#do you think this is something I'm proud of

[luveline]

Hii! I'm in love with your Hotch adult daughter fics. Could we get one where she is getting bullied in college or where she works and then Hotch finds out somehow and helps her? Please please :)

thanks so much for requesting! fem, 1.2k

He decides to surprise you. He’s at risk of embarrassing himself greatly, and he’s okay with that risk. 

Hotch stands outside of the George Washington University and winces in the hot weather. The sun beats down on the back of his neck. He’s more aware of how little sun protection he uses as the time stretches on, waiting for you, but he doesn’t mind it. He’s worn full suits in the Nevada desert. 

You emerge from the main building where your last class for the day takes place. He dropped you off here last week, got to watch you walk in and say hi to the custodian. It was a nice insight of who you are, someone he’s proud to be the father of though he had little hand in what you’ve become. 

Behind you are two female classmates. 

Hotch pauses under the tree he’d taken refuge by. 

He can’t hear what they’re saying, but he can see the rigidity of your shoulders, your hackles rising as they talk. The brunette gets a nasty look on her face, to which you respond, and the blonde’s volume begins to rise. 

The brunette looks like she might reach for you. “Don’t touch me,” you warn. 

Hotch steps in. 

“Hey, excuse me,” he says, loudly and firmly, the Unit Chief tone in play. He’s gotten very good at raising his voice without shouting. “What’s going on here?”

The two women who were talking to you falter, but the brunette stays fiery. “We’re just talking.” 

“About what?” 

“It’s none of your business.” 

“If you’re going to lay your hands on her, it becomes my business,” he says. 

There’s a guilt to the blonde’s expression that proves you’d been thinking correctly and that she was going to touch you, even if it were only to grab your wrist, but she bristles and denies. “We weren’t.” 

“Then you have no reason to stay.” 

You frown deeply. “No, they can finish. Clearly they think it’s important–”

“But do you think it’s important?” Hotch asks you. 

Your frown, your anger beginning to ebb. You take a breath. “I suppose not.” 

Hotch levels the women with a look. Just a look, not interrogative or heated, but prompting —it’s the kind of look he gives people when he wants them to realise they’ve missed their cue to leave. 

“See you next week, then,” the brunette says, a threat he abhors. 

“I’m sure she will,” he says, hoping anything unsaid is felt. He has no idea who they are or what you’ve apparently done to make them angry, but you won’t be intimidated. 

“Do I need to talk with Dean Langley?” he asks, turning to you as the women walk out of hearing range. 

“Aaron.” You look at him, look like him, not in appearance but the pinch to your brow as you rub the bridge of your nose. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that.” 

“What?” 

“They do it to me every time I’m here.” 

“They do?” 

You sound like it’s a chore. “They think I’m sleeping with our professor.” 

“Why would they think that?” 

“Because ever since I stopped working, my grades are much better, n’ they think I cheated my way there.” 

Oh, of course. Hotch tries to do something good by you —he’s started giving you a little chunk of money every week so you don’t have to work anymore, nothing obsequious but enough to cover everything you need, rent and food and transportation, clothes, textbooks, and he made it clear you can ask for more— and it makes things worse for you instead. Still, “Your grades are improving?” 

“I’m doing pretty well,” you confess shyly. 

He holds your shoulder. “I’m sorry they’re jealous, and I’m sorry they’re inventing a narrative to cope. I really can speak with Dean Langley if you need me to.” 

You smile and let yourself lean into his touch. “Inventing a narrative to cope,” you repeat. “That’s a good one. I’ll use that one.” 

You have more fight in you, it seems. “If it gets too much, just let me know. You don’t have to entertain their delusion.” 

“I’ll use that one, too.” 

He laughs, hand sliding behind your back to hug you from the side, his nose briefly pressing to your temple before he gives you space again. “I was hoping I’d catch you on your way out, are you busy? Let me take you to dinner, celebrate your performance.” 

“You realise I wouldn’t have improved without your help?” you ask. 

“I think any parent in my position should provide for their kid,” he says easily. “It’s not help. Not everyone can support their children through college, but I can, and I wish I had been from the start.” 

“You don’t owe me anything,” you say. 

He nudges you into a walk toward his car. “I owe you more than you realise.” 

He takes you to an early dinner, and celebrates your improving grades with the dessert of your choosing. Conversation with you can sometimes feel strange. It’s hard to think you were a kid once and he’d never met you, but then he realises how young twenty two really is, how you’re still willing, longing for him to be a father to you. You’re smug that he’d go to the dean to for you. You like that he stepped in. And you love being doted on, being encouraged. He can see that easily. 

“When can I come back to see Jack?” you ask eventually. 

He wishes he could say whenever you like, but he has a hard time following Haley’s movements. “I’ll ask. Soon, I promise.”

“He took great care of me.” 

The last time you’d stayed over, Jack acted like you were the best thing since sliced bread (which you are, in Hotch’s eyes). 

“You know, he had a little trouble with bullies last year.” 

“They aren’t bullies,” you say, taking a bashful bite of your ice cream. 

“No, of course not. But he’ll understand, if you want to tell him about it.”

“Aaron, he’s five.” 

“He’s six,” he corrects. 

“Oh, sorry. But still, I don’t think Jack wants to deal with that. I couldn’t unload on him, he’s my… you know, he’s my little brother.” 

“Then tell me about it, at least.” 

“You saw the most of it.” 

He sighs. Wishes you’d call him dad, understands why you don’t, and can’t think of what to do. It was easier when Jack had trouble, because little kids bully each other almost on accident. They don’t know what they’re doing is wrong, having learned the behaviour from their parents. It’s almost never personal. 

Your situation is not the same. 

“I’ll talk to the dean,” he suggests again. 

“Don’t bother. It’s alright. And if it gets worse, I’ll tell you.” 

He smiles, reaching over plates to squeeze your hand briefly. “Thank you.” 

You look down at your food. Some shyness to you still at being cared about. “Thank you,” you mumble. 

[pedroscowgirl]

maybe i’m a bit desilusional but…

what abt fem, young!reader taking care of hugh jackman’s kids? and he being so stunned at how caring she is he just wants to bread her and fucks her in a rude way??

if u dont like this, just ignore it complately ♡

hugh jackman x fem!reader

warnings: smut! minors DNI breeding kink, creampie, p in v, age gap (reader is 20 ish and hugh is 55) wc: 3,4k

a/n: ugh yes i love daddy hugh and i'm sure he loves being a dad aswell and he just can't wait to make u a mother. (and yes im aware his kids are older now but lets just ignore that for this story) i hope u like this tho!

You had never expected babysitting to become such an integral part of your life, but when the opportunity arose to look after Hugh Jackman's children, you couldn’t turn it down. What started as a part-time gig quickly became something much more meaningful. His kids, with their curious eyes and endless energy, pulled you into their world with ease. You were young, fresh out of college, and ready to tackle whatever life threw your way, but you hadn’t anticipated how attached you’d grow to this family.

Today was one of those quiet afternoons where the house felt like a peaceful bubble. Hugh had been out filming all day, and you were in the living room with his youngest, a mess of paints and construction paper scattered on the floor. You were helping them create a hand-painted masterpiece, your fingers gently guiding theirs as they carefully brushed color onto the page.

“You’re doing so well!” you encourage, a soft laugh escaping your lips as the child beams up at you, proud of their work.

Unbeknownst to you, Hugh had arrived home. He stood in the doorway for a moment, watching in silence. The sight of you, so gentle, so patient, made something stir inside him. His children were the most important part of his life, and to see them so comfortable and happy in your presence was nothing short of remarkable. It was more than that, though. It was the way you smiled, the way you listened when they talked, as if every word they said mattered.

You hadn’t noticed Hugh yet, too focused on the child in front of you. The sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a soft glow across the room. The image was almost too perfect, and for a second, Hugh felt like an outsider looking in on something beautiful, something he hadn't realized he wanted.

Finally, you glanced up and caught his eye. You flashed him that warm, inviting smile, completely unaware of the effect it had on him.

“Hey, Hugh,” you greeted casually, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to see him standing there. “We’re making some masterpieces here. You want to join?”

He chuckled, his voice slightly deeper, though there was an unfamiliar warmth in his eyes. “I think I’ll leave the artistic side to you two. You’re really good with them.”

You shrugged, still smiling as you turned your attention back to the child beside you. “They make it easy,” you said, your voice soft but genuine.

But to Hugh, it was clear that wasn’t true. There was something special about the way you connected with his kids, and it went beyond just being "good" with them. You seemed to understand them in a way that made him feel like he was seeing his own family through new eyes.

As the evening unfolded, the kids eventually grew tired, their energy winding down after hours of play. You took your time, making sure they were comfortable, tucked into bed with their favorite stuffed animals by their side. Hugh watched from the doorway, his arms crossed as he leaned against the frame, an unreadable expression on his face. There was something undeniably attractive about the way you cared for them, how natural and effortless it seemed.

When you finally closed the door to the kids’ room, you turned and found him standing there, still watching you with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. You weren’t sure why, but the air felt different. Charged.

“They’re out like lights,” you whispered with a soft laugh, breaking the silence, but Hugh didn’t respond immediately. He was looking at you in a way that made you feel suddenly self-conscious, but not uncomfortable. It was a quiet admiration, almost as if he were seeing you for the first time.

“You’re incredible with them,” he said after a beat, his voice low. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen them this happy. It’s like… you’re part of the family already.”

Your cheeks warmed at his words, and you smiled, a little unsure of how to respond. “I’ve really grown attached to them,” you admitted, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “They’re great kids.”

Hugh nodded, stepping a little closer. You could feel the weight of his gaze, his presence somehow more intense than it had ever been before. “I’ve noticed,” he said, his tone shifting to something more personal, more intimate. “You’re amazing with them, but… I’ve also noticed how kind and caring you are. It’s not just them you look after.”

You blinked, a little caught off guard by the compliment. “I just want to help,” you said softly, your eyes meeting his. There was something different in the way he looked at you now. Something deeper.

For a long moment, neither of you said anything. The house was quiet, save for the faint rustle of the wind outside. You were suddenly acutely aware of how close he was standing. His gaze softened, but there was a certain weight to it, like he was wrestling with something unspoken.

“Hugh?” you asked softly, feeling the tension in the air shift.

He seemed to snap out of whatever thought had held him captive, and he smiled, genuine, but with an edge of something more. “I’m just… grateful. For everything you’ve done. For being here.”

His words were laced with something deeper than gratitude, though. There was a sincerity that tugged at your heart, something that hinted at emotions he wasn’t sure how to express. You felt it too,this connection, the way he seemed to see you differently now.

“I love being here,” you said, your voice almost a whisper.

He took another step forward, close enough now that you could feel the warmth radiating from him. His eyes never left yours, searching, wondering. For a moment, it felt like the rest of the world disappeared, leaving just the two of you standing there in the quiet of the house.

“I think I’ve been blind to something,” Hugh finally admitted, his voice low and a little rough, like he was struggling to put his feelings into words. “You’ve become more than just someone who helps out around here. You’ve become… important.”

Your breath caught in your throat at his words, and the intensity in his gaze made your heart race. “Hugh, I—”

But before you could finish, he stepped even closer, his hand reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair behind your ear. His touch was soft, almost hesitant, but the tenderness in that small gesture sent shivers down your spine.

“I didn’t expect to feel this way,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper now. “But I can’t ignore it anymore.”

You looked up at him, your heart pounding in your chest. The look in his eyes told you everything you needed to know,he felt it too, this connection that had grown between you. It was more than just admiration for how you cared for his children. It was something deeper, something neither of you could deny anymore.

Hugh’s hand trembled slightly as it reached for your face, his fingers brushing against your skin with a softness that contrasted the fire in his eyes. His thumb traced the line of your jaw, lingering just below your ear as if savoring the sensation of touching you. Your breath hitched in your throat, heart hammering in your chest, and in that split second, you could see everything he was feeling—years of restraint and unspoken emotions flooding to the surface.

Before you could process it, he surged forward, closing the distance between you in a heartbeat. His lips crashed into yours with a hunger that left you breathless, the kiss urgent and all-consuming. There was no hesitation, no second-guessing—just pure, raw need. His hands tightened their hold on your face, thumbs gently stroking your cheeks as his mouth moved against yours, desperately seeking more.

You melted into him, your hands sliding up to grip his shirt as if anchoring yourself to the moment. His kiss was intense, filled with a yearning that had been simmering just beneath the surface for far too long. He tasted of warmth, of something familiar yet electrifying, and every brush of his lips sent waves of heat coursing through your body.

Hugh let out a low, primal sound from deep within his chest, a sound that only made the fire between you burn hotter. In one swift movement, his hands slid down to your waist, and without breaking the kiss, he lifted you off the ground as if you weighed nothing. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, your arms looping around his neck for support, and you could feel the strength of him beneath your fingertips—solid, unyielding, desperate.

With practiced ease, he carried you to the kitchen counter, the cold surface a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from both of your bodies. He set you down, his lips never leaving yours, his mouth moving with a hunger that made your head spin. His hands roamed your back, fingers gripping your hips, pulling you closer, as if the space between you was unbearable.

You were both lost in the moment, a whirlwind of passion and need. Clothing became an afterthought, your hands fumbling with buttons and zippers as you tried to remove the barriers that kept you from feeling every inch of him. His shirt was the first to go, discarded hastily onto the floor, followed by yours as he tore it from your body in a frenzied rush.

Hugh’s lips found yours again, more fevered now, as if he were a starving man and you were the only thing that could sate him. His kiss was desperate, full of longing, and his hands followed suit, exploring your body with a reverence that made your skin tingle. He was everywhere—his mouth on your neck, your collarbone, tasting the warmth of your skin as if memorizing every inch of you.

You gasped as his lips trailed lower, the sensation of his breath against your skin sending shivers down your spine. He kissed the sensitive spot just beneath your ear, his teeth grazing lightly as you arched into him. His hands fumbled with the button of your jeans, and in a hurried, clumsy motion, he pulled them down your legs. You helped him along, your body trembling with anticipation, until you were both stripped down to nothing, the cool air doing nothing to quench the heat between you.

His body pressed against yours, skin on skin, the sensation overwhelming as his hands explored every curve, every dip. His touch was insistent, possessive, but there was a tenderness beneath the intensity that made your heart flutter. Hugh pulled you impossibly closer, his lips returning to yours in a bruising kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth with a slow, deliberate sweep that left you breathless.

He kissed you like he couldn’t get enough, like he needed to taste every inch of your mouth, his hands gripping your waist as if afraid you might disappear. You moaned into the kiss, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer still. The need between you was palpable, an electric charge that sparked with every touch, every kiss.

Hugh pulled back for a brief moment, his forehead resting against yours, both of you breathing heavily. His eyes, dark and full of desire, locked onto yours, searching for something—confirmation, permission, anything to let him know you wanted this just as much as he did.

“Are you sure?” he whispered, his voice hoarse, almost ragged from restraint.

You nodded, your lips swollen and tingling from his kisses. “Yes,” you breathed, and that was all he needed to hear.

With a low growl, he captured your lips again, his hands gripping your thighs as he pulled you flush against him. The kiss deepened, more desperate now, filled with the weight of all the emotions you both had kept hidden for so long. He kissed you like he was starving, like the feel of you was the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth.

His hands slid up your back, fingers tracing every curve, and then he was lifting you again, pulling you closer to the edge of the counter. His body pressed against yours, every inch of him firm and warm as he kissed you with a hunger that made your toes curl.

The air around you felt electric, charged with a desire neither of you could control. His mouth moved against yours with the same urgency that echoed through your veins, each kiss leaving you gasping for more. Hugh was relentless, his lips, his hands, his body, all of him, devouring you, like he had waited an eternity to finally taste you.

Hugh’s eyes darkened with desire as he lined himself up with your entrance, his breath coming out in short, ragged bursts. His hands gripped your hips firmly as he pushed into you with ease, your slick warmth welcoming him effortlessly. The deep, guttural groan that escaped his throat filled the air, sending shivers down your spine.

“Fuck…” His voice was low and husky, filled with raw need. “This is all for me?” he asked, his eyes locking onto yours with a mixture of admiration and lust.

You nodded, a soft hum of pleasure escaping your lips as your body adjusted to the sensation of him inside you. The fullness, the heat, it was overwhelming in the best possible way. Hugh’s gaze never wavered, his pupils blown wide as he watched your reaction, revelling in the way you responded to him.

“Such a naughty girl,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear as he began to move, his thrusts slow but deliberate, like he was savoring every moment. Each roll of his hips sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body, your head falling back slightly as you let yourself melt into the feeling.

His breath was hot against your neck, and then his voice, low, dangerous sent a thrill straight to your core. “I’m gonna breed this fucking pussy so bad.”

The words were filthy, but the way he said them, the pure desire laced into every syllable, made your stomach flip with arousal. Your walls tightened instinctively around him, a sharp gasp leaving your lips at the thought of it, of him filling you up, marking you as his.

“Are you on birth control?” he asked, his voice rough and demanding.

You swallowed hard, trying to focus through the haze of pleasure that clouded your mind. “Uh-huh,” you managed to say, your breath hitching as he rocked deeper into you, “but I… I keep forgetting to take it. It probably doesn’t work anymore.”

“Good,” he growled, his voice dripping with satisfaction. The single word was laced with approval, his hips moving faster now, each thrust more insistent than the last. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with the heavy breaths and soft moans that escaped you both.

Hugh was relentless, his movements precise and unyielding. He could feel the way your body was responding to him, the way your walls clenched tighter with each thrust, your breath coming faster, your moans growing louder. You were close, so close, and he knew it. He could feel it in the way your body trembled, in the way you gripped onto the counter behind you for support.

But just as the pleasure began to crest, just as you were teetering on the edge, he stopped abruptly. The sudden emptiness made you whine, your body crying out for release.

“Sorry, babygirl,” he said, his voice thick with desire. “I need to fuck you from behind.”

Before you could respond, he lifted you off the counter with ease, turning you around so your back was facing him. His strong hands guided you, pressing your chest down onto the cold surface of the counter, your legs spread wide and trembling with anticipation.

Without warning, he entered you again, burying himself to the hilt in one swift, powerful thrust and slapped your ass. You gasped, your body arching back instinctively at the sudden intrusion. His hands gripped your hips tightly, holding you in place as he began to move with an intensity that left you breathless. Each thrust was deep, hard, and unrelenting, his body slamming into yours with a force that made you see stars.

Hugh’s grip tightened as he pulled you back onto him, his pace quickening as he lost himself in the pleasure. “Fuck,” he groaned, his voice thick and desperate. “You’d be such a great mom… I can’t wait to see you pregnant, to watch your tits swell with my baby. You're such a slut for me”

His words sent a shock of arousal through you, your mind reeling at the thought of it. The idea of being filled by him, of carrying his child, was driving you crazy, and your body responded in kind, your walls tightening around him, milking him for everything he had.

“And the nasty looks on everyone’s faces,” he continued, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous whisper, “when they see us walking around together, hand in hand. Such a young thing getting fucked by an old man like me. You like that huh?"

The filthy words, the possessiveness in his voice, it was too much. Your body trembled beneath him, the coil in your stomach winding tighter and tighter as you neared the edge once again. He could feel it, too, the way your walls clenched around him, the way your breath hitched in your throat.

“Yes… good girl,” he growled, his hand sliding up your back to tangle in your hair. “Turn your head for me.”

You did as he commanded, turning your head just enough for his lips to crash into yours. The kiss was messy, desperate, your tongues tangling together as you both chased the release that was so close, so inevitable. His pace quickened, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he lost control, the pleasure too overwhelming to hold back any longer.

You moaned into his mouth as your body finally gave in, your walls clenching around him in a violent wave of pleasure. Your legs shook, your body trembling as your orgasm washed over you, and Hugh followed close behind, his hips stuttering as he emptied himself inside you with a guttural groan.

The kiss muffled both of your moans as you came undone together, the intensity of the moment leaving you both breathless. When he finally pulled away, you were spent, your body trembling, your legs barely able to hold you up. His hands were still on your hips, holding you steady as he leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder.

But before you could fully catch your breath, Hugh stepped back, his eyes darkening once again as he watched his cum begin to drip out of you, a low growl rumbling in his chest.

“Fuck, I can’t let that go to waste,” he muttered.

Without warning, he slid two fingers inside you, pushing his cum back in with a slow, deliberate motion. You gasped at the sensation, your overstimulated body trembling beneath his touch. His fingers moved with precision, curling inside you as he held your hips in place, ensuring that every drop stayed where it belonged.

Satisfied, he quickly reached for your panties, pulling them back up over your hips to keep his seed inside you. The feeling of the fabric pressing against your sensitive skin sent a shiver down your spine, the intimacy of the gesture making your heart race.

“There we go, babygirl,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear as he wrapped his arms around you from behind. “Gotta keep it all in, just in case.”

You nodded, too breathless to speak, your body still trembling from the intensity of what had just happened. Hugh’s arms tightened around you, pulling you close as he pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the back of your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

The two of you stayed like that for a moment, wrapped in each other’s warmth.. Your legs were still shaking, your body still buzzing with the aftershocks of pleasure.

“I meant what I said,” Hugh murmured against your skin, his voice low and serious. “I can’t wait to see you pregnant.”

His words made your heart skip a beat, the weight of them settling in your chest as you turned your head to look at him, your eyes meeting his. There was no hesitation, no uncertainty in his gaze—just pure, unfiltered desire.

And in that moment, you knew he meant every word.

taglist (dm if u wanna be added): @ermlady @elloredef @haytchee @melaninjoys @megangovier @blue2jay @hearts4suri @narniabusinessbitch @jadenlyday25 @getmeoutofhell @rockytheluver @stark-ironman @shellbilee @kurcoswife @ru-kru @corvusmorte

[starlightazriel]

bee 11

desc: modern bestfriends > lovers (femreader) (tattoo artist az)

warnings: 18+, drug/alcohol addiction/recovery, reader overthinking/insecure/depressed, jealousy, archeron sisters have entered the chat, angst, fluff, co-dependence(and all the trauma that comes with it),

wc: 4.2k

a/n: wow i'm so sorry this took so long as some of you know i been going through some things anyyyway we've come so far since the beginning myyy goodness, as much as I love sober az I already miss the az who was doing a line before a tattoo, but alas after all the drama last time I hope this makes up for it <3 kisses xoxox

other parts on my az masterlist

eleven

Sixty days.

Sixty days of loneliness.

Sixty days of an empty house.

Sixty days of overthinking.

Sixty days of gut wrenching anxiety.

Sixty days of no contact.

Sixty days of not hearing his voice.

It had been my idea, the whole no contact, and now, it felt like it had been the worst fucking idea in the world. Facing him now seemed impossible. Would he look different? Would he be different?

Fucking idiot. Do you know how much can change in sixty days? Sober Ariel won't even want you.

It had been maybe a week in when the seed of doubt had blossomed in my gut. The regret for the dumb idea that space was the best thing for our relationships, time to figure ourselves out so we could add to each others lives— instead of depending on each other. Him, needing me, me needing to be needed.

It was such a fine line between give and take and I had offered every last piece of myself to him without a hesitation. With him gone, with him healing, getting better... What would he need me for? What was I supposed to do with myself? School was hardly distracting, and finals coming up should have helped but only made it worse.

Rhys and Cass had visited him, a few times, they had also gone on another Vegas trip, without him obviously, apartment hunting. That did nothing to soothe my gut either, that was real. It was happening in mere months they were moving to Vegas. Neither did the way they all stopped talking about him when I was around, did he tell them something? Did he tell them he was going to break it off with me for good when he got home? Or did my friends really think I was that fragile? That I couldn't even handle hearing about him?

'I would let Rhys sue me for breaking contract before I would leave this city without you.' his previous words echoed in my mind, I had been so sure he meant it when he'd said that to me, so sure that I would never be alone again.

And of course I wanted him to get clean, but somehow, everything felt different now. I wasn't so sure of anything anymore. Would he still feel the same way?

I hadn't even looked into transferring schools. He had told me to, before he left... But doing that made everything more real, and what if he changed his mind when he saw me again?

He wouldn't be in a drug clouded haze anymore. He wouldn't need me anymore, not the way that I needed him.

And I wouldn't even get any alone time with him, not immediately. Rhys was throwing a little get together for him, he was so proud, they were all so proud of him.

I hated that I wasnt as proud as everyone else when I should be the most proud, I hated that I was afraid of the new Azriel. There would be nothing for me to fix anymore.

With every waking moment that passed my anxiety and insecurity grew. Getting ready for his 'sober party' seemed surreal to me, it only created more doubts in my mind. I mean, had Azriel, my Az, really agreed to that? Even as a sober version of himself— it seemed doubtful.

-

Sixty days.

Sixty days of detoxing his mind, body, and soul.

Sixty days of boring meals.

Sixty days of therapy multiple times a week.

Sixty days of sharing his darkest side with complete strangers.

Sixty days of uncomfortable beds and scratchy sheets.

Sixty days of living in sweat pants because it was all he had packed.

Sixty days of heart stopping guilt and revelations about himself and his behavior.

Sixty days of torturous inescapable demons that seemed to be at war in his mind.

Sixty days of not hearing her voice.

The moment she had told him she didn't want to talk to him while he was in rehab, he had wanted to stay. Give up the idea entirely and quit on his own accord. He didn't though, he went. And it wasn't only for her. No, it was for him too. And he thought maybe it was valid, maybe they did need space, time away to clear their minds and have a true fresh start. He could do things right this time.

And now, with his head clear, he was happy he had gone. He felt stronger, in his mind and body. It had been a lot, a lot of facing things that had happened in his childhood that he had never dared to face before. Things he didnt have to face when drugs and alcohol had been his safety net for so many years. He realized he didnt need substances to deal with those things, his traumas didnt make him weak or vulnerable, they made him stronger.

He did recognize his problem, and he couldn't say for sure that he would never touch the bottle or snort a line ever again because that was just unrealistic. He was only human and he would do his absolute best to be a good man, for himself.

For Bee too. If she still wanted anything to do with him, the silence between them was the loudest one he'd ever felt, even miles away.

Bee.

His lover. His everything.

There was nothing that could get in the way anymore, he hadn't realized until now how much his addictions had been separating him from her. And of course he had gotten off it before but never without alcohol to help him along. He had never been so fucking deep into his addictions, had never gone that crazy. What he had done was completely unacceptable and now he could only hope for the best when he saw her. A party thrown by Rhys and his girlfriend hadn't been his ideal meeting place... But it had been completely sprung on him. Him being in rehab wasnt a secret, but that didn't mean he wanted to advertise it. Rhys had promised it was a very small get together, just something to show their support. 'No pictures.' Azriel had been sure to clear that up with him. The party was supposed to be a surprise, luckily for Az, Rhys knew him better than that.

-

Rhys and his new girlfriend had out done themselves along with the help of Mor who had told me this morning when she arrived in town that she wouldn't have missed this for the world. 'I mean, Azriel sober? I have to see it for myself and support,' she had said over coffees earlier, I had gotten quiet, I knew I could have talked to her about how I was feeling. But it felt wrong, it was embarrassing to say the least. I didnt think she would understand, either.

Rhys' place was decked out, balloons everywhere, charcuterie and little desserts lined both of the large tables, there was a mocktail station and a coffee station where she had also decorated Rhys' coffee pot, another table had a 'fill your own cone' bud bar that included a big jar full of Azriels favorite cigarettes as well. Her theme was 'Sober & Slaying' and there were banners and balloons to match. My heart had swelled the moment I had entered the apartment and part of me felt a little guilty for not getting here earlier. I hadn't been doing much of anything though, I wasn't eating right, I wasn't sleeping right, my thoughts and fears and insecurities had been practically eating me alive. They hadn't even asked me to help with set up, simply to show up on time, I at least had arrived twenty minutes early.

"Oh good! You're here, will you help me with this last mocktail?" Feyre beams after she had pulled me into a quick hug. She was very sweet although a bit reserved at first she had warmed up to me quickly. She was setting up some last minute decorations, I was early, of course, my anxious gut hadn't allowed me to sit at home a moment longer.

Part of me was hoping this new relationship would entice Rhys to stay a little bit longer, but they were already talking about going long distance until Feyre was ready to take the leap and move to Vegas. Seemed awfully soon to even be talking about it to me, but I wasn't one to judge, they did seem madly in love nearly instantly, and Rhys was, different. Nicer even.

"Yeah of course," I flashed her a grin and tasted the mocktail she was working on before I added some more of the homemade blueberry simple syrup she had made. "So good," I hummed in approval once I had tasted it again.

"So like, will this be the first time you and Az speak?" Mor tries to make it sound as casual as possible, my eyes focus intently as I transferred the mocktail to the aesthetically pleasing drink dispensers Feyre had put out.

"Um yeah, I haven't seen him or spoke to him since the night before he left," I shrugged, my eyes not lifting once. It had been quite the emotional night, it felt like a lifetime ago.

"I visited him once, he looks really good," she responded and I couldn't stop the jealous pang that hit my gut. Space. We had decided space was the right thing for us, a reset to our relationship after everything we had been through. My dumb idea, but he had agreed. I only smiled in response, and was glad when Cassian arrived with a cake in hand, his loud greeting drew all the attention away from me. Bless him. I found a corner to sit in, a quiet corner with my phone and one of the mocktails Feyre had made. A few more arrived, Feyres sisters, which I had only met a handful of times. Why were they here? Az didn't know them, did he? The only way that was possible would be if Rhys had brought them for one of his visits— the mocktail felt sour in my stomach and I felt more than relieved when Kat finally arrived and joined me in my corner.

"Hi love, how you holding up?" Kat had been very supportive through this entire rehab thing, and was making my loneliness nearly bearable.

"I'm fine, really, just coping with all of— all of the emotions of all the sudden change I guess," I shrug easily, Kat was the only one I had really felt comfortable to tell my true feelings to. She was the only one I knew that wouldn't judge. She nodded in understanding, making herself comfortable in her seat.

"That's valid, it's a lot to take in girl," She begins and I'm relieved when she can't continue because Cassian is all but shouting a second later.

"He's coming up he texted me a few minutes ago," Cassians voice drowns out the chatter around the room and I feel my insides go to liquid, my throat feeling tight and constricted.

My heart stopped when I finally laid my eyes on him. Impossibly sexier. His face was more full, color in his cheeks, a sparkle in his eye I hadn't seen since we were kids, he stood straighter, making him look impossibly taller, shoulders spread, oozing with a confidence I hadn't seen in a long time. My gut twisted, my heart picking up, a steady hammer against my chest. I held my breath when our eyes met, his face fell as he scanned me from across the room and I wanted nothing more than to drop into the hole in the floor. It wasn't exactly the reaction I'd been hoping for. I knew I looked awful— but shit, we hadn't seen each other in two months.

"Azriel, it's nice to see you again," Elain is the first person in front of him she's loud enough to hear across the room, her sing song voice carrying, and I try to ignore it but my eyes are glued to his, and he has to tear his away from mine.

"So what, Rhys took Feyre and her random sisters to see Az in rehab?" I drop my voice, forcing myself to look away, to tune out their conversation to the best of my abilities. Kat bit her lip, a notable guilty blush creeping across her cheeks.

"I um.. I was there too," she admits, twirling her hair around her finger, I squint slightly. She could have at least told me that. "It was a last minute thing," she explained quickly, my expression probably throwing her off. I was jealous, I couldn't deny that— I had no one to blame but myself. If I'd never been so set on having space away from eachother... My blood heated, she was gorgeous, just the type that Azriel would go for to. "They just happened to be there and we made a group trip of it— and yeah, I didn't think you'd want to know, considering..." she trailed off and I shrugged my shoulders.

"Yeah, I don't mind at all," I would have rather jumped off of the balcony than have this conversation, I shouldn't have asked. The FOMO was certainly real and I wondered if that's why they were constantly all whispers when talking about Azriel, to spare me of that feeling.

"Youre not imagining her googly eyes though," she scoffs as she glances back over at them and then to me mocking a gag, I smirked a little bit glancing back at them once more and then to Kat again. She was for sure laying it on thick with the sweet tone and all of the unnecessary blinks. I didnt remember that about the first few times I met her.

"I mean I can't even blame her— he looks..." I trailed off searching for the right word, he looked amazing, delicious, sexier than he'd ever had before. He was practically glowing with whatever newfound confidence he'd gained from facing his many demons.

"I know that's your man but he looks hot," she finishes for me and we giggle together, I ignored the heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach that maybe he wasnt my man anymore.

"That he does," I sigh, twirling my straw around in my cup, suddenly I regretted not sneaking a few nips into my purse. I wouldn't get drunk at a sober party, I wouldn't, but something to take the edge off would be nice, and a joint didn't seem like the right option.

I effectively avoided Azriel for at least an hour, I hadn't been keeping track of time but it felt like it had been at least that long. I wasnt ready for a conversation, not when one look at him made my heart stop.

My stomach was growling, and I needed a snack. I was carefully piling charcuterie onto my plate when I jumped and nearly dropped the whole thing.

"Youre avoiding me, and youre doing a good job for how small the space is," his voice is the same one I remember, low and gravelly and sexy.

"Im not," I insist, just hoping he hadn't noticed the way I visibly jumped at the sound of his voice.

"I think I know when my girlfriend is avoiding me," he left a heavy emphasis on the word, looking at me expectantly as if he was daring me to challenge his claim on our relationship status. Relief washed over me, a tension that I hadn't been able to ease since the last time I saw him.

"Its just— Its been a lot I don't know, and having this conversation here... Seems like a lot too," I took a step back from the table but turned around to face him, I could feel more than one pair of eyes watching us, it only made me more uncomfortable.

"Are you eating?" its a direct question, soft but firm, his eyes scanning over every inch of me. My stomach flips, my cheeks reddening.

"Yes," I lift the small plate of cheese, crackers, and fruit as if that proved anything.

"Hm," he doesn't seem satisfied with my answer, his eyes not leaving me for a second.

"You look good Az, you look different," I chewed the inside of my lip, hoping my anxiousness didnt bleed into my words.

"Im still me baby im just better," that same confident smirk spreads across his lips, I knew it well but somehow- there was a different spark behind it. Something all those drugs had dimmed. A light I hadn't seen in a while. "For example, Im not gonna nod off on the couch anymore because Ive had a handle to myself for two days straight and Im hours off a two week coke bender," he said it so casually and leave it to Azriel to make a joke out of it. "From now on," his voice drops as if he knew they were all listening, I felt Elain's curious eyes on us and I knew she was trying to catch every word. Sorry, hes mine. "I won't fall asleep without making sure you are fed, fucked, and tucked into bed."

I blush, looking away from his stare, something in my gut eases but the anxiety is still settled there.

"And Im sorry, for each and every time I failed you. Im clear headed now and—" he cuts himself off, and maybe it was the look on my face that stopped him. "Would you feel better if we went outside?" he nods to the balcony, I quickly nod, desperate to be alone with him and not on display like some soap that they were all watching.

"Please, its. little stuffy in here," my words are a little rushed, and they were true, I felt like I could barely breathe anymore. And I was making a complete idiot out of myself when Azriel hadn't seen me in two months. I feel his hand on my back and he guides me out onto Rhys balcony, I don't look back again, I lean up against the balcony, resting my elbow on the railing and sucking in a deep breath of fresh air before popping one of the pieces of cheese into my mouth.

Azriel joins me after he had shut the door behind us, leaning up against the balcony next to me and he lit up a joint he had gotten off of the bud bar.

"Did you tell your psychiatrist you were going to smoke?" I ask casually, trying to change the subject into something else. Anything else but our relationship, I shouldn't be worried, he had already said I was still his girlfriend.

"Yes," he shrugged, taking another drag from it, I could feel his eyes on me as I set my plate down on the nearby table. I had barely touched it.

"And what did they say?" I ask, quirking a brow as I take it from him, it was annoying that I was more at ease now, normal territory, I didnt like the way sober Az could see right through me, I had thought he was able to before, and now?

He shrugged again, watching me. "Why are you trying to avoid talking about us?" he reaches out, tucking my hair behind my ear so I can't hide from him, my breath catches. He took the joint back, taking one more long drag before putting it out. I shook my head, I couldn't find the right words. He grabs my wrist gently and turns me around so my back is against the railing, his body so close, the scent of his cologne slamming into my senses. "Why?" he repeats, his eyes meeting mine in the dim light, his voice is soft and careful.

"I— I don't know Az," I breathe out, my heart felt like it would pound out of my chest. "It's just I—" I look away, unable to meet his gaze when I feel the word vomit coming. "Im afraid, Azriel. I am. And I know it's fucked up because I shouldn't be. I feel sick, sick with myself that I have been more worried about whether or not you would still want me when you got back than I have about you and your actual recovery. Ive been worried about you being different and not needing me and I know Im so fucked up for that there's something wrong with me and Im sorry—"

"Hey, hey, stop, breathe for a second," he interrupts me, a small sigh leaving his lips as he places both of his hands on my cheeks, lifting my face to look at him and he gently wipes away my shameful tears with his rough thumbs, the feeling makes my spine tingle. "Don't feel bad for anything that you feel or have felt in these past weeks," he assures me, one of his thumbs still gently rubbing against my cheek, his eyes burning into mine. "I— I created that for you, that whole thinking you need to be needed by me. I created this... Trauma bond, I know that now, I know that I made our relationship toxic. It's not your fault, I hadn't dealt with any of my shit and I basically put it on to you. Im sorry, Im sorry you felt like that at all and I wish..." he sighed softly, one of his hands fell to my waist. "I wish I had the courage to call you, because I wanted to so many times, but I didnt think you'd want to talk to me. You needed space and I had to respect that but seeing you now, seeing you haven't been taking care of yourself like you should have. I should have been there for you," he sighed, clearly frustrated with himself. "I know where I fucked up, I know what kind of damage Ive done, this only proves it," he brushed his finger over the dark circle underneath my eye. "I love you, I love you so much, maybe too much sometimes," he sighs again, I fight the urge to close my eyes and lean into his touch.

"Az I love you too," I breathe out because Im stunned into silence. Everything hes said, his accountability, his words, they felt like they were crashing into me.

"Im not going to leave you like that ever again," he promised, and took a step closer, pressing his body into mine. He felt stronger, more solid. It was almost like he had left a boy and returned a man. "You are going to be my wife some day, you are the fucking definition of ride or die Bee, I swear, for the last two months the more clear my head got I just realized one thing over and fucking over," he wasnt afraid, he had absolutely no hesitations, every single word felt like a promise, and I felt like my heart was palpitating. "I hit the fucking jack pot with you, and I fear the smartest thing that Ive ever done in my life was share my favorite candy with the girl across the street."

My cheeks are burning, tears streaming, but they aren't sad, just emotional. I don't know what else to do, my words are caught in my throat so I kissed him. I pulled him down, my fingers tugging in the hairs at the nap of his neck, our tongues tangling perfectly like they always had. He was mine, still my Az, better, better like he had said. He was right. A soft groan escaped his lips, my stomach flipped at the sound, the thought of how he would have his way with me later after so many days apart. My body melted into his at the thought, our hungry kiss only escalating. Our desperate need for each other matching perfectly, our emotions pouring into the heated kiss. I tilted my head his lips traveling down my jaw and across my neck, settling behind my ear and gently sucking. I squeezed my eyes shut tighter, I moaned his name softly, my body feeling like a hot puddle.

"Hmm?" he hummed against my skin, his hand had slipped under my dress where he was rubbing soft circles on the least sensitive part of my thigh, somehow it was still driving me mad.

"We, we should go in now... They are going to be wondering whats taking us so long," I breathed out, I couldn't even see past Azriel into the house, I was sure they could see us though, or at least see Azriel pinning me against the railing.

"They should have known better than to throw me a party when I haven't seen my baby in sixty whole days, and they definitely should have known better than to let you wear this dress," he tugs lightly at the fabric. "They should have known Id need alone time with you," his eyes glimmered with mischief. "I have a lot of making up to do," he added, tracing his scarred finger over my jawline.

"I hated this idea more than you Im sure," I admitted guiltily, biting down on my lip. "But they worked really hard Az," I tried to peek around him to see inside again, he only shifted to block my view.

"Fine, but five more minutes," he smirked, tilting my chin up again.

"Five more minutes," I whispered breathlessly before he crashed his lips onto mine again, and I felt all of my anxiety melt away, as if he was pulling it from me.

And I felt safe.

Home.

Safe.

-

taglist <3:

@smalljasper289 @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @scorpioriesling @userxs-blog @lilah-asteria @abadfantasybook @judeduartewannbe @lindsayscottagebythesea @velarisdusk @serxndipity-ipity-blog @julesvanslutta @honk4emoboyz @bookishbishhh @dakotali @blessthepizzaman @scooobies @durgenyx @lorosette @kayjaywrites

[fools-ramblings-and-whatnot]

Fool's Rambling #29:Will you leave me for 1 million thaumarks?

There's this new Kdrama where the female lead accepts the bribe of the mother in law to leave her son.

And I just think it would be funny for Yuu if it were the same.

Premise, feeling bored, Yuu watched a new TV show and got an idea to play a prank with their boyfriend.

Yuu: Ask me if I will leave you for 1 million thaumarks.

Twst boy: What??!

.

.

.

Riddle: Will you leave me for 1 million thaumarks???*questions the question*

Yuu: No I won't!

Riddle:*smiles*

Yuu: Unless tax is excluded, too.

Riddle: OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!

.

.

.

Leona:This is stupid.

Yui: Just say it!!!

Leona:*sighs* Will you leave me for 1 million thaumarks?

Yuu: No, you're way more richer than that!

Leona:Damn right I am.

.

.

.

Azul: Will you leave me for 1 million thaumarks?

Yuu: Never, but I will leave you for 5 million.

Azul: That's my entrepreneur!

Yuu:Haha! I thought you'd be sad on the prospect I'll leave you.

Azul: Incorrect. You may leave me, but who says "I" will leave you? We are bound by a contract of love. Your money is my money.

Yuu:Greedy.

.

.

.

Jamil: I'd leave you for a goodnight's rest...

Yuu: Hey!You were suppose to say the question to me! *sulks*

Jamil: *sighs*Yeah yeah...will you leave me for 1 million thaumarks?

Yuu: Never, I love your cooking too much. I literally can't live without you.

Jamil:*proud smirk*

.

.

.

Vil: What a stupid game.

Yuu: Come on, just say it.

Vil: *raises an eyebrow* Hmph..you're better off doing something else. And I already know you'd never leave me for money so meager

Yuu: So you think I'd leave you for a higher amount?

Vil:*clicks his tongue* You better not, you should know what's good for you *stares at Yuu has offended him already*

Yuu: Yes yes...sorry, Vil. Of course not, you're my #1. The best thing in my world money can't buy.

Vil: Don't patronize me, darling.Besides, you can't buy anything, you're broke.

Yuu: Ouch, reality check.

.

.

.

Idia:Is this one of those dumb TV show tropes?

Yuu: So what if it was? Come on, ask me.

Idia: *sighs* Will you leave me for 1 million thaumarks?

Yuu: I'd leave you right now for free.

Idia:...

Yuu: I'm joking...Don't give me that look

*Spends hours consoling him*

.

.

.

Malleus: I'd never leave you for all the riches of the world, beloved.

Yuu: Wait, no. YOU ask ME.

Malleus: Oh? Why should I? Are you thinking of it? Leaving me for such a petty sum?

Yuu: No!!! Ofcourse not.

Malleus:*teasing* So a higher sum, then?

Yuu: NO SUM AT ALL!!!*blushes because they realized they were teased*

Malleus: Good to hear, my love. But just in case, let me remind you...*drops several jewels into their hands* That leaving me would be foolish,for I can even offer you the stars if you wish, so perish the thought.

[serqphites]

been sick for so long and all i need is abby to take care of me like the good girlfriend that she is !!! also look at her lil smile im acc deceased nobody speak to me ever again

16+, modern!au, sfw, throwing up (r!), this is short and ass

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do not even THINK about lying to this girl about your sickness… she will not buy a single second of it.

"abby i promise you i'm-" sneeze, "fine..." is there even any point trying to defend your case any longer when abby is looking at you like an unimpressed, disappointed mother with her hands on her hips?

she's already called issac to tell him that she isn't going to be in work until you're better. he tried to refuse and order her to come in, but abby didn't back down and stood her ground until he eventually backed off because nobody is more important than her girl!!

she quite literally cannot leave you alone, always rushing whenever she has to leave your side just in case you need her (she definitely trips and eats shit on the stairs because she was trying to get back to your room a lil too fast)

laying on her chest!!! her big arms wrapped around you and holding you close, kisses being peppered atop your head whenever she enters a cutscene in whatever game she's playing because you begged her to let you watch her play. it took a little convincing because abby just wants you to sleep and get the rest you need, but the second you flashed her those sad puppy dog eyes she was handing you the controller to let you pick out a game for her to play.

this girl always has tissues on her, stuffing her pockets full of them so she's ready for whenever you need them

i can just picture you making those funny noises people do before sneezing and abby practically TELEPORTING to you and shoving a scrunched up tissue in your face. she would be so proud of herself too and just look at you like "did i help? :D" yes you did sweetie you did such a good job!!!

you can’t convince that this girl doesn’t make the best grilled cheese and homemade tomato soup known to mankind, it’s always her go to when you’re sick (not that you’re complaining because it’s INCREDIBLE)

not being able to sleep because you can’t breathe and you’re just in so much pain, so abby lays awake with you until you eventually fall asleep :( unless she knows you’re okay and asleep she physically cannot fall asleep, her mind won’t let her.

abby for sure keeps a bucket on her side of the bed for in the middle of the night (she doesn’t want you trying to reach for it and accidentally falling and hurting yourself)

abby is jolted awake almost immediately once you yourself wake up with a startle, shooting up into a sitting position as your hands fly to your mouth. she’s springing into action without even realising it, reaching down as quickly as possible to snatch the bucket and place it into your lap. “in the bucket baby, good girl there you go” she mumbles in that raspy sleep voice, one of her hands keeping a hold of the bucket in case you can’t while her free hand moves up to hold back your hair.

abby running you a bath with all of your favourite essentials lined up ready for you (need that). oh and she is 1000000% washing your hair and body for you, she can’t have her baby tiring herself out now can she?

even when you start to feel better she’s still just as attentive, you assure her that she can stop and just take a break but abby just continues whatever she was doing like she literally can’t hear you LMAO

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a/n: i’m genuinely so sorry this is so bad 😭 im still sick and barely had the energy to write this but i just wanted to post something SO bad. hope you’re all having a good day/night !! <3

[elllisaaa]

hi eli!! hope you’re well 💖💖 was hoping you could write husband headcannon for dino? including nsfw hc? 🫣 i know you wrote bf hc dino but i feel like husband hc would hit differently ykno lol tysm!! 💖💖

HUSBAND!CHAN hits different, that's true, because if as your boyfriend he was whipped, now he's a simp and he isn't ashamed of it.

he's so proud that you're his wife that he doesn't even call you by your name anymore, always saying my wife this, my wife that, because he cannot get enough of saying it, knowing that you're his forever brings a smile to his face and a warm feeling in his chest everytime. chan is also a sucker for the way you present him as your husband, and it's like he's never gonna get used to it. even if now that you're married he should trust you even more and feel less possessive because he knows you're his through and through, it gets worse. everytime you're out together, he needs to have his arm wrapped around your waist or your shoulders, showing off to everyone that you're taken, showing off his ring to anyone. even in private, chan is a lot more clingy and touchy (which is surprising because he was already very clingy and touchy before) but now it is necessary for him to be with you all the time, he never lets you go. and now that you're his wife, he can easily take you with him during tours and any event. it allows you to travel too, seeing so many cities and countries you didn't think you would ever visit.

"we're going to berlin next week honey, i'm taking you with me."

chan still feels shy sometimes when you compliment him, but now, he has found some ways to make you blush too. now, he's the one to fluster you most of the time instead. he's the type to retweet the posts saying "goodnight to my wife, fuck everyone else" without feeling any guilt because it's true. he takes the opportunity that he's your husband now to take care of you and spoil you even more. the way he sees it is that he has to be even more worthy of you and not make you regret marrying him. he buys you jewelry, clothes, books, flowers, everything that you want and need, and even what you didn't even asked for, he's always one step ahead of you to make you smile. you would've thought that after so many times, you would've been used to his affection and his tendency to spoil you, but you weren't, and chan loves how you react just like the first day when he gives you something new.

"this necklace is so pretty on you " - "but channie, it was so expensive…" - "don't worry about it my love, i just love to make my gorgeous wife happy."

HUSBAND!CHAN whose sex drive is even higher now that you're fully his, now that you live together.

chan cannot take his hands off you anymore. the day of your wedding was the happiest day of his life, yes, without any doubt. but as the night came to an end paired with the many drinks he had, by the time everyone left, he could hardly holdback from fucking you right there. chan definitely fucked you while you were still wearing your wedding dress and he was still wearing his suit. and then he spoiled you all night, only really falling asleep as the sun rose up through the window. also, during your honeymoon, chan had the same energy going on. he spent so much time in between your thighs because he couldn't get enough of your taste and the way you were his wife now.

"come on honey, please just let me give you one more. you can do that for me right ? my gorgeous wife…"

at first, he was scared that a routine would settle in your intimate times just as it did with your everyday life. and he didn't want things to get boring, so i think chan would probably want to try a lot of new things with you. he asks you to make a list of all the things you wanna try out, and he also makes a list. whenever the two of you have the time and the energy for it, you pick something from your lists to spice things up. you love that chan tries to keep things interesting, but you also do things to surprise him too and he melts down from the inside everytime. a lot of people told him that once you're married, nothing's refreshing anymore, but chan always brags about the fact that he never once got bored with you. there's also a lot of public sex with him once he's your husband, because as i've stated before, he cannot take his hands off you. be that at the fancy restaurant he took you out to, at a birthday party of one of your friends, in the middle of the park you planned your picnic date to. every occasion is worth pushing his dick inside of you.

"fuck, yes, bend over just like that for me. gonna make you scream my name for everyone to hear."

[aangelinakii]

JASON TODD + JEALOUSY.

note : the request said being foolishly jealous of dick x reader, but i decided to just do jealousy headcanons ! hope this is okay thanks for requesting :)

not a jealous guy but more likely to get jealous you know ?

especially if he is very attached

because he'll think anyone is trying to take you away, even though he knows it's just insecurity in the back of his mind

can get quite protective but always feels a lil guilty about it 💀

because he doesn't want to be possessive or make you feel uncomfortable, but he feels either uncomfortable or inferior

so i guess it's just a defense mechanism

definitely would appreciate reassurance from time to time

just to help keep him grounded

and so he knows yoy actually like him dawg 😭😭

gets a bit worried about thag sometimes

probably is more internally jealous than he lets on

like in his head he's like

who the fuck is this cunt thinking they can talk to my s/o likz that like i'm literally right here ??? i'm huge i'm literally red hood i literally died and came back to life and they're FLRITING right INF ROTN OF ME

but on the outside he's like biting thr inside of his cheek and looks more nervous than anything

is scared of seeming too possessive so won't always step in if he thinks you have it handled (because he trusts you ! )

but also sometimes will take control of the situation if he can tell you're getting uncomfortable

in those cases, he puffs out his chest, crosses his arms to flex those huge biceps he's got like gawd damn

and asks if the person (probably a weird guy let's be real) if they're bothering you

and they get the idea quick

because jason knows how to make himself look intimidating if needs be !!

on the offhand time he'll get properly jealous, it will definitely show itself as protectiveness

an arm around the shoulder or waist, eyes glancing around to glare at anyone prying, a few kisses on the side of your head

i jsut copy and pasted that from my jason todd abc's (self promo ??????)

he doesn't want to admit it (and would deny it now if you asked) but he was jealous of dick one time

brought you to a family gathering

because obviously he's proud of you and wants to show you to his family <3

possibly refrained from warning you of dick's wonderfully effortless boyish charm

bc he didn't want to seem crazy boyfriend stalker ex protective possessive alpha

( help )

and couldn't help but feel his jaw tighten when he saw dick approach you from the other side of the living room whilst he'd gone to grab yoj a drink

really, he doesn't have anything to worry about

i think really really subconsciously he realises he was the second robin, trying to live up to dick

just some family generational shit and then of course his own more personal trauma

but that stuff always bubbles back up at family events

it's just a case of whether or not he lets it show

but omfg this time he let it fuckin show

appears behind dick with your drink and "accidentally" knocks into him, pretending like he spilled something on dick's shirt just to be a cunt

it was the safest option to get dick to escape to find the bathroom and leave yoj two alone for a bit

until he realised jason was lying and comes right back

but at least jason was with you now

and knew how to navigate dick's antics

but literally if you ask him if he was feeling jealous or insecure about it he'll wave it off and be like lmfao what no i genuinely thought i got somz of your drink on his shirt lollll what are you on about

[kumkaniudaku]

Stay A While (3)

Summary: Terry get's a lesson in love and shares it with Patrice.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 5,049

Part: 3 of ??

Warnings: Smut (18+)

One. Two.

"Well, James, how you been?" 

"Honestly, Pop. I don't know where to start." 

Wooden spoons banged and scraped across pots on the stove while Marvin scooped red beans and rice into a small ceramic bowl. He'd long shed his work coveralls for an open flannel shirt and khakis to spend some quality time with his only son. 

James was their shared middle name in a long line of Richmond men dating back to their family migration from New Orleans to Fayetteville in the 50s. Marvin was a proud, honorable man. He never said a bad word about anybody, and no one had a bad word to say about him. He taught Terry how to play football, make a pot of dirty rice to perfection, and the importance of ensuring a lady never touched a doorhandle in his presence. He was the reason Terry joined the Marine Corps after a career in the NFL looked unlikely. He was the reason his boy spoke softly and carried a big stick. And he was one of only two people Terry trusted with his heart. 

With two bowls and spoons on a serving tray, Marvin made his way to the kitchen table. He stopped short to get a good look at his son with blue green eyes even more captivating than Terry's. He noted the new frown lines developing on his brow and the lone grey hair sprouting in his goatee. His boy was stressed and confused. He didn't need a conversation to tell him that but welcomed it anyway. 

After sliding one bowl across the table, he took a seat with his signature grunt. "Start at the top. Plenty of time still left in the day." 

Terry quietly thanked his father for his generosity and avoided the question by eating the first bite of his meal. They ate in silence for several seconds until Terry took a deep breath. 

"I think I've been okay. More ups than downs lately, but the downs are pretty damn low. I'm having a tough time sleeping. I'm barely working. I feel like a burden for Treece more than I feel like a man who can actually do something for her." 

"Being a man is about more than what you can do." 

"Yeah, but…" Terry trailed off, trying to gather his thoughts. "It's just - things weren't supposed to be this hard. I gave this country a lot of my time, and I guess I expected to say my goodbyes and roll into my next chapter. Now, my plan b needs a plan b, and I'm out of options." 

"You're not out of options. You don't like askin' for help. Proud like your grandaddy." 

"And you too." 

Marvin chuckled and shook his head as he took another spoonful of food.  "This ain't about me."

The two men shared a laugh, their voices sounding nearly identical as they bounced off the walls. He was the spitting image of his father, both in stature and moral compass. 

"What do you need, James?" Marvin had grown serious again, making Terry avert his eyes to focus on his food. "I'll save you the stress of asking, but you gotta tell me what I need to offer. Is it money?"

"Not much. Enough to pay some bills until the end of the month, and I can have it back to you. I think I have a shot at this job on base if I can get through the second interview."

"How you getting back and forth? I know y'all do the Lyft and Ubom thing these days. Ridin' around with strangers like we didn't spend a whole decade tell y'all not to." 

Terry laughed. "It's Uber, Pop. But, no. Treece is out for the summer, so I'm…using her car when I need it. I don't wanna take advantage of her." 

"Those some of the bills you need help paying?" Marvin's question was answered with a silent head nod and eyes filled with shame. He softened his voice as he reached into his wallet for the cash he had on hand. "It's what you're supposed to do. Ain't no shame. That money is for yourself. Give me til tomorrow afternoon to have more. Five grand enough?" 

"Ah, Pop, I don-" 

"We didn't work as hard as we did for nothing. Plus, it's your college fund money we never withdrew. You're lucky your mother hasn't used it for renovations. She's been eyeing your sister's old room for an indoor she-shed or whatever the hell it's called." 

Marvin sounded exasperated by the concept of his wife's latest project, which amused Terry. They hadn't changed since the day he left. They were just two people who had been in love since the day they met and remained committed to supporting each other through the ebbs and flows of life. 

Standing from the kitchen table, Marvin shuffled around the corner to the garage entrance and returned with a ring of keys and a pile of mail. He tossed them at Terry and returned to his seat. 

"What's this?" 

"Keys to GMC outside. Take it. You might need to run it for a little bit and change the oil, but it works fine. The rest is your mail." Terry opened his mouth to protest and received a glare from his father in return. "I gave you my best speech about askin' for help, and here you go ruining things. Take the truck before I tell your mama."

"Alright, alright," Terry laughed as he raised his hands. "I love you, Pop." 

"Love you, man. I'm proud of you." Not ones for the warm fuzzies of hugs, the two extended their arms across the table for a quick fist bump before returning to their meals. Marvin let his son eat in peace for a few moments before the corner of his lips curled in a knowing smile. "So…Patrice Ellis, huh? That little love letter you wrote in 10th grade finally coming true?" 

"Pop." 

"Ah, come on. It's alright to be in love, son. She's a good girl. Got good folks, too. What's the holdup?" 

In love? The more Terry attempted to negotiate the gravity of the phrase within himself, the more he had to reckon with the idea that his father may not be that far off base.

Terry slowed his eating and looked at his father for help. "You think I'm in love?" 

"Oh, I know you are. You didn't come back to Fayetteville for me, did you?" 

"How would I know, though? How did you know?" 

Marvin stopped eating to sit back in his chair. A fond smile crossed his face as he thought of his younger years. 

"I knew I was in love when I wanted to show up every day and do the work to be with her. It didn't matter if she pissed me off or if we disagreed about decisions. At the end of every day, I can look at her and know I'm where I want to be forever. Plus, I still get a little fired up when she walks through the door all these years later. I ain't much to look at, but your mother is…" 

Marvin let his sentence drop to whistle at the mention of his wife. Terry pretended to take exception but eventually laughed at his father's antics. He quickly relaxed into a contemplative state. 

"I wanna be the best I can for her," he spoke softly. "I get…sad when she's gone for too long. Sometimes, I find myself forcing conversation just to make her look at me because the light in her eyes is the only thing keeping me grounded most days. What does that mean?" 

"You don't need me to answer that, son. Go with what you know." 

Before Terry could seek more advice, the mechanical roar of the garage door made Marvin nearly spring out of his seat to greet his one true love. 

Outside, Patrice was nearly doubled over from laughter in the front seat. 

Diedra "DeeDee" Richmond was the quintessential Southern black woman. Like a prim and proper belle, she wore her color-treated blonde hair big to match an even bigger personality.  She wore heels with every outfit and never left the house without earrings, but she could also drink and cuss like a sailor. 

When she offered Patrice the chance to tag along for her monthly Sister Circle meeting, there was no chance she'd miss the opportunity to ditch Terry and kick it with the upper crust of Black women. 

"And, girl, Rita thinks we can't tell that she took every one of those appetizers out of the damn freezer section. At least go to the Publix bakery. Finger sandwiches ain't that expensive." 

Amid their gossip session, the garage door's chime caught Dee Dee's attention, effectively ending her one-woman show in favor of giving her husband the eye. Behind him, Terry stood with a nervous smile and puppy dog eyes that he directed at Patrice. 

"Marry a Richmond, child. You'll never lift a finger for the rest of your life. Lord knows I love me some him. Hey, baby!" DeeDee advised as she watched Marvin nearly float to the driver's side to open her door. 

Patrice watched Marvin and DeeDee fawn over each other like teenage lovers until the faint pop of her door opening brought her back to life. 

Terry stood in the gap with his hand out to offer assistance. She accepted without protest, letting him gently pull her from the passenger side with her bags in tow and close the door behind her.

"I missed you." 

Terry's admission came in a sweet voice as he dipped his head to place two chaste kisses on Patrice's lips. Only the knowledge of his parents 10 feet away kept her from turning an innocent display of affection into something vulgar. 

Patrice chased his lips once he pulled away, earning a deep chuckle that vibrated her chest. 

"We kissing in front of the parents now?" 

"Too much," he asked, suddenly embarrassed. 

She used her thumb to wipe lip gloss from his bottom lip before rising to her tip toes to kiss his nose. "No. You're perfect." 

Dee Dee and Marvin watched the young couple giggle at nothing in particular with broad smiles and full hearts. 

"Treece, when's the last time you had some of my red beans and rice?" 

Marvin's question made both of them jump like children caught in the act with the realization that they weren't alone. 

"Way too long," Patrice answered, her stomach almost growling at the mention. 

"Then have dinner with us. We'd love to have you." 

Patrice looked toward Terry for confirmation, making Dee Dee cackle as she started up the stairs into her home. "Child, forget him. Terrence don't run nothing 'round here! Come get this food."

Terry's eyes grew wide at his mother's dismissal while Patrice dissolved into an uncontrollable fit of laughter at his expense on her way into the house. 

"Oh, that's funny," he asked, following her lead. "That's the last time I let y'all hang out unsupervised." 

Three extra hours at Terry's parents' house wasn't enough for the tandem to abandon their new night routine. 

Patrice stood at her bathroom sink, scrubbing the day from her face while Terry made himself comfortable on her closed toilet lid. Sometimes, he read something from Patrice's bookshelf, both preferring to simply exist in the same room. Other times, he watched baseball on his phone and attempted to provide color commentary despite Patrice not showing interest. This time, though, he sat with relaxed shoulders and low eyes while she moved through her beauty routine. 

Something about the sleepytime body wash had him laser-focused on how her legs looked a mile long beneath her nightshirt, oiled to perfection and glistening under the warm vanity lights. He wanted to reach out and touch her. Maybe pull her closer by her thighs and whisper every single nasty thought on his mind below her navel until she promised never to leave his side. 

But, he shook his inner man loose and leaned forward to re-engage with her as she called his name. 

"You know you should use a gentle exfoliant every once in a while. It'll help your breakouts. Use some of my sunscreen, too. It's dangerous for you to let the sun hit your face with no protection."

Blah, blah, blah. Everything she said sounded like a chorus of 1000 angels to him. She could've revealed the cure to cancer, and he would be too lovestruck to notice. 

Knowing his restraint was dwindling, he stood abruptly and stretched his arms above his head with a yawn as she added moisturizer to her face.

Patrice watched him take up space behind her through the mirror, shifting so he could leave something to remember him by on her shoulder and neck. 

"Good night," he spoke between kisses, the words muffled against her skin. 

"Already? It's not that late, is it?" 

"I promised Corey I'd help him with football practice at Francis tomorrow morning."

"He'll run you ragged if you don't speak up." 

"I'll speak up. I promise." 

Using what little space she had, Patrice turned to rest her backside on the counter and face Terry. She used her index finger to hook his gold herringbone chain and bring him down for a kiss. Or kisses. It'd been so long since they could have each other in this way. Time and experience, both together and separately, had them maneuvering like professionals. Each kiss was teasing and sensual in equal measure. A tangible mastery of retreating and aggression made the pursuit of one another worth the wait. 

They'd lost track of their exhibition until Terry's phone buzzing against the toilet seat jolted them back into reality.

Patrice flattened her palms against his chest to create some separation and end what would surely turn into blurred lines if they weren't careful. "Good night, TJ.  Grab that exfoliant out of my shower before you leave. It's in the caddie." 

Terry took the gentle redirection in stride, smiling at her through the mirror before turning to do as she had asked. Patrice used what little focus she could muster to secure her headscarf to her head, desperate to extend her box braids for one more week. 

"What's this?" 

"What's what?" She didn't bother to look away from her task until the low hum of her vibrator caught her attention. She whipped her body around, too stunned to reach for the bright pink toy that had Terry smirking as he examined its buttons. "That is my personal property for personal and private use." 

"When's the last time you used it?" 

"It's been a while. A month or so." Mostly true. She couldn't say she hadn't thought about it more recently.

"Since I've been here?" 

She shrugged. "Kinda hard to get comfortable when there's a person on the other side of the wall." 

The mere sound of the only thing to touch her in two years made the hair on her arms stand at attention. Her eyes darted between the toy and Terry, who made himself familiar with each speed and pattern, cycling through dirty thoughts and intrigue as he held the device against his arm to get a feel for the intensity, 

Setting one? Bearable. A softball. Setting three? Maybe she'd call out his name from the pleasure? Setting seven? Surely, she'd hang on to him like a wet t-shirt on a Playboy model while she rode the crest of her orgasm. 

The possibilities excited him to no end. He needed to test each and every theory.

In two clicks, he returned the toy to its original setting and then off completely, holding it in one hand while taking slow steps to close the gap between him and the only person on his mind. 

She shifted her weight nervously as he approached, unsure how to respond until he towered over her with a look she knew all too well. 

Desire. 

Their senses were heightened. Everything felt surreal, almost as if one misstep could send them flying through a portal back to a more disappointing reality. 

Terry could smell the faint hint of mint on Patrice's breath before dipping his head to nip at her bottom lip with his teeth. She responded like he knew she would by making him work for his prize. Patrice never let him intimidate her. Not for their first time together all those years ago, certainly not now. 

He chuckled before leaning in again, this time leaving a trail of short kisses from her jaw to her clavicle. He inhaled deeply, breathing in vanilla and the subtle spice of his cologne from moments earlier.

Suddenly, Patrice felt weightless. Her feet dangled briefly and without warning as Terry took her from standing to sitting on the cold, hard counter before she could protest. 

Patrice fought for stability, using the peaks and valleys across the expanse of his muscled arms as her anchor in the dizzying experience that was his affection. Her lips parted to draw in sharp breaths and release airy sighs of approval in a feeble attempt to remain present. At the same time, he kissed his appreciation wherever his lips saw fit. Her legs acted under their own power to spread wider and make room for whatever came next. 

Her hands left a trail of tingles as she dragged them from his arms to the back of his head, down the sides of his face, over his tank top, between his pecs, and, finally, into the waistband of his shorts. 

Surprised by her touch, he lurched forward to grab her wrist. "Not this time," he whispered, unsure he meant what he was saying. 

Patrice nodded in understanding, earning a sloppy kiss for her obedience. 

There was no discerning where his mouth ended, and hers began. They were on one accord, hungrily tasting, exploring, and consuming each other without holding back. 

Then, the low hum returned. This time, it was closer than Patrice remembered. 

Cold silicone soon caressed her inner thigh. A low whimper escaped past her lips as she made eye contact with Terry. He leaned close enough to speak against her mouth. 

"You trust me?" 

"Mhmm," she answered, fighting to keep her eyes open as he moved further up her leg. 

"Let me take care of you, then. Take these off for me." 

Trembling fingers latched onto her boyshorts, pushing them to mid-thigh for Terry to take care of the rest. As quickly as he was gone, he'd returned for another taste of her tongue. Languid and unhurried, he used the time to relax her while slowly inching the vibrator to her center. 

Initial contact made her hips buck forward, and her head softly hit the mirror behind her. Terry chased her with sloppy kisses at the base of her neck. 

The slow and steady setting was enough to get her wet and sticky. Terry'd be lying if he said the thought alone didn't have him wanting to renege on his early statement and dive in with reckless abandon. But, he remained steadfast in his pursuit of her pleasure. 

Once the initial shock had worn off, Patrice ground her hips slowly, making small circles while the vibration worked to settle her nerves. Terry took a break from leaving praises in the form of kisses on her throat to smile at his girl. 

"You're beautiful. You know that?"

She gripped his chin and pulled him closer for a fiery kiss that he let her lead. "Yeah. But, I love to hear you say it." 

"Good," he answered, grinning at her confidence as he upped the intensity on her vibrator. Her eyes clamped shut as her entire body tensed. "Stay with me." 

A deep, steadying breath turned into a silent scream as Patrice gave in to the natural urge to hold her breath. Terry used his free hand to sneak up her tank top and grope one breast while pressing his lips to her ear. 

"Breathe, baby. In and out." He modeled the behavior until she found the strength to match his tempo. "There you go. You feel good?" 

"Yes, yes," she whisper-chanted to the ceiling, her head thrown back in unimaginable euphoria. 

"I want you to feel this good every day. You deserve it, right?" 

A twisting, turning feeling at the pit of her stomach forced her to draw in a deep breath to steady herself. Her answer came in a soft moan. "Right." 

"Damn right." Pressing his forehead to hers, he zeroed in on each of her features twisted in unthinkable pleasure. 

She kept her mouth open to sigh and moan as she saw fit. Her nostrils flared in a rhythm as she tried to force herself to breathe through every peak and valley of the moment. Her brows were knitted, and her eyes closed as if she were too afraid to look at him. He wondered what she was thinking. 

Did she want him inside of her as much as he wanted the same for himself? Was she yearning for more pressure? Could she feel how much he loved her?

"Don't get quiet on me. I want everything. Let 'em hear you. You need more?" 

A quick glance down helped him reposition the vibrator on her already sensitive bud, earning a guttural curse as appreciation for his good deed. 

"Fuck! Don't move. Please don't move." 

Terry obliged for the moment, too entranced by his view of her flower on full display for his viewing pleasure. Glistening. Wet. Beautiful. Appetizing like nothing he'd ever seen before. He pulled the toy away and replaced its presence with his thumb. Slow circles and firm pressure made her want to close her legs to escape the overwhelming stimulation, but her attempt was futile. She was at his mercy. 

"Damn," he whispered to himself, enamored by the way her body reacted to his touch. 

Every revolution around her clit brought with it more wetness at her entrance and indentations in his arms from her nails gripping for dear life. 

It wasn't enough to touch her. He needed to taste. 

Using his middle and ring fingers, he teased his introduction with gentle brushes against her inner lips. She keened for more against his mouth as she held his face close. He granted her wish and pushed into her slowly, immediately feeling her warmth envelop his long digits. 

Their mouths hung open, breaths being traded between the two as he set a slow pace. Not enough to bring forth a release. Just enough for Terry to get what he came for. 

Removing his fingers left him with a coating of clear arousal nearly dripping to his knuckles. Patrice watched him as he smirked at the sight, examining it like a jeweler appraising precious diamonds. 

When he'd seen enough, he put both fingers into his mouth and closed his eyes to savor the taste. Patrice's mouth hung open as if waiting for her turn to experience the wonders of her juices. 

Had she closed her eyes for even a second, she would have missed Terry extending his tongue from his mouth to allow a mixture of his saliva and her essence the chance to slide from his tongue in anticipation of a new host. 

Something profound and hungry within her made her lean her head back and hold her tongue out to receive all that he had to give. It excited her, delighted her, and aroused her like never before.

Like a lewd work of art, spit connected their tongues in what would otherwise be seen as an infraction among more proper circles. But fuckin' wasn't proper, and all forms of affection were welcomed in their home. 

Almost immediately, Terry rushed to reward her with a wild and frenzied kiss that nearly surprised him. 

Primal. Carnal. Intense. Fucking disgusting. He loved every minute of it.

The race was on. Terry kept their lips connected as he returned the vibrator to her clit, dialing up the settings to a level below their max. 

Patrice's moans and his couldn't be distinguished from one another. Her hips bucked wildly. Her fingernails left marks in their wake as they scratched at his arms and back. Her body twitched and seized in anticipation of the inevitable. 

"Oh my - fuck!" Satisfied tears slid from the corners of her eyes and down her cheeks to her man's awaiting lips. "Terrence!" 

Terry remained locked in. A man possessed. A one-track mind focused on nothing other than completing the mission. 

The first stage of her orgasm came without a warning. Heat washed over her as if she'd stepped outside at high noon, making her skin almost unbearable to live in. Her toes curled, her voice caught in her throat despite the intense desire to release a scream from the depths of her soul into the atmosphere. 

She thanked Terry and God in Heaven for blessing her with the opportunity to touch the moon and the stars without ever leaving her home. Terry used his free hand to grip and massage her thighs, knowing that the best was yet to come. 

Patrice's voice began to climb as the main event approached. Shallow breaths gave way to loud gasps for air, which came rapidly while she did the same. She was suspended in a beautiful bliss and already sad about the prospect of coming down. 

Her lover reveled in the opportunity to see her unraveling at the seams. 

"I'll always come back to you, beautiful. No matter what, okay? Look at me." His request earned intense focus from Patrice under hooded eyes. "You're so pretty. Say it back to me. Tell me you're pretty."

"I'm so pretty!" Impending release sent all her words out in one breathless sentence. 

He smiled at her compliance. "I know you're close. Hold my hand."

Her fingers scrambled against the counter, filling the spaces between his fingers and gripping with enough force to turn her knuckles a lighter shade of brown. 

"That's my girl. I love you," was all he could manage before Patrice let out something akin to a squeal, turning his declaration into background fodder. 

Sensitive, overstimulated, and completely spent, the after-effects of her release had her panting to recover. Her ears rang with a heady feeling that could only be compared to a few puffs of homegrown bud. 

Terry held her through it all, propping her up while her body sagged against him for stability. He put aside the vibrator to run his palms up and down her legs while he showered her temple with whispered praises and sweet kisses. 

He waited until her breathing was even before gingerly pressing his forehead to hers. "You good?" 

His smirk was incredibly smug. He was proud of himself, and for good reason. She was open to giving credit where credit was due. 

"You can never leave this house without me again. I hope you're happy." 

"That's the whole point. My granny taught me some things during them summers down in New Orleans, you know?" 

"Oh, so this is some magic shit?" 

"Family business, baby. Gotta have the last name to find out." A playful glint in his eyes and a squeeze to her waist made Patrice's stomach feel butterflies that she thought would never return. Terry tapped her nose with his index finger and stepped back. "Stay put. I'll clean you up." 

Patrice scoffed. Stay put. As if she could go anywhere. As if she wanted to go anywhere.

Like the perfect gentleman, Terry was tender with his care. A warm towel to soothe sore muscles and ensure a thorough cleanup was mandatory. The extra loving was complimentary for only his favorite lady. 

"Stay with me tonight," Patrice requested as he slid her panties back up her legs. 

He shook his head and smiled while prompting her to lift her hips. "I don't know if that's a good idea, Treecey." 

"I just wanna be next to you. Nothing more." 

Terry regarded her doe-eyed plea with a small smile as he helped her off the counter. He pulled her into an embrace, fiending for one more kiss. She obliged happily until he'd had his fill. 

His hands slid from her sides to her ass for a generous squeeze before answering. 

"Okay. Whatever you want. Let me handle something real quick, and then I'll meet you there." 

Patrice accepted her victory with a silly happy dance before turning to make enough room in her bed for an extra person. Terry sent her on her way with a light tap to her ass, amused by how something as simple as sleeping next to each other was exciting for her. 

Once she was safely out of the bathroom with the door shut behind her, he finally found time to take a deep breath and compose himself. The actual test of his strength was in the next room, and he couldn't risk the trust he'd worked so hard to build. 

After adjusting his shorts, he picked up his phone and sat on the toilet lid, hoping that watching dog videos or Nationals highlights would clear his mind.

He had every intention of opening the web browser on his phone until he noticed a series of messages from an old friend.

From: McBride 

You check your mail? 

Trial against chief starts in two weeks. Gonna need you to testify to take him down

Know you said you weren’t coming back

Do it for Mike

---

TAGS: @planetblaque @wvsspoppin @thatone-girly @oniccah @avoidthings @slutsareteacherstoo @eilujion @amyhennessyhouse @yaachtynoboat711 @jenlovey @pinkpantheris @blowmymbackout @deja-r

[3liza]

Do you write? Where can I read something you wrote? :)

I'm really bad at updating my CV so I'm forgetting a lot of stuff but I wrote for most of the main "gaming news and journalism" websites during the 2000s and also worked on Unhallowed Metropolis the TTRPG in a bunch of roles, including a chapter in the soucebook. one of the more recent ones was Headcase which was an anthology by Oxford Press, which was an honor, i think it was about queer mental health? also my book Problem Glyphs has an essay in it, that's sold by Strix (publisher). I had some stuff in Thick As Thieves in Seattle that I was proud of but fuck that paper it was run by a psychopath. uhhhh I unfortunately started a short fiction series with Warren Ellis way before all the reports about him came out, called Deep Map Pilots, I think some of that is on this blog and searchable. Cafe Racer Anthology about Dune called Dune, I'm not sure if it's searchable or purchasable. I was in Lightspeed Magazine's special issue (or maybe it was another anthology) called Queers Destroy Science Fiction. Short story in Conclave Journal's 2010 or 2011 issue.

i'm a shit promoter of my writing honestly it's not really something I have been actively pursuing recently because it pays peanuts and I just haven't felt like writing as much as pursuing other stuff. i really only publish when someone asks me specifically or contacts my business manager lol. I've been thinking about trying to find a publisher for a poetry chapbook I've already completed and formatted but the poetry market is...well it's exactly what you would expect. borderline impossible to publish, much less sell, unless you have some sort of brand name going in, which I do not, at least in a way that would help sell poetry.

i started a short story I really liked based on the Clarksworld published list of "most common words used in titles of stories submitted to Clarksworld Magazine" more as a joke than anything but I've been thinking about cleaning it up and submitting it. it was kind of an exercise in "how do I take these extremely worn out title words and do something I think is fresh with them" and sort of as a little joke to submit to them. i think it's probably something they would maybe consider printing if the issue was right for it, I'm not sure though.

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Any way you want it

Written for @steddiesmuttyseptember, week 4

Prompts: Slap & Loud

Rated: E

Words: 1,282

Tags: Nudity; Light BDSM; Blindfolds; Sensory play; Slapping; Dirty talk; Top Eddie; Bottom Steve

Steve doesn’t know for how long he's been here. It's hard to tell with the blindfold on, the way his mind has gone fuzzy and soft, but his legs are starting to ache from keeping his kneeling position and the ropes binding his wrists behind his back are starting to chafe, so it must've been a while. He supposes he could call out, ask Eddie to end it, but the mere thought has his hackles rising and his teeth gritting, so he doesn’t. Instead, he counts his breaths, tries to focus on the crackle of the fireplace and the pleasant warmth of the flames on his aching limbs.

“How are we doing, baby? Desperate yet?” 

The words tear an involuntary gasp from Steve’s throat. The last thing he remembers is Eddie closing the bedroom door, the sound of his boots thunking down the stairs. How far gone has he been that he didn't hear him return? 

“Desperate?” is what he says. He's a little proud of himself for how his voice comes out, all casual disinterest with only the barest of trembles. “Bored, more like. I thought the goal of this was to make me horny, not tired.” 

“Oh, Stevie,” Eddie chuckles. He's closer than before, even though Steve didn't hear him move. Did he take off the boots? Steve fidgets in his spot, straining his neck and trying to peek out from under the blindfold, but it sits snugly and won't budge. “That's the problem with you, y’know. You're too stubborn for your own good.”

A hand wraps around his throat, pulling him back against a warm, naked body. Eddie’s cock presses into the space between his shoulder blades, thick and fully hard, and Steve gives a strangled moan as he feels himself twitch to attention. Something clinks, like a glass being set down on the mantelpiece, and he frowns at the sharp, earthy scent that hits his nostrils. 

“Wait, did you get into my dad's good whisky?” 

Eddie laughs. Something touches Steve's collarbone, something hard and sharp-edged and cold and he hisses at the sting of it.

“Why not?” Eddie says, slowly dragging the ice cube down, cold droplets catching in Steve’s chest hair. “Why shouldn't I drink his booze? I'm in the house he never comes back to, in the bedroom he never uses, and I have his perfect golden boy at my feet. I think your daddy has made it abundantly clear he doesn't want any of these things. I, though?” 

The ice cube drags over his left nipple, and Steve just barely manages to keep in his yelp. 

“I want it all, baby boy. The question is: What do you want?” 

He rolls Steve’s hardened nipple between two fingers, the pain only heightened by the lingering cold of the ice- … and then he's gone. Steve is left in the dark, floundering and disoriented and desperately hard, and this time, he can't contain his whimper. 

A hand grabs his jaw, from the front this time, and he smells whisky and cigarette smoke and the heady, thick scent of Eddie’s arousal. Steve moans and opens his mouth, saliva pooling on his tongue. When he tries to lean in, Eddie digs his nails into his skin and holds him in place. 

“What. Do. You. Want?” he repeats, every word sharp. “You're not getting anything unless you tell me.” 

He gives Steve’s jaw a brief, warning shake, and Steve’s cock twitches against thin air. Eddie waits. A second, two, while the fire crackles merrily and the cold water on Steve’s skin slowly goes warm. And Steve still can’t see him, but he knows he must be a sight to behold. The black lines of his tattoos contrasting with pale skin, dark curls basked in a halo of red and orange by the firelight, the smug smile playing on those perfect, plush lips. He wishes he could see. 

He could say as much, he guesses - except the thought makes something unbearably soft stir behind his chest, so he doesn’t. 

“You,” he says instead, struggling to form words around the hand still clenching down on his jaw. “Want you.” 

“Aw, honey,” Eddie coos, all fake sweetness. His grip doesn’t ease. “But you have me already. I’m right here with you, ain’t I?” 

His thumb shifts, the pad of it pressing down on Steve’s bottom lip without quite slipping in, and it’s all he can do not to cry out in frustration. His hands twitch in their restraints.

“Your cock,” he grits out, humiliation prickling at the corners of his eyes. Suddenly, he’s glad for the blindfold. 

“Pardon?” Eddie says. “I’m afraid I didn’t catch that.” 

“Fuck you,” Steve snaps. “You know exactly what I-” 

The slap comes without warning. One second, Eddie’s hand is on his jaw, and one moment later, it’s gone, only for his open palm to connect with Steve’s face. The impact isn’t hard, but it still echoes loudly over the crackle of the fire, leaving behind a hot, stinging feeling in its wake. 

“Oh, look at that, he can speak up,” Eddie drawls. His hand fists into the hair at the base of Steve’s neck, tilting his head up. “Now listen to me, baby. You’re gonna tell me what you want, and you’re gonna tell it to me loud and clear. Do you understand?” 

Steve bites down on his bottom lip to keep in the sob building at the back of his throat. 

“I can always leave again,” Eddie says. “Give you another hour or so to-” 

“No, please,” Steve blurts. He doesn't know why, but the thought of Eddie leaving him alone again fills him with a horrible, cold dread. “Your cock. Fuck, I need- … I want your cock, want it inside me.” 

It feels so weird, saying it out loud. Embarrassing and mortifying and freeing and beautiful all at once. His voice cracks pathetically around the last syllable, but he can't bring himself to mind - not when Eddie makes the softest, fondest sound and cups his face in both hands. 

“That was so good, honey,” he praises, and Steve’s breath hitches in his throat. He can't quite tell if it's a sob or a laugh, but when Eddie strokes the pads of his thumbs over his cheeks, he realizes that they are covered in wet tracks. “Where do you want it?”

“Everywhere,” Steve babbles, the words rushing out of him in a mad tumble, now that the dam has broken. “Wanna suck you off, want you to come on my face, want you to bend me over the bed and fuck me into the mattress and fill me up with your-” 

"Whoa, sweetheart,” Eddie says, pressing a long, chaste kiss to his lips to stop the barrage. “I'd love to do all that, but let's take care of one thing at a time?” 

Steve whines again, the prospect of having to wait, of having to choose when he needs everything, everywhere, at once, sending fresh tears of frustration to his eyes. 

“How about,” Eddie says, lips ghosting over his mouth, his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, “if I fuck your face first, until I'm nice and hard for you? And then, when that's done, I get us on that bed and you can ride my cock until we both can't come anymore? How does that sound?” 

“So fucking good,” Steve breathes. “Can we start right now? Please, I need-” 

“Of course we can, baby,” Eddie coos, slipping a tender hand into Steve’s hair in the same movement that he pushes his cock into his mouth, stuffing him deliciously full. “See? Good boys get everything they want. They just need to know how to ask for it.” 

More smutty September

[joeyalohadream]

Hi me again.

I saw your post about how you received a negative anon message and was hoping you didn’t mean me? I sent you an ask about how much I loved your clegan childhood best friends idea (like literally can’t stop thinking about it) and just suggested that you could give the idea to another great writer in the fandom. I think it’s just as cool to be the idea maker sometimes and I wasnt insulting you.

I really do love your writing but you do take a long time to post new stuff and that particular idea is just everything to me so I don’t want it to be in limbo.

like you posted a bit of an angsty story the other day and got people excited and now you haven’t mentioned it again. Just don’t want that to happen to the childhood story cause it’s such a good idea.

sorry for rambling I just had to come back and say sorry if I’m the anon that made you feel bad. Wasn’t my intention..

Sorry everyone that reads this but I'm taking some of Swifty's backbone for a minute and answering a negative anon. Hiding my response below the cut so you can scroll past without seeing my drama if you'd like...

---

Of course it was your message that I was referring to.

In this fandom, full of the most wonderfully kind people I've ever interacted with, your message was the only negative one I've ever received. The fact that you could send that message, and now this one and somehow not understand that you're being incredibly hurtful is beyond me.

I wasn't going to respond to this message at all, just like I didn't respond to the first one you sent (just flat out deleted that one), but someone posted about my 'childhood friends au' today and brought it all back.

I checked out library books for research for that story and wrote the most detailed outline of any story I've ever thought up. And after your message, I returned the books and scrapped the story because you made me feel like garbage.

You flat out told me to give my idea to a specific writer in the Mota fandom that would 'turn it into a masterpiece'. You and I can agree on the fact that the writer you mentioned is one of the most talented fanfic writers around. They are. But to be so blatantly rude to me about my own writing and to call it 'advice'? Come on. You have to know you're being an asshole.

I'm a kind person. I'm also sensitive and hate confrontation and it even makes my stomach hurt to respond to this message because I don't like being unkind to ANYONE. I work two jobs. I work 60 hours a week most weeks. The fact that I find time to write anything is something I'm proud of and you calling me 'inconsistent' is just absolutely unempathetic.

Since you keep choosing to remain anonymous, this is the only way I can know I reach you to tell you this:

If you follow me, unfollow me. Don't interact with my posts. Don't read my stories. And stay the hell out of my inbox.

[bangtanficsforyou]

Deep Learning (JJK)- Announcement

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: SMUT. PWP. JUST READY TO GET DOWN AND DIRTY. THAT'S THE GENRE, YES.

Rating: 18+

Summary: Getting tutored by the school nerd sounds boring. Well that is, until you, tease him.

Word count: no idea

Warning: it's just porn without ANY plot 😩, or^l (f receiving), ti^^y sucking, fing^^^ng, p in v s^x, d^^ty talk if it counts, protected sex (cause Jungkook is a nerd, OFC HE'S SMART), there's some degra^^^^on, they do it on the table, he ties her hands up and idk what else 🤏🏻😩

(AGAIN it feels so awkward writing it with all the '^' but feeling awkward is better than Tumblr flagging you)

Tentative date: first week of October on my Patreon.

A:N: I'm actually very proud of coming up with the fic title because "deep learning" is actually a subset of machine learning, which is further a subset of artificial intelligence (which is what I study). But then "deep" learning can also have a double meaning if you think about it 🤔

Also, today only I was watching this movie review and the guy reviewing, commented how every movie has this thing about nerds wearing glasses and the moment you remove the glasses, BIPPITY BOPPITY BOO, they turn into the hottest guy ever. I nodded so hard, agreeing how illogical it is. And now look at me, doing the same 😔😫. (I too, have glasses btw)

This is a Patreon exclusive for the $8 tier.

Also, while we're at this, I would like to clear out something:

I know there will be people on Tumblr who will come across this post and probably get interested to read this drabble/one shot. Now, I know, this whole "patreon exclusive" thing might be a bummer for many. Trust me, I understand. However, I also cannot deny that there are people who have subscribed to my patreon (be it $5 tier or the $8 tier) and it's my duty and responsibility to make it worth it for them.

As of for people, who aren't/can't be on my Patreon, I just want you to know, I'll do my best to not make you all feel left out. There's loads of fics coming your way, so sit tight 💓

[fiamat12]

RE: Responsibility in blogging

I'm going to address sentiments coming from other shippers/ former shippers w/ whom I wholeheartedly disagree. They, of course, are entitled to their opinion but in MY opinion I think they have a dangerous mindset from a freedom of speech perspective.

1- You can't stop people from speculating. On shipper blogs, this one included, most everything is an opinion and it's positioned as such. The thought that you have to do responsible reporting like a god damn journalist is A MYTH! We're not journalists. We are opinion bloggers and as far as I know opinion pieces are still allowed in the good ole U S of A ! (that's where I reside)

2- The fact that this argument is used to disprove things they don't like or think others should accept is hypocritical. They claim that saying L & N are together, that A is bound by an NDA and that JD is gay is ridiculous... Why? Because they don't agree with it? They can flip that right back on themselves because the fact that they refuse to acknowledge what has been publicly shown is the real tragedy.

3-There's MUCH evidence to show a high likelihood of N and L being together, that A & the friend group are likely bound by NDAs and that JD is gay. Since when would any of this NOT be ok to say? Two people are clearly in love, contracts were made as they are every day in the celebrity world for privacy, and a man is a proud part of the LGTBQIA community. AND...???

4- I can't go back through all of the timelines and supportive material in this post, but you can certainly scroll and see it all layed out. I'm not going to omit something cause I'm afraid that someone won't like my speculation OR that it will disprove my theory. If I'm wrong, I'm wrong. My opinion, however, will always be in a light most favorable to Lukola, and I find nothing about that unacceptable. ✌️

[itsblasttothepast]

As a Franco fan I'm SO endeared by Checo and the way he instantly gave Fran such a warm welcome 🥺 He said he knew firsthand how much harder it is for latinos to make it to F1 compared to europeans and that Franco deserved a full year seat, so that's why I think his compliment during the race was 100% intentional to boost his chances a little. Even if he meant to ask for a new strategy, he could've simply said this is not working, let's just pit or whatever and he didn't! He's not getting anything in return, it was humble, genuine praise right when everyone's competitiveness is at its peak. Apart from a few drivers, I can't imagine others doing that. Many would be fuming even 🤫

After the race it made me very happy to hear Franco say he loved Checo and that he used to wake up early to watch his races when he was a kid because I don't hear young drivers say that about Checo very often, you know? since most grew up admiring mainly Lewis, Fernando, etc. He deserves his flowers too!

Sorry for the rant lol I'm just really happy to see the reciprocated respect and love between both !!!

Oh, don't apologize anon, I share the exact sentiment about these two. It's so amazing how supportive Checo is, he really wants Franco to stay in F1 and show all the latino power, and the fact that he acknowledged how good Franco is doing is something not any driver would do.

The fact that they both speak so candidly about each other shows the respect and fondess they feel, it's so refreshing and nice.

I just wish some fans stopped comparing them and acting like one has to be better than the other. We have two Latin Americans here! We should be proud and cheer for them, no making stupid posts about who is best.

Thank you for your ask anon! Checo has a new son, and he'll defend him all the way.

Hugs for you!

[pasaatimonarkin]

No crying in the Burlesque club I part 6

Han Jisung x reader feat. OT8 Stray kids

Mafia!au

Warnings: cursing, guns, mentions of blood, sexual language, SMUT at the end [please skip the end if you are a minor or don't feel comfortable readind smut]

Word count: 9,9k [I have no idea how it got so long]

part 5

The moments kept replaying in your mind as you got dressed. Han wiped the sweat off his forehead before zipping up his jeans. His eyes never left you and you could feel his gaze pierced on your back as you put your lingerie back on. 

As you put your dress back on, you got startled as you felt Han’s hands on your back, helping you zip up the dress. “Thank you” you whispered over your shoulder and Han gave a light kiss on the top of your head.  

“Ready?” Han asked as he moved to the door. You stepped into your heels and nodded, taking a deep breath before leaving the room behind Han. 

"Oh, you were already waiting for me?" you heard Coco flirt as she saw only Han leaving her room. 

"It's not what it looks like," Han says with a smirk, while you stand behind him, your hair a mess and a hint of lipstick smudged on your cheek. You couldn't help but feel a twinge of annoyance at her blatant disregard for your relationship, but you bite your tongue. 

You walked past Coco with a sense of defiance, wiping your mouth to indicate that you did something intimate in her dressing room. The smell of her perfume lingered in the hallway, but it was overpowered by the musky scent of sex that clinged to your skin. Your eyes never met hers, and you could feel the weight of her gaze as you pass. 

Coco's mouth opens to say something, but no words come out. You've seen that look before – a mix of surprise and annoyance. It's the look of someone who thought they had the upper hand, only to realize they were playing a game they didn't understand. Han's smirk only widens as he follows you, his hand sliding into yours. 

As you exit the club into the cool night air, Han turns to you with a glint in his eye. "I hope that was enough to prove my point," he says, his voice low and teasing. "But if it wasn't, I can always give you a repeat performance." He tugs at your hand gently, pulling you closer. You can feel the heat of his body, and the memory of his touch is still electric on your skin. 

You roll your eyes, trying to play it cool. "I think you made it pretty clear," you reply, a hint of a smile playing on your lips. Han chuckles, squeezing your hand as he opened the passenger seat door for you and you slid in to the seat. 

"I have to say that I'm proud" Han says after he takes a seat next to you. You raise your eyebrow, "Proud of what?" 

Han smiles as he does what you did when going past Coco and wipes the side of his mouth, not breaking eye contact with you. You blushed. You didn't mean to be that bold, but you also wanted To make Coco know that Han was off the market. 

"So, are we together?" you blurt out, suddenly feeling the need to clarify your relationship status. Han's smile turns into a grin as he starts the engine. "What do you think?" he asks, his voice filled with amusement. 

He shifts gears smoothly, his eyes never leaving the road as he continues. "I mean, if having sex in a someone’s dressing room doesn't scream 'exclusive', I don't know what does." You swat at his arm playfully, trying to ignore the way your stomach flutters at his words. 

"You're terrible," you say, but the smile on your face gives you away. Han's teasing is a familiar dance, one that you've both performed many times. It's his way of diffusing tension and keeping things light.  

"Come on, don't tell me you didn't enjoy it," he says, his eyes glancing at you briefly before returning to the road. "You looked like you could take on the world when you left that room." The car's headlights cut through the darkness as you drive away from the theater, leaving the sounds of laughter and music behind. 

You hesitate, then decide to ask the question that's been bothering you since the moment you left the dressing room. “I have noticed that you stopped calling me with nicknames. Why is that?" The silence stretches out between you, filled only with the hum of the engine and the sound of your own breathing. 

Han looks at you, a smile forming in his lips “It was my way of flirting. But then I stopped because your name is the sexiest pet name I know," he says, his voice a low rumble. 

You can't help but feel a warmth spread through you at his words. The jealousy from earlier had dissipated, replaced by a renewed sense of belonging. You lean back into the leather seat, watching the passing streetlights flicker across Han's profile. His hand is still in yours, and the warmth of his touch comforting. 

Once you get to the house, you both head to the kitchen, and Han starts rummaging through the fridge. You lean against the counter, watching him, the adrenaline from the encounter still coursing through your veins. You had so many thoughts flying through your mind. You had so many feelings towards Han though you weren’t sure if you should. You were kind of scared of your feelings, because you had never had a real relationship before. “I’m going to bed” you finally mumbled, not feeling like eating anything. 

Han looks over his shoulder, a question in his eyes. "You’re not hungry?" he asks, mouth full of leftover food. You smile softly at his squirrel-like cheeks, “Nah. I’m just tired”. You fidget with your fingers and look down at them before continuing. “You could join, if you want” you mumble. 

Han's smile softens, and he closes the fridge door, stepping towards you. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into him. "Is that what you want?" he whispers, his breath warm against your neck. You nod, feeling your body relax into his embrace. He kisses you gently and you can taste the salty hamburger in his lips.

You lead him to your room and began to change your clothes to comfier ones. Han takes off his clothes, leaving him only in his boxers. You can’t help but blush as flasbacks from the club fill your mind. Han climbs under the covers and you crawl into bed beside him, and he pulls the covers over you both. You lay there, nestled in his arms, feeling the steady beat of his heart. His hand traces patterns on your back, soothing the last of your nerves. You close your eyes, letting the comfort of his embrace wash over you. 

"You know," you say, your voice a whisper in the quiet room, "I don't think I've ever felt so... wanted." 

Han's hand pauses on your back, his grip tightening for a brief moment. "What do you mean?" 

You sit up, looking into his eyes. "I mean, I've had flings, and casual relationships, but nothing that's ever felt... real. Nothing that's made me feel like I could trust someone completely." 

Han's expression turns serious, his gaze holding yours. "And now?" 

You take a deep breath, feeling your heart race. "Now, I think... I think maybe I've found someone I could trust," you say, the words leaving your mouth in a rush. You bite your lower lip, waiting for his response, feeling vulnerable and exposed. 

Han's eyes searched yours, his expression unreadable for a beat too long. Then, his arms tighten around you, and he whispers, "You can trust me." The sincerity in his voice is like a balm to your soul, soothing the raw edges of your insecurities. You lean into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his chest against your cheek. 

For a moment, you're lost in the comfort of his touch, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear. Then, you pull back to look at him again, needing to be sure. "Really?" 

Han's smirk returns, but there's a softness to it now. "Yes, really," he says, his eyes crinkling with amusement. "I know it's not the most romantic declaration, but I'm not exactly Shakespeare." He brushes a strand of hair from your face, his thumb lingering on your cheek. "But if it makes you feel better, I'd say you're more than just 'wanted' to me." 

You laugh, feeling your cheeks warm at his teasing. "Well, that's a relief," you reply, poking his chest lightly. He captures your hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing your knuckles before placing it back on his chest. 

Curiosity gets the better of you, and you decide to ask a question that's been niggling at the back of your mind. "Han," you begin, your voice soft, "have you ever felt this way about anyone before?" You watch his expression, searching for any sign of hesitation or doubt. 

Han looks at you, his eyes serious. "I've had my share of flings," he admits, his voice a low murmur. "But nothing serious, no. Nothing that's made me feel... like I do with you." He runs his thumb over your hand, his gaze never leaving yours.  

The confession hangs in the air, and for a moment, you're not sure how to respond. You swallow hard, feeling a mix of excitement and fear. You've never been the girlfriend, never been the one someone talked about with that kind of intensity. You've always been the casual fling, the one who didn't get the emotional attachment.  

You decide to not ask further and press your head back on his chest, reaching your arm over his stomach. Han tightens the grip around you, “Good night” he whispers, placing a kiss on top of your head. “Good night” you mumble against his chest and close your eyes. Maybe I shouldn’t think this so deeply. We kissed, we fucked, we confessed. I should just relax, you think before falling asleep. 

- 

You were having a peaceful evening for once. It was just you, Han and Jeongin watching tv. It felt like a normal day with no operations or twirling your body for men’s pleasure. But you should have seen it coming that a evening like this would not stay like this for long. 

The sudden buzz of your phone jolted you upright. It was a message from Chan, summoning you all to his office – even you. Your heart skipped a beat. The words on the screen were commanding: "Meeting. Now." The room grew quiet, as Han and Jeongin stared at their phones, reading the same message. You knew what it meant, Strays had a new mission incoming, 

You stood up and made your way towards Chan’s office, Hyunjin, Changbin and Lee Know joining you from the garage. Han and Jeongin filed behind you as you stepped to his office. Seungmin was already there, his eyes gleaming behind thick-rimmed glasses, already had his laptop at the ready. 

Changbin leaned against the wall, arms folded. The others scattered around the room. Han was standing tall beside you, his hand resting lightly on the gun holstered at his waist.  

Chan sat at his desk. His eyes were sharp, scanning the room as you took your positions around him. He leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking under his weight, and announced, "There's a party tonight at the Golden Hall. The boss of the Blackjacks is going to be there. We need to get to him, get him to talk if he knows anything about who the Red Dragons are working with."  

Han's gaze locked with yours for a brief moment before he broke the silence. "What's the plan?"

Chan's expression grew serious. "Hyunjin, you're the bait. We need you to draw Kang’s attention." 

Hyunjin nodded, a sly smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Always happy to play the fool for the cause." 

"You're our extraction plan," Chan said, looking at Felix, "If things go south, you're to get in, grab the boss, and get out. Don't engage unless absolutely necessary. Your speed is our advantage." 

Felix nodded, the tension in his posture relaxing slightly. 

"Jeongin, you're with Hyunjin. Keep an eye on him. If things get messy, make sure he doesn't get too carried away with the act." 

"Always do, boss." Jeongin nodded. 

Chan's gaze fell on you last. "Y/N, you're with Han. Your job is to make Kang talk incase he doesn’t talk to Hyunjin". His voice was a low rumble, leaving no room for interpretation. 

The room spun around you as his words sank in. Shock ricocheted through your body like a stray bullet, leaving you stunned. Me? Taking part in a mission? Chan had been so protective that he still hadn’t given you permission to go in your own apartment or into the Burleque club alone. Now he was suddenly counting you as one participating in their mission?

"What?" You asked in disbelief "you want me to participate?" 

Han took a step closer to Chan, "Isn't it too dangerous? " 

Chan's eyes narrowed. "I know the risks, but she's part of this family now. And if she's willing to be with you, then she knows what she's signing up for." 

You eyes widened, your breath catching in your throat. Did he know about Han and me? The room felt suddenly suffocating. You searched his face, but his expression was stern like always when looking at you. 

"How long have you known?" You managed to choke out, your voice barely above a whisper. 

Chan raised an eyebrow, his eyes flicking between you and Han. "Long enough. But that's not what this is about." He leaned forward, his hands folding into fists on the desk. "This mission is too important to leave anything to chance. It's a mafia party and they want women in there, that's why every group of attending men need at least one woman" 

"How can you suddenly make me go in the heart of danger if you couldn't even let me stay at my own goddam apartment?" You ask, my voice raising with anger. 

Chan's expression remains unchanged, his gaze unwavering. "You're a part of this whether you like it or not," he says, his voice as cold as steel. "You chose to be with him, and that means you're in." 

"But I can't—" You start to protest, your voice shaking with fear and anger. 

Chan holds up a hand, silencing you with a look that could cut glass. "You can, and you will," he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. 

"Seungmin will get you the floorprints of the Hall, memorise them so you know where you are moving. Y/n you go inside with Hyunjin, Jeongin and Han. Hyunjin and Jeongin go to talk to Kang. Pretend to be interested in his group. Y/n and Han are there for look out, if he won't talk, send y/n to seduce him. Changbin will wait with the car outside in case something goes south. And like said Felix keeps eye on it outside and Lee Know is going to be prepared here" 

Your stomach twisted into knots. Seduce him? You had never been in a situation like this before.  Everyone else nodded, understanding the plan and it's risks but you couldn't get your head around it. 

"Wait seduce the boss? Who do you think I am, a hooker?" 

The room grew tense, everyone's gaze on you. Your heart raced as the reality of the situation sank in. 

"No. But considering your work, I expect you to know how to get to men. You got one of my men didn't you?" Chan said but there was no tease or joking in his voice. 

"What does that mean?" 

Chan's eyes bore into me, his voice low and measured. "It means you know how to use what you've got to get what you want. And right now, what we need is for you to get close to Kang, get him talking. Whatever it takes. Hyunjin is good at making people talk without them noticing but Kang loves women. You are our second best shot at getting him to tell about the Red Dragon’s deals." 

You felt the weight of his words, the implication clear. Your throat went dry. You just couldn’t believe that your own borther just told you to there and make a dangerous mafia boss drool for you. 

Chan's gaze moved around the room, his eyes meeting each of you in turn. "Alright," he said, his tone final. "Get ready. We leave in an hour." 

Everyone started to leave the room, going in the own rooms to get ready, get some suits on and make sure their guns were loaded and ready in case needed. You walked from the room your heart racing, Han following you closely and closing the door behind him. 

" I knew Chan would be pissed if he found about us, but this? What happened to all the you must stay safe talk?" You ask Han, the annoyance and afraidness could be heard in your voice clearly. 

"I'm not sure" Han says, his face showing the uncertainty of the situtation. But he knew he had to listen to the boss, like he had for many years. ”I don’t like this either”. 

At the same time you were slightly interested on what happened in their missions like these, but fear had the upper hand. Han took your hand in his, squeezing it tightly. ”I’m sorry” he said quietly, eyes not leaving yours. Your face softened, ”It’s not your fault. Chan hates that we went behind his back. This is his way of revenging, making us regret it. But…we can handle it, I’ll try my best” you said, trying to reassure you more than Han, 

Han's grip tightened around your hand. "I'll be with you," he assured, his voice a comforting rumble. "And I won't let anything happen to you." 

You nodded, trying to believe him, trying to believe in yourself. The walls felt closer than ever, the air thick with the weight of what was to come.  

In the quiet of your room, You stared at the mirror, eyes wide with anxiety. You had an hour to become someone else, someone who could charm a dangerous mafia boss and survive to tell the tale. You let out a shaky breath and picked a dress from the closet. A sleek, burgundy dress. It was tight, clinging to every curve, and dangerously low-cut, leaving little to the imagination. You stepped into some golden heels and opened your hair from the messy bun it had been in the day.  

Seungmin had already texted you the floorprints of the Golden Hall and you did your best to take in most of it. Memorizing how to get from room to room.

You brushed your hair before tucking it into a tight ponytail. While getting ready you had decided to act strong no matter what happened. You couldn’t give Chan the satisfaction of knowing you couldn’t handle this kind of life, because you had to. You had formed something special with Han, and you weren’t going to let it go because of him. 

You stood in front of your bathroom mirror, doing your best with your makeup. You painted on a mask of seduction, darkening your eyes and reddening your lips, until you barely recognized the woman staring back at you. Doing your own Burlesque make up had it’s advantages, making you able to make yourself look like a seductress who could charm her way out of any situation—or so you hoped. 

The door creaked open, and Han stepped into the room, his eyes scanning over you. He'd changed into a tailored black suit that hugged his frame like a second skin, a white button up shirt and a crimson tie laid against his chest.  

"You look beautiful," he murmured, his voice a warm caress that sent a shiver down your spine. His eyes lingered on your face, like he was trying to see the real you behind all the makeup.  

"Thank you," You murmured, turning to face him fully. His eyes traveled over you, lingering on the curves the dress accentuated. You could feel his desire, a silent flame that burned just as hotly as the fear that coiled in your stomach. He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face. 

"You don't look bad either," You said, trying to lighten the mood. Your voice wavered slightly, betraying the nerves that danced just beneath the surface. Han's lips quirked into a smirk. 

His hand slid around your waist and pulled you into his embrace. His arms felt like steel bands, but the warmth of his body against you was reassuring. "You know I've got your back," he murmured into your ear, his breath warm against your skin. You nodded, ”I know” 

In the car on the way to the Golden Hall, the silence was palpable, the air heavy with the weight of what was to come. Changbin's knuckles were white on the steering wheel, his eyes focused on the road ahead. Hyunjin was fixing his hair in the passenger seat and You were sitting between Han and Jeongin. Felix would take his own car and be ready in case he was needed inside.

Han’s hand was resting lightly on the gun that was tucked in his pants. You could feel the tension in his body, deep in thought of what was to happen. You took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. 

The Golden Hall loomed in the distance. As you approached, the headlights danced across the gleaming marble facade, casting shadows  on the huge walls. The sound of music and laughter grew louder, people were chatting and smoking on the outdoor stairs. 

Changbin pulled the car to a stop at the curb, the engine purring quietly. You stepped out, a united front of deceit and danger. The cool evening air was a slap in the face, a stark reminder of the cold reality of the world you were about to enter. The scent of expensive cologne and perfume mingled with the faint hint of gunpowder, a potent cocktail of wealth and violence. 

You circled your arm around Han's, your hand coming to rest on his bicep. His warmth seeped into you, a reassuring presence in the sea of uncertainty. His eyes met yours, a silent promise of protection. For a brief moment, you felt like you could conquer the world—or at least the Golden Hall. 

As you approached the grand entrance, the bouncers eyed you with a mix of curiosity and hunger. Hyunjin took the lead, his charm oozing from every pore as he flashed them a winning smile. "We're with Kang's entourage," he announced, the lie slipping from his tongue as smoothly as silk. The bouncers nodded, their gazes lingering on your group before letting you pass. The doors swung open, revealing a world of glitz and glamour that was as fake as the smile you pasted on your face. 

Inside, the Golden Hall was a cacophony of sounds—the clink of champagne flutes, the murmur of hushed conversations, and the pulsating beat of music that thrummed through the floorboards. The air was thick with the scent of wealth and the unspoken promise of power plays. Your heart raced as you stepped into the fray, every step taking you deeper into the lion's den. 

The room was a kaleidoscope of colors, the chandeliers casting a warm glow on the faces of the unsuspecting prey mingling below.

Hyunjin and Jeongin split off, weaving through the throng of bodies like shadows. You felt a knot form in your stomach as they disappeared into the throng, leaving you and Han to navigate through the socialites and gangsters. 

You moved through the crowd. You felt like a pawn in a high-stakes chess game, each move scrutinized by the sharp eyes of the elite. You made our way to the bar. Han's hand was a firm presence at the small of your back, guiding you through the maze of bodies.

The bartender, a man with a nose that looked like it had been broken more times than he could count, gave you a nod as you approached. "Whiskey," Han ordered, his eyes never leaving the room. The man slid two glasses across the counter. You clinked your glasses together, the sound lost in the din of the partygoers. 

As you sipped the burning liquid, your eyes scanned the room, searching for any sign of the Blackjacks' boss. The crowd was a mix of the rich and the ruthless, their smiles as sharp as the knives hidden in their jackets.  

Han leaned closer, his voice a rumble in the chaos. "You okay?" he asked, his hand brushing against your lower back. 

"I'm fine," You said, thought you were everything else but fine. 

You watched as Hyunjin and Jeongin approached a group of men huddled together, their laughter growing louder as they drew near. The crowd parted for them, eager to catch a glimpse of the entertainment. You stomach twisted into knots as you recognized the man at the center—Kang, the boss of the Blackjacks. You didn’t even need to know what he looked like beforehand, his looks yelled power. His eyes were cold and calculating, his smile a mere curve of his lips that didn't reach his eyes. 

Hyunjin laid a hand on Kang's shoulder, his grin wide and infectious. Jeongin hovered at his side, a silent sentinel ready to jump into action at a moment's notice. You could see the tension in their shoulders, the way their eyes flicked around the room, searching for any sign of trouble. 

Kang's eyes narrowed slightly as he took in the two newcomers, his gaze lingering on Hyunjin's hand a beat too long before he shrugged it off. His smile remained in place, a veneer of charm over the predator beneath.  

You leaned into Han, "When do I go in?" you spoke quietly. 

”If Hyunjin doesn’t get the information needed, he will nod towards us. That’s when you go to make your move” he murmured, his eyes never leaving the group 

The music grew louder, a pulsing bass that vibrated through your chest. You watched as Hyunjin leaned closer to Kang, his laughter a little too loud, a little too forced. Jeongin hovered at the edge of the group, his eyes sharp and alert. They were playing their parts perfectly. 

"Han," You whispered urgently, "what do I do when we get to Kang?" 

His gaze never left the group, but you felt his hand tense on the small of your back. "Just play it cool," he murmured. "Be charming, be sweet, but don't give anything away." 

The knot in your stomach tightened. "And if he doesn't fall for it?" 

Han's hand slid around to your waist, his grip firm and comforting. "Then you improvise," he murmured, his eyes darkening. "Use your instincts. Pretend you are doing one of your shows, when you are the most confident. Imagine he is your audience". You nodded and sighed, feeling the warmth of the whiskey spread through you. 

As the conversation between Hyunjin and Kang grew more heated, Han's hand tightened on your waist, pulling you closer. His eyes never left the group as he murmured, "I think you need to make your move soon." 

Your heart thudded in your chest, the dress feeling tighter with each passing second. You tried to still the tremble in your voice. "Okay,” 

Suddenly, Han's hand was there, cupping your cheek, his thumb gently brushing away the bead of sweat that had formed on your skin. He looked deep into your eyes. "I'll have my eye on you at all times," he murmured, his voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. The warmth of his touch seeped into you, a reminder that you weren’t alone in this. 

You watched as Hyunjin and Jeongin extricated themselves from Kang's group, their smiles still in place but their eyes now cold and calculating. They moved through the crowd with the grace of panthers, leaving in their wake a trail of confused and slightly annoyed-looking men. You saw Hyunjin nod towards Han who then turned back to you. "It's time," he murmured. 

You took a final deep breath, the dress feeling like it was made of lead as you stepped away from him. The crowd parted slightly, the ocean of wealth and danger opening a path for you to tread. Your heels clicked on the marble floor, the sound echoing in the vastness of the room.  

As you approached Kang the world around you seemed to slow down. The group of men parted for you, their eyes raking over you like a physical touch. You pasted on a smile as you stepped into the circle of power surrounding Kang. 

Kang's gaze slid to you, his eyes lingering on the v-cut of your dress, the way it hugged your curves. A smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth as he took you in. 

You stepped closer,"I hope I'm not interrupting," you said, your voice a sweet melody that belied the turmoil inside you. 

Kang's eyes narrowed slightly, his smile never wavering. "Not at all," he replied, his voice a silky threat. "What brings a beautiful creature like yourself to a place like this?" 

"Oh, just looking for a good time," You said, trying to keep your voice steady. "I heard this was the place to be." 

Kang's gaze lingered on you, his eyes raking over your body in a way that made you want to shiver. But you held his gaze, smile never wavering. "And what makes you think you can find that here?" he asked, his tone teasing. 

"Well," you began, "I've heard a rumor that the company here is... exceptional." you let the word hang in the air, your voice a soft purr that seemed to resonate through the group of men surrounding you. 

Kang's hand slid around your waist, his touch a cold reminder of the role you were playing. You forced yourself not to flinch, instead leaning into his embrace. His eyes lit up with interest, his grip tightening slightly as he pulled you closer. "And what kind of exceptional company are you looking for?" 

"The kind that knows how to bargain," you murmured, your hand resting lightly on his chest. His heart was a steady thump beneath your fingertips, a stark contrast to the frantic beating of your own. 

Kang's smile grew wider, his eyes gleaming with interest. "I might know a thing or two," he said, his voice a dangerous purr. "But first, tell me your name, beautiful." 

"Call me Luna," you said, the pseudonym rolling off your tongue like a well-practiced lie. His thumb stroked the bare skin above your dress's waistline. The touch sent a shiver down your spine, but you didn't pull away. 

"Luna," he repeated, his voice a caress. "A name as enchanting as the woman who bears it." His eyes traveled down to your lips, and you could almost see the cogs turning in his mind, calculating his next move. 

"Kang," you responded, your voice a coy purr. "I've heard you're quite the poker player. Perhaps I could be your lucky charm tonight?" 

The room seemed to hold its breath as Kang's eyes lit up, the challenge clear in his gaze. He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. "Is that so?" he murmured, his hand sliding down to rest on the curve of your hip. "I'd be more than happy to see if your luck holds up at the table." 

Your heart raced as he led you through the crowd, his grip on your hand firm and possessive. The poker room was a stark contrast to the raucous party outside—the air was thick with the tension of unspoken threats and the scent of money. The green-felted tables gleamed under the harsh lights, the chips glinting like the eyes of predators ready to pounce. 

Kang pulled out a chair for him, the leather creaking under his weight as he took his seat. You positioned yourself behind him and laid your hands on his shoulders.  

The poker game was fast and furious, the air thick with tension and the scent of money changing hands. Kang's eyes never left the cards, his mind a whirlwind of strategies and bluffs. Each play was a dance, a silent conversation that spoke of power and control. His opponents were seasoned players, their faces a mask of indifference as they raised the stakes. 

With a flourish, Kang laid down his hand—a straight flush. The room erupted into a mix of gasps and murmurs of respect. The opponents' shoulders slumped in defeat, their pockets significantly lighter. Kang's smirk grew wider, his eyes gleaming with triumph as he leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking beneath him. 

"Impressive," you murmured into his ear, your voice low and intimate. His gaze flicked to you, a predatory gleam in his eyes that sent a thrill of fear down you. He took a sip of his whiskey, the ice cubes clinking against the glass. "You're quite the player, Mr. Kang." you continued as you took a seat on the armrest of his chair. 

He placed his hand to rest on your thigh. "And you, Luna, are quite the lucky charm," he said, his voice a gruff rumble. His thumb stroked your skin in an intimite gesture. 

"Perhaps we could make a trade," you whispered, your voice a seductive purr. His eyes narrowed, the gleam of interest in them sharpening. "Your secrets for my... company." 

Kang's smile grew predatory, his hand squeezing your thigh slightly. "What makes you think I have any secrets worth sharing?" 

You leaned in closer, your breath tickling the shell of his ear. "Call it a hunch. And I'm sure I can make it worth your while." 

Kang considered your offer, his thumb continuing its slow, rhythmic stroking of your thigh. "What exactly are you proposing?" His voice was a low growl, the hint of a challenge in his tone. 

"A simple exchange," you purred "I want to know about your dealings with the Red Dragons." 

Kang's hand stilled, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. For a moment, you could see the wheels turning in his mind, weighing the cost of his secrets against the allure of the unknown. "The Red Dragons, you say?" He took a long sip of his whiskey, his gaze never leaving yours. "What makes you think I would have any dealings with them?" 

You gave him a knowing smile,"Let's just say I know how the wind blows in this city," you whispered, leaning closer so that your breath danced across his cheek. "And I can feel the heat of their breath on my neck." 

Kang's eyes narrowed, his grip tightening on the whiskey glass. "And what makes you think I'd tell you anything?"  

With a boldness that surprised even you, you slid onto his lap, your dress hiking up just enough to reveal the edge of your garter. His eyes darkened, the pupils dilating slightly as he took in the sight. You placed your hand on his chest. 

"Let's just say I have a... vested interest in their business. And I'm willing to make it worth your while to share what you know." 

"What makes you so eager for this information, Luna?"  

"Let's just say I'm a woman who knows what she wants," you murmured. 

Kang's eyes never left yours, his hand tightening slightly on the whiskey glass. "And what makes you think I would be so easily swayed by a pretty face and a... willing disposition?" His voice was a silky threat, the challenge clear. 

"Because," you whispered, your teeth grazing his earlobe, "I'm not just any woman." your hand slid up his thigh, your fingertips grazing the bulge in his pants. His breath hitched, and for a moment, you thought you had him. 

But then, his hand shot out like a snake, grabbing your wrist and squeezing hard. "Careful," he warned, his voice low and dangerous. "You might not like what you find if you play with fire." 

You yanked your hand back, the pain sharpening your focus. "I can handle the heat,".  

Kang's grip on your wrist didn't loosen, but his gaze softened slightly. "I don't doubt it," he murmured, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin of your inner wrist. "But the price for my secrets isn't one to be paid lightly." 

You swallowed hard, the weight of the mission pressing down on you. "Name your price”. 

"I want you in private," he said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate through the very air. "Where we can... talk more freely." 

You nodded, your heart racing as you slipped off his lap. The room felt like it was closing in on you. You knew what he meant by "talk," and the thought made you nauseous. Had you gone too far with the act? But you couldn’t back now. 

Kang stood, his towering frame casting a shadow over you. He took your hand and led you through the labyrinth of the Golden Hall. The music grew fainter, the laughter more distant, until you reached a corridor that smelled faintly of cigar smoke and leather. He opened a door that led you to a bedroom.  

The room was dimly lit, the only illumination coming from the flicker of candles scattered on the nightstands and dresser. The king-sized bed was the centerpiece, draped in luxurious fabrics that whispered of secrets and power plays. Kang walked over to the bar, pouring two glasses of amber liquid. He handed one to you, his gaze never leaving yours. 

"Drink," he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. You took a sip, the whiskey burning a path down your throat, warming your insides. He took a sip of his own too. The silence stretched out, the tension in the air so thick it could be cut with a knife. 

"Now, about the Red Dragons. I want to know who they have deals with" you said, setting your glass down with a delicate click. 

Kang's smile grew, a cold gleam in his eye. "Ah, yes," he said, leaning against the bar. "The infamous Red Dragons. They don’t have deals. Only one, a bigger party they're dealing with."  

You took another sip of whiskey, your hand steady despite the racing of your heart. "What party is that?" you asked. 

Kang chuckled, "The kind that makes even the bravest of men tremble," he said, his eyes never leaving yours. "But let's not get ahead of ourselves. You should pay your part of our trade" 

With a nod, you took a step closer to the bed, heels clicking against the marble floor. You sat on the edge, legs crossed, keeping your composure despite the racing thoughts in your head. Kang followed, his footsteps deliberate and predatory. He sat beside you, the mattress sinking slightly under his weight. His hand rested on your knee, his thumb making slow circles, a silent reminder of the power he held. 

"The group they deal with," you prompted, "What is it?" 

Kang's gaze remained locked on yours, his hand sliding up your thigh "A group so powerful, even I dare not speak their name aloud," he murmured, his thumb tracing the lace of youe garter. 

With a slow, deliberate movement, you leaned in, placing your hand on his chest to push him back onto the bed. He allowed himself to be moved. The bed's softness seemed to swallow him whole as he lay down, his expression a mix of arousal and anticipation. You slid closer to him, your hand moving to his belt buckle. 

"Tell me the name" you whisper, while slowly unbuckling his belt. Every inch of you felt nauseous of what you were doing, but you were so close to the answer. 

Kang's eyes glinted with amusement as he watched you, his chest rising and falling with every breath he took. "Not so fast," he murmured, placing a hand over yours. "First, I want to hear you beg for it." 

You clenched your jaw, the taste of the whiskey in your mouth turning sour. But you knew this was part of the game, so you leaned closer, "Please," you breathed, "I need to know. Tell me who they're working with." 

Kang's smile grew, his eyes gleaming with triumph. "The name you seek," he murmured, his hand sliding up to cup your cheek, "is the Snake." His thumb stroked your bottom lip. "But you must understand, Luna, that knowing the name of the Snake is only the beginning. It's like holding a cobra by the tail—dangerous and deadly." 

You nodded, trying to keep your revulsion hidden. "I understand," you whispered, your hand still on his belt. The need to escape was a living, breathing thing inside you, clawing at your thoughts. But you knew that any sign of fear would be a mistake. 

Slowly, you rose to your feet, hand trailing away from his body. His gaze followed your every movement, his breath growing heavier as you reached for the zipper of the dress. You pretented to start unzipping it. 

With a sudden burst of speed, you spun away from the bed. Your heart hammered in your chest as you sprinted towards the door. Kang's surprised grunt echoed through the room, and you knew he was already on his feet, moving to stop you. Your hand trembled as it reached for the doorknob. You twisted it, the door swinging open, and you slipped through, slamming it shut with a resounding thud. 

And there Han was, leaning against the wall, his eyes wide with shock as he had been listening to your conversation. He grabbed your hand, his grip firm and reassuring. "We have to go," he hissed, pulling you into the shadows of the hallway. 

The door to the room slammed open behind you, Kang's enraged shout echoing down the corridor. "You little whore!" His footsteps were like thunder as he pursued us, his fury palpable. 

Han's grip on your hand was ironclad, pulling you through the maze of the Golden Hall with a sense of urgency that bordered on panic. The opulent surroundings were a blur as you darted through the crowd, dodging the grasping hands of drunken patrons and the suspicious glances of the Blackjacks' guards.  

You didn't speak, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as you ran. Your feet stung with every step, but the pain was a distant echo compared to the fear coursing through your veins. You looked over your shoulder to see Kang running through the mass with his guards trailing behind you. Panic surged through you and your heart was racing so fast it threatened to burst through your chest.  

Han's grip tightened on your hand as he pushed through the crowd. His jaw was set, determination etched into every line of his handsome face.  

Hyunjin and Jeongin were waiting at the door. 

"We have to move," Han barked, his voice low and urgent. "Now." 

The four of you broke through the guards' line like a battering ram, their eyes widening in surprise as you barreled past. The cold air hit you in the face but you didn’t stop running. 

Changbin was waiting in his car and as he saw you four running for your life, Kang and his men behind you, he started the car.  

You dove into the car, the leather seats sticking to your bare skin. Han slammed the door shut behind you. Changbin didn't bother to ask questions, his eyes flicking to the rearview mirror before he floored the gas pedal. The engine roared to life, the tires squealing as you shot away like a bullet from a gun. 

your chest was heaving as you tried to catch your breath. The adrenaline still pulsed through your veins. Han's arm was around your shoulders, his hand squeezing gently in reassurance. Jeongin was quiet beside you, his usual smirk gone, replaced by a look of grim determination. 

As the car sped away from the Golden Hall, the lights of the city flashed by in a blur. The sound of the engine was a comforting roar in the silence that had fallen over the four of you. You couldn't believe you had done it, that you had gotten the information and escaped Kang's clutches.  

Turning to face Han, you finally found your voice. "Holy shit, I did it," you exclaimed, a mix of disbelief and triumph coloring your voice. 

"You did," he said, his expression a blend of pride and concern. His eyes searched yours, his hand still on your shoulder, grounding you in the reality of your successful escape. 

Hyunjin turned to look at the backseat and you "So, who are the Red Dragon's working with?" 

You took a deep breath, still trying to compose yourself from the chaos of the last few minutes. "The Snake," you murmured, the name feeling like venom on your tongue. "He said they're working with someone called the Snake." 

Hyunjin's eyebrows shot up, his eyes glinting with interest in the rearview mirror. "The Snake?" he repeated. "That's big. They're a shadowy group, even for our world. No one really knows who they are, but their influence is everywhere." 

"Red Dragon's have made a dangerous deal" Changbin said, voice low. 

Once you got back to the house, everyone else made their way to Chan's office, to tell about the information you had just learned. You couldn’t follow them, you had to get to your own room. All the adrenaline and fear felt like seeping you away. 

You stumbled into your room, the door slamming shut behind you as you leaned against it, gasping for air. Your legs felt like jelly, threatening to give out beneath you. You had never felt so dirty, so violated. The taste of Kang's whiskey was still on your tongue, a bitter reminder of the man's touch. You unzipped your dress and let it fall on the ground. 

Stumbling over to the bed, you collapsed onto it, the mattress sighing under your weight. You could still feel his hands on your skin, his breath hot against your neck. You shivered, wrapping your arms around yourself in a desperate attempt to find some semblance of comfort. 

You felt a mix of proudness, fear and disgust. You were proud that you actually were useful and surprised even yourself with all the things you managed to say in the situation. You felt fear from thinking about how easily he could have killed you or made sure you could have never left that bedroom. Everything could have gone wrong. And finally you felt disgusted about the way he touched you, like he tainted you with his touch. 

The door opened, and Han stepped in, his eyes scanning you from head to toe. He closed the door with a soft click, the sound echoing through the quiet room. He didn't say a word, just approached the bed, his expression a mix of anger and concern. He sat down beside you, his hand tentatively reaching out to touch your shoulder. 

"Are you okay?" he whispered, his voice hoarse with unspoken rage. 

You nodded, your eyes squeezed shut as you tried to push the memories away. "Yeah," you croaked, "just disgusted. I can still feel his touch on my skin." 

Han's grip tightened, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your shoulder. "It's over now," he said, his voice a soothing "You're safe." 

But the feeling of disgust lingered, a thick film coating your soul. You couldn't help but feel like you had lost a piece of yourself in that room with Kang. 

Han's touch was gentle, but firm. He leaned in, his warm breath fanning over your skin. "May I help?" he asked, his voice a tender rumble that seemed to resonate in your very bones. 

You nodded, unable to find the words to express the tumult of emotions churning within you. He began by kissing the nape of your neck, his lips moving in a slow, deliberate pattern. His hands followed the contours of your body, tracing the curves and valleys as if committing them to memory. It was as if he were trying to erase the memory of Kang's touch with his own, to replace the feel of Kang's cold hands with the heat of his own passion. 

Han's kisses grew more insistent as he moved down your body, his lips pressing against your collarbone, your breasts, your stomach. Each touch was tender, a silent apology for what had transpired.  

Finally, his eyes met yours again. You knew what he was trying to do—erase the horror of the past hour, replace the touch of the monster with the gentle caress of the man you loved. And so, with a tremulous smile, you reached up and cupped his cheek, drawing him back up to you. You brought his mouth to yours in a kiss that was more than just passionate.  

Your kiss grew more intense, his tongue exploring your mouth as if he could taste the fear and replace it with something sweeter. His hands slid over your skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. With each touch, the tension in your body began to unravel, your muscles relaxing under his ministrations. 

He pulled away, his eyes searching yours. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice rough with emotion. 

You nodded, your voice stronger now. "I need this," you whispered. "I need you." 

With a gentle nod, Han stood, taking off his jacket and shirt, revealing the taut muscles of his chest. His eyes never left yours as he undid his belt and let his pants fall to the floor. His movements were deliberate, a silent promise that he would not hurt you, that he would not take without asking. 

He climbed onto the bed, his body sliding over yours. He kissed you again, his hands framing you, his thumbs wiping away the tears that had escaped your eyes without you even noticing it. Your kiss deepened, the taste of whiskey fading as the familiar scent of him filled your nose. 

Slowly, carefully, Han began to explore your body again. His touch was feather-light, as if he were afraid to break you. He kissed away the tracks of Kang's fingers, His hands slid over your hips, your waist, your breasts, each touch a declaration of ownership, of love. 

He moved down your body, his lips leaving a path of sweet agony. When he reached your inner thighs, he paused, his breath hot against your skin. His eyes met yours, and you nodded, giving him the permission he sought. He kissed you there, his mouth tender. His kisses were like a balm, a gentle reminder that you belonged to him, and him alone. 

With a swift, smooth motion, Han swept off your panties, the fabric fluttering to the floor like a discarded piece of the past. The cool air hit your skin, sending a shiver up your spine. But it was his touch that followed, his mouth that set your body ablaze. He kissed and licked, his teeth grazing your sensitive flesh, and you moaned 

The world outside the bedroom door fell away, forgotten in the face of Han's love. His hands held you in place, grounding you as his mouth moved. Each flick of his tongue sent waves of pleasure crashing through you, pushing the fear and revulsion further and further away until all that was left was the here and now, the feel of him. Your legs trembled, hips bucking as the pressure built, a dam ready to burst. 

”H-Han” you whispered, the sound of his name on your lips was a prayer, a desperate plea for release. He sucked harder, his fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs, and you could feel the dam giving way, the wall crumbling under the relentless force of his love. The orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, your body arching off the bed as you moaned.  

As the tremors subsided, Han slid up your body. He kissed you again, a soft, gentle press of his lips to yours, his tongue dancing with yours. 

"I want to make you forget any feelings of him touching your skin," he murmured, his voice a promise in the quiet of the room. His hands skimmed over your body, not seeking to claim, but to heal. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, as if your were made of the most delicate glass. 

"Do you want this?" 

You nodded, "Yes," You whispered, the word a plea for salvation. 

With a fierce determination, Han claimed your mouth once more. His hands continued their exploration, moving over your skin. 

He slid one hand lower, his fingers ghosting over your stomach before finding the apex of your thighs. As he touched you, his fingers parted your folds, the contact sending a bolt of electricity through you. 

He began to circle your clit with his thumb, the sensation sending waves of pleasure that crashed against the lingering fear. You bit your lip to keep from crying out, the tension coiling tighter with each pass.

As his hand moved lower, his fingers sliding into you, your body arched. He filled you with a gentle pressure. His thumb continued to work its magic, the friction building until you could feel the beginnings of a new climax. His eyes never left yours. 

He knew exactly how to touch you, how to make you feel safe again. His movements grew more insistent, his hand working hard. You moaned into his mouth, your hips moving in a silent plea for more. 

He obliged, his fingers sliding deeper, the friction against your sensitive inner walls sending jolts of pleasure through you. Your nails dug into his back, your body responding to the delicious invasion.  

As the orgasm washed over you, your body spasmed around his fingers, your hips bucking against him as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you. The room fell away, leaving only the sound of your gasps and his steady breathing.  

Han's eyes searched yours, a silent question in their depths. "Do you need me to stop?" 

You shook your head, reaching up to pull him closer. "No," you murmured, my voice a whispered caress. "I want you, Han." 

With a nod, he kissed you softly. He slid his hand down your body, his fingers teasing the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh before gently pushing them apart.  

He positioned himself at your entrance. His eyes never left yours as he pushed into you, filling you completely, the sensation overwhelming and perfect. You bodies moved together.  

Han's strokes were slow and deliberate, each one designed to erase the memory of Kang's touch. He took his time, savoring every inch of you. His love was a fire that burned away the darkness, leaving only the warmth of his embrace. His hips rolled, a gentle rhythm that matched the beating of your heart. 

You needed to feel him deeper, you whispered, "Harder." His eyes flashed, a spark of something primal and raw lighting up the depths of his gaze. 

"Say it again," he rasped, his voice a harsh whisper. "Tell me what you need, y/n." 

You took a deep breath, your voice a shaky whisper. "Harder."  

Han's eyes lit up with something feral, something possessive. He leaned down, his mouth finding your ear. "Again," he urged, his voice a growl.  

"Harder," you gasped out, the words barely audible. 

With a low growl, Han complied, his hips driving into you with an intensity that stole your breath. Each thrust sent a wave of pleasure crashing through you, obliterating the lingering shadows of fear and disgust.  

Your nails dug into his back as he moved faster, the sound of skin slapping against skin a cacophony of passion in the quiet room. His hand slid down to your hips, his grip firm as he held you in place, his other hand cupping your cheek. 

His strokes grew deeper, his breaths coming in ragged pants.  

Han's hand slid down your body, his thumb brushing against your swollen clit with a feather-light touch. The sensation sent you spiraling over the edge, your body clenching around him as you screamed out his name.  

The climax shuddered through you, the intensity of it leaving you gasping for air. But Han didn't stop, his hips moving in a relentless rhythm that sent aftershocks of pleasure through you. His breath was hot against your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as he claimed you in the most primal way possible. 

Han's climax hit him like a bolt of lightning, his body tensing as he groaned your name. His eyes squeezed shut, his mouth open in a silent roar as he spilled himself inside you.

Finally, with a shudder, he rolled over to catch his breath, his chest heaving against the sweat-dampened sheets. For a moment, you laid there, your hearts pounding in sync, the only sound in the room the harsh intake of your breaths. 

Han lifted his arm, inviting you into his embrace. You didn't hesitate, curling into the warmth of his body, you head fitting perfectly into the crook of his neck. His arm tightened around you, his hand gently stroking your back in a soothing pattern that lulled you into a state of semi-consciousness.  

You laid there in silence for a while, but then Han broke the silence, his voice a gentle rumble in the stillness. "Are you okay?" he asked, his words a warm caress. 

You took a moment to gather your thoughts, the echoes of pleasure still resonating through your body. "I will be," you murmured, your voice muffled against his chest. "Thank you." 

Han's hand stilled on your back, his thumb tracing lazy circles. "You never have to thank me for loving you," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "And you never have to go through something like that alone." 

He pulled away slightly, his eyes searching your face in the dim light. "What Kang did...it's not your fault. You're not tainted, y/n. You're strong, you're brave, and you're mine." The conviction in his voice was unshakeable. 

"I love you," he said almost whispering.  

You were caught off guard with his confession. A wave of warmth flashed in your chest as you looked him into his eyes. They were fillled with love, pure and unfiltered. 

"I love you, too," you whispered, the words a soft exhale. His eyes lit up at your admission, the corners of his lips tugging up in a gentle smile. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, then your lips. 

[hedgiwithapen]

Leverage: the trampoline job

(Sometimes the titles of these jobs is literal, and sometimes it’s a metaphor… this is the latter. AU of the Big Bang Job!) “There’s just one problem,” Moreau said, the tip of his polished shoe pressed against Hardison’s chair. “I don’t believe you.”

He kicked, sending the chair backwards into the pool with a splash. Eliot kept his face blank, a grift to make even Sophie proud.

“Eliot, you really think I’m that stupid? That I didn’t look for you after you ran?” Moreau chided. “In Serbia two years ago, at that orphanage…Moscow last fall. So I may not know exactly the game you’re playing, but I know you’re no middleman.”

Eliot’s throat tightened. This was why he’d brought Hardison, not Sophie. His plans burned, one after another till he got to L. 

“That’s Alec Hardison,” he said. “And if you’ve ever believed anything I’ve told you, believe that you want him alive.”

He jumped into the water, hoping the intrigue would be enough to stay Chapman’s trigger finger and still expecting a bullet in his back. 

Hardison was sputtering when he got him above water, choking on the chlorine. Eliot dragged him to the side of the pool, using the ladder for leverage to boost Hardison and the chair both out before clambering up himself, keeping in front of his friend. 

"I'm listening," Moreau said. "walk me through why, exactly, I shouldn't let my man here kill you both."

"Eliot," Hardison warned.  Eliot ignored him.

"If you know what I've been up to, you know who he is." He kept his voice even. An act, but one he'd perfected. 

"A hacker," Moreau dismissed. "But one you'd die for."

"Not just a hacker," Eliot said, ignoring the back half of the statement and hating how easily Moreau read it. "The best."

He could feel Hardison behind him, pride and confusion at war. He pressed on. 

"Vector's out, and he was never much of a player. Keller's gone.  They can't hide your money, can't move it either. Hardison can move it like a kid moves checkers on a board. Not a chance anyone catches on, if he's working for you.  You won't have to pay out in bribes, either.  You want him."

"And He came here looking for a job?" Moreau asked. "I find that hard to believe, too."

"He'll do it." Eliot said. The bitter sharpness in his voice isn't all for show. "He's a geek. Half of what he cares about is proving he can do it. The other half is staying alive. He's not stupid. He knows what you can do."

"Yeah, I'm learning all kinds of new things today, traitor," Hardison spit. 

Eliot took the barb like the blow it was.

"Well. Color me intrigued, then." Moreau's smile curdled Eliot's blood, but there wasn't anything for it.  This was why he brought Hardison.

There was always a chance things broke down, and Hardison was the one he could keep alive. Chapman grabbed the back of the chair, dragging it and Hardison through the door the models went through. “Let’s chat logistics,” Moreau said. Eliot eased his heart rate, trying not to picture the look on Hardison’s face. Fury and… god. Heartbreak. There wasn’t another word for it. “Let’s,” he agreed, like it was the easiest thing in the world to say, and not poison in his mouth. 

The team always recovered, bounced back, like Parker on a trampoline. They figured out a new plan, a new trick, something last-ditch and crazy. They'll manage it. Hardison's the one they can get back.