#what can i say apart from i like clothing wrinkles and folds

[unendingphantasm]

every now and then a new illustration replaces another in the "the most beautiful and captivating illustration i've seen in my life" marble pedestal in my mind

[xazse]

hiii pookie I LOVED your hybrid post like it got me foaming from the mouth ngl 🫶 you're so talented!!

If you're into it, can we get cowhybrid! reader and Farmer!Gojo specifically please and thank you? I need to see the reader all needy and desperate and Gojo being the only one who can truly give her release and and what she truly needs (feel free to remix or add anyone/anything that you please)

If you're not into it, please ignore this ask instead of refusing because I get embarrassed hihi🎀🫶 anyways mwah mwah love u take care pookie

ANOTHER TRY?

Notes: THANK YOU FOR THE COMPLIMENTS IM GLAD YOU ENJOYED MY WORK!!! and to the second ask I’m very happy you requested that bull!hybrid work lLOVEDDD WORKING ON IT!! You guys are so creative I need to eat ur brain!!! THIS IS FOR ALL THE OTHER PEOPLE WHO HAVE BEEN ASKING FOR A PT2 I SEE YOU GUYS!!! (IF UR READING THIS TO MY OTHER INBOX OFC YOU CAN BE 🪬 ANON!!)

Pairings: CowHybrid!Reader x Farmer!Gojo

Warnings: Lactation + big!boobedReader + implied chubby!reader + nipplesucking + grinding + mean!Satoru + pussy!slapping + teasing.

Gojo has spoiled you for far too long it makes his blood boil and temples wrinkle when you continue to go see Toji and Suguru, it becomes a habit for you to come back in the early mornings after having a night of “fun.”

Confronting said men proved to be so fucking useless, they just laughed in his face when he said he’d kick both of them to the curb should they continue to corrupt you.

“You need us Satoru, why are you allowed to have your nightly routines but she cant? It was gonna happen eventually.” Tojis face was decorated with a fat sneer, all those times he tried to make sure you stayed as far as possible were all for naught, it’s hilarious seeing him seething behind a cool facade.

“Never knew what Toji seen in the woman but now I completely understand his point.” Suguru yelled from where he was transporting some wood.

Talking to them proved to be useless, as a little payback he made them clean the shed from top to bottom.

Trudging back to the main house in his thick boots Satoru comes to face you relaxing on the couch without a damn care in the world.

Why is he trying to get them to be on his level when he should be punishing you, you’re the one who didn’t listen, you’re the one sneaking out every night. He doesn’t know why he feels this hold on you, you’re such a beautiful girl that he can’t help but keep you in this small bubble.

When your eyes land on him you don’t say any kind of greeting, simply ignoring his presence for the movie on the huge ass tv he bought for you and eating the expensive food he bought for you.

You look extremely good right now, your fat boobs not swollen, but your pretty lips are. Satoru won’t say it but his pants tighten at the thought of what they do to you.

He needs you right now, he’ll make it up to you as much as he can.

He approaches you calmly and collected, sitting down at the edge of the couch where your legs are propped up, you still don’t acknowledge him. His trained hands start circling on your soft supple skin, you surprisingly don’t push him away. You give Satoru an inch he’ll take a mile.

He starts groping your thighs, the pudgy things hold within the creases of his hand. He pushes your thighs apart and gets a good look at your panties: you always choose to walk around the house like this.

They’re extra tight the way they emphasize your fat pussy, the groan that slips from his lips aren’t-something he tries to hold back, he needs you to know how much he wants you, especially wants you all to himself.

The rise and fall of your chest makes you look so cute, why are you so shy all of a sudden? You’re averting your eyes as well.

Satoru starts teasing your clothed folds, dragging his thick finger up and down, he pushes extra hard on your clit eliciting a small moan from you. He continues this for a little, he needs you wet to take him properly.

He peels off your soddened panties and positions himself above you, finally face to face with you. Your boobs are the first thing he attacks, pulling on your shirt and letting them spill out, the little droplets of milk call to him. He’s grabbing one and putting it into his mouth: he loves your taste so sweet like honey as it cascades down his throat so smoothly.

“Nghm… Toru..” finally you’ve decided to grace him with your sultry voice.

He bites down a little on your nipple making you jump away. He reels you right back in and sucks even harsher, there’s barely any milk left but he’s going to make sure he gets his full.

“Toru.” You call his name so panicked and yet you’re grinding against his fully hard cock. He’s so desperate in the moment that he unbuckles his belt and lets his cock bob free.

His fat tip prods agaisnt your folds, messing with your sticky wetness, he smears it on his tip even grinding down on your clit, but he doesn’t put it in, you don’t deserve that.

He teases you, pretending he’s going to give you what you want just to take it all away.

“Please…” a harsh and loud smack is delivered straight to your clit, you yelp and buckle your legs closed.

“Shirt, take your shirt off.” He commands, of course you’re gonna listen, Satoru has never taken that tone with you.

Your boobs now freely spill for him to gaze at. He spreads your legs back open.

“I’m gonna give you ten slaps, close your legs for even one I’m restarting. Understood?” You nod and your ears move along with it. He likes this look on your face: confusion, arousal and a little bit of fear.

On the first slap you make the mistake of shutting your legs closed: completely an accident but he’s having none of it, he hits your little clit again and again.

“Ahn..” you’re still so fucking wet by the sixth slap, creating a nasty mess that drips to your ass. Gojo’s cock is still throbbing, he jerks himself off, smearing his pre all over.

By the tenth slap you’re gone, completely dazed and only able to whine outloud, he decides that you’ve had enough with the tears that sit on your eye line. He pushes your legs back and lines his weeping tip. The feeling of sliding into your sopping wet cunt is better than any pussy he’s ever had.

His strokes against you are fast even though he should be letting you adjust, the sounds of skin against skin meeting each other is downright lewd.

He tells you to rub your nipples, it adds so much more stimulation that you can’t find it in you to hate it.

His cock drags agaisnt your walls over and over, till you can’t feel anything but the sensitivity of your nipples and the twitching of his fat cock.

He fucks you like that all night, even when you’re meant to meet Toji and Suguru, you can’t stop creaming around farmer Gojos length and nor do you want to.

[miyuhpapayuh]

Massage.

The cold metal of his bottom grill rubs along the inside of her ankle as she lays down on their bed. His massages always end up with him being more than touchy.

His hands found their way to her calves, pressing his fingers into her skin, his lips still lazily sliding up her leg.

“Jey,” she laughs, gasping as his bottom canines softly dig into her flesh, his tongue soothing it afterward.

Turning her head to look at him, she stares at the mischievous grin on his fine ass face.

“What?”

“You said you'd behave.”

“I am!” He chuckles, “I can't get a nibble or two?”

“No!” She giggles, turning to place her face back into the pillow once he moves up to her back, actually relieving the tension that had settled in her bones.

“Oh man, those hands are really magical cause no way,” she mumbles, stretching in ways she hadn't been able to in a few days due to the unbearable pressure when she'd try.

“I told you, I got the magic touch.” He hums, working his way to her lower back, kneading circles in the area with his thumbs.

“Yeah, you do.” She agrees, swiping her hair to the side to get more comfortable.

Pulling her left foot up to rest on his shoulder, she almost questioned him until one hand came up to rub her calf again, melting the tension right away.

Her eyes closed at the feeling, nose wrinkling up as his mouth found its way back to her ankle. She hums a laugh.

“I'm behavin’ as best as I can,” he grumbles, running his hand up her leg to mess with her little black shorts. “You just look so good like this, all laid out and relaxed, oiled down and smelling good,” he trails off, running his pointer finger up the center of her crotch.

Her sweet gasp makes him chuckle, a spank to her cheek earning him another one, her body beginning to squirm.

“Jey..”

“You wet as hell,” he darkly chuckled, moving hand back to rub her clothed slit. “I feel that shit."

“Th-this is not behavin’,” she tried to scold, all of that going out of the window as he pulled off her shorts and panties with ease.

Her pretty brown treasure staring at him, her slick shining as she rolls her hips in his direction, unable to deny her want for him any longer.

Diving into her wetland, she instantly shivers at the contrast of his warm tongue and his cold grill, one of her hands coming back to caress his head.

“Fuckkk,” she moans into the pillow as he dips his tongue into her opening, lapping up every drop of her sweet taste.

“Mmm… so good, baby,” he moans against her, slapping her ass with both hands.

His tongue finds her clit, suckling it into his mouth as her back arches, her hips jutting against his face as she nears her peak.

“Fuck, don't stop baby.. fuck!” She moans, clutching his hair in her hand tighter.

He wags his face against her, chuckling as she begins to scoot up the bed to get away from him, his mouth relentless as he grabs her thighs to hold them apart as he continues licking and sucking until her cum drips down his beard.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” her hands are stuck in the sheets, his sloppy licks don't cease as her head spins from the pleasure.

Replacing his tongue with his fingers, his index and middle rub up and down her wet slit, her hips wildly buck against them, already about cum again.

“Fuck— fuck me, please!” She whimpers, squeezing her eyes shut as her orgasm rushes through her, making her tremble in his hold.

“Stay just like this, beautiful,” he says, pushing the arch into her back, spreading her thighs to see her slick opening, before moving between them, rubbing himself between her folds.

Pulling her hair away from her neck and up into a makeshift ponytail, he glides into her and groans at how good she feels wrapping around him.

Her gasps at every deep thrust bounce off the walls of their bedroom.

“Fuck, you feel so good baby.” He moans, slapping her ass with his free hand, watching her grab for the pillow in front of her.

“Just like that,” she breathes, “fuck me!”

His hips piston into her ass over and over, tapping a spot that's got her body twitching, her eyes roll back at the sensation.

“Fuuuck, that f-feels so good! Right there!” Her whines are music to his ears, all the fuel he needed to keep going.

Moving his hands to her hips, his thrusts get deeper as her head falls forward, her wild moans hitting the sheets underneath her.

“Mhm, let it out baby… that shit feel good, don't it?”

“Yes!” She yells, throwing her ass back, her hands threading into her own hair, pulling as it gets good.

He bites his lip at the sight, swatting her ass again, groaning as she clamps down on him, cumming again.

Pulling away to flip her over, he hovers back over her. Her chest heaves up and down as she stares at him, ready for his next move.

“Can I get one more outta you, baby?” He asks, pulling her left leg up in his hip, grinding against her.

“Y-yes,” she softly moans, reaching between them to put his dick back inside, turning him on even more.

“Mmm, sexy ass.” He grabs her chin and smashes their lips together finally, swallowing every whimper and moan, throwing his hips into hers just the way she likes.

“Mmf!,” she pulls away to throw her head back, her eyes rolling backward as his tongue finds her neck. “J-just like that, baby— fuck!”

“Just like this, huh?” He asks as they wrap their arms around one another.

“Yes! It feels s-so goood! So good!” She whines, feeling her body tighten for the fourth time, pulling him down with her.

“Fuck, I'm cumming all in this pussy, baby?” He asks against her ear, the rutting of his hips becoming choppy.

“Yes, please cum inside me,” she moans, unable to stop the way she flexes around him, as her orgasm floods through, making him softly bite into her neck and fill her up.

Taking a minute to breathe, she softly hits his chest. “You still owe me an actual massage, Jey.” He laughs in return.

“I know, I know. I got you.”

For my girl @harmshake I hope you enjoy! 💜

[heya-moth]

DID SOMEONE SAY BOOKER X GRUMLEY????? 👀👀👀

OH YES!!! *toady voice*

Yes yes yes Booker x Grumley the bestest of Ships

Little bastard man x Himbo

For you my dear Anon here is my silly fluff oneshot

Quiet night in

Word count: 1,102

Ship: Booker x Grumley

Fandom: Uprooted (LoA)

As another day closes upon the Dimwood, our not-so-heroic heroes, Booker and his dear companion Grumley, find themselves in a cozy hotel in a beautiful giant old oak tree. It was a warm summer evening and a perfect night to enjoy dinner outside as the sunset.

Booker sat with his plate and cup. "I'm glad they gave you the soldier discount when we got here; this place normally costs a fortune!" He looked up at Grumley, who was already chowing down on his soup and sandwiches.

"Me too," the pug said between bites of his sandwich, "I'm glad you corrected me when I slipped up."

"Yeah, of course, I always have your back." Booker smiled kindly. "Oh, hold on."

Booker leans in close, very close. Close enough to kiss... Grumley blushed and smiled, leaning in himself. Booker gently puts his little raccoon hands on Grumleys face and slides his fingers under two of his folds. Bread crumbs and bits of food fall as he does this.

"You got food in your folds again," Booker said with a grin and a chuckle.

Grumley frowned a little, "I thought you were gonna kiss me."

Booker chuckled even more before giving the pug a quick kiss; in turn, Grumleys little tail started wagging, and he smiled.

"Sorry, sorry, I forgot the kiss tax." Booker laughed a little, loving how Grumley just lit up every time they kissed.

"Yes, you have! Constantly! You're in kiss debt, Booker!"

"oh no! How much do I owe?"

"oh! uhm..." Grumley thinks for a moment. His face gets even more wrinkled than it was before. Booker takes a bite of his sandwich.

"About 20," Grumley smiles.

"20?" Booker asks after swallowing.

"Yes 20!"

Booker grins and sits back in his seat. "Oh, alright. I guess I can pay off my debts when we get back to our room, " he says in a playfully sarcastic tone.

Later, Booker and Grumley made their way to the hotel room. Grumley walked over to the bed, and with his armor still on, he fell over on his stomach and started to fall asleep.

"oh no, ya don't." Booker hummed and lifted him back up to his feet

"Wuh-huh?" Grumley snorts and looks at Booker

Booker snickers and starts to carefully pull apart Grumley's armor. "Let's get you out of this heavy suit of armor, Grum," he says softly with a smile.

"Oh, uh, all right." Grumley yawned and helped his partner take off his armor. Booker smiled gently as he removed his clothes.

"WOAH! Booker I-"

"Calm down, Grumley. We need to take a bath." The raccoon cuts off his partner's stammering. “I know you're not ready for anything like that." He smiles and gently pets the pug's face.

Grumley's tail starts to wag as Booker pets him. "Oh right, bath," he smiles a little.

"What am I going to do with you?" Booker chuckled as they made their way into the hotel room's bathroom.

It was a decently-sized bathroom made of stone and oak. The wash tub was porcelain and sat flush to the floor with a "waterfall" to fill the tub with two colored ropes to activate hot or cold water.

Booker gently pulled on the red rope. As he did this, a rush of hot water started to pour from the top of the "waterfall" into the washtub.

Grumley watches in amazement. "That's lovely.." he said softly.

Booker grins and lets go of the red rope; he feels the water and pulls his hand back quickly.

"When they said they have hot water, they weren't lying!"

"Did you burn yourself?" Grumley asks, grabbing bookers hand gently

"Yeah, but I'll be fine." Booker smiles as he rubs Grumleys palm with his thumb.

Grumley nods and pulls the cold water rope until it is suitable for both of them.

The two got in and washed up. Booker helped wash Grumley's folds and his back, giving him sweet little kisses whenever the pug leaned into his touch.

"Let me help," Grumley suddenly said, spinning Booker 180 degrees.

"Woah, Grumley, I don't need help," Booker said, caught off guard.

"Well, I know that," Grumley hummed and got soap in his hands, gently lathering on Booker's back as he spoke. “But you're always helping me, so I thought I'd return the favor." The pug smiled brightly, his tail wagging, making the water splash around it.

Booker blushed as his tail started to sway back and forth. " Oh well... thank you, Grumley." Loving how his partner gently scrubbed and washed his back, he felt so relaxed and calm. Booker started purring lightly.

"I haven't heard you purr in a while, Booker," Grumley said with a wide smile.

Booker chuckled awkwardly as he blushed again. "Well," He clears his throat, "it's been a while since I've been this calm and happy."

Grumley lights up and rinses Booker off, using warm water to remove all the soap from his fur. The two soon get out of the bath; Grumley shakes off the water from his coat, soaking the bathroom in the process. Booker chuckles and shields himself from the water assault with a plush towel. He handed one to his partner when he was done.

"I should probably clean my armor." Grumley sighed softly.

"Eh, it's gettin' late. We can worry about it in the morning; let's get some sleep, big guy." Booker smiled as they walked back into the room.

Booker handed Grumley a pair of sleep pants and a plain white shirt. Grumley grumbled as he put the clothes on.

"Oh, hush," Booker chuckled as he wore his pajamas. Grumley huffed before flopping onto the bed with his back. Booker snickered and crawled into bed with him. Cuddled up to the pug, he gently started to rub Grumley's tummy.

Grumley gasps and looks at him with a grin

"You're such a good boy~" Booker purred softly

"I am?" Grumley asked with a big ol smile.

"Yes, you're the best boy." The raccoon grinned and leaned up to his face.

Booker leaned in and gave Grumley a little kiss. "one."

"What are you doing?" Grumley asked

"Paying the kiss debt," Booker replied before kissing him again. "Two."

Another kiss, "three."

"Four"

As he was getting kissed, Grumley reached up and put his hands on Booker's ears, gently petting them with a smile. This continued until Booker reached twenty. The raccoon pulled away from Grumley and snuggled back into his arms with a quiet yawn. Grumley gently wrapped his arms around Booker and yawned in response.

"Goodnight, Booker."

"Goodnight Grumley"

"I love you."

"I love you too."

[thepenultimateword]

Protective Part 4

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

No sooner did Villain plop down on the couch, Supervillain pressed close and worrying against their side, did they realize their surroundings. The apartment hadn't seemed so bad this morning, a little cluttered but not urgent; now all they could see was mess.

They flushed, the old panic replaced by the new as they leaped to their feet and hastily began gathering empty soda bottles and dirty dishes from the ground and side table. They managed to kick a few pieces of clothing into the hall on their way to the kitchen before dropping their entire armload into the sink with a far too loud CLANG!

"I'm sorry," Villain rushed, picking pillows off the ground and tossing the throw blanket across the back of the couch wrinkled but only a little worse for wea-- Was that a stain! Gross! They must've gotten ketchup or sweet and sour sauce or some other traitorously vibrant condiment on there. Hopefully not blood. The mark was gross enough without also being a biohazard. They patted rapidly at the fabric making a show of straightening the blanket out as they folded the edge inward. "I wasn't expecting to have anyone over today. I've actually never had anyone over. Unless you count the guy who dropped off the couch when I first moved in. Or the electrician who fixed my fuse box. I gave him a glass of water so that's sort of more of a guest than a delivery guy, but uh, yeah, never had anyone over to just hang out, which saying out loud is pretty lame. And embarrassing. But it's not much for entertaining anyway, ya know? I don't even know what I'd do with guests? Er, not to say I don't know what to do with you! i...no that came out strange. I meant it's pretty boring here usually, but with you around, it doesn't need to be. Or...no. I mean...I mean..."

Supervillain rose from the sofa, taking two steps to stand directly in front of them. They gently lifted Villain's jumper strap back onto their shoulder.

"Thank you for having me." The supervillain smiled warmly.

Villain wanted to gawk at the graciousness of it all but managed a curt nod instead and immediately averted their eyes. "I'm, um, going to change and make some tea. Want any?"

"I can make it," Supervillain said, stepping toward the kitchen. "Just show me where you keep it."

"N-no!" Villain snatched the taller criminal by the jacket, stopping them short with a sharp tug. Supervillain looked over their shoulder, and Villain stared down at their clenched hands in horror. "Ah!" They scrambled a couple feet back, wringing their hands tightly together. "I'm sorry! It's just I like making it. I-it helps me calm down. Besides you're my guest this time. It's the least I can do."

Supervillain turned back, stopping Villain's hands just short of throttling each other as they took them in their own. "I'm sorry," they said. "I overstepped. I'll wait on the couch. Take all the time you need."

Oh. Supervillain...wasn't upset. They apologized. It was ok.

Villain pulled their hands back slowly, warming a little at the feel of Supervillain's fingertips brushing across their palms. "I'll be quick."

They turned away fast, hopefully before Supervillain noticed, and darted down the hall. Once in their bedroom, they peeled off the annoying jumper without hesitation, throwing it vengefully into the laundry basket. The decrease in discomfort was almost immediate.

Villain breathed a sigh as they sat on the edge of the bed. They'd been on their way to a full-blown panic attack. Their heart was still racing.

They buried their fingers in their hair. They were seriously a mess.

Supervillain hadn't seemed to mind this time, but what about next time? Or after that? They were definitely going to get annoyed. Maybe Villain should just tell them this wasn't going to work out. It would save them both the trouble of starting something that was doomed to fail. Besides, Supervillain would probably be happier without a future of being dragged down, and Villain would be happier pretending a hot, bigshot supervillain would've really wanted them. Except...then there was the matter of wasting Supervillain's time today and making them pay for lunch, and a cab and...

And nothing was solved.

Tomorrow, people would still be making fun of them. Heroes would still be stalking them. The world would still be watching. Maybe even worse now that they'd been seen in public with Supervillain.

Villain shoved their fingers back to the crown of their head and then dragged them forward again, pulling chunks of hair over their face as they rubbed their palms in their eyes.

"Ok," Villain murmured. "You're doing this. You're doing, this you're doing this, you're doing this." They slapped their hands down determinedly onto their legs and surveyed the messy bedroom. "Now what are you going to wear?"

They sighed again. They'd only thought as far as getting the jumper off, not what to replace it with.

Villain slid to the floor and began sifting through everything that hadn't escaped this morning's rampage. Which was almost their entire wardrobe. After the jumper fiasco, they wanted to be comfortable, but they could not just wear sweats in front of Supervillain. Yes, they'd seen them in pajamas once already and covered in puke, but the date still wasn't technically over.

Oversized was cute. Maybe a sweater? Or the color-block hoodie? Or should they be going the more attractive route with some shorts and a tank? Villain buried their face in their knees. Nope nope nope. Just thinking about that was uncomfortable.

Villain's hand brushed against something silky, and they brought an oversized button up to their face. Huh. Maybe they could do a little of both. It was technically a sleep shirt, but the thing had a collar, sooo formal. Right? Yeah. And with some shorts--a longer pair of shorts--it would probably look nice. Better than sweats at least.

Villain dressed quickly; they'd probably taken too long already. But before they returned to Supervillain there was one more problem to address: their eyes were killing them.

They'd quickly replaced their contacts a few minutes before the date, but after keeping them in too long the night before, falling asleep in them, and spending 20 minutes digging them out of their eyes before immediately shoving in new ones, their eyes were none too happy. Unless they wanted to torture themselves, they had little choice. Villain filled their contact case with solution, removed the irritants from their eyes, and put on their glasses. Then before they could start questioning themselves, Villain marched out to the living room.

"Sorry that took a bit. I'll get started on tea now."

Supervillain went straight in their seat and gaped.

Villain touched a hand to their glasses and turned away. "What?"

"Can I...?" Supervillain finished the rest of their thought by raising their phone and making a camera-clicking motion with their free hand. "Not to post or anything. Just for me."

Villain blinked. "Uh, sure? Why though?"

It didn't make sense that Supervillain wanted so many pictures. It wasn't like they were anything special to look at. Once again, they wondered if this could be a setup. A couple days of drudging seduction to steal all their most embarrassing and vulnerable moments and post them online. But then, what did it really matter? They were already an embarrassment.

"I didn't know you wore glasses," Supervillain said as they aimed their phone. "It's so cute, I think I almost swallowed my tongue."

Villain stopped breathing. They actually had to force themselves to inhale. "O-oh. Thank you. I...uh...tea."

They pointed toward the kitchen and hurried away with their head ducked. They balanced themselves on the cabinets for a moment, shoving the image of those intense, dark eyes to the back of their mind. it was very persistent.

Making tea usually soothed them, but now they just ran through the motions, heating water, putting strainers in teacups, measuring out teaspoons of chamomile and mint, etc. All the while the pictured Supervillain. Sitting on the couch. Eating waffle. Broad back. Watching eyes.

They didn't remember pouring the hot water through the strainers or letting it sit, but suddenly they were handing Supervillain a cup and saucer.

Supervillain nodded a thanks, taking a sip before setting the cup aside and turning fully on the couch toward Villain's seat beside them.

"I wanted to talk to you about the photos from today."

"Ok..." Villain tried not to let their hand tremble as they dragged on their tea. It slurped a little, but neither of them addressed it.

"I planned to post them tonight, but are you going to be ok with that?"

"I don't think that really matters," Villain said.

"Of course, it matters. Those people looking at you made you really upset. Posting these will bring the attention of a million more. Of course I would rip--" Supervillain clamped their fists violently on empty air, gritting their teeth as they acted out a shredding motion. "--anyone who harassed you to pieces." Their face softened. "But I won't push you into anything you're not ready for."

Oh.

Villain stared into the golden shimmer of their tea.

"But you were right when you said that was the point of the day I freaked out, but things were just going the way they were supposed to."

"It wasn't the whole point." Supervillain tilted their head far enough sideways to catch Villain's eyes. "It was also fun."

"Yeah." Villain smiled. "It was."

They plonked their cup onto the floor and pulled out their phone.

"Ok, what should I say in my post?"

Supervillain raised their brows. "You're sure?"

"Yeah," Villain replied more casually than they felt. "Nothing's going to change if I keep on the way I am now. What should I say?"

Supervillain scratched their cheek. "I feel awkward telling you what to say about me. How about I go first and you use that to come up with yours."

Villain nodded. "Mm."

"Alright. So our together lunch picture, my food, you taking a bite..." Supervillain angled their screen into Villain's view as they talked, selecting photos as they spoke. Maybe to include Villain or maybe to prove to them they weren't choosing anything they hadn't already spoken about. "Aaaand there."

Villain leaned closer and read the caption slowly.

A-Whisper-in-the-Dark: Lunch date with lovely. There is no one else I’d rather spend time with ❤️

They blushed furiously. "I'm not lovely."

"You look very lovely to me. Oh, let me friend you. It would be weird if we're dating but not even social media friends."

“Oh, yeah.” Villain turned their phone absently toward them to copy the username into the search bar. What should they say? What should they even share? They’d ruined the solo photo, so maybe they’d only post one instead of a collection like Supervillain’s.

They flicked throw five of the same picture, except for the very first where Villain was looking at Supervillain instead of the camera. They had probably been glancing up to see what sort of expression they should match, but it almost looked like…

Ok, they had an idea.

They selected the photo and began typing.

Knife-Life-247: My first time at the lighthouse. It was beautiful, but the other view was better.

Ding!

Supervillain looked at the notification and gave a giddy cackle, burying their face in their arm. “You sneak. You act all shy and flustered while pulling lines like that!"

Ding!

Ding!

Ding!

The notifications saved Villain from coming up with a reply. Good. It was embarrassing enough having Supervillain read what they’d written about them, they didn’t need to talk about it too.

“Looks like it’s already blowing up,” Supervillain said, looking at their phone.

Pocket_Doggo: No way no way no way NO WAY!!! The-Next-Big-Thing2789: These look photoshopped. If you zoom in the background looks weird. Supervillain's-Husbando: Noooooooooooooo 💀💔 Supervillain's-Wife: They don't match at all! And they’re ruining their vibe! Hope Supervillain is ok (@Supervillain's-Husbando nice username by the way) TheRealSupervillain: Jk guys! I'm actually dating Hero! HalfAHeroSandwich: Why is everyone so mean? I've always thought Villain was really cute. CredibleHero: Apparently no one on here knows how to take a joke. Humor is lost on people these days 🙄 tacosaurus25: @CredibleHero Shut up you look like an idiot. Another account already posted a video of them at the beach together. CredibleHero: @tacosaurus25 Yeah your exactly the type of person I'm talking about. You don't even realize Supervillain is just messing around with them like the rest of us. They wouldn't ever really date someone like that. tacosaurus25: @CredibleHero *you're. CredibleHero: @tacosaurus25 Your only correcting my grammar because you know you're wrong A-Whisper-in-the-Dark: Don't talk about my partner that way. You might feel brave behind your screen, but remember, I can find anyone I want.🔪 icantthinkofausername: @A-Whisper-in-the-Dark Woah woah! They replied! 😱 Random-NPC: @A-Whisper-in-the-Dark Is it really the real Supervillain?!?! Dolphinlover29: @A-Whisper-in-the-Dark I can't believe this! tacosaurus25: @CredibleHero convenient time to ghost Hangry-Bird: I'm still skeptical. Those photos could be fake. Or staged. Alwayssus: Yeeeeah seems pretty sus Little-mystery: Didn't Supervillain beat up some hero yesterday though? Could it be related? Like maybe the guy messed with them, and it made Supervillain want to go public? Blushiemushieslushie: Like they were secretly dating all along? Power-Hungry-Bulbasaur: Ooooo nice theory! It is a little out of nowhere! They probably totally were!🤯

Villain squeezed their phone in both hands, trying to grasp some piece of reality. Everything about the last two days had been surreal, but watching the comments flow in about a relationship that hadn't even existed until this morning was the cherry on top. Sure they'd dreamed of notoriety. When they first started villainy, that had been the goal. Respect, fear, control. A name people would remember. Well, people remembered them all right. The puking half-a-hero weirdo. Nothing had changed. But now in five minutes, there was a whirlwind of speculation. Maybe it would all turn out for the worst. Maybe despite Supervillain's confidence, they'd bring Supervillain down with them. But maybe...maybe this was their key. People thought it was possible they'd been dating Supervillain all along. Others were jealous. Yes, plenty of others were attacking and that made them queasy, but if Supervillain thought they were worth it, and if some people believed it...maybe it could be true.

"Let's do a Q&A."

Supervillain looked up in surprise. “What?"

“You mentioned live-streaming this morning. I…don’t really like it, but it will clear things up faster.” Villain tried to keep their voice steady but their stomach roiled. “And I need to get braver.”

"It's too fast."

"Oh." Villain's shoulders sank. "Sorry."

"No, I don't mean it's too fast for me. Or them." Supervillain motioned at their phone. "I mean for you. You were really scared today. You can't jump straight into the deep end when you're still scared of the water."

"Isn't that my decision though?" Villain snapped.

Supervillain's brows raised in surprise.

Villain shrunk back. "Sorry."

Supervillain held up their hands as if to rebuff the apology. "Yes. That's your decision."

"Ok then." Villain wet their lips and shakily opened a new comment box. "Is Friday good?"

"Just fine."

"Ok."

Knife-Life-247: We'll be live-streaming a Q&A this Friday. Blushiemushieslushie: @Knife-Life-247 Now Villain is replying?! Just-a-little-worm: They just uploaded pictures on their account too! asjdkfg: @Knife-Life-247 Live Q&A? I'm asking off work on Friday! Sun_News: @Knife-Life-247 @A-Whisper-in-the-Dark We're interested in making a story about this. Would you be willing to give a video interview?

A pause stretched between them. Both watching the unfolding chaos and unsure what to say next. At least, that was Villain's case. Maybe Supervillain didn't get unsure.

“Thanks for standing up for me," Villain finally said. "Earlier. In the comments. And before.”

“Of course." Supervillain rested a hand on Villain's knee, cautious, gentle, and with a quick glance tagged on the end, as if to confirm it was an ok touch. "I’ll always protect you.”

Villain had too bad of a track record to believe that. But they could still hope for it.

Master Taglist:

@moss-tombstone @crazytwentythrees @just-1-lonely-person @the-vagabond-nun @willow-trees-are-beautiful @cocoasprite @insanedreamer7905 @valiantlytransparentwhispers @whovian378 @watercolorfreckles @thebluepolarbear @yulanlavender @kitsunesakii @deflated-bouncingball @lem-hhn @office-plant-in-a-trenchcoat@ghostfacepepper @pigeonwhumps @demonictumble @inkbirdie @vuvulia @bouncyartist @lunatic-moss-studio @breilobrealdi @freefallingup13 @i-am-a-story-goblin @ryunniez @rainy-knights-of-villany @distractedlydistracted @saspas-corner @echoednonny @perilous-dreamer @blood-enthusiast @randomfixation @alexkolax @pksnowie @blessupblessup @wolfeyedwitch @thedeepvoidinmyheart @cornflower-cowboy @bestblob @a-chaotic-gremlin @espresso-depresso-system @prompt-fills-and-writing-spills @paleassprince @takingawildbreath @yindonessy @psychiclibrariesquotestoad @harpycartoons @pickleking8 @urmyhopeeee @goldenflame2516 @tobeornottobeateacher @talesofurbania1 @sweetsigyn @girl-of-the-sea-and-stars @kurai-hono-blog

[1mnobodywhoareyou]

'dragging them out to every restaurant or store to get free drinks or birthday benefits' for Flynn and Willie pls 🙏

- Parker

😁 complete with a set of neos as previously discussed 😊 Thank you! Hope you like it! @lou-writes-things

Willie’s nearly bouncing in its seat waiting for Flynn in their sole shared class this semester. Flynn finally, FINALLY makes it through the classroom door and Willie jumps out of its seat to greet aer with a tight hug. 

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!” Willie cheers. 

Flynn pats Willie’s shoulder with a light chuckle, “Okay, okay, thank you! Put me down.”

Willie complies and they walk back to their usual seats together. Willie drops into its chair with a dramatic groan, “It’s been terrible being awake so many hours without being able to wish you a happy birthday in person.”

“You’ve texted me almost every hour,” Flynn replies with another laugh, taking aer own seat. “Since midnight, I might add.”

“Okay, yes. But,” Willie says, digging through its bag. “It’s not every day your best friend turns twenty-one!” Willie presents Flynn with a flat envelope. 

Ae accepts it with furrowed brows. “What’s this?”

“Your birthday present!” Willie beams at aer. 

Flynn opens the envelope and slides out a sheet of folded paper. On it is a list of different businesses in town, ranging from restaurants and bars to mom and pop shops. The wrinkle in Flynn’s brow deepens. “I don’t get it.”

“This,” Willie says as it takes the paper from aer, “is our plans for the rest of the day.”

Flynn gestures for Willie to continue. 

“I figured out everywhere that does birthday freebies and plotted out a route based on when places close and open.”

“You did what? How long did that take?”

Willie shrugs, “Not too long. I just did bits at a time over the last few months. It’s nothing.”

“Nothing?!” Flynn widens aer eyes at Willie in disbelief but is silenced by their professor starting class. “This is not nothing,” Flynn whispers, flipping aer notebook open.

Willie grins at aer, knocking its foot against Flynn’s under the table. Flynn returns the smile and foot knock and they both do their best to focus on their lecture for the rest of class. 

They quickly pack up as soon as class is over with Flynn laughing as Willie fumbles with its things in excitement. “My birthday is not that big a deal.”

“Shut up, yes it is.”

Flynn rolls aer eyes but doesn’t argue. 

“Okay, let’s go!” Willie exclaims once it’d successfully packed everything up.

“Right now?!”

“Yeah, we have a tight schedule. Gotta get started.”

Flynn raises an unimpressed eyebrow, “Dressed like that?”

Willie looks down at its outfit and holds its hands out in question. “What’s wrong with my clothes?”

Flynn doesn’t bother answering, ae simply spins on aer heel and walks out of the classroom with Willie trailing close behind. 

Willie follows Flynn to the apartment they share where Flynn picks out a new outfit ae deems appropriate for celebrating aer 21st birthday. 

“Better?” Willie asks, modeling the new clothes with a spin for Flynn. 

Flynn nods approvingly, “Much. Now we can go. After a quick stop by my room.”

Willie narrows its eyes, “How quick.”

“Quicker if we get moving, let’s go!”

After another outfit change and a few selfies for good measure, Flynn and Willie get started on the birthday tour. 

They encounter very few issues, enjoying free shots, drinks, appies and random gifts as they move through Willie’s list. Willie had preplanned which stops would require them to actually spend money to get the freebies. There were only a few stops that were unexpectedly outside of Willie’s budget and they had just moved on, quickly making up lost time from the wardrobe changes. 

“It’s too bad the whole crew couldn’t be here until the weekend,” Flynn says from behind the display ae’s sifting through. Flynn and Willie opted to go to a speciality arts school instead of joining the others at their college. They’re not necessarily far, but it’s still far enough that making the trip during the week is a lot to ask. Even for a milestone birthday. But they make it work. 

“Yeah,” Willie agrees, handing over something that had caught its eye that Willie was confident Flynn would like. “But they’ll be here this weekend and we can ring in your new year for real.”

“I guess I can settle for your company until then,” Flynn teases. 

“You’re lucky to have me.”

“I am,” Flynn agrees with a smile, putting everything they’d been browsing through back. “Where to next?”

Willie takes Flynn through the rest of the stops, ending at the club that they’d been frequenting for the last few years. The staff knows them well and are excited to offer Flynn aer upgraded admission bracelet. 

Flynn accepts it by dramatically holding aer wrist out and bowing deeply once properly adorned. Aer brow furrows in confusion when one of the staff guides them away from the dancefloor. Ae looks back at Willie who just shrugs. 

“What…” Flynn cuts aerself off when ae sees where they’re headed. Squashed into one of the booths hiding in a quieter part of the club are all of their friends. 

“SURPRISE!!!” they yell with their best attempt at jazz hands while also trying to pile out of the booth. 

“Guys!” Flynn cries, hand pressed to aer chest. 

Everyone surrounds Flynn and Willie, wrapping them up in a tight group hug. “Happy birthday, Flynnie!” they chorus. 

Flynn fights back the tears threatening to make themselves known. “I can’t believe you managed to do this. And not tell me! All of you suck at secrets.”

“We can learn new things for you.” Willie says with a wink. 

“Absolutely unbelievable. All of you,” Flynn says as ae draws everyone back in for another hug. “Thank you! I love all y’all weirdos.”

“We love you too, Flynn. Now, c’mon! One last freebie,” Willie grins as it shoves Flynn into the booth, crawling in after aer and letting everyone else pile in behind them.

[unclewaynemunson]

The Wingman Wayne saga continues! It looks like there will be 8 parts in total at this point so we’re about halfway there :) | Read from the beginning | or on ao3

Robin knows she did the right thing. Of course she did the right thing. But the thing is, sometimes it fucking sucks to do the right thing. And this is clearly one of those times.

As soon as the phone is back on the hook, she feels tears stinging behind her eyes, and she decides she might as well throw herself a good ol' pity party. It's not like she has anything better to do tonight anyway, and it'll probably help her get over her stupid feelings soon enough. No doubt she'll feel better in the morning.

So she tells her mom she's gonna go to bed early and crawls under the covers with Polly, a pile of chocolate bars and a truckload of tissues. It doesn't help as well as she'd hoped, though; she still feels miserable when she gets out of bed the next day. And the next one. And the day after that. And it's fucking ridiculous, because she only spent a couple of hours with Nancy, they've only been on one date, so she can hardly be in love with the girl already and she needs to get the fuck over whatever this is.

And the worst part is that she can't even talk about it with Steve, the one person she can always rely on when she needs to pour her heart out. So she has all these feelings just building up inside of her with nowhere to go and she has no idea what to do with them – and that's how she eventually ends up at the trailer park.

Robin has to admit she wasn't too keen on Eddie at first, afraid that he was only playing with Steve's feelings because he had so blatantly friendzoned him while Steve was already way further gone for him that he admitted even to Robin – but her suspicion had disappeared soon enough, when she saw how Eddie looked at Steve and how he made up for his earlier mistakes (which mainly involved completely disgusting streams of compliments and affection that were an equal amount of gross and cute). So Eddie rapidly grew on her, and even though she has never shown up at the trailer park unannounced before, she knows that they've become good enough friends by now that it won't be weird.

He's outside when she arrives, his hands buried deep in the bumper of his van and a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth, and he greets her with an enthusiastic 'Buckley!' when he sees her arrive, wiping his hands on an old cloth as she gives him a mock-salute.

'And whatever brings you to my humble abode, may I inquire?' he says, followed by, 'Steve's not here.'

'Yeah, I know,' she answers; if she hadn't known for a fact that Steve would be at Family Video all day, she wouldn't have come here in the first place.

Eddie gasps and clutches at his heart. 'Did you come here for me?!' he exclaims in a high-pitched voice.

'Yeah I did, weirdo.'

'Did I finally officially win over my boyfriend's soulmate?'

'Well, if you keep recognizing my soulmate-status you might,' Robin tells him with a laugh.

Eddie tosses the butt of his cigarette in the pale yellow grass and Robin wants to say something about littering, but one look around the trailer park is enough to remind her that one cigarette butt is not the biggest litter problem in this place and she doesn't wanna come across as looking down on him and the place he lives in, so she swallows her comment and instead follows him towards the porch, where they flop down on the old plastic chairs that kinda look like they're falling apart.

'So...' Robin starts, debating with herself how she should start. 'Remember how your uncle set me up with that girl?'

Eddie goes to sit cross-legged and it looks kind of uncomfortable, the way he has to fold himself up like a human pretzel in his chair. 'Oooh, it's gonna be that kind of conversation!' he exclaims with a mischievous glimmer in his eyes. He fumbles around in his pockets to light up a new cigarette. Robin wrinkles her nose at the bad habit, but doesn't say anything about it. She's done that often enough already and Eddie always turns himself into a goddamn human chimney for the rest of the time they spend together when she does, just to spite her.

'Full disclosure, Steve already told me all about it,' he says to Robin. 'That she turned out to be Steve's ex and that you're not seeing her anymore.'

'Yeah...' Robin kinda wishes there was a non-gross version of smoking, because it actually seems pretty appealing to have something to do with her hands and her mouth while she's stalling her reply and it's clear that Eddie isn't exactly the kind of host who'd offer her a cup of tea.

'Lemme guess,' Eddie says, 'You liked her more than you wanted Steve to know?'

She sighs. 'You can't tell Steve about it,' she blurts out.

''Course not.' He makes a movement like he's zipping up his mouth. 'He already had a feeling about it, though. Said you were acting weird about the whole thing.' He shrugs. 'You could just talk to him about it, you know. He said he wouldn't mind.'

'Eddie, c'mon, you know Steve!' she exclaims. 'Of course he's gonna say he won't mind, being all noble and shit about it! But I can't break the bro code like that, that'd make me a terrible person! I can't do that to him! But I've been feeling completely miserable all week and if I don't get over it soon, he's gonna catch on, and I don't want that to happen because then he will be miserable too, and that would be super unfair, because he can't help it! So I just have to, like, wallow in it for a little bit, talk about it with someone who is not Steve, and then I'll be ready to move on and Steve's feelings will be spared!'

Eddie takes his time to release the smoke from his lungs, his head slightly tilted.

'Sooo...' He lazily drags out the word. 'I think we still have some ice cream in the fridge. Want me to get it for you and spend the next couple hours lamenting to me about how perfect your date was while I hold your hand?'

'Um, I have no idea if you meant that in a sarcastic way, but yes, I think I'd like that,' Robin answers.

Eddie smiles and gets up from his chair.

'No sarcasm here. If it'll help you and spare Steve's feelings, I'm happy to help. Seriously.'

Pt6

Taglist: @munsonsuccubus @messrs-weasley @shrimply-a-menace @booksandsience @sadcanadianwinter @mightbeasleep @theysherobinbuckley @bisexualdisastersworld

[itofthames]

Freefall Pt 9 (Jing Yuan x Reader)

wc: 886

jing yuan x reader

tags: nothing new, nothing too n--s----fw

can you tell this story definitely got out of hand?

Read here or on Ao3

It’s a dizzying feeling.

When you imagine standing alongside Jing Yuan again, it is always with grit teeth and a mountain of shared regrets.

Instead, the moment you both return to work, a wave of stressed-out interns and burnt-out co-workers crash down on Jing Yuan with piles of paperwork. In moments you’re a sea apart with him being dragged off, a single dot in an ever-growing crowd of swarming tasks. You head back to your typical workplace, at the front of a myriad of holographic recreations of the ship. By midday, you’re back up to your chin in work; trade requests, mistranslations, drafted legislation, reports on cult and disruptive activity by the Denizens of Abundance.

It’s like nothing ever changed, save the occasional co-worker asking about your ‘vacation’. It’s a shock when the clock rings, informing you that it’s time to clock out. You leave alone, feeling hopelessly off-kilter.

Perhaps Jing Yuan’s romantic life isn’t the most important thing on the ship and you’ve been making a mountain out of a molehill.

That’s life for a week. You hardly see Jing Yuan anymore, due to recent flare-ups and overlapping issues. When you do see him, it’s in passing with him standing in the center of the room, giving the occasional order and taking in information from informants, before being rushed off again by more interns requesting meetings. How he even manages to keep up with his duties is a wonder to you.

Another day at work and Jing Yuan is standing at the head of the room, arms crossed and contemplative, as always.

“Where is that report on the damages done in Starwatcher Avenue?”

“I think they might have it,” someone says, pointing to you.

You realize that you had compiled that report. You straighten out in time to see Jing Yuan approach you.

Jing Yuan bites his lip. When he realizes how that must look, he ducks his head down and wipes the expression from his face. When he’s upright again, he clears his throat, “I hope you’re back in good health.”

You nod, sucking in your lips. The last thing you want is to ask him why you haven’t spoken in more than a week after that night, but it’s the only thing you can think about.

He holds out his hand. “The report?”

“Ah, yes. Here you are, sir,” You hand the paper off to him and his hand lingers against yours. His thumb brushes over yours.

He pulls away quickly, thanking you as he goes.

You’re left with desires bubbling up in the pit of your stomach and a spiking heartbeat.

Another day and night go by. It’s your first weekend since the vacation and you sit at home, curled up on your couch with a book you’ve read a million times already, pretending to be okay while keeping your ears peeled for a telltale knock on the door that never comes.

Had it only been a week before when he’d been fucking you to bawling pieces on this very same couch? It felt like forever ago and you still feel the ghost grip of his hands on your waist. If his face had been anything to go by, the feeling was painfully mutual.

So, why nothing?

The weekend drags by and you head back to work. Today’s focus is on sleep-inducing discrepancies in weapon inventory. Your eyes glaze over the same lines of information over and over, but they never actually penetrate.

“....yeah, I get it.”

You bolt back to reality and look over your shoulder. Jing Yuan stands there, arms folded and looking rather amused. Between the wrinkled clothing and the unshined lion pauldron, you get the idea that he’s not holding up too well.

“Are you too busy?”

“Absolutely not,” you say, pretending like you aren’t shaking from him being so damn close.

“Good, that’s—that’s good...” he says, blinking a couple of times as if he couldn’t quite believe what you’ve said. You’re half a mind to ask him what’s going on, but there are too many co-workers around for you to feel safe asking, “Please follow me,”

You walk behind him without saying another word. A familiar buzz blazes through your skin and fingertips as you disappear down corridor after corridor until you can hardly tell one from the next.

Jing Yuan picks a door, seemingly at random, and leads you inside.

It’s a room of never-ending bookcases.

You only hear the door close before Jing Yuan’s arms wrap around you from behind and his nose buries itself in the crook of your neck. You freeze until it hits you exactly what’s happening. Then you melt. It’s been long. Too long.

“Thought—thought you left me,” Jing Yuan says, parting from your neck to get a breath in before shoving you against a bookcase, crushing your body against it until you can’t move. He takes a tight hold of each of your wrists and pins them above your head, and his mouth is on yours, in that same familiar hungry, desperate way you’ve come to miss.

“No, wouldn’t—,” You sneak in between kisses.

Jing Yuan backs away enough to stare into your eyes, “never?”

“Never.” 

[indianamoonshine]

strawberry | EXTRAS | checkers

summary: remember the chapter in strawberry where they go to the bar? remember how i said there was a second part but i never posted it? i decided to ax it, but i’m posting it now! here’s a gift to tide you over for the next chapter!

rating: m

You’re a very competitive person. It’s ironic because you’ve played one sport (volleyball in middle school) and then quit upon finding it was too much work. As a child you dreamt of becoming a NASCAR driver (you hate watching it and no one in your family ever did) and even a lawyer (you cry whenever you argue but you relish on being right).

You love to win. And even worse: you’re a sore loser.

“Dammit!” you whine, watching as Din leans over to collect your checker. “How are you so good at this?!”

Din smirks proudly to himself. “I’m really good at guessing someone’s next move.”

The way he says it makes you believe it’s some sort of inside joke you weren’t apart of. You grimace, crossing your arms against your chest, and wrinkle your nose. Your mother always used to say you look like an angry bunny but it was a habit you’ve never been able to break. Din stares at the board, eyes scanning every possible square. You suppose you should pay closer attention too even though it probably wouldn’t make any difference.

“I’m blaming it on the alcohol,” you say, content with the excuse. It was a good one, after all.

You glance out the windows into the night. It was raining fairly hard but the wind was still, despite the steady thunder. It’s been an hour since the two of you got back and it hasn’t let up a drop.

Din’s loaned you one of his t-shirts and a pair of boxers to sleep in. When he handed you the folded clothes he flushed and then mumbled, “I’ll be in the living room...” before sauntering off. Had it been anyone else’s affection you were vying for you might’ve been offended. But you suspect his embarrassment was caught up in his own actions from earlier.

You clear your throat. “Okay, next question...” you pause. “Uh...”

“What’s your favorite movie?” Din wonders, eyes never leaving the board. He reaches over to move one of his pieces and then plops back into his seat, meeting your gaze. He looks sober now, his expression neutral and pupils clearly attentive of his surroundings.

You hum in contemplation, fingering the roughened edges of the checker pieces. The set is an antique - just something you found to pass the time in one of the chests around the cabin.

“Dirty Dancing.” You hop one of your pieces over his and smile in victory.

Din slowly raises a pair of bronzed eyes your way but he grins as though he’s pleased. “Is that to blame for your attraction to older men?”

You let out a fabricated gasp while placing a hand on your chest. “And what’s so wrong with that? Patrick Swayze is a very handsome man.”

Your competitor shrugs in agreement. “I won’t argue. He was older than her though, right?” He considers this for a moment. “I haven’t seen it in a while.”

Amazing. “I can’t believe you’ve seen it,” you chuckle in disbelief. You capture another one of his checkers. He hisses under his breath. “It’s sexy.”

Din makes a noise under his breath, though he’s now concentrating even harder than what he was before. “What is? The movie?”

“No,” you reply, watching as his deft fingers slide his piece closer to capturing another of yours. You have half a mind to give up at this point; he’s about to win anyway. “Well, yeah, but I meant that you’ve seen it. It’s a chick-flick. Most straight men haven’t. Toxic masculinity and all that.”

Your voice trails off, but Din catches it and clamps down. “How do you know my ex-girlfriend didn’t force me to watch it?”

There’s an “oh” stuck in your throat, but it chokes just before it can escape. You can only pause, your fingers hovering over your piece.

“Did you...see it with her...?” you tread, feeling very awkward.

Din watches you blankly for a moment but his eyes are jocose in nature. Then he sputters out a bit of laughter, shaking his head. “No. My best friend liked it though.”

Best friend. Din had a best friend? Not to say that Din wasn’t agreeable (obviously, as you were doing something so dull as playing checkers with him) but he didn’t seem the kind of person to form attachments. His relationship with you felt foreign enough. But a best friend? That took another degree of intimacy entirely.

“Oh?” you respond, titillated by the idea of getting to know him more. “You never told me you had a best friend.”

Din squares his jaw, an ashen expression falling upon his face and you instantly regret asking. While you haven’t known him for long, it’s the most sick you’ve seen him look.

“I’m sorry. Forget I said anything.” You wave a hand, bringing your arms back to your chest as a nervous habit.

But he just blinks once or twice, starting slowly but starting nonetheless. “Cara. She passed away a few years ago.”

•

He won, of course.

He’s never lost a game of checkers in his life. Not even before he joined the Creed and Guild. He’s been a natural in the field of strategy for as long as he can remember so it wasn’t a surprise when he captured your last checker. You’d grumbled - and he found it endearing - but then climbed into his lap like it never even happened. All is forgiven.

The two of you talk for around five minutes before he watches you yawn, pretty mouth forming into an “oh”. He knew then that the two of you were finally sober enough to sleep. He kisses your forehead while you drag him into his bedroom.

He tries to ignore Cara. He hasn’t thought about her ever since her death - ever since she was killed in a crossfire he’d started. He’d blamed himself ever since, tossing and turning in his sleep until he went without it for over forty eight hours and then literally fell over with fatigue. And it wasn’t that he wishes you wouldn’t ask him questions, he just...

Well, Din wishes he would’ve just kept his damn mouth shut. The less you knew of the things he’d done or the people he’d met during his past, the better. You were safe in your ignorance even if it shredded him to pieces every day.

You crawl into bed with him, your thighs as soft as the silk you’d worn earlier (and now hangs over the bath tub to dry). When the lights have been turned off he presses you close to his chest, your right ear leaning against the brick surrounding his thumping heart. Din rests his chin at the top of your head, closes his eyes, and inhales the scent of his shampoo in your hair. It suits you better.

Because of course it does, even if it’s masculine it still somehow smells just like you.

He whispers your name and presses a small kiss against your temple. “I really like you, too.”

[bluejaysandblackbats]

Human Cannery Co.

Fandom: YJ98, Superfam, Flashfam, DC Comics

Summary: Conner is faced with a dilemma when Bart's clone shows up at his apartment asking for help.

Chapters: 2/?

Characters: Conner Kent, Thaddeus Thawne, Bart Allen, Tim Drake, Cassie Sandsmark, Clark Kent

Relationships: KonThad

Additional Tags: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Thad Thawne Redemption Fic, Clone 4 Clone, Developing Friendships, Angst, First Kiss, Roommates, Canon Divergent AU

Chapter Two: Breakfast Bar

As I said, I couldn't stand Thad when things started out. He followed me like a shadow around my apartment, quietly observing me. I hated it. "Superboy—?"

"Wrong," I snapped, "When I'm not in costume, you call me Conner. Conner. Get that?"

Looking back at that moment, I realize I was a jerk to him. He nodded and shrank into a corner of the room. I went about my day, and he stayed in the same spot until his stomach growled and reminded me of my humanity. I thought about how people treated me at the start of my existence. I was a thing to everyone around me. Tossed from place to place, demeaned, exploited, monetized. And I had the nerve to treat Thad like an unwanted pet. I didn't want to be that way toward him, but it was hard to get past what he'd done to Bart over the years. Part of me wanted to punish him for his past, but that wasn't fair.

I went to my room and found a pair of overalls and an old, knitted sweatshirt. "Thad! You can't go out with me like that. Come here," I called out. I pinched the bridge of my nose, fighting the urge to be unkind. I thought of Ma. She could've shunned me for my existence, but she loved me. Unconditionally. She might've been the first person to truly love me for me. Maybe I owed that kindness to someone else. Someone like me. Thad entered the room, and I held up the clothes. "Put this on." Thad slipped his costume off and neatly folded it before putting on the clothes I gave him. I took his costume and put it on top of my closet.

"Where are we going?" Thad questioned.

"We're getting breakfast," I replied, "And groceries. What do you like to eat?"

"I don't know. I eat whatever's already made. When I was pretending to be Bart, I ate chives sometimes… Pasta… Hot dogs," Thad replied. I wrinkled my forehead.

"How about mashed potatoes, Salisbury steak, and corn for dinner? I know how to make that, and I've got a taste for it," I paused, "And what do you want for breakfast? I'm taking you to a breakfast bar."

"Can we have pancakes?" Thad asked. "With strawberries?" I nodded.

I gave him a toothbrush and toothpaste, and he followed me to the bathroom. I couldn't say anything about it because he wasn't in the way. He brushed his teeth and left, sitting in the living room while I dressed. When I returned to the living room, Thad stood in the corner, waiting for me to tell him what to do next. "Come on, Thad. Let's go get something to eat," I invited. Thad followed me to the elevator, and he opened his mouth to speak. "What is it?"

"Do you drive?" Thad asked. I shook my head.

"I don't like to... Besides, I live close to everything that matters. The breakfast bar is down the road," I replied. He followed me down the street, and I took the dirt path behind the building to the restaurant. Thad skipped in between steps to keep up with me. I slowed down and listened closely to the sound of his breathing. It wasn't labored like he was tired or in a rush. No. He was holding his breath. Thad only allowed himself one breath every several seconds.

"Don't do that," I whispered. Thad blinked hard. "Your breathing isn't gonna irritate me. It's irregular breathing that distracts me." Thad nodded.

We reached the restaurant after a brisk fifteen-minute walk. We checked in, and the hostess escorted us to our table. "What do you wanna eat?" I asked.

"Can I have the strawberry shortcake pancakes?" Thad questioned.

"Sounds good. I'll get the same thing," I replied, "Do you want a side of bacon or eggs?"

"Eggs, please," Thad answered. We waited nearly twenty minutes before the waitress took our order and brought our drinks.

"How long do you plan on staying with me?" I questioned.

"I want to learn how to be good... I don't know how long that'll take," Thad replied, "But four months... That's how long it'll be before you can retrieve Bart's aunt and father."

I nodded. "If you're lying—."

"I'm not," Thad whispered. The waitress interrupted our conversation when she brought our meal.

"Thank you," I whispered. I kicked Thad. "What do we say?"

"Thank you," Thad copied me before leaning forward to rub his shin.

The waitress walked away, and Thad grimaced at me. There it was. The inclination toward evil that I was looking for. It was almost impossible for me to stop judging him. "That hurt," Thad muttered.

"Wanna do something about it?" I replied. Thad shook his head.

"No... I just—. I don't get why you had to kick me," Thad mumbled. I frowned. I kept thinking about Ma in the back of my head. She would want me to be polite and considerate toward him.

"Lead by example," Ma whispered sweetly in my mind, "And he'll follow..."

"You're right... I'm sorry," I replied reluctantly, "I shouldn't have kicked you. There's no excuse for that behavior. I'll do better." Apologizing to him felt like pulling teeth. Thad returned to his meal, his cheeks rosy as tears fell from his eyes. Did I hurt his feelings? Was he feeling guilty?

I don't know if I'll ever know for sure. I looked down at my plate, shamefully picking over my breakfast, kicking myself for being hostile. Thad sniffed, and I passed him a napkin without looking at him. I couldn't face him. He had Bart's face, and I don't think I'd ever seen Bart cry. Not once. I didn't want to look into Thad's face and see Bart's, but this was the one time I couldn't ignore it. Thad wasn't as bad as Bart when it came to public outings. He was quiet, reserved, and didn't suck down food like a starving six-year-old. So, it wasn't his personality that I had an issue with. I don't think he was unlikable in that aspect. No. I think I hated him for what he'd done. I couldn't wrap my head around Thad wanting to destroy Bart without knowing him. He was made to destroy Bart. To rival him.

I wasn't made for that purpose. At least, I don't think I was. I never wanted to take Superman out or hurt Clark. I wanted to be him. Be loved like him. Be loved by him. I wanted there to be enough space for me. I couldn't imagine waking up every day thinking my purpose was to hurt the person whose face I share, whose blood is like mine. I couldn't relate to Thad. Thad was a bad clone and nothing more to me. He was pre-programmed to be what he was, and I thought he was incapable of anything else. He was less than human to me, and it made my stomach hurt to think that I had to be the one to help him. I hate to say it, but I was prejudiced against him. I dehumanized and devalued his experience because I didn't understand it. But it wouldn't allow me to go back on my word. I promised I would teach him to be good. And I meant that.

He finished eating before me and neatly set his dishes aside. "I don't know how to apologize to him... I don't think I'll ever be able to look at him," Thad revealed, "I don't know if I could ever break free of the feelings of hatred—. They're not my feelings, but—. Well—. Maybe they are my feelings. I know he's your friend and that you care about him—. I thought that you could fix me. Help me see the good in him."

I couldn't look up from my plate. I couldn't look into Thad's eyes. They were Bart's eyes too. "Didn't you know you were doing something wrong? Didn't you ever think you were the bad guy?" I questioned.

"I knew what I was taught. The Allens hurt the Thawnes. I was never an Allen... I was made to feel what the Thawnes felt. Good and evil were inconsequential," Thad answered, "But, I—. When I tried to destroy Bart and Max last time, I felt-. I couldn't. I failed... Because I felt something I'd never felt before."

"Jealousy?" I asked.

"No, I knew that feeling well... It was something else. I felt attachment and fear... What would I be without them? What would I do once they were gone? I'd be obsolete... And I wanted—. I didn't want to destroy anymore. I wanted Max," Thad confessed, "And I couldn't have him... Or Helen... Or his friends. They're Bart's. They'd never be mine... It's not fair."

It wasn't fair. I didn't understand it, but I felt for him. He didn't have anyone. I guess I understood that part better than anybody. I knew what it felt like to have nowhere to turn. Except I had Ma and Pa. They loved me and took me in. And maybe it was my turn to give that love to someone else.

[mothgodofchaos]

Gentle

More soft android boy for you simps. This was supposed to be you teaching him how to slow dance, but the words got away from me.

Googliplier x GN!Reader, TW: none Words: 812

It’s been a while since Google’s confession, and the cute date that you took him on to the park. He had seemed rather curious about the pigeons and the squirrels that frequented the area. You had shown him how to feed the ducks, when a very territorial goose rose out of the water and chased him away. It was rather amusing to watch your very large android sprint away from a goose, but frankly, you didn’t blame him. 

But it opened you up to a much softer side of Google, a gentle giant if you will. The way he held your hands when you stood on your tiptoes to kiss him, the hand on your shoulder as he quietly moved behind you in the kitchen, despite his size. His fingers adjusting his glasses so he can see you better when you walk in the front door, having come home from work. The hugs he gives you to greet you. A softness, afraid that if he touches you too hard, you’ll break apart in his hands.

You’re aware of his possible maximum strength, but the gentle protectiveness that he’s cast around you feels homey, safe. The knowledge that he’s actively making an effort for you, to be careful with the person he cares about, because he values you so much, makes your heart melt. 

On this particular evening, it’s cold outside, and he turned on the heat for you. He’s wearing a green sweater, his hair half-up half-down style. The sleeves are pushed up to his elbows, not wanting to get food on his clothes. He walks out with a small tray of food for you, steps careful as to not spill hot cider everywhere. Placing it down on the side table next to your arm chair, you beckon him to lean down so you can kiss him as a thank you. “Thank you, Googs~”

“It is simply my job, human. But I appreciate the form you show your thanks.”

His words may be stiff and leaning a bit more cold, but the blush on his cheeks tells you that he may just be bashful right now.

“Are you going to come sit with me? Or do you have other things you need to do?” “While I do have other tasks I can perform, if you wish for me to sit with you, the other tasks can wait.”

“Is that your way of saying “yes”?”

“Maybe…”

“You goofball~”

You stand up, Google helping you up. He tugs a little too hard, sending you flying up into his chest, face full of android tit. Standing back for a moment, stunned as he’s flustered beyond comprehension. Holding your head, you look up into his eyes and see the buffering ring, swirling repetitively. 

“Uh oh, c’mon buddy…”

You guide him down to sit on the couch, holding his hands as he reboots. Gentle squeezes before you move your hands to his cheeks, where he’s certainly overheating. You try and help him out of his sweater, the button up he wears underneath still keeping him decent. With the collar properly folded again and the wrinkles smoothed out, you hear his fans kick into overdrive to cool him down as his buffering seems to slow. 

“G? Are you back?” He blinks as you hold his face in your hands, thumbs rubbing against the scruff on his face. The redness returns to his cheeks as he realizes you’re currently in his lap, his sweater missing, and you’re holding his face. His rise to meet yours, holding your wrists for a moment before his eyes meet yours. They’re a brilliant electric blue, darting about, scanning your face for something. You can’t quite tell what he’s looking at, or looking for, as you give him a soft smile. “Are you okay, Google?” He takes a moment, before nodding, apparently not trusting his mouth to speak a coherent response. 

“Would you like me to move?” A shake of his head. His grip tightens only for a moment, encouraging you to continue cupping his face as his eyes leave yours again.

“Can I sit here for a while? I promise I’ll be gentle…” His hands release yours, moving to around your waist, pulling you closer. Your head falls to his shoulder, hand resting right above where his logo sits on his chest. The soft blue glow is visible through the dress shirt, shifting to pink when you touch him. “May I be able to… kiss you back? If that’s not a task you want completed, I ca-”

You don’t allow him to finish his sentence, your android melting in your hands as you kiss him, gentle and careful. He may have thought that your human body was the fragile thing in your dynamic with him, but you wanted to be oh so gentle with his synthetic heart, that only beat pink for you.

[atths--twice]

Chapter Two

Her apartment was equidistant from the diner and Ivy’s school, which she said was the main reason she had chosen it. Four floors up, she put the key in the lock and glanced at him before opening the door.

“Like I said, it’s a mess inside, but…” She shrugged and he smiled.

“Then let’s change that,” he said, waiting for her and Ivy to enter first.

“Put your things down on the table, honey. Then go to the bathroom. I want you to take a bath,” Dana said, rubbing her face.

“Okay, Mommy,” Ivy answered as she took off her backpack, coat and boots, heading toward the bathroom.

“I’ll be right back. Just… make yourself comfortable. If you can find a spot,” she told him as she gestured around, taking off her own coat and laying it on a chair. Smiling tiredly, she followed Ivy to the bathroom.

Removing his bag from across his body, he set it beside Ivy’s backpack and laid his coat on top of Dana’s. Looking around, he let out a low whistle.

There were piles of laundry covering the entire couch, coffee table, and overstuffed chair in the corner. Blankets, sheets, and clothes, though unfolded, were organized into piles to be sorted and put away effectively.

He heard Ivy and Dana talking as the bathtub water was running and he decided to get started straight away.

Washing his hands in the kitchen, he smiled at the cute plates sitting in the sink. As it was early December, they were of a snowman with a reindeer biting at his carrot nose. The soap pump on the sink was a fat Santa with rosy cheeks and closed eyes from his wide smile. He grinned at it as he finished washing up and reached for a paper towel to dry his hands.

Staring at the fridge with the many magneted colorful and happy pictures stuck to it, he dried his hands thoroughly and tossed the paper towel into the kitchen trash can.

Walking into the living room, he smiled as he saw the bookshelf filled with all of her books. He recognized some they had shared and made a mental note to inquire after ones he saw that he would like to read and discuss with her.

There were also pictures of her and Ivy on the shelves: birthday parties, Christmas, at the beach, sitting in front of a campfire, and sleeping together in bed when Ivy was a small baby.

Smiling again, he turned around and walked to the couch. Starting on a pile of blankets, he began to fold them, placing them into stacks.

Sheets were next and he folded them like he had learned to do from watching a video online. The piles grew as he heard giggles and bare feet running into a room.

“Did you… oh!” Dana said and he turned to look at her. “I didn’t know you were starting already. You didn’t have to yet.”

“I don’t mind. I actually enjoy folding laundry.” She looked at him skeptically and he laughed. “I do, especially linens and things. It’s easy and methodical, blocks out other thoughts and concerns, you know?”

“Yeah, I… I can see that,” she agreed with a nod.

“Mooooommyyyy,” Ivy called and she smiled as she excused herself. He smiled back as he folded pillowcases and another set of sheets before they both came out, Ivy’s hair up in a bright pink head wrap.

“Can I fold the washcloths?” Ivy asked. “Mommy saves those for me.”

“Sure. Want me to make you a pile? Or do you want to find them?”

“Oh… I’ll find them,” she said with a giggle and began to look through the pile of towels, saying gotcha! every time she found one. He laughed and caught Dana’s eye as she watched Ivy with a tired smile.

“Would you like some tea?” she asked and he nodded in agreement. “What kind?”

“I’m fine with whatever,” he said as Ivy giggled when he gently tossed a washcloth at her. She smiled at him and he smiled back with a wink.

“Ivy? Do you want some tea?”

“Yuck! No,” she answered, wrinkling her nose and shaking her head as Dana laughed and Fox smiled.

“Okay. You want some juice? Or chocolate milk?”

“Yes! Chocolate milk, please,” she said with a grin.

“Could I change my order to chocolate milk too?” he asked, glancing over at Dana.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. Wait, do you have chocolate syrup? Or is it the powdered stuff?”

“No, it’s syrup, why?”

“Because that’s the best, right Ivy?” he asked and Ivy nodded, folding a washcloth and placing it onto a pile. “Just wanted to be sure you were doing it right.”

“Mommy makes the best chocolate milk,” Ivy said, taking out a washcloth and knocking over the small pile she was working on. “Whoops! She even puts whipped cream and sprinkles on it.”

“Ohhh… then yes please. I’ll have that.” He smiled at Dana and she shook her head with a smile.

“Two chocolate milks coming up.”

“Thank you.”

“Yes, thank you, Mommy.”

Fox smiled at Ivy as she refolded the washcloths again, her pile not gaining much height, but she did not seem to care, so he would not either.

“Hey, want to help me fold this sheet?”

“Sure!” Ivy said, the washcloths falling over again and landing on the floor. “Whoops!” She picked them up and shoved them onto the couch, not bothering to fold them.

“Okay,” he said with a chuckle, picking up the sheet. “We’re going to each take an end and then spread out. Oh, wait… do you have a stuffed animal you really like?”

“Uh huh!” She smiled and nodded.

“Go grab it and bring it out here.”

“Okay!”

She turned around and ran toward the bedroom. He smiled as he watched her and then looked at Dana who was watching him intently.

“Something my mom used to do with us when my sister and I were little. Hey, look at that- now you know that I have a sibling,” he teased and he heard her exhale, giving him a small smile.

“Got it!” Ivy yelled, running into the room, an obviously very well loved pink and white stuffed panda in her hand.

“Perfect,” he said, gathering the sheet by the corners and making what looked like a parachute. “So, what we’re going to do is…” He opened the sheet and brought it down to her level. “… drop the panda in and we… wait, what’s her name?”

“The panda?”

“Yeah. I feel like we need to be introduced.”

“Oh,” Ivy said with a giggle. “Her name is Pandy.”

“That’s her whole name?” Dana asked and Ivy looked at her, shaking her head with another giggle. “Tell him her whole name. Make sure they are properly introduced.”

“Let’s hear it,” Fox said and Ivy looked back at him, biting her bottom lip as she smiled.

“Her name is Princess Pandy of the Pink Palace. But… I usually just call her Pandy.”

He raised his eyebrows and stared at her and then Dana, looking between them as Dana grinned at him with a nod.

“Well, I had no idea I was in the presence of royalty,” he said, bowing amid Ivy’s giggles. “Princess Pandy, I am Fox Mulder. It’s a privilege to meet you. No, it’s an honor.”

“And to meet you,” Ivy said in a high pitched British accent which made him laugh, glancing at Dana again, who smiled and shrugged slightly.

“Your Highness, would it please you to go for a ride in this sheet of pale pink?”

“Oh, yes please! I would like that a lot,” Ivy said in the same voice.

“Please, enter,” he said, opening the sheet and waiting for Ivy to place the panda inside. “Just slide in your Highness and then Ivy and I will take you for a ride.“

“Hooray!” she cried, dropping the panda inside.

“Fantastic. Okay, so what we will do now is…” He separated the sheet and handed two ends of it to Ivy. “… you take these edges and we will step back until the sheet is taut.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means pulled tight,” he said, stepping back.

“Then why didn’t you just say tight?” she asked him, mirroring his steps.

Dana laughed, covering it with a cough as he looked over at her. She smiled as she glanced at him, taking glasses down from the cupboard.

“Well, I could have, I suppose,” he said, smiling as he shook the sheet a little. “But, I’m a writer and I like to use different words to describe things.”

“You write stories?”

“I do.”

“I write stories in school. I wrote one about a bunny.”

“Really? What was the bunny’s name?”

“It’s Funny.”

“The story is funny? That’s good, I like funny stories.”

“No,” she giggled, shaking her head. “The bunny’s name is Funny.”

“Funny… Bunny?”

“Yup!”

“Oh, I love that, it makes perfect sense.” He smiled at her and she looked down at her panda with a smile.

“What are we going to do with Pandy?”

“Well, Princess Pandy is going to do a few things. First, she is going to swing,” he said, swaying the sheet back and forth and she copied him, rocking on her feet. “We can open the sheet a little and then, if you hold the sheet tight-”

“You mean taut,” Ivy interrupted and again Dana laughed, covering her mouth as she stared at them.

“Right. I meant taut,” he agreed, smiling at both of them. “So we can swing her and then open the sheet a little further and we can make her fly, like this.” Popping the sheet a little, the panda flew up and landed back in the sheet, Ivy gasping and then laughing.

“Do it again!”

So he did, swinging and popping the sheet as she giggled and worked with him to make it happen. He smiled as he watched her enjoying herself and then at Dana as he caught her doing the same. She locked eyes with him and he saw a myriad of expressions cross her face.

“This is so fun,” Ivy said in Pandy’s high voice as they popped the sheet again, his attention pulled away from Dana.

“I’m so happy you’re having a good time, your Highness,” he said, bowing to the panda as Ivy laughed.

“You two ready for your chocolate milks?” Dana asked, shaking the can of whipped cream and spraying it into the glasses.

“Yeah!” Ivy shouted, dropping the sheet and turning around, running to the table to sit and wait.

Fox smiled as he picked up the sheet and placed it on the couch. He walked over to the table, moved his bag and Ivy’s backpack and coat, setting them on the empty chair beside him. As he sat down, Dana brought out their chocolate milks and went back for her tea, before joining them at the table.

“Yum! Thank you, Mommy,” Ivy said, sitting up on her knees to drink out of her pink swirly straw.

“You’re welcome, honey. Use your napkin, okay?”

“I will.”

“How do you like your chocolate milk?” Dana asked him and he smacked his lips in appreciation as he swallowed down a large gulp.

“It’s delicious,” he replied and she smiled as she shook her head.

After they were finished, Ivy scooping out any remaining whipped cream with a spoon, they returned to the task at hand.

Princess Pandy was flown up and down a couple more times and then Ivy went into the bedroom to watch a movie on her tablet.

Fox and Dana made quick work of the linens, not speaking much as they did. Soon the piles of items were ready to be put away and he followed her to the linen closet, his arms full. He waited as she placed her armful of towels away and then took the ones he held, placing them properly in the cupboard.

As he walked past the bedroom, he looked in to see Ivy lying on the top of an elaborate bunk bed. The top half of it was smaller and the frame was painted a light pink. The bottom half, which held a larger bed, was painted white. Two drawers for storage were under the bed and there was a staircase with five steps at the end of the beds, shelves and cubbies built into it, books and toys sitting upon them.

A large fuzzy pink area rug lay in the middle of the room. Two white floor lamps were in opposite corners and a pink bean bag sat under the one large window in the room with light pink curtains framing it. A white dresser with six drawers, three of which were obviously Ivy’s, as they had drawer knobs with pandas wearing a flower crown and holding a pink polka dot heart, rested against a wall.

It was a perfect combination, incorporating the two of them as a team and also as individuals.

“I can only afford the one bedroom, so we have to share,” Dana said, her arms full of more linens. She smiled and he nodded. “This setup saves space, allowing the room to not be too cluttered or full of too much furniture.”

“It’s good. I like it. You’ve given her her own style and form of expression, yet it’s not overwhelmingly hers alone. It’s a good compromise.”

“Thanks,” she said softly, biting her lip and then exhaling. He smiled and touched her arm as she walked to the closet and he went back to the living room to gather more items.

Everything put away, he looked around the living room, wondering what else he could do to help.

“That’s all done,” Dana said as she entered the room, sighing deeply and then yawning. “God, it’s been a long day.”

“I’m sure,” he said, smiling at her.

“Thank you so much for your help. And… for being so good with Ivy. I…” She shook her head and sighed again. “I don’t… aside from men we already know- family members and friends- we don’t have them around.” She did not meet his eye and he smiled softly.

“Considering what happened, I completely understand,” he said quietly and she looked up at him. “Thank you for trusting me.”

“Thank you for being easy to trust.”

“Yeah,” he said with a nod and a small smile. “I should probably get going. Give you two a chance to relax and get to bed early.”

“Right,” she agreed, nodding with a smile. “Thank you again.”

“You’re welcome.” He walked to the table and put on his coat before he picked up his bag, putting it over his head and across his body and walking toward the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow. And the offer still stands. I can watch her for you, if you’d like. I’ll be there anyway, so it’s really not any trouble. She seems like a fun kid.”

“She is,” she said, smiling as she looked toward the bedroom. “Thank you for the offer, but I’m gonna see if I can make other arrangements. If you see me tomorrow, sans child, I will have been successful.” She smiled and he chuckled softly.

“Okay. Well, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Ivy?” she called, rolling her neck and sighing.

“Yes, Mommy?”

“Fox is leaving now. Would you like to come and say goodbye?”

A loud thunk was heard and then the sound of feet running quickly across the floor. She slid into the room and made a beeline for him, crashing into him as she threw her arms around him. He raised a surprised face to Dana, who was wearing the same expression.

“Goodbye, Fox. Thank you for playing with me today. Pandy had a very fun time,” Ivy said, her words slightly muffled with her face pressed against him.

“Oh. I had a fun time too. And I’m glad we had a chance to meet.” He pulled back and looked down at Ivy, who grinned up at him. “Thank you for helping with the laundry and the suggestion of the chocolate milk. It really was the best I’ve ever had.”

“Yup, Mommy makes it the best,” she said with a nod and he glanced up at Dana, smiling as he nodded back.

“She does. Well, you two get something to eat and get some rest. See you soon. Goodbye, Miss Ivy. Miss Dana.” He tipped his head at them and patted Ivy’s head as he stepped back.

Reaching out, he unlocked the door and turned the knob, nodding goodbye again. He stepped out into the hall and waved as he left, heading toward the stairs.

As he walked down, he glanced back up and saw Dana standing behind Ivy, who must have run back to her room, as she was now holding Pandy.

“Goodbye, Mister Fox,” she called in Pandy’s high pitched British accent, waving her paw.

“Farewell, your Highness.” He waved back and Ivy giggled, the sound echoing down the stairs. Dana waved with a smile and he nodded once more before he stepped out of sight and continued to the next level.

He left the building, pulling his coat tight around him in the chilly winter air. He smiled nearly the entire way home, thinking of the sound of Ivy’s laughter, the chocolate milk left on her lip as she drank from her glass, her straw eventually laid aside, and the way Dana stared at her so adoringly.

He thought of the happiness and coziness the small apartment held within it and how he had immediately felt welcomed and at home.

Bypassing food, or any thoughts of it, he walked to his apartment, wishing his place held half the charm and warmth that theirs did, but all that greeted him was the bare and rather sterile rooms.

No Santa hand soap pump, no colorful drawings on the fridge, nothing that made him feel that happy feeling he had experienced with them.

With a sigh, he closed and locked his door, took off his bag and coat, and settled in for a quiet and lonely evening.

[huenjin]

domestic disturbance.

summary — there's a murder in the richest neighborhood of seoul and there's no better detectives to find the killer besides you and bang chan. or, in which you and chan have to be a pretend couple to catch a killer.

pairing — bang chan x reader

genre — fluff, crime, smut | detectives!au, fwb!au, fake marriage!au

word count — 21k words.

warnings — mentions of crime, ie, blood, killings, (one line of) gruesome murder scene, language, along with a whodunnit plot, mentions of cheating (not the main leads), and smut | smut specifications under the cut

smut specs. — established fwb!au where they know each other's limits already, dirty talk, praise kink, grinding, marking and hickeys, choking/asphyxiation, nipple play, breast play, sex in multiple places (on the table, against the wall, on the bed), blowjob, face fucking, deepthroating, cunnilingus, clitoral stimulation, cervical stimulation, edging, overstimulation, squirting, multiple orgasms, fingering, creampie, size kink. oh well!

note — this is part of the christmas collab i’m hosting with few other mutuals. i hated this fic and then fell in love madly with it, so yes, this is my baby. there is a plot and so it’s like 50% fluff, 30% crime and 20% smut, okay? i hope you enjoy this fic as much as i loved writing it! much love x

"Did I have to come in today?" 

"Mayor Arsehole came in," you hear from the phone and you quickly hop off your bed, throwing the phone back on to the bed after putting it on speaker and rushing to the washroom to grab your toothbrush.

"What does he want now?"

You squeeze the end of the toothpaste carefully, pushing a good amount of toothpaste onto the bristles of the brush before shoving it into your mouth, brushing against the enamel of your teeth quickly and you rush back to your bed.

Chan, on the other end of the phone, plays with the pen on his table, clicking the piston on the top of the mechanical device. He watches the Mayor move his hands dramatically and the Captain trying to make the Mayor understand.

He gets back to you. Dropping the pen, he sits up straight, "Anyhow, come in quick. My gut tells me that they'll call us in, so make it quick. Wait—"

You rush back to the bathroom in a hurry, spitting into the sink and turning the tap on, quickly cleaning your mouth and your face, following a small skincare routine that fits your busy schedule.

"What?" You say after forever and Chan screams, "I knew it."

"Did you just wake up?"

"Yes," you respond, and pull your clothes up from your body and down by the side of the bed mindlessly. 

"Holy shit," Chan laughs. "It's nine. Han's going to be so mad. He thinks you're in office already." You hear his chair reclining back and you roll your eyes. "Plus," his voice lowers and you stop in your tracks, hand midway to grab your faux leather jacket.

"What now?"

"I didn't even keep you occupied last night," Chan teases. "Imagine if I did."

"I'm hanging up, you bastard," you yell and Chan laughs, his laughter resonating through your small room and making you smile softly. 

"Come quickly, little minx," and he hangs up. You hop back onto your bed, and pulling the pair of thigh high boots you always wear from underneath the wooden framing of the bed, you bury your feet into them and look at your phone.

Bang Christopher Chan is perhaps the only reason you are excited to go to work. That, and lying, murderous bastards.

Down at the station, twenty minutes later (still possibly the best record you've held so far), you rush into the office, heels clinking against the tiles and Chan's waiting for you by his cubicle, smirk prominent on his face and arms folded. 

"The queen's here," he teases and you glare. Huffing as you pause right in front of him, you look over his shoulder to see the Mayor still talking to the Captain.

"I'm not late," you squeal, hitting the air in joy and Chan lets you have your moment before sitting back on his chair and breaking it.

"They called for us twice already," Chan tells you and you shudder at the impending doom. You can already feel Captain Han talking about cutting your paychecks for the month for tardiness. You sit on his table, one leg on the ground and the other dangling, heel slightly grazing Chan's black denims.

"What did you tell them?"

He picks up the pen and stares at you, clicking the pen. You narrow your eyes at him, staring at the pen and mumbling, "Stop that, Chan. I've told you it's annoying."

"I do it to annoy you. That's the whole point," he raises his eyebrows obviously and you click your tongue against him and move closer.

"Now," you press on. "What did you tell Ji?"

"Oh, that you have diarrhoea?"

"What the fuck?" And you bend forward, hitting the built man before you, your fists hammering down on his hard biceps and chest. "Why would you say that?"

Chan raises his hands in defense, trying to block as many of your hits as possible. He whines, laughing amusingly at your reaction. He holds your wrists quickly to halt your actions and tugging at them, pulling you closer, he raises an eyebrow, "What else am I supposed to say? That you didn't come in yet?"

You gulp, eyes widening in surprise at the sudden intimacy that you pull yourself away and sit straight, dangling your legs slightly. You tilt your head and look at him. Clicking your tongue in annoyance, you say, "Valid point you make there, sir."

"When have I not made valid points?" Chan leans back on his chair, arms folded and he looks at you intently, his eyes staring into your soul and you raise your eyebrows. 

"Wh—"

"The two of you," you hear the voice boom through the room. Chan and you turn your heads to look at Captain Han Jisung pop his head through the slightly opened door and calling the two of you. "In my room, now."

"Uh oh," Chan mumbles under his breath as he stands up. "Someone's in trouble."

"It's probably you," you glare at him. Hopping off his table, you stand firmly on your boots, tapping your feet slightly in confidence. Chan walks forward and you take longer strides to keep up with him.

"It could never be me. I'm the district's star detective."

"When hell turns cold, yeah."

You and Chan step into Captain Han Jisung's office. He sits behind the wooden desk and Deputy Mayor Seo Changbin stands next to him. The glass walls behind him show a clear view of the beautiful city of Seoul. You smile as you proceed to sit before the Captain, leg on top of the other. Chan sits next to you.

The pictures from a file are scattered all over his table, facing the two of you and your hand instinctively reaches out to grab one. It's a man's body — gruesome enough with the blood that covers it — impaled brutally on the sharp fence spikes.

Chan's eyebrows shoot up and he coughs in surprise. He looks at Jisung with disdain for a short minute before he says, "That is totally not helping with my holiday spirits, Han."

"Captain Han," Jisung reaffirms as he looks at Chan with a glare and gestures at how he should show him respect at least in front of the Deputy Mayor. You chuckle slightly under your breath before putting the picture back on the table.

"What exactly are we looking at, Captain?"

Jisung clears his throat and bends forward to explain, "That is Kim Jihoon. Or at least whatever is left of him. He was found like this today morning by his neighbour. Apparently he fell three stories from his balcony. Kim Jihoon is a data analyst in Samaun Tech—"

"And more importantly, a model resident in the UN Village community." Changbin is stern and his eyes pierce into both yours and Chan's soul as if it demands the two of you to solve the murder right this minute.

"UN Village?" Chan's eyes narrow and your head turns so quickly to look at him. Does he know of the area? "That's the new gated community down in the city, right?"

Changbin scoffs, smirk plastered on his face as he looks away. "Yes, Detective. It's one of the most luxurious communities in Seoul. I'm sure you wouldn't know anything about it."

"Hey—" You raise your voice to come to Chan's defense. However, the man is quick himself.

"Oh, I'm pretty sure I have an idea what it is like. Just a bunch of rich old men sitting with their glasses of wine as they are locked away from the city's woes by their big high walls. I have watched enough Sky Castle."

You laugh, eyes wrinkling in mirth as you hear Chan take offense. You raise your hand up and your partner claps at it, laughing with you. Changbin scoffs again before turning to look at Jisung who clears his throat to stop the two of you from laughing and to bring your attention back.

"I've brought the two of you in here because you will be investigating the death of Jihoon."

"But—"

"It's Christmas in a few days!"

"We're not in office, Ji," you whine. "Felix and Soojin would be taking our shifts for that week. You gave us the permission after the last case. Don't you remember?"

"Is that how much you care about the citizens?" The mayor shoots at the two of you and for a minute, you cower in your seat, before Chan looks at you worriedly as you recoil. 

"Hey, hey, hey," his eyebrows furrow together in anger at the Mayor and you worry if Chan's going to completely lash out. He never did like Changbin in the first place. That and now this and you know this could end bad. "We care enough about the citizens. But look at you. The Mayor comes down personally to hand in a case only when it's some rich community. What? Do you have an apartment there?"

"While you think this highly of me, I can't help but humble myself here," Changbin slams his fist down and Chan rises up. Uh oh! The Mayor edges forward as he continues, "I am very much concerned about the city as well."

"Please," Chan rolls his eyes. Jisung is about to pipe in and stop the conflict when Changbin continues proudly. 

"I'll have you know that the UN Village is one of the most exciting residential areas to live in, in Seoul and is one of the most beneficial developments made in a decade here. If it is successful, I can drive almost millions to the city through estate taxes and commerce. And must I remind you of how that is the biggest point in my political agenda—"

"Your political agenda!" Chan is at his patience's end and your arm stretches out to grip at his shirt, to pull him back from fighting but your partner is so caught up in his anger that he doesn't feel you pull at him. "Must I remind you that you are still the Deputy Mayor!"

"Stop it, both of you!" Jisung slams his hands on the table and you let out an exasperated sigh as you sit up straight. "This is a murder and I won't have the two of you argue over here. Deputy Mayor Seo, if you are done conveying what you came here for, I will have to ask you to leave. I need to talk and assign work to my detectives."

"Absolutely," Changbin smiles widely — almost borderline fake — before walking away and reminding Jisung, "I hope you remember what I asked of you, Captain." He bangs the door shut and Jisung mumbles incoherent words under his breath. Needless to say, it was safe to presume they were words hoping good will for Deputy Mayor Seo Changbin.

"Now the two of you," Jisung points at both Chan and you. He gestures at the built man to sit down. "You will be taking this case up. I will not have a word against it."

"But—"

"Unless you want your sex tape to be released and the two of you want to be suspended for indecent public behaviour."

"What?" Both you and Chan tell at the same time, looking at each other in nothing but sheer confusion and shock at the same time. It was clear that you and him have not made a sex tape or publically — fuck. Unless it is that.

"I mean, I was definitely not interested in seeing my star detectives getting on with each other in the evidence room." Jisung raises his eyebrows.

"Are you blackmailing us, Han?" Chan's tongue prods at his inner cheek in frustration. Today was supposed to be a good day, so he wonders why things are going down the hill.

"I guess." He lifts an eyebrow at you and you click your tongue before leaning forward and taking the picture.

"Fine. I'm in."

"I don't mind getting a copy of the sex tape," Chan mumbles and you hit your partner with your elbow over his nonchalance. You are not going to get suspended. It was too much for your reputation. 

"Good," Jisung smiles. You stare at the picture carefully, looking at how the sharp spikes of the fence pierces into the man's abdomen, pinning him to the fence. Chan is about to take the picture from your hand when you ask,

"This could be an accident."

Chan takes it and looks at it before nodding, "Yeah. You know how rich drunk people are. They might have partied too hard and stumbled and fallen off their balcony."

"I thought that," Jisung mumbles before searching through the pictures. He lifts one off the table and hands it to you. "Until I was informed that this is the second murder UN Village has witnessed in less than a month."

The photo Jisung hands you is of a woman. She lies face down, her stomach pierced through by the sharp spikes of the fence — a bloody contrast to the fresh greens in her yard.

"Why am I celebrating my holidays like this?" Chan groans, as he leans towards you, his arms touching yours. He looks at the pictures and then at you for a short while as he watches you observe the photo carefully. The gears in his head are turning and his emotions are an array of mess but he reminds himself to focus on the case in hand. That is exactly what you would have wanted him to do. 

"She's Yoon Yerin, who lived just up the street from Kim Jihoon. She was found like this two weeks ago." Jisung points out. 

"Can't still label murder, Han. As Y/N said, it could be just an accident. They could be drinking red wine and partying, screwing each other on balconies. Hell, I'm surprised that only two have died so far."

You suppress your amusement and look at Jisung who explains, "I thought the same as well, detectives. The possibility exists—"

"Heh," Chan lifts his lips slightly and nudges you, almost as if he is telling you that the two of you have lesser work to deal with. 

"—but there is also a chance of an exceptional clever murderer behind all this. So please," he turns to look at both you and Chan with an extra intimidating glare, "Look at this case with an open mind."

"You've our word," you smile widely, keeping the photos back in the file. 

"Thank you," the Captain looks comforted. "I cannot hear more from the Mayor, I swear to God. Now, you'll go into UN Village and investigate these deaths as soon as possible."

"And?"

"If there is a murderer, you must identify him as discreetly as possible and if these are just accidents, uhm," Jisung clears his throat, rubbing the back of his head, "We'll just put out a notice in talks of their safety, I guess."

Jisung stretches back in his chair, folding his arms and looking at the two of you proudly, "You guys are the best darn detectives we've got."

"Of course," Chan sneers. "Why else would you take our breaks away using some sex tape as some kind of blackmail? You're a nasty captain."

"He'll be forever salty about this, huh?" Jisung raises an eyebrow at you.

"Nah," you chuckle. "He's secretly overjoyed about being able to work during the holidays."

"As if!"

"We could just go now and investigate—"

"No, you cannot." Jisung sighs. "This is where I'm kind of helpless. The Deputy Mayor specifically mentioned how we are not allowed to poke around, cause chaos and make a scene."

"What? Why?" Chan slightly shifts in his chair, in agitation.

"It'll draw the media in like vultures."

"So?" You furrow your eyebrows. Why does this smell rotten?

"So, the two of you will go in under cover." Jisung smiles. "I doubt it would be an issue for the two of you." 

"Undercover? Undercover as what?"

Twenty fours hours later, you are here. 

A large group of suburbanites are gathered on a perfectly sculpted front lawn. They stand around the stainless steel barbeque rack and are talking. You gaze further, your back pressed against the big lorry that carries furniture to furnish the new house. 

"I can't believe we're doing this," Chan sighs. He helps the man take out the sofas from the lorry. His biceps bulge and you smile, eyes lingering for a minute on the vein that is prominent over it. 

"Please," you laugh, head thrown back. "When I said I wanted to get married, you were there in the list, yes," you tilt your head and snigger. "But you were definitely not my first candidate."

"Lies," Chan teases. "I was your only other candidate, work being the first."

"Don't make me throw this chair at you."

Chan laughs, taking the chair from your hand and walking back in to settle it down onto the floor. Your head shifts back to look at your new neighbours, two of them waving at you and making their way to you. Chan comes out of the house right then, watching the two walk towards you.

Chan bends down to the side to whisper to you, "Do we have to go speak to them? I—"

"Of course. We can't be rude to them."

Chan holds onto your arm, whining like a little child, "But why? I hate rich people."

"Because I'm your wife now," you scrunch your nose at the title. "Listen to me and go with the flow. Just remember that you're Bang Chan, leading specialist in maxillofacial surgeries, hoping to start over in this area of the city—"

"And you're my beautiful wife, my other half, Y/N," he lifts your hand after entangling them with his, your silver ring bright on display and he takes a step forward.

"Now let's go, honey!"

The other couple walks towards the two of you simultaneously, stopping midway upon reaching you. You tilt your head, shifting your gaze to a softer look as you look at the couple, before clutching onto Chan's hand a little tighter.

"Hi, I'm Y/N and this is my husband, Chan. We just moved right next door."

The tall man with a hair messy on top of his head smiles, although it seems very superficial. Yet again, Chan did mention how rich people could never smile sincerely. He tells you, stressing every alternate syllable, "It's so nice to have you here, Y/N, Chan. We are so glad you could shift right before our Annual Holiday Barbeque."

He stretches his arms out towards Chan. Your partner heaves a huge sigh in silently before holding his hand and giving it a firm shake. The other man continues, "I'm Park Rowoon, the president of the local homeowners' association and this beauty here is my wife, Jieun."

Jieun's face contorts into a huge, gleaming and completely insincere grin. She holds onto her husband's bicep, fingers digging into the flesh, "Well, isn't he a dear?" She laughs high pitched. "It's so nice to meet you." She rushes forward to hug you, her arms wrapping around your frame and giggling into your frame. You hug her back, albeit awkwardly, laughing slightly at the gesture.

On the other hand, Rowoon extends his arms out to take Chan's hand in for a shake. The hand holds his, and squeezes it hard enough to hurt as he raises an eyebrow at him. Chan jolts in surprise, trying to squeeze back as he grits his teeth.

You pull back from Jieun and notice the two males holding each other's hands so tightly that it has turned pale. Chan does not seem to back out and rather squeezes back further every single time Rowoon's grip on his tightens. That is, until the older male pulls his hand back and looks at Chan, after shaking his hand a little bit, flexing it.

"You okay, baby?" Jieun rushes to her husband's side, and wrapping her arms around his, she just out her lower lips and looks at him with a dazed and madly-in-love look, "Are you hurt?"

"Nah," he pulls at the dead skin of his lips. "Just the old carpal tunnel acting up. Age, right?" He laughs, locking a fixed gaze at Chan and you quickly rush to his side, locking your arms with his as you laugh.

"Definitely. Don't worry about it. You still look as young and charming as ever."

Rowoon laughs before asking you, "So you're shifting right next door, huh?"

"Yes!" You lift up your lips a lot more than when you usually smile. "Did you see our moving truck? It was quite immediate but I'm glad. This society is so good and just right enough to start a family together." Chan's eyes widen and he looks down at you, nostrils flaring in surprise as he chokes on air. You stand on your toes, kiss his cheek before settling down and smiling at the couple before you. "I desperately want to."

Family? With you? Fuck. 

"Y-yes," Chan's breath hitches and he gets the word out. He'd be down to start a family with you but how could he even suggest a relationship when you just look at him like a friend? A friend who you can come to when you're needy and sexually frustrated.

"My husband's very observant. He saw your truck the other day itself!" Jieun exclaims proudly.

Chan's eyebrows shoot up as he stares at the man. He doesn't already like him and one more wrong step and he is ready to pin some crime down on him. Rowoon is flattered by his wife's comment.

"I do like to keep a close eye on the neighborhood. After all, vigilance is the first step in ensuring a beautiful and safe community. Talking about which, I couldbt help but notice that you have a bird feeder." 

Rowoon stares hard at the wooden bird feeder behind the two of you. Chan and you turn to look at and he laughs. You look proudly at it. A heirloom – almost – of yours, Chan (and Jisung) agrees to let you bring it with you. (They agreed to it when you explained how your neighbors hated you and they would harm it the minute you left sight of it for a long time.) You look at Rowoon with eyes so bright as you begin to explain. Your partner, on the other hand, arms still locked with yours, looks at you with stars beneath his eyes and you are responsible for them. It's admiration. Sheer, peak admiration.

"It's an antique, you know. My grandfather carved it himself out of—"

"Yeah, great, that's lovely." Rowoon cuts you off and the smile disappears off your face, your eyes losing their shine. Chan clutches his fists in anger, head shooting back to face the stupid old man for making his wife mad — his partner sad. The old man continues, "The thing is wooden bird feeders are against the UN Village Homeowners' Charter."

"They are?" You look back at the wooden bird feeder. You bite on the lower lip to hide your disappointment, eyes squeezing shut to hold yourself alright. 

"I'm afraid so." You turn your head back to look at him. Chan quickly unlinks his arms from yours and you look at him, worriedly. Was he going to start a fight? Please, God, no. You glance in worry till he interlocks his fingers with yours as he holds your hand tightly. The warmth seeps through you and your lips pucker unknowingly at how comforted you feel. 

Rowoon continues explaining, "They tend to give off a country farmhouse vibes and aesthetic which is not exactly what we are going for."

"I'm sor—"

Chan clicks his tongue, preventing you from apologising. He pulls you towards him, a little bit closer than the two of you already were. Your partner glares at the man before huffing out loudly and saying, "You run a pretty tight community here, Rowoon, don't you think? Respect the rules or you're out." Rowoon stiffens upon hearing the words before Chan laughs, stretching his other arm out to pat his shoulder. "I'm kidding. Just kidding."

Jieun steps in right then to smoothen out the tension as she claps her hands together, laughing, "Aren't the two of you the cutest? Are you newly weds or?"

"Yes. I mean, it's been a year, but being married to her feels like falling in love all over again for every single day of my life." Chan locks his eyes with you and you gulp. The words hit deep, so deep that you know you shouldn't be fluttered, or flustered. This is Chan. He couldn't be serious.

"Ah, so cute," she squeals. Rowoon looks at his wife with a raised eyebrow before looking at the two of you again.

"Listen. I've to go check on the grill and grab something to eat. You should swing by later tonight and meet the rest of the members of the society. I'm sure they'll love you."

"Of course. We do want to finish a bit of the moving in and stuff today and maybe put up the Christmas decorations soon, but we'll be there. Guaranteed." Chan tugs at your hands to pull you back. You nodded and waved at Jieun. 

"Bye!"

Chan quickly rushes you back into the house before finally letting out a huge sigh. He runs a hand through his hair before letting his back hit the door. You look at him and giggle lightly into your hand. 

"Don't laugh," he glares. "I swear to God, if I have to spent more time talking to Rowoon—"

"You're doing so well, idiot," you laugh, throwing your head back. "We just need to dig in a little bit, talk a lot and confirm that these were accidents."

"Y/N, baby," You breathe slowly upon hearing the term. A sure endearment that Chan has always used but for to hear it roll out of his mouth in places this homely felt different, made you feel different. "If I have to spend more time with Rowoon, I will come up with another theory and it would probably be a suicidal one."

"Don't screw this up, yah!" You hit the back of his head. "The last thing I want is a suspension just because I was caught fucking you in the evidence room."

"Like you didn't enjoy it," Chan leans forward, nose brushing against yours almost. You can feel his breath fanning against your face and the temperature rising. Your hands are firm on his chest before you push him back, fanning yourself with your hand. You tie your hair up into a ponytail before pointing at the boxes by the side of the door.

"Get to work, husband. We don't have time to waste."

"The pepper next to the salt, Chan. Why would you put turmeric there?"

"You'd be one whiny arse motherfucker for a wife," he groans and angrily shuffles the bottles in their right order. "Why are we even arranging all this? Let's just wrap this up in like two days and go celebrate Christmas back at the station."

"I'm not going to take risks. It's Christmas. I celebrate every single Christmas," You mumble. "At least the bare minimum. And if this Christmas has me celebrating it with you, I will. I will give you the best Christmas ever."

"I don't celebrate Christmas, Y/N."

You place the cutlery in the shelves. You leave the kitchen after finishing every single arrangement of the same. Chan follows you into the main living room. You stop in your tracks when you hear Chan say the words and you turn, eyes shooting up.

"Why?"

"Mum left dad in winter. Didn't feel right to celebrate Christmas when she was at home. It's a bitter memory for her, you know?" You nod, eyes looking at him with understanding rather. He sits down, lifting his legs up and stretching it over the table. Your eyes widen and you narrow at his legs.

"Feet. Off. The. Table." You glare. 

"Why?"

"Because it's disgusting." You groan. You sit down by his side once he puts his feet off the table, huffing at you. He turns to look at you and you respond finally.

"Do you, maybe, want to celebrate Christmas with me this year?"

Chan's a romanticist (though he wouldn't ever admit it). He believes in how destiny is meant to unite two people like one magnet for another, one jigsaw piece matching just another. He also believes that you are something special to him because his mind worries over you, his heart gravitates to you in a crowded room. 

Felix told him that it's probably just sheer concern for his longest partner ever. That your heart tends to feel weird stuff for people that protect you, for people that take bullets for you. 

But today, right now, when you tilt your head to the side, resting it on your arm as you wrinkle your eyes in mirth and ask him, his heart skips a beat. Maybe two. He is lost in his thoughts, emotions on an overload and he wonders if you would ever see him in a different light.

"Chan?"

He snaps out of it. He laughs, almost at himself, as he runs his hand through this hair. "Do I have an option? Han made sure our Christmas would be stuck here."

"I'm the best option you have, dude. That, or it was you and your can of beer and your football marathon."

"Maybe."

You still, your head lifting up to look at him. Chan looks at you like he has so much to say to you, so much stuff that conflicts within him but words he would never say out loud. You wish he could. Your head turns to the small Christmas tree inside the house — bare, empty and green. The one extra along with the big one outside every house in the UN Village.

"We could start by decorating that. Yeah."

You hop off the sofa and rush to take the decorative goods from the suitcase. All on command from Captain Han Jisung, courtesy of the very same man who bought so many of the decorations. Chan turns his body, arms folded on the head of the sofa as he watches you scramble in search of something. 

You take the decorative items out from the suitcase, putting it by the side as you search for something. Chan walks towards you, squatting as he watches you look before he holds your wrist and halts your actions.

"What are you searching for? I could help you."

"It's this bluetooth speaker I thought I brought," you shake Chan's grip away before undoing the zip on the other side of the suitcase. "I really thought I brought it. Shit."

"Hey, hey," Chan sits on the floor as he watches you. "It's alright. You can put whatever you want to put on the speaker. It'll be loud enough for the two of us."

You turn to look at him, before falling back on your ass and sitting. You fold your arms around your knees close to your chest and you smile, "You don't mind me blasting Christmas Carols during tree decoration time, right?"

Chan laughs at your innocence. Something so soft, so pure about it, about how you loved Christmas so much. He wants to hold you close — oh so close — the need almost overcomes him but he holds back. 

"I don't mind."

"Yay," you squeal, getting back on your feet and rushing to your phone on the table. "I have this collection of Christmas Carols that we primarily put every year–" Chan watches you scroll through your music library to find the collection and he knows you have when your whole face lights up like the goddamn star on this awfully green tree. "Tada, it starts with my favorite carol, Deck The Halls."

Chan's never understood the hype around carols but for you, he will try today. You increase the volume to the highest, and place the phone back on the table before rushing back to Chan and the suitcase. Your partner takes the fairy lights in his hand and lifting it up, he looks at you quizzically.

"How do you go about this?"

"There's no right or wrong way, Channie. Trust me. We are all swinging it and hoping that it turns out right," you reassure. You take the fairy lights from his hold and stand up. "I can show you what my family does." You walk to the tree, about a good amount of inches taller than you still.

The carol plays in the background like some beautiful serenade wrapping around the two of you. Chan stands a step behind you watching you carefully wrap the fairy lights right around the inside bark of the tree and plug it in to the extension box by the side. The white lights flickered bright and shine on your face that is close to the tree. 

Chan stares. He can't pull away. You hold his breath, captivate his gaze and have him completely enthralled. Your eyes sparkle — hell, you sparkle more than those stupid fairy lights. 

He is so charmed by you that he doesn't realise how you've been trying to catch his attention for a while.

"Chan?" And then you hit his arm, the whole police academy teaching style. "Focus, will you?"

"Fine," and he takes one of the christmas ornaments, hanging them up on one of the spikes. "Is this how it is?"

"You're doing so well, don't worry."

And with the carols in the background, the two of you slowly put the ornaments up, laughing occasionally at Chan wearing the ornaments by hanging them on his ears instead. Another set of fairy lights are draped perfectly over the tree. The stockings are hung by the side and everything is exactly as you remember Christmas decorations to be inside and you realise it's not much different from the Christmases you usually have.

The tree is there. The lights are there. The desserts will be coming. The memories are still made and your loved one is still here. Nothing is different.

"Help me hang the star up," you look at Chan. He tilts his head to the side and his eyes fix on the battery operated star in your hand.

"Did Jisung really give us all that?"

You nod, "Yeah. He told us to sell the story well. Apparently movies lie and that rich people are not all that dumb."

"You sure?" Chan sniggers. "That dude we met there seemed pretty dumb if he wouldn't even let you keep your bird feeder over some stupid aesthetics."

"Don't remind me," you groan. "Now, come here and hold me up." You stretch your arms slightly and Chan's trying his best not to giggle at how cute you looked in the minute. 

His hand is warm against your sweater, heat seeping through as he lifts you up, grip strong on your waist. Your legs intuitively wrap around his torso to protect yourself and you stretch your arms out. You try placing the star above and Chan edges closer to the tree when he knows he's a bit far off. You finally place it successfully above and switch it on. It lights up pretty and your heart warms up at the joy of completing the tree decorations.

And then, Chan suddenly jolts you up in his hold. You fall forward, arms wrapping around his neck and face brough so close to his that you can see the sparkle underneath his eyes that glisten for you. You stiffen in his hold as he wraps his arms around you tighter and in the very next minute, Chan's lips have found yours.

It's soft and gentle as it moves against yours, taking your lower lip within seconds. In that kiss was the sweetness of passion and the reconfirmation of million memories spent together. It moves so gently against his plump ones that you know you're drowning in everything Bang Chan is and that it's creeping — he is creeping slowly into your veins and contaminating your being to a point where it would hurt to live without him.

Chan holds you tightly against him, holding your entire weight in his arms like you are his whole world. His hands squeeze your waist as if he is reminding himself that you are still here with him, sharing this holiday with him. And when Chan pulls back, you realise.

In his kiss, you are home.

"Why did you—" You barely manage to piece words together with the help of your clouded brain. "Uhm, why did you kiss me?"

Chan blushes. The apples of his cheeks heat up at the sudden question and it surprises him how he could still blush at you after all this while. He looks behind you, trying to stall away some time from answering until his eyes land on the creeping mistletoe with white buds around.

"Mistletoe!"

"What?"

"Behind you," Chan points, holding you up with one arm wrapped around your waist. "There!" You turn to look behind, one arm still around his neck while the other is by your side. 

"Oh, it's a mistletoe." You blush and look down at how Chan holds you up. "You could put me down now, Chan."

"Oh yeah." And he slowly lowers you down onto the ground. His cheeks are still stained slightly before he rubs his fingers, fidgeting with it and finally exclaiming, "Ah look at the time. We've got to get ready for taht barbecue shit they are hosting." He turns you around and pushes you to the room the two of you are sharing. "Hurry!"

You laugh, head still dazed over the kiss. It goes back and repeats it over and over again till you feel the temperature in you shoot up and has you wanting emotionally so much more.

After all, this was the first time Chan has kissed you like that and it did not end with sex.

The smell hits your nose before anything else. The smell of fresh beef being roasted and the toxic smell of rich people partying. Although you cannot quite exactly explain how rich people smell if someone asked you. They just smell. . . rich.

Dammit. Now you'll associate this fine rich smell of first class beef with stupid rich people. 

"At least it's good meat." You mumble.

"That's what she said," Chan laughs at his own joke. You open your mouth in disbelief, nudging him with your elbow. Across the lawn, by the pool side of Jieun's lawn, you see her and a couple of other ladies waving at you to come towards them.

"I'll have to go over there. Anyhow, get as much as information as you can, alright?" You turn to look at Chan before walking backwards. "I'll come over soon once it gets too nauseating for me, please."

"Sure," he waves at you and you turn around and walk as elegantly as possible to the posh ladies sitting there. Chan, on the other hand, decides to head to the group around Rowoon that almost look like a bunch of Mayor Arseholes to him.

You walk towards Jieun who is sitting a hot tub. The hot tub bubbles and you raise an eyebrow at the amount of wealth this family has amassed over the years. A table full of snacks rests under a nice canopy and a very intoxicated lady sways from the left to the right by the side of it. 

"Sookyung-ah," Jieun waves at the inebriated female, "Meet the newest member of our little neighbourhood, Y/N."

Sookyung is loud. So loud that you wonder maybe Chan is right about rich people — that they drink, merry and party all day long. She waves her hands, eyes blinking a little too much as she welcomes you, "Nice to meet you! Have a drink!"

She shoves a big glass of brownish looking liquor that reeks of rum. You take a sip of it courteously. The liquid flows down your throat, the burning feeling distinct on your throat. Your eyes wrinkle in surprise, "That's strong, whoa."

"Of course, darling, it is," she smiles widely and it should have repulsed you. However, it is the only genuine smile you have found in this whole neighborhood so far. Sookyung continues, "How else are we supposed to get through the day?"

"Is this how it usually goes?" You laugh nervously. "Us girls sneak off to grab a drink while the boys beat the chests out at front?"

"Ooh," Sookyung gushes. "I think I'm going to like you a lot, darling." 

Jieun takes a sip of her orange coloured cocktail as she circles her glass lightly, letting the liquid shake inside. You tilt your head backwards, staring up at the stars only to notice how it is a full moon tonight. A soft smile spreads across your lips as you think of the one person you associate with the moon; your partner.

Jieun leans forward after placing her drink back on the table. She nudges Sookyung and raises an eyebrow at you, "Sookyung-ah, did you see her husband?"

You blush at the term. This will take a while to get used to. "Was he the tall, broad shouldered guy in the suit?" She hums in approval and your eyebrows furrow downward in displeasure. "Talk about a prime cut of meat!"

"I know, right?" Jieun giggles. "I saw him and started to drool."

Your cheeks heat up ridiculously. You can feel your heart beating a lot quicker and it is a weird sense of pride that swells up within you over a man you can't even completely call yours now. You fidget with your fingers, black dress riding up your thigh as you shift in your seat nervously, "I guess Chan is a good looking man."

"Chan? Is that his name?" Sookyung laughs, "That's an understatement of the year. I would wish to strip him down, slather him up with butter and just eat him up." Your face couldn't help but morph into one of disgust at her words. At this point, you are borderline disturbed.

"That's, uhm, very vivid thoughts you have of my husband."

"Ah, dear," Sookyung leans forward and holds your hand, rubbing it in her grip. "We were joking. But you must tell us—"

Jieun breaks her and smiles so wide as she looks at Sookyung, grinning and then at you, "What is he like in the sheets?"

They laugh together and you look at the two of them. So this is what a rich bunch of ladies too. Gossip and talk unfiltered. You had only two options at this point, or maybe three — a) stay quiet and let them do the talking, b) tell them off for talking about Chan this inappropriately, c) talk with them and get more information under the guise of being one amongst them. You swear to the heavens that you would rather do option b, but for the sake of this crime, you decide to do what Captain Han Jisung would have told you to follow.

"He's a fucking tiger," and you laugh the fakest laugh you could ever pull out, albeit not because Chan wasn't good in between the sheets or anything (he was an almighty beast with his technique, yes) but because you never thought you'd live to see the day you'd use words like that, in any situation at all.

"Called it!"

"Tell us everything!"

You take a sip of your drink and cross your legs as you sit up straight, almost feigning arrogance, "I'm not one to kiss and tell but let's just say that Chan makes me very happy about," you grin and pause, trying to catch the ladies' attention on every single word of yours, "Twice a day or so."

"Twice a day?" Sookyung gasps.

"If he's just very much in the mood, I know I'm not going to walk for days together. Not that that is an issue. Chan is the sweetest and takes care of me," you flutter your eyelashes.

Jieun taps at her chest, huffing, "Be still my beating heart. Be still."

Sookyung sighs, stretching back on the reclining chair, "These days, Ilsung and I get it on like once a month or so and that's like for a minute. How disappointing."

"They are newly married, Sookyung," Jieun stilts her head in acknowledgement. "It's been a year of their marriage or so." She takes a bite of the cookie from the plate by the side and you smile as she looks at you.

"It seems like you're all pretty open in this neighborhood," you point out and twirl a strand of your hair that lets loose before your eyes. 

"Oh we share everything," Jieun says and Sookyung scoffs, before picking up a cookie and her strong drink.

"Some more than others." She scowls so visibly that Jieun has to furrow her eyebrows at her and signal something with her gaze before Sookyung looks away to the right. 

The backdoor of the house behind opens and you turn to look at a lanky woman walking in with a tray of cookies. It is the same one that you have on the table already and you look at her. The glow on her face is long gone, her eyes losing the sparkle and you wonder if she is going through something.

Sookyung frowns and mumbles under her breath, albeit a bit too loudly, "Great. This party suddenly took a sip into Depressionville now."

You lean back into Jieun and mumble, "Who's that?" 

Jieun leans into you and is about to whisper when Sookyung runs her mouth free, "That's Somin. An absolute downer."

You bite your lip out of anxiety, surprised by how Sookyung really does run her mouth a bit too much — a lot enough to cancel her off your list of suspects almost. Jieun hisses at the other woman before telling you, "Her husband was Kim Jihoon and he died yesterday so," she clears her throat, "She's quite rattled, to say the least."

"Then shouldn't she be mourning at her husband's house or funeral home for a few days? The fact that she's already here seems so crass." Sookyung shakes her head, disappointed. You gulp and watch the woman, Somin, come closer and Sookyung, folding her arms tighter. 

The minute Somin is in your periphery though, both Jieun and Sookyung smile so brightly and that's when you realise that nothing you see and nothing you hear could be trusted here. It's the world of the rich and everyone wants to come out on top.

"It was so nice of you to come out," Sookyung waves and calls her closer. Jieun nods and you see how she walks slowly towards them, a sad smile on her face and her tray held strongly.  

Somin speaks softly, almost as if she should not, "I probably should have stayed inside." She holds out her tray as she stretches her arms outwards. On the tray are many round cookies with cracked lines on their surfaces, a bit too deep than normal. They look sad. Just as their maker does. 

You wait for the other two women to do something and when they take a piece of cookie, you follow suit and take one. The distinct taste of cinnamon fills your mouth and you hum in approval even if the cookie wasn't the best out there, "Ah, these snickerdoodles taste good!"

"Thanks, but you don't have to flatter me," she looks at you with a face close to no expressions whatsoever, "Whoever you are."

"Somin, this is Y/N. She's new to our neighborhood," Jieun says and Sookyung adds, "And she clearly knows her cookies."

"Thanks," you hesitate. "I do bake from time to time." And taking another piece of the cookie, you tell them excitedly, "Did you know that Snickerdoodle is derived from the term Schneckennudein, which literally means snail noodle?"

The three other ladies stare at you, blinking at what you just said in utter disarray and you sigh. 

"I meant," You take a bite of the cookie, "Great cookie!"

"Yeah, great cookies, but," Jieun starts and Somin looks at her, pressing her lips together.

"But?"

"I said that I would be the one to make the snickerdoodles, but it's alright. We can have twice as many and can give some to our husbands partying over there. No worries."

"Oh, okay, I'll have to go," and she scurries away quickly. She barely shuts the door as she rushes out of the place almost immediately, her hair flailing behind her. You watch the woman, analysing how no one in the party seemed bothered by it. 

Jieun sighs, "She looks bad, doesn't she?"

"If you ask me," Sookyung speaks loudly once again and you already know she's going to run her mouth, "She's better off with Jihoon dead. You should have heard the way the two of them used to fight."

"Were Somin and Jihoon having marital troubles?" You ask.

"Definitely," Sookyung leans forward, "If by marital trouble you mean continuous screaming matches blasting across the entire neighbourhood, why then yes!"

"You're such a gossip, Soo! It was not that bad." 

"Says you!" She stands up and walks towards the bar counter, smiling and turning back to look at both you and Jieun. "More rum?"

"Yes, please!"

"Hey—"

It's the greetings and then a hand that trails far too low on your back. It grazes the curve of your ass and you quickly jolt forward turning only to find a man in his mid thirties in a suit, standing eerily close to you. 

You narrow at him before asking, "I was searching for my husband. Pretty tall, broad shouldered, dark brown hair, slightly curly. Have you seen him?"

"You're Chan's wife? Didn't know he had such a beautiful woman for a wife," the man edges forward and you take a step back, eyebrows furrowed at him and your hand trailing down to keep you ready to grip your gun. Until you remember that you're undercover and hitting this man with a gun would seem suspicious. Your best option was to deck him. The man takes another step forward and you take one backwards till your back hits the buffet table, "I'm Ilsung. Do you maybe want to go somewhere..."

"You have a wife and I have a husband," you spit out. You are mortified. So this is what Sookyung mentioned and the fact her very own husband is involved in illicit affairs — does everyone here have a mistress or is involved in adultery? Is that the rich people norm?

"So? Everyone here has an affair with someone's wife. Do you want to be mine? I can take care of you."

"I can very well take care of my wife, Ilsung. I don't think I'll need your help." 

You hear the one voice you needed to hear in this very moment. You look over the older man's shoulder to find Chan, his hands shoved into the pockets of his formal pants. His top buttons are undone and the vest and suit fits him so well that you are glad you picked this one out for him. You shove the man away and walk to Chan, heels digging into the lawn as you strut confidently.

"I need the madam to say that," Illsung shoots and Chan's at his patience's end. He makes fists of his hands on either side of his and you hold onto his arms to calm him down only to look at the other man and narrowing your eyes, you scoff.

"I don't think I need to go have sex with someone like you when I get it well from him. That, and I guess, him being my husband should take more priority but not in this neighborhood where everyone breathes and lives on sex. So, no, thank you. I feel sad for Sookyung. She deserves someone better than a trash for a husband."

"Why, you bitch!" And he rushes forward with a clenched fist to hit you. Chan stops his blow, however, chuckling to himself. 

"That's weak. Now, why don't you go take care of your wife while I treat mine like a princess? Yeah?"

And Chan walks away with his arms tight on your waist as he holds you close. Ilsung yells behind the two of you, his wife yelling at him to keep quiet. Chan, on the other hand, doesn't speak a word further, just walking you all the way to the house the two of you share, keeping you so close to him and glaring at the others to keep them away.

There are sighs and grunts, furrowed eyebrows and clenched fists as Chan argues with himself in his head all the way to the room the two of you share. He stands by the table, still lost in his thoughts and you almost pick up the book you're reading — one by Natsume Suseki — only to deck him with it, although you decide not to because he already seems ready to snap his control.

"Chan—"

Maybe your voice was the only trigger he needed to snap, to break away from his thoughts and to give them words out loud. 

"You just stood there? Like some dumb doll when he touched you?" Chan glares at you and you frown, folding your arms over your chest and yelling back, "Excuse me, but I'm undercover as some doting wife to some stupid man."

"Did that matter then? Oh my god," he groans, throwing his head back. "I'm so mad and I know you're right. You are right but how dare he touch my wife when I was around. The fucking audacity—"

You hold the edges of the table with the base of your palm, pressing against it as you jump up and sit up on it to face him properly. You cup his face and making sure his eyes are fixed on yours, you smile softly.

"Don't smile right when I'm shit mad at everything, Y/N."

"Should I frown then?" You laugh out and push yourself back slightly to allow Chan to come closer and stand in between your thighs. "Let's think of this as some, uhm," you ponder, still holding Chan's face close to you, "Yes! Let's think of this as an occupational hazard."

"Occupational hazard," he scoffs. "Bullshit. He did that because he thinks women are weak. He's one of those arrogant pompous rich men that think that he can have his way with some good sacks of cash and power and that all women are weak and with that power comes his ability to subjugate them all to the age old tradition of treating them as sex dolls, an object for pleasure."

Chan's red and out of breath when he finally rants it all out and you bite your lower lip from laughing, dropping your hands from his face. Chan's cute. Oh god, he's so fucking cute and you know you shouldn't overstep boundaries but dear lord, if Bang Christopher Chan keeps this up, you will actually get down on your one knee, pop the ring and propose to him.

"Are you done?"

"No," he glares at you and leans forward, "Going to get back to work after this case and find some hell of a corruption case on him to put him behind the bars." 

Your eyes wrinkle into thin crescents as you smile wide. You raise your eyebrows and suggest, "I've a better idea. Why don't you rather fuck me with all hat pent up frustration? It's a win win deal, if you think about it hard enough."

Chan leans forward, lips curving up into a confident grin, "Oh, I will. I intend to do both. Fuck this anger out on you and put him behind bars." 

Chan's hands are big in comparison to your face. He cups your face, angles it and kisses you. His lips fit right into yours almost as if they were meant to be there for a lifetime to come. He kisses you and it's just as magical as always, laced with a touch of ardent need and passion. You needed him, you needed his warmth, his protection and everything he has to offer. His arms snake around your neck to grasp it and pull you in, deeper into him as he moves his lips against yours, softly at first till it turns into something so passionate that it would have your knees buckle, had you been standing. Chan is pressed against you, his white shirt, a size small as he likes it, clinging onto his body tightly (rid of the vest and suit in a moment of anger as soon as he walks into the house you share) and perfectly enough for you to hold his muscles.

You promised to yourself that you wouldn't fall in love, not after the shitshow of a marriage you saw in your parents. You promised that you'd keep your heart to self, that every individual in this world was brought forth as a single entity, so why in heavens did we go searching for others?

Chan makes you understand. 

You understand now that promises are meant to be broken and as you gaze at Chan under his dim lights, his face so temptingly close to you, you are more than ready to break the promise you've made with yourself.

It has been written in the gazes already and as you lean forward, your fingertips tracing his jawline, Chan knows it because he meets you halfway, his hands creeping behind your back by your waist and tugging you closer, your bodies touching and your lips on his, soft and testing waters initially. He pulls you closer, his lips moving against yours, angling your face to delve deeper into you. 

He has his lips against yours, nearly knocking you off all the wind in your lungs. You sigh into the kiss, find your hands in his hair, tugging at the roots and moving against his body, your legs stretching by either side of his body. His hand sprawls over your neck, his thumb caressing against your jugular before pressing into the neck, rubbing slow circles. He kisses the top of your lips, your hands tugging at his shirt. 

In a swift motion, positions have changed and you're sitting on him whilst he props himself up on the table. He lifts you up slightly, pulling back and places you on top of his lap. Your rear falling into the depression between his thighs, rubbing against his groin slowly. He looks at you through hooded eyes, pushing your hair past and opens his mouth to speak before you voice out first.

He looks at you from below, your hair falling on his shoulder as you look at him, his head thrown behind as it rests on the sofa's ridge. And your lips find his again, tugging at his soft lip to let you through, to open up to you completely. 

You moan into the kiss, your back arches and Chan's hand is still firm on it. He kisses your lower lip and your tongue brushes his lips in the impact, groaning at how he won't let you through a second ago and then, he lets you in. It's intimacy on a level you were slowly being prepared for. It's everything you remind yourself that you wouldn't break down into. Chan makes you feel special, with every praise, with every word he swears out to protect you. Chan reminds you of a feeling you had long forgotten.

Chan's lips move from your swollen lips to the curve of your jaw, down to the curved edges of your neck, sucking and kissing every exposed skin. Your head is thrown back at the sensation, your hips gyrating over his growing length.

His hand moves from your shoulders to your arse to your back after he seeks your permission as he pulls you closer and forwards, until your chests are pressed against one another. His mouth is everywhere and good lord, you feel infinite and powerful.

His lips hover on yours. He smirks, the curve of his lips tugging upwards slightly and you think it's cute. You think Chan also makes you feel divine as he whispers into your skin like personalized love notes or small token of appreciation, "Fuck, you're hot. The most beautiful being I've ever seen," and that is all that is needed as you gyrate over your hips a little quicker. He inches his chin forward, flicking your nose a little with his own, a shy smile on his lips as he silently asks the permission to claim your lips anew; all over again. 

And you let him, just like you've already given him permission in your head to ravish you tonight, to take you to hell and back.

Chan cups your face with both his hand, holding you and watching your face shine in the dim gold setting of his room. Your cheeks glistened and your eyes sparkled but his eyes could not stray away from your lips — coral, swollen and so demanding. He pulls your face down, kissing your nose tip and then your philtrum before pressing his lips flat against yours.

His kiss is drawn out in a way that makes you want more, like a divine aphrodisiac. It makes you want to pull him in and suck the living hell out of him and yet it's lovely. It's precious and laid out well planned. His tongue licking your lower lips before entwining with your tongue as he pulls you closer into him, your hips lowering deeper into his covered length, panties sticking to the core from the sensations your body is responding to.

His fingers trail up your black dress, thumb grazing the skin slowly, bringing about goosebumps to the surface before they slowly move enough to rip your dress apart and expose you to him, in all semi-nude. You moan, before kissing him as you hold onto Chan tightly.

He makes your insides twitch and your heart lunge and it fogs up all of your thoughts to the point you feel yourself drowning in the sensation of his lips, pressed tightly on your own. Your fingers get lost in his thick locks as you tug on them, forcing him to pull you down a lot forward and gladly welcome the movement of your tongue.

His lips are as soft as feathers and they feel like what you think heaven feels like. The warmth you experience is so much more than the tingle of first kisses, those innocent butterflies have nothing on the wanting void of a pit in your nether regions and the slick in between your thighs. 

His hands slide down from your hips to reach behind your back and pull you upwards, only to tightly clasp around the curve of your bare bottom cheeks, caressing it over. You sigh contently. His hand trails upwards, touching, feeling you all over and you pull back, breathing rapidly as you look at Chan. The next second you are unbuttoning his first two buttons and prompting him to remove his shirt too. Your legs slide slightly dangling off his sofa before he pulls you towards him, his naked chest warm enough against yours as he pulls you back in to devour you. 

"God, you're heavenly," Kiss. "So fucking heavenly." Kiss. "You're a fucking good girl." Kiss. "So good for me." Chan sucks a huge hickey into your neck — bright, dark and purple but it's how he worships and praises you that makes you want him more, your clothed core grinding on his enlarged bulge that is covered. The friction from the cotton of your panties and the cotton of his jeans slowly stimulates your core and you can't help yourself when your body is moving on its own accord on top of Chan, your hand moving your from falling back.

“Chan,” you groan against his lips after he pulls away from you for a minute. His lips are red and swollen, slick and shining with your saliva and so incredibly inviting you all over again and you fear that you may never want to stop kissing him for as long as you are breathing. 

"Chan!" 

His fingers move downward, grazing your skin by your stomach slowly, his eyes trained on yours as he watches you slowly break down. His fingers tease over your clothed mound. You bite your lip from groaning too loud but Chan's sudden tapping at your covered clit makes you yelp.

"Good girl. That's right. I want to hear your pretty moans," he kisses down on your neck, trailing and plastering wet kisses down your clavicle before sucking at the exposed skin of your breasts. "Moan loud for me, baby." He sucks at the skin by the crook of your neck, under your clavicles, above your breast and at the curves, leaving purple marks almost instantly thanks to your sensitive skin.

You can hear your heart beat quicker, racing against your chest and your thoughts drive you desperate. Pulling his face from your breasts, you kiss him, making the kiss deeper, licking his lip and grazing it with your teeth. You grind down on him trying to edge yourself desperately. You move forward to own every gulp and moan he releases and squirms in pleasure. 

"I want you so much," you choke out. Chan's hand lets loose from your throat slightly and he looks at you with admiration, before gripping at the jugular, and caressing it lovingly, pressing wet kisses against it. You sound desperate, almost like you would lose your sanity if Chan doesn't make you his, this minute. "Please. Chan, please."

His hands trail downwards, thumb rubbing the skin on its way before he slips them under your panties, swiping his finger across your slit, feeling how wet you are. He groans out loud, mumbling, "What a doll. All wet and ready for me to devour. You'd like that, wouldn't you? Baby, wouldn't you?" He presses against your jugular with his other hand, tilting your head and gently choking you. Your eyes rim with tears in joy and you nod, "Yes, please."

His mouth moves over the skin at your breast, kissing it furiously. His tongue lapping at your nipple over your bra, slowly circling over the clothed material as he rubs his finger up and down your slit, occasionally rubbing against your clitoris. You press down and grind on him further, begging for more. Chan removes his hand from your neck and moves it up from your waist to your back and it lingers around the hook of your bra before snapping it open with a flick of his fingers. The bra slides off your shoulder and you throw it away, unbothered by where it lands.

Chan's mouth falls on your breasts, circling big with his tongue before slowly decreasing the radius of his turns and narrowing down on your nipples, sucking at them alternatively. You are moaning, holding at his shoulder and dragging your hips over his bulge in a slow, excruciating pace he has set with the drag of his fingers.

Your throat is dry from all this excessive want and you wet your lips, breathing coming out in hot puffs of air, rapid and shallow. The passion and want blinds you and Chan taps on your clitoris constantly with his thumb, using the other fingers to slowly tease your entrance over the panties but going back to sliding down your opening. You groan frustrated and grind down on his bulge trying to chase the feeling that is growing within you. 

Chan's lips are all over you as you bite into his shoulder occasionally. It hovers over your neck and then your breasts, giving it all the attention as he plays with your nipples as he rubs you at a pace that quickens slowly. Your mind is boggled and you can't get your thoughts clearly.

"Such pretty breasts," he groans into it, his tongue flicking at it from your underside. "Such perky breasts. So beautiful and all mine."

Soon enough with his praises and the way he worships your being, the promise of an orgasm begins to manifest and build within you as a strong tightness within your lower regions, creeping into your abdomen, ever growing with every passing second. Chan's steady rhythm is strong enough to carry it over the edge with the friction you get from all the material and his bulge and as your climax looms closely, your hips rock and gyrate slightly against him. He pinches and flicks your nipples as he helps you ride out the orgasm, your eyes tired and hooded. You kiss him softly on his lips. 

"Will you remove your lingerie for me, pretty girl?"

The order shouldn't have turned you on this much but it does as you hop off his lap, your feet unsteady on the ground as you balance yourself after your first orgasm. Your fingers are on the edge of your panties and you're pulling it down completely in the next second. Chan watches you steadily, his eyes trailing on your figure and you feel attended to.

"Jesus Christ," he stands up, the bulge moving slightly and your mouth dries up as it opens, wanting so much more. He holds you by your waist, petting your hair, mumbling, "I love when you put your hair down. You look like a goddess. A goddess ready to let go of your divinity all for me."

He unbuckles his belt as you slowly touch yourself, your hand moving down your body. He watches you, your thumb and forefinger playing with your nipples, tugging and pinching them till they harden under your grip. He removes his formal pants and his boxers, pulling it down and away at your request. Chan's length and girth has your eyes widening, as always, your tongue licking over your lips and you gape.

It's painfully hard and the tip is red, leaking with precum down his cock. Chan holds you by your waist and lifts you up, your knees wrapping around him and your soaked core on top of his hardened girth, occasionally dragging past it. He kisses your breasts, licking over the nipple and the underside of the breast, grazing his teeth over it as he walks you to what you had thought would be the bed. However, he stops midway, looking at you for a second before your back hits the cold walls of the room in this house as he holds you securely. You see the bed by the side and you smile. You drop your legs and stand on your toes as you kiss him, your tongue running over his buccal cavity.

Chan's hand trails down, circling by your waist before his palm hovers over your mound. His thumb brushes past your clit teasingly and your hand wraps around his neck, kissing him and biting at his lower lip till you feel the metallic copper taste of blood filling your senses.

You moan as he drags a finger up and down your slit, playfully teasing you fold. He rubs circles into your folds, slowly dragging them out into waves and your hand flies upwards and forward to hold on to him for a grip. 

"Chan," you rasp out, and he hums, removing your hand so that he can kneel down, kissing your thigh and biting it slightly as his thumb rubs against your clit and the other swipe against the folds. Your hands grip on his roots, tugging at it mercilessly.

"Baby, do something," you cry. "Please, I need you." Your other hand tugs at his hair, trying to bring him closer in a desperate manner. "I'll be a good girl. Please, do something."

"Should I?" he teases, rubbing small circles around your clit in an excruciatingly slow manner and you think — know — that Chan is going to drive you to insanity and how he'd pull one off his book and blame it on his instincts.

"Please, please, please—"

The intrusion is sudden and you are overwhelmed. You gasp, the air raspy against your throat before falling. Your hand pulls at his hair harshly as he sucks on your clitoris, his breathing fanning over you. Your fingers drag down and dig into his skin, unbothered by the possibility of cutting through it. 

He presses his thumb on your clit after removing his mouth, tapping it slowly, simultaneously and you think you're going delusional. "Chan, oh my fucking heavens."

He kisses your mound repeatedly, telling you, "Look at this sex. Wet and dripping. I'll give you what you want, baby. I'll give you what you want for being a good girl for me."

Chan adds another two fingers instantly and you feel overwhelmingly full, crying out at being widened so pleasurably. The walls stretching out and you catch him mumbling, "So fucking tight and all for me. Look at this brat being a good girl for me."

He curls them up into you and your back arches slightly at the tingles. You feel Chan slipping his fingers easily into you and the slick of your arousal dripping down your thighs, making a mess. He rubs your walls, his attention also on your enlarged button and your hips gyrate with him, thrusting and chasing after his fingers desperately. He finds your spot easily after being this around and pushes at it constantly. Your head hits against the wall hard and he looks upwards at you for a split second, worried, only resuming after you give him a signal that you are alright.

You feel the euphoric rush coming, creeping through from within and trying to embrace you as a whole and when it's very close to burst, Chan pulls his fingers away, licking them clean with a knowing smirk plastered on his face, for a second before thrusting them back in.

Chan pumps his fingers in and out of you as his thumb rubs furious circles into your clit. He bites at your thigh, kissing them soon after, leaving traces of bruises near to your vulva. Hot, purple and sticky. He sucks on the skin deliriously, licking the skin to soften before grazing his teeth to oversensitize you. You feel the build up and you squirm against Chan, your eyes watering. 

"Chan, baby," it's a sob that leaves you. "Please." You were so devastatingly close after your last orgasm, the balls of heels leaving the surface as you try to pull back but Chan pulls you down as he sucks on your clitoris and pumps his fingers in you in a ridiculously breaking pace and when you are so close to breaking apart, Chan drags his fingers away, licking and sucking at them as you look down at him.

"What the fuck?" You swear, frustrated, tears spilling from your eyes.

"Good girls don't swear."

"I'll blow you off well," you try striking a deal with him. He looks up at you amused, strands of hair sticking to your face from the sweat and he still thinks you're the most beautiful woman he has laid his eyes. "I'll give you one hell of a blowjob. Just please." Your voice breaks as you look at Chan, who looks so delectable at the minute with your juices staining the side of his mouth and his lips shining in the light. "You won't regret—"

His mouth is back on your core and you groan, "Ungh!" He mumbles, his warm breath tingling your core as he speaks against it, "Good girls don't strike a deal either, darling."

"But your good girl does," you tease and Chan's mouth is back on your sex, licking and teasing it. He grabs you by the calves, his blunt nails digging into the vast skin.

Without another word, Chan dives right into it, tongue darting out to lick a long, thick stripe from your center to your clit, causing you to shiver. Your left hand finds its way back to his hair after grabbing at his shoulder intermittently. Chan simpers to himself, overwhelmed by how well your body reacts to him and just him, your legs shivering and buckling, about to fall if it weren't for Chan's hands holding you up and pressing you against the wall.

You feel the thickness of his tongue lapping up your seeping wetness, which in turn causes a rush of arousal to leak and drip down your ass. "You're making a mess, baby," he chuckles, the laughter hitting your clit and sending a shiver down your spine. Your fingers instinctively tighten around his hair and you pull him closer to your cunt, his nose nuzzling against your mound. He groans, hands gripping your thighs tightly, locking your legs in place.

Burying himself further, his tongue dips deep inside you, nose nuzzling and rubbing against your clit with every thrust. His eyes are piercing and fixated on the rise and fall of your chest as he looks up at you once in a while, seeing you tug at your lips, eyes closed and hand roaming around for support. He loves seeing you fucked out for him.

"Argh, it's fucking divine," Chan mumbles against your slit and the vibrations have your core clutching onto nothing. "This good cunt all wet and slickened for me, ready for me." You mewl, unable to stop yourself from wriggling within his hold, the grip on his hair tightening.

Your walls grasps around his tongue, pulling him further into you as he laps up every single drop of your arousal, passionate as if it were an aphrodisiac. One of his hands travels upwards to latch itself on your breast, rubbing the underside of your breast, fondling and gripping it hard.

“Chan,” you moaned softly, your voice trembling over the sensations that ride into you, toes curling. He responds to your calling, withdrawing from you slowly, by planting soft and gentle kisses to your inner thighs. 

"You're doing great, love." 

He sucks on your clit furiously and that was everything for you. You feel the same high building up at a pace quicker than you thought was possible. You feel it tightening, your core clutching onto his muscular organ as it tries indulging itself deeper, chasing after something it craves. His nose rubs against your neglected clit. He licks a stripe against it before sucking at it, teeth grazing at it sending tingle down your spine that has you hitting the bumpers with the heel of your feet. You are already sensitive from the last orgasm and all the teasing you had and with all this vigor and undivided attention Chan gives you, you feel it coming as he treats you like you're his only girl.

Your back arches more steeply, your mound hitting him in its influence, head hitting the wall lightly this time and your moans are louder, raspier and quicker. You are screaming out Chan's name as you see the stars under your eyelids. 

He still licks slow stripes, taking in and devouring the rush of juice that squirts out of you. He lets you ride out the high and he lets you leave him breathless as his grip on your thighs do not ease away. Chan does not stop, even when you're a quaking, quivering mess, tears spilling from the corner of your eyes and it's almost bordering overstimulation. You can't think and you can't form proper sentences. He leaves you gasping for air, with something stuck in your throat preventing the passage of air and it's difficult to breathe in this rush and he makes it harder.

He looks at you teasingly and he lifts his hand as you bend forward to his kneeling self. He clutches on your neck, his fingers pressing against the side softly as he continues licking up your orgasm and blocking your air passage. You feel the stimulation rushing and concentrating and it's all too much for you. Tears stain your face and you're crying, "It's too much, Chan. Too much."

And he stops as soon as you say that. He presses soft kisses against your clitoris and he holds your hips tightly as he stands up. You've lost any energy in your legs you have and if it weren't for Chan, you'd crash. 

He holds you by the hips and carries you, dropping you gently against the bed, your hair spreading and you kiss his shoulder. He caresses your face and tells you — it's a whisper almost — "I think I want to get to know you more. I think I—"

You bring his face lower to kiss him, preventing any other word to spill from his mouth that your head tells you to cancel. You are not sure yet. You hold his face down, devouring him as a whole, feeling his length slide your core draggingly and you groan into him.

You don't shy away from prying your hand down, teasing his cock as you rub your hand over the enlarged shaft slowly, teasing his enlarged red head, rubbing your arousal and the afters of your orgasm all over him, slowly stimulating him as you drag your hand down his length and back up again, letting go of his shaft only to cup his balls, trailing your fingertips around it. You let go and look at Chan. 

"Lay back, please," you request and he pecks your nose as he pouts at you. God, he really really wants to call you his. Forever.

Chan lies back on the bed, his head resting between his pillows and yet he pulls his body up, supporting his weight on his arm. You sit up, crawling over to straddle his lap, nervousness setting into your stomach. You gulp and swallow the saliva as you look at Chan, whose gaze gives you comfort and confidence. The muscles in your arm stiffens as you grip his shoulder for stability and Chan's hand falls on your hips naturally, helping you steady yourself.

Your hands rest on his chest, firm and broad and you gaze at Chan's cock for a while, it twitching with every unadulterated thought of his as he watches you on top of him, bare, exposed and unrestrained all for him. Your mouth is parched and your tongue pokes out through the seams of your lips, running across the expanse of your lower lip and wetting it. 

"Fuck," he swears as his eyes move with your tongue, his chest rising and falling under your hold.

You reach forward to take him in your hand — the tip of his head looks so inviting that you couldn't stop yourself. Chan's hands roam up your arms, his thumb caressing the underside of your breasts before they play with them, his thumb and forefinger rubbing your nipple, watching it turn solid in his hold. He grips at your breast, fondling it and massaging it, stimulating you and bringing about a rush of confidence in you.

“You’re fucking large, fuck, fuck,” You yelp, eyes wide and mouth salivating at the heaviness in your grasp. You widen your mouth, stretching your facial muscles and Chan laughs.

When you look at him, his dark eyes are speared to your movements, teeth gritted. At this moment, with you hovering over him, he can't seem to contain how excited he is, his length twitching in your hold. You begin moving your hands up and down his length at the same slow pace he had put through.

You lean forward, Chan's grip on your breasts tightening as he squeezes it. Your whines turn to louder moans of ecstasy. His one hand grabs your hair back, pulling it into a makeshift ponytail until he drops it and touches your face, "Ah, so beautiful. You're so perfect."

Chan watches you and is all too eager, his hand on your face trailing down to your shoulder, gripping on it as he continues caressing one of your breasts. The flat of your wet tongue sticks out to lick around the rim of his hot head. He fights back a groan, choking and sputtering, grip on your shoulder tightening as his blunt nails dig into your skin. You stretch your mouth as wide as you can, hollowing it, which leads profanities spilling from his pretty mouth, even though it's a discomfort to your movement as you engulf the whole of his head with your tongue. He mumbles something incoherent under his breath and you sigh at the thought your mouth wrapped around his pretty cock.

Chan inhales a sharp breath, swearing and uttering, "Your pretty mouth could take me so well, baby. So good." You wrap your lips around the velvet tip, beginning a slow suction. Your tongue licks around the base, pulling up a fat stripe over the throbbing, prominent vein. 

“Fuck, fuck,” Chan mumbles, shifting on the sheets, his hand gripping on one of the pillows. “Open wider, please, baby. You're doing so good. You're taking me so well."

You do as he has asked of you. Your jaw is already sore and the joints ache from the girth of his head alone. He pushes his hips off the bed in the slightest without your awareness; his hand trailing back to your hair and the other still on your breast making you feel good. His grip on your hair is strong as he thrusts more of himself into your mouth, your lips wet around his length.

You try your best for it to be pleasurable for him as your fingers tighten around his length before you start to twist your wrists — with a click of your gliding joint — and continue sucking. Chan is careful to be gentle with you, very tenderly urging his cock to fill more of your mouth. It shocks you when you feel the blunt of his head hit the cap of your airway, eliciting a gag.

Chan's eyes widens, the reaction from you exciting him as you feel him twitching in your mouth. He gasps, breath uneasy as his hand leaves your hair and trails behind towards your arse that sticks out as you try deepthroating Chan. He rubs your slit slowly and the unexpected contact pushes you forward, taking in Chan a lot more than you had planned, leaving him groaning into your shoulder.

He pulls out barely before he’s pushing back in, teeth gritted and eyes focused on making you feel calm too. Chan moves back and watches you taking him so well and he knows it's a sight to behold — your pretty lips wrapping around his length, taking him so well as if your mouth was made for him, crafted to perfection. His fingers rub small circles into your vulva, tapping against the clit accidentally once or twice.

Another gag rumbles out of you as you fight the reflex. The vibrations against his member is felt and he grips on your arse, pulling you into him, your nose rubbing against his pubis. Your finger trails the underside of his shaft before rolling his balls between your fingers. His hips stutter in shallow thrusts into your mouth and you feel the sting of tears threatening to blur your vision as you oppose your gag reflex, taking him as deep as you can.

The sounds of your gagging bounces off the walls of his bedroom, followed by the deep moans and sighs spilling through Chan's lips as he fucks your mouth. Each thrust of his hips causes the head of his cock to push past your airway, your throat constricting and eliciting a groan from him. He also diverts your attention to rubbing you, now and again slapping your cheeks, eliciting moans from you against his girth.

You release your hold around his length, fingers thickly coated in your own saliva as you dig into the flesh of his thighs. Your mouth is stretched as wide as you can physically make it and tears roll down your cheek continuously, while you willingly take him completely in your mouth. You look up through the flutters of your eyelashes, enthralled to see the Adam’s apple in Chan's throat bob up and down while his head is thrown back in pleasure. 

Chan pulls your head back; his cock comes out from your mouth with a light pop followed by you gasping for air. Your eyes droop, your cheeks hollow and your jaws ache but everything counts to how hot you felt, to how hot the tension between you still is. His hand trails back to your hair, gripping on it and jerking your hair back so you’re forced to look at him. 

"This is a fucking sight to behold. Look at you, darling," he groans. 

Chan's thumb grazes your skin and he latches his lips onto yours in a sloppy, messy and wet manner and nothing else seems to matter other than your need for each other. You lean forward, tugging at his pinna as you bite down on it lightly, before mumbling, "I'm on top today."

Chan doesn't care because all he can focus on is how you said today, like this isn't just a one time thing. He gazes at you with such affection that has your heart racing telling you to let go of that stupid cages you keep around your concepts.

As your folds, dripping down with thick, sticky arousal coating Chan's cock with that and your saliva, brush the tip of his hardened cock, you feel a shudder run down your spine. You instinctively allow yourself to lower further, taking the rest of him in you swiftly with the help of your arousal. Sinking down around his dick and feeling him fully wrapped around your clutching walls has you throwing your head back, squeezing your eyes at how his length stretches you out, your walls wrapping around him tightly. He holds your waist, helping you down on his length.

You rock your hips into him, already finding yourself tightening and clenching around his thick cock. He fills you up so nicely, stuffing you perfectly full and you salivate, licking your lips. Your lips parts and you find your hips moving on their own accord. Chan's right hand rises upwards, massaging your breast, flicking your nipple and sending a rush down your spine, arching your back. His cock hits you at an angle and a soft moan leaves your lips.

Chan takes your hips in his hands, taking control of your movements to raise you up, leaving you empty and whining. You clench around nothing but air and your own walls, desperate to sink back down. “Chan,” you whine, your lower lip puckers forwards and Chan lifts himself up to kiss you.

As his hand grip around your hips to get a better hold, he slams you back down on his cock, hard, causing you to scream. “Fuck, Chan, oh my god, ah!”

He continuously guides you in a rhythmic movement, throwing his head back into his pillows and groaning. The sheen of sweat glistening on his chest catches your eye as he pants. The way his eyes clenched shut and his mouth hangs open with pleasure only makes you move faster around his cock, gyrating around it and tightening your walls. The sight before you makes you want to see him fucked out further. You want him to crumble under you because of you, leave him trembling under your hold.

He groans, "Your cunt is so pretty. Look at it, baby. Look." He gapes down and you gasp, moaning quicker.

You ride him, bouncing on his dick and clenching when you feel yourself reaching your climax for the third time that night, all because of this man. Chan's finger moves down and slips between your sweat soaked bodies to rub your clit, pushing you even further over the edge. 

“Are you going to come, baby?” He asks, breathlessly, his voice airy and light, almost floating away. He pulls his head forward to kiss your collarbones, sucking harsh bruises against your skin, continuing further down the existing purple bruises.

“Y-Yes, please, please,” you sigh, lacing your fingers through his hair and tugging on the dark strands. “Mhm, fuck, please, please, you feel so good, Chan.” You lean forward and the motion causes him to whine. You quickly catch it as your lips fall on his. His lips enclose yours, tugging and pulling at it and he kisses you slowly and passionately as you move on his cock, lazily.

Words, unfiltered and raw, spill out from your mouth after your lips leave his as you feel the high that is creeping up slowly within you. “Chan, fuck. Oh fuck. I'm going to come soon. Oh my god." Your voice reaches a pitch higher.

“Then, come.”

Chan moans against your neck as he feels you, his finger rubbing your clit, “Baby, come all over my cock. You deserve that for being the good girl you are.”

Chan's other hand that is not occupied leaves your hip and moves upwards to find its place on your neck. His fingers gently wrap themselves around your neck and that makes you wetter than you already are. He presses his fingers against your neck with pressure and you choke, gasping for air. Your mouth opens wide and your tongue falls out slightly resting on your lower lip. Your eyes roll back and your walls clench around Chan's cock tightly, your hip gyrating around it for all the friction.

Your fucked out expression as you choke for air makes Chan plunge into you harder and you choke harder, his hips lifting up and thrusting into you.

A final flick of his finger over your sensitive button and a bit more pressure over your neck are all it takes for your body to flood with pleasure and ecstasy. Your legs tighten around Chan's sides, curling in as you ride out your high for as long as possible, still moving your hips against him. His fingers let go of your neck and you breath loudly, taking in huge gulps of air.

Not long after your undoing, he comes inside you, coating your walls with his seed as you feel his length pulsate within you. Thick strings coating your walls till it seeps from your vagina and drips down.

Once your body falls limp against his chest, equally fucked out and panting for air, you feel him going soft inside you. He kisses your forehead and your hair, pushing it from your face. He lifts you up, slowly slipping out of you and gently laying you by his side, the semen slipping out. His fingers rub small circles on your hips after pulling you closer into him, nuzzling into the sides of your breast.

In his warmth, with his arms over your stomach as he snuggles closer to you, you feel your eyelids heavy and fluttering shut. His lips are close to your skin, feeling his steady breathing and listening to it calms you down, steading you and increasing your melatonin, slowly drifting away to a state of peace, all in Chan's arms.

You stir in the bed, your hand reaching out for Chan only to feel the messy bed sheets and blanket. You wake up, brought to your senses well enough and you look around to find Chan only to see the light in the balcony turned on.

Putting on his white shirt messily, you rush outside to find Chan sitting and staring at the black sky. You sit by his side, shuddering in the cold and he looks at you fondly, cracking a smile.  

"You're up?" You nod, teeth biting at the cold breeze that passes by, until you realise what Chan is staring at. It's snowing. It is the first snow in a long while and it's beautiful, albeit being late. He smiles at the purple mark that he has graced upon your skin. Chan stretches his arms out, blanket still in his hold as he offers to hold you close in this cold weather, to share his body warmth. He mumbles softly into your ears, "You should sleep a little more. It's going to be a tough day tomorrow. Aren't you meeting Jieun?"

"Yeah," you smile, watching the surroundings. "First thing in the morning. She seems to know a lot about everyone in this neighborhood. That, and I want to know why they treat Somin," Chan looks lost and you realise you haven't discussed it yet with him. "Kim Jihoon's widow is treated like that."

"I'm firm on this theory."

"What theory?"

"That Rowoon is the one killing people — bad homeowners — off because we'll, they disrupt his neighborhood. That or, they got drunk and it is still an accident."

"But Somin?"

"What? Anyone can be a bad homeowner! She's probably his next target." Chan chuckles and pulls you in closer. He holds you still for a while before he says, "We'll talk about the case tomorrow before you go to Jieun's. And you should clean up the mess of notes on the dinner table."

"You're the nagging kind of husband!" 

"No." He is quick to deny. "I just like my house at least a bare minimum clean, alright?" You laugh out loud, falling into his hold as you try to contain your joy. Something soft hits your knees, barely visible but it settles softly.

Snow. It's snow and you see the snowflakes along with it. You watch them tumble, those feathered crystals, their chaotic flight to form a blanket that could not be more uniform, more orderly. And it's beautiful. So beautiful that it eases you and has you snuggle further into his warmth. Enough to make you forget everything for a minute there in his arms.

"I like snowflakes," you say, your head resting on his chest. There is a certain intimacy in the hour, in his hold, in this weather and between the two of you. A certain intimacy to friends who only sleep and work with each other shouldn't have. Chan looks at you, waiting for you to continue. 

You do like snowflakes. A lot. Each snowflake is like a sculpture made out of paper. Each has a unique identity reflecting a crucial passage in the chosen source material with an equal amount of complexity carved out of minimal space and in the end, it falls down before someone, lighting up someone and making them happy.

"It makes me happy. It doesn't have to fit in or match with anyone else and it still means the world to someone."

Chan smiles and you know it is clearly one of your most favorite things in the world, your solace. You find the happiness growing, much as a spring flower opens. It comes from deep inside to light his eyes and spread into every part of him. Chan makes sure it is like that, that the world knows when he's happy but wouldn't, when he is sad. A person smiles with more than their mouth, and I heard it in his voice, in the choice of his words and the way he relaxed. It was beautiful. He was beautiful.

Maybe he'll teach you not to hold in your feelings. Maybe he will let you fall in love. All over again.

And you kiss him. It's short and quick, as chaste as the love you feel for him in this minute, in his arms. He leans forward and kisses you back and maybe, you both were snowflakes, as weird as you are, as unique as you — and yet the two of you make each other happy as corny as it sounds. 

"Uh," Chan pulls back and rubs the back of his head and then his nape. "I—"

"Oh, a mistletoe, look!" You point and Chan turns back, frowning to look at the tree by the side with some creepers that crawl on its branch — creepers that were not mistletoes. You smile brightly as you continue pointing and Chan looks at you with a raised eyebrow.

"That's not a mistletoe."

"It isn't? I thought it was. My bad!" You laugh, eyes sparkling in mirth and cheeks heating up in embarrassment over the obvious lie you said. You sit up straight and look up at the sky. 

"It's a pretty night for whatever shit that went down today," Chan comments, staring at the moon. The moon is a warm milky glow in the sky, as if the sight of her could become a song in the eyes of anyone willing to raise their head upward. You were and you were going to seize the opportunity.

Chan's gaze is fixed on the big moon and your head thinks of him and the words from Natsume Suseki and every other anime you were forced to watch, thanks to Jeongin. In every black night, he was the spark that rekindled hope in you. 

"Is there something on my face, Y/N?"

"No," You turn back, smiling, heart fluttering and your mind at ease. "Just," you hold your chest, feeling the beating of your heart louder than ever.

"The moon is beautiful."

It's small and fragile. Once, and then, twice, till it sounds again and again and again through the silent air of your house. 

The knocking on your door is repeated and you turn to look at Chan who stirs in his sleep, thanks to the same sound. You shuffle in your bed, trying to go back to sleep, presuming it is an illusion and nothing more. However, Chan heard it too.

"Is someone…"

"I'll go check," you mumble, huffing and throwing the blanket to the side. Luckily, Chan's shirt covers you up to your thighs. You jump out of the bed and your partner decides that it is safe to follow you to the door instead. 

You open the door and in comes rushing a little boy, aged not more than eight, with tear stains on his face. He runs forward hugging your frame in his reach as he cries out loudly. Chan looks at the scene before him in delusion and you relate.

Who in the world is this child?

"Is everything alright?"

The child continues crying into your frame, burying his face into your abdomen. Chan squats down to come face to face with the child. His hand carefully holds the child's back as he pats him slowly, letting him calm down for a while before he asks again.

"Where's your mum and dad?"

"Dad isn't home. M-mum is," the child hiccups, choking on his own sobs as tears roll down his face messily. "She's in the garage and there's blood around her head and—" He cries fiercely and you hold the boy close to you, heart heavy because you know the worst possible scenario. Death.

"Why don't you take us there, okay?" Chan smiles gently. The boy looks with teary eyes at him and Chan quickly lifts him up in his hold. "Come on. Let's go."

And the boy was right and his worst nightmare comes true. You cover the eyes of the child to prevent him from further seeing the horrendous sight before him. 

Because before all of you was the body of Kim Jieun, sprawled in her own driveway, her head crushed to a pulp under her garage. 

An overturned shelf, a couple of paint cans that look like they have been thrown and some blood splattered on the floor is all you and Chan find last night. That, and a woman's broken pastel nail extension. 

You would have checked further had it not been for your undercover and that Chan had been getting endless calls from Mayor Arsehole. Changbin fumingly goes on about how he sent the two of you to put a stop to this but rather there's another case on his desk now. The man does not calm down even after Chan says that the two of you were definitely looking for a serial killer and that these deaths were not accidents. If anything, it upsets him further.

This morning however, the sun shines brighter. 

Chan walks into the kitchen, looking for you, teasingly shouting out into the air, "Honey, what's for breakfast? Eggs? Bacon? Eggs and Bacon? Or maybe it's ri—"

Before him on your cluttered table of a case file, notes and photos of evidence lies a sad bowl of soggy cereal.

"Soggy cereal it is," he frowns. 

"I made it though. It should count for something, right, husband?"

Chan grunts and sits down, spoon digging into the bowl of cereal as he takes his first bite soon enough. He glances over at the wall behind the breakfast table. You have mapped out the relationship between every single person in this neighborhood, affairs inclusive and Chan lifts his lips in pride.

"Someone has been a bit busy. When did you even sleep?"

"Didn't fall asleep. So I decided to work on this instead," and Chan realises you were not even kissing. Your eyes are grogging and your face is a lot gloomier even though you are smiling off the joy of mapping it all out.

"Did you crack the case?"

"As a psychological profiler, I can say," you frown. "I haven't. I just can't figure out the connection here. These murders were distinctly targeted, so, why? Why specifically these three people?"

Chan stirs the milk in his cereal before he looks at you and suggests, "Why don't you look for a common enemy?"

"Huh?"

"Y/N, babe," you blush at the nickname and try to zero in on the matter in hand. "I know you and I see way too many crimes on a daily basis because of our job and that makes you and I think that we are chasing after some blood sucking psychopath," Chan pauses and eats a big bite of cereal. He munches on it slowly, letting you grow anxious in waiting, "We may not be dealing with some headcase who likes to strangle old women with pantyhose. Maybe we are dealing with a good old fashioned murderer; you know, the kind that kills people because they pissed them off."

You look at the board, index finger against your cheek and your eyes widen. "You could be right!"

"Don't look so surprised also," Chan mumbles, finally finishing his cereal. 

"It could work. Maybe what the victims have in common is their relationship with the killer." You continue to stare at the board. Chan cleans the plate in the sink on the other end, mumbling at you to keep calm and that you would crack the case with him soon enough. You sigh, "I don't have enough information to look for a common enemy." You tap on the first victim, Yoon Yerin. "Especially on her."

Chan folds his arm and stares at you. This look ok you is another one of Chan's favorites. You purse your lips, eyebrows furrowed together as you concentrate. Your eyes don't waver just like your heart in moments like this and Chan thinks he could fall even further for you, for your confidence.

"I'll probably swing by her place and see what I can find there. What's your plan?"

"Drop by at Rowoon's and find out where the fuck he was last night when his wife was murdered and his child was all alone." Chan stands by your side and you nod.

"Be home by 6:30?"

"Sure thing, honey," Chan laughs and he kisses your forehead, his lips lingering for a little while longer and you still, body heating up in his contact.

You nervously laugh, pushing him away slightly, "You're in character," You laugh again. "Method acting, right? that's good."

Chan looks away, avoiding contact with you and mumbling, "Yeah. Method acting."

He wonders how long he has to put up with this stupid method acting. 

"Any luck?"

"Besides having Rowoon almost barf on my very nice dress shirt, no," you hear Chan speaking through the phone. You walk further down the neighborhood, lush green trees on either side. As much as you despised Changbin, you had to agree — the neighborhood is great. Just that it wasn't meant for people like you. People not rich.

"Do you want me to press a shirt for you?" You tease. 

"Would my wife do that?"

"In your dreams," you roar in laughter. Chan chuckles on the other end of the line. 

"Anyhow, Rowoon was out fucking one of his mistress last night. He's also pretty fucked up with the death and has not stopped drinking."

"He has an alibi?"

"Yeah," Chan sighs. "It's definitely not my homeowner's rage theory then."

You walk a little more till you stand in front of an unremarkable suburban house. You tell Chan on the other end, "I'm here. I'll get back to you soon. Bye," and hang up almost immediately. Quietly, you turn on your tape recorder and speak into it.

"184 Arbor Way. The house that belonged to Yoon Yerin, the first victim. Yerin lived alone which is uniquely for this predominantly family oriented neighborhood. That alone may have made her stand out and a target for suspicion."

You walk around the house, trying to look into it and around it, "The place is scrubbed clean. Whoever Yerin was, I'll have to find out from inside. The outside is scrubbed way too clean to get rid of any possible doubts." 

You take a step back and look around to see if anyone was passing by, before you lay your hand around the door knob and try turning it. It's locked. You wonder if Rowoon had the key. Glancing around carefully, you slide a paperclip from your pocket into the keyhole and jiggle it once — twice, till the door opens.

You smile brightly, "Some skills are rooted, ha! Thank God, I dated that sketchy guy back in college."

You pull open the door. Inside, the house is spotlessly clean. Almost as if no one ever lived in it. Whoever cleaned the place did a thorough job, almost leaving it spotless. You walk around the house, looking into every corner and room there to find anything. However, you are left looking at nothing but bare floors, undecorated walls and sparkling clean surfaces enough to shine.

You turn to leave, sighing out an air of disappointment when a gold sparkle catches your eye in the light. You bend down and find a man's golden cufflink lying against the corner of the room. Taking a latex glove from your pocket, you pick it up and bag it in a plastic cover, hiding it in your jacket as you leave only to bump into Somin.

"Oh, Hey," you stammer.

"I don't mean to pry but did you just come out from Yoon Yerin's house?" She raises an eyebrow and you hesitate, fingers holding the plastic bag tightly in your pocket.

"No, no, I—" You sigh, looking down. Lying after being caught red handed is useless. "Yes. I'll admit that I did."

"What on earth were you doing there?" She asks and you realise that to anyone from outside, your actions seemed very suspicious — enough to blow off your whole cover.

"The thing is, Yerin, I was there because," you close your eyes and inhale a sharp breath of air, "I was there because I got curious."

"Of?"

"I just heard what happened to Yerin and I needed to come and see the house myself."

"What could you possibly look for?" Her eyes waver and she looks back at the house.

"Some signs maybe," you look back to follow her gaze, "Maybe a blood stain or something. I know this might come out as a bit weird but I have always been fascinated by macabre. I even listen to Stephanie Soo's true crime podcasts regularly."

She smiles fondly and nods, "I understand. To be very honest, I was fascinated by Yoon Yerin too when I heard of her death. I tried coming by to see what had happened. But now," she sobs. "Jihoon is dead and so is Jieun. They say that there is a serial killer on the loose."

"It's so sad that it happened in this neighborhood," you take a step forward, trying to walk away.

"I know, right? The whole point of living in a gated community is to keep the awful things out." Somin leans forward and puts her hand around your shoulders. "Look, you seem like a really nice person, Y/N, so I'm going to be honest with you. There is something bad happening here, something very very bad. Keep your head down till it's over. It's for the best." 

Her tone is lower than ever and the advice sounds scarier than usual, something as if it were to warn you of an impending danger. You call Chan and he picks up quick.

"About pressing your shirt? I think I can do that. I have some pretty cufflinks to match them."

Later that night, you sit in your kitchen, the same board looming over you. You try to map out even more connections on your chart of suspects. The whole board is so covered with lines of strings that it almost looks like a spider web.

Behind you, the door swings open and Chan comes in, strides longer and quicker to take him to you as he screams, "Honey, I'm home."

You laugh, twirling in your rotating chair as you look at him and ask, "How long have you been wanting to do that?"

"Since we got this assignment. Of course, I mean," he tries putting a serious face, "It is sad that we were forced to do this by Han when he blackmailed us with that sex tape—"

"It's not a sex tape."

"The footings, but," Chan smiles widely, "It wasn't so bad to play house with you, Y/N."

"Likewise, Chan."

"Now, did you find anything?" Chan asks, resting his chin on your shoulder once you turn to face the board, his hand on your other and you freeze, surprised by the sudden contact, ironically. "This mapping just got messier."

"Yeah," you exhale and your shoulders slouch. Chan stands up straight as he tries to understand the board before him. "I tried mapping all the infidelities and affairs and this is what I got. A whole mess. It's all convoluted now."

Chan's eyes widen as he tries tracing the lines with his index finger before giving up. "Is everyone cheating on their spouses here?"

"Almost everyone."

Chan takes a step back, opens the fridge and pulling out a can of beer, he goes to sit on the sofa. You turn your chair around and watch him take a sip of it.

"Wow, you look as if you're right at home," you tease.

"There's space for two here," he pats the sofa by his side, and grins sheepishly. 

You get up and take your own can of beer from the fridge, mumbling, "I can sure take a break," and walk towards him, plopping down by his side. The two of you clink your beer cans, the sound clattering through the walls.

"It's Christmas tomorrow, you know?" 

You hum in agreement, "It's my first one outside home."

"I hope we can crack the case soon so that you can at least spend a few hours with your family on Christmas."

"Hey," you nudge his arm, "The thought of spending Christmas with you does not repulse me, okay?"

"I had not even said that," Chan gasps. He turns to look at you, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "So does that mean the thought does repulse you?"

"Don't twist my words," you laugh.  

"Do you want to get married?"

You choke on your drink, eyes wide as you look at him. He pats your back as he tells you to breathe slowly. You finally ask, "The thought or with a specific person?"

"Both."

"Yes, and no," you mumble. "I do want to get married once but," you look at Chan for a minute as he drinks his beer. "I don't think I have my feelings sorted properly to have the privilege to think of thoughts like that."

Chan leans forward, eyes dazed and fixed on yours. Has he always been this beautiful, this captivating? Has he always made your heart beat so much quicker?

"Do you think you'll ever be ready to sort them out?"

You sputter and choke again. Chan smiles again; this time however, it looked sad. He stands up, placing the beer can down on the table before. "I should get some fresh air. Take a stroll in the neighborhood and make sure nothing is going around, yeah."

You turn away, face too scared to look at him in worries of your emotions being transparent. "Yeah, you should do that. I'll get back to the mapping."

"I'll, uhm, I'll be back in a few." Chan rubs the back of his neck before quickly stepping out of the house. You sigh, head fuzzy with the overload of emotions. 

He doesn't know you were ready. He doesn't know you wanted more. He doesn't know how you confessed that night to him in the moonlight. He doesn't know of how you feel, because of you. You never told him directly, always twisting your words and actions. If anything, you had no one else besides yourself to blame.

"Chan," you whisper but it's too late. He's out.

A step too late to realise as always.

You snap out of your daze caused by the overload of emotions. Getting up, you slightly slap yourself and mumble, "Focus. Back to work now." You reach out into your pocket and take the cufflinks to file away. You turn it around in your hand when it flashes.

"Wait a minute, wait a minute," you zero in on the object in your hand. "I've seen this cufflink before." You rush to the board, eyes scanning the pictures to see where you had seen it when it finally lands on the second picture pinned on the board.

You had seen it on the second victim — Kim Jihoon.

"Oh my god," you sigh, hand limp on both sides as you realise you know who it is. You know who the killer is and you know her motive. 

"I know the killer. It's Somin, oh my—"

"Clever girl," you hear the feminine voice from behind you. You spin around quickly, hand on your chest as your eyes widen to find Somin standing by the door with a huge butcher knife in her hold.

"It was you!"

"That's right. Me." She takes a step forward. Instinctively, you glance back across the living room to where your gun hangs in a holster, draped over the coat rack.

Somin takes another step forward, speaking, "Sweet little Somin. Fragile, pitiful Somin. Somin who everyone always thinks they can pick on, lie to and laugh at — Ha!" He leaps forward and wildly waves her knife. She yells. "Well, who's laughing now? Who's laughing now?"

You dodge back, repeating to yourself to dawn the fact that it is true, that, "Jihoon was having an affair with Yerin."

"That ungrateful, cheating bastard couldn't wait to jump into that slut's bed. So I showed them both," she laughs. "I showed them both well."

"That I can understand," you edge closer to the coat stand to try and get your gun. "But why did you have to kill Jieun too?"

"Are you kidding me?" She yells. "That bitch stole my snickerdoodle recipe."

You huff out in disbelief, eyes narrowing at her and eyebrows furrowing, "Ah, I see. You're a full blown psychotic."

"I was going to stop after her, you know? But then you had to go and poke your nose around in the neighborhood. Stupid bitch."

Somin takes another step towards you and you know you are still far away from your gun. She is now almost at an arm's reach and you take a step backwards instinctively. She waves her knife again and you dodge it carefully.

"Who are you, huh? A cop?"

"An NIS profiler actually." She looks lost and you sigh. "A cop, yes."

"Well, Y/N," she glares. "Do you know what I hate the most? Liars." Somin lunges at you, jabbing the knife towards your throat. You dodge to the side, neatly weaving around the thrust. Somin stumbles past you, knocking over a giant carton of cereal, spilling it everywhere.

"Argh," and she swipes again. You dodge nimbly to the side again. Her knife cuts through the air with an audible hiss and the adrenaline pumps into your blood from the fear. The knife hits the fruit bowl and sends bright red apples scattering on the table, over your notes.

"Well, well, aren't you fast?"

"You've no fucking idea," you hiss, taking in as much air as you can. You back up and feel the counter behind you.

"Enough talk!"

You gulp, gripping the counter firmly. Somin dives towards you, slicing her knife at you. You reach back and grab a heavy toaster. You pull it around and holdi it out in front of you. It crackles loudly with a hot, electrical burst.

"Fuck." Somin jerks back, as if stung, the knife dropped from her grip. The knife clatters to the floor, it's tip blackened from char thanks to the electricity. Somin steps away, clenching and unclenching her hand. 

"That fucking hurts, you bitch." 

You drop the toaster and step back, putting your hands up defensively in front of your face. You propose, "Look, Somin, it's still not too late to surrender. We can still end this peacefully, alright?"

"You think I'm going to give up just because I lost my knife? I need to survive." Somin bounces up and down, assuming a combative stance. "I've been taking aerobic kickboxing for four years." She bounds towards you and shoots a lightning fast kick at your head. You guard your face and block her kick. She bounces back and aims to kick at your shins, hard. You jump, hopping back neatly avoiding her kick.

"Are you done?"

"No," Somin recovers quickly, spinning in a fast arc and throwing out a devastating, high roundhouse. You throw up your hands and block the kick. She staggers back, her balance off. 

You seize the moment to spin around, swing low and lunge towards Somin, jamming the palm of your hand into her chin. You slide your one leg between hers and jerk back, kicking her feet out from under her and slam her down into the ground. The back of her head hits the cold tiles on the floor. You force yourself on top of her, pressing down on her chest with one knee and pant, "Four years of kickboxing, huh? Try seven years of krav maga."

She squirms under you, huffing, "Get off," and quickly lunging to get the toaster. Your eyes widen and you try to grab her hands. However, she's already about to throw the toaster when you hear the sound of metal clinking once and the toaster falling by your side.

"Nah, you're not going to hurt my wife," you turn to look at Chan, pointing the gun. He walks further ahead to the two of you. "Kim Somin, you are under arrest for the murder of Yoon Yerin, Kim Jihoon and Kim Jieun. You have the right—"

"They were all liars. All cheaters. It's not fair," she yells, struggling under your hold. You hold her wrists tighter and Chan slams the handcuffs on her. 

"It's over, Somin. It's all over. The court will hear the rest, and the dead will have their peace."

"Did you reach home?"

Your phone is connected to the bluetooth speakers in your car and you hear Chan's voice in the small vehicle. You rotate the steering wheel as you turn to the right across the street. It's a comparatively quieter day, almost as if it's in stark contrast to the shit that went down last night.

"Not yet. I'm two minutes away."

"Merry Christmas, Y/N," Chan laughs and you smile, your lips pressed together to prevent you from breaking into a big grin. "Don't miss your husband too much."

"Still in character, I see." You press on the gas to reach home a little quicker. "Are you spending it alone?"

"Nah," you hear voices in the background. "I'm spending it with Felix and Han."

"Don't miss me too much either then," you tease back and pull up at your place. You park the car in the garage and sit in the car as you speak to Chan. "And I'll meet you back in office in a few days—"

"Did you reach?"

"Oh, yes?"

"Then, check the backseat. It's my Christmas gift for you," Chan says. You unbuckle your seat belt and lift yourself up to turn back and search the backseat only to find a small box. You stretch your arms to grab it and finally sit back in your seat. 

"Did you find it?" You hear Chan through the speakers again. You hum in response and open the gift.

It's a necklace. A beautiful thin silver chain with a snowflake pendant hanging and you gasp, heart beating way too quick. He remembers. He remembers. He remembers. If you were not already flushed by the gift, the note stuck on the underside of the cover of the box has your mind fuzzy, feelings all over.

The moon is beautiful.

"Chan?"

"Yeah? Did you not like the gift? I'm—"

"I'm coming over in ten minutes. Send Han and Felix away. All I want this Christmas is you. Just you."

[prettyboykatsuki]

»» — { ♡ } —— { ♡ } —— { ♡ } — ««

coming in | h. aki 

➳ tags ;; smut, fem!reader, unprotected sex, intimacy, clothed sex, aki fucking you in a dress shirt good lord, mild praise kink, multiple orgasms, creampie

➳ wc ;; 1.6k

➳ a/n ;; this man has been rotting my brain for so long. can’t believe i didn’t write this sooner ngl lmfao. anyways.. aki.. hand in marriage. 

➳ plot ;; aki comes home to you after a mission

»» — { ♡ } —— { ♡ } —— { ♡ } — ««

“You left the lights on,” 

You’re startled by his presence. Maybe that’s only natural. Aki has gotten so good at hiding the sound of his footsteps - it’s easy to miss. You can feel his presence though. It’s familiar, the imagery. His silhouette is shadow-laden - hair still tied up neatly, suit and sword and all. He only just got home. 

You’re tired but not tired enough to sleep so you merely blink at him wistfully, yawning. How many days has it been since he’s been home? It had to have been at least 3, maybe 4. You mask your excitement with nonchalance, a gentle roll of your shoulders. Cracking your knuckles, you yawn. 

“I always do,” 

“Always?” 

You chuckle at his surprise. You don’t mean to be cheesy, after all. But it’s hard to miss the little sway in his voice, the overwhelming adoration. He takes off his shoes. 

“Always,” you parrot. He almost seems hesitant to approach you. Only when you unfurl your form and place your feet on the ground - arms open, does he think about coming towards you. He gives you a half smile. In the low-lights, the way his coat slides off his body seems more substantial than it ever did. The way it slides of muscular shoulders and gets placed over the back of the couch. 

Next to come is his tie, loosens it slowly and carefully but doesn’t take it off. It always stays around his neck like everything that comes with him. Still, he approaches you. Sits next to you on the couch and leans over one side. 

For a while you two simply face each other, the comfortable company. His eyes are full of an unbearable love but his expression is dull. It’s a misery even you can’t wash away. 

You don’t try, and neither does he - sitting there and admiring each other is enough. He rests his cheek on your couch and hums. 

“Doesn’t the light bill get expensive?” 

You laugh. 

“I make more than you,” 

He doesn’t take any offense. It’s a reminder that you’re human, wholly so - and he finds himself smiling again. It grows quiet for a while, your heart thumping in your chest. His shirt is unbutton just beneath his chest and you can see all the lean muscle in his skin. The veins in his forearms as they cross over it. You swallow. 

“Come here,” ― he instructs, sitting down on the couch and patting his lap ― “I missed you,” 

His voice is so nice. A little raspy, but so pleasant and soothing. Like cold water against your warm skin. You crawl towards him, but he pulls you over until you’ve straddled his hips. With his hands at your waist, he presses you down firmly. Your hands shoot up to his shoulders to hold you steady, and he laughs at you. 

Without another thought, his mouth moves against yours with longing that you can feel in your core. He’s really something when he kisses - his tongue is so expert, you would’ve believed he’s done it a thousand times. His hand presses against your cheek as he kisses you, travels down to your neck and holds it. It’s not forceful but commanding. 

Your hands are fisted in his shirt, breath snatched right out of your lungs. His teeth sink into your bottom lip and tug - dark eyes looking right into yours with desire so heavy it burns. You whine - soft and low. You know he’ll take care of you, know it in the way his hands settle on your hips and make you brush against him slow. 

“Keep kissing me,” is all he says as he travels his hands underneath your pajama shorts. Aki’s fingers are long, steady - you can always feel how easily they could reach inside of you without trying. You whimper into his mouth when he toys with your clit - but he kisses you more forcefully, forces all of your attention right on him. 

“Aki,” 

“Be patient,” 

He always seems so calm - so collected. He always does how he pleases with your body, knows how to work through your first orgasm with easy. When he breaks away from the kiss, his mouth wraps around your tits underneath clothes. He’s a tease through and through, tongue licking at the fabric covering your nipples till they’re hard in his mouth. 

“Your t-shirt is so thin” ― he kisses the hardened bud with a hum ― “I can almost see through it,” 

Your brain feels fuzzy with thoughts of him. You feel hazy and sleepy and taken care of it - urged to do more for him even though he wont let you. He’s too busy playing with your clit, making your thighs ache and twitch as an orgasm rocks through you with almost violence. You feel starved for his touch in a way you didn’t know you were - rocking your hips against his hand. 

Aki is always like this - loves you so much it can feel obsessive. His head is always cool but his teeth sink into your neck and his fingers tear you apart with an orgasm like it’s nothing. Your body is molded to the shape of his palms, the blade of his sword, the heat of his mouth - it’s all his anyways. It could never been anyone elses. 

The tension in your belly is so taught, your trembling over his. Your kisses grow more desperate, sloppier with too much tongue and saliva. You’re begging into his mouth.. for what? 

“Aki, aki  - ‘m gonna cum ― !”  

You squeal, burying your face in his neck as an orgasm rips your being in two. You’re soaked through your pants, running down your thighs. You can feel his fingers still, brush gently over the swollen nub. 

“Good job, baby” his praise is simple, but the words are strained. You can feel his cock pressed against the shape your pussy and you whimper a little. Your eyes have a hazy lust that Aki always seems taken aback by. Like, for some reason, he’s shocked you want him.

But you do, which is why you’re hands ar fisted and banging his shoulder.

“Aki, please,” 

And he gets the message, he really does. Still, he can’t resist the urge to tease you a little longer. He unzips his slacks slow, lets his hard cock spring free until it leaks against his work-shirt. It’s red on the tip - swollen and pretty and long. Instead of fucking you right away like he knows you’re so desperate for, he grins. Loose black hairs cover his face and eyes - he looks prettier than ever. 

He bangs the head of his cock right against your puffy clit - rubs it between your folds while he holds your hips down and forces you to grind on it. It makes you feel so restless - so helpless. You can’t do anything bu wrap your arms around his neck and hold back a moan. 

“You want it that bad? So wet you’re gonna stain my clothes,” 

You whine. 

“Aah, aah,” 

“Speak up for what you want, Y/N” ― his grin is wide, egotistical. He knows your body better than anything in the world. That’s why he’s pulled your shirt up over your tits, curving the outline with his mouth ― “What do you want so bad that you sound like this?” 

“Fuck me, Aki - please,” 

He’s amused with the way he laughs. 

“Watch me while I do it then” 

He makes you look down at it when he does - watch it go in inch by inch. You’ve crumpled his shirt with your hands, wrinkled it bad enough he’ll have to iron it later. You make a pretty little sound that makes him groan. Stretching your walls out inch by agonizing inch - it feels so good you drool. 

“It’s tight,” he hisses. He presses his lips to the crown of your head before holding your ass in his palms. He pulls you apart to fuck you proper - lets his cock thrust into you with deep strokes. The rhythm isn’t too fast. It feels like he’s massaging your insides with his dick - confidence to make you cum. 

He rests his hand on your belly, his thumb against your clit. 

“Take it easy and cum one more time for me,” ― he punctuate his words with a kiss “Give me one more” 

You whine something so hoarsely you barely hear it. The pressure from him against your g-spot so achingly slow, the pleasure from your clit. Your second orgasm hits you in a heavy blown, like a mallet on hot iron. You’re spasming around his cock without another chance to breathe. 

“Oh, Aki -” 

Whatever words left seem to die in your mouth as Aki fixes you with a praise and chases his own high with a relentless pace. It’s so hard and fast - overstimulating you completely. You’re distracted by heady groans about how much he loves. Too drunk on the feeling, you simply hold his shoulders and beg for his cum. It’s what he deserves, anyway. 

He finishes - with a loud fuck and his forehead pressed against yours. You can feel him inside, peppering his face with kisses as he rides out his high for you. 

It’s all tender, all warm. The yearning in your chest has subsided steadily as you hold each other in heated embrace. He looks at you softly, smiling. 

“You wanna know something?” 

“Hm?

He chuckles. 

“I really like doing it with the lights on,” 

»» — { ♡ } —— { ♡ } —— { ♡ } — ««

[delicrieux]

☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 24: OH...HI

after months and too much longing, you finally meet corpse in person.

─── corpse husband x reader ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: 3.8k

author’s note: we did it joe.

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You woke up. That’s a lie, you didn’t sleep. Too much to plan, too much can go wrong and you’re...Not nervous, no, that’s not quite accurate. Excited. Yes, excited, so excited that two Redbulls and three coffees (so far!) make you jitter around the apartment like a butterfly that can’t find a flower bed to rest on. 

Rae has almost had enough of your...random spurts of energy. So what if you ran a few laps, climbed a few tables, sang karaoke a bit too loud and yet another noise complaint had been issued? It arrived exactly an hour after your concert via your displeased landlord. Rae was, of course, the one to apologize because you were too busy trying on miniskirts. After that ordeal was taken care of, no sooner than Rae shut the front door with an exhausted sigh, you emerged from your room clad in your prettiest outfit. You present it to her with a bright smile and flourish. 

She is not impressed.

“Will you quit it?” She questions, arms crossed over her chest. Your grin does not damper -- you’re used to such harsh treatment, having accepted her backhanded way of showing love long ago. Instead, you flick your wrists, showing off an ungodly amount of rings. You’re not certain of the exact number because you can’t count, “Y/n.” Her voice gains an edge, but you persist. Show off your shoes that have cute lil’ charms that jingle jangle not unlike the spurs on a hot cowgirl’s boots, “Y/n.” Her eyes narrow in displeasure, her stern tone making you falter in your dramatic stride down the imaginary catwalk, “Just stop.”

Okay! So maybe you’re not as used to her coldness as you thought you were. Your expression sours, and you quit the act, even if a part of you - one you barely fight off, goodness, you almost perish in that battle - wants to continue but even more annoying. As if you could somehow block her rationality with manic energy. 

“What?” You ask, trying to keep the mood lighthearted despite her squared shoulders and tight frown, “I’m just having a bit of fun!” You say with a joyous little laugh, reaching for a glass of much needed water.

“No, you’re panicking.” Her words make the glass still, hoovering by your painted lips, but it’s short lived. You take a greedy gulp and it tastes fresh with a pinch of lipstick, “Look, I get it...” She shakes her head softly, “You’re meeting the guy you like for the first time, you jumped the gun straight to dating and now you’re...Anxious. It’s normal, you know.”

“But I’m not anxious.” You persist, and you really do mean it. You don’t like how she looks at you as if you’re the one that’s misunderstanding your own feelings. You set the glass down with a soft clink, heaving your own sigh, “I’m not, I’m really happy actually.” You explain softly, “It’s just...my way of dealing with it. I’m more... Worried about Corpse, to be honest.” You add, a tad quieter, “But, like, it’s all good!” You exclaim, strolling up to her and landing your hands on her shoulders, “I prepared.”

And it’s true! You had spent the night scouring the depths of the internet. Read every WikiHow article on how to deal with someone with extreme anxiety, how to not make things painfully awkward, and how to talk to boys (just in case. The last time you stumbled upon that particular article was way back in middle school when you had a crush on that one guy you saw in your school’s cafeteria every now and then. Naturally, that led you down the rabbit hole, and according to WikiHow’s How To Tell If A Boy Likes You guidebook, you found out that he was absolutely enamored with you because he glanced in your direction, like, two times. Safe to say that love story went nowhere. The point still stands). 

So you forward all of this information to Rae, nestled in her bed whilst she lazily folds her clothes; clarify that you know that nothing much can happen, and that this whole situation is delicate, and that you must tread carefully because you don’t want to overwhelm him. She pauses her actions, glancing behind her to watch you staring idly at the ceiling, so peaceful, so thoughtful. And it’s not the eerie calmness you had displayed during your murderous spree in the last Among Us game, no, it’s just...quiet understanding. 

“I’m actually impressed.” She says. You merely hum, counting the dust slowly descending in the cascading light, “You’re not as clueless as I thought.” Your lips quirk into a shy smile at the compliment- “Or as tactless.” - and turn downward just as quick.

“That implies that I’m always tactless.”

“You are.” She states and you sit up, a soft frown pinching your brows, “Not like, in a terrible way. You just...don’t think about your actions. Or the repercussions. You just know that you can get away with everything.”

“And I can!”

“That doesn’t actually mean you should do something just because you can. You know I’ll always support you. Literally everyone will always support you. But I’m not gonna coddle you. You’re just...a lot. Online and especially in person. But the fact that you’re actually taking this seriously and taking his feelings into consideration is...well, the bare minimum, but still, good job.”

...Much to think about. You don’t like thinking, it makes your head hurt. Though, that could just be the lack of sleep. You cross your legs and plop your head in your hand, tired eyes blinking owlishly, “Do you...think I should change what I’m wearing?”

Prompted by your question, she gives you a careful once over, “I mean, it’s signature you.”

“Signature me is a hoodie and some sweatpants.”

She smiles, “Then go change. Your outfit is a bit distracting for just...Hanging out indoors, no? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind either way, though.”

“I just...” You bite the inside of your cheek, mulling your words over. Truly, the last time you were so attentive was when you went Psycho Mode in Among Us, which, to be fair, wasn’t that long ago. Perhaps there wasn’t a chance to let your mind dull - it’s almost as sharp as your butterfly knife, “I figured that if, like,” You vaguely motion with your hands, “if I be, like, all over the place, and wearing something cute, he’d be, like, distracted? And less anxious? No...awkward silence?”

“First meetings are always awkward, it’s natural.” She chimes, “I mean, if you’re so nervous-”

“I’m not nervous!”

“-then just don’t overthink it. I know it’s easier said than done, but you’re you, and Corpse is Corpse, and he likes you for who you are, and even if it is a bit awkward, I’m sure it’ll, like, blow over in a second. It really doesn’t matter how you look, Y/n.” She grins, “Plus, it’s not like you’re greeting him in your underwear or something.”

You will not admit that that was your plan B, not when you just landed in her good graces. You nod, “...I’ll go change.” 

And so you do. Pick out your cutest hoodie and some sweatpants. Put away your jingle jangle shoes with a broken heart, instead of them donning your fluffiest socks; slip off some rings because they keep falling off of your fingers. It’s almost like all of those transformation scenes in rom-coms that are still popular for some reason, except you’re hot before and after, so there’s really no transformation at all. 

Now you wait. Just wait, all other activities are excluded from this. Rae comes back to find you sitting on the edge of your bed, back straight, hands neatly folded on your lap. She compares you to a Sim’s character and you allow her. After mercilessly mocking you and snapping a few pictures - for blackmail, you assume - she helpfully informs that she is leaving because she doesn’t want to get in the way, but your psychic abilities which you acquired just now tell you that she simply doesn’t want to witness this train wreck. Not that it’ll be a train wreck, it would be if you were nervous, but you aren’t. 

You just aren’t. You fidget with the rings adoring your hand; toy with the hem of your hoodie; bounce your leg up and down. It’s just caffeine, okay?! Fuck this, Twitter time.

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[ADDING A MUSICAL INTERMISSION, LISTEN TO THIS IF YOU WANT (I WROTE THIS CHAPTER WITH IT IN MIND)]

The waiting commences, only now it somehow feels more intense. The sun is setting, and you really want to be one of those cute girls that fill their camera roll with pictures of the sunset and the roseate sky, but your hands are trembling and holding up your phone feels like too much of a hassle. You’d rather just sit there, alone in the apartment, in the pin-drop silence, extremely uncomfy and tense, as if waiting for the end of the world. 

A notification sounds off and your life flashes before your eyes. Hastily, you check it, a sticky mixture of delight and something else, something unpleasant constricting, making your stomach churn. He’s here. Holy shit, it’s happening. You order your anime plushies to stop fucking panicking, they’re like, totally embarrassing you at the moment! You wonder if they have their own little group chat, but instead of Totally Spies it’s called Total Embarrassment. Yikes, okay, that was harsh. After a good scolding, and a heartfelt apology for getting so heated, you smooth down the non-existent wrinkles on your modest outfit, and quickly waddle over to the electronic apartment thingie something something... you unlock the main door, okay!? This is for some reason feeling very not cash money, so you break out in a little dance number.

The doorbell does not sing that shrill, unpleasant tune; rather, there’s a soft knock on the apartment’s door, and you pause your shuffling, your renegade, and perk up at the imposing future hidden behind a slab of wood. Your heart beats a melody all on it’s own, and it’s loud, uncoordinated, like a musician that’s still familiarizing themselves with their instrument. And there’s that knock again, as uncertain as you’re feeling, and your clammy fingers latch onto the lock and turn it and now there is no more hiding - such a possibility is no longer an option; no more sporadic dances or sitting in disheartening silence and letting your thoughts weight you down.

You’re not quite sure what you were thinking about before you saw him in the threshold, head tilted slightly, fluffy dark hair obscuring the bags under his eyes, hunched, one ringed hand clutching onto the strap of his duffel bag, the other frozen mid-air, ready to knock one more time lest you didn’t hear him the first two. No, truly, you can’t, for the life of you, remember what all the fuss was about. 

“...Oh.” It’s a soft sound, so quiet, but not surprised, rather...relieved. Faint shimmers of a smile reach you, hidden behind a black face mask - the panini chic! You must stan a respectful king - but there’s something about the way he looks at you that makes you question it’s sincerity. He fails to return your gaze, rather choosing to stare somewhere over your shoulder. His eyes seem unfocused. Apprehensive. A wild thought occurs to you that he expected you to trick him somehow, and wild thoughts invade the land of your mind often, but never in such a way. You clutch the handle just a bit tighter.

His hand retreats to his side, up to his mask and you think he’s about to unhook it but he stills, and there’s panic there, as if he had been moving unconsciously, as if he hadn’t realized what he’s doing. He plays it off by idly scratching his cheek, muttering an equally quiet, “Hi.” to fill the silence.

Finally, your WikiHow knowledge can come in handy, along with your common sense, “Hey, pretty boy.” You mutter, pulling away from the door, “Make yourself at home!” You slide to the kitchen, your socks acting not unlike ice-skates cutting through the Arctic frost covered ground. You hope that with you occupied and not watching him as closely he’ll feel slightly more at ease. 

You’d like to hug him. Kiss him, definitely. But if he’s so uncomfortable that he can’t bring himself to shed his mask in your presence, then there’s really nothing you can do. 

You hear the door shut and lock behind you as you pull out two glasses from the cupboard, humming a song you can’t quite recall the name of. You ask him if he’d like something to drink - it was a short flight, yet a flight still, and planes always make you thirsty, and there you go talking his ear off. You end abruptly, but smoothly, like a true diplomat; if he notices, you have no way of knowing - he doesn’t provide even a hint. He’s hard to read, and literature was never your best subject. But you’re trying.

He sets his duffel bag down on a nearby chair, “I, uhhh,” His voice is raspy and low, another indication of a pathetic lack of sleep, “I...got you something, uhh, I dunno-dunno if I should...give it now, or?” He sends you a questioning glance, but it doesn’t linger. Your offer of drinks is momentarily forgotten, though you hardly mind. 

You grin, “Sure! I love gifts, gimmie gimmie.” You make grabby hands, and he snorts, and it would’ve sounded endearing if he didn’t sound so fucking tired. He unzips the bag, and you pad your way to him, mindful of personal space (something you, in most social situations, chose to pretend does not exist). You note his hands quivering lightly, just like yours had in the agonizing wait, but he hides it well. You wish you could hold them. You’re afraid to try.

He pulls out a black hoodie and you recognize the custom art on it instantly - it’s his merch. He presents it in awkward flourish, murmuring a “Tadaaaa” under his breath; your heart skips a pleasant beat, and you have to bite down on your lower lip lest you smile appears too big. The fabric is soft under your fingers, and you accept his gift with a dramatic bow, and he turns his head away with another little laugh. You’re chipping away at the ice around him; it’s a slow process, but it’s worth the effort.

Truly, your own hoodie is shabby in comparison - icky, how could you have ever worn such a thing in the first place?! You’ll have to do extensive research in fashion magazines and Printerest so such a slip-up may never happen again. You discard it hastily and put his on instead; it smells like washing detergent with hints of cologne, one you instantly pin point belonging to him, “It’s, uhhh, it’s mine? I hope you, uhh, I didn’t have any spare ones, so-I hope you don’t...mind.”

He’s finally looking at you, but he’s still tense, still hesitant, and you shake your head softly, “No,” You admit, “I like it even more now.” You pull on the hood, toy with the strings and yank them quickly; your face is concealed, save for your nose, “Comfy.” Your commentary is unmatched, best of it’s kind - eloquent and effortless, much like yourself.

Another small laugh reaches your ears, and it sounds a bit livelier than the others had been. Success!

“Stop that.” He says gently, and you see moving shadows; his hands loosen the strings and your face is revealed to him once again. He’s close now, and he doesn’t move away; his hands come to rest on your shoulders, warm even through layers of fabric, “I came all this way to see you, don’t hide your face from me.” 

Your eyes narrow playfully, your finger rapidly tapping away on his clothed cheek, “What’s all this then? Hm? Hm?” Instead of swatting your hand away, which you figured he’d do, he complies and finally tugs that fucking mask off. Your breath catches in the back of your throat and you halt your ministrations - truly, seeing him smiling on screen is nothing compared to him smiling in person. You can’t quite contain yourself any longer - your excitement might burst out in another dance number otherwise - as you throw your arms over his shoulders and pull him flush against you. He’s quick to return the embrace. Maybe it was all the encouragement he needed.

“Wow,” He mumbles, only slightly offended, “so I finally show my face to you, in person, and you just-...you just look away?”

“I’m hugging you, dumbass.”

“...Touche.”

Things fall into place after that, like a dozen puzzle pieces fitting together. He won’t let you go - he doesn’t want to. You put on some music, something easy and indie and that doesn’t require too much effort to listen to, as the two of you contemplate what to eat. Cooking by yourselves was dismissed due to the unstable relationship between yourself and cooking utensils. The stove and you had had a falling out recently, but this feud had started long ago, back in pre-school, with only short intervals of friendship. He listened to your extensive explanation absolutely enraptured and only moderately confused. 

So you settled on ordering pizza from Domino’s. You have no trouble calling or receiving phone calls, because you have no trouble doing anything, and he admitted that he only really calls you because he gets too anxious to do more, so you’re tasked with ordering the food. You accept this mission with pride.

You stand tall, gazing out the window into the wild California domain: massive buildings and towering eucalyptus trees, bleeding skyline and the sun slowly getting swallowed up by the ocean. Corpse looms behind you, with his arms snaked around your waist and his chin resting on your shoulder, looking at you through the corner of his eye. You wait patiently for the underpaid, overworked staff member to pick up, and once they do, you have the audacity to grin brightly and chirp, “Hi! I want pizza.”

Conversations flow smoothly, and you make hot chocolate - because you are hot and you crave chocolate - and he insists he wants one too, because you want one, and you don’t hesitate to overflow his cup with whipped cream and an ungodly amount of miniature marshmallows. A premature heart attack, just for him. Whoever said romance is dead has clearly never met you. When the doorbell chimes, you’re astounded that an hour flew by so quickly.

After the delicious meal, the movie night must commence. So what if you watched 10 Things I hate About You yesterday, you insist that you have already forgotten the plot. You lead him to your room and he tries not to stare, but can’t help himself. Pretty boy in a pretty girl’s room. His eyes linger on the massive posters of Chrollo on your walls, and you sense his displeasure rolling off of him in waves. 

“What?” You huff, fluffing the pillows, “You don’t like my husband?”

He jabs his finger into his chest, into the spot of his heart, “I’m your husband.”

“Side hoe, then-”

“-No.”

You didn’t lie when you said you love to cuddle, or that you’re clingy. It’s a good thing he’s just as clingy as you are, because when he lays down and you latch onto his side. He doesn’t complain, rather wraps his arm around pulls you close. His thumb draws lazy circles on your side; with your head resting on his chest, you feel each rhythmical rise and drop. 

The opening credits play on the projector, the room dark enough for your pile of plushies to look like a whole fucking human just standing in the corner. A ghost! Sucks for it, you’re not scared. You feel safe. Protected. So comfortable in Corpse’s hold that you’re honestly wondering how did you manage to be so long without him. To think all of this started when Sykkuno followed you on Twitter. What a lucky accident.

“Can I ask you something?” Your voice cuts through the bopping 90s soundtrack and Julia Stiles’ voice. He hums. You take it as a yes. Tilting your head upwards, you find his eyes again, a thorn of displeasure picking you as you note that that apprehension you had seen previously is still very much there, “...You really wouldn’t date me if I was a worm?”

His chest rumbles with a laugh and his lips split into a grin, “I would.” He presses your side for emphasis, “I really would.” He repeats, reassuringly. You, however, are not convinced.

“But I’d be a worm.”

“I know. We’d... roll around in the dirt together, or something.”

“But you’d be human.”

He frowns softly, “Why couldn’t I be a worm, too?”

“Those are the rules.”

“What kind of shitty fucking rules are those?”

“I dunno, it’s like the Thanos snap or something. I just turn into a worm. I’m the only one.”

“That’s fine.” He smiles, “I’d take you out on a fishing date or something.”

Shocked, offended, and heartbroken, you hit his chest and pointedly turn away with a pout, which he finds very funny for some reason, but you fail to see the humor anywhere except the movie. Despite the fact that he’d sacrifice you for a fish, you smile shyly and close your eyes. He did say you would take a nap together, and if he really thought you’d stay awake for movie night, well, then he’s just an idiot. You had decided you would fall asleep as soon as he was next to you. It’s a miracle you managed to stay awake for so long.

“...Sleeping already?” You don’t appreciate his teasing tone.

“’m not sleeping...” You murmur, “’m resting my eyes.”

“Sure.”

You’re not quite certain (of anything, really) how much time drifts by, but you’re nearly lost in unconsciousness, in the warm, nice feeling that comes along with him like a cloud. Perhaps he thinks you’re asleep, he has to, else he wouldn’t say anything at all, “You’re stuck with me now, you know.” It’s such a soft admission, riddled with the same notes of anxiety that always prevail in his speech; with the same hopeful sincerity he had been gazing at you the whole evening. 

Moving your lips is such a hassle, but you manage, “’m...stuck...” You mumble, “’m...stuck...what are you doing step-”

“No!” He laughs, and your lips quirk into a lazy smile, “No, no, no. Just no. Do you talk in your sleep?” You fake snore at that, loudly, “You’re like a little dragon.”

“...Fuck you.”

“Fine, a kitten, then.” That’s better. You feel something chapped, but soft, press onto your forehead, “Goodnight, Y/n.”

God, you’re so fucking happy. Does he know how happy you are? How happy he makes you? But you’re too tired for screaming and flailing around, too tired to even crack an eye open. You want him to know all the same, “...like you.” You whisper, but you don’t know if he hears you over the movie, “...I like you.”

His reply is instant, breathless, “I like you too.”

Good, you want to say, and maybe you do - can’t tell anymore. Sleep takes you too quickly.

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tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos - @fairywriter-oracle - @tsukishimawh0re - @ofstarsanddreams - @bbecc-a - @annshit - @leahh19 - @letsloveimagines - @bellomi-clarke - @wineandionysus - @guiltydols - @onephootinfrontoftheother - @liamakorn - @thirstyfangirl - @lilysdaydreams - @pan-ini - @mxqicshxp - @tanchosanke - @yoshinorecommends - @flightsandfantasy - @liljennyx3 - @bingusmode - @unknown-and-invisible - @sinister-sleep - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat - @mercury--moon - @peterparkerspjsuit - @unstableye - @simonsbluee - @shinyshimaagain - @ppopty - @siriuslystupid - @crapimahuman - @ofthedewthesunlight - @mythicalamphitrite - @artsyally - @corpsesimpp - @corpsewhitetee - @corpse-husbandsimp - @hyp-oh-critical - @roses-and-grasses - @rhyrhy462 - @sparklylandflaplawyer - @charbkgo - @airwaveee - @creativedogs - @kaitlyn2907 - @loxbbg - @afuckingunicornn - @fleurmoon - @yeolliedokai

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

[watchmegetobsessed]

SIT ON ME

a/n: heavily inspired of the time when a girl actually asked him the question i used in this fic lmao. also maybe a part 2 might be good for this? let me know if you’re interested in one!

pairing: Sebastian Stan X Assistant!Reader

word count: 1.5k

masterlist

Fixing the collar of his shirt one last time you pat on his hard chest, breathing out shortly as your eyes flicker up to meet his icy blue gaze that was already examining you.

“Just try to… not say anything stupid, okay?” you tell him, hopeful that he will take you seriously just once, though in the back of your mind you already know it goes in one ear and slips out the other usually.

Sebastian nods, a small, coy smile tugging on his lips as you fold your arms on your chest, checking the time on the clock on the wall across you, only minutes until they are going on stage. It’s another day, another panel, you have no idea what the event is called anymore, you lost track of even which city you are at right now. You’ve been on the road for weeks now, going from one hotel to the other, jumping from events to appearances, trying not to lose your head, because if you do, that means Sebastian’s head is lost too. Being a personal assistant means that you’re responsible for two people at the same time, you can’t afford falling apart.

“Five minutes, everyone!” a man shouts as he runs down the hallway and Mackie drops a joke about him, but you don’t really catch it, because Seb’s hand touches your waist as the two of you wait patiently for the start.

“Can I get a good luck kiss?” he smirks down at you, leaning closer to your ear so no one can hear him, only you. His hot breath tickles your skin and you try to hide your pleasant shudder at his closeness.

You can’t push the smile down that tugs on your lips as you peek up at him, that boyish glimmer in his eyes never fails to stun you. He is such a beautiful person, inside and out and it’s hard to resist his charm when all he does is trying to wrap you around his finger. He knows the effect he has on you and he doesn’t hesitate to use it. The relationship between the two of you has been a bit blurred these past months, you both could feel the shift when after his last birthday, drunken and totally worn off from his party, the two of you ended up sleeping in the same bed, tangled in each other. You stayed completely clothed, yet the intimacy was burning and the flame hasn’t really disappeared since then.

However you haven’t let it go farther yet, trying to maintain the slightest bit of professionalism in the midst of the madness your job is, though Sebastian doesn’t seem to care about that at all. It’s been a cat and mouse game ever since that night.

Reaching up you cup his jaw in your hand and pulling him closer you can see the surprise in his eyes when he thinks you’re about to kiss him, but then you turn his head and your lips end up on his stubbled cheek, an airy chuckle leaving his lips.

“I think you missed it,” he slyly smirks down at you, but you just roll your eyes.

“Behave, Stan,” you warn him.

The remainder of the time flies by fast and the boys walk out to the stage to the cheering crowd, taking their places, ready to answer any and every questions thrown in their way.

You watch from the sidelines, laughing with the audience every time Mackie cracks a joke, or when Sebastian gives a funny answer, you feel like one of those fans sitting in front of them, you totally understand why they are so obsessed with them. It’s hard not to love them, they are just amazing people.

“Alright, let’s see the next question!” the lady on the stage announces, turning to the girl who has the mic this time.

“Hi! I’m so happy to be here and see you guys!” the girl beams, making the men on the stage smile gratefully.

“We’re happy you’re here too!” Sebastian answers her, definitely making her blush at the sweet response.

“So my question is…” she starts, taking a deep breath. “Sebastian, this is for you. If you were a chair, who would you want to sit on you?”

The question makes the whole room erupt in laughter and you can’t hold back yours either. You can tell Seb is shocked at the blunt and quite dirty question, but you also know that he is definitely gonna answer it, no matter how inappropriate it’s going to be.

“Wow,” he chuckles into the mic, while he is trying to keep his act together, Mackie on his left is fighting back tears at this point. “What an… interesting question,” he huffs, making everyone laugh again. “Um… Okay, if I was a chair, I would want…”

His eyes wander over the crowd until they find you at the side, your gazes melting together for a split second and you already know what his answer is gonna be, just from the way the tiny wrinkles around his eyes appear. And there’s nothing you can do against it.

“I would want my assistant to sit on me,” he answers, a round of howling and screaming washing over the room as you cover your face with your hands in embarrassment. Did he really just say that? In front of all these people?

When you glance up next time, you catch his eyes again, that smug and pleased look in his face is almost annoying, knowing how much he is enjoying putting you into this situation.

“I’m going to kill you,” you mouth to him, but he just chuckles.

“Damn, Sebastian,” Mackie huffs. “You ain’t playing anymore!”

“No, no, it’s all just fun,” he explains. “I just like to tease my assistant, don’t take it seriously,” he adds, trying to save the situation, though it’s useless. His answer has been captured on hundreds of cameras and it’ll be all over the internet in a matter of time.

The conversation on stage carries on and you patiently wait for it to be over so you can murder Sebastian yourself. When they finally say goodbye and head off the stage you’re waiting for them already, trying to look serious and a bit mad about the stunt Sebastian pulled, but when his gaze meets yours you simply can’t keep up the act. You are so soft for this man, he could do about anything and you wouldn’t stay mad at him at all.

“Uh-oh, you are thinking about killing me,” he smirks, not even an ounce of regret or shame for himself present in his voice.

“I am, yeah,” you nod, arms folded on your chest as he stands in front of you, biting into his bottom lip as he cocks his head to the side.

“What can I do to earn your forgiveness?” he asks in a dramatic tone, before his hands find your upper arms, pulling you closer until your front meets his chest and he can wrap you into his embrace.

“Stop being such a flirt,” you prompt, raising your eyebrows at him.

“Oh, I don’t think I can do that, sorry.”

“Of course,” you roll your eyes at him.

When everything is said and done and you can head home, you and Sebastian make your way out, only to face the huge crowd that gathered around the building just to see a glimpse of their favorites. The car pulls up to the entrance and you follow Seb out through the crowd that’s being held back with two rows of security guards, but you need to be fast, because they are starting to lose their shit. Sebastian gets into the car and someone pushes you from behind when you are about to follow him, making you fall and end up on his lap in the car, the door shutting behind you as the driver leaves immediately.

“Shit,” you breathe out, holding onto his shoulders for leverage and his strong arms wrap around you as an instinct, catching you from falling further. A second passes and he smirks at you, arching an eyebrow at you.

“See? You did end up sitting on me,” he smugly points out and you just shake your head laughing as you climb off of him, sitting next to him on the backseat.

“If only we had HR, you’d be in so much trouble,” you warn him, though you can’t keep a straight face as you point a finger at him that he just easily grabs and pulling your hand to his lips he kisses your knuckles with a smug grin on his lips.

“Good thing it’s just you and I then,” he shrugs, keeping your hand in his hold in his lap and you don’t even try to pull it back, you just huff amused, sliding down in your seat, leaning against his arm, your head coming to rest on his shoulder. Sebastian hums contented, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head as you both ignore the elephant in the room and pretend like you can go like this forever.

But deep down you know you can’t.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!