#the living room needs some... adjustments

[defmaybe]

Someone in the Crowd

12 Days of Christmas: Day 12, January 5th, 2025

ITZY’s Lee Chaeryeong & Shin Ryujin x Male Reader

10.1k words

Christmas Masterlist

A/N: The work itself is going to be a little confusing because of the frequent perspective shift, hope you enjoy it! Also, thanks for the support during the last twelve days!

—

Another Day Of Sun

“So, Yeji,” Ryujin lets the last words trail off in the air. She’s twisting her ankles in nervousness. “I’d like to ask you something~”

Yeji doesn’t look up from her Percy Jackson and The Titan’s Curse. “What is it, Ryu?”

Ryujin giggles. She can do this. “You know you’ve always been my role model in a lot of things, being the strong and fierce leader you are~”

“Yeah, sure, strong and fierce.” Yeji pulls up an air quote, clearly amused by her friend’s sudden compliment.

“Yes, I love you, Yeji,” Ryujin sulks, putting her hands on Yeji’s shoulder. Yeji’s walls are crumbling.

“I love you too, Ryu,” Yeji says, without looking into Ryujin’s eyes. She’s still focused on her book. It’s probably the fun part. She seems to be in the middle of the book, though, not sure what’s so fun about that. Ryujin is more of a romance type than a fantasy one.

Ryujin giggles again. “Hehe, so, as I’ve said, I’d like to ask you for something.”

Yeji clenches her brows a little, but her eyes are still on the book. She flips it to another page. “For something?”

Ryujin’s smile is so bright it hurts. She’s definitely going to get this. Yeji’s giving in to her! “Tonight–”

Yeji suddenly closes her book, and Ryujin’s gleeful expression collapses. Fuck. Yeji didn’t even mark the page she was reading on!

Ryujin is definitely not going to get this.

“Tonight?”

—

Chaeryeong is waiting in her room, kicking her feet in a burning anticipation. Will she have to stay here tonight?

The US tour has been, to say the least, draining for the girls. Yuna is still asleep at two in the afternoon after last night’s show, while Jisu is now throwing profanities into her microphone to her Helldivers' teammates. Chaeryeong and Ryujin, on the other hand, have been planning to go somewhere on their last night in the US. They just have to ask for Yeji’s permission first.

She really needs this, and all she hears are faint mumbles from Ryujin and Yeji talking. Her heart is beating fast.

She really needs this, and it’s killing her.

She really needs this.

—

“Y–Yeah, t–tonight,” Ryujin stutters. Her face turns pale from fear. Is Yeji going to scold her?

“It’s not safe, Ryu. Do you know what can happen here?” Yeji’s expression is nothing but concern, caring for her friend’s well-being. Ryujin knows this, but the blazing fire inside her tells her to keep going.

“Yeji, please, I’m so tired from the tour. I really need this!” Ryujin argues, but it proves fruitless, as Yeji rolls her eyes.

“I’m sorry, but you can’t, Ryujin.” Yeji uses her full name. She’s serious about this. She throws the book onto her bed with a thud.

“But–”

“Nothing’s going to change my mind. Try,” says Yeji, her posture inviting Ryujin to bring up an argument.

She has already made up her mind. It’s over.

“F–Fine, Yeji,” and Ryujin walks away, heart full of disappointment.

—

Chaeryeong watches Ryujin walking into the living area, crestfallen. Oh, it was no for an answer.

“Is everything okay, Ryu?” she asks. 

“She said no,” Ryujin answers, still looking down on the floor despondently.

Poor Ryujin, she’s so bad at persuasion.

“I’ll talk to her.”

—

“Yeji,” Chaeryeong says.

Yeji is back to her Percy Jackson and The Titan’s Curse. It’s probably the fun part. She seems to be in the middle of the book, though, not sure what’s so fun about that. Chaeryeong is more of a mystery type than a fantasy one.

She looks up from her book, adjusting her glass a bit. “Same thing?” God, she just read Chaeryeong so damn easily.

Chaeryeong sighs, walking towards the bed before sitting down. The bed creaks a little. “You know, Ryu has given her all for this tour. It’s normal that she’d need some relief. You understand how our lives go, right?”

Yeji sighs. Her expression softens. “I’m sorry, Chae. It’s just not safe out there! I can’t let you guys risk your lives just for a night out. What if you get abducted? What if someone recognizes you?”

“We’ll be careful, Yeji. I can assure you of that.” Chaeryeong pleads, putting her hand on Yeji’s. Chaeryeong has nothing but her promise.

Yeji sighs again. She’ll probably see their effort through the tour. They deserve this.

“Fine, Chae. Be careful, alright?” Yeji plants a kiss on Chaeryeong’s forehead. “Have your pepper sprays ready. Have our numbers on the speed dial.”

Chaeryeong beams. She’s going to have a lot of fun with Ryujin tonight. “Thanks, Yeji.”

—

“So, for the first week’s assignment, just give me anything, alright? Just give me anything you got.”

The professor’s words echo inside your head.

Well, what’s it going to be?

It has been the question you’ve been asking yourself since last Monday, and it’s Sunday now. You’ve tried picking the ones from your Japan trip years ago, but none of them looks good enough. You’ve gone to the Statue of Liberty. You’ve gone to Central Park. You’ve gone to the Brooklyn Bridge. None seemed to work.

Should I pick something from my home? No, that’s too cliché. Should I pick someone? That’s even worse. Everyone’s going to laugh at you.

So, here you are, in a bar at 6 PM, venting your struggle to your bartender uncle in a nightclub—under this eye mask the bodyguards insisted you wear.

You just can’t find a photo to hand in for the first assignment.

—

“Is there any bar you’d recommend to us, mister driver?”

The young driver has had his mouth opened wide for at least a few minutes now, unable to find a voice in his throat. Ryujin has to ask for the third time, and he’s still in shock to see his idols in the back of his seats.

“Mister driver?” Ryujin asks again. Her patience is running thin. Is her presence that shocking to someone?

“Let’s just open Google Maps and pick some random bar, Ryu,” Chaeryeong says.

“W–Wait,” the driver finally says something. “I know a place. I–It’s pretty private.”

Ryujin smirks at the response, and it sounds like a nice place to be tonight. “Take us there, mister driver.”

—

The night wears on, and people are filling the club. You’ve been looking at the photos on your phone for three hours now, and you just can’t seem to find the perfect photo for tomorrow.

The techno music shakes your body, sounds like Reznor and Ross. The colored lights get into your eyes sometimes, but they’re having less effect than they should’ve been. You’re still concentrating on your device. Some people have even bumped into you, but only an apology and your eyes are back at your phone.

“Anything yet, tiger?” your uncle asks, shaking his bartender thing you’ve never cared to learn its name. It kind of works as a percussion instrument.

“Nothing as always,” you reply with slight disdain. You’re going to be doomed when the sun rises.

He laughs, pouring the contents inside his percussion into a cocktail glass. “Try going out there and dancing! Perhaps you’ll find an inspiration~”

You smile softly back at him, but dancing really is not your thing. “I’m not really good at it, uncle. I’ll have to pass.” You take a sip of your Long Island Iced Tea.

He pulls your glass back, staring into your eyes with an encouraging smile. “Look, I’m not going to let your ass sit here being all hopeless like that. Get out there and dance!” he orders, smiling.

You sigh, giving in to his demand. “Fine.”

“Get someone back to your place too if you can!” your uncle says with a smirk before you walk away into the raving crowd.

—

“Thanks, mister driver,” Ryujin says before handing back the freshly signed Crazy in Love album to him. He’s shaking with excitement.

Ryujin and Chaeryeong get out of the taxi to a normal-looking nightclub. Two muscular bodyguards are standing beside the door. Damn, they look scary.

“IDs please,” one of the bodyguards says sternly, and both Ryujin and Chaeryeong comply immediately, showing their cards.

The bodyguards examine the IDs carefully, making sure that the women are of age. The air thickens, and Ryujin finds her limbs freezing up. Are they going to be recognized? Are they going to be denied from getting inside? 

After a while, they finally nod in agreement and give the IDs back to her. Ryujin lets go of the breath that she doesn’t know she has been holding.

“Here are your masks. Enjoy the trip!” the other bodyguard says, winking at them with a smile. The tension drops. He hands two fancy-looking eye masks to the women.

He probably knows her and Chae.

—

Someone in the Crowd

Fuck, how can Ryujin hear her in a place like this?

The EDM music blares through the club. The colorful lights shine onto them. Chaeryeong scans over the club to find a quiet corner to avoid recognition. They still have to be cautious, even with a mask on. Sadly, there’s none, leaving them with only two options: leaving, or trying to blend in with the crowd.

Chaeryeong weighs the choices. The first one leaves her despondent, while the second one contains the risk of getting exposed by Dispatch by tomorrow morning.

This is hard.

But before she can decide, Ryujin drags her into the lively pack of people.

“We deserve this!” she shouts, pulling Chaeryeong’s hand into the crowd.

Chaeryeong feels unsure. She needs this, of course, but the fear of uncertainty lingers, and she just can’t let it go.

“Really?”

“Don’t live to regret this, Chae! We only live once!” Ryujin shouts.

That alone seems to make sense to Chaeryeong.

—

You aren’t sure what moves you are making. They probably look funny. God, you’re embarrassing yourself.

The bass vibrates the air around you and the crowd. You find yourself in the middle of the club, seeing people grinding on each other (even one another can be seen beside you, you swear). You start to feel the heat growing in your pants at the sight. If someone would be beside you right now.

The DJ announces something you can’t quite make out. The crowd roars in rejoice as you’re bored to death. Suddenly, the music changes to ITZY’s Wannabe. Holy shit, you recognize this. You can dance to it, at least a little.

Jansorineun stop it

People start to do Shin Ryujin’s iconic shoulder dance beside you, and you can’t help but join in. Her high-pitched singing voice fills the air with energy, and it flows through you so damn freely, injecting the missing liveliness into you. It’s giving you the life you’ve been missing for the last three hours.

Araseo halge

And that’s the first time you’re having fun tonight.

—

They’re singing their song?

Chaeryeong looks over at Ryujin to see her dancing to it, and she can’t help but follow her friend’s iconic move, smiling. She looks around to see the people also imitating the move. Damn, Ryujin must be so happy.

As the song goes on, Ryujin and Chaeryeong are laughing and dancing joyfully. People are singing and moving to their song! She finds herself beaming uncontrollably to see her efforts not going to waste. It’s like there’s a spotlight shining on them, and that couldn’t make her happier.

I wanna be me, me, me

The crowd cheers, along with Ryujin and her. The concept and message feel so simple, looking back, but the effect it had on people makes Chaeryeong so ecstatic. 

Just be yourself.

This really is their night.

—

After a little over three minutes in heaven, the song ends, transitioning to the citizen-darling APT. You’re still enjoying it, but the thirst in your throat starts to grow. 

It’s time for a drink!

You go back to the bar, evading the people grinding on each other (or one another, you don’t judge them, anyway) to your destination. You tap your hands softly on your thighs to the rhythm of the song.

You find your uncle waiting for you, standing in front of your seat, smiling happily at his nephew’s effort. He’s making a drink in his percussion thing. You’re making him proud.

“How did it go?” he shouts, shaking the drink masterfully.

You let out a somewhat drunk laugh. “It was fun. You were right!” Alcohol is starting to have an effect on you.

“Told ya,” your uncle says, before walking to the other side of the bar, leaving you tapping your fingers to the song alone.

—

Apateu apateu, apateu apateu

Chaeryeong dances to the beat joyfully. She loves this song, always has been. Her arms and legs are moving in sync to the beat. She’s happy. She’s ecstatic, even.

What she hasn’t realized yet is that–

“God, I fucking love this–”

–her friend is missing.

“–song.”

Apateu apateu, uh uh-huh uh-huh

Ryujin is probably going to the toilet, though. Maybe she should just keep dancing along to the song. Ryujin should be back soon.

—

“Long Island Iced Tea, please,” Ryujin says to the bartender. A young man is close to her. He’s tapping his fingers to the rhythm of the song disinterestedly. Is he waiting for something?

The bartender laughs. “Well, my nephew also likes it! Wanna make it two?” He asks the young man, who seems lost in his head. He only nods.

Ryujin lets out a small smile, before taking the seat next to him. He seems nice. Should she talk to him a bit?

“So.”

The young man turns to her.

“Having fun?”

He nods, smiling.

Ryujin lets out a small laugh. What should she start the conversation with?

“Do you listen to ITZY?”

Fuck, why did she ask that? What if–

“Yeah,” he says groggily. He’s clearly starting to get drunk. Thank god, she can probably show her true colors with him without much worry.

“Were you here when they played Wannabe?” he asks. His uncle hands him the Long Island Iced Tea.

Ryujin can’t help but let out a smile. He recognizes one of her songs! She then softly makes the shoulder dance, making him chuckling and following her moves.

He seems like a cool guy.

—

Where the fuck is Ryujin?

Chaeryeong starts her search for her friend, who has now been gone for twenty minutes. She’d never go for a long bathroom break anywhere outside of the hotel, of course. ‘They’re dirty’, she once said.

Chaeryeong scans the crowd for a short-haired woman in a blue denim jacket, but there’s none to be found. Her heart rate rises. What if she was actually abducted?

Fuck.

She tries to call Ryujin, but she doesn’t answer. She needs to go somewhere she can rely on.

Shit, the bar it is.

Chaeryeong walks towards the white area in the club's corner. She’s going to ask someone if they had seen a short-haired woman in her denim jacket, blue. She’s going to find Ryujin without raising a suspicion. She’s going to find her friend.

And be it fate, be it a mere coincidence. She does a double take, then a triple take. She finds her friend sitting at the bar, talking to a young man. Ryujin is rejoicing in the conversation, so does he.

Thank god. 

—

“Hey, I thought I lost you!”

A sound comes from your right. You look over to find a tall, long-haired woman walking towards you two. She’s in a tight-fitted dress that shows off her curves beautifully. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” says the short-haired woman. She seems calm, unlike her friend, who looks a bit worried, hands shaking beside herself.

“Thank god,” the long-haired woman says, annoyed by her friend’s antics. “Don’t fucking go somewhere else alone, alright?”

The short-haired woman only giggles.

The long-haired woman shakes her head. “So, who’s this guy?”

The short-haired woman introduces you to her friend, who’s listening intently. You give her a handshake before dragging the chair behind you close for her to sit down.

And the night begins, for real this time.

The conversation goes on. Many Long Island Iced Teas are served to the three of you, and by the time you look at your watch, it’s eleven already. 

Time flies when you have fun.

The conversation with these two unknown women has been nothing short of calming to you—a contradiction to the raging music around. You’ve talked about your life as a photography student, while they’ve talked about their careers. You find out that they work together, and you understand how tiring and demanding their job is.

“Is it fun working with your friend?”

The two women look at each other before laughing. “Well, it’s good sometimes. But yeah, there are times that I get tired of her face,” the short-haired woman says, as the other nudges her shoulder softly.

“Damn you.”

You look at your watch again. You should go to bed now; class is tomorrow morning!

“So, it has been nice talking to you guys–” you’re trying to sound as polite as possible before drinking up the last of your cocktail. “–but I have a class tomorrow morning, and–”

“Aww–” the short-haired woman sulks, kicking her feet like a child “–can’t you just stay? For us?”

“Yeah, please?” the other woman chimes in.

You genuinely appreciate their gestures, but you can’t stay up late like this, especially in a nightclub.

“I’m sorry, guys, but I really have to go.”

Ask for their contacts!

You pull your phone out of your pocket. “Can I have your Instagrams?”

The women smirk at each other. “Sure, if you can promise you’ll tell nobody about this,” the long-haired woman says.

It’s a bit weird, really, but they probably have their reasons. “Sure.”

The short-haired woman is the first one who types into your phone. She giggles while doing so. Fuck, should’ve cleared the search history first, those IVE Instagrams.

“Seems like you’ve followed me already~” the short-haired woman says, giggling, before handing it to the long-haired woman, leaving you confused.

Is she? She looks kinda familiar.

“And me too~”

You narrow your eyes. Have you met them before? Under that mask, you think there’s something about them, but you just can’t quite make it up.

She hands you back the phone, and your eyes widen at the realization as you look at your search history.

They signal a ‘shhh’ with their fingers, smiling.

They’re @iamfinethankyouandryu and @chaerrry0.

—

Ryujin then laughs at the man’s shocked expression, before closing in on his body. She gets so close to him she can feel his warmth on her. She plants a hand on his thigh, and he shudders in response.

“You know the implications, right?”

He can’t seem to find a word out of his mouth, still hanging open. He must be so damn shocked to meet his idols in a nightclub like this, and they’re lusting over him!

—

With the teasing image, Chaeryeong’s core starts to heat up with desire. She’s a little apprehensive, but with him still seems to be lost on what to do, or what to say next, she has to make a move. She follows Ryujin and touches his thigh.

“Come on, do you want us?”

She then glides her hand up his inner thigh, feeling his muscles. It gets closer and closer to the growing tent in his pants, before she stops just right before the contact. His breath hitches.

“I–I–”

“Don’t be shy, pretty boy. You’re quite a catch yourself~” she says, followed by the hottest lip bite she can make. He sucks a sudden at the sight.

“W–Won’t you guys get caught by D–Dispatch or something?” he asks, voice shaken. His hands are trembling with pure anxiety. “I mean, I’d be v–very honored to be with you two tonight.”

“Well, fuck Dispatch,” Ryujin says, and Chaeryeong nods in agreement. “It’s not everyday we get to do this.”

—

A Lovely Night

The taxi ride to the hotel starts quietly. He’s trying his best to not pull the driver’s attention to the fact that he’s heading to Ryujin’s hotel in the middle of the night. If the driver knows, it’s over for the three of them.

Ryujin, though, can’t keep her hands to herself, snaking down to his crotch whenever she can. She wants this so fucking badly. She’s getting wetter and wetter as the seconds go by. Her core is aching with unbridled lust.

He’s so damn big.

—

Chaeryeong can’t risk having her fame tarnished with a single night, but god fucking damn, why does Ryujin keep touching his cock?

“Want a touch, Chae?” Ryujin whispers into her ear.

Chaeryeong slaps Ryujin’s hand away from his length, not wanting to indulge in such perverse action. “Don’t fucking do that, Ryu!” Chaeryeong sneers quietly, and Ryujin giggles. Fuck, why is she so insufferable?

But Chaeryeong can’t deny the ache building up inside her crotch. She’s feeling it. She needs a release.

—

Ryujin doesn’t stop with Chaeryeong’s words. They only spur her on even more. Her hand finds its place under his tight boxers, and she starts stroking it softly. Her other hand grabs some creased dollar bills for the taxi driver. She’s going to keep quiet about this.

“How much do we have to pay you, ma’am?”

“Just don’t kill each other and you’ll be fine,” the taxi driver says.

—

Ryujin’s aroma is intoxicating you. It’s so sensual, and your cock is so hard because of it. You can’t help but let out a moan. She looks into the rearview mirror to see the well-being of her customer, but she doesn’t seem to care, as she switches back to see what’s on the road without a word.

Ryujin’s smell reminds you of those femme fatale you’ve seen in the movies—sensual, manipulative, dangerous. This is so heavenly for you.

After a while, Chaeryeong puts her hand on your body, feeling your tight abdomen. Her finger draws a pattern on your toned chest. She’s admiring your strong frame.

“You do feel good, pretty boy.”

—

“So,” Chaeryeong says, unsure of what to do next.

“Where do you want to start?” Ryujin asks.

You turn to her. Her eyes are bored into yours. She’s expecting an answer from you. Don’t just say ‘I don’t know, Ryujin’, but where should you start?

“Where do you guys usually start from?”

What a dumbass question! Do you think they bring a guy back to their hotel and do this every day?

“Kissing, perhaps?” Chaeryeong chimes in. “We should start slowly, what happened in the taxi doesn’t count.”

“I have a little game,” says Ryujin. Her hands are groping your back and chest. You shudder at the contact. “Let’s compare our kisses, shall we?”

You gulp, hands trembling, but you’re trying to keep your cool. “Sure, who should I–”

Ryujin captures your lips in a searing kiss, as Chaeryeong unlatches herself from you with a small whine. Ryujin’s tongue invades your mouth aggressively. There’s a faint hint of raspberry covered in that heavy Long Island Iced Tea she drank over the night. Her hands dig into the under of your waistband, groping your raging bulge through your boxers, making you jolt in response. You moan and moan into her mouth.

Your hands start to have a mind of their own. Your right hand snakes under her shirt to feel her toned back, while your left hand finds itself on her lacey bra, kneading her soft, firm breasts. God, she has a nice body. She moans and moans into your mouth.

“Damn.” You hear Chaeryeong say from the back, as you start to get used to Ryujin’s body.

Suddenly, Ryujin pulls back from the burning kiss. She’s panting softly, clearly satisfied with the kiss. “Could’ve used more tongue, but this is already pretty good.”

You try to catch your breath, feeling like Ryujin pulled the air out of your lungs. “Th–Thanks, Ryujin.”

“Your turn, Chae,” Ryujin says.

You turn to Chaeryeong. She’s staring into your eyes blankly. She’s as unsure as you.

You give her an offer, “Do you want me to–”

“I’ll–I’ll do it.” Chaeryeong says, before taking a deep breath. “I just–need to get used to your body a bit.”

Her hands start to find their rhythms. She starts from your hands, holding on to them softly. She then wanders upwards along your arm, feeling your lean muscles.

“You take care of yourself well,” she says, voice laced with sultry.

“Th–Thanks, Chaeryeong.” Your appreciative words are rewarded with a smile from her. Her hands then travel over your body. Her left hand finds your erection under your boxers. She’s stroking it softly, enough to earn a whimper from you. Her right hand runs over your back, sending pleasure through your frame.

“Nghh~”

After a few pumps, her hand leaves your cock, making you groan in the sudden absence.

She then grabs your chin gently, before pulling you into a loving kiss. The faint scent of your cock remaining in her hand flies into your nostrils. 

Chaeryeong doesn’t let her tongue slip into your mouth like Ryujin did. She merely has a taste of your Long Island-laced lips. You can taste the strawberry resting on her mouth, mixed with the Long Island Iced Tea she drank throughout the night.

Your hands feel her pert breasts on top of her tight-fitted dress, squeezing them, kneading them. She has been taking care of herself well; you can feel it. You wander down to her wet cunt under her panties, and she gasps softly into your mouth. You’re sure that she loves this.

“Mmm, that felt good, baby,” Chaeryeong says, muffled into the kiss.

You feel her puffy cunt on your palm, seeking her wetness with your fingers. You find out that she shaves, before you plunge yourself into her drenched cavern.

“Mmmph!” she rasps. Her body turns into a jelly, able to be controlled to your liking. You dig your fingers deep into her sweet, wet cunt, before curling up to where she’s sensitive the most. She falls into your embrace. You hear Ryujin chuckling on your back. Chaeryeong’s body warmth emanates into yours. Her wet cunt is welcoming your fingers easily.

Still, you can’t let her cum so soon. You regretfully pull out of the kiss and her wetness, before sucking on your fingers lewdly. She tastes so salty and musky. God, what a pleasure to your tongue. Chaeryeong pants.

“S–So,” Chaeryeong says, still trying to catch her breath.

“Who’s better?” Ryujin asks, staring into your eyes.

You let out a sigh before answering, “I get to feel Chaeryeong’s pussy, so–”

“Hey! That’s not fair! You didn’t even touch my panties!” Ryujin sneers.

—

“Stand up and face me.” Chaeryeong watches Ryujin ordering, and he complies immediately. His erection pokes through his pants into a tall tent on his crotch.

She admires his stiffness for a while. She seems eager to take in the image of his big cock. Her hands toy with his bulge playfully, eliciting moans from him. 

She then grabs onto his waistband, looking up into his eyes.

“Ready?”

He nods.

Chaeryeong watches her friend pulling his pants down, revealing the bulge under the boxers. He’s fucking horny for them, isn’t he? Chaeryeong can feel the heat building up within her core. She needs a release, but she isn’t brave enough to let it out yet.

The show continues, as Ryujin pulls his boxers down. His erection springs freely. 

God, he’s so big.

Ryujin admires his length for a while. Her eyes are now gleaming with desire, and Chaeryeong can’t help but start to rub her core, sending shockwaves through her body. Fuck the reticence. She needs to cum.

“Again, you said that you didn’t touch my pussy when I kissed you, right?”

He nods sheepishly. Ryujin is going to make him feel her cunt.

Ryujin then pulls him down and captures his lips aggressively again. Chaeryeong lets out a gasp. This time, she brings his hand into feeling her puffy cunt, and he pushes his soft fingers into her. Chaeryeong can hear her friend moan needily into his mouth.

“Mmmph, that feels so good, pretty boy,” Ryujin says into the kiss. His fingers turn upwards to stimulate Ryujin’s inner walls, making her body shiver. Chaeryeong watches their bodies turning into a needy ball of lust. He’s so good at this.

Chaeryeong can’t bear the beckoning heat inside of her anymore. She pushes her slender fingers into her pussy, playing with the inner walls of herself. She quietly moans at the lewd sight. 

—

You hear Chaeryeong moaning from the back. This probably spurs her on, so you lose yourself deeper into the kiss. You push your tongue into Ryujin’s mouth, and she gasps at such audaciousness. She wants your tongue, so you give her your tongue.

Your finger is still working on Ryujin’s g-spot tirelessly, trying to elicit moans out of her mouth. She responds willingly to your touch, and you love the way she reacts like this.

“So–So good, Ryu,” you utter, trying to keep yourself from getting lost in the situation.

—

Ryujin softly plants her lips onto the head of his throbbing length, rewarding her with an airy moan from him.

“Fuck!” he cries in a whisper.

He composes himself well. The other three aren’t going to wake up if he can keep his voice down like this.

“Come on, Chae,” Ryujin unlatches herself from his stiff cock, but still keeping one hand on it, stroking softly. “Make him cum.”

“B–But I don’t wanna kiss you, Ryu. I–”

“Now is not the time, Chae. Just come here,” Ryujin signals her friend to give him an otherworldly blowjob with her. She’s too drunk to care about kissing Chaeryeong right now.

“I–uh–fuck, alright!” Chaeryeong finally gives in, and Ryujin smiles at her friend’s compliance.

Let’s give him the blowjob he’ll never forget.

Ryujin plants her lips onto his cock again from his front, taking in his intense taste. He’s driving her insane with his cock. He rasps quietly in pleasure. His mouth hangs open, and Ryujin is sure revelling in the way he’s feeling her on his cock right now.

Chaeryeong then joins in on his back, starting to take a swipe of her tongue on his hardened testicles. Her hands land on his muscular ass. He’s covering his mouth to not let out a loud moan. God, what a sight for Ryujin.

—

Chaeryeong doesn’t want to kiss her friend. It’s weird to be Ryujin. So, she just paints his balls with her saliva hungrily, meticulously avoiding her friend’s lips. Her hands are roaming over his back—a courtesy of her, while Ryujin takes his front.

She then feels his hand gripping onto her head from the other side. Ryujin is getting it too. He’s pressing Chaeryeong harder into his ass. Their makeup starts to get messy from performing their oral masteries on him. He moans and cries silently in ecstasy while also trying his best to not wake the others up. Chaeryeong can’t help but to run her fingers down between his ass cheeks, and she gets another whimper from him.

His balls taste so damn salty, so musky, and that’s driving her insane. Her cunt feels like it’s on fire. She uses one of her hands to dig down her tight pants and rub on her swollen clit. It feels so good. It feels like she’s going to fly.

“Shit, this feels so–ahh,” a soft moan leaves Chaeryeong’s mouth as she plunges her fingers into her cunt, curling them up where she needs it the most. Her silenced whimpers hit his balls. God, this feels great. 

—

The pleasure these women are giving you is unreal. Ryujin creates a suction around your cock, bobbing her head back and forth. She’s so damn good at this. While on the other side, Chaeryeong drags her tongue from your sack up to your puckered hole. Fuck, it feels so damn good.

You press their heads into your aching heat, and they seem to accept it eagerly. Both Ryujin and Chaeryeong up their antes for you, and that brings you closer and closer to your orgasm.

Suddenly, an idea pops into your head.

“Girls?”

“Yes?” Chaeryeong and Ryujin answer at the same time. They stop their oral masteries, making you groan softly at the sudden detachments.

“Can you guys like–sucking my cock at the same time?”

The two women look at each other. It’s going to make them think. You see Ryujin nodding, but Chaeryeong hesitates a bit.

“I–”

“I–I mean, it’s fine if you don’t want to, Chaeryeong,” you say. 

—

Chaeryeong has certainly given some blowjobs, but this is the first time she’s going to do it with Ryujin. Hell, it’s the first time she’s going to do it with another woman. This is huge for her.

Chaeryeong contemplates for a few heartbeats. This is going to change the dynamic between her and Ryujin forever. On the other hand, the alcohol-induced aching inside her core is ravaging her inhibition. Plus, they’re just having a little fun anyway, nothing serious.

Fuck it, let’s do this.

She then shoots a grin back at him. “Alright, pretty boy, get on the bed.”

—

He quickly complies with her order. Ryujin watches his erection twitching in pure anticipation before turning to Chaeryeong.

“Let’s do this.”

Chaeryeong nods. She doesn’t seem to be weirded out by the prospect of kissing her friend anymore, and Ryujin couldn’t be more happy with the fact.

Ryujin then climbs up the bed, crawling towards him like a predator. Her eyes look into his hungrily, before taking a long lick from his balls up his shaft. He moans uncontrollably, still keeping his volume low, trying his best to not wake up the other women.

“God, you’re so good at this, Ryujin,” Chaeryeong says, following Ryujin’s lead onto the bed.

Ryujin giggles before giving him another wet lick on her throbbing cock. She has to make him falter under her touch. She gives him a lick, and another, and another. He groans, moans, and whimpers with her sensual contact. 

And if that isn’t already enough, Ryujin takes his mushroom-shaped tip into her filthy mouth, coating him with her saliva. He grunts in pleasure. His body turns rigid.

“My god, Ryu–Ryujin,” he moans her name out, and that encourages her even more. She takes in more of his length with each bob of her head, staring from just the tip, going deeper and deeper. Eventually, her nose hits his pubic bone, taking him in fully and staying right there. She can’t think straight right now, with a cock stuffed in her mouth like this. She wants him to lose control. She wants him to moan her name uncontrollably.

She’s making gagging sounds. Her eyes are watery. This cock is too big for her, but her capacity means shit if that means she gets to hear her boy moan like this.

“Hey,” Chaeryeong snaps Ryujin back into reality, pushing her arm softly. “This cock isn’t just for you, Ryu.”

Ryujin regretfully pulls back from his hardness, slowly. The cock inside her throat is now gone. She whimpers at the sudden lack of filling in disappointment. Black streaks from her makeup are now forming from her tears.

“F–Fine.”

—

His cock is now slicked with Ryujin’s drool. He’s going to taste like Ryujin, isn’t he?

“Can I have him for a sec?” Chaeryeong asks her friend, still trying to catch her breath after taking an entire cock inside her mouth.

“Go–cough–ahead, Chae.”

“Thanks.”

Chaeryeong begins her show slowly, but there has to be sensuality in it. That’s her aim. She works down his taint first, drawing breathy moans from him. His taste is so intense, so addictive. It’s his pure body scent mixed with Ryujin’s raspberry. It’s like an aphrodisiac to her.

She doubles her efforts, drawing a straight line up from his testicles, to his shaft, to his leaking tip. Her tongue is making him whimper erratically, and she’s relishing in it. It feels good to have him lost in pleasure like this.

“You’re doing this pretty well too, Chae,” Ryujin says, finally recomposing herself beside Chaeryeong. He’s shaking.

Chaeryeong can only smile, her lips still busy kissing a trail on his thick cock. She’s smearing her essence all over him. He’s going to taste a bit–different after this.

“God, shit, just suck me off already, Chaeryeong,” he pleads, making Chaeryeong chuckle.

“I’ll wait for Ryu, pretty boy.”

Ryujin slowly recollects herself by the side as Chaeryeong is busy teasing his cock, wiping her own drool off her mouth. Then, she finally rejoins the play, starting by licking the underside of his hardness. He moans in ecstasy.

“Fuck!” he cries out, making Ryujin giggle softly.

Chaeryeong knows that it’s time for her to go in, so she pulls back, taking him on the left side. She’s inviting Ryujin to take the other side of his cock. Ryujin does so, and he lets out a whimper.

—

You’re absolutely revelling in the pleasure these women are giving you. Ryujin and Chaeryeong are giving you one of the best blowjobs you’ve ever had. The amount of saliva is perfect. The technique is immaculate. The sight is nothing short of exquisitely vulgar. You’re struggling to find a purchase in the bedsheets.

They’re sliding up and down on your cock from the side. When one goes up, the other goes down, keeping your cock being fully taken care of by their mouths the whole time. The pleasure on your cock shoots through you like a bullet. Fuck, this feels great.

Ryujin then syncs her movement with Chaeryeong, now moving together in an up and down motion. Their lips make contact when they’re at the tip of your cock, and sometimes, they put on a show for you, kissing each other with your cock in the middle. Their tongues pierce into each other’s mouth, grazing your aching tip as they kiss.

With such a lewd sight, you can feel your orgasm coming. Your legs grow tense. You’re going to cum from this double blowjob from your idols.

“Girls, I–I think I’m gonna cum.”

Both of them only reply with a giggle, before sealing the tip of your cock with a sensual kiss, one that’s so damn pleasurable for your dick. The view is just too splendid for you—two women kissing on your cock. The sensation is unreal. This is just too much. You can’t hold it anymore.

“Fuck!”

Cum is fired out of your cock into the kiss, and the women both hum in satisfaction. Your cock twitches between their dirty mouths. Your whole body jerks and spasms between them. Your whole life leads to this, and you wouldn’t change a thing.

Your whole body shudders in rapture, unable to make sense of the pleasure coursing through it. Cum is shot out of your cock into their mouths, and they seem to be happy to share your nectar together.

Your orgasm inevitably dies down. You’re starting to catch your breath. They look up at you with nothing but lust inside their eyes.

“That tastes good, pretty boy,” Ryujin says, scooping the remnants of your cum on her cheeks with her fingers, before plunging them in Chaeryeong’s mouth. She seems to be taken aback by it, but eventually, she happily accepts her friend’s fingers. Fuck, what a sight.

Chaeryeong is sucking her friend’s fingers with her eyes closed, trying to take in the salty taste of you as much as possible. She lets out a satisfied hum in the action, and you feel like you’re ready to take on both of them again.

—

Chaeryeong loves this. She loves the way Ryujin’s fingers are toying with her tongue. She loves the way his salty taste engulfs her like a tsunami. Chaeryeong fucking loves this.

“So good,” she says, muffled into Ryujin’s fingers, before they’re pulled out of her mouth, leaving Chaeryeong whining in disappointment with a string of saliva.

Then, as she opens her eyes, she is welcomed by the sight of Ryujin unbuttoning her shirt, ready to bare herself in front of them. Her black, lacy bra comes into view. 

She looks so hot.

“What, do I look that hot?”

Chaeryeong recollects herself immediately. She’s caught staring at her friend’s body. How embarrassing!

Ryujin only giggles before removing her outer garment. Her toned tummy is now visible. Chaeryeong watches the man drool over her friend’s body, and she can’t help but chuckle at him.

—

Ryujin is now boiling with lust. She needs to get rid of this fabric cage as soon as possible. Her pussy is drenched, and she needs something inside her.

She quickly unlocks her black, lacy bra she’s wearing, exposing her firm breast for the other two to see. She feels so–naked, so–vulnerable, but fuck it, she needs something inside of her now, and it’s going to be his cock.

“Alright, you two–oh my god, will you guys just fucking stop looking at me and strip, please?” Ryujin sneers, fed up with their gazes on her. She wants a cock inside her now, and if their clothes are staying on like this, all this juice would be for nothing.

“O–Oh, sorry, Ryu,” Chaeryeong says before quickly unzipping her black dress from behind. Ryujin watches the act in contentment. Chaeryeong’s small breasts slowly come into view. Along with her friend, he strips himself off his shirt, revealing his toned abs for the women to see. Fuck, he looks delicious.

“Hey,” he says, chuckling, snapping her back into reality. “Ready?”

“Y–Yeah.”

He moves her chin closer into another torrid kiss. His Long Island-laced lips touch hers. His tongue pierces into her mouth with aggression. They are intertwined in a battle for dominance. His free hand grabs and squeezes her breast, eliciting a jolt in her body. Ryujin moans out into the kiss in pleasure.

She then hears Chaeryeong huffing. “Come on, guys. This isn’t just about you two!” Chaeryeong says, annoyed by the sight of the two kissing.

Ryujin giggles, before pulling Chaeryeong into the kiss. Their tongues are intertwining messily, drool is dribbling down their chins onto the bedsheets. Their hands are desperately clinging on to one another, trying to have their fair share of arousal.

“Oh god,” Chaeryeong utters, barely catching the chaotic rhythm of the kiss. Her drool leaking everywhere, splattering on Ryujin’s and his body. “Th–This is fucking—mmm.”

—

God, this is embarrassing for her.

Chaeryeong is having a hard time catching her rhythm. She’s trying, but the other two are so adept with their tongues it’s making her crumble.

“Goddamn it, s–slow down, guys,” she utters into the blazing kiss. Her hands are caressing Ryujin’s and his body. She knows that her spit is leaking, but she has to catch up.

She hears the other two giggle with her struggle. Fucking bitches.

Ryujin would be the first to pull back from the kiss, panting, leaving the two of them in the act. She leans back a little, clitoris already swelling with arousal. 

“Alright, can you fuck me yet, pretty boy? A woman needs a cock over here,” Ryujin says, teasing her nub with her fingers.

“Just–Just go, she needs this,” Chaeryeong says. She can’t help but feel a little disappointed, as he pulls back from the kiss with a slight whimper.

“O–Okay,” he says, as Ryujin flips onto her stomach, hands and knees on the bed. She’s ready to take his cock.

—

Ryujin is on all-fours, ready to take his cock that she has been craving. She needs his cock inside her cunt. She wants to be plowed. She wants to be fucked.

“Yesss~ put it inside me, put it inside me,” she rasps—so eager, so needy.

He frantically tries to line up his cock against her cunt. His mushroom tip ghosts past her a few times, making Ryujin groan in dissatisfaction. Chaeryeong crawls to the front of Ryujin, spreading her legs. She’s going to have Ryujin eat her out.

“So, I’m supposed to be the middle woman here?” Ryujin playfully teases. She’s more than willing to taste Chaeryeong’s nectar.

“Y–Yeah–ahh! Fuck!”

Chaeryeong’s head falls backwards as Ryujin presses the tongue against her pretty cunt. Ryujin is quite sure that the other women might hear that, but Chaeryeong’s wetness and texture is just too exquisite for her to care. Ryujin lavishes her friend enthusiastically, lapping up the nectar that has been building up through the night.

“Nghhh~”

Chaeryeong’s taste is driving Ryujin insane. She’s salty. She’s musky. She’s perfect. Ryujin just keeps swiping her tongue against Chaeryeong’s folds, eliciting guttural, deep groans out of her friend. At the same time, he plunges his cock into Ryujin’s cunt from the back.

“Mmph! Shit!” Ryujin moans. His cock starts to fill her pussy as she’s lapping at Chaeryeong’s delicious cunt with reckless abandon. His cock is so big, making her feel so full. His hands grab onto her slutty waist for a hold, simultaneously locking Ryujin in place. She becomes a whimpering mess between the groaning him and the shaking Chaeryeong.

His length nudges her g-spot softly, making her knees weak. She falls stomach-first onto the bed, so ready to be prone-boned. Her tongue keeps up the work tirelessly. Chaeryeong is still a shaking lump of flesh in front of her, and Ryujin has to make her friend cum.

A cock inside her spurs Ryujin on. She licks her friend’s pussy even faster, and Chaeryeong starts to put the pressure on Ryujin’s head, pushing her head deeper into her cunt. Ryujin can’t think straight anymore—cock in her cunt, cunt in her face. The two of them are taking over her senses—the size, the taste, the scent. It’s everything Ryujin wants.

—

This pleasure feels like a sin to Chaeryeong. She can’t quite comprehend the feeling coursing through her right now. Ryujin’s tongue is doing wonders on her pussy, but she’s her friend! How are they going to look at each other tomorrow?

Still, the pleasure overwhelms her senses like a goddamn tsunami. It’s fucking electric every time Ryujin’s tongue glides past her swollen clit. Her cunt feels like it’s on fire. Hell, her hand even presses Ryujin’s face deep into her needy pussy!

“So–So good,” Chaeryeong mewls. Her head falls backwards.

The grip on Ryujin’s head becomes tighter. Chaeryeong is trying to intoxicate her friend, making her drunk with her pussy. The strands of Ryujin’s short hair find their places between Chaeryeong’s hands. Ryujin is drunk in her pussy, and Chaeryeong, even if it is so foreign, is loving it.

—

Shin Ryujin’s cunt feels too good.

You pound into her with reckless abandon, eliciting moans and whimpers suppressed by her friend’s cunt. She’s lying stomach-flat on the bed, so perfect for your domination. Her juice spills out of her needy pussy onto the bed. Those poor staff. They’re going to have a lot of work tomorrow.

You lie down against the smoothness of her back, feeling her warmth. You’re putting your weight on her. Your head is right beside her. Such a perfect view to watch Ryujin eating Chaeryeong’s cunt. The sight of her tongue splaying on her friend’s cunt is obscenely vulgar. Chaeryeong’s meaty thighs are shaking in pleasure.

Your hands roam over the front of Ryujin’s body, feeling her abs, her firm tits, and eventually, you grab onto the front of her neck. God, what a body. You pull Ryujin’s face out of Chaeryeong’s cunt, leaving a string of juice between them. Ryujin is so drunk in pleasure coursing through her—your cock inside her cunt, and Chaeryeong’s cunt on her pretty face. Her eyes are barely open. Her expression is so damn puzzled by the situation.

Suddenly, you pull Ryujin in for a sensual kiss. The remnant of the earlier Long Island iced tea lingers. Then, there’s the violent taste of Chaeryeong’s salty juice on her lips. It’s so good. You plunge your tongue into Ryujin’s mouth, making her moan as your cock keeps plowing her cunt with no abandon.

—

Chaeryeong is barely able to catch her breath as Ryujin’s tongue leaves her cunt. God, what a feeling she just had. It’s a bit of a whiplash, but her finger will do. She pushes her digits into her own cunt again as they kiss, watching the rough fucking in front of herself. She curls her finger where she needs it the most, prolonging the intense pleasure she felt from Ryujin’s tongue. She’s chasing her own orgasm, and she’s sure that she’s so fucking close.

“Oh god, oh god, oh goddd!”

Chaeryeong sprays her juice onto her friend’s face, making her the first victim of the night. She cums, hard. Her body shakes with intense pleasure as her fingers are knuckles deep into her cunt, curling up at the right fucking spot. Her body falls onto the soft bed, limping, shaking.

“Nghh~ Ch–Chae, you t–taste good,” Ryujin stammers, eyes barely open, body all limp under his dominance.

She can only catch her breath quietly, in front of the rough fucking Ryujin is taking.

—

The sensation is just too foreign for Ryujin to comprehend at this point. Chaeryeong just squirted on her face, and then she got knocked out from the sheer intensity of her own orgasm. Ryujin can’t move. She’s merely a spectator of this debauchery, and the best part is she’s more than willing to let him fuck her into oblivion.

“Nghmm, s–so g–good,” Ryujin mewls, so cock-drunk with the violent pounding from her back.

He gives her ass a loud spank, making her moan in the mix of shocking pain and surprising pleasure. His cock grazes against her wall so well—perfect curve, perfect length. He’s everything she could’ve asked for.

“More!” Ryujin says.

—

You give Ryujin’s reddened cheeks another harsh spank, making her yelp. Her ass is so fucking soft. You’re loving this. She’s loving this.

“More, p–please!” she mewls, she’s barely holding herself up from the pleasure coursing through her veins.

Your fucking cannot get rougher at this point—the ass slap–

“Ah!”

–the violent pounding. It’s making Ryujin dazed. It’s making Ryujin lost in the throes of pleasure. And the best part? It’s you doing all of this.

—

If he keeps up the pace, she’s going to cum in a minute.

Her pussy is getting stretched by his cock. He’s making her feel so full. It’s hitting all of her right spots. She keeps moaning and moaning in the wake of this divine delight. Her body feels limp, unable to move, but she loves this. She’s getting a cock inside her cunt, and she couldn’t have asked for more tonight.

The wave starts to form. It’s far, but it’s there. Her muscles tighten in this bliss. She’s going to cum!

“Oh god, I–I’m gonna–”

Her words are cut off with another slap on her ass, making her cry an unintelligible sound out. She finds the sound weird, but that’s the least of her concern right now.

“–cum, nghh.”

The wave hits. Ryujin’s orgasm crashes into her like a goddamn tsunami. Her body turns rigid in the wake of this divine delight under his. She lets out a loud wail. Her hands find purchase in the bedsheets, gripping onto them with her dear life. She savors it hungrily. She knows she’s going to fucking remember this, she’s going to.

After what felt like an eternity, she comes down from her peak. Ryujin slowly catches her breath with her still-fluttering eyes. She just had one of the best orgasms in her life. She’s going to cherish this moment, she’s going to.

—

That blowjob plays a part in delaying your orgasm. Thank god.

You drag your cock out of her spent pussy. It’s glistened in her filthy juice, shining against the nocturne. You watch her as she basks in the afterglow, trying to make sense of what just happened.

(Well, you’re also trying to make sense of what just happened.)

“Oh god,” you utter. Chaeryeong slowly sits up on the bed again, hair all messy after her mind-breaking orgasm.

“Should we–Should we take–a break?” you weakly ask, barely holding yourself together.

“Another round, p–please.”

“Fuck me, this time,” Chaeryeong blurts out, seeing the damage you’ve inflicted on Ryujin. “I want the same package as hers.”

Fucking hell.

—

You are sure that you aren’t going to forget this.

You’re fucking Lee Chaeryeong’s ass, as she eats Shin Ryujin’s pussy from above. Ryujin is looking up at you with her doe eyes, so dazed by the overwhelming pleasure she’s feeling. Chaeryeong’s ass feels so tight, so right. You can’t help but moan her name out in pure ecstasy. This is going to leave a mark on you forever. 

Your balls ghost past Ryujin’s face. Sometimes, she’d stick out her tongue to make your body jolt when you thrust into Chaeryeong’s ass. Ryujin moans and writhes under her, so lost in the pleasure her friend is giving. This must feel so right for her.

“Fuck, y–you’re so tight, Chaeryeong,” you utter, eyes barely opening with the intense pleasure coursing through you.

“You–You better c–cum in my a–ass–ah!” she replies, shaken as your cock plow into her ass.

“M–More than happy too, M–Miss Lee.”

—

She now knows why Ryujin was so ecstatic when she’s fucked like this.

He feels so full in her ass, full in the way no one has ever made her feel before. He pounds her without any relent, making sure that she will never forget this. The sensation is just electric. The sensation is just overwhelming, and she’s loving every second.

Ryujin’s taste is also nothing short of insane. She’s perfectly salty. The texture is perfect. Her scent is driving her insane. Chaeryeong keeps lavishing her friend’s cunt tirelessly, so fucking determined to make her cum with her tongue.

“G–God, fuck. Y–You taste so fucking good, Ryu,” she mewls, voice shaken along with the movement of his cock in her ass.

She hears Ryujin giggle from below.

—

Two layers of drunkenness can be a little overwhelming for Ryujin—one with the alcohol, another one with the sex, but she’s fucking revelling in this.

His balls are swinging above her face, and she makes sure to stick out her tongue whenever she can, to make him cum in her friend’s ass. Ryujin grabs onto his thighs softly, leaving enough room of strength to make him move freely. Her nails dig lightly into his skin, leaving crescent marks on him.

Down below (or above, it doesn’t matter anymore), Chaeryeong sure knows how to eat pussy. She’s lapping Ryujin’s cunt masterfully, eliciting moans and moans out of her lungs. She’s so fucking drunk in the sex she just can’t think straight anymore.

The familiar sensation builds up in her loins—the same sensation for when his cock was in her cunt, the same sensation for when her fingers are knuckles deep into her wet, tight cavern. She’s going to cum.

“Oh god, oh god, gonna cum!” Ryujin mewls, so hazy from the relentless pleasure crashing onto her.

Instead of any reply, Chaeryeong only laps on her cunt faster and faster and faster. Ryujin’s head is feeling like it’s going to explode. She’s so dizzy. She brings her finger down to rub herself off, making her hips buck into Chaeryeong’s face with bliss.

Ryujin becomes the first to cum twice in this messy debauchery. Her cunt sprays gushes of juice onto Chaeryeong’s face. Her friend shows no sign of disgust, instead latching her lips on Ryujin’s clit, making her scream in pure delight. Her hands find purchase on the bed sheets tightly, as her scream pierces through the quiet nocturne.

—

Well, Yeji is definitely going to hear that.

Ryujin tastes great—perfectly salty. Chaeryeong feels torn. It feels so wrong to be her friend, but who can resist Ryujin’s charm?

Ryujin’s legs twitch in the corner of Chaeryeong’s eyes. She seems to be really lost in it. Chaeryeong keeps her mouth on Ryujin’s needy pussy, casting her in a state of bliss. She tugs it. She nibbles it. She’s making her friend scream with her filthy mouth, all the while taking his cock in her snug ass.

The sensation from behind her is going to put her in the same fate as Ryujin. Her muscles are blazing now. She’s going to cum with a cock in her ass!

“I–I think I’m gonna c–cum too, nghh~”

“At your service, Miss Lee,” he replies, pounding as fast as humanly possible into her. It’s coming. It’s coming.

Gushes of her own juice are discharged onto the damp sheet. Her body writhes with pure ecstasy. Her head falls onto the bed. The current just cuts through her so easily as she breaks the silence in the same way Ryujin did. This feels too fucking good.

—

It’s fucking unforgettable.

You keep fucking Chaeryeong through her unyielding orgasm. Her ass clenches around you as she cums violently. Ryujin is now panting below you, face full of bliss—eyes barely open, tongue hanging out from her slutty mouth. Chaeryeong’s arms are barely holding herself up. She almost collapses onto her friend’s body, writhing with pleasure. What a fucking sight.

You chase your orgasm relentlessly, not giving up even if Chaeryeong and Ryujin already did. Even thrust, every breath, everything in your life was leading to this moment, and you’re not going to waste it.

The familiar feeling builds up within your loins. You keep chasing it. You keep running for it. You’re going to cum inside of Lee Chaeryeong’s ass, and you’re not letting anyone stop it.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fu–ah!”

To say that it’s one of the best orgasms you’ve ever had wouldn’t be a hyperbole (up there, rivalling the one that you just had by their mouths mere minutes ago). You can literally see stars within your eyes as you unload globs of cum into Lee Chaeryeong. Your body shakes with unyielding bliss. You grunt—loud, stark. Your nails dig into the waist of Lee Chaeryeong. To cum inside her ass is just utterly divine. Your breathing stops. Everything stops. At this moment, it’s just you, Ryujin, and Chaeryeong in this debauchery that no one is going to rob away. This is the fucking high of your life.

You slowly come down from the precipice. You feel so dizzy from the heavenly sensation you just felt. Your cock twitches its last portion of cum into Chaeryeong’s ass, before you drag yourself out of her tightness. Her asshole gapes, missing your cock. Your cum flows out of her gaped asshole. Fuck, it’s beautiful.

“Fuck,” you utter—lost, dazed. You just did something you can’t comprehend, and it’s going to forever stick with you as one of the best moments of your life.

“Yeah, fuck,” Chaeryeong pants, before collapsing on top of Ryujin.

—

City Of Stars

“I know it’s a bit weird to ask you this.” you pause, unsure of your next words. Are they the right people to ask?

Fuck it, you just had the most mind-blowing sex with them. A question wouldn’t hurt.

“But I have an assignment due–” you pause again, looking at your watch. It's a little after two “–today.”

Ryujin laughs quietly. “What? Are you going to have us help with your assignment?”

You can only smile shyly, looking left and right at their ethereal, after-sex faces. “Kinda, yeah.”

Both women let out a laugh. “Sure, go ahead,” Chaeryeong says.

“As I’ve told you, I’m a photography student–”

“Wanna work for JYP after you graduate?” Ryujin asks.

You chuckle. “If it means I’ll see you two again, definitely.”

“That’s our boy,” Ryujin says, nudging your shoulder playfully.

“Well, as I’ve said, I have an assignment due in like–seven hours,” you continue. “I need a photo to hand in this morning. It can be pretty much anything.”

“Anything?” Chaeryeong asks, her hand gently caressing your shoulder.

“Yeah, anything.”

The three of you say nothing for a heartbeat, letting the silence hang in the air. They’re probably trying to help you.

“That seems like a straightforward assignment for me,” Ryujin says. Her hand roams down your body once more, making you shiver.

“Yeah,” Chaeryeong adds, giggling at your response. “Couldn’t have been so hard.”

She gives your cock a slight touch with the back of her hand, and your breath hitches a little.

“My suggestion–” Ryujin leans in to pepper your neck with kisses, sending pleasure through your body “–just pick something that screams you.”

“Ryujin, ngh~”

“You know, I wanna be me, me, me,” she continues between her heavenly kisses.

“Yeah, I don’t wanna be somebody,” Chaeryeong adds, her hands starting to jerk you off now. “Choose something that’s only you could’ve done.”

“Hhngn~”

The muscles start to tense up again.

“Yeah, because nobody else can do that,” Ryujin adds, still planting small pecks over your now-willing body. Her hands are everywhere.

“Good night, baby,” Chaeryeong coos.

And your vision turns white.

—

[peachylynnie]

glasses

word count: 1.2k synopsis: in which you wear zayne's glasses. contains: zayne x mc!reader, slightly posessive zayne, whipped zayne, mentions of violence, slight angst, and fluff overall. a/n: i really like zayne's glasses (the frameless ones). do not copy or translate my work. zayne does not endorse plagiarism. reblogs and comments are appreciated :) lads masterlist: here

zayne doesn't expect you to be awake when he comes home. given how late he leaves his office, he's not surprised to find you fast asleep in your adorable pajamas with your mouth open and legs splayed by the time he arrives at your shared bedroom. though, there are times when he finds you awake, either treating your wounds from another day of hunting wanderers or sitting outside on the balcony to gaze at the stars. but, those times are rare. (not to say he doesn't appreciate them; he's in awe of how strong you are whenever you ramble about taking down a wanderer as he bandages you up and how the stars don't even compare to how stunning you look whenever he joins you at the balcony).

point is: zayne doesn't expect you to be up so late at night (morning at this point) when he walks in. so, he's surprised to find you awake... in his glasses.

the prodigious doctor freezes in place after closing the door. there you are, legs crossed on the couch with a book in your hand and your eyebrows furrowed as you flip a page, causing his glasses to tilt on the bridge of your nose. oh, god. he can feel his knees buckling. not from the eight-hour surgery he just finished, no. but from the gorgeous sight in front of him. his glasses looked so good on you.

"darling?" he calls breathlessly.

you yelp, causing the glasses to nearly fall until you swiftly catch and adjust them with your fingers. he thinks it's the most seductive thing you have ever done (besides the time you insisted on shaving his chin on a rocking chair). "zayne?!" you stand up immediately, abandoning the book on the couch and rushing to him to wrap him in a hug. "how long were you standing there for? i didn't notice you at all!"

"was the book that interesting?" the man questions as he returns the hug, careful not to apply too much pressure. he doesn't want to break his glasses after all. not because they're his, no, not at all. but because he wants to see you wear them more often.

you look up at him from his chest and nod. his heart soars at the sight. the glasses...they bring out the light in your eyes.

"oh? thanks, zayne." you giggle. ah, he said that out loud. his ears grow red as he averts his gaze to the side.

"ahem," he coughs. "why are you wearing my glasses, anyway? do they match your prescription?"

"yes, actually!" your beam. "i couldn't find my glasses earlier, so i decided to use yours." you lean playfully to the side to see his face. zayne can't help but smile upon meeting your eyes. they really did look good on you, and he couldn't be happier to hear that his prescription matches yours. "i hope you don't mind," you say sheepishly. "i was only going to use them for tonight. i'm sure my glasses are lying around here somewhere." at that, you twist left and right to scan the living room.

"no need," he says almost immediately. he really doesn't want your eyes to leave his right now, not with you wearing his glasses so mesmerizingly. you look at him with curiosity when his hands slide up your neck and stop at your face, gently cooling your cheeks.

"are you alright, zayne?"

he nods silently and presses a delicate kiss to your forehead. "i'm alright, darling." caressing your cheek with his thumb, the man adds, "and i don't mind. not at all. wear them whenever you like. i have some spares back at the office."

"oh, okay." you're taken aback by how eager he sounds. it's almost as if he wants you to wear his glasses, and his glasses only.

except that's exactly what the man standing before you wants. to continue to wear his glasses whenever you please. the idea of you enjoying a book while donning his glasses fills him with an immaculate sense of pride. he takes it even further by imagining the faces of all the interns who dared to gawk at you with starry eyes whenever you visited him at his office. he's sure once they see you with his glasses, they'll get the message.

"but i still have to look for mine at some point," you yawn. he takes note of how his glasses slide down whenever you scrunch your nose. "they weren't exactly cheap, you know?"

"i'll help you look for them in the morning," he says as he guides you to the bedroom (lies, he's going to hide them). your sleepy eyes look even more adorable with his glasses on; oh, he swears he can feel himself melting (and that says a lot given his evol).

"thanks, zayne," you say sleepily as you settle under the covers. "you always take care of me, you know that?"

"i'm your primary care physician. it's my job to take care of you," he answers as he sheds his coat and hangs it in the closet.

"you're also my boyfriend, remember?" you grumble, shifting onto your side.

"no, i forgot," he replies monotonously.

you jerk your head back, shooting him a glare. him and his dry humor.

zayne remains unfazed as he joins you in bed. "you should remember this too," he murmurs your name. "you don't ever have to thank me for taking care of you." pulling the covers up to your chin, he adds, "i will always take care of you." you open your mouth to speak, but he beats you to it. "not because i am legally obligated to do so, but because i love you. please remember that."

you blink, taken aback by his words. it's not often you get to see zayne so honest and close to you like this. due to your busy schedules, tender moments like these are hard to come by. determined to make the most of this, you cup your lover's face and plant a kiss on his lips. indulging in the much-needed warmth your lips provide, zayne deepens the kiss, his hands finding your waist.

after pulling back for air, you throw him a cheeky smile. "thanks, zayne."

he looks at you unamused. "what did i just say?"

you laugh before shifting onto your back, ready to sleep. sparing him one last glance before you close your eyes, you say, "i love you, zayne."

"i love you too," he whispers as he watches you drift off peacefully. it doesn't take long for him to turn and reach for the pull chain on the lamp. except he notices something.

you forgot to take his glasses off.

chuckling to himself, zayne carefully removes them from your face. as much as he loves how they suit you perfectly, he wants you to be comfortable. after placing his glasses on the nightstand, he returns to your side and notices another thing: the small dents on your nose bridge left by the pads from his glasses.

unable to stop himself, your lover admires them by gently tracing his finger over them. it seems there are many ways to show that you are his and he is yours. he's delighted his glasses are one of the ways.

after finally pulling the lamp chain, zayne presses one final kiss to your forehead.

"goodnight, darling."

[darkmatilda]

𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: when you find out spencer has never been to new york you decide to do everything you can to make him fall in love with the city that raised you. and maybe, just maybe, fall in love with you too.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: early seasons spencer reid x bau!female reader, reader is kinda tough, description of the case (stalking), spencer is so blind you'll want to kick him, idiots in love

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 9k

𝐚/𝐧: this is a request i got from @written-in-the-stars06 ! thank you for this amazing idea <3 i hope it meets your expectations (even if only a little)

"JJ, I need your help."

The blonde woman froze in the doorway.

"Did you kill someone?" she asked after a moment. And though she seemed surprised, her voice had already adjusted to the situation, lowering into a conspiratorial whisper. As if signaling her readiness to help hide a body. A friend in crime is a friend indeed.

Or however it goes. 

If your eyebrows competed in the Olympic high jump, they’d win a gold medal.

"What? How did you even…wait, is that seriously the first thing that crossed your mind when you saw me?" You watched as your friend shrugged. Her posture relaxed slightly, and the corner of her mouth twitched upward at the sight of your expression. "Anyway, never mind. Are you going to let me in, or are we just going to stand here?"

For a moment, she studied you intently before stepping aside. You’d known she would; it was exactly why you’d come to her. You crossed into her apartment with heavy, restless steps, stopping only when you reached the living room—and only then realizing you hadn’t even taken off your coat.

Pressing a hand to your forehead, you turned to face JJ, whose worry was written all over her face.

“Well? Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

You inhaled deeply, trying to steady yourself as you prepared to say the words out loud.

Words that felt absurd.

Words that had invaded your mind, refusing to let go.

Words you couldn’t decide whether to embrace or reject entirely.

“I’m in love.”

Silence filled the room. A soft, disbelieving snort escaped her lips, quickly morphing into loud, unabashed laughter.

“You gotta be kidding me.”

“I’m not. Why? Is it really that strange for me to be in love?”

JJ snorted again, shaking her head from side to side.

“No. What’s strange is you storming into my apartment like a hurricane, nervous and… terrified, just to tell me you’re in love. Seriously, I thought something was wrong!”

“Because something is wrong,” you hissed through clenched teeth.

You weren’t angry—not at JJ, not at yourself, not at anyone. It was more… the weight of it all, the unfamiliar feelings that left you overwhelmed, spilling out in sudden bursts of frustration.

Your romantic life up until now had always existed on the fringes of your attention. Present, but without all the…symptoms. The dry throat whenever they were around, the inability to get them out of your head.

It all felt like something out of a sugar-coated entry in a teenager’s pink diary, not the mind of a grown woman.

“I’ll make you some tea,” JJ offered suddenly. The worry that had been etched on her face earlier was completely gone, replaced by genuine amusement at your behavior, visible in the soft smile tugging at her lips. “You’ll tell me everything. But now, take off that coat before you overheat…”

True to her word, fifteen minutes later, the two of you were sitting on the couch with steaming mugs of tea in your hands.

While JJ had been in the kitchen preparing it, doubts began to creep in. Was it really a good idea to tell anyone about this? About your…infatuation?

Even though you were friends, the whole thing made you feel a little pathetic. 

“So…” she began after a long moment of silence. “Are you going to say anything?”

You couldn’t find the right words. Instead of answering, you took a big sip of hot tea and winced as it burned your throat.

“Okay,” JJ sighed, setting her mug down on the table and folding her arms across her chest. “If you’re not going to, let me just guess.”

“Since when are you a psychic?”

“Not a psychic. Just someone who spends most of her life around profilers. That should be enough to figure out why my friend is acting so weird about a simple crush.”

“Can we please not call it a crush?”

“Love interest. Better?” You muttered not really but she completely ignored it and continued. “Let’s start with the fact that you came here. To me. Considering how private you are, it must mean you’re totally losing it over this. You seem confused, like you don’t know what to feel. You’re unsure whether they feel the same, so you don’t know what to do. And it doesn’t help that you’ve never had to chase anyone before. You’ve always been the one that guys chased after, not the other way around. And…” she hesitated, taking a breath. “The fact that you seem embarrassed, plus how much you work, leaving no time for dating, leads me to think… it’s probably someone from our team.”

With every sentence that left her lips, your hands tightened more around the mug. When she fell silent, your knuckles turned completely white. Everything she said was true.

"What should I do?" you asked quietly.

"Well, it would definitely be easier for me to advise you if you tell me who it’s about."

Instinctively, you shook your head. You didn’t want to reveal your feelings that much. Surprisingly, you weren’t worried that she would figure it out. After all, it wasn’t that obvious...

"Is it Spencer?"

"Fuck, is it really that obvious?" you blurted out in panic. If she could notice, who else could? The rest of the team? Reid himself?

JJ made a sound somewhere between a cough and a choked laugh.

"Actually, I was just going to randomly list all the options one by one," she said, then let out a short sigh, raising her eyebrows. "You surprised me a little. I mean, it's not that I think you two don’t fit together..."

You knew exactly what she meant. Your specialty at work was kidnappings, often handling negotiations and providing detailed instructions to the families of victims. You had learned to project an aura of calm control, and more often than not, you came across as stiff in the eyes of others. Something that had been pointed out to you multiple times in life, whether in jest or not. Reid, in many ways, was your complete opposite. While you surrounded yourself with a shield of silence due to stress, his mouth never seemed to stop. While you marched forward with apparent indifference, he seemed genuinely interested in everything happening around him, every tiny process on this planet. And maybe that was what fascinated you most about him? Or perhaps it was more about his extraordinary mind, knowing the answer to every question that ever drifted through your thoughts? Or how effortlessly he could make you laugh? Or maybe it was the ease with which you could gently tug at the edge of that serious mask, always settled upon your face, and lift it just enough to let a certain lightness slip inside? To breathe?

"You should just invite him somewhere," JJ snapped you out of your thoughts.

"I tried," you said, wincing slightly at the memory of that failed attempt. Well, not entirely failed...

"Are you talking about how you asked in the office, in front of everyone, if anyone would like to go to the movies with you on Friday, and almost everyone volunteered?" she asked, amused. "That's not how you ask someone out on a date!"

"What else was I supposed to do? Walk up and ask if he wants to go to the movies with me?"

JJ blinked.

"Yes? Exactly like that? I mean, that’s how it usually goes. I don’t know what’s so weird about it for you."

"I’m just not made for this," you blurted out, pressing your lips together. "I can’t stand the thought that he might say no, because maybe he’s not interested in me. Not like I am in him."

"No offense, but you're such a hopeless case," she sighed heavily. "In that case, you need to find out. Invite him somewhere, not necessarily on a date, just a casual hangout. Spend some time together and you'll find out if he likes you."

"What if he doesn't?"

"What if he does?"

After a moment of silence, you managed to smile weakly.

"Maybe you're right," you said, emphasizing the first word. And before saying anything else, you nodded, as if giving yourself courage. "I'll give it a try."

*

Well, you didn’t get a chance to put that plan into motion.

Work didn’t slow down for even a moment, throwing you back onto the jet with your team, deep in discussion about everything uncovered so far regarding the unsub and the victims. Hardly the right time to ask someone on a date.

As usual, the case file commanded your full attention, isolating you from the buzz of conversation around you. You always needed a moment to absorb and analyze the details on your own. The voices of your teammates reached your ears faintly, their words blending into background noise—until one particular sentence jolted your brain awake, cutting through like a baseball slicing the air.

"You’ve never been to New York?" you asked, directing the question to Spencer, seated beside you, shoulder to shoulder.

All eyes turned to him. Startled by the attention, he gave a small shrug and absently picked up the deck of cards from the table, the ones you’d been playing with before the discussion began.

“We’ve never had a case there before,” he admitted simply. 

You closed the folder, and the slight breeze it caused swept a few cards off the table from the game you’d been playing earlier.

“Why am I only now finding out that you’ve never, ever, ever been to New York?” you asked, shaking your head in disbelief. He furrowed his brows, clearly surprised by your emotional reaction.

“I grew up there,” you added.

“And why am I only now finding out that you grew up in New York?” he mimicked your earlier tone. Rolling your eyes, you tried to swat him with the folder, but he deftly dodged it.

“Seriously though, you never told me,” he said.

“Don’t worry, man,” Morgan chimed in from across the table. “She never told me, either. In fact, I’d bet she never told any of us.”

You raised your hands in a defensive gesture.

“None of you ever asked.”

"Does that bother you?" Reid asked, his gaze fixed on you, intense and unwavering. A strand of his slightly too-long hair had slipped out from behind his ear. You had the sudden urge to reach out, tuck it back where it belonged, away from his line of sight. "That I’ve never been there?"

"Of course not," you assured him with a quick huff of laughter. "You just have a lot—and I mean a lot—to catch up on."

"If only I knew someone who knew the city well," he sighed dramatically. "Someone who, for example, grew up there and kept that fact a secret for as long as we know each other. Someone who could show me around..."

"You’d want me to show you around?" The words escaped your mouth a little too quickly, a little too eagerly. Your mind flashed back to your conversation with JJ, to her suggestion that you should invite him somewhere. You’d been too nervous to ask outright, but this? Showing him around the city was a perfect excuse to spend time together!

You felt like an evil mastermind rubbing your hands together in triumph over a new invention that could turn half of humanity into rubber ducks. Quickly, you shook your head, trying to mask the disproportionate excitement now threatening to take over your face. 

"I mean, if we had the time. Who knows how demanding this case might end up being."

"Right," he admitted. Some flicker of emotion crossed his face—a flash of something unplaceable. Could it have been a disappointment? 

He cleared his throat, a soft, tentative smile tugging at his lips. "But if it turns out we do have time... I’d be very happy if you’d show me a few places."

You couldn’t hold back any longer and allowed yourself a brief smile.

“But just so we’re clear,” you began after a moment, your tone carrying a seriousness that didn’t quite match the expression on your face. “I wasn’t keeping it a secret. Just no one ever asked me!”

Spencer let out a small snort at that.

"You know, I think you're the type of person who could go over a decade without revealing your name just because no one bothered to ask..."

“Are you done with discussing your secrets? Could we get back to focusing on the case?” Hotch’s voice suddenly cut in, sharp and calm, as he glanced at the two of you over the top of his file.

In perfect unison, you both turned toward him, sitting straighter than ever. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Reid’s gaze for one more fleeting moment.

He wanted you to show him around.

Of course, that didn’t automatically mean he liked you. But it felt like it brought you a step closer to figuring out if there was even the smallest, most microscopic chance that he might feel the same way.

That hopeful thought was quickly chased by doubts—what if he didn’t?

You knew such thoughts would haunt you, tormenting and humiliating you in the quiet moments you were alone with yourself. So, you resolved not to dwell on them for the duration of your time in New York. Instead, you would focus on one thing —making him fall in love with the city where you’d grown up, the city that still held your heart even years after you’d left.

The discussion about the case had ended, but despite that, you continued to carefully examine the files. Well, not exactly them. On the back of the last page, a blank piece of paper, you started writing with the pen you had pulled out of your jacket pocket all the places you could take Spencer. You drifted through memories, trying to recall those places you had visited with your parents, the ones you had gone to with friends after school, the places you were taken on dates...

You crossed them all out. You doubted a sandwich bar would impress him. You didn’t know how many chances you’d have to go anywhere, so you had to aim for something really special. Maybe something that fit more with his interests. A museum? Or something more characteristic of the neighborhood where you’d be staying. A walk on the Brooklyn Bridge?

You felt someone’s gaze on you. You snapped the folder shut as if you had been caught doing something and saw Morgan staring at you with a slightly mocking smile on his lips.

"If you’re playing a tour guide, maybe you’d like to show me around too?" he asked.

You leaned slightly over the table, your face expressionless.

"I’m sure if you ask Garcia nicely, she’ll find you a guide online. At a good price."

"And here she is. The Ice Queen back in shape. Tell me, how’s it that just fifteen minutes ago you were acting completely differently?"

Amused, he shook his head, leaving you with the unsettling thought that maybe it really was that obvious.

*

“Alright. I’m a serial killer and a rapist. I stalk my victims by placing cameras in their apartment. Where do I hide them to get a good view of everything, but at the same time, make sure they're not noticed?”

"Reid, I’m begging you, never say something like that out loud again."

You and Spencer had been sent to the apartment of one of, unfortunately, many victims. All of them had been attacked in their own homes, with no visible signs of forced entry. That was the first puzzling element of this case. The second were the emails Garcia had found in each of the women’s inboxes. Emails suggesting they had been watched for a long time.

You made my favorite pasta for dinner. You should wear the red dress, sweetheart. Actually, who are you planning to meet?

The very thought of someone watching you in your own home sent a shiver down your spine.

“Apologies,” he muttered. “But I’m not under arrest, am I?”

“Who knows? It’d make for some interesting headlines. Or for the title of a true-crime documentary about you. FBI Agent on a Dark Path of Crime…”

“It’s Doctor.”

“My eternal apologies. Does mistaking your title also come with a sentence?”

“Well, we probably wouldn’t be sharing a cell, but maybe we’d run into each other in the cafeteria a few times.”

"I can't wait." You wandered around the apartment, peeking into every spot that came to mind. Since your back was turned to him, he couldn’t see the corners of your mouth curling upward. “You check the bathroom, alright? I don’t even want to imagine where that creep might have hidden a camera. I’ll be terrified to shower in my own place.”

Spencer gave a mock salute, as if you’d just given him an order. Well, in your tone, even polite requests rarely left room for refusal. But before he disappeared into the small bathroom with green-tiled walls, he paused for a moment, his fingers brushing the doorframe.

“That was a joke, right?” he asked, his voice shifting from light to soft and slightly concerned.

You turned toward him, arms crossed over your chest, not entirely sure what he meant.

“I mean…” he started, briefly scratching his forehead. “I just hope you’re not getting too involved in this case. I mean, you are, but not to the point where… where you’re scared afterward. Of being home alone. Taking a shower or…Does that even make sense?”

"That’s..." you began, trying your hardest not to say that’s sweet. The hint of concern that had flickered across his face, present in the way his eyes lingered on you. The fact that your offhand comment had moved him enough to bring it up at all. “Yeah, that does make sense. You know, considering all these women were my age and lived alone, just like me, it does feel a little personal. But don’t worry, I won’t let it stop me from maintaining proper hygiene.”

You tried to steer the conversation away from the unexpected seriousness, to shake off the weight that had suddenly settled over it. Well, you didn’t quite succeed. Spencer didn’t look particularly convinced—or amused. He gave a slight nod, barely noticeable and likely unconscious.

“I just wanted to make sure. That it’s not getting to you. Not… too much,” he clarified. His words grew tangled again. He dropped his gaze to the doorframe, as if contemplating whether to knock his forehead against it. “I’ll check the bathroom.”

You had spent far too long staring at the door behind which he had disappeared. Only shaking your head helped you force yourself to return to work. The victim's apartment wasn't huge; the living room, kitchen, and bedroom were all part of one room. You stopped by the kitchen area, where a large bowl on the counter still contained fresh fruit. Right next to it lay the apartment key, and although you should have been looking for cameras, you hesitantly picked it up. There was no keychain attached to it, nor was it part of a set of several other keys, as people usually did to keep from losing them. A number of disordered conclusions and theories crossed your mind, even though it was just a key, not a significant piece of evidence or something that shouldn't be there. Maybe the apartment's owner had lost the keys not long ago and had had one copied just before her disappearance, which would explain the lack of wear on it.

That lost set might have ended up in the wrong hands. Or it might not have been lost at all, but stolen.

Absentmindedly, you turned it in your hands, your gaze wandering across your surroundings. A very small space, with a real brick wall on one side and a shelf of dishes above the sink. You knew that the camera had to be somewhere in here, after all, one of the emails had referred to a meal cooked by the victim. Eventually, you stopped at a green plant on the shelf, just beside a stack of clean plates. It was artificial, meaning the victim didn't need to water it, which meant it probably hadn't been paid much attention to, and that meant it was a good hiding spot for a hidden camera.

You parted the leaves and took the small black device in your hand.

Instead of calling Spencer, who was still in the bathroom, you tilted your head back and with a sigh, headed toward the balcony doors, feeling a slight ringing in your ears. It was awful. The very thought of being watched in your own apartment, a place where you should feel safest, for an unknown amount of time.

You leaned against the black railing of the small balcony, which was probably there only because of the fire escape stairs running along the entire building. You just needed to breathe in some fresh air, spend literally a minute outside, but as soon as you looked ahead, that minute started turning into minutes.

After you arrived in New York, you immediately got to work on the case; there had been no time for nostalgic sighs over familiar streets.

You tore your gaze away from them only when someone’s silhouette appeared beside you, turned sideways to face you.

“Two cameras in the bathroom,” Spencer announced. As per your earlier request, he didn’t say exactly where they were placed, and after his words, a moment of silence fell.

You tried your hardest to ensure that no grimace passed across your face. You considered it unprofessional, getting too emotionally involved in the investigation, imagining yourself in the victim's place. But apparently, it even happened to the best of them.

“You really value your privacy, don’t you?”

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, stopping yourself from rolling them.

"Are you still dwelling on what I said earlier? I'm fine, Spencer."

"I’m only dwelling on what I’ve noticed a long time ago," he said, ignoring your dismissive response. "Well, and also making sure you’re okay. But what I really mean is that you don’t talk much about yourself. I only just found out today that you grew up here. I’m not saying this in a bad way, I get that you might not want to tell me everything about yourself…"

"It’s not about you," you interrupted him, finally turning so you were fully facing him. You once again took note that the balcony was really small. You realized how close you were standing. The closeness that made honesty a bit more necessary. The closeness that made you swallow more often from the dryness in your throat. You cleared your throat, wanting to clarify your somewhat vague words. "I mean, it’s not like I have a problem telling you about me, it’s just… I don’t know, I’ve always been like this. I never really know what’s worth sharing and what’s not. I’ve always been better at listening to what others have to say."

Reid listened to your words with understanding written on his face. You had the feeling that he had become a little bit lighter. He glanced briefly at the railing, and when he looked back at you, he squinted against the sunlight that was streaming onto the balcony.

"I was a bit worried that your silence was because it tires you how much I can talk," he admitted, his tone betraying a hint of hesitation.

You almost let out a laugh.

"It’s actually quite the opposite, trust me."

With those words, you turned back towards the city, trying to avoid his gaze.

"I like listening to you," you added quietly.

You thought he wouldn't add anything more. That you'd both remain frozen for another prolonged moment on this balcony, with the cameras you'd found tucked into your pockets and the looming return to work on the case. That you'd step back inside the apartment, letting the chill in your cheeks fade along with their faintly rosy hue.

"And I..." he began, nervously shifting his grip on the railing. "I really like talking to you."

You strained your memory, but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't recall any other day at work when you'd smiled so many times.

“The rest is probably still in the other victims’ apartments,” you stated cautiously, recalling the locations of those places. Speaking each word slowly helped you build the courage to voice the spontaneous idea that had just come to you. “We’ve found what we were looking for. Hotch hasn’t called us yet, so I guess we’re free. Are you...are you maybe hungry?”

*

Your knees had brushed against each other.

“Sorry,” Spencer muttered immediately, shifting his chair back slightly.

You pretended to be preoccupied with surveying the interior of the café. To be fair, there was a lot to take in. The décor defied categorization, with every wall covered in a different material and painted a different color. One wall was entirely obscured by an antique bookshelf. From what you could tell, the mismatch extended to the furniture; no two chairs were alike. Some were made of different types of wood, others upholstered in leather, and one even spun on a swivel.

In short, the place looked like the kind of room you’d stumble into during a fever dream—where two chubby cats braid your hair while you have a very serious conversation with a purple teapot trying to convince you to take out a loan at its bank. And somehow, none of it feels the least bit strange. In fact, you’d wake up from the dream genuinely considering the loan.

One of your hands rested on your knee, the same one his had accidentally grazed. You tapped your fingers lightly on it, keeping rhythm with the pop song playing faintly in the background. The other hand was tucked beneath your chin in a classic thinker’s pose. Except, instead of contemplating the mysteries of the universe or arriving at profound insights, you were solely focused on one pressing question: Who on earth decided to use such narrow tables? Tables that constantly forced you to be hyper-aware of the risk of touching his leg. Again.

“There used to be a sandwich bar here,” you said, tearing the croissant apart with your fingers. “I don’t know why, but I didn’t even consider that anything could have changed. Sorry.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Spencer assured you. “Actually, I didn’t realize how much I needed coffee until I caught the smell. Did you come here often?”

“All the time,” you admitted briefly.

You noticed him looking at you with a hint of amusement, which made you furrow your brows.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he replied dismissively, turning the cup in his hands. “It’s just…I remembered what we were talking about earlier, and I thought this might be one of those things worth sharing.”

“Alright,” you said, rolling your eyes, though there wasn’t an ounce of irritation in the gesture. “I used to come here with my friends literally every Friday. It was cheap and relatively close to our school, and none of us had a driver’s license yet, so we walked everywhere, complaining about sweaty people on the subway. Do you think that piece of information is going to be useful to you in any way? Was it worth sharing?”

“Well, believe it or not, I absolutely do,” he chuckled. “Besides, you never know which piece of information might come in handy someday.”

You summed it up with another roll of your eyes, but a soft smile remained stubbornly on your lips. You were genuinely pleased with yourself for breaking the ice and inviting him somewhere, even if at any moment this brief reprieve could be interrupted by a call from your boss, demanding your immediate return. JJ had been right. All it took was just doing it.

“I promised to show you around a bit, remember?” you asked. Having scored a small victory, you decided to keep the momentum going and suggest taking him to a truly special place.

“The offer hasn’t expired, right?”

“It doesn’t have an expiration date. It just depends on, well, our work. I doubt we’ll be able to visit many places. So I’ve made…” you hesitated, unsure if you should admit to spending two full hours obsessively considering where you could take him and even writing it down in the case files. “I’ve thought it through and picked out a few key ones. Places I think you’ll like. So, whenever we have time, maybe in the evening… though no, some of them might be closed then…”

"Places you think I might like?" Spencer interjected gently. You stopped, surprised, unsure why he focused on that particular part of your sentence. "What about the ones that are important to you?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean..." he trailed off, making some vague gesture with his hand. "I was curious about the places you used to visit when you lived here. The ones that meant something to you. Are they on the list, too?"

You didn’t need to physically glance at the list; you had it memorized entirely and knew they weren’t on it. You had chosen the places solely with him in mind—his interests and your desire to impress him. You cleared your throat.

“We don’t have much time,” you gently reminded him. “I wanted to show you the really important places. The highlights of New York or something that would stick in your memory. Not some sandwich bar that, by the way, doesn’t even exist anymore, or a drive-in theater...”

“A drive-in theater?”

“You know, you drive up to a spot and watch a movie being projected. I absolutely loved it, really, but it doesn’t matter because there’s no way we could arrange something like that now.” you explained, your thoughts oddly lingering on the idea of spending time with him in a similar way. "God, I didn’t expect being a tour guide to be this hard. Not only do we barely have time for anything I planned, but my client keeps complaining the whole time..."

"Okay, fine, sorry," he raised his hands in a defensive gesture, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly. "Apologies for wanting to spend time the way you would enjoy. What a jerk I am."

"Exactly, you should be ashamed. I’ll add it to your bill," you teased, taking a sip of your coffee, which you’d completely forgotten about. It had gone cold during your conversation.

"And now, completely seriously," Spencer began again, the sarcastic expression disappearing from his face as he looked at you with genuine interest, those brown eyes steady and curious. "I’ll let you take me anywhere you want. So, what places did you pick?"

You were internally excited to finally tell him about them.

But then, your phone rang.

*

The rest of the day was intense and entirely consumed by the investigation. Unfortunately, you didn’t uncover anything that could genuinely bring you closer to catching the perpetrator. In fact, you didn’t even have a profile yet.

Each of you felt a bit disheartened by the lack of progress. After all, every passing day meant a greater risk that another victim could be harmed in her own home. It was even more unsettling knowing that some woman was likely being stalked at that very moment.

Still, despite the mediocre morale and mounting exhaustion, you managed to summon enough energy and resolve to visit one particular place.

You were just returning from there, walking one behind the other down the narrow hallway of the hotel where you'd been stationed. You could feel Spencer's presence and hear his footsteps just behind you. In your mind, you stubbornly tried to figure out what you should say before you both retreated to your respective rooms.

There was a certain lightness in you, brought on by the release of tension through a pleasant evening, but also a heaviness caused by the weight of your feelings. It had been nice. It had been... wonderful. Yet, it hadn’t brought you any closer to knowing whether he liked you.

Maybe you should talk to JJ again.

You stopped suddenly, hearing Spencer let out a quiet sigh as he almost bumped into your back. You turned on your heel, slowly, feeling a dryness creep into your throat.

Spencer was standing just in front of you, his gaze shifting uncertainly between your face and the floor. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but immediately closed it, lost in thought. You pressed your lips into a thin line, determined to wait for whatever he might want to say.

“Where are you two coming from at this hour?”

The door to the room next to you suddenly swung open, and Morgan’s head poked out, a smirk plastered across his face as he looked at the two of you.

You both exchanged a brief glance before locking your eyes on him. The sudden presence of another person, standing in front of you with his arms crossed and curiosity in his gaze, made it painfully clear how close you had become to each other.

The most awkward thing you could possibly do now was to step away from each other. And, well, that’s exactly what Spencer did.

You didn’t even flinch, glancing briefly at your colleague.

“From the library,” you replied.

It was the truth. In a compromise between places that might interest him and those that were important to you, you had ended up there. And not just any library, but the largest one in the entire district.

As soon as the thought crossed your mind, a warmth spread inside you. The warmth of walking among the shelves, barely catching glimpses of each other’s faces through the surrounding orange light of the lamps fighting to dominate over the engulfing shadows. The warmth of your clumsy attempts to focus on the environment, not on Spencer’s face, which was so mesmerized as he studied the books. His brow slightly furrowed, hair escaping from its place and falling across his face. Eyes fixed on one spot, pupils stretching across the entire surface of his irises, creating two truly hypnotizing points on his face, which you struggled to avoid staring into.

“From the library at night?” Morgan repeated, shaking his head with a mix of amusement and disbelief. “I knew you were a nerd, Reid, but you… I’m really disappointed in you.”

“Oh no, how will I survive this?” you scoffed. You saw Spencer briefly smile as well. “Anyway, goodnight, my dear coworkers. See you tomorrow.”

With those words, you made your way to your room, feeling somewhat like an escapee.

You knew that there were only a few hours of sleep left, and you needed to at least function a bit in the morning, so you immediately headed for the shower, grabbing something to change into on the way. Two things were on your mind. Was Morgan still torturing Spencer with questions in the hallway? And did Spencer enjoy your time together as much as you did?

As you analyzed your interactions with him, you realized there was an awkwardness you hadn’t noticed before. You never realized that awkwardness could be sweet. You’d always seen it as a purely negative feeling, something that caused embarrassment. But it could also make your heart race and cause your breathing to quicken. And dizziness, when you tried to control it all.

You felt like you had regressed to your high school days. You almost wanted to run to your friend and excitedly tell her all about the evening. For a moment, you even considered it, but JJ was probably already asleep.

You stepped out of the shower, wrapped in a towel, and when you pulled on a tank top and some loose pajama pants, you started gathering the clothes you’d worn earlier that day. As you lifted your pants, something small fell out of the pocket and clinked as it hit the floor.

A single key.

It took you a moment to realize that you must have accidentally taken it from one of the victims' apartments. Back when you discovered the hidden camera in the plant, you must have mindlessly shoved it into your pocket. A nervous pang of anxiety shot through your chest. You shouldn’t have taken anything from that place. Another sharp pang followed quickly after, as the sight in front of your eyes suddenly blurred, and something started to form in your mind.

At first, it was a shy thought. But almost immediately, it became a thought that needed to be discussed. Because it could push the investigation forward.

You rushed into the hallway before even deciding where to go. There, you turned in circles, unsure of what to do. This wasn’t an idea that warranted waking Hotch; honestly, you would’ve felt foolish going to him in the middle of the night with just a flicker of an insight in your head. So you thought of someone else—sharp in the way you needed, incredibly intelligent, and probably still awake, since you had just parted ways a mere fifteen minutes ago.

You knocked on Spencer's door.

“I have a theory,” you announced, shifting nervously from foot to foot.

His face registered surprise at the sight of you at this hour, his hand—still rubbing sleep from his eye—froze in place before dropping to his side. He must’ve just been lying down.

“A theory about what?” he asked, his voice a little rough with sleep.

Quite a pleasant rasp. Wait, no, refocusing…

“About who built the pyramids in Giza,” you huffed, the potential solution to the case accompanied by a little stress, and stress, for you, always came out in the form of a biting sarcasm as soon as you opened your mouth.

You slipped past him, effectively inviting yourself inside. Spencer was too surprised to step aside in time, so you inadvertently brushed against his side. Well, you didn’t want to have this conversation in the hallway, for fear that your voices would attract Morgan or anyone else.

“Well, it’s not really a secret, despite what some people like to think,” Spencer started, closing the door behind you and turning uncertainly toward you. His gaze quickly darted to you, sweeping over your body. He shook his head slightly, as if trying to focus. He must’ve been sleepy, and it probably wasn’t coming easily. “The construction of those monumental structures required the labor of many workers…”

“I have a theory about the case.”

You didn’t really think it would need further clarification. Without fully controlling your movements, you collapsed onto his bed, sitting at the edge. Suddenly, the confidence you had felt in the bathroom vanished.

He didn’t sit down, instead standing in front of you, his hands constantly shifting position. At one moment, they were crossed over his chest, and then, after a brief pause, he dropped them back to his sides. His gaze seemed restless too—almost strange. Sometimes it dropped to you, but then quickly changed direction, as though he was trying to find the right exit off a roundabout before giving up and returning to the starting point. That is, back to you. But you were too lost in your own thoughts to wonder what it was about your appearance that so intensely drew his gaze.

"Okay," he said slowly, coughing into his clenched fist to clear the roughness in his voice. "Okay. I guess that's a good thing. What's the theory? Do you need to talk it through?"

“That’s why I came here,” you replied, taking in a little more air than necessary, trying to logically connect the scattered conclusions that had formed in your mind. “Listen, it might turn out that what I’m saying makes absolutely no sense. But it might also turn out that it does have some logic to it. I want you to tell me which of these options you think is true. So... I couldn’t stop thinking about that key in the victim’s apartment, the one we were in. It looked brand new, like it had just been made. At first, I thought maybe she’d lost the old one somewhere. It ended up in the wrong hands. The unsub’s hands. That would explain how he got inside without leaving any signs of forced entry. But that would make sense if there had only been one victim. There were many, though, and it’s impossible for each one of them to have lost their keys recently. Unless they were stolen. Or maybe it was the loss of the keys that led to them becoming victims in the first place.”

The biggest mystery that had come up on your team’s path was how the unsub was even choosing his victims. They were all around the same age, all women, and lived alone. Other than that, they were completely different. They lived in different places, looked nothing alike, had different professions, and were of different races.

“So…” you continued, searching his face for any sign. Any trace of understanding, a hint that he was connecting the dots. Some confirmation. But Spencer just stood there, motionless, looking like he was only half present, his gaze fixed on you.

“I came to what might be...a bit of a bold conclusion. Maybe the unsub works as someone who makes spare keys. People come to him, including women. He picks the ones that fit his preferences, makes himself a copy, and that’s how he gets in to install hidden cameras. And then... well, to…” You paused, noticing his unwavering stare. “What? What are you looking at me like that for? Do you think I’m talking nonsense?”

He looked like he had suddenly snapped out of some daydream. He shook his head, scratching his chin, and taking a step in place, all of these actions flowing together in an incoherent, chaotic manner.

“I don’t think so,” he said after a moment. “It’s... interesting, and…you know, I think this is the first time I’ve seen you in something other than a formal outfit.”

Your eyebrows shot up. That was the last thing you expected him to say. While he had been fidgeting earlier, now he stood completely still. It was true, you usually dressed quite elegantly, not just for work. But you didn’t know why it seemed to impress him so much.

You didn’t know until you looked down and remembered your top. The one hastily thrown on, with a deep neckline. Seriously, was that really all about it? 

You sighed in disbelief and stood up from the bed.

"Sure," you let out a biting chuckle, though, despite not wanting to admit it to yourself, you could feel a tingling sensation creeping under your skin. "Tell a guy about your breakthrough discovery, and he won't even listen, too busy staring at your boobs."

You took two steps toward the door, but Spencer blocked your way, grabbing your forearm.

“Th-that's not what I meant!” he stammered in an unusually high-pitched tone, his wide eyes reflecting panic. Whether from your sudden reaction or the fact that you caught him.

His hand loosened its grip on your arm, just below your elbow, but he didn't let go. The way he held on brought you closer together, and the realization of how near you were, along with his face right in front of yours, stole the breath from your chest. You couldn't help but reflect on how everything so far had made you both close in proximity. First the narrow balcony where your shoulders almost brushed against each other, then the tiny table in the café where your knees kept knocking, even the way you accidentally brushed past him when you entered his room.

But this closeness wasn’t accidental. It was his doing, controlled by him, and, judging by the shock on his face after a quick glance, it seemed to surprise him as well.

He didn’t let go of you.

Instead, he focused his gaze on your face. You kept your head lowered, staring at his fingers gently holding your arm. You could hear him swallow softly before he spoke, his voice slightly raspy again, but this time not from sleep.

"I think your theory makes a lot of sense," he said. "And...it’s given me a lot to think about. It’s probably a man around forty years old. He works as a locksmith, using that job to gain access to his victims’ homes where he installs cameras. He sees these women as objects of his fantasies, and watching them provides him with some sort of fulfillment. His behavior stems from an unfulfilled need for closeness and control, which he can’t find in normal relationships. He’s socially inept, has low self-esteem, and a poor sense of self-worth. He writes to these women, idealizes them, sees them as his chosen ones, living in an alternate reality where he doesn’t see the boundary between fantasy and reality."

There was a moment of silence between you, as you analyzed the profile he had just presented.

"That's...impressive," you confessed slowly, still dazed by the sudden closeness, your gaze stubbornly avoiding his face.

"And that's all..." he began, but then suddenly stopped. The word simply dissolved in a hesitant, trembling way. You heard him take a deep breath. "And that's all while looking at your breast."

You suddenly lifted your head.

Never, not in a million years, did you think you’d find yourself in a situation where you’d hear such words coming from him. Your jaw slightly dropped, and a strange feeling spread through your stomach. You were not only shocked but also, in a way, on the verge of laughter because of the surprise on his face. It was as if he had said it by accident and didn't quite believe it himself. At the same time, something inside you tickled.

You let out a short sigh, sounding almost like a burst of laughter.

Spencer released your forearm, and as your silence dragged on, deep embarrassment began to consume his expression.

"Sorry...I don't know why I said that..."

You interrupted him by raising your hand.

"No," you said briefly, shaking your head slightly. "That was really impressive."

Confused, he studied your face. When you smiled, he hesitantly mirrored it, though he probably didn’t even know why—he was simply mimicking your expression.

Without turning back, you took two slow steps toward the door.

"You’ll have to present that profile to Hotch," you announced, resting your hand on the doorknob. Spencer still hadn’t moved, and his face bore a hard-to-decipher expression—part apology, part embarrassment, and part... something else. A certain spark.

Before stepping out and leaving him in that state, you glanced back at him one last time with a smirk.

"Just do me a favor and don’t mention the circumstances under which it was developed, alright?"

He crossed his arms over his chest, allowing himself one more smile—this time a genuine one.

"Trust me. I wasn’t planning on it.” 

*

Hotch stared at you for a moment in silence, and the corner of his mouth…twitched?! For the first time since you started working at the BAU, you managed to make your boss smile.

 It would be nice to know why.

The next day, thanks to the conclusions you and Spencer had reached in his room, you finally managed to catch the unsub. Your theory about the locksmith turned out to be correct. And when you realized it was Friday, a certain thought crossed your mind. You just needed to clear it with the boss. Well, actually, you only needed to inform him that you and one other team member wouldn't be on the jet that day. Taking advantage of the upcoming weekend, you decided to extend your stay in New York for one more day.

A day that you could spend however you wanted.

The idea came to you so spontaneously that you hadn’t even discussed it with Spencer yet, but you felt, you hoped, that he wouldn't surprise you by turning it down.

The only thing standing in your way was that mysterious smile on Hotch’s face.

“Is that a problem?” you asked, furrowing your brows.

He just shook his head, returning to his usual expression. Though it seemed slightly softer, or maybe it was just your impression.

“It’s not a problem,” he assured. “Reid actually asked me the same thing about ten minutes ago.”

*

“Just, for the record, don’t mention to anyone what we used the company car for,”

"Do you really think I'd go bragging to the office that we used an unmarked police car just to have a place to watch movies at a drive-in?"

He barely caught the bag of chips you tossed at him.

"Just making sure," you said, climbing into the back of the car.

Well, it was definitely a pastime much more popular in the summer, which is why there weren’t many other vehicles around. And also why you immediately curled up under your cozy blanket, claiming almost all of it for yourself. The only source of light in that peaceful spot was the large screen ahead of you, with the movie beginning. But even in the dim lighting, you could see him tilt his head and slightly pout.

You sighed and shared the blanket with him. Or rather, you moved closer enough that the fabric could cover both of you. You added it to the list of situations where, once again, you found yourselves in circumstances that somehow required physical contact. It made you wonder if, somewhere up there, some force was orchestrating the universe’s chessboard in such a way that these moments seemed to happen more often than not.

Of course, not that it bothered you.

While you were still struggling with the blanket, trying to find the most comfortable position, Spencer told you a little about the awards that Roman Holiday had won.

“Sorry if I’m disturbing you,” he suddenly said.

“I told you, I like listening to you,” you reminded him, turning your face slightly toward his.

Finally, everything was perfect. The blanket wrapped around you in the most comfortable way, you could lean your back against the trunk and your shoulder against his. He was there.

“Yeah, but the movie just started.”

“I’ve seen it,” you announced. Somehow, you couldn’t take your eyes off his profile, even though all you could see was the outline of his jaw and nose, and the barely noticeable glint in his eye. “And I really like it. But just so you know, I didn’t pick it just to... you know.”

“Know what?”

“It’s a romantic comedy.”

He turned toward you, and you saw him flinch slightly, realizing that your gaze had been on him for quite some time. Spencer gave a slight shake of his head, furrowing his brows in confusion. You could have easily brushed it off, accepted that he didn’t understand what you meant. Probably, with anyone else, you would have. But you noticed that the more time you spent with him, the surprisingly more talkative you became. So, you continued without thinking too much about your words.

“What I mean is, I didn’t pick this movie to fit a date. It just so happens that today…”

“Is this a date?” he blurted out.

You stiffened completely, not just because of his question, but because of the genuine surprise in his voice. You wanted to ask, isn’t this a date? but your lips refused to open. Instead, you just stared at him motionless for a moment, hoping he might laugh it off.

After the conversation in his room, after he decided to stay one more day in New York for you, after you both chose to watch the movie just the two of you…Officially, neither of you had called it a date, but you had assumed that deep down, you both saw it that way. Apparently, you were wrong.

"The movie has already started," you muttered, nodding toward the screen. It had begun some time ago, but you had no idea how to change the topic. You had to do it because of the growing sense of embarrassment consuming you from the inside.

 You had told him you thought it was a date. It was like telling him you liked him. Which, in fact, was true, but you didn’t want him to be aware of it, especially since he didn’t feel the same!

“Hey,” he suddenly began, his voice a little strained. You pretended not to hear, staring at the screen. Spencer sighed and leaned forward to block your view of it, forcing you to look at him. His eyes nervously searched your face, you saw him swallow. “Is this a date for you?”

You wanted to push him away for asking the same question again.

"It doesn’t matter," you replied. Your tone was sharp but not aggressive. It was the same tone you used most days at work to make it clear to others that you expected to be treated with respect and that the situation or case you were working on was serious. "If this isn’t a date for you, then it isn’t a date. End of story. Can you move? I can’t see…”

“But I…” he began, not moving an inch. His forehead remained furrowed, and his brows slightly lowered over his eyes—genuine, still somewhat surprised eyes, trying to connect with yours. Finally, under their silent pressure, you gave in and looked at him. Spencer’s expression softened. "I didn't even dare to hope that this was a date!"

Something—some feeling—clung tightly to your shoulders, pulling them both forward, toward him, and backward, against the wall of the trunk.

“You’re only saying that to spare me from feeling awkward. And so we don’t have to spend the next few hours… the next day in an unbearably embarrassing atmosphere,” you stated, genuinely believing those words to be true. “Which I’m probably not making any easier. Maybe we should just forget it…”

 “Do you wish this was a date?” he asked, and you barely resisted the urge to roll your eyes. Of course, you did. You wanted to scream it into his beautiful face. Spencer exhaled loudly. “Because I’d want it to be. I really would.”

You lingered in a moment of suspension, unable to decide whether to believe him. Your job had taught you not to always trust words. Just words.

 “Prove it,” you said softly but firmly.

Deep down, you didn’t know what you expected. And neither did Spencer, standing opposite you. Like you, he didn’t move at all. Only subtle changes flickered across his expression. Another crease formed on his forehead as he tried to decipher what lay behind your words. After a long moment, during which neither of you seemed to breathe, his gaze dropped to your lips. That’s when he understood.

You knew he was going to kiss you. You waited for it, ready to meet him, to gently place your hand on his cheek and feel the warmth of his lips against yours. You waited to sweep away the lingering question mark hanging above you both with one decisive motion, replacing it with a firm period.

Was this a date?

It was a date.

Spencer placed his hand under your chin, holding it close to him. Preventing you from pulling away when he momentarily broke the kiss. You saw the smooth flutter of his eyelashes as he shifted his sparkling gaze from your lips to your eyes.

“Sorry,” he rasped.

You couldn’t help but smile slightly.

“Are you apologizing for kissing me?” you asked, raising your eyebrows slightly.

He shook his head, a fleeting smile appearing on his face as well.

“I’m sorry for sometimes being so stupid,” he replied. “About these things.”

You closed your eyes again, letting out a soft snort of laughter. Suddenly, all of it—this whole dance you had been performing around each other, the panic when you realized you liked him, and the fear that he wouldn’t feel the same—seemed utterly absurd. But that’s just how people are, isn’t it? Looking back at the past with a touch of pity.

"Let’s agree on this. We’re both complete idiots."

Spencer was silent for a moment, lost in thought.

“We were,” he corrected you.

"We aren’t anymore?” you asked.

He answered by placing another kiss on your lips.

taglist:

@she-wont-miss @mggslover @nyeddleblog @dylanobrienswife0420 @wmoony

@heddgie @khxna @marauder-exe-old @yujyujj @charleyreid @kitty-kai @sp3ncelle @pleasantwitchgarden @beesin03 @misserabella @re1dsb1xch @trulymadlydarling @cynbx @penelopegarciaismygf

[kitty6choi]

𝑬𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝑺𝒖𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒆

𝑆𝑦𝑛𝑜𝑝𝑠𝑖𝑠: The memory of his betrayal is still present in your mind, but you decide to leave it behind now that you are at peace, but when an old friend asks you for a favor, you cannot refuse without imagining that you will relive some feelings that you thought you had buried.

𝑃𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: Song Mingi x fem! reader

𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: smut MDNI + little angust + mafia au + loves from the past

𝑊𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝐶𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 9.2k (damn it)

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: Fights, physical injuries, blood, aggression, violence, hidden identity, sexual warnings: unprotected sex (don't do it), semi-public sex, fingering, mutual masturbation, creampie, (sorry if I forgot anything)

A/N: First of all, sorry for the delay, December was very frustrating for me and it wasn't very pleasant and I needed a little break, but now I'm better so I was finally able to finish this fic and I'm very proud, I hope you like it <3 English is not my first language so sorry if I made a mistake.

⋆｡˚୨𝖬𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍୧˚｡⋆

With hurried steps, you adjusted the cap over your hair and pulled up the collar of your jacket. You were fleeing from the sirens echoing in the distance. It wasn’t anything new for you, and you knew it wouldn’t stop being part of your life because of the bad decisions you’d made in the past. This was your life now, and there was nothing else you could do but survive.

What started as small thefts to eat or find something to keep you warm turned into a desperate search for shelter. That’s how you ended up seeking help from dangerous people. The Black Eye wasn’t just a group of petty criminals; they were an organized, ruthless network—and, for you, the last chance to keep living.

Despite your efforts, you knew you were at a disadvantage because you were a woman. But if you had to hide that fact to survive, you would do it. The hardest part was cutting your hair, but you did it. Then, you wrapped your chest with bandages, wore loose-fitting clothes, and finally, you began calling yourself “Lee.” You tried not to speak too much and always wore a cap to hide your face, hoping no one would ask too many questions. That’s how you managed to catch the attention of one of their members.

They tested you for a couple of months before deciding to present you to their leader. You were nervous, cold sweat trickling down your back, but you kept calm as you waited in a room. Then, the doors opened, and two people walked in. One of them was tall and muscular, with multiple scars on his face. From his imposing presence, you guessed he was the leader, Jack. The other person entered calmly, taking his time to assess the room silently but with sharp alertness.

“Is this the new recruit?” the second person asked in a deep, curious voice.

“Yes, Mingi, this is Lee,” another man replied, shoving you forward. He was the recruiter who had "guaranteed" your entry into the group.

Mingi approached you, observing you for a long moment, watching how you lowered your gaze and hid your hands in your pockets.

“Why do you want to join us?” he finally asked. His voice was low, almost gentle, but heavy with authority.

“I need protection. And you need someone who knows how to navigate the streets,” you replied, your voice firm but calm.

“You better be useful, Lee,” he said, pronouncing your false name with authority. You knew that from now on, you belonged to the gang, and he was making your place clear. “There’s no room for the weak here.”

“You’re in,” the other man said before turning and leaving the room, leaving you with the assurance that you’d live to see another day.

Your days of trying to survive on your own had now turned into trying to hide your true identity to keep living. It was hard, but over time, you learned to manage. You avoided interacting with the members and rarely spoke to anyone unless it was absolutely necessary. Still, there were a few moments when you were almost discovered.

You tried to blend in, and for most people, you succeeded—except for one. Song Mingi. He always seemed to notice everything, and for the past few months, he hadn’t taken his eyes off you. It was starting to get annoying.

One day, after a mission went slightly out of control, you returned to the abandoned warehouse that served as the gang’s base. A voice you knew all too well called your name.

“Lee, come here.” You turned to see Mingi in the distance and dragged your feet toward him “I have to admit, I’m surprised you made it back,” he said.

You rolled your eyes. He always said before every mission that he didn’t expect you to return, but you made it back just to see his irritated expression.

“Get used to it, Song. I’ll be here for a while,” you replied, a bit defiantly, raising your head to meet his gaze despite his towering height.

Mingi stared at you, tilting his head slightly, and let out a low chuckle—but there was no humor in it. With a swift motion, before you could react, he grabbed your face firmly, his nails digging into your cheeks.

“Listen closely,” he said, leaning in, his voice dropping but his grip unrelenting as you struggled to free yourself by clutching his hand. “There’s no place here for someone like you.” You froze at his words, fear flashing in your eyes as you locked gazes with him. Then, without warning, he shoved you hard, making you fall to the ground “Get out,” he said coldly.

The days didn’t get any better, and you began questioning whether you had made the right decision. But the fear of what might happen if you left the gang kept you in place—even if it meant enduring Mingi watching your every move.

One day, the gang organized one of its oldest traditions: an internal fighting tournament. It was a way to measure strength, prove who was worthy and who wasn’t, and keep the members sharp for real confrontations. The atmosphere in the warehouse was charged with excitement and pent-up violence, as shouts and bets filled the space.

You didn’t want to be there, but you thought staying alone in the rooms would make you stand out more. Blending into the crowd seemed safer—or so you thought. The fight was entertaining, but it didn’t excite you as much as it did the people around you. Still, you forced yourself to watch and analyze the movements of both fighters. To no one’s surprise, the expected victor won. He had five consecutive wins under his belt, and now, as his sixth opponent lay defeated, no one wanted to face him.

“Who’s next?” the winner shouted, scanning the crowd for his next victim. Everyone took a step back, and silence began to fill the room. You noticed how some were shoving the newer recruits forward. From afar, you felt a gaze on you. You looked up, only to lock eyes with Mingi, who was staring at you intently, a smile on his face.

“Lee, maybe you should go next,” Mingi said suddenly, breaking the silence. You cursed him in your mind as all eyes turned to you. You began searching for an excuse to decline, but you knew Mingi wouldn’t let this opportunity pass “You should earn your place, rookie,” he said, taunting you. The murmurs of the crowd grew louder “Or do you think you don’t deserve it?” he added, provoking you further.

You felt hands pushing you toward the ring. With your heart pounding, you climbed into the makeshift ring as the crowd gathered around, shouting bets and cheering for the fight.

You glanced at Mingi behind the crowd and sighed, cursing him under your breath before turning to face your opponent. He was a tall, muscular man whose muscles seemed to have muscles. His angry expression only highlighted how eager he was for this fight.

You took a step back, but hands pushed you forward. Then, the bell rang, signaling the start of your defeat.

You didn’t even try. You knew you had no chance. You simply closed your eyes as you saw the man’s fist coming straight for your face, bracing for the impact. His punch knocked the air out of you in one blow. You thought that would be enough to stop him, but you didn’t expect him to climb on top of you and continue his brutal assault.

Everything around you grew blurry. The crowd’s cheers faded into the distance. You didn’t fight back—not even a little. You let the darkness take over.

When you opened your eyes again, you wished you hadn’t. A sharp pain coursed through your entire body, as if a train had run you over. Despite the agony, you tried to move to figure out where you were until something stopped you.

“Don’t move,” a deep voice ordered. You turned your head to see Mingi sitting nearby, arms crossed. He looked worried, though he tried to hide it behind a mask of seriousness.

“What happened?” you asked, staying still.

“You got beaten up,” he said bluntly. “Then you passed out.”

You let out a dry laugh. “Well, thanks to you.”

Mingi sighed deeply, watching as you struggled to sit up. He seemed angry—not at you, but at himself.

“I didn’t think this would happen,” he said, his frustration evident.

“Whatever,” you muttered, attempting to stand, but the pain in your left side was unbearable. “Damn it.”

“Let me help you,” Mingi offered, stepping closer. You flinched, fear sparking within you as he approached. The sudden movement made you wince in pain again.

“I can handle it.”

“No, you can’t,” he snapped, taking another step forward. You tried to back away, but with your injuries and his speed, you couldn’t stop him from grabbing your arm.

“Stop moving,” he commanded. You wanted to fight him off, but there wasn’t a trace of strength left in your body. He pushed you gently back onto the mattress and lifted your hoodie.

His expression darkened instantly. His hand froze mid-motion as he realized the truth.

“You…” His voice came out uneven, words escaping him as the realization sank in. Everything finally clicked in his mind. “Why?”

You didn’t respond. You didn’t have the energy to argue, especially over something like this. You simply waited for the worst to come.

And it did, far sooner than expected. The door to the room opened, and the leader walked in. Mingi snapped out of his daze as Jack approached you, his face a mix of concern and curiosity.

“How are you?” Jack asked, ignoring the tension hanging in the air.

“I…”

“can’t stay,” Mingi’s voice rang out, cutting through the room. Fear surged in you as you silently begged him with your eyes to keep the secret. But the doubt in his gaze told you all hope was lost “It's a woman,” Mingi declared. The words echoed in the room, followed by silence so profound that all you could hear was the pounding of your heart.

Jack’s gaze shifted to you, filled with a mix of astonishment and concern. After a long, heavy sigh, he finally spoke.

“I know.”

“What?!” Both you and Mingi exclaimed at the same time, equally stunned. You thought Jack would throw you out right then and there, not admit he already knew.

“How…?” you asked, still in shock.

“Since when?” Mingi demanded angrily. “And why didn’t you tell me?”Jack leaned against the wall, crossing his arms “Since the beginning. It was kind of obvious, if you ask me,” he said, looking directly at you. “You were shorter than most, and your appearance was different. You stood out. It wasn’t hard to figure out.” Mingi stepped forward, but Jack continued “I let you join because I wanted to see how far you’d go on your own—until this idiot decided to intervene.” Mingi lowered his head like a scolded dog.

“Even so, she can’t stay,” Mingi insisted.

“She absolutely can. And you, you damned fool, will shut your mouth and act like you saw nothing,” Jack ordered.

“But she can’t defend herself!”

“This is your fault,” Jack shouted, his voice rising. “I told you to leave Lee alone, and now she’s hurt. From now on, she’s your responsibility. If anything happens to her, I’ll kill you.”

Mingi clenched his fists, his face red with fury and frustration. Without another word, he stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

You were left in confusion, unable to comprehend what had just happened. Everything felt strange and surreal. Jack approached you, and you looked at him, still processing.

“Why?” you finally asked.

“That doesn’t matter,” Jack replied.You let out a tired sigh, too drained to argue. You just wanted to rest.

“Mingi’s a good person, but sometimes he’s an idiot,” Jack said. “He’ll look after you. You don’t have to worry; no one will find out your secret. You’re safe here.”You decided to believe his words. You didn’t want to fight anymore “Now rest. Everything will be fine.”

******

The first few months were tense. You were still recovering and couldn’t do much more than linger around. Even so, Mingi was always nearby, watching you with a mix of frustration and curiosity in his eyes. He made sure no one got too close to you, even if it meant getting into fights with other gang members. His constant presence annoyed you, but it was also a relief. You knew that, despite everything, he was keeping his word to protect you.

When you felt ready to return to the streets, Mingi stopped you, and Jack agreed. You had no choice but to stay in the warehouse, but you didn’t waste your time. You started training to be prepared—you didn’t want to end up on the ground again.

It was nighttime, and everyone else seemed to be asleep, but the sound of your fists hitting the old punching bag echoed throughout the space. Your punches were clumsy, and you felt exhaustion in your arms with each hit, but you refused to give up. You needed to learn to defend yourself.

“You’re terrible,” his deep voice said behind you, making you freeze. You turned quickly to see Mingi leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching you with that irritating smile.

“What do you want, Song?”

“Nothing. The noise woke me up, that’s all. Go on,” he said, gesturing toward the bag hanging in front of you.

“If you’re not going to help, then leave,” you replied, rolling your eyes before turning back to the bag and hitting it again, ignoring him.

He walked toward you slowly, letting out an exaggerated sigh. Standing behind you, he took your wrists in his large hands before you could protest, adjusting them into a different position. His touch was firm but surprisingly gentle.

“Like this. Keep your fists tighter, and don’t just use your arms. You need to involve your whole body in the punch.” His closeness made you nervous. You could feel his breath on the back of your neck and the warmth of his body just behind yours. You shivered but tried to focus on his words.

“Now, try again,” he said, releasing you slowly.

You took a deep breath and threw another punch at the bag, following his instructions. This time, your punch felt stronger.

“Better,” he said with a smile, nodding in approval.

“Whatever.” You couldn’t help but glance at him out of the corner of your eye. There was something in his expression, in the way he looked at you, that made your heart beat faster. “Thanks.” You didn’t know where those words came from, but somehow, they made the air in the room feel lighter.

“You’ve done enough for tonight,” he said quickly, his voice rougher than before. “Get some rest. We’ll continue tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“This is just the first step, Lee.” He turned and walked toward the exit, but before leaving, he paused for a moment to look back at you as you struggled to steady the strange rhythm of your heart.

"Again."Your heart was pounding, and every muscle in your body screamed with exhaustion, but all you could hear was Mingi's voice "Harder."Your hands were bruised and swollen, yet you didn’t stop throwing punches "Harder." You focused on everything Mingi had taught you over the past few weeks—firm feet, clenched fists, channeling your strength. But there was something more, something raw. The anger you’d suppressed for years surged within you, blinding and heavy with sadness.

On your final punch, you released everything you’d been holding inside. Your body gave out, and you collapsed to your knees, gasping for air. Mingi rushed to your side, helping you sit down somewhere nearby as he handed you a bottle of water.

“Shit, don’t scare me like that.”You shoved him away and tried to stand, ready to continue, but he grabbed your arm “Take a break.”

“I can’t,” you said breathlessly. “I need to be ready for tomorrow.”

“You’re not fighting.”

“You can’t stop me, Song.” Mingi gripped your shoulders, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.” His words caught you off guard, and before you could respond, he stepped closer. He was so close now that you could barely think.“Not again.” The overwhelming silence was filled with an unfamiliar sensation in your chest.

In recent weeks, the two of you had spent hours training together. At first, it was just a few hours a night, but over time, the darkness of the night wrapped you both in an odd honesty. You talked about things you never planned to share. He told you how he ended up in the gang, and for the first time in years, you told someone the truth about your past.

“I’m ready,” you said firmly. “And neither you nor anyone else is going to stop me.” You pulled away from his grasp and headed toward the exit, but you heard his hurried footsteps behind you.

“What are you trying to prove?” You turned slightly to look at him and sighed.

“It’s not about that. The world is cruel to someone like me.” You knew he understood you meant being a woman, and his expression softened with compassion “And I won’t let them leave me on the ground again.”

Mingi didn’t know how to respond. You gave him one last glance, noticing a vulnerability in him that you had never seen before. And in that moment, you realized your feelings for Mingi were starting to change.

The boy who once seemed like your greatest enemy had become your only source of security in a dangerous world. And though neither of you would admit it, something was growing between you—something neither of you knew how to handle amidst the darkness surrounding you.

The next day, Mingi promised himself not to interfere. But as the fights began, he couldn’t stop scanning the crowd for you. Not seeing you anywhere made him tense. If Jack found out you’d joined the fights again, he’d kill him—but what mattered most to Mingi was knowing where you were.

The matches dragged on, and he began to relax, thinking you wouldn’t show. But when the final winner was announced and the event was wrapping up, he saw a shadow cross the ring and step into the center.

“This isn’t over,” you declared loudly.

“Get off the ring, Lee!” someone shouted. “They’ll beat you up again!”

Mingi watched as a dark shadow crossed your face, and your eyes took on a hardened, almost menacing look.

“Why don’t you try it?” Everyone fell silent, shocked at your boldness. You’d always flown under the radar, but this was new—and it sparked curiosity in some “Or are you scared?”

The crowd erupted, people pushing and shoving to see who would step up to face you. Mingi tried to get to you, but the chaos of the crowd held him back.

Finally, someone stepped into the ring, facing you. You raised your fists, and he laughed before getting into position.

“You’re done for.”

“We’ll see.”

The bell rang, and the man lunged at you with speed. But you easily dodged him and drove your elbow into his side. He stumbled, turning to glare at you, realizing this wasn’t going to be as easy as he thought.

Adrenaline coursed through your body. You were exhausted, your lungs begging for rest, but you couldn’t stop—not now. The man threw punches aimed at your face, and you dodged as best as you could. The crowd’s shouts blurred into the background as you focused entirely on the emotions spilling out with every strike.

Rage consumed you as you drove a punch into his face, your body moving on its own as you continued to rain blows on the unconscious man beneath you.

Hands pulled you away as the crowd erupted into cheers. You looked up and could barely make out your name being chanted amidst the chaos—you had won.

Mingi shoved his way through the throng, crossed the ring, and ran to you. You thought he was coming to congratulate you, but his furious expression said otherwise.

“Enough!” he shouted, his voice silencing the crowd instantly “This is over.” People protested, but Mingi didn’t back down “I said it’s over!”

Reluctantly, the crowd began to disperse. You turned to leave, but he grabbed your hand and dragged you down the hallways until you were alone in a room.

“Let me go,” you demanded, struggling against his grip.

He didn’t release you until he closed the door behind you both, shutting out the rest of the world.

“What were you thinking?” Mingi paced back and forth, running a hand through his hair “They could’ve hurt you or worse…” His voice was thick with anger and desperation, tinged with something that sounded like worry.

“But they didn’t.” He sighed and gave you a once-over, his gaze lingering on your bloodied hands. You quickly hid them behind you.

Mingi stepped closer, taking your hands into his. For a moment, it looked like it pained him to even look at them. Your knuckles were torn, and the pain was unbearable, though you refused to admit it.

“Let me help you.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” he said firmly, guiding you to the bathroom and making you sit down. “Stay still.”

Without waiting for your permission, he grabbed a small first aid kit from a nearby shelf. His movements were deliberate but gentle as he cleaned your knuckles with a damp cloth. You shut your eyes, biting your lip to stifle a groan.

“This is going to sting,” he warned, pouring antiseptic over your wounds.

“Could you be gentler?” you hissed, pulling one hand back, but he caught it with ease.

“If you were more careful, I wouldn’t have to do this.”

His eyes locked onto yours, and the air between you felt charged with something that went beyond physical pain.

The silence stretched as he wrapped your hands in bandages. His fingers were surprisingly tender, and for a moment, you forgot the pain and exhaustion. His closeness overwhelmed you, the warmth of his skin sending your senses into overdrive.

“Mingi…” you began, but didn’t know how to finish.

“What?” he asked, his voice softer now, almost a whisper.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“Yes, I do,” he replied, his tone filled with an intensity that took your breath away. “Because if I don’t, who will?”

His gaze held yours, and something in his expression shifted. There was vulnerability, honesty, you’d never seen in him before.

Time seemed to freeze as his hand lingered on yours. His eyes flicked down to your lips for a split second, and a wave of nervous energy swept through you.

“Mingi…”

Before you could say anything else, he leaned in and his lips brushed against yours. The kiss was hesitant at first, almost as if he were unsure. But when you didn’t pull away, it deepened, filled with a desperation that mirrored the chaos around you.

Your heart raced as you closed your eyes, letting the walls between you crumble entirely. His lips moved against yours with a mix of urgency and relief, as if this moment had been inevitable all along.

When he pulled back, you were both breathless. His gaze searched yours, and what you saw wasn’t his usual cocky demeanor but something raw and genuine. You didn’t know what to say, so you simply looked at him, letting the gravity of what had just happened settle between you. The world outside faded away, leaving only this fragile moment the first kiss in a place as dangerous as it was unexpected.

“No…” you said suddenly, breaking the atmosphere. “This…”

“Please, don’t say it.”

“Mingi, I…” you didn’t know what to do. You had never experienced anything like what you were feeling in your body. This was new and strange, and you were scared, unsure of what to do or say.

“Please, don’t push me away,” he pleaded, holding your waist and looking at you with eyes full of desperation.

“I’m scared,” you confessed, letting the tears well up in your eyes. Mingi hugged you, letting you sob into his chest as he gently stroked your back to comfort you.

“It’s okay, I’ll take care of you,” he said softly. You looked up for a moment, and for the first time in your life, you let the walls around you crumble.

“Do you promise?”

“I will never leave you,” he assured you. His words struck you deeply, and you trusted him. You let his arms wrap around you, comforting you for the night, not knowing it wouldn’t be the only time he would do so.

*******

Time only made your feelings for Mingi grow. It became harder and harder to hide it from others, as being near him felt like standing on fire. Every glance, every slight touch from him made your heart race. Whenever you had the chance to be alone, Mingi would pin you against the wall, pressing his lips to yours, his hands wandering over your body. But you always stopped him when he tried to touch you beneath your clothes. He never insisted, and you were grateful for that, though deep inside, you wanted it too. Yet you were scared—it was something you'd never done before, and you feared it wouldn’t go right.

Mingi never let anyone get close to you. On the missions you shared, he was always by your side, never leaving you alone. Sometimes, when someone bothered you, Mingi made sure to put them in their place, even if it ended in a fight.

You knew this life wasn’t easy—it never was—but there were moments when it felt unbearable. Sometimes you wondered what you had done to deserve this. Sometimes you wished for an easier life, for loving parents, for school, to fall in love under different circumstances, to be a normal girl who could dress up in beautiful clothes without needing to hide to protect herself.

With tear-filled eyes and a heavy heart, your feet led you to Mingi’s room. You hesitated before knocking on his door but eventually did. A few seconds later, he stood in front of you, and without waiting for anything, you wrapped your arms around him, seeking the comforting warmth of his body.

“What’s wrong?”

“Can I sleep with you?” you asked, knowing it was risky, knowing it was dangerous, but you had no other safe place to go. “Just for tonight,” you pleaded.

“Alright.”

You had only been in his room once before—the day everything began, that afternoon when he had tended to your wounds and shared that first kiss with you. “Is everything okay?” he asked as he closed the door.

“No.” With him, you had the chance to be honest, and you never held back from telling him the truth. “I’m tired.” Mingi hugged you tightly, trying to ease the weight from your body.

“Come here.”

You both lay down on the small bed, and you curled up against his chest. It was the first time you’d been this close, yet somehow, it felt as if you had done it a thousand times.

“Mingi,” you said, lifting your gaze to meet his eyes. “If there were another life… do you think this would be different?”

His silence made your chest tighten slightly, but then his hand caressed your cheek with tender compassion.

“If there were another life, I wouldn’t care how it was, as long as I could be by your side.”

Without being able to help it, you pushed yourself up and kissed him, unloading all your sorrow into his mouth, all those thoughts you had you left on his lips for a moment, you didn't want to think about anything other than him. His kisses became desperate and hungry, you felt that intense heat on your body and his hands holding you tightly did nothing but want it. You separated from him for a moment and lifted your sweatshirt, but he stopped you.

“No… I don't want you to do this if you're not ready.”

“Mingi… I want to do it” you wanted him to touch you, you wanted his mouth to run over your skin and show yourself to him without any barrier, you wanted him to see you as you were. You took off your sweatshirt and Mingi looked down at the bandage that covered your breasts, you took a breath and began to take it off, a part of you felt relieved to take it off as you showed yourself as you were in front of him and a part of you was afraid.

When you finished your breathing was labored at the sight, Mingi had bitten his lip and seemed to be struggling with something inside of him. You took one of his hands and placed it on one of your breasts as you sat on his lap.

“Please… say something” you begged as you saw how he closed his eyes.

“You are beautiful,” he said before kissing you again.

That night they both gave more than their bodies, they put their hearts in their hands and gave it to the other, letting the moon be the only witness of their love.

*********

In all the times they had had a mission they had never failed, but this time everything seemed different, everyone was divided and the sound of sirens was heard getting closer, they couldn't get out of the place, they were surrounded and the bullets in their weapons had run out a while ago.

“Shit” Mingi growled at your side hiding “we will get out of this” he told you taking your hand without caring if anyone saw them.

The years had passed faster than you thought, but in that time neither of you hesitated to walk away from the other, even when Jack warned them about the rumors that ran through the gang, Mingi didn't care if they assumed things and neither did you, even so, they tried to be discreet and give themselves only in the shadows.

“I’m scared” you said with tears in your eyes

“Everything will be okay” a loud bang was heard and you both looked out just to see the opportunity to leave, someone had broken the glass of the door “okay, let’s go” he said without letting go of your hand heading to the exit, but before you could get there you felt a strong blow to the head that made you let go of his hand.

Mingi noticed immediately and lunged at the person who had hit you, you tried to get up, but everything was spinning and you felt something hot dripping down your forehead. You touched your head and were not surprised to see your hand red, you took a breath and tried to look for Mingi, but everything seemed to go slower and slower and the sound of sirens resonated in your ears at the same time as someone screamed.

“We have to go” “It’s too late” “They’re here” “Leave him”

You couldn’t bear the pain any longer and you closed your eyes for a moment. You wanted Mingi to take you in his arms, you wanted to feel the warmth of his body comforting you again and hear his voice telling you that everything would be okay, but all you could feel was the cold of the floor and the only thing you could feel was the unbearable pain in your head. You looked up for a moment and wanted to believe that what you saw was a bad dream, that it was just a figment of your imagination, but something inside you broke when you saw Mingi running away from you leaving you alone.

********

Five years had to pass before you could get out of prison, but those five years couldn't make you forget the day you opened your eyes and realized that you had lost everything again and you were alone again. The day Mingi decided to abandon you and leave you behind, that day remained engraved like ink on your skin all this time.

No matter how many times you repeated it and tried to make it less painful, it always felt like a million needles were stuck in your heart and crushed at the same time, it was a slow and raw pain that became more unbearable every second.

The day you got out of prison you looked at the sky as if it were the first time, you let the sun's rays penetrate your skin and warm your body. It was a little comforting to leave feeling like you could start from scratch. Life had given you a new opportunity and this time you wouldn't repeat the same mistakes of the past.

You walked through the streets, contemplating the city that once seemed huge to you, but over the years you got to know every alley, every sidewalk, every store in it. Without realizing it, you ended up somewhere you knew too well, maybe it was your subconscious or maybe it was because you had nowhere to go, but you decided to push the old worn door and enter anyway.

You were surprised that the old warehouse was still here, but seeing it empty and full of dust seemed strange to you. The place that was once your home now felt unknown, despite the bad times you spent here there were also many good ones. Every corner you passed brought back memories and you smiled sadly, the old jacket was still hanging and you felt a small knot remembering someone by your side teaching you how to fight, you looked away and walked every inch until you ended up in front of a door you knew well.

A part of you wanted to knock and hoped someone would open it like the first time you did, you wanted to meet someone, but you opened the door yourself only to find an empty room full of memories and dust. It hurt to be here, but you didn't know where to go.

You entered letting the memories flood over you and it was as if you were living them for the first time, that first kiss, that first night together and many others that followed, those endless hugs and the words he whispered to you to help you sleep. But all that had vanished, all that was in the past thanks to him.

You opened the window and looked at the buildings in the distance while the night fell and the city was flooded with dreams and unfulfilled hopes, you looked at the sky and contemplated the moon whispering your wishes knowing that it wouldn't hear you.

You woke up thanks to the sound of something falling and a bottle rolling on the floor followed by firm footsteps that ran through the place. You looked around for something to defend yourself with, but all you saw was the trash from the food you had stolen and the beer cans you had left abandoned in a corner over the days.

You slipped out of the room and walked towards where you had heard the noise, your heart pounding as you tried to hide in the shadows as you knew how. You peeked your head out and noticed the figure of a man curiously admiring the deformed drawing you had made with the dust the night before.

He seemed to sense your gaze as he looked up and let out a laugh.

“I know you’re there” you hid again and pressed your body against the cold wall, you thought of something, but nothing came to mind, you looked at the ground and the only thing you found were your fists, well, if you had to fight to escape you would do it, you had done it before, you should… “Lee”

That name paralyzed you, you felt like your heart stopped for a second and you peeked out again only to see Jack with his arms crossed when he saw your head peek out. You felt relief run through your body and you came out of your hiding place.

“Shit, you almost scared me to death”

“I’m glad to see you” he said showing a smile “you look… different” shame took over you knowing that he saw your long hair and that you showed your figure without hiding behind a sweatshirt

“How did you find me?” You asked suddenly, changing the subject

“I never stopped coming here hoping you would show up” you turned your gaze to the ground, you were glad to know that someone was waiting for you “when I find out what happened that day…”

“No… that doesn't matter” you interrupted him before he could continue “what have you come for?”

“I want to help you, you can join again and…”

“No, I'm not going back there again” Jack sighed, he looked tired

“Everything has changed, you know?” He dropped onto an old bench, kicking up some dust. “Many left since… we had to leave here and everything was much harder.” He ran his hand over his face as he remembered, you could tell he was having trouble speaking. “A new gang appeared and… we had to join them or we were finished. Many left, including Mingi.” His name made you a little uncomfortable, but you stood firm. “Little by little, the new gang grew and got involved in shady business, but we had no choice.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter, no one knew this would happen.” He stood up and took a step towards you. He looked at you tiredly and placed his hand on your shoulder. “You can stay here as long as you want, but if you need help, just call me.” He gave you a piece of paper with an address on it and left, leaving you in the dust and the weight of his words.

You thought you would never call him, but the weeks were getting harder and harder alone, stealing wasn’t enough anymore and even though this place was huge it wasn’t equipped to keep running.

You looked again at the crumpled paper you once threw away and wondered if (again) this wasn’t one of your bad decisions. When you got to the place you were surprised to see a small house on the outskirts of town, you expected an old warehouse again or maybe someone’s garage. With a little fear and holding your breath in your lungs you dared to knock on the door.

Jack smiled at you and let you in. He gave you new clothes and let you take a bath, he fed you well and you devoured every bite. You had never felt anything like this and now you knew why people lived so happily.

“So?” you asked leaving your fourth empty plate “if I join you what will I have to do?”

“It's easy” Jack said sitting in front of you “you'll just get paid”

“Wow, I didn't think I'd be Lee again”

“No” he interrupted you “this time it won't be Lee, it'll be you”

“But…”

“That doesn't matter”

A part of you knew that this would be more dangerous than before, you knew it sounded like a terrible idea and that it would be even worse, but you had no choice, you never had one, so you had no choice but to accept.

The days passed and Jack warned you that this would be dangerous, the people you would meet were very dangerous, that they belonged to some kind of mafia and that you should be prepared, he gave you a gun and although you had never used it to harm anyone the weight of having one was always comforting.

The day had arrived, Jack and you were inside a luxurious bar, you had never been in one and you were amazed by the bright lights and the music resonating in your ears, a part of you wanted to abandon everything and get lost among the people while having fun dancing, but you weren't here for that, you had a mission and you wouldn't let anything cloud your mind. Jack guided you through the hallways and approached you.

“It's the last door on the right” he told you before disappearing with a tall guy with a kind smile. Nerves ran through your body even though you had gone over the plan a thousand times before, but you never imagined being in this situation. The missions you had carried out had always been as 'Lee' but now you had left it behind, now Lee had been left in a place of the past and now you walked as the real you.

You entered that room with your head held high, with your heels clicking on the floor and with the loaded gun hidden in your leg, but none of that could prepare you for what you were going to find on the other side of the door.

It was a small room, with just a desk and two chairs, but the light was very dim, so much so that you could barely see the other person in front of you because of the thick smoke from the cigarette he was smoking, even so, you approached and sat in the empty chair that was in front of the desk.

The smoke parted like a curtain and left you both stunned when you saw the face of the person in front of you, he thought he would never see you again and you thought that the pain of that betrayal was behind you, but when you saw it all seemed to come back to you like a wave hitting your heart hard, everything you thought you had forgotten, all the feelings and memories came back to you when you recognized those eyes.

“I see you’ve been busy,” you said, trying to control your voice. Mingi stood up suddenly, it was as if he had seen a ghost and had stolen the words from him. “So much so that you seem to have forgotten me.”

“I never forgot you,” he suddenly replied. Just being here made you feel a lump in your throat with the millions of memories you spent together clouding your mind, but you never forgot the last moment.

“But you abandoned me.”

“What… what are you doing here?” he suddenly asked.

“I can ask you the same thing” Mingi stayed silent, the shock of seeing you still had him speechless “let me guess… you’re the one who’s going to give me the payment, aren’t you?”

“You… joined the gang again?”

“Deal with your own problems Song” you placed your hands on the desk a little irritated

“But why?”

“I don’t have time for you” you stood up annoyed, but the truth was that you couldn’t stand being in the same room with the guy who broke your heart “give me the payment and go back to your business”

Mingi shook his head and looked at you again, he noticed that you had long hair and the dress you were wearing highlighted the curves that you once hid, you looked very different, but he still knew that you were still the same.

“Let’s talk”

“No” you answered firmly taking out the gun “save it, your words are of no use to me now”

“Don’t do it” he pleaded when he saw you load the gun “you don’t even know how…”

You pulled the trigger aiming close to him making his words stay in his mouth.

“I won’t repeat it again Song… give me the payment”

Mingi let out a dry laugh knowing he had lost, he took out the money and placed it on the desk, you looked at him for a second and went for the money when he didn’t say anything, but he quickly took your hand, Mingi couldn’t let you go, not again. You tried to get away, but quickly between the fight and the struggle you were face to face.

“Let me go”

“No” you pointed the gun, but when you least expected it Mingi had snatched the gun from your hand, you no longer had anything to fight with, but that didn’t stop you from trying to do it.

“You never change” he said taking your hands in quick movements and imprisoning your body on the desk “you are still as stubborn as before”

“And you are still an idiot” you could not do anything, you could only look at him with resentment hoping that the weight of your gaze would do something to him.

Mingi was not going to hurt you, he only wanted to talk things over, but when he saw your eyes he knew that you were dragging bad memories from the past.

“I never forgot you” he repeated and somehow you felt that his words reached your heart.

You looked at him and realized the closeness that there was between the two of you, as if all the past that had existed between you had vanished and only this moment existed. He was very close and something inside you urged you to get closer to him, your heart was beating strongly and you wanted to feel more than a simple touch of his hands on your wrists, you still loved him, you always knew it.

“It still hurts” you said, holding back your tears and the urge to hug him. Mingi let go of your hands but didn’t move away “I can’t forget it so easily”

“So, let me help you” he came a little closer and you felt his breath on your lips for a second, you could have moved away, you could have pushed him away and left that room, but the truth was that you also wanted to forget the traces of the past.

His lips were just like you remembered, soft and delicate with a warmth you had never felt before. Mingi's hands ran down your arms to your hips and he held you by the back to bring you even closer. You separated for a moment and it was as if all the differences, thoughts and problems had disappeared in that simple kiss, his gaze was filled with a mixture of desire and pure longing.

“Mingi…” his name in your voice was like a spell for his body and he responded immediately waiting for your words, but there was nothing to say, you just wanted this, you wanted him.

You pushed yourself forward and held onto his neck as you brought your lips together again, your kisses were no longer slow, now they were just devouring each other, your tongues met and your teeth clashed because of the desperation and desire that seemed to overflow.

His hands held you tightly, as if he feared that at any moment you might fade away again, but each kiss felt more real than ever. Mingi contoured your figure and lifted the hem of your dress, you couldn't help but moan a little at the feeling of his fingers on your skin and he took the opportunity to grab your legs and climb onto the desk.

Your gazes met for an instant and you both knew what the other wanted. Mingi squeezed your thighs as he watched you take off the straps of your dress, leaving your breasts exposed. You noticed how he bit his lips, but at the same time he contemplated your body.

His mouth went straight to your neck and you let out a muffled moan at the feeling of his kisses, his hands went up your legs and slowly approached your core at the same time as his kisses now went down your collarbone and approached your chest.

When his fingers touched your pussy you arched your back from the sensation you had missed so much, without wasting time he began to move his fingers over the fabric letting your breathing slowly become agitated. You placed your hands behind you to lean on the desk and leave your chest at his mercy, with his other hand he took one of your breasts while his mouth captured your nipple.

You felt your body slowly sink into the whirlwind of sensations that Mingi caused you, you opened your legs to seek a little more pleasure and Mingi noticed it, you felt his smile on your skin and he looked up to see your pleading face.

“Do you want more?” you nodded desperately and he moved the fabric that separated your pussy from his fingers.

You let out a moan when his fingers ran over your wet core and touched your clitoris, he played with it for a moment turning it and pressing gently on it making you start to moan. You never took your eyes off him and you were struggling not to close your legs when a shiver ran through your body announcing your orgasm.

Mingi knew it and sank two of his fingers inside you, you let out a stifled sigh and held onto his shoulders when he began to move them in and out. You pulled him in for a kiss and he gladly accepted without stopping giving you pleasure, your hips began to move on their own looking for the highest point, your legs began to tremble and when you thought you had achieved it Mingi stopped.

“Not yet princess” you sobbed internally, but when he pulled his fingers out of you a strange mix of shame and excitement filled you inside as you watched him take them to his mouth and taste the trace of you left on him.

You placed your hands on his chest and began to unbutton his shirt, Mingi admired the way your hands shook a little, but you were determined to undress him. When you opened the shirt you admired his bare chest and ran your hands over his skin feeling every inch of his torso, you slid your hand down his abdomen and stopped for a second when you noticed the bulge in his pants.

You noticed his anxious and desperate look, you began to unbuckle his belt, but Mingi felt that you were too slow but that it was somehow a kind of torture. He took a slow breath trying to concentrate on not ripping his clothes off himself and let you continue at your pace.

You gently pressed his bulge when you pulled down his pants and heard him curse, you saw how his chest rose and fell faster and faster, but you continued just touching him above.

“Shit… stop playing with me” he begged through gritted teeth.

“It’s your punishment.” Mingi closed his eyes and sighed as he felt your hand touch him beneath his boxers. He felt you wrap around his girth and begin to massage him.

It was getting harder and harder for him to breathe and it was complete torture the way your thumb played with his sensitive tip. He grabbed your legs and brought you a little closer to the edge, he needed you right now, he wanted to have you and fill you, he couldn’t take it anymore and neither could you. You stopped as his cock began to twitch and smiled as you heard a frustrated sigh from him.

“I guess I deserve it” he said with a broken voice and you nodded when his forehead pressed against yours “but I can’t continue like this anymore” he confessed looking into your eyes “let me have you one more time”

“I’ve always been yours Mingi” your words moved his chest and he lowered your panties along with his boxers leaving the path clear between your bodies.

Your breathing mixed and you both moaned when he placed the tip of his cock over your entrance, you held onto his shoulders and dug your nails into his skin when he slowly sank into you.

The room was filled with the sound of your bodies colliding and your moans saying Mingi's name. You were hugging his neck and Mingi's hands were holding your ass while his thrusts took you into a spiral of sensations. His mouth devoured your neck and his teeth left marks on your shoulders.

You didn't want this moment to stop, but when Mingi separated from you for a moment you felt empty. He lowered you from the desk only to turn you around making you show him your ass while he pressed your breasts against the wood. You turned your head to look at him, but you moaned when you felt him sink easily into your pussy.

Mingi grabbed your waist tightly and looked at your figure, he approached your body and your skin crawled when his mouth began to leave a trail of kisses all over your back. One of his hands slid down a little and squeezed your ass hard before giving you a spank that made you moan, his hand went inside your legs and touched your clit making you squirm under his body that pressed against yours.

“Mingi… I’m close” you warned, but he continued to touch you as his cock sank deeper and deeper inside making your body start to shake.

“Cum for me princess” his words in your ear gave you shivers and his thrusts mixed with his fingers on your clit seemed to be enough to make you let yourself go in the fog that was starting to take you to your orgasm.

You scratched the wood beneath you looking for something to hold on to as you let the knot in your belly come loose. Mingi gave a few more thrusts and sank in hard letting his load warm your insides. He kissed your back and then pulled away from you, watching his essence drip down your thighs.

He couldn't resist the urge to pick it up and sink his fingers into your sensitive pussy, you moved at his touch and pressed against his fingers that didn't let you spill anything.

"Stay like that, just a moment" he said admiring your body and seeing how a trace of him was left on your body.

After he helped you get dressed the atmosphere became tense again, it was obvious that you didn't want to leave that room and separate again, but Mingi couldn't have you with him, his job was dangerous and he didn't want to put you in danger, while he thought about what to do you finally decided to speak.

"I have to go, they're waiting for me" your voice came out broken and revealed that you didn't want to leave

"Will we see each other again?"

“I don’t know” Mingi took your hand so you wouldn’t leave and hugged you tightly, he didn’t want to let you go, not again.

When you looked at each other again thinking it would be a farewell a loud bang was heard outside. You looked at each other once and without thinking Mingi took your hand before opening the door and discovering what was happening.

There was a lot of smoke and you couldn’t see anything beyond you, but the screams of the people were not long in being heard. People began to run towards the exit, they didn’t know what had happened, but moving a little further they noticed a destroyed wall in a row, people were pushing each other to get out and everything was chaos.

It wasn’t long before you heard the sound of sirens and something inside you brought you back to the past. You were starting to get restless and wanted to get out of here, but Mingi squeezed your hand reminding you that you weren’t alone.

"I won't let you go again" he said before taking out his gun and walking through the crowd without letting go of you. They managed to get out and for the first time you felt relief when you looked at him, he hugged you tightly and knew it was what he had to do "I'm not leaving you, come with me, I'll protect you"

You'd be lying if you said you weren't scared, but you knew Mingi was serious, he wouldn't let anything bad happen to you again so you just nodded as you shed tears and kept a new hope in your heart.

𝐴𝐿𝐿 𝑊𝑂𝑅𝐾𝑆 𝐶𝑅𝐸𝐴𝑇𝐸𝐷 𝐵𝑌 ©𝐾𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑦𝟼𝑐𝘩𝑜𝑖 𝑀𝑈𝑆𝑇 𝑁𝑂𝑇 𝐵𝐸 𝑃𝐿𝐴𝐺𝐼𝐴𝑅𝐼𝑍𝐸𝐷 𝑂𝑅 𝐶𝑂𝑃𝐼𝐸𝐷

tag: @londonbridges01 || @likeathunderoverflow

[izvmimi]

cw: something something about keepsakes and important items. selfship-coded. fluff with suggestive language at the end.

“Have you seen my bandana anywhere?”

Robin offers you a sympathetic look as she shakes her head no, offering you many hands to turn over the room you’re both in but soon you thank her for her efforts, heading out of the room and leaving her to her reading.

The pink, purple and gold scarf is a favorite of yours, and even if it doesn’t have a quarter of the sentimental value or symbolic gravitas as Luffy’s straw hat, it is still particularly important to you. You’d let it sit in the laundry hamper in the women’s quarters for a little too long instead of washing it yourself by hand and leaving it to dry in the shower and (perhaps serving you right for being lazy), now it was nowhere to be found.

Not under any of the beds, or on the living room couches and chairs; not somewhere in the kitchen or bathroom, or in any of the clotheslines with washed shirts and bedsheets hung out to dry.

You find yourself growing more frustrated by the moment as you search, until you find Luffy, sitting on the lawn in squatting position and watching intently as Usopp tinkers with a new invention, your bandana tied around his bicep.

Both relief and annoyance watch you at once.

“Luffy!”

Luffy moves so fast you barely spot him until his face is right in front of you, grinning widely. The rest of him follows, the remainder of his body snapping back into place and you grimace, wishing he wouldn’t contort himself so easily into cartoonishly horrifying form when you weren’t expecting it.

“Eh?”

He pouts as he notices your displeased posture, arms crossed over your chest.

“What happened?” he asks. You uncross an arm and point to the bandana around his arm.

“I’ve been looking for that for almost an hour, Luffy.”

He looks towards the bandana on his arm, then back to you.

“It almost flew overboard, that’s why I have it,” he asks. Slipping it off his arm quickly, he hands it back to you partially wadded up but before you can snatch it, he maneuvers quickly around your grasp, and attempts to fasten it around your forehead.

It catches you by surprise, and he tightens it a little too tight, but his attempt is so earnest, biting his lower lip as he tries to adjust it just right, you find yourself standing still and letting him do it.

“Sorry,” he offers. “Just wanted to keep it safe.”

He pauses, then places his hands on his hips as he admires his own handiwork. You reach up to adjust it gently.

“Luffy I tie it in the back, not the front,” you remind him, but he’s surprised you by putting his own hat on your head.

“Here you can wear this for a few minutes as an apology, okay?” he says. “Take good care of it!”

He’s already walked off to return to bothering Usopp, who sighs at the loss of the temporary reprieve from questions he enjoyed while Luffy was distracted with you. 

Your hands gently clutch the brim of his hat, and wonder why he so easily trusts his possessions with you.

—

You don’t wear Luffy’s hat often after that, its significance more than you can bear, but there are some particular occasions where he makes sure you hold on to it and you oblige:

When he’s about to do something particularly dangerous but necessary, as a promise that he’ll be fine and right back in front of you to get it.

When you need reassurance that he’s always there for you.

When you need a reason to hide your face...

The last of those reasons is particularly lascivious, but possibly your favorite, the wide brim, shielding you from your own shame when you’re a little too exposed for your own liking, atop or above him, wearing the hat but nothing else. It emboldens you and reminds you that you are loved and treasured all the same.

He is just as fond of your favorite bandana, a playful blindfold when he’s staring at you just a little too much for comfort, or when you want him to know that you too, will be right back where you left him, when you separate, either to travel a new city, landscape or ruin and he must leave you to your devices.

Somewhat of a perfect exchange.

[snoopychris]

Masterpiece

warnings: one mention of sex. that’s it

in which… matt is absolutely whipped.

matt can walk into your house like he owns the place. your father adores him. your mother has more trust in him than she does in you. he even has his own key! it’s crazy to you how he got your parents trust so fast, but you don’t question it. even then, he still knocks. every. single. time.

it could be 8am. it could be noon. it could be late in the afternoon. it could even be the middle of the night. he always knocks.

this time was 5:30 pm. you’re the first to stand from your spot in the living room to get the door, beating out your mom and dad to do it. though you smile at the sight, you still groan when you see matt on the other side of the door. he’s holding your favorite flowers, the same way he does once a week, but this time he’s also holding your favorite chocolates as well. he’s dressed fancier than usual, a nice sweater and a nice pair of dress pants , all tied together by his glasses. “you do know that you have a key to this place right nerd?” you mumble, greeting him with a kiss. he shrugs as he shoves his hand in his pocket, whispering to you.

“are you busy?” your eyes furrow in response, looking over to your parents on the couch. “nope. why?” you whisper, setting the flowers in the vase you’ve kept by your door every week since matt started coming over. he smiles at you, tucking hair behind your ear.

“i’m takin you out. on a date. a real date. to somewhere nice. i even needed a reservation.” your dad overhears and sends him a thumbs up from his spot on the couch, making you giggle.

“y’picked a good one sweetie. he even came over the other day and asked for permission to take you.” he yells, making you blush. you cannot believe just how incredibly lucky you were.

“there’s also no way you’re going to this restaurant in sweatpants. go change. something nice.” he smiles, pressing a kiss to your cheek. you’re ready in record time. your parents parade you with pictures like it’s prom night. you’re giggling the entire time, and matt’s just completely and utterly star struck.

the drive to the dinner is calm. it’s peaceful. matt’s hand rests on your thigh and though he’s tempted to inch it further up, he’s respectful. there’s not a care in the world. nothing matters to matt other than you. nothing matters to you other than matt. every single care is gone, completely out the window. completely forgotten. but every time he looks at you, matt thinks he’s looking at an original Monet. if he could frame the moment, he would. he wants to shrink you down and keep you in a cage forever, just so that he can keep an eye on you the entire time. god, you were perfect.

the restaurant looks nice. it looks like just another steakhouse. the second you sit down, it is not just another steakhouse. you slam the menu down on the table, glaring at matt. “matt a single steak is one hundred and twenty five fucking dollars.” and in matt’s eyes, to deserved this in more. it doesn’t matter to him that he had to work 80 hours to afford it. it just matters that you’re happy.

matt smirks at you, shrugging. “i saved up my paychecks. my girl deserves something nice doesn’t she?” he whispers, adjusting his glasses on his face. you shake your head in disbelief, flipping through the pages for something decently affordable. his eyes widen when you speak. “you’re getting some tonight, kid.”

a/n: fluff won! sorry for you angst whores :///

dividers by @issysh3ll !!!

🏷️: @ifwdominicfike @frankoceanfanpage @mattssslutbby @sophand4n4 @matthewsturnsgf @izzylovesmatt @m11rx @chris-hallelujah @sturniolotoast @mattsbrat @wastelandzella @le4hsblog @mattsd0llfac3 @st7rnioioss @isabellewhatt @sturnslutz @chrisscoraline @m4ttg1rl @princessesgarden @ikyoudreamofme @allylovescody @ayesha-eroticaa @ivysturnss @slutformatt17 @user1smvtysturniolo

[russellsppttemplates]

Hi I was wondering if you could either do Franco or Carlos image where their partner is newly pregnant and a way she destresses is getting in like a hot tub or a really hot bath and bc she can’t do that anymore she’s having a hard time and the driver is super sweet with her?

Cw: reader is pregnant

Franco glanced over at you as you settled into your cozy living room, book and blanket in hand as you figured out the best spot. The soft glow of the fireplace flickered against the walls, but there was an unmistakable tension in the air - you were four months into your pregnancy and adjusting to the changes had been harder than either of you anticipated.

If there was one thing that would instantly calm you down was a bath. No matter the trouble or burden, you could always count on the bliss of being surrounded by comforting scents and hot water.

Yet, pregnancy had taken your favorite escape away. You had always found solace in the warmth of the water, the bubbles gently enveloping you as you'd sink into blissful tranquility. Now, with the safety of your growing family in mind, you were struggling to find new ways to destress.

"Mi amor", Franco called gently, kneeling beside the sofa where you had curled up with your blanket, "How about we do something special tonight?".

You turned youe gaze towards him, eyes softening at his idea, "like what?".

Franco grabbed a few essentials: lavender oil, a stack of fluffy towels, and a portable foot spa he had bought as a surprise after seeing how uncomfortable it was starting to get being your feet all day, "I thought we could create a mini spa experience at home. I’ll get the foot bath ready, and we can soak your feet. It’s not a hot bath, but it can still be relaxing!", Franco scratched the back of his neck, "or at least I hope so...".

You laughed lightly, appreciating the effort he was putting in, "you really are the sweetest, did you know that?”, closing the book after marking the page you last read and adjusting your position on the sofa.

As he poured warm water into the basin, he added a few drops of the lavender oil, the scent filling the air as he gently took your socks off, tickling you lightly before getting your feet into his hands, his touch tender and caring, "you deserve to be pampered", he said, looking up at you, "I know you miss the hot baths, but you're doing so much for our little one".

“It feels like so long ago" you replied, leaning back against the couch and closing your eyes, allowing yourself to enjoy the moment as he began to massage your feet.

Franco noticed the subtle smile on your face, and it brought a warmth to his heart, "Just think about all the wonderful things coming our way. Soon, we’ll have a little one to love. And I’ll make sure you have all the pampering you need", he promised.

“Even without the baths?”, you mused.

Franco was quick to offer you a grin, “especially without the baths! I’ll get creative, mi amor. Maybe a spa day where I take care of you like a queen?”.

You opened your eyes, the spark of joy lighting them up, "I’d love that, even if I feel like you give me that treatment every day. And maybe next time, you could join me in that foot spa?”.

“Deal", Franco replied, "But only if I can throw some bubbles in there!".

You both laughed, the sound echoing through your cosy home, filling it with warmth and love. In that moment, amidst the challenges of pregnancy, Franco’s sweetness reminded you that you were in this together, navigating the ups and downs hand in hand as you prepared for your new adventure.

(Thank you for sending this in ✨️)

[pinkskiessss]

LACY - chapter 3

Warnings: Language

Paige Bueckers x oc

A/N: Last chapter for tonight :)

Laylas perspective

The silence in the car felt heavy, to say the least. Layla couldn’t shake the feeling that something was different tonight between them. She wasn’t sure if it was the late hour, the strange turn of events, or the quiet, palpable tension between her and Paige. They had only really talked today, but now, being alone in the car with Paige, Layla felt oddly aware of every small movement Paige made—how her fingers held on the steering wheel, how her blue eyes flicked to Layla every so often.

“So, have you eaten yet?” Paige’s voice broke the silence, a casual question that was somehow comforting.

Layla glanced at her phone again, checking the time. “It’s 1 AM, Paige. What’s even open?”

Paige laughed lightly, her eyes glancing at Layla before focusing back on the road. “Fair. But I was thinking we could cook something. It’s not like we have anything else to do bro.” As if it’s not 1 AM.

Layla stiffened slightly at the suggestion. She liked things a certain way, and cooking this late wasn’t exactly part of her usual routine. Her apartment was always neat and organized—everything in its place. The thought of being in someone else’s space, cooking at this hour, was a little unsettling. But Paige’s easygoing tone made it seem like no big deal. “You want to cook at 1 AM?” Layla asked, her voice a little more hesitant than she intended.

Paige shrugged, her fingers still tapping on the wheel. “Why not? We’re not getting any sleep tonight anyway. Plus, I don’t know about you, but I’m literally starving.”

Layla bit her lip, glancing out the window. She wasn’t exactly hungry, but the idea of disappointing Paige seemed worse. “I guess you’re right. I could eat something.”

Paige pulled into the parking lot of her own dorm building, and Layla felt a knot of uncertainty in her stomach. She had never been to Paige’s dorm before, after all, they didn’t like eachother less than 48 hours ago. The building was quiet, and Layla’s mind raced as she tried to prepare herself for whatever might come next. She wasn’t exactly used to being so… spontaneous. Her life had always been a bit more controlled, predictable.

“Ready to cook?” Paige asked, her voice light, as she turned off the engine and smiled at Layla.

Layla nodded, trying to shake off the unease. “Yeah, sure.”

They walked into Paige’s building, and Layla couldn’t help but notice how relaxed the place felt. Paige led her down the hall to her apartment, and Layla’s eyes flicked to the slightly messy pr boxes on the floor and some scattered shoes by the door. It wasn’t dirty, but it was definitely different from her own meticulously organized space. Layla felt her shoulders tense as they stepped inside.

“Oh sorry about the mess, I know it kind of looks like a frat house in here,” Paige said with a grin, her voice a little high. “Morgan and KK are asleep in their rooms, so it’s just us tonight.”

“No worries,” Layla said, trying to sound casual as she followed Paige into the living room. “I’m just glad to be anywhere but the gym right now. I definitely stayed to long my body hurts.”

Paige laughed and gestured toward the couch. “Trust me I know.”

Layla sank into the cushions, feeling slightly out of place but trying not to show it. She tucked her legs underneath her, her mind still racing as she tried to adjust to the laid-back vibe of the room. Paige moved toward the kitchen, pulling out ingredients from the fridge with practiced ease.

“So, what are we making? Or you I guess, are you sure you don’t need any help?” Layla asked.

Paige turned around, holding up a frozen pizza with a grin. “Easy enough. I’m not exactly a chef, but I can make this work.”

Layla blinked, surprised. “Frozen pizza at 1 AM? That’s your big plan?”

Paige laughed, her voice light and unbothered. “Sorry, we don’t exactly have much options. We always DoorDash.”

“It’s okay don’t worry I’m not picky,” Layla responded back.

Paige set the pizza in the oven, the two of them both on the couch now. Layla sat back, her legs tucked underneath her, her arms crossed as she watched Paige flick through the TV channels. The silence between them stretched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable—just different. Layla couldn’t shake the feeling that something was building, something she couldn’t quite explain.

“So, what do you want to watch? We have to be kinda of quiet because they’re sleeping. ” Paige asked, her voice breaking the silence.

Layla shrugged, “How about Don’t Worry Darling?”

Paige glanced at her, a teasing smile tugging at her lips as she moved impossibly closer to the girl. “Really? You’re just picking that because of Harry Styles, aren’t you?”

Layla laughed, her cheeks flushing slightly. “Okay, fine, yes. He’s hot. But Florence Pugh is in it too. She’s amazing.”

Paige’s smile softened, but her eyes twinkled as she laughed. “I’m gay, Layla. I don’t really care about Harry Styles, or any guys matter a fact.”

Layla froze for a moment, her breath catching in her throat. She hadn’t expected Paige to just say it like that, so casually. It made her feel exposed, vulnerable in a way she wasn’t prepared for. But she couldn’t back out now.

Layla laughed nervously, trying to brush off the tension. “Okay, okay. But Florence Pugh is in it, too. She’s incredible.”

Paige raised an eyebrow. “She’s not really my type, though.”

Layla blinked, caught off guard. “What? How? She’s so pretty. What even is your type?”

Paige’s gaze flicked to the TV, her fingers tapping against the armrest. Layla could feel the tension between them, but Paige didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe she did, but she was trying to ignore it.

“I don’t know,” Paige said making eye contact, her voice quieter. “I guess I just… don’t really have a type. I don’t know”

Layla’s heart skipped a beat, and she found herself staring at Paige back, wanting to say something, but the words wouldn’t come. She wanted to ask, to press her, but the moment felt fragile. Instead, she looked away, her thoughts a jumble of confusion.

Before long, the pizza was ready, and they ate in comfortable silence. Layla’s body felt tense, her mind spinning with thoughts she couldn’t quite grasp. It was like there was a pull between them, something that she couldn’t explain, but she didn’t want to acknowledge it. She wasn’t sure what to make of it.

When the movie ended, Layla felt her eyelids grow heavy. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep on the couch, but before she knew it, her head was resting in Paige’s lap. Paige’s fingers gently stroked her hair, and Layla’s heart raced at the contact. She told herself it was nothing, just a friendly gesture. But the warmth of Paige’s hand, the way her body felt so close, was making it hard to think clearly.

They lay like that for a while, wrapped up in the quiet of the apartment, the soft rhythm of Paige’s breathing lulling Layla to sleep. She didn’t know what any of this meant, but she knew that being here, with Paige, felt… good. And that scared her more than anything.

[amethystarachnid]

hi! i hope im not too late but can i request lost holiday spirit for loki x female reader?

maybe it could go something like loki and (avenger) reader both live at the tower and aren’t that close but reader hears about lokis lost holiday spirit and tries to get him to celebrate christmas in really cute ways and they end up together at the end? maybe due to some mistletoe and loki ends up celebrating christmas with the rest of the avengers. thank you!!

MR. GRINCH

⤷ LOKI LAUFEYSON

ᯓ★ Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Holiday special

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 3.8k

ᯓ★ Summary: what the ask said

ᯓ★ TW(s): nothing

ᯓ★ After this event is done I was thinking of writing a part two with Loki meeting the rest of her family if y'all want to read it!!

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The Avengers Tower sparkles like a snow globe come to life. Twinkling lights are draped over every railing and banister, a giant Christmas tree dominates the common room, and stockings hang above the roaring fireplace, despite its purely decorative function. You flit around like a sugar-fueled elf, adjusting ornaments, humming along to Mariah Carey, and basking in the glow of your favorite time of year.

Your enthusiasm is infectious to most. Tony grumbles about the electricity bill but still orders another dozen boxes of lights. Steve pretends to roll his eyes but secretly joins you for late-night cocoa sessions by the tree. Even Natasha doesn’t protest when you drape a little tinsel around her chair.

Loki, however, is a different story.

The resident God of Mischief is an enigma at the best of times. His presence at the Tower is still a relatively new and tentative arrangement, a diplomatic olive branch between Asgard and Earth. You’re not sure if he’s here to redeem himself, learn from Thor, or just avoid Odin’s wrath. Either way, he’s the ultimate Grinch in your holiday wonderland.

You first notice it when he steps into the kitchen one frosty morning. You’re perched on a stool, munching on gingerbread cookies and debating whether the kitchen needs a wreath (it does). Loki glides in, all dark robes and haughty demeanor, and pauses mid-stride when he spots the garlands you hung around the cabinets.

“What is this excessive display?” he asks, his voice dripping with disdain.

You blink. “Christmas decorations.”

He narrows his eyes as if you’ve just declared your allegiance to an enemy kingdom. “Why?”

“Why?” You repeat, incredulous. “Because it’s Christmas! It’s festive and joyful and magical. Why wouldn’t you want decorations?”

“Because,” he says slowly, as if explaining to a child, “it is frivolous and nonsensical. A mortal invention to distract from the bleakness of winter.”

You gasp, clutching a cookie to your chest as though he’s just insulted your firstborn. “You don’t like Christmas?”

“I don’t dislike it,” he replies coolly. “I am indifferent.”

Indifferent. To Christmas. The thought sends a shiver down your spine. It’s not just an opinion—it’s an affront to everything you hold dear.

“Loki,” you say, your tone turning serious. “You can’t live here, surrounded by all this cheer, and not feel even a tiny bit of joy. I won’t allow it.”

He raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “I was unaware my emotional state required your approval.”

“It does now,” you announce. “Because I’ve just decided that you’re my new project.”

His lips twitch, almost forming a smirk. “A project?”

“Yes. I’m going to make you fall in love with Christmas.”

“And how, pray tell, do you intend to accomplish such a feat?” His voice drips with sarcasm, but you detect a flicker of amusement in his eyes.

You grin, undeterred. “Oh, you’ll see.”

Day One

The next morning, Loki walks into the living room to find you perched by the stereo, scrolling through your phone. He doesn’t need to ask what you’re doing—Bing Crosby croons “White Christmas” as your grin widens.

“Ah, perfect timing,” you chirp. “I’ve made a Christmas playlist for the Tower, and I’m sure you’re going to love it.”

“Highly unlikely.”

Ignoring him, you press play, and the room fills with the unmistakable harmonies of Wham!’s Last Christmas. Loki sighs loudly, but you’re already dancing around him, singing off-key and attempting to get him to join in.

“You might as well embrace it,” you say. “There’s no escaping Christmas music in December. Resistance is futile.”

“I am not ‘resisting.’” He makes air quotes that somehow look aristocratic. “I simply fail to see the appeal.”

“Come on,” you coax. “Even you must have some fondness for a holiday that inspires such happy tunes.”

Loki regards you as if you’ve sprouted antlers. “My ‘fondness,’ if it exists, is reserved for silence.”

You pout dramatically. “Not even a little head bop?”

He ignores you, sweeping past toward the library. But later, when you catch him humming faintly under his breath—whether to mock you or not—you count it as a small victory.

Day Two

Your next strategy involves decorating the massive tree in the common room. Everyone else is busy, so you commandeer Loki, much to his chagrin.

“This is ridiculous,” he mutters, holding a string of lights like it’s a venomous snake.

“You’re tall,” you counter. “And I need help with the top branches.”

With great reluctance, he levitates to reach the higher sections. His magic comes in handy, and despite his complaints, you catch him inspecting the ornaments with genuine curiosity.

“What is the purpose of these trinkets?” he asks, turning a glittery bauble over in his hands.

“They’re not trinkets—they’re memories,” you explain. “See this one?” You point to a slightly crooked star. “Steve made it during his first Christmas in the Tower.”

Loki snorts softly. “It’s hideous.”

“Hey! It has character.”

You work side by side for an hour, and though he pretends to hate every moment, you catch him smirking when you struggle to untangle a particularly stubborn string of lights. By the time the tree is finished, it’s a masterpiece of shimmering ornaments and warm golden lights.

“You did good, Mischief,” you say, nudging his arm. “Admit it—you had fun.”

“I did no such thing,” he replies, but his tone lacks its usual venom.

Day Three

You escalate your efforts with a Christmas movie marathon, complete with a platter of cookies and the richest hot cocoa you can muster. Loki takes one sip and eyes you suspiciously.

“What is this concoction?”

“Hot chocolate,” you say, waving a candy cane for emphasis. “A Christmas essential.”

He takes another cautious sip. Then another. When the cup is empty, you wordlessly slide him a second.

You spend the evening watching Home Alone and Elf. Loki scoffs at the absurdity but doesn’t leave the room. You can’t tell if it’s the cocoa or the ridiculous antics of Will Ferrell that keep him seated, but you’ll take it.

By the time December 5th rolls around, you’re cautiously optimistic. Sure, Loki still rolls his eyes at your caroling and glares at mistletoe like it’s cursed, but there’s a softness in his demeanor. A flicker of something you can’t quite place.

And if he lingers a little longer by the tree at night, bathed in its golden glow, you don’t mention it. Not yet, anyway.

Day Four

You’ve discovered Loki’s Achilles’ heel, and it’s not his ego or his penchant for dramatics. It’s hot cocoa. Rich, creamy, decadent hot cocoa. Since the movie night, he’s been making increasingly frequent appearances in the kitchen whenever you’re whipping up a batch.

Today, you’re prepared.

You’ve set up a veritable hot cocoa bar: steaming milk, bowls of chocolate shavings, marshmallows, whipped cream, and even a jar of crushed peppermint. When Loki strolls in, feigning nonchalance, his gaze lands on the spread and narrows suspiciously.

“What is this?” he asks, though his tone betrays faint curiosity.

“It’s called variety,” you reply, grinning. “I figured if you’re going to keep stealing my cocoa, you might as well have options.”

“Stealing is an exaggeration,” he counters, but he steps closer, eyeing the setup. “What is the purpose of… these?” He gestures at the candy canes like they might attack him.

“Toppings! You can customize your drink.”

You demonstrate by ladling hot cocoa into a mug, adding a mountain of whipped cream, and delicately balancing a candy cane on the rim. Loki watches, his expression unreadable, before taking the ladle himself. He prepares a cup with precise movements, eschewing the whipped cream and opting instead for a sprinkling of chocolate shavings.

He takes a cautious sip. His expression remains stoic, but the way his eyes briefly close in satisfaction doesn’t escape your notice.

“Good, right?” you prod.

He nods minutely, still cradling the mug. You bite back a triumphant grin and lean against the counter, watching him sip the drink like it’s an elixir of the gods. Which, to be fair, it might as well be.

“You know,” you say casually, “you’re starting to get the hang of this Christmas thing.”

He snorts. “Do not mistake my tolerance for enthusiasm.”

But there’s no bite in his words, and you’re certain you’ve won another tiny battle.

Day Five

You decide to escalate your plan with a baking session. After all, what’s Christmas without cookies? Loki is less than thrilled when you inform him of this.

“You expect me to assist you with… baking?” he asks, incredulous.

“Yes,” you reply cheerfully, tossing him an apron. “Think of it as alchemy. But delicious.”

He glares at the apron like it’s made of nettles. “This is beneath me.”

“Oh, come on,” you cajole. “You’ve got magic. Surely you can handle a little dough.”

He grumbles but ties the apron on with a dramatic flourish. The sight of Loki, Prince of Asgard and God of Mischief, wearing a plaid apron that reads “Santa’s Favorite Helper” is almost enough to make you collapse in laughter, but you wisely keep it to yourself.

The baking session is… an adventure. Loki’s “assistance” involves levitating ingredients and conjuring unnecessary bursts of green light for dramatic effect. At one point, he grows bored and attempts to enchant the cookie dough, resulting in a sentient lump that tries to crawl off the counter.

“Loki!” you shriek, swatting at the rogue dough with a spatula. “This is not what I meant by teamwork!”

He smirks, watching your struggle with barely concealed amusement. “You did say I should use my talents.”

By some miracle, you manage to wrangle the dough back into submission. When the cookies finally emerge from the oven, golden and fragrant, you plop one onto a plate and shove it toward Loki.

“Taste it,” you demand.

He takes a cautious bite, his expression neutral. Then he takes another, slower bite.

“Well?” you press, bouncing on your heels.

“Adequate,” he says, but the way he reaches for a second cookie says otherwise.

Day Seven

It snows overnight, blanketing the city in a layer of white. The morning brings a rare moment of quiet in the Tower. You’re staring out the window, a steaming mug of cocoa in hand, when Loki appears beside you.

“Do you often waste time staring at frozen precipitation?” he asks, though his tone lacks its usual bite.

“It’s beautiful,” you say simply. “Have you ever played in the snow?”

He looks at you like you’ve suggested he jump into the Hudson River. “Play?”

“Yeah. You know, snow angels, snowball fights, building a snowman?”

“You forget that I hail from Jotunheim,” he says dryly. “I am quite familiar with snow.”

“Great,” you say, grabbing his arm and tugging him toward the door. “Then you’re already a pro.”

Despite his protests, you manage to drag him outside. The courtyard is pristine, untouched by footsteps, and you can’t resist flopping down to make a snow angel. Loki stands over you, his arms crossed, looking deeply unimpressed.

“You’re missing out,” you tell him, brushing snow off your gloves.

“Am I?”

You decide to take matters into your own hands—literally. Scooping up a handful of snow, you pack it into a ball and lob it at him. It hits him square in the chest.

For a moment, there’s silence. Then he looks down at the snow on his robes, then back at you, his expression unreadable.

“You dare?” he says softly.

“I dare,” you reply, grinning.

What follows is an all-out snowball war. Loki cheats, of course, conjuring multiple snowballs at once and launching them with precision. You counter with a combination of speed and sheer determination, laughing so hard your sides ache.

By the time you call a truce, you’re both soaked and breathless. Loki’s hair is damp, and there’s snow clinging to his robes, but his eyes are bright, his lips curved into a genuine smile.

It’s the first time you’ve seen him look truly happy.

Day Ten

You’re sitting by the fire, sipping yet another mug of cocoa, when Loki joins you unprompted. He’s carrying his own mug, which you’re fairly certain he made himself—a small but significant victory.

“You’ve been unusually persistent,” he says, settling into the chair beside you.

“It’s called holiday spirit,” you reply with a grin. “And I’m rubbing off on you. Admit it.”

He doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he gazes at the twinkling lights on the tree, his expression thoughtful.

“I will admit,” he says slowly, “that there is… a certain charm to this season. Though your methods are insufferable.”

You laugh, raising your mug in a mock toast. “I’ll take it.”

For the first time since you started this endeavor, you feel like you’ve genuinely reached him. And as you sit there, sharing the quiet warmth of the fire, you realize that maybe—just maybe—Loki is starting to believe in the magic of Christmas after all.

Day Eleven

The fireplace mantel remains unfinished—a glaring imperfection in your otherwise flawless Christmas wonderland. You’ve been putting it off, unsure of how to best arrange the garlands, candles, and lights. This morning, however, you find Loki standing in front of it, arms crossed, a contemplative look on his face.

“Are you admiring my handiwork?” you tease, stepping up beside him.

“I’m considering how to fix it,” he replies. “It’s… lopsided.”

You tilt your head, squinting at the decorations. “It’s supposed to look whimsical.”

“It looks haphazard,” he counters, glancing down at you with a faint smirk.

“Fine, Mr. Perfect. Show me how you’d do it.”

What starts as a playful challenge turns into a surprisingly intimate collaboration. Loki’s hands brush against yours as he passes you a strand of lights, his touch sending an unexpected warmth up your arm. He leans close to adjust a garland, his voice low as he critiques your “questionable” taste in ribbon colors.

By the time the mantel is complete, the room feels cozier—not just from the flickering candlelight but from the unspoken connection simmering between you.

“Admit it,” you say softly. “This was fun.”

Loki’s gaze lingers on you for a beat longer than necessary. “Moderately enjoyable,” he murmurs, the corners of his lips twitching upward.

Day Thirteen

You’re perched on a ladder in the common room, attempting to hang a sprig of mistletoe from the ceiling beam. The ladder wobbles precariously, and just as you’re about to lose your balance, strong hands grip your waist, steadying you.

“Careful,” Loki chides, his voice unusually gentle.

You glance down at him, your heart racing—not just from the near fall. “Thanks.”

He doesn’t let go immediately, his hands lingering as he helps you down from the ladder. When your feet touch the ground, you realize just how close you are. The mistletoe dangles above you, unnoticed, as you find yourself caught in his intense gaze.

“Traditionally,” Loki says, his voice dropping to a velvet whisper, “there’s a custom associated with this particular plant.”

You swallow hard, your cheeks heating. “Oh, yeah? I hadn’t noticed.”

His lips curve into a sly smile, but he steps back, breaking the moment. “Perhaps next time,” he says, and you can’t tell if he’s teasing or serious.

Your pulse remains uneven long after he’s gone.

Day Fifteen

You can’t sleep. The glow of the Christmas tree calls to you, and you find yourself padding into the common room, wrapped in a blanket. To your surprise, Loki is already there, seated on the couch with a book in hand.

“Can’t sleep either?” you ask, settling into the armchair across from him.

He closes the book, regarding you with a softness you’ve come to recognize in these quiet moments. “I find the stillness… agreeable.”

The conversation flows easily, shifting from light banter to deeper topics. He talks about Asgardian winters, and you share memories of childhood Christmases. There’s an openness to him tonight, a vulnerability that makes your chest ache.

At one point, you notice him watching you intently, his gaze tracing your features as if committing them to memory. “What is it?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re unlike anyone I’ve met,” he says, the honesty in his tone catching you off guard. “Your insistence on joy, your… stubborn optimism. It’s infuriating. And yet…”

“And yet?” you prompt, your heart pounding.

He leans forward slightly, the space between you charged with unspoken possibilities. “And yet, I find myself drawn to it. To you.”

The admission leaves you breathless. You don’t know what to say, so you settle for a soft smile, hoping it conveys everything you’re feeling.

Day Seventeen

A freak snowstorm traps everyone inside the Tower. While most of the team grumbles about canceled plans, you can’t help but see it as an opportunity. You organize a board game marathon, but when Loki declines to participate, you seek him out in his room.

“Too good for Monopoly?” you tease, leaning against the doorframe.

“I prefer my games to involve a certain level of sophistication,” he replies, though there’s no malice in his tone.

“Come on,” you coax. “It’ll be fun.” But when you understand the won't give in you try another tactic, just sto spend time with him. "Teach me chess instead,” you say, pulling a dusty board from a shelf.

The two of you spend hours by the fire, the snowstorm raging outside, as he teaches you the intricacies of the game. His patience surprises you, as does the way he occasionally lets you win, though he denies it every time.

At some point, you realize you’re no longer focused on the game. Instead, you’re studying the way his hair falls over his shoulders, the way his lips curve when he’s explaining a strategy.

“You’re not paying attention,” he accuses, though his tone is amused.

“Sorry,” you murmur, feeling your cheeks heat.

He leans closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Perhaps I’m more distracting than the game.”

You don’t deny it.

Day Twenty

The Tower is quiet after dinner, most of the team having retreated to their rooms. You and Loki are the last ones in the common room, the tree lights casting soft shadows across his features.

“You’ve done well,�� he says, nodding toward the decorations. “This place feels… alive.”

“Thanks to you,” you reply, nudging his shoulder. “You helped more than you’d like to admit.”

“I admit nothing,” he says, though there’s a glimmer of warmth in his eyes.

You fall into a comfortable silence, the air between you heavy with unspoken tension. When he reaches out to brush a stray hair from your face, your breath catches. His fingers linger, his gaze dropping to your lips.

For a moment, time seems to stop. You’re certain he’s going to kiss you, and you lean in ever so slightly, your heart pounding. But then—

“Y/N!” Tony’s voice booms from the hallway, shattering the moment.

You both pull back, flustered, as Tony strides into the room, oblivious to what he’s interrupted.

“I swear he has the worst timing,” you mutter after Tony leaves.

Loki smirks, but there’s a flicker of frustration in his eyes. “Indeed.”

Day Twenty-Four

The Tower hums with a warm energy on Christmas Eve. The team is gathered around the massive tree in the common room, the scent of pine mingling with the aroma of spiced cider and freshly baked cookies. You sit cross-legged on the floor beside Loki, the two of you half-listening as Thor attempts to recount a boisterous Asgardian holiday tradition.

Despite the chaos around you—Steve trying to untangle fairy lights, Clint stealing cookies from the tray, and Tony programming a robotic Santa to distribute presents—you feel grounded. Loki’s presence beside you has a magnetic pull, and you find yourself sneaking glances at him every few moments.

He looks relaxed, a rarity for the God of Mischief. His usual sharp edges seem softer tonight, the flickering glow of the fireplace highlighting his high cheekbones and the glint in his emerald eyes.

“Enjoying yourself?” you ask quietly, leaning slightly toward him.

His lips curve into a faint smirk. “More than I expected.”

The gift exchange begins, the room filling with laughter and playful banter as everyone tears into their wrapping paper. You watch with amusement as Natasha tries not to laugh at the gaudy scarf Clint has given her, and Bruce chuckles at the chemistry-themed mug he receives.

Loki remains apart from the main commotion, though his eyes sparkle with quiet amusement. As the night winds down, the others begin to retreat to their rooms, leaving the two of you alone by the tree.

“You didn’t join the exchange,” you say, turning to him.

“I prefer to give gifts with intention,” he replies, reaching into his pocket.

He produces a small, elegantly wrapped box and hands it to you. “For you.”

Your heart stutters as you carefully undo the ribbon and lift the lid. Inside lies a delicate silver charm bracelet, each charm meticulously chosen: a snowflake, a steaming mug of cocoa, a tiny chess piece, and a star. You recognize each one as a symbol of a moment you’ve shared this month.

“It’s beautiful,” you breathe, your fingers trembling slightly as you lift it from the box.

“I thought you might appreciate a memento of your… relentless holiday enthusiasm,” Loki says, though his tone is soft, almost vulnerable.

“I love it,” you say, looking up at him with a wide smile. “Thank you.”

You hesitate for a moment, then reach for the small gift bag you’d hidden earlier. “I, uh, got you something too.”

He raises an eyebrow but accepts the bag, pulling out the contents with a curious expression. Inside is a beautifully bound leather journal, embossed with intricate patterns that remind you of Asgardian designs.

“For your thoughts,” you explain, suddenly shy. “Or plans, or whatever it is you write about. I thought you might like it.”

His fingers brush over the cover reverently. “It’s… thoughtful,” he says, his voice unusually gentle.

Before you can reply, a movement above catches your eye. You tilt your head back and groan. “Oh no.”

Loki follows your gaze, his expression shifting into one of amusement as he spots the sprig of mistletoe hanging directly above you.

“Ah,” he murmurs, his smirk returning. “The infamous custom.”

You open your mouth to say something witty, but the words evaporate as Loki steps closer, his gaze fixed on yours. The air between you feels charged, and your heart hammers in your chest.

“Wouldn’t want to break tradition,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing, though there’s a glimmer of something deeper in his eyes.

Before you can second-guess yourself, his lips are on yours. The kiss is soft, unhurried, and yet it sends a spark through your entire body. His hand finds your cheek, his touch warm against your skin, and you melt into him, forgetting everything else in the world.

When you finally pull back, you’re both breathless. Loki’s hand lingers on your face, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheekbone.

“Mistletoe,” you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Convenient,” he replies, his lips curving into a rare, genuine smile.

The two of you stand there for a moment, the world around you quiet and still. You glance down at the bracelet on your wrist, then back up at Loki, and you can’t help but think that this is the best Christmas Eve you’ve ever had.

[alfredojesta]

JASON THE TOYMAKER

MANSION HEADCANONS PT. 1

This includes information about his past and present. Everything here is canon to my AU. I'll be making a second post to cover his relationships.

CW: child abuse, misogyny, gore (below the cut)

GENERAL HEADCANONS: HERE

For context, Liver's Jason is the one we use for our shared AU. I just like analysing the fuck out of him. :)

✧ Jason's room is on the third floor, end of the hall. His room is a workshop. Nothing else. His door is one of the only doors that aren't plastered with decorations. It's just plain wood.

✧ He owns a flat in the city, as well as a local toy-shop. But he takes orders from all over the world, delivering toys via his "blue door".

✧ Jason isn't the traditional proxy. He doesn't work for Slenderman, nor is he "under" him in anyway—Of course, he follows the rules of the mansion, but that's because Slender grants him residency there.

✧ Slenderman brought Jason in as a way to prevent his enemies from getting to him first. They signed a contract, moving Jason from London to Toronto where the other proxies resided.

✧ Under Slenderman's watch, Jason would practically be protected from everything. It was a golden opportunity. The contract stated that Jason would be given his own workshop at the mansion. Not only that, but his own bathroom and closet—a luxury only Jason has. Because he didn't sign the contract otherwise.

✧ (In his own words, sharing anything with the other proxies sounds disgusting. Gods forbid he would ever do that!)

✧ Jason is a soul collector, meaning he must consume souls for survival. He acquires his souls from the women he "fixes", and from Candy Pop (Jason fixes his hammer, and if he needs souls, Candy Pop is obligated to hand some to him).

✧ The only way for his toys to be given an ability, or living forms, is if they have a soul infused with it. But, not all souls can be fixed to all objects. Jason will have to make several adjustments to both the soul and its vessel before they connect.

✧ Jason is a germaphobe and refuses to get any blood on him. He's always wearing a pair of gloves. When he "kills" victims, he's really only harvesting their souls. Their embalmed corpses are then beautified for show.

✧ Because he's a soul collector, he has great intuition when it comes to reading people. It goes well with his social expertise.

✧ Jason has always been charming. Good at masking in public. He treats socialising as a game, predicting what someone will say and choosing the correct dialogue option to get his desired result. Socialising can be exhausting since he's always putting on an act. (Some might even say he's autistic...) (Because he is!)

✧ Jason is polite to the others. He remains respectful and civil, coming across as friendly to all—if not a little monotonous and bland. He's shockingly a good listener when he's not held up with orders. But, he tends to only speak up if the conversation pertains to himself.

✧ If Jason is provoked otherwise, he'll do what he can to fight back without ruining his reputation. In serious cases, he lashes out. He finds ways to get back on top, painting himself as the wronged. It always works, but certain people have learned to be suspicious of him.

✧ He speaks formally. Never swears, unless it's using the lord's name in vain. His vocabulary is large, but he doesn't speak bombastically. Jason reads a lot of books when he has the time to. He enjoys classic literature, but refuses to touch anything modern.

✧ Jason is rather awful with technology. He knows the basics (such as texting, taking photos, answering emails), but he's the type to use a real encyclopedia instead of looking something up on the internet. The transition from the Victorian Era into the 21st Century was horrid for Jason, given he was in the Under World for most its development. When he got out in the late 1900s, everything was different.

✧ His hair is naturally wavy, but he straightens it every morning. His demonic form tends to poof his hair back up, which angers him even more. Only a few people have seen Jason's demonic form. He hides it well.

✧ He loves doing his makeup and he can't live without it. He would do his nails but they're all short, chipped, or on the verge of tearing off. Jason's fashion sense is classy, though he has somewhat of a ring-master flair. He definitely wears heels. 6'3" and greedy. His femininity is something he's insecure about, but won't ever admit it.

✧ His cane was given to him by Splendorman, who believed Jason was a ringmaster like him. Jason decided to keep it because it went well with his outfit. But also... it helped him walk... He never knew how bad standing 24/7 was for him until he got that cane.

✧ Jason liked circuses because he'd see them on newspapers when he was younger. But he was never allowed to go. Nowadays, he hates clowns. He thinks they're so fucking annoying. Jason will hang himself before he has to go to another shitty circus show.

✧ Jason's flat is decorated with a patch-work aesthetic. Not out of choice, but because Mr. Glutton keeps chewing on the furniture. He also chews on Jason's clothes, which is why they have stitches and patches. Jason has tried to get Mr. Glutton to stop, but that damn snake won't listen.

✧ For Liquorice, Red Mouse, and Mr. Bunny, Jason crochets fake food for them, which he keeps in his fridge. His fridge lacks anything else. There's just lemons, sweetener, milk, and peas in the freezer. He doesn't have a spice-rack anywhere, and if he did, it'd only have table salt and sugar.

✧ Jason likes to craft furniture himself. Everything in his flat is also painted by him. The cabinets have designs on them. So do his pots and pans; dinnerware and cutlery. Jason isn't allowed to paint the ceiling, but if he lived in a house, he would.

✧ Jason is obsessed with his image to a frightening degree.

✧ Jason started off as a lonely boy with discouraging parents (abusive father, and a desperate mother). He only had Amelia, whom he clung onto. Despite Amelia being popular, she was soon isolated after becoming his friend. Jason was bullied by the others for not fitting in. He was called names, physically assaulted, and ostracised.

✧ The bruises piled up. From school and from his father, who was adamant on "toughening" him up. At the age of 10, Jason sprained his wrist. He learned how to use his left-hand in this time. Jason's father resented him for his aspirations. For his "feminine" traits, and lack of social skills. Jason bottled up his feelings, deciding it'd be better to live with them than be vulnerable.

✧ Jason was their only son, but he couldn't live up to their expectations. Jason was exposed to domestic violence between his parents, who'd often argue about him. It started to sound like it was his fault that nothing was going right for the family. And maybe it was.

✧ Jason's misogynistic ideals come from his father. He learned to internalise his teachings, even though he never liked his father. Jason is never outwardly misogynistic (in fact, he tends to speak out against sexism), but he holds the women in his life beneath him. Jason also has internalised homophobia, but that's directed toward himself.

✧ Amelia's family supported Jason when he was kicked out by his parents. He was able to rent a little flat! And after getting his shit together, he started up his business. Amelia was there to encourage him and give him anything he needed for the shop.

✧ Jason wasn't used to so much "love" and attention. There would be crowds building up on the streets of London, waiting for his shop to open. People his age wanted to be around him instead of picking on him for being weird. They'd give him their numbers, invite him to social events, actually show interest in him. Jason was bewildered, but not opposed to it in the slightest.

✧ NGL HE DEFINITELY ATTRACTED MILFS BECAUSE OF ALL THE MUMS THAT CAME IN WITH THEIR KIDS.

✧ Jason develloped issues with his image around this time, believing he had to be absolutely perfect no matter what. If he saw even the slightest flaw, it'd drive him mad. He perfected his makeup, his hair. His clothes were always ironed and fitted. He was a picky eater, only consuming what would keep him in shape. Jason's routine is rigid. He doesn't let anything disturb it.

✧ Amelia called him out several times, stating that she should be allowed to make friends if Jason's allowed to make friends. Jason has always told her that they're the only good people in the world, so it made no sense for him to go out and befriend others. Jason reassured Amelia that his loyalty is with her, and he's only putting up a good front for business.

✧ That made Amelia even angrier, because now she knew Jason was faking his personality. It drove her the wrong way, but Jason would manipulate her into thinking she's overreacting.

✧ The more people that "loved" him, the more Jason was pressured to keep that "love" on him. Over the years, the pressure became too much. He overworked himself to death. Kept himself in the workshop day and night. So focused on working, he neglected other aspects of his life (such as himself and Amelia).

✧ It was difficult to balance his work-life and his self-care, but his work-life was so much more important. Without it, he wouldn't have that attention he so desperately craved. Jason only forced himself back to his flat when he realised he had to bathe. In these moments, he'd hate himself for being occupied with his work to a point of abandoning his routine. He was still human back then.

✧ Amelia would often be with him at the workshop, but her company stopped helping. Jason's patience thinned, and he started to lash out at her if she hummed, breathed too loudly, or even moved at all. Their final argument cut Amelia from his life entirely. Jason was so disgusted with himself, but he kept thinking Amelia would come back.

✧ Weeks passed, and Amelia didn't come back. Jason couldn't focus on his work. There was that nagging voice in the back of his head that told him to go find Amelia. He couldn't ignore it. He knew he had to do something. So he crafted the music box for her. Went to her house to apologise. He looked better than he ever looked that day.

✧ Jason poured his heart out to Amelia. He told her much he missed her, and how sorry he felt for hurting her. He promised he'd never do anything like that again, reassured her that his priority will become their friendship. He held out the music box. A beautiful gift. The start of new beginnings. And Amelia refused to accept his apology—

✧ What?

✧ ...She refused? That doesn't make sense. Jason worked so hard on that. They'd been friends for so long. How could she just drop him like that? Amelia shoved the music box back into his hands, yelling at him to never show his face again. Jason couldn't believe it. Did she just forget everything Jason did for her?

✧ Jason stood at the entrance. Everything was quiet. He lost her for good.

✧ Jason went back to his workshop. Beyond stressed, malnourished, and lacking proper sleep. He was angry, too, but he wasn't sad. He couldn't be sad about it, only frustrated that Amelia would be so unreasonable.

✧ He was spiralling, so close to losing it when a little girl knocked on the shop. It snapped him back to reality. He's a famous toymaker, right! People still "love" him. That's what he worked for. He doesn't need Amelia anymore...

✧ Oh, but the shop was closed that day. The girl was on her own, and it wasn't an especially busy evening. Jason put on a friendly facade and welcomed her in, but warned her the shop was closed, and she needed to be quick.

✧ The girl took her time. It bothered Jason. It bothered him a lot. What was she doing? The girl was about eight years old. Maybe her mum or dad would come get her soon, Jason hoped. But no.

✧ She finally picked out what she wanted. The music box—No, that's not for sale. Jason took it back, telling her to find something else. But the girl insisted upon it. Jason didn't have time for any of this. He had to go back to work. She continued to bargain with him, and Jason was so close to losing his patience. That music box was for Amelia—but, why was Jason trying to save it in the first place? Amelia refused it, so he should just give it to that child, right? Gods, everything is too complicated. He's stressed out of his damn mind and nothing's going right for him anymore. And that whiny child kept on crying about wanting that stupid box—

✧ Jason couldn't think.

✧ A chord in him snapped. He became victim to his own anger. Jason killed the little girl on accident—mallet to the head. He didn't know what he did until she tumbled back. The music box broke apart as it fell from her hands.

✧ Jason dropped the mallet. There was blood splattered on his face. There was blood. On his face. Jason looked down. The child was dead.

✧ Jason knew he had to dispose of the body. Everything was at stake. He could dismember her corpse, hide it in Mr. Glutton. That'd work.

✧ But he first had to lock up the store. Cover the windows, and bring the corpse to the back. Still, he couldn't bring himself to start sawing. Jason was disgusted with his actions. He had sobbed for what seemed like hours, unable to get himself together. Even as Jason began to dismember the body, he took multiple breaks, having to calm himself down from the horrific sight. Hyperventilating and nauseous. He had no one to blame but himself.

✧ But it wasn't his fault.

✧ It was the little girl's fault. It was Amelia's fault. It was the kids at the playground. It was his mother. And it was his god damn father.

✧ When Jason finally hid the body—he didn't know how much time had passed. He looked like a mess. He wanted to throw up. He hadn't slept in days. Hadn't eaten. He didn't want to leave the workshop. Even though it smelt like rotten flesh and blood.

✧ Things got worse when a customer knocked at the door. It must have been an opening day. Jason didn't want to answer. He didn't want to do anything anymore. But it'd look suspicious if he didn't.

✧ Amelia was there. Jason said nothing, processing her appearance, wondering if she was even real. But Amelia only came to return the old gifts he gave to her. Jason thought now would be the perfect time to win her back. If he told her his pitiful story—about how he was so stressed, he took it out on a stranger—she'd feel sorry for him. She'd realise how unlike him it is, and she'd finally forgive him.

✧ That didn't happen. Instead, Amelia was scared. She asked him where the stranger was. Who was it? Where did this happen? And then Jason broke down, admitting to everything. He begged her to stay because he couldn't take it anymore. But Amelia refused. Heartbreak was quick to transform into anger.

✧ The two of them got into a small fight. It's here that Jason dies, actually! Because he's so weak, Amelia easily knocked him to the floor. Amelia didn't want Jason to live anymore. She was scared for his future. He could grow up to be someone awful. To prevent him from killing more girls, and abusing more women, Amelia sliced him down the chest with a saw.

✧ Unfortunately, he didn't die. But he was sent to the Under World—which is like a purgatory in my AU.

✧ Jason is basically cursed, in a way. He woke up in the Under World as a vengeful demon. He lived there for a couple of years before he was sent back. I say he's cursed because Jason has all the abilities he could want, but it'll never be enough. He's trapped in a cycle. He sabotages his own life by just being himself. I'd love to go more in-depth on this analysis one day, but for the sake of simplicity, this is all I'm saying here.

✧ The scar Amelia gave him never heals. Jason always has to sew it back up. No one knows he has the scar. He knows it's his only flaw and he despises it.

✧ His heart is NOT a music box. It's just rotten, like his blood! It beats quietly. Very faint unless someone goes right up to it, but he'd probably punch that someone if they tried.

(dividers by dollywons) ☆

long post! i apologise. i love him very much, and this doesn't even scratch all of him. there's still A LOT more i have to say. like a shit ton. feel free to send any questions because i love yapping!!! :D hhehehe

[unabashegirl]

Vicious 16 — hs mafia

After his father's death, Harry Styles must take control of the family mafia while dealing with his unpredictable brother, Silas. He meets Y/N Castellano, the daughter of an Italian mafia boss, and learns about their arranged marriage.

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---> vicious masterlist <---

A few days had passed since Harry's raid on Augusto's house, and his recovery was going well. The doctor had restitched his wounds after his encounter with Y/N, and the healing was progressing smoothly. Giana was also adjusting to her new life. At first, it felt strange for her—she had spent so long living by strict schedules and orders that the freedom she now had seemed unfamiliar, almost unsettling. But slowly, she was beginning to settle in.

“Right. Is there anything else due?” Harry asked, the night was thick with tension as Harry sat behind his large mahogany desk, the glow of the desk lamp casting long shadows across the room. His trusted men, Lex and Charlie, stood nearby, their faces hard with the seriousness of the situation. A few other men lingered in the room, their eyes darting toward the door every so often, their hands hovering close to their weapons. The air was heavy, almost suffocating, but Harry remained calm, his sharp gaze fixed on the documents spread before him.

A soft knock on the door broke the silence, and one of his guards entered, cradling a small, wrapped box in his hands. The guard's face was pale, his eyes reflecting a mixture of fear and uncertainty. He approached Harry’s desk cautiously, holding the box out as if it were a live bomb.

Harry’s eyes narrowed as he took in the sight of the package. There was no mistaking it—this was from Augusto. The wrapping was impeccable, a deep red ribbon tied into a neat bow, but the intent behind it was anything but innocent.

“Boss, this just arrived,” the guard said, his voice trembling slightly.

Harry nodded, his expression unreadable as he reached for the box. He could feel the eyes of his men on him, their tension palpable. Augusto’s reach was long, and his threats were never empty. Harry had known this day would come, the day when Augusto would retaliate for the audacious act of taking Gina.

As Harry began to untie the ribbon, Lex stepped forward, his voice laced with concern. “You know what this is. He’s trying to rattle you.”

“I know,” Harry replied calmly, continuing to unwrap the package with deliberate care. He could feel the weight of the moment, the significance of whatever lay inside. This wasn’t just a message—it was a declaration.

When he lifted the lid, his breath caught in his throat. Inside, on a bed of black velvet, lay a delicate necklace. It was simple, yet Harry recognized it immediately. He had seen Y/N wear it once, years ago, when they had first been introduced. They had both been much younger then, their worlds not yet as intertwined in the web of power and danger that now surrounded them. The memory of her wearing it, her youthful smile, flashed through his mind like a ghost from a past that felt almost unreachable.

But it wasn’t just the necklace. Next to it was a photograph, slightly crumpled, as if it had been handled roughly. Harry’s heart sank as he stared at the image—Y/N, asleep in her bed, her face peaceful, unaware of the eyes that had been on her. He recognized the room immediately; it was taken inside his house, and the pajamas she wore were the same ones she had worn just a few nights ago. The intimacy of the photo, the sheer audacity of taking it, filled him with a cold, seething rage.

Charlie was the first to speak, his voice low and furious. “That sick bastard… They’ve been inside the house.”

Lex’s expression darkened as he leaned in, studying the photo over Harry’s shoulder. “He knows where to hit you.”

Harry’s grip tightened on the box, his knuckles white with the effort to keep his anger in check. Augusto wasn’t just sending a threat; he was proving that he could reach the one person Harry cared about most. The message couldn’t be clearer: Augusto knew Y/N was Harry’s weakness, and he was willing to exploit it without mercy.

But Harry wasn’t about to let Augusto see him falter. He forced himself to breathe, to think clearly. Reacting out of anger would play right into Augusto’s hands.

“He’s trying to bait me,” Harry said, his voice steely despite the storm raging inside him. “But I’m not taking it.”

Lex nodded, his eyes hard. “What’s the plan, then?”

Harry closed the box with a deliberate motion, setting it aside as he rose from his chair. His men straightened, ready for his orders. The rage in his chest had cooled into something more dangerous—determination.

“We fortify the house,” Harry ordered, his voice commanding. “Double the guards, and I want eyes on every corner. Y/N isn’t to be left alone for a second.”

Harry’s eyes lingered on the closed box for a moment longer, the weight of its contents pressing heavily on his mind. He forced himself to exhale slowly, pushing down the fury that threatened to consume him. As his men prepared to leave, he raised a hand, stopping them in their tracks.

“One more thing,” he said, his voice cold and measured. The tension in the room thickened as they turned back to face him. “This doesn’t get back to Y/N. Not a word of it.”

Lex exchanged a concerned glance with Charlie, both of them understanding the gravity of the situation. Harry wasn’t one to hide things from Y/N—at least, not when it came to her safety. But the look in his eyes made it clear that this time was different.

“Boss, are you sure?” Lex asked carefully, his voice tinged with hesitation. “She has a right to know. If Augusto’s getting this close—”

“I said no,” Harry cut in, his tone sharp. His gaze was hard, leaving no room for argument. “She’s got enough on her mind with the wedding coming up. The last thing she needs is more to worry about.”

Charlie shifted uncomfortably, clearly uneasy with the decision. “But if she finds out on her own—”

“She won’t,” Harry interrupted, his voice firm. “And she won’t have to. We’re handling this. Keep it quiet, and make sure nothing slips through the cracks.”

His men nodded, though their expressions betrayed their concern. They knew Harry was right—Y/N didn’t need to be burdened with this, not now. But they could also see the toll it was taking on him. Harry might be acting as if he wasn’t worried, but the tension in his shoulders, the tightness in his jaw, told a different story.

As they turned to leave, Harry’s voice stopped them once more. “And one more thing—keep your distance from her. If she asks why, tell her it’s just business. We can’t afford any slip-ups.”

There was a brief pause before Lex and Charlie nodded in understanding. They could see that this wasn’t just about protecting Y/N—it was about keeping Harry from unraveling. The coldness in his voice, the distance in his eyes, were signs that he was already slipping into a darker place, one where his emotions were tightly locked away.

“Understood, Boss,” Lex said quietly, before leading the others out of the room.

Once the door closed, the silence in the office was almost suffocating. Harry stood still for a moment, staring at the spot where the box had been. He clenched his fists, trying to push away the images of Y/N’s peaceful face in that photo, the necklace she once wore with such innocent pride. The thought of Augusto’s hands being anywhere near her sent a shiver down his spine, one that he couldn’t shake off no matter how hard he tried.

The living room of the manor was filled with the sweet scent of sugar and vanilla, a comforting contrast to the tension that had settled over the house in recent days. Y/N sat on the plush sofa, her gaze fixed on the assortment of cakes laid out before her on the coffee table. Beside her, Gina sat with a soft smile, her presence a rare source of calm amidst the whirlwind of wedding preparations.

The wedding was fast approaching, and while there was still so much to figure out, today’s task was a welcome distraction. Y/N had been looking forward to this—taste testing the cakes, deciding on the perfect one to serve on her big day. It was a small moment of normalcy, one that allowed her to focus on the joy that the wedding should bring, rather than the worries that loomed over her.

“So,” Gina said, picking up a fork and eyeing the first slice of cake with playful seriousness. “Are we starting with the classic vanilla or the chocolate hazelnut?”

Y/N smiled, her heart warming at the sight of her best friend’s playful demeanor. Gina had been through so much, yet she was here, helping Y/N prepare for one of the most important days of her life. It was a reminder of why they had done what they did—why Harry had taken such risks to save her.

“Let’s start with the vanilla,” Y/N decided, reaching for her fork. “Might as well go traditional first.”

They both took a bite, savoring the delicate flavor. The vanilla was rich and smooth, with just the right amount of sweetness. Y/N closed her eyes for a moment, trying to imagine how it would taste on the wedding day, shared with Harry under the gaze of their families and friends.

“It’s good,” Gina said thoughtfully, “but maybe a bit too plain for you two. You need something with more... character.”

Y/N laughed softly, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, I think you’re right. It’s nice, but I want something that stands out.”

They moved on to the next cake, a decadent chocolate hazelnut with layers of ganache and a hint of espresso. Y/N’s eyes lit up as she tasted it, the rich flavors dancing on her tongue.

“Now this,” she said with a grin, “this is something special.”

Gina nodded enthusiastically, taking another bite. “Definitely. It’s bold, but not overpowering. It feels... luxurious.”

As Y/N and Gina continued to debate over the remaining cakes, the warmth of their conversation was briefly interrupted by a glimpse of movement in the hallway. Y/N glanced up just in time to see Harry walking past the living room with Lex, Charlie, and a few of his other men in tow. His expression was stern, focused, the weight of responsibility evident in the way his shoulders carried themselves. But there was something else, something deeper that Y/N had noticed in him recently—a distance, a coldness that hadn’t been there before.

Without thinking, Y/N called out to him. “Harry! Wait a second.”

Harry paused mid-step, turning his head to look at her. His eyes softened slightly when they met hers, but the guarded expression remained. He took a step closer to the doorway, his men halting behind him.

“What is it?” he asked, his voice even, betraying none of the turmoil that Y/N could sense beneath the surface.

Y/N gestured to the table filled with cakes, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “We’re trying to pick out the wedding cake, and I could use your opinion. After all, it is your wedding too.”

Harry’s brow furrowed slightly, and he shook his head. “I’m sure whatever you choose will be perfect. I’ve got some business to take care of.”

Y/N wasn’t ready to let him go that easily. There was something about the way he was pulling away lately that gnawed at her, and she wanted—needed—to bridge that gap, even if just for a moment. She set down her fork and walked over to him, her smile growing softer, more coaxing.

“Please, Harry,” she said, her voice gentle as she looked up at him with wide, hopeful eyes. “Just a quick taste. I want to know what you think.”

Harry’s resolve wavered, his eyes flickering with a hint of amusement as he looked at her. He tried to hold onto his stern demeanor, but Y/N’s doe eyes were his undoing. He couldn’t help but feel a crack in the icy wall he had built around himself. Despite everything weighing on him, he could never resist her when she looked at him like that.

Gina, watching the exchange from her spot on the sofa, noticed the slight twitch at the corner of Harry’s mouth—a smile he was clearly trying to suppress. She smirked to herself, understanding all too well the effect Y/N had on him.

“Alright,” Harry finally relented, a resigned sigh escaping his lips as he stepped fully into the living room. “But just a quick one.”

Y/N’s face lit up with triumph, and she quickly guided him to the coffee table where the remaining cakes were laid out. Gina moved aside to give him space, a knowing smile still playing on her lips.

“Okay,” Y/N said excitedly, picking up a fork and handing it to him. “We’ve narrowed it down to two—this one is a chocolate hazelnut with a hint of espresso, and the other is a raspberry champagne with vanilla cream. I’m leaning toward the chocolate, but I want to know what you think.”

Harry took the fork, his expression serious as he studied the two slices of cake in front of him. He glanced at Y/N, her eager expression making him feel a warmth that he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in days. With a slight shake of his head—more at himself than anything else—he dug into the first slice.

The rich taste of chocolate hazelnut filled his mouth, the flavors perfectly balanced. He chewed thoughtfully, then moved on to the second slice, the tartness of the raspberry mingling with the sweetness of the champagne and vanilla cream. Both were excellent, but one stood out more.

He swallowed, then looked at Y/N, who was watching him with bated breath. “They’re both good, but the chocolate hazelnut is the one,” he said, nodding slightly as he made his decision. “It’s got that something special.”

Y/N beamed, clearly delighted with his choice. “Good”.

Harry couldn’t help the slight smile that tugged at his lips at her words, though he quickly tried to mask it by handing the fork back to her. Gina, ever observant, caught the momentary softness in his expression and filed it away with a satisfied smile of her own.

Harry gave her a brief nod, his smile fading back into his more guarded expression. “Glad I could help. But now I really do need to get back to work.”

With one last look at her, Harry turned and headed back toward the hallway, his men falling into step behind him. Y/N watched him go, a mixture of satisfaction and worry swirling in her chest. She had won him over, if only for a moment, but the lingering coldness in his demeanor reminded her that something was off.

Gina, sensing Y/N’s unease, reached out and squeezed her hand. “You’ll get through to him,” she said reassuringly. “He’s just got a lot on his plate right now.”

Y/N nodded, though her heart still ached with the desire to reach him, to break through whatever walls he was building between them. “I know,” she said softly. “I just wish he’d let me in.”

As the sound of Harry’s footsteps faded down the hall, Y/N turned back to the table, her thoughts still with him. The wedding was fast approaching, and while they had just settled on the cake, she knew there was much more that needed to be figured out—not just for the wedding, but for the two of them.

A few days had passed since the cake tasting, and the sense of unease that Y/N couldn’t quite shake had only grown stronger. Harry was distant, more so than usual, and though she tried to focus on the wedding preparations, her thoughts kept drifting back to the coldness she felt from him.

Late one afternoon, Y/N’s phone rang, the name on the screen stopping her in her tracks: Federico. Her father rarely called, and when he did, it was never without an agenda. With a mix of irritation and resignation, she answered.

“What do you want?” she asked, her tone sharper than she intended.

“Is that how you greet your father?” Federico’s voice was smooth, but there was a familiar edge to it that made Y/N’s stomach tighten. “I’ve been thinking, with the wedding approaching, it’s time we discussed the details. I want to make sure everything is in order.”

Y/N clenched her jaw, knowing better than to believe this was about the wedding. “Everything’s fine. I’ve got it under control.”

“Clearly, you don’t,” Federico replied, his voice dripping with condescension. “Meet me at home. There are things we need to discuss. Important things.”

Y/N’s grip on the phone tightened. The old estate—a place that had never felt like home, no matter how lavish it was. It was a place of cold memories, of power and control. She hadn’t been there in years, and the thought of going back now filled her with dread. But she knew better than to refuse him.

“Fine,” she said, her voice devoid of warmth. “I’ll be there.”

Federico didn’t bother with pleasantries before hanging up, leaving Y/N with a hollow feeling in her chest. She knew what this was—a power play. He was reminding her of her place, of the control he still wielded over her life. But she wasn’t the scared little girl she once was. Not anymore.

[beholdthebangs]

Stress Reliever

Kent x F!Reader / Sam x F!Reader

~ 18+ ~

Synopsis: Smut - Sam invites himself and Kent over to your house for dinner one night, seemingly an opportunity to get to know your boyfriend’s father better after his recent arrival to town. Things take a turn when you try to give Kent some ideas to relax, Sam having his own thoughts on the subject when he offers you up as a solution. Only under his supervision, of course.

Warnings: Drinking, brief references to PTSD, affair, indirect(?) incest, creampie, unprotected sex, rough sex, free use, daddy kink, dirty talk, praise, vaginal sex, oral sex, light choking

A/N: There’s not enough Kent smut to go around so this is my contribution.

—————————————————————————

Sam

2:43 AM: My dad and I are gonna come over tmrw nite for dinner

2:44 AM: Wear something I like 😜💦

2:51 AM: and make sumthing good plz 🥺

—————————————————————————

Kent had returned to Pelican Town only a few months ago and you’d had few interactions with him since, limited to a brief introduction and exchanging of pleasantries when you stopped by 1 Willow Lane to see Sam. The older man had always been standoffish, understandably so given everything he’d gone through in his time away. Still, it was difficult to find some way to relate with him, something you desperately wanted given your relationship with his son. It was discouraging to have such a poor relationship with the man who may one day be your father-in-law. Sam had assured you that he was always quiet, even with his family.

Sam rarely talked about him before he came back, and Jodi seemed just as stressed out as she was when she was acting as a single mother. The family didn’t seem to change dynamics at all with Kent’s return; it didn’t adjust to make room for him. It’s like all the gaps had been filled when he left and there was no space now that he was back. You hadn’t been around before Kent had been deployed. Sometimes you’d ask Sam what things were like back then, but he would shrug it off, telling you he didn’t remember that far back. Sure, his brain was crowded with hyperactive tendencies, but you knew he also didn’t want to open up. You tried not to jump to conclusions but it was hard having nothing else to draw from but the blond’s abnormally clouded demeanor.

You stir a pot of pasta sauce absentmindedly as it simmers, the pasta waiting in a colander in the sink to be added. Three chicken breasts are sizzling in the cast iron pan in your oven, nearing temperature. It seems like the end a recipe always feels the most chaotic, everything timed to finish at once. You have to pull yourself out of your head to focus on not burning anything. You brush a piece of hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear. 5:45 pm on the clock in the living room; perfect.

You pull the chicken out, allowing it to rest while you combine the pasta and toss together the salad comprised of veggies you’d picked this morning. You set out the blueberry tarts along with a bowl of roasted hazelnuts, your most overt plea for friendship with Kent as he’d mentioned once how much he enjoyed them.

Once the pasta is dished out, chicken cut into strips and placed neatly on top, you set everything at your dining table and take a step back, leaning in to fix silverware placements and adjust the flower pot in the center of the table. You also grab the boxy bottle of fancy whiskey Pam had gifted you last winter and pour a small amount in each short glass set at the table, leaving it in the middle as you’d surely need seconds to calm your nerves. In fact—

You take a quick sip from the bottle before replacing it on the table, smoothing your sweaty palms over your thin skirt, hem resting above your kneecaps. The alcohol content will clean any germs you leave behind, right? The way your body begins to buzz only a minute later feels like assurance of that.

As you finish cleaning up your kitchen, you hear the door close and look over. Sam has his hands stuffed in his jean jacket, hair pushed up as if he’s been running his fingers through it. Kent is behind him in a light brown corduroy jacket and dark jeans. “Hey!” you greet, hurrying over. “I can grab your jackets.”

“Hey,” Sam smiles, shrugging his off and handing it over while leaning in to give you a quick kiss on the cheek. “Smells good, huh Dad?”

Kent grunts. As you look over at him, he gives one nod as he pulls his own jacket past his broad shoulders and holds it in his hand. You take it from him, turning and standing on your toes, reaching up to hang both on the coat rack by your door. “Thanks for having us.” As you turn, both men’s eyes snap upward to yours, a twisted expression on Kent’s face and a nervous one on Sam’s.

“Of course! Come sit, everything is ready.” You press your lips together, rubbing in the pink gloss placed on them. Your fingers toy with the end of your shirt, glancing down at yourself as you try to pinpoint what they were looking at. Maybe you’d gotten a bit more messy than you thought while cooking.

You allow the men to walk ahead of you and take their places at the rounded table before filling in the empty spot between them. They dig in without hesitation, talking more to one another than to you. Once in a while, Sam will say something to bring you into the conversation like, “Y/n is great at that. Tell him.” It allows you to talk about yourself for a moment, often getting nothing but a nod in response. To be fair, Sam carries the conversation between the two of them as he babbles on, so you try not to take it too personally. The way he speaks without leaving enough pauses between sentences to truly converse reminds you of the way he acted before you started dating. He’d let his racing brain take full control of his mouth and he never shut up until you kissed him. He never shut up until he got comfortable and lost his nerves… It makes you wonder what he might be hiding now. Maybe it’s just the pressure of the night, and he wants it to go well as much as you do.

As you’re finishing up the last of your pasta, you hear Kent say, “Roasted hazelnuts?” Your attention snaps up to him and you nod.

“Yeah! I thought you might enjoy them.”

“I love them.” He grabs a couple and pops them in his mouth, teeth crunching down on them. After he swallows, he says a quiet, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. There’s more where those came from.”

Sam grins, leaning back in his chair. “I told you how caring she is.”

Kent stiffens a bit. “Yeah, you did.” He grabs another handful.

With your last bite of food in your mouth, you stand and clear the plates from the table, setting them in the sink. Sam pours himself and his dad another glass of whiskey while Kent excuses himself to the bathroom. As you scrub at the dishes, Sam stands behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, chin on your shoulder.

“Thanks for making dinner, baby. So good.”

“Thanks Sammy.” You lean your head against his for a moment.

“I like your skirt,” he comments as his hands begin to slide down the fabric covering your thighs. You clench them together, his tone mixed with wandering hands all too familiar.

“We can’t do this right now,” you whisper, barely audible over the sound of running water as you scrub the dish.

“Just a little, baby.” You don’t move. “Please?”

He waits for protests, but receives none. His hands slide back up your thighs, this time pulling your skirt with them. His fingers loop themselves around your panties and pull them down your legs, letting go of you to lean down and grab them as you step out of them. He stays on his knees, spreading your feet apart and coaxing you into a wider stance. You lean over the sink just slightly, your hole exposed and positioned toward your boyfriend. His tongue licks a strip from your clit back to your pussy and you shiver at the contact, the metal of his tongue piercing providing extra sensation you had grown especially fond of.

You try desperately to focus on the dishes, sudsing up the sponge as you press it against each plate and lather it up while Sam rubs his tongue expertly along your clit, a finger snaking into you and curling at your sensitive spot. With great focus, you manage to finish cleaning and washing off each dish while he works on your wet pussy. You throw the sponge in the sink, excited to be able to just grip the counter and enjoy him. Just as you start to give in, the bathroom door opens from the other side of the room and Sam quickly pulls back, fixing your skirt for you before Kent walks out. You turn in time to see Sam tuck your panties in his pocket, unable to protest as his dad sits on your couch only feet away. Sam winks, wiping his mouth with the back of his arm and walking over to join him, whiskey glasses in hand.

You take a breath, reaching over to grab a dishrag and dry off the plates, setting them back in the cupboard one by one. You manage to regain your composure rather quickly; the times you’d spend at Sam’s had trained you to get your fix in where you could but stay on edge with the threat of his mother walking in always looming over the two of you. The dynamic had yielded a… unique sexual relationship between you and Sam. Him having such a high sex drive had you bending to his will, metaphorically and often physically, any time he wanted it without so much as word.

After you put away the dishes, you join the two men on the couch. They’re holding their glasses, yours already refilled and set on the coffee table in front of you. You take it, sitting carefully in the spot between the two of them. Your back is twisted slightly toward Sam and you’re almost positive he saw your ass in the process, still naked from his assault on your clit minutes ago. Stealing a glance, his bottom lip is tucked between his teeth, eyes lingering at the edge of your skirt.

“We’re just talking about how my dad’s been since coming home,” Sam explains, reaching forward to put his palm on your thigh, rubbing his thumb along your skin casually.

“I imagine it’s hard getting back into a routine,” you say as you turn your attention to the gruff man in front of you. You’d noticed Kent’s inconsistent patterns, often coming across him staring out at the river in front of his home in the morning or in the saloon at night.

He nods, eyes trained on the brown liquid in his hands. “You’d be right. I don’t remember having a free moment before I left. Now, I got far too many.”

“I can’t imagine how hard it must be. Now would be a good time to pick up some hobbies,” you offer, though the advice feels a bit shallow considering the magnitude of emotions he must be going through.

“I’ve tried fishing, jogging, drinking… none of it eases my mind like it used to.”

Sam squeezes your leg. “Why don’t you tell him what we do to destress.”

You look back, shooting him a confused glance. Sam twists in his spot, positioning himself to lean against the armrest of the couch, his chest parallel to your back. He places his hands on either side of your waist, pulling you toward him. “Sam,” you snap quietly behind you, but he doesn’t stop until you’re sat on his lap, your legs stretched along the couch toward Kent. As much as you want to tuck yourself in, you fear doing so would expose too much skin to your boyfriend’s father.

“Tell him how you deal with stress,” Sam repeats in your ear.

Your mind spins with Sam’s affection in front of his father; you’d never dream of sitting on his lap as you share a couch with his parent. Still, you wrack your brain for answers. “Visiting the beach, walking in Cindersap forest or the mountains… the spa is always nice after a long day.”

Sam chuckles lowly. “Remember what we did last time we went there?”

You laugh nervously, patting his knee. “Yep. What else…”

Sam presses a kiss to your neck, lips still curled into a smile as he reminisces in your late night escapade in the steamy pool last winter. You’re frozen, unable to pull your gaze from Kent, his eyes intently looking over you. Your face is surely bright red now, unsure how to process anything going on at the moment.

“That night is more along the lines of what I was thinking, baby,” Sam admits, hot breath on your neck. “My dad and I were talking about how I manage stress, and… well, I told him.”

“You told him?” you repeat in a quiet voice, quirking an eyebrow upward.

He nods. “I told him about our arrangement.”

“What arrangement?” Your tone is harsher now; surely he isn’t saying what you think he’s saying.

Sam moves his hand from your waist down to your inner thigh, pressing it hard enough to part your legs despite your physical resistance. His fingertips glide over your clit, still wet from your previous encounter, the obscene sound filling the room much to your embarrassment. Kent has a straight view to his son’s hand working you.

“The one where I have free will with your body… any time, any place, any way I want it…”

“Sam,” you hiss, squeezing your thighs together around his hand.

“Y/n,” he replies, matching your tone mockingly. He hastily pushes your thighs back apart as if annoyed at the inconvenience you’d caused by closing your legs. “I’ve been talking you up to my dad for weeks. I told him how much it’s helped me. I think it could help him too.”

Your mind is swirling. You can’t get the fact that Kent can see straight up your skirt as his son touches you out of your head. The way his eyes won’t leave you makes your skin burn. The knowledge that your boyfriend has fully divulged your sex life to his dad over the course of the month is too much to process in the moment. “What are you suggesting?”

He breathes in deep, nose pressed to your hair. “I’m suggesting… my dad can make the same arrangement with you… the only stipulation being my approval.”

You look between Sam, trying to appear confident and powerful with his nerves seeping through the cracks of his facade, to Kent who can hardly bear to make eye contact. “You have a wife!”

Sam scoffs. “You think she has enough time left in her day to let him free use her like you let me?”

“But you love her.” You’re trying to appeal to Kent’s soft spot, if he has one.

“I do,” he agrees, finally speaking up. “But this isn’t a problem she’s equipped to fix. Because I love her, she can’t help me.” You shake your head, beckoning him for clarification. “I can’t…”

“Use her,” Sam finishes his thought, finger flicking at your clit as the words leave his mouth.

“Can’t use her,” Kent confirms. “Sam says that’s your area of expertise.”

He hums. “And you can keep a secret, can’t ya?” Sam reaches around, pulling the neck of your shirt down along with your bra as he exposes one of your breasts. He toys with your nipple as the pad of his finger strokes your slit, messy sounds emanating from it despite your conflicted feelings. “Baby,” Sam coos gently against your ear. “You need to turn your brain off. It’s not doing you any good.”

A part of you wants to fight him. This is a weird situation and you’d be right to kick them both out right now. At the same time, a more submissive version of yourself is clouding your judgment. Sam tends to flip a switch in your brain; it’s like your body is physically attuned to what he needs, and it’s your mission to deliver it to him no matter what. You’d spent a large portion of your relationship doing anything he could ask, so much so that it had become the expectation that you would let him take you in whatever way he needed and you would allow it with a smile. And every time before this, you had done that.

He begins to leave kisses down your neck, nipping at your ear. His hands sneak around your ass, managing to unbutton his jeans and pull them down his thighs just enough to retrieve his hard cock. He strokes it, the feel of the soft, hot skin meeting your back with every thrust against his palm. Sam finally lifts you up, setting your hole just above his entrance. Slowly, he lets you down until your ass is back in his lap, cock now nestled deep inside you. Your head rolls back, falling onto his shoulder as you moan, your walls stretching to take in his cock. His tip almost immediately finds the spongy spot inside you that seems to short-circuit you. That special part of your brain reserved for Sam is taking over. You watch Kent through droopy lids as Sam manages small thrusts into you, him studying your body intently.

“Look at her,” the blond chuckles. “She just melts around a good dick.” He presses his cheek against your hair once more. “So what do you say, baby? I just need one little ‘yes.’”

You study the man before you. Kent looks so much like Sam but more mature, chiseled. If that’s what waits for you in your future with his son, you would happily accept it. His broad shoulders on display as he leans back against the couch, arm stretched over the top, fingers twitching like he’s fighting himself from touching you. His legs spread open, you can’t help but look at his groin and view the tented fabric there, your legs squirming as you do, heels dragging across the cushion separating you from him as you bring your knees toward yourself.

Your voice feels like it will surely get caught in your throat, but you squeak out the word anyway. “Yes.”

You can practically feel Sam’s lips twist up into a smirk and he looks over at Kent whose eyebrow is quirked upward, a small smile on his face too. He slowly lifts his arm, reaching forward to place his palm on your shin and rub it soothingly.

“Good girl,” Sam purrs. He pats the side of your ass, helping you off him. His cock slides out with a quiet pop as you lean forward, pulling your legs back toward you to fold them beneath you as you move off Sam’s lap and wait for further instruction. “She’s all yours,” Sam says to his father.

Kent reaches over, running his fingers over your side as he takes on his role. “On your knees.” His voice is quiet but strong, though the intonation of his words is less confident than you’d expect. You do as he says, never one to make a man wait.

You look up at him through your eyelashes, hands on his knees as your legs fold below you on the floor. His expression is stoic as always, and you can’t read him no matter how hard you try. Sam is easy— his lip is always between his teeth when you’re in this position with him, hand roaming through your hair as he waits for your hot mouth to please him. Kent hasn’t moved an inch.

You glance nervously between father and son, and Sam is the one to give you an encouraging nod. “Help him get his cock out, baby.”

You slowly reach forward, toying with the metallic button on his jeans. You take your time, giving him the opportunity to stop you but of course he doesn’t, only focusing intently on you. You pull the zipper down and he finally moves, helping you tug his jeans down his legs and discarding them on the ground off to the side of the couch. All that’s left is the thin fabric of the tight black boxer briefs he sports.

His jeans, made of thick denim, had given you a hint as to how he may have been feeling, but with less fabric, it’s evident. You can see the shape of his twitchy cock so clearly now that you could trace the outline of him from his pelvis down to his upper thigh; and you do. He breathes in sharply at first contact, fingertips once again shaking at his sides like he wants to grab you and take control. Sam has never shown restraint like that, always handsy.

The younger man snaps his fingers from the other side of the couch and you pull yourself out of your thoughts, running your hand down Kent’s toned stomach and underneath his boxers. You hold the thick length in your hand, hardly able to get your fingers all the way around it. Admittedly eager, you free it from the constraints of his underwear and sit back on your heels to admire the way it throbs and bounces against the brown hair sprinkling his stomach.

Kent questions, voice low, “Too big?” You shake your head hesitantly. “Good. Show me you can take it.”

Kent grabs his length and holds it toward your mouth, seemingly having found some confidence. You lean forward, sucking on the tip, only able to put as much of him in your mouth as he allows with his hand blocking access to much of his length. Your tongue swirls around the big head, greedily swallowing the precum that rested there moments ago. It’s salty but subtle, only a teaser of what he has to offer if you can satisfy him. Gradually, he moves his hand further down his length and you take more and more in, lips smacking against the side of his palm with each head bob. “You’re teasing,” Sam tsks, directed at Kent. “She’s used to having dick down her throat.”

“‘Cause you can’t last long ‘nough to do this?” he replies, not even gracing Sam with a glance over.

You look at him in your peripheral, propped up on the couch with one leg bent, his hand stroking slowly at his own cock pulled out from the waistband of his boxers as he watches you. His eyes roll in silent response to his father.

Kent asks you, “That true? Just want it down your throat?”

You nod around him, humming in agreement and sending a wave of pleasure through his cock. He concedes, removing his hand and tangling it into the hair on the back of your head. Without warning, he shoves you down and helps you meet the skin of his pelvis with a sharp thrust of his hips. You gag at the sudden intrusion, but you can also feel your slick begin to drip down to your inner thighs.

“She can take it,” Sam reassures him. “Do it again.”

Kent does. Once, then another, until he’s throat fucking you and all you can do is keep your mouth open and let him abuse it. Your drool is spilling down his thick cock, and by the time he finally pulls out, a long strand of spit keeps you connected to his tip. You’re still slack jawed from the force of it, drool running from your mouth to your chin as you catch your breath. “No complains?” Kent questions, leaning forward to run his thumb over your wet face and gather more lubrication.

“No,” you manage to get out.

“Good girl.” He motions for you to get back on the couch, helping you kneel in the spot between him and Sam. “Been too long since I got to use a sweet li’l mouth.” Kent rests a hand on the nape of your neck, bringing you back to his groin. You lick along the underside of it as it rests against his stomach while he reaches back, running his middle finger along your spread slit. A low groan comes from between his barely-parted lips. “You really fuckin’ like this, huh?”

You take him in your mouth, in no rush as you bring his tip to the back of your throat while using your tongue to tease over the throbbing vein running along the underside of his length . As he continues to run his digits over your core, you set an even pace on his dick.

You can’t help the moans and whimpers escaping your throat as Kent’s fingers glide effortlessly around your clit, and you can tell by the way his muscles constrict that he can feel it reverberate around his cock. A thick finger slips into your cunt and despite the quick fuck Sam had provided you just a few minutes ago, Kent grunts at how your walls suck his digit in and collapse around it. “She ever taken a cock this big before?” he asks Sam.

“She’s taken mine.”

Kent uses his free hand to brush your hair over your shoulder, exposing the side of your face to him as you suck on his cock. “Nev’r had such a thick cock before, huh, doll?”

You know you’ll upset one of the men no matter how you answer, so you just look up at Kent the best you can and give him a good view of his dick sliding up and down your tongue. Your foot, pressed against Sam’s leg, wiggles just enough to let him know you haven’t forgotten him. He grabs it and gives it a quick squeeze. You can feel the wet of his precum mixed with the slick of your pussy left behind on his member coating his hand as he does so.

“Her cunt takes it better if you make her cum first,” Sam says.

“She’ll take it fine long as she’s horny,” Kent argues. “‘Nd she is.”

“Which one of us has fucked her?”

“Fine,” Kent says with a roll of his eyes. “We’ll do it your way. But next time, I’m doing it mine.”

Next time.

Before you can ruminate too much on the statement, Kent adds another finger to your slick cunt and begins fucking in and out of you faster. His thumb reaches around to continue attacking your clit with harsh circles. Sam’s hands join in, groping at your thighs and hips, squeezing and stretching your delicate skin.

You find yourself getting distracted with all the sensations, mouth hanging open. Kent’s cock twitches and it falls from between your lips, slapping his stomach before bouncing back up to idle in the air, pumping blood keeping it at attention. His free hand grips at your jaw, forcing your mouth open and he shoves himself back inside, holding you to the base of his length. “I know you got better manners ‘n that.”

Sam’s palm makes sharp contact with your ass. “Apologize.” As soon as Kent releases you from his cock, you choke out an apology, trying to catch your breath and soothe your gag reflex all at once. He strokes your cheek with his thumb, directing you back to his cock with a gentler touch.

Kent’s fingers, thicker and rougher than Sam’s, stretch at your tight walls. His thumb, though a secondary concern to the digits pumping in and out of you, is still quite skilled. He catches the right spots of the sensitive nub, applying enough pressure to have you rolling your hips in time. As your moans grow louder around his cock, he picks up his intensity.

“You have to ask before you cum?” Kent inquires.

You pull off his cock to answer, holding it to your lips as you stroke the hot, thick flesh in your hand. “If Daddy says so.”

“‘Daddy,’” he repeats. You don’t need to look up at him to know he’s smirking over at Sam. Your cheeks flush red, mouth returning to work.

“She calls me that sometimes,” Sam says. You wonder if he looks as embarrassed as you imagine him to be. He clearly didn’t think that part important enough to divulge earlier.

“You already like fuckin’ daddies, huh, darlin’?” You nod hesitantly, still refusing eye contact. “Let’s see how ya like the real thing. Gotta cum first.”

You prepare for the finger fucking to speed up, but instead, Kent pulls out. Your eyes quickly snap up to his while his hands grab your sides, helping you to your knees to straddle his lap. Kent bunches the fabric of your skirt up around your stomach before pulling your shirt over your head. He makes quick work of your bra, unhooking it with ease and tossing it away. His eyes are locked on your breasts in front of his face, nipples hardened as they’re exposed to the cool air.

“Isn’t she pretty,” Sam coos. You look over at him still palming his cock at the other end of the couch. “Lips all red and puffy and used.” He’s turning himself on as he takes in the sight of you and your instinct is to reach over and help him, but Kent seems intent on having you to himself right now. His cock has nestled its way between your swollen pussy lips, dripping in your spit and the wet leaking from your cunt. He humps against you, his shaft running along your pussy and his tip snagging your hole just enough to make you jump, the threat of his length entering you present each time he repeats the motion.

“Gotta ask before you cum on Daddy’s dick,” he instructs over your whimpers. Kents lips wrap around your nipple, teeth giving it little nips as he sucks it into his mouth. If not for his forearms on your back, hands curled over your shoulders to keep you down on his throbbing length, you’d have collapsed as the knot in your stomach grows unbearably tight, head foggy with lust. You can’t believe you’re grinding on your boyfriend’s dad’s cock in front of him, but even more, you can’t believe how much you’re enjoying it.

“Gonna cum,” you cry out, head rolling as your back arches, tits pushed further into Kent’s face. He gives your nipple a quick bite.

“Ask.”

“Please!”

He scoffs, not letting up on his thrusts against you. “Try again.”

“Please let me cum,” you whimper, fingernails digging into Kent’s thighs below you, eyelids sealed tight as you try to hold back your orgasm.

“Haven’t taught her any manners?” Kent directs at Sam.

The younger blond narrows his eyes at you, and you meet his gaze through hooded lids. Your lips are parted, sucking in shallow breaths as your hips buck involuntarily with the stimulation to your core. “Don’t fucking embarrass me,” he hisses. “Ask Daddy if you can cum.” Your brows furrow. He nods pointedly to Kent, as if to clarify which of your daddies he’s talking about. “Look at ‘im.”

Your eyes latch onto the older man’s beneath you. His hips snap to yours a little harsher now. “Daddy,” you breathe, and a smirk tugs at the corner of his lip, spurring you on. “Please, Daddy, let me cum. Feels so good! Please!”

The way Kent pushes down on your shoulders has your pussy pressed down on his dick moving between your sweet lips, and with a little upward movement from the man’s hips, his fat leaky tip fits snugly into your hole, plugging you and teasing you just enough that you feel the knot in your stomach tighten one final time before promptly beginning to undo itself. You look frantically at the rugged blond, and thank Yoba he gives you permission as a moan fights its way from your throat. “C’mon, baby girl. Let go.”

His hands move to your hair cascading down your back, tugging on it and lifting your chin upward. He continues to thrust, maintaining the angle to keep his tip inside your spasming hole without entering any further. You feel the duality of being empty whilst having the sting of his fat head stretching your opening and all you want is for him to shove inside you and fuck you through your orgasm. Kent clearly knows it from the look on your face and the way your hips move on top of him, but he doesn’t allow you to take what you need from him. His tongue flicks your other nipple as you ride it out, your fingers finding their way into the hair at the back of his head and tugging gently at the dirty blond strands.

You finally drop down, burrowing your face in his neck. He smells like expensive cologne and whiskey, a hint of smokiness you can’t place marrying the two distinctive scents. Before you can relax, Kent finally angles his hips further down, just enough to push his heavy dick inside you. His hips meet yours as he bottoms out. Despite your orgasm and the abundance of wet between your thighs and coating Kent’s dick, the stretch still shocks a gasp out from between your lips. He holds you there for a moment, allowing just a second to adjust before pulling most of his length out and bullying it back in.

Each rough thrust earns a breathy moan until he sets a lazy pace, rolling his hips with every meet of your hips. The motion directs the head of his cock into your g-spot and you feel so full, so good. Kent wraps his hand lightly around your neck, squeezing just enough to increase your lightheadedness and pull you closer to him. Your eyes meet, faces only inches away. He licks his lips hungrily before leaning forward and pressing them to your swollen ones. It’s slow at first, trying to pick up one another’s rhythm. Your tongue grazes his bottom lip and he quickly opens his mouth to you, shoving his own past your lips. His hands grow grabby, fingers burying into the fat of your ass to help you meet his deep thrusts.

Kent has managed to maintain a rather stoic, dominant appearance thus far, but the mask begins to slip. He groans into your mouth, chest heaving under your palms, maneuvering your body to get himself off. As he pulls back to catch his breath, you whine, “Feels so good, Daddy.”

“Yeah, baby girl,” he agrees, stroking your cheek with his thumb. Glancing over, you notice Sam’s hard expression, clearly not having enjoyed watching the two of you make out the way you’d enjoyed doing it. Kent follows your gaze. “Think your boyfriend is jealous.”

“I think so too.” You stick your bottom lip out, looking at the younger blond through your lashes as his dad fucks your slick cunt. “What’s wrong, Sammy?” The look on his face tells you that you’ll have a punishment to face after this is over. Being patronized in front of others never sits well with him, and his father is far from an exception in any scenario.

Kent pats your hip. “How ‘bout you kneel down and give him some attention.”

You slowly climb off his length, the void of his cock from your pussy almost paining you as you’d been well on your way to your next orgasm. Kent directs you to the middle cushion of the couch, your face at Sam’s crotch. At some point, he’d stopped playing with his cock and when you pull it back out from his boxers, it’s only half erect. With Sam, it never takes much to get the blood flowing to his dick and you love running your fingers over the silky length, watching it begin to throb and grow with minimal contact. Precum begins to pool in the tip again, leaking out onto his stomach as he gets hard and creating little strings of fluid connecting his cock head to his abdomen as his cock throbs in front of you. You feel the couch dip behind you, Kent kneeling as he positions his cock at your hole and reenters, filling you so good.

You take Sam’s cock in your hand, swirling his red tip around your tongue. You love to run it along the ridge of the underside of his head, Sam always so sensitive and responsive there. He lets out a deep breath, hand resting instinctively on the back of your head. You take your que, opening your mouth and letting his dick enter as Kent begins toying with your clit.

You’re not sure if it’s on purpose, but Sam and Kent set near identical paces on each hole. You feel so stuffed with Kent’s fat cock filling all the space in your pussy, walls clenching desperately around him each time he forces his way in, while Sam’s long dick reaches the back of your throat and forces drool to spill from your lips and down his shaft as he pushes your head down. His free hand grips at your neck; he loves to feel the head of his dick through your skin as he fights to get himself all the way into your mouth. The constant push and pull has you taking the full length of both cocks, no other option left with the men on either side of you both looking to bottom out inside you with each thrust. Fully used for their pleasure, and you love it as much as they seem to.

Deepthroating Sam for so long has his cock twitching wildly, raspy moans coming out with no control. “Gonna make your Daddy cum, baby,” he whines. He secures you by your hair, thrusts growing deeper and slower until he’s holding himself in your mouth with shallow little bucks of his hips. Your tongue licks the underside of his cock as you wait for the thick white strands to shoot down your throat. As he releases, he whimpers your name. It’s a sound that always brings you to the edge and tonight is no exception, cunt clenching around the cock inside it as you swallow up Sam’s cum, pulling off with a smile and a lick of your lips.

“So good, baby. C’mere.” Sam tilts your head upward as you lift yourself onto your palms, accepting his kisses while his father continues to fuck you. One hand rubs at your clit still while the other gropes at your waist, pulling you back onto him with each thrust. “Getting close?” Sam knows you so well, he can pick up on these things just by the sounds you make. You nod fervently. Kent grabs your tit, pushing your torso up quickly so your back hits his chest. He continues to pound you as his fingers toy with your clit and one of your nipples, fully on display for Sam. He climbs to his knees, running a thumb over your cheek so sweet while he studies your face twisting in pleasure, so close to your peak. The way Kent gropes you, you think he may be getting close too. “Don’t finish in her,” Sam says, receiving an irritated grunt from Kent.

“That’s her call.”

Sam gives you a pointed look. You know you should agree with him, but you’re not one to say no, especially when you’re this close to cumming and the last thing you want is to clench around nothing as you hit your peak. You skirt around giving a straight answer. “Whatever Daddy wants.”

Sam glares over your shoulder and you’re sure Kent is returning the gesture as he begins to fuck meanly into your cunt. He leans his chin on your shoulder, whispering, “Cum for Daddy.” It only takes moments before you can follow his order, your hands clinging to Sam as you bury your face against his neck, unable to hold back loud, high-pitched moans. Sam holds you, running fingers through your hair as you’re fucked through your second orgasm. As you begin to come down, Kent delivers a few quick thrusts, hands tight on your hips as he bottoms out in you. A spurt of cum coats your cervix and you think he’s ignored Sam’s ask until he suddenly pulls out and sprays the rest of his load over your puffy wet lips. Sam seems to think he’s won, still not happy with the location of Kent’s cum but willing to accept it over a creampie. You stay quiet, sneaking a glance back at Kent as he strokes the last of his cum out of his cock, who gives you a subtle wink as he acknowledges his secret slight to Sam. The sound of his hand rubbing over his sticky cock fills the room, growing quiet as he finishes and collapses back to the couch. Sam dismisses you to the bathroom to get cleaned up.

When you return, still feeling the squish of Kent’s cum threatening to spill out of your pussy, the men are fully clothed. You grab your shirt from the floor, throwing it on without your bra. Sam begrudgingly hands over your panties he’d taken earlier and you slide those on, readjusting your skirt and joining the two on the couch. “So…” you say, “do you feel better?”

Kent chuckles, placing his hand on your bare knee. “I do. Sam was right about you.”

The younger man slings his arm over your shoulders, pulling you close and pressing a wet kiss to your cheek. “Don’t get used to it. I have first dibs.”

“You don’t mind sharing,” Kent says.

Sam grunts. “Actually, I think that’s the last time I do anything nice.”

“Really? I liked being nice,” you smile innocently.

“You won’t like it later tonight,” he assures, confirming your theory of an impending punishment. “I’m going to clean up. You should probably get going, Dad. It’s getting late and Yoba knows Mom will freak out if you’re not home after Vincent goes to bed.”

Sam heads off to the bathroom, leaving you two alone as Kent pulls on his jacket near the front door. “That was… really nice,” he reiterates as you walk toward him to see him off. “Thank you. I hope you enjoyed yourself.”

“I did,” you blush.

“I mean what I said earlier.” You rack your brain, the recent events all blurring together right now. He leans in closer, voice dropping to that familiar tone that stirs something in your stomach. “Next time, you’re not cumming until my cock is in you. I don’t care if you take it better. It’s a waste to be doing that when I’m not inside you to fuck you dumb.” You bite your lip, looking up at him as you fidget with your fingers. “And next time, I’m not pulling out.” The sink in the bathroom begins to run, alerting the two of you to the closing gap of time you have alone. Kent leans in, stealing a long kiss that has you moving closer, not wanting to break away. He grins down at you, clearly satisfied with the way he’s able to lure you in now. “Thanks again, darlin’. See you soon.”

[witchcraftingboop]

So my goal when setting up my apt was to keep the "visible upon entry" areas dark and obviously a fair bit gothic and then have my bedroom be a pastel vibrant pit of comfort and niche whimsies. The main area, and the largest, is my living room, and it's been lightened up a fair bit by shelving my altars again and given more of a studious, mildly dark aesthetic look. But my bedroom is very quickly progressing towards the cozy pastel whiplash room I'd imagined. We're definitely slowly getting there (the main hold up is the fact that if I replace my ancient dresser, then I have to carry it out to the dumpsters, and I really do not want to do that), but so far it's endlessly satisfying to lounge around in my pink satin night gowns and fluffy bunny slippers in a mostly-pastel room and then slink onto my plum couch to make some tea by cat-skull-candlelight. I truly cannot wait to finish decorating both rooms

[luckyartdrawer]

I'm messing around with Magma for the first time. I wanted to have an idea of how it works before trying any public art jams.

Take my first little test drawings and hold them gently, I will not be responsible if they bite though.

Any advice on how Magma etiquette works would be appreciated! I'm gonna look up some stuff myself, but hearing others experiences is always nice. :3

vvvv Moon close up vvvv

I've been seeing a lot of drawings where the crescent side is more like a mask while the left is more malleable and decided to give that design a lil try. :3

[kaikamahine]

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[faaun]

a while ago i accidentally bent a g.pangolin electrode (those things are made of gold) the world was covered in conductive gel time is passing unreal lvls of quick they know my heart is yours