy? Mine looks nothing like his, or even yours.” Pouting, you gesture to Christen’s piece, which unfairly looks quite similar to the video’s.

Your girlfriend just chuckles at you, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek, hoping to placate you. “(Y/N/N), yours is looking great.”

“You have to say that. You’re my girlfriend.” You huff jokingly.

Christen ignores you and continues to watch Bob paint some trees just by flicking his brush back and forth.

Having given up on your own painting, you sit back and watch your girlfriend gracefully paint. You soon become bored, Bob Ross’s soothing voice almost putting you to sleep, so you grab one of your brushes. Reaching out, you poke Christen’s cheek, dotting blue paint across the side of her face.

Her jaw drops, and she turns to face you, as you have to stifle your laughter.

“You did not just do that.” She glares at you, readying her own brush, and before you know it, you have a stripe of green paint down your nose.

You raise your eyebrows at your girlfriend and then narrow your eyes. “Oh, it is so on.” You reach out in front of you and dip your hands in paint, and you see Christen out of the corner of your eye doing the same.

Before she could prepare herself, you’re smearing paint up and down her arms.

“Hey!” Christen shouts. “That’s not fair. I wasn’t ready.”

“All is fair in love and war.” You cheekily smirk.

“Alright, if you wanna play that way…” Christen trails off, as she cups your cheeks with her painted hands, squishing them together, effectively rubbing paint all over your face. “There you go, love.”

“That’s it. You are so getting it.” You wipe your mouth, where some paint had gotten.

Christen squeals and goes to run away, causing you to chase after her. Catching up to her, which is no easy task, fortunately for you, the forward had been wearing socks, you wrap your arms around her waist and pick her up. You nuzzle your nose in the crook of her neck, effectively spreading the paint.

“(Y/N), my clothes!” Your girlfriend exclaims in between laughs.

“It’ll wash out. And if not, I’m pretty sure you have like at least ten other shirts just like that.” You set the other woman back down on the floor, and she turns to wrap her arms around your neck.

“I love you, (Y/N).” She says with a giant grin on her face.

“I love you too, Christen.” You rubs your nose against hers, snorting when you see paint end up on her nose. “You’re more beautiful than any art piece.”

Christen giggles and brings you in for a sweet kiss. Pulling away, she backs away from you, slowly turning around to head to down the hallway.

“I think I could use a shower now.” Christen reaches for the hem of her shirt and pulls it over her head. Looking over her shoulder, she throws you a wink, as she unclips her bra. “You coming?”

Your eyes widen at the sight of the smooth skin of your girlfriend’s back. Shaking your head, you knock yourself out of your stupor and eagerly follow Christen into the bathroom, almost tripping on your own two feet.

—————

About twenty minutes later, the two of you are clean, having gotten rid of nearly all the paint off your bodies. As you’re going to get dressed, you notice Christen changing into a pair of sweat shorts.

“Babe, you might wanna change into something a little warmer.”

“What? Why?” Christen furrows her eyebrows, tilting her head in confusion. “What’s wrong with my shorts?”

“You mean besides the fact that they’re mine?” You tease, earning a blush from your girlfriend. “We’re going out.” You tell her succinctly.

“What? Where?”

“It’s a surprise.” You pull on a pair of loose jeans and slip on a warm sweater.

“Well, will you at least tell me what to wear?” Christen prods.

“Wear some layers. It might get cold.” You give her a quick kiss before heading into the kitchen to prepare your surprise, leaving your girlfriend absolutely clueless and struggling to pick out some clothes.

While Christen was fussing over her outfit, you quickly put together some fruit, and some cheese and crackers into a picnic basket, along with the bottle of rosé, two glasses, and a blanket. Scanning the apartment, you quickly thought of what else you needed. You snatch two of the pillows from the couch and stuff them in another bag.

'What else? Is that everything?’ You think to yourself. ‘Flowers, definitely need some flowers!’

You grab the basket and the bag with the pillows and head to the front door. “Chris, I’m gonna go pick up the mail!” While that was only partly true, as the mail had definitely been sitting in your box all day, you were also gonna go put these bags in your car and pick some flowers on the way out.

“Okay, thanks, babe!” She yells back from the bedroom. With that, you kick the door shut behind you and head down to the garage.

After having picking some flowers from the shared garden at the front of your apartment building, putting everything in the trunk, and grabbing the mail, you reenter your apartment.

“What took so long?” Christen asks with no malice in her voice.

You look up from the mail, and your breath hitches. Your girlfriend was wearing a simple outfit, a pair of light-washed jeans and a sherpa quarter zip, and her curly hair was in a half-up-half-down bun. While it may be simple, her beauty never failed to take your breath away.

“(Y/N)?” She pulls you out of your thoughts.

“Sorry,” you shake your head, “I ran into Jerry, and he wanted to know, and I quote, ‘where the hell’ I’ve been.”

Christen chuckles. “Of course he did.”

Jerry was the doorman and was very excited when he found at that Christen Press and (Y/N) (Y/L/N) would be living in the building, as he was a huge fan of women’s soccer.

“So, you ready?” You reach out to take your girlfriend’s hand.

“Yup.” She squeezes your hand. “You still not gonna tell me where we’re going?”

“Nope.” You quip. “You’ll just have to be patient, my love.”

“Fine.” Christen pouts, and you kiss her cheek, wiping the frown off her face.

—————

It was about a fifteen minute drive to the beach from your apartment, and when Christen recognized the familiar route, she piped up.

“We’re going to the beach?”

“Mhmm.” You hum. “You’re too smart for your own good, Press.”

“That’s what happens when you go to Stanford.” Christen teases, knowing your distain towards the school, you yourself having gone to Cal.

“Whatever.” You mumble under your breath, earning a small giggle from the other woman.

You park the car and race around to open Christen’s door for her. “M’lady.” You say with a fake posh British accent, as you hold your hand out for her to take.

“Why thank you.” She blushes, responding with her own accent.

As you open the trunk and pull out the things for your picnic, Christen’s eyes soften and feels her whole body flush with a warmth she could only describe as love.

“(Y/N/N),” she gasps, “what is all of this for?”

Closing the trunk, you give her a goofy grin. “What? I have to have a reason to spoil my girlfriend and take her on a romantic picnic on the beach?”

“I mean— no.” Christen’s cheeks tint pink.

“That’s what I thought.” You throw her a wink. “Now, c’mon, this food won’t eat itself!”

The two of you make your way down onto the beach, finding the perfect spot where there weren’t very many people. After you finish setting up the blanket and pillows and unpack the picnic basket, Christen snaps a photo of the serene setting, as the sun is almost setting.

“Chris, come join me!” You wave over your girlfriend, who notices that you’re now sitting on the blanket, snacking on some grapes.

The forward slips off her shoes and takes a seat next to you, sinking her toes in the sand.

“This is amazing, (Y/N).” Christen intertwines your fingers and kisses the back of your hand. “Thank you for this, and this entire day really. I don’t know what I did to deserve it.”

“Just being you, Chris. You deserve the world.” You smile softly. “Annnddd, I figured since we’ve been apart for so long, this was the least I could do.”

“Well, thank you, again.”

You lean in to give her a sweet kiss. “Anytime, babe.” And Christen could tell by your voice, and just from knowing you, that you truly did mean any time, that you would do anything for her because she would do anything for you.

Watching the sunset, the two of you snack on the food and sip on the wine you’d brought, conversing about plans for the holidays and the upcoming Olympics.

At the break of your conversations, as you sit in silence, watching the waves crash and the last rays of sun reflect across the water, you feel your phone buzz. Checking the screen, you see it’s a text from Megan, and you chuckle in amusement but also in confusion.

“Chris, do you know why Pinoe texted me saying: ‘Thanks for making me look bad with all your romantic gestures. Now Sue is badgering me, asking why I never do stuff like that for her.’?”

“Um, I have no idea.” Christen looks down, suddenly finding the sand incredibly interesting.

“Hmm, okay.” You eye your girlfriend suspiciously, as you text your teammate back, asking her what she’s talking about. Seconds later, you get a response telling you to check Christen’s Instagram story. Opening the app, you click on your girlfriend’s posts and notice she’s documented the activities throughout your day, from breakfast in bed to painting Bob Ross to your romantic picnic.

Looking up from your phone, you turn to Christen and see she’s still fiddling with the grains of sand.

“Chris?” You gently coax. “Is this what Pinoe was talking about?”

She nods, feeling embarrassed. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no, no,” you grab her hands, guiding her to look at you, “I’m not mad at you, baby, not at all.”

You weren’t angry or upset with her for posting those pictures, as your relationship wasn’t a secret to anybody, but you knew this wasn’t like Christen at all. You knew your girlfriend was a very private person, not one to post or flaunt your relationship on social media, and you respected her decisions and boundaries, being a somewhat conserved person as well.

“I’m just surprised, that’s all.” You continue, gently brushing a loose hair out of her face. “What brought this on?”

Christen murmurs something under her breath.

“I’m sorry? I didn’t quite catch that.”

She takes a deep breath and repeats herself. “I wanted to show everyone that you’re mine. I know it’s stupid, but I was a jealous of Sofia and how you two got to spend so much time together. And I know that you would never ever cheat on me, I know that, (Y/N), but it just sucked that I couldn’t be with you for the past two months, so I just wanted to show people that—“

You bring your girlfriend’s face closer to yours and kiss her, cutting off her rambling. Leaning your forehead against hers, you look deeply into her eyes.

“I love you, Christen. And being away from you for these past two months absolutely sucked because you’re my home, Chris, as cheesy as that sounds it’s true. I’m sorry if I did anything to make you feel like I was ignoring you by spending time with Sofia. I love you and only you.”

Christen shakes her head. “No, (Y/N), you didn’t do anything wrong, I promise. I was just frustrated by this whole pandemic and not being able to spend time with you.”

“Me too, Chris, me too.” You pepper her face with kisses, causing her to throw her head back giggling.

“And I’m sorry if me posting stuff from our day made you uncomfortable.” Christen apologizes sincerely, before nudging you with a slight smirk on her face. “I just wanted to show off my amazing romantic girlfriend to the world.”

You let out a hearty laugh. “I don’t mind being shown off, babe, not at all.”

“Good, because I plan on doing it for a long time. You’re stuck with me.” She sticks out her tongue at you, earning a fond smile.

“Lucky me.”

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

NSFW (whole alphabet) for Maul?

A/N: PLEASE REMEMBER TO COMMENT AND REBLOG IF YOU LIKE THIS! HEADCANONS NEED LOVE TOO YOU KNOW! (Also the tags are not working because they hate me)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He’s gentle, shockingly so. No matter how rough or intense, his entire demeanor shifts.  He treats you like glass; caressing your skin, cleaning your mess, and reveling in the lingering warmth. He becomes one clingy bitch is what I’m getting at here. 

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He loves your throat.  He loves how you leave it so open to him, to kiss or bite or squeeze as he wishes.  It’s a sign of trust, not to mention it leads down to your chests and all the other soft parts attached. (He’s a boob man, that’s all I’m saying)

As for himself, he likes his hands. They still hold his true strength. They can still wield the force to his will; to destroy his enemies or to place a gentle touch to your cheek.  He’s amazed that you can allow him to touch you after how much his hands have done. 

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He makes a mess whenever you fuck.  He likes to cum on you; on your tits, stomach, back, face, anywhere.  But he really loves cumming inside you and watching it drip from your sex.  Even if he can’t give you children, the idea of burying his seed in you is an instinct he can’t shake.  Would love nothing more than to keep his cock inside you and fill you again and again with him cum until it spills out on the bed.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

There are times he purposefully makes you angry because he knows how you’ll punish him later.  He’s not sure if you’ve caught on or not, but either way you play into his scheme perfectly.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Not very before you.  He was taken by Sidious at a very young age; as a Sith he was trained to forgo attachments and obey his master at every turn.  Sidious would not allow his apprentice any chance to form a connection with another aside from taking him back to Dathomir to fulfill a coming of age ritual where he was taken by a Night Sister.  After that, nothing. 

But, for what he lacks in experience, he makes up for in his willingness to learn.  He asks what you want, what you like.  He feels your reactions through the force and demonstrates a control you hadn’t found in previous lovers.  He can be patient when it counts.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He loves it when you’re both kneeling, with you straddling his waist a he thrusts up into you.  He’s able to reach deep inside you while allowing either of you to gain control as you wish it.  Not to mention easy access to your throat and breasts as he clings to you. 

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Maul is 99.9% of the time completely serious during sex.  Either his focus is entire on your pleasure or you’ve given him permission to work out his frustrations using your body.  The only time he’d crack a joke is if he’s feels particularly smug about the way he’s making you feels and wants to tease you.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

No hair down below, because, well...he doesn’t really have a natural below.  I doubt Mother Talzin added hair just for the fun of it.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

As I said before Maul has two modes; I need to fuck away my feelings OR you are the most important thing in the galaxy let me show you why.  When he’s in mode two, he’s the most intimate and romantic partner you can ask for, almost desperate in his attempt to show you how you make him feel.  If it’s option one, you’ll have to wait until after the sex to get the same treatment.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Pre-Naboo, he kept it on the down low.  He could only allow himself a moment’s release when his master wasn’t around.  And even then, it was only when he was particularly stressed or angry.  It was done quickly with no real thought of pleasure, just some kind of release if he couldn’t do it through violence.

After Naboo, it’s not really something he does because well...there’s not much down there for a good long while and after he gets some of his...parts back, he meets you.  With you, he doesn’t feel as compelled to use his hands.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Breeding kink.  He can’t give you children, obviously, but there’s an almost instinct there.  Just another thing Kenobi took away form him.

Also, not sure if it’s a kink, but he’s an absolute switch.  One minute he’s squeezing your neck while using you as his personal cum bucket.  The next, he’s tied to the bed begging and promising you the galaxy if you just let him cum.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He’s a bit of an exhibitionist. As much as he wants to be the only one to see you naked and writhing underneath him, there’s something about fucking you on the throne of Mandalor that sends a thrill up his spine.  Anyone can walk in and know that he’s the one making you feel this way.  He has the power to fuck you in front of the whole of Death Watch if he wanted to and none of them could touch you.  They would know you were his and as their leader they would not dare oppose him.

So, in terms of most common place, your bedroom.  In terms of most thrilling place, the throne room, followed by the war room, and then the training room.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You getting angry is the hottest thing in the galaxy to him.  If you direct that anger into destroying your enemies in combat, even better.  He’ll take you the second you’re alone in the ship.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Roleplaying.  It’s you and him, that’s it.  He doesn’t want or need to “spice things up”.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He prefers giving.  He loves your taste and how easily he can get you to cum with just his tongue.  He can feel your pleasure through the force which only drives his further.  Granted he needs to be mindful of where his horns are when you clamp him head between your thighs but that’s neither here nor there.

He’ll certainly accept you going down on him, but he knows it’s not as pleasurable for you to have a metal cock in your mouth no matter how good it feels for him.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He can be slow an sensual, but it almost always devolves into rough desperation.  He’s a man of wild passions and it shows in the marks on your thighs the next morning.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

You’re almost always the one to initiate them.  He says he can wait until the evening, but he’s often left working well into the night and forgets.  You take it upon yourself to strive into his office and tell him you need a good fuck.  That will get him away from the paper work long enough to leave your legs shaking and his mind a little more clear.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’s willing to try something you propose so long as you discuss it properly before hand.  He wants to make sure you’re safe before trying anything.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

It’s absolutely insane how high his stamina is.  For one, he’s got a mechanical cock that doesn’t actually get soft even after he cums.  Second, his reliance on the force allows him to recoup faster than normal.  He can go for an many rounds as you can stand for as long as you want.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

That will be a negative.  He doesn’t have any toys and the idea of you having a toy when all you have to do is ask he finds more than a little insulting.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He always does it when he’s trying to win an argument or make a point, and it’s infuriating.  He likes hearing you beg or admit he was right all while he teases you clit with the promise of more.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Maul gets loud.  It’s almost a defiance.  His master would not allow him anything like this singular happiness with another being and now he’s taking it at his own pleasure.  He screams and growls and moans and begs and every other noise in the book.  He wants people to hear.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Maul wants to have kids with you, and that fact that he can’t really aches at him.  He wants something that is truly his own; a legacy outside of the Sith, a final defiance to the master who abandoned him.  They would be the best of both of you and unparalleled in their power.  Nothing would stand in their way.  He can see it in his minds eye every time you fall asleep in his arms.  But, it can never be.  If Mother Talzin had figured out a way to make life without the need of Zabrak men, he wouldn’t have been a Night Brother in the first place.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Like I’ve said, Maul’s entire lower half is mechanical, including his cock.  Mother Talzin made him one which retracts back in when he’s not aroused.  It’s shaped like a Zabrak male: three ridges, each wider than the last giving him good length and girth (look up Nova: Bad Dragon). It also gives him pleasure, which is better than a dilo and excretes a synthetic cum when he climaxes.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

It’s not so much a sex drive as a yearning for you.  There are times he just wants you, to hold you close, to bury himself inside you and forget anything exists outside of you.  It’s in flux, but it’s certainly higher than most men you’ve known.  You’re having sex at least every other night if not more.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He doesn’t dare fall asleep until you do.  He likes the feeling of your body relaxing beside his as you drift off. He likes knowing you trust him to keep you safe, even in sleep.  Only when he knows there’s nothing lurking in the dark to take you away does he finally fall asleep.

[aesthbaby]

Attention pt. 2

Summary: After being the unsub’s latest victim in a joint case with the BAU, you see what was missing. Nothing’s ever been clearer and all it took was being rendered unconscious by an unsub in front of your girlfriend and her entire team. 

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x Plus!size reader

Prompt: Check part one

Warnings: cursing | kissing | injury | mentions of a fictional case | poisoning

Word count: 2719

Masterlist

An: I’m pretty sure you can read this as a stand alone if you wanted to but here’s part one. Also, I’m sorry this took me 2 months to publish.

The moon is brighter than the sun? No I’m pretty sure the sun is. What’s wrong with me? Why does my head hurt?

You attempt to reach for your head but your arms are too heavy to be of any use. 

That’s definitely not the moon.

The light source is moving. It’s a flashlight, the pocket sized one.

“Stay with us.” You hear a jumble voice from behind but can’t make out who it is. “We’re almost there.” The light is too bright but you can’t bring yourself to say anything. It hurts. “No, no stay up. We’re almost there.” It’s Emily, and she’s the source of the blinding presence. “Can you sit up for me?” You’re saying yes but nothing seems to come out and all you feel is fatigue. Your body is leaving this earth.

And there she is, yelling your name as its being drowned out by the darkness that’s enveloping you.

~~~~~~~~

“Hey!” Emily shouts from the stairs. “Stop day-dreaming and help me.”

“Help you? What’s going on?” The ground feels unsteady but the scene looks familiar.

Emily sets the box of towels on the counter top. “What?”

“Where am I?” You start to examine your hands, wondering what in the holy hell is happening.

“Babe,” The nickname gets your attention immediately. “Are you okay?”

“Emily,” She places a hand on your forehead.

“No fever.”

“Emily, I’ve already done this.”

“What do you mean?” She laughs. “We’ve been at this for hours. You have may more stuff than you let on. Plus, if we’ve ‘already done this’ I wouldn’t have had to tote all of these boxes by myself.”

A ‘sorry’ almost rolls off your tongue but it doesn’t make a sound. “No, Em I’m being serious.”

She plops down on the white arm chair and let’s out a huff. “Fine, you got me.” At your confused expression, she continues. “We’ve been here before, atleast you have. Three months ago you moved into this apartment with the love of your life, Emily Prentiss.”

Barely managing a stutter, “You’re not Emily?”

“Yes. Well, not exactly. I’m your version of her.”

“Am I-” You swallow the lump in your throat before saying the next part. “Dead?”

“What?” She smiles. “No. Just sleeping. A deep sleep at that.” She mumbles the last part.

“What happened? Why am I here?” You Can feel the panic and dread starting to set in. “I want Emily. I don’t want to be here.”

“Woah.” The brunette stands from her seat. “Calm down, you’re okay. Just take it easy.”

“Easy?” Now the anger is starting to boil. “I’m in a fucking coma with a fake girlfriend and you’re telling me to ‘take it easy??”

“Hey, look at me.” When you don’t move to look at her she gently takes your head. “You’re not in a coma y/n/n. You’re just sleeping.”

A tear starts to wellup in your eye. “But what does that mean?”

“Do you remember why you went to work with me today?”

“Uh,” You trail. “I think it was for a case.”

“Right, but why were you there?”

“Emily mentioned me to Hotch a year ago, about how good of an agent I am. That was before we were together.”

“Right,” She nods while doing that lip biting thing. “But why?”

“What the fuck do you mean ‘why?’ I don’t know why.” You begin to pace the shared loft. “I thought she was just putting in a good word for me.”

“Y/n, you know there’s more to it than that.”

You stop your movement and turn to face her. “Then tell me, you know!”

“No I don’t. I told you in not really her; I’m your version of her. I only know as much as you know.”

You slowly sink down on the plush couch. “I want Emily. I want the real Emily.”

“Then go to her.” She sits beside you and lays a gentle hand on your knee.

“How? I don’t even know why I’m here or what’s going on with me. I just want to go home.” The tears are staring again but not falling.

“Yes you do. Come with me.” She stands and holds out a pale palm to you. Hesitantly taking it, she leads you to your bedroom door. “Are you ready?” As soon as she sees you nod she opens the door and a bright light pulls you both in.

“Em, where are we?” In front of you is the bed to which you’ve been sharing for months now. On it is Emily in one of your big t-shirts on the phone with someone. “Wha-”

“Wait,” Your artificial Emily whispers.

The closet door opens and you step out in the new pajamas she bought you. “You look good.” She smiles with the phone away from her ear.

“Who is that?” You mouth as you crawl into bed with her.

“Hotch.” The classic toothy smile is on display as she replies. “Yes! Sir— I’m sorry but I- no we do not. Okay thank you.”

“What was that?”

“Hotch was asking for my input on the new trainees.”

“And....?”

“I did a thing.” She drags.

“A thing?” You arch your eyebrow.

“Yes.” She moves to straddle your lap.

“What was it?” Her lips on your neck completely scrambles your brain. Effectively making you forget what you were asking.

“What is this? I barely remember it.” You turn to face your rendition of Emily. All you get is a shrug in reply from her. “She wasn’t actually talking about trainees, was she?” Another shrug. “I’ll take that as a no. Was she talking about the poisoning case?” Silence. “She recommended my department to help with the murders.”

“Finally, but you still don’t know why.”

“Do I need to? Why does it actually matter.”

“Come on babe,” She brushes a hand down your arm. “I know you’re smarter than this.”

“Since when do you call me ‘babe?”

“We’ve been over this, I’m not Emily. I’m your version of Emily and apparently you subconsciously wish she’d call you more pet names.”

I’ve never thought of it like that...

“I want to show you something else,” She gestures to the bathroom. “Pay attention this time.” As she leads you through the door you can hear your past self speaking.

“She told me I have a weight problem with a god complex intertwined.” You huff from the bathroom mirror.

“Who?” Em is sitting on the edge of the bath moisturizing.

“That bitch I work with!”

“The same one who asked if Africa was a country?” She scrunches her face up in a disgusted twist.

“Yes! Who says that to someone?”

“Yeah how did she get into the academy anyway?”

“Privilege, both Pretty and Rich.”

She lets out a scuff. “That cannot be real.” You turn to her with a confused look. “Pretty privilege.”

“It’s very real and you clearly have it.”

The brunette stops dead in her tracks. “What?”

“You’re gorgeous Em, and you have been appointed more opportunities for it.”

“I’d like to think differently....” she trails.

“I’m not saying you haven’t worked hard to get where you are today but your looks have pushed you a bit further than the rest of us.”

She’s silent for a bit, to the point where you start to worry that you’ve done something wrong. “Then what does that make you?”

You place your towel on the rack and turn to face her again. “What do you mean?”

“You have the looks, charm, and brains. Do you consider yourself to be ‘privileged?”

Completely bipassing the question, “You think I’m pretty?”

“Was that not obvious before? I practically drool whenever I look at you.” She’s as sincere as always but your eye rolls says you don’t believe her. “I know how you can get trapped inside your head sometimes, but I want you to know that I do not share the opinions you have of yourself. You look at yourself and dismiss your beauty while I embrace it. You’re always doubting your intellect when I find myself wondering how I got so lucky to fall in love with a female version of Spencer.” Your small smile morphs into a laugh at the Spencer mention.

“I can’t stand it when you go all soft on me.” Hearing Emily say stuff like this always surprises you because she’s not really the type of person to confess all of this first. It’s usually you who has to adress your emotions as a couple.

“Only for you.” She leans up and plants a kiss on your cheek.

As the memory fades you turn to the consciousness you’ve been talking to. “Shit.”

“Yup.” She draws.

“The reason she didn’t see my connection to the victims is because she doesn’t see that side of. She doesn’t see me as her ‘Plus-Sized Girlfriend.’ She only sees me as her girlfriend, no other labels attached.”

“So, you get it? Do understand why?”

“I get it now.” A tear teeters on the edge of your eyelid. “Yeah, I get it.”

She snakes an arm around you, effectively pulling you into a tight hug. “Are you ready now?” She even smells like your Emily, the memory making the tear fall from your eye. “Remember what I showed you, okay?” Before you can respond a warm light envelopes you.

It makes sense now, she recommended me for the case because of my abilities, no because we’re together or she wanted me to get ahead. She has a blind spot that’s blocking a good chunk of her perception of me. She couldn’t have known I would’ve been targeted. The unsub could’ve been watching me way before I got involved. There’s still a bunch of holes in the case but this is the best you’ve got. Please remember all of this before you wake up.

Your eyes are heavy again. The room feels cold but warm at the same time. Trying to peak out of one eye proves more difficult than it seems. The blinding light of the room is overwhelming, it’s like white ice. Now I’m not making sense. You try to cry out for someone, anyone, but the words die off on your dry lips before they can formulate. “Hey,” You hear a voice softy call from the other side of the room. A tender hand plants itself on your knee, making you flinch a bit. “Glad to see you awake.” Why do I know that voice? In front of your barely open eye is a blonde blob; as your eyes began to focus you realize it’s Jennifer.

As you try to master a hey all that comes out is a low croak. “Its okay, don’t try to speak just yet.” Everything in your head feels fuzzy but the only thing you’re able to think about is Emily. A hum that barely resembles an ‘M’ boils out your vocal cords.

“Emily?” She clarifies on your behalf. A small smile breaches your features. “I’ll go get her and the doctor.” No less that a minute later you can hear her healed boots tapping towards the room. She rushes to your side, planting kisses along your forehead. The doctor does her round of intake on your body with Emily glued to your side.

“Agent y/l/n should make a full recovery so long as the healing process goes as planned.” Was all you managed to absorb as she explained the aftercare plan for you. All of this while JJ is in the background putting the pieces together. She had a feeling Emily was seeing someone but had no idea that someone was you. The way she’d been acting since you collapsed in the office made her also connect the dots. Emily explained her concerned behavior as a long friendship you two once had. Everything was starting to make sense now; you’re the one person who could break Emily’s walls and tear down this compartmentalization bullshit she has going on. Not wanting to impede on what she can only assume is a private moment, she steps out of the room to inform the rest of the team.

“Are you okay?” It’s like she wants to cry, scream, ball her eyes out but all of that built up emotional strain won’t allow her. Instead of letting her do this to herself, you try your best to shift in the bed. “What are you doing?” You didn’t get very far but now there’s an empty space beside you. Motioning for her to lay next to you actually works. With both of you in the annoying small hospital bed you can hold her closer, feeling the quick heart beat. The brunette head of hair in nuzzled in your chest so not to interfere with the tubes and wires still attached to you.

Taking a deep breath and just enjoying the moment, you finally speak. “I’m okay. I mean I feel like I swallowed sandpaper but I’m okay.” You can almost feel the sigh release from her chest.

“We still have no idea how you were poisoned or why you were targeted.” Her jaded voice is always never this emotional, it’s strange to hear her so vulnerable. “For the smartest minds of the FBI we feel a little stupid.” The laugh the bounces around in your throat is painful, still welcomed. “Baby,” She starts after a moment of silence. “If I have realized the connection between you and the victims, I wouldn’t have let you work this.”

“You didn’t know,” You have no idea where this is coming from but something in the back of your mind is telling you to explain it to her. “You don’t see all of me, Em.”

She sniffles and buried herself deeper into you. “When I look at you, all I see is you. I don’t see your weight or your figure, I only see you. My girlfriend. You’re right, that’s the problem. I’m only seeing part of you. Not all of you. I don’t deserve you.” She moves to stand but you quickly pull her back in before she gets the chance.

“You can’t run from this, Emily. I understand that you didn’t do this intentionally.”

“My actions- blindness almost costed you your life. I can’t put you in danger again.” When she pulls away you let her go this time.

“Emily. You’ve ran away from your own shadow before, aren’t you tired?”

“If it means keeping you safe, I’ll file a fucking restraining order!” She nearly yells.

“Don’t do that. Everytime you fuck up you get that look in your eye like I’m going to break up with you or something. I’m not. I know you’re waiting on the other shoe to drop but I promise it’s not. All of those other guys you’ve been with? I’m not them. Big difference is that I’m female and a lot more mature. I’m also not as psychotic as he who shall not be named.” A small smile breaches her features. “I love you. Rather you like it or not, you’re stuck with me.”

“Oh really? Wait until Garcia finds out I’ve been hiding this from her. She’s going to wanna know all about you. You’ll definitely be invited to the next girls night.”

“I don’t mind.” You shrug. “But seriously, how did I get poisoned?”

“The forensic team is still searching our place, nothing yet but you know they like to take their sweet time with cases. I’ve obviously be recused from the case while the rest of the team works with the CDC and the Anti-terrorism division. We also have agents and Unis posted outside the room and hospital so the Unsub has no chance of coming after you again. Even an added air filter so he has no vent system.” She waves towards the attachment on top of the existing air vent. No wonder the air smells so crisp in here.

“Sounds like I’m in good hands.”

“You are, just wish I could be out there with them.”

“You’re right where you need to be, right where I need you.” You stretch your arms out to her like the way a child does.

She laughs at the gesture but complies. Instead of squishing into the small bed she drags the chair to the side of your bed, firmly clasping your hand in her’s.

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[xaphrin]

Damian was fighting to keep his eyes on the road and his heart in his chest. Next to him sat Raven, looking so damn pretty it hurt to breathe, and he found himself wanting to stare at her the whole ride to the animal shelter. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye and saw a lock of hair had fallen from her bun, brushing against the curve of her cheek. His fingers itched to brush it away, but… right. They weren’t those kinds of friends. 

For the hundredth time that night, he silently promised himself he was doing to keep his heart intact. He might have been head-over-heels in love with her, but that didn’t mean she loved him back, and he wasn’t willing to risk his own feelings just yet. Damian cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles turned white. 

“So.” He needed to talk, if only to fill the silence that was growing between them. Otherwise the rest of this night was going to be painfully awkward.

Raven turned and looked at him, her lips pulling down into a frown. “What?”

“How’s your senior thesis coming along?” School seemed a safe topic, so he’d stick with that. “What was it on again? Emily Dickinson?”

Raven’s face fell and she turned to look at him, obviously insulted. “Do you think every female literature student does their senior thesis on Emily Dickinson?” 

“I don’t know. I’m not a literature student.” Damian tried to sound nonchalant, as if he didn’t really care, but mentally he was kicking himself. Honestly, he couldn’t remember what she said she was working on, because every time she started talking about it, her eyes lit up and she got this excited almost dreamy expression on her face, and Damian got lost in her. She was easy to get lost in. He bit the inside of his cheek and looked over at her, forcing his expression to remain neutral. “You’re applying to grad school, right?” 

“Yeah, actually.” She looked surprised that he remembered, and fidgeting with the strap on her purse, as if suddenly nervous. “I submitted my application last week. But, I have a few more weeks before I find out if I got into the program.” 

“You know you’ll get in.” Damian stared up at a red light, refusing to look at her. If he did, he knew he’d forget everything he was supposed to say to her. How in the world could she break him like this? “I don’t know why you’re so worried. You’re the smartest, most inspired student in the whole program.”

“Was that… a compliment, Damian Wayne?” Her voice was teasing, almost playful, and it made his stomach twist. Raven shifted and stared out the windshield, a small smile playing on her lips. “We’ve been fighting each other for the better part of four years, and you actually complimented me. Well, shit. I guess I owe Conner ten bucks.” 

At the sound of Conner’s name, Damian frowned. He remembered Conner’s soft touches and soft, lopsided smiles at Raven, and Damian shifted in his seat. Maybe there was more to their relationship. “Are you two… together?”

Raven snorted. “With Conner? No.” She glanced back at him, her dark eyes searching his face. “I mean sure, he’s fun and cute, and he almost out-bid you at the auction-”

Damian gave her a flat stare. Of course she was going to bring that up.

“-but no.” She paused, as if suddenly realizing that was a very personal question. Her eyebrows knitted together and she stared at him. “Why do you ask?”

He shrugged, hoping he looked unaffected by her or her suspicion. “No reason. I just noticed you were a bit more chummy with him over the last few parties.” Jealousy, thick and viscous spilled into his chest, and Damian forced himself to breathe just to ignore it. “I thought maybe you two had hooked up or something.”

“Oh, god no.” Raven shook her head, color leaving her face as she forced out a bark of laughter. “Trust me. I made the mistake of dating a frat boy once. Never again will I wander down that road.” 

Damian jerked and looked over at her, surprised. “What? Who did you date?” 

“Gar. For all of six weeks during freshman year.” She lifted an eyebrow. “Do you not remember? You teased us relentlessly. I think half the reason we broke up was to get you to shut up and leave up alone.”

Memories flooded his thoughts, and Damian felt heat crawl up his neck. Ah, no. He remembered. It was definitely not one of his finer moments, but it had been before he understood what his feelings really were towards Raven. He remembered being angry and jealous, and he didn’t want to see them together, he just didn’t understand why. It wasn’t until months later that he realized he liked Raven. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Yeah… I’m sorry about that.”

Raven seemed surprised by his apology, but she chose not to tease him about it. Instead, she shrugged and glanced away. “It’s fine. It never would have worked out between us anyway. That relationship was doomed from the start. Gar is still getting his life together, and I can’t wait for that. I don’t want to wait for that.” She paused as if realizing something, and looked back at Damian. “Why did you join the frat in the first place? I mean, you’re a legacy student, rich as all get out, and could have rented a swank apartment just off campus. You don’t need to join a fraternity.” 

Damian shrugged. “Father belonged to the same one when he was in college, and he thought it would be good for business connections and my… social skills.” He rolled his eyes. 

Raven laughed. “Social skills. Ah. So you’ve always had this stick up your ass? Good to know it’s not a recent development.” 

Damian glanced over at her and tried to glare, but her smile melted whatever annoyance filled him. He blinked and looked away, turning down a side street towards the animal shelter. He swallowed and felt the confession bubble up before he could stop it. “I’m going to grad school too.” 

Raven hummed, but the sound was playful. “Are you telling me I have at least three more years of you? Three more years of you harping on my reading choices?” 

“At least.” He smirked. “I’ll make sure to bother you whenever I get the chance.” 

“Are you going to stay in the frat house?”

“Probably not. I’m getting a little too old for that. The freshmen parties keep me up way too late.” 

“Careful, Dami. Otherwise I’m going to start thinking you’re an old man.” 

He gave her a flat stare, but tried not to crow at the playful nickname she offered. “What about you? Are you staying with Karen and Donna?”

“No.” Raven shook her head. “Karen is taking an internship in San Francisco, and Donna is going to Europe to work with her family’s company.” A pensive, sad expression filled her face. “If I get accepted, I’ll have to find somewhere to live before I start.”

The offer fell out of his mouth before he could stop it. “You could stay with me.” 

Oh god. No. Panic filled his chest and tried to think of a way to make it a joke, but nothing came to mind. Instead he sat there and watched as several expressions of confusion colored Raven’s face. 

Raven snorted. “As what? Your maid?”

“No.” Why did his mouth insist on talking? He couldn’t stop talking, and he needed to right now. “I mean… as roommates. I have the money and the space is easy to find. You need somewhere to stay. You’re clean and quiet, and you’d stay out of my business.” Damian finally breathed. Safe. “You’d be the perfect roommate. Like having a cat you never see.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Gee, when you put it like that, how can I refuse? Be still my beating heart.” 

He shrugged. “The offer stands. If you can’t find a place before fall, let me know.” 

Raven laughed. “You know. I’ll do it. I’ll be your roommate just to annoy you.” She smirked and looked over at him, finally tucking that stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Put flavored creamer in my coffee every morning.”

“How many times do I have to say that you don’t sully good coffee with cheap creamer?” He seethed and pulled into the parking lot, shoving the car into park. “It’s a waste of good coffee.” 

She laughed again and unbuckled her seatbelt. “I’ll make sure I have every single flavor in the fridge. Even down to the disgusting seasonal flavors. Pumpkin Spice. Egg Nog. Mint Chocolate.” 

“That’s it.” Damian flung open his car door and stepped out, glaring at her over the roof of his car. “The offer has been officially revoked. You are no longer allowed to be my roommate.” 

Raven laughed and followed him into the animal shelter, her steps uneven. Damian glanced down at her and realized her clothes didn’t fit quite right. Which meant she was probably wearing Donna’s shoes as well as Donna’s dress. His heart did something weird in his chest, and he realized that Raven had dressed up for him. Something like excitement and pride mixed together, and he found himself wanting to kiss her. Of course, he always wanted to kiss her, but right now… he was ready to throw caution to the wind and make out with her right on the animal shelter steps. 

“Kittens.” 

Her voice was soft and strained, as if she was trying to contain her excitement, and it pulled Damian deeper into his internal struggle to not fall in love with her any more. He glanced up to see Raven taking a shy step forward, looking through the window at the kitten and cat room. They lounged on trees and in beds, watching her with a curious expression. For a moment, he stood there and let this memory burn in his head. Raven’s eyes were wide and bright, and a soft smile played on her lips. She looked… cute. Too cute. His heart twisted even more in his chest and he guided her to the front door. 

He smirked and held open the door for her. “You can pet them, you know.”

Raven glanced up at him, and Damian was pretty sure his insides were now permanently mush. She looked so eager, and he wanted to get her whatever she wanted just to keep that expression on her face. 

“It’s gonna take me a bit to get the paperwork completed for the donation.” He was trying not to look completely and utterly enamored with her, but knew he was probably failing. “Go play with the cats.” 

Her eyes widened for a moment, before her face fell back into a stern expression, poking him in the chest. “This stays between us.”

“That you turn into a small child at the sight of a kitten?” He forced a sarcastic smile. “You think I’m not going to take a picture of you and put it all over the internet.” He wasn’t, but she didn’t know that. “I can see the headline now: Resident Hardass, Raven Roth, Actually has a Soft Side.”

Before he could blink, Raven reached into his pants pocket and yanked out his cell phone, holding it up in front of his face. “I’ll keep this until we leave. Consider it collateral.” Sticking out her tongue at him, she shoved his phone into her bra and out of his reach, before turning around and heading to play with the cats.

“Your girlfriend is cute.” 

Damian turned and looked at the office worker who had come out to meet him, and he didn’t bother correcting the assumption. Raven was cute, and he desperately wanted her as his girlfriend.

He finished up with the donation, writing out the check and posing for a few promotional photos with workers from the animal shelter. But his thoughts were thirty feet away, with Raven as she moved around the room, playing with cats. Damian stood there for a few minutes and watched her, all spread out on the floor, cats and kittens crawling over her and making her light up and smile so damned bright. Damian stared at her, his heart so heavy and so full that breathing hurt. He didn’t understand how he could protect his heart anymore. 

He was irrevocably in love with her, and it was only going to hurt him to keep denying it. 

Raven looked up and saw him standing there. She picked up a kitten that had been crawling up her back, and set it on the floor before stepping out of the room to meet him. She was covered in cat fur, and that somehow only made her cuter. He was so damn gone for her. 

“You’re a mess.” He said, shaking his head with a laugh. “And you desperately need a lint roller.”

Damian went and borrowed one from the front desk clerk, taking time to roll off the back of her dress and her skirt. The whole act felt strangely intimate, but Raven didn’t seem to mind. Instead she was laughing, twisting away when he found a ticklish spot near her side. Forgetting who he was, Damian wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her back to him, running the lint roller over her stomach and letting himself bathe in her joy. She felt like liquid sunshine in his arms, happy and honest, and so unlike the usual studious hardass she was. His world was shifting even more, and Raven was standing in the center like a beacon. 

“Careful, Dami.” Her voice was soft and breathy from laughter, and she smelled of lavender and vanilla. God. He could feel her heat spilling through his clothes and warming him in the best way possible. She turned in his arms and plucked the lint roller from his hand, tilting her face up to meet his own. Her lips shifted to the side, and she poked a finger in his chest. “People might get the wrong idea about us.” 

His mind was filled with one thought: Let them. 

[malecsecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, incorrect-malec!

For @incorrect-malec. This is the first part to a larger fic which will be updated sometime after the reveal, as the plot ran away from me! I tried to incorporate as many of the proposed likes as I could to make this an interesting and fun gift! Happy holidays, dear giftee, I hope you sincerely enjoy your present ❤️

Minor content warning for some cursing and small mentions of blood.

*****

find me here (amidst the chaos)

“Mr. Lightwood-Bane? You have a special visitor.” 

Alec glances up from the spread of ridiculous red tape sprawled across his desk. An antique grandfather clock nestled in the corner behind him ticks away the idle seconds. 

“Ah.” Alec leans into the high-backed support of his office chair. “Mr. Lightwood-Bane, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

Magnus glides into the room, shutting the ornate door behind him with a heavy thud. “You forgot your lunch. I assumed it was all a simple ploy to trick me into bringing some for you.”

“A reasonable assumption.” 

“I probably shouldn’t be indulging in such skulduggery,” Magnus skirts around the desk, his magic tidying the paperwork into neat piles off to the side. “Alas, it has been some long six hours since I last saw my husband, and I’m little other than a fool for love.”

Alec stands and sways into Magnus’ space. “It is known to be a great weakness of yours.”

“Love?” Magnus wraps his arms around Alec’s neck, soothing his fingers against the nape. “Hardly. Love is too often fleeting. You, however?” He brushes the ghost of a kiss against the corner of Alec’s mouth. “You have always been my greatest weakness.”

Alec kisses Magnus, because it says more than words ever could, because there are no words in any language that he knows which could be enough to express how he feels, how his core is alight and burning hot, how he can’t get close enough without knocking them both over, and even that wouldn’t soothe the ache.

“You didn’t even bring any food with you,” Alec points out, pressing a fleeting kiss to Magnus’ temple, lest he kiss any lower and come away with a shimmer upon his lips. His hands are broad and firm against Magnus’ hips, drawing him close until the ornate buckle of his belt is nestled against Alec’s belly button. He’s slouched, relaxed and calm. 

“An easy fix.” Magnus pecks the very tip of Alec’s nose, grinning easy at the way it scrunches. “What are you in the mood for?” 

“I really want to visit Sky,” Alec sighs, his shoulders drawing up. “I miss their chebureki. I’m craving their chebureki. But I have to file through this paperwork, or the Clave are going to be breathing down my neck.” 

Magnus traces the love rune against the nape of Alec’s neck. “I mean this with every breadth of my soul.” He pulls back, drawn to the mirth that draws Alec’s brow together before staring into hazel eyes which have always held his own gaze with such resolve it’s a wonder he ever questioned them. “Fuck the Clave.”

Alec laughs, hearty and full. Magnus kisses the lines of his eyes, warmth cloaking him like a homemade blanket. This, right here. This is all he needs. 

“Is that a proposition? I think I have a form somewhere for interdepartmental relationships, I’d be happy to sign it for you.”

Alec feigns to pull away, his hands falling to his sides. Before he can even turn his body, Magnus takes both of Alec’s hands in his own, kissing the space on his ring finger above his wedding band and the ridges of his knuckles while the other intertwines their fingers, squeezing tight and holding their joined hands against his heart - or, rather, a rough estimation of where his heart is, hidden beneath his unbuttoned silk shirt and floral blazer. 

“Burn it.” Magnus insists, resting his chin on the back of Alec’s hand, still held tight within his own. “Or shred it. Do you have a paper shredder? We can start a recycling plan! Saving the planet is really something the Clave should care about. Maybe they can investigate that, and then while they’re busy saving the world - I know that you Shadowhunters love that - we can steal away and pretend you never insinuated that I would ever break our sacred marriage vows for the Clave.”

Alec leans back, tapping the side of Magnus’ sleek ankle boots. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have even joked about it.” 

“I wouldn’t break our vows for anything.” Magnus pulls a face. “Suggesting I would do it for the Clave is just insulting, Alexander. I have far better taste than that.”

“Is that so?”

Magnus hums, turning Alec’s hand to kiss down his wrist. “I’m pretty sure I have a certificate somewhere that proves it.” He murmurs, tilting his head into the cup of Alec’s palm against his cheek. “Unless that’s how you tested out your paper shredder? We haven’t cleared up whether it exists yet.” 

“Your environmental concerns are heard and are being considered by the Inquisitor at present” Alec teases, before adding. “I’m pretty sure that Aline has a paper shredder in her office. It’s definitely the kind of thing that Helen would have gifted. Probably wrapped in a bow, too.”

“That does sound like our Helen.” Magnus steps forward into the gap of Alec’s thighs. “I’m afraid that all I am hearing is that there is in fact no reason why you can’t take an extended lunch break.” He leans forward, teasing a kiss along the cut of Alec’s jaw. “Perhaps we can even enjoy it in the comfort of our own home.” 

They would have, Alec prepared with a half-hearted protest that Magnus would just as quickly swallow, bending the pretence of Alec’s revolve before whisking them away in a portal that would have to be created on the balcony to protect the furniture. They would have enjoyed a lovely meal, and each other’s company, and Magnus would have sent Alec back with a sweet kiss and a promise of reservations for some late night ponchiki, conveniently forgetting to mention that he’s missed a button of his shirt. 

Unfortunately, none of that happened. 

“Inquisitor Lightwood-Bane? High Warlock Lightwood-Bane?” 

Magnus rolls his eyes and steps away from Alec, although his hand skims Alec’s hip. The shadowhunter at the door seems familiar … Montclair something, maybe … yes, Eva Montclair. A sort of glorified P.A for various members of the Clave. Her sudden appearance in Alec’s doorway is not a terrible thing by nature, but Magnus has a feeling given the tightness of her knuckles around the hilt of her seraph blade that it is not good news that she couriers this time. 

Eva inhales deeply, her shoulders curled in defensively. “I was told to come and tell you both immediately, I’m sorry if I’ve interrupted anything.” 

“What’s wrong, Eva?” Alec asks, kind but firm.

“There’s been an instance near Piccadilly. A warlock appears to have recently come into their powers and is struggling with gaining control over them. The Head of the London Institute called them ‘rogue’, but I personally don’t think that’s fair. From the descriptions received all the magic seems to be defensive rather than offensive. The High Warlock there is currently unavailable but suggested that you, Mr. Lightwood-Bane, would be a … ‘fitting substitute’ in his absence?”

Magnus fixes a pleasant smile even as a laugh hiccups in the back of his throat. Ragnor truly says the kindest things. “If this is as you describe, Eva, I’m sure there won’t be any further problems.”

“Please alert the London Institute that we are on our way.” Alec requests. “And please make it clear to them that they are under no circumstances to harm the young warlock. This is no longer any of their concern.”

The hint of a smile toys at the corner of Eva’s mouth, and it’s then that Magnus remembers that she’s married to a warlock herself, and in fact he has met Mars on a few occasions as part of the Downworlder council. Small world. 

“Absolutely.” Eva nods, curtly, and ducks out of the room. 

Magnus nods towards the balcony doors. “Portal?”

Alec sighs, reaching for Magnus’ hand. “This has to be the fifth call this year alone. I’m starting to think those pamphlets aren't working.”

The balcony doors swing open with a flick of Magnus’ hand. 

“Maybe the Institute Heads are just environmentally conscious.”

---

“Angels,” Alec whispers, when they come through the other side of the portal onto a wet cobblestone side-street, the air heavy with unshed rain. “They’re so young.”

The warlock couldn’t possibly be older than eighteen. Their torn jeans are stuffed into worn and muddy old boots, their denim vest is missing sleeves, torn at the shoulder, and the faded band tank underneath looks far too thin for a London evening. Thin, white lines stand out against brown skin, forming stars on their arms like tattoos of varying size, a mark unlike any that Alec has ever seen before and given the slight furrow to Magnus’ brow, it’s not a common one. Their hair is cropped short and pink, which could be a warlock mark, although Alec has his doubts. 

“Their mark is glowing.” Magnus comments. “It pulses, see. It’s directly connected to their magic.”

“Is that unusual?” Alec asks, casting an eye around for anything to gain the warlock’s attention without spooking them. “Your eyes glow.”

Magnus drops his glamour. A point is being made, but it isn’t Alec’s. “The pulse is frantic, like their magic, their emotions. Their powers are so new that they haven’t figured out how to control any of it yet. Warlock marks, although rare, do sometimes come with the magic itself. That’s a lot to discover about yourself at once. No wonder they look so frightened, poor dear.”

Alec’s throat tightens when the warlock grips their head and folds over. “We have to help them. I don’t even know how but … we have to help them.”

Magnus grips the back of Alec’s neck, turning him until they’re facing each other. “We will.” Magnus says, firm but kind. “We are their best hope right now, Alexander, and we will help them.” He grazes his thumb along the column of Alec’s nape. “We’re good at this.”

Alec nods, rolling his shoulders back as Magnus’ hand falls away. Magnus gestures and Alec follows his gaze, towards a portable store sign advertising 25% off coats and knitwear - it’s not terribly wide or tall, but if he’s careful he should be able to hide behind it, if temporarily. The last thing they need is for the warlock to feel as though they’ve been trapped, so letting Magnus talk first and providing support without being obvious about it is their best chance at this point in time. 

The first time they talked a warlock down Alec had gotten his eyebrows singed off for getting too close, too fast. 

“Excuse me?” Magnus has procured a coat, probably from the store behind Alec, his hands shoved into the pockets. 

To the unassuming eye, he probably appears to be a concerned citizen, his eyes glamoured once more, although there is an undeniable electricity to him that couldn’t be mistaken by those who know for a thunderstorm. There is a chance that the warlock, although presumably new to their powers, will be able to sense it as well. If that’s the case, their reaction is anyone’s guess. Alec tightens his grip on his bow.

“I’m Magnus Bane.” The warlock glances up with lightning speed, their arms wound tightly around their chest, as though doing so would keep everything in place. Alec is familiar with the feeling. “I’m not going to hurt you. I promise. I’m like you, see?”

Magnus must have dropped his glamour, for the warlock takes a step back, but they lose some of the tension around their shoulders. “May I ask for your name?” He asks, rocking back on his heels.

The warlock hesitates, the stars on their arms pulsing even faster. “Nova.” They say, after what feels to be an hour. Alec lets out a heavy breath and relaxes onto his haunches. This is good. 

“Hello, Nova.” Magnus flattens his palm against his chest. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Is it okay if I ask you a few questions? You don’t have to answer any that make you uncomfortable. My only motivation is helping you if I can.”

“What makes you think that you can help me?” Nova spits out. They’re shaking. “I don’t even know what’s happening to me. The other day I was fine, I was normal and then I woke up yesterday and I have these weird tattoos on my arm and today I’m sending things into different rooms with just my thoughts - and none of it makes any sense! None of it!” 

Magnus takes a lone step forward, but Nova doesn’t appear to notice. Alec feels a chill crawl down his spine. “You don’t know me, so what I’m about to ask of you probably goes against every instinct you have. Nova, I need you to trust me.”

“Why?”

Magnus takes another step. The hairs on the back of Alec’s neck stand to attention. “Because I’ve been where you are.” Magnus explains. “Lost. Confused. Angry. I was a child when I discovered my magic, what I could do with it. I didn’t have anybody to help me, and I always vowed that I wouldn’t let that happen to others, if I could help it. I want to help you.”

“What am I?” Nova furiously shakes their head, gripping at their elbows so tight little pinpricks of blood skate down their arms. “Why is this happening to me?”

“I prefer to call myself a warlock. Many of us do.” Magnus explains. He holds out his palm, letting a blue flame collect in the centre. “You can refer to yourself however you like. You can just be Nova, and nothing more, if you want.”

“But the magic … that won’t go away?”

Magnus shakes his head. “No. Take my word for it, you will only cause yourself more harm if you try. It’s not all bad.” The flame in Magnus’ hand turns into a cupcake, with a small sugary rainbow on top of the cream white frosting. “Once you learn how to control it, the things you’ll be able to do are incredible.”

“I lost a mug.” Nova laughs, a fragile thing. “It’s so stupid. I just threw it at the wall, but it didn’t smash or anything it just … disappeared. I looked for hours. It’s not even important, it was a quid or something but it … it’s gone. I did that. I don’t know how but wherever it’s ended up is because of me. What if - what if I do that to somebody? Make them … disappear.” 

“I don’t think so.” Magnus is a few feet away now if that. “The kind of power that takes is … astronomical, not to mention the technical restraint. The worst you might do is cause some minor injuries, but even that is rare.”

Nova’s stars are glowing steadily. “Have you ever made someone disappear?”

“Not without the intent to do so.”

The answer seems to appease Nova. Alec stays hunched down, it doesn’t look like Magnus needs his support, although it would be nice to stretch his back soon, although he still trains from time to time, he isn’t exactly as young as he used to be. 

“Magnus Bane. Step away from the rogue warlock at once. This is no longer an issue for the Downworlder Council to handle, this has become an Institute matter and will thus be handled by Shadowhunters. Your services have not proven useful, and this warlock must be subdued before any harm is caused.” 

The electricity in the air gets sharper. Alec hesitates but eventually rises slowly from his crouched position. He catches the minute the Institute Head, Stephen Highsmith, sees him and the flood of blood to his cheeks and forehead. A second later, his head whips towards Nova, who is clutching at their head, their wide eyes caught between the three of them. Alec doesn’t have the time to search for the Shadowhunters positioned around them, knows on instinct that they’re surrounded, that the only way out is through talking and, if that fails, a little violent liberty. 

“The warlock is a child.” He states, stalking out from behind the sign. He grips his bow tight and positions himself diagonally from Magnus, firm in his defence. “Surely you have higher morals than that, Stephen.”

Highsmith, a weasely man riding the coattails of his family name, sneers and draws his seraph blade. He’d never been too good as a Shadowhunter, from all accounts, but power is a currency and money talks. “It was very honourable of you to leave your post and flock to my streets, Inquisitor Lightwood, but I’m afraid your presence is simply not necessary. My men and I have it handled.”

“I’m sure you’re very capable of handling precarious situations, Mr. Highsmith.” Butter wouldn’t melt in Magnus’ mouth. “However, as High Warlock Fell is currently out of the country and has given permission for Alexander and myself to fulfil his duties in his place, I do believe it is a case best left to us. We don’t intend to intrude upon your delicate sensibilities, I’m sure you’re a very busy man who has much better things to do than to waste your time on such a small affair.”

“For the record.” Alec smiles with no heart. “It’s Lightwood-Bane. A simple mistake, I’m sure, but an important thing to rectify. Names carry a lot of importance and weight, you know.”

Highsmith splutters. “I do not have time for this!”

“Neither do we.” Magnus stalks closer, until he’s within arms distance from Highsmith. Alec inches closer to Nova, now bent over with their palms pressed against their eyelids. “This is a matter for the Downworlder council, and as it’s representatives, we will take care of it. The longer you argue and fight with us over this, however, the longer it will take until we are out of your hair.”

The back of Alec’s neck prickles with heat. Magnus continues to admonish Highsmith. “Neither Alexander nor I will budge until Nova is safe. Believe me when I tell you that there is nobody more equipped to handle this than us, and if you don’t take your leave quietly and with what little grace you can summon, you will be responsible for whatever harm or damage is caused.”

“How dare you speak to me like that!” Highsmith’s face is blotchy and red. 

“Quite easily.” Magnus twists his fingers, a white-hot blast landing at Highsmith’s feet. His shoes turn into fluffy bunny slippers. The ears flop when he pounds his feet. “Respect is earnt, Mr. Highsmith, and quite frankly you have done nothing worth receiving mine.”

A low muttering draws Alec’s attention. Nova has sunk onto their knees, the heel of their palms digging into their eyes. Alec quietly side-steps closer, holding his bow behind his back so as not to terrify Nova even more. 

“I just want to go home. I just want this all to end. I want to go home.”

Alec sneaks a glance towards Magnus, still holding defence against Highsmith, who has acquired shocking green hair and a yellow high-visibility vest alongside the bunny slippers. Perhaps it won’t go as smoothly as if Magnus were the one talking Nova down, he can connect with them in a way Alec never would, but he can offer support - just as long as he can calm Nova down, draw them away from the conflict, that’s all … then they can dismiss Highsmith because there would be no ‘warlock problem’ and Nova’s safety and comfort could once again take priority. 

“Nova?” Alec crouches down, rocking back on his heels. “My name is Alec. I’m a friend of Magnus’. We’re going to do our best to get you home, okay?” 

Nova starts rocking back and forth. Their tattoos glow brighter than before, a luminescent blue that pricks at the back of Alec’s eyes. “I want to go home.” They continue to murmur, in a voice that takes on a warbled effect, as though they were speaking underwater. “I just want to go home.”

“Where do you live?” Alec asks. “Do you live in London?”

Nova falls to their knees. In the distance, Alec hears Magnus’ tone getting sharper, although he can’t make out exactly what is being said, it doesn’t fill him with much confidence that a productive conversation is being had. Nova keeps rocking, folded over into themselves. Blood streaks down their forearms, small droplets collecting behind their ears from where their fingers had dug into their scalp. 

“Enough is enough!” Highsmith shouts. Shadowhunters spill out from the dark, armed to the teeth with all manner of weapons, seraph blades and a few staves, the odd throwing star attached at the hip. Archers are scattered across the rooftops around them, arrows notched and aimed. 

“Highsmith.” Magnus’ hands crackle as blue flame licks at his fingertips, wrapping around his arms. “I’ve made an attempt at civility, but you are clearly not interested in politics. Fine. Take this as a warning. Recall your soldiers. Stand down. I cannot guarantee everyone’s safety if you do not heed this warning, and the dangerous consequences your refusal could inflict are limitless. This young warlock is frightened. Let us look after them, and I assure you, nobody will get hurt.”

“I have had enough of your whining.” Highsmith spits. “This is now Shadowhunter business. Perhaps a few days in a cold cell will teach this young warlock how to control their powers.”

It all happens in a flash. Literally, an actual flash. 

Alec rushes forward to protect Nova, futile as it might be, his bow poised towards the nearest threat - a Shadowhunter only a few feet away with a seraph blade drawn and pointed at the back of Nova’s head. A static roaring fills his ears, but he pushes through, hardly aware of his own body as an arrow is sent flying into the Shadowhunter’s shoulder. His skin starts to prick and burn, from his hands up to his neck and rushing down to his ankles like a wildfire coursing through a forest. His heart beats in tune with Nova’s words, I want to go home, thud thud thud thud thud. 

Alec shuts his eyes against a luminescent white light, stumbling as the ground falls out from beneath him and an echo calls out for him, a desperate plea of his name shouted underwater.

Magnus? 

I just want to go home. 

---

Alexander? Alexander!

---

The air smells like metal and thunderstorms. Magnus whirls on his heel, angry tears racing down his cheeks. Hell, hath no fury like a warlock scorned. 

“Listen to me you weasely git.” Magnus spits. “I’m done playing civil. My husband is missing because you wanted to play hero for the first time in your poor, forsaken life. Sad you never got to play soldiers with the big boys? Well, guess it’s your lucky day. I am going to take Nova with me back to Alicante, and while I’m there, I’m going to ensure that my lovely friend Consul Penhallow is updated with everything that occurred here today. Unfortunately for you, her wife has family in the area, some of whom I am sure wouldn’t mind stepping up to keep an eye on you. I’ve seen how you conduct yourself, and if it is any indication of how your Institute is run, I guarantee it is not a position that you will retain for much longer.”

Magnus raises a hand. The Shadowhunters flanking Highsmith sheath their weapons. “Withdraw your forces and go slinking back. This is not a request. You did not heed my warning, but you will weather the consequences.” 

He turns, uninterested in sparring Highsmith another second of his time. Magnus didn’t see the flash, but he recognised the sign of a portal, although … there’s something about this one that is bugging him. 

Today I’m sending things into different rooms with just my thoughts … I don’t know how but wherever it’s ended up is because of me … what if I do that to somebody? Make them disappear? 

“Fuck.” 

Nova is sitting cross-legged on the floor, staring at their hands as though they’re something alien. Magnus collapses in front of them, a mirror-reflection. They’re shaking, tremors like the ground before an earthquake. 

The earthquake has come. This is the aftershock. 

“I don’t know what happened.” Nova whispers, harshly. “I just wanted everything to stop. I kept wishing that I could go home, and everything got really muffled, like I was wrapped in cotton or something, but I was still here and there was so much noise, so much shouting and I was so scared-”

“Might I reach for your hand?” Magnus asks. Nova glances up, their cheeks stained with dried tears. They nod, wordlessly. Magnus turns their palms over, tracing the lines with his fingers where they glow intermittently, as though a light was shining from beneath their skin. 

“You’re not mad?”

“No.” Magnus’ smile is a little thin, a little bittersweet. “Not at you. I know that Alexander is okay, wherever he is, and that’s all that matters to me.”

Nova shakes their head. “He could be dead, I could have-”

“You didn’t.” Magnus assures them. “I would know if he was, as sure as you knew when your magic appeared. Which, if I recall correctly, you said was behaving volatile today?”

Nova’s fingers curl against Magnus’. “That flash. I felt like an exposed wire. I felt…” Nova frowns. “Right as it happened, I felt really calm all of a sudden, but also … like my magic? I guess? Was being pulled out of me. I wasn’t scared anymore, though, I felt … comforted. Safe? But then I opened my eyes, and everything was the same, and all that fear came flooding back.”

Jagged pieces are coming together in Magnus’ mind. It’s a working theory, and a weak one at that, but it’s something and that’s enough for him to cling onto, to keep his sanity. 

“Nova. I don’t mean to pressure you, so please do not take it that way, you are of course free to go wherever you please - I promise the Shadowhunters, the lot dressed in all black with their pointy egos, won’t cause you any harm, but … if you’re willing, I could use your help.”

“My help?”

Magnus wicks a portal into existence. The wind around them picks up leaves and twigs but in the little bubble he creates for them, they are safe. “This is a portal. I sort of invented them. I have a feeling that what you did is not all that dissimilar, but I need your help to figure that out. I hope that I’ll be able to help you better understand your own powers, and get my husband back, but only if it is something you are comfortable with.”

Nova stares at the portal in wonder. They nod, hesitant at first and then firmer with every movement. “Whatever happened … it was my fault. I know you don’t blame me, somehow, but if I can help … I have to. You and your husband were willing to do anything to help me, it’s the least I can do.”

“It only takes a word, if at any point you want to bow out, or you don’t feel comfortable or safe, your commitment ends. There’s no obligation here, okay?”

Nova nods. Magnus stands gingerly, wiping the dirt of the back of his pants and extending a hand to help pull them up. “You’ll need to keep tight hold of my hand.” He instructs. “Don’t let go until I say it’s safe, otherwise I could lose you too.”

Nova squeezes Magnus’ hand. “We’ll find him.” They promise.

“Of course, we will.” Magnus smiles, wishing he could even half-convince himself. 

---

Alec focuses his landing on the balls of his feet, leaning back to distribute his weight to his heels to cushion the impact. It’s fortunate that, despite the length of time he’s spent behind a desk instead of in the field, he’s managed to keep up with his training. That fall could have wiped him out. 

He takes a few seconds to focus on what he can hear, smell, see; the floor beneath him is a dark mahogany, freshly polished, the sunlight leaking in from the north facing window between drawn burgundy curtains. Outside the window echoes a busy street, tolling bells and warm chatter and … horses? 

“Quite a grand entrance. Most people just use the doorbell.”  

The voice, familiar in the wrong ways, sweeps under his feet and knocks him backwards, scattered along the floor. It’s only magic, which he recognises beneath its coldness, that saves him from knocking over a beautiful porcelain vase sat precariously atop an equally beautiful, engraved end table. 

“Then again, I’m not sure I would have invited a Shadowhunter into my home.” 

The voice belongs to Magnus, but he is … not himself. At least not the one that Alec knows. It’s rather like seeing a distorted mirror image for all that stands out to him as wrong. 

The hardened glaze of Magnus’ glamoured eyes. The sneer of his mouth. The white of his knuckles curled around the top of a hardback novel. The muted colours, from his hair to his makeup-free face, to the dark pants with thin silver lines and matching suspenders over a plain black shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. The line of his body along the gilded lounge is carefully constructed to suggest a nonchalance which is betrayed by the tension Alec can see in the rigidity of his limbs; he’s poised to attack. 

This is not the Magnus that Alec recognises, this is a stranger with his husband’s face, his history, and his memories but not his present - or, rather, as Alec is quickly coming to suspect, his future. 

“I’m sorry.” Alec tries to stand up, but as soon as his hands touch the floor, they become stuck, as though someone has glued them to the wood. His feet too are rooted in place. 

“Oh, no. Please don’t apologise. It’s not as though you barged into my home, my private sanctuary, with no warning.” Magnus purses his lips. “You did not pull a weapon on me. I will admit that is a nice change.”

Alec can’t feel along his back for his quiver, but he’s fairly certain his weapons hadn’t travelled with him. Magnus had cloaked them to appear when he needed them, but it’s unlikely they were spelled in preparation for a situation such as this. Not that he is 100% clear on what this even is. 

“Who are you?” Magnus waves a hand dismissively. “Please don’t say ‘Shadowhunter’, I am quite aware of that much, even if your runes weren’t visible only child soldiers hold themselves with such rigid arrogance. I will concede the outfit is quite out of the ordinary, however.”

Alec clears his throat. He has to be delicate about this. “My name is Alexander.” He shifts his weight and draws his shoulders in as best he can. “Alexander L-uh, Wayland. Alexander Wayland.”

Smooth.

Magnus hums, folding his book and letting it fall onto the glass table in front of him. “I had suspected for a fleeting moment that you might have been a Lightwood. No matter.” He elegantly sweeps his legs over until both are flat on the ground, his hands clasped between his knees as he leans forward with a seamless, lethal grace. “The real question I need an answer to would be how a lanky Nephilim such as yourself made it past my wards to crash into the very room in which I had been trying to enjoy some peace and quiet. London isn’t exactly known for such these days.”

“London?” Alec echoes, without quite thinking much of it. 

Despite his foolish hope that he might have been wrong, the evidence was insurmountable and quite literally staring him in the face - however it might have happened, when he’d moved towards Nova he’d been sent falling and inevitably crashing into 1884. Magnus had only stayed in London for a year, hadn’t been back since, and Alec has seen the photos of him, Ragnor and Camille, recognises the darkness in Magnus’ gaze as when he first talked about Camille, and how she had torn him to pieces, discarding him without a thought after she was no longer satisfied with him. 

“Magnus, Archibald has two extra tickets for tonight’s - oh. I do not recall you informing me that you were intending on having company for the night.” 

A tall, slender blonde man hovers in the doorway, staring at Alec with equal parts vague intrigue and thinly veiled distaste. Everything about him exudes taste and elegance, but there is a familiarity to his features that itches at the back of Alec’s mind. He knows the man’s face, has never met him, he doesn’t think, but knows him in the distant way that one knows legends and heroes.  

“The tickets are all yours, Woolsey.” Magnus doesn’t take his eyes off Alec. “I am afraid it appears I will be a little preoccupied, I have some unexpected business to take care off. Enjoy the play on my behalf.”  

Woolsey Scott. The founder of the Praetor Lupus. 

This isn’t funny anymore. 

“Of course.” The corner of Woolsey’s mouth ticks up. None of the documentation around him could have ever come close to capturing the real thing. Magnus had mentioned him a few times, off handed, but Alec can see how they would have gotten along. “Don’t wait up, my dear. I certainly won’t be.”

Just as quickly as he had come sweeping in, Woolsey is gone, and Alec is left to sit glued to the floor while Magnus picks him apart by gaze alone. After a few uncomfortable minutes where the distant ticking of a grandfather stirs Alec a little mad, a chair slides across the polished floor, coming to a stop seamlessly next to Alec. The magic around his hands and feet disappear. He can wiggle his toes again. 

“I kindly suggest that you take a seat.” Magnus states in a tone that leaves no room for a refusal. “I have a few questions that need answering.”

TBC on AO3