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ilovemilestellersmoustache · 1 month ago

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I Bet You Think About Me Part 2

Braden Schneider x Reader x Matt Rempe

WC: 5K

Summary: We receive the love we think we deserve, too bad Matt doesn’t know that

A/N: THIS IS PART TWO OF THIS ANGST FIC

The air in Matt Rempe’s apartment was filled with the scent of garlic and simmering tomatoes as Y/N stirred the pasta sauce on the stove. A soft laugh escaped her lips as Matt tried, and failed, to flip a piece of dough in the air like a professional chef.

“You’re gonna hurt someone with that,” she teased, watching as the dough flopped onto the countertop.

Matt grinned sheepishly, his tall frame hunched over the counter as he tried to salvage the mess he’d made. “Guess I should stick to hockey.”

“Maybe,” Y/N laughed. “But hey, points for effort.”

It had started out as a simple evening. After

A stressful media day, Y/N hadn’t wanted to be alone. Matt, always the easygoing one, had offered to cook dinner, promising to make her laugh and distract her from the emotional weight of the day. And he had. His humor, his lightness—it was a refreshing change from the intensity she had always felt around Braden.

But as the night wore on, something between them shifted. It wasn’t just about pasta anymore. As they ate and shared a bottle of wine, sitting on the couch watching old movies, Y/N began to notice the way Matt looked at her, the way his hand lingered just a little too long on her knee when he laughed, the way her pulse quickened whenever their shoulders brushed. She had never thought of him like this before. Matt had always been the friend, the easygoing guy who could make her laugh. But tonight felt different—more charged.

She wasn’t sure if it was the wine, or maybe the emotional high from finally standing her ground with Braden, but the moment Matt leaned in to kiss her, she didn’t hesitate. His lips were soft, careful at first, as if he were testing the waters. But when she didn’t pull away, the kiss deepened, their bodies gravitating toward each other with an intensity that surprised them both.

Y/N’s hands found the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer as the kiss grew more urgent. The taste of wine lingered on their tongues, and the world outside seemed to disappear. All that mattered in that moment was the heat between them, the way Matt’s hands explored her back, the way her fingers curled into his hair.

They broke apart only long enough for Matt to pull his shirt over his head, revealing the sculpted muscles beneath. Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. She had seen Matt shirtless before—after all, they were friends, and he was a hockey player—but this time, it felt different. Intimate.

Her heart pounded as his hands found the hem of her shirt, lifting it gently over her head and tossing it aside. She felt exposed, but not in a bad way. There was a tenderness in Matt’s eyes, a warmth that made her feel safe. This wasn’t about rushing into anything. This was about being in the moment, feeling connected to someone who cared about her, someone who didn’t make her feel like she had to be anything other than herself.

Their kisses grew hungrier as they collapsed onto the couch, limbs tangled together in a mix of passion and laughter. Y/N’s skin tingled where Matt’s fingers grazed her, and she found herself lost in the sensation, in the way he made her feel like the only person in the world. It had been so long since she had felt this kind of closeness with someone—without the weight of expectations, without the fear of being hurt.

Just as they were teetering on the edge of something deeper, something more, the doorbell rang, cutting through the haze of their shared moment.

Matt froze, his forehead pressed against hers as they both caught their breath. “Who the hell…?” he muttered, his voice thick with frustration.

“I don’t know,” Y/N whispered, her heart still racing.

The doorbell rang again, more insistent this time.

Matt sat up, running a hand through his tousled hair. “I’ll get it. Don’t move,” he said, his tone playful but strained.

He quickly grabbed a shirt from the floor and threw it on before heading to the door. Y/N adjusted her position on the couch, her fingers nervously tugging at the blanket as she tried to calm her racing heart. She didn’t know who would be at the door at this hour, but whoever it was, they had the worst timing in the world.

Matt opened the door, and the color drained from his face.

“Braden,” he said, his voice laced with surprise and tension.

Braden Schneider stood in the doorway, his expression unreadable for a moment. But as his eyes flicked from Matt’s disheveled appearance to Y/N, who was half-covered on the couch with her shirt missing, realization hit him like a ton of bricks.

“Are you kidding me?” Braden’s voice was low, simmering with barely controlled rage.

Y/N’s heart sank. She scrambled to grab her shirt from the floor, hastily pulling it over her head as she stood up. “Braden, this isn’t—”

“Save it,” he snapped, his fists clenched at his sides as he glared at Matt. “I came here to apologize, to try and fix things between us, and this is what I walk into?”

Matt stepped forward, his voice calm but firm. “Braden, you need to chill. This isn’t what you think.”

Braden let out a bitter laugh, his eyes blazing. “Oh, it’s not? Because it sure as hell looks like you were about to screw my ex-girlfriend, man.”

Y/N winced at the harshness of his words, but she forced herself to stay composed. “Braden, we broke up months ago. You don’t get to come in here and act like this.”

His gaze snapped to her, the hurt in his eyes barely masked by the anger. “So that’s it? You’re just gonna move on with him?”

Y/N crossed her arms, fighting to keep her voice steady. “You broke up with me, Braden. You don’t get to be angry now just because I’m not sitting around waiting for you.”

Braden took a step closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “I made a mistake. I know that now. But this—this isn’t right.”

Matt moved between them, his expression hardening. “Braden, back off. You don’t get to come here and start a fight because you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” Braden spat, though the fury in his eyes told a different story. “I’m just—this is messed up, Matt. We’re supposed to be friends.”

“And we are,” Matt said, his voice steady but firm. “But you don’t get to control what happens with Y/N. You made your choice.”

Braden’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, it looked like he might throw a punch. But then his shoulders slumped, and the anger seemed to drain out of him, replaced by something else—something broken.

“I loved you,” he whispered, his eyes locking onto Y/N’s.

Her breath caught in her throat. “I know.”

Braden’s voice cracked. “I didn’t know how to handle it. I didn’t know what to do with everything I was feeling. But I can’t stand this. Seeing you with him—”

“Braden, it’s not about you anymore,” Y/N said softly, her heart aching for him, but knowing that there was no going back. “We’re over. You have to let me go.”

For a long moment, Braden just stood there, staring at her as if trying to find the words that would fix everything. But there were no words. There was no fixing this.

Finally, he turned away, his voice hollow as he muttered, “I’m sorry.”

And then he was gone, the door closing softly behind him, leaving Y/N and Matt standing in the aftermath of a storm neither of them had been prepared for.

Matt turned to her, his expression uncertain. “You okay?”

Y/N nodded, though her heart felt heavy. “Yeah,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I will be.”

Matt could feel the tension building long before they even arrived at the arena. The silence in the car, while comfortable, carried an unspoken weight. Y/N had reassured him over breakfast that morning that they’d be fine, that what happened between them last night didn’t need to be complicated by what others thought, especially Braden. But as they pulled into the parking lot, the reality of it settled in Matt’s gut like a stone.

The moment they stepped out of the truck, eyes followed them. He noticed it right away—the way some of the guys paused in their conversations, how the trainers glanced over as they walked past. The easy, familiar camaraderie that normally greeted Matt on his way into the locker room felt stilted, almost like everyone was holding their breath, waiting to see how this would unfold.

Y/N, for her part, kept her head held high, walking beside him with quiet confidence. She had always been resilient, able to handle the pressure of working in a male-dominated space with grace. But Matt knew this was different. This wasn’t about media work or professionalism. This was about Braden.

He could already feel Braden’s presence before he even saw him. His stomach tightened as they approached the locker room, dread twisting his insides like a knot.

“You okay?” Y/N asked quietly as they neared the door, her hand brushing his arm lightly.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, though his voice sounded strained even to his own ears.

“Matt,” she pressed, stopping just short of the locker room entrance. Her eyes searched his face, soft but serious. “If you’re not okay with this, if you think it’s going to cause too many problems, we can—”

“No,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “It’s not that. I just… I don’t want things to get ugly with Braden.”

Y/N’s expression softened, though there was a flicker of pain in her eyes when he mentioned Braden’s name. “He’ll have to deal with it, Matt. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He nodded, but the knot in his stomach didn’t loosen. She was right, of course. He hadn’t done anything wrong. But guilt still gnawed at the back of his mind—guilt for how things had played out, for the fight he knew was brewing beneath the surface. For how Braden had looked at him last night, betrayed and hurt.

They reached the door to the locker room, and Matt stopped, glancing down at Y/N. The noise of the team inside hummed through the walls, voices laughing, skates clattering against the hard floors. The normal chaos of pre-practice routines. But today, that noise seemed distant, muted by the anticipation of what was about to unfold.

“Good luck today,” Y/N said, her voice soft and warm, pulling Matt from his thoughts. She stepped closer, and before he could react, she leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. It was a simple gesture, but it felt like a declaration, a quiet reassurance that she was with him.

Matt’s heart stuttered in his chest. He heard someone clear their throat behind him, followed by a few muttered comments from the guys. He knew they were watching—he could feel their stares like a weight on his back. But for a moment, all he could focus on was the warmth of Y/N’s lips on his skin, the way her touch seemed to settle something deep inside him, even with all the chaos swirling around them.

“Thanks,” he murmured, his voice barely audible as she pulled away. “I’ll need it.”

She smiled, and for just a moment, the world felt a little less heavy. But as she turned to head down the hallway toward the media offices, the weight of everything came crashing back. Matt took a deep breath and pushed open the locker room door.

Inside, the usual pre-practice buzz hung in the air, but the moment Matt walked in, the atmosphere shifted. Conversations quieted, and a few of the guys exchanged knowing glances. Jacob, always the first to stir the pot, shot Matt a teasing grin.

“Morning, lover boy,” he said, slinging an arm around Matt’s shoulders as he made his way to his locker. “You and Y/N, huh?”

Matt shrugged him off with a roll of his eyes, trying to play it cool, but his heart was pounding. “Shut up, Jacob.”

But it wasn’t Jacob or the other guys’ comments that bothered him. It was Braden, standing at the far end of the room, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. His eyes were locked on Matt, dark and unreadable. The tension between them was almost suffocating, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between them like a cloud.

Braden hadn’t said anything since last night. Not a single word. But the look on his face told Matt everything he needed to know—he was angry. Hurt. And more than that, betrayed.

Matt tried to focus on getting his gear on, going through the motions like it was just another practice. But his hands shook as he tied his skates, and the knot in his stomach only seemed to tighten as time went on. He could feel Braden’s eyes on him the entire time, could practically hear the accusations running through his old friend’s mind.

Braden was like a storm waiting to break, simmering under the surface, and Matt didn’t know when or how it would explode.

The tension in the locker room only grew as more players filed in, the quiet murmurs turning into hushed whispers about Matt and Y/N, the air thick with speculation. Some of the guys kept it light, teasing Matt about the kiss Y/N had given him outside the locker room. But others, especially those closer to Braden, kept their distance, the lines between friendships subtly shifting as the awkwardness settled in.

As Matt stood up to grab his stick, he couldn’t take it anymore. He walked over to Braden, his heart pounding in his chest. He needed to clear the air, to say something, anything, before this exploded into something worse.

“Braden,” he started, his voice low, trying to keep the confrontation private.

Braden’s eyes flicked up, meeting his, cold and unreadable. “What do you want, Matt?”

Matt swallowed hard. “We need to talk about this. About last night.”

Braden let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head as he pushed off the wall. “Talk about what? How you’re screwing Y/N behind my back? How you couldn’t wait to make a move the second I was out of the picture?”

“It’s not like that, man, it’s been months, yu didn’t think she would stay single forver did you?” Matt said, his voice tight. “Besidese we didn’t plan for this to happen. It just… did.”

Braden’s jaw clenched, his fists balled at his sides. “You didn’t plan for it? That’s your excuse?”

“I don’t want this to cause tension with us.” Matt said, desperation creeping into his voice. “But you broke up with her. You walked away.”

“I know I broke up with her,” Braden snapped, his voice rising, drawing the attention of a few nearby teammates. “But that doesn’t mean you get to just swoop in and take her, because you’ve known her since we we’re dating.”

“Nobody’s ‘taking’ her, Braden,” Matt shot back, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “She’s not a prize you can claim. She’s her own person, and she deserves to move on.”

“Move on?” Braden’s voice cracked, and for a moment, the anger gave way to something raw, something broken. “Is that what this is? You’re helping her move on from me?”

Matt faltered, guilt stabbing at his chest. “It’s not like that.”

Braden took a step closer, his voice lowering to a dangerous whisper. “You were supposed to be my friend.”

Matt’s heart sank. “I still am.”

Braden��s eyes hardened, the anger flickering back. “Not anymore.”

The words hit Matt harder than he expected, cutting deep into the guilt he’d been carrying since last night. He watched as Braden turned away, heading toward his gear with stiff, angry movements, shutting down any further attempt at conversation.

Matt stood there, feeling the weight of the team’s eyes on him, the silence in the room heavy with the tension that had been building for weeks, months even. He knew that what had happened between him and Y/N was going to change things, not just with Braden but with the entire team.

As the guys shuffled around, awkwardly avoiding eye contact, Matt felt a bitter truth settle in his chest: things were never going to be the same again.

And the worst part? He wasn’t sure if it was worth it.

Matt couldn’t shake the weight that had settled in his chest, dragging him down all day. Even during practice, his mind wasn’t on the ice where it should have been. The drills felt mechanical, his movements hollow. Braden’s words had cut deeper than he’d let on in the locker room, and now, as he skated across the rink, his mind was miles away.

Braden’s glare had followed him through every drill, and while Braden never outright said anything after their confrontation, his silence spoke volumes. The rest of the team picked up on it too—guys who were usually cracking jokes around Matt were quiet, their glances nervous, as if unsure where their loyalties lay. Matt had always been one of the guys, but today he felt like he was standing on a frozen lake with cracks forming under his skates.

He wasn’t sure how much longer he could ignore the cracks.

By the time practice ended, Matt was exhausted, not just physically but mentally. Every time he tried to focus on the game, his mind wandered back to Braden, to Y/N, to the mess that was now his life. The weight of it all pressed down on him, making it hard to breathe. He couldn’t even muster the energy to joke around in the locker room like he usually did. Instead, he showered in silence and headed out without saying much to anyone.

He needed space. He needed to think.

Y/N was waiting for him near the media room when he walked out of the locker room. She was sitting on a bench, her phone in hand, scrolling through something. When she looked up and saw him, her face lit up with a soft smile, the kind that usually made his heart race. But today, it only made the knot in his stomach tighten.

He approached her slowly, the air between them heavy with unspoken tension.

“Hey,” she said, standing up and sliding her phone into her pocket. She stepped toward him, reaching for his hand, but Matt hesitated, and she immediately noticed. Her smile faltered. “You okay? You seemed off out there today.”

Matt’s jaw tightened. He could hear the concern in her voice, see it in her eyes. She wasn’t oblivious—she knew something was wrong, but he didn’t know how to start. How to tell her that the weight of everything was pressing down on him so hard, he wasn’t sure he could carry it anymore.

“Matt?” she asked softly, stepping closer, her hand brushing his arm.

He swallowed hard, looking down at her. His heart ached. He had been so sure last night that they could make this work, that what they had was worth the fallout. But now, standing here in the aftermath of Braden’s cold silence and the tension hanging over the team, doubt was creeping in like a shadow he couldn’t shake.

“I don’t know, Y/N,” he said finally, his voice rough. “I don’t know if this is going to work.”

Y/N blinked, her expression falling. “What do you mean?”

Matt rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on him again. “I mean… this. Us. It’s messing with my head, it’s messing with the team, and I can’t…” He paused, his throat tightening as the words he’d been avoiding all day finally spilled out. “I don’t know if I can handle it.”

Y/N’s face paled slightly, her eyes searching his for answers, but Matt couldn’t even meet her gaze. “Matt, what are you saying?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He took a deep breath, trying to find the right words, but they were tangled up in the mess of guilt, anger, and confusion swirling inside him. “It’s just… everything with Braden, with the team. It’s been so tense lately and especially after last night, and it’s not just about him being mad at me. It’s affecting the way we’re all playing together. I can feel it. The guys are different now—like they don’t trust me or something.”

Y/N stepped back slightly, her arms folding across her chest as if trying to protect herself from the sting of his words. “So… what? You’re saying you think being with me is going to ruin your career?”

Matt winced at her tone, at the hurt flashing in her eyes. That wasn’t what he meant, but now that she’d said it out loud, the fear of it settled deep in his gut. Was that what this was? Was he scared that choosing her—choosing this—meant sacrificing the life he’d worked so hard to build?

“I don’t know!” Matt blurted, his frustration boiling over. “I don’t know what this is going to do. All I know is that it’s already messing with my head, and if it’s going to mess with the team, then maybe it’s not—”

“Not what?” Y/N interrupted, her voice sharp. “Not worth it? Is that what you’re trying to say?”

Her words hit him like a punch to the gut, and he immediately regretted how this conversation had spiraled. “That’s not what I’m saying,” he said, his voice low, trying to calm down. But he could see the hurt in her eyes, the way she was already pulling away, and it was killing him. “I just… I don’t know how to do this without losing everything I’ve worked for.”

Y/N’s face hardened, her expression shifting from hurt to something colder, sharper. “You mean your career, right? Hockey. The team. Everything but me.”

Matt’s heart clenched, guilt twisting inside him. He wanted to tell her she was wrong, that she was important to him, that last night had meant something real. But how could he deny that fear that had been gnawing at him since practice? How could he pretend that this wasn’t already affecting his focus, his game?

Y/N shook her head, her voice breaking. “I knew this was going to be complicated, but I thought… I thought we could figure it out. You’re the one who initiated all this with me Matt remember that. You started the laughes, whispers, longing stares… the kisses. You chose this Matt, but I didn’t think I’d have to fight for you when I accepted it.”

Her words stung, but they also hit home. He had wanted to believe they could figure it out too. That maybe, somehow, it would all just work out. But now, standing here in the cold, harsh light of reality, he wasn’t sure anymore.

“I don’t want to lose you,” Matt said quietly, his voice hoarse. “But I don’t know how to fix this.”

Y/N’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as she took a step back, creating more distance between them. “Maybe the problem is you’re not even sure if you want to fix it.”

Matt flinched, the truth in her words hitting him harder than anything Braden had said. He wanted to argue, to tell her she was wrong. But the silence that hung between them said everything he couldn’t.

Y/N took a shaky breath, her voice barely a whisper. “If you’re already having doubts, then maybe we shouldn’t be doing this at all.”

Matt’s chest tightened, panic surging through him. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He didn’t want to push her away, but it felt like that was exactly what he was doing. And the worst part? He didn’t know how to stop.

“I don’t want that,” he said, his voice rough with desperation. “But everything’s falling apart, Y/N. I don’t know how to hold it all together.”

She looked at him for a long moment, the silence stretching between them, heavy and suffocating. Then, with a small, sad smile, she said, “Maybe you can’t.”

And with that, Y/N turned and walked away, leaving Matt standing there, watching as the one thing he had been so sure of the night before slipped through his fingers.

As he watched her disappear down the hallway, Matt realized with a sinking heart that maybe he wasn’t strong enough to have both—the career he’d always dreamed of and the girl who made him feel like he could be more than just a hockey player.

And the worst part? He wasn’t sure if he deserved either one anymore.

Y/N hadn’t spoken to Matt or Braden in weeks. Not a single word, not even a glance in their direction. She kept things professional—strictly business during interviews, maintaining the calm, collected exterior she had built over the years. But underneath that composed surface was a bitterness she couldn’t shake, a sadness that clung to her like a second skin.

The first few days had been unbearable. Every time she saw Matt on the ice or Braden walking by, the memories flooded her—memories of Matt’s touch, Braden’s words, the way everything had unraveled so quickly. But Y/N had forced herself to push it all down, to focus on her work, on being the best reporter she could be. She had to. If she let herself feel any of it, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to keep it together.

At practice, she kept her distance, standing off to the side with her notebook and microphone, making small talk with the other reporters. The guys on the team noticed her silence, the way she avoided Matt’s and Braden’s eyes, but no one said anything. It wasn’t their place to get involved, and Y/N was grateful for that. The last thing she needed was pity or gossip.

Her interviews with Braden were short, her questions crisp and to the point. She never let her emotions slip, never allowed the tension between them to seep into the professional space they now shared. It felt like walking a tightrope, balancing her feelings with the need to maintain a perfect facade. Every time she saw the flicker of guilt or regret in Braden’s eyes, she forced herself to ignore it, to keep her voice steady and her expression neutral.

With Matt, it was even harder. There had been a time when their banter came naturally, when he could make her laugh during interviews, even when she was trying to be serious. But now, the air between them was thick with unspoken words. She would ask her questions, he would answer, and that was it. No lingering eye contact, no soft smiles. Just two people going through the motions.

She thought about their last conversation every day—the way Matt had said he wasn’t sure if being with her was worth the risk, the way she had felt her heart crack as she realized that he wasn’t willing to fight for them. Her anger toward Braden had simmered, but it was Matt’s doubt that had left her feeling hollow. She had been so sure of him, of them, and now it felt like she was grasping at something that had never really been hers to begin with.

One day, after a particularly brutal practice, Y/N found herself in the hallway near the locker rooms, waiting for Matt to finish an interview with another reporter. She watched from a distance, her heart twisting at how tired he looked, the strain clear in the lines of his face. He wasn’t playing like himself lately—everyone on the team had noticed it. He was still good, still Matt, but something was off. She couldn’t help but wonder if it had to do with her, if he was struggling as much as she was to pretend like nothing had happened.

When Matt finished his interview, he glanced her way, his eyes catching hers for the briefest second before she quickly looked away, turning her attention back to her phone. She felt his gaze linger, and for a moment, she thought he might walk over, say something, anything. But he didn’t. He turned and walked down the hall toward the locker room without a word.

The silence between them felt heavier every day. And yet, neither of them seemed to know how to break it.

Braden was no different. Their interactions were purely professional—stilted, formal, devoid of any of the tension that had once simmered between them. But every time she saw him, she was reminded of the hurt he had caused, the way he had torn her apart with his fear and his indecision. He had broken up with her because he hadn’t been able to handle the depth of their connection, and now that it was over, she could see that he regretted it. But it didn’t matter. He had made his choice, and so had she.

Still, there were moments—small, fleeting moments—when Y/N would catch herself watching Matt on the ice, or she would see Braden laughing with the guys and feel a pang of something she didn’t want to admit was longing. She missed them. She missed the way things had been before everything had gotten so complicated.

But every time those feelings surfaced, she buried them deeper, forcing herself to remember that this was for the best. She had told herself that over and over again. Maybe it was better this way, to keep her distance, to focus on her work and leave everything else behind. Maybe she had been foolish to think that she could have it all—her career, her reputation, and a relationship with someone who was tangled up in the same world she was trying to navigate.

And yet, every time she saw Matt or Braden, the doubt crept in. Maybe it wasn’t for the best. Maybe she had given up too soon.

But no matter how much it hurt, Y/N knew that there was no going back now. The walls she had built around herself were too high, and even if either of them tried to break through, she wasn’t sure she’d let them. She had been burned too many times, and the scars were too fresh.

Weeks passed, and the distance between them all only grew. Y/N kept her head down, kept her heart locked away, and did what she did best—pretended like everything was fine. But as the days stretched on, the loneliness gnawed at her, a constant reminder that no matter how hard she tried to separate herself from the pain, it was always there, lurking just beneath the surface.

Because the truth was, no matter how much she tried to convince herself otherwise, she wasn’t sure she could ever truly let go of either of them.

A/N: Comment who you wanna end up with idk who to pick

#braden schneider x reader #connor bedard #connor bedard x reader #jack hughes x reader #quinn hughes x reader #trevor zegras x reader #luke hughes x reader #nhl x reader #braden schneider #matt rempe x reader #matt rempe #new york rangers #nhl imagine #umich hockey #Spotify

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corioswife · 11 months ago

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hey, bestie! I love your writing, it's just a chef kiss mwah! If I can request a fic! Imagine the reader being kinda of a femme fatale, and popular with her peers because of her beauty. -Coriolanus develops a puppy crush on her when he sees her in the halls, but one day the reader notices him, and talks to him, and after that, he's lovestruck and slowly becomes obsessed with her. Leaving cute notes and flowers at her locker and letters. The rest of the story, you can control and write.

The reader is like Jennifer from Jennifer's body but ignore the succubus part.

thank you love, i love this req sm! 🎀 i tried my best to capture everything as my fics aren’t usually too long !! nsfw 18+ skip if uncomfortable

Coriolanus Snow x Femme Fatal!Reader

Coriolanus Snow, the undeniably charming student at Capitol University, couldn't keep his eyes off of you. He was smitten with your beauty and the alluring way you carried yourself, captivating everyone with your grace and presence.

As the days passed, Coriolanus grew bolder and began leaving cute notes and flowers at your locker, hoping to catch your attention. His heart raced every time he thought of you, and he found himself losing focus during classes, consumed by thoughts of you.

One day, you finally notice him. He's sitting alone in the library, head buried in a book, looking oh-so-adorable. You walk up to him, feeling the weight of your beauty and charm, and strike up a conversation.

You engage in a casual conversation with him, unaware of the effect you're having on him. The more you talk, the more infatuated he becomes. His heart races, and he struggles to maintain eye contact as his thoughts wander towards intimate scenarios involving the two of you.

As the conversation continues, You sense something different about Coriolanus. His eyes are brighter, his voice is softer, and he seems a bit flustered. You sense his longing and desire, and a spark of curiosity ignites within you.

You continue to engage with him, teasing and flirting, unaware of the depth of his affection for you. As the conversation deepens, so does his passion, and he finds himself struggling to keep his desires in check.

Coriolanus is on the verge of confessing his feelings for you, but something holds him back. He wants to express his love, but is too shy and self-conscious. He's torn between his desire for you and his fear of rejection.

Unbeknownst to Coriolanus, you start to feel a strange connection with him. His shyness and hesitation only serve to heighten your curiosity about him. As the conversation winds down, you find yourself wanting more from this enigmatic individual who has captured your attention so thoroughly.

As the night comes to a close, Coriolanus finally finds the courage to confess his feelings for you. His voice trembles slightly as he tries to find the words to express himself, but finally, he blurts out, " I'm in love with you. "

You stare at Coriolanus, barely able to believe what you're hearing. You are deeply moved by his honesty and vulnerability, and you find yourself falling for him even deeper.

" I'm falling for you too " you whisper, your heart racing in anticipation of what might come next. As the two of you stand there in the silence of the night, you realize that your lives have just irrevocably changed.

The two of you embrace, your bodies pressing together as you share a tender kiss. You can feel the heat and desire radiating off of him, and you know that this moment will be one you'll cherish forever.

" My room is just upstairs " Coriolanus whispers into your ear. His voice is hoarse with desire, and you can't help but shiver at the thought of what might happen next.

As the two of you make your way upstairs, the anticipation and desire building within you both is almost unbearable. The door to your room closes behind you, and the two of you are finally alone together.

Coriolanus kisses you deeply, his tongue seeking entry into your mouth as his hands roam over your body. Heat surges through you as he pushes you against the door, pinning you there with his strength and desire.

You moan into the kiss, arching your back against him. Your fingers tangle in his hair as you pull him closer, needing more of his touch. The feeling of his skin against yours is electrifying, sending shockwaves of pleasure through every inch of your being.

As if he's reading your mind, Coriolanus's hands begin to explore the most intimate parts of your body. His fingers dance over your sensitive skin, teasing and tantalizing until you're ready to beg for more.

Finally, Coriolanus moves his mouth from your lips to your neck, kissing and nipping at your skin as his fingers continue their journey. You gasp and arch your neck into his mouth, wanting more of his touch. This is a feeling unlike anything you've ever known before.

You gasp as Coriolanus undoes his pants, freeing his aching erection. He positions himself between your legs, his eyes locked onto yours as he slowly positions against your entrance.

" Please " you whisper, your voice trembling with need. " I want you. "

Coriolanus pulls back, only to thrust forcefully inside you, hitting your sweet spot with a force that steals your breath.

His fingers digging into your hips, his mouth trailing kisses down your neck, his hips moving in a punishing rhythm that drives you to the brink.

" Come for me " he demands. Your body shudders, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your name, a moaned plea, falls from his lips as he feels your walls clenching around him.

" Coriolanus... " You whisper his name, your voice hoarse from the intensity of the moment. He groans, his body shuddering as he releases himself into you, filling you completely.

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dellalyra · 2 years ago

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Family Formation

Summary: Satoru shows up with unexpected young companions.

CW: fluff, mentions of childhood neglect, talks of parenthood and motherhood, the TINIEST suggestive mention of a daddy kink at the end but like SO SMALL

A/N: LORD I’ve not written in 3 years but this was like worming away at my brain and I had to get it down, the dynamic of gojo and reader and the fushiguro kids is just like *chefs kiss* to me and tugs at all the right heartstrings. I have a part 2 idea in mind or maybe a mini series of mothering the fushiguros idk idk maybe, this is like Gojo x reader but also these kids NEED LOVE

Part Two

Your boyfriend of 2 years shows up at the doorstep of your shared apartment one day, looking exhausted and sheepish. Behind him - two children, neither older than 8 but looking tired and slightly rough around the edges. The elder, a girl, sags under the weight of whatever invisible burden she carries as she hides slightly behind her younger brother (siblings, you presume). Without saying a word, to the children or Satoru, you user them all inside.

You introduce yourself and find out their names (from the sister, the boy seems shy and on edge) that their names are Tsumiki and Megumi Fushiguro.

You try to not falter at the surname. You take a quick glance up at Satoru, a wordless understanding that these - these two children, young, hurting and innocent and the kids of the man who not only killed your boyfriend in front of you, but who was subsequently killed by him.

Satoru, the embodiment of charisma and a boy who naturally oozes apparent self assurance looks at you with a look you can only describe as uncertainty.

With a smile, you ask the kids if they’d like some juice and a cookie or a snack. You’d grown up with kids, and always dreamed of the day that you and Satoru might welcome your own. Your maternal streak had gotten yourself, Shoko, Geto, Satoru, Nanami and Haibara into a place where Jujutsu High felt less intimidating, with Shoko often laughing you were born ready for motherhood. Satoru had always known this about you, but in this moment - he saw it in the wordless acceptance of these two unsure, unsettled, unnerved children.

You lead the kids to the kitchen and sit them at the table and serve up two small cups of apple juice and come homemade shortcake you had made for Satoru. Telling the kids to enjoy, and make themselves comfy you walk into the hall, grabbing the arm of your boyfriend.

“Satoru, what the fuck is going on? Why are Toji Fushigoru’s children eating cookies in our kitchen?” You shook his shoulders as if trying to get him to understand the gravity of the situation.

“Well, they were in the hall, then you offered them juice and cooki-“ Satoru was cut of by your stern eyes pointing at him, and the cheeky smirk as he tried to avoid the hard conversation was swiped off his face as if you’d washed it with a cloth.

“The boy, Megumi, he’s a Zenin. A Ten Shadows Zenin, Toji sold him to the Zenin Clan.” He knew you’d understand what he was insinuating even with the short version of the story.

You look up into his glacial eyes, the ones that always held joy and mischief, the eyes of the man you fell in love with by the second year of Jujutsu Tech, the eyes that held the power of a god, and all you saw was determination and honesty.

So, you stood tall, and nodded.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay. They can’t go to the Zenin’s. So, let’s get them comfortable.” And with that, you walk into the kitchen and sit at the table.

“So, do you guys know anything about what’s going on?” You asked the kids, trying to gauge what they understood about the situation, despite being 5 minutes involved in it yourself.

They both nodded, the boys eyes flitted between Gojo and you, steely in their suspicion.

“Okay! So, what do you guys have with you? Clothes, toys, toothbrushes, pyjamas?” You asked, with Satoru smiling at your ever present practicality.

“Uhm, I packed us both a spare set of clothes and a toothbrush that we share and we usually just sleep in our clothes, it’s helped save on laundry for me to do.” Tsumiki replied, serious as a 40 year old.

“Have you been doing your laundry and housework, Tsumiki?” You ask, reaching tentatively for the girls small hand. You see her consider whether or not to tell you the truth of how no adult had been caring for them for some time now, and she had been raising them both. Your gentle smile, coaxed her into realising you were a safe space.

“Kinda, I’m sorry we don’t have many things. I had to use our money for the water bills and new shoes for Megumi because he grew out of his last ones.” When she said this, Megumi blushed, as if he was guilty of the sin of growing and costing money.

“Okay, it’s only 2pm so, Satoru, kids, you can leave your backpacks here so go sit in the car, I’m going to get my purse and jacket. We need to shop.” You stood up, orders given like a drill sergeant.

You glance over at your boyfriend, seeing nothing but pure love reflected in his eyes. As Tsumiki took her brother by the hand, and led him to the car. You walked to Satoru.

“Are we doing this?” You asked.

“What? Shopping?” He teased, tiny small on his perfect lips.

“I mean it, ‘toru. This is serious. Are we doing this?” Placing both hands on either side of his face and lifting his glasses to look at him in his eyes.

“This, Toji’s kids, I can’t let them go to the Zenin’s, I know this isn’t what you signed up for - I mean we’re 19 but I have told these kids I’ll look out for them now. I just - they didn’t ask for any of this.” He finishes with a breath, placing his forehead on yours. Tilting your head, you softly slot your lips against his.

“Not you, Satoru. We. We will look out for these kids. If you are doing this, so am I. I’m with you. Through all of it.” As you say this, you kiss the tip of his pretty nose and forehead. You feel him pull you closer in tight embrace into his chest, no more words were necessary between you both. You were his ride or die, his forever. And he was yours, you could ask for the moon and he’d say okay, I’ll be back with the moon in a pretty box for you. Two puzzle pieces perfectly aligned together. Nothing to be shouldered or dealt with alone, but by each others side.

“Thank you. I love you.” Was whispered, in a moment of pure sincerity and vulnerability from the ivory haired owner of your heart.

“Okay, let’s not keep them waiting, we’ve got lots to get. These kids have nothing, so it’s starting from scratch.” You grab his hand and drag him toward the door. As you slip your shoes on, he leans against the doorframe looking between the kids in the car and you.

“So… I guess you won’t be the only one calling me Daddy now - eh” He wiggles his eyebrows at you, as you roll your eyes and huff at him, walking with car keys in hand, but not without a quick smirk and smack on the ass for the menace you call your love.

#gojo satoru #satoru gojo #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo fluff #saturo gojo fluff #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #dad!gojo #jujutsu kaisen megumi #megumi fushiguro #fushiguro tsumiki

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riddley-art · 15 days ago

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"Darling... I thought I'd lost you forever in the fade."

This is, without a doubt, one of the best romance scenes in all of Dragon Age. What makes it so impactful is the decision to rely on silence for a solid moment. There’s no need for excessive dialogue—their emotions are conveyed through subtle body language and lingering glances. It’s all about showing, not telling, and it perfectly captures the vulnerability and longing between the characters.

The beautiful music in the background elevates the entire scene, complementing the tone and atmosphere without overpowering it. The melody feels intimate, almost like it’s wrapping the moment in its warmth, adding depth to the unspoken connection between the two.

What’s truly remarkable is how the scene balances restraint and passion. It doesn’t rush, giving the characters and the audience time to breathe and feel the weight of the moment. This pacing makes the eventual connection between them feel earned and even more powerful. It’s a masterclass in storytelling through visuals, music, and subtle character work. Pure magic—chef’s kiss.

#dragon age emmrich #dragon age the veilguard #emmrich volkarin #dragon age veilguard #dragon age rook #dragon age #datv #vidoe games #veilguard spoilers

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thatone-brightstar · 1 year ago

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Amy's kinktober alphabet blurbs w/ special guest Carmy Berzatto! (3/6)

a/n: I snuck in a bit of fluff in two of these but i had to bc they're pretty adorable. Don't forget to show up in the comments and lmk your favorite! PS. lmk if you wanna be added to the taglist!

Warnings: Minors DNI, p in v unprotected sex (birth control is mentioned), creampie, choking, semi public, oral sex (both f and m recieving), edging, I'll add more as they come up.

I is for: Insubordination.

You yelled at him, not for something he did but for many little things that amounted to the knot in your throat that you couldn’t swallow down any longer. The Bear kitchen staff fell into an eerie silence at the unusual octaves and Carmen only stood perplexed, eyes dead centered on you.

‘Office. Now.’ Is all he gave you, before turning around and stalking into the empty room.

You expected to be yelled at, fired and told how incompetent you were. You expected tears, but for a different reason than for the one they were rolling down right now.

Your throat gagged around the thick shape of his cock as he pushed himself deeper into your mouth and another tear slid past your cheek. Carmen shushed you with a tender hand caressing your moist cheek, down to your plump bottom lip.

‘C’mon baby-fuck- I know your mouth can do more than talk back.’

J is for: Jealousy.

Your nails clung to the edge of the flimsy desk, breathing in short bursts, interrupted by the weight of your thighs that pressed to your chest. Carmy’s panting fueled the growing fire in your cunt and you couldn’t pull away from the fierce look behind his eyes.

The memory of your sweet laugh at that son of a bitch’s joke pushed his thrusts harder into you, making your breast bounce against your shaking legs.

‘Not so funny now, huh?’ He mumbled between breaths, eyes glistening as he leaned down to run his tongue along your salty skin.

K is for: Kisses

Kissing Carmy felt like fireworks. The moment right before they explode, when you hold your breath and wait in wonder for the lights to color the sky. And when they finally do- and the warmth of his lips expands on yours like thousands of shimmering specks- you find yourself at home. Surrounded by the picket fence of lean arms and hands, that hold on to your face as if you held the last breath of air in the world.

L is for: Lipstick.

His head was so full with all the important tasks he had to complete upon opening that he almost didn’t notice it. He stopped dressing abruptly and pulled out the one arm from his chef’s whites to inspect them properly. A soft blow through his nose and a shy smile adorned his face once he noticed the red shape he knew too well, barely visible on the inner neck of his uniform. He dressed again with new found fervor and before buttoning up, he pulled the neck slightly to the side and pressed his lips over the stain of yours, as if he could almost feel their warmth.

_____________

Taglist: @pearlstiare @teteminne, @beebslebobs, @harrysmatcha, @yum-yahgurt, @pussy-f41ry, @kirakombat, @redsakura101 , @hobisunshine13, @feyhunter78

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greeneyedwildthing · 4 days ago

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Canon Viojack Moments

This ship. Let's talk about it. Warning for Series Spoilers:

I know most (if not all) of the fouth wing fandom refers to Jack Barlowe as JFB. And honestly? for good reason. The man has the personality of a wet paper bag and the plot armor of an old nokia phone. But I digress. It wasn't until my third or fourth reread that I realized that the main pairing (X/V) didn't hit the same strong enemies-to-lovers notes for me the way Viojack did-- especially in light of the fact that Xaden had never had the intention of hurting Violet because of his deal with her mother.

So let's dive into the canon moments for a rarepair that will never be! Please keep in mind that this is, in fact, all meant in good fandom fun. I still love Xaden, I just tend to love unhinged psychopathic characters a little more.

As I was rereading this for the fourth time, I noticed the subtle power play/primal play going on in this scene with Jack putting emphasis on pleasure and screaming. I also love how Violet's response sets the tone for their dynamic: Jack making threats and Violet refusing to back down.

His hand on her hip as he hovers above her while Violet presses a dagger to his balls... whats not to love?? I also find it interesting that Violet fixates on his eye color here, which is something that she seems to only do for the other main love interests (see: Xaden's onyx eyes, Dain's warm brown, even arguably Liam's blue eyes)

Omegaverse AU where... lol no but on a serious note I find it hilarious that Jack smells her before stalking away especially considering the fact that Violet canonically (from Xadens Bonus Chap POV) smells like citrus- the one thing Jack is allergic to. The irony is *chefs kiss*

I love how most readers will finish fourth wing with the impression that Violets fear towards Jack was completely one-sided (I know I did) because he's a Big Strong Murderous Man™ when *canonically* she repeatedly scares the shit out of him too.

This little morsel during threshing just buttered my biscuits because I love how she compares Jack to Xaden- aka the MMC and LOVE INTEREST- and Jack somehow unintentionally comes out on top?? this is a stretch but stick with me...

Also, I found it interesting during my reread that Jack wasn't the one who planned Andarna's murder. Tynan was the "genius" behind that plot, and also the one who bullied Oren when he voiced his second thoughts. Jack only followed along with the plot to an extent (he arguably ran at the earliest convenience) And I feel like readers put the weight of Tynan's plan on Jacks shoulders solely because we remember Jack as the asshole who participated (and survived). also see: Jack was never involved in the assassination attempt or any of the other dozens of times he could've killed her without repercussions.

ngl really loved that Violet's last thought as she was making her peace with death is Jack-centric.

Again, Jack is seen as the primary instigator but throughout FW Violet is the one that meets him where he's at. She's unwilling to back down and I love that about their dynamic because - in this scene- you can see her begin to gain the upper hand.

Another canon moment that I completely missed when I first read FW. But again, Violets actions/accomplishments instill a sense of fear in Jack. Also I just love that by this point she's able to read him so well.

Did everyone miss the fact that he blew her a kiss or was it just me??? because in light of the IF turret scene (you know where he saves her life) this had me feeling absolutely feral. Like of all the ways he could have instigated a reaction out of her it was blowing kisses that did the trick?! and I love love LOVE how she continues to be vocal about his cowardice when the rest of the quadrant doesn't.

Exhibit four of prime sarcastic banter from enemies that could become lovers (leave me to my delusions).

Out of context this is the most insane and more than a little erotic moment between the two of them??? like they're dick to butt here, and he's whispering? (where have i heard this before- oh right: that time Xaden kicked her ass on the mat. The only difference is one of them had dangerous intent which makes my E2L heart swoon)

Canon that, not only is Jack the first person Violet's killed, he's also the only person Violet's felt *guilty* of killing.

Listen, I get that this scene has more to do with her sense of self and loss of morality but I think it's interesting that she's grieving this after saving one of her best friends by sacrificing the main antagonist and primary pain in her ass. Read between the lines on that one lol

IF JFB's return lets break it down:

she's focusing on his appearance.

She points out that her signet manifested as she killed him. Now this is pivotal because during rereads we've uncovered that there's an easter egg during her *passionate* first kiss with Xaden. Keep that in mind. So we fast forward to War Games where she has another *passionate* moment- feeling protective of her best friend and fury towards her main antagonist. And that's exactly the moment where her signet truly manifests. Xaden may have been the first spark but Jack is her catalyst in both character development and achieving power. I also just love the irony that him pushing her towards destruction is what ultimately destroys him.

And again the way she fixates on his eyes. I love that in a room full of people applauding his return the first person he looks for is her. (it gives me the best chills every time)

AND FINALLY THE MOMENT THAT HAD ME SHIPPING THEM:

I love this on so many levels. I love how witty and sarcastic he is. How sincere. This is the scene that made me realize (amidst the X/V "tell me the truth" debacle in IF) that Jack has always been weirdly open with Violet. He wears his intentions on his sleeve. She never second guesses his motives until *this moment* because she's already in the middle of second guessing everything the other love interests (Dain and Xaden) have done towards her. While this scene felt out of character in comparison to the rest of the series, I personally choose to believe that he's being genuine and open with her. Because the last thing she's anticipating is the truth and it catches her- and us as the readers- completely off guard

Also I know general fandom consensus is that he did this to protect his double-agent venin status. However, as i've said before I'm a die hard believer that Nolon succeeded at mending Jacks soul for a short time but ultimately it's Jacks' greed for power that continues to push him towards veninism.

#fourth wing #iron flame #jack barlowe #jfb #violet sorrengail #the empyrean #onyx storm #viojack #violet sorrengail x jack barlowe #violet x jack #again this isn't meant to be taken seriously!

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earth-to-stardust · 6 months ago

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✨🌅Ten Jally Fic Recs🌅✨

I’ve been thrust back into my love for The Outsiders ever since I discovered that there was a musical adaptation a couple months ago so hello Jally nation! I’m still going through my old bookmarks and reading new fics, but here are ten of my favorites so far!

what you can't learn from skin mags by ficfucker (5.2k words, Complete): I love how this fic shows Dally's meaner side when he's not around the gang and just rolling around town. The guy's a menace to society, but we love him anyway! Lots of soft moments with Johnny too.

goin' together by ficfucker (3.3k words, Complete): A nice little follow-up to the previous rec. Dally and Johnny tell the gang about their relationship and it goes as well as those two could hope for.

Liquid Smooth by dyingpoet (2.6k words, Complete): Dally's drunk and he's more honest with Johnny than he usually is. It's a little angsty during the first half but it's super sweet during the other half.

Haircuts by dyingpoet (2.3k words, Complete): Johnny cuts Dally's hair and so much fluff ensues! The bits and pieces that he reveals about his and Dally's relationship in this fic absolutely melts my heart. I always come back to read this before I go to bed, as a little bedtime story lol.

He's a Friend of Dorothy by dyingpoet (3.2k words, Complete): First off, the title alone is fantastic, 10/10 would not change a thing. Secondly, the way in which this fic touches on Johnny's internalized homophobia as his relationship with Dally progresses is just *chef's kiss*. Super sweet ending as well.

Role Models by dyingpoet (2.8k words, Complete): A Dally POV for a change! And it's awesome! Soda basically voices his concerns about Dally potentially influencing Johnny in a negative way and Dally takes it to heart. Writing a Dally POV is very hard in my opinion but this author manages to pull it off with so much ease.

Reaction Time by dyingpoet and Elder_Higgins (3.6k words, Complete): Dally teaches Johnny how to fight. Lots of sweet interactions with the rest of the gang too. It's the perfect balance between humor and seriousness.

this life ain't no love song by lexisaurus (5.8k words, Complete): Another great Dally POV fic! Johnny's the center of Dally's world but the weight of Johnny's love for him is almost too much to handle. It's soft, it's fluffy, it's a little bit angsty, and it's a beautiful examination of Dally's character above all else.

you've been a-hauntin' my dreams by lexisaurus (3.6k words, Complete:): Just some sickly sweet Jally. I swear I had cavities when I finished this fic haha.

they said you were the crooked kind by lexisaurus (5.2k words, Complete): Boy did this one leave me completely wrecked by the end. This is the only fic on this list with an "unhappy" ending, but if you're looking for something that feels more canon-compliant, I can't recommend this fic enough.

#the outsiders #dallas winston #johnny cade #jally #fic recs✧˖°.

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whiskeynwriting · 2 years ago

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Yeaaaaah imma need more Simon x Bones content (if you’re willing, of course!) 🥵 The dynamic you created between the two characters is just ✨chefs kiss✨

Ahhh thank you so much my love!! <3 I very much enjoy writing them 🥰

Come Find Me

Simon “Ghost” Riley x OFC “Bones”

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Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI)

Dirty talk, size kink, praise kink-ish, oral (f receiving), somnophilia (kind of?), established relationship, fluffiessss

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A/N: Full version is here! Ghost is a tits man, you literally can't change my mind about this.

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Simon “Ghost” Riley Masterlist

Join My Taglist!

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Warm and firm, the weight crushing, yet comforting. There’s the smell of fresh pine, bergamot, the small chill of his chain. It causes a shiver to roll through your body, one you settle into. The bulk of his biceps cage you in, arms snuggled between your back and the mattress. The moment is private and above all, intimate. He’s resting on you, his head turned to the side so his cheek can rest on your chest, right between your breasts. And you welcome it, him and his positioning, legs opened slightly with his pelvis laying between them. Your own arms are around him, too, holding his hulking body above you.

“How was the mission?” You ask quietly, body consumed by the tenderness of it all. Your hand is smoothing over the back of his head, caressing him.

“Long.” Is all he says, holding you just a little tighter in those gorgeously sculpted arms.

And then he groans. It’s a small, happy sound, made as he nuzzles further in. Yeah, he really did miss you.

Right now, on top of being completely at ease, you’re both wondering why the hell you haven’t done this before. Not only are Simon’s quarters smaller, but they’re colder, too, and not just physically.

The air in the barracks is stiff and unwelcoming. But here, it’s warm, comfortable and inviting. Your space is much bigger than his, being that you’re on base far more often than him. Simon also didn’t prefer to have much in his room, easier to keep clean, he says. But honestly, he’s loving your fairly decorated space. Everything just seems… nicer. Your bed is full in size, opposed to his single-style military issued cot. It’s also softer, has more pillows and blankets, too. There’s also better lighting, you even have a window in here. But it’s closed with the curtains drawn, shutting out the night. To top it all off, you have a mini fridge and a small stash of snacks on the shelf above your desk. He’d kill for that.

In the quiet lull surrounding you, Simon releases a warm breath over your skin, you’re just in your bra and shorts beneath him. Rubbing his cheek slightly across your chest, he gives the curve of your tit a tender kiss before snuggling in again.

“Simon?”

“Mm?” He grumbles in response, his mask pulled barely above his lips.

“I missed you.” You’re cooing to him like he’s a precious baby, and deep inside, he fucking loves it. He loves how caring you are. He’s never been cared for like this.

Simon has opened up quite significantly since the start of your relationship. And still, nobody knows about it, not even Soap or Price. It’s not necessarily forbidden for the two of you to do this, but you both think it would be frowned upon. Ghost should be focused on his work, and you on yours. But neither of your performances have faltered since the start of this, so, why end it?

As soon as he returned from their most recent mission, Simon found you. Just like before. But instead of dragging you to his barracks, you suggested your own room. You were less likely to be caught there. So, after showering up, he walked to C-Block, coming up with a multitude of excuses in the case that he’s seen. But he wasn’t, you were right. This block is empty as hell, especially at night. Not many people stay at the base, only essential workers for the team. The only people occupying the other rooms in C-Block were mainly janitors and the occasional assistant nurse.

“Wasn’t gone that long, love.” He chastises gently, smirking.

He’s right, he was only gone for a week. But still, you missed him; how could you not?

“Does that mean you didn’t miss me?” You tease in response, grinning in the near-darkness of your room.

He hums, chuckling. You’re baiting him, and you’re winning. “I did.”

During the mission, he thought about you, mainly when he went to bed. He tried to keep you out of his head during the day - otherwise it’d get him killed. But on your end, you thought about him all day, while you worked, while you ate, while you bathed. It’s like you ached for him, and you’re so thankful he’s back again.

Every time they came back from a mission, they got the next day off. Meaning, Simon doesn’t have a strict bedtime tonight, nor an early wakeup call tomorrow. This is the best time for you to enjoy each other’s company. And even though he’s got the night off, and the following day, all he wanted to do was lay down with you. He’s exhausted, physically and mentally drained. And even though he’d never admit it… he wanted to be held by you. He wanted to be close to your body.

With the blanket pulled over Simon’s large frame, your hands caressing his back, he releases a contented breath. Turning his head, he kisses your breast again, slowly laying his tongue over it. It makes you moan quietly, happily, the warm, wet feeling of it. And when he feels your fingernails drag lightly across his naked back, he grins, licking your curves again.

“Baby…” It’s a small sigh, lolling your head to the side as you glance down at him.

“Hm…” He groans slightly, releasing a breath. And then, he leans in, giving your covered, pebbled nipple a delicate kiss.

Coming home to you feels… good. Good in a way he almost can’t describe. It makes him hopeful about life, you give him something to look forward to. And in the midst of this, he finds his chest tightening with emotion, that smile continuing to tug at his lips.

“Come here,” He grumbles in that thick, baritone voice. “Closer to me.”

It’s quiet and calm in your space, his movements reflecting the mood. He’s slow with it, thick fingers wrapping around the edge of your bra. Gently, yet firmly, he tugs it down, freeing your breasts, and you gasp. Lifting his head, his cheek slides over them, nudging the softness of your flesh with his face.

His one hand slides along your side, finding your waist and squeezing lightly. He truly loves your body, absolutely mesmerized by your tits. Since the two of you started… whatever this is, he’d thought about all the things he could do to you, all the things you could do to him. Unfortunately, there wasn’t always time in the day for things like that. But right now, he’s reveling in this moment, in the night he now has to spare.

“Gorgeous, B.” Simon grunts, gently sucking your nipple into his mouth.

Now, you moan fully, arching ever so slightly into his touch. Simon always seemed to love your breasts, ever since he got to see them, got to touch them, got to lick on suck on them.

“Baby…” Cradling his head against you feels different when he’s in your bed. But regardless of where you are, you’re still able to feel how incredibly large he is. His body is dwarfing yours, caging you in and making you feel small and secure.

Laying his tongue out, he runs it over the slope of your breasts, dipping into the valley between them. His mouth suctions to the soft skin on the side of your boob, sucking a mark onto you. It made his insides stir with excitement, seeing you during the day and knowing his mark is resting just beneath the layers of your clothing.

“Oh my god, I missed you.” Rutting up against him prompts his pelvis to grind down into you, his lips returning to your pointed peaks.

“Yeah… I know you did.” He responds teasingly.

And his cheeky attitude doesn’t even phase you, because the motions of his mouth have become hungry, and he’s groaning, his humid breaths huffing out across your chest. You can practically feel the heat radiating from him, the muscles beneath his hot skin moving against you. He feels strong, keeping his weight in mind as he presses into you.

He’s more than eager to have you again, but honestly, he’s not looking for a hard fuck. Right now, he’s yearning for a sweet sense of intimacy. He’d never ask for it, though, not verbally. But when he was gone, it’s all he thought about, holding you close in his bed, feeling your little limbs wrap around him again.

“Baby,” Comes that deep accent, his baritone voice. “Fuckin’ love doing this to you.”

Only your table lamp is on, the one sitting atop your nightstand. And in this atmosphere of barely-there darkness, you grin. He’s never called you baby before.

“I love when you do it.” Your voice is sweet and soft, just how he likes it.

Something inside him stirs, feeling incredibly grateful for you. In the two times you’ve had him, it was clear to see that he wasn’t a selfish lover. He liked letting you know just how attractive you are to him, no matter the situation. And these thoughts prompt him to move down, mouth slowly sliding over your rib cage and belly. It makes your insides tingle, feeling him crawl down your body.

“Wanna do somethin’ else, too.” He’s mumbling against you, his stubble just barely scratching your skin. And by now, he’s dry humping you, repeatedly rolling his hips into your pelvis.

The way he’s touching you makes you moan, releasing an airy breath. Lightly, his teeth nip at your skin, tongue soothing the sting. You want to ask him what, baby? What else do you want to do? But he’s distracting you.

“Wanna lay between your legs.” Jesus, you could listen to his voice for hours. It’s so sexy, the deep rumble of it. He’s mumbling over your skin, his eyes closed when says, “Wanna taste you again.”

Naturally, his words make you perk up, lifting your head to stare down at him. The hand on your waist squeezes again, thumb brushing over your belly as he kisses it. He can feel its inhale, the push and pull of your breath. And when his lips meet your skin, his eyes lift, finding yours and sending a shock through your being.

“You want to… taste me?”

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

“Simon…” You’re rolling your eyes, but his words bring you right back to him.

“Wanna eat that pretty little pussy.” He says it so easily, so casually.

Simon’s only done this with you one time before, and the entire ordeal was pretty quick. But by the way he’s moving, by the way he’s talking, it’s like he wants to put his mouth on you and just keep it there. While he was gone, he thought of it constantly - going down on you, you going down on him. The ladder has yet to happen. He bets you’d be good at it, but he doesn’t know for sure. All he knows is that he is good at it, and he knows it because he’s made you cum before. He remembers your taste, your smell, how you wriggled beneath his arms and cried out for him.

“I’ll let you sleep, lovely.” He promises, his breath fanning over your chest. It smells like mint, clean and fresh. “I just want it, B, please.” And this shocks you; he’s never begged like this. “Can I?”

It’s grown late; originally, he got back to base around ten. But he still wanted to find you. It’s become an unspoken rule between the two of you. No matter when he returns, no matter how late or early it may be, he’ll come and find you. He knows you wouldn’t refuse.

Your quiet voice speaks into the night, “Yes.”

Dropping his forehead onto your stomach, he groans. A quiet fuck leaves his lips, his body moving forward so he can kiss you. Bulging biceps hold his body up as he leans in, one of his hands sliding beneath your hair to hold the back of your head. The kiss isn’t brief, it’s deep, his tongue invading your space. It dives into your mouth, languidly and passionately rubbing over your own. It’s so easy for you to get him going, too easy, in his opinion.

Sighing into his kiss, your hands slide down, holding either side of his mostly-hidden face. Rhythmically, his lips move against you, tongue allowing you to taste his spit. And the more he shoves it into your mouth, the more excited you become, eager to feel these same movements between your legs. As the two of you continue to grow close, you’ve noticed how much he likes kissing. And he’s rather good at it.

“You want me to lick you, B?” Ghost asks hurriedly against your lips. “Want my tongue in your sweet pussy?”

“Fuck, Simon.” Bringing him in, you urge him to press his forehead to your own. “Yes.”

Maybe it’s because he spends most of his time with his mouth covered, maybe that’s why he’s so eager to use it on you. It’s almost like he’s curious with it, wanting to experiment with you.

Broad palms finding your hips, his fingers dipping past the hemline of your panties and shorts to pull them off in one go. He’s gentle with you, sliding them down your legs. And then he notices the uncomfortable position of your bra, reaching up to free you of this, too.

“You get cozy, love.” His voice is rough, gravely, his accent thick and wafting through the air.

Sighing happily, you do as he says, relaxing your muscles and laying back for him. And while you begin to rest, Simon does the opposite. His body is becoming more aroused by the second, and his thoughts won’t stop running laps in his head. While he was gone, he thought about you… so much. Honestly, almost nothing else made its way into his head. Simon felt like he needed you, and that scared him. But in the same sense, thinking of you also comforted him.

“Pretty…” He mumbles, kissing his way down the inside of your thigh. Settling on his stomach, he sighs, looping his arms beneath your legs, hands resting on your hips.

“… fucking annoying?” You ask with a laugh, repeating his ongoing joke with you.

And it makes him chuckle, shaking his head. “Nah, not this time.”

Widening your legs for him, you reach for another pillow to support your head. You want to watch this. And with the extra support, you do, witnessing Simon’s gorgeous lips become wet with his tongue.

With a heavy exhale, he’s leaning in, closing his eyes when his mouth meets your thigh. His fingertips curl into the meat at your hips when his teeth come out, nipping at you before his tongue swipes over your skin. Releasing a small moan, Simon begins to relax, his mouth languidly sucking on the sweet flesh of your thigh.

“Gonna take my time with you.”

“Baby…” Your hands are on his head, fingers sliding over the back of his mask. And he leans into your touch, humming from it.

When he’s done leaving his first mark on you, he drags the point of his nose up your inner thigh, nuzzling it into the crease of your leg. Sliding his tongue out, he licks up this small valley, moving it over your labia. Your lips part when he does it, brows raising as he continues to lick you. An open-mouthed kiss is then placed directly on your center, his lips briefly sucking yours in.

“Pretty,” He grumbles again, eyes remaining closed. Another kiss to your center, then another little lick. “Pretty baby… pretty ‘n pink…”

It makes you giggle; he’s really starting to let go around you.

“You like when I call you names?” He asks, gently laying his tongue over your hooded clit.

Nodding, you grin, nibbling on the corner of your lip. And then, your hips jerk from the sensation, his tongue running over you again. “Yes.”

“Yeah,” He replies easily, cockily. “I know you do.”

“You think you know me so well, don’t you?”

“I know what you like,” Again, a quick and easy reply. “What makes you move.”

Okay, yeah. That’s true. But you’re not giving up that easily.

“So, what?”

And then he’s shoving his tongue into you, directly into your warm center. It makes you yelp quietly, moaning dramatically when he begins pumping it into you.

“I’m gonna need you to stop talking.” Ghost says when he removes his mouth from you. Turning, he wipes his face off on your sensitive skin, kissing it before returning to your sex again.

One of Simon’s broad hands slides up your side, fingertips curling around your right breast and squeezing lightly.

“Fuck,” Groaning, you plop your head back. “You make it so hard to -”

And then that same hand is on your mouth, covering it. “No talking.”

For some reason, this makes your eyes roll back, sighing into his hand. The skin of his palm is rough but you love it, you love feeling the ruggedness of him. And it works in his favor, because you immediately stop talking.

With his eyes closed, he mouths at you, siding his tongue up through your folds and using the tip of it to circle your clit. Keeping his hand on your mouth, he slides his thumb across your lower lip, the motion making you moan. Applying gentle pressure, you part your lips, allowing his thumb to slide in. Wrapping your mouth around it, you suck, one of your hands leaving his head to cup the breast he left. And while you suck on him, he sucks on you, just barely pulsating his mouth around your tiny nub.

“Mm,” Helplessly, your hips buck up, eyes pinching shut while you moan around his thumb.

“You like that?” He asks, keeping pressure on your tongue.

All you do is nod, whining quietly and pushing your hips closer to his face. Grinning, he dives back in, wet tongue laying out over your sensitive skin.

It feels so lewd and exciting and it makes your insides tingle, having him between your legs like this again. He’s so good at this, he’s fucking amazing at this. And it makes you wonder, how many women has he been with? But that thought flies out of your head when he takes his thumb out of your mouth, lowering it to himself. Licking the pad of it, briefly tasting your spit, he then rubs it over your clit, watching your hips buck from it.

“Simon, please.”

“You’re supposed to be enjoyin’ this, remember? Supposed to be relaxing for me.”

While you’re whimpering from both frustration and agonzing arousal, his mouth finds your leg, sucking another mark into it. He keeps pressure on your sensitive clit, rubbing it gently but most certainly enough to stimulate it.

“Just lay back, sweetness.” He urges, taking his thumb away once again. “Let me lick it.”

“Oh, Simon.” Again, your head drops back, a fresh wave of arousal spilling from your lips. His voice, his words, they affect you so much.

Happy with your compliance, he sighs, releasing a cool breath directly over your sex. He watches your skin pebble from it, the muscles in your legs tightening ever so slightly around him. Using the strength in his hands, he lifts your legs, placing your knees on his shoulders with your calves resting on his back. Holding you in this position encases him between your thighs, his mouth now focusing directly on you.

Both of your hands return to his head, fingers scraping along the black fabric. Accidentally, they pull up the back of it, but just barely. You expect Simon to freeze, to jerk away from your hold and scold you for it. But he doesn’t; he’s trusting you. With your heart racing inside your chest, you slide the mask back down so it’s completely covering the back of his head. And when you do it, he hums, a small sound of gratitude and approval.

“Baby…”

Lord, he loves when you call him that. It feels so soft and domestic, so sweet. Especially coming from you.

“Mm… that’s it.” Mumbling over your sex, he groans. “It’s okay, sweets. You can be as loud as you want here.”

And he’s right. You’re sure no one will hear you, not in this block. With that realization, you feel yourself let go, a wanton moan slipping from your throat.

“That’s it,” That particular sound riles him up quite a bit, his tongue diving into your pussy once again. “That’s more like it.”

Quickly, he flicks the tip of his tongue over the peak of your sex, but with a deep, rugged breath, he reels himself back in.

“No, nonono. Baby, please. Please, do that again.” You’re reaching out for him, whining and begging him to continue that pace.

“Mm-mm,” Shaking his head, he sighs. Turning his head, he nuzzles his nose into the inside of your thigh. “Don’t you wanna sleep, B?”

“I, well…”

“Just sleep,” He coos, thumbs rubbing circles into your hips. “Let me take care of you.”

Those specific words make your heart fucking burst. Doing as he says, you lay back, taking away the extra pillow beneath your head. After all, he’s right. You’re absolutely exhausted, and so is he. But he doesn’t want to sleep, he wants to enjoy you. So, you decide to let him.

You’re not sure how long he plans to do this for, but regardless, you get yourself cozy. Dragging a blanket over your upper half, you make sure to keep it above his head, not wanting him to get too hot beneath it.

“B-Baby,” You’re mumbling now, eyes beginning to drift shut. His licks and kisses are light, tender.

“Shh…” He mutters, softly ordering, “Turn off the light.”

Leaning over, you do, settling in even more than before. He feels you shuffle, nestling into your extraordinarily comfy bed. Resting between your legs, he holds onto you, gently massaging your muscles while he mouths at your sex. It’s something… different, something incredibly new and intimate. And when he hears your tiny yawn, it makes him happy. He really does want you to relax. Truthfully, this is all he’s thought about doing.

At first, you’re listening, your eyes drifting shut to the subtle sounds of him licking you. The sensation of it is delightful, his head resting on your right thigh while he keeps his mouth on you. The gentle vibrations of his occasional moans and hums lull you to sleep, drifting in and out of slumber as minutes quickly turn into a full hour. And Simon still hasn’t moved, still hasn’t stopped, nor slowed down, nor sped up. He’s just tasting you, enjoying this timid exploration. It’s a gentle indulgement, something he’s only dreamed of doing to you.

Your wetness trickles from the seams of your sex, and he continues to lick it up, hearing your little snores while he does. Lazily, his head rocks to a slow rhythm when he feels your thighs begin to quiver. But you’re still asleep, your breathing still steady.

The taste of you is tangy, but still genuinely sweet. It’s something he really does love. He could and will stay here for hours, for as long as he can. In the darkness, it feels so… private. So wonderfully personal and delicate.

It’s slow and lazy, the sleepy orgasm he brings to you. Your hips roll up against him, his lips suctioning ever so gently to your clit. He rides it out with you, feeling one of your hands pet at him. You’re smiling, just barely, still lost in the thoughts of your dreamscape.

Wetness spills from you, and he cleans it up with his tongue. You’re wet from him, his saliva lingering after your cum is gone. The roughness of his taste buds are dragged along your inner thighs, catching any juices he might’ve missed. But really, he just wants to savor it.

“B-Baby…” It’s small and quiet and just so… cute. You sound so sleepy and delicate.

Grunting quietly, Simon lifts himself, leaning onto his left forearm. With his free hand, he uses the back of it to wipe off his face, groaning from your subtle smell.

When he looks down, he can just barely see you in the darkness, one of your hands reaching for him. Leaning in, he nuzzles his cheek into the palm of your hand, smiling before turning to kiss it. Shuffling around, he manages to maneuver his body next to yours. Your bed is backed into the corner of your room, and you’d been laying on the outer edge. But that side is closer to the window, and you sleeping right beside it just doesn’t sit well with him. So, he gently nudges you, moving you with his strong arms until you’re safely next to him.

“Baby,” You softly call again, whining quietly.

“I’m here, sweetness.” He finally returns, sliding one bulky arm beneath your head.

Turning on your side, he feels you bring yourself into his chest. For some reason, it surprises him, someone wanting to be this close to him. On his back, he relaxes, feeling one of your small hands slide across his chest. And then you do something that really shocks him, something that makes every vein in his body feel electric. Gently, you find and hold onto his dog tags.

Using his other hand, he slides it over yours and up to your forearm, holding you with it. And now, with one arm beneath your head and the other on your arm, he’s got you wrapped up in the secure cage of him.

He doesn’t know if he should say it, but with a deep sigh, he decides to go through with it. “I’m really… really glad I found you.”

In your sleepy state, you assume he’s talking about when he got back to base. The past few times, he’s always come looking for you. Little do you know, his words hold a deeper meaning. Sleepily, though, you respond to him.

“Always want you to.” Mumbling, you kiss his naked chest, sighing. “Always want you to come find me.”

#Simon #baby I need you #Simon riley #simon “ghost” riley #Simon Riley cod #ghost cod mw2 #Simon Riley x you #Simon Riley x reader #Simon Riley x female reader #Simon Riley smut

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mariejordans · 1 year ago

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can u recommend some good aus and fics about jordan and marie I'm begging you plsssssss

*gasp* oh my goodness i love this questionnnnn!

okay, i’ll give you my current top five limoreau fics uploaded to ao3, but honestly there’s so many good ones for you to pick from, you really can’t go wrong with anything. also, these aren’t ranked in any particular order just my top five in general!

(warning: a lot of these are smutty bc it’s the most common rating in the marie/jordan tag at the moment, so if smut’s not ur thing, let me know and i can do a top 5 of non-smutty limoreau fics!)

1. you can take my flesh if you want, girl by stormbxrnbitch

rating: E

this author has only two limoreau fics out right now and both are SO GOOD (seriously, i can’t recommend this author enough) but i’m obsessed with this au which is why i put it on the list!

this specific fic is a vampire au in which marie herself is a vampire (a cool take on her canonic bloodbending powers) and jordan’s kinda (super) into it. it’s a three-shot, kinda marie-centric, and just all around super interesting and compelling to read. it’s still a wip and it hasn’t gotten smutty YET, but the author has promised lots of it for the final chapter!

2. Want Want? by Cherrydrama and Levie101

rating: M

i’ve recommended it on here before but seriously, IT’S SO GOOD!

it was written before episode five came out, so it’s a jordan pov, canon divergence fic on what happens after limoreau wakes up in the bed together, and i don’t want to spoil it too much, but i will say one thing: SPARRING/TRAINING AU.

this one isn’t super smutty iirc, it’s rated M, so it’s good if you like spice but not a lot of smut in your fics.

3. The Weight Of You by Georgiathewholedaythrough

rating: M

another canon divergence fic! written before episode five, it’s also a take on what happens after they wake up in bed together, only this time things get…smutty. it’s marie pov, very sweet, very romantic, and funny too.

4. two timing by diaphanouspages

rating: E

this is a slight au (described by the author as “has a weird relationship to the show’s actual canon, but just accept the violent canon divergence and move on”) in which jordan attempts to make marie jealous, which works and then they end up in bed together. starts off angsty and kinda smutty, but also turns sweet towards the end.

also slight praise kink for jordan, so if you’re into that…

5. Reluctant Study Buddies by MercutioTheVelaryon

rating: M

another canon divergence fic taking place after episode 4 ending, but they all go in different directions i swear!

this is a study partners/study buddies au (as stated in the title) in which marie and jordan are assigned to be partners on a project for one of their classes. it gets a bit steamy, but it fades to black so if you aren’t comfortable with explicit smut, this might be for you! also, very funny and the banter between jordan and marie in it is *chef’s kiss*

(also this author has a bunch of other limoreau fics uploaded, which i also really loved, so i recommend you check those out as well!)

THATS IT THATS THE LIST! i genuinely hope it helped even a little bit, and that it gives you the mariejordan fix we’ve all been craving since thursday 😭 also, let me know your thoughts after you’ve read if you want, i’m always down to ramble on about gen v/limoreau nonsense!

#but seriously #to all the limoreau writers out there: KEEP DOING WHAT YOURE DOING #AND YOURE ALL AMAZING #AND I LOVE YOU #gen v #gen v fics #marie moreau #jordan li #mariejordan #limoreau #gen v asks

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britcision · 7 months ago

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Not gonna lie, we’ve been watching YuYu Hakusho alongside the release of Delicious In Dungeon and uh

It’s been illuminating

Like on the one hand hoooooooboy you can taste the 90s animation techniques (and the Netflix version is somehow more strobey and seizure bait, and they’ve fucked random chunks of audio?? I have the dvds I can prove they’ve fucked around)

On the other hand… yeah, it really, really highlights what people have already been talking about with the Delicious In Dungeon - the pacing issues, especially with going shot for shot from the manga instead of embracing their own medium

Cuz I will stand by YuYu Hakusho being the best anime version of a manga I’ve ever seen. It’s true to the manga, but keeps up the pacing and fleshes things out by leaning more into the side characters, and particularly our audience surrogates, Koenma and George

The fights all pace well because we cut to the people watching them, so it’s not just repetitive punch punch punch shots (although we do get those)

Whereas this week’s episode of DunMeshi in particular…. Really suffered from skewed pacing on that fight

They had way too much time just standing around talking, both with the harpies and in between Falin’s attacks, and I’d bet even an anime-only fan could pick out which shots were literal panels in the anime because nothing moved to flow between them

Those shots of the separated groups especially; this is anime, not manga. Those people could have been moving, interacting, doing things instead of panning over a still

I get that it takes more time and money but this was a really significant fight and it does make me worry a little for season 2, because the red dragon fight also had some pacing problems (although to a much lesser degree) and season 2 is when the combat pops off

I really do appreciate them wanting to do a faithful interpretation of the manga and sticking close to Ryoko Kui’s vision, but anime is its own medium and by sticking too closely they’re not taking full advantage of that medium

You have more time to fill in an animated episode vs a manga chapter because your characters literally move and flow, and three panels of action happen in a second

They’ve been folding two or three chapters into each episode, but this week’s especially (ep 17) really played too close to that two chapter timeline, instead of taking out the important story beats and the time to fill and working out how to pace around that instead

(Funnily enough though, they actually nailed the exact same kinda pacing issue in the exact same episode for the Laios and Shuro fight; that one was fucking great, it was clear that action was ongoing even while we focused on other people, and it had good weight and emphasis despite being largely offscreen, just like the harpy fight should have been

I. Guess. They coulda put more work into that than the Falin fight? Cuz it’s a huge character moment but for fuck’s sake Chimera!Falin SHOULD be the bigger one! We the audience got hints but this was the REVEAL)

Honestly just… the 1000% disinterest in the harpy fight was jarring, and it leading immediately into the Falin fight that was basically stop motion without the time lapse didn’t help

Cutting to Marcille and Shuro on the shirt tear was fucking great though, chef’s kiss, someone out there is still watching over us, I just hope they work out a happy medium soon

I get that there’s lots of iconic and fantastic panels in the manga, I made a complete summary of every single chapter, but the anime shouldn’t be showing them as stills

The characters should be moving in between them, not snapping from one face to the next like a slide show

In a perfect world I’d also love some more little character asides and things a la YYH, but there just isn’t the same easy audience characters to cut to

But but but

Thistle reacting a la Koenma to some snippets of the bullshit in his dungeon would give me fucking LIFE he can’t be watching all the time for obvious plot reasons but I want him to find a veggie golem

I want him to see the kraken and find some leftovers and be searching for Delgal and plotting their dinner and wondering why he can smell something delicious and what is it and can he make that

Move the background stuff that got cut from the Tances’ episodes, cut to Namari and the twins hanging out and talking about leg guards, there’s SO MUCH supplemental material

It might be less one for one to the manga but it’d stop the weird dragging out and give us something more, something extra to appreciate the anime on its own merits

It’s nice to have an anime experience that is very close to reading the manga, but it’s something really special to have the anime shine and add to the experience on its own

Anyway next week is the shapeshifter and I’m so hype for that and wondering if they are gonna include just a smidge of meta knowledge since Kui did tell us whose impersonations are whose 👀

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi spoilers #delicious in dungeon spoilers #yuyu hakusho #yu yu hakusho #dungeon meshi anime #spoilers for ep 17 of delicious in dungeon

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dailycass-cain · 4 months ago

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Balancing real-life stuff so I couldn't do this over the weekend. So tonight here are my thoughts on Detective Comics #1087 (all of it, main story and side).

Cass's appearance in the main story is brief but still has a great weight around it. There's just something I love of Ram V where every small moment still has overtones to everything that's gone on in his run.

Every side character on this quest Batman has been through gets to shine. It hits me with utter 😄seeing the payoffs occurring in this run that have been built here or throughout other stories. These payoffs are just SOOO good and these aren't even the "end" ones.

For Cass, it's being her and just not giving up. STILL fighting, still honoring the bat symbol, and the legacy of the Batman. Aka reasons why we love this character 101.

ust the way she's introduced in the issue? chef's kiss

That extra added, "Oh they boned and know it." just by the added panel of Cass's eyes narrowing. SOOOOOO good I was little squeeing in gittiness at it. Something that's consistently happening since 2020. 😊

Likewise, you can feel that "ending" coming as Batman readies his schemes, the Orghams entering their's, Gotham too, and of course the twist we all saw coming given last issue with one other party throwing their hand too.

I'm really curious to where this all goes from here on out, and honestly I feel like a broken record but I cannot wait to see the payoffs. Like I know and feel these are all gonna be earned.

Oh sure, we might get a reset on some (Two-Face and Mr. Freeze), but man; Ram V's characterizations of both are leaving an impression on me. Something for me to continue spouting top of my lungs, "This is kino and enjoy the ride." to anyone who hasn't picked it up.

The art by Christian Duce and Stefano Raffaele is just 🔥 with the coloring by Luis Guerrero just stunning too. DC since 2020 has been killing it with the colorists they've got sprinkled throughout their books. Just makes everything the artists draw pop more.

What else can I say of the main story? Other than it just keeps delivering every month. But hey we're getting more kino with Ram V with the New Gods. That's gonna be great and curious to see where he goes with that.

The secondary story is something I've been hoping to see since the character showed up in this run, and that was some Jean-Paul Valley goodness, and not only do we get this here.

We get Dan Watters back on writing him. Oh sure, he couldn't get Nikola back, but hey Francesco Francavilla on it? Oooooh sign me up! Seeing his Cass was a delight at long last.

The story itself is just rooted in SOOO much back lore with Dick and Jean-Paul. You can take it as the perfect case to their history with one another (and it isn't pretty). I'm kind of glad we got this in the story to show this wasn't forgotten.

That this isn't just a united heirs to Bruce working together. There's still some stuff there from past that causes spite and mistrust (aka KnightsEnd).

In that regard, Dick is right to be this way. He's given Jean-Paul multiple passes and well every time Jean-Paul fell back to the conditioning he went through.

But again, Cass being Cass. Her coda is stone. "You can change. You can." Even when she was at the brunt of it too, she still that beacon holding for that hope this is the time Jean-Paul defeats his inner demons for good.

Again, it's a nice balance between the three characters. An actual reason Dick would be no trusting, and Cass being, "TRUST HIM." Given all she's been with Jean-Paul due to No Man's Land. I wasn't expecting this to be remembered on my 2024 comic bingo card.

That's something I wish someone would dig further into. That Cass could be that rock for Jean-Paul, kind of like how Steph is for Jason currently. Or Oynx was for Cass (kind of hoping that this is revisited on when she arrives in BoP) or currently Cass bonding hard with Barda.

Again, layers upon layers here. Why I enjoy this run currently for all of this.

Detective Comics #1087 continues the ride and makes me appreciate this run even more. Like, again this feels different to me. To have Cass entwined to a modern Batman epic?

Oh sure she has sprinkles in Batman runs or past Tec runs. But here? Not just the fan service appearance but characterization and history.

All the reasons why people love this character are all here. Leaving me ☺️🥺every single time I read an issue of this run. I can't wait to have the whole thing collected and just read it all.

Gonna be great.

#cassandra cain #dc comics #my thoughts

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nekrosmos · 22 days ago

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*burst into your room through your window* hi- *coughs glass shards out* I am here to say MANY things, positive things about your fic you wrote, but honestly it's more like my live reaction and my fav parts of the fic, it's gonna be long!!!! I HOPE YOU DON'T MIND READING ME YAP!!!

First of all, ∞/10, this is your first fic??? IT'S SO GOOD!! you got the atmosphere the vulnerability the softness the banter AND the good ol smut down, I love it, it was like I was joining them in the fishing trip because of how nice the visual was

ok from here on out it's all about my fav parts of the fic HEHE

the two had aged together is!!!!!!so!!!!!!!!freaking!!!!!!sWEET!!!!!they've been through it all together for the longest time!!!!!!

something about this just makes me change the way Im looking at Price, like..."he just love her" is such a deceivingly simple line but it holds so much weight. He may have "love" him but it was never a full attachment, rather just...embracing the love he was offered. He loved her because he could, not because of...everything el1se that matters. At least that's how I see it and GOD it hurts so good

ah hem AKSJDHAKS how did Nik not choke on air for that- anyways

Im getting my pitchfork for that CO (even tho the bastard is not around anymore) and the way Nik also got him?! *wails*

"there had been a lifetime of missed opportunities between the two" IS SUCH A GOOOOODDD LINEEEE GRRGGR YOUR BRAIN!!

🥺something about them giggling and being themselves just GRIPS MY HEART!!!!

it's the fact that the "friend" turned to "love" that got me feral I was SOOOO KASJHDKADJ hAPPY for em

chef au....

Nik the mAN YOU ARE!!! THE REST I COULD LIVE WITH!!!!GRRR!!! SUCH GOOD LINE!!! HIS NIK!!!!!!!!!!!!

I was walking when I read this part and basically fist the air in victory KASJHDKAJH also I love the train of thought here for Price...it's such a him thing to overthink

there is nothing wrong with that - URGH RIP MY HEART OUT AGAIN!!!!!!!!!

again, another great line, frame this and smack it to my forehead because yes, that is Nik

I really really like in between the spicy scenes there are goofy scenes because...my god it just make everything lighter and more...how to say? real. In the moment and all, yk, it's so nice reading them laughing and stuff. But also this line "their romantic relationship wasn't born today, but weeks ago" again, chef kiss

very long ramble and Im surprised im allowed to type this much into an ask (ah heck it could get cut for all I know but) just know this fic was a lifesaver during my lunch break, had an extremely hard day and this helped a bunch.

Im looking forward to see your future fics if you do write them!!

Okay I'm officially smiling like an idiot and I think I'm gonna have to reread your ask many, many times because HOLY SHIT you just made me so unbelievably happy 😭😭❤️❤️❤️

It was my first fic with them !! I've been writing for a long time, switched to english a few years ago and have been writing casually ever since ,,,, But this was the longest fic I've ever posted and it was a nice challenge honestly !!

Also the way you pointed out some of your favorite scenes jdvlskjd,vpùidjvbpvj I'm losing my mind, I'm so happy 😭 I literally couldn't ask for better feedback !!!

I actually really like your interpretation of that line about his ex wife !! I left it pretty open so people can hc whatever they want :3c In my personal hc, he really did love her immensely, but he kept hurting her unintentionally by never being around, never giving her what she needed because of his work, etc. Just one of those "it wasn't meant to be" relationships. (Also, other random hc, but Nik was here at Price's wedding, he got along really well with his ex wife, but everything about it broke his fucking heart over and over again. Oops 💔)

And I'm so glad you pointed out the banters during the smut scene !! It's my favorite thing to do honestly !! To me, sex scenes don't have to be so serious all the time, I like when characters communicate while it's happening, I like when they're laughing together <3 And these two have so much shared history that it just makes sense to me !!

God, again, thank you so much for this, you really did just make my day Gomz !!!! You're absolutely lovely !!

#also never apologize for yapping because my god this is so good #I know that's grand coming from me - the guy who apologizes for yapping 24/7 BUT STILL #I loooooooooooooooove when people point out specific sentences that they liked !!!#The fic ended up very light-hearted but I really do enjoy the idea of these two deadly men giggling together like teenagers #and now I'm gonna be the one giggling everytime I reread your comment TEEHEE #I know I'm not a great writer by any means but I try and this one was honestly really fun to write !!!#the trust between these two ............... insane #god anyway I'm blushing #thank you so so so so so much and I hope you get better days <333 #ask

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luckyroll3 · 2 months ago

Text

Chef's Kiss: Part 4

Masterlist and Summary

Part 4 of 4

Final Preparations

You carefully place a cluster of pale pink peonies into the waiting clear glass vase, adjusting them until they sit just right. The scent of the flowers mingles with the aroma of rich, savory scents wafting from the kitchen. Dani moves around the room flitting gracefully between tables, fingers fluttering over silken tablecloths, ensuring each pleat falls just right.

Nat appears at your side, her arms full of votives. “These are the last of the candles for the tables. How are the centerpieces coming along?”

“Almost done,” you reply, surveying the neat row of completed arrangements. Nat nods, and walks over to assist Dani. She laughs at something Dani says, her voice bright.

Chris emerges from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. He takes in the sight of the nearly-finished dining room with an approving nod. “Everything’s shaping up beautifully out here. And the food prep is right on schedule.”

“Thanks for the update, Chris,” you say with a warm smile in his direction.

He gives his dimpled smile back in return. “No problem,” he replies before checking in with Dani about something, then heads back into the kitchen.

Despite the easy rapport between the two of you, memories of the stolen kiss from a few nights ago still linger, sending a flutter through your stomach every time your eyes meet. You’ve both managed to stay professional during the times you’ve met up, spoken, or texted since then. And while he hasn’t brought up the events from the face-off and subsequent shutdown of his advance, the air still feels charged whenever the two of you are near each other.

A few minutes later Dani shares, “Just got off the phone with the linen company. The napkins will be here first thing in the morning.”

“Great,” you call out over your shoulder.

You step back from the last centerpiece, rubbing your neck. You glance at the clock and there’s less time remaining in the day than you thought. The stress of the impending event suddenly weighs heavily on your shoulders. What if something goes wrong? What if the guests aren't impressed? What if Marcus needs more? You take a shaky breath, trying to quell the rising tide of anxiety.

Warm fingers brush your elbow and you turn to find Chris beside you. You hadn’t realized he’d returned to the main dining area. His brown eyes are filled with concern.

“Hey, are you alright?”

You force a smile. “Yeah, I’m just…nervous, I guess. We had so little time for this event.”

Chris' hand moves to your shoulder, his touch reassuring. "I know it's a lot of pressure. But I have complete faith in you. In us. We’ve put a lot of work into this event and it’s going to be incredible."

"Thanks," you murmur, the knot in your stomach loosening. "Just want it to be perfect, you know?"

"Perfection has your name written all over it," he teases lightly, but his gaze tells you he means every word. "Besides, we're a team. We'll make sure everything goes as it should."

"Teamwork makes the dream work," you quip back, a real smile finally tugging at your lips.

"Exactly." His chuckle rumbles through the space between you, and for a moment, the world narrows down to just you two. He squeezes your shoulder once before letting go, his dimpled smile bringing a flush to your cheeks. "Let's get back to it then, partner," Chris says.

—

You hoist a large heavy box filled to the brim with supplies for the event. The cardboard is rough against your palms and you balance it precariously in your arms. Your feet move swiftly across the tiled floor of the kitchen, eager to set down the weight.

As you navigate your way through the bustling kitchen, your foot catches on a slick spot on the floor, sending you stumbling forward.

"Got you," Chris murmurs. His strong hands grip your arms, steadying you before you can fall. The box tips precariously, but he manages to catch it with one hand, the other still holding you securely. “Careful.”

"Thanks," you breathe, heart pounding from the near mishap. You straighten up, but Chris doesn't let go immediately. "Guess I shouldn't be carrying something I can barely see over."

Chris chuckles, the sound warm and close. "Here, let me help you with that."

He takes the box from your arms and balances half of it on the counter, his fingers brushing against yours in the process. The brief contact sends a shiver down your spine, and you suddenly realize just how close you are, his chest nearly touching yours.

Your eyes meet, and for a moment, the world falls away again. Chris' gaze drops to your lips, his own parting slightly. The pull of attraction is almost tangible, just as it had been the past few weeks.

A loud clatter from the kitchen snaps you back to reality, and you both take a step back, the spell broken.

“Uhm…where you do need it.” You point towards Dani’s office. He picks the box back up.

"Thanks," you whisper back as you follow behind him. When he sets the box down, you say, “I, uh, better get these sorted. Your voice is a little too high, a little too breathless.

Chris clears his throat, nodding. “Right. And I should finish prepping the food for tomorrow.”

Hours later, evening falls, and the kitchen is quiet. The hum of the refrigerator and low music playing from the kitchen speakers are the only sounds breaking the stillness. You had sent Nat home and Dani had followed shortly after. Only you and Chris remain, both of you determined to tie up every last loose end.

You sit at a table, polishing and organizing silverware. Chris stands at one of the counters methodically chopping vegetables with practiced ease. The steady rhythm of his knife against the cutting board is oddly soothing coupled with the light music playing in the background.

"Need any help with those?" Chris asks, glancing over at your progress.

"No, I've got it," you reply, smiling at his offer. "Those veggies giving you any trouble?"

"Never," he chuckles, his knife dancing through a bell pepper. "Maybe I need a challenge. You can throw knives and forks at me and we can see how well I dodge them while still continuing to chop."

"Ha. Next time," you promise with a grin. “I’m sure my level of fatigue would make it an interesting game.” He chuckles. You watch him work for a moment—hands deft and sure, the lean muscles of his arms moving with precision. It's clear he's in his element here.

"I can't believe we're almost done," you say, breaking the comfortable silence that has settled between you. "It seemed like there was so much left to do."

Chris looks up at you, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "It seems like a lot because you want every detail to be just right."

You laugh softly, shaking your head. "Guilty as charged.”

"Everything will be fine," Chris says, his tone filled with quiet confidence.

“Everything will be fine,” you echo.

The opening notes of a familiar song break the moment, filling the kitchen with an upbeat melody.

"Oh!" he exclaims, knife clattering to the cutting board as his lean frame starts moving to the beat. "I love this song! How can you not dance to this?" He wipes his hands on a towel, then reaches for his phone to turn the volume up before raising his hands over his head and grooving to the music. He spins on the ball of his foot, tosses his head back, and those warm brown eyes catch yours, sparkling with a playful challenge.

Your fingers pause mid-polish. You watch, bemused, as Chris lets the rhythm take over, his athletic body swaying with an infectious joy.

He extends a hand in your direction, that dimpled smile in full force. "Dance with me."

You hesitate, glancing down at the pile of utensils still covering the table. "Chris. I still have so much to do..."

“Come on…” He makes a ‘come here’ motion with his fingers as he shimmies towards you while doing body rolls.

You shake your head, laughing softly. "I don’t dance."

“Lies! Did you forget you told me you were a dancer? Or did you have too much wine that day?” He stops in front of you, moving his hips side to side seductively as he raises an eyebrow.

You had forgotten you’d told him that. Another indicator of how comfortable you feel with him. Still, “No,” is your reply.

But he's not taking no for an answer. He walks closer and grabs your hand, tugging you gently away from the table and into the open space of the kitchen. "You’re allowed to take a break."

You can't help but smile at his enthusiasm, feeling your own body start to respond to the music despite your reservations. "Okay, okay. Just one song."

Chris grins, his dimples on full display as he starts to dance in earnest, his movements playful and exaggerated as his hips and shoulders sync with the music. He twirls you under his arm, making you laugh as you attempt to keep up with him.

“Come on, girl. I know you have more in you than that two-step.”

His words strike a chord, and you feel yourself start to relax, letting the music wash over you. You close your eyes for a moment, letting your body find the rhythm, your hips starting to sway in time with the beat. When you open them again, Chris is watching you, his gaze intense and admiring. You playfully shove his shoulder. He chuckles and the two of you dance around the kitchen together, laughter bubbling up between you as you move between the stainless steel tables, around the counters littered with culinary tools and food, past bins and filled bags on the floor. You both let the stress and pressure of the last few weeks melt away. Chris leads you in a silly jig, his curls bouncing. And for a moment, as you follow his lead, spin and sway, the weight of tomorrow's event lifts, replaced by the lightness of just being here, now, with him.

As the upbeat song fades away, the first few notes of a slower melody seeps through the speakers. Chris doesn't miss a beat, his hand reaching for yours. He draws you in, the distance between your bodies shrinking until your breath mingles with his. His hands settle on your hips, the heat of his touch seeping through the fabric of your clothes. Your own hands find their way to his shoulders, your fingers brushing against the soft curls at the nape of his neck.

Slowly, you begin to sway together, your bodies moving in perfect sync. Everything fades, until there's nothing left but the music, the warmth of Chris' body against yours, and the soft sound of your shared breaths. The feel of one of his palms against the small of your back anchors you.

“That’s better,” he whispers, brown eyes locked on yours. His gaze is tender, intense, filled with things unsaid. There's a silent question in his eyes, one that makes your skin tingle with every possibility.

He pulls you closer, his forehead resting gently against yours. You can feel the whisper of his breath against your lips as the scent of him fills your senses. Sandalwood, citrus, spice. His thumb brushes against your spine, sending shivers through you. With your faces inches apart, every exhale feels like a confession.

Your eyes flutter closed, your heart racing as you wait for the inevitable brush of his lips against yours. Didn’t we just say we weren’t going to let this happen? But still, the anticipation is a tangible thing.

Just as you feel him start to lean in, the harsh buzz of your phone shatters the moment. You flinch, the spell broken, your eyes flying open as reality comes crashing back in.

“Damn it,” you mutter. Reluctantly, you pull away and fumble to retrieve your phone from your pocket.

Marcus' name flashes across the screen, along with a preview of his message. You swipe the surface to open the message

Marcus: Need to add 40 more guests to the event. Can you make it happen?

Frustration clenches your jaw and your stomach sinks as you read the words. Forty more guests…with less than 24 hours to go? It's an impossible request, one that threatens to undo all the hard work you, Chris, Nat and Dani have put in over the last few weeks. This motherfucker really thinks I can perform miracles, you think to yourself with disbelief. You sigh loudly.

You look up at Chris, your expression torn. Part of you wants to ignore the message. Pretend you never saw it and just stay lost in the moment with him. Fuck the event. But the other part of you, the part that prides yourself on pulling off flawlessness, knows you can’t just brush this off.

"Trouble?" Chris asks, brow furrowed, the playful spark in his eyes replaced by concern.

"Marcus," is all you say, and it's enough. Chris understands the weight behind the name and the conflict in your eyes.

“What does he want this time?" he asks, his voice resigned.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. "He wants us to add 40 more guests to the event."

“We should be able to handle fourteen more, no problem.”

“Forty. Four-Zero.” You emphasize the numbers as you hold out your phone for Chris to see.

His eyes widen as he reads the message, his brow furrowing in disbelief. "Fuck…,” he says as he slaps his palm on his forehead. “Is he serious? He can’t be serious.” He looks into your eyes as he drops his hand. “We've already finalized the seating arrangements, the food orders, everything. How does he expect us to accommodate 40 more people with less than a day's notice?"

You shake your head, feeling the weight of the request compressing your chest like a vice. "I don't know. But this Marcus. He asks for the impossible and expects it to be made possible."

Chris runs a hand through his hair, his frustration evident in the tense set of his jaw. "I don’t care who the fuck he is, it's not fair to put this on us at the last minute. We've been busting our asses the past month to make sure this event goes off without a hitch. And now he wants to throw a wrench in the works?"

You nod, feeling a surge of gratitude for Chris' support. It's comforting to know that you're not alone in this, that he understands the pressure you're under.

"I know it's not fair," you say softly, your eyes meeting his. "But we have to find a way to make it work. I can't let Marcus down. He’s one of my biggest clients."

Chris holds your gaze for a long moment, the silence stretching between you. Finally, he sighs, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "You're right. We'll figure it out. Together."

The word "together" hangs in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. Despite the stress of the situation, you feel a flicker of warmth in your chest, a reminder of the bond you and Chris share.

"Okay," you say, taking a deep breath. "Let's think this through. We'll need to adjust the seating chart, maybe add some extra tables. How many more do you think we can fit in the dining room?”

“We can probably add two more without violating the fire code and still keep enough space to walk.”

“Ok. That gives us 10 tables and we can add 2 additional chairs to the existing ones. That gets us to 100.” You pause to think. “Do you think you can stretch the food in each course?"

Chris nods, his expression thoughtful. "I can do that. It'll be tight, but I can make it happen. I'll talk to the suppliers first thing in the morning, see if they can rush an extra delivery for some of the smaller dishes. The other ones, we can adjust the plating proportions to make it feel like a decent amount of food despite being less."

“Oh perfect. What about the wine.”

“I always order five or six extra bottles, so we should be fine. I’ll assess the inventory in the morning and if we need more, I’ll talk to my connections.”

You nod. “Is there anything else we’re missing?”

Chris looks up at the ceiling as he thinks. “Those are the hard ones. Everything else is an easy fix. We’re good. Let him know we’ve got this.”

You feel a surge of relief at his words, grateful for his support and expertise. "Thank you, Chris. I couldn't do this without you."

He smiles softly, reaching out to give your hand a gentle squeeze. "You don't have to. We're getting through this together, remember? Teamwork…dream work, and all that."

The Event

The clink of fine crystal and the murmur of sophisticated conversation envelop you as you scan the room, ensuring everything is perfect. You've orchestrated this symphony of elegance, from the soft glow of candlelight to the delicate floral arrangements that grace each table. As the guests glide through the space, their laughter and contented sighs are music to your ears.

Marcus strides in, his presence commanding the attention it deserves. You greet him with a smile. "Marcus, welcome." You shake his extended hand and lean in to give him an air kiss on the cheek.

"Hi. Everything looks fantastic," Marcus replies. He looks behind you. "And this must be the culinary genius I've heard so much about."

You turn around and see Chris, who stands nearby, the dimples in his cheeks deepening. "Marcus, this is Chef Christopher Bahng. He’s taken over the executive chef role here at Saffron & Thyme. Chef Chris and I have been working together to make everything perfect for tonight."

Chris extends a hand. “A pleasure to meet you, sir.”

"Ah, yes. Chef Chris. Evelyn has been singing your praises." Marcus gives him a firm handshake, his eyes alight with genuine interest. "Excited to taste your creations."

"Hope they live up to the hype," Chris says, a hint of playful humility in his tone, his smile wide.

Before anyone can respond, the air shifts. As if saying her name breathed her into existence, Evelyn, in a white dress that hugs every curve, makes her grand entrance. She's a vision, the kind that doesn't just walk but seems to float. Her hips dramatically shift from side to side as she makes a beeline for your little group.

"Darlings!" Her voice, rich and sultry. She leans in to kiss Marcus’ cheek. "I hope I haven't missed too much." She nods in your direction.

"Right on time," Marcus says. "Evelyn, you look stunning as always."

Evelyn's laugh, light and tinkling, fills the space between idle chatter. She circles Chris like a cat who's spotted an intriguing new plaything. Evelyn's eyes flick to Chris, a coy smile playing over her lips. "Why, thank you Marcus. Though I have to say, the real treat here is Chef Chris." She reaches out, trailing a manicured finger down Chris' arm. "It's wonderful to see you again." You shift your gaze from Evelyn to Chris, watching for his reaction.

Chris shifts, clearing his throat. "Evelyn. Great to see you, ma’am." His tone is polite but strained. You bite the inside of your cheek as you think back to the last time you saw them together.

Evelyn pouts prettily. "Come now, Chris. No need to be so formal." She sidles closer, her hip brushing against Chris'. You clench your jaw, heat prickling under your skin. “Darling, you must be exhausted after preparing such a feast," she purrs, leaning in closer than necessary.

"Part of the job," Chris says, his eyes flickering to yours for a fleeting second. There's a hesitation in his stance, a careful distance he maintains even as Evelyn invades his personal space.

"Must be a heavy burden, carrying all those expectations on such broad shoulders," Evelyn coos, her touch lingering like a promise of something more.

"Certainly keeps things interesting," Chris responds, his reply measured, his glance straying to you once more, loaded with words unspoken. He's mindful, oh so mindful, of you standing there, taking in every exchange.

"Indeed, it does," you interject, with a well-timed smile. "Shall we see how the guests are enjoying the evening?"

Chris takes a subtle step back. "My apologies, but I need to return to the kitchen. Enjoy the event." He nods to Marcus and you, then disappears into the crowd.

Evelyn huffs out an irritated sigh, shooting you a glare. You ignore her and say, “Shall we?”

"Lead the way," Marcus gestures, oblivious, or most likely indifferent, to the silent drama unfolding.

—

You take a deep breath, inhaling the scent of rosemary and thyme as waitstaff parade out with the first course. Each plate is a work of art, colors vivid against the ivory porcelain.

"Divine," you hear someone say amidst a symphony of hums and sighs of agreement as the guests eat.

"Magnificent," Marcus says after adding a forkful of the dish to his mouth.

You smile, pleased that they are all enjoying the food. Servers flow around you, a ballet of efficiency delivering the second course. A guest inhales deeply, the aroma mingling with the tang of citrus dressing. The murmurs of approval continue during the second and third course.

From across the room, Chris catches your eye. He stands by the kitchen doors, his posture relaxed but alert. For a moment, everything else fades. His eyes hold a story only you can read—fatigue edged with triumph. Heat floods your cheeks as you remember the feel of his hands on your skin, his lips claiming yours with a hunger that matched your own.

The memory is banished by Evelyn appearing at your elbow. "Simply divine," she purrs, leaning close. "Well done, darling."

You nod politely. "Thank you, Evelyn. I'm glad you're enjoying it."

"Oh, I always enjoy your events. But this..." She smiles, slow and predatory. "This is particularly pleasurable." Her gaze slides to Chris, then back to you, implication clear in her smug tone. “What do you think about him?”

Irritation flickers, but you keep your expression neutral. "About Chef Chris? He’s an amazing chef. You should be commended for finding someone who exceeds Chef Jax’s skills to lead your restaurant.” You leave it at that, and turn to face her, smiling brightly. “And I'm so happy to hear that you find the event ‘pleasurable’."

Evelyn's eyes narrow, realizing you won't give her the reaction she wants. With a sniff, she glides away, focusing her attentions on a businessman who can't seem to stop staring at her cleavage.

You breathe out in relief as the next course is served. Again, compliments and delighted sounds from the guests.

You drift past tables, and the subtle dance of eye contact with Chris continues. With each glance, a thread pulls tighter between you and him. It's not just about the job anymore. But now's not the time.

You glance away, feeling flushed. This is highly unprofessional.

The silver tinkle of cutlery blends with the soft hum of conversation. You signal the servers for the next course. Nat sidles up to you, her eyes dance with mischief.

"Okay, spill," she whispers. "What's happening with Chris?"

You keep your gaze fixed on the gliding waitstaff. "Nothing," you say. "We're colleagues, that's all."

"Right." She arches an eyebrow. "And I suppose when he asked me for your address, it was just for professional courtesy?"

"Which you shouldn’t have given him…” You give her a stern look before glancing away. "We just talked. End of story."

She snorts, unconvinced. "Sure. And those looks you two keep exchanging are strictly business."

Your cheeks feel warm as you refuse to meet her probing gaze. Ignore it. Focus on the event. The guests need your attention.

"Seriously, Nat—"

"Uh-huh." She cuts you off, nodding towards Chris who stands across the room. "Because 'colleagues' always eye fuck each other like that. I’ve watched the two of you do it all night."

You glance over, just in time to catch Chris' eyes on you again. The slight smile on his face is oozing seductiveness, like he’s undressing you with his eyes. Damn it. You look away sharply, concentrating on a waiter balancing a tray of pear and gorgonzola tartlets.

"See?" Her voice is triumphant, teasing. "I knew there was more to it."

"Drop it, Nat." Your voice is sharp, intentionally using your ‘boss’ tone, instead of the ‘friend’ one so she knows you’ve heard enough.

"Fine, fine." She holds up her hands in mock surrender, but her eyes still twinkle with knowledge.

“Go make sure the staff starts clearing this course."

She opens her mouth, no doubt to continue her line of questioning, but at your glare stalks off to do as ordered, returning a few minutes later.

While she’s gone, you take a deep breath, let it out slowly. You look back at the spot where Chris has been lingering. He’s talking to his sous chef, but when they’re done, he finds you again. He gives you a slight nod before heading back into the kitchen.

About fifteen minutes later, Chris approaches you and Nat, his lean form cutting through the crowd with an ease that belies the busy event.

"Service is going well," he says, his warm brown eyes holding yours in a magnetic pull. "And we've been able to fully stretch each dish to accommodate for the extra attendees. No one's going hungry tonight."

"Good to hear," you reply, trying to keep your voice steady. His eyes never leave yours and your gazes are locked on each other once again. Nat might as well not exist in this universe.

Nat's eyes bounce between the two of you, her grin growing wider by the second. She senses the tension, thick and electric. With a knowing look, she excuses herself, leaving you drowning in the depths of Chris' soulful eyes.

"Remember our dance?" His voice is a soft rumble, drawing you back to last night's closeness, to the memory of his body against yours.

You nod, swallowing hard. "How could I forget?"

"Me either. Can’t stop thinking about it." His gaze is smoldering, and you're hit with a wave of desire so strong it almost knocks the breath from you.

You clear your throat. "Uh…Thanks for today," you manage to say. "For the amazing food. And for handling the extra complications."

"Anytime," he replies, his dimple flashing as he smiles. "It's what I do."

Evelyn glides over then, her confident stride commanding attention. "Chris, darling," she purrs, laying a possessive hand on his arm.

"Excuse me," you murmur, stepping back as she attempts to monopolize his attention. You pretend to be busy with something else a few feet away from them.

“Your food tonight is incredible,” she coos. “Each dish is better than the last.!”

“Thank you,” he says. “I try.”

She chuckles. "So what are your plans for later?” She touches his chest gently. “Join me for a nightcap tonight." Her invitation is clear, almost a demand.

Chris' smile doesn't reach his eyes as he politely declines. "Another time, perhaps. I don’t think I’ll be up for much of anything tonight after I’m done with the clean up."

“Another time then,” Evelyn says as she taps gently under his chin, sounding disappointed, before sauntering away to find her next victim.

—

The dessert course arrives, a symphony of sweet notes. A decadent chocolate mousse, gold leaf flecks catching the light as they're set before the guests. "Heavenly," a man declares, spoon breaking through the mousse with a soft sigh.

Your gaze sweeps across the room, glittering with candlelight and the hum of conversation. The clink of glasses and soft laughter underscore the melody of the live band filling the air. It's a symphony of success, every note perfectly placed.

Just then, Nat sidles up to you.

"Marcus wants a word with both you and Chris," she whispers, the sound almost lost in the cacophony of celebration.

You nod, feeling a rush of adrenaline. This is it—the moment of truth. You find Chris at the edge of the kitchen, his attention fixed on the last of the dessert dishes leaving the service area. He looks up as you approach, and there’s that damn dimpled smile.

“What’s up?”

"Marcus wants to see us."

"Lead the way," he replies, wiping his hands on a towel before following you through the maze of tables.

Marcus stands against the bar, an island of calm, taking a sip from his glass. You assume it’s a very expensive Japanese whiskey, his usual drink of choice. He's watching the two of you approach, a satisfied smile cutting through his usually stern façade.

"Excellent work tonight," he begins, his voice rich with approval. "The food, the atmosphere—everything has been top-notch. No one would know you only had three weeks to pull this off or that I basically threw a firebomb at you last night by requesting you accommodate more people."

"Thank you, Marcus," you say, sharing a quick, conspiratorial glance with Chris.

"Thanks," Chris chimes in, his tone casual yet respectful. "It was a team effort."

"Which is why," Marcus continues, "I'd like to discuss future projects. You are already my go-to event planner, my miracle worker,” he says as he nods in your direction. “And your skill in the kitchen, sir…impeccable. On par with some of the best chefs I’ve had the pleasure of eating from in France and Italy. Your food has taken her event planning up to the next level. The two of you together is magic; you make quite the team.” With a gentle swirl of his glass, he watches as the amber liquid spins and dances. He takes another sip, savoring the flavor before continuing. “My daughter just got engaged, and I want you both on board for the wedding."

Relief washes over you. Marcus doesn’t give many compliments, so to get several over the course of the evening is a big win. You exchange a look with Chris, one that speaks volumes, before turning back to Marcus.

"As long as the wedding is not next week,” you deadpan, “we’d be honored.”

He laughs heartily, the sound reverberating through the air, warm and genuine. "I love that you’re always so straightforward with me. I don’t get a lot of that. The wedding wouldn’t be for another year or so, but my daughter and wife would like to start planning next month. Does that work for you?”

“Absolutely.”

“Fantastic." Marcus raises his glass, a salute to a shared future. “If you think I’m a pain in the ass, wait until you have to work with my wife….” He shudders before chuckling, then takes a long sip.

—

You watch as the last of the guests leave, their laughter a lingering melody in the air. The clink of glasses and soft shuffles of departing footsteps are your symphony of success. You turn to Nat, her face alight with the same relief and satisfaction that's bubbling inside you.

"We nailed it," you say, beginning to gather discarded napkins from the tables.

"More like smashed it out of the park," Nat replies, stacking chairs with practiced ease. "And without a single disaster."

"Miracles do happen." Your chuckle joins the harmony of the cleanup soundscape.

"Or maybe it's just your killer planning skills," she says, winking.

"Teamwork," you correct her.

As you work side by side, breaking down the event, Marcus reappears. He strides over, his presence commanding even in the emptying room.

"Got a minute?" he asks, though his tone suggests it isn't really a question.

"Of course, Marcus." You straighten up.

"Here," he says, extending an envelope thick with promise. "I wanted to give you this in person. A bonus for pulling off the impossible."

Your fingers grasp the envelope, feeling the weight of his appreciation. "Thank you. I couldn't have done it without my team." you say.

"True, but it takes a strong leader to steer a ship through rough waters." His eyes hold respect, a rare gift from him.

“I appreciate your confidence in me. But I have to say, I almost threw myself off the ship last night when I got your text,” you say with a chuckle.

Marcus laughs, a deep sound that seems to echo in the quieting room. "Your competence is only matched by your sense of humor," he says, shaking his head. "That's why I keep coming back. Keep it up," he says, turning to leave before pausing. "And thanks again."

"Anytime," you call after him, the words true despite the exhaustion clinging to your bones.

You watch as he walks towards the exit. Once he’s out the door, you open the envelope and pull out the check half-way. Nat peeks over your shoulder. “Holy shit. He really wasn’t kidding about that bonus!” She squeezes your arm. He had given you an additional $15k. Pocket change for his tax bracket. “You deserve every penny. Now, let’s finish cleaning up so you can get out of here and celebrate properly.” She winks again.

You look around at the dismantling of the night's work and feel a warm rush of contentment. You fold the envelope, tucking it in your pocket before rejoining Nat to continue the clean up.

The Aftermath

You, Nat, and Dani, along with the waitstaff, work to pack up and clean in the dining area. As you collect centerpieces, Dani and Nat stack chairs, and the waitstaff focus on glasses, plates, and utensils. About an hour later, you glance across the room, taking in the sight of tables stripped bare and chairs stacked like silent sentinels. Dani sends the waitstaff home and heads to the kitchen.

You watch Nat as her hands move deftly, securing linens into a hamper. "Great work today," you tell her, with a smile that feels as tired as your feet.

"Thanks," she replies, pushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "It was quite the shindig."

"Let's finish this up in the morning, okay?"

"Sounds perfect." Nat's relief is almost palpable. “I need a drink. You want to join?”

“I have some things I need to finish, and I also need to settle up with Dani. Maybe tomorrow once everything is taken care of? We’re definitely in need of a day drinking session!”

“Even better!” Nat grabs her bag and heads towards the door. You give her a nod, sending her off into the night with a grateful wave.

"Goodnight!" she calls over her shoulder, and then she's gone.

Shortly after, as you are closing up boxes, you see the kitchen staff file out. Several of them wave in your direction as they exit the restaurant. You offer each of them thanks, watching as they disappear into the evening, leaving silence in their wake. You make a mental note to use a percentage of the bonus to give them and the waitstaff large tips for their hard work tonight.

You head to the kitchen and see Dani and Chris tackle the remnants of the event. They are scrubbing down counters and filling dishwashers. Their backs to you, they don't notice you enter.

"Hey," you say softly, not wanting to startle them.

Dani turns, a genuine smile on her face. "All done out there?"

"Almost," you assure her. "I sent Nat on her way and we’ll take care of everything else in the morning. You two are really going at it here."

"Got to get it spotless," Chris chimes in, glancing up from the stainless steel he's polishing. His dimpled smile surfaces briefly, lighting up the room.

"Seriously, though," you continue, "tonight went smoothly. Thanks to both of you."

"Team effort," Dani says, tossing a soapy sponge into a bucket.

"Let me know the final numbers and forward the invoice, and I'll handle your payment first thing next week," you tell them, already thinking ahead.

"Will do," Dani responds, wringing out a rag with decisive snaps. “Chris? Do you need me for anything else?”

“Nah babe. I’m all set. Just need to sweep.”

“Great.” Dani peels off her gloves, signaling the end of her shift. "I'm heading out then. You've got my number if anything comes up."

"Thank you for everything, Dani." Your words are heartfelt, an acknowledgment of more than just tonight's success.

"Anytime," she replies. “You two have fun,” she says with a smirk and a wink towards Chris before she exits the kitchen. You feel a little embarrassed as you wonder what he told her, considering their long-standing friendship.

Now it's just you and Chris, alone amid the lingering scents of culinary delights and cleaning supplies. You watch him as he moves around the kitchen, his lean frame navigating the space with practiced ease. His hands, those strong, capable instruments of creation, wipe down surfaces until they gleam.

"Looks like we're finally done," you say, breaking the comfortable silence.

"Yep," Chris agrees, setting aside the cloth. "Just in time too. I could use a good night's sleep."

"Couldn't we all," you murmur, allowing yourself a small yawn. You lean against the cool surface of the stainless steel countertop, the weight of the day pressing down on your shoulders.

"Go home," he suggests with a soft chuckle. "I can lock up here."

It's an offer that tempts, the promise of rest only minutes away, but you don’t want to leave him by himself. “No, I can wait for you. Maybe… we can get a drink afterwards to celebrate?”

“You sure?” He meets your gaze, his brown eyes holding yours for a moment longer than necessary.

"Positive."

"Alright then," Chris concedes. He walks over to a wooden crate, rummaging through it before pulling out a half-full bottle of wine. It’s one of the most expensive ones we had on the menu. With deft fingers, he twists off the cork and pours the deep red liquid into two delicate glasses, the aroma of black currants and oak filling the air. "Here," he says, his voice a soft note in the stillness. He slides a glass of wine across to you, the ruby-toned liquid sloshing gently. "We might as well enjoy the perks of the job, right?"

You accept the glass, running your fingers up and down the smooth stem. "To a job well done," you toast, raising the glass slightly before taking a sip. Chris does the same. The rich flavor of the wine blossoms on your tongue, notes of dark fruits and spices. The wine is comforting as it slips down your throat.

Chris nods, his eyes catching yours with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat. He finishes wiping down the last of the countertops and tosses the cloth into the sink with a practiced flick of his wrist.

"Looks spotless," you comment, trying to keep your voice steady as you notice how close he is now.

"Thanks," he replies, starting to sweep the floor. The soft whisk of bristles against tile fills the space between words. "I like things to be perfect before leaving the kitchen for the night."

"Perfectionist," you tease, watching him work. His movements are methodical, almost meditative.

"Guilty. But I’m not the only one in this room…" He grins over his shoulder, and that dimple flashes at you, sending an unexpected rush through your chest.

"True. But isn’t it a little late for perfectionism?" Your attempt at humor feels thin, stretched tight by the tension that crackles in the air.

"Never too late." His reply is casual, but there's something more behind it, a layer you can't quite name.

You take another sip of wine, hoping it will ease the fluttering in your stomach. The two of you chat about nothing and everything—distant sounds of the city nightlife drifting in through a cracked window. Laughter. Car engines. The distant clatter of a trash can.

But then, silence falls. The only sound the bristles against the floor.

The broom suddenly halts mid-sweep. Chris stands there, leaning on the handle, his gaze locked on you. You hold his stare, caught in the moment. Your mind races, but words fail you.

"Sorry," he finally murmurs, breaking the quiet. "It's just..."

"Quiet without the chaos?" you offer, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Exactly," he says, but his eyes suggest it's not the lack of noise he's noticing.

Your heart hammers in your chest, each beat echoing the unsaid thoughts hanging between you. You look away first, heat creeping into your cheeks. There's a question in his silence, one you're not sure you're ready to answer.

"Late," you mumble, setting down your glass with a clink that's too loud. "Should probably lock up."

"Right," Chris agrees, though he doesn't move to resume sweeping. Instead, he stands there, a statue with a broom, watching you with a curiosity that feels probing.

Chris sets the broom aside and steps closer, his movements deliberate. You feel the heat of his approach, the kitchen space suddenly shrinking between you.

"Look," he starts, voice low, eyes locked on yours. "I've been trying to keep this professional like you asked, but..." He pauses, the tension thick, almost visible in the air. "I can't stop thinking about you."

Your heart skips a beat, your own confession at the ready. "Neither can I."

Both of your admissions hang there, raw and unguarded. The vulnerability shared between you feels like crossing an unseen line that has kept the two of you apart.

You see it then—the same struggle reflected in his warm, deep brown eyes—that fine balance between professionalism and the undeniable pull towards something more personal, more intimate.

The kitchen is silent now, the only sounds are your mingled breaths. Anticipation crackles between you, a current charged by your mutual desire.

"Chris," you breathe out, and with his name on your lips, the last remnants of your restraint seem to crumble. "Event's over," you whisper, as if stating the obvious will help you find your footing in this unfamiliar territory.

"Finally," Chris agrees, and the word is weighted with so much more than relief over the event's conclusion.

There's a shift in the air, a shared release from the roles you've held onto tightly. No longer the chef and the event planner—now just Chris and you, unbound by titles, free to explore this spark that's been threatening to ignite and undo you both.

"Guess we're off the clock now," he continues with a half-smile that doesn't quite match the intensity in his gaze.

"Guess we are," you echo, and the world outside this kitchen fades away. This is where you stand together, on the cusp of something neither of you can turn back from. And for the first time, you don't want to.

Your heartbeat hammers in your ears, a drumbeat that matches the rise and fall of Chris' chest as he stands before you. The air is thick with the scent of lingering spices and the warmth of a day spent in culinary fervor—a fitting backdrop for the heat that radiates between the two of you.

"Off the clock," he repeats, his voice a low murmur that dances across your nerves.

"Completely," you affirm, stepping into the space that barely separates you.

His warm, expressive eyes lock onto yours, and in them, you see a reflection of your own longing. It's a silent conversation, an understanding that has simmered beneath the surface for too long. And then, without a word, he leans in, bridging the gap, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that ignites the quiet kitchen.

You close your eyes, surrendering to the rush of emotions that flood through you. His lips are soft, insistent, moving against yours with a passion that feels like coming home. You taste the faint hint of red wine on his breath. His hands find their way to the small of your back, pulling you closer.

The kiss deepens, fueled by weeks of stolen glances and half-hidden smiles. You explore the contours of his mouth, each touch a discovery, each sensation more intoxicating than the last. His skilled hands are gentle as they trace the line of your jaw, tipping your head back to deepen the kiss.

You're lost in the urgency of the moment, in the heat that builds with the press of his body against yours. His fingers weave into your hair, tugging slightly, eliciting a sigh from your throat that he captures with his lips. Your own hands roam over the lean muscles of his back, feeling them tense under your touch, knowing the strength that lies within.

Every brush of skin, every shared breath, stokes the fire that's been smoldering between you. There's no going back now—not that you'd want to. This is the precipice you've danced around, and now you both dive off, giving in to the gravitational pull of mutual attraction, letting it consume you whole.

The coolness of the stainless steel kitchen counter presses against your back, a stark contrast to the heat emanating from Chris' body as he pins you gently against it. His breath is warm on your neck, his lips tracing a path of fire down your collarbone. You feel the rough texture of his chef's jacket, the fabric a subtle reminder of the world you're both leaving behind with each step closer.

"Are you sure?" The question comes out as a husky murmur against your skin, his warm, expressive brown eyes searching yours for an answer.

"Absolutely," you breathe out, your voice laced with desire, giving him the affirmation he seeks.

His hands, those strong and skilled instruments that create masterpieces in the kitchen, now slide deftly up under your dress. The anticipation builds like a symphony reaching its crescendo as his fingers curl around the edge of your underwear, pulling them down slowly, deliberately, the fabric gliding over your thighs and calves before dropping to the floor.

Chris drops to his knees, his athletic build a testament to years of discipline and hard work, but now all that strength and focus are directed at you. The sight of him, poised with purpose, sends your heart racing, desire pooling deep within you.

He places one of your legs over his shoulder, bringing you into the vulnerable openness that you've craved, the intimacy that you've only dared to imagine. His mouth meets your clit, and a gasp escapes your lips, the sound lost in the vast emptiness of the kitchen that was once filled with the clatter and bustle of the event.

It's just you and him now, the world outside ceasing to exist. There's only the sensation of his mouth, the careful attention of his tongue, and the slow, deliberate exploration that draws circles of pleasure tightening around you.

You let your head roll back and enjoy the sensation of Chris sucking on your clit, his lips and tongue massaging the sensitive spot. Your hand finds its way to the back of his head, guiding and encouraging with a gentle pressure as you hold him tightly against you while you ride against his face. "Chris...," you whisper in between moans. He responds with a fervor that tells you he's been holding back.

His name becomes a mantra on your lips as you ride the waves of pleasure he's conjuring within you, the kitchen fading away into nothingness, leaving only the connection that binds you inexorably to him.

You feel the warmth developing in your core and it starts to spread to the rest of your body. It causes you to grind harder and faster against Chris’ mouth.

Just as you're about to get your release you feel him pull away. You look down to find him gazing up at you.

“Naur,” he says with a smirk, his adorable Australian accent strong as he stretches out the word. “That was just the Amuse Bouche.” He softly kisses the inner thigh of your leg on his shoulder before removing it gently and standing face to face with you.

“This is my kitchen,” he continues. His hand grasps your chin lightly and tilts your head up and to the side to expose your neck. His tongue emerges from his mouth and he licks you slowly from your collarbone to your jaw, just below your earlobe. “So you don’t cum unless it’s around my dick, yeah?” he whispers seductively. His demand makes you quiver.

He locks his eyes back on yours, then brings his lips to yours, kissing you so slowly you start to melt. As his tongue snakes its way into your mouth, you taste yourself on it, along with the wine he drank moments before. You can’t help but moan at the combination.

You bring your hands to his chest and start to unbutton his chef’s jacket. Simultaneously, his hands slide up your back to find the zipper of your dress. Once your back is exposed, he pushes the dress off your shoulders and lets it flutter to the ground.

He breaks the kiss and takes a step back to remove the jacket, then his white tank top beneath it. Your hands fumble with the button on his pants, but when it finally releases, you quickly unzip it and push it, and his boxer briefs, down. He steps out of them as your eyes drink him in, relishing every muscle and curve of his perfectly sculpted body.

You both stare at each other breathlessly.

His eyes roam over you, warm brown orbs reflecting desire and admiration. You can't help but do the same, taking in the lean muscles, the fair skin now flushed with need. His hands gently touch your neck and run down the length of your body. His hands touch you with a tenderness that belies their roughness, exploring the terrain of your body with reverence.

"Beautiful," he murmurs against your neck, and you feel the word more than hear it, vibrating through you. Your hands are no less curious, tracing the definition in his arms, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm.

When he reaches your hips, he scoops you up. You instinctively wrap your legs around his waist as he brings his lips back to yours. He walks you backwards and sets you on top of the counter.

The coolness of the counter seeps into your skin. It's a stark contrast to the heat that envelops you as Chris presses his body against yours, his hard chest against your breasts as he positions his dick at your entrance.

He leans his forehead on yours and locks eyes with you as he asks for consent. “Yes?” he questions quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You respond by wrapping your fingers around his hard throbbing cock and guiding him into your warmth. He smirks, placing a soft kiss on your lips before taking over the rest of the way.

"Chris," you breathe out, lost in the sensation of him filling you slowly, completely. Time dissolves; there is only the here and now, the slide of skin on skin, the rhythm that you fall into together as naturally as breathing.

He moves with precision, each thrust measured and yet full of passion. You tighten your legs around him, pulling him in closer, urging him deeper. The stainless steel beneath you is forgotten as warmth spreads through your entire being, emanating from the point where you two connect.

"Ah, god..." His voice is a low groan, vibrating through the empty kitchen. “You feel even better than I expected,” he whispers. The heat between you grows with each movement. His lips never leave yours, his tongue dancing with your own in a sensual duet. You cling to him, nails digging into his back as you lose yourself in the pleasure he brings you.

You feel his hands move from your hips to cup your breasts, squeezing them gently before taking one nipple between his teeth. A moan escapes your lips at the sensation, and he continues suckling on your chest while still thrusting into you.

He shifts, picking you up again and moving you both to the floor without breaking the connection, his jacket cushioning your back. The fabric smells of him, something uniquely Chris, as intimate as the act itself. You cleave to each other, the urgency building until there's nothing left but the storm of sensations that threatens to consume you both.

"More," you urge, “harder,” and he obliges, each movement bringing you closer to the edge, to that precipice you teeter on together. There's no holding back, no restraint—just raw, unfiltered desire that courses through you, binding you to him in ways words never could.

“I want you to be mine,” he whispers seductively in your ear. “Even after this. Even when we work together again.” He kisses your neck softly. “Fuck professionalism. Tell me you’ll be mine.” He thrusts into you harder and faster as he waits for you to answer.

"I’m yours," you whisper, a declaration, a surrender to the torrent of emotions that has been waiting to be unleashed.

Your body tightens around his dick as you reach your peak, screaming out his name as waves of ecstasy wash over you. He follows suit soon after, calling out your name as he releases inside of you. As you tumble over that edge with Chris following, the world narrows down to the pulse of your heartbeats in sync, to the shared breath that fills the space between you.

You both stay connected for a few moments, savoring the feeling of being joined together in such an intimate way. Finally, he pulls out and wraps his arms around you gently. You lie entwined, the gentle rise and fall of Chris' chest against your back a soothing rhythm. The ambient sounds of the kitchen fade into the background. His heartbeat, strong and steady, thrums through your skin, mingling with yours. You close your eyes, savoring the shared warmth.

"Are you okay? Was this okay?" His voice is a soft murmur, sending a shiver down your spine despite the heat between you.

"More than okay," you reply, turning to face him. His brown eyes hold a tenderness that wraps around you like a blanket. You reach out, tracing the line of his jaw, rough with the promise of a beard. He leans into your touch, smiling that dimpled smile that first caught your eye. “Never thought I would get fucked in the kitchen of Saffron & Thyme though. I don’t know if I can eat here again,” you say with a chuckle, making Chris laugh loudly. You both settle back into silence as you continue to stare at each other in your sex haze.

The stainless-steel counter, the sounds of the kitchen, and any thoughts of that night’s events—it all melts away. It's just you and Chris, wrapped in a cocoon of contentment. You breathe in the scent of him, spices and citrus, a signature you'd recognize anywhere.

"We crossed a line tonight," you say, not as an accusation, but as an acknowledgment of the shift in your universe.

"Was it worth it?" he asks, his thumb brushing against your lower lip.

"Absolutely." You see your own certainty reflected in his gaze. You prop yourself on one elbow, looking down at him. "We'll have to figure out how to work together, now more than ever."

Chris nods, his expression serious. "I know. But I don't want to lose this... us. We can make it work, right?"

"Right," you agree, the word feeling like a vow. A new chapter awaits—one filled with challenges, but also bursting with potential. You imagine future events, side by side, your professional collaboration now underpinned by something far deeper.

"Whatever happens, we navigate it together," he promises, and you believe him. Hope unfurls within you, bright and eager.

"Together," you echo, sealing the pledge with a kiss that speaks of beginnings rather than endings. In his embrace, surrounded by the lingering energy of passion, you feel the seeds of tomorrow taking root.

He suddenly pulls away, cursing under his breath. “Shit!”

“What?” You’re wondering what the two of you missed.

He sighs. “I’m gonna have to clean this entire fucking kitchen again….”

“Such a professional,” you smirk.

*************

Thanks for reading everyone! Would love to hear what you thought. More stories coming soon....

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