#and he’d be playful enough to chase his partner around the house too I just know it 🥰

[ivymarquis]

ghost + "like what you see?"

😘

Sin Sunday

Cardio

Pairing| Simon Riley x F!Reader Rating| T Word Count| ~450 Kinks/Content/Warnings| Nothing too exceptional; some jokey slut shaming because we love a good grey sweatpants 🤭 Technically SFW just because Im trying to keep these short otherwise they will become 5k works and take 3 calendar years to answer. Also TECHNICALLY this fits @glitterypirateduck’s ghost challenge with the grey sweatpants so 😎😎😎😎

“Where are you going, dressed like a slut?”

Simon might be a man of few words, but there are few times in life where he’s rendered well and truly speechless.

It takes a second, but he does eventually find words. It’s obvious from your tone that you’re being a little cocktease, but he’s fully dressed. A session at the gym with Johnny is a routine occurrence. He’s wearing a T-shirt and full length sweatpants for fuck’s s-

Ah. The grey sweatpants. That’s what’s got you all hot and bothered.

He doesn’t get exactly what the appeal is- wasn’t even thinking about it, really when he got dressed.

You’re staring him down like a dog tempted with a bone, and Simon’s got a decision to make, doesn’t he?

“Like what you see, do you?”

Your answer is a simple nod, eyes trained on the sweatpants.

“Was gonna go hit the gym with Johnny. Not sure if that’s the plan anymore.”

He most assuredly can continue on with his plans for the day- go get a workout with Johnny, come back and fuck you stupid.

But clearly he’s got your attention front and center. That is a difficult thing to walk away from.

“Don’t let me get in the way of your plans,” you assure him. “But do hurry back. I’ll uh,” your eyes flick up to him and roam, appreciating the absolute unit of a man you get to call yours, “I’ll be here.”

“That so?” He questions. “Cause now I’m thinking today’s more a day for cardio.”

You pick up on his subtle implication immediately, and given how you go stock-still he shouldn’t be surprised when you’re shooting up from the couch, using the piece of furniture as a barrier to tease him.

Oh now it’s fucking on. You want to play a game, do you?

He can’t help but feel the affection he has for you spill over as he watches and immediately complies with your game. The bright eyed sparkle as you grin and giggle at him, faking out one direction or the next and leading him to chase you around the furniture- just out of reach that he can’t grab you across the shorter side.

Course, he’s on a highly skilled task force and you aren’t, so this little game will only go for as long as Simon feels like. But there’s no fun in not humoring you, is there?

Simon gets in his head enough you actually do manage to fake him out, taking advantage of the opportunity to bolt past him towards the bedroom.

The best kind of quarry is one that wants to be caught, he can’t help but think to himself as he chases after you.

[annabethy]

hi bestie !! 11 “I never thought I’d fancy you…and yet here we are” pls 🥺🥺

In which Percy and Annabeth don’t meet in the best of circumstances, but then time goes by and he can’t imagine life without her,, percabeth

When Percy first meets her, he’s fifteen years old, and it is not at all what he would consider a pleasant experience.

He’s forced to sit next to the blonde girl with sharp grey eyes on the first day of freshman year. Her name is Annabeth, he quickly learns, and she is the complete opposite of him. Where he’s sloppy, she’s precise. She’s the first to raise her hand in class while he’s the one hiding his eyes from the teacher’s, and when she points it out to him, a mocking grin on her face, he decides right then and there that he wants nothing to do with her.

They don’t really talk for the entirety of the year, excluding the jabs she takes at him when he gets a quiz back marked in red while hers is pristine. He prefers it that way — silent — and by the time the end of the year rolls around, he’s not at all disappointed to discover that she’s not going to be in any of the same classes the following year.

He almost forgets about her, really, until he walks into English literature on the first day of senior year and spots her sitting next to the only remaining seat.

Percy almost walks right back out of the room, tormented by the idea of having to spend his last year of high school next to the girl with scary eyes, but then she locks eyes with him, and something tells him to sit.

He slides into the seat next to her and is surprised by the slight smile she shoots at him.

“Haven’t seen you since freshman year,” she comments. Her voice has changed a lot, he notices, and as he takes the rest of her in, he realizes that the rest of her has too. Her hair has grown out and seems to be tamer, and her face seems more defined than he remembers. Other parts of her are definitely fuller as well, and he has to fight back a flush as she laughs at him struggling to form an answer.

“I guess it has been,” he manages to answer.

Annabeth leans over the side of her desk, and Percy feels a little bit lightheaded at the smell of her perfume. It’s the same one as before. Maybe she hasn’t changed so much. “You look like you want to bolt.”

“Only a little bit.”

She leans back again, humor in her eyes. “I wasn’t that bad, was I?”

Percy isn’t really sure how to respond to that. As far as he had been aware from the things he’s heard, Annabeth was still a very prickly person, but sitting next to her now, she couldn’t seem further from that.

“Well,” she says when he doesn’t answer, “I guess it’s a good thing you’ll be sitting next to me then. I wouldn’t want you thinking I’m still a dick.”

“I didn’t say you were that bad,” Percy points out, finding his voice again. It’s hardly his fault. Annabeth’s really pretty. Maybe she always has been, but now that she’s not at his throat, he feels less shame in seeing it. He can’t breathe.

She shrugs, though she doesn’t seem insulted. “Yeah, but you didn’t need to.”

From there, he isn’t entirely sure how it happens. They quickly become friends, and Percy finds he enjoys her company. She’s really funny, and she’s not at all how she was a few years ago. To be fair, he’s sure he’s making it easier. He’d be the first to admit that he probably wasn’t the best person to sit next to either a few years ago when his hyperactivity was at an all-time high.

They become what some may call best friends, and it’s pretty awesome.

Still, as awesome as best friends is, it doesn’t take all that long for them to become more than friends either.

One second, they’re at his house putting together a presentation on Shakespeare’s Sonnet 19, and the next second, they’re on the couch, Percy’s hand sneaking under the back of her shirt to feel her warm skin while she kisses him senseless.

It’s hot and heavy, and it’s only been two months since they’ve reconciled after three years, but it’s also perfect, and he wonders how he’s been missing this for so long.

Annabeth pulls away after a couple minutes to rest her face in the crook of his neck. She’s breathing hard, and Percy is too, but he’s much more focused on the way his lips tingle, yearning to feel her pressed harder against him again.

She lifts her head to look at him, and Percy falls distracted by her eyes. They’re the eyes that he used to hate as they’d tease him, but now, they’re the same eyes he gets excited to see every day for fifty minutes in class. They’re the same eyes he thinks he may be just a little bit in love with at the moment.

“You’re so pretty,” Percy blurts out. He doesn’t even realize he’s said it until she’s giggling, close enough for him to feel the small breaths against his lips.

“Yeah?”

“Mh-hm.” Percy’s nose nudges hers, but he doesn’t kiss her. “Like, really pretty.”

“I think you’re pretty cute yourself.”

Percy doesn’t know that he’s ever heard someone else say that to him, and now he doesn’t need to. Hearing Annabeth Chase call him cute is about all he’s ever needed in life. He tries to bring them back to where they were a few minutes ago, but Annabeth settles a hand on his shoulder to stop his efforts. He doesn’t mind, since she doesn’t seem to be upset by him. “Thank you,” she says, “for sitting next to me. I really thought you were going to turn around and ditch just because you didn’t want to sit next to me.”

“And miss this?” Percy presses a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Never.”

“I really like you,” she whispers. “And… I’m just really glad you’re my partner in class.”

Percy can’t help the grin that slides across his mouth. “I really like you too.”

“Not as much as I like you.”

“Oh yeah?” Percy tries to kiss her properly this time, and she lets him. He kisses her until he’s out of breath again, and then some more, before he pulls away. “Then date me.”

Annabeth laughs, but it’s not a condescending one he would’ve expected three years ago. It’s funny how much things have changed from when they were both fifteen. He never would’ve thought he’d be an eighteen-year-old with Annabeth tangled up in his lap, asking her to be his.

“Date you?”

Percy smiles softly, and Annabeth matches it. “Be my girlfriend.”

Annabeth’s fingers move under his chin and she lifts until his eyes lock on hers. It just feels right. Against his lips, she says, “I’d love to.”

And that’s how it starts.

It spirals out of control from that point on. He falls deeper in love with her with every day, and so much surer that this is how it was meant to be. He feels so much flooding through him every single time he looks into her eyes, and he doesn’t know how to express just how much he loves her. He doesn’t think that words could ever describe it.

Percy doesn’t try to explain his thoughts at first because he just doesn’t know how to. He doesn’t try until it’s the last week before they graduate, and they’re sitting on top of a building staring off into the New York skyline as the sun begins to set.

“This is beautiful,” Annabeth says. They sit together on a ledge, still far enough to guarantee their safety. She’s sitting between his legs with his arms wrapped around her waist and head resting on her shoulder. It’s a bit cold outside, so she wears his jacket.

Percy thinks it’s beautiful too, but for more reasons than just the skyline bursting with pinks and golds.

“It’s nothing compared to you,” he whispers into her ear.

“You big sap.”

“Only for you.” Percy kisses the edge of her ear.

Annabeth sighs, and Percy tightens his grip on her. “I still can’t believe it.”

“Believe what?”

“That we’re graduating. We’re leaving high school together when on the first day of high school, we wanted nothing to do with each other.”

Percy snickers. “Yeah, but it adds some spice to our relationship.”

“I hardly think we need any more spice,” she says, teasing.

Percy hums deep in his throat, content as she snuggles deeper into his arms to protect against the biting wind. “Probably not.”

Annabeth’s silent for a few minutes, and he wishes he could know what she’s thinking.

“Can you do me a favor?” she asks, so quiet he almost misses it amongst the New York hum.

“Anything.”

“Tell me a secret.”

“A secret?”

“Just — something you’ve never told me before.”

“I tell you everything already.”

“Just something you’ve never said.”

Percy doesn’t even have to think. He already knows exactly what he wants to say, so he leans in close to speak into her ear.

“I love you.”

Annabeth laughs and rolls her eyes fondly. “That’s not something you’ve never told me.”

“Then I’m telling you again.” Percy kisses her neck, a soft brush of his lips. “I’m just a little bit in love with you.”

“Just a little bit?”

“A lot in love with you,” he corrects.

“That’s better.”

“And…”

Annabeth tilts her head back against his chest to look up at him. It’s so cute he thinks he may explode.

“I never thought I’d fancy you,” he admits, “yet here we are.”

She grins. “I was an awful fifteen-year-old.”

“If it led us to now, then I’d do it a million times over,” he tells her. “And you weren’t that bad.”

Annabeth makes a sound of disagreement and brings a hand up to brush against his cheek. “Can I tell you something now?”

“Go for it.”

Annabeth blinks slowly, and Percy realizes that the sun is almost set as the night takes over. “I love you.”

“You just told me that wasn’t a secret,” he says, playful.

“Let me finish,” she chides. “I love you, and I’m giving you everything I have, so… don’t change your mind on me.”

Percy knows he couldn’t possibly change his mind on her. She’s it, he knows, and it’s exactly how it should be.

He sees a future with her. He sees marriage and kids and growing old together. His future is written with Annabeth Chase, and his mind is made up.

“Change my mind on you?” Percy laughs once and brings his lips to hers. “Never.”

[oftenderweapons]

Steamy Waters — Jimin

Pairing: Jimin x reader (nicknamed Princess)

Wordcount: 7.1k (to be edited when my eyes aren’t bleeding)

Genre: NSFW, pwp, smut, slightest crack. Established relationship, Idol!AU

Rating: so 18+ I feel bad at age 22. 

Hello ladybirds! Welcome to the Steamy Waters scenarios. 

Let me move very quickly to the plot (I’m super late in publishing this — yes, it’s 7am, I stayed up all night but I was having fun🤭🥴). Well, it’s been a while since Jimin has returned from the tour. Princess is supposed to meet with Vixen and Lace — Girls’ Night squad is back — for dinner and is missing only a few details before leaving when Jimin presents his counterarguments. Too benevolent to leave him sulking — and too vulnerable to his charms — Princess decides she has enough time to indulge him. Of course she ends up being late to the appointment, but she’s not the only one. 

TRIGGER WARNINGS: well. Swearing/slurs (used between girls who are joking among each other) Also, there’s a generic mention of drinking wine and tipsiness at the end of the piece. Hard dom!Jimin (Sir), bratty sub!reader; use of non-verbal safewords; very mild degradation (mostly patronising acts and hinted objectification — Jimin calls reader ‘doll’; very, very mild dumbification); masturbation, both male and female, clitoral vibrator; oral, male receiving, brief female receiving; the oral male receiving is pretty intense (includes ruined makeup, gagging, tearing up, wrist pinning and wrist bondage), facefucking; plenty of voyeurism (mirrors. Mirrors everywhere); marking (with lipstick) female and male (milder) receiving; lipstick and make up fetish; spanking with a hairbrush; partly accidental exhibitionism through phonecall (the girls are telling each other they’re gonna be late but a bunch of things go wrong so all the phonecalls end up exposing the characters and their current debauchery); playful mention of foot fetish (licking, it’s contained in a joke). FINALLY, AS USUAL, UNPROTECTED SEX WITHIN AN ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP! NO, DON’T DO IT UNLESS YOU AND YOUR PARTNER(S) ARE TESTED AND CLEAN. 

Features: Namjoon x Vixen; Taeyhung x Lace. Yes. The Girls’ Night squad is back and this time it’s not Vixen’s turn to cause trouble.

Here is my masterlist!

Enjoy!!!

———————————————

Jimin was sulking.

Old news.

That brat is a professional sucker… ahem, sulker.

Anyway, he was sulking in the bathtub, the lower part of his face hidden under the bubbles, his stare so vicious he could have probably thrown very sharp daggers with it.

“It’s just one dinner.”

“It’s Saturday night! What about you join me in the tub we do our full skin care ritual and I fuck you senseless on our bed.”

“Please, the girls have been so kind to me. We have planned this dinner weeks ago.”

“I am less important than your friends?” Jimin opposed, sitting up and crossing his arms.

Dammit, you were walking in very dangerous territory. “In this moment you are a tiiiny millimeter less important than them. Very tiny millimeter.”

“Are you serious?”

“Jimin,” you begin to say, trying to make him understand. “We have the rest of the week. I owe them.” You told him. “We are always so busy, we can never meet up, plus with you guys’ crazy schedule we need our own debriefing. Let me have my time, baby.”

“So you prefer staying by yourself rather than spending time with me?” He said.

“That is not what I mean and you know it.” You replied, frowning, sitting at the vanity.

You opened a small drawer.

Oopsie. Wrong one.

Unless?

You checked your watch noticing that you had an hour left. You could make it a quick thing. Something to make Jimin quiet and willing to let you leave the house with the excuse that ‘the sooner I leave, the sooner I’ll be back’.

Sure, your brain might have been slightly confused by the thought of him naked in the bathtub, and the scent of his body wash, and the sexy way his elbows were propped on top of the edges of the tub, the water sliding down his perfectly toned, smooth chest, his head thrown back, wetness glittering on his plump, luscious lips.

His eyes opened. “Fine. Go.” He said, and his voice was grumpy and sad.

You couldn’t leave him like this. Still, it wasn’t important what he said specifically. The only thing you noticed was his dulcet timbre, like a siren calling you.

Without even precisely knowing what you were doing exactly, you took the small seat in front of the vanity and the tiny, powerful toy inside your drawer; you walked to the side of the tub, placing the chair there and tugging your pencil skirt up, exposing your panties. The mirror behind the tub offered your reflection to your unsure gaze, making you move your eyes away.

Of course Jimin noticed. Of course he stayed quiet.

He’d much rather watch you undisturbed as you bent forward, pulling down your panties and sitting down, your skirt bunched up in your lap as you spread your legs and propped your feet against the edge of the tub, dragging your toes against his elbow to catch his attention. He would boost your confidence later, when it mattered the most to you.

“What is it?” He called, pretending he hadn’t seen what you were doing.

“You’re not interested?” You asked, switching on your finger vibrator, a tiny device with a silicone band that wrapped around the back of your digit and a thick, bulbous head on the other side, a vibrator embedded in the thicker part, with the specific aim of making the ridges and patterns on the head repeatedly stimulate your clit.

The sensation was immediate, rubbing it up and down your slit a couple times, you managed to capture Jimin’s ears — and eyes, soon after.

“Princess?” He called, staring at you, your hand wandering and finding purchase on the bathroom counter.

“Yes?” You moaned sultrily.

“Don’t you need to go out with the girls?” He asked, his eyes hypnotised by the motion of the toy moving back and forth from your clit to your hole and back up.

“I thought I could give you this, as a treat.” You said, licking your lips.

“A very generous one.” He replied, licking his lips, bracing his forearms on the edge of the tub, settling between your open legs and placing his cheek on the back on his hands, staring, completely mesmerised.

Your breath was becoming irregular. “How close?” He asked.

“Not too much.” You replied, removing your hand on the counter and placing it on your chest, palming it heavily.

His gaze climbed up to watch your flesh swell as you squished it. “Does it feel good?” He asked, untucking one of his hands to remove the cover blocking the drain of the tub.

Water started to rush out, his hand going from the drain to your ankle, drawing patterns up your calf, the other one lazily reaching for his length, tugging it a couple times.

Your eyes closed as you started feeling the edge of your high, the image of Jimin kneeling before you filling your senses, imagining him everywhere, all over you, his mouth on your nipples, between your legs, his hips smashing against your ass as he slammed inside you from behind, and his deliciously candy-pink cock in your mouth.

“I’m close.” You murmured.

His hand slowed down between his legs. As if it could go any slower.

“Cum for me, Princess.” He ordered. Still, siren voice.

A pattern of quick circles on your clit possessed your digit, your brain going on autopilot to the fastest way to pleasure. “Jimin, please.”

“What, Princess?” He replied flirtily, gleaming in cockiness as you were begging him without him even putting his hands on you.

“Please.” You called again, as pleasure overthrew you, your lips parting in one long, purring moan, first very high-pitched and then descending all the way down to your normal voice as you calmed down, focusing on chasing your high until it became too much, your eyes closing completely, your free hand reaching behind your, holding you up since the stool couldn’t be trusted much.

As you removed your finger — and the adjoined vibrator — you felt something wet and soft part your folds and titillate the tight ring of muscles at your entrance, still quivering with your fresh climax.

Your eyes opened, blinking a few times before you spotted Jimin’s wet hair below you, his head between your legs, body tucked in the small space between your body and the tub.

“Put that finger back on your clit. We’re not done here.” He said, placing one of his hands on your spine, on the small of your back, holding you up while his other arm went to his thick shaft. You loved looking at it, at how deliriously pretty it looked. You would gladly print a very big picture of it. Hang it in your closet. Stand there and look at it every now and then, with a glass of wine. Get inspired by the shape, length and colour. Find new ways to please him and torture him. Study every small vein on it. Every tiny detail. The small mole at the base — God only knows how a mole can end up there. And how it can make a cock look so insanely, unfairly pretty.

You felt crazy for it, completely devoid of your own will. And the way his hand left your back and caught your wrist, placing your buzzing finger on your clit made you even wilder.

“Jimin.” You called, your other hand ending in his hair and tugging him closer.

He chuckled mischievously. “Needy.” He said simply, before fighting against you trying to remove his head. You were too close.

It was all too much.

“Jimin!” You called again, desperate and embarrassed.

“Oh, no.” He said, moving his fingers away from your wrist and crooking his arm at the right angle before sliding two of his fingers inside you, his digits just the perfect measurement to reach your g-spot.

“Feels too good.” You mewled, removing your finger from your clit. Too much stimulation.

“Put that finger back in place.” He growled, his hand moving angrily on his own sex.

“Please!” You said, whining and whimpering.

“Back in place, Princess.” He said sharply.

Without room for opposition, you did as he ordered.

“Good girl.” He murmured as you cried out at your finger and his working you towards your second high. “You’re doing so well for me.” He added.

“I can’t.” You said, feeling your pleasure amplify in your abdomen. Suddenly your ears zeroed on the nasty, squelching sound coming from between your legs.

“Oh, you can, Princess. Keep going, sweetie. Sir’s waiting for you.”

He had entered dom zone.

Well, fuck.

You were officially done for the night. Especially when he pressed his chin to his hand, his tongue devilishly playing with your sensitive hole while his fingers stimulated your pulsating walls.

You came undone. His moaning turned in loud, thin moans, open mouthed breathing as he finally reached his high with a tight squeal that undid a knot in his throat.

You removed the toy almost immediately, the filling sensation inside your cunt definitely too much for your nerve endings.

He didn’t even notice, and when he did, he let it slip. You were deep in your second climax, making you sensitive and vulnerable, and he had no intention of overstepping any boundaries. Yet. His fingers slowed down, his mouth parting from you; his hand stopped at his base, giving a slow, strong tug at his shaft, milking out the last few droplets of his release.

“There you go. Has your treat been satisfactory, Princess?” He asked with a saccharine voice, most definitely trying to tease you with his bratty ways, or maybe gloating about him getting what he wants. As usual.

“Very.” You replied, pressing down the button on the ring and removing the toy from your finger.

He unhooked his fingers from your sex, sliding them out and licking one gingerly. “Nice.” He grinned in a dangerously endearing way. “Let’s clean up, yes? Can you stand?” He asked, gentle as always, standing up and quickly moving to the sink, washing up the remnants of your shared debauchery on his hands.

“I hope so.” You replied, grabbing a small towel and running it under the tap before cleaning yourself, drying your skin with an unused corner. You wore your panties and tugged your skirt down next.

“Would you like me to do your make up?” Jimin asked, looking at you in the mirror. “I’d like to repay you for the sweet treat. And I don’t want you to think I don’t support you going out.” He turned towards you, completely comfortable in his naked state. “Consider it my way of blessing your plans.”

And maybe bless your face when you come back home later and drool on my cock.

You smiled. “That’s nice of you, Jimin.”

“I’m always nice.” He said, rubbing a towel wildly against his hair before wrapping it around his waist, grabbing the small bench and putting it close to the vanity, strategically placing you so the light would hit your face enough for him to properly do your make up. “Sit, darling.” He said, patting the seat.

You followed his direction, checking your watch. Twenty-five minutes until you needed to head out.

“You already did toner, serum, lotion, all of that?” He asked, making sure that the canvas was at its best.

“Yeah.” You confirmed, wearing the small necklace he had gifted after coming back from the tour.

“You already wore your cream?”

“Yes!” You repeated, playfully cocky.

He swatted at your calf. “Don’t play cocky with me.” He reprimanded, matchingly playful.

“Primer.” He said, standing up, his perfect chest right in front of your eyes for the briefest of seconds. Then he walked behind you, removing the whole small drawer and bringing it with him as he kneeled down again, pouring a small amount of concoction on the tip of his index and middle finger. “It’s summer so I bet you’d like to stay light.” He said, touching the two digits with their twins on the other hand, only to draw tiny dots all over your face, and then using his devilish hands to spread the lotion. “Sorry, I prefer using these rather than sponges and stuff.” He said, but it was actually simply an excuse to touch your face.

The more touching he could do the better.

His goal was getting you going and any kind of touching on your face felt intimate enough to be more powerful than a booty grab or a whole body slam all over you at the moment. He just knew.

With his pinkie, he pushed back the small hair on your forehead. “You know what? Fuck beauty standards. Out there is damp like a swamp today, you should just wear some BB cream and stay fresh.” He said, kissing your head. “You’re perfect anyway.”

“Jimin.” You said, a tad emotional.

“And I don’t want men staring at you. You’d look too pretty with full makeup.” He said, leaving a ginger kiss on your lips. “I want you to shine as you are.” He said, grabbing a small compact hand mirror containing a cushion imbued with light foundation. He took a small puff and pressed it twice against the cushion before placing his left index under your chin, directing your face as he patted the puff against your face, distributing the lotion evenly.

“It contains mother-of-pearl powder. It will make you glitter like the princess you are.” He said, with a kind smile. “You already look like a diva, babygirl.” He said, twisting your head to the side before noticing a small blemish.

He stretched to the table behind you, your gaze focusing immediately on the small, solitary droplet of water rolling down his chest. A bit hesitant, you collected it with your tongue.

“Princess,” he warned before grinning. 

You were slowly, very slowly surrendering. He just needed to play the last few cards right.

With your concealing pen in hand, he fixed the red spot on your cheek, and another smaller one on your chin, blending them with the slightly damp tip of his pinkie.

You smiled and caught his hand, kissing the small digit before smiling. “Your hands are absolutely lovely.” You said. This kind of small reassurance was something you offered him daily, and even though he played tough and acted as if he wasn’t bothered by those details he so stubbornly called flaws, you still made sure his self esteem could always thrive.

“I assumed so, considering what they did earlier.” He stood up and — maybe — accidentally the towel fell, his cock standing proud in front of your eyes.

May goodness help you and God protect you.

You reminded yourself of dinner, of the girls waiting on you. I mustn’t. You told yourself. Still a part of your brain told you you’d be a fool if you didn’t took your chance.

But your chance had already disappeared behind the towel once more. “Sorry.” He said, standing straight after bending down to grab the cloth and fixing it back in place. He collected the small wooden drawer too, putting it back in place in the vanity.

Next he took your beauty case, making sure that it contained exactly what he was looking for.

This time he stood in place in front of you, his navel perfectly in front of your face. He found a small box and opened it, fishing out a miniature brush and running it against white, glittering powder. “Just a faint sparkly effect on your lids. Close your eyes.” He whispered sweetly, putting the powder in place, on one eyelid. Then the other. And then every touch disappeared. Before you felt his fingers tracing your collarbones. “Just for the extra sparkles.” He said, grinning viciously once you opened your eyes. It was indeed his fingers. Not the brush. He took his chance to widen the neckline of your white chiffon blouse.

“Tip your head back.” He said, this time more commanding.

A shiver ran down your spine.

You obeyed.

He took a dark eye pencil. It was something you hadn’t used in a while, preferring lighter make up, usually using simply dark eyeshadow to trace the line of your eyelid.

“Black pencil?” You asked.

“Be quiet. It looks so good on you.” He said, focusing on applying it evenly on both lids. “Look down.”

Right at his abs. Fantastic.

You prayed the other girls were being tempted just like you. Knowing Vixen and Namjoon, he was probably already halfway up her panties. And Lace… well. She’d probably had to change her outfit at least three times to hide Taehyung’s marks. You hoped they were late too.

There was no way you could arrive at the appointment in time with Jimin in this mood. And with your blood roaring in your veins, cursing you for each second you let him stand untouched before your eyes it was all a matter of time before it all went to hell.

“Eyes to the ceiling.” He said, “I’ll do your lower inner lid.”

“Jimin, that’s a bit aggressive...” You replied, trying to keep his hand from going anywhere close to your eye.

“You look so intense with the lower line too, though.” He teased, already tracing the corner with a slow, light-handed touch. “Just a bit. Come on, make me happy.” He said. And with that you knew precisely he was in the mood. Just like you were.

At this point there was no fucking way you could make it in time.

You stood perfectly still, the pencil too near to your eye, too dangerously close to stabbing it. “Jimin,” you called, as he moved to the other eye. “I’m gonna be late.”

“Don’t worry about that.” He already knew there was no way the other men weren’t in a similar situation. Knowing Taehyung, he probably still had Lace naked. Especially after what he’d told him about their sexy weekend.

“Jimin, please.” You said, exasperated.

“Baby, I know you’ll be the first one there, as usual, and you’ll have to wait for them all dressed up and pretty.” He said. “Chill. You can be fashionably late.”

He put down the eye pencil and picked up the silvery tube of your mascara.

“Just a teensy, tiny bit.” He said, “Look straight ahead.”

You mean at your hard on peaking from under your towel?

Your lips twitched nervously as you tried to look away.

“What is it?” He asked.

“I’m gonna put my mouth on it.” You said in warning.

“Don’t,” He replied, fixing the upper lashes on your left eye. He applied way more mascara than necessary before moving on to the other eye.

“Don’t bat your lashes,” he said with a focused tone as he applied the finishing touches, giving quick, teasing flicks to the lower lashes and came back to the left side, making the two match.

“Lipstick.” He said.

You huffed out a stressed breath.

“Lip liner to make sure your lipstick doesn’t smear at dinner.” He said, tipping your chin up and drawing his face dangerously close to yours, his hot, quick breath fanning over your face. “Stay still.” He said, tracing your cupid bow first, then covering all the way from the peak to the angle, mirroring the gesture on the other side.

Your lower lip was tricky. From the middle he drew the left arc, then the right one. No matter how hard he concentrated there was something harder calling his attention.

And the situation worsened when he felt your hand timidly brush the back of his thigh.

“No.” He said harshly, cupping your jaw and squishing it, making sure that you opened your eyes and looked at him.

“Why?” You asked, your hand still climbing up.

“You need to go.”

“You said the girls will be late too. And I should be fashionably late.”

“Princess.” He said, his voice growling in a harsh warning.

“Jimin.” You warned, mocking his tone.

“Stay put. Let me finish my work here.” He said, a bit frustrated.

Your lips were tempting him. And his brain was telling him to claim, claim, claim.

For the umpteenth time, he closed his eyes, inhaled and exhaled slowly and calmly.

He completed the weak spots on your liner before he inspected it.

He placed down the lip pencil.

He found your Chanel lipstick, uncapping it and focusing before placing the perfectly shaped tip against your upper lip, following the liner before completing the other half.

“Almost done, Princess.” He spoke gently. But his hand shook. Especially when he felt your nails tease his skin again.

“Princess.” He scolded eloquently.

“Jimin.” You called again.

“What.” He replied drily.

“I wanna be late.” You said, your palm climbing higher up under the towel and landing on his ass, squeezing a glute seductively.

“Let me finish.” He said, giving up.

You smiled before relaxing your lips, making them extra pillowy as you offered the lower one to him.

He tapped the red paste against the inner flesh before drawing half a line, then the other half.

“Pop them.” He said, as you started pressing your lips together lightly and making them sputter.

“Am I ready?” You asked.

Jimin smirked before his eyes turned sultry.

Looking him in the eye when he had that expression was too dangerous. He held too much power.

“No.”

He stared at the upper hem of your blouse, at the way it let your collarbones show with an expensive, classy bateau neckline.

Jimin stared at the front buttons. He placed down the lipstick. And started undoing the buttons.

You grinned. “Are you gonna make me get there late?” You asked expectantly.

“Quiet.”

You obeyed. Not like you had much choice.

He reached the lace of your bra, then undid more buttons, until he reached the waistline of your skirt.

“Arms out.” He said, making the delicate fabric of the shoulders slip past your wrists, letting the blouse fall around your waist.

“From now on, not a word. Are we clear?” He asked, making you look him in the eye. “Answer.”

“Yes, sir.” You said, obediently.

“Excellent. You move when I tell you. You move how I tell you. Yes?”

“Yes, sir.” You replied again. You were salivating at the idea of what he was going to do, how he was going to use you.

His hands moved to your bra, pushing the cups under your heavy breasts. “You’re my little doll, aren’t you? Sir wants you and your nipples pop up. I bet you’re wet between your legs without me even touching you. Are you wet, Princess?” He asked.

“I’m always wet for you, sir.” You said, offering him extra praise. Not like the statement wasn’t true.

He smirked and moved to the vanity once more, letting the towel fall for real. “It was an accident.” He said, mocking you, raising an eyebrow and shrugging. “Not like you mind staring at my cock, do you, Princess?”

“I love staring at your cock, Sir.” You replied, giving him absolutely no reason to complain about you or punish you.

“So hungry for it, little doll.” He snorted.

Once more the lipstick was in his hand.

“Who do you belong to, Princess?” He asked, stroking himself as his sweet, poisonous voice enchanted your ears.

“To you, sir.” You said, sitting with your back straight, your knees pressed together, your thighs squeezing in helpless arousal, your hands laying flat on your legs.

“What’s my name?” He said, licking his lower lip as a droplet of pre-cum appeared on his tip.

“Park Jimin, sir.” You answered, sharp and refined as he wanted you.

“Just my name, Princess. Say it.”

“Jimin.” You kept your eyes on your lap, not yet sure you were allowed to look at him.

“That’s right, Princess. Good girl.” He said, voice disturbingly neutral as he bent down.

He let go of his length, running his hand under the tap and drying it, oh-so-slowly, before he cupped your breast and stared at it, his expression focused and meditative.

He placed the tip of the lipstick on the left side of your breast, drawing an horizontal line. Two curled ones. A straight one. He moved to the other side. A rectangle. Another straight line. An L-shaped one.

“There. Stand up.” He said, placing down the lipstick and offering you his hand, helping you on your feet, making you stand in front of the mirror. “Who do you belong to, my beautiful princess?” He asked, standing behind you, his lips moving sensuously at your ear.

Right there, spelled on your chest in expensive, rouge Chanel lipstick, you found your answer, just like it was indented in your heart, mind and soul. “Jimin.” You read.

“That’s right, ____. Excellent job, doll.”

He turned you towards him and placed a gentle kiss on your lip.

“Now, kneel.” He ordered, smiling gently, however the command in his voice was icy and sharp.

You smiled shyly and obeyed. Once on your knees, you waited for his hands to feed you the tip of his cock, his precum making your lipstick glisten and stain his spongy head. You opened your mouth wider, lolling your tongue out in invitation, but he refused.

“Kiss it. I want it covered in lipstick.” He ordered. “Kiss it like it’s my face. I want imprints all over it.” He ordered.

And just like that it stood in front of you, exposing all the underside to your feverish and reverent kisses.

You were ready to beg for him to push it down your throat, desperate to feel the taste of him, to feel him there; then you remembered you weren’t allowed to speak unless he asked you.

You tried to talk the only way you could. Your eyes connected with his as you gave a gentle lick.

He snorted. “Want it in?” He asked, biting his lip and placing his hand on your head.

“Please, sir.” You begged: the easiest way to get what you want. You would never, ever beg for anything in your life. But for Jimin? You would lick the soles of his feet if he asked you to. Thank goodness he was too ticklish for that.

“Open up.” He said, grinning.

You assumed your position and waited for him to slide in. Holding your head, you felt his tip on your tongue, his hand feeding his cock into your mouth.

“That’s it, Princess.” He said, pushing inside.

Your hands naturally moved to his butt, leading him further in. You wanted to take him all the way, watch your lips print a nice red ring at his base.

“Hands in place, Princess.” He scolded.

You placed them lightly on your knees.

“Yes. Good girl.” He spoke through gritted teeth. He started thrusting in, your eyes watering as you felt your throat close up, hitting your knee noisily, twice, letting him know you needed to breathe.

“Okay.” He slid out, giving you some time to catch your breath. His fingers wrapped around his length, thumb, index and middle finger forming a ring sliding up and down the tip.

“Ready?” He asked.

You simply nodded and he let the small misbehaviour slip. He just wanted to sheath himself in the warm velvet of your cheeks, tongue and throat.

Once he bottomed out a new set of prints began forming on his pelvis, your hands coming for his hips, trying to slow him down as you began tearing up.

“Hands. Princess.” He roared.

You drew them back, shaking, trying to bob your head on him, wet droplets leaving your eyes and rolling down your cheeks.

And now the black eye pencil and mascara make sense. He wanted this from the very beginning.

Your hands pressed against his abs.

“Silent. Safeword. ____.” He ordered aggressively with a growl.

No. You didn’t want him to stop. You wanted him to snap.

You made to remove your hands, but instead you cupped his balls with your right one.

He drew out. “That’s it. Brat.” He walked to the shower wall, where your bathrobe was hanging. He tugged at the tie, whipping it out of the small hooks in anger.

“Lay down.” He said, minaciously as he walked to the vanity, picking up the lipstick again.

You crawled to the carpet in the middle of the room and did as he told you. At least you wouldn’t be met with the cold of the tiles.

“Ungrateful brat.” He said, placing two fingers under your chin and straddling your chest with his legs. “I let you go out. I made you cum. I did your makeup. I offered you what you wanted. And you disrespected it, and disobeyed me.”

He caught your wrists and pinned them over your head. “But maybe I didn’t offer you what you wanted.” He said, wrapping the soft tie around your wrists, making sure it wasn’t too tight, even though he was furious. He took two deep breaths before securing the knot with a flowery bow. “Maybe this was what you wanted, uh? Answer me, Princess.” He encouraged you.

“I want what is best for you, sir.” You replied, eyes imploring as his cock laid on your chest.

“If you really did that, I would already be done fucking your mouth and I could be slamming my cock in your disobedient, tight, creamy cunt.” He said, applying more lipstick on your lips.

“You better make me cum quick, brat.” He spat the words at your face, his legs moving to bring his hips closer to your mouth. He lifted his ass and propped himself on one forearm, his hand holding his cock before offering it to your lips for small kisses. “Your non-verbal safeword is snapping your fingers. Any number of snaps will mean ‘stop immediately’. I will slide out and let you breathe, then I’ll ask you if you want to keep going.” He said, using his tip to draw your lips, just like a tube of lipstick. “Understood?”

“Yes, sir.” You replied.

“Make me proud, Princess.” He said, before accompanying his shaft into your mouth and looking down, into your eyes, before he started thrusting. The movement was identical to that he uses to fuck you nice and good on your bed, his hips usually slapping against the back of your thighs, while now they met the skin of your cheeks, the blurred mascara coming down in thicker rivultets, making your eyes redden.

You were definitely a mess.

Jimin tried to stay focused on your hands, feeling pleasure but ready to ignore it or your safety.

His thrusts became more intense, your throat producing thin, panicked whimpers before he felt your fingers snap, two, three times.

He pulled out.

You gasped for air, your eyes immediately connecting with the black stains on his pelvis. Your mascara. Or eyeliner.

And the red on his sex. All over it. Staining his balls too. It was undoubtedly your lipstick. No natural blushing could do that.

“Are you okay, ____?” He asked, and you could tell he was out of his dommy character.

“Yes.” You replied simply.

“I’m almost there, love. Can you take it, baby?” He asked, worried.

“I can. I want to.” You said, nodding and reassuring him.

“Then let’s go, Princess.” Back in the game.

He was back in your mouth in a second, and this time you were sure you wanted him to dissolve in pleasure like sugar in coffee.

You used all your tricks, swallowing once he settled in, pumping him with your cheeks until you saw him lift on his tiptoes, needing closer, giving up on the fine grip of his knees to plank on top of you and properly stroke inside you as his head rolled back in a very improper, very loud yoga position, making his mouth spill a divine moan while his orgasm spilled inside you.

He gave a small series of the tiniest thrusts before going perfectly still, his moaning stopping. It was smart of him to own a house rather than an apartment. Way more feasible in terms of… disturbing noises.

He slid out of you quickly once he realised you were there, perfectly still, trying to save your oxygen and prolong his bliss.

“Oh, Princess, angel.” He said, quickly undoing the ribbon, descending down your body, straddling your hips and touching your face. “Can you stand up?” He asked, trying to fix the smudged line around your mouth.

“Maybe.” You said, hesitant.

“Come on, let’s try.” He said, helping you up.

“I want more.” You said, kneeling on the carpet, flinching at the sensation.

“That flinch is a reply enough. And you’re messed up. And late for the meet up.”

You checked your wrist. “Lace is always twenty minutes late. Please, one last thing.” You begged, looking at his sex, half hard. “Please.”

“You want to fuck or make love?” He asked, already touching himself. He could do one more. And it was you. All he needed to do was bend you over and watch your tits move as he ground his hips against yours.

“Fuck me.” You said.

He grinned sadistically. “In front of the mirror. Bend over and spread.” He ordered drily.

You smirked back at him and turned into his doll, becoming exactly what he had asked of you, your panties soaked by now, the only protection your skirt.

You were a mess as you looked at yourself in the mirror. His name barely smeared on your breasts, your cheeks made of tens of dark, dried-up rivulets, your mouth a ridiculous attempt at a clown look.

He tugged the hem of your skirt up, exposing your ass before slipping his fingers into the see-through, fine net of your panties, his fingers digging until the fabric ripped offering your slick, honeyed entrance to his eyes.

He stood behind you, the reflection intoxicating as he showed you a wooden hairbrush.

It was that wooden hairbrush. It was the one he liked being used on himself when the roles reversed.

It was extremely fitting of him to want to use it right in that moment, on you.

“Ten. If you don’t cum on my cock all you’ll have is your fingers while I touch myself. Clear?”

“Yes, sir.” You replied.

“Ready. Count.” He said, rubbing the smooth wood against your lower glute.

The smack was harsh. Violent. The sound was scary but the pain was divine.

“One.” You called.

He slammed inside you, his thighs hot with boiling blood as he thrusted in harder before delivering another smash.

“Two!” You almost screamed.

“That’s right, doll.” He said, bending down, teasing your ear. “How pretty my name looks on those tits.” He said, slamming into you, a few more times, the various objects laying on the bathroom counter shaking as he pushed into you.

What you didn’t expect was for your phone to shake that hard.

The screen lit up.

Jimin noticed it immediately.

“Oh. It’s Vixen.” He said. “Maybe she’s worried about you.” He panted at your ear.

No. No, no, no. You thought.

“Come on, answer, Princess.” He said, vicious and petty as usually. “You love your friends so much.” He smacked your ass, just with his hand, almost playfully. “You wouldn’t want her to worry. Answer.” He ordered.

Your hand shook as it reached the phone. Jimin stilled inside you.

You picked up the call. “Hi.” You said.

“Hi bub, lovely to hear you. I might be late.” She said, straight to the point, her voice way higher than usual.

“Late?” You asked, trying to speak as little as possible.

Jimin started to move behind you.

You shook your head. NO. No, please, no.

“Forty minutes. Also, tell Lace. She’s not—” squeal “—answering.”

A dark voice behind her murmured something. “Only forty minutes?” He teased.

Namjoon, of course.

“I’m… busy?” You said, just as Jimin pulled out and smashed the hairbrush against your right asscheek. “Three.” You said under your breath.

“Didn’t catch that.” Jimin said teasingly.

You tried to cover the microphone. “Three. Sir, I said three.” You knew you were very likely putting yourself in trouble.

“Joon, why am I not getting spanked?” Vixen asked on the other end of the phone.

“Brat.” He snarled before his voice disappeared again.

“____, dearest. My boyfriend is threatening me with his ten inch cock. I can’t make that call, sweetie. Please, call her.”

“She will.” Jimin answered on your behalf.

“Thanks, Min. Enjoy.” A final squeal echoed down the line before it fell.

Another smash.

“Four, Sir.” You said, feeling Jimin stroke in while sneering, his lips parted as your wet, slippery walls welcomed him with a rich, squelching sound.

“Call Lace.” He ordered at your ear, sweet like a mermaid.

You shook your head in denial, but at the same time you searched for her contact on your phone. The sooner, the better. You would be done embarrassing yourself, and he would simply focus on torturing you until you reached your orgasm.

You pressed ‘call’ and Jimin’s ears tuned in to the sound of the phone, making sure that he began to truly fuck you only once Lace picked up.

The calling sound went on forever. “Let me… She’s not answering. Please.” You said, looking at Jimin’s reflection in the mirror.

“Wait.”

The line went silent for a second. “Vixen, for fuck’s sake, she’s sucking my cock, stop fucking calling.” Taehyung roared.

Jesus.

“It’s me, Princess?” You said, using the nickname that all the boys used. Sometimes it felt ridiculous. Like in that precise moment, when your boyfriend’s dick was buried inside you.

“Princess, what is— mh… Yes.” Taehyung stopped for a second. “Sorry. Lace is busy. Might be late.”

Jimin stretched to the mic. “I knew it.” He said, talking to Taehyung.

“Jimin, get out of my ears.” He joked with his friend. “Can I please… Twenty minutes. She’ll be there in twenty. Thirsty— Thirty at worst.” He spoke before a low rumble came from the line.

You blushed.

Jimin started pushing inside you, trying to get a moan out of you.

“Mh—Meet in forty. Vixen late. Bye.” You said before closing the call, Jimin using that precise moment to start hammering into you.

“Let’s make this quick. We need to make you presentable again, doll.” He said, picking up your knee and propping it up on the counter. You were so wide open for him, his hips smacking lewdly against your ass. To go the extra mile, he grabbed your waist with one forearm and used the hairbrush again.

“Five? Is it… Five?”

“Yes, Princess.” You weren’t sure he was saying yes to the counting or your inner walls squeezing him.

His cock touched your cervix repeatedly with a neat pattern, two fingers reaching your clit. “Quick.” He said.

You managed to push back only three times before your vision went blank, your upper body collapsing against the bathroom counter, your hand pressed against the mirror as you tried to find purchase to keep you upright, to no avail.

Jimin whimpered a few times before he went silent and collapsed on top of you.

His cock twitched twice inside you, weakly. He was probably drained.

“Jimin. Thirty-five minutes.” You called. He slipped out, immediately trying to clean you up.

“You shower, I get an outfit for you. Try to save your hair. Make up remover in the shower.” He said. “I’m driving you.” He said, helping you unglue yourself from the bathroom counter. “Do you need something special, love?” He asked, stopping you a second to hold your face and kiss your mouth, no matter how messy it was. “Aftercare, baby.”

“Just help me get ready.” You said, kissing him again. “I love you. You’re fantastic. The best.”

His ego exploded. “Love you too. Let’s make Stickerella ready for the ball.” He grinned before rushing to the closet.

——————————————

Forty minutes later, you, Lace and Vixen met in front of a classy, sleek restaurant.

“Did you pre-party, Vixen?” Lace asked as the three entered the place, Vixen leading the way to the table. Her legs were wobbly. Very.

“You’re so much fun.” She replied with a fake laugh. Namjoon’s habits were starting to rub off on her. Not the only stuff being rubbed, you thought mischievously.

“Seriously, did you swap your left shoe with your right one?” Lace asked as the tiny woman showed them the table for three. She took a seat on the closest chair, biting her lip as she lowered her bottom. Her eyes closed and she swallowed noticeably.

You smirked, right before sucking your own lips, your ass hurting with the leftovers of the spanking. “You are both two nasty bitches and I am so proud of you.” Lace said with a wide grin.

“Fix your neckline, you classy whore. I can see your boyfriend’s marks from here,” Vixen seethed, still smiling, no offense in her words. Still, she ran her tongue against the edge of her teeth, taking a calming breath as she fixed her position on the seat.

You chuckled at their scene before clearing your throat.

They both turned toward you, waiting for you to speak before realising that you simply had a sore throat. Yeah.

“Please. let’s order wine. You both sound like Marge’s sisters in The Simpsons.” She said, laughing and shaking her head.

“You’re just envious because your gag reflex sucks.” Lace said, clicking her tongue before shaking her head herself in faux disapproval.

You snorted and tried to cover your mouth.

“Glad I’m everyone’s laughing stock.” Vixen said, fixing her hair.

“Your neckline, slut.” Lace said, once more addressing Vixen with a whisper, acting with the posed mannerism of a lady from a Jane Austen novel.

Vixen laughed herself this time. “How did you get out?” Vixen asked her.

“Baby boy fell asleep like a puppy.” Lace said, a dreamy look on her face. “You?”

“Something along that line.” She replied. “What about you, sweetie?” She said turning towards you.

“Jimin brought me.” You said, smiling serenely.

“He’s such a sweetheart.” Vixen said, smiling with her whole face, her eyes turning into pure affection. Again, she looked like Namjoon.

You clicked your tongue. “Everyone’s a sweetheart when they’re getting fucked right.” You said quietly.

Both women laughed.

“I’m just sorry Yoongi’s girl couldn’t come.” Lace said, a bit sad.

“Oh, don’t worry about her. She’s fine. Coming. In… other ways.” Vixen — her neighbour — quipped.

“My god, we’re nymphos.” Lace said, covering her face with her hands.

You shrugged. “Again. That’s the magic.”

By the end of the night, the three of ended up happily tipsy, toasting to your boyfriends and ‘doing things right’.

[id-rather-be-an-outsider]

AOT Preference: Dogs

a/n: first time doing a preference in awhile, but I want to specifically say DO NOT EVER get an animal you are not completely prepared to care for. animals are animals and will act as animals do. if they act out that’s not on them, that’s on you. animals need to be in forever homes, and it’s your responsibility to create a suitable environment for them and to not put them in situations where they could potentially be harmed or harm others. know your animal, know their comfort zone, know their needs. don’t take an animal on unless you’re ready to parent a child that never grows up for 15+ years. be responsible pet parents!

edit: just realized I used she/her for Hange so I fixed it. apologies to all my nb folks!

masterlist

Annie Leonhart

Our girl Annie would have a Siberian Husky. Strong, agile, hyperactive and able to trek long distances, they’d be perfectly suited for one another. You would be invited to tag along, of course, but you would have to keep up, lest you fall victim to the whines of an overly dramatic husky who desperately wants you to get a move on.

Armin Arlert

English Springer Spaniel, for sure. He’d fall in love with their soft coat, and their size would make them the perfect lapdog for reading, and taking long walks outside... to do more reading. Definitely a bonus that they fit comfortably between you two in bed at night, and a bonus that their little tail looked oh so very precious when it wagged!

Bertholdt Hoover

A gentle giant himself, Bertie would end up getting a Great Dane. Unlike Reiner, he’s a lot better at managing his thoughts and feelings about their study abroad trip to Paradis gone wrong. All he needs is his gigantic lapdog and you, his adoring partner. Sometimes he’d pass out on the dog in the middle of a cuddle session, and the patient thing would stare at you with pleading eyes, waiting until Bertholdt finally woke up to escape from being stuck in his arms for another hour.

Colt Grice

Colt would get a pair of Dalmatians, one for each of you. He loves their spots, their sleek build, and their energetic, yet quiet temperaments. Picket fence and all, Colt would want the happy home life!

Connie Springer

Connie would insist on having two dogs, so they don’t get lonely when you’re away from the house. He would bring home a pair of puppies with floppy ears that were adorable - an American Foxhound and an American English Coonhound. To Connie, their howls at all hours of the day, only ceasing when he falls asleep, is absolutely glorious, but to his neighbors, it’s a sign they need to invest in earplugs. Sasha would regularly steal the pair away from you so she had a full squad to go hunting with, which you wouldn’t mind since they liked the trips and got their energy out that way.

Eren Yeager

Much like how Eren picks his friends, so too, would he pick his pets. Not caring much for pedigrees, nor where a dog came from, Eren would get a shelter mix pup, probably one that’s older and been sitting there for longer. He’d sense a kinship between them - two beings looking for peace, and they’d find it in one another. The dog being absolutely adorable in every way would only be a bonus.

Erwin Smith

Commander Erwin would have a wolf-dog hybrid. He’d find the creature out in the woods, abandoned by their mother, and see the strength in their limbs despite their fear, and their resolve to survive. He would take them on as his own and together, they’d be the perfect pair of leaders, alphas in their own rights. When you became the alpha female of the household, the little beastie took to you right away, hoping that maybe you would be the one to finally grant their wish of feeding them off your plate. Of course, you never did it, because that would be irresponsible! At least, you’d parrot what Erwin said until he was gone for the day. Then, if a few bites every week fell on the floor by some magic mistake, well, who else was gonna clean it up?

Hange Zoë

Hange would have a fox! They’d be so interested by their behavior, they’d end up testing them and doing fun (and very humane) experiments on them, like exposing them to different foods, toys and puzzles, to see how they’d react. Foxes aren’t a regular pet, and they’d be fully aware of that and even over prepared to care for them, doing research years ahead of time until they felt completely ready to take one on. Needless to say, you’d be fascinated by them, but would insist Hange keep a separate, pee-proof space for the little creature they rescued so long ago. As cute as they were, you preferred your house not be ruined by their inability to potty train.

Historia Reiss

Historia would intend to get a small dog. What she would end up with, however, would not be a small dog. She would fall in love with the warm, kindly brown eyes of a giant and adopt a Greater Swiss Mountain Dog right then and there, no hesitation. In the end, it would all work out. You couldn’t always be beside her in bed, but she was always guaranteed to have an enormous lapdog by her side at all times - her protector in the throne room, her helper on the farm, and her body pillow at night. Who needs a weighted blanket when you have a hundred-pound puppy sleeping on you?

Jean Kirstein

Jean would have a German Shepherd. He adopted them when he first wanted to join the Military Police, but after he changed his mind, he still cared enough to train his dog as militantly as he was trained. It actually helped him soften up a bit (which ended up catching your attention in the end), and who wouldn’t? With those big brown eyes and floppy ears, it’s hard to resist the urge to sweet talk... and maybe, just maybe slip one or two scraps of meat under the table. No one will notice, right? Other than you, of course, who notices everything, because Jean has never been good at hiding things from you.

Levi Ackerman

We all know Levi is a clean freak and would never want a small dog that does nothing other than bark. He’d have a Standard Poodle, probably an apricot color. They’re smart, good hunters, and most importantly, non-shedding! They also are very sweet, not unlike our Captain (even if he’s good at hiding it). The one thing he wouldn’t expect, however, would be to find a trouble maker in his home. Stolen shoes, stolen ties, stolen cravats, even - somehow they would all wind up somewhere his sweet dog seemed to frequent, but they were clever enough not to be caught, so what could he do?

Marcel Galliard

A chocolate lab! They’re sweet and adventurous, as well as protective, and are absolute cuties. Marcel would love having a fluffy companion, and would take his Labrador on long hikes every weekend.

Marco Bott

Marco loves to look forward to the future, and he’d love to experiment with a newer breed of dog. The Catahoula caught his eye with their well-muscled body, and your excitement over their coat pattern sealed the deal. When you both realized just how much energy they had, you ended up joining Annie and Marcel on their hikes and volunteering your pup for hunting trips with Sasha, so they weren’t up all night long playing.

Mikasa Ackerman

Mikasa is the only person out of this bunch that wouldn’t get a dog - she’d have two cats, at least one being a brown tabby. Mikasa’s so dedicated to her work that she wouldn’t see herself as a person with enough time for dogs, but she wouldn’t mind caring for two soft kitties who curled up on either side of you two every night, even if they somehow always managed to have their butts in your faces when you woke up. Cats have a way of doing that.

Pieck Finger

Pieck would own a Weimaraner. Curious, cute, and a standout, they both fit the mold of “dogs and owners who look alike” with their deep, inquisitive eyes and playful, loving natures.

Porco Galliard

Like Porco, Pitbulls can appear tough and menacing on the outside. Also like Porco, pitbulls are just big babies who want to be loved on. He’d likely already have one before you two fell for each other, and his pit would see the loving nature in you and start coming to you for snuggles - which might have made Porco feel left out, if he wasn’t always in the middle of it.

Reiner Braun

Pomeranian. This man has seen some shit, and what better form of comfort than you and a tiny puffball with googly eyes? Fortunately, his Pomeranian would be unusually mellow, understanding he relied on their calm to maintain his own headspace after everything that’s happened.

Sasha Braus

Sasha would get an Irish Setter and an English Setter. She would take her dogs on hunting trips to help her track down animals, and when they got home she’d sit up for a cuddle with her two favorite pups and her favorite partner, you. Cocoa after a long day of hard work is fantastic.

Ymir

Everybody knows that Ymir wouldn’t intend to have a dog. She wouldn’t want anything or anyone to depend on her, but one day, when a band of strays would come around her apartment and try to attack her, another random dog would come from out of nowhere, fight them, and chase the rest of the pack off. Upon seeing the heroic dog injured, Ymir would feel indebted and take them in. Just until they healed, of course - then, it would be off to the local shelter for them. But then, you would drop by for a visit and the dog would love all over you. And then, Ymir would keep waking up finding the dog had managed to crawl into her bed and sleep next to her every night. And then, one thing after another, Ymir’s heart would soften just enough to let the scroungy stray who saved her life have a spot, right next to the spot reserved for you, and your family of two would grow to be a family of three. And then, you would find a puppy on the side of the road and take them home to Ymir after you moved in with her, and your family of three would grow to be a family of four. And then, when the puppy grew up, Ymir would find her laying in a closet with a litter of semi-scroungy-looking pups, and your family of four would become a family of five, six, seven, eight... and so on.

Zeke Yeager

Zeke has wavy golden locks, and so do golden retrievers. They’re also both incredibly cute, sweet, and popular. Need I say more? Fine, if I have to convince you. They also both have very kissable, kind, and meddlesome faces. Don’t tell me you don’t see it there!

[mythicamagic]

wow! that's an amazing list. “i’ve been falling in love with you since the first day we met”

A continuation of other tumblr prompts I’ve made into a fic - here

Hopefully chapter four will be the end lolol this fic has been far longer than I intended it to be.

---

Kagome stared out at passing scenery beyond her window with a glazed look dulling her eyes. Heavy thoughts carried her attention far away from the mundane train ride. She hadn't visited Kyoto in years, and especially not for such a special reason before.

Shippo's voice had sounded so strange on the phone. Mature, but not overly deep, maintaining its playfulness. He'd invited her over for a visit right away.

A 'bing!' noise roused her enough to check her phone- which showed a picture of Natsuki posing with a spear and fresh kill.

Kagome snorted, resting her chin on her knuckles. There were a few things about Natsuki that she was surprised Sesshoumaru hadn't commented on.

Number one; her boyfriend was a demon.

And number two; he was, specifically, an inuyoukai. A mongrel. She imagined Sesshoumaru felt mighty smug to know she'd found a demon of the same species as him to date. Natsuki being of mixed breeding surely made the Daiyouki feel all the more superior.

But Kagome had never cared about such things. She'd loved Inuyasha once, too.

The short version of their 'getting together' just two months prior was that she'd located a demon bar a few years ago and had been dating youkai ever since, using the place as a means to meet them. The relief of finding the secret den of long-forgotten youkai had been unparalleled. Kagome now knew exactly how to locate and see through glamorous thanks to years of experience.

She'd found out through the process of elimination that humans just kind of...weren't enough for her. Kagome needed the youki, the rush- the bite of claws, talons or fangs.

Natsuki was one of many in a long line of potential 'forever' partners, but Kagome had long since stopped expecting marriage down the line. If they lasted, that was fine. If not, that was fine too.

She had resolved never to fall hard for someone again.

Natsuki left Tokyo a few days prior to go on a hunting trip with his pack in a remote location up in the mountains, a monthly tradition.

'Can you skip it this time?' Kagome had asked. 'I'd just...really like it if you could come to Kyoto with me?'

'But I don't know your fox friend.'

'Doesn't matter- he hasn't seen me in 500 years. I would feel so much better if you were there.'

Natsuki looked as though she'd spat in his breakfast. 'Ah, uh-' he ran an awkward hand through his light-brown hair. 'I guess?'

The hesitancy and look in his eyes- begging to be let off the hook- made Kagome force a smile and drop the subject.

She sighed, figuring they'd probably break up soon. There wasn't really anything wrong with their relationship, just a difference in values and priorities.

It seemed to be the norm. No huge fight. No big dramatic breakup. Usually she even stayed friends with her exes.

Sesshoumaru was the outlier in all things.

She made certain not to tell the Daiyoukai of her impending singleness. If he was irritatingly optimistic now- Kagome imagined he'd be a nightmare to shake off if she were available.

But he'd stop if I outright told him to never speak to me again.

Her lips thinned, stomach turning at the mere thought.

For the rest of the journey, she resolved not to think about him. And failed miserably.

----

Shippo had greeted her at the door with an enormous hug the second she'd arrived at his hilltop home. Brilliant red hair had grown longer, swept back into a ponytail. Since his house perched a little further out from most of the houses, he wore no glamour. The pointed ears and foxtails- five of them- Kagome counted, were on full display.

Tears pricked her eyes, and she hugged him back fiercely.

His wife was pleasant, though a little eccentric for a racoon youkai. She'd made a 'welcome' banner and everything for Kagome's arrival.

Three young kits with dark circle markings around their eyes raced around the house- which had crayon drawings sprawled all over the walls at waist-height. Shippo and his wife seemed to have given up on house maintenance, but they were a happy family.

Blue eyes softened as Kagome sat with him in the relative privacy of his art studio. She was so pleased he'd found happiness. As they talked, she bent down- reaching into her bag for her phone to show him some pictures of her workplace- only for it to tip over.

A small bottle of pills rolled out, stopping by his foot.

Kagome paled. She glanced away from his questioning look as he handed them back to her. "Reiki suppression pills?" he asked.

"How'd you know?"

"I've got friends in Tokyo. You're not the only priestess who secretly dates demons," he shrugged, pinning her with a calculating look. "But, it's kind of a shame you feel the need to take them."

Kagome forced a smile, tucking them away, "yeah well- it's because I'm so big and strong," she joked. "I haven't met a demon in Tokyo who could withstand my aura if I really let it out. Taking these is easier. Gives demons the 'flavour' of dating a miko without actually getting burned. It just thins my powers a little."

Shippo nodded in acceptance and swiftly changed topics since it made her uncomfortable. He chattered on about his life, detailing the 500 year gap between when they'd seen each other last. Apparently, after Miroku and Sango had passed, he'd taken to spending more time with Sesshoumaru. When Inuyasha had died, he'd started living with the Daiyoukai permanently.

"You...did?"

He nodded, hands wrapped around his steaming mug of tea. A handmade bracelet clasped around his wrist, and the mug was half-melted, made from clay. Clearly they'd both been crafted by three well-meaning kids. "I guess we were gonna talk about him eventually," he smirked. "I promise not to be biased, okay? Sure, he saved my ass, but you're still my favourite."

Warmth flooded her heart, and Kagome giggled a little despite herself. "You're talking like we're your divorced parents or something," she mused, sobering. Taking a long breath, she stared at her own misshapen mug. "What happened?" she asked quietly. "Why didn't he create a pure-blooded heir?"

Shippo sighed, sweeping a hand through voluminous red hair. "He chased after you pretty much a second after you left through the well. Only he couldn't get through."

Her chest tightened, body stiffening.

"He's told me before though...that regretting what happened wouldn't have been enough, and maybe it was better he didn't stop you. He still felt the same at the time, deep down; that only a pure-blooded heir should take over the Western Lands to ensure he was survived by a long-living heir. He was gonna do it," Shippo muttered. "He was prepared to lay with an inuyoukai to produce an heir, but when the time came he just...couldn't. It frustrated him for a long time."

Kagome took a sip of her lukewarm tea, lips thinning. "He could've taken a mate. It didn't have to be some random woman."

"Heh, yeah but his inuyoukai instincts had already chosen a mate," Shippo winked at her. "And no matter how much he tried to force logic onto himself, his instincts refused to budge. You weren't dead, so in his mind, he couldn't move on. He's remained your captive all this time."

Her eyes widened, swallowing. "That sounds terrible!" she burst, frowning. "What the hell...I'd resent that. Why doesn't he hate me?"

"Hard to explain but...he could have moved on, Kagome," the kit sighed. "If he really wanted to. He's the one who lacked the desire to change how he felt about you. So, despite some relationships, Sesshoumaru has pretty much maintained his bachelor lifestyle."

Kagome stood from her seat, setting down her tea and distractedly looking at Shippo's art pieces, picking up a sketchbook and flipping through it.

Sharp green eyes searched her guarded features. "You're still in love with him, right?"

"Some habits are hard to kick," she said softly, pausing on one sketch. Her vision grew blurry.

Shippo rose and swept the shuddering miko into a hug before she could drop the sketch of Sango and Miroku. He held her for a long time, and they moved on to talking about their friends. About all the things they'd done and the happiness they'd shared.

"M-maybe I...left too quickly," Kagome mumbled, wiping at her wet cheeks.

"Nah, don't get that thought stuck in your head," Shippo rested a hand on her head, gently ruffling the dark strands. "You wanted distance between you and Sesshoumaru. It's not your fault the well shut."

"Why did..." swallowing thickly, she looked up at him, oddly feeling like a child in comparison to his steady, easy-going presence. Like nothing in the world could shock or frighten the little kit anymore. "It took him 6 years to come talk to me, why is that?"

Shippo's smile turned slightly sad. "He wouldn't want me to tell you. In fact, he'd kill me for giving you this-" Shippo reached into his pocket and took out a vial.

Kagome understood what it was almost immediately, accepting the glamour with a perplexed look.

He then scribbled down the name of a random park in Tokyo she hadn't visited before, handing it over with a smirk. "Put that glamour on and visit this park on either Tuesday or Thursday, weather permitting. You'll find him near the duck pond."

She arched a brow, eyeing the vial. "He'll recognise me, even with a glamour on."

"Nah, that's my own creation- and I'm pretty darn brilliant at magic now!" he puffed out his chest, tilting his chin up in a very Sesshoumaru-like manner. Shippo then smiled warmly, taking the sketchbook and tearing out a page. "He's not being honest with you, but it's not outta nefarious purposes. You'll see," he reassured her. "He's changed. Even if he's still an asshole."

Kagome accepted the page, freezing. Her fingers stiffened, emotion clogging her throat at all the implications that came with the picture. She couldn't help but cry again in the safety of Shippo's arms- promptly bursting into tears while on the train ride home too.

Shippo's sketch remained clutched in her hands.

The weight of so much wasted time rested upon her heavily, making the woman bend low in her seat, ignoring the stares of other passengers and letting out several years of loneliness and disappointment. How her skin had ached and burned up with a fever of remembrance- straining for a demon lord to take her wrists and kiss her palms like he once had.

---

Overcast skies blocked out the sunshine that Tuesday, so she wondered if he'd show. The glamour had made her look like a 40-year old, a few grey streaks in her magically short hair. Brown eyes stared back at her instead of blue. She smelled like lavender and home cooking. Kagome sat upon a bench and pretended to read beside the duck pond. An available bench sat further away, nearer to the empty play park.

It was there that a dark-haired man eventually sat, five children having followed him. A lanky teen took a seat next to him, his hair short and grey- eyes milky white with blindness. Kagome squinted from behind her book, sensing he was a snake youkai. Two young hanyous of differing species immediately ran to the play park, squealing. One had concealed horns, the other hiding their leopard spots behind a glamour.

A human girl around the age of 11 carried a toddler to the edge of the duck pond, talking quietly with him and pointing to the ducks.

Kagome held back the hot sting of tears, forcing her gaze to the book in her hands and robotically turning a page.

"Shinto needs to get out of his room," the snake youkai was muttering sourly.

"There is little I can do. Did you wish for me to carry him kicking and screaming to the park with us?" Sesshoumaru snorted, elbows bent to rest on his knees.

Kagome glanced at him furtively from the corner of her eye.

Gone was the easy confidence he'd presented to her during their encounters- the impeccable dress-sense and untouchable air of a bachelor. He looked like a mess. Or rather, a single parent struggling to juggle too much at once. He wore a jacket that had seen better days, hair dishevelled and slight lines under his eyes.

"Maybe that would've been better," his adopted child was muttering, soon sighing and glancing to the side as Sesshoumaru toyed with his phone. "Do you even have her number?"

Sesshoumaru arched a brow, feigning ignorance. "Hm?"

"You know who I am referring to. Just ask for it from Uncle Shippo."

Dark lashes lowered, followed by a rich, silky chuckle that made Kagome's skin warm. "Such underhanded methods, Hiroji," he teased, "no wonder you're not popular with women."

Hazy eyes gazed in his general direction flatly, huffing. "Please refrain from trying to dodge the question. Have you actually asked this 'Kagome' woman out yet?"

"I invited her to coffee."

"Such a cheap date, Papa!" the human girl by the duck pond smiled, carrying her brother back to them. "Couldn't you have invited her ice-skating, or to a fancy restaurant?"

"Or to the park!" one of the Hanyous yelled from the swings.

Sesshoumaru cut his eyes to grey skies fondly, accepting the toddler from his daughter. "The location does not matter. Miss Higurashi is not easily swayed," he uttered, large hands toying with little boots. The toddler giggled, kicking his legs. "Initially, I wished to bury her with gifts, but she would merely see that as an attempt to 'buy' her. No, I sense only a display of humility and regret will soften her opinion of me, however that seems quite impossible."

"Hm? Why's that?" his daughter asked.

"Because I do not wish to use you all as an example of my having 'changed.' It would feel as though you are mere tools for my redemption," brown eyes slid away. "My mindset altered gradually over the centuries. No large thing triggered it. I know of no other way to prove myself other than introducing her to you."

Kagome could tell by the twitching of his fingers and the way he kept brushing them over his jaw absentmindedly that he was itching for a drag of his pipe. She'd wondered if he still occasionally smoked. He must've decided not to around his children.

"Sounds like heavy stuff," the girl hummed, patting his shoulder in consolation. "Can't you just say-" she cleared her throat, voice deepening into a poor imitation of Sesshoumaru's- "Miko, I've been falling in love with you since the first day we met. Fall into my arms~"

Deep brown eyes flattened, and he playfully shoved a hand into her face. "Things are not so easily fixed, Akiko."

"I see. Well, don't worry! If it doesn't work out, we can all go ice-skating instead!"

Sesshoumaru tsked, sinking back into his seat and allowing the toddler to snuggle up on his chest. "How dull. I'd much prefer to go on a date with a beautiful woman than babysit you brats."

Akiko only giggled and whined good-naturedly, calling him a 'meanie' before running off to join the Hanyous on the swings.

Left in silence, the Daiyoukai's brows knitted together, thoughts clearly far away.

Mild concern softened Hiroji's boyish features. "You should try talking to her again," he said quietly, so faintly Kagome could barely hear it.

"Hn, and why is that?"

Shifting, the snake demon glanced sightlessly in Kagome's direction- causing her blood to freeze in her veins. "I suspect she may be more receptive to speaking with you now, that is all. Call it a hunch."

Stiff shoulders slowly relaxed upon realising he wasn't going to expose her. After a few minutes, Kagome rose from her spot and slipped away from the park.

In the comfort of her own apartment, Kagome gazed at the sketch Shippo had given her; Sesshoumaru sleeping without a glamour obscuring his exotic features. Resting on mokomoko, his knees, and the crook of his arm were children, different from the ones at the park, but just as mixed in species.

It implied he'd been adopting them for centuries. What had started with Rin all those years ago- the accidental adoption of his first child, had become a long-enduring habit. And it also gave Kagome the stupid, insidious idea that maybe he wanted hanyou children now. Maybe he wanted them with her.

And that was too dangerous a thought to linger on if she was incorrect.

[mlmdarkfiction]

Communication

For Anonymous 

Fandom: The Boy

Pairing: Brahms/Male Reader

CW: Consensual Nonconsent Roleplay, NSFW Description: “I know you’d never hurt me,” Because he wouldn’t. Brahms was capable of hurting people. He’d hurt someone if it meant protecting you both. But he’d never hurt you. You have the utmost faith in him. Read Below: 

Soft early morning light fills the kitchen of the Heelshire Estate as you work on making pancakes for you and Brahms. He's sitting at the table reading the paper, and occasionally glancing up to look at you.

The radio is the only sound to accompany the sizzling of the pan. For once it didn't play the classics, instead it played one of the local stations that played the recent hits, Brahms had asked you for that after all. He'd said he wanted to see what he'd missed of the world while shut away, although you can tell from glancing at his expression that he doesn't seem to enjoy it much.

"What do you think of it?" You ask your partner, smiling at him. Even if Brahms doesn't enjoy it, you like it, humming a line under your breath.

He doesn't respond, and you have to hold back a bit of a laugh.

"You don't like it?"

"No." His voice is low, and deep.

Since he'd left the walls, since your relationship had developed, Brahms had almost entirely dropped his high pitch childish voice. It seemed to be entirely reserved now for moments when he's anxious, or in the incredibly rare circumstance that there's a stranger in the house.

"I think I prefer the classics." He continues.

"I'll turn it off for now then," It's a compromise. He's trying to branch out a bit.

"But I like this music, so."

You see Brahms roll his eyes childishly, but you don't bring it up since he doesn't argue with you on it.

"Here," You present a plate to Brahms. "I didn't burn it this time."

Taking your own plate you sit across from him, the pair of you begin to eat in silence.

It's Brahms who speaks up to break it, "I think I'll check the traps after breakfast."

"Mm." You hum in agreement.

Although he doesn't spend much time in the walls anymore, he's turned his old room there into an office for his dolls and any other projects he decides to work on, and lately he's had an issue with rats.

"A good idea. We don't want any more little visitors."

Brahms makes a face of disgust in agreement.

"The traps have been helping."

"Good." A soft sigh leaves your lips as you think of all the other chores you need to get today.

"I think after I do the dishes, I'll clean the bedroom and bathroom then."

It'll be a good use of both your time, you cleaning the visible parts of the house while Brahms cleans it's innards.

Brahms finishes eating before you do, and leaves his plate in the sink for you to wash before disappearing inside the walls.

You can hear him shifting and moving around out of sight.

It's quiet, you're sure it's not something Brahms is actually trying to do at this point, but more of a habit. If you didn't know what to listen for, if you didn't know he was there, you probably wouldn't hear him at all.

He hasn't left yet. He hasn't gone to check the traps yet, instead waiting to watch what you'll do.

You can feel his eyes intently watching you as you finish your own breakfast.

If Brahms is going to watch then you'll put on a show for him.

Humming under your breath you reach to turn the radio back on, a bit of music to set the mood, and gather your plates to take to the sink.

It's innocent, and playful, but you know Brahms is watching intently as you rock your hips and ass along with the music.

And exactly as planned you can feel Brahms’ eyes beginning to bore their way into your backside.

However you’re surprised to hear the scrapes and creaks from the ancient walls as Brahms moves away from you and the view.

You’re surprised. After all you expect Brahms to watch you for as long as he can, or at least until you’d finish the dishes and go onto your other chores.

And you do finish the dishes, alone, no longer feeling the invisible presence lingering with you.

It’s odd, but maybe he really is just looking forward to having a clean, rodent free office.

You don’t think about it anymore as you make your way upstairs, even as you hear movement mimicking your own.

Is it Brahms?

Is it the rats?

As much as you were used to listening for your lover, sometimes it was still hard to tell which was which, especially when the house was so quiet.

The sounds persist though.

You can still hear the shifting, the soft footsteps, and scratching as you clean the bathroom.

As you wipe down the mirror you can’t help but smile at your reflection. Without Brahms hovering around you for once you’re really able to take in your own appearance. You’re tall yourself, only three inches shorter than the 6’4 Brit, but between his height and width you just feel so much smaller.

Although you feel good about yourself, and your appearance, there’s something about seeing yourself next to Brahms that always has you feeling like you look soft, and squishy.

Huggable.

It’s not a bad thing, you think, after all Brahms seems to enjoy it quite a bit.

With the bathroom done now, you pull your long brown hair out of your face, and begin washing your hands.

You’re almost done with your chores and then…

A nap sounds good, although you’d hate to make the bed only to dirty it again.

So you don’t. You don’t make the bed, instead deciding to pick up around the bedroom. It’s already mostly clean, after all you tend to keep it that way to avoid having to do too much future cleaning later.

All you really have to do is pick up the dirty clothes from the floor and move them to the-

An unusual noise.

A loud noise.

It’s the sound of moving furniture, the scrape of wood on wood.

You stop, dropping the clothes into the hamper.

“Brahms?”

The noises stop abruptly as if startled by the sound of your voice, but…

It’s silent for a while, no response from Brahms, but eventually you begin to hear the regular sounds of shifting within the walls.

You shrug it off, he’s just busy after all, and there’s a chance the sound is just carrying, Brahms might even be too far away in the house to hear you calling for him.

Instead of worrying about the weird sounds you’d heard, you go back to finishing the last of your chores so you can finally take that nap.

Lifting the hamper into your arms you carry your and Brahms’ dirty clothes to the laundry room, humming the whole way.

Once again you become aware of the fact you’re being watched. There’s no proof, just that feeling , the all too familiar feeling of being watched.

Amused by Brahms’ continued attention you just smile as you start the load of laundry.

“I’m going to take a nap now, alright?” You ask the air, waiting patiently for a response you never get.

Brahms is just busy, you figure, likely working on something now that he’s cleaned and reset all the traps, and so you head back to the bedroom, not calling out again in fear of interrupting him.

Your awakening isn’t gentle or even natural, it’s not Brahms’ waking you with cuddles and attempts to get your attention, no it’s a sudden loud and distinct shattering sound that wakes you.

The shock of it all has your heart beating.

A nightmare?

Naturally that’s your first thought, it manages to calm you down, your heart rate and breathing return to normal only to immediately become erratic at a clear sound of something else breaking.

You could call out for Brahms but…

If it isn’t him, if there really is someone else in the house, that’d just make you a target.

A better idea would be to find Brahms yourself, and so you carefully get out of bed, listening for any sign of the intruder coming closer.

Nothing.

No more sounds.

You can’t stop the sigh of relief you give, inching your way to the door and peeking out.

The source of the sound from before is obvious now, a broken vase lays in the hallway, but there’s no intruder in sight.

Slowly.

Sloooowly you inch the door open just enough so that you can squeeze through.

You’ve only made it to steps from the bedroom door when you finally see them, the intruder, they’re standing at the bottom of the steps, clearly looking for something.

It’s a man.

The intruder is clearly a man, a man much bigger than yourself.

Other than his gender, and size there’s not much else you can make out since he’s covering his face with a black ski mask.

Fuck!

You want to curse, but you don’t, you can’t, not without risking being caught, but that’s exactly what you’re worried about.

He, whoever he is, is blocking the stairs, blocking your chance at escape.

Thinking fast, you have to after all, all it would wake is him turning to see you there, you decide to go back to the bedroom. Maybe then once you’re in there, safer and with the door locked, you could try to escape out the window.

Squeeaak.

Double fuck!

In your haste you’d forgotten about the age of the house, forgotten that if you weren’t careful the old floor boards would squeak.

And squeak they did.

Immediately you whip your head around to the stairs to see the intruder turn to face you too.

The sound of your heart pounding fills your ears, making it almost impossible to think, your next actions fueled entirely by adrenaline, fear, and fight or flight.

Instead of doing the logical thing; running into one of the upper hallways many rooms, and locking the door shut behind you while you try to find a way either outside or into the walls, you instead try dashing past him.

It’s stupid.

So stupid it works.

By the time the intruder reacts to you sprinting down the stairs and past him, all he can do is try (and fail) to grab you by the hair.

You don’t stop, you don’t look back to see if he’s following you, you can tell he’s following you.

You can hear him chasing after you, the floor making desperate noises as he runs after you.

Finally you do what you should have done to begin with.

“Brahms!”

It’s a panicked scream, not the gentle calls from before when you’d heard him in the walls.

You want Brahms to hear you, want him to save you.

“Brahms, please!”

Freedom is in sight running through the kitchen, you’ve almost made your way to the back door before-

Pain .

Sharp, searing pain spreading through your head as you’re forcibly pulled back and into the intruder.

For a moment you just pant in pain and panic, an arm firmly wrapped around your middle keeping you in place, when you go to scream out once again for Brahms the hand that had been in your hair instead goes to your mouth, roughly clamping over it.

You feel like you’re going to hyperventilate, forced to breath out your nose as the strong hand keeps your mouth covered.

“...Don’t scream.”

The man's voice is low, rough.

It sends a shiver down your spine.

He’s waiting for you to confirm, you realize after a moment of tense silence, and so you force yourself to nod despite his tight hold on your face.

“Good boy.”

The hand leaves your mouth, and so you take the opportunity to quickly breath in through your mouth, trying to calm your panicked heart.

“P-Please…”

Your voice trembles a little as you’re finally face to face with the masked assailant.

He’s so much bigger than you. You knew that before but now up close, face to face, you realize just how big of a difference it is.

You realize just how much danger you’re really in.

“I,”

The word barely leaves your mouth, throat feeling too dry to speak. He doesn’t seem to care though, like a predator watching his prey he lies in wait until you’re able to try again.

“I’ll do anything if you just...don’t hurt me. Anything, just...let me go.”

He laughs.

He just laughs.

Somehow that’s the scariest thing you think he could have responded with, and you can feel the ball of anxiety inching ever tighter in your gut before he finally speaks up.

“Anything?”

You gulp on instinct.

“Are you really sure you’re willing to do anything for me to let you go?”

Words leave you.

It’s too scary to think about what he’s going to make you do, so you decide not to, you just...turn your brain off, and you nod.

That’s all the confirmation the man needs, as he grabs you then, pulling you hard and flush against him, where you find that he himself is hard and flush.

Now you know where this is going and although you’re shocked and anxious, you feel a part of yourself exhilarated by the whole situation.

He’s grinding his cock against you steadily now, your body still forced against his own, and you can’t help but pant softly, your own body beginning to heat up in response.

You jump at the contact of rough, slightly chapped lips on your neck, a nervous moan leaving your own in surprise.

Although your attacker is wearing a mask, you can feel the hints of stubble below, all creating a familiar sensation of pleasure as he kisses all your sensitive spots, as if he knows from experience where they are.

“Ah~”

Teeth sink into your unmarred flesh with the intention to mark it, mark you, and all you can do is let the attacker have his way.

There’s no way for you to tell how long you stood like that with your attacker in the kitchen, his hard cock grinding against your own slowly hardening member, as he covers your neck in dark hickeys you’ll have no chance of covering.

Eventually.

Eventually though the other seems to grow tired of just grinding. He wants more. He wants something else.

“On your knees.”

Rough hands push you down and away.

You almost stumble as you do as you’re told, hurrying to get into position out of fear of what might happen if you disobey.

As soon as your knees connect with the kitchen's cold tile floor, you’re met with the intruder's cock.

It’s hard, the tip is shiny and red already smeared with his ever leaking precum.

Instinctually you lick your lips.

A firm hand rests on your lower back, scooting you slightly towards him, towards his dick.

Fearfully you look up at the masked man to see him look back, expectation clear on his half covered face.

“Well?” He asks, smugness dripping from his tone, “Don’t you know what to do?”

And you do, so you do it.

You take his cock into your mouth, just the head at first. The taste and smell completely dominate your senses as you lick the head clean, nursing the tip of any access pre.

Eyes slipping shut you focus on the task at hand. You don’t want to think about who the stranger who the cock in your mouth belongs to, or the strain that’s quickly becoming apparent in your own pants, no you just want to make this man cum as soon as possible.

“Ack-”

The rest of his cock enters your mouth, threatening to enter your unprepared throat as you jolt, a sudden stinging sensation going through your ass.

He’d spanked you!

Through your clothes sure, but it hurt nonetheless.

“Open your eyes,” He threatens, the first spank having only been a warning. “I want you to look at me.”

When you comply you’re met with a small kindness, those big hands that had spanked you before now soothingly rubbing at your covered ass.

“Keep sucking.” He says meeting your eyes as he reminds you of the task at hand, and you do as you’re told.

You tongue the underside of his shaft, looking up as you feel your shorts removed, followed quickly by your underwear.

The cool air makes you shiver, and a soft noise leaves your throat, vibrating the length in your throat, as your captor traces your own.

You feel his laughter, the way it rumbles through his body, before you actually hear it.

His hands are needing your ass forcing moans and other reluctant noises of pleasure adding to the rumbled vibrations to your captors cock.

Cum .

That’s all you’re thinking about.

Cum.

I have to make him cum.

I have to make him cum before-

It seems like your captor has tired of squeezing and toying with your ass as if it’s a stress ball, because the moments relief you feel as he finally stops is immediately interrupted by the feeling of a large finger tracing your rim.

A bit panicked you press against his thighs, but are only met with a forced buck into your throat before his free hand pulls you back and off his cock by your long hair.

No words come. You're too busy regaining air to your neglected lungs after that last harsh thrust in your mouth, and so you’re unable to protest as he forces you to the ground entirely.

“Huh? Wait! Oh~”

A finger, just one, is forced inside you, and you’re forced to silence, the air taken from your lungs so suddenly.

It’s a finger.

Only a finger.

But it’s so thick, thicker than your own.

The man says nothing, but you can feel the weight of his body atop your own, the rise and fall of his chest as he excitedly begins to pump his finger in and out, fucking you with it, as his cock grinds and thrusts against your thigh staining it as he leaks eagerly.

You remain breathless as a second finger is added, and already you feel so full.

“Please- Ah- Fuck-”

It’s hard to speak with thick fingers fucking into you, spreading and stretching your inner walls, making it so you’ll maybe, maybe be able to take that monster cock waiting for you.

Tears spring to your eyes at the realization that this is very much real, and when the fingers leave you, when you feel the man above you shift his weight to get into position you try to squirm away finally.

The kitchen door is there.

It’s right there.

You’re inches away from freedom, but....

The cock lines itself up with your stretched entrance, you cringe and sob expecting what’s to come and-

“Yellow.” It’s a whisper in an all to familiar voice.

Brahms voice.

Not just his voice, but his child voice.

Everything stops then, you wipe the fake tears from your face, and wiggle into a turn so that you’re facing the other man.

He lets you gently take his face into your hands, doesn’t react as you lift the ski mask.

Brahms looks unsure, nervous, and is clearly receding into himself as if he’d done something wrong.

It’s your job to assure him he hadn’t.

“What’s wrong?” The question is gentle, soft, the last thing you want is to make things worse. Gently you rub circles with your thumb against the scared part of his cheek, and he lets you, leaning into the familiar touch for comfort.

“You seemed...You seem…”

His voice is going back and forth between his own and the child voice, but you don’t rush him, you wait patiently for him to gather himself, no matter the voice he uses to express himself.

“You seemed really afraid.” He finally manages to tell you, moving to hug you, his body bent a bit so he can hide his face in your neck.

Brahms is supposed to be your protector. He doesn’t want you to be afraid or disgusted by him.

“I knew it was you,” It’s a soft explanation, your hands gently rubbing soothingly at his back.

“I was just acting,”

“You’re a good actor.” Brahms sounds almost as if he’s pouting.

It makes you laugh actually.

“Thank you but...I’m sorry I scared you.”

“I’m sorry I ruined the roleplay you wanted to do…”

Ah.

He’s scared he ruined things.

“No, Brahms sweetie, it’s okay.” You squeeze him in the embrace.

“That’s why we have safewords.”

He nods lightly.

“I would never want to do something that makes you uncomfortable, okay?”

He nods again.  

Brahms seems a bit more relaxed now, at least enough that he’s stopped hiding behind his child voice.

“...Did I ruin the mood?”

“No,” A gentle smile takes your face. “You didn’t ruin the mood, but if you’re not comfortable we don’t have to continue, okay? I won’t be mad.”

There’s clear hesitation before Brahms answers you.

“Can we stop for today?”

“Of course-”

He shyly interrupts you.

“Could we just...make love instead?”

Your answer is given in the form of your lips on his.

A soft, loving kiss, and when you pull away you’re both smiling.

“Yeah, but...We have got to move to the bed, the floor is killing my back. “

It’s a painless enough move to the bedroom, although you notice Brahms has decided to don the ski mask once again, only slightly pushed up to reveal his lips.

“Hey…” You tell him softly, pulling him closer to you as you get comfortable in bed facing one another.

Before continuing you kiss him, it’s passionate, loving, you use the distraction to remove the mask entirely, throwing it to the corner of the room before running your hands through his dark curly hair.

“I love you,” Finally you continue.

“Nothing’s going to change that.”

He was keeping the mask on for you, but you want to let him know he doesn’t have to.

You love him as he is.

“I love you too.”

Another kiss.

This time initiated by Brahms himself.

He’s already hard from before, as are you, and so after the kisses, the reassurance, he wastes no time in rolling on top of you.

“Is...this alright?” He asks, lining up with your entrance, just as he had in the kitchen.

“Mhm.” You nod panting, reaching down to stroke your cock only to have your hand batted away by Brahms, who takes you into his hand himself, giving a slow stroke in time with his gentle first thrust inside you.

With your hands free thanks to Brahms you use one to pull him close, hooked around his neck as the other rubs his chest.

So big, broad, masculine, and hairy, like Brahms himself.

You love it.

Just like you love him .

He’s waiting for you to give him confirmation, that you’ve adjusted, that you’re ready for him to move.

Your hand curls against his hairy chest as you find yourself quickly wanting more.

“Move.”

It’s sudden.

“Please, more.”

Brahms doesn’t need to be told twice, although he’s still gentle at first. Gentle until you’re throwing your hips back against his, bucking into his hand.

The gentle administrations now are so different from before, downstairs, but it’s nice, no, wonderful, in its own right.

While you moan Brahms’ name and ask him for more, he grunts and pants almost silently above you, only occasionally giving you words of praise, saying that he loves you, that he loves being with you.

A kiss ends your kisses, now muffled by Brahms’ mouth as his hand strokes you, thumb rubbing the head of your cock and pushing you closer to the edge.

He hits your prostate, and that’s the end of that.

The moan that leaves your throat is eaten by the kiss, but your cum fills his hand, and stains your chest as you shudder with pleasure.

Brahms only manages a few more thrusts of his own before spilling inside of you.

You’re hot, sticky, and satisfied.

“I’ll...have to change the sheets,” You say dumbly as Brahms finally pulls out.

There’s only a few moments of noncontact as Brahms pulls out, and makes himself comfortable in bed. As soon as that’s finished he’s pulling you to him and on your side, spooning you lovingly, beard tickling the back of your neck.

All you need is to catch your breath.

After that you know there’s still things you and Brahms need to talk about.

You need to talk about what happened with the role play.

You need to make sure there’s no doubt in Brahms’ mind that you’re not mad at him.

“It’s fine,”

Brahms makes a soft noise into your neck. It’s clear he doesn’t really believe you, and so you continue.

“I just thought it would be fun, it’s not serious.” You continue, pressing your back more against him.

The whole concept of it all is kind of funny, in retrospect.

“It was just a fantasy...you know?” You feel Brahms shift before the gentle feeling of lips pressing into your shoulders and neck.

“I know you’d never hurt me,” Because he wouldn’t.

Brahms was capable of hurting people.

He’d hurt someone if it meant protecting you both.

But he’d never hurt you.

You have the utmost faith in him.

“But it’s hard to not think about, knowing you were in the walls for so long...watching.”

Brahms makes a soft hum into your neck. He still doesn’t really get it, and you can’t say you blame him, despite your best efforts to explain the kink.

“It’s not important.”

You reiterate, “I love you, and I’m not mad.”

More nuzzles into your back, and more tickles from the beard rubbing against your neck.

The affection hopefully means that Brahms is feeling better, less guilty about what he believes to be him ruining the night.  

“Safe words are there for both of us.”

Next time you’ll both be more prepared.

Maybe this happening was a good thing.

“If something was wrong, if you felt uncomfortable with it, or if I did...Or if either of us just wanted to stop...That’s why they’re there.”

“Right, but I…” “No,” You don’t let him finish whatever self depreciation he was starting with.

“Don’t start with that,” You wiggle and squirm your way into facing Brahms.

He’s bashful. It’s cute.

Although he stares back at you, you can see the color in his cheeks, and the uncertainty in his eyes.

“If things were reversed, would you be angry at me for stopping?”

His eyes widen just a little, and you see him shake his head quickly.

“Of course not…”

Even today he’d stopped because he’d truly believed your performance. He thought you were scared, or hurting, and he couldn’t continue without confirmation you were really okay.

So...naturally…

He would never be upset if you needed, or wanted to stop.

That’s kind of what makes it click in his mind, guilt dissipating.

“So you don’t hate me?” Now that he’s feeling more confident it’s asked mainly in jest, a small smile on his face.

“No, I don’t hate you.”

Getting up from the bed you offer a hand to him.

“Come on, we both need a bath.”

It’s true, you can feel cum starting to drip down your ass and onto your thighs.

Brahms nods.

Really, you don’t have to tell him twice.

He doesn’t like being dirty.

His time in the walls, before you knew he was there, before he was able to move around the house freely, shower freely, was hell.

The water begins to fill the tub as Brahms goes through the cabinets looking for something, bubbles.

You raise an eyebrow as he brings the bottle over, grinning a bit childishly.

“Bubbles?”

He nods, undeterred by your skepticism.

“Bubbles are romantic.”

That’s…

Well you can’t argue with that.

Pink liquid pours into the tub below, and the water becomes soapy, full of bubbles.

A sweet smell has begun to take over the bathroom.

“Brahms!”

Water splashes to the floor as he enters the tub, laying back, and making himself comfortable.

“What?” He doesn’t seem to mind the fact he’d just made a wet mess.

You roll your eyes.

It’s all you can do.

After all more water begins spilling from the tub as you enter yourself, getting comfortable before you’re forcibly pulled to Brahms’ chest.

“Hey!” You pout up at him. “I was comfortable.”

You’re comfortable like this too; back pressed against Brahms’ hairy chest, while his arms hold you gently but firmly.

It’s nice, you could fall asleep here like this, in a warm embrace, in warm bubbly water.

“Do you still love me?”

Brahms is resting his chin on your head, not looking at you, but straight ahead as he holds you.

The question takes you a bit by surprise, but you just lean more into his hold.

“With all my heart Brahms, with all my heart.”

[beautifulterriblequeen]

I've been thinking about your Ruthari angst prompts and idk if that's even allowed 😅 but what do you think about a mixture of 3 and 11? 👀

Okay, so I wanted to play with the arranged marriage au for a bit, and these two lines landed like they might be part of negotiations. So here you go:

“What would you do if I didn’t come back?” and “How am I supposed to go on?”  

“What would you do if I didn’t come back?” Runaan paced slowly at Ethari’s side as they circled the fog-shrouded gardens of the Silvergrove Council House for the seventh time, matching the craftsman’s easy amble. The assassin had begun their negotiations with his hands clasped behind his back as they trod the well-worn path just inside the pale filigree wall that ringed the grounds. Now they hung loose at his sides, after over an hour of conversation that gradually found its rhythm. Ethari was surprisingly easy to converse with, so far. Runaan wasn’t certain he really approved of the taller elf’s playful mindset, but his easy forgiveness and acceptance had soothed away a lot of Runaan’s initial worries.

Runaan kept his face carefully forward as they walked, not wishing to indicate any weakness by glancing Ethari’s way too often, but he kept Ethari’s boots in the corner of his eye so he didn’t walk too fast and leave him behind.

I could. I could leave him behind. I’m faster, stronger. But my life has never been mine to direct. It belongs to Xadia. And so does my heart. Runaan took a slow breath as Ethari thoughtfully contemplated his reply, nibbling at his lip. My heart for Xadia. So, my heart for Ethari, as much as I can manage it.

“I suppose,” Ethari began slowly, “I would do whatever the council wished me to do.”

That was the best answer Runaan could have expected. Ethari had a deep sense of duty that overrode his personal feelings, just as Runaan did. Another thread of tension loosened in his shoulders. No one understood duty like an assassin, but the council had selected Ethari from among all the eligible craftsmen in the Silvergrove. He was the best they could find. But Runaan was the one who’d marry him, and he needed to be sure, too. And now, to his relief, he was sure. Ethari was willing to do his duty, no matter what.

Good. He’ll need that as much as I do.

“Would they make me marry the next assassin leader, too, do you suppose?” Ethari continued. He looked further ahead on their circular path, as if he could see such a dark future already looming.

Runaan blinked in surprise. He shifted himself out of the equation--an easy habit of long practice--and considered the idea. “It depends on what sort of match we have, I think.”

“How do you mean?” Ethari’s voice was carefully distant, unwilling to give any indication of interest either way.

Runaan pouted thoughtfully. “Well, if we match well in skill, if your crafting is of high quality and I perform admirably with your weapons, then the council will be inclined to match you with another assassin so you can continue to perform your valuable services.”

“Hmm.”

Runaan glanced over from beneath a single raised brow at Ethari’s noncommittal noise. “You don’t agree?”

“Does the council take feelings into consideration in situations like that?” Ethari asked.

“Feelings?” Runaan scoffed lightly. Feelings never protected anyone from anything. They were more likely to cause chaos than bring order.

Ethari shot him an uncertain glance. “Yes, feelings. What if...?” He looked away abruptly.

“You worry they would match you with a woman?” Runaan guessed.

A tiny smile flickered at the corner of Ethari’s lips and vanished. “That wouldn’t be a problem.”

“Oh. What, then?”

Ethari glanced across the gardens, to where the lacy arches of the Council House faded into the mist. “Can I ask you for a favor, Runaan?”

Runaan’s spine straightened. A personal request from his intended? This was the sort of thing he would be expected to agree to, wasn’t it? They were to be partners, allies, for the protection of Xadia and the Silvergrove. But soft subjects were merely practice for the important things. That was Runaan’s takeaway after Tiadrin sat him down and gave him a thorough talking-to, anyway. “Of course,” he responded. He had no idea what to expect, but he was intensely curious what could prompt Ethari to ask for a personal boon just then. “Anything you like.”

The craftsman’s eyes scanned the foggy garden until he spotted something that met with his approval. He held out a broad-palmed hand toward Runaan. “Will you come with me for a moment?”

Runaan stilled, studying the outstretched hand so easily offered. I suppose I should get used to this elf’s touch sooner rather than later, he reasoned. Slowly, he placed his gloved hand in Ethari’s, resting it there as lightly as a landing bird.

Ethari grinned warmly and gave Runaan’s hand a gentle squeeze. Then he towed him past a couple of short fruit trees that were just budding their spring leaves, until they were entirely hidden from sight, against the outer wall of the gardens. He pulled Runaan to face him and gave him a secretive smile. “Here, this’ll do.”

Runaan glanced around uncertainly. “For what?”

Ethari glanced down, suddenly bashful. “I, I thought we should kiss. To get used to it. They’ll expect it of us in public from time to time.”

Runaan’s brows lowered. “We don’t have to kiss.”

Ethari’s shoulders slumped a little. “Do you mean right now, or... ever...?”

Runaan’s expression tightened as he struggled with these unfamiliar notions Ethari was creating in him. “We are to be wed for the good of the SIlvergrove, Ethari. You are a craftsman of immense skill, and I am to become the leader of the assassins. Our union will stabilize the chaos of the past few years and ensure a brighter future for everyone. Kissing...” Runaan shook his head slowly, baffled. “Kissing doesn’t enter into it.”

“Kissing doesn’t--?” Ethari blurted. “Runaan...”

Perplexed at Ethari’s sudden outburst, the assassin took a moment to look him up and down, seeking some reason for his intense reaction. But he saw only a tall, frustrated craftsman before him, clearly in on some secret Runaan did not possess. It seemed he’d have to ask out loud for it. “What?”

“You fool.” Ethari’s hands were on his cheeks in a heartbeat, pulling him closer. Runaan’s sound of protest was trapped in his mouth as Ethari’s lips found his, hard and urgent, driving him back against the garden wall. Runaan backed into it with enough force to  draw a grunt from his chest.

Ethari chased him there, pressing himself flush against Runaan, pinning him with writhing eagerness. At the sound of Runaan’s grunt, he let out a low, grinding moan to match, sieving his fingers into the assassin’s hair.

Don’t stab him. Do not stab him. He wouldn’t understand. This is for Xadia. The thought flared red in Runaan’s mind, tangled and fragmented by a truly frightening amount of heated sensations that burst out of nowhere and swarmed him like a cloud of moon moths seeking escape, finding none. What is... what is he doing to me... what is this...

A stifled groan slipped through Runaan’s teeth. Instead of shoving Ethari away as he felt would be proper for such an uninvited assault, Runaan found his hands knotting in Ethari’s shirt and tugging him closer still. He wrapped a leg around Ethari’s ass and snugged their bodies together, lost in the grip of unreasoning neediness.

“Nnngh.” Ethari’s moan nibbled its way along Runaan’s jaw and nipped at the delicate skin beneath his ear. Runaan arched against his lips, tilting his chin up, bucking his hips forward with a soft cry.

Ethari steadied himself with a grip on a swirly amid the pattern in the filigree wall. His other hand teased beneath the lower edge of Runaan’s shirt, and his words rang breathlessly in Runaan’s ear.  “Runaan... I’ve always loved you... always... You make me so happy, this is a dream come true...”

“Aah!” Runaan tore himself away and stumbled a couple of steps sideways, panting heavily. His body throbbed in all the best places, his skin was flushed, his pupils blown. But he held out a hand to ward Ethari off. “You tricked the council?” he puffed. “You lied to them?”

Bereft, shocked, Ethari made an abortive reach toward Runaan and then stopped. “What? No!”

“They asked me if I had any attachments.” Runaan’s voice was cold, but why wouldn’t Runaan’s heart settle? It insisted on galloping across the Forest like a wild moonstrider. “I said no, so I was approved for consideration. And it was the truth.”

“I... Runaan, it wasn’t a lie! I’d never told you. There was no attachment to lie about.”

“There was in your heart.”

Baffled, breathless, desperate, Ethari took a step forward with his hands out pleadingly. “How is that a bad thing? I told them nothing of my feelings. I let them decide, for the good of the Silvergrove. And now that it’s decided, I’m telling you the truth! Isn’t that what couples do when they trust each other?”

Runaan’s brows drew down, and he thought searchingly through the wild storm of his feelings, seeking the hard edges of something reliable. Ah. There. He tucked his hands behind his back--the better to keep them off this deceptively charming elf before him--and straightened up into a formal assassin pose. “That’s just it, Ethari. I don’t trust you. We don’t know each other that well. And we’re not a couple. We’re a team--or trying to be--serving Xadia first and foremost. And you just admitted that you’re capable of deceiving the whole village council--and me--to get what you want. You told me you’d marry whoever the council paired you with, if I fell, but that’s not true, is it? You’ve put your needs above those of the many. And that, I cannot abide.”

Genuine fear bled across Ethari’s face as Runaan’s words sank in. “Runaan, please don’t... Are you calling this off?” His bottom lip trembled, and he pressed a shaking fist against his mouth. “Please don’t tell me I’ve ruined everything, please, please...” He closed his eyes and stood there, vulnerable, exposed. “You’re right. You’re right. It probably isn’t true. If I lose you to the humans someday, I won’t want to marry another. I just want to be with you. If...” His sunset eyes searched the mists for answers and flew back to meet Runaan’s stern gaze. “If I lose you--later, or right now--how am I supposed to go on?”

Runaan’s jaw worked as he stared at the pleading craftsman. His touch had been electric, dazzling. Runaan craved it again already. But such neediness would be an imbalance that could cost him in a critical moment--and if he fell, then his entire purpose was at risk. His head scrambled for distance even as his heart thrummed with eager heat. “I cannot trust you, Ethari. That must be the base tenet of this relationship, or we cannot serve Xadia as it requires.”

In true distress, Ethari grabbed his own horns and turned away, pacing erratically, muttering “No, no, no” through his teeth. Then he whirled back to face Runaan. “Please, I promise you, I won’t give you any further cause to doubt me. Let me prove myself. I’ll do anything. Just tell me what you need.”

Runaan stalked closer until they stood nose to nose. “I need you to give your heart to Xadia. Not to me.”

“Done,” Ethari blurted. His gaze clung to Runaan’s face, and he trembled with tension, his fate hanging in the balance.

Runaan’s gaze betrayed him, falling for a single moment from those urgent eyes to his intended’s full lips, before snapping back up. He gritted his teeth, tugged his shirt smooth of Ethari’s recent elfhandling, and added roughly, “And don’t you dare kiss me again. You’re lucky I didn’t stab you.”

Ethari looked down. “I’m sorry. It... won’t happen again.” His voice faded to a whisper like a wounded animal crawling into the shadows to die.

“How am I supposed to go on?” Ethari’s words echoed in Runaan’s mind, and he relented a little. “Wait. This is to be an alliance. I must consider your feelings, however... misguided, if we are to make this work, yes?” Ethari will make a solid ally, at least. I cannot say the same for every craftsman in the Silvergrove. I may never find an easier or stronger connection than this.

Ethari looked up from beneath his downcast brows, curious but not hopeful. “I suppose so,” he allowed uncertainly.

Runaan nodded decisively. “Then I’ll do the kissing, when it’s appropriate. You were right: they will expect it from time to time. Does this meet with your satisfaction?”

Ethari stared at him for a long moment and sighed dully. “I’ll take it.“

Runaan’s brows drew together. He’d expected Ethari to be delighted, grateful, that Runaan had considered his feelings and made allowances. Wasn’t that how these negotiations were supposed to work? Moon help me, I may just be making this worse... is it too late to take it all back and just let him kiss me again? That was... hnnngh...

Runaan opened his mouth to admit he was wrong, but Ethari spoke first.

“My heart for Xadia.” The craftsman offered his hand again, hesitantly.

Runaan studied that open palm again. Holding hands. A decent compromise in itself. He took it softly and nodded.

Together, hand in hand and worlds apart, the betrothed elves made their way through the mists to the Council House. For Xadia.

[sopxhiea]

Mischief

Alfie Solomons X Reader

Summary: Alfie hears that his deceased friend’s sister is gone wild so he decides to pay her a visit after years of not seeing the young woman but he has no idea what he’s in for.

“Not all men are annoying. Some are dead.”

The music loudly boomed through the long corridors of the house. It was a three story place with freshly painted window frames. The exterior wooden part that coated the glass inside was blue, something that clearly stood out in the crummy streets of Camden. It almost seemed like an intentional move to make this particular house stand out.

The color had been chosen by you.

Exactly two weeks ago, you found it hard to identify the very house you lived in. It might’ve been because you were slightly drunk every time you came home but either way, you needed something that would make the apartment easier to identify. So you had purchased some paint and did it on your own while the neighbouring residents were reminded of their distaste regarding the group of young women who happen to live right next door.

Although, the distaste mostly concerns you.

Your body moves inside the large room. It has canvases and your paints in it, things that you treasure that reminded you of the young girl you once were, when things were easier and you didn’t carry a lump on your throat.

The long street you live on knows you for mostly being up to no good. Sometimes with a young lad on your arm and other times, you on your own while you dance your way through the night with a bottle of whiskey on one hand. They certainly do not like you.

The music fills the concrete walls, the sound waves apparent on the mug you had placed on the floor while your feet tap against the hard surface. Your body moves, almost a little too seductively and particularly for no one. There is nobody else in the room, just you and your cherished albums while your body gently sways to the music.

You don’t hear him knock.

There’s a little part of you that manages to hold on to the past you so badly wish to forget, so you dance. You don’t want to remember the reassuring touches and the feeling of getting caught in the possibly of something happening with the one person your brother had warned you about.

He was six feet under, anyway.

Your housemates are out to have look at a new dress shop. You had no interest to stare at cheap dresses, only to come home empty handed so you’d stayed home where you knew there was endless comfort.

All he can hear is the sound of loud music filling the tall apartment and the soft thuds of your feet against the floor as you dance your way through the empty evening. 

He knocks once more, almost breaking the metal door.

Your movements halt then, fully stopping once you hear someone’s rather loud shouts. The voice is vaguely familiar but it happens to be in a box you’d pushed to the very back of your mind. From a time where you knew no happiness.

The high bun you had now rests against the soft skin of your neck, a few pieces falling around your small face as they frame your curious eyes. Your face is flushed and it looks like you’d been making out with someone, not dancing around on your own. Your dress swishes around your knees as you walk, ready to show the soft skin of your upper thighs at any moment you wish.

You lick your lips before walking towards the door and opening it in one swift motion, the music track no longer plays.

A fraction taller than you’d last seen him, there Alfie stands.

His hair is in its usual place, little pieces sticking out after he’s taken his hat off. He’s still broad, seemingly a little more built than the last time you’d seen the bloke but his face is the same. His scruff is neater now, he doesn’t seem to have aged if you decide to ignore the little creases around his blue orbs.

A scoff leaves your lips.

Your dead brother’s best friend, the bloke he had gone to war with and the one that came back alone with his captain’s hat on his hand, apologising to you because your beloved brother had been shot one too many times stands on your doorstep.

Your heaving chest is not what he expects to see. You look like you were in the middle of a good fuck when you open the door, dress still in place although your eyes a little more wider than the last time he’d seen you. You were grown now and even prettier than the image of you in his mind, he thinks. You look like a proper young lady, except for the way you greet him.

With a scoff.

Your lips curve into a playful smirk and you let your body lean against the doorframe. Your eyes are challenging him to speak, to let you know why he’s there but he’s too focused on the way you look. He doesn’t remember you being this dreamy.

Three years.

Three years since your brother had died. Three years since the bloke before you had kissed you under the dim light of the vanilla scented candle. Three years since you’d moved from your old apartment and started a life on your own, where no one knew of you or your family. Three years since you’d promised yourself that things would be better.

And they had been, up until now.

Your definition of better didn’t match its commonly used meaning. Better meant safe, calm and the bearer of good things at the time but it was different now. You went out whenever you wanted, slept with whoever you wanted and made your own money, enough to spoil yourself with some goodies every now and then.

But apparently, that didn’t match the definition of a better life for most people.

He had checked up on you, sometimes by using his men and other times, it was him driving past your house in the middle of the night to make sure you’d returned. You received two bouquets from the bloke, one on your brother’s death anniversary and the other on your birthday.

You spoke before you could register your own thoughts, a habit you’d picked up from your time around the local bars. “Solomons.”

The taste of his name was sweet on your lips, he listened to the breathy sound of the woman he often saw in his dreams.

But your reputation had preceded you already.

You were known for the late nights you spent around the pubs in Camden. Most men liked the show, the way you danced with a trusted partner of your own who you’d met just a week ago. You had a fire within you, a fire most men were fascinated with but only a few got to play with. Only the ones you chose.

He had been the one you wanted to choose many moons ago but the time wasn’t right then.

“Y/N.” he said, waiting for you to let him in but you stood there as he towered above you. You were still considerably smaller than him.

“What the hell are you doing on my doorstep?” you asked, your foul mouth getting the best of you while you stared at him with curious eyes. He didn’t like to hear you swear, which was exactly why you had done it.

“Came to check on you, dove.” he speaks, the pet name he had given you when you were fourteen still stung.

“That sounds like a lie.” you speak, eyes stern while they do not shy away from him. He wants to speak, to reassure you of things he’s long forgotten about but you’re fast to cut him off. He had no business being there. “Why are you really here, captain?” you ask, knowing the nickname riles him up in the worst way possible.

Before your brother had died, you had been a dear friend to Alfie. He had seen you grow up as he sprouted into a beautiful young boy himself. He was so fond of the lovely little girl you used to be, before Harry had died in the war. He had played games with you and chased the little boy who had tried to kiss you after the school dance.

But something had changed then, when he’d returned with no Harry on his side.

The anger that you’d spent many years managing was now the only face you wore. It was why you drank, it was why you slept with strangers even though they had been perfectly fine with just dating for a while, it was the fuel that kept you going. The anger you felt for your brother’s absence.

“I heard things, right..” he spoke, catching your eyes once again while you stood right before him, head held up high. “..made me fuckin’ worried about ya’.” he spoke, he hated how easy it was for you to get the truth out of him.

All you had to was to stare up at him and he was already a goner.

You nodded, unimpressed while you walked inside the apartment and he followed you like a lost puppy. This was how things used to be, he thought. You lead him through the long corridor into the living room. It was decorated in a minimal manner, a flower vase here and a frame there.

He still remembered, he thought while looking at your familiar features.

How you’d come back with rosy cheeks and glistening orbs that one summer. You’d grown up then, became a young lady that had just about anyone’s heart if you were to flash your sickening smile. He remembered how shy you were then, finding it hard to act like kids around Alfie even though you were both young in age still.

“Say...” you spoke, almost a soft order while he tried to get the vivid images of you from his clouded mind. “What have you heard?” you smirked at your own words, he was already weak at heart.

“Just a couple kids, yeah, sayin’ something about you and a bloke from Sabini’s men..” he said, tugging at his beard while he watched you. You remembered the Italian, he had been quite pleasant.

“And?” you spoke, walking from the living room to the room you had been previously dancing in. 

He was sure you had been fucking someone earlier and the air was dense inside the room due to the small ritual of dancing you had been doing. He wasted no time and asked what was in his mind. He didn’t beat around the bush.

“Do you have a fuckin’ lad in ‘ere?” he spoke, voice booming through all the stories of the apartment while you clicked your tongue, ears ringing with his loud voice.

“Why do you care?” you ask, eyes searching his while he tries his best to be subtle. A shrug is all he gets while you start speaking again. He had missed this, he thinks.

He cares, you see it in his eyes but a small nod is all you give him before you speak.

“What about the Italian bloke?” you ask, moving around the room to gather a few things in your hand while he watches you. You don’t bother covering up, your reputation as the girl who’ll open her legs is already out there anyway and you’re not the one to shy away from someone who’s known you since you were twelve.

“You can’t see him no more, dove.” he spoke, your eyebrows furrowing in an instant. He was giving you no rational reason.

So the game began.

You swayed your hips while walking towards him, using your natural charisma while he watched you. You were the predator walking to get ahold of its prey, although it was the opposite when it came to most people who dealt with Alfie. He was the predator but no, not with you.

He watched, almost hypnotised while your seductive voice filled his ears. Your soft fingers brushed through his beard, lips ghosting over his while his eyes fluttered slowly. He was lost in your voice, the addictive smell of your scent and the way you caressed his face to realise that you were just toying with him.

“Why, dear?” you spoke into his ear, hands still on his beard while he found it almost impossible to keep his eyes open. “You want me all to yourself?” there was a hint of mockery in your tone but laced with layers of pure filth. He sensed it still.

Yes, he wanted to say.

He had wanted you to himself for a long time now. Long before the war and the damage it had done on the both of you. That summer was the first time he’d seen you look so beautiful, you had become the owner of his heart then, no longer his best mate’s sister. 

He hadn’t done anything in the years that followed. He had a couple opportunities, here and there when he could’ve just kissed you and fuck the consequences but there was too much at risk. Harry was his best mate and even though he knew Harry would be more than willing to have his sister be with someone he trusted than a stranger, Alfie didn’t have the heart to do it.

He wished he had.

He growled quietly which manages to earn a light chuckle from your lips. You retreated from his embrace then, walking to the far end of the room while Alfie looked at you with dark eyes. It was the kind of eyes you were used to seeing in man you toyed around with, but not Alfie.

You had become reckless.

You were careless of what people called you, they called women whatever they wanted anyway so it didn’t bother you in the slightest. You were truly doing whatever it was that you wanted and living your own life with the rules you had set for yourself and if society was to shame you for it, that was just too bad but you couldn’t find it in yourself to give a damn.

“Is he dangerous, then?” you asked, like you weren’t just about to kiss Alfie a second ago. He took a minute to gather himself after you’d seduced him with one move but you were quick on your feet, too used to the game of push and pull.

“He might harm ya’. Can’t have that happening.” he spoke, clearly worried and for a second, he saw something shift between your orbs but it was too fast for anyone to catch on other than Alfie. 

“Shame.” you spoke, still gathering a couple brushes here and there to clean them later and he watched. You had been painting since you were small and it made him feel somewhat comforted that you still stuck to it. “He was kind of annoying anyway.” you spoke with a light hearted chuckle while Alfie looked at you.

There was the little girl he knew, and the captor of his old heart.

He chuckled at your sudden lively state. He knew your anger was always kept at bay so he cherished your happy moments, the kind of moments where he’d see your smile reach your eyes. They were rare but he’d make do. 

His voice was hoarse, thick even when he talked from the doorstep of the room. “Ya’ call every man that, dove.” he spoke, years of memories biting back while he looked at him with a devilish smirk, hands on your hips while you batted your eyelashes at him. Your voice was soft, totally the opposite of what he sounded like as you spoke.

“Not all men are annoying. Some are dead.”

He chuckled at first but saw the hint of sorrow in your eyes long after your words stopped hanging around in the cold air around you. He gulped while you walked past him and made your way into the kitchen through the corridor and the worried bloke he was, he followed.

While you filled some cups with hot water and tried to find some tea bags for your beloved guest to drink, he saw the frantic side of you take over. Your movements were still calculated and you put up a good front but he knew you too well. He still didn’t say anything.

“Any sweet lady you’re seeing?” you asked, knowing damn well he wasn’t seeing anyone.

For one, he was too busy to seek someone out since he didn’t get out of his damn office. He was a charmer for sure and even though there had been many ladies in the past, he always ended up with them curled around his side while he wished they were you.

He shook his head and spoke, his voice was low.

“Nah.” he took the cup and a small sip from the tea not too long after. “Too fuckin’ busy.”

He was keen on asking you, he knew you sometimes saw more than one lad at a time and even though it was unusual, he wasn’t the one to judge you. But the word got around either way, he hated that it did.

He thought that you were trying every bloke in the city but it was a matter of you finding the right one, if that existed.

“You owe me a new bloke.” you spoke after taking a small sip from the cup, lips plump while he watched the pink flesh move with your words. “You took away the Italian.”

He chuckled then, smiled at your adorable state with a warm look thrown your way and you returned the gentle gesture. You let him put his hand on the small of your back while you walked him out. This was the usual interaction anyway, it didn’t get far from this.

He wanted to take you out, to show you a proper time and have you in his arm for as long as you wanted to be wrapped in his embrace. He had wanted that for a long time, since he had become a young man but he knew it came with too much baggage.

He wasn’t that reckless, but he needed to be.

“How ‘bout I take the pretty lil’ lass out?” he asked, in one swift breath while you watched lights flicker against his features. His words earned a chuckle from you.

You gulped once, not out of anxiety but anticipation. He watched you under the late night and all its wonders and saw the wheels in your head turn. He needed you to say yes.

And so you nodded. You smiled and nodded while he returned to his original position, where he was standing on your doorstep and towering above you. Your hand reached to grab the collar of his white shirt and toyed with it while you spoke, the seductive voice coming in handy again.

“Don’t toy with me, Solomons.” you spoke and this time, unlike all the previous times your sweet voice had reached his ears, you were dead serious.

It was a forbidden fruit situation.

It didn’t matter that your brother was dead, this had been the game that you were playing with the jewish bloke. He’d tease and you’d tease harder, your pushes were angry but needy, it was a thin line in which he was walking on right now.

“I ain’t love, it’s about time, innit?” he spoke , finally acknowledging years of built up tension.

You sized him up with your eyes then. You didn’t know if he’d be able to take the teasing you usually did with the other men you went out with, they couldn’t either and they’d be spent up by the end of the night but it was different when it was someone you knew, someone who deeply knew you as well.

“It seems as though you haven’t heard all the things they have been saying about me.” you spoke, voice low as you stared at his blue orbs. You knew all the emotions that swam in there.

He had heard all of it, he just pretended that he hadn’t.

Bitch, whore, careless, grieving little thing, poor kid......They called you many names and some of them were true. Alfie didn’t care. He was a killer, a figure of forced authority in most people’s eyes so he saw you as his equal if anything.

“I have, yeah, don’t make a fuckin’ difference to me, dove.” he said, head shaking at his own words while he watched your eyes shift.

Your shining orbs met his, then. Not as the careless young woman you’d become but as the little girl he once knew. There was still innocence in you but there was too much hurt that laced it so no one was able to reach it. But he saw it, the way your eyes shifted from guarded to light hearted.

“Fine.” you gulped, you’d close the door on him when you were done talking and he’s just stand there for a second. 

“Give me a call.”

---------

Tagging: @clairecrive  @parkbearum @sourirez  @vetseras​ @mollybegger-blog

[shesawriter39049]

|AFTER HOURS| M|

Pairing: Namjoon X OC 

About-  Your husband and business partner finds you up way past acceptable work hours for the 3rd night in a row! So, daddy has to step in and remind you that’s not something we do in this household. You come before work, in every sense of the phrase!

OR- Namjoon and yourself run a successful Adult Film Entertainment Company called “Onyx” with your 5 best friends from college who you also happen to be in a open relationship with! Your in desperate need of a 2nd videographer/editor! So here you are, up at 1 AM scrolling through resumes because your that boss that hates to overwork her employess so she overworks herself!

Warnings:Daddy kink, Dom Namjoon, switch OC (More of a sassy/bratty sub)Top OC, Oral (F recieving) Light ass play, (Rimming), Dirty talk, Breath play, Spanking(Pain kink),Hair pulling, unprotected sex, light cum play, VERY LIGHT degration (He calls her a “little bitch” once but it’s playful still noting in case it offends ppl)The end hints at a threesum…...with a certain redhead 

Tae is their sassy exec.assistant and makes a cheeky little appearance at the end.

Jonnie baby is tatted...LORDT

There a fun freaky little couple...

WC:6k

NOTE- This is kinda old and  was set to be part 1 of an OT7 AU called “7 DEEP” 

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  “Really?” Goddamn, leave it to Namjoon to make one word sound just as sexy as it was intimidating! 

You heard the footsteps fuck you did, you just opted to ignore them and hope maybe he’d just, I don’t know leave? Maybe he was just doing a wellness check? But, if that’s the case, as your tired, unfocused, half-lidded gaze caught the bottom right of your laptop screen, which was glaring back at you something vicious! You realize that you’ve royally fucked up, and its a cute little 2 am right now! So no, he’s not going any damn were, anytime soon….

“Baby” The word left his lips just as much disappointment as it did allure which is a hell of a combination I know, I know, but in all honesty, it fits the mood. You caught his visual briefly through the mirror mounted against the wall and fuck, your man is fine as all hell! Frame resting casually against the entryway, arms folded firm across the smooth chiseled planes of his caramelized tattooed chest. Oversized cat-eye glasses perched on top of that cute little button nose of his, A pair of loosely fitted sweats sitting low against his v-lines, the thin grey fabric left nothing to the imagination as he’d clearly opted against boxers tonight. Shoulders and arms flexing effortlessly due to his current position which screams nothing but “Your ass is in trouble”. Which I mean, your kinda here for...kinda not….

Only offering a low hum in response as you continued scrolling through mounds resumes and video reels that were currently clogging up the admin email that was typically reserved for Taehyung. And that’s when you hear his feet shuffle closer, and closer until there’s a heavy yet comforting weight pressing against your back. The temperature around you shifting, as he leans down, arms braced on the table on either side of your frame. His long, beautiful, veiny fingers pattering idly against the glass, showcasing an array of rings, one of them being his Cartier wedding band as his lips nuzzling into your neck. Nosing up and down your skin slowly, almost teasingly, just breathing you in until your shifting back against him, a strong chill running down your spine. 

“We talked about this…” Voice low, seductive, yet stern and still clearly a little disappointed...nipping at your neck, not hard enough to leave a mark but just enough to make a point. Forcing yourself not to lean back into his touch no matter how bad you wanted to beg for more than just him grazing his teeth along your skin! You needed him to bite, hard, and he already knows it too, how much you get off on being marked..and that’s exactly why he’s not doing it...The little shit! 

“I know but -” Namjoon reaches up to slam your laptop shut, sliding it and the stack of papers to the opposite end of your dining room table, that you’ve managed to convert to a makeshift office. 

“We talked. About this” Simply parroting the words again, just slower this time as if to say you clearly must not have heard him correctly initially.

You sigh. Deep, slow, defeated, a nod rendering, out as a half-arsed response triggering Namjoon to pull back from you only to slide your chair from beneath the table. Shifting it to face him before dropping to a squat between your thighs. Gaze unwavering as he took in your blatantly exhausted appearance, still, he couldn’t help but melt as he reached out to caress your jaw feeling the way you nestled into it instantly. Your eyes fluttered shut briefly, as he smoothed his hands down your body, slipping beneath your robe to gently massage your thighs.

“So what the fuck, are you doin?” Brow arched as if he was daring you to actually respond, yet there wasn’t a single sharp edge to his voice, it was suddenly soft, calm. As if he was genuinely asking why you were doing this to yourself because he can’t make a lick of sense of it! You’re barely able to hold your eyes ajar right now yet you were out here working....

You couldn’t really handle the intensity of his gaze right now, more so because you knew he was right, you were so fuckin exhausted right now it’s unreal! Let’s also mention that the two of you have to catch a flight to Vegas for a business meeting in a good oh I don’t know 7 hours! So, instead of acknowledging that this was really stupid, you opted to reach for the one resume he didn’t manage to move out of reach. Eyes nervously scanning the paper as a distraction while you tried to think of a rational that even you’d believe at this point! 

'Fuck, we just- I don’t know Joon, we just have so much going on right now! And you know I’ll never complain about us having too much work I mean, I'm grateful every damn day that we’re not where we were!”

You intentionally paused, letting “that” have its own moment because it's something to always be acknowledged! The two of you went from living in a 900sq ft apartment with 5 other people to effortlessly clearing 8 figures as of this last tax year. Humbled and grateful to be busy isn’t even the beginning of how you feel! 

“But I just look at everybody...Yoongi’s responding to emails at fucking 3 AM! Jimin playing around docusign at the ass crack of dawn every damn day sending out contracts! Taehyung up scouting locations at 6 AM on a Sunday which is supposed to be his only day off I just- Everybodys in over their head so I thought I’d just- “ Namjoon reached up and grabbed your chin, snatching the paper out of your hand and forcing you to look him dead in the eyes. 

“So thought you'd overwork my wife instead?” 

You just shrug and nod again, tossing your hands in the air, it’s clear you have an attitude but it’s also clear it’s with yourself! You keep piling more and more on your plate instead of delegating it out to other people to handle! It’s a trust thing, and Namjoon know’s that,  it started out with just the two of you, then for years it was seven , seven deep. It’s hard for you to let new people into something you and your husband built from nothing! However, Taehyung just got a part-time assistant of his own so he can go back to strictly being your right hand, and realistically, he’s salary! Your little Gucci boy probably doesn’t mind drinking his Starbucks and driving his BMW around LA looking for houses to film in! You could have spread the workload out a little you just fuck, I don’t know, you’re always that person to put people first to a fault I guess! Point being, Tae could easily handle this, tomorrow, during normal business hours, you could have and should have been in bed with your husband! 

Namjoon can sense how uneasy you feel right now, almost like your a child being scolded and that’s not at all what he’s aiming for; he's just genuinely concerned. So he opts to ease the atmosphere just a little to remind you, that the two of you are always on the same playing field, he’s only reacting like this because he cares! Flicking the bottom of your chin before leaning in, pressing a firm, yet passionate kiss to your lips as if he’s trying to drive the point home, slipping his tongue past the seam almost instantly. Not even attempting to keep this somewhat chaste, needing you to feel every inch of infinite love and fire he has burning through his veins when it comes to you! Kissing you with enough force to knock the wind out of your chest, moaning contently as you give your husband free rein to explore your mouth. Turning the kiss slightly more delicate as he lets his hands slide even deeper under the robe to continue roaming your body. The slide of his tongue becoming softer, slower….as the pads of his fingers trickled up your spine.

Sucking your bottom lip between his teeth as he pulls back “Were all busy baby, I get it, I hate seeing them like this too, you know I love them just as much as you do! And that’s exactly why we put out those ads, but that does not mean you get to take on everyone else’s shit! Don’t make me put in a complaint to HR about unfair treatment within the workplace!”Murmurs against your lips, as you stare down at his, barely paying attention to a damn thing he said! 

“Joon I am HR…” You mumble low and unamused, eyes rolling to the back of your head in annoyance and he could give less than a damn. Leaning in with a smirk playing on his lips, leaving another lingering kiss against your own. Kissing you with enough fire to have every hair along your body standing on end! Until your practically chasing after him in a pout the minute he pulls away from you. 

“Mmm, and my point still stands….” Namjoon's hands tighten around your hips, scooting you forward so your legs are wrapped around his waist. Your arms instantly lace around his neck, trailing your fingers upward, so they can get lost in his freshly dyed locks.

“Stop, overworking my baby! You know I don’t like  it…” His delivery was just as much playful, as it was stern! 

“Fuck, whatever okay, sorry!” You really weren’t at least not right now, there wasn’t a lick of conviction in that as you reached up to bring his lips back down to yours. Sliding in tongue first, capturing his lips in another opened mouth kiss, the rhythm quickly starts getting messy more so on your end because you’re getting needy! Namjoon tastes intoxicating and you’re blissed out of your mind, even after all these years, this man can still manage to have your toes curling with just a simple kiss! , Arching forward giving him easier access to grab you ass and he takes the hint, the faint sting of blunt nails digging into the swell of your ass has you whimpering out low and filthy against his tongue.

The kiss breaks much to your dismay but before you can even protest Namjoons tongue is lapping down the side of his neck, mapping out all the places he’s learned over the years. Nipping down on your flushed skin ever so often this time he’s biting with a purpose though, giving it to you just the way you like it. 

“Y/n were done with work now right??” He can hear you panting out low and wanton into his ear once he attaches himself to the crook of your neck, sucking maliciously, an almost animalistic growl leaving his lips in the process. There’s a hint of frustration mixed in with arousal dripping off his tongue right now, your too caught up to notice! 

“Namjoon '' You breathe out his name with nothing but lust pouring off your tongue, not an ounce of shame insight in regards to how needy you sound right now. The sound goes straight to Namjoon’s dick which is beaming at you like a spotlight through the thin fabric of his sweats. Tilting your head back, and anchoring one of your hands into your husband’s hair keeping him in place, overwhelmed with pleasure as you go completely pliant under his menstruations. Regardless, this man's self control was somethin’ serious,and he wasn’t giving in just yet...you still had one more cross to bear baby girl! 

“Fuck. Please” Tugging on his scalp like the brat you tend to be, as if to emphasize your point, making Namjoon pull away licking up your jaw in the process. The drag was slow, messy, waving his tongue against your skin the same way he would your pussy and you felt yourself start to involuntarily clench harder and harder by the second. 

“Hmm? What was that baby?” Tugging the shell of your ear between his teeth hard enough to make you whimper into his hair “Now you wanna come to bed?” You can feel him smirking against your skin and you just really don’t like your husband at all right now just so we’re clear.

All you do is whine in response, yanking his hair even harder until you feel a firm hand land on your ass making you yelp out of your seat. 

Nam-fuck!” Hissed through clenched teeth, thighs tensing around his waist. 

“So again…” Tone as coy and casual as can be as he winds his hand back only to land smack dab on the curve of your ass again, right in the same spot, you wouldn’t be surprised if his palm left an indentation behind! 

Namjoon’s hand was literally pulsing against your skin the impact was so damn strong, all the metal dancing along his fingers didn’t help either! You swear the ripple echoed throughout your entire apartment, and the scream that left your throat was without a doubt noise complaint worthy! Fuck your gonna need to send them an edible arrangement or somehing, they already hate the two of you as it is… 

Your panting and whining opened mouth right into his ear, and it’s getting you nowhere but horny and frustrated! Nails, digging little crescents into his shoulders as you try and almost reroute so of the pain that’s buzzing through your veins. But it’s good, it’s soo good, the slickness coating your inner thighs gave that away! Namjoon can smell how much you’re enjoying this, his little pain slut as he often likes to call you! 

 “You wanna stay out here all damn night. Work yourself into the ground. Leave me in bed alone, and now all of a sudden you think you get to boss daddy around? Hmm? Just because your pussys nice and wet and your feelin needy ...now you want to go to bed?” Namjoons tone is blatantly taunting and a little harsh yet the slight growl laced with it all has your head spinning far too fast to even be mad.

‘Oh my god, Namjoon just fuck me already! Shit!” 

“Why the fuck should I do that? Could’ve had me hours ago baby, all I wanted to do tonight was fuck you, that’s all I wanted all damn day.” Slipping his hand between your thighs pinching your clit between his fingers, slowly rubbing the pads of his together on either side, stimulating your clit head-on until your groaning into the side of his neck.”Do you even, know, how hard it was for me not to just bend you over the conference room table today!?” 

“Joon” You try again and he doesn’t budge, he actually let’s go of your clit all together and just teasingly trailing his fingers along your entrance never entering just driving you fucking insane! Looking as fine and unbothered as ever, as his lips ghost up the curve of your jaw. 

“Hmm, let’s try this shit again.Why-” Bringing that same hand up to grip your jaw with enough pressure to indicate he wasn’t fucking around anymore. “Should I give you what you want when you continuously keep disobeying my only request? Hmm???” You can feel your own slickness against your skin, yet all you can focus on is the blatant aganer, and hurt running through your husbands veins. Even beneath all this bravado..he’s clearly really hurt about this, so play times over!

“Fuck, okay!” There was slight elevation to your voice, tetoring on yelling actually. The arch in Namjoons brow said you had about two seconds to fix that , but you already planned on it! Taking a deep slow breath, letting your eyes flutter shut to just...recenter yourself for a moment! 

“Baby, I’m sorry. I’m. Sorry. ” There it was, not that bratty whiney shit you did earlier to get what you wanted, a genuine “I’m sorry” . Soothing your nails through his scalp, it’s almost instantaneous the way his demeanor shifts once those words fall off your tongue in a more..sincere fashion.  

A low hum rang in the back of his throat at the admission, nosing at your cheek “Sorry for what exactly? Because I don’t want it if you doing this just to appease me baby. That won’t do shit for me. ”  Namjoon’s tone is a lot softer now, all of the prior theatrics and pettiness is gone as he awaits your response.

“No, Joonie baby, no!” Pressing a soft but firm kiss to those sinfully plump lips of his that you still can’t get enough of no matter how many years go by…”No”

“ As your partner, I gotta look out for me just as much as I look out for you and I clearly haven’t been! I know better! And I should be taking advantage of the fact that we’re lucky enough to now be in a position where I can hire an array of people if need be. It’s just- you know I’m a control freak, this business isn’t just a business it’s our baby!”

You watch his mouth open in protest and you just simply continue speaking “But regardless, I know it’s not more important than me, or my health I know…” You instantly feel the tension within his body dissipate at that, thumbs kneading at your hips.

“ I’m sorry, I love you and I’m sorry I’m not trying to stress daddy out!'' There's a slight playfulness to your delivery trying to lighten the mood a little though you know how serious this topic is for him! You find yourself wiggling in his hold trying to somehow get even closer than you already were. 

So here’s the thing, back when you were in college just starting out, the two of you had a lot on your plate! Between school juggling multiple jobs, internships, and just trying to figure out how to even start a company of this caliber….The level of exhaustion he often saw you at was utterly heartbreaking. The number of times you passed out due to lack of sleep is unmentionable… so seeing you like this...was fucking unacceptable in Namjoon’s eyes! 

You notice those big brown orbs of his get a little glassy so you grip the back of his neck even tighter dropping your forehead to his. Feeling like complete and utter trash right now! 

 “This business is not more important than my wife, my partner, my best friend...it’s not! However, you are more important than, all of it, this fuckin overpriced apartment, all the shiny little toys we’ve been able to buy, and this entire company in general! I love you, but I need you to look me in the eyes and fucking promise me that you’ll stop this! Please…” 

You can hear a slight trimmer laced within that deep honey-coated tenor of his and the sudden vibrato’s foreign, and you’re not a fan! It took everything in you not to cry at the blatant plea rolling off his tongue, well aware this man does not beg! So instead you just leaned in and kissed him, hard, slow, just letting everything you couldn’t really articulate pour from your lips to his and hope he got the message. 

“I promise, I love you…I promise!”

“And you know I fuckin love you…”  You do, fuck you do, even if this marriege was high key an accidnet..it’s without a doubt one of the best things that’s ever happened to you!

“I know”

“Yeah?”

“Fuck, yeah”

Ducking down, kissing you reckless and with fevour, messy, wet, teeth clacking together. Slowly transitioning the mood from deep and touching to just...raw and nasty which is kinda what you’d prefer at the moment!

 “I wasn’t lyin when I said I’ve wanted to fuck you all damn day though…”

“Please” you whisper out as he pulls back to lick down your neck, pressing your chest together to give him better access. Sucking his mark in a spot right beneath your jaw, well aware you’ll need an ass-ton of conclear within the next couple of hours, but right now you could care less!  

“Please what baby? Tell daddy, what you want?” Namjoon presses, biting his lip and sliding his hand back between your legs groaning out at how completely drenched you are right now. 

“Fuck me!” You pant out low and whiney

“You want it here baby? You want daddy to bend you over the table?” The familiar hunger that was back in his eyes was so fucking sexy and  it had you rutting against him for any ounce of stimulation! 

“No.Bedroom” Namjoon moans in agreement, securing your thighs around his waist and scoping you out of the chair, heading towards the opulent master suite the two of you shared.

Once inside he throws you down on the bed, hard and almost animalistic, making you bounce a little against the firm California king. Namjoon follows immediately, crawling over to cover your body with his own, his broad form completely engulfing your frame. Ripping your robe apart, and letting your tongues meet once more. Hot slick, and eager as you pant out hot and heavy against one another. Soothing is palm down your stomach, cupping your entire heat in his palm. Moaning out that it feels just fuckin like that. Wet and warm, so damn warm...ducking his head down to lick your nipple into his mouth, sucking slow but hard at the same time, nipping and grazing the bud between his teeth.

“Fuck” You moan back arching off the bed and into your husband’s mouth, as he licks trails across your sternum and over to your other nipple. While also stroking his entire palm against your pussy, Namjoon’s always loved how responsive you are to him even after all these years. Just letting his tongue lave over the buds over and over, alternating between, licking, sucking, and biting so your body never gets used to the stimulation. 

“You fuckin, love this shit don’t, you? Bet I could get you to come just like this...wouldn’t be the first time, would it?” You can feel his lips curling into a smirk around your nipples the harder he sucks, bringing his other hand into the mix, the one that’s nice and slick with your arousal. Using it to twist and turn your nipple between his nimble fingers until he can’t tell if your arching into the pain or away from it. He can feel you grinding against his thigh, more importantly, he can feel your clit sticking to his thigh your so damn wet, soaking straight through his sweatpants. Moaning out loud and unfiltered, eyes shut as you rock your hips against him, your hands getting lost in your hair the harder you rock against the bed.

“Fuck, look at you baby, rubbing your sweet little cunt against my thigh..” A low almost arrogant chuckle rumbling in his throat, vibrating against your skin making you moan even louder. “Fuck, here I was thinking you wanted to come on my dick...” 

“Fuck- I do, I wanna come all over you, want your mouth too though…” Reaching out to play in his hair, almost pushing his face down even harder, though you swear you can feel his lips curl into a wicked little smile at that moment. 

“Yeah? You want daddy's tongue all over your pussy…” He didn’t even bother phrasing it as a question, especially once he meticulously started rolling his tongue along your nipples, in a oh too familiar motion that had you turning into a whiny brat within seconds! 

“Namjoon!” He doesn’t even respond, just pulling off and flipping you right on to your stomach, hard and fast, making you damn near choke on your own spit. Face pressed into your fresh linen sheets.. You start to slightly arch your back on insctint. You feel him shift off the bed, peeping over your shoulder to see his sliding off his sweats, stashing his glasses in his side pocket. Namjoons length is just standing straight up, damn near laying flat against his stomach and you straight up moan, mouth-watering at the sight alone. A pleased hum leaves those plump lips of his as he shuffles back onto the bed. Kissing and licking his way up the back of your thighs until he reaches your ass, straddling your hips. 

Palm rubbing at the swell of your ass before smacking it, lightly at first, and your hip twitches you actually have the nerve to giggle. “That all daddy’s go-fuck” Another. Scream. Literally. Scream as he reels back even harder than he did earlier, just keeping his hand intact too, wanting you to feel the trob, the ache, radiating off his palm to your ass. 

“Hmm what was that baby?” Leaning down to spread your cheeks apart, just blowing a trail, against your pussy, watching the way your hole clenches from that alone. “Always so fuckin wet and ready for me…” 

He groans and you, arch your back, even more, moaning out slightly at the contrast hitting your skin. Bracing both hands on your ass and he can hear your breathing shutter in your chest, already anticipating the first drag of his tongue. Dipping one thumb over you rim, just circling it gently, feeling you jerk at the sensation, no matter how light, fuck your still so damn sensitive. That will never stop amazing him, it’s been almost 8 years. Yet you still react like it’s the first time he’s ever touched you like he’s still helping you explore new places along your own body! Namjoon leans forward, nipping, licking, and sucking, open mouth kisses, against the backs of your thighs, before leaning down to kiss your clit. Tongue and all, sucking it straight into his mouth, moaning out deep and strong around the bud. Inhaling slowly as if he's breathing you in and your knees already start to buckle,  nails clenching around the sheets. 

A broken moan of his name being muffled into the fabric, as he rolls his tongue in deep, languid strokes up and down your folds, licking from front to back. Your wetness is already painted all over his face and he wouldn’t have it any other way, as he continuously, maliciously sucks down on your clit, gently grazing the skin between his teeth just enough to make you squirm. Bringing his tongue to lather over your rim and he feels how hard you start shaking, sliding in two fingers into your heat, knuckles deep at the exact moment he slips his tongue past your rim. The vision that is you, open, needy, and whiney, on all fours...is driving your husband absolutely insane! How quickly you’re falling apart, knees spreading even wider to give him all the access he needs to do with you as he pleases. 

“Yeah..” You sign, blissed out of you goddamn mind ‘Fuck”

Your voice drips in the whiniest tinge of need imaginable like you’ve been aching for this, and the sounds richotect straight off your tongue and into Namjon’s lap! Your chest drops forward, letting Namjoon essentially all support your weight, as his tongue dives in even deeper, while continuously fucking you open with his fingers, he’s already added a third one. Mind completely spinning at how hard your clenching around all three of his fingers, cock throbbing at how good you’ll feel around him soon enough. You feel him pull back to spit right along your rim, watching it drizzle down toward your clit, he picks the trail up with his tongue and leads it where he wants it to go. Namjoon moans out, low, and content as he really starts to eat you out your tongue and fingers working your pussy open until your voice hitches in your throat and shatters. Ripping, a long drawn out whimper to leave your throat.

“That feel good?” He murmurs low and taunting, and you can’t help but roll your eyes, as if he can’t physically tell he feels good.

“I’ve had better”

He bites your cheek playful, a snort leaving his lips “Fuckin same..” slurs out against the swell of your ass and you can’t help but cackle.

“Fuck, I bet you have now, stop talking and get your fucking tongue back in ME!!” Bossy as ever, damn near pushing his head down and he reaches up, biting the side of your hand forcing you to stop. 

“How about my cock instead?” Leaning back to smack his length aginst your ass a couple times, letting you feel how hard and ready he is. 

“Yeah! God yeah, fuck yeah! Gimme! In me now! Fuck me!!” All your prior teasing is gone, just the mention of his cock has you needy and clenching painfully hard around his fingers, while also simultaneously rutting back against them as if you don’t want him to pull out. Pulling his fingers out slowly. Curling them upwards, purposely coating his fingers in your arousal to use to lather his cock which is so hard right now it’s almost painful. 

“Daddy” Wiggling your offensively empty ass in his face, making him chuckle, and smack it lightly. before gripping your thigh and flipping you onto your back with such ease it was almost offensive. 

“Nam-”

“Fuck off” Leaning down and stealing your breath and sarcasm away with a deep kiss “I wanna see my baby..” Lining himself up to your entrance, you exhale softly against his mouth as the blunt head of his cock breaches your entrance. Hiking your leg around Namjoon’s waist to make him slide in even deeper.

“Yeah, fuck” 

“I hope you don’t think…” Shifting forward wiggly his hips a little, giving you half a second to adjust to how fucking big this man is! “We’re about to make love or some shit, because I’m about to break your ass..” There’s just as much of a smile as there is a dangerous edge to your husband’s voice, that has you beaming up at him. Before you even had time to think of a response he was snapping his hips forward hard enough to have the two of you scooting up the bed a little.

Namjoon, propped your leg even higher over his shoulder, as he snapped his hips forward again, even harder this time. You moaned out, and scurried to grab onto your husband’s neck to anchor yourself as he fucked into you hard and fast, you tried to arch and fuck him back but it was hard with how intense he was pounding into you! 

“Oh my godddd” You drawled out, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“Yup, Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been called that, in this position.....” You could hear the smile in his voice as he continued fucking you like he was trying to split you open with his cock. Nails clawing into his back hard enough to break skin! 

You could’ve just laid there and took, it because fuck if it wasn’t good, but that’s not the mood you were in at the moment. So you dropped your leg from his shoulder and wrapped them both around his waist. Tipping your hips forward, clenching down hard around his cock as you started grinding your hips against him. Fucking him back the same way he was giving it to you. Hard and smooth.. 

“Y/n” He half growled half whined as you smiled up at him, something wicked, releasing your hold around his cock only to clench down even harder. He groans in what seemed like frustration reached down to smack pinch your clit between his fingers hard enough to make you cry out his name. Arching forward even harder. 

“Yeah, daddy like that, fuck.Me.just like that” you were breathless but the sass was clear as day, a slight chuckle leaving your throat. 

“Fuckin brat!” Reaching down with the same hand that was on your clit, wrapping it around your windpipe, adding just enough pressure to have your eyes rolling to the back off your head. The added stimulation throwing off your rhythm a little but you didn’t care, he had you…

“Yesss,yes, fuck!” His tattooed chest was flushed and covered in sweat as you continued fucking back against his cock, which was warm and continuously pulsing side of you. Filling you up and sliding completely out every single time. Your hole twitched painfully hard as the two of you worked in sync thrusting against each other in a smooth yet malicious rhythm, the sound of skin slapping you moaning, Namjoon grunting... 

Fuck an edible arrangement maybe the two of you should treat your neighbors to a spa weekend or something because they damn sure aren’t sleeping right now! 

“Ya know, if you would’ve came to bed earlier” He panted right into the side of your ear, still rolling his hips into you “I could’ve fucked you, came inside you” Leaning down to lick up the side of your jaw  “Licked all, of my come out of you, and then” Pulling back and snapping his hips up even sharper, as if to accentuate every word “Fucked.You.All.Over.-Fuck-Again” Every thrust had the wind being knocked out of your chest  “ But now..we don’t have tim-” 

Reaching up to twist his nipple between the tip of your nail, kneeing him in the stomach just enough to make his hips stutter and have him shuffling back so you can push him onto his back which he falls to willingly. That is, until you literally bounced down onto his dick, damn near gagging in the process he feels so deep in this angle. Almost tempted to feel up your sternum and see if he’s poking through. 

“You little bitch” Chokes from his throat with a stated smile the tones playful and airy, digging his nails into your ass, letting out an involuntary gasp as he rolls his hips up. Only for you to start rolling your hips back, again, and again, and again, in deep, slow, circles, switching up the pace a little from what it was before. Making sure your clit grazes against his pelvic bone every time.

“Yeah, fuck you” Your breathless, and tired, but you can’t help but smile at how completly fucked out he looks right now, eyes barley ajar, jaw tight, he looks so damn good! 

“Yeah, yeah, fuck daddy baby..fuck me..” It’s clear he’s only egging you on but fuck if it’s not working,he sounds down right sinful as you ride him. His moans are deep, loud, almost needy, at every roll your hips make, and it’s intoxicating! Reaching up and grabbing you down by your neck , licking his way back into our mouth, his grip is strong enough to without a doubt leave a bruise. Both of you moaning out pleased and needy as you start slamming your hips down meeting his upwards thrust. Instantly matching the pace he’d set. Namjoon pulls back, and slips three fingers into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat to make you gag a little. Exchanging the grip he held on your neck for the back of your hair, as he brings his other hand down between your bodies to play with your clit, before licking his way back into your mouth.Feeling the way your thighs start to shake as you cry out against his tongue barely able to kiss him back at this point . 

“Your fuckin close baby, your pussy’s just screamig around me..” He’s breathless, not even trying to hide it anymore, voice horse and dripping with arousal. “Goddamnn I love you…” You clench so damn hard around him at that..I actually don't think anything turns you on more than hearing your husband say that. Especially sounding all fucked out and needy.

“Love you too baby..so fuckin much… “

“Good”  He chuckled low and dark agaisnt your lips “Now come, all over my cock like a good girl”  Fucking into you faster and harder, hand still rubbing blunt circles around your clit, tightening the grip he holds on your hair until your roots burn  “Y/n , baby, my baby, come for me, come for daddy...” 

It only took a few more thrusts before your orgasm ripped through you and you were crying out your husband's name, body spasming on top of him. Yet you still didn't stop rutting against him until he came in. You couldn't, you needed to feel it, body running away from him just as much as it was running towards him! You can feel how hard your clenching and its involnaty this time,so he reaches up with both hands rolling your hips against him one more time before slamming you down onto his cock. Just holding you in place while you continue to pulse around him, body shattering to pieces.

“Namjoonnnn fuck-fuck-fuck-” He grounds you agaisnt his cock as he jerks his hips up hard and fast, eyes squezzing shut, neck arching off the pillow, as his relase washed over him. A long drawn out moan of your name slipped off his tongue as he came, hard, hips stilling making sure to fill you to the brim, until he's sure he released every last drop he had to give..His own body shuttering in ovesentivty at this point. Namjoons fingers slowly soothed up your thighs, both of you panting painfully hard, wincing at the contact as you continue pulsing around him. Eyes locked in a half lidded gaze, a smile that started on your lips and ended on his as the two of you racked over each other's forms, hot sweaty, marked up, and fucked out. 

“Namjoon” You finally say, breaking the silence, a slight moan hanging off your tongue and he smiled back at you, reaching up to grip the back of your neck.

“Y/n” Parroting your name with the same lust filled drawl that you had, making you moan…

Nam-fucking-Joon” Leaning down to place a firm kiss to his lips, humming out instanly at the contact.

“Y/n Kim….” 

“Yup, that’s me!” Smiling out tired and dazed against his lips, while you felt his hand soothe up and down the curve of your back. 

“I love you”

“And, I love you” 

The two of you laid there like that for a moment, until his cock was completely soft and he gently slid out, still keeping you flush against his chest….just sitting in comfortable silence, breathing together..until..

“ Oww!! What the fuck was that for ?!” Your poor ass...at least it’s a pinch and not a smack this time...

“I mean it. I love what we do and I know sometimes realistically it happens there are only so many hours in a day I understand that. We wouldn’t be where we are if we didin’t work our asses off! But you’ve been doing this and running on fumes all damn week! I’ve just been watching from afar and keeping my mouth shut, hoping that you would sort it out yourself but I couldn’t watch you burn yourself into the ground anymore. Y/n. I’m serious! “

You can feel the weight behind his words, the way his heart seems to be beating harder now than it was when the two of you were having sex. 

So you lean down to press a kiss on his lips that almost seems far too delicate and out of place for what just happened only moments prior.

“I know.” 

Namjoon holds your gaze for a second longer before cupping the side of your face and kissing you firm and sweet, smiling against your lips once he feels you sigh into it. Hesitantly he pulls away and heads towards the bathroom and he already hears you whine in protest. Just flagging his hand in your direction, not even bothering to turn around.

 “We literally have a 9 AM flight and an 11:30 business meeting at the Plaza! Meaning, you have to be dressed and fully ready when we hop on the plane. Your fuckin showering..now. I don’t wanna hear it. ” 

Honestly, you were far too tired to protest and the tone of his voice let you know you wouldn’t win anyway!  So I mean, fuck, at least there’s a bench in the shower! 

“Ugh, fuck, fine! Come carry me! I have to preserve my energy to walk in my Louboutins tomorrow!!!” Making grabby hands in his direction knowing damn well he can’t deny you anything. 

“You mean today!” You heard his voice echo off the tiles and hoenstly he seems far to chipper to remind you have of, which only makes you whine even louder! 

Heading back out the bathroom with a smirk on his face, shaking his head in dismay as he scoops you effortlessly into his arms. “Come here you little brat!” 

“Your brat!” You fire back, with nothing but smugness rolling off your tongue as you loop your arms around his neck, kissing his dimple.

“Fuck yeah you are, my brat, my wife, my fuckin baby” Inviting his tongue back into your mouth as he leads the two of you back into the bathroom! 

The two of you moved together lazily whilst in the shower, taking turns washing each other, slow touches and kisses. Murmuring sweet nothings mixed in with business because though you tried to leave work at work...sometimes it’s impossible! 

Not even bothering to look at the clock once you finally melted into your bed, honestly, you didn’t even wanna know. 

~~~

 Far too soon the sound of all 6 of your alarms went off, ya know, the “Okay I should get up but I don’t have to get up” All the way to the “Fuck, I’m late!” Alarm! They all went off until you found yourself practically being scraped off the floor and led into the guest room that the two of you converted into an additional closet and a place for you to get ready in peace! 

Sitting down, Starbucks in hand as you set out to beat your face, do your hair and try not to look like you stayed up until 1 am then got fucked into the mattress until you damn near cried! 

The Starbucks was curiosity of Taehyung who had keys and free reign to your apartment whenever we felt so inclined. The redhead welcomed himself into your space, waltzing over in your direction with an all-knowing smile on his face. Ducking down to leave a slow lingering, open mouthed kiss along the one mark on your shoulder you apparently forgot to cover this morning. You can feel him smirking against your skin,as he pulls back to flop down on the pink furry chair currently covered in rejected outfit choices. Trying to force yourself to ignore the sudden chill that rang through your body because you didin’t have the time or the engery for anything else. 

‘Why aren’t you wearing this? Your ass looks fuckin great in this!” Holding up a black halterneck Jumpsuit, brows furrowed in the center of his face.

“I know, but, it needs to be steamed and I don’t have the time..” A feigned pout playing on your lips as you batted your lashes at him through the mirror. Watching as he slid off the chair, with an exasperated huff, eyes rolling to the back of his head more times than you can count. Heading towards the steamer you had hanging along one of your many clothes racks.  

“Thank you, baby!!” Blowing him a kiss that he swatted away in the process! 

“Yeah, yeah! Soo I see someone was impatient and went through the resumes last night…At fuckin midnight!” Eyes glaring in your direction, you could hear the frown in his voice. “Y/n-“

“Don’t!” Eyes narrowing in his direction through the mirror “Daddy Joon already got in my ass enough about last night for all of you!” 

 “As he fuckin should! That’s what you have me for baby, so you aren’t doing that shit to yourself anymore!” You can tell he’s trying to sound authoritative but instead, he just sounds sad and equally disappointed!”

“I know, Tae, I know, I’m fuckin workin’ on it!.” Your delivery comes out a little sharper than you intended but he’s known you far too long to take it personally or even fully acknowledge it honestly! 

“Speaking of, I actually met this kid, not fully a kid he’s like 21, but anyway he just graduated from USC, for some sort of Film. I actually ran into him at Starbucks today and he’s supposed to be sending me his resume and some video reels in a little while.” 

A low hum ringing in the back of your throat, far too focused on carving out your brows to talk...but he took that as a hint to continue. 

“His name is Jungkook, he seems somewhat promising just from talking to him, so, I’ll feel it out and if it seems worth your time I’ll forward over his information! I’m also going to try and set up a couple of interviews for you and Joonie next week!” 

Offering a faint nod in response, still far too focused on your makeup to give much else, or realize the sudden fire burning in Taehyung's eyes as he watches you get ready. Silk robe hanging loosely off your frame, a pair of white lace panties peeking out...

“What time were the two of you trying to get dropped off at the airport?” The sudden shift in conversation, and the blatant octave change had your eyes meeting him through the mirror. Trying to feel out his mood…

“In the next hour or so…” Then there’s Namjoon, standing in the doorway wearing nothing but his dress pants, an unbuttoned silk shirt, and a smirk that screams nothing but trouble. 

“Come’re” The bass in Namjoon’s voice alone has chills running down your spine, a second away from shifting out of your seat until you realize he’s not talking to you. Flicking his finger in the redhead’s direction, edging him off the wall slowly. Biting his lip as he sways coyly in your husband’s direction. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

THAT’S ALL SHE WROTE! FOR NOW, IF YOU LIKED IT.. ,SHOW THIS SOME LOVE AND I’LL CONSIDER ADDING TO IT!  I DID MAP OUT THE FIRST 3 CHAPTERS LAST YEAR WHEN I STARTED THIS BUT I DIDN’T PHYSICALLY WRITE THEM! BTW I KNOW I DIDIN’T MENTIONED ALL OF THEM, BUT ALL O BTS MINUS KOOK WORK FOR THE OC AND NAMJOON!

MASTER LIST 

[queenxxxsupreme]

Lambert SFW Alphabet

A/N: Hi guys! This week has been so long and so terrible and I just wanna curl up and be cuddled by one of the boys :( I know you guys have waited a while for this but I hope you like it! Here is the link to my masterlist!

Affection (how affectionate are they, how do they show affection)  Lambert has funny ways of showing affection. He acts gruff and hard on the outside, muttering snide comments and doing his best to piss everyone off out of spite. It isn't until you're alone that he's soft and actually nice to you — but not too nice. Lambert doesn't do too nice. 

Best friend (what would they be like as a best friend, how would the friendship begin) There’s always joking and pranks and playful banter. There is never a dull moment with Lambert. He trusts you with his life and trusts you to always keep whatever you talk about together a secret. He doesn’t open up often, but when he does, there’s a silent promise made between you both that neither of you would speak of what was said to anyone else. 

Cuddles (do they like to cuddle, how would they cuddle) Lambert doesn't like to cuddle. He’s not a very touchy person. He likes his space and dislikes anyone in his space. However, there are exceptions to this. If he’s feeling down or if he’s been in his head too much, he’ll climb into bed and bury his face in your chest. Or if he sees that you’re having a particularly bad day, he’ll come up behind you and wrap his arms around you. He tucks his nose into your neck and lets out a heavy breath. You melt back into him, holding his hands that meet at your lower abdomen. 

Domestic (do they want to settle down, how good are they at cooking and cleaning) In the very, very back of his head, the idea of settling down and having a somewhat normal life sounds pleasant. However, Lambert knows realistically that that could never happen so he doesn’t dwell on it. He likes traveling. It’s the only good thing that came out of being a witcher. He can cook surprisingly well, but only a handful of recipes Vesemir taught him. If he’s asked to cook anything else or tries to cook anything else, the food comes out inedible and he nearly burns the house down. Cleaning is hardwired into his mechanics. The elders at Kaer Morhen were strict, adamant that the boys keep their rooms clean. Lambert struggled with this at first. He was defiant. But with Vesemir’s firm but gentle guidance, he learned to pick up after himself. For the most part. Sometimes he’ll leave a mess if he wants to let someone know they’ve plucked his last nerve and he’s irritated with them. 

Ending (if they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it) He’d be very blunt, already shutting down and pushing you away. He needed to get it over quick so the pain didn’t linger too long. He would try his best to be gentle, but he doesn’t really know how so it comes out harsh and cold. 

Fiance(e) (how do they feel about commitment, how quick are they to want to get married) Commitment makes Lambert queasy. He doesn’t like the idea of becoming so vulnerable. But perhaps after a lengthy time in a relationship, he’d start to welcome the idea of marriage. As long as he has you, he feels that he needs marriage just so confirm that you are his only. He already knows he loves you. That’s enough for him. 

Gentle (how gentle are they both physically and emotionally) Lambert can sometimes forget how strong he is, so he’s not the most gentle person ever. But he never ever hurts you. He never lays a hand on you. His father was a piece of shit who beat his mother and there was no way he was going to do that to you. He’d sooner feed himself to a basilisk than raise a hand in your direction. Emotionally, Lambert is strong, or at least he likes to pretend that he is. He puts on a good front, forcing his shitty ‘I don’t care about anyone’ attitude to the surface until the weight on his shoulders becomes too much and he snaps. 

Hugs (do they like hugs, how often do they do it, what are their hugs like) Lambert likes to give hugs and he likes to receive them from you, but only when no one else is around because that would ruin his badass image. His hugs are always warm and firm. He wraps his arms as tight as possible around you and buries his face in your hair. Or when you hug him, he likes to bury his face in your chest and hold you close. 

I Love You (how fast do they say it) It literally takes him ages to get it out. It happens one night when the two of you are having an argument over whether you should take a trip to visit your family or not. The trip was days away and Lambert insisted that you not go. He didn’t want to go with you either for ‘protection’ or whatever. But you missed your family and really wanted to see them so you insisted. This led to an explosive argument where you were yelling at him for not trusting you to take care of yourself and he yelled back saying that there were things out there that you couldn’t protect yourself from. You were so frustrated with him and you were exhausted and just wanted the fight to be over. You told him you were leaving and when you returned home, you wanted him out. As you were moving for the door, he blurted the words out, stopping you in your tracks. He explained that he loved you and the thought of you traveling alone so far away made him sick, but he also wasn’t ready to meet your parents. So you both came to the agreement that he’d travel with you but not meet your parents. He doesn’t say it often but when he does, you smile and say it back. He needed the reassurance. 

Jealous (how jealous do they get, what do they do when they are jealous) Lambert can get jealous sometimes but he’s more possessive so he doesn’t like seeing you talk to other guys or women. It’s not that he doesn’t trust you. He doesn’t trust the other person to respect your boundaries. He’s seen a lot and he knows how cruel people can get so he does his best to protect you from anything that could harm you - even a poor man who tried to flirt with you at the bar. He received a witcher death glare until he left you alone. 

Kisses (what are their kisses like, where do they like to kiss, where do they like to be kissed) He loves to kiss your lips. But when he’s feeling troublesome, he’ll kiss along your jaw and completely bypass your lips, being a tease and tormenting you. He’ll kiss down your neck and across your chest, wanting you to beg him to kiss your lips. You smack the back of his head and he chuckles, lifting his head to finally kiss your lips. 

Little Ones (how are they around kids) Lambert is surprisingly well with kids. He’s essentially an overgrown seven year old so he gets on with kids rather well. He just doesn’t like when they start crying. 

Mornings (how are mornings spent with them) He hates to wake up, especially when he sleeps well. He’ll groan when you try to shake him awake, rolling over in the bed until he’s laying on top of you with his face in your neck. He’ll mutter a good morning and then go back to sleep, content with crushing you half to death.

Nights (how are nights spent with them) Nights are usually quiet. He’s naturally very energetic so he goes out and has fun at the tavern, picking fights or chatting with his brothers. When he gets back home, you are already in bed almost asleep. He climbs into the bed and gives you a kiss on the head. You ask him how his night was and he answers while you inch closer to him. He welcomes you with an open arm, pulling you into his side so he can hold you close. 

Open (when would they start revealing things about themselves, do they say everything at once or do they wait a while and reveal everything slowly)  Lambert doesn’t like sharing his story. He doesn’t want pity from anyone. He keeps it to himself until one night you bring up your parents and then ask about his. From there, you learn of his father, of how he was forced into the witcher lifestyle. Then he tells you of some of the monsters he’s faced and the people he’s come across.

Patience (how easily angered are they) Lambert has no patience. He’s so easily angered and frustrated by almost anything. Sometimes all it takes is someone looking at him the wrong way and he loses it. 

Quizzes (how much do they remember about you, do they remember every little detail you mentioned in passing, or do they kind of forget)  Lambert doesn’t remember everything, but he remembers what’s important. He doesn’t remember the date that you two officially started your relationship, but he remembers the way your eyes sparkled in the moonlight the first night the both of you were intimate, and the smile on your lips warmed his chest. 

Remember (what is their favorite moment in your relationship) His favorite moment has to be the time you played tag in the middle of a thunderstorm in the valley beneath Kaer Morhen. You’d been out for a walk when dark clouds rolled in, stealing the sunshine and warmth and replacing them with clapping thunder and chilling rain. You started the game, sneaking a glance to Lambert out of the corner of your eye before tapping his shoulder and shouting ‘tag!’ then darting off through the trees. It took the witcher a moment to realize what you had just done. He chuckled, and began his pursuit. The chase lasted all of three minutes. He went easy on you at first, but then he came up behind you and wrapped his arms around you, hugging you tightly. He kissed your cheek and held you close for a moment, listening to the way your heart raced and the giggles that tumbled from your lips. You whispered ‘I love you’ to him, turning in his arms and leaning up on your toes to kiss his lips. He kissed you back, but then turned and ran away. It was your turn to chase him.

Security (how protective are they, how would they protect you, how would they like to be protected) Lambert is very protective of you, but he lets you have your space. He’s not constantly breathing down your neck and watching everyone around you. He knows you can handle yourself so he tries to not intervene unless he feels it is necessary. However, he does like to fight so he uses ‘your honor’ as an excuse to pummel whoever thought messing with you was a good idea. 

Try (how much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks) Even though he is a dickhead sometimes, Lambert tries his hardest on your little dates. He’d take you picnicking near the lake at Kaer Morhen or wake you up at the ass crack of dawn to go watch the sun rise over the mountains. He isn’t great with gifts thought, so he tries to stick to thinking of cute little date ideas instead. 

Ugly (what would be some bad habits of theirs) He likes to start fights. This man loves to argue and piss people off. He’ll do it at Kaer Morhen when things get boring and he needs a little excitement. He’s learned to pick fights with Geralt. Eskel is good at ignoring him but Geralt doesn’t have such a good temper. Hell, Lambert even likes to start fights with you sometimes just to get you going. He’s an asshole like that but you love him. 

Vanity (how concerned are they with their looks) He’s not too concerned with how he looks. He knows he’s ruggedly good looking and that’s enough for him. 

Whole (would they feel incomplete without you) When you aren’t around, he feels like something is missing, like something isn’t right. You bring such a calm energy to him that when you aren’t around, he’s grouchy and crotchety. 

Xtra (random headcanon) Lambert absolutely loves rainy days. He loves to listen to the droplets come down on the rooftop and the way the clouds make outside dim. He enjoys having lazy and comfortable days with you when it rains, cuddling with you in front of the fire and listening to you read to him. 

Yuck (what are some things they wouldn’t like, whether in a partner or in general) He doesn’t like someone that’s full of themself or thinks that they are higher than anyone else around them. He especially doesn’t like it when humans treat nonhumans like trash. He’s an asshole, but he isn’t that kind of asshole. 

ZZZ (what are their sleeping habits like) Out of all the wolves, he probably sleeps the best. Granted, his sleep comes with nightmares, just like his brothers’, but he needs rest or he turns into an even bigger asshole than he already is.

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[hansols-yoda-boxers]

I’m so excited for these new prompts! Can you please do Jihoon & 31? Thank you!

31. “Oh, believe me, the whole house knows every detail. You’re loud.” 

Jihoon x Female!Reader

Word Count: 1835

Contents: fingering, teasing, degradation, name calling (whore, slut), begging, unprotected sex

You were far too weak for Jihoon. He enjoyed making you just a little bit flustered. He never teased too much but he knew just what would get to you the most and today he’d been more mischievous and touchy than usual. It made enough sense, you had both been busy and it had been a while but he usual came over to your place when he wanted sex. Today he had been touching you the whole time you’d been over, texting and whispering things to you just to mess with you a little.

But you really couldn’t resist him when he spent all day telling you the things he might do to you. So you found yourself in his lap with your face nestling against his neck, biting down hard on your lip. His fingers had far too easily undone your shorts and slipped into your panties. They found their way between your legs and he made it clear that he was far from patient.

He had quickly slipped a finger inside of you and you pressed your face into his neck, muffling your sounds as best you could as your hips followed his movements. You heard him chuckle at you as the movements of your hips grew slowly more and more desperate, your grip on him more and more tight, the moans from your lips louder and louder.

“You’re already so needy for me,” he purred in your ear. You gasped as he easily pressed a second finger into your heat. “You’re taking my fingers so easily. Has your pretty little mind been full of dirty thoughts all day?”

Your whimpers grew louder and heat crept up your cheeks as he teased you. Slight frusation bubbled up in your chest.

“I-It’s your f-fault,” you whined.

“How could it be my fault?” He teased, curling his fingers into just the right spot inside of you and drawing an embarrassingly loud moan from your lips. “I just wanted to enjoy time with my partner.” His voice dipped lower. “You’re the one who got turned on.”

You squirmed in his grasp, letting out a small groan in frustration. “W-Why do you do that?”

“Do what?” his voice was annoyingly playful.

“Te-” you broke off into another moan as he pushed a third finger into you. He picked up a quick pace with his fingers and you could feel that despite how much he was teasing you, his pants had grown too tight.

Whiny moans fell from your lips as you gave in, grinding on his fingers. Heat burned your cheeks from the lewd sound of his fingers moving into you and the things he whispered into your ear, a smirk on his voice.

“You’re going to go cum already for me, aren’t you baby?” He teased. “You got so wet so easily, you’re always such a needy little slut for me.”

You gasped out louder, grinding against his hand hard. You pressed your face into his neck, still failing to muffle the sounds you were making, far too loud for the middle of the day while other people were in the dorms. But it was no use, Jihoon knew just how much that kind of speech got to you and just how loud it would make you and you were sure at this point he wanted the others to hear.

“It really is precious how easily you get affected by me. Taking three fingers and already about to cum for me. Is that what you want, baby, to make a mess of my fingers? To cum all over them and moan so loud everyone will know how good I make you feel?”

Your thighs started to tremble as you panted and moaned as you nodded, the embarrassment only making your need burn hotter, your moans only growing louder. His fingers moved inside you just the way you loved and you were so close to your release now it was all you cared about and wanted. Jihoon nipped at your ear as his fingers curled into a spot that had your hips bucking and jolting.

“My precious little whore, cum for me like I know you want to.”

You cried out his name, only barely catching the way he groaned, as you came hard on his fingers. Your legs shook as pleasure washed over you body in waves and you clenched hard, your release dripping down his fingers as you ground against his hand and he worked you through your high.

When you whimpered and started panting, Jihoon pulled his fingers from you gently. You nuzzled into his neck, resting your weight against him and taking his fingers into your mouth when he brought them to your lips.

“You’re such a good little whore for me,” he cooed. A muffled whine slipped out around his fingers, his words making you clench around nothing. You could feel as your own juices dripped out of your core, his words making you impossibly wetter.

As soon as his fingers were clean he pulled them from your mouth before pushing you back onto the bed. You felt heat rise in your cheeks as he gazed down at you with a fire burning behind his eyes. A small squeal left your lips as he pushed up your knit sweater and his hands found the clasp on your bra. You let your eyes fall shut as he dipped down, his lips wrapping around one of your nipples. You arched into his mouth as he flicked his tongue over your sensitive bud and his hands started to fumble with his belt. He eased you as he undid his pants, enjoying the way you whimpered.

He pulled away from your chest just before kicking off his pants. His hands slipped off yours as well and you peeked at him, your breath hitching from the look in his eyes alone. You gave him a small shy smile as you let your legs fall open for him and he groaned. His eyes raked over your form before he leaned over you, making sure to grind his cock against your already sensitive core.

“I love how well you behave for me, baby,” he murmured to you. “Are you still needy for me?”

“Y-Yes,” your voice was quiet as you wrapped your arms around his neck and hid your face in his chest.

“You don’t sound all that convincing,” he teased. You felt your face positively burning as you realized what he wanted.

“D-Do you want me to beg?” you whimpered.

You felt his hot breath fan out gently over your skin as he spoke. “Only if you want to get fucked, baby.”

He loved making you flustered and you couldn’t deny how he had you positively dripping as he teased you, your desperation for his cock growing by the second.

“P-Please, Jihoon,” you whimpered. “Please I need your cock. Y-You’ve been teasing me all day and haven’t I been good for you?”

Jihoon gripped his cock, teasing your entrance and nipping at your ear. “You can do a little better than that, baby girl.”

“Fuck, please Jihoon,” your voice got a little louder as you pressed up against him and tried in vain to get him to fuck you properly. “Please I want to cum for you again. I want to cum on your cock so badly and feel you c-cum deep inside me. I need you so b-badly please fuck me. Fuck me as hard as you want, as hard as you ca-” You gasped as he pushed into you in one smooth thrust. He was quick to brace his hands on the bed as he started to thrust into you, setting a quick pace and snapping his hips into you.

“Fuck, you know how much I love it when my pretty baby talks like a dirty whore,” he groaned, his voice rough and breathy. “Such dirty words from such pretty lips.”

You gasped and moaned as you grasped at the sheets. Your body was already sensitive and each time he thrust into you, rough and deep it sent a burst of pleasure rushing through your body and drew a loud moan from your lips that there was no way to stifle.

Jihoon let out groans and growls, his head falling against your neck and his sounds so close to your ear, only turning you on more and causing you to clench around him. You tried to match the movement of his hips but your mind was hazy, head spinning and lips parted in breaths and moans as you kept a tight grip on his shoulders.

Your nails dug into his skin as his name started to fall from your lips like a mantra. Your voice climbed higher as he brought you closer to the edge, chasing his own high as he fucked you hard, your moans and nails only coaxing him to go faster.

“God you feel so fucking good,” he said breathily. “You sound so good when you say my name like that.”

Your voice grew more whiny as the coil curled incredibly tight in the pit of your stomach. You let your head fall back to the pillows, grinding your hips as best you could and and taking in the way Jihoon groaned and breathed, barely notable under your moans. He brought a hand to your hip, finally holding you still and pulling you toward his cock and he slammed his hips against yours.

You nearly screamed out his name, nails dragging along his back as you came hard. Stars burst behind your eyelids and waves of pleasure crashed over you like a tsunami, pulling you under into pure bliss as Jihoon started to release deep inside you, thick, hot ropes of cum filling you even more and drawing whimpers from your lips as you body shook underneath his.

Jihoon pressed a few kisses to your neck as he slipped out of you before resting his weight on top of you.

“You always tease me so much,” you whined.

“Are you trying to tell me you don’t love it?” he asked, a smirk in his tone.

“No,” you mumbled and you felt a kiss pressed to your neck.

“Then don’t complain, baby,” he chuckled.

“I get so whiny and moany though,” you pouted. “Someone might hear me.”

“Oh, believe me,” Jihoon snorted. “The whole house knows every detail. You’re loud.”

You groaned and grabbed a pillow to cover your face and Jihoon laughed, pressing kisses to your neck until you moved the pillow.

“Does it make you feel any better that you’re essentially bragging for me?”

You shot him a glare and he pressed a kiss to your lips in response, softening you just a bit.

“You’re lucky I love you,” you muttered.

“And you’re lucky I’m so good in bed.”

You swung a pillow at him and he grunted as you hit him in the face.

“I mean yes, I’m very lucky you love me,” he laughed.

“Damn right, you are,” you chuckled.

[thingswhatareawesome]

oh, my dreams (never quite as it seems)

title: oh, my dreams (never quite as it seems) fandom: Tiger and Bunny pairing: Barnaby/Kotetsu (taibani) word count: 2150 summary: Kotetsu’s been having these dreams for most of his life. But they don’t mean anything, right? They’re just some strange coincidence, right? There’s no such thing as soulmates, right?

For the For the March Flash Fiction day two prompt: “Looking for me?”

I know I felt like this before But now I'm feeling it even more Because it came from you

The first time it happened, Kotetsu was young. He and Tomoe had just gotten engaged and were discussing moving to Stern Bild City so he could try to catch the attention of a sponsor and get hired as a hero. Normally not very prone to dreaming, especially with as exhausted as they were after days packed with wedding planning and packing for the move, plus his training and trying to find work, one night he slipped into a strangely clear and coherent dream.

He was being stared down by a scowling blond man who looked just a bit older than him, with a stern face and cold green eyes behind his glasses, wearing a strange mecha-looking suit. The man eventually sighed and gave a frustrated huff. “I thought you were looking for me.”

“Buddy, I have no idea who you even are,” Kotetsu sassed, then abruptly woke up. Blinking up at the ceiling, he thought, what the hell?

Kotetsu forgot the dream soon after, and would have forever if not for it happening again. Life was amazing, everything was going just great! Except Kotetsu was so busy his head spun and it felt like he couldn’t manage to remember everything with all that was going on. He was a hero! And it was everything he hoped for! Mostly! When his sponsors weren’t yelling at him about damages and Ben wasn’t aggravated because he kept doing what he wanted and not what the higher ups at Hero TV wanted! And Tomoe was pregnant! He was going to be a dad to a little girl!  

Then one night he dreamt of that frowning man again, who looked at him and asked, “You said you were looking for me?”

Kotetsu stared and stammered, “I, shit, did I forget something? Did I have an appointment with you? Was it an interview? Did Tomoe need me to get something from you for the nursery?” He flailed and patted at his pockets. “To do list, to do list, oh man, did I lose it?”

The blond man rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his long, swoopy-curled hair with a sigh that suddenly sounded familiar. “Never mind.”

And then Kotetsu woke up, Tomoe laying on his now numb and asleep right arm, and he murmured, “Huh. Stress is really getting to me.”

*

The next time the dream happened, Tomoe was gone. His daughter was in a different city, living with his mother. And Kotetsu was alone. Alone in his apartment, alone in his bed, alone in a sprawling, bustling city where no one really gave a crap about him.

Kotetsu thought he was asleep, but his eyes were open and he was staring up at the shadowed ceiling, and that guy was there in his room, just standing there looking at him. Except this time he was in normal clothes, pants and boots and a red leather jacket. He was frowning like the other times, but different somehow, like he wasn’t so much angry as just…serious, somber, somehow. Concerned, maybe? A little bit.

“Were you…looking for me?” the man asked quietly.

“No.” Kotetsu paused, blinked slowly as he thought for a long moment. “I don’t think I’m looking for anyone or anything anymore.” The only person he wanted to look for was far, far beyond his reach. “But. I. I dunno, I guess…I could use a bit of company for a little bit? If that’s okay.”

The blond man nodded, and Kotetsu felt his eyes flutter, then close, suddenly so very heavy. The last thing he felt before sinking into sleep was the sensation of someone brushing his hair back from his forehead and running a finger every so gently beneath his damp eyes.

*

Five years later, Kotetsu met Barnaby Brooks Jr.

Back at home after that bizzarre day, remembering those three old dreams and thinking about getting caught like a damsel in distress earlier as he fell, being called old man, *and* being shown up on live TV by the aggravating new guy (that somehow he knew??), he rubbed at his face with his hands roughly.

“What,” Kotetsu said to the empty room, “the fuck?”

*

Not long after that, his mother told a tale during one of their phone calls of people who sometimes dreamed of soulmates. Usually, she lectured, the dreams would happen over and over, only ceasing when an emotional connection was formed—like a close friendship or even a romantic relationship. Those whose hearts formed a special bond of love would even begin to see a red string connecting each other.

Kotetsu had snorted and waved a hand to make her stop. Nah, no way, no how was he believing in that sort of cheesy crap. And anyway, he’d already found his soulmate, and lost her, and no young upstart was ever going to be anything like Tomoe had been for him.

*

Well. Okay. Maybe Bunny would end up a friend after all. A good friend. A bona fide partner even. And Kotetsu would do anything for him.

But soulmate? Bunny would surely never let him *that* close. And certainly it would never be romantic love. Tomoe had been it for him. Kotetsu reminded himself of that, swore it to himself, more and more often, each restless night when it was just him in the quiet and dark, or during the day when he caught sight of Bunny and felt a strange pang in his chest, sharp behind his sternum. Tomoe had been *it*, he thought again, feeling the solidness of his wedding ring digging into his finger as he clenched his fist.

And anyway, the dreams had stopped, Kotetsu thought to himself. It’d been years. So whatever connection had already happened, right?

Plus soulmates weren’t real so the dreams stopping was just a random thing that didn’t mean anything anyway. Right?

*

Then the dream happened again. After…after he’d hurt Bunny, by not telling him about losing his powers or wanting to retire, by not trusting him. By *slapping* him. When Kotetsu fell asleep while waiting for Samantha Taylor to return to her home, he saw Bunny walking away from him into an endless expanse of darkness. “Bunny,” he shouted, running to chase after him, reaching and reaching for him, hand outstretched to try to grab him, but he could never manage to get close enough. “Bunny! I’m sorry! I’m looking for you, please, I’m looking for you! Where are you?”

He woke on an unfamiliar couch, mumbling “Where are you?” out loud as he slipped from dream to reality. But then everything blew up in his face, almost literally, and Kotetsu was too busy running for his life and trying to figure out what bizzarro world he was in where no one remembered him to wonder or worry why the dream had returned.

Or why it had changed.

*

Everything was fine. Everything was good. Great, even! Kotetsu retired and moved back home, where ha could be around his daughter and his family, and could be there for Kaede as she learned more and more about her new NEXT powers. He could be there to help his brother at his store when needed, and could help his mother with her garden and with fixing up the house. He was useful!

He was…just sitting around the house, to be honest. A lot. He was so uncool and boring, according to Kaede. He was…

He was missing Bunny. And he was having the dreams again.

A lot.

The dreams were always the same now. Similar to the one he’d had that night at Samantha Taylor’s home, Bunny would be walking away from Kotetsu, never stopping or turning back. Kotetsu would reach out for him but never catch him—though he didn’t shout at Bunny with the same deperation as he had in that earlier dream. Now, he just called out for Bunny, saying “I’m looking for you!” like he was calling to Kaede when she got too far ahead in a crowd and he couldn’t see her. Or sometimes in a tone of voice like Kotetsu had spotted an old school friend across the street, friendly and delighted. Or sometimes yelling to Bunny while sounding oddly lonely and wistful.

And sometimes he’d call out for Bunny flirtatiously, with a lilt to his voice like he used to do when he was being playful and silly with Tomoe.

Huh. Interesting.

Those times, when he woke from the dream, Kotetsu would think Oh. Is that how it is now? Is it? Maybe?

But not like he would ever try to find Bunny and see if the new dreams meant anything. Bunny was getting to live his own life now, finally. And he deserved that—and Kotetsu would do anything to make sure it stayed that way. He could put up with a few dreams if it meant that somewhere out there, Bunny was truly enjoying his life and was happy.

Though the sitting around the house thing, the being an uncool dad thing, the kind of sort of maybe missing being a hero thing? Those, he could do something about. There surely was a way Kotetsu could try again. Make the best of his situation. Kotetsu had Ideas!

*

Being a Second League hero wasn’t so bad. Sure, sometimes he messed up or looked foolish, sometimes the network or fans made fun of him, but that wasn’t all that different than First League had been. And Kotetsu was there on his own terms, making the best of it, and he wasn’t ever going to give up. Not anymore. Wild Tiger was never going to be a quitter, ever again.

Not even when he got caught like a princess needing rescuing yet *again*. Not even when he was going to get written up for damages to some dumb car (and this time it wasn’t even his fault!)

Because Bunny was back, and the way he’d said, “Because I’m your partner” had left Kotetsu feeling like he could soar through the air like Sky High—even as he and Bunny decended into bickering.

Because Bunny was *back*. Bunny was back *for him*.

*

It was like a breath of fresh air to spend time with Bunny again, like something loosened and relaxed in Kotatsu that he hadn’t realized had been tense. Staring out at the night sky and the patchwork quilt of city lights below while on the balcony of Bunny’s new penthouse apartment, Kotetsu marvelled at how light he felt, how hopeful and free. They’d reuinited, and he felt like he was at the start of some big adventure, excitement making him eager to venture forth.

From inside, he heard Bunny calling his name. “I’m out here,” Kotetsu hollered back over his shoulder in response.

Bunny pushed aside the curtains, slipping out through the sliding door. “There you are. I was looking for you.”

Something suddenly made Kotetsu pause and blink, twisting sharply to look at Bunny. Something about the soft curve of Bunny’s smile, the glint of the starlight reflected in his eyes, even through his glasses. The moment felt like something out of a dream. His heart skipped a beat.

“Were you? Looking for me?” he murmured. The moment felt almost fragile, like he was cradling something crystalline in his hands.

Bunny’s eyes widened and he stared at Kotetsu almost as if seeing him for the first time. A long silence fell, and Kotetsu realized he was holding his breath. Then, tentatively, Bunny responded, “yes. Always. I—,” he looked away, biting his lip, then his gaze snapped sharply back to Kotetsu’s as if pulled by a magnet. “Kotetsu,” he said firmly, and a shivering spark shot up Kotetsu’s spine at the use of his actual name, “were you looking for me, too?”

“Oh, Bunny,” Kotetsu reached out carefully to grasp Bunny’s arm, then trailed his fingers down until he could clasp his hand, interlacing their fingers, his skin tingling when the younger man allowed it. The physical touch, the feeling of smooth, warm skin and a firm grip, made everything seem to solidify and suddenly feel real again. For a brief second, he thought he caught a glimpse of something shimmering red and threadlike in the dim light, trailing from his hand and leading to Bunny’s. “I’ve been looking for you for so, so long, you don’t even know.”

Then Bunny smiled, wider and brighter than Kotetsu had ever seen before, his eyes crinkling, and Kotetsu felt the same firework burst of joy in his heart that was there on Bunny’s face, like every dream either of them had ever had, in an instant all at once came true. Then I open up and see The person falling here is me A different way to be

[get-chazzed]

I’ve been reading your dad Chazz thread and it’s super cute!! I wanna know how does Chazz react when his kids reach a milestone? (First laugh, first word, walking etc)

(( First of all, thank you very much! It's hard to write something you don't have any experience with and it's very comforting to know that it's not a pile of trash (I know I use very extreme words when talking about my writing, do not mind that too much). On top of thanking you for the kind words, I want to double thank you for writing this ask- it's encouraging and nice and it has made me very happy. On to the question c: ))

Dad Chazz headcanon dump under the cut!

For him to be a dad, Chazz needs to have matured emotionally A LOT. Of course he doesn't lose his playful side, but becoming an adult does imply that he can't be the same person he was in high school. Specifically what we need to touch upon here is his openness and honesty with his feelings: it's one thing to tell your friends that you hate them when they know it isn't true, but you can't do that to a child without them taking it to heart. That's something Chazz would be very aware of, so I believe he'd drop his guard around the kids in order to avoid saying anything he doesn't mean. Rather than being a character trait, denial becomes more of a gimmick- it doesn't come from insecurity, rather from acknowledgement of the aspects of himself that he's come to regard as faults.

Now, he's the youngest of three and was clearly never a priority for his parents or for his brothers (while no canon sources confirm this, nobody becomes an attention seeker from being smothered with affection) and I wholeheartedly believe that he's mildly salty about the fact that no pictures of him as a child were ever taken (especially because he's seen Chosaku and Shouji's). So the first thing is: pictures. He takes them and he prints them out. He must keep orderly albums and always write down the time and place in which each photo was taken. He likes to keep mementos and believes it's an act of love to show that he cared enough to do it.

So then, first laugh. That depends. If it was elicited by either him or the Ojamas, he'd be on cloud nine- making his child laugh has to mean he's best father in the world material, right? He'd probably get carried away and do something stupid (fall off the stair on purpose levels of stupid) to keep the child laughing. If it was because of someone else, then he'd just...

... Make that face. Smile fondly and admit to himself that humans might not suck so much after all.

First word. It, again, depends on what it is. However, leave it to him to take two random syllables and decide that the child has spoken. The reaction to that would be a loud scream of glee- possibly chasing his partner(s) around the house to shout about how the baby has said the first words and, last, but not least, calling Atticus (unless he's the partner, of course) to rant about it. Atticus has to know that the baby uttered two syllables that were most definitely not intentionally meant to form a word.

First steps. He does not trust the child to walk without falling over despite them having managed some steps, so while he's definitely happy and had most surely taken a picture to commemorate, he's also anxiously telling his partner to not let the kid walk on their own- they need to be monitored because otherwise they'll fall and no, he doesn't want to commemorate the first hospital stay just yet. Yes, he's a worrywart. What could you expect from a control freak.

In general he'd be very... supportive? As in very vocal with praise. First drawing he gets to hang in the office? A goddamn masterpiece. The kid has to know. They have a future in the arts. It's so good. Chazz could actually cry because of its sheer beauty.

First day at school? He's so damn proud. Fucking show them who's boss. You are, kid. That's fucking right. Punch anyone who tells you otherwise in the face. With words, of course. Your knuckles aren't worth getting scraped over some dumb kid. But yes, also study, it's good for you and Mathematics are far more interesting than they seem.

First bad grade? Eh. happens. He'd tell a story about his first failures- even make one up if the real ones aren't 'bad' enough. He tries to get them to laugh it off because it doesn't matter, he isn't disappointed, what matters is that they keep trying. It's ok to be bad at things. He keeps a recording of the one time he tried skateboarding just so he can show that you can be cool (like Chazz Princeton™) even when you aren't good at everything.

By the way, no, he doesn't swear in front of the kids. He has a really hard time with it. He's very relieved when they grow up and he can finally let loose. First time the kids hear him swearing? It isn't the first time, because they overheard him trash talking Aster Phoenix. They probably tell him it was about time he revealed his true nature. He just laughs because heck yeah, his kids are that smart (it didn't take a genius, Chazz). First time a kid swears? Intimidating glare until he actually goes, bends down and places his hands over their shoulders. "Not 'feck', kid. It's 'fuck'."

[overtureofchaos]

When Things Change

I was asked by several people to post this one shot on Tumblr. It is also on my Wattpad profile. This is my first attempt at a Y/N one shot, so I hope you enjoy it. 

Plot: You and Carisi have been roommates for years, but after a near-death experience, everything changes.

Starts after the events of 18x7

Content: sex, violence, mentions of rape. All mild. 

As you stood looking down at the pregnancy test, your stomach flipped more that you thought it ever could. Throwing up in the morning was one thing but this was where the rubber hit the road. It was not just some bug; you had a baby in you. His baby. You could ask yourself how it happened but at the end of the day you knew full well how it happened. Though you and your roommate had long been friends with benefits, mostly on bad nights or heavy cases or around test days, Sonny had already passed the bar so for him the super stressful school days were over. For you though, you were still plugging along trying hard to get your nursing degree. Thankfully you were in clinicals now, but the days were long and sometimes unforgiving. Back when he was still in school you two would have long nights studying and grilling each other. Sometimes those nights would end with a romp but Sonny always used a condom. Not the last time though. Something shifted that day. Not that you two were in love or anything like that, but something in his attitude and mentality. 

The day had been normal for you. School, and the afternoon at the coffee shop. That didn’t pay much and with reduced hours, there was a need for more money. You could not let Sonny pay for everything so you took on a side gig in the evenings that seemed easy enough. Before the night in question, Sonny told you about this case where one of the possible witnesses was a professional cuddler. It sounded so ludacris but you kept thinking to yourself it was definitely something you could do and you found her services online, went for an interview and was hired. The job paid well and currently did not have any negative effects on your life. The extra money was nice and because Sonny was always so busy at work he never questioned where your money for bills was coming from. You were not doing anything illegal or even explicit. 

Sometimes his days were very long and he would come back tired or cranky or not in the mood to even conversate. That seemed to be more often than usual now. He’d expressed early on a crush on his partner, which was fine because even though the two of you had sex you were not in any way romantically involved. There was no heart in it, just bodies - just sex. He’d had some god-awful cases over the past year or so - someone on his squad died, they’d chased two different serial killers, a cold case serial rapist… the work he did was terrifying but no matter what you two remained the best of friends and could always lean on each other if you just needed to vent. 

That particular night, he came in later in the afternoon. Hearing the door, you yelled out but no one responded so you got a little freaked. “Sonny? That better be you!” Nothing. Poking your head out from your room slowly to access the situation you saw your closest friends ever standing in the living room nearly catatonic. How he got home was beyond you. There was blood on his face and in his hairline. Slowly you approached with your hands up and out just in case he wasn’t really connected to reality. Knowing his job was dangerous was something you had long ago settled with. He ran the risk everyday of getting hurt or killed but he loved his job and he was great at it. You could do nothing but respect him for the risks he took day to day to keep both you and the city safe. The closer you got you could see there was blood on his shirt and tie and right on him there was something in his hair. Being a nursing student that had considered working in an ER you recognized the mass as brain matter.

Your expression dropped away. “Holy shit, Sonny. What happened to you?” He did not answer you. Slowly you eased him onto the coffee table. Normally you would yell at him for sitting on the coffee table but all the years you two had lived together you knew his favorite places to sit were tables. Easily three times a week you would snap at him about the perfectly good sofa he could be resting his ass on. He would just smirk like a dick and stay on the table. Or he would stand and thrust his hands into his pockets. The man was happier about pockets than any woman ever could be. He’d flaunt them like nothing else. Unsure what to do you knew he would have been checked out at the scene of whatever happened; surely this was work related. Either way you went to the kitchen and filled a bowl with warm water and grabbed a rag to clean him up. He just sat there staring out the window not responding to anything you were doing. He did, however, let you lead him. 

After cleaning his face up, you walked him to his bedroom and started removing his clothes. To hopefully arouse some interest in his current situation, with every button you spoke out what you were doing and rare as it was, you were thankful he was not wearing a three-piece today of all days. You made him sit on the bed and removed his shoes and shimmied him out of his slacks and gently forced him back on the bed. He still had not said a single word. Because you’d lived together for years, you did have the numbers of everyone in his unit and thought very seriously about reaching out to his lieutenant, but if this was not work related you didn’t want to get him in trouble. Sonny would need to tell you what to do. He just laid there, so you left him and took his clothing to clean out any blood and hopefully salvage the shirt and tie. About an hour passed before you decided to check back on him. He had not moved an inch.

The only thing you could think to do was give him some human interaction. Your newly discovered cuddling skills came into play so you stripped down to your tank and undies - to match his attire - and crawled onto the bed in front of him, letting him be the big spoon. It was a good thing no one was working that night because you fell asleep to the sound of his breath steadying on your neck. About maybe four in the morning, you finally felt him stir. His arms wrapped around you and pulled you closer and before long he was rolling you toward him so he could see your face. He hesitated but finally spoke, choking a little on his words, they were rife with emotions. 

“Y/N, thank you. You didn’t have to do all that. I mean, I appreciate all of it.”

Clearly he comprehended what you had done for him so it was nice to see he hadn’t had a complete mental break. “Sonny, what happened?” You whispered softly, cupping his cheek. “You had blood on you and, uh, brain?” How do you say that without setting him off again, but the two of you have always been able to speak candidly with each other. 

“We had to go to Jersey. This cop had kidnapped a girl and we knew he had her but it was just Lieu and I. I found her in the house but he was in there too and he, uh, he put a gun right to my head. I thought he was going to kill me, Y/N. He maybe would have if Lieu hadn’t shown up when she did. No hesitation, she shot him. In the head. I was able to stay composed when I was with her but the moment I was alone, I couldn’t help but realize I could have died today. And if Mike hadn’t died? I don’t know that Lieu would have been so vigilant, ya know?”

Hearing what he’d been through you could not help but feel those similar emotions. He was still distraught and with you he didn’t have to save face. There was no need for that squad room bravado here. He could be as stripped and bare as he needed to be. He had always allowed the same with you. As close as you were in this moment you were not expecting what happened next. The two of you had sex before but it was always playful, why-the-hell-not kind of sex. It was never romantic and he’d always used to condom. Hell, after you always went to separate bedrooms, so even lying in each other's arms was different, but maybe that contributed. First he kissed you, then he took over and you let him. It wasn’t just sex that night. You felt like you’d made love but never would you admit that to Sonny’s face. 

You would; however, tell your closest workmate (B/F) what happened. They knew that you and Sonny fooled around every once in a while and also knew that you cared about him. When you want more from someone, it is usually easier for someone else to see than yourself. Denial is an excellent camouflage. The weeks after things change a little between the two of you. There was a lot more touching and a lot more texts making sure each other were okay. But there was no more sex and you started to think it was just different that one night and things would eventually feel normal again. Pushing down your growing feelings for your roommate was nothing new. That was until you started feeling queasy in the morning. 

At work, you walked straight up to B/F and pulled them aside. “I think I’m pregnant.”

B/F just stared at you blankly for a minute before responding. “Like with a baby?”

You couldn’t help but smack them in the arm. “What? Of course with a baby. I can’t have a giraffe. JC, Mary and Joseph, B/F. What am I gonna do?”

“I am assuming this is from your passionate romp with Son-Son? I mean you haven’t said you’ve been with anyone else since the night he almost died, right?” B/F could be a real ass sometimes but no matter what they kept things real. “I mean, Detective Hottie would be a good dad, right? You’re not thinking you’d, you know?” Twirling their finger around insinuating an abortion. 

“What? No! Come on, but I mean, I haven’t taken a test yet, so I still need to confirm but I have to do it first thing in the morning. You break before me today. If I give you some cash will you run to the bodega and grab me a test? Please?”

All B/F could do was laugh. “You got it, Y/N. I would do anything for you. Besides, I want to know so I need to be on this journey with you, girl.”

Now, test in hand - more precisely, test in shaking hand, that big plus sign was screaming at you. You could hear Sonny in the kitchen making coffee and probably breakfast. Swallowing you buried the test in the trash, sent B/F a quick text saying it was positive, and then hopped in the shower. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for Sonny to come in while you were in there or you when he was, but given there was that screaming gem in the garbage your body tensed the moment you heard him walk in. “Hey, Y/N, where is my green dress shirt? The darker one. Didn’t it come back from the cleaners?”

Relaxing a little you continued to shower,”Yes, it should be in your closest. I picked it up yesterday.”

“It’s not though, I already looked.”

Knowing how out of it you were the day before you bit into your lip thankful Sonny could not see your face. “Check my closet then? I mean, I could have accidentally hung it in mine. I’m not perfect.”

You heard him leave and then yell out to you though you could not make out what he said before he returned. “Bingo. Wow, you know, I never realized how organized you are. I like it.” Next thing I know he is pulling the curtain back and smiling like an idiot. Your first reaction was to cover yourself knowing full well he’d not only seen but explored every part of your body. Still casual sex versus this you were taken aback. Furling your brow you tried not to smile, “Can I help you, detective?” So busy looking at his face you didn’t see he wasn’t dressed until he climbed in the shower with you. 

“What the hell, Sonny?” He pulled you close to him and the skin on skin contact made your breath catch. He wasn’t some big strapping hunk all muscle bound, but he was perfect in so many ways. In a suit he looked skinny, but there was enough there to hold onto. There was just enough chest hair to not be gross - not overly hairy and not under hairy like a boy. Lanky suited him. Only 6 feet tall he had the longest thighs you’d ever seen on a man from hip to knee. You thought he was well proportioned everywhere that mattered. 

He turned you around and pulled your hair off to the side to gain access to your neck. Even though there were moderate grunts of protest your body was fully responding to his touch. Your back arched and you could feel him hard against you while his hand gripped your hip and forced you closer, his other found your rock hard nipples and started playing with them just before you had to brace yourself against the shower wall. He was in you, kissing and nibbling on your back and neck and with each of his thrusts forward you rocked back in turn. His had left your nipple and made its way down to your clit, sure it was pulsating under his lengthy fingers. The two of you never had shower sex before but if this is what it was like you were willing every day. Holding you close as your body let go, the orgasm he gave you made you nearly collapse. He was soon to follow and it took a few minutes for either of you to recover. 

You turned to him with a shit-eating grin and lightly smacked his chest. “What the fuck was that all about? I mean, I am not complaining but it seems out of character. You okay?”

All he could do was kiss you. “You were taking too long and I need to get ready for work too here. I mean, if you’re going to be a shower hog,” he shrugged and pursed his lips as he forced you to change positions with him with a laugh. Now he was under the water, soap in hand. 

“So being a shower hog means I get that? Geez, Carisi, I will hog the shower every day then. You aren’t buying yourself free bathroom time.” You returned the laughter and got out of the shower trying your hardest to not glance at the waste basket. Had he seen it? Is that why he was so fucking giddy? Either way, you had class and were gone before he was even out of the shower. The day was long and trying to decide how to tell him was the hardest thing you’d ever encountered. This was a life changer. Kids. Sonny was a proud uncle and godfather, but a father? Like children of his own? On top of that with a woman he lived with and did not love. What would his mother say? Or worse, think of you? Certainly Mrs. Carisi would be overjoyed to have another grandbaby and one from her only son, no less, but Sonny’s dad was a jerk. The two of you spent many nights over the years talking about their parents and even meeting each other’s families, friends and co-workers. People found it hard to believe there was never more between the two of you but aside from very casual sex things had been very much a friendship until he almost got killed. 

Walking into work there was definitely a bit of a pep in your step that morning. Had you only taken the pregnancy test, chances were you would feel queasy all day long and not just these morning blahs created by the growing baby Carisi. But Sonny was completely on point this morning and that made you smile enough for B/F to notice. Immediately they came over to you, “Girl, you are glowing! Tell me, tell me. I mean I saw your text but he must have been happy as hell for you to be floating like this!”

Their giddiness was infectious. “Stop it!” You giggled as you pulled them into the back room. “No, I didn’t tell Sonny at all. I think I would have, but he was in a mood this morning. He came into the bathroom several times when I was showering which isn’t out of the ordinary, but he crawled into the shower with me and damn, B/F” You clutched your chest and took a deep breath. 

B/F raised a brow. “The shower? Like damn, what has gotten into him lately? He can’t get enough of you girl. It’s that man's prowess. He knows you’re pregnant even if he doesn’t know it. You’re sexier to him and he can’t get enough of you. But seriously, when are you gonna tell him for real?” That was not a question you had an answer for.

Thankfully, in the nicest sense, Sonny caught a case that kept him working, something about a nanny kidnapping the boy she watched because she didn’t like the woman she worked for. That was scary because there were so many nannies in New York City. Would you two have to pay for a nanny? Would that be a question? Your mind said you were not fixing this. There was a baby in existence and that child deserved to live and even if Sonny didn’t love you the way a man should love a child’s mother he would certainly love his kid. That man was way too Catholic to want anything other than the child. Your biggest concern right now was did he already know? You’d thrown the trash down the shoot and the test was still in there. Sonny was just acting weird. 

When he finally came home you were sitting at the table doing school work. You said hello but kept studying, trying to get a feel for his mood. Jumping up and running to greet him had never been your way and a couple of crazy encounters shouldn’t change that. He set down his keys, badge and gun; took off his coat and then his wallet. This was his routine and nothing had changed. He was telling you how the case went and how they found the boy safe and unharmed and it was crazy how far people would go to prove they were right. They could break every law and still not feel deserving of the consequences. Then onto the couch. “Hey, Y/N, come here a sec, would ya?”

Tapping your pencil on your notebook, there was seriousness in his voice that raised concern. So you walked around the couch expecting to take his seat on the coffee table but instead he pulled you onto his lap, forcing your legs apart so you were straddling him. Your back arched again. All these years and though you’d found him attractive, these past few weeks were different. Sexiness came from how affectionate he was, or could be, and the man oozed it. He pulled you in for a kiss before talking. “We’ve been doing that a lot lately. Everything okay? I mean it sounded like you guys did good. Saved the child?”

“Yeah, I mean, life is pretty good. I’ve just been thinking. You and me, I know we go way back but here recently I can’t help but think we’re really good together, right? I mean, you could see it if you tried right? Being, maybe, more than just friends? Just roommates?”

That shot a jolt of fear through you. And concern. Had he discovered the test and now he was just trying to do what was right? It was one thing to know you were undoubtedly falling head over heels for this guy but to entrap him with a baby was a totally different scenario. He had every right to be a part of his child’s life but should never be forced into a loveless relationship and neither of you had ever professed your love. Great sex was not love and sadly, making babies together was not love either. Even though he could probably see that expression of fear all over your face, you tried hard to play it off. “Seriously, we share a couple of earth shaking orgasms and now you want to take a stab at forever, Sonny? Don’t be so mean.”

“I am serious,” he said, visibly hurt by your words. Almost that look a man would have if he proposed and then was rejected. Had you made him feel rejected?

“Come on, Sonny, how long have we been friends. You cannot be serious. That is just, well, it’s a little ridiculous. And insulting.” You feverishly were trying to protect your heart here, not knowing if this was the right time to spring the baby on him or even figure out if he knew. If you had to guess you were fishing for the latter. As you started to rise off his lap, what came next was not expected in the least. His nostrils flared a little and despite not being a big, bulky man, he was strong. He gripped your arms and threw you off to the side, landing on the couch. He’d actually hurt you. Was he so butt hurt that you didn’t take his seriously that he was willing to hurt you?

“Ouch, Sonny, that fucking hurt! You asshole!”

But he was up and on his feet now pacing. “That hurt? You landed on the sofa, Y/N. And, and, I’m an asshole? What about you? I put it out there, my heart on the line and you what, you just laugh at me like this is a big fucking joke? Good enough to live with, good enough to fuck but nothing else, huh? You don’t think I could take care of you?” He was screaming and you should have appeared visibly frightened to him. Something you think would make him stop but the only explanation you had in your head was he knew you were pregnant and this rejection was too much to handle. Sonny had yelled before around you but never laid hands on you and even though he hadn’t hit you your arms were still throbbing from his grip. 

Dumbstruck, your own anger rose to the surface. “One second you are telling me you think we’d be great together and the next you’re tossing me around like afucking ragdoll because, what? I didn’t think you were serious? I deserved for you to lash out at me like that? You’re acting like your dad, Dominick.” You spit those words out with way more vitriol that you’d planned. Sonny tried so hard to be anything but Dominick Carisi the Senior and yet here you were fighting with him because his temper got the better of him. His face grayed. If not taking him seriously about a relationship hit a nerve, that statement must have set all of them on fire. 

“What the hell did you just say to me?” He took a step forward and stopped but his finger was pointing at you and there were tears building in both your eyes. He looked pissed still but more hurt than upset. 

Trying your damnedest to stand your ground. “You really think I would be okay with this behavior? You don’t love me, Sonny. You picked me up and threw me like I was nothing. I don’t give a shit what kind of man I thought you were, I can’t have this baby. And have to deal with that temper, all the time? Is that what this is? Like, make me love you and then you just turn into your father? I will not lie down for you. Fuck you. I’m leaving. I’m gonna go to B/F’s place. You can stay here and wonder what the hell just happened. I’m out.” You stormed off to your room, shaking and crying and could not find your phone before you realized it was still on the table with all your books. “Fuck,” you muttered. You two had never had an argument. Not once in nearly five years. Trying your best to calm down you pulled your gym bag out of the closet and broke down in tears. 

Sonny, on the other hand, was now standing alone in the living room trying to figure out what the fuck just happened. He’d thought all day about you and how there was a shift and about your past together and it all seemed so crazy that he had not realized sooner he’d fallen for you. Amanda had teased him before about it but no matter how many times he heard it from other people he’d never been able to admit it. But then he almost died and thinking deeply about the people he loved or even the people that would be upset had he been killed, you were right there in the forefront, even before his mother and sisters. The detective part of his brain kicked into overdrive. On the way home he’d worked himself up thinking there was no way that a girl like you could ever love a guy like him. The sex was great and really, everything else seemed great too, so why not see where it could go. Getting angry was the last thing he’d thought about and yet here he was exploding with emotion and so raw. 

You’d equated him to his father, which is the last man in the world Sonny ever wanted to be compared to. You overreacted and said he’d thrown you when all he was trying to do was get you off him and if he did that too harshly he was sorry, but his heart was breaking because he swear you’d said something about a baby? And not just a generic statement but the words ‘this baby’ as in an already existing child? And then the comparison to his father? That was a low blow but was it because you were pregnant? His confusion was too much. Taking a breath, a big one, he went to your room and knocked on the door before opening it.

You were curled on the bed crying. Sonny walked around, hands up and started talking like he would to a rape victim at work. “We need to talk. And you have every right to be mad at me, Y/N, you do, but you can’t shut me out like this. Not after what you said out there.”

Eyes burning you found the courage to look at his face. “I know, Sonny. It was unfair of me to compare you to your father, and I am sorry. But I have never seen you that angry and you have never treated me that way. I am totally caught off guard by it.” Sitting up, you grabbed a pillow and pulled it close to your body, squeezing it like a child would a teddy bear. “What is going on with you? Lately you have been so different.”

“It’s not obvious?” He asked, confused.

“Obvious? The only thing obvious here is that we just had a major blow up and I am not sure we can come back from this.”

“Don’t you think we have to? I mean we should, right?” He nodded in your direction but you were not putting two and two together. 

“What do you mean we have to?”

Sonny had always been really great and knowing when a woman was pregnant given just how much time he’d spent around women. His baby sisters, his partner - every time they were pregnant, Sonny knew. How had he missed it with you?

“Y/N, you said out there, I can’t have this baby… you’re pregnant. And you didn’t tell me? Were you going to? Cause I am so confused.”

There would be no way Sonny would miss the color leaving your face. You said that out loud? Holy shit. You were upset and not thinking, but that was not the way you wanted Sonny to hear about it. Somehow you thought you would not have to tell him, that he would know and just ask you and then you could answer honestly. Instead, you spewed it out in a hateful, over-dramatic way because you didn’t think he could seriously ever love you despite how much he had changed over the past few weeks. You loved Sonny and deep down you knew it and were too afraid to admit it and then finding out you were having his baby you also knew you didn’t feel worthy enough to be the mother of his child. 

Choking back your emotions you began to speak slowly and as steadily as you possibly could. “Sonny, I, um…”

He moved to sit on the bed with you, calm as ever, the man you knew you loved. “I am so sorry I scared you. That is not who I am, Y/N and I hope you know that, but this is big and we do need to at least talk about this. I mean, you didn’t mean it did you? You wouldn’t get rid of the baby, would you?”

“No! It’s just, I found out last week the morning you came into the shower. You were acting so unlike you and I thought you’d seen the box or the test and I am still not sure why you haven’t asked about it? I just thought you were acting differently because you knew. And then you’re asking me out there if we should be a thing and that we work great together and I felt like because you had to know that you were only asking me because I am pregnant and not because you really love me or want to be with me or us. Then you got angry and I have never seen you so angry, not once and I must be the reason right? Me or the baby or both?” By time you were done with the hysterical rant you were practically out of breath.

All Sonny could do was smile. He felt like a total ass for allowing his temper to get the better of him. “Did I hurt you out there? I mean, I know I hurt you, but are you hurt, like needing to go to the hospital hurt?” All you could do was nod no. “Okay, I want to put it out there that I didn’t know. I have been acting so differently because when Cole tried to kill me, my world changed. I have been shot at and I know the job is dangerous, but literally my life flashed before my eyes. And on the way home, once I was alone, I had time to think about everything I would be leaving behind and how much I would miss you. And then you took care of me and I realized how you really always have. You work two jobs,” he smiled that beautiful, crooked smile, “Yeah, don’t think I don’t know about the cuddling thing. Either way. You pick up my dry cleaning, you were my biggest cheerleader when I was at Fordham. You’re everything, Y/N. So, yeah, things were different that night and I wasn’t sure how to tell you without freaking you out.”

You started laughing through the falling tears. His words were sweet and you knew that moment of upset was just as much a misunderstanding as it was a shock to both you. Sonny was not Dominick - never had been, never would be. This whole thing was a moment in time, two people who’d fallen in love and were too afraid to admit it. “Our child is going to be born talking, isn’t it?”

You both laughed. The tears in his eyes were those of joy. He pointed and you nodded before he crawled up on the bed the rest of the way, beside you, and took you into his arms. 

“I love you, Y/N. I promise I will never, ever lash out like that again. Will you promise me something though?”

Looking up into his eyes, “I love you too, Sonny. And I am sorry I didn’t just tell you. What do you want me to promise?”

“That the next time there is something THIS big, you tell me?”

“I promise.”

[edendaphne]

“Discordant Sonata” Ch. 11

(Feat. beautiful artwork I commissioned from the amazing @corgi-likes-chat!) **Edit: I moved the image above the cut so it could be admired by everyone who scrolls by 😍

Time for some Ladynoir! :D

>Read it here on Ao3<

>Read it here on Wattpad<

CHAPTER 11: CAMBIARE

Music glossary:   Cambiare: a musical instruction indicating some kind of orchestral change, such as using a new instrument.

(Mood music: Love Like You (Piano cover) - Steven Universe)

Ladybug squirmed nervously on her own family room sofa, sitting face to face across from her very own parents. Her skin felt prickly and uncomfortable, and if she didn’t know better, she would’ve suspected Tikki of lacing her suit with itching powder as a prank.

The aforementioned husband and wife were none the wiser about her substantial anxiety, for they were far too shocked (as well as star-struck) about the sudden appearance of Paris’ beloved hero at their doorstep that morning. Their eyes were glued to her, following her hand as she raised a glass of orange juice to her mouth, as if it had never occurred to them that Ladybug would ever have to eat or drink. She would have found it hilarious if she wasn’t so utterly terrified about asking them to let Chat stay at their house until he was fully healed.

She’d shown up at their house an hour before the bakery opened, claiming that she’d seen Chat Noir’s signal on her communicator and had become worried; and that she was looking for him. They ushered her in and explained what had happened, and had quickly agreed when she asked them if they’d be willing to house him for a little while longer.

The superheroine took a long gulp to calm her nerves, then continued in her most professional voice, “Thank you for understanding. I’m ever so grateful that you’re willing to help us in these difficult times. If I were able to take Chat Noir into my own home, I most definitely would. But as it stands, our identities remaining a secret, even from each other, is of utmost importance.”

“Of course, Ladybug, we understand!” Sabine chirped emphatically. “We’re happy to help! Especially after all you do every day for our city; it’s the least we can do. Chat Noir is welcome to stay for as long as he’d like.”

“Thank you for entrusting us with this information,” Tom chimed in. “It’s good to know that he’s not under Hawkmoth’s control anymore.” He crossed his arms with a frown. “I just can’t believe that evil man would try to kill his own ally!”

“You and I both,” Ladybug replied, unable to conceal the sadness in her voice. “It seems Chat Noir was attempting to mediate peace between both sides; but as you can see, it backfired terribly.” She added sadly, “If only I’d known, I could have fought alongside him against Hawkmoth.”

The girl couldn’t suppress the heavy sigh that escaped her lips. She’d always tried to maintain an assertive, optimistic air about her while in the company of other people. But these weren’t just “other people”; they were her parents . Somehow, here, at this moment, with the people she was the most comfortable being vulnerable around, maintaining that composure was remarkably difficult. The emotional wounds were too fresh, the fear too overwhelming.

“Don’t blame yourself, Ladybug,” Sabine replied comfortingly, reaching forward and squeezing the hand on her lap. “You’re doing the best you can, but you can’t do everything . That’s why we want to help however we can.”

“Yes, you can count on us!” Tom exclaimed. “So, do you have a phone number or…? Is there a way for us to keep in touch with you?”

Ladybug brought out her yo-yo, opening it to show them her communicator. “Chat Noir and I can call each other from our weapons. They also serve as tracking devices between us. It’s how I found you today; I can follow his signal when he’s transformed.”

“Tracking signal?” Tom asked curiously. “Couldn’t you use it to find Hawkmoth?”

She shook her head. “It only works for miraculous holders who are allies. That’s why it works between me and Chat now… and why Hawkmoth can’t trace him anymore. He won’t be able to find him here.”

“I see,” Tom answered, pursing his lips into a thin line, brows furrowed in consternation.

Ladybug could tell that her father still seemed ill at ease about something, adding a bit of tension into the air. She brought the glass back to her lips and took her time sipping the juice, filling the silence until he could sort out what he wanted to say. The question hovered on his tongue, as if he was worried he’d offend her, but ultimately he couldn’t ignore his concern.

He rubbed the back of his head nervously when he finally spoke, “I’m sorry to ask this, but… Are you absolutely positive that Chat Noir is a good guy now? Do you truly, honestly know that he won’t betray you?”

A sliver of doubt briefly flashed inside Ladybug, its sharp thorns trying to worm their way inside her heart.

She mercilessly squashed that knot of apprehension in her chest, utterly furious at herself for allowing it to form in the first place. After all, Chat Noir was literally in the next room, recovering from his brush with death.

She chased the hated feeling away with all her memories of him, thinking about the way he made her feel; how protective she felt of him. During her daily life, her thoughts often drifted back to him, wondering if he was safe, wondering if he was happy. She thought back to how he had confided to her as Marinette just a few hours prior. She couldn’t allow any hesitation whatsoever to take hold; not after all they’d been through together so far. Despite their history, or maybe because of it, Chat had absolute faith in her; and she had to have the same amount of faith in him. She needed to believe that he was strong enough to overcome his past. That he wouldn’t allow himself to be manipulated by Hawkmoth once again.

Tom’s question was a reasonable one. Her father loved his family fiercely and would do absolutely anything to keep them safe. Last night had been evidence enough of that. However, she wasn’t sure if she could explain to her parents just how important Chat was to her, or how they were so intrinsically linked by fate. She yearned to be able to tell them more. After all, how could she possibly express that she was, and forever would be, connected to him?

She fixed Tom with a piercing gaze, voice laden with sincerity. “I trust Chat Noir with my life.”

Tom and Sabine looked at each other with matching smiles.

“Well, that’s good enough for me. Like my wife said, he can stay for as long as he wants.”

“We’re so happy that you finally have a partner,” Sabine said, reaching over and squeezing her hands again.

Ladybug smiled and squeezed back, letting out a small sigh of relief. “You’re both extremely generous. I really can’t thank you enough. I don’t think he has anywhere else to go. Not anywhere that would be safe for him, anyway. I’ll talk to him and see what he says. If he agrees to stay, I’ll be sure to visit from time to time to see how you’re all doing.”

“Sounds great,” Tom replied. “Let us know if there’s anything else you need.”

Ladybug eyed the guest bedroom door, pointing to it. “Actually, do you mind if I–”

Sabine nodded. “Please, go right ahead. We need to start getting everything ready for opening hours anyhow.”

“Thank you.”

They all rose and shook hands, with Sabine offering a motherly hug afterwards. The familiar, loving arms encircling Ladybug offered her more comfort than Sabine could possibly know. Making a mental note of doing something extra nice for them this week (she owed them big time), she made her way to the guest bedroom.

She had scarcely turned the door handle when she was knocked to the ground as the door swung open, a stupefied, rather ruffled (yet thankfully, fully clothed) Chat Noir inelegantly tumbling on top of her with a deadpan “OW.” He propped himself up on his arms, hovering above her, both of them wearing matching bewildered expressions, complete with dropped jaws.

“L-LADYBUG!! W-what a pleasant surprise!” he stuttered, face red, looking quite like a cat who’d been caught in the act of unfurling an entire toilet paper roll.

Her face paled. “Chat! Are you okay? Did that hurt?!”

He cracked an impish smile and replied with a playful chuckle, “You mean, when I fell from heaven?”

Quickly recovering from the abrupt non-greeting, Ladybug’s wide eyes narrowed and she quirked a teasing grin. “Why, Monsieur Noir, you couldn’t possibly have been eavesdropping, could you?” she teased.

“N-no, mademoiselle! Not me, not at all! Why would I do such a thing?” he forced an innocent laugh, which only succeeded in making him sound even more guilty.

“Sooo, you were just leaning on the door for no reason whatsoever?”

“T-that’s right, Milady! Nothing suspicious about that, of course!”

She made a brief hum, trying to conceal her amusement. “I must say, I’m not entirely convinced, Chaton.”

Chat pouted his lips. “You wound me, Bugaboo! I just happened to overhear that my favorite superhero had dropped by.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I believe I’m the only superhero you know, silly.”

“Well… you’re still my favorite,” he winked at her with a roguish look that caused her breath to catch, a rush of heat and color flooding to her cheeks.

A brief wheezing noise jolted them from their banter, and their heads whipped around to meet the Dupains’ flabbergasted stares, mouths hanging open like oven doors.

For a few awkward moments, the ticking of a wall clock was the only sound that resonated across the room, louder than Ladybug had ever heard it tick.

“UMMM, here,” Chat finally broke the silence, scrambling to stand up and offering his hand.

“Um… Thanks,” she replied.

A few more seconds ticked by, and Ladybug indistinctly wondered if this was what it felt like to be in a police lineup.

“SO! Uhh…” Tom began with a sputter.

“We’re just gonna–” Sabine muttered haltingly, pointing towards the living room exit.

“Yes!! Go right ahead! Please excuse us, THANKYOUFORYOURHOSPITALITY!!!” Ladybug cried, grabbing Chat by the bicep and practically dragging him into the guest bedroom, then closed the door behind them with a (louder than she intended) thunk.

(Mood music: I Was Lost Without You (piano version) - Mass Effect Soundtrack )

Ladybug leaned backwards onto the closed door with a mighty “PHEW!”, closing her eyes in thankful reprieve. The talk with her parents had gone much better than she’d anticipated, despite the ridiculous and abrupt parting. All that was left was to convince Chat to stay. Maybe he’d listen to Ladybug, since her words carried more authority than Marinette’s due to her status as a protector of the city.

“So, you found me,” Chat’s lilting voice brought her back into the moment. She opened her eyes and saw him across the room, arms crossed and leaning against the far wall. He wore his usual carefree smirk, but she noted his tensed shoulders and the position of the cape, purposely positioned to hide the bandages and bruises on his arm. Trying to downplay the severity of his injuries, she realized.

Ladybug put her hands behind her back and pursed her lips, replying impassively, “I did.”

Nervous butterflies filled her insides. Chat had told her as Marinette that he didn’t want Ladybug to find out he’d been hurt. Would he be upset that she’d shown up out of the blue? The thought of him not wanting to see her sent a cold, uncomfortable trickle down her spine. This wasn’t how she wanted their partnership to kick off. Instead of a joyous flurry of excitement and camaraderie, it had all turned somber and ominous, with the added burden of having to be even more cautious and alert than ever from now on.

UGH , this was so hard!! She hated that she couldn’t tell him her identity, or know his. It would make things so much simpler if there didn’t have to be any more secrets between them. Fu had explained why he shouldn’t know her identity; the risk of akumatization was still too great. But why shouldn’t she know his? Wouldn’t knowing who he was in real life make it easier for her to be able to look out for him? She made a mental note to visit Fu as soon as Chat recovered so they could discuss the matter further, along with the myriad of other questions about their current situation.

Putting those concerns on hold for a later date, Ladybug asked Chat hesitantly. “How are you feeling?”

Smiling wide, he replied, “Great! Fit as a fiddle, Bugaboo! Don’t you worry your gorgeous little head; I’m always ready and at your service.” As if to demonstrate, he stepped away from the wall, and bowed with a flourish.

“Is that right?” she asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“Of course! See for yourself.” He shifted his stance, suppressing a wince that she might’ve missed had she not been looking closely; and he stood hand on hip in the trademark cocky pose she’d seen countless times before, almost imperceptibly bearing most of his weight on one leg.

“Uh-huh…” she replied skeptically, eyeing him up and down. “So why are you walking with a limp?”

Chat’s face scrunched up like he’d sucked on a lemon. Shrugging, he fumbled out, “I– uh… stubbed my toe on the bedpost?” He pointed back towards the bed and gave her the phoniest, most ridiculous cheshire grin; and had it been any other occasion, she would’ve busted out laughing at his antics.

Instead, she frowned. “Chat…” she said with a disapproving tone and he winced in response.

She walked slowly towards him, stopping just past arm’s length.

“You know you can tell me anything. The most important part of being partners–of being friends – is trust and honesty.” She lifted her hand, placing it gently on top of his hidden arm. Her voice got softer, more solemn; she continued, “I’m sure you’ve had to hide a lot of things from Hawkmoth; out of fear. But you have nothing to fear from me. I promise.”

He looked away, expression changing completely, becoming downcast. Looking almost ashamed somehow, which made Ladybug’s heart ache. Chat slowly removed his cloak, revealing the heavily bandaged arm underneath, and set the garment down on the bed.

He bit his lower lip, absentmindedly rubbing his wounded arm. “How did you find out that I was… th-that I wasn’t okay?”

“I–” Ladybug’s gaze dropped, staring intently at the floor. “I don’t really know how to explain it, but… I could feel that something was wrong. Like an intuition, or a sixth sense. You and I are linked, and that connection is stronger now that we’re officially a team,” she explained. “I just couldn’t shake off that vibe, that feeling of wrongness. I had to look for you and see for myself. Your signal drew me here, and the Dupains explained everything.”

“I had no idea…” Chat said quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m really worried about Pl... my kwami. Plagg. He’s…” He cleared his throat; his hands fidgeted restlessly with the belt around his midsection. “I-I can’t detransform. I have no idea how long I’m gonna stay like this. Th-that’s never happened to me before. Keeping up the transformation is... i-it must really be taking its toll on Plagg and his powers.” He looked at her with eyes full of concern and fear. “I just… I don’t want anything bad to happen to him.” His eyebrows quirked upwards, as if daring to hope for answers. “Has… the Guardian ever mentioned something like this happening in the past? With other miraculous holders?”

She nodded. “I’m told that it’s a failsafe to protect the wielder. You’ll remain transformed until you’re fully healed.” She disliked having to omit so many of the details, like Fu’s involvement in this case and the special potion that he prepared for Plagg, but there was no way to share that without revealing her identity.

He breathed out a sigh of relief. “That’s really good to know. Thank you,” he uttered with a tiny smile.

Ladybug smiled back tenderly, noticing the way some of the tension left his shoulders, his posture relaxing somewhat. Chat’s concern for his kwami touched her, reminding her of her own relationship with Tikki. It made her feel better that they’d had each other throughout these horrible past few years.

“I’m really sorry I didn’t contact you. I didn’t want you to worry. You’ve already been through so much because of us– because of me. Yesterday I promised that I’d never give you any more trouble again.” He swallowed thickly, looking away, blinking rapidly as if trying to fend off tears that were threatening to form. “But I guess I can’t even do that right. I’m sorry.”

Chat’s entire person radiated shame and self-loathing. It was obvious that he placed her well-being above his own, both physical and emotional, as if his own was irrelevant or unimportant.

But how could he possibly be upset at himself for almost dying? Why in the world would he be apologizing and thinking that he was an inconvenience to her?! Was this something he had to do often back at home with his father?

Her mind stopped in its tracks. Her brows furrowed, realization dawning upon her like freezing rain.

She understood.

This was all he knew.

Apologizing was second nature to him. Apologizing for any actions that were perceived as mistakes. Apologizing for having opinions. Apologizing for having feelings. Years upon years of having to hide his inner self for fear of repercussion.

Chat having an opinion was of no matter to Hawkmoth. As far as he was concerned, Chat’s emotions were inconsequential, trivial at best.

And the worst part was: Chat had believed him. He’d had to ignore his thoughts and beliefs since who knows when, convinced that his feelings truly did not matter. She realized this now, and it hurt. The fact that he’d managed to avoid becoming a cold, cruel person in spite of this was astounding, to say the least.

When was the last time his emotional needs were met? Did he even know, or remember, what that was like?

Ladybug’s skin felt icy, yet her insides were scorching with fiery indignation. Towards Hawkmoth. Towards herself. Her heart squeezed painfully in her chest and she couldn’t contain herself anymore.

She cried, practically yelling, “NO, don’t you be sorry!!” She surged forward, crossing the remaining distance, her own eyes quickly becoming wet.

Chat’s confused gaze shot up to meet hers, eyes still glossy.

“This was all my fault! I shouldn’t have left you all alone after the akuma attack! It was.. UGH!! I was so stupid!!”

Ladybug crossed her arms tightly, curling in on herself, as if she was trying to become as small as she felt inside.

“I got so distracted by everything that had happened and didn’t even consider that you’d be in such danger. I should’ve met up with you later and figured something out, helped work out an escape plan, or something! I should have known!! I should’ve– AUGH!!” She covered her face with her hands with a choked sob, tears finally falling freely. “It was my fault that you got hurt! I’m the one who needs to apologize!!”

Chat paled, stiff as a board as he watched her crying, shaking form.

Hands shooting up to grasp her shoulders, he exclaimed in distress, “My Lady, no!! No, please don’t think that! There’s nothing for me to forgive! You had no way of knowing! Oh, please don’t cry, Bugaboo… Not for my sake. It wasn’t your fault. Never!”

He pulled her into his arms, both of them trembling slightly. He gingerly stroked the back of her head as she lay against him, sobbing quietly.

“Hawkmoth is to blame here, not you,” he cooed. “You’ve already done so much for me.”

“But I could have prevented this! I almost lost you!” she insisted, sniffling and hiccuping uncontrollably.

He squeezed her tightly. “Hey, I’m still here. It’s okay. It was a close call, but I’m alright now, I promise,” he reassured her. “There’s nothing you could’ve done to prevent it, believe me. He would have found me sooner or later; of that I’m sure.”

“I should’ve at least been there with you when you faced him,” she retorted.

She felt him shake his head. “I’m glad you weren’t. I couldn’t live with myself if anything had happened to you, too.”

“You… you don’t think we could have defeated him, together?” she asked hesitantly, looking up at him through a blurry lens of damp eyelashes.

“It’s hard to say.” Chat frowned, his view distant. “I found out that he’s done... something to augment the strength of his miraculous. Something risky and unnatural. I don’t know what or how. But it’s affecting him; him and his miraculous. He’s immensely powerful, but also incredibly unpredictable. Volatile. I think he’s losing control, not just of his powers, but of his own mind.”

Ladybug wasn’t sure how to respond to this revelation. An intense chill gripped her, clawing insistently from the back of her neck, and she couldn’t help but nuzzle closer against Chat’s warm chest, careful not to irritate the deep gash on his torso.

What could Hawkmoth have done to achieve such a feat? And why? A storm of questions inundated her brain, the sheer amount almost dizzying. There was so much uncertainty and danger in their future, and, truth be told, she wasn’t just scared; she was absolutely terrified. What could two not-quite-adults possibly do against this kind of a threat? She hadn’t felt this unsuited to bear the title of Ladybug since the day she first accepted the earrings.

As her tears slowed and her sight became less obscured, she froze as she caught sight of what was poking out from under Chat’s collar. Deep purple, almost black bruises around his neck, the passage of time having darkened them to their current sickly hue. She hadn’t noticed them last night, as he was so covered with blood, dirt, and scratches that one could scarcely tell one wound from another. And they certainly weren’t this color.

Her stomach twisted and her eyes widened in horror as she realized the implication of such an injury. How could that monster do such a thing to his own son?!?

She whimpered softly, trying to choke back another sob.

It wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t fair!!

Why should he have to suffer so much more than she ever had?? Or more than anyone else she knew, for that matter? How could the universe be so unjust, so incredibly cruel?!

Her eyes conjured up a new flood of tears, and she didn’t even register that she’d reached up to stroke the bruises on his neck, pulling down on his collar slightly so she could examine them; caressing them as though she could make them disappear if she only wished for it hard enough.

Chat gasped slightly at the contact, cheeks reddening at the intimacy of her touch. She could feel his chest rise and fall, his breathing shifting into a new rhythm.

She spoke, voice soft and airy, almost a whisper, her breath ghosting against his neck, “I wish I’d known it sooner; known what you’ve had to go through all these years.”

Chat smiled sadly, letting out a short, thoughtful noise. “To be honest, I’m not sure if I would’ve been ready to accept your help back then. I think I had to figure out for myself just how far my father had fallen. That we were chasing after something that wasn’t meant to be.”

Ladybug made a mental note to ask him about said objective some other time, when he wasn’t under such physical and mental stress. Surely the goal was something extremely significant for Chat to have blindly obeyed Hawkmoth for all these years. But what was it?

Ladybug pressed her lips together into a thin line. “I just… Hawkmoth needs to be stopped. I won’t let him hurt you again. I need to be better. I need to do more .”

“You’re already doing plenty, Buginette. And you’ve managed it all by yourself all these years; don’t sell yourself short,” he replied earnestly. “You’ve helped me so much already. Way more than I deserve.”

A sharp pang of sorrow struck her heart upon hearing him speak this way yet again. Before the night of their ballroom dance, she’d thought that Chat’s ostentatious bravado and cockiness were merely due to arrogance and egotism. It had made it easier to fight when she believed her enemy was just a rotten smart aleck.

But now she knew better; it had all been for show.

Did he have any other loved ones in his personal life? She really hoped so. Although, she suspected that if he did, his past actions would make him feel like that love was ill-deserved.

If only there was a way that she could help him realize how genuinely amazing he was. Just… how wonderful and unique and precious. This desire, this need to make him understand this, took root inside her heart, almost like a tangible weight that would refuse to go away until appeased.

Ladybug gently cupped Chat’s jaw and turned his head down to face hers. “Kitty… That isn’t true. You deserve so much more. You’re kind, selfless, and brave. I’ve never met anyone like you. Or anyone who’s overcome as much as you have. The only thing you don’t deserve is the horrific treatment you’ve suffered at the hands of that monster. Your worth is immeasurable, whether you realize it or not.” She paused, her eyes bored fiercely into his. “But I know it.”

Chat gaped at her, his face full of emotion. “Ladybug…” he murmured, voice rough and strained, as if he were trying to hold something back.

Ladybug stared into Chat’s impossibly green eyes, which were currently looking at her as if she was the dearest treasure he’d ever held. The chill down her spine changed into an almost overwhelming heat, and yet she couldn’t help but immerse herself in the fire of his gaze.

She stroked his cheek with her thumb, her brows turning upwards sorrowfully. “If only there was a way I could help make up for what you’ve lost. Some way to help the other ‘you’. The one behind the mask.” She sighed and whispered, “I wish I could tell you who I really am...”

Chat’s face reddened further and she felt him stiffen a bit. “I-I…” he trailed off, unsure of how to reply.

He swallowed thickly, and seeing the movement of his Adam’s apple was enough to make Ladybug become hyper-aware of how far she’d gotten into his personal space. She jolted upright, apprehension drenching her like a bucket of water, and her hand jerked back as if shocked by electricity. She winced, internally freaking out that her words and actions were unwelcome or too forward.

Why did I even bring up our identities?? God, I must be making him so uncomfortable!! Why do I always blurt out stuff like a total idiot when I’m with him?!

“S-sorry, I shouldn’t have–” she stuttered, looking away and wiping furiously at her tears. She started to step away from him, immediately missing the comfort of his broad, warm chest.

“Wait!” Chat interjected. He stopped her from pulling away fully, holding her hand and keeping her close, almost touching. He gently lifted her chin with his other hand, so she would meet his eyes again. She left out a soft gasp, her cheeks heating up under his intense gaze.

“My Lady…” he uttered longingly, voice low and thick with emotion.

Piercing emerald eyes held hers captive, so mesmerizing and beautiful that she wasn’t sure she’d be able to look away even if she desired to. It felt as though he was staring past the mask and straight through into her soul, able to understand it. Able to understand her.

He continued fervently, “I swear to you that as soon as you feel it’s safe to do so, I’ll be the first to reveal my identity to you. Just say the word. I trust you, one hundred percent.”

A pleasant wave of goosebumps covered her entire body, and she could only reply with a timid smile, a bright blush creeping on her cheeks yet again.

This wasn’t how she’d planned for their reunion to go. There’d been a lot more tears and a lot less professionalism than she’d expected. Regardless, they’d cleared the air and paved the way to move forward. Together.

Ladybug squeezed his forearm lightly, trying to blink away her remaining tears. “I’m sorry… I’m supposed to be the one comforting you, not the other way around.”

“Let me,” he replied, stroking her cheek softly and wiping the wet streaks. “And let yourself accept it. You’re incredibly strong, Buginette. Both physically and mentally. But you’re not invulnerable. And you’re overworking yourself. You didn’t get any time to recover from everything that happened to you yesterday. I want to take care of you, too. Just tell me what you need and I’ll do it, without question. Anything at all.”

The girl couldn’t help but blush at his honesty and forthrightness, almost too flustered to realize that he’d given her the perfect opportunity to ask for the thing that most heavily weighed on her mind at the moment. Almost.

Well… here goes.

Ladybug squeezed his hand tightly. “Chat… Will you stay? Here, with the Dupains?” she asked hopefully. “I just… I need to know you’ll be alright. Please?”

Upon hearing this, Chat visibly shrunk into himself a bit, brows turning upwards in concern. He replied nervously, “I-if that’s what you want. A-and as long as they’re really okay with it. Yes, I’ll do it. I can stay.”

She smiled broadly at him, elated to hear him agree. He was staying! He was going to be okay!! A healing wave of relief washed away the immense worry about his safety, and she felt significantly lighter. Practically throwing herself at him, she wrapped her arms around his neck and gave his cheek a long, loud smooch, eliciting a small gasp from him.

“That’s great!!” she cried happily, pulling him into a tight hug. “The Dupains will take good care of you, I promise! I’ve already talked to them about it. They’re willing to let you stay for as long as you need.”

He hugged back, albeit a bit flustered. “A-are you sure it’s alright? I’m just... scared of anything happening to them because of me.”

Ladybug pulled away enough to be able to look into his eyes. “I understand why you’d be worried, but believe me, everything will be fine. Hawkmoth would never think to look for you here. Taking care of your wellbeing is the priority, and they want to help us. They’re good people. It’ll be good for you to be around them. And…” She reached for his hand, squeezing it. “You’ll be safe. That’s what’s most important to me right now. You deserve to be able to sleep at night without being afraid.”

He looked upon her tenderly, gaze full of wonder and affection. He sighed and uttered, voice laden with awe, “You’re incredible… ” He cleared his throat, face turning bright pink, and stammered, “Th-that is… You’re all amazing. I’ll make sure to be the best houseguest ever.”

Ladybug giggled, her own cheeks flushed. “I don’t doubt it, Chaton,” she replied fondly, squeezing him back into the biggest hug she could manage. Chat’s arms wrapped around her waist in response, clinging onto her like a lifeline.

Ladybug sighed happily, and she heard, as well as felt, that same low, throaty purr she’d come to recognize immediately. She loved it.

It felt great to be able to rest easy knowing exactly where Chat was and that his life wasn’t in constant peril. Knowing that he was being cared for instead of being abused, or being forced to do something he didn’t want.

They stayed that way for a few minutes, just reveling in each others’ companionship. They’d earned this short reprieve.

But of course, as much as they’d both wanted it to, this moment couldn’t last forever.

Ladybug exhaled through her nose wearily, giving him one last squeeze. “I should go.”

Chat pulled away but still kept her close, standing almost chest to chest against each other. He gazed at her with eyes full of yearning and fascination.

“When can I see you again?” he asked softly. “I’d love to spend more time with you.”

Fire spread through Ladybug’s chest, quickly rushing to her face, and she had to fight the bout of speechlessness that threatened to overcome her. Her eyes dropped from his own like stones, only to land on his toned abdominals, which caused the burning to intensify. Again they fled, darting around, searching for something else to focus on, anything, until they finally settled on the hardwood floor.

Why was she reacting this way to what he said?! He just wanted to spend time together! That’s what friends do, right?! So why was she getting so hot and bothered over it??

Despite her brain temporarily short-circuiting, she miraculously managed to remember that Chat Noir was supposed to remain beside Tikki for the next two days, and should stay here at home.

She skittishly twiddled with the ends of her hair, stammering, “Oh! I- umm! My schedule? I-I have to– I need... school shopping! For school! ‘Cuz it starts next week! A-and, uh... You need to get in my bed. UM, I-I mean... I need to get in your bed. Wait, NO!!” she squawked, waving her hands around like a madwoman. “THAT IS, YOU NEED TO GET BACK IN BED!! T-to get some rest!!! S-so how about… Saturday?”

She facepalmed audibly. WOW, Marinette, just wow. Real smooth. First you amaze him with your incoherent blubbering and bawling, and get his shirt all wet. And now you astound him with your sterling display of eloquence. Great job making a good impression of a person who’s got all their crap together! UGH!

Was there any chance he wouldn’t notice if she spontaneously combusted? Why couldn’t one of her powers be for the earth to swallow her whole?! And why in the world was she acting this way with Chat Noir?! He was her partner! There was absolutely no reason for her to get so flustered!

Despite her less than sophisticated demeanor, Chat chuckled affectionately, bringing her out of her mental freakout. Smiling widely, he tilted her head upwards by the chin so their eyes would meet yet again. “Saturday sounds wonderful. I’ll look forward to it.”

“Y-yeah… Cool…” Ladybug breathed out dopily, struggling to remain upright despite her legs having suddenly turned to gelatin.

He gently tucked some stray hair behind her ear. “Thank you, by the way,” he murmured, “For looking out for me. For being so nice, for going out of your way to make sure I’ll be alright. Just… thank you. For everything.”

Chat’s eyes were soft and kind, yet intense and bold; they twinkled with a look she’d never received from anyone else before. It was new and exciting. Thrilling. Tempting. They captured her, like a snake charmer, drawing her near, and she couldn’t look away. And yet, here she was, wholeheartedly willing to become ensnared by them, inextricably drawn to his melody.

“Anytime,” she whispered breathlessly.

His hand made his way up from her jaw to cup her cheek, sending an intoxicating shiver down her entire body.

Faintly, she noticed the proximity of their faces… When she gotten so close? Her gaze flitted to his mouth all on its own, and everything else went out of focus. Chat seemed to notice her action, and he bit his lip slightly with a blush. Her hands trailed idly up to settle on his chest of their own accord, and she wondered if he could hear her own heart pounding. It didn’t seem to matter much right now. Nothing really did. Her whole world was the sound of his breathing, the curve of his smile, the feel of his hand on her skin.

Chat’s other hand settled on the small of her back, and he drew her towards him. He let out a shaky sigh, placing his forehead against hers, eyes squeezed shut, and swallowed hard.

He was hesitating. Was he afraid? Or… was he waiting for permission?

Her brain screamed at her to stop everything and analyze her thoughts before proceeding or making any decisions, while her heart urged her to stop overthinking everything and just do what felt right.

But was there even a “right” choice? Nothing about this moment felt wrong. In fact, she felt completely at ease. Although, to be fair, it was difficult to feel or discern anything outside of the whirlwind of butterflies currently swarming in her stomach.

Even though nothing had come of it, or might ever come of it, she was still in love with Adrien; of that, there was no doubt. So then, what was it that she was feeling right now, with Chat? She felt like she was being tugged in opposite directions, a cacophony of voices arguing and shouting, their words indecipherable.

While her heart and her mind were busy battling, however, her body moved on its own as if possessed, inching closer and closer towards the subject of the aforementioned internal conflict.

Her own arms snaked around Chat’s waist and his eyes flew open, accompanied by a deep blush that quickly colored his face and extended to the tips of his ears. His breath was shaky and a bit shallow, and she realized that he was having an internal debate of his own.

Did he want this? Did she want this? What even was “this”, anyway?? This whole situation was entirely new to her, and, so it appeared, seemed entirely new to him as well.

A thought occurred to her. It was so simple, but of course, it was anything but.

Why not just ask him?

After all, she had absolutely no clue what she was doing, and apparently he didn’t either, so neither had an advantage over the other. What did she have to lose?

Before she had a chance to ask, however, it was Chat who spoke first.

“My Lady… d-do you–”

A rattling door handle startled them apart, and just like that, the trance broke.

Sabine entered the room holding a small tray, but froze in her tracks upon seeing them. She let out a brief croak, but nothing else, as if her vocal chords had run away and left her behind. The couple stood there staring back, beet red with an exceedingly guilty look on their faces.

“MAMA–MA– MADAME!!” Ladybug yelped. “How nice to see you!”

“Oh, I-I’m so sorry!!” Sabine finally managed to stammer. “I didn’t mean to interrupt anything! We’ve got fresh baked cookies and they’re still warm, so I thought I’d–”

“COOKIES!! I love cookies!” Ladybug interrupted, clasping her hands together. She stood stiff like a telephone pole, as if anchoring her feet heavily onto the ground would prevent her from floating away due to the embarrassment of having been caught in such an intimate position with her formal mortal enemy. She squeaked, “What a great idea! We should go to the kissing– I MEAN, TO THE KITCHEN!!”

Chat fared no better at his attempt to appear innocent. His mouth was pursed into a crooked pout; his eyes darted around like a kid attempting to hide stolen candy behind his back.

Sabine quirked an eyebrow inquisitively, eyes darting between them both. She replied, “Alright. I’ll let you wrap up in here and meet you at the, ahem – the kitchen.”

(Mood music: La Veillée - Yann Tiersen)

Sabine closed the door behind her and Ladybug let out a long, pitiful whine, hiding her face behind her hands, hoping that somehow she’d find a portal to another dimension within.

Chat wrapped his arm around her shoulders and remarked with a snicker, “Don’t be so nervous, Bugaboo! You’re starting to sound a lot like my friend, Marinette.”

Ladybug’s head whipped up like a spring and she let out a shaky chortle, a too-wide smile plastered on her face. “HAH! That’s funny! HAHAAA!! The Dupains’ daughter!! Cute, isn’t she?”

GOD, WHY DID I SAY THAT?! WHAT IN THE WORLD IS WRONG WITH ME?!!

Chat chuckled in amusement. “She sure is. She’s a big sweetheart, but she can be a bit excitable.”

Ladybug groaned internally, feeling her eye twitch. Understatement of the century.

She cleared her throat in an effort to snap herself out of her stuttering stupor and get the thumping in her chest under control, before she did something stupid.

Not trusting her traitorous mouth to not embarrass her further, she simply took Chat’s hand and made her way out of the bedroom and towards the sweet embrace of crumbly, sugary, chocolatey goodness. The one thing that always stayed the same in her life, no matter how confusing everything else got.

“I wonder where she is, anyway,” Chat mused aloud. “I’d love for you to meet her. I think you two would get along really well!”

Ladybug almost tripped on thin air, but managed to continue her speed-walk to the kitchen while internally screaming.

From the living area, Tom overheard what Chat had said and replied, “Oh, that’s a great idea! I’ll go fetch her so she can say hello! Maybe we can even get a picture of you two!”

Ladybug suppressed a shriek and dropped Chat’s arm like a sack of potatoes and whipped around to respond. “OHHH, you know what?? I just realized that I’m late for a, uh– dentist appointment!! I’d better go! Sorry I won’t get to meet your daughter! Next time, definitely!”

She rushed over to quickly shake hands with Tom and Sabine, thanking them yet again, then ran back to where Chat stood perplexed.

“Feel free to call or message me anytime,” she said to him. “My kwami will let me know if you’re trying to get in contact with me.”

He grinned back widely and replied with a wink, “Can do. Goodbye for now, My Lady.” He took her hand and, with a slight bow, gave it a soft kiss. He gazed at her with the same look as before, back in the bedroom. A look full of fondness. Respect. And… something else; that other emotion she couldn’t quite identify. Could it be…?

No… There was no way. She was just flattering herself by even entertaining the thought. Chat was just… a very affectionate friend. Someone who didn’t receive a lot of physical closeness in his daily life. It shouldn’t be a surprise that he’d be so touchy-feely with her. There might be some mutual attraction, sure (something that she still needed to sort her feelings about). But to imagine anything more would be delusional.

Regardless, his boldness always managed to knock the air out of her lungs, and she couldn’t help but be rendered speechless.

All at once, however, Ladybug could feel her parents’ stares from the back of her head, which Chat most certainly had not noticed (or if he did, he didn’t seem to care).

Pretty certain that her body had abruptly burst into flames, Ladybug stepped away with an awkward giggle and a small wave. “See you Saturday! We’ll have fun and make out–I mean HANG OUT!! SORRY, I’MJUSTGONNAGONOW, BYE!!!” she screeched, practically running into the door in her haste.

“Wait! What about your cookies?” Sabine called.

Ladybug skidded to a halt, throwing her hands in the air. “R-right!!! ‘Cause I love cookies!” She sprinted back to the countertop to grab a small handful, then bolted back towards the door. Squawking one last garbled goodbye, she swung the door closed, albeit unsuccessfully, the latter bouncing off the doorframe from the excessive force. The remaining three listened to Ladybug clamber down the stairs and exit the building in a span of time that would ordinarily be considered impossible.

About sixty seconds later, a pajama-clad Marinette descended the stairs from her bedroom with a loud, theatrical yawn, stretching her arms above her head. She called out, “Good morning, everyone!”

Tom replied, “Hey sleepyhead! You won’t believe who just stopped by!”

Maintaining her ruse, she answered innocently, “Hmm? Was it Alya? It seems a bit too early for her.”

Sabine chimed in, “Oh sweetie, this was definitely the worst morning for you to sleep in! Ladybug was here! At our house! She left a minute ago; you just barely missed each other!”

Marinette gave out a dramatic gasp, bringing her hand to her mouth, accompanied by a loud groan. “Oh noooo~! I missed Ladybug?? Darn my luck! Oh well, maybe next time!” She promptly changed the subject, plucking a cookie from the tray on the kitchen counter. “Oh, yum! You made cookies!”

Tom scrunched his eyebrows. “Uh... Marinette, we always have cookies.”

She giggled nervously. “O-oh yeah! Definitely one of the best perks of living in a bakery, that’s for sure!” She shoved most of the cookie into her mouth, thus preventing herself from blurting out any further absurdities. If anyone happened to notice how shaky her fingers were as she munched on her pastry, nobody commented on it.

They sat around the table, eventually settling into comfortable chatter, and enjoyed a proper breakfast accompanied by a wide assortment of teas. Afterwards, it was time for Sabine and Tom to say their goodbyes and officially open the bakery for the day. Chat made good on his promise to Ladybug and cleaned up after the meal, tidying up the kitchen and doing the dishes, with Marinette offering a helping hand to keep him company.

Afterwards, Marinette moved to the sofa and motioned for Chat to follow. He grinned widely and eagerly complied. The couple made themselves comfortable and resumed their friendly conversation.

“So, Ladybug stopped by to see you, huh?” Marinette asked, immediately noticing the way Chat’s cheekbones turned pink upon mentioning her alter ego. “What did she say? Other than asking my parents to let you stay here for a while.”

“I– she, uh... She just wanted to say hi and see how I was doing, and, um…” he stammered. “Like you said, she asked your parents if it would be okay for me to lay low at your house for a little bit. Then she mentioned she had an appointment and had to leave.”

“And… that’s it?” she asked.

Chat turned bright red at this point, his eyes wide and hands tightly gripping his knees. “P-pretty much.”

Marinette laboriously suppressed a wry smile, but decided to let him off the hook and stop making him wriggle nervously with her secret teasing. “I’m glad you guys got to see each other. And I’m relieved that you decided to stay.”

He smiled shyly. “I’m a bit shocked at how generous you all are, to be honest. N-not that it surprises me that you guys are so nice, of course; I already knew that,” he clarified. “But it’s just… it’s a huge favor to ask from anybody. Especially for nothing in return. I’d still like to pay you back somehow, but I’m not entirely sure how to do that.”

Marinette reached over and squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. “It’s okay, Chat! You don’t have to do anything. Really! It’s just like a sleepover. Friends do sleepovers all the time!”

Chat twiddled his fingers nervously. “I, uh… I’ve actually never slept over at someone else’s house before. Not even Chlo– uh… not even my closest friends.”

Marinette made a small, thoughtful hum. “Well, thankfully we’ve got all day to prepare for the biggest, most amazing sleepover you could ever imagine! Starting with me kicking your butt in ‘Ultimate Mecha Strike 3’!”

Chat’s face lit up with an excited twinkle in his eyes and a mischievous smile that she couldn’t help but find utterly adorable. “Oh, we’ll see about that!”

They laughed freely and began setting up their game on the television.

As Marinette got the controllers out, Chat asked bashfully, “Umm, before we begin... do you happen to have any Camembert? For some reason, I’ve been craving it like crazy.”

Marinette raised an eyebrow. Camembert? That was… kind of an odd and rather specific request. Why Camembert, of all things?

Just then, a thought occurred to her. Since she was fairly certain that it wasn’t a pregnancy-related craving, she realized that that must be his kwami’s preferred food. Since Chat couldn’t detransform to feed him, the need for that extra energy must be manifesting itself through cravings.

Poor little guy is working so hard... He must be exhausted!

Making a mental note to stock up on all kinds of cheeses, she grinned at Chat with a cheeky wink.

“One cheese-fest, coming right up!”

[himbowelsh]

Hi! I wanted to ask if you could do the Valentine's A-Z thing for Smokey. If you're uninspired, it's totally fine if you don't, though!! :) in case you do, thank you very much!^^

valentines day alphabet  ( accepting! )

A   :   AFFECTION.   how does your muse show affection?

He’s a very demonstrative person who’s not shy about his physicality, and most at ease around people who are able to take it; sometimes Smokey can even be thoughtless with touch, because he doles it out so casually. he loves to be touched in return, relishing the reassurance it provides   ---   Smokey’s just not someone who enjoys being alone for too long, so brushing shoulders and wrapping arms around people chases those feelings of loneliness away.

B   :   BOUQUET.   does your muse like flowers? which ones are their favourite?

He’s actually very good at picking out just the right bouquet for the occasion! His twin sister has a passion for flowers, so Smokey had to learn, okay?Flowers really aren’t that confusing, once you know how to take care of them. He’s no gardener, but could definitely keep plants alive if he tried.

C   :   CHOCOLATE.   does your muse like chocolate? which one is their favourite?

He’s a casual fan. While he won’t buy it for himself, if someone gives it as a gift  ---  or a bribe  ---  he’ll gladly accept.

D   :   DATE.   what is your muse’s ideal date? where / who with / etc?

He wants to take something completely casual and turn it into something semi-illegal. Let’s go to the movies and try to break into the projector booth, just to see if it’s possible. Best seats in the house! Let’s see if we can “accidentally” get locked in a department store overnight, and run around bouncing on beds and doing weird things in the dressing rooms. Smokey can make most casual things a lot of fun, but he thrives in situations on just the right side of absurd. He’d love a partner who can liven up even the most mundane date! (And hopefully rein him in from doing anything too wild.) 

E   :   EMBRACE.   does your muse like hugs? what are their hugs like?

Again  ----  very driven by physical contact, very liberal giving it out. Smokey hugs like it’s going out of style. He rubs people’s backs, claps their shoulders a bit, sometimes blows in their ear to make them jump...  he’s got a different hug for every occasion.

F   :   FLIRT.   is your muse good at flirting? how do they flirt?

A very playful flirt, with a collection of pickup lines ranging from inspired to creatively-terrifying.

G   :   GIFT.   is your muse good at gift - giving or do they struggle to get it right?

He thinks he’s great at gift-giving. Plenty of people who’ve received gifts from him would beg to disagree. And beg to be able to return the thing. (“Why the hell do I need a Dick Tracy lunchbox, Smokey, I’m a grown-ass man  ---”)  Always gives his gifts with the utmost confidence, even if it’s not something any sane person would want.

H   :   HEART.   is your muse quick or slow to give their heart away?

He definitely needs the right incentive, with the right partner...  but that doesn’t take much. Truth is, Smokey falls in love fast. Once he’s in, he’s in, and it’s not easy to shatter his affections.

I    :   I LOVE YOU.   does your muse find ‘i love you’ easy or hard to say?

Gah, he loves saying it. If he’s in the right mood, he’ll say it twenty times in a day, just because he loves hearing it. When it comes to love, he’s very verbally demonstrative, as well as physically. Saying the Three Big Words isn’t a big deal to Smokey, because by the time he says them, he knows he means it   ----   not like there’s any point holding them back. He’ll be the first to say it in a relationship  (and might hold his breath until his partner says it back, but he’s willing to wait all year).

J   :   JEALOUSY.   does your muse get jealous in a relationship?

Nah, not really. He’s a confident guy, and that confidence extends to his partner   ---   he’s fully confident they’d never do anything to hurt him. And...  honestly, Smokey’s got a wide circle of friends who he’s very affectionate with, so seeing the same behavior from his partner wouldn’t raise any red flags for him at all.

K   :   KISS.   is your muse a good kisser? why / why not?

Smokey is the world’s biggest tease  ---   a very playful kisser, who enjoys stringing his partner along after him. He loves pulling someone close, his arm wrapping around their back completely, a hand cupping their head; he’ll angle them slightly backwards, leaning into the kiss as his mouth finds a rhythm against their own. Slight grazes of teeth and tongue, just enough to leave them tense in his grasp, eager for more...  and then he’ll pull away with a broad grin on his face, inviting them to come get it. Very into love nips, but will pull unexpectedly tender kisses seemingly out of nowhere.

L   :   LOVE.   who does your muse love?

He’s got a lot of love to give, and when it comes to the people he cares about, Smokey loves fiercely. Probably the most important person in his life is his twin sister, Cleta, who he adores; then his parents; then all his friends, who he’d hide a body for without question; and his family should he ever start one, would immediately move to the top of the list.

M   :   MOONLIGHT.   is morning or night a more romantic setting?

He tends to get in a weirdly touchy/romantic mood anywhere around 1 - 3am, aka the hours when any sane person just wants to sleep. He’s tired too, and he knows his partner is, but when the mood strikes...

N   :   NAUGHTY.   what is your muse like in bed?

Smokey is a very attentive lover. He does not work on instinct; it’s all observation, keeping track of what his partner responds to best. Do they shiver when he nips them here? Groan when his tongue does that right there? Very interesting. He files it all away for later, stocking up an arsenal of how best to drive his partner wild. And what a tease  ---   he’ll bring his partner to the brink, only to pull them right back, so many times that they can actually get angry at him. Fisting a hand in his curls and pulling is a guaranteed way to get him compliant; he’s very sensitive at his hips, and will turn to putty if his partner directs their attentions there. 

O   :   ODE.   does your muse have a way with words?

You know he does, baby, you know he does. One of his favorite hobbies is writing long-winded poems just to troll people, but Smokey has also tried his hand at writing short stories before. Love poetry is very different  ---  much more intimate  ---  but Smokey’s sharp enough to do anything if he puts his mind to it, so he’d give it a shot.

P   :   PARTNER.   what does your muse look for in a partner? looks / personality?

Smokey wants someone with a bright personality   ----   someone who lights up every room, with a quick wit and sharp mind. They don’t need to be a social butterfly, just to entertain him; he likes to be kept on his toes. Someone with a great sense of humor, and a great laugh. Someone who loves to read, because so does he, and they can talk about books for hours; someone who makes good coffee in the mornings, and that’s crucial. Smokey really just needs someone who can bounce off of him, take a joke, and make him smile even when it seems the hardest thing in the world. 

Q   :   QUESTION.   would your muse ask the big question or expect their partner to?

If you don’t think this man will plan an elaborate proposal   ---   he’d do the most elaborate thing. He’s probably brainstormed wild proposals long before he even met his partner, just because he figured he’d have to do it someday, and wanted to be ready. Smokey would find some insane way to propose, like on the top of a roller coaster or via skywriting airplane,just to see if he could pull it off. And if it doesn’t, he has no qualms with finding another way, and proposing all over again.

R   :   ROMANCE.   is your muse a romantic or a cynic?

He’s got a super romantic heart, and is 100% willing to laugh at his own optimism. That doesn’t make it any less genuine, or make him any less eager to find love.

S   :   SWEETHEART.   did your muse have a childhood sweetheart?

His sister went through a phase when she wanted to get married, and poor Smokey was the nearest boy she could rope into playing the Wedding game with her. She got her best dress out, a little bouquet of flowers, forced Smokey to make a ring out of an old bottle cap for her...  then, somehow, a bunch of other neighborhood girls got involved. Smokey ended up with six wives, including his sister. None of them wanted anything to do with him by next week. He’s 90% sure none of those marriages are valid today.

T   :   TRUE LOVE.   does your muse believe in true love?

Sure he does! When he meets the right person, Smokey’s determined  ---  that’s going to be it. He’ll be sold. He’ll know them, he’ll love them, and the rest of his life will just be getting to show them. He’s definitely idealized romance in his head, but that’s just because he really wants to fall deeply in love with someone.

U   :   UNREQUITED.   has your muse had their heart broken?

Smokey’s not the type to be completely shattered by a failed romance, even if it were one that meant a lot to him. Something like...  losing someone he loves without warning, or having them die too soon...  that’s the sort of thing capable of breaking his heart.

V   :   VALENTINE.   how does your muse feel about valentine’s day?

It’s a fun night, and he’ll spoil his partner any way they want, but he loves using it as an opportunity to come up with dates no one else would think of. Who else would spend Valentine’s Day renting horses to ride, or going to a haunted house?

W  :   WEDDING.   would your muse get married? why / why not?

Yes! Please marry him! He wants it bad! He’ll ask a dozen times  ---  once he loves someone, he wants nothing more than to spend the rest of his life with them. Marriage sounds like a dream.

X   :   XOXO.   does your muse use / like pet names?

Oh, absolutely! He’ll make lists, just brainstorming as many as he can think of, and leave them lying around the house for his partner to find; he’ll bounce a few off of them, just to see how they’ll work.   (“honeycakes, what are you  ---  no, that doesn’t work, does it?”  // “hey, sugarpuss--” “NOPE.”) Nicknames are a sport for Smokey, and he plays to win.

Y   :   YOURS.   does your muse get protective easily?

Smokey has a very short list of people he’d go ride-or-die for. It includes his sister, his mom, a few close friends, and his partner. Once they’re on that list, no one gets to hurt them, ever.

Z   :   ZZZ.   how many people has your muse slept with?

Honestly, it’s all about finding takers. Smokey’s not shy, but wasn’t exactly rolling in girlfriends back home. Overseas, it’s easier. If asked, he’d probably quote a number much higher than the actual amount.