#HOW HES PROBABLY SO PRETTY WITH SILVER IN HIS HAIR

[iamgonnagetyouback]

hello there! i absolutely adore how you wrote for regulus and so if youre willing, I’d like to request for him with a reader who liked to collect things people consider weird (bug wings, bones found in the forest, etc) and she gives the prettiest/shiniest to him

can you also include her and pandora (+ the rest of the skittles) being friends? like reader and dory are both similar aka whimsy

idk something about reggie makes me want to give him all the weird pretty things in the world. Thank yiu and have a wonderful morning/evning/night!!

I FOUND THIS AND THOUGHT OF YOU.⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ㅤ ㅤ●ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ R. BLACK

SUMMARY ৎ୭ you’ve always loved collecting weird little things, and regulus black has always been your favorite person to give them to. you’re not really sure when it started, but now it’s a habit

WARNINGS ಇ. fluff— lots and lots of it, whimsical!reader A/N ಇ. this idea was so adorable!! ty for the sweet words too ♡

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ᡣ𐭩 words.ᐟ 1,008

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ౨ৎㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

You had always been a collector of strange things.

Shiny beetle wings, hollow bird bones, stones shaped like hearts, broken glass smoothed down by the river. Anything that made other people wrinkle their noses or laugh unkindly, you pocketed with a smile.

Pandora understood, of course. She tucked fallen feathers behind her ear and pressed petals into the pages of her books until they dried and crumbled. Dorcas mostly shook her head and called you both odd little fairies, but there was affection in it.

Regulus… Regulus was different.

He never laughed. Never looked at you like you were ridiculous or childish. When you first offered him a twisted bit of silver wire you had found tangled in the roots of the Whomping Willow — dangerous, beautiful — he had only held it in his palm and said quietly, “Thank you.”

And now it had become a thing.

A ritual.

You finding something strange and lovely. Him accepting it.

It happened again on a lazy Sunday afternoon.

The group had gathered under the sprawling oak tree near the lake, sprawled in the grass. Dorcas and Marlene were throwing an apple back and forth between them. Barty and Evan were arguing loudly about something neither probably remembered. Pandora had fallen asleep on your lap, her hair a tangle of flowers and twigs.

And you… you had found something.

It was a fragment of a bird’s nest, woven with glinting scraps of metal and bits of blue thread, abandoned and half-crushed.

You turned it over in your hands, feeling the brittle, stubborn strength of it. It was beautiful in a way most people wouldn't bother to see.

You glanced at Regulus.

He was sitting cross-legged a little apart from the others, sketching absentmindedly in the margin of his Potions notes, silver eyes flickering between the page and the lake.

Quietly, you disentangled yourself from Pandora and padded over.

You didn’t say anything at first. You simply sat down beside him, close enough that your knees brushed. He looked up, one eyebrow lifting in that careful, curious way he had reserved only for you and Pandora.

You held out the nest.

“I found this,” you said. “Thought you might like it.”

Regulus didn’t speak immediately. He closed his notebook slowly, set it aside, and took the offering from your hands with an almost reverent touch.

His fingers brushed yours. You pretended not to notice how your breath caught.

“This is…” he began, then stopped. He turned the nest over carefully, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “It’s strange.”

“Strange,” you repeated, a little breathless. “But good-strange?”

He looked at you properly then, the way he always did — like he was memorizing you.

“Always good-strange,” he said.

You ducked your head, feeling your cheeks heat. Picked a blade of grass and twisted it between your fingers.

For a few minutes, you sat there in comfortable silence, watching the lake shift and glitter under the pale sky.

Then, softly, Regulus said, “You don’t have to keep giving me things.”

You frowned slightly. “I want to.”

He studied you for a moment longer, the bird’s nest cradled carefully in his lap.

“Why?” he asked.

You shrugged, voice light. “You seem like you need them more than I do.”

He huffed a soft laugh under his breath, almost disbelieving. "I don't even know what to do with half of them."

"You don't have to do anything with them," you said simply. "Just keep them."

Regulus didn't reply right away. He only reached out, slow and tentative, and tucked a stray leaf out of your hair, his fingertips lingering just a little longer than necessary against your temple.

"I do keep them," he said finally, voice low and sure. "All of them."

Your heart cracked a little at that. In a good way.

"You do?" you whispered.

He nodded once.

"In a box under my bed," he admitted. "Don't tell the others. Evan would never let me hear the end of it."

You smiled so wide it hurt. "Your secret’s safe with me."

He leaned in slightly, like he might say something else — something heavier — but Barty chose that exact moment to shout across the lawn.

"Oi, Black! Quit flirting and come help me beat Evan's arse at chess!"

Regulus didn't look away from you. His thumb brushed your knuckles where your hands still rested lightly between you.

“Later,” he said quietly, a promise tucked into the word.

Then he stood, pocketing the bird’s nest with the same care he might have given a pocket watch or a precious letter, and walked away without a backward glance.

You sat there for a long moment, heart tumbling over itself, the air still shimmering where he had touched you.

Later, he had said.

You thought maybe — just maybe — you would be patient for him.

After all, you had all the time in the world. And you had so many more strange, beautiful things left to find.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ౨ৎㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“You’re smiling,” Marlene accused loudly as they trudged up the castle steps.

Regulus shot her a cool look. “I am not.”

“Oh, you absolutely are.” Dorcas grinned, her face still smudged with mud from earlier. “I’ve never seen you smile that much in one day. Not even when Evan fell into the lake last month.”

“That was different,” Regulus said primly. “That was amusing.”

“That’s it,” Barty said, throwing an arm around Evan’s shoulders dramatically. “She’s bewitched him. She’s a menace. Look at him — carrying around bird nests like a lovesick magpie.”

“He’s in love,” Pandora sang, twirling a stick like a wand.

You just laughed, skipping a step ahead of them, your pockets jingling with collected bits of the day — a crow’s feather, a sea-glass shard, a handful of smooth acorns.

Regulus watched you, his hand curled protectively around the nest you had given him.

Maybe he was a lovesick magpie. Maybe he didn’t care.

You were worth it.

You were worth everything.

©iamgonnagetyouback౨ৎ please refrain from copying, translating, or reposting any of my work

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

Can I Keep You Touch It? (Eren x Geto x F!Reader 18+ One Shot)

Pairing: Rapper!Eren Yeager x Stripper!Reader x CEO!Geto Suguru

Synopsis: You’ve been working at a high-end strip club for a couple years now and have quickly racked up popularity among the high rollers for your confidence, moves, looks, and wicked ways of getting to their pockets. But when you find yourself caught between two wealthy and sexy men in particular who have interested you (mostly because of the strange butterflies they give you), you will have to ask yourself if the money is worthy giving up on something special when they ask you to choose between them.

Warnings: Smutty Smut, 18+ (MINORS DNI), Pole Dancing, Lap Dance, Strip Tease, Love Triangle, Reader Is A Gold Digger, Possessive MDom!Eren + Possessive MDom!Geto x fsub!Reader, Exhibitionism, Public/VIP Room Sex, Threesome, Doggystyle, Cowgirl, Slutification, Degradation/Praise, Dual Blowjob, Oral (Giving & Receiving), Spanking, CMNF (briefly), Finger Sucking, Aftercare, Poly Love

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer's Note: Had this little idea in my head for a minute now & I'm still on my Eren hyper fixation lol. He's so fun to write about! I hope y'all enjoy! -Jazz

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

It was another weekend working in the club tonight...or so you thought when you first walked in.

Until you caught the whiff of his cologne: wealthy and sweet, like him.

You smelled it the minute you were doing your rounds on the floor before you were ordered to one of the VIP rooms or put on stage for one of your routines. It seemed lately that your boss has been putting you on stage more and more...probably because he knows you bring in the big ballers.

Everybody knows it, including you. It isn't just the fullness of your titties or the way they bounce in your itty bitty bikini tops or bodysuits. It isn't just the way your ass bounces and moves like Jell-O, transfixing anyone who watches. It isn't just your smooth skin or pretty face or sultry eyes.

It is your confidence. The way you present yourself. How you walk and talk when you enter the domaine of the strip club night after night. And how you're able to drain a man out of his last dollar with just some sweet talk and the promise of your number.

He is here tonight. Again. For you.

Hopefully.

You see him walk in, carrying the same confidence that got you before. It is a quiet yet intense aura that makes your body tingle and your stomach flip. You suppose that is what has gotten him such a devoted fanbase other than his raspy tones on his music.

As soon as he steps into the room, all eyes are on him. He has captured others' attention. Clients and strippers alike eye him down, some with excitement and others with lust. It isn't every day that one sees a celebrity wander into the same place as them.

Eren Yeager, popular rapper/singer/dancer/songwriter, is the "IT boy", one could say. He used to be in a K/JPOP group before he went solo three years ago and since then, he has been on every billboard, magazine, and woman's shirt known to man. You've listened to his music before you met him, so you know his appeal. You can't deny that you've gotten butterflies hearing him switch from English to Japanese to Korean in his songs, flexing his bilingual talent.

It also helps that the man is fine as fuck. Tonight, he wears $1,1000 Balenciaga sneakers that he has paired with jeans, a silver chain, rings on his fingers, and a white tee that shows the outline of his pecs and forearms soooo nicely. He has put his long, black hair up in a bun tonight. When you met, it was down at his shoulders.

His tattoos are prominent and enchanting, roping up and down his toned arms. His piercings-one etched into his brow, a couple in his ears, one in his bottom lip-glisten in the dim violet lights above, giving him a very dangerous look that has gotten you wet many times before.

His intense grey eyes scan the room, searching. Maybe for you? You hope so. You were hoping he would come tonight. He said he was coming home from a press run overseas in London today, but had time tonight. "I'm never too busy for you," he said to you over the phone. "You know that." You never admitted to yourself how much that made your stomach flutter.

You stand at the bar in your bedazzled red bra that holds your titties up and in, your mini skirt with just a sliver of your ass poking out, and your gold heels that you swear bring you good luck. You're well aware that you're getting stares as you usually do, even when you're just standing around waiting for your drink.

It is the price of being beautiful, you suppose. You know you tend to attract eyes with your glossy hair, creamy skin, intense eyes, and thick thighs. Not to mention your walk and your moves when you dance. You take pride in your job, whether some think it's dirty or not. You're just making a buck.

You turn away from looking at the tattooed, pierced-up stud, not wanting him to see you watching him first. That is what happened the first time you met: you eyed him down and he noticed. But now? You want him to eye you down instead.

Your bestie and favorite bartender Yuki comes wandering over in her six-inch heels and a secretive smile on her face. She leans over to talk to you, keeping her voice down to avoid any patrons hearing. The club is packed tonight.

"He's here again, you know," she whispers. You raise an eyebrow at her and she nods at the rapper. You don't turn around to see if he has left the entrance and is heading towards you. "What'd you do to him?" she giggles.

"Watchu mean?" you chuckle. "I didn't do nothin' but get him hooked on this body." You run a hand down your physique, smiling cockily. Yuki rolls her eyes, but giggles, pausing to assist a client with another shot of brown liquor.

You then turn to look over your shoulder at Eren and finally, your eyes lock. It is as if the entire room vanishes, leaving only you two in the room. He smiles, and it aches. It is a happy, adoring smile that means he is happy to see you. And dammit, you're happy to see him too.

You abruptly turn back around to face Yuki, your heart pounding wildly. She gives you a smile, but you can tell she is worried. She taps one of her glossy, burgundy nails against your chin. "You know what the boss says about makin' personal relationships with the clients."

You roll your eyes. You don't want to hear anything about those stupid ass rules. "Please," you scoff, waving your bejeweled acrylic nails. "He only says that he doesn't want baby mama drama if one of the girls wind up pregnant by one of 'em. That won't be me."

You give Yuki a smirk over the bar and tease a lock of her blonde hair. "I'm just gettin' to the bag," you snicker. "Like I always do." But even when you say that, you can feel the twinge of guilt in your gut. You've been "talking" to Eren for over a month now. A month of nonstop chatting, flirting, and teasing.

You will admit that the minute you saw Eren, you saw dollar signs. But how else can you see men when they walk through the doors of the club? You make your living dancing on a pole! Of course, you're going to try to squeeze these guys out of their checks to pay your bills!

So when you saw Eren, you saw an opportunity. You figured he'd eventually get tired of you and cut your strings loose soon, especially since you haven't let him hit yet. All men are like that, you have learned...all men who come to the club, that is. 'But maybe Eren is different,' a little voice in your head argues. You push it away.

"Just be careful, Y/N," Yuki worriedly says. "He's hot, but he doesn't seem like he likes to share. What if one day, he swoops you up out of here and we never see you again?" You just laugh, tittering at her. "That would be my happy ending," you giggle. "Now gimme a shot."

Yuki still looks concerned, but pours you a shot of your favorite tequila. You down it and suck on a lime before you have the courage to stand and properly greet Eren, but to your surprise, he is gone. You begin to slowly strut away from the bar, searching for him among the lights and people.

You then feel a hand gently grasp yours. You turn, prepared to bark at the non-consenting touch, but your prepared lecture is stunted by Eren's pretty face and eyes. "So you just gonna walk around like you ain't see me?" He cocks his head to the side, acting mock offended. "What's up witchu?"

You crack a smile, trying hard to swallow your butterflies at being so close to him. "What's up witchu?" you playfully shoot back. "I was gettin' to you, but I have my rounds too. Nice to see you again, Eren."

His smile is so infectious, it's annoying. "You too, Princess." He way he says your stripper name is close to dirty talk to your ears. "Actually, since we're on the subject of names, when are you gonna tell me yours?"

There are two things that you don't do with clients: tell them your birth name or fall in love. Both make things too messy, especially when money is involved. They are the two rules you follow always, no matter how tempted you are to break them for Eren. "A lady doesn't draw all her cards at once," you giggle, flipping your hair back. "Don't you think the mystery is sexy? So what brings you back here again tonight?"

Eren passively shrugs, acting nonchalant. "I dunno, the mystery is kinda sexy." You roll your eyes at his quip, earning a very sexy laugh in return. "I just got back from my London trip and figured I'd drop in to see you."

He shoves a hand in his pocket, suddenly looking sheepish. "I...missed you," he confesses. "Those texts only did so much." You ignore the way your heart flutters at his confession. "Well, I hope the videos helped," you purr, referring to the very lewd videos you sent him after too much wine.

Eren's eyes light up at the mention of them. "Thank God I'm back so I can get the physical thing," he softly growls, snapping back the red nylon of your stockings. "Oh, and before I forget..." He pauses, digs into his pocket, and presents you with a small wrapped box.

Your heart shoots into your throat. "What's this?" you curiously ask. He smirks at you. "A bomb. Open it and find out, silly girl." You do as ordered and melt at the sight of the little Hello Kitty figurine dressed in a Queen's Guard uniform with the funny hat staring back at you.

Eren blushes, somehow looking hotter. "It ain't much, but I remember you sayin' how much you love Hello Kitty and I saw this in a window."

You stare at the gift for longer than necessary, gobsmacked. No client has ever given you a gift before besides an extra tip or the usual, unwanted dick pics. "Thank you, Eren," you whisper. You saunter up to him, watching his proud smile fade as he gets a good look at you.

You place a hand on his shoulder and lean in to whisper in his ear. "Wait for me in the back. Call for me in about fifteen." You pull away to see the hot, unwavering look in his eyes, making you melt in your skirt and stockings. He makes you drip even more when he suddenly leans in and presses a soft kiss to your cheek. "I'll be waitin' for you," he whispers.

Before you can even utter a single breath, he walks off, heading towards the VIP rooms where he always goes to be alone with you. After taking a moment to get yourself together, you tell Yuki to hide your present in your locker (after telling her to shut up with all of that excited squealing) and start to make your rounds.

But again, you're stopped by a hand grabbing yours. You yank your hand away and turn around to fuss at the patron. The nerve of these men! "Whoa!" you yell, about to rip into this stranger's asshole. "Hands off the merchandise, mother..."

Your tongue lashing dies down when you get a look at the tall, dark, and handsome stud standing before you in his long-sleeve top that hugs his toned upper torso and big forearms the way you'd like to and sweats. Definitely not the ideal outfit for a CEO. He has his hair down tonight, each glossy, raven-colored lock cascading down his broad shoulders, covering his gage piercings.

He, too, has piercings-silver snakebites in his bottom lip, one in his eyebrow, and the other embedded in his tongue. You've seen it many times before. All of that somehow fits his handsome face, sharp cheekbones, and violet eyes so increasingly well.

Oh, shit. He's here too. Another one of your "tricks" in your stable that you've been chatting up for a month: Geto Suguru, owner of his own popular clothing company. Hot, wealthy, and generous with his money. Just your type. Just like Eren.

"I'm sorry, hon," he says, sounding genuine. "I didn't realize you didn't like my touch anymore." You feel yourself trembling at the sound of his silky, deep voice and the sweet scent of vanilla on his skin. "Shit, Geto," you sigh. "Sorry, I thought you were-"

"Some drunk bum sittin' by the bar waitin' for a dance?" he chuckles. "No worries. Though if I looked like you, I'd definitely have dudes pay to touch me too." He gives you a smile that is blinding and painful for you. It is one filled with joy to see you. "How are you tonight, love?" he asks.

You swallow, doing your best to relax. "G-Good...now. What brings you here tonight?" You weren't expecting both of these men to be here tonight. They usually aren't in the same place at the same time. And then you tell yourself to stop being a dumb bitch. You aren't dating either one of these guys, so why do you feel so nervous and guilty?

Geto shrugs his broad shoulders, the collar of his shirt low enough to see the koi fish neck tattoo he is sporting. "Oh, y'know: the expensive drinks, the stimulating music, and the appealing skin shows." That's another thing you like about Geto: his humor. He has the same dry, Dad humor that you do that makes you giggle whenever you're giving him lap dances.

"Of course, you know I'm fuckin' with you," he chuckles, cracking another gorgeous smile. "Of course, you know I'm here for you."

"Oh, you are?" you flirtatiously ask. He nods, his violet eyes glistening with mirth and interest in the lights. "Mmm-hmm. After all, you promised me a dance and a date the last time I was here."

"I did?" you ask. And then your brain backtracks to a week ago when Geto visited and you threw back too many chocolate vodka shots so you were hot in the mouth. "I did," you realize.

Noticing your reaction, Geto frowns. "Guess you can't do the date yet?" he gently asks. He places a gentle hand on your shoulder, burning you down to the bone. "Hey, don't worry about it. You will when you're ready, okay?"

That is another thing you unfortunately like about Geto: his sweetness. He is by far the sweetest, most considerate man you've ever met. You feel so horrible for leading him on the way you are. He has been asking for a date for a longest time, but it is always an excuse. Just like with Eren.

"I just don't know when I'm gonna get off tonight," you lamely explain. He nods, but you both know that he knows you're bullshitting. "But I can give you a dance," you offer, giving him a smile. "You'll just have to wait a bit though."

Instantly, storm clouds cloud his eyes and he scowls. He and Eren both aren't too keen on sharing you and you can't imagine how they would feel knowing that one is in front of the other for a dance. "Why? You got somebody before me?"

You nervously twirl the end of your hair, thinking things over. "W-Well..." You stop, getting an idea. A very bad idea. "Actually, come with me real quick." You take Geto's hand in yours and you ignore how much bigger in size it is compared to yours as you weave through the club to the VIP rooms.

The VIP rooms are by far the nicest rooms in the club with their comfy furniture, mini bars, private showers, and soundproof walls. Eren is currently chilling in the one you and Geto enter, sitting on a couch facing a stripper pole attached to the wall and trailing to the floor.

He instantly looks up when he hears your heels clicking across the floor and tosses his phone aside. "Hey, you," he says, adoration in his voice. "I thought you'd forgotten about me and went off to..." He trails off as his eyes flick to Geto. Confusion and irritation registers across his face. "Who the fuck are you?" he asks, venom in his tone.

Geto barely looks intimidated. "Who the fuck are you?" he asks, unbothered.

You clear your throat, closing the door behind you. "Um, Suguru, this is Eren. Eren, this is Suguru. Tonight, you're both my clients and I'm caught in a bind, so y'all are gonna have to share me for a few minutes." Eren scowls in confusion. "A few minutes? You don't got an hour?"

"I have other duties, Eren," you slightly giggle. "Fuck that. Your boss knows I got the money to pay for an hour." The CEO slips his wallet out, giving you a smile that pisses Eren off. "So do I," Geto replies. "For two hours, actually."

You stare wide-eyed at the wallet where a golden American Express card glistens at you. Two hours?! This man definitely came here with an agenda. But so did Eren. Obviously looking for a challenge, he pulls a wad of crisp bills out of his pocket, a Black Card wrapped up in the dollars. You never thought you could get so wet over money before...but maybe that's just because of the men holding it.

You place your hands on your hips like a fed-up mom, popping up your hip as you glare at them. "Well, this as good as you two are gonna get right now, so please...no fighting."

The two men are still staring each other down, both looking like they want the other to disappear. "Do y'all want a dance or not?" you huff. After another silent stare down, they finally break and give in to your conditions. "Fine," they both sigh.

You smile, pleased. "Good boys. Now relax and let me some drinks." You aware hyper-aware of the two studs ogling your ass as you strut to the mini bar to whip them up some vodka tonics, the only drink you know how to make.

As the two get comfortable on either side of the couch, Eren whips out his pre-rolled blunts like he usually does. As he flicks open the lighter, letting the blunt hang between his lips, Geto curiously eyes him. "Y'know, you do look familiar," he says. Eren raises a brow, confused. "Yeah, I've seen you in here before. With her."

He nods at you across the way. You puts around pouring the drinks, pretending that you don't hear them. You also sip a bit more than you pour, needing the liquid confidence. You can feel yourself becoming nervous. You look up to examine them from afar as if you're on a safari and you're about to witness two male lions go at it for their prey.

"Yeah," Eren deadpans. "Where else would I be? And I'm guessin' you're here for the same reason?"

Geto acts as if he didn't hear the previous quip from the hot-headed rapper. "Depends," he replies, tossing an arm behind the couch and placing an ankle on his opposite knee. "I'm not one for competing in challenges that I'll win, but I like friendly competitions here an' there."

Silence descends upon you and the tension is so thick that you could cut the bitch with a chainsaw. You strut back over with their drinks, carefully eyeing the two men. "You two gettin' along?" you ask, raising a sharp brow. They silently nod though they look anything but happy. "Good!" you giggle.

You hand them their drinks and proceed to move to the music playing. It is Brent Faiyaz from what you can hear thumping through the walls. "Now stop bitchin' and look here," you order. Like two dogs hearing Pavlov's bell, the two studs abruptly sit up at the change in your tone and the sight of your body. "Yes, ma'am," they both reply in unison.

You smile, relishing in their interested, lustful stares at your body as you sway and gyrate your hips, grasping the pole beside you. You flip your hair, do the "left cheek, right cheek" twerk that they seem to like so much, and do your whole sexy shtick, keeping eye contact the entire time.

It is easy for you to follow the beat depending on what is playing. Mostly because you love dancing. You love to feel the cool metal of the pole and feel your feet in the air as you swing, spin, and twirl on the stripper pole. You lose yourself in your movements and the feeling you get from being watched by the two studs.

They can't get enough of you, their lids becoming hooded as they watch the show before them. It may also be the vodka and the weed curiosity of Eren's blunt, but you can see the lust quickly filling their irises.

By the time you finish working the pole, you're out of breath and shining in sweat. The body oil you wear makes you shimmer as if you're a Goddess blessing the two humans sitting before you. "You both paid for a lap dance, right?" you ask. "Then you get two minutes each."

The two don't argue with your statement, both looking ready to snatch you up at any point. You choose to do Eren first. As soon as you lower yourself onto the floor and crawl towards him, giving him (and Geto) a great view of your arch and your soft ass, the rapper sits up straight and leans forward, his blunt and his drink forgotten.

You place your hands on his thighs as you wedge yourself between them, your heart pounding as his natural scent and cologne fill your nose. You trail your hands up his body, feeling him up, and press against his chest to push him back against the couch. He lets you, his eyes never leaving yours.

You then straddle him, placing each leg over thighs, and begin to grind yourself into his groin that you can feel hardening beneath you. Eren hums in pleasure, placing one hand on your ass while he smokes his blunt with the other, doing his best to blow the smoke away from you.

You don't usually let clients touch you while you dance, but you often make an exception for Eren and Geto (not at all because you crave their touch). "Fuck," Eren exhales, the word dripping from his lips. "You're perfect. So perfect for me."

You feel as if you are with the way he stares at you through his hooded, red eyes. He looks upon you as if you are the best thing since sliced bread. You can feel his cock pulse underneath you, throbbing and ready to-

"My turn," Geto orders. He looks damn near feral as he watches you on top of Eren and pats his lap. "Hop on, baby." He gives you a playful smile, ignoring Eren's sharp glare his way. You giggle despite the tension and unhook yourself from Eren's lap despite his very possessive ass grab.

Now is Geto's turn. He too watches you like he wants to kiss you all over as you lower yourself down onto his lap, your back to him. You proceed to grind your ass back in his face, swirling your hips around and around. During this, your ass grazes his hard-on a few times, earning you soft moans that make the hairs on your body stand on end.

When you lie back against Geto's chest and hook a thigh over his lap, you catch a glimpse of Eren watching. Though he is irritated, you notice the pulsing tent beneath his pants. Geto distracts you by wrapping an arm around your waist, his hand grazing your thigh. "God, you look nice sittin' there," he sighs. "I could get used to this view...preferably somewhere other than a strip club."

"Like where?" you ask, the vodka and weed smoke fogging your brain. Geto doesn't answer, leaving his answer open for interpretation as his arm becomes a little too firm around your waist. You can also feel his lips ghosting across your neck which is highly against stripper protocol.

Luckily, Eren cuts in by slamming his drink down on the table. "Time's up, asshole," he growls. "You went over. It's my turn with her." Geto's hold on you tightens, possessive and stubborn. "Oh, is it?" he asks, feigning innocence. "I didn't notice. My bad."

Eren practically snatches you up and sits you down in his lap, encouraging you to move with his hands on your hips. They shouldn't be there, but you don't move them. You like them too much. Heat radiates from between your thighs, meshing with Eren's hard-on that is quickly growing harder underneath you.

And then, you feel them: his lips on your neck, peppering your skin in kisses. Your eyes flick over to Geto watching you, his face oddly stoic. "Eren, wait," you weakly say. "You can't-"

"Touch you?" he finishes. "Kiss you? Why not? It's not like we ain't done this before." He pauses to stare at you, his eyes flashing. "Or is it because he's here?"

Geto laughs, humored by this as his hand gently caresses your ankle. The soft touch makes your stomach flutter and your nipples tingle. "I'm not usually the jealous type, but seein' you with someone who ain't me is startin' to get under your man's skin."

The alcohol and weed may be affecting you, but not enough to miss what he just said. "M-My what?" you gasp.

Eren catches it too and practically simmers with anger. With a growl, he gently scoots you off of him and places you in the middle of him and Geto. "That's fuckin' it!" he snaps. "I'm tired of this back and forth bullshit, Princess. You need to choose.”

You blink at him, shocked by his sudden outburst. The influence that you're under and the arousal you're feeling make you process everything a little bit slow than you usually do. “What are you talkin’ about?” you softly ask.

Geto chuckles at your cuteness, taking a sip of his Vodka Tonic. “It ain’t rocket science, cutie. You’re a smart girl. Smart enough to get two of us in the same room fightin’ over you.”

You scowl, not sure how to take his words. Does he know your plan? “I-I don’t know-“

“Don’t do that,” the CEO firmly says, and you button your lip. Yes, he does know your plan. “We know you were after the money. It’s okay, baby! A club like this is full of go-getters like you.” He reaches over, gently stroking your thigh. “But I know you weren’t prepared for either of us to want more from you."

You blink at him, shook beyond belief. They don't even know you! You haven't even told them your real name! Geto's eyes shift to Eren, his expression steely. “Though I’m not too keen on you showin’ the attention you showed me to someone else.”

Eren gives his blunt a puff and sits it on the ashtray on the table. “And neither am I," he huffs. "I don’t got you on a leash, babe, but I’m about ready to do it if it means havin’ you to myself." He leans over to whisper in your ear, his lip ring toying with your earlobe. “And I can pay you way more than he can.”

You flinch away from him as if you have been burned. He looks hurt by your action. “I don’t want your money, Ren,” you softly say. “And I don’t like being cornered either.”

“Would you rather we discuss it over dinner?” Geto sarcastically asks. “Pardon the attitude. Vodka isn’t my strongest suit.” Despite the blow, you realize that he is right. It's bad enough they both know your little plan to make bank off of them, playing them like a fiddle for a month.

But could they also possibly know that you've been second-guessing that? That you've been thinking about giving in to their offers for dates and something more than just a lap-dance, hot makeup sessions, and flirting?

You look between the two men, hot as ever and possessive. All for you. Any woman would kill to be in your position right now! You would be stupid to give this moment up. Maybe it's the weed or the vodka or the fact that they both smell so good, their colognes mingling with each other, but one of the three makes you bold enough to express your interest.

"W-Well...I could think it over, but..." You trail off, not sure what else to say. Your tongue is heavy and your mouth feels like it's full of cotton. "But what, love?" Geto gently asks, walking his fingers up your leg. They settle on your skirt, toying with the thin fabric. "You need a little persuasion?"

He suddenly leans in, pressing a kiss to your neck on your left that makes your body sing. Eren does the same thing, pressing kisses to the right side of your neck, leaving trails of fire in his wake. "How much for an hour?" he softly growls.

"E-Eren, I can't-"

"Don't try that with me again. You're talkin' 'bout doin' more in here than just dancin', so how much?"

You bite your lip, feeling heat pool between your thighs as the men's kisses grow more feverish and passion. "I-I'm not sure," you whimper out. It is so hard to think with all of this stimulation.

Eren places a possessive hand on your throat, the weight of it making you gasp. “Then I’ll fuckin’ find out when I’m done with you. I’ll pay the sun and moon for you, Princess.”

You figure at this point that there are no more secrets. No more roles. So you let your government name drip from your lips: “Y/N. That’s my name.” Geto smiles against your neck while Eren nuzzles the space behind your ear, his voice making you shiver. “Y/N,” he says. Your name sounds like sin on his lips.

Geto pulls away enough to acknowledge Eren for the first time in minutes. “So we’re sharing her?” Eren stares at him in boredom, stroking your throat with his thumb. “Yeah, unless you wanna watch. I don’t really give a fuck. My little dancer gets off on bein’ watched."

His hand trails down to your skirt where he toes with the ribbon holding it together at your hip. With one pull it slides off and he yanks it down your legs, revealing the surprise underneath: a G-string with a tiny pink bow on the front of your mound. The two men practically salivate at the sight.

Eren forces you to turn your face so he can plant more kisses on your lips, each one hotter and sloppier than the last. You can taste the vodka and lime on his tongue. “Eren,” you sigh. “The door—“

“Bodyguards,” Geto ruggedly answers, his hand caressing your thigh where it means your asscheek. “I had ‘em follow us. Nobody’s gettin’ in here, so don’t worry your pretty head about anything but this.” He busies himself with your breasts, pressing kisses along the tops of the soft globes. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” he whispers against your breasts. “I needed you for so long.”

You almost say ‘me too’. Their touches and kisses are making you delirious, ready to proclaim your love for two men you barely know. With each passing second, your pussy grows wetter, soaking the tiny cloth attached to the G-string. “Please," you whimper.

“Please what?” Eren asks. He squeezes your chin with his ringed hand, forcing you to look at him. “Open your mouth and ask us nicely.”

Geto grins at the rapper's choice of words. “Us, huh?” he chuckles. He then glides a hand down between your thighs, his fingers gliding against your G-string. “You want us to touch you here?" he whispers. Biting back a moan, you nod, your body quickly growing hotter than a wild fire. “Please….touch me.”

You glide a hand down your thighs to caress your thong-covered pussy, causing your puffy lips to swallow the thin line of fabric. The men groan at the sight, loving how your nails look against your soft, wet, plush pussy lips.

Geto kisses you a rough kiss on the cheek, pleased with your response. “Well, since you asked so nicely…”

In the blink of an eye, you are suddenly facing Geto between your legs while Eren is busy peeling your bra off, your back against his broad, hard chest. The smell of their cologne and marijuana drifts in the air, clouding your judgment even further.

Geto's eyes widen as he drags your thong to the aside, exposing your wet, soft cunt and the tiny diamond stud embedded in your clit. “So pretty,” he coos. "And a clit piercing?" He gently huffs his breath onto your clit and the bit of stimulation makes you twitch.

"Lemme see," Eren growls, craning his neck to see. "Fuck, that's so slutty, babe." Once he has your bra unclasped, your breasts and pierced nipples are exposed to their eyes. "My God!" he groans, cupping your tits in his hands. "How are you this fuckin' perfect, babe, huh?"

You thought you couldn't speak before? Words cease to exist when Geto finally gets his mouth on you. He uses his big hands to pin your legs apart as he laps at your cunt, sucking gently on your clit and rolling the diamond stud around with his wet tongue. His tongue piercing clashes with the one in your clit, causing sparks of pleasure to shoot through your core.

All you can muster are loud sobs and whines of pleasure as Geto laps and slurps at your pussy, each stroke of his tongue and suckle of his soft lips sending you into orbit. You can't stop your muscles from twitching and your thighs from clenching, desperate to be freed from Geto's iron grip on them. "Oooh, she’s a cryer,” he chuckles against your hole. “And a squirmer.”

His tongue then slithers into your hole, using the tip of his tongue to shallowly fuck you while his nose glides against your clit. Eren watches from behind you, his hands still groping your tits and tugging at your nipples. “She’s not gonna do shit when it’s my turn," he lightly growls. "Lemme show you how it’s done.”

The two men switch places, but Geto doesn't move from his spot between your thighs. He just watches as Eren absolutely goes feral on your pussy, causing spit and your juices to mix together and stain his chin and lips. All of it slips down your asscrack, making every nice and slippery. Slippery enough to fuck you with his tongue much faster. “O-Oh!” you gasp. “Oh, fuck, Eren!”

The rapper's grey eyes tick up to look at you, hypnotizing you the same way his mouth is. “Yeah?” he teases. “It’s good?”

You writhe on the couch, gripping the cushion below you for dear life. “Yes!” you sob. “Yes, Daddy, please keep going!” The honorific slips out as easy as a breath of fresh air, sounding so natural. Eren begins to lick you faster as if that title has changed him.

Geto side-eyes the rapper before he gives your ass a spank. “He gets an honorific?” he scoffs. “What about me, love? What do I get, huh?” He leans forward, pressing soothing kisses to the stinging spot where his hand collided with your asscheek.

You stare at him through teary eyes, your lashes wet with droplets. “S-Sir,” you whimper. "I'm sorry". Geto grins at you, flashing you all of his pearly whites. “Works for me. Now let's see if you can take two tongues at the same time."

Eren briefly pauses in his meal to glance at the CEO. You think he is about to tell Geto to fuck off, but to your surprise, he scoots over and allows Geto to share in feasting on your cunt. Each one has a firm hand pinned on your thigh, forcing you to stay open for them they lap at your wetness, pausing to spit copious amounts of saliva onto your lips and slurping it back up.

They take turns tongue-fucking you, alternating between one sticking his tongue inside of your wet hole while the other toys with your clit, rubbing the button around and around. You are a wailing, sobbing, screaming mess, writhing and squirming on the couch as if you're possessed. “Oh, God, wait! It’s too much!”

You feel like you're a balloon that has been pumped with too much air. You're about to pop. Geto stares up at you through hooded eyes and his lips drenched in your juices. “But you’re doin’ so well for us, love. You should see how cute you look.”

He reaches over, placing two fingers in your mouth. Greedily, you suck on his digits, coating them in your spit. Eren tears his tongue out of your hole to stare at you adoringly, allowing Geto to fill his spot. “She does look mighty good right now. Little slut.”

You have no doubt you look crazy, titties out, skirt peeled up to expose your ass and pussy, mascara askew and coating your eye sockets. But you don't care. You don't care about anything but cumming as that feeling begins to build in your core. “Oh, sh-sh-shit, I’m gonna cum!” you gasp to the ceiling.

“Mmm-hmm,” Geto hums into your pussy. “Cum for me, love. Give it to me.”

“Bitch,” Eren growls. “Cum for me, baby. You know you love this piercing, dontchu?”

You do, and deliriously, you think you love them too. They keep licking and slurping and sucking and moaning into your pussy until finally, you give a little tremble and your cum floods their mouths. The two men moan in appreciation at your taste, eagerly and happily lapping at what you give them.

Your orgasm is intense, making you shake and moan to the heavens, every word being "fuck" and "oh, shit" which God would not appreciate, probably. You could get used to being treated like this. Maybe a relationship with either of these two studs wouldn't be so terrible. 'Why just one?' a tiny voice in your head whispers. 'Why not both?'

When you come down from your orgasmic high, you look down at the two men, noticing their cocks chubbing against their pants. You giggle, delirious from the pleasure and drunk off of your orgasm. "I think you two might need some help," you purr.

The two pop up like Jack-In-The-Boxes, eager to get your mouth on them. The clothes come off, shirts, pants, and designer boxers discarded, revealing muscles laced and inked with tattoos. You momentarily think about grazing your hands over their abs, licking up their stomachs, and sucking each brown nipple, but all of that flies out the window when you get a look at their cocks.

Both are hard and standing up at attention for you, but while Eren is thicker and curves upward, Geto is longer and his balls hang heavy. You can do nothing but stare, your hands wrapping around each one. "Oh, wow," you sigh, unable to say anything else.

"Like you ain't seen it before," Eren chuckles, referring to the dick pics he has sent you over the course of your 'situationship'. Geto has only sent you two though his cock was covered by his sweats. To see it now here, in your face, is more than you can take.

"Now, you're just seein' it in person," Eren continues, gently tapping his thumb against your chin. "So you gonna do somethin' with it or what?" He doesn't need to tell you twice. Instantly, you open your mouth and wrap your glossy lips around his length.

"Ah, fuck, baby," he sighs, digging a hand in your hair. He lays his hand on your scalp, letting you work his cock up and down, his length stroking your throat. "That's a good girl. I fit so well in that mouth, fuck."

He tilts his head back to expose his throat and the head of his serpent tattoo snaking up the left side of his neck. You yearn to kiss and bite it. With your other hand, you stroke Geto to your heart's content, relishing in his low moans and encouraging swears that drip from his lips.

You can hardly believe that you're here, sucking your clients' dicks in VIP! You have never done anything like this before and probably never will again. These two are just special. With every stroke of Eren's cock in your sloppy throat and every moan that escapes Geto's plump lips, you can feel yourself needing them more and more.

Finally having enough of waiting, Geto yanks you away from Eren and plants your mouth on his dick this time. "My turn," he huffs and apologetically laughs in Eren's face. "Sorry, man, but I couldn't resist. Her mouth just looked too damn good."

He pushes himself deeper, sheathing himself between the plush, wet walls of your mouth. You gag a bit from his bulbous head nearly hitting the back of your throat, but you manage to recover and let him fuck away. "Good girl," he pants. "Sir loves that. He loves your little mouth."

You moan in reply to his dirty words of affirmation, spit dribbling from your lips and pooling between your shaky thighs. At this point, you are creaming, gushing all over yourself and ruining your thong. Eren groans at the feeling of your soft hand stroking him up and down, up and down. "Can't wait to fuck you, babe," he moans. "I know you'll feel just as good as your pretty hand."

Then he is yanking you away from Geto and back towards him. "Fuck offa her. You're takin' too damn long." Then it's back in your mouth he goes where he proceeds to fuck your mouth like it's going out of style. "Not bad, love," Geto sighs, watching in adoration as your mouth is filled with cock. "You suck dick almost as well as you dance."

With a loud groan that overpowers the muffled music from the club, Eren pulls his cock out of your mouth. A line of spit follows in his wake and you take a breath, the taste of salt on your tongue. Eren tilts your chin up to face him and Geto, exposing your fucked-out face to them.

"Are you ready for us to fuck you now, baby?" Eren cooingly asks, his thumb toying with your wet bottom lip. You press a kiss to it, suckling on the digit. "Tell Daddy how you want it," he demands. It takes every bit of energy in your brain cells to conjure up one single sentence. You can barely think straight.

"C'mon now, darling," Geto coos, tapping his cock against your lips. "Don't be shy. I can stand to wait a while." Finally finding your voice and your head, you turn to Eren with big, watery eyes and ruined makeup. "From behind," you whimper. "Fuck me from behind, Daddy."

Eren doesn't need to be told twice. He hikes you up on your jelly-like legs and puts you in position on the couch: face down, ass up. You feel him kneel behind you, his thick cock sliding between your slit to your asshole, up and down, emitting moans from the both of you.

"I'm gonna make you regret ever toyin' with me," he says through panted breaths. "Gonna make sure you know whose you are." And then, slowly, he slides himself inside of you, inch by inch. Your mouth falls open, a loud moan escaping you as you feel the wet walls of your cunt stretch around him.

"A-Ah!" you gasp. "Oh, fuck, Eren, please!" The rapper lays a hand on your ass, giving you a sharp spank that makes your clit jump and your pussy clench.

SMACK!

"See what's you've been missin', baby?" he chuckles. "All of this an' more."

He begins to slowly pump his hips back and forth, sheathing his cock inside of you more with every stroke. "Fuck me back, mama," he coos, his voice breathless and panty. "Show me how good you think this dick is, c'mon. Show me."

You do as you're told and toss your ass back into him, meeting his thrusts and drawing louder moans out of both of you that bounce off of the VIP room's walls.

SMACK!

Geto's big hand takes a turn slapping your ass as it bounces against Eren's pelvis as he sits on the couch beside you. He places your face in his lap and taps his cock against your lips. "Sorry, love, you just looked too sexy gettin' fucked like this," he sighs. "But you don't mind, do you?"

Even if you could respond, you would say no. You want them both to use you. To take every single hole you have and fill it up as much as they want. You want to be used for their pleasure in a way you have never wanted any other man to.

Eren begins to pump harder and faster, causing the couch springs to creak and his moans to grow louder and more desperate. "God, you're so wet," he groans, sweat trickling down his handsome face and gorgeous body. "I'm gonna cum soon, baby. This pussy got me so fuckin' close!"

"Well, would ya mind hurryin' it up?" Geto huffs. "I still need to fuck my little dancer too." Eren glares daggers at the CEO, each word punctuated by a pump of his hips that make your eyes roll back. "Don't. Rush. Me."

You can feel your second orgasm cresting, building inside of you, causing you to reach between your legs to frantically rub your clit. "Daddy," you whine. "I'm gonna cum. Please make me cum."

"You wanna cum for me?" Eren teases. You can hear the smile in his voice, knowing that he is enjoying every second of seeing you like this. "Then you're gonna be my baby, right? You're gonna let me take you out and have you all to myself, right?"

You don't respond. You can't. You're moaning too much and his cock is too good, pumping in and out of you at a fast pace that makes your head spin. When you suddenly feel Eren's thumb gliding against your asshole, it's all over for you. You explode all over his cock, nearly ruining your voice box with how loud you scream. "I'm cumming!" you sob, pressing your face into Geto's thigh.

"Go 'head, baby, cum for me!" Eren groans. "Fuck, I'm cummin' too!" He grips your ass for dear life as he chases his high in your pussy, giving you rougher thrusts until he finally shoots a hot, creamy load inside of your pussy. He lets out a loud, raspy groan as he cums, gripping your ass so tight that you're sure he has left bruises.

You shiver and shake in your position, your head blank and all of your senses heightened. Geto begins to stroke your hair, his hard cock pressed against your lips. "That's a good girl," he coos. "You look so good when you cum, darlin'. I'm gonna enjoy fucking you."

Oh, God...you forgot he was next.

But he doesn't let you forget. When Eren pulls out of you slowly, Geto shushes you when you weakly moan at the loss. "Relax, love," he coos, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "You don't have to do anything for me. Just let your Sir take care of you."

You don't think you quite have a choice, especially when he hikes you onto his lap. He kisses you as you lean into his body, his big arms holding you tight as his hard cock sinks inside of the quivering, sensitive, sobbing wet walls of your pussy. "Oh, goddamn," he groans, his handsome face etched in pleasure as soon as he sinks inside of you. "You're perfect."

You whine in response, arching your tits into his chest. You press yourself flush against him, your body going weak and slack from Eren's previous buckshots. Geto embraces this, keeping his arms wrapped securely around you as he draws his hips up to fuck you from the bottom. "Just lay against me, darlin'. Lemme do all the work."

You can't stop any sort of moan or whimper that escapes you, each one weak and desperate as your pussy is filled with Geto's cock. Your eyes flutter closed at the feeling, all of your energy drained from being fucked dumb twice.

Suddenly, you feel two hands cupping your face and the scent of ocean waves in your nose. "Open your eyes, mama," Eren coos. "Lemme see you." Weakly, you open your eyes, staring at grey irises through slits. "Feels good, don't it?" he asks. "Does he feel better than me?"

Geto laughs through a moan, his thighs smacking against your ass as he drills himself inside of you, bouncing you on his cock. "You don't have to answer him, but I'd like to know if I'm gettin' that date after this. You know I expect it."

You can't think of anything remotely close to the end of tonight in this position. The pleasure is too blinding and your mind is going blank. But your clients won't take no for an answer. "You're gonna be mine by the end of tonight, right, darlin'?" Geto growls in your ear. "You'll finally let me take you out on a proper date?"

"Nah, fuck that," Eren hisses, still cupping your face and staring into your eyes. "You're all for me, right, baby? You're not gonna play with my feelings like this, right?"

"Tell us what you want, Y/N," Geto demands, slowing his thrusts down to deep, soul-bending strokes that make you sing. "Tell us who you want."

"I-I want!" You grip Geto for dear life, sinking your nails into his shoulders as his cock strokes every part of your pussy. The words that explode from you fly up after being trapped for so long inside of you: "Both! I want both of you!" you sob.

Eren blinks at you, shocked, and takes a look at Geto. He has slowed his thrusts down into more shallow, gentler ones, just as taken aback at your confession. There it is. All out in the open. And instead of arguing or disagreeing, the two men smile at each other.

"Both it is then," Eren says, pecking you on the lips. "Now cum on that dick like a good girl. Make her sing, Geto."

The CEO goes right back to bouncing you restlessly on his cock, making your tits jiggle and your pussy feel like it's about to fall off the bone as your clit rubs against his pelvis. His callused hands grip your ass, giving you brief smacks and possessive grabs that edge you closer and closer to the cliff.

"Sugu, fuck!" you gasp. "I'm gonna...gonna-"

"Do it, darlin'," he demands. "Cum with me. Give it all to your Sir."

And like a puppet on a string, you are controlled by him and his cock. After a few more rough thrusts, you shut your eyes against Eren's face and cum all over Geto's cock, your third orgasm rocking you to the core. Everything feels like a hot, white light washing you in warmth as each wave of your orgasm sweeps you away.

"Ah, fuck!" Geto groans, his end near too. He pauses and his body tenses as he cums, rope after rope of hot spunk entering your pussy. You gasp and shudder, held onto by him and Eren who continues to grasp your face, watching your O face is adoration. "That's a good girl," he laughs. "You did so good for us, babe."

You can only whimper in reply. Exhaustion comes to you, making your body heavier and your muscles loose. Geto groans as he slides his cock out of you, his and Eren's cum leaking down your thighs. "Easy now," he coos, stroking your back. "Just take it slow, love."

He lays you down on the couch between himself and Eren, your head lulling against the couch. You feel sweat coat the skin beneath your tits and your inner thighs feel soaked. The only thing you wear are your stockings and heels, your skirt, bra, and thong on the floor.

You know that eventually you'll have to go back to finish your shift. You know that people, including Yuki and your boss, will ask about these two men that seem to be mighty close to you now. You know that things will probably become a lot more complicated.

But you also find yourself not caring. Not when the two men snuggle up close to you, pressing you tightly and securely between them. It is better than any dollar bill they could give you. Silence descends upon you, calm and satisfied.

"So," you finally say, a smile on your face, "when's our date?"

THE END.

[chaconnehoon]

⟢ Matcha date

— Yang Jungwon x Reader ( fem )

Genre: fluff!

( 📝 ) note. from chaconnehoon

Enjoy!

© All rights reserved chaconnehoon do not copy.

It was a sunny day, something that rarely happens in your hometown. So what better thing to do to call your sweet boyfriend of 5 months to do something? The phone rang, and stopped, an angelic voice responding at the other side of the phone.

" Hey babe, how are you? " you heard him say. Your heart skipped a bit, even tho it’s been a while, Jungwon still had the power to make you feel shy when you talk to him.

" I’m fine wony, but I was thinking… ,you started and trailed for a little bit, do you want to go get matcha? " you waited and was met with silence. You got scared " since it’s getting sunny you know? But you don’t have to-

You got cut off by a chuckle, Jungwon’s chuckle to be exact. " Of course baby, I’ll pick you up at 5 " you chuckled too and hung up not forgetting the 3 magic words ( I love you )

You got up from your bed and got dressed, you wore a white ruffled skirt a white top and a baby pink cardigan who matched your pink shoes too.

An hour later you found yourself standing in front of the café, your favorite since they started selling the matcha café. Once you entered the smell of coffee and pastries hit you like never before and then you saw him.

He wore dark blue jeans and a grey hoodie. His ear had silver earrings and his neck was decorated with a silver necklace. He looked so cute!

Sitting in a chair by a table and close to the window with the tiny potted plants on it. He was already smiling at your direction and your heart felt full. Just from seeing him smile but something was different about him. When you sat down.

" Wony did you color your hair? "

He smiled guiltily, with a small lip bite, he continued. " You don’t like it? " his boba eyes staring right back at yours.

" I don’t like it?! I love it, it suits you a lot won! " you truthfully said. He looked a prince with his hair. Jungwon always looked good to you.

" I was scared you wouldn’t like it. " he said while running a hand through it. His soft golden locks sitting back at their place, prettily.

" Are you kidding? You look like a prince in the movies or k-dramas. I mean it, Jungwon, it’s very pretty. " Jungwon grinned, he smiled and hid his face a lil by looking down. Clearly pleased with the compliments.

Soon a waiter approached your table with a handbook in his left hand, a pen in his right hand a polite smile. " Hello! Ready to order? "

You glanced at Jungwon, this was your way to tell him to go first, and he did after nodding with a smile.

" so for me it’s going to be an iced matcha latte and for her matcha with strawberry cold foam. "

You were taken aback that about the fact that he remembered all of this information from the last time. " Yang, are you spying on me? "

Jungwon chuckled. " Five months of dating, I obviously did pick up a lot of things. "

With the waiter now long gone, it was only you,Jungwon and this café. You looked around taking in the background music and the people.

" so ", Jungwon said. Resting his head on his arms and looking at you, " how’s everything been? School, family, friends and all? "

You smiled at him, now also resting your hand on the table. " My parents are alright and Mochi ( your cat ) has been knocking my plants off my dresser, two of them broke and she’s probably breaking a third one at the moment we’re speaking. "

He laughed and you followed too. " Maybe she wants your attention, like I do too. " he pouted and looked at you with pleading eyes.

" Jealous of a cat? Not like you Yang. " you rolled your eyes playfully while crossing your arms. Acting mad.

" What can I say? I miss my girl when she’s not around. I wished I could be with you 24/7, any time and any day. " he shrugged.

And just like that, the air felt warmer and your heart fuller. The one to blame? Jungwon and his ridiculously amazing new hair.

" So blondie what are we going to do next? " I said cutting off the silent. Jungwon gave you a " wtf " face. " Blondie? " he questioned.

" Yes! Blondie, your new nickname. What are we going to do next? " he cut you off. " I don’t like the new nickname. I prefer Ken " he said crossing his arms and acting sassy.

I laughed.

" Okay whatever you want, but what are we going to do? It’s only 2PM " I said while looking at both,our now, empty glasses.

" I think there’s an arcade nearby, maybe we could go? " my eyes widened and shined out of excitement. I got up and grabbed his wrist.

" What are we waiting for? Let’s go-let’s go!! " I urged him. " wait princess, I need to pay the drinks first. " he left some set of cash and we dashed out to go to the arcade.

[zevrra]

thinking about old man jayce today…how he ages like fine wine UGH he’s got just a little bit of a dad bod going on…his hair and beard have little bits of silver running through it……he’s still gentle like a nice summer breeze and shines brighter than the sun, even in his older age. how he’s probably just as romantic if not more so now in his 40s-50s than he was in his 20s-30s. takes you out for “date night” every week, buys you your favorite flowers, gets you small gifts here and there. writes notes and hides them all over the house, solely for you to find them at random; they always depict how much he loves you and his favorite things about you.

he’s probably far more sappier too!! constantly complimenting you and how beautiful you look even with your growing age. dances with you in the kitchen at 9 pm after he’s had a little too much bourbon to drink but he’s dead asleep by 10. imagining that he’s always either going to be “the sun is up and so am i” type or with his older age he mellows down and curls up into your warmth, begging for 5 more minutes…then you both laze in the comfort of your bed for another two hours. but he’s always the first one up, always brings you your preferred morning drink and insists on breakfast in bed. finds it hilarious when he brings you a single strawberry or half of a banana after promising pancakes (the pancakes are always waiting for you in the table).

is the king of dad jokes. children or no children, he constantly cracks (un)funny dad jokes; claims it “comes with his age”. and he only ever trims his bear, keeps it a little longer after finding out you like it so much (also gives him an excuse not to shave as much anymore).

he still works with metal and making little trinkets on the side but nothing major like he use to. and he 100% crafted and made your wedding ring; probably fixes, polishes, and/or makes you a new ring whenever he wants. has to constantly make it known that you two are together and that you’re his for forever.

[tojbnuy]

since you guys are asking sooo nicely here is a part 3 teehee. part 1 part 2 . art by @ _3aem on twt!!

bestfriend!satoru who’s always buying you new jewelry. esp with your initials on them, you’ve got bracelets and necklaces in golds and silvers because he knows you like both.

bestfriend!satoru who calls you at night and will always convince you to turn it into a facetime. he doesn’t think you realize just how appealing you look with your hair down, big glasses on and a thin strapped pyjama top. said straps falling down your shoulder as your busy talking and he’s trying so hard to listen but how can he when your tits just look so good and from this angle he’s got a clear view. ‘toru are you listening?’ ‘yeah pretty carry on’

bestfriend!satoru who hates it but finds himself feeling slightly insecure when you’re engaged in conversation with nanami. he knows nanami can actually converse with you about the books you read and some of the movies you watch, something satoru’s been meaning to catch up on so you could have these conversations with him instead. he’s complaining to suguru as nanami hugs you goodbye and everything just gets worse when you walk over with the most adorable smile only to tell him that nanami was taking you to the theatre. why the fuck do you want to go to the theatre?

bestfriend!satoru who knows how childish it is but the next time nanami is in the room satoru has you pressed up against his body, his hands firmly gripping your ass as he looks dead into nanamis eyes. ‘ouch toru too hard’ ‘so sorry pretty girl your ass is just too perfect’

bestfriend!satoru who asks you for lip balm but he always means he’s going to kiss it off of you. plenty of times he’s left with your lip combo pressed onto his lips and chin.

bestfriend!satoru who places a blanket over the two of you when your friends are over. his index finger playing with the hem of your tiny shorts. when he sees you listening too closely to nanamis boring ass stories he grabs a handful of your shorts and hikes it up until the crotch is pressed directly against your clit. he smirks at the hiss that leaves you . ‘y/n you okay?’ spoken aloud and now everyone’s staring at your flushed cheeks and the firm grip you have on his bicep.

bestfriend!satoru who is mean and he knows he is but he can’t stand it when you go all quiet with him. he noses at your cheek and presses little kisses all over your eyelids as you try to keep a stern face. ‘sorry baby it was an accident, let me kiss it better?’

bestfriend!satoru who has an obsession with your lips. yes he may be obsessed with many things about you but your lips are truly his kryptonite they are his downfall. he cuts you off mid sentence a lot just to give them a quick peck. sometimes he even licks them cos he’s a perv. ‘toru you can’t keep doing that’ ‘but why baby? i just find you too cute’

bestfriend!satoru who smiles like a loser when you include him in your monthly photo dumps.

bestfriend!satoru who adores when you seem equally as annoyed when he gets female attention. he’ll elongate it for the fun of it sometimes just so you’ll get mad and that means you’ll probably be sleeping at his house tonight. you know because everyone else is wasting his time.

bestfriend!satoru who bites random parts of your body. your tummy is a frequent victim. sometimes when you’re on the phone and his head is laying your lap he’ll turn over and bite your tummy. then your thighs. sometimes fingers too.

bestfriend!satoru who is a ‘where my hug at’ warrior. as soon as he enters the function he expects a big hug from you. and if he doesn’t get one he is at you in a heartbeat ‘baby where’s my hug?’ and his hands are roamingggg all over you, not an inch of you untouched.

bestfriend!satoru who knows sometimes all you need is a little reassurance. no one gets you like he does and sometimes you truly just need to hear His voice telling you you’re okay. sometimes you crave him just like he constantly craves you.

bestfriend!satoru who drags his index finger across your lips as you sleep. sometimes even sticks his thumb between your parted lips.

part 4 !!

tag list : @haruhatake @moncher-ire @startwithrecords @ranatherealestsigma @chjinua @whozeurdaddy @sukuxna0 @purp1eha1o @tibibibi123 @jjkysnk @missthatgirl @greensunflowerjuna @macchiatoast @suechii

[luveline]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐬

Aaron sets the record straight when an overheard conversation convinces you that you’re not good enough for him. 5k

c: fem, hurt/comfort, fluff, suggestive theme (non-graphic implied sex scene). hotch is a good husband. requested here  

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

“Honey, this is Clint McMoore. We went to college together.”

You step into Aaron’s side. Clint McMoore is a handsome older man with silvering hair and a beard that looks out of control. His bowtie is loose around his neck, and his cheeks are blotchy with drink, but Clint smiles at you and offers his hand. “How do you do?” he asks. 

“Quite well, thank you.” You’ve been practising fancy dinner talk with Aaron’s friend Emily for weeks. She has all the political background you’d needed to see yourself into the culture. “It’s nice to meet one of Aaron’s school friends.” 

“While you still can,” Clint says with a chuckle. Something about being in your forties is obscene to these men, as though death waits for fifty candles to snuff them out. 

“Clint and I were in the Student Theatre club together, our first year.”

You grin, smile laced with teasing. Each time you’re reminded of Aaron’s young interest in drama, you have to focus very hard on not laughing; the Aaron who has his hand to your shoulder isn’t one you could envision on stage. “Did you perform together?” you ask. 

“Saturday Night Fever,” Clint says. 

They laugh and reminisce. You find these sorts of events hard to keep up with, but you come when Aaron asks because he so rarely asks you for anything. He hasn’t mentioned knowing that you don’t like coming, But perhaps he hasn’t noticed —it’s not like you to frown, not when you’re with Aaron. The way he treats you, he probably thinks you’re the happiest girl in the world. 

There’s a contentedness to be found when he touches you. He spreads a hand against your lower back and you let yourself sink into his side, curled into his embrace and amazed at the giggly laugh he lets out as Clint brings up the ‘King of the River’ tattoo Aaron has hidden beneath his shirt. You’re tempted to kiss his cheek.

Clint asks, “Isn’t that right?” and forces you back into the conversation. 

You’re wearing a dress you panicked over for days. It’s black, cut playfully just above your knees with small petal sleeves. Your necklace is of a delicate chain and a not so delicate pearl —a black Tahitian South Sea pearl that glows pink and green in the light. For you, Aaron wrote, his pretty scrawl inky across a square of scalloped card from atop the box. I’m in love with you. Forgive me for not having the courage to tell you in person. 

Your Aaron is quiet. Some days he comes home from work and doesn’t manage more than a sentence. Some days he can barely speak at all. But there are nights when he holds you to hold you and talks in murmurs against your ear, and he’s good at making calls when he’s away. Talking or not, smiling or otherwise, Aaron finds a way to let you know he loves you, and that’s all you care about. 

“Excuse us,” Aaron says, giving Clint a rare, warm smile, “I’m being flagged by my boss.” 

Sure enough, Erin Strauss is beckoning Aaron with a strange pained look.

“Nice to meet you,” you say quickly to Clint. He repeats your goodbye, and you and Aaron swerve around him. 

“He was nice,” you murmur. 

“Yeah, he’s okay.”

“How come you fell out of touch?” 

“Oh, you know how things go, honey, you forget all the people you meet and make room for new ones.” He kisses your cheek. “And besides, he used to gossip like my mother. Why don’t you go find JJ?” 

“You’ll be alright?” 

“No, maybe not.” He squeezes your elbow quickly. “Go, find some hors d’oeuvres, at least.”

You find neither JJ nor finger foods. The gala you’re attending is being held in a hotel in the richest part of D.C, and the events hall is huge. The ceiling is a fantasy, glass and miles upward, overhead chandeliers dangling lower, dousing the crowds below in a light that’s clean. The rich and powerful gather at the edges of the room, though the performance toward the back of the room is watched by a few tens of couples with flutes of champagne held in gloved hands. 

You hadn’t worn gloves. Hadn’t thought about it until you got here. Honestly, you felt grateful enough that JJ texted you to tell you to buy a shawl; if you weren’t wearing one you’re sure you’d feel bare. 

What you’re lacking in fancy is made up for by your earnestness, or so you’d like to believe. You aren’t rich nor powerful, but Aaron’s a good man and you his good wife. You work hard, which is more than some of the richest in the room can say. You hold your head high without a second thought. 

The hall is confusing. Tables are set but you aren’t sure Aaron said anything about a dinner service. Wait staff carry silver platters and hold bottles of champagne, but each time you approach one they seem to have already headed in another direction. JJ and Derek are both supposed to be here tonight, but you haven’t seen either of them since you arrived. You cast your gaze for Derek’s figure, searching for an easy gait and a strong set of shoulders. You cock your head waiting for a hint of JJ’s practised, polite laughter, but any familiar signs are gone. You can’t even find Aaron anymore, and your shoes are pinching your toes.

Disaster. You should’ve listened to Aaron when he told you to size up, just you doubted his knowledge of ladies shoes considering how rarely he wears them. Stupid man, you think to yourself, lovingly yet ruefully as you sit down at one of the uninhabited tables to the very side of the room. Knows everything. Tonight, you’ll limp back to the car and he won’t bother saying I told you so, he’s too good for it, which is worse. He’ll give you one of his amused smiles. He might offer you a massage. 

Ridiculous man, you further to yourself, biting back a cheesy smile as you peel your shoe from a sore foot. If you shove your hand deep enough into the toe you can stretch them out a little. 

“Darling.” 

You look up. Clint McMoore’s resurfaced just a table away with his back to you. A sweet-faced woman with brown hair sits adjacent to him, her shoulder under Clint’s hand. 

“You’ll never guess who I just bumped into,” he says. 

Me, you think. 

“Aaron Hotchner and his new wife.” 

“You didn’t,” the woman says. 

“I knew you’d be envious of that,” he laughs. “Charlotte, she’s unbelievable.” 

Your stomach does a strange flip. He’ll say something nice, you insist, but you know his tone is a precursor for gossipy nonsense. 

“I’ve never seen such a mismatched pair,” he says. 

Charlotte rolls her eyes at him. “Well, what were you expecting? They were married after six months of knowing one another. I couldn’t so much as tolerate you until our first anniversary.” 

“Hardy-har.” 

“What’s wrong with her, then?” Charlotte asks. 

“Nothing like that, Charlotte. She seemed perfectly pleasant–”

“But?” 

“But, she’s nothing like Aaron’s usual woman.” 

“Hm, I said as much when we saw their wedding photos.“ They both laugh. “It’s not like she had much of a chance. First Haley, and then that Beth, the designer, she’s in Milan now–”

“He seems rather besotted, in any case,” Clint says. “Very lady and the tramp.” 

“Gentleman and the tramp.” 

“Don’t be cruel, Charlotte.” 

You know in a way that Charlotte is kidding, but you boil up with anger the moment you recognise what it is they’re implying. Then they laugh, and your anger quickly finds itself taking a crueller shape. 

You slip your foot back into your shoe slowly. Your throat feels dry and then warm, like a crux of smouldering coal stuck in your windpipe as you stand, jerkily, hand stiff where it holds your weight on a silken tablecloth. 

You blink and stare at the floor. It’s marble. It’s shot through with dark veins like a drop of ichor in water. 

What the fuck? 

You aren’t sure why you’re leaving the hall until you’re walking down the steps of the hotel and turning along the skirts of a hedge. A low brick wall lies in front of it, just short enough to sit on with your heels. Your coccyx stings with the force of how hard you go down. 

Your head races with hurt feelings. 

You’re not unaware of your husband’s past loves. It comes as no surprise to you that people regard Haley and Beth highly —Haley was extremely beautiful and veritably brave, intelligent, kind-hearted. Beth was funny, Aaron said, and not too much else. Being a designer in Milan hasn’t been mentioned before, but it’s impressive. They’re both impressive, and– and his usual woman. 

You rub the starchy stockings stretched over your knees. 

What had they meant by usual woman?

Mismatched? 

It hadn’t felt mismatched when Aaron asked you to marry him. It wasn’t six months after knowing one another as Clint’s wife suggested, but it wasn’t much more than that. He proposed to you after eight months together, and you were married two months later, which is incredibly fast to some people but it just hadn't felt fast when he asked. It was exciting —it still is. 

“Would you marry me, if I asked you to?” he’d said, some seven months after you’d agreed to be his girlfriend. Your head in his lap, his fingers rubbing at the soft skin of your nape. A sleepy Sunday morning like any other, you suppose that was a proposal in itself, but you hadn’t realised that when you murmured, “Yeah, handsome. I would.” 

You thought it was just love. Making innocuous comments about the future is part of falling in love. It’s terrifying to tell someone that you’d like to live life in their lap, but you tell them, and they tell you to go ahead if you’re lucky. 

He asked you to get married a few weeks later. “I had to talk to Jack,” he explained, “or I would’ve asked you then and there.“

You’re a wife suddenly, a step-mother, a partner. Aaron would’ve sold the house and bought you a new one if you wanted him to, but you like his life. You’ve always felt like you fit right in. 

Angry again, you scrub at your knees with itchy palms and practise how you’re going to tell Aaron about his cruel friend. Gossipy was right, what a lark, and you’re not perfectly pleasant, you’re a delight, you hadn’t said one bad word to Clint and you didn’t deserve to be whipped and twisted into a bad joke between sips of Cristal. 

Your eyes burn with the injustice of the thing. 

Rawness overtakes. A thudding in your chest turns painful, neck wrought with tightness as you hang your head. Hiding from the cold air. November brings with it a promise of chapped lips the longer you stay there, biting into your thighs as your hands turn stiff with disuse. 

She was unbelievable. 

“Y/N!” The shout is sharp. You’ve never heard Aaron’s voice at that level or with that level of formidability, carrying from the bottom of the hotel stairs. You twist in shock on the wall and watch in real time as his face fills with relief. “Honey,” he says, calling but not half as scary as he jogs to you, “are you alright?” 

“What?” 

“You scared me,” he insists, bending down to hold your shoulders. “Nobody’s seen you for the last fifteen minutes, sweetheart, we talked about this. You can’t just disappear, you left your purse on the table, I thought something happened to you.” 

You startle at his scolding. “I–”

“You should feel my heart.” 

“I didn’t mean to come out here.” 

“I wish you would’ve let somebody know,” he says. His frown softens slowly, but the concern around his eyes remains. “What?” he asks. 

“Sorry.” 

His eyes finally soften. “No, I’m sorry. It’s alright, I just worry when you’re not with me.” 

“That’s romantic.” 

He holds your cheek, pulling you in, and gives you two gentle kisses. Your lips part instinctively to receive them. “We’ll get our things and go home. It looks as though dinner isn’t happening.” He smiles. “Why were you out here?” 

“Scavenging for food.” 

That gets a laugh out of him, and another nice kiss. “You tried your best.” 

—

Aaron takes you home, and when dinner’s been cleared away, when you’ve showered and he’s undressed, he pulls you toward the bed and kisses you warmly. His eyes track from your face to the tucked corner of your towel, a silent Can I?

You let him take it off. He lays you out, and for a while you’re only his. His wife, his half, his to tease and turn and delight. He says “Beautiful,” against your thigh, says, “Honey, is that okay?” says, “Please, I’ve got it, I have you, just let me have you…” 

After, he tells you he loves you, his voice still ever so slightly high in contrast to usual dulcet tones. 

“I love you, too,” you say. 

His breath comes fast. Your lap is a mess he’d wiped as clean as he could manage, the memory of him bearing down on you yet to fade. He lies on his stomach beside you with his arm over yours, his face turned into you, his nose on your cheek. 

“Are you alright?” he asks softly. “You feel tense.”

“Mm.” 

“No, did I hurt you? You’re rigid.” His hands fret a line down the side of your chest. “You didn’t…” 

You hadn’t said anything, because he really hadn’t hurt you. But the thoughts you’re having now are intrusive —am I okay? you think. Do I measure up? He’s never made any indication that you’ve let him down, not in sex or anything else, but you’re unbelievable. 

You swallow a lump. “Sorry,” you say, the lingering ebbs of pleasure twisting into tears faster than you can stop it. 

“Are you crying?” he asks under his breath. 

You suck in a breath as he pushes onto his hands. 

“These aren’t good tears,” he says. 

He’d know. They’re not. 

Aaron reaches over you to turn on the lamp on the nightstand before settling, his hand cupping your waist. It’s too much suddenly, too bare, he’s too much to look at as you squeeze your eyes closed. “Sorry,” you squeeze out. 

“What did I do?” he asks, holding you carefully. “Please, sweetheart, what’s hurting? I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s not you.” 

“But something does hurt?” 

“No, no, I’m okay.” You cover your face with your hands. When you start to sob, it shakes the entire mattress, Aaron’s hand wobbling where it cups your ribs. 

“Please.” His thumb works a soft spot into your skin. “Honey, please, you can’t cry now without telling me what’s wrong.” He tries a laugh, but it falls flat. “Honey. Honey.” 

It wasn’t the sex. He never does anything wrong, he’s so gentle even when he isn’t, and if he did you’d only have to tell him, but the rush of being touched by him so nicely, fuck, the way he’d been looking at you, the way he took your face into his hand as he moved —you’re not trying to be a crier, but he makes you feel like you’re everything and you’re just not. 

He looks sick. 

“It wasn’t you, it was at the gala,” you manage. 

For a long while after, you can’t get a word out. You shiver and sob as Aaron scoops you into his chest, his nose in your shoulder waiting for you to calm down. He rubs your waist, fingers parted and waving slowly as he shushes you. Not to make you stop, though. He’s reassuring. 

“What happened at the gala?” he asks quietly. 

“It’s so stupid.” 

“No, it’s alright. Can you tell me what happened? Did someone hurt you?” 

You wrap your arms around his head. It really is stupid, you feel smaller than an ant under the shadow of a giant heel. Aaron doesn’t waver when you struggle to answer, feeling around behind you for a pillow and helping you against it. He kisses your forehead. “Let me get you something to wear.” 

You catch his wrist. “It wasn’t you, wasn’t–” You lift your chin. 

He kisses you. “Okay,” he says simply. “Let’s get dressed.” 

He dresses quickly, bringing you underwear and one of your sleep shirts, a loose fit. You shuffle into them and watch him patiently as he cleans the small mess of the evening away. You’re sniffling softly when he returns to you, sitting with his back to your thighs. 

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry if I read things wrong. I never would’ve initiated anything if I knew you were feeling like this.” 

You laugh weakly, worriedly, looking at him through your lashes. “It made me feel better,” you admit.

“If this is better, you must’ve been feeling awful.” 

You relax as he puts his hand on your thigh. 

“In the time I left you to talk to Strauss, something upset you. JJ and Morgan didn’t see you. So someone in the gala said something or did something that made you leave. If you tell me who it was, I can make sure it doesn’t happen again.” 

“You’re trying to bargain with me,” you mumble. 

“I’m just telling you what can be done. I can take care of things.” 

“It’s nothing… nothing so severe. You’ll wonder why I–” You give an unexpected sob. “Made all this fuss.” 

“I don’t think I’ll wonder,” he says. 

You laugh through tears. These ones are slow, your eyes already itchy from crying. 

“Please tell me.” He tries teasing instead of sternness, lowering his face to yours. “Or I’ll cry too.” 

“Aaron.” 

“I will. You think I can’t, but seeing you crying like this, it’s more than enough ammunition.” 

You let out a breath, admitting defeat. “Your friend, Clint? I overheard him with his wife. He didn’t have very nice things to say about me.” 

“What could he possibly have to say?” Aaron asks with a frown. 

You pull the sheets up your legs. “He said I’m… unbelievable, and I don’t think he meant it kindly. Said that I’m not your type, and that I… I had no chance of measuring up, because of who you’ve been with before. They were laughing about our wedding photos.” Your throat feels pressed into by a hot poker. “They said we were the gentleman and the tramp.” 

His eyes squint. He looks disgusted, and for an uncomfortable moment you feel like it might be directed at you, but then he scoffs. “What a crock of shit.” 

“Aaron!” you laugh. 

“What could Clint McMoore possibly know about marriage? This is his fourth wife. And to imply that you’re any sort of calibre below the women I’ve dated before isn’t just misogynistic nonsense, it’s not true. You are the most beautiful women I’ve ever met, and what’s that supposed to mean, gentlemen and the tramp?” He gives you such an earnest glare of confusion that you can’t for a second doubt what it is he’s saying. “I’m sorry, honey, I think he’s allowed himself a few too many nightcaps over the years. Perhaps he’s suffered a stroke.” 

“Aaron, don’t say that,” you chide, secretly very pleased. 

“Our wedding photos,” he says, his hand drifting further down your leg to rest just shy of somewhere more intimate, “are beautiful. You look beautiful. Clint would’ve writhed in jealousy in the pews if he’d been invited, because he would’ve seen it for himself.” 

“I just sat there while they laughed at me,” you mumble.

“What were you supposed to do?” His hand travels out, to your hip, and then he holds you by the waist with both of his hands. They have a way of making you feel encapsulated, big and strong and careful on the bump of your hips. 

“I don’t know.” 

“Nothing,” he says, meeting your eyes with his usual tender-hearted compassion. “You weren’t supposed to do or say anything.” Aaron appears younger than he is for a second, his eyebrows raised, eyes big and brown as they track over your lips. “Honey, I’m sorry. I didn’t realise he was like that. I’m sorry you had to hear that.” 

“I guess I’m just worried he’s right.” 

“He’s not right. You are everything to me.” Again, he puts weight on the word, roughly said, like it takes a lot from him to say it. “I’m lucky to have been with women who were beautiful, and intelligent, but if there’s a question of you measuring up, there’s no competition. I’ve never been this in love.” 

You take a shaky breath. “Never?” you ask. 

He holds your gaze. “I knew it when we met. That's why I couldn’t wait to ask you to marry me.” 

“You said you weren’t getting any younger.” 

“Well, I’m not, but not everything’s about my age, you know,” he says, giving your waist a playful squeeze. 

”You said it.” 

“I did. That felt easier to say than, if I don’t marry you soon I might implode,” —he shuffles forward, encroaching on your legs and pressing his lips to your cheek— “would’ve just,” —he kisses your cheek, before turning your head— “wasted all that time waiting for someone else’s idea of the right time,” —and he kisses the other cheek, his nose skirting up your face— “wishing I was your husband when I could just,” —he smiles into your eyebrow as his hand slips under your shirt, holding your bare back— “ask.” 

“I’m glad you asked me.” 

You’d cried then, too, but it was less to do with a rush of adrenaline that knocked you out of balance and more to do with how lovingly he’d taken your hand as he asked. You knew from that moment on that someone was going to take care of you for the rest of your life. He’s doing it right now. 

“I love you,” you say, forcing your arms over his shoulders. 

He pulls you in so much that you lift from the mattress. 

“I love you. Are you sure it wasn’t me that upset you? I have to check.” 

“No. What you did to me wasn’t particularly upsetting.” 

He laughs. “Are you sure? You can look a little teary–”

You shush him quickly.

He tips your head to the side to kiss your ear. “Maybe next time, you can tell me about whatever upset you beforehand.” 

“And you can make me feel even better.”

His laugh is nearly inaudible, but his lips are by the side of your head. You hear it, the warmth of his breath kissing the shell of your ear. 

—

Aaron likes to see you in your sweatpants. You look nice in everything, especially your dresses for the evening events he often drags you to, but he likes it when you wear sweatpants because it opens a window. You’ve purchased the wrong size, too big and too long, but you’ve tied them at the waist and you make do. You’re wearing the big shirt he helped you into the night before, sitting on the couch with your ferried breakfast. 

The night before has been washed away, no sign of tears or upset. You have a clean, bright face, one he’d quite like to kiss, or hold, or have pressed to his neck, but none of this is unusual. Your eyes look sore, if he really looks. He’ll make you a compress after breakfast. 

Dropped off by Jess an hour ago, Jack sits beside you picking at the breakfast tray. You’re sharing a plate. You don’t ever mind. 

“Are you eating that one?” you ask. 

Jack immediately nudges half of a chocolate chip pancake your way. “Was the gala fun?” 

“Uh, sure. Saw your dad’s friends. But they had a weird thing with the caterers and we had to get dinner on the way home.”

“You could’ve made dad cook.” 

“I guess, but we were tired. What did you have for dinner?” 

“Jess made spicy chicken. It was amazing.” Jack squints at you. “Your eyes are puffy, Y/N. Are you sick?” 

“I think I might be a little. Not enough to make you sick too, don’t worry.” 

Aaron piles the last of the pancakes onto a plate and carries them to you in the living room. “Here, you two.” 

“Did you eat?” you ask. 

He loves you, bending over to kiss your forehead right in the middle. “Yes.” 

“How come they didn’t have dinner at the gala, dad? I thought that was the whole point,” Jack says. 

He sits down next to Jack on the couch. You cut a big square of pancake and grin at him, seemingly pleased with your breakfast and Jack’s sense of humour. 

“It was a disaster, that’s all. No food, barely any wine, and terrible, awful company.” 

“I thought Miss Jareau went?” 

“She did. But besides her and a handful of others, it was a party for sad old people.” 

“And you didn’t have fun?” Jack asks. 

You laugh so hard tears gather in the corners of your eyes. Aaron cups Jack’s shoulder, surprised when his son doesn’t duck away from the touch. The older he gets the less affection he requires, so it’s nice for Aaron to hug him sideways and be allowed, better that you finish your choking laugh with a hug of your own. “Jack, thank you for that. I think you cured whatever illness I had,” you say.  

“Hey,” Aaron says. 

You run your hand up his neck. Your wedding ring catches against his jaw. 

“It was worth going, though, to see your step-mom in her nice dress,” Aaron says, peeling away from Jack so he has room to breathe. 

Jack turns to you, and his smile is audible, “Do you have any pictures?” 

“I didn’t take any, sorry.” 

“Just think of her now but in a dress, and that’s how beautiful she looked,” Aaron says. 

“Dad, don’t be gross,” Jack says, cutting into the pancakes with his fork.

“It’s not gross, it’s just a fact.” Jack drops pancake down his front. Warm chocolate chips stain his t-shirt. “Missed your mouth, bud. I’ll get a rag.” 

He’s up as quickly as he sat down, running his fingers along your arm and to the palm of your hand, touching you until he can’t. He heads back into the kitchen. His phone is beeping on the table, screen flashing with each new text. 

Penelope: boss, I think the thing you asked for is illegal 

Penelope: also, I assume you were kidding? 

Penelope: so while making it that every link on McMoore’s computer freezes the desktop would’ve been very very funny, I didn’t do that 

Aaron had been kidding, emphatically, because illegal activities aren’t his style. It was a sarcastic suggestion, and yet he’s disappointed nonetheless. 

Penelope: I just signed him up for a bunch of recovering narcissists forums and an email subscription for self help, and maybe also a free online class about manners and etiquette 

Penelope: And I ordered that big canvas for you. It was the one of you guys cutting the cake, right? 

Aaron texts her back quickly: Thank you, Penelope. I couldn’t work out the dimensions online. 

Penelope: You’re welcome! I live to serve :D 

The canvas will look good in the entryway, Aaron believes. Somewhere you can see it, and remember exactly what it is he thinks of you; his eyes glowing with love where he’d been staring at your face, his hand guided yours atop the knife as he traced your features, and you cut that first, fat slice of cake. 

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

thanks so much for reading! please think about commenting, liking or reblogging if you enjoyed I love knowing what you think!❤️

also small note: this fic is in no way meant to diminish haley im a haley supporter usually (these days at least!) and I just didn’t mention her for brevity’s sake

[heartowan]

You didn't really check the time, but it must've been past midnight when you entered Jason's place for the first time this week, quietly closing the door behind you and tossing your keys back into your bag, which you placed on the hanger by the entrance.

Your steps were lazy and spaced out as you walked around the apartment, looking for him in the dark ─ turning the lights on would be too much of a splurge, so you simply settled for an almost blind search.

Approaching the bathroom, you heard the faint sound of water splashing, the noise recognizable as you'd heard that a thousand times, almost in the same situation.

"You always choose such ungodly hours for bathing." You said, walking into the small room in silent steps.

Jason was laying peacefully in the bathtub, his head resting against the wall beside him as he had his eyes closed, probably enjoying the comfort of the scented candles lit around the tub. You could smell the vanilla from the wax mixed with the scent of the peach bathbomb you gave him some time ago.

"I think this is the best hour for it." He murmured, not bothering to raise his voice. You liked seeing him relaxed like that.

You sat down at the edge of the tub, taking in his soft appearance. He looked very peaceful, his eyes shut and face relaxed. It was one of the few times you'd seen him with his jaw unclenched.

As you sat, his head immediately leaned closer to your thigh, resting against it like a pillow. Your heart warmed at the sight and at the feeling.

You two had just started dating. Things were still so new to both of you, but they were going well. You liked each other, more than either of you cared to admit, still too scared to pour your hearts out. But moments like these proved that the feeling was deeper than you thought.

Running a gentle hand through his damp hair, you let out a short sigh. "You look so peaceful." you murmured quietly, your voice caressing his ears.

"I am." he replied, leaning into your touch. "Even more now."

You smiled at that. He liked to say sweet things when you least expected him to. Jason wasn't one for sweet talk, but he made an effort for you. To see that pretty smile on your lips, to make you feel loved, to make you feel his love.

"How did tonight go?" You murmured quietly, your fingers still caressing his scalp, almost making him purr like a cat. He loved head scratches.

"Mhm..." he hummed, deciding if he should sugarcoat it or tell you the truth. He chose the truth. "It was... awkward. Like, very, but it wasn't the worst night ever. I'm still getting used to these things."

"You're still getting used to galas?" You smiled, your tone incredulous. "I thought you went to these things all the time."

"I did a few times when I was younger." He said. "But it's harder to adapt now. I mean, inside. Outside, I think I look... not that out of place, but inside, it's messy." He explained to you, his fingers coming up to gently caress your side, making your shirt wet. But neither of you cared.

"I get it." You nodded, offering him a more understanding smile now. "I'm sure you did well, though. You always do."

"Maybe... maybe go with me next time." He murmured almost sheepishly, his eyes opening for the first time. They drank you, your appearance, your messy hair, your sparkly eyes, your pretty, pretty nose. Every part of your face, your clothes, your arms, everything. "I think you'd fit in."

"Me?" you mumbled, your voice cracking a bit, making you wince. Suddenly, you felt a little shy from his gaze and from his proposal. The thought of him wanting you of all people to be his plus one at those fancy events made you feel some kind of warm anxiety, close to a good, excited feeling. "I don't think I would, honestly."

"I can already see it... a beautiful outfit on you, your hair pretty and styled, silver jewelry, the most glorious shoes..." he mumbled. He sounded almost like he was daydreaming. "And, of course, your stunning self to go with all of it."

You laughed at that, a genuine laugh, one of those he seemed to pull out of you anytime he did or said something remotely funny. You were down bad for that man. Shaking your head, you gave his shoulder a gentle pat.

"That sounds like an alternative reality." You said.

"I disagree." he said, looking over at you again. "In fact... wait a minute, I'll get all of that arranged right now for next month."

You stared at him in confusion, your eyebrows knitting together as he started getting up from the tube, and then your eyes widened.

"Jason-"

He got out of the bathtub, water splashing all over the edges and dripping down to the floor, as well as on you, your shirt and pants getting even damper.

You laughed again at his desperation, and at the fact that he didn't even bother to cover himself with a towel. He walked out of the bathroom in his full naked glory, droplets of water sliding down his chest as he padded over to the room, mumbling something about having to get on the phone right now.

You couldn't have chosen better.

✦

a.n: i feel like this is so stupid... also, i didn't proof read, I'm sorry!

[elizzsush]

Fae Courting Rituals | TWST

Diasomnia Dorm X Reader

Lilia X Reader, Sebek X Reader, Malleus X Reader, Silver X Reader

---- Fae are typically taught from a young age certain courting rituals. (Non-Human courting rituals part 3/3)

Note: Was going To add silver to this list. (I know he isn't a fae, but he was raised by one) but was too tired to write for him)

Savanaclaw Ver. | Octavinelle Ver

Sebek:

He starts following you around for some reason.

Seriously, one day he just woke up and decided to not leave you alone. It helped that you guys shared a bundle of classes together.

You had no clue how you befriended the green hair boy. You weren't complaining though, in this school, where everyone is so set in their ways, you liked having the extra layer of protection that was the loud half fae: Sebek.

He was loud and denies it however, whenever you point out he follows you. He claims to not having even realized he was doing such a thing. "I would never follow around a mere human!" He shouted out his claims with a red face.

It could be true. He did get somewhat spacy sometimes if you'd believe it.

He had a packed schedule, or so he claimed, yet he always found time to be around you. It made a warm feeling blossom in your chest, well, of course before he used this time to rant about Malleus. "Wakasama is the most kind and fit ruler of-" He'd ramble, you'd sigh; put your face in your hand and lean a bit closer to him. You enjoyed hearing him so passionate, even if it was... constant.

He didn't have an off switch, that didn't have to be a bad thing.

Plush, you didn't hate his voice. Not that you'd be as loud about your likes as he was for his.

Though you were pretty positive your friends... and most of the students at NRC were in fact sick of his voice. People have also noticed he is more vocal around you.

Which is… a good thing?

The oddest thing happened once. At one point when the two of you were relaxing in ramshackle. A bag of popcorn and a shitty TV you got on sale at Sam's shop. He wasn't being loud for once in his life, instead his attention was focused on the screen.

You two were sitting pretty close together when, he had grabbed your hand and laid his head on yours. Was he... cuddling you?

You couldn't help but smile and continue to watch the movie. You didn't want to comment on it, you knew if you did, he'd probably get up, make a huge deal out of it (with a red face), and leave.

He started rubbing his forehead against yours before he finally pulled away like it never happened. It was oddly affectionate.

You didn't even think he knew that he was doing it.

He began to do these affectionate things while he was focused on something else. Either it be a show at the movie nights you organized with him, or if he was studying a bit to hard with you.

Your friends wondered how you even managed a movie night with the loud boy but you just shrugged.

Eventually, you had to face it: You really like Sebek.

You really liked this brash boy with a thick skull.

You knew however, even if he did like you back. He'd never admit it, let alone go out with you.

It left you with this odd feeling. A dull pain that ranged from a small ache to feeling like Throns were wrapping around your heart, piercing the organ in your chest.

You tried not to let that get you too down. Instead, you watched him across the lunchroom as subconsciously he blew bubbles into his drink, his green eyes finding yours...

So yes, you'd listen to his rants. You'd go out of your way to hang out with him, you'd enjoy his company while you could.

Because you knew, sooner or later, he'd realize it too. The same reality you had to face. And...

well...

He wouldn't face it.

He'd probably turn you away and never speak to you again. And you'd be fine with that. Even if you didn't want to be because you...

Well, let's save that for another day.. "Hey Sebek, lets hang out!"

"I suppose I can make time for you, Human!"

Lilia:

He was out to get you.

You noticed it. Almost everybody noticed it. You just didn't know what you did to him! He'd pop up everywhere and scare you! Right before disappearing away.

This counted as bullying, right?

You were starting to get... slightly paranoid.

You enjoyed Lilia's company, you really did. But you were tired of constantly looking over your shoulder. So, you started to avoid him, just a bit.

Your own personal revenge for the paranoia.

Now, Lilia has lived a long life. He knows what he's doing and is just having fun. He liked you, he did, but he probably isn't going to be that serious about this. He's in it for the vibes.

So when he see's you avoiding him... he well... He serenades you from outside ramshackle.

He makes his intentions very clear with a love song!

A boombox in Sebek's hand, and a tired Silver who followed along because... well Lilia was making Sebek hold a bomb box and traveling in your direction.

Lilia song his heart out for you. "Everybody loves somebody sometime!~ And although my dream was-"

"It is 2am!! The perfect will go out with you tomorrow!" Grim shouted out the window with a grogy done with it tone. After you threw a pillow at them.

NOTE: Sorry this one is short but I have a hard time writing for Lilia

Malleus:

What do you mean? You started courting him first. Very brave of you indeed child of man. He had even commented on it while you handed a piece of treasure!

That was... well, it was a cheap polished rock. It was well... shiny...?

It started very small. He accepted your gift and was expecting a bit more to be honest. Not even he was exactly sure how this courting would work out; he was prepared to be the one to pursue you!

Initially, he sat back and relaxed. Enjoyed the small sense of harmony you two already had and assumed you guys were dating.

Why would he not? He accepted your courting gift, he assumed their were more to come, the next step up to this would be marriage and he wasn’t sure you were ready for that.

However, you noticed this. You were so confused. He’d began to call you “beloved.” Which was a 180.

When did you two…? Huh??

He’s also been more clingy. Not on the sense he’d follow you around but in the sense of a mountain of handwritten letters and the actual sense that he’s in your personal space when you two do hang out.

So… the two of you are just dating now? “Beloved, you haven’t been responding to my letters. Did I do something?”

“Oh, sorry I just haven’t… quite finished all of them.” You glanced at a room that was empty at one time. Now it held a pile of letters.

This was an exaggeration, they’re were a lot but not a whole room full… yet.

Extra??? Silver:

It started like most seedlings of love, with a dream. A simple one, you were sat beside him, the two of you quiet and happy in each others company. The birds sang as you hummed beside him. The boy was content, more so then he had been in his life.

Then, like it was second nature to both of you. You two shared a kiss, and then he woke up.

Usually, he tried not to lose himself to sleep. But tonight all he wanted was to go back to the dream world and hold you. As soon as the realization crossed his mind however, he woke up even more. Had he ever been this awake? “Am I in love…?”

He, not knowing what to do. Went to Lilia, whom was enthusiastic with this news.

You know when parents find out their four year old has a crush? That’s Lilia, except Silver isn’t four. Every time they see you Lilia shoos Silver off too hang out with you. Sadly, with no prior love life to speak of, silver goes along with it.

Though he is embarrassed about it, he hides it well enough.

“Does Lilia think you like me?” You asked all to happily once, hiding your own happiness behind a giggle at the absurd situation he found himself in.

“Uh, yeah…” he’d just smile at you, his head laying on the lunch table as he was about to go to sleep. he loved to see you laugh even if it was somewhat at his expense. However, Sleep tends to escape him when he was near you. Not that he didn’t feel tired, but he didn’t feel as tired. He couldn’t feel angry about it, in fact he was happy about this. It was like you were some temporary cures for his illness.

Lilia would also insist that Silver gift you things. To show he can provide for you, the Silver hair male couldn’t disagree. So, he’d find things that might fancy you.

His bird and squirrel friends also helped him in his venture to gain your affection. Often leaving flowers at your doorstep and small shiny things.

One day you saw the birds and Squirrels run up to your doorstep, one flower at a time, make a gorgeous bouquet.

You made sure to thank him and his animal friends after that.

In return you'd try and make things for him, find things around he or the animals would like. Nuts for squirrels, seeds for the birds, and a deep red rose you plucked from Heartslabyul during the end of an unbirthday party.

He stayed awake for longer than he ever had that night, staring up at the rose in the dark while his dormmate slept. A smile on his lips as he examined every detail of it.

Ace would call it cheesy. The relationship between the two of you was something out of a romance movie he'd say in a more teasing way. Something like, "Is it Tuesday or Wednesday he's going to chase after you to an airport?" and then roll his eyes. You tell Ace to shut up while looking away with a face as red as riddle's hair.

It was after a test, you pulled your test paper out of your bag ready to check your score after preparing for disappointment when a blue bird swopped down and took it!

You cursed and chased after the bird, rushing past students and looking crazy, eventually you ended up in the forest next to the school.

You were sure you looked ever crazier than you had been running in the school halls, because now you had leaves in your hair, and your shoes were all muddy now...

Eventually, the birds placed the test paper, face down on a certain boy's chest. "Silver... Are you asleep?" You smiled and knelt beside him, a small smile on your face. Rolling your eyes at the perpetually sleeping boy. You sat beside him for a moment taking a deep breath before you grabbed your test.

You almost preferred it this way, to have him here, even if he wasn't fully here. It helped your nerves somewhat. An even bigger smile graced your face as you turned the paper, and a large B was printed at the top.

Standing up, you gifted your friend a small kiss on his forehead and wandered off back to school.

Well, you were stopped by a small, sleepy voice. "Y/N...?"

___________________________

Note: It was this or clean my depression room... Anyway, I want to expand on Sebek's small scenario because I know if it was its own imagine I could make it really good.

Would ya'll enjoy that...?

ANYWAY, these small series is competed! (Unless...?) Thank you for reading them and thanks for reading the note. Not a lot of people do that. Myself included.

I have a hard time writing for Diasomnia...

[written-and-readen]

The Odds Are Slim But Never Zero

Dan Heng, Luka, Blade x fem!reader (separate)

Part 2 (Jing Yuan, Sunday, Gallagher), Part 3 (Moze, Phainon, Sampo)

Summary: Someone walks in on you two

Warnings: nsfw (18+), established relationship, penetrative sex (Dan Heng, Blade), fingering (Luka), getting caught

Dan Heng

Dan Heng is usually a soft spoken person, keeping to himself in the Express’ archives. So how come his pace is so relentless that your breath is stolen every time he bottoms out?

Who can blame him though? The walls of your pussy grip him viciously and your legs are wrapped around his waist, only pulling him further in. He’s completely lost in you right now. The only thing that would make this better is getting to see the expression you make once he pushes you over the edge, eyes going slightly hazy and mouth falling open.

And the only thing that could completely ruin this moment is March slamming open the door to the archives. The moment she registers you both naked (and probably the fact Dan Heng is balls deep in you), she closes the door just as fast as she arrived before either of you can think of yelling at her.

Mood shattered, you sit up to come face to face with your now beet red boyfriend. Your hands reach up to hold his face, thumbs running across his flushed cheeks.

"We're locking the door next time," he sighs.

Luka

The minute Luka got out of the ring and into the back room of the fight club, he was on you. It was such an easy match that he had lots of energy left over. Once he saw your pretty face, he knew exactly how to spend it.

With your back pressed against the wall, he's sucking marks into your neck as both hands grope your ass. You can feel him smile whenever a whine of his name leaves your mouth, your fingers threading deeper into his hair.

Through your heated haze, you feel his left hand slip down your pants and past your panties. After rubbing a few circles on your clit that have your legs nearly buckling if it weren’t for his metal arm wrapped around your middle, two fingers push into your pussy.

“Luka-” you brokenly moan as his fingers curl against your walls.

“You doing okay?” His pace slows for a moment when your head falls against his shoulder.

“Mmhmm, keep going please.” Your wish is his command as he adds a third finger to the two pleasuring you. Your brain feels like mush at this point, but it’s abruptly cleared by a loud slam.

“Luka!” Seele barges through the door. It’s clear she was going to say more until she sees Luka hastily remove himself from your pants. A faint red rises to her face before she leaves, grumbling a “never mind” as she quickly closes the door again.

There’s a beat of silence where you’re both still breathing heavily from your previous activity. Despite the awkwardness now hanging in the air, Luka speaks up.

“So, did you want to continue?” He asks, rubbing the back of his neck. A laugh leaves you at his efforts to pick up where you left off. You lean over to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Let’s head back to my place first.”

Blade

You haven’t been able to form a coherent thought for a while. Blade just keeps driving his cock into your pussy, fast and deep. The mara must be acting up today.

Your fingers grip the long strands of his hair as you hear him occasionally grunt into your ear. Few words are spoken between you. It’s one of those times where you just let him use you, find what solace he can in the warmth of your body sucking him in.

“B-Blade, I’m close…” You warn him. The only thing you receive in response is a particularly sharp thrust into your sweet spot.

All of a sudden, the door to Blade’s room opens to reveal Kafka. Her eyes take in Blade absolutely ruining you, but she remains standing in the doorway. An embarrassed flush rises to your cheeks at having Kafka’s gaze on you. It’s only increased by Blade’s audacity to not slow down at all.

“What do you want?” He glances none too happily at Kafka.

“Silver Wolf asked me to go get her some snacks. Do you want anything while I’m out?”

“No.” He turns his attention back to you. You’re biting your lip, believing that any whines you let out would only exponentiate your shame, but you’re fighting a losing battle, especially when Blade reaches down to thumb at your clit. A long moan escapes you once he pushes you over the edge, continuing to fuck you through your high.

“Okay, let me know if you need anything.” You hear Kafka’s voice and the door faintly close before all your senses are consumed by Blade.

You feel his calloused hand holding your waist down as his cock still moves in and out of you. You smell the sweat from both of you as you breathe heavily. His fingers swipe up some of the cum that leaks out of your folds, bringing them up to your mouth for you to eagerly taste. His red eyes are intently trained on you as you swirl your tongue around his fingers. When his voice reaches your ears, a shiver runs down your spine.

“You can give me another one, right?”

[temiizpalace]

☆┊DRESS TO IMPRESS!

SUMMARY: playing dress to impress with him!

CHARACTERS: all dorms + others

GENRE: fluff

WARNINGS: none

NOTES: i feel so bad for having people with requests wait so long but im losing ideas and idk what to write 😭😭😭 please bear with me event requesters,,,,, ik i suck at this

reader gender is not mentioned, reader not specified to be yuu

VERY COMPETITIVE

if he catches you trolling it’s on sight. he takes this game very seriously, and refuses to get anything lower than 3rd. when you play together and ask to duo, he carries. you’ll see him with the most impressive and beautiful outfit you’ve ever seen and watch him lose his mind when he gets 5th. he spams poses, like in full concentration mode. also a very harsh critic. if he sees you off theme it’s an immediate 1 star, no exceptions. anytime he critiques your outfit you feel like an office worker with an overly harsh boss that demands better. he also probably has VIP. and beef with 10 year olds. (so think of when caseoh plays, but less yelling)

riddle, azul, jamil, vil, rollo

PLAYED IT AS A JOKE : IS NOW HOOKED

at first he thought it was just a dumb and silly dress up game for girls.. boy was he wrong. when he first played with you, he was expecting to hate this game to its core. he was a troller at first, purposefully making dumb outfits that don’t even match, barely adding anything to his outfit at all. suddenly, something in his mind flipped, and now he’s addicted. you’ll catch him sometimes playing his free time, teasing someone like him for playing a dress up game. not that you have room to talk. duos are fun, he likes being partners with you. he’s probably the kind of guy to vote everyone one star and then vote you five, but he expects five stars in return.

deuce, ruggie, epel, idia, skully j. graves

LOVES THE GAME

he’s played this before, he loves it! dressing up in cute outfits and watching other people dress up in cute outfits? why wouldn’t he play? and to play with you? that’s even better! wouldn’t be as competitive as the first category, but does take the game seriously. he doesn’t despise trolls, actually laughs at them sometimes. he does find it unfair they make the podium sometimes, but it’s really just a game. he loves duoing with you and wearing matching outfits, absolutely adorable! he either votes pretty fairly or votes everyone five stars depending on who they are. please play more with him, he loves this game!

cater, kalim, rook, ortho, lilia, neige

NOT THAT INTERESTED

what’s the appeal to it? it’s just playing dress up, nothing special. he’ll play once in awhile with you, but don’t expect it to be a regular thing. it’s just not his cup of tea. obviously since he doesn’t play often, his outfits are subpar. nothing podium worthy. votes pretty fairly, giving criticism and critique on other people’s outfits (though his aren’t that much better). he doesn’t mind being a duo with you, but you definitely carry. personally he thinks trollers are ruining the game and making it annoying for those who play religiously. overall, just a dress up game. would play but only if you play too.

trey, leona, jack, sebek, silver

THE TROLLER

is that one guy who has nothing on their character and walks onto the stage with no hair or makeup. skin tone is still at the default, colors on the clothes are unchanged, and it’s all on purpose too! would dress up in dumb outfits for a completely different theme and loves watching people argue about it in the chat. votes everybody one star because they’re just silly like that! absolutely cackles if he gets on the podium and loves watching the server get into fights about it. you don’t duo with him, you know better. loved playing with you, but it doesn’t seem the feeling is mutual.

ace, jade, floyd, che’nya

HOW TO POWER HANDHELD DEVICE

teach him how to use a phone first. doesn’t know how to log in to his account. when he joins the game, poor baby kept running into walls trying to put on shoes. outfits are usually incomplete or unchanged because he doesn’t know how to take off accessories or how to put them on. votes fair enough, but doesn’t ever make the podium. if you ask to duo, you’ll have to teach him cause he also doesn’t know about that either. basically just a big man baby who needs help using technology for the first time.

malleus

A/N: obsessed with this game lately (idia would know all the lana lore)

date published: 10/10/24

© temiizpalace — do not copy, steal, or put my work into ai. thank you!

[imaginedisish]

One for the Road (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Oh my god. This is so dirty, so nasty. Here is the *giving Logan head while he's driving* request. Thank you anon. Thank you so so much. Inspired by "One for the Road" by Arctic Monkeys. ENJOY!

Summary: Forty-five minutes is simply too long of a car ride for you to wait to take care of Logan...Or: you give Logan head while he's driving and he absolutely loses it.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI! Sexually explicit content, Oral (f! and m!receiving), fingering, unprotected PIV (wrap it up!), multiple orgasms, porn without plot (literally), car sex, rough sex, Logan is reckless, cocky!Logan, softdom!Logan, aftercare, established relationship, f!reader/afab!reader, reader has hair (but length/texture/color are not described), cursing, def some grammatical errors, that's it.

Word Count: 2,269 it's all smut im sorry yr honor but I need him

Logan wants nothing more than to be home. He wants to grab you by the hand, take you up to bed, and hold you until you and he fall fast asleep. This, unfortunately, is not something Logan can do. Instead, Logan’s eyes are trained ahead of him—occasionally flickering to look at you—as he drives carefully through dark, winding roads. 

The only silver lining is that you’re in the seat next to him, leaning towards him. You rest your arm on the center console, silently asking Logan to inch closer, too. He obliges, lifting his right hand from the steering wheel and bringing it down to grip your thigh. He squeezes gently, his thumb dipping between your legs, drawing long, slow circles to the sensitive skin there. 

Heat rises to your chest as his thumb climbs higher, nudging against the hem of your shorts. You can feel that familiar tension building at the base of your spine, the bottom of your belly. You try to ignore it, but you look over to Logan’s lap, and you see that he’s half hard and growing, the beginnings of his erection straining through his jeans.

“How much longer until we get back?” You ask, weighing your options. 

Logan’s eyes drift from the road to you, his hand giving your thigh another light squeeze. “Forty-five minutes, probably,” he answers, smiling softly. 

You hum in affirmation and nod, watching as his erection hardens. You grin to yourself as you reach your hand over the center console and into his lap. Logan’s eyes stay on the road, his throat bobbing as he swallows. You bring your fingers to his belt, watching him closely as you unbuckle the clasp. 

“What do you think you’re doing, princess?” Logan asks as you slip the belt from the loops on his jeans. 

You drop the belt onto your side of the car, working at his button next. “Taking care of you,” you say as you pull his zipper down. You lean over the center console completely, tugging his jeans down his legs as far as you can get them to go. 

Logan’s hand slips from your thigh and grabs your wrist, stopping you before you can tug his boxers down. “I’m trying to drive, pretty girl,” he chides, looking down at you. 

You smile up at him, freeing yourself from his grasp and tugging down his boxers. “I know,” you answer, wrapping your hand around the base of his cock, stroking up and down the length of him. “Doesn’t mean I can’t make you feel good.” You lower your head into his lap and bring his cock to your lips, pressing a chaste kiss to his tip. 

“F-fuck,” Logan stutters, white-knuckling the steering wheel. You lick a long stripe from the base of his cock up to his head. “Fucking tease,” Logan mutters, his hand coming down to the crown of your head. His fingers thread through your hair, nails digging into your scalp. 

You wrap your lips around his tip, and Logan bucks his hips into your mouth, forcing you to take all of him at once. You’ll never get used to the sheer size of him—the way he spills out of your mouth even when he hits the back of your throat. You suck hard, hollowing your cheeks as you slide up and down his shaft. 

You can feel Logan holding back, struggling to keep his hips still as you take him in and out of your mouth. “Such a good fucking girl,” Logan moans, your hand at the base of his cock stroking up and down now. “Feels so good, princess.” 

He twitches inside you, throbbing with need. You swirl your tongue around his tip and take him deeper, as far as he can possibly go. Logan grips the back of your head, guiding you up and down his length. You look up at him, his chest heaving, his eyes still on the road. He curses under his breath, gripping the steering wheel tighter than before. 

His eyes flit down to you and catch your gaze. “So fucking beautiful,” he praises, his foot through the floor on the gas. “So pretty when your mouth is full of my cock.” His words go straight to your core, the aching fire between your legs burning with need. You press your thighs together, searching for friction as Logan’s hips buck into your mouth again. 

He gently fucks your face, his hand still guiding the back of your head, pushing himself further inside. “Taking me so well,” Logan growls. You gag around him as he slides you up and down his cock. “Perfect little mouth, doing so good for me.” You know he’s getting close; it’s the way he whispers your name, the way he pushes you back down after you reach his tip.

Logan flicks the blinker on, and the car jerks to the side of the road, coasting to a stop. His cock twitches as he puts the car in park. He shifts, sitting up, his hips rocking, forcing himself deeper, hitting the back of your throat. You moan around him, taking him up and down faster, chasing his orgasm. 

“Gonna come down that pretty throat,” Logan groans, both of his hands gripping the back of your head tightly, pumping in and out of your mouth. “That’s it, pretty girl,” he soothes. “So fucking good.” His hips stutter, his pace faltering as he spills himself inside you. You swallow everything he has to give you, his hips still rocking as he rides out his orgasm. 

He guides your head up, your lips sliding up his cock as he pulls himself from your mouth. He smirks at you, his hand coming to your chin, wiping away his release and your saliva from the corner of your lips. 

“I think it’s your turn, darlin’,” Logan husks, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. He suddenly grabs your hips and wraps an arm around your back, hoisting you up and setting you down on the center console. He keeps his arm around your back to hold you up as his free hand works at your shorts, unbuttoning the denim, pulling your zipper, and yanking your jeans and panties down your legs. 

“Fucking soaked for me, pretty girl,” Logan says, tugging you closer to him as he settles between your thighs. “Could smell how much you needed me when you were getting me off.” His tongue licks a long stripe through your folds and up to your clit. “Couldn’t wait to taste you,” he growls as he laps at you starvingly. 

He pulls you closer, your ass hanging off the center console as Logan buries his face into your cunt. “F-fuck, Lo,” you stutter, his tongue swirling around your clit. He brings his free hand to your thigh, spreading your legs wider. His fingers teasingly trail higher, closer to where you need him most.   

He finally finds your folds, toying with you, spreading your slick as his tongue draws circles into your core. “Tastes so fucking perfect, sweetheart,” Logan mumbles against you, two fingers prodding at your entrance. “Always tastes so perfect.” His fingers thrust inside you—down to the knuckles—pulling out only to pump back in again. 

Everything is hurried and frantic, needy and desperate. He takes your clit between his lips, sucking roughly as his fingers fuck into you. It’s already too much, and you can feel the liquid heat pooling at the bottom of your stomach. “Logan,” you whine, throwing your head back. 

“That feel good, beautiful?” Logan asks, his teeth grazing your clit, sending a jolt of electricity up your spine. His tongue flits in and out, drawing long, solid strokes as his fingers fill you up, stretching you out and working you open.

“Y-yes,” you pant, watching as he devours you, sinks into you. His dark eyes meet yours and he smiles against you, taking your clit back into his mouth and sucking harder than before. “S-so good.”

“I know, pretty girl,” Logan soothes, a third finger prodding your entrance. “Gonna take care of you.” He slips it in, scissoring inside you, massaging your walls. “Gonna make you come.”

You curse under your breath, your chest heaving as he buries his fingers deep inside. His pace is unrelenting and reckless, pumping in and out, lapping at you mercilessly. Your walls flutter around him, sucking him in deeper. “S-so close,” you mumble, shaking underneath his touch. 

“That’s it, darlin’,” Logan coos, licking hard, flat circles around your clit. “Wanna feel you come on my fingers.” His words goad you along, your muscles contracting and releasing around him. He rocks his fingers in and out of you, sucking your clit roughly between sentences. “Let go for me, sweetheart. Let me taste it.”

And then you’re clenching down around him, arching your back as you come undone. You melt into him, his face still buried in your cunt as he works you through your orgasm—his fingers thrusting as he strokes your clit with his tongue.  He slows down, his fingers stalling inside you before he slips out completely. He licks one more long stripe through your folds and pulls away. His chin glistens with your juices, sweat coating his brow, his hair disheveled. He’s a mess, and it’s all because of you. 

Logan pulls you into his lap, and you immediately feel his still-hard cock press against your stomach. “I’m not finished with you yet,” he murmurs at the shell of your ear. “You started this, pretty girl.” Logan lifts you up, his erection suddenly nudging at your entrance. “And now I’m gonna finish it.” He pulls you down onto him, his cock sinking deep inside you—down to the hilt. 

You’re full again—full of him. You lift your hips and sink back down onto him. “That’s it, sweetheart, ride my cock just like that,” he growls, his hand slipping between your bodies, his fingers finding your still-sensitive clit. “Such a good fucking girl.”

“L-Lo,” you whimper, his hips rocking against yours. He thrusts up into you, pushing himself deeper, stroking your clit gently with his thumb. 

“So fucking tight,” Logan groans, gripping your hip with his free hand, guiding you up and down his length. “Such a good fucking pussy, taking me so well.” He throbs inside you, his cock dragging deliciously against your walls. He flicks your clit, bringing you closer to the edge.

You can feel your orgasm building with every twitch of his cock, with every circle he draws into your core. “’M’so close,” you whine as Logan’s hips snap against yours. He’s fucking into you relentlessly—the slow, languid roll of your hips not enough to satiate his hunger. Your walls flutter around him, pulling him in deeper.

“Fuck, darlin’,” Logan grunts, thrusting up into you. “Can feel you squeezing me. Feels so good, so fucking perfect.” He pinches your clit lightly before circling rapidly, adding more pressure. Your muscles contract around him, and Logan groans at the feeling. “Come on my cock, pretty girl. Let me get you there.”

Logan swallows your moans with a kiss as you let go. You’re all liquid heat, shattering, unraveling as your orgasm crashes into you.  Logan is close behind, his fingers still dragging against your clit, his pace faltering as his hips snap into yours. “Where do you want me to—”

You cut him off, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Inside,” you whisper. 

Logan moans your name, his cock throbbing as he fills you up, painting your walls with his release. “So fucking beautiful,” he mumbles, his fingers sliding away from your clit and trailing up your body. He wraps his arms around your back, pulling you to his chest as his hips stall, his cock unmoving inside you. “Wanna keep you right here,” he mutters against the shell of your ear, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Don’t wanna let you go.”

You bury your head into the crook of his neck. “Don’t wanna let go, either,” you say, your voice quiet and shaky. “But we need to get home.”

“I know, darlin’,” Logan says, disappointment heavy in his voice. He lifts you gently, pulling himself out from your cunt. He helps you back over the center console, your bare ass hitting the cold leather of your seat. Logan finds your jean shorts and panties, and motions for you to give him your legs so that he can help you dress. It’s soft, intimate, domestic. He lets his fingers linger on your legs long after he’s done, worshipping your skin, taking care of you. 

He pulls his boxers and jeans back up, zipping and buttoning the denim, and starts the car. He rolls back out onto the highway, his palm finding its place on your thigh—exactly where he was before. 

“Forty-five minutes, pretty girl,” Logan chuckles, his thumb brushing gentle circles into your skin. “Couldn’t wait forty-five minutes for me, hm?”

“Can’t ever wait for you,” you say, letting your eyes flutter closed. 

You’re asleep less than five minutes later, and you’re still asleep when you finally arrive back at the mansion. Logan carries you out of the car, into the mansion, and up the steps to his bedroom. You’re still sleeping as he undresses you. He settles you under the covers and climbs in after you, pulling you tight into his chest. 

“Love you, pretty girl,” he whispers, pressing a chaste kiss to the crown of your head. 

“Love you, too,” you mumble, half asleep. 

And it’s all he wanted. It’s all he ever thinks about. You. 

tags: @ilysmdovie12 @prettyseaveins @spiderset @figsnpassionfruits @silversprings-mp3 @movhoney @wittyjasontodd @theasiaabattoir @fanfic-writing-barbie @manipulatour @pedrohoe04 @derbygracie @honeyfewr @cosmiccandydreamer

[mcpostinghours]

I'm going to torment y'all with more Obey Me posting, here's what sorts of dresses I think the boys would pick for MC ( regardless of gender)

Lucifer: He can act like he's not as horny as his brothers, but I think he would imagine something super form fitting. Classy, true, but form fitting and probably black or blue or red. Feather details are a bonus.

Mammon: Thinks MC is so, SO hot, so something short and revealing, decorated in glitter and gold. Obviously something in black and gold. That being said he'd also all but faint to see them in something white and shining, loosely hanging over them like some old depictions of the gods.

Leviathan: Also horny, but also a nerd. Something with fantasy elements, and definitely at least one leg slit. He also likes oceanic colors, or orange to match him of course. Tbh his dream dress for MC would make them look like a mermaid.

Asmodeous: He's also horny (noticing a trend) but he ALSO loves fashion. I think his ideal dress would look like really really fancy lingerie. Definitely heavy on the lace, and definitely something in pink or white.

Satan: A hopeless romantic who loves fairytales? He absolutely would choose some kind of princess looking gown, with a structured bodice and fluffy skirt. Naturally he'd like something in green, or maybe purple.

Beelzebub: I feel like he doesn't think about this kind of stuff much, but if pressed he'd probably pick something short and cute. Or something that made MC's butt look good, he's totally an ass man. I feel like he'd like the color red too, or black.

Belphegor: Now he would want something that's soft and nice to touch, so probably something silk. Naturally he'd like something in purple or deep blue, super dreamy nighttime colors. It also doesn't matter how small your boobs are or if you even have them, this guy wants to see and rest his head on your cleavage. (Brat)

Diavolo: Something luxurious and regal, he wants to show MC the extent of what he can offer them. Also something white and gold, it's gonna end up looking like a wedding dress. He does not care, in fact that's a bonus. Something that glitters and makes them look even more divine. (He low-key wants to make them look more gorgeous than the angels as a flex)

Barbatos: Something slinky and formal. Something that matches the turquoise of his tail. Where Mammon would drape MC in gold, Barbatos goes for jewels. On MC's neck, chest, in their hair. He wants to see them glimmer.

Simeon: Something sweet and power blue. He prefers fabrics that drape and flow, loosely hightlighting their form. He'd never admit it but he also has a thing for dresses that are a bit transparent...

Solomon: While this asshole would probably say he'd prefer them nude, there is a legitimate answer. He would like a dress that looks like the night sky, black with glittering silver stones. Something that makes MC look as magical as he thinks they are. That being said he also wants a really REALLY high leg slit with a garter. He'd have a conniption.

Edit: I have now illustrated part of this:

[teddybeartoji]

suguru geto is unbelievably captivating.

he catches your eye immediately – standing tall, he's got one hand on the subway pole to keep his balance. his hair is tucked into his hoodie with only a few strands left out to frame his face. you can only see his side profile but it's enough; a sharp, prominent jawline and a beautiful nose, thin eyebrows, a pierced lip and a pair of tired eyes. you feel bad for thinking it but the dark bags under them leave you no other option.

afternoon sun peeks from the windows behind him, successfully making the scene before you seem like a painting. the colors move; the shades of green flashing by as trees wave you goodbye, the different hues of the tired grays, of the big buildings taking up space as the base of the canvas. splashes of black and white and silver and beige are thrown into the mix, too. his slacks, his big headphones, his jewellery, his totebag. but what truly brings it all together, is his deep, dark maroon hoodie; there's a hint of purple in it aswell, and you just think it's one of the best colors you've ever seen. you figure the thought is a bit silly, but you can't get it out of your head.

something so comforting about it, something so warm and welcoming. something a little murky about it. you can't look away.

you forget about everybody else around you. for you, it's just him in this moment. a total stranger. you don't know him and you probably never will; a pang of hurt hits right under your ribs at the thought. you wonder what his name is, you wonder how his voice sounds. how warm his hands are, and what's his favourite color. no, he doesn't seem like the type to have a favourite color. childish. you'd have to ask about a favourite drink or a book perhaps instead. you're fine with that.

you can spot a few rings on his fingers, a silver watch and a bracelet or two peering from under his sleeve. his hands are pretty. they look good. you also think that you can see a tattoo sprouting from under the collar of his hoodie but the dark lines are blending in with the strands of his hair, so you can't be sure. you want to be sure.

your foot taps against the floor or the cart, your body itching to scoot a little closer to him. you want to see his whole face. you need to. fidgeting with your own fingers, you continue observing the man in front of you. he might step out every second now, you can't waste any more time.

his shoulder seem very broad, his posture almost immaculate. handsome – you think he looks very handsome. well put together. his clothes aren't wrinkled, there isn't a single hair or a speck of dust anywhere on them as far as you can see; the only things that betray his true state of being are his eyes.

purple. glued to the window in front of him, he watches... nothing. he seems a little out of it. he's not focused on the trees or the buildings, the people aside him. you think about what kind of music he might be listening to.

the subway doors open and you jolt, head turning around to look at the platform behind the glass. people stand and leave, and a few come in, leaving an open space for you to take on the bench you're currently sitting on. and you do take it.

there he is.

you can see his eyes a little better now. keen and sharp, he reminds you of a wolf. a malnourished one. the corners of his mouth are tilted down and he really does seem tired. but he's still utterly, utterly beautiful. his skin is almost perfect, his hair shiny and his lips a little glossy. but not too glossy though – no, he definitely uses something like shea butter. something that isn't too thick, something that doesn't smell or taste too strongly. it just seems right.

you've never been this captivated by a stranger before. it's weird. the effect this man has on you without ever even sparing you a glance. you think about asking for it. for a glance. for a second of his time. a fraction of it? anything. everything.

how would he greet you? would he be mad? would he think that you're bothering him? would he give you a smile? a scoff? an eyebrow raise? would he let you ask whatever your heart desires? or would he brush you off, never even removing his headphones when you try to speak to him? oh, it hurts. the blatantly fake heartbreak still hurts.

his trainers are clean - they're white with some accents on them. they match his hoodie. you wonder which he bought first. did he buy the other with the intent of wearing the two pieces together? you want to ask him. that's not his favourite color though, right? no, no – he wouldn't have one. this man reads books and watches movies that are mostly only shown at different festivals. you don't mind it.

films. foreign films. he knows names of the directors from the top of his head, he could probably name a few cinematographers, too. fancy. but that's not his main thing, definitely not. there's something missing, something you can't grasp with just your eyes. what is he passionate about? truly passionate. what does he pour his heart into? is that why he's exhausted? is he tired from loving something? is it starting to hurt now? is it overwhelming? does he want a break? does he want to rest? does he want to get away?

the sun finds your eye from behind his body, forcing you to tear your eyes from him. the cart stops again, the doors open. you try to rub out the slight burn, suddenly a bit frantical that you'll really lose him. you look up and—

he's not there.

he isn't there anymore.

people walk past you, plopping down beside you as you're still trying to find him. turning in your seat, you eye the station. maroon, maroon, maroon, maroon. c'mon, how fast does this man fucking walk?!

but he's just not there.

you think it's unbelievably unfair that it's the sun that made you lose him. isn't she supposed to be full of love? bullshit. with a huff, your shoulders slump and your eyes fall shut while sinking into the bench below you. the cart seems to rumble more now, the seat way more uncomfortable than it was a mere minute ago. you really are disappointed; in yourself and in the world. why didn't you get up? why didn't you speak to him? better to get a no than to drown in the million 'what if' questions in your head. stupid. you're stupid.

"hi."

as you listen to the voice recording of the station names, the very same ones you memorized years ago, you crack open your eyes. your own shoes stare back at you; they're dirtier than his were. you don't think too deeply about the comparison. sun dances on the ground before you, the various shapes entertaining your mind with the shadow play. but you don't stay for long; trailing up, you see the familiar paint and your heart skips a beat. white and maroon. black. maroon. silver.

purple.

[bruisedfig]

after a night out ࿓ best friend’s dad!jensen

intro to bsf!dad!jensen .ᐟ

summary: jensen catches you tipsy in his kitchen after a night out with your friends.

warnings: none tbh, yearning, teasing, soft touches, reader is tipsy, mention of kissing others (bsf!dad!jensen x reader)

✰ ༢ུ࿓

it had been a long night of drinking, dancing, kissing pretty boys against the sticky walls of the nightclub, and feeling absolutely nothing as their wandering hands groped and squeezed at your body.

a typical night out… to say the least.

your regular spot—the beanbag on the floor of your best friend’s room, accompanied by the various pillows and blankets—felt off. you were tossing and turning, overheating and dehydrated from all the alcohol, and overstimulated from your pyjamas twisting around your body and your unruly hair getting in your face.

you stood up with a quiet yet drunken huff of annoyance, rising to your feet in the darkness of the room, your best friend’s quiet snores filling the otherwise silent space. you closed your eyes for a moment, your head spinning a little as you found your bearings.

you managed to stumble out into the dim light of the hallway, your footfalls heavy on the wooden floor, highlighted by the silver moonlight peeking in from the windows. your feet led you down the familiar path to the kitchen. it was dark and silent, apart from the clock ticking on the wall.

you felt at ease just existing in the heavy silence of the night. your eyes squeezed shut in protest as you flicked on the overhead light, and a quiet groan escaped your throat, cutting through the quietude. you drunkenly rubbed your tired eyes, smearing the leftover mascara you’d failed to completely remove barely an hour ago.

after a moment, you stepped further onto the cold tiles of the kitchen floor and swung open the cabinet filled with the drinking glasses, grabbing one.

“oh.”

you jumped at the sudden voice behind you, your body flinching. you turned around. jensen stood in the doorway with a lazy smile spread across his face, his hair tousled, dressed in grey sweatpants and a black shirt that clung to the muscled expanse of his shoulders and arms. goddamn, that sight was going to be burned into your brain until the end of time.

“it’s you,” he commented quietly, taking in your appearance at the late hour, letting his gaze fall down your body before meeting your eyes. “you look a mess, sweetheart.”

you couldn’t help your lips from tugging into a reluctant, yet amused smile, or the way your cheeks heated up at his playful jab—exacerbated by the alcohol still flowing through your system. the combination made your cheeks aglow, and you lowered your head in embarrassment, trying to save face under his fixated gaze.

“feel even better,” you muttered jokingly in return, your voice hoarse from pounding back straight liquor over the course of your night out. you turned back towards the sink to fill up your glass, still avoiding his eyes, though you could feel them piercing into your back.

a small sound of amusement came from low in jensen’s throat. he stepped towards you, watching as you shut off the water. “told you girls not to drink so much… but you never listen to me,” he chuckled softly, the sound gentle but laced with that teasing undertone you’d grown so used to.

you sipped your water as you turned to face him once again and took a moment to stare at him, trying to find a quick response in the depths of your tipsy brain. however, you realised you’d been silent probably a fraction too long as the room filled with an awkward and undeniable tension, the only sound tick tick tick from the clock and the quiet hum of the refrigerator.

jensen shifted on his feet and leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest, basking in the discomfort radiating off of you. his green eyes bored into you, studying you with an almost calculated stare, waiting to see how you’d respond to his playful attempt at displaying his “authority” over you.

“didn’t drink too much,” you finally replied, leaning against the counter opposite him, trying to appear nonchalant, like your heart wasn’t racing from just his presence alone. you took another sip of your water, watching his smile quirk into a small smirk.

“oh, yeah?” he asked, his brows raising as he watched you. he tilted his head, the gesture challenging, yet filled with jest. 

his gaze shrunk you down, stripping you of all the defences you’d tried so hard to build up over the years since you first developed your stupid crush. you felt like he could see right through you, and you didn’t know why you weren’t completely mortified by that.

you shifted your weight on your feet and cleared your throat. “yeah,” you offered back with a shrug, trying to keep up your bravado of indifference.

“then what’s with the…“ jensen trailed off, raising a hand and gesturing to his face.

“what?” you scoffed out in a smile, now crossing your arms—a little in defence, and maybe a little in defiance.

“your eyes, little lady. y’got makeup all smudged under them, looks like you got punched in the eye. there’s no one i need to go out and knock on their ass for hitting my girl is there?” he smirked, this time not so subtly, letting his words linger in the air as that fucking expression shot straight down to your core. his girl. damn right.

your hands rubbed under your eyes after you’d placed your glass down, your heart thumping against your ribcage as you tried to wipe away the black smears. “no,” you huffed with a smile, “no fighting needed, jensen.”

“good,” he murmured, stepping towards you, “i’d be sad if someone was slinging fists your way, honey. y’too sweet to be gettin’ into fights.”

you blinked up at him, dropping your hands as he approached; your body language was open to him, welcoming his proximity as he neared closer.

“wouldn’t want to see you hurt. i’d hate that,” he continued, his voice still a soft murmur. he raised his hand, letting it linger just a centimetre from your skin, hesitating for a moment, before finally making contact. his thumb gently rubbed at the stubborn mascara under one of your eyes, his palm resting on your cheek. the feeling of his skin against yours was searing, setting the butterflies in your stomach into a frenzy. your breath caught in your throat for a moment; his touch felt good, like it belonged there.

your eyelids fluttered shut, silently submitting to his touch, and you felt his gaze deepen. it was intense and all-consuming, kind of like standing under a spotlight, but it was gentle at the same time, like it was one you’d been under a thousand times.

“mmm,” jensen hummed, “my messy girl.” his quietly spoken words made your heartbeat stutter. his. it’s like he knew exactly how to take you apart without even trying. the butterflies grew more rampant in your stomach, his words forcing goosebumps to grow on your skin. “at least this shows you had fun tonight though, right?”

your eyes flickered open, blinking up to meet his. your eyes locked, and his smile grew, making a warmth bloom in your chest. jensen’s thumb stilled under your eye, but he left his hand cupped against your cheek, the heat between your skin sending tingles down your spine, straight to your core. you had to fight off the urge to turn and place a kiss on his palm, or better yet, take his thumb into your mouth.

“yeah, had a lot of fun tonight…” you muttered with a soft smile, letting your eyes dance between his green irises, so deep and soulful you could just drown in them if he’d let you.

“yeah?” he asked, letting his hand slip down to grasp the side of your jaw. he rubbed his thumb along your cheek, his eyes sparkling with mirth, drinking you in, as you tried to not physically react to his touch. 

“yeah.”

“did you kiss any boys?”

you paused, your whole body tensing, completely thrown off by his question. you tried to not let the surprise show on your face, but jensen could see right through you.

“s’alright if you did, baby. you’re a pretty girl. lots of boys’d be lining up for a kiss, i’d imagine,” he purred out his words, and you felt like you could just melt right then and there.

your throat bobbed as you swallowed down the words you wanted to say. no boy would ever beat you, jensen. i want you first in line. every time.

instead, your smile grew sheepish, and your eyes darted away for a moment, fighting off the blush from staining your cheeks. an awkward chuckle bubbled up your throat, an attempt to diffuse the tension he’d built between you.

“umm,” you began, “yeah, i— i kissed a boy… or two.” your eyes met his once again, falling back into the trap of his unwavering stare. you searched his face, your heart beating as you waited for a response. you felt guilty. why did you feel guilty?

you caught the way the corner of his lip twitched, threatening to curl ever so subtly at your words, and the guilt intensified tenfold in your chest. why did you admit that to him? why didn’t you just lie?

“yeah?” he asked, letting his face fall back into a neutrally intrigued expression, guarded almost. “did you like it?”

your brows pinched together. 

“like what?” you asked, part of you hoping he’d just drop it. you didn’t think you could keep your face from flushing any longer; you didn’t want him to see you so flustered over a silly question.

“getting kissed?” he clarified, the words falling from his mouth like it was a totally normal thing to be asking you.

“i— it was—” you mumbled, trying to find the words. “yeah, it was… alright. i was drunk,” you finally concluded, hoping to cease any misinterpretations of your prior actions that night. they were just kisses; you were drunk.

“just alright?” jensen asked, tilting his head once again, still caressing your cheek. “you don’t need to lie to me, sweetheart. you can kiss all the boys you want and enjoy it if you like.”

“i know,” you said a little too quickly out of panic. you mentally smacked yourself when you saw his eyes narrow the slightest bit. fuck. that’s not what you meant to say. i don’t want to kiss anyone but you, jensen. only you.

“mm, doesn’t mean you should.”

the hum of the refrigerator and the ticking of the clock trickled out into the background, a new silence swallowing you whole. you stood staring up at him, your tipsy brain trying to scramble through the mess his words left in your head. doesn’t mean you should.

“i— it was just—” you sputtered out, suddenly feeling like a deer in headlights.

jensen shook his head and gently patted your cheek. “just be careful, sweetheart. want you looking after yourself f’me. don’t want a boy breaking that sweet little heart of yours. it’s too innocent, too good for this world. you deserve the best, you know that?”

your brain felt like it was seconds away from exploding and seeping out of your ears. you struggled to make sense of his words, trying to search between them as the silent seconds flew by.

but then suddenly

out of nowhere

he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. your eyes instantly fell closed, the breath from your lungs stilling for a moment as the world around you slowed down. this… this was new.

“you get to bed, baby. i’ll cook you girls a big breakfast tomorrow. the ackles’ hangover special,” he mumbled against your hair, his hand still holding your face.

you hummed; you didn’t trust yourself with words.

“sleep tight, sweet girl.” jensen finally pulled back and shot you a smile, the type of smile that makes your knees go weak. every. single. time.

all you could do was nod, your eyes grasping onto the micro-expressions on his face. god, he was so hard to read, so guarded when he wanted to be, so confusing.

jensen nodded in return. he took a moment to let the sight of you sink in, really sink in, before he turned on his heel and headed towards the door with a smile on his face.

your heart sunk to your stomach as the distance between you increased, missing the warmth of his hand against your cheek, his lips against your hair, his body cocooning yours against the counter, the smell of his cologne that you breathed in like it was fresh air.

a sigh escaped your lungs as he finally disappeared into the hallway. your legs felt like jelly, and that bloody aching sensation had grown between your thighs.

it was going to be a long night.

fig yaps: this felt… awfully restrained compared to my last post,, BUT i wanted to establish their dynamics before they go crazy sucking and fucking !!! anywhoooo thank u for the love on the og post !!! i feel like my inbox has been flooded, and all the kind (also kinda batshit) comments have made my week and made me so eager to write !!! love y’all freaks PLS keep sending me ideas i wanna start writing actual smut for this delicious man i just gotta plan it out omg

also thank u for 1.6k too !!!!!! 🤯

feedback and reblogs are welcome and encouraged as always! thank yaaaa <3

⟡ taglist: @chevroletdean @fitxgrld @jasvtsc @bluestrd @1-imbroglio @titsout4jackles @faithfulsofi @tortureddarkstar @abellmunsonmovie @legalmente-loca @theoneandonlystonedspiderman420 @manicjk @jensenacklesballsack @minettacreekk @winchester-whiskey @emeraldcrs @freyabear @daylighted @cosmopolitan-thedrink @jwritestuff @suhnisideup @spookyysinsanity @kimxwinchester @bleuatlas @deansbbyx @angelicjackles @deansbeer @artemys-ackles @bluemerakis @misatxox @star-yawnznn @ambiguous-avery @starzify @littlesoulshine @jays-bonnie-on-the-side @freeluigihesbae @bejeweledinterludes @lanasgirlfr @seven7lee @nymphet-quenn @rafessweetgirl @maeji-may @eternalssunshinee @deanswidow @psychicnatural @ghostlyaccurate @k-slla

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[abbotsanatomy]

FLUFF ALPHABET !

⨳ jack abbot hcs

pairing: jack abbot x fem!reader wordcount: 2,800 warnings: age gap (28 and 49), some innuendos, it’s pretty sfw! this isn't beta'd. author's note: i’m so obsessed with this silver fox…someone run me over in pittsburgh between the hours of 8PM and 8AM pls! here's the template btw!

A for Admiration What Do They Absolutely Adore About You?

Jack admires your drive. He adores seeing you excel at your field. Whenever you’re passionately rambling on about something, he’s all ears (with actual hearts in his eyes). He’s so proud of your every achievement. Even when you fail, he’s proud of your ability to recover with so much grace.

He’s never necessarily been a proud man, but he can't help but puff his chest up a little more when he watches you do practically anything. Knowing you're all his is enough to turn him into one arrogant fucker.

B for Body What Is Their Favorite Part Of Your Body?

Your hair. He likes to grab ahold of it, and not necessarily in a sexual way. It grounds him. The scent of your grocery store shampoo, mixed with that specific perfume smell that never really leaves your hair, brings him down to earth.

He likes to nose at the strands in the early morning, before getting out of bed, with his arms still wrapped around you. It reminds him you’re really there. The scent your hair leaves behind on his pillow is one he cherishes for days after you sleep over.

bonus: This might seem cheesy, but I definitely think your eyes are a big thing for him. He'd stare into them for hours. Even if you aren't staring back, he just likes to be the first to know exactly how you're feeling. And staring into your eyes is the closest he'll ever get to reading your mind. Plus, they're just so uniquely you, in a way he can't explain but certainly shows every day.

C for Cuddling How Do They Like To Cuddle? Little Spoon or Big Spoon?

His chest pressed all the way against your back, with his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. Only way. He’ll hook a leg over yours if he’s feeling really cuddley.

I think he just likes feeling like you're the only thing there is for a few moments. When he's got his arms wrapped around you, there's nothing else on his mind. The world goes quiet for a while, and he can really zero in on something as little as your every breath, or your every heartbeat, as he rests his palm on your chest.

D for Dates What Does Their Ideal Date With You Look Like?

Your dates are almost always simple. Indian food on the couch. Listening to albums all the way through on his record player, as you enjoy each other’s company. Cooking a meal after work. Playing a game of chess on the board you forgot you owned, which he found under your bed.

He does go all out on special occasions, though. Your birthday, anniversaries, the like. I honestly think he might forget to plan something ahead of time sometimes, but he'd still make something work that day. He's an emergency guy. He'll always be able to pull something together, even if he just has an hour. And he has.

E for Emotions How Do They Express Emotion Around You?

This guy’s so emotionally constipated he needs an enema (medical joke). You are probably the enema! That's a compliment.

He definitely just needs a good push in the right direction. He'll try to deny his feelings for you in the beginning, on account of the age difference, and his glaringly obvious issues with self worth. Eventually, he'll figure it out. He'll let himself feel it, if you help him. He has a lot to unlearn.

A few years into your relationship, he doesn't deny himself any of his emotions around you. You know when he's sad versus happy or if he's had a good day at work versus a very shitty one. It's mainly because he expresses himself better around you, but also because you've learnt all of his cues and quirks. You’re probably the only person he lets see all of him, the good and the bad.

F for Family Do They Want One? If They Do, When?

He’s never really seen a family for himself in the books. If it happens, it happens. He wouldn't ask you to get an abortion or anything like that (or shame you for your decision to get one, obviously), but it'd definitely take a lot for him to open up to the idea. It’d take a lot for him to want it.

Not that he'd be a bad father. On the contrary, I think he'd be so, so gentle and nurturing and loving, in his own way.

He wouldn't like how a family affects his job (bc let's be real, of course it does), but it's just a learning curve he'll get over. He'll deal with needing to change his shifts, or the whole being more on edge than before, whenever he sees children in the ER, but it won't be easy.

G for Gifts How Do They Feel About Gift Giving? What Are Their Habits With Gifts?

He feels gifts should always be sentimental. If they don’t have sentimental value, he doesn’t see the point. This doesn’t mean he wouldn’t buy you anything expensive. He’d definitely buy that hair thing you mentioned, because it’d make your mornings so much easier. He’d buy that ring you eyed in the jewelry store window, as you walked arm in arm at night.

He's just meticulous about the gifts he chooses. And he buys you things at the most random times. He doesn't believe gifts should be exclusive to holidays or special occasions.

It's a habit you learn from him. Anytime something nice reminds you of him, you buy it. And you know he'll do the same.

H for Holding Hands When/How Do They Like To Hold Hands?

Interlocking fingers is reserved for intimate moments in bed or in the kitchen as you sit on the counter, watching him cook dinner.

Every now and again, he'll brush his fingers against yours in passing. It’s all he’ll let himself do in public. It's enough. It steadies your breathing and reminds him you'll always be there. It's become a habit you both cherish.

I for Injury How Would They Act If You Got Hurt?

He deals with all kinds of injuries every single day. If it's something minor, like a fall, he'll still be on edge initially. Until he checks you from head to toe to ensure you're completely fine. Then, he'll crack a little smile and help you up and into his arms for slightly closer observation.

A serious injury is a whole other story. There's a complete shift in his demeanor. It's almost like he's reverted back to his military training. He doesn't let himself feel it in the moment. He focuses solely on your well-being and making sure you're receiving the best care possible.

When it's all over, and he’s safely behind the walls of your apartment, he completely breaks down. You can see him pay closer attention to you, too. He does it for a few days after, until it gets annoying and you beg him to stop baby-ing you. The wording might throw him off, but he backs off when you promise you're fine.

J for Jokes Do They Like To Joke Around With Or Prank You? How?

He may come off as an intense guy, but he is SO unserious. He has an unhinged energy about him that I'm 100% sure makes for the best jokes ever.

When he's off the clock, he's almost unrecognizable with how extremely his energy shifts. He's still broody, but very funny. Maybe it's just because you like him so much, you can never know.

K for Kisses How Do The Like To Kiss You?

Jack kisses like he’s been starved of it. He consumes. His hands everywhere, his mouth pressed to yours until your lips are bruised. His kisses are always an all-consuming experience.

He hasn't always been this way. He's had partners before, he's always been able to control himself in the moment. All of that carefully curated control somehow just dissipates when your lips are on his.

He doesn't usually lean in for a kiss in public. I don't see him being big on PDA. If he's desperate, he'd love a quick peck until he can actually have the real thing for as long as he needs. It’s just what he prefers.

L for Love Language How Do They Show They Love You?

Acts of service, words of affirmation, and physical touch! In that order.

Little, subtle touches throughout the day keep him afloat. Every touch, no matter how small, is a little gesture he pours his entire being into. He'd be lying if he said each brush against your arm or hand on your shoulder doesn't make him want more, but he couldn't live without any of it.

He's not great with his words. He can't write you poems or monologue about how much he loves you. So, he does the next best thing. He praises you. Constantly and consistently. "You look gorgeous," "You nailed that," and "You're doing so great," are regular phrases in his daily vocabulary for you. You've heard them so often, they're embedded in your psyche. That’s exactly his goal. He wants to say these things so often you really, truly believe them. Because he sure as hell does.

The place he truly finds himself in your relationship is when he's doing things for you. His time is valuable, and he loves spending it on making you happy. He makes your coffee in the morning. He cleans out your apartment when you're too busy to take care of it. He takes care of you when you're sick (obvi). Or gives you head.

He spends all day taking care of people, so the fact that he's more than willing to do it all over again when he gets home isn't just any small thing. Every action is meaningful and intentional. I mean, he's literally a universal giver (O-), need I say more? It's in his blood.

M for Memory Favorite Memory Together?

Hands down, the moment he realized he wanted to marry you. Ironically, it wasn't anything romantic. You were both out on a coffee date, when a kid started choking on a piece of candy. You flawlessly performed the Heimlich Maneuver, as he talked you through it.

The way you carried yourself, the way you didn't hesitate to help, the way you stayed calm through it all and listened to his every order, trusting him completely. It reminded him of all of the reasons he loves you. He couldn't have chosen anyone better to spend the rest of his life with.

A close second is probably the one time you took a warm bath together at a hotel in Aspen, overlooking the snowy mountains. Can you blame him? Moment like that only happens once, especially with your incredibly busy schedules.

N for Nightmare What Is Their Worst Fear?

You ending up in his ER.

In any context, but mainly you ending up in his ER and then needing to be wheeled out for surgery. He'd be completely helpless. Your life would be in someone else's hands. He hates the thought of it.

O for Oddity What Is One Quirk They Have?

SO MANY QUIRKS. This man is a vet. The things he's learned are very difficult to unlearn. Working in the ER really reinforces all of these habits, too.

He eats so quickly, you think he'd choke, if he wasn't so simultaneously careful. It's like he's expecting to be called away to care for a dying patient at any moment. Even if you're just sitting at the dinner table at home with a nice, home-cooked meal. He can't help but scarf it down so quick it's gone before you're even half way done with yours.

On that same note, he sleeps anywhere and everywhere. He's catching Zzzs no matter what. He can sleep with the TV on at full volume. Or in the car on the way somewhere. He can sleep with the curtains fully pulled back and the sun shining in his eyes. It's impressive, truly. It's a survival tactic, though. It isn't sustainable. You have to pull him away from it. Whenever you’re around, you close the curtains or turn off the TV. You hold him close and make sure he's comfortable. Sometimes he thinks you've ruined him, because he's begun to find it a lot more difficult to sleep right away after a shift, without you there.

P for Pet Names What Do They Like To Call You?

Jack's never been a pet name kind of man. It's weird, because it just seems like they slip out of his mouth, before he can help it, whenever he's around you. He calls you honey, because you're so sweet it makes his teeth ache. He calls you gorgeous, because you are and it makes his head spin.

Q for Quality Time How Do They Like To Spend Time With You?

In the most mediocre ways possible. Privately.

Doing laundry at home, cooking up a recipe you found online, cuddling in bed. He likes the domesticity of it all. Plus, he doesn't get a lot of time with you. So when he does, he wants you all to himself.

R for Rhythm What Song Reminds You Of Them?

No comment.

It isn't even necessarily a good song. You probably just came across it one day on TikTok and sent it to him to get his reaction. He probably gives you shit for it constantly. But he’s well aware of how hot you find the age gap, don't need a song to prove it.

S for Secrets How Open Are They With You?

Very open! No filter. It took time for him to get there, but he sees you as his second half, truly. There's virtually nothing he'd keep from you.

He doesn't like to talk a lot about his job in great detail, though. He doesn't want to upset you. It wouldn't be a secret, but he wouldn't bring any of it up unprovoked.

T for Time How Long Does It Take You To Get Together?

A long time. He had some issues to overcome before he could fully embrace a relationship with you. He still made it very clear he was into you, he just wasn't sure he'd be able to commit, so he didn't want to lead you on.

Jack might've also felt like a creep, being with someone so much younger. He has friends with kids as old as you. He weirded himself out thinking about things like that, but every time he looked at you he was met with the reality that you are, without a doubt, a grown woman. Gorgeous. And grown. Eventually, he got over it. After a lot of encouragement from you.

U for Upset How Do They Act When You’re Upset With Them?

He GROVELS. He loves you. You know this, without a shadow of a doubt.

He's just afraid you might stay upset with him long enough to forget it. He can't lose you. So, he lets go of any pride and dignity he has left and grovels better than anyone has ever groveled. It always works.

V for Vaunt What Are They Proud Of? Do They Like To Show You Off?

YES! He constantly tells you how proud he is of you. You think you could just wake up and roll over onto your side, and he'd give you endless praises for your technique.

He definitely loves showing you off. He's confident in the fact that you both belong exclusively to each other, so he doesn't mind letting people see it too. He's just private with his gestures. It's a vulnerability thing. PDA just doesn't feel good to him.

W for Warrior How Do They Feel About You Fighting? Would They Fight For You? Beside You? Etc.

If it comes down to it, and you're assaulted on the job or something, he's ready to fight. He logically doesn't want to be violent towards anyone, but it'd just be instinctual in the moment. He's more focused on caring for you and making sure you're alright afterwards.

X for X-Ray How Well Are They Able To Read You?

Very well. He's taken the time to learn your habits, your cues, and your body. There's just this unspoken language that flows between you. Both of you can communicate so much with just your eyes, or your subtle touches.

He can point out even the smallest changes in your demeanor, and predict your mood changes very successfully. That isn't the most impressive part, though. The fact that he can take you from crying hysterically to smiling in under ten minutes is.

Y for Yes How Would They Propose To You?

Very casually. Probably in a spur-of-the-moment type of way.

He'd probably blurt the question out during dinner one day. Or while you're in bed, sharing a cigarette.

He uses the moment to gauge your reaction and then plans something sentimental and big for later. He thinks it should feel a little more official. You find it endearing that he asked before he even bought a ring.

Z for Zen What Makes Them Feel Calm?

Your voice. He's so glad you're always a phone call away. You've gotten him through a great deal of panic attacks over the phone. He's fallen asleep listening to you talk about your day on the couch one too many times.

You always know what to say. Your voice always has this calm and collected cadence to it, which leaves him amazed. It's a direct contrast to his time in the ER. He needs it more than he could ever tell you.

author's note: i apologize for the medical jokes. please forgive me.

[iamred-iamyellow]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Gangsters Wife

♥ masterlist | request rules

♥ pairing: mafiaboss!carlos sainz x fem!wife!reader

♥ synopsis: things start to change for you and your marriage-of-convenience husband after you stitch up his wounds

♥ one-shot - as always none of the pictures are mine <3

♥ warnings: swearing and vague descriptions of smut - p in v (wrap it before you tap it) !!!

♥ a/n: i wrote on my vacation lol. i’m a little nervous to post this since it’s uncharted writing territory for me but i hope you enjoy reading it <3

You sat on the black satin sheets of your bed, waiting for your husband to come back from business. You knew you should probably be asleep; that he wouldn’t want you up worrying for him, but here you were wide awake. 

It wasn’t like the two of you married for love, anyway. It was much more out of convenience. His job was… interesting, but you weren’t complaining about the luxury that you now lived in due to the arrangement. 

Your breath hitched as you heard the door unlock, assuming it was Carlos. He made his way towards the bedroom and immediately locked eyes with you. His hair was slicked to the side and he had a couple of cuts on his face. He was wearing a red shirt, the sleeves rolled to his elbows, black dress pants, some black shoes, and an expensive watch. 

“Go to bed,” he demanded, removing the ticking object from his wrist and laying it down in a drawer with the rest of his collection. 

“I couldn’t sleep,” you admitted, rustling in the bed sheets. 

“I’m alright if that’s what you’re wondering,” he swiped his thumb over the blood on his bottom lip. “Get some rest.” 

You slowly stood up and strolled over to him.  Your gaze dropped down to the ripped fabric on his side, presumably from a fight. 

“Were you stabbed?” you asked in a whisper. 

“Lightly.”

“Lightly? What does lightly mean?”

He began unbuttoning his shirt, though it didn’t take long before it was off of him. The moonlight from a small open window illuminated his body, his muscles were strained, covered in sweat, and there was a wound flooded with blood on his abdomen. 

“It’s not that deep,” he murmured.

“Literally or figuratively? Because it looks like the knife went in pretty far.” You softly grazed his skin with the light touch of your fingertips. 

You walked over to your nightstand and pulled out a small stitch kit. 

“Sit down,” you commanded him, nodding towards the edge of the bed. 

“I’m fine. I can do this on my own.” 

“I said sit. down.” 

He took a deep, agitated sigh and did as you told him. You dampened a rag in the bathroom and returned to clean the blood off his wound.

You threaded the needle and pierced it through his skin, beginning the first stitch. 

“Are you sure you’re qualified for this?” he asked. 

You nodded, “I wouldn’t have married you without knowing how to do this.” 

He hummed and your left hand went to his waist to hold him still. He could feel the coldness of the silver wedding ring he gave you only a few months ago. 

You finished pulling the last part of the thread and cut the excess off. 

“There,” you said, pressing your palm gently against his abs.

He pulled you onto his lap and his hands firmly gripped your thighs. You made a soft sound and ground down onto his belt. 

“Tomorrow, amor.” he stopped you and whispered. “Let’s go to bed.” 

-

You woke up first at 7. You had rolled over to find your husband awake, messaging someone on his phone.

“Go back to sleep cariño,” he mumbled, running one of his hands over your hair.

You grabbed his hand and kissed his palm, slowly making your way up his arm.

“Amor,” he warned.

“What? You said tomorrow… it’s tomorrow.”

The next thing you knew he had you pinned down by your neck. His phone rang on the nightstand and he used his free hand to pick it up, still thrusting into you as he did so.

“Leave us alone,” he said and hung up instantly.

Leave. Us. Alone.

You woke up again at 9, this time alone in your bed. You wandered into the kitchen to see your husband making breakfast.

“Carlitos?” you ask, a faint smile teasing your lips. “Where’s the chef?” 

“I sent him home.”

“You’ve never cooked for me before,” you took a seat on the barstool at the counter. 

“I’ve never cooked for anyone before,” he admitted.

He set some pancakes on a plate and handed it to you.

You hummed, “No syrup?”

He shrugged “I don’t think we have any. I usually eat mine just the dough.”

It was odd having a conversation like this with Carlos. The two of you weren’t used to making small talk.

“Uhm, how do you feel? Are any of your cuts infected?” you asked.

“No, I feel fine,” he said putting cooking supplies away as you ate. “The stitching you did is good but i’ll probably still get my doctor to look at it.”

“Yeah that’s a good idea,” you replied, picking at your food as his phone rang.

He flipped it open to answer a call from an unknown number. From the muffled spanish voice on the other end you assumed it was from Fernando. 

“Sí, I’ll be there soon.” Carlos said and hung up the phone. 

“I’ll be back,” he told you, walking out the front door without a goodbye.

Your eyes caught the abundance of bodyguards that entered the room to block the exits and entrances. You sighed and slouched, tapping your nails on the marble counter. Great. Just when things were starting to get good.