#excuse the too-small head. was too deep in by the time i noticed.

[sherewrytes]

Ex husband Eren:

warning: smut, angst and whatever else my mind can come up with on a whim :)Son's name is Lennox

word count: 14070

I didnt proof read this, i just wrote

Ex husband Eren:

Eren wasn't sure how he went from landing himself the best woman he ever had in his life. It wasn't only your looks that drew him in. It was the way you cared for him when no one in his life did. You were the first person to show him love, care, the works. Part of him knew he should've been around more; said I love you more. He knew the divorce was his fault in the end

but that being said, he is determined to make up for lost time.

your pov

Today is Eren's pick-up day for your 3-year-old son Lennox. he's splitting image of him. The only difference is he's tanner and has curly hair. You were well trying to wrangle your son to get ready to spend the usual 3 days with his father. "Lenny, baby, Mommy has to get you ready to go see Daddy" You watch him smile and run off screaming obviously thinking you both are playing a game.

Eren’s POV

Eren watched you through the screen door as you tried to keep up with Lennox, who was darting around the room like a flash of tan curls and excitement. He could still picture the last time he tried to wrangle the little guy, getting lost in his joy. Lennox was so much like you in spirit, so much like him in looks—a constant reminder of everything Eren could have had if he’d just been the man you deserved. But the past three months had been eye-opening, pushing him to reflect on what went wrong.

Now, more than anything, he wanted to show you that he could change.

Your POV

"Gotcha!" you exclaimed, finally scooping Lennox into your arms as he squealed and laughed. "All right, mister, let’s get you packed for Daddy’s place," you murmured, knowing Eren would be at the door any moment.

You felt the telltale rush of nerves every time he came by to pick Lennox up. But you knew what this was about: Eren’s endless excuses to linger, his almost-too-frequent “accidental” brushes against your hand when he passed you something, the way his gaze lingered on you just a bit too long. Even now, a small part of you couldn’t ignore the slight thrill that ran through you whenever he looked at you with that hungry, brooding expression.

When the doorbell rang, you opened it to find Eren, a faint smirk on his lips. He leaned against the doorframe, his eyes moving over you in a way that felt all too familiar.

Eren’s POV

As you stood there, holding Lennox on your hip, Eren couldn’t help but let his eyes roam over you. God, you hadn’t changed—you were still stunning, more so now, with a soft confidence he hadn’t appreciated enough before. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to play it cool, but every part of him screamed to close the gap, to reach for you.

After a few minutes of small talk, Eren, still standing close, tilted his head. “You know,” he began, lowering his voice as his fingers lightly grazed the bare skin of your arm, “if you’re free later, maybe we could talk. Just us. I’ve missed you, and…I think we both know there’s more to say.”

As Lennox wiggled away from your grip, he made a quick dash for the lamp on the side table. "Lennox," you sighed, moving to stop him, but Eren took the chance to gently nudge you aside, his hand lingering on your waist just a bit longer than necessary.

"I got this," he murmured, stepping forward to deal with your son, who was now pouting up at him with a little frown that looked way too familiar.

“Hey, Lenny, remember what I said last time? Lamps are not toys,” Eren scolded gently, lifting Lennox into his arms. His tone was calm, but firm, his gaze softening as Lennox’s pout deepened, looking almost identical to yours when you were annoyed with him. Eren couldn’t help the slight smirk that tugged at his lips as he saw your reflection in your son’s stubborn expression.

“He’s a handful,” you muttered, crossing your arms and trying not to notice how easily Eren handled Lennox. It was moments like these that reminded you of why you’d fallen for him, back when things were simpler, back when he wasn’t so…absent.

“Wonder where he gets it from,” Eren quipped, casting a sidelong glance in your direction. When you rolled your eyes again, he chuckled, that low sound you used to love. "What?" he challenged. "You know, you’re still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. Friends or not, that’s not something that changes."

A part of you wanted to brush it off, to laugh or scoff, but his voice was different this time—low and earnest, with a hint of regret and maybe something else. For a moment, it felt like you were back in the early days when he could sweep you off your feet with just a few words. You swallowed, trying to hold onto the resolve you’d built up over the past few months.

“Eren,” you started, keeping your tone firm. “You know why this doesn’t work anymore. We’re not the same people we were back then.”

He shifted, pulling Lennox close before meeting your gaze again. “Maybe not. But that doesn’t mean I don’t miss us. And it doesn’t mean I won’t try to fix things—no matter how long it takes.”

“You should go, Eren,” you said, your tone firm but with a hint of exasperation as you watched Lennox starting to rub his eyes. “You know he gets cranky if he doesn’t nap soon.”

Eren gave a sly smile, leaning just a little closer. “Or,” he replied softly, “I can just stay.”

“That’s not a good idea, Yeager.” You crossed your arms, trying to keep your tone steady, but his closeness made it difficult.

“Oh, so I’m ‘Yeager’ now? Not Eren?” His smirk widened, but there was something softer in his eyes. “Just my last name, huh?”

“It is your last name,” you shot back, holding your ground.

He let the silence linger, his gaze not wavering. “It’s yours as well,” he murmured, leaning even closer, voice dropping to a whisper. “Was, Eren. It was.”

The words hit him harder than he’d expected, and for a moment, he stood there, at a loss. Then he sighed, nodding and glancing down at Lennox, who had started nodding off in his arms. “Right. But it doesn’t have to be that way,” he said softly, almost to himself.

His words made your heart skip a beat, but you quickly shook it off. "That’s in the past," you replied, taking Lennox gently from his arms and feeling the warmth of Eren's lingering touch. "Just…take him for the weekend, Eren.”

Eren nodded, but his hand reached out, his fingers brushing yours for just a moment. “I’ll see you soon.” He left with a final, lingering glance, and as the door shut, you couldn’t help but wonder if the past was as distant as you tried to make it.

Eren strapped Lennox into his car seat in his Matte black G wagon Lennox was giggling and smiling in the back seat heading back to his place. Eren wishes he didn’t have to leave their… y/n’s home.

Later, as the kids finally passed out after an eventful evening spent with Onyankapon's daughter Rummie and Connie’s son, Connie Jr., Eren sat around with the guys, unwinding with a couple of drinks. Inevitably, the conversation turned to wives and relationships, as it always did—except this time, Eren felt the strange, familiar sting of being the only single one in the room.

Ony smirked, scrolling through his phone. “Kaylah’s out clubbing tonight,” he muttered.

“Her too,” Connie chimed in. “Solene’s going with her.”

Ony shrugged. “Yeah, I heard they’re all going to that new place, Paradia. They even convinced Y/N to go.”

Eren’s jaw tightened at the mention of your name. “Wait. Who’s going?”

Ony shook his head, already seeing where this was going. “Not this again, Eren. Leave her alone, man.”

“Nah, nah, I just asked a question,” Eren muttered defensively, but there was an edge in his voice.

Ony glanced at him, exasperated. “That’s why she left your ass in the first place.”

Eren’s eyes darkened as he set down his drink. “And what do you even know about my marriage, huh?”

Ony didn’t back down. “More than you, apparently, ‘cause Y/N’s been complaining about your shit for years.”

Connie raised a hand, trying to de-escalate. “Yo, Ony, chill—”

But Ony wasn’t stopping. “Nah, someone’s gotta tell him.”

Eren clenched his jaw, barely able to keep his temper in check. “Tell me what, man?”

Connie sighed, glancing at Eren with a mixture of frustration and pity. “Eren, look—you’ve been neglecting her for years. Choosing to hang with us instead of being home with her, ignoring her calls when she’s just checking in…arguing over money when you both know that’s not even an issue for either of you. You act like she doesn’t mean anything to you, like she’s just there. You want me to go on?”

Eren was silent, his fists clenched, staring at the floor as their words started to sink in. He knew, deep down, that they were right. And yet, hearing it laid out like that hit him harder than he’d expected.

Ony didn’t hold back, his voice steady but with an edge that cut deep. “And let’s not forget about that toxic-ass friend of yours. The one who kept telling you to bail on her, hyping you up to act like she didn’t matter. You listened to him, man. When she needed you the most, when her dad was sick, you bailed. She went through that whole thing alone. You didn’t show up, didn’t even check in on her.” Ony shook his head, his expression a mix of frustration and disappointment. “You’re a real…fuck-ass nii—”

He cleared his throat, almost laughing bitterly. “We’ve talked about this with you for years. Hell, you even got into it with her brother because of that same ‘friend’—the one you let threaten her. Your wife, bro! And now, you wanna act mad because she’s out having fun, living her life?”

Eren tried to brush it off, tried to hold onto that defensive anger, but each word chipped away at the front he’d put up. Ony leaned in, eyes sharp. “How do you plan to fix any of that, huh?”

Eren looked down, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the edge of the table, Ony’s words echoing in his mind. “She met you when you had nothing, man. Look at your life now. She’s the one who was there, lifting you up, pushing you forward, making sure you had everything you needed. And how’d you repay her? By being a…a fuck-ass loser, gaming ‘til 3 a.m., blowing her off when she needed you the most.”

Eren clenched his jaw, the reality hitting him like a punch to the gut. He tried to keep his cool, but Ony wasn’t done.

“And now you’re saying you want her back? Now that she’s gone, you finally wanna try?” Ony’s voice softened, but the disappointment was clear. “Man, she’s out there living her life. You’re gonna have to do a hell of a lot more than just ‘want her back’ if you even think about being part of it again.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Eren muttered, struggling to find his footing. “I was dealing with a lot—”

Connie scoffed, shaking his head. “And you think she wasn’t? She married you, gave you a son, helped you get on your feet, twice. She was right there with you through everything. And what does she get? A husband who thinks she’s supposed to be grateful just ‘cause you didn’t cheat?”

Ony shook his head, his expression hardening. “Nah, man. You’re a full-on waste man. We’ve been your boys for years, telling you about this for years. But it’s like talking to a wall. You’re still friends with that toxic ass Elijah, aren’t you?”

Eren shifted uncomfortably, but Connie cut him off before he could respond.

“Did you even know he drove by your house talking wild about her when she was pregnant with Lenny?” Connie’s eyes bore into Eren’s, a rare mix of anger and disbelief on his face. “He was saying she’s gotta go, talking reckless, wishing her dead, man. And she told you about it, and what did you do? Took his side. You chose that trash over her, the woman carrying your son, the woman who’s been down for you from day one.”

Eren’s face darkened, guilt and anger mixing as he listened. He wanted to say something, anything, but the weight of his friends’ words left him speechless.

“Your own cousins had to step in to protect her,” Ony added, leaning back with a scoff. “And you? You did nothing. Didn’t even stand up for her. And now, here you are, mad that she’s finally out there living her life, trying to be happy. Man…fuck outta here with that.”

Eren swallowed hard, feeling the truth of every word, the silence that followed thick and suffocating. He could feel the resentment in the room—a long-standing frustration that had finally boiled over. And for the first time, Eren realized how far he’d let things slip away, and how much he’d lost in the process.

Eren leaned back in his chair, his hands running through his hair in frustration, his voice thick with regret. “Man,” he muttered, the weight of it all sinking in. “I messed up. I know I messed up. But… I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Ony’s eyes narrowed, a harsh laugh escaping his lips. “Messed up? That’s an understatement, bro. How you gon’ be around a man who threatened your wife, huh? She wasn’t your ex-wife, not even your girl—your wife, man. How you gonna fix that?”

Eren opened his mouth to reply, but Ony wasn’t done. “You had a chance to protect her. To stand up for her. And you chose to do nothing. You don’t just get to walk back into her life like nothing happened.”

Connie leaned back, taking a swig of his drink, then sighed, shaking his head. “Ony, man, you’re wasting your breath. Look at him.” He gestured toward Eren, a sharp bitterness in his voice. “Eren cares about Eren. It’s obvious Y/N ain’t mean that much to him anyway.”

Eren’s chest tightened at Connie’s words, but he tried to defend himself. “She does, man, she—”

Ony cut him off with a harsh scoff, leaning forward. “E, tell it to someone who cares.” He let the silence sit for a moment before continuing. “You think you can fix this with a couple of ‘I’m sorry’s’? With a text, or showing up when it’s convenient for you? Nah, man. You’ve gotta do the work, and you didn’t.”

The sting of their words hit harder than anything physical, and Eren slumped back in his chair, the anger, regret, and frustration churning inside him. The realization that he had lost her—and possibly them—for good was something he wasn’t ready to accept. But the truth was, he wasn’t sure how to make things right. He wasn’t even sure where to start.

Connie’s words hit hard, slicing through the room like a cold wind. He sighed, his tone heavy with frustration. “Why do you even still hang with that man, bro? Did you ever love Y/N, or was she just convenient ‘cause she loved you when no one else did?”

Eren froze, unable to respond right away. The question hung in the air, burning like a brand. His mind raced, but all that came out was silence. He knew Connie was right—he had let Elijah stick around for way too long, even though he’d known for years that the guy was trouble. He’d always had issues letting go of things, of people. But now, hearing it out loud, it made him feel like a fool.

And then, just as the tension threatened to suffocate him, Eren laughed—bitterly, almost hysterically. "Y/N told me this would happen. That she'd leave. She told me everything...but I have to repay her for everything she did for me, man." His voice wavered, but he tried to hold onto some semblance of pride.

Ony didn't buy it. “Maybe you can repay her by letting her go, Eren. Stop holding on like this is something you can fix by force.”

Eren’s heart slammed against his chest, panic bubbling inside him. “I can’t do that, man. I love her,” he said firmly, almost pleading, as though saying it out loud would make it true.

Connie burst out laughing, the sound sharp and mocking. “You’re funny, man,” he said, wiping his eyes. “You love her? You’ve been so busy with everything else that you didn’t even see her. You can’t just love someone when it’s convenient, bro. Love is action, not words.”

Eren’s laugh faltered. It was like a cold splash of water, the reality sinking in. He could say all the right things, but he knew it didn’t matter if he didn’t change, if he didn’t prove it. He was losing her, and the regret was like an anchor weighing him down.

Ony’s voice was low and steady. “If you love her, you need to let her be. Let her have the space she needs to breathe again. You can’t fix what’s broken by holding onto it too tight.”

But Eren wasn’t ready to hear that. Not yet. Not when everything inside him screamed to fight for her, to make it right somehow.

“I’m not ready to let her go,” he muttered, the words feeling like a confession he wasn’t proud of. “But I don’t know how to make things right either.”

Slight time skip.

The weekend with Lennox passed by in a blur, each moment spent with his son pulling Eren deeper into the quiet realization of how much he had messed up. Lennox was so full of life, so innocent, and every laugh, every hug, every small gesture made Eren’s chest ache with regret. He watched the way his son looked at him, as if he was the most important person in the world, and it made him realize how much he had taken for granted.

You had given him everything. When he could barely afford to feed himself, you made sure he ate. You were the one who supported him when he had nothing, when his dreams were just that—dreams. You fed him, clothed him, and helped him build a life, and he had been too blind to see it. You took away all his burdens, but in return, it seemed like he had left you with nothing but more.

Later that night, after Lennox had fallen asleep in his room, Eren found himself scrolling through your Instagram. He tried not to, but his fingers betrayed him as they tapped on the screen, his eyes scanning through the pictures and videos from your night out. You looked happy. You looked free, laughing with friends, living a life that didn’t include him.

The pang of guilt hit him again. It stung more than he expected. You had always been beautiful, but now, in these pictures, it was different. You looked so alive, so at peace. And it hit him hard—you never really smiled with him. Not like that. The way you smiled in these photos, the way you were carefree and glowing, was something he hadn’t seen in a long time. It was as if all the weight of the world had been lifted from your shoulders, and for the first time in a long time, you were truly yourself again.

Eren’s heart twisted in his chest. He had been so focused on himself, on his struggles, that he hadn’t even noticed how much he had drained you. How much he had left you to carry on your own while he just kept taking.

The thought of how much he had messed up, how much he had hurt you, hit him like a ton of bricks. You had given him everything, and he had given you nothing in return—not even the basic decency of truly being there. He had let you go, and now you were living your life, and he was left with nothing but regret.

His finger hovered over the screen, a text message to you sitting in his drafts, but he couldn't bring himself to send it. The words seemed empty, not enough to fix what he had broken.

Eren sighed, setting the phone down on the counter. The weight of his mistakes hung heavy in the air, suffocating him.

Your POV

You hadn’t heard from Eren all weekend, and to be honest, you were kind of relieved. The quiet had been nice, but it wasn’t without its own weight. You missed your little boy, Lennox, more than you cared to admit. The house felt too empty without him running around, causing chaos, or asking you a thousand questions. It was strange, the silence.

You figured if you called his iPad, he’d ignore the call as usual—typical Lenny. You chuckled to yourself, rolling your eyes. “Bad ass kid,” you muttered under your breath, but the thought of him made you smile despite yourself.

With a sigh, you decided to call Eren directly instead. Maybe, just maybe, you could talk to him about Lennox’s day. It’s not like you expected any real conversation, but you knew Eren wouldn’t ignore you. He picked up after three rings.

His face appeared on the screen, and you could immediately tell he was exhausted. Dark circles were under his eyes, his hair a little disheveled, and his expression was heavy.

“What’s up with you? Lenny wear you out with his antics?” you asked, trying to sound lighthearted, but there was a softness to your tone, a mix of concern and amusement. “I told you, he’s a handful.”

Eren let out a tired sigh, rubbing his face. “Lemme guess,” he said, his voice thick with exhaustion. “You called his iPad and he ignored you?”

You snorted. “You know he’s bad. You really think he’s gonna pick up for me?”

Eren’s eyes flickered for a second, a small, tired grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “He gets that from you,” he said, the words almost too quiet, like a fleeting moment of honesty.

“Yeah, right,” you said with a sarcastic smile, but your voice softened. “Put my son on the phone. I miss my baby.”

Eren hesitated for a moment, his gaze lingering on you. Then, with a quiet exhale, he shifted his camera and called out to Lennox, his voice a little more gentle. "Lenny, come here, bud. Mommy’s on the phone."

You waited eagerly, your heart tightening in your chest as you saw Lennox’s little face pop up on the screen. His eyes lit up the moment he saw you, and his smile made everything feel right again, if only for a moment.

"Mommy!" he exclaimed, his tiny hands reaching for the screen. "I miss you!"

Your heart melted. "I miss you too, baby," you said, voice soft, a smile tugging at your lips. "How’s your weekend with Daddy?"

He started talking a mile a minute, telling you about his time with Eren, his adventures with his toys, and all the little things he’d been up to. It wasn’t much, but to you, it was everything. It was the little pieces of him that made you feel close, even if you couldn’t be there with him.

Eren watched the exchange quietly, his eyes lingering on you for a moment before he turned to watch Lennox. There was something in his gaze, something you couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t just tiredness, not just exhaustion—there was a depth there, a mix of regret and yearning that made your chest tighten. But for now, you pushed that aside, just grateful to see your son smiling, happy, and alive on the other side of the screen.

You listened intently as Lennox babbled on about his day, your heart swelling with every word. The way he spoke with such enthusiasm, like the world was his playground. It was one of those moments where, despite everything that had changed, you could still find a piece of normalcy in the way he talked about his little world.

"And then when I woke up, Daddy was talking to Unca Connie and Unca Ony about mommy," Lennox said, his voice full of innocence as he continued recounting his weekend.

Your smile faltered for a brief second, and you looked at Eren. His expression was unreadable, but the way he was holding the phone, the slight stiffening of his posture, made something stir inside you. You raised an eyebrow, a playful yet pointed look on your face. "Oh, really?" you asked, curiosity mixing with a hint of sarcasm.

"Yah," Lennox said matter-of-factly, not picking up on the weight in the conversation. "Apparently they made Daddy look really sad. But then I watched Coco Melon with Rummie and CJ."

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped your lips. "Coco Melon," you mused, "the cure for all things, huh?"

Eren didn’t respond right away. He just stared at the screen for a moment, his gaze briefly flicking between you and Lennox. You could tell he wasn’t exactly thrilled about the conversation Lennox had just mentioned. It made your chest tighten a little, but you didn’t press it. Not yet, anyway.

Lennox, oblivious to the shift in the conversation, turned his attention to Eren with a sudden change of subject. "I want snacks, Daddy," he said, his voice demanding, just like any three-year-old who had a sudden craving.

Eren blinked, snapping back to the moment. He gave a small chuckle, the smile on his face genuine but tired. "Alright, alright, buddy," he said, his voice soft as he looked at his son. "I’ll get you something."

You could see the change in him when he looked at Lennox—his walls softening, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten as he focused on his son. It made your heart ache in a way you hadn’t expected. You were reminded of the man he used to be, the man you had fallen for, even if it felt like a lifetime ago.

"How about some fruit and crackers?" Eren offered, his voice light as he moved toward the kitchen, still holding the phone.

Lennox’s face lit up. "Yay!" he cheered, clapping his little hands.

You smiled fondly at the interaction, but your mind was still spinning from what Lennox had said earlier. Eren had been talking about you with Connie and Ony? You wondered what exactly they had said to him. What had made Eren so sad?

Before you could dwell too much on it, Lennox’s attention returned to you, his voice suddenly small. "Mommy, when can I come home?"

The question hit you unexpectedly. Your heart twisted, and you had to swallow the lump that formed in your throat. "Soon, baby," you said, keeping your voice steady, though your eyes felt a little warmer than usual. "You’ll be back with Mommy before you know it."

You caught Eren looking at you for a moment, his eyes dark with something you couldn’t quite place. It was hard to tell if it was regret, guilt, or maybe just the weight of everything between you two. But for now, you held on to the moment, the quiet peace of seeing your son so happy.

Eren watched as Lennox dashed off toward the living room to grab his iPad, making zoom noises with each step, completely oblivious to the tension building in the room. He sighed, leaning back against the counter as he rubbed his forehead. "I don't know where he gets all this energy from," he muttered, a small, almost wistful smile tugging at his lips as he watched Lennox run off.

You didn't let him linger on the moment for long. You weren’t in the mood for small talk or pretending that everything was fine. Cutting straight to the heart of the matter, you asked, "You talking about me with Connie and Ony, Eren?"

His smile faltered, and his shoulders tensed. He didn’t look at you immediately, eyes flicking toward Lennox before finally settling on you. There was a moment of hesitation before he sighed again, his voice dropping to a more serious tone.

"Yeah," he admitted, his voice almost too quiet. "They were... trying to talk some sense into me. You’ve been on my mind a lot, and they know it."

You couldn’t quite pinpoint the emotion that surfaced at his words. Part of you was relieved that he wasn’t trying to dodge the question, but the rest of you felt a tightness in your chest. You pressed your lips together, fighting the urge to snap, trying to keep your voice steady as you asked, "And what exactly did they say?"

Eren ran a hand through his hair, frustration clear in his posture. "They… they made me realize a lot of things I didn’t want to face. About us. About how I treated you." His gaze flickered toward the ground, as if he couldn’t quite look you in the eye as he said it. "I messed up, Y/N. I know I did. And I didn’t want to hear it from them, but... they’re right."

You took in a deep breath, trying to keep your emotions in check. "I’m not here to listen to your excuses, Eren," you said, your voice softer but firm. "I’m not some… I’m not some lesson to be learned from your friends. You had the chance to make it right a long time ago."

Eren nodded slowly, the weight of his regret sitting heavily between you both. "I know," he said, his voice low, like he was ashamed to say it aloud. "I didn’t show up when I should have. I was so caught up in myself, I didn’t see how much you were doing for me. For us. You were right... you deserved better than that."

The words hit you harder than you expected. There was so much history between you, so many moments you’d both buried under years of silence and unspoken resentment. But hearing him admit it, even just a little, stirred something in you—something that made you hesitate before responding.

"You don’t get to just fix it all with a few words, Eren," you said, your heart beating a little faster. "I’m not your savior anymore. You chose all this."

Eren’s eyes softened, guilt flooding his gaze. "I know, and I don’t expect you to forgive me right away. But I’m trying, Y/N. I really am. I’m not asking for you to come back, or anything like that. But I need to show you that I can be better, that I can do right by you and Lennox."

For a long moment, the two of you just stood there, the weight of everything lingering in the space between your words. You wanted to believe him, you really did, but after everything that had happened, you couldn’t help but wonder if it was too late for that kind of redemption.

But then, as if to interrupt the tension in the room, Lennox came bounding back into the kitchen, holding up his iPad triumphantly. "I got it, Mommy!" he cheered.

You couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him, his energy pulling you out of the heavy silence. Eren’s gaze softened again as he watched Lennox, and for a brief second, you saw the man he used to be—the one who had cared, who had loved. The one who still wanted to do right by his son.

You exhaled slowly, giving him a small nod. "You’ve got a lot to prove, Eren. But for now, let’s just focus on him." You pointed to Lennox, who was eagerly awaiting your attention.

Eren nodded, his expression quiet but resolute. "I will. I promise."

You said your goodbyes to Eren and Lenny. Eren asked if he can keep Lennox longer, you said you will call him back later with an answer. you then called up your group.

You leaned back against the counter as you listened to the back-and-forth in your group chat. The sound of their voices was comforting, a small reminder that you weren’t going through this alone. But the frustration, the anger, that still lingered inside of you came to a head with Jaynae’s words.

Jaynae didn’t hold back, as always, but her words were sharp and right on target. "Eren is a fuck ass white boy..." she started, and you could hear the anger in her voice. "Like Y/N doesn't know. What has he done for Y/N really? Nothing, even now, he’s stressing her about how he cares now and shit... fuck him, and I’m saying that bold."

Solene quickly jumped in, trying to tone things down. "Jay, don’t say that. We’re all feeling this way, but you don’t need to be that harsh."

Reiner’s voice cut through the background, low and calm, as he spoke to his wife. "Babe, relax." You could hear the concern in his voice, but Jaynae wasn’t having it.

You stared at your phone for a moment, absorbing everything they said. The anger in their voices mirrored what you had been feeling for so long. But part of you didn’t want to hear it from them, even though you knew it was the truth. You knew it deep down. You were so tired of carrying the weight of Eren’s actions. So tired of forgiving him every time he came crawling back.

You spoke up, your voice steady but strained. "I didn’t want to tell you guys this, but Lennox said something tonight." You heard them go silent, waiting for you to continue. "He said that when Eren was talking to Connie and Ony, he sounded really sad, like he felt bad about everything. He said he was talking about me and how he messed up."

Kaylah was the first to respond, her voice soft but knowing. "So Eren finally gets it. Took him long enough."

Solene agreed with a sigh, adding, "Doesn’t matter, though. He doesn’t know how much you cried over his shit. How many nights you spent worrying about him, about the future of your family, while he was out there… just not caring."

You didn’t know what to say. Part of you wanted to defend him—because, in a way, you always did—but the truth was, you couldn’t anymore. You had given him enough chances, let him back in more times than you cared to count, only for him to mess it up again.

Jaynae’s anger was palpable through the phone. "He doesn’t get to come back and act like he cares now. He fucked up. And I don’t care if he finally understands or not. It’s too little, too late." Her words hit you hard, but you knew she was right.

You felt a pang of guilt for not being able to protect yourself sooner, for not realizing how much damage had been done. You’d let him back into your life each time, hoping things would be different, but they never were.

Reiner’s voice cut through the chaos of emotions. "Babe, relax. We know you’re mad, but yelling isn’t going to fix it."

Jaynae let out a frustrated huff, but she seemed to take Reiner’s advice. "Fine. But Eren needs to hear this. He needs to know that this isn’t just about him feeling bad. It’s about the years of bullshit he put you through. The neglect. The selfishness."

You nodded, even though no one could see you. "Yeah. It’s about time he realized it, but I don’t know if I can just forgive him, even if he gets it now."

Kaylah’s voice was warm, understanding. "Don’t force yourself to, Y/N. You’ve done enough for him. It’s his turn to make things right, but you don’t owe him forgiveness if you’re not ready for it."

Solene agreed, adding, "You have to do what’s best for you and Lennox. Don’t let him back in unless you truly feel he’s worth it."

You felt a small bit of relief in their words. You weren’t alone in this. You didn’t have to make this decision on your own. Your friends, your support system, were there, reminding you that you were allowed to be angry, to take time, and to protect yourself.

"I’ll call him back later," you said, finally. "But I don’t know what to tell him. I can’t just… go back to how things were. Not after everything."

Jaynae’s voice softened. "Do what you need to do, girl. We’ve got your back, no matter what."

You smiled slightly, feeling the weight of the support from your friends. Maybe you didn’t have to figure everything out tonight. Maybe you just needed time to breathe, to think, and to make sure that whatever decision you made, it would be the one that was right for you and Lennox.

For now, you just needed to focus on him, the only person who had been there for you through everything. And that was enough.

You sometime after the call to clean up the house, put away Lennox's toys and do a quick target run. your car was in the shop so you had to Uber there. Part of you with Lennox was here right now, he loved you guys' lil target runs. while picking up his lil snacks and stuff for yourself. You heard someone say, Mommy, you follow the voice to see Lennox running towards you and Eren not too far behind.

You stood there for a moment, the sight of Eren and Lennox in their matching sweat suits catching you off guard. The last thing you expected was to see Eren, out of the blue, walking toward you with a cart full of healthy snacks and juices for Lennox. You had come to Target for a quick run, and now you had to face him—looking tired, a little off, but still... there, with your son.

Lennox was practically bouncing with excitement, running up to you with a wide grin on his face. "Mommy!" he called out, his voice full of joy as he wrapped his tiny arms around your legs.

You bent down to hug him back, smiling despite the tension that was bubbling inside you. "Hey, baby," you said softly, trying to hide the little knot of unease that had started forming in your stomach. You glanced up at Eren, who was standing not far behind, pushing a cart of what looked like the same things you had in yours. Healthy snacks, juices... the usual, but with a few extras. The toy car was definitely a surprise.

Lennox pulled back from you, eyes sparkling as he tugged at your sleeve. "Daddy took me to get snacks, Mom, and a new toy car! I want a big one! Can I get a big one?" he said, excitement practically radiating off of him.

You glanced at the toy aisle in the distance, then back at Eren, who simply shrugged as if to say, "What can I do?" You raised your eyebrows at him, silently asking, Where is he going to put that thing?

Eren gave you a tired smile, his shoulders slumping slightly as he looked at you and then at Lennox, who was practically bouncing on his heels in anticipation. "Let’s get a smaller one for now, okay?" he said gently to Lennox, who immediately pouted but nodded his agreement.

Lennox’s little face scrunched up in disappointment, but he obeyed, knowing that once he got to pick something, it would be hard to say no to him.

Eren then looked over at you, his expression soft but tired. "Want me to take over for a bit? Just add the stuff in your cart to mine, and I’ll finish it up for you," he offered, his voice low but calm.

For a moment, you hesitated. Part of you wanted to refuse, wanting to maintain your independence, but then you saw the exhaustion in his face. You couldn't help but feel a tiny pang of sympathy for him, despite everything. He looked like he was trying, but... was he really?

You glanced at your cart, the small stack of things you had grabbed already, and then back at Lennox, who was happily distracted by a row of toy cars. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to let him help for once, especially when you had your hands full with so much already.

"Fine," you said, keeping your tone neutral, but there was something in the way you said it that made Eren pause for just a second. You added the items in your cart to his, keeping your gaze on Lennox as he fidgeted and glanced between the two of you. "Just don’t go overboard with the snacks this time, okay?" You raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at the corner of your lips.

Eren nodded, pushing the cart a little closer to yours. "I won’t," he promised, though his voice held a hint of the same weariness that was obvious in his posture.

It felt odd—standing here with him in Target, talking about mundane things like toys and snacks when just the other day you could barely stand being in the same room with him. Yet, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was an attempt, some small sign that he was trying to make things right. But was it enough? Was he enough?

You couldn’t let your guard down just yet, even if you wanted to.

You and eren walked through the aisles, picking up stuff for your son's and your respective houses. You paused for a moment as Eren casually placed another item in the cart without asking, his fingers brushing yours ever so slightly. The simple gesture brought a flood of mixed emotions that you quickly shoved down. You'd been trying to keep your distance from him, both physically and emotionally, but somehow—here you were. Walking the aisles of Target with him, the man who had been a stranger in your life not so long ago, doing things for you without hesitation, like it was just another day in the world you used to share.

You gave him a sideways glance. "You don’t have to do that. I can handle my own, you know?" you said softly, though you didn’t move to take the item out of the cart.

He didn’t look at you right away, but his voice was low and steady when he responded. "I know you can, babe...Y/N...but just… let me, okay?"

The way he said your name, soft but insistent, made something in your chest tighten. You didn’t respond right away. Part of you wanted to insist on doing everything yourself, as you always had. But another part of you—something deep down—wanted to let him help. To let him in. To stop carrying the weight of everything all on your own.

Before you could process any more of that, you heard Lennox laughing and shouting as he ran ahead of you both, waving snacks in his tiny hands at strangers and telling them, "Hi!" like they were his best friends.

"Hey!" you called after him, but it was no use. He was already off, running toward the next group of people to share his little treats with. You couldn’t help but smile, even though you were mentally trying to corral him from a distance.

Eren watched him for a moment before turning to you, his gaze more serious now, and you could feel the weight of what he was about to say. "You’re doing a great job with him," he said, his voice softer than usual. "You know that, right?"

You paused, trying not to let the compliment make you feel anything more than what it was—just words. But it still hit you in a way you didn’t expect. You’d been doing everything for Lennox on your own for so long, putting in the work and making sure he was always taken care of, even when it felt like you were running on empty. To hear it from him—it was unexpected, but not unwelcome.

"Thanks," you said quietly, your eyes briefly meeting his. "It’s not easy, but I try. He’s worth it."

Eren didn’t reply right away, but you saw the look in his eyes—a mix of regret, pride, and maybe even something else you couldn’t place. The whole situation felt surreal. Maybe, just maybe, he was beginning to understand the weight of everything you’d been carrying.

But before you could get lost in your thoughts, Lennox came running back, face lit up with excitement as he tugged on your sleeve. "Mommy! Mommy! I want this one!" He showed you a toy car, the same one he'd pointed out earlier.

You smiled at your son’s enthusiasm, even as you glanced at Eren, who was still standing beside you, silently watching the exchange. You could almost feel his presence like a quiet support, as if he was trying to be part of this moment with you. Trying to fix things, even if it was just in little ways.

"Alright, Lenny," you said, leaning down to his level. "Let’s grab it and then we can get going. Daddy and I still have some shopping to finish."

Eren’s voice cut through before you could get back up. "Let me take care of the toy. You grab the rest."

You met his eyes again, studying his face for any hint of insincerity, but there was nothing there. Just that tired, yet genuine look.

After a moment, you gave in, nodding. "Okay."

It wasn’t about the toy. It wasn’t about the groceries. It was about this—this moment where you were both trying to figure out what came next. Trying, in your ways, to make things work for Lennox. Maybe, just maybe, it was enough for now.

You were finally up at the register, you went to tell the cashier to pass you a divider to separate your items and Eren stopped you and paid and handled everything.

 Eren pushed the cart out with Lenny sitting it looking a lil sleepy. 

Eren asked 'Where are you parked."

 "My car is in the shop." 

Eren sighed. Lemme drop you home then "Eren it's fine I'll call an uber." Eren eyed you up and down and put all the items in the car while strapping Lennox in the car seat "Just get in yn...please"

You hesitated, your hand still hovering over your phone to call an Uber, but the look Eren gave you made you pause. His expression was somewhere between pleading and frustration, like he didn’t want to leave you to handle everything on your own. You could feel the weight of the moment—his insistence, the tension between you two that had never really gone away, no matter how much you tried to distance yourself.

You looked down at Lennox, who was already half-asleep in the cart, his little head drooping as he fought to stay awake. You knew you’d have to carry him from the cart to the car anyway, so maybe it would be easier just to let Eren drop you off.

"Please, Y/N," Eren repeated, his voice quieter now. "Just get in. I’m not trying to do anything. I just want to make sure you and Lenny get home safe."

His words caught you off guard, but there was sincerity in them. You could see it in the way he was carefully placing the bags in the trunk and strapping Lennox into the car seat, like he was trying to make up for everything that had happened.

You sighed, feeling a mix of exhaustion and confusion. The old part of you—the part that used to rely on him—wanted to say yes, wanted to just accept his help. But there was still that wall between you, that part of you that had been hurt too many times to let go easily.

"I don’t need you to do this, Eren," you said, your voice soft but firm. "I can handle it on my own."

Eren stood up, closing the trunk, and gave you a look that was almost... sad. His eyes lingered on you for a moment before he spoke again, this time more quietly. "I know you can. But that doesn’t mean I can’t help, Y/N. Let me do this."

You glanced at him, searching his face for any hint of insincerity, but all you saw was exhaustion and... maybe regret? You didn't know if it was enough to make you let go of your pride, but you could tell he wasn’t going to push any further.

With a sigh, you gave in, finally nodding. "Fine."

Eren’s face softened, relief flashing across his features, but he didn’t say anything more. He simply opened the passenger door for you and waited, stepping aside to let you in.

You climbed in, shutting the door behind you, and Eren quickly got in on the other side. As he started the car, the familiar hum of the engine filling the space between you, he didn’t say anything for a while. He seemed focused on the road, both hands gripping the wheel, his jaw tight as though he was holding something back.

Lennox was still half-conscious in the backseat, his little voice murmuring softly as he tried to stay awake. The car was quiet except for the sound of the road and your son's occasional mumble, but the silence between you and Eren felt different this time. Less cold, maybe even a little softer.

You couldn’t help but feel the weight of everything—the past, the present, the things left unsaid. But for now, you let it go, and for the first time in a long while, you just allowed yourself to be in this moment.

Eren's pov 

She fell asleep in the passenger seat of my car. I took out my phone and took a picture of her then one of Lennox passed out in the back seat. I felt terrible.

While I was out there acting like yn didn't mean anything to me, putting fake friends above her. All she ever did was love me and try to learn to love me when I didn't love myself. 

Eren’s heart tightened in his chest as he stared at the photos on his phone. He didn’t care that it felt wrong to snap the pictures without her knowing—he had to see it. He had to remind himself of what he lost, of the love that had once been so constant in his life and now felt like a distant memory. The photo of Y/N, peaceful in the passenger seat, her hair falling across her face as she slept, made the guilt burn in his stomach. She looked so... content—something he hadn't given her in so long.

He stared at Lennox in the rearview mirror. His son, just like him, already fighting sleep, but the exhaustion won out. The sight of Lennox sleeping soundly made the pain cut even deeper. He wasn’t just hurting Y/N; he was hurting their son. Their family.

This is what I lost.

The words echoed in his mind, over and over, until they burned into his skull. He’d made a mess of everything. While he had been out there, pretending he didn’t need her, letting people like Elijah cloud his judgment and get in his head, Y/N had been there—always there. Loving him in the way that only she could. And what did he do? He pushed her away, took her for granted, chose everything and everyone else over her, and watched her slowly break apart.

What did she even see in him? What kind of man was he, that he let something so real slip away?

He turned the wheel, taking the turn toward her house, his fingers gripping the wheel with a mixture of desperation and regret. He didn’t know what else to do, or what to say. Words felt useless now. He had to show her, somehow, that he was willing to do whatever it took to make things right. If she’d even let him.

But the thought of her moving on without him, of him being just another chapter in her past, gnawed at him. He hated it. The thought of her smiling, truly smiling, with someone else—someone who could love her the way she deserved—was unbearable.

His grip tightened on the steering wheel, and he forced the thoughts away.

No. He wasn’t going to let that happen.

He glanced over at Y/N, still asleep beside him, her breathing slow and steady. She had always been so strong—too strong for her own good. He didn’t deserve her, but he wasn’t going to let her go without fighting for her. This time, he wasn’t going to fuck it up. This time, he was going to show her that he saw her. That he valued her. That he loved her.

It was time to stop being the man who kept running away from his own feelings. It was time to be the man who could fight for the woman he loved.

The woman he still loved.

Your pov

He woke you up gently, letting me know he was here, his voice soft enough not to wake Lennox. You watched as he unstrapped Lenny from his car seat, carefully lifting him into his arms, his hands steady as he held our son close. He carried him inside with that effortless ease, like it was the most natural thing in the world, then went back out to bring in the bags.

You took Lenny to his room, and got him ready for bed, tucking him in and whispering a goodnight before slipping back out. When you returned to the living room, Eren was busy unpacking the bags, putting away all the things we’d picked out at Target, as if this was still his home too. The quiet between us was heavy, and you found myself glancing over, wondering what was going through his mind.

“About the stuff you were gonna take for Lenny,” you said, breaking the silence.

He shrugged, barely looking up. “I’m good for it. Just wanna make sure things are straight here first.”

you nodded, taking in his familiar expression, the hint of something behind those tired eyes. “Thanks, Eren.”

He paused, his gaze finally meeting mine. “Y/N… can we talk? Like, for real?”

His voice held a rawness you hadn’t heard in a long time.

Part of you wanted to tell him to leave, to protect yourself from whatever promises or apologies he had for you now. But another part—the part that still felt the sting of lost years and wasted dreams—was curious. Maybe, after all this time, he had something real to say.

"Alright," you finally said, folding your arms and leaning against the kitchen counter as he finished putting the last few items away.

He turned to face you, hands stuffed in his pockets, looking more like a man on the verge of spilling his soul than the self-assured Eren you once knew. “I know I messed up,” he started, his eyes finding yours with a mix of remorse and determination. “I didn’t just mess up... I ruined the best thing that ever happened to me.”

You stayed quiet, letting him get it out, though the words struck a chord.

“I took you for granted, Y/N. I was so focused on everything else—the guys, the business, my own pride—hell, I don’t even know what I was so focused on half the time. And the worst part? You were the one constant, the one person who showed up, who never quit, even when I didn’t deserve it.”

He ran a hand through his hair, glancing away like he was ashamed. “I’m not asking you to forgive me or take me back. I know it doesn’t work like that. But... I need you to know that I see it now. I see what I did to you, and it eats me up inside.”

A lump formed in your throat as you looked at him, trying to keep your emotions in check. You’d waited so long to hear something like this from him, but now that he was finally saying it, it was almost too much.

He continued, “I’m trying to be better. For Lennox... and for you. Even if we never go back to the way things were, I need you to know that. And if I can ever make things right, if there’s ever anything you need, I’ll be there. I swear, I’ll be there.”

You took a shaky breath, glancing at the man in front of you—the man who, for the first time in a long time, seemed honest. Vulnerable. And maybe even a little lost.

“Eren…” you started, choosing your words carefully. “I needed this... a long time ago. I don’t know if I can ever forget the things we went through, and I don’t know if it’ll ever feel the same.”

He nodded, his expression a mixture of regret and understanding. “I know. I don’t expect you to. I just—thank you for hearing me out.”

There was a silence between you, filled with all the words you couldn’t say, all the apologies he could never fully express.

As Eren moved to leave, you felt something stir inside you, a mixture of anger and longing that you couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Eren, wait,” you said sharply, and he froze, hand on the doorknob. He turned back, eyes searching your face with a glimmer of hope. “Stay,” you said, your voice softer this time. “I mean… for Lennox. He’d probably want you here when he wakes up.”

He hesitated, clearly surprised, but you saw the flicker of relief flash across his face. Eren nodded slowly, stepping away from the door and back into the room.

You crossed your arms, not fully ready to let your guard down. “Don’t think this changes anything,” you said, unable to stop yourself from letting the bitterness show. “This… confession or apology or whatever this is. You don’t get to just walk back in here like nothing happened.”

“I know that, Y/N,” he said, his voice low. “I know I don’t deserve a second chance, especially not from you.”

You laughed, though there was no humor in it. “You think an apology can undo years of you putting everyone else before me? Making me feel like a fool for sticking by you?”

His jaw clenched, eyes hardening. “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t hate myself for it? I’m here because I want to make things right, not pretend that I didn’t screw everything up.”

You stepped closer, the tension between you sparking like electricity. “But you didn’t care when it mattered, did you, Eren? When I was crying, begging you to put us first—you were out there, with your boys or with some leech of a friend. And now, after all this time, you want to feel bad?”

Eren’s face darkened, his fists clenching at his sides. “You don’t think I know what I did?” he shot back, his voice rising. “You don’t think I see it every time I look at you and realize that I lost the only person who ever gave a damn about me? I know I’m too late—I just can’t sit here and do nothing about it.”

You let out a shaky breath, the anger warring with an ache that had never fully left you. “You say that now, but it’s easy to regret it all when you’ve already lost. It’s too late to go back, Eren. You can’t just show up now and act like you’re some savior.”

He took a step forward, closing the space between you, his eyes intense, filled with something raw. “You don’t think I know I’m too late? I’m just trying, for once in my life, to do the right thing. Even if you hate me.”

Your chest tightened as he looked at you like that, with a fire in his gaze that was so familiar, so maddening. His presence filled the room, suffocating yet strangely comforting, a reminder of all the nights you spent hoping he’d say these words.

“I should hate you,” you whispered, almost to yourself. “I should hate you for all the ways you hurt me. And yet…”

He held your gaze, his expression shifting to something softer, more vulnerable. “And yet… what?”

You shook your head, fighting back the tears that were threatening to spill. “I don’t even know anymore, Eren. Part of me wants to push you out and never see you again, and part of me…”

You trailed off, feeling foolish, but Eren’s hand reached out, brushing against your arm. The touch sent a jolt through you, reigniting emotions you’d tried to bury. His eyes softened as he looked at you, and you felt a pang of the old connection that had once been your everything.

“If there’s any part of you that doesn’t want me gone,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, “then let me try. Even if it’s just for Lennox.”

You searched his face, torn between the anger, the hurt, and the memories. “Fine,” you said finally, voice thick with emotion. “You can stay tonight. But don’t think this is some invitation to waltz back into my life like nothing happened. You have to earn every bit of my trust back, and right now, you’re starting from nothing.”

Eren nodded, a glimmer of relief crossing his face. “I’ll take it,” he said softly, as if he knew the magnitude of what you’d just allowed.

You turned away, heading towards your room with one last look over your shoulder. “Make yourself comfortable,” you said, voice steadier than you felt. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

It was 1 a.m., and sleep just wouldn’t come. You slipped out of bed and made your way downstairs, hoping maybe a glass of water or the stillness of the night would bring some calm. When you reached the back porch, you spotted Eren outside, sitting alone, his silhouette softened by the dim glow of his cigarette. You watched for a moment, noticing his lips moving, unsure if he was on the phone or just talking to himself.

“Man, I don’t know if I can handle this,” you heard him murmur, his voice barely cutting through the quiet night air. “I know I deserve this, but… I really love her.”

And then another voice came through the line—a voice you recognized all too well: Elijah.

“For what, her?” Elijah scoffed, his tone dripping with venom. “I been told you she ain’t no good. Her and her whole fuck-ass family. You think it’s her that’s got you where you’re at? It’s all you, man. She divorced you, took half of what you worked for, and you didn’t even want children in the first place.”

You stayed quiet, pulse quickening, curiosity and a hint of hurt holding you in place. You wanted to hear Eren’s response—needed to.

Eren sighed, his voice quieter, wearier. “Why you hate her so much, man?”

“‘Cause she ain’t shit, bro,” Elijah snapped, a hint of anger and arrogance. “She’s useless, ain’t ever taken care of you, ain’t no good.”

A beat of silence stretched between them. Eren’s jaw clenched, his profile shadowed but strong. His reply cut through the tension.

“This is why I was tryna keep my distance from you.”

Elijah cursed, his voice harsh and biting, words meant to tear at Eren’s resolve. But Eren didn’t respond. His grip tightened on the phone before he muttered, “I’m good, man,” and hung up, letting the phone drop beside him. He leaned back, took another long drag from his cigarette, eyes lost somewhere in the distance, the weight of his thoughts heavy on his shoulders.

You stood there, unseen but unable to ignore the quiet intensity of the scene, a small crack of light on the depth of Eren’s struggle… and maybe something else.

You watched him quietly from the shadows, your heart pounding at what you’d just heard. Eren seemed worn down, his shoulders slumped as he took a long drag, staring out into the night. You didn’t know whether to feel vindicated, hurt, or relieved—maybe all of it at once. You’d suspected for a long time that Elijah was one of the reasons behind Eren’s distance, but to hear it confirmed felt like reopening an old wound.

After a few moments, Eren seemed to notice your presence. He turned, his eyes widening slightly before settling into a tired look, one you recognized as the same mix of shame and frustration that always appeared when he was forced to confront the mess he’d created.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, trying for a casual tone, though he seemed to sense there was no use in pretending.

You shrugged, stepping closer and crossing your arms. “Funny, I could say the same about you. Heard enough to know I was right about him.”

Eren exhaled slowly, his gaze dropping as he stubbed out the cigarette. “You don’t need to worry about Eli. I… I’m done with him.” He sounded as though he was convincing himself as much as you.

“Eren,” you began, searching for the words. “You kept him around for years, even when I told you what he’d been saying, even when you knew what he thought of me.” The words felt heavy as they left your lips, carrying the weight of all the nights you’d tried to explain why it hurt you that he valued Eli’s word so much.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I know. And I should have listened to you. Hell, I should have seen it myself. I was so wrapped up in trying to hang onto everything… my friends, my pride, my independence, that I didn’t realize what I was letting go of until it was too late.” He paused, his voice softening. “And now, it’s you I’m trying to hang onto.”

You crossed your arms tighter, steeling yourself. “Words don’t mean much, Eren. Not anymore.”

He looked at you with a kind of desperation that made your resolve waver, just slightly. “I know they don’t. But I need you to know that it’s not just words. I’ve been cutting off people who aren’t any good for me. I want to be better for Lennox… and for you, if there’s even a chance I could earn that.”

You shook your head, trying to keep your composure. “It’s going to take more than just getting rid of people, Eren. You’ve hurt me in ways I can’t just forget.”

He looked down, guilt flashing across his face. “I know. And if that means we never get back together, then… then I have to live with that. But I don’t want to hurt you anymore.”

Silence hung between you, heavy and charged, as you watched him, conflicted. His words sounded real, but the years of broken promises made it hard to trust anything he said. Still, the vulnerability in his eyes made it hard to turn away.

You finally nodded. “Then prove it. Not just to me, but to Lennox. Show me that this isn’t just another empty promise.”

Eren stubbed out his cigarette, his gaze softening as he noticed you by the doorway. Without a word, he reached over, taking your hand and pulling you gently onto his lap. You could feel the warmth of his embrace and the lingering scent of smoke as he held you close, his chest rising and falling beneath you. His arms wrapped around you tightly, like he was scared to let go.

The weight of his words, his touch—it all felt like it was tugging you back into memories you’d tried to bury. His breath was warm against your neck as he murmured, “I remember you picking out the colours for every room, saying how you wanted a place Lennox could run around in, how you pictured us… growing old here. I couldn’t see it then, but I can now.”

You shifted slightly, feeling a pang in your chest. “Eren… we’re not the same people we were back then. You say you love me now, but where was that love when I needed it most?”

He pulled you closer, his voice thick. “I know I can’t make up for all the ways I failed you, but I’m asking for a chance to be better. To give you the love you deserved from the start.”

You wanted to keep your resolve, to remind him that you weren’t someone he could just pull close when it suited him. But the way he held you, the sincerity in his voice—it was everything you’d wanted to hear, but it also reminded you of every hurtful memory, every time you’d felt alone in a house that should have been filled with love.

“You think it’s that simple?” you whispered, half-pleading, half-defiant, trying to keep from giving in completely.

“No. It’s not simple. It’s going to take time, and I know you might never forgive me fully. But if there’s even a small part of you that still wants me, that still remembers why we fell in love in the first place… then let me show you. Let me prove I’m not that selfish guy who didn’t appreciate you.” He looked into your eyes, his hand brushing a stray hair from your face. “Please, let me stay… for you and Lennox.”

The weight of his words lingered, stirring up feelings you weren’t ready to face. But with his arms around you, it felt, for just a moment, like maybe things could be different.

You sighed, a mixture of frustration and longing swirling inside you. Maybe it was a mistake—one that would pull you back into the hurt and anger you’d worked so hard to get past. But as you looked into his eyes, so filled with regret and something that almost felt like hope, you couldn’t bring yourself to push him away.

“Okay,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. You looked away, not wanting him to see the vulnerability you’d just let slip. “But don’t think this is a reset. Things can’t just go back to how they were.”

Eren’s grip on you tightened, and you could feel the relief in his touch. “I know. I don’t want things to be the way they were. I want them to be better. I want to… earn this. Whatever it takes, I’ll do it.”

You held his gaze, seeing a glimmer of the Eren you’d fallen for—the one who’d been lost to pride, mistakes, and years of neglect. It felt like standing on the edge of something you weren’t sure would hold, but a part of you, buried beneath the hurt, was curious enough to see if it could.

“Just… don’t make me regret this,” you murmured, resting your head against his chest, feeling his heart beat beneath your ear, steady but strong.

Eren leaned down, his voice barely above a whisper. “I won’t. Not this time.”

As you sat together, the silence between you felt both familiar and new, like the beginning of something unsteady but hopeful.

Eren’s lips brushed against yours, gentle at first, testing boundaries, as if he wasn’t sure if you’d pull away. The kiss was soft, slow, filled with an ache you hadn’t felt in ages, like he was searching for something in you he’d lost a long time ago.

His hand moved to cradle your cheek, his thumb brushing tenderly as he deepened the kiss. You could feel the hesitation in him, the desperation, and yet… you let yourself get lost in it, sinking into the warmth of him, the familiarity of his touch that still managed to feel brand new.

His other arm tightened around your waist, pulling you closer. It was like he was afraid to let go, like he knew this moment was fragile, and he didn’t want to shatter it. You could feel his heart pounding against yours, each beat reminding you of what you’d once shared—and the pain that had come with it.

You broke away, just slightly, catching your breath, looking up at him. His eyes were heavy with emotion, raw, and for a second, you saw the vulnerability he’d kept hidden for so long.

“Eren,” you whispered, barely able to say his name, feeling the weight of everything it meant.

“I’m not gonna mess this up again,” he murmured, his voice rough but filled with certainty. He searched your face, his fingers tracing the curve of your jaw. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere this time.”

Eren kissed you again this time picking you up and carrying you to your bed, the one you shared with him. Eren looked around the room for a moment “You didn’t change anything in here much.

You laughed “Nah, I liked the decor.”

Eren slowly pulled your pants down your legs, drinking in the sight of your bare skin with hungry eyes. He nudged your thighs further apart, settling between them like a man starved.

"Baby, please," he rasped, voice raw with desperation. "I need you back. Need to feel you again, all of you."

He lowered his head, tongue flicking out to taste your slick folds. Eren groaned at the first intimate brush of your essence on his tongue, the flavour igniting something primal deep within him. He lapped at your feverishly, delving deep with each broad stroke.

"Fuck, you taste divine," Eren gasped, mouth glistening with your arousal. "Missed this sweet cunt, missed hearing you scream on my tongue."

He sealed his lips around your clit, suckling the sensitive bud. His fingers joined in the assault, pumping in and out of your dripping channel in tandem with the thrusts of his tongue.

"Take me back, love," Eren pleaded, the words muffled against your skin. "Let me worship this pussy, fucking ruin you for anyone else."

He added a third finger, stretching your wide, feeling your walls begin to flutter around the intrusion. Eren knew you were close, could taste your impending release, and he doubled his efforts.

"Cum for me, baby," he commanded, voice a low growl. "Let go and fucking drench my face."

Eren sealed his mouth over yours again, tongue delving deep, fingers curling just right. He could feel the telltale tremble in your thighs, the sharp inhale

Fuck Daddy Ouu..Right there, you groaned.

Eren groaned against your heated flesh as you cried out for him, your thighs trembling on either side of his head. He could feel you getting closer and closer to the edge with each stroke of his tongue, each pump of his fingers.

"That's it, baby," he rasped, words muffled against your soaked folds. "Let go, cum all over Daddy's face."

your hands flew to Eren's hair, fisting the brown strands as he relentlessly worked you with his mouth and fingers. your body began to quake, back arching off the bed as your release crashed over you in waves.

"F-Fuck, Eren!" you wailed, hips bucking wildly against him. Eren held you down, keeping his mouth firmly in place to catch every drop of your essence. He lapped up your release greedily, the taste and sound of her pleasure shooting straight to his aching cock.

As your tremors began to subside, Eren pulled back, licking his lips in satisfaction. He crawled up your body, hovering over you with a predatory glint in his eyes.

"Mm, delicious as always," he purred, grinding his still-clothed erection against your sensitive clit. "But I'm not done with you yet, baby girl. Still need to feel this tight little cunt wrapped around my cock."

Without warning, Eren sat back on his heels and yanked his pants down, freeing his straining dick. In a quick movement, he flipped you onto her stomach and lifted your hips, lining himself up with your entrance.

"Fuck, you're so wet for me," Eren groaned, catching a glimpse of her swollen glistening clit as he positioned himself behind her. 

The sight of your delicate, wet folds, still flushed and slick from your recent orgasm, made his mouth water. He had to taste her again, had to feel her come undone on his tongue again.  

"Shh, relax baby," Eren cooed, his breath ghosting over your heated skin. "Gonna make you feel so fucking good."  With that, he dipped his head, extending his tongue to lap at your tender bud. Your sharp inhale was music to his ears as he started to work you over with long, broad strokes. 

He alternated between fast flicks and slow, deliberate licks, teasing you mercilessly.  "That's it, let me hear those pretty little moans," Eren encouraged, one hand reaching up to pinch and roll a pert nipple. "Gonna suck this clit, make you ride my face until you're seeing stars."  He sealed his lips around the sensitive nub, suckling gently before grazing it with his teeth. 

At the same time, he slipped two fingers into your dripping channel, pumping them in time with the thrusts of his tongue. 

 Your hands flew to the sheets, gripping them tightly as Eren relentlessly stimulated yourr most intimate places. Your thighs began to tremble, a telltale sign of your impending climax.  "Cum for me, baby," Eren demanded, voice low and authoritative. "Coat my tongue with your cum. Let me drink you down like a good boy."

Your body convulsed as another orgasm ripped through her, her inner walls clamping down around Eren’s fingers as she came undone on his tongue. He lapped up her release greedily, swallowing every drop of her essence with a low groan of appreciation.

As her tremors began to subside, Eren slowly withdrew his fingers from her needy cunt. He crept up her body, pushing your braids to one side to press open-mouthed kisses along the column of your sweat-slicked neck.

"Thank you, baby," he rasped against her skin, voice rough with emotion. "For giving me another chance to show you how much I need you, how much I fucking love you."

Eren felt his thick cock poised at her entrance, the blunt head nudging insistently against her swollen folds. Then, with a single, powerful thrust, Eren sheathed himself fully inside her, stretching her deliciously.

"Shit, you feel incredible," he groaned, hips rolling into yours. "Love being buried in this perfect pussy."

You whimpered, trying to rock your hips back to meet his slow, deliberate thrusts. But Eren held you firmly in place, using his weight to pin you down.

"Ah ah," he tutted, delivering a sharp smack to her ass. "Patience, baby. Gonna take my time with you, make this last."

You keened, the edge of frustration, "Please, Eren," she begged, "I need it harder, faster. Fuck me like you mean it!"

"No, not yet," Eren refused, voice a low growl. "Gonna make love to you first. Gonna make this last, take my time worshipping this gorgeous body."

He dipped his head to capture your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your whimpers of frustration. One hand slid up to cup your breast, fingers toying with a pebbled nipple.

"Relax, love," Eren murmured against her mouth. "Let me make you feel good. Wanna savour every inch of you."

He pulled back slightly, drinking in the sight of you spread out beneath him, skin glistening with sweat and hair mussed. The visual alone nearly undid him. Slowly, torturously, Eren rocked into your welcoming heat, each leisurely thrust burying himself to the hilt. He groaned low in his throat at the exquisite drag of your inner walls along his sensitive length.

"Fuck, baby," he rasped, dropping his forehead to hers. "You feel so damn good. Could stay buried in this sweet cunt forever."

Eren's hands roamed your body as he continued his steady, unhurried pace - mapping the dips and curves of your waist, gripping your hips to pull her flush against him. His thrusts remained deep and measured, stoking the embers of pleasure in your core.

"Gonna make you beg for it," Eren promised darkly, a smug smile curving his lips. "Wanna hear you plead for Daddy's cock, for me to fill this needy little pussy up."

Eren's voice was a low, demanding rumble in your ear. "That's it, baby. Beg for me like you had me begging for you to take me back. Let me hear how much you need this cock, how much you need me."

He pulled her hips flush against him, grinding his pelvis against your clit with each deep, deliberate thrust. The friction was maddening, stoking the fire in her veins.

You couldn't hold back, not with the way Eren was touching her, not with the way he was filling you so perfectly. "Please, Eren," you whimpered, your voice cracking with need. "I need you. I need your cock, need you to fuck me harder. Please, Daddy, I'm begging you. Take me, use me, make me yours. Fuck me like you'll never let me go."

All you cared about was the feeling of him buried deep inside you, the promise of release hovering just out of reach.

Eren groaned, his hips stuttering in their rhythm. "Fuck, baby, listen to you. So desperate for Daddy's cock. Such a good girl, coming undone on my dick."

He shifted the angle of his thrusts, hitting that perfect spot inside you with every drive of his hips. Your moans grew louder, your nails digging into his shoulders as you clung to him desperately.

"That's it, cum for me," Eren rasped, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. "Cum all over my cock. Look at you, so fucking desperate for it," Eren growled, his voice a guttural rasp. "Need Daddy's cock splitting you open, don't you? Need me to fill you up until you're fucking drowning in it."

He changed the angle of his thrusts, hitting that sweet spot inside her that had you seeing stars. Your inner walls clenched around him, fluttering and grasping as if trying to pull him even deeper.

"Gonna make you cum so hard," Eren promised darkly, grinding his pelvis against your clit with each stroke. "Gonna flood this pussy, mark you from the inside out. Let everyone know who you belong to."

He leaned down to capture your lips in a bruising kiss, swallowing your needy whimpers and moans. you clung to him, nails raking down his back, leaving red welts in their wake.

"Do it," you gasped out, your voice raw and desperate. "Fill me up, make me yours. Fucking breed me, Eren."

The words seemed to snap something inside him, and Eren reared back, his hips snapping forward with renewed vigor. The headboard slammed against the wall with each powerful thrust, the bed creaking in protest beneath them.

"Fuck, baby, gonna - shit, I'm gonna - " Eren's words cut off with a strangled groan as his climax hit him like a freight train. His cock jerked as his release overtook him. Thick, hot spurts of his seed filled your spasming cunt, marking you from the inside out. Your orgasm followed shortly after, your inner walls milking him for every last drop.

"Fuck, baby," Eren panted, his hips still twitching with aftershocks. "You're so fucking perfect, taking everything I give you."

He collapsed on top of you, blanketing your smaller form with his larger one. For a moment, they simply lay there, catching their breath as the afterglow washed over them.

Slowly, Eren pulled out, his softening cock slipping free from your well-used cunt. He immediately felt the loss, the emptiness that came with not being connected to you.

With gentle hands, he rolled you onto your back, gathering you close. Eren nuzzled into your neck, pressing soft kisses to the sweat-slicked skin.

"I love you," he murmured, the words a raw confession. "Love you so fucking much, baby. Gonna spend the rest of my life proving it to you if you'll let me."

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his green eyes searching hers for any sign of hesitation. But all he found was love, trust, and a tentative hope.

[salemrph]

"A Hunter's Christmas Hustle" Sylus x MC

Summary: With Christmas around the corner, you’re on a mission to find the perfect gift for everyone, that's included Sylus, a famously tricky person to shop for. You asked for help but can the twins really help you? Sometimes the effort is the best part of the holiday magic.

Character: MC x Sylus

Genre: holiday comedy, slice-of-life, fluff | Pet names : Kitten, Sweetie, Miss Hunter.

| Word count: 3.916 | Reading Time: 16 min |

A/N: Since this is the first Christmas of Love and Deepspace, at least for me, I'm looking forward for a special Event and have a cute moment between Sylus and MC.

You lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. It still feels a bit strange staying at Sylus’ place on your days off. Well, it was mostly his doing— he’d insist or come up with some random excuse or side mission to make you stay. So, at the end you agree to come visit him without needing to drag you in dirty business. It's cozy here, even if you’re not quite used to it yet.

Like always you scroll through your phone, noticing you getting a lot of Christmas ads. You squint at the screen, feeling a bit overwhelmed by all the holiday promotions. Suddenly, you glance at the date on your phone. Fuck! Christmas in 1 week. And you haven’t prepared anything. Weren’t there also a Party coming up with the team? No, no, no! You go trough the calendar. There is it: 24 of December. Christmas Party with Team.

You need to go shopping, ordering stuff now would only arrive too late. 

“Okay, okay,” you mutter, trying to make a mental checklist. “I need a present for Tera, flowers for Grandma’s and Clab’s graves...” You pause, feeling a bit emotional at that thought. You take a deep breath and continue, making a list out loud.

“Then there’s Zayne, Xavier, and Rafayel…” Your head starts spinning as you realize just how much you have to do. 

How could you forget? Have you really been that busy lately? It’s not like the whole city isn’t decked out in lights, giant Christmas ads, and festive music playing in every store. 

You realize with a sigh that maybe you’ve been spending way too much time in the N109 Zone, far from the holiday cheer.

“What can I get for the twins...?” you mumble to yourself. Luke and Kieran can be annoying sometimes, but you do like them. Why not bring them a small gift? Then again, you hesitate. If you get something for the twins, Sylus will definitely bother you about it until the end of your days, asking why he didn’t get anything. You're starting to sweat. Maybe he locks you up again in the basement, just for fun. Or worse, he could show up at the Hunters' Association and declare that you are his lover or something. A shiver runs down your spine. This man can be terrifying. 

You know very well how to please your friends and colleagues but Sylus… What do you bring to the man that has everything? 

“Why is he even so fucking rich?” you mutter under your breath, looking around the guest room. The guest room of course has the style of the rest of the mansion. Black. You roll your eyes, feeling a mix of annoyance and admiration. You flop back down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling as if it holds the answers. You need something unique, something meaningful... but what could that be? 

You scroll through your phone frantically, searching for bundles, deals, and last-minute gift ideas. In just an hour, you’ve managed to check off most of your list.

Tera: A relaxing spa voucher—she could use a break.

Zayne: A pack of his favorite macarons, winter edition—he’ll love them.

Xavier: A cozy new sweater—you’ve told him a million times not to fall asleep everywhere. You sigh, picturing him dozing off on some random spot.

Rafayel: A unique shell you found on a mission weeks ago. You haven’t had a chance to give it to him yet, but now’s the perfect time.

Flowers: Ordered, check.

You tap your phone, thinking about the twins, Luke and Kieran. What would they like? You decide on some kind of gadget or toy—they’re like two overgrown kids sometimes, and they’ll appreciate anything they can mess around with.

Another hour passes, and you’re still glued to your phone, opening and closing tabs like a mad person. Your brain is starting to fog up from the overload of gift ideas.

“No... no... lame... oh god, definitely not.” You swipe through a blog about gifts for wealthy people and somehow end up on a page titled “Top 10 Gifts for Your Rich Boyfriend.” Your cheeks go bright red as you skim the list: sexy underwear, romantic getaways, candlelit dinners...

“NO!” You throw your phone onto the bed like it’s on fire, covering your face with your hands. What am I even doing?

You take a deep breath, trying to calm down. Maybe you could ask Luke and Kieran for help. They’re close to Sylus and probably know more about his preferences than you do. Plus, he did say you could “use” them whenever you wanted. Why not use them as counselors and pack mules?

Since you don`t want Sylus sniffing around you, you think about a small lie. Or maybe just ask without giving information. The same way he always does 

...

"I need Luke & Kieran for an important mission, can you borrow me them?"

Sylus looks up from his desk, his red eyes studying you with a mix of curiosity and amusement. He leans back in his chair, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he regards you. 

"Mission? What are you planning, kitten?" Sylus raises an eyebrow at your words.

"Nothing… jus- they will come back in one piece."

He studies you for a moment, his expression a mix of curiosity and amusement. He seems to be enjoying your vague and cryptic request, and he's clearly intrigued by what you might be up to. 

"…Alright. You can take them for whatever this 'important mission' is. But they better come back in one piece, or I'm holding you responsible, sweetie. And you don't want to pay the price...“ he snaps his fingers. Both appear immediately. As if they had been hiding in the office. 

"Luke, Kieran, the kitten needs you for a... mission. Do as they say. I expect impeccable work."

"Yes, boss!“ They say in unison.

"Let’s go, guys." I lead them out of the office. "See you, Sylus!"

That was easy. Maybe to easy.

He laughs after the door closes. Wondering how you're going to surprise him this time. He's learned to just go with the flow even though he might have the answer to your little secrets. He just smiled, turning back to focus on his paperwork.

“What are we going to do, miss?” Luke asks with a mischievous grin.

You roll your eyes. “I told you, just call me by my name.”

“Are we blowing something up?” Kieran blurts out, making an exaggerated explosion noise with his mouth.

“Or… cleaning up a messy murder scene?” Luke chimes in, smirking.

“Maybe torture someone!” Kieran’s eyes light up, clearly getting way too excited at the thought.

You sigh, regretting this decision already. They’re like two hyperactive hamsters—deadly, but still hamsters.

“No, no, and no!” you say firmly, waving your hands for emphasis.

“Uuuhhh...” They groan in unison, visibly disappointed.

“We have a better mission,” you declare, crossing your arms. “Change into something decent. We’re heading back to Lincoln City.”

Finally, you’ve arrived in the city. It’s strange seeing them without their usual uniforms and masks. Dressed in casual clothes, they look more like model college boys than the deadly assassins they actually are. Most of the girls passing by can’t help but glance their way, clearly debating whether they should approach the handsome twin brothers.

You snort to yourself. Probably they would’ve attracted less attention in their usual assassin gear.

You’re standing in the middle of the bustling shopping district, the holiday decorations casting a festive glow around you. Luke and Kieran are busy taking in the sights, clearly amused by the sudden change of scenery. You clear your throat to get their attention.

“Alright, listen up,” you say, trying to sound authoritative. “The mission is...” They lean in, eyes sparkling with anticipation. “Shopping” you declare.

“Shopping?” they repeat in unison, voices filled with disbelief.

Luke looks like he’s trying not to laugh, while Kieran’s expression twists into mock horror.

“Wait, wait,” Kieran says, holding up a hand. “You dragged us all the way out here... for shopping?”

“Yes, and you’re going to help me,” you reply.

Luke smirks, giving you a playful nudge. “You sure this isn’t just an excuse to spend time with us, Miss?”

You shoot him a glare. “Call me by my name, Luke.”

“Right, right,” he says, grinning.

“I actually need your help for...” you trail off, suddenly feeling a bit embarrassed. You look away, rubbing the back of your neck. “Christmas is around the corner, and I wanted to buy Sylus something. I’m not sure what it should be, so...” 

Before you can finish, Luke and Kieran burst into giggle. They exchange a quick, knowing glance, clearly delighted by your admission.

“Oh, so you want to buy our boss a present, huh? That’s pretty cute” Luke teases, smirking.

Kieran nudges him with his elbow, grinning from ear to ear. “And you’re asking us for help? Luke, maybe she does have a soft spot for boss after all.”

You feel your cheeks flush, but you roll your eyes to cover it. “Are you two going to help me or not?”

Luke straightens up, placing a hand on his chest with a mock-serious expression. “If you’re serious about buying a gift for the boss, then you’ve definitely come to the right place. We don’t call ourselves his right-hand men for nothing.”

You exhale, feeling a bit relieved now that they seem genuinely eager to help. “I want something special. Something he wouldn’t expect, but that he’d actually like.”

Kieran tilts his head, pretending to think deeply. “Something unexpected, huh? Well, that’s tricky. Sylus pretty much has everything.”

“Yeah, exactly,” you say, feeling a bit helpless. “I was thinking about getting him some records, but he already has so many...”

Luke and Kieran nod in agreement, their expressions thoughtful. 

“It’s a good start. He does love his music. But you don’t want to give him something he already has, right?” Luke asked. 

“How about something more personal?” Kieran suggests, tapping his chin. “Something that shows you put a lot of thought into it. A gift only you could give him.”

You bite your lip, considering it. “Personal... but how?”

“Well, it doesn’t have to be anything fancy,” Luke says, shrugging. “The boss isn’t as complicated as he looks. He’d appreciate anything that comes from you.”

Kieran gives a playful smirk. “You could just wrap yourself up with a bow, and he’d be over the moon.”

“Kieran!” you gasp, your cheeks turning red as you lightly smack his arm. He laughs, dodging away with a wink. 

Luke chuckles but gives you a more genuine smile. “He’s joking—mostly. But seriously, boss isn’t the kind of guy who cares about expensive gifts. He’d value something that reminds him of you, or a shared memory.”

You pause, mulling it over.

Kieran nudges Luke, a sudden spark lighting up his eyes. “Hey, what about that old record shop on the Avenue? They’ve got vintage records you can’t find anywhere else. You could look for a rare one, maybe something with a story behind it.”

Luke nods, his eyes brightening as well. “Yeah, and you could pair it with a handwritten note. Tell him why you picked it. He’d love that.”

You smile, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. “That’s... actually a great idea. Thanks, you two.”

Kieran gives you a thumbs-up. “No problem, but you owe us for this.”

Luke grins. “Yeah, and don’t forget to give us the credit when he’s showering you with kisses later.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “Fine, fine. Now let’s go before I change my mind.”

The twins laugh, and the three of you set off down the busy shopping street, feeling a new wave of excitement. Maybe this gift hunt wasn’t going to be so impossible after all.

In the end, you managed to buy everything for your friends—even for Captain Jenna, who isn’t exactly easy to shop for. But as you wandered through the record store, flipping through album after album, nothing stood out. Everything felt generic, impersonal. And you know Sylus well enough to realize that giving him something half-hearted would just fuel his endless teasing for weeks. 

By the end of the day, the twins delivered you at home after treating them for dinner. You're tired and leave all your bags in the living room of your apartment. You throw yourself down on the couch and take out your phone. Maybe you were overthinking this. A nice accessory or a bottle of whiskey could work—he has a taste for the finer things, after all. It wouldn’t be anything cheap, either; you can afford something like that with your Hunter salary.

The day passes, only 2 days for Christmas and you still have nothing. 

Desperate for ideas, you even tried bringing it up with Tera over lunch. That turned into a chaotic disaster, though. It was exhausting dodging her barrage of questions:

“Who’s the gift for? Why are you even so worried? Wait, do you have a new boyfriend? I demand to meet him!”

You had to laugh it off, making up half-baked excuses until she finally dropped it—though you could tell she didn’t believe you.

And then there was Sylus himself. Yesterday, he sent you an invitation to a Christmas dinner. You wanted to say yes, but you had already committed to the Hunters’ Association Christmas party that same night. You tried to decline, but after some back-and-forth, you reluctantly agreed to meet him afterward.

Now, sitting alone on the couch, you can’t help but replay that conversation in your mind. The way his voice softened when you said you couldn’t make it, the slight pause before he insisted on seeing you later anyway—it made your chest tighten. He sounded almost... disappointed. And that’s what makes you want to find something truly meaningful, something that will show him how much he means to you without you having to say it out loud.

You look at your reflection in the darkened screen of your phone, feeling a mix of frustration and anticipation. You’re running out of time. If you’re going to surprise him with something from the heart, you need to figure it out now.

With a new sense of determination, you push yourself off the couch and grab your coat. Maybe you won’t find the perfect gift sitting around here. It’s time to get back out there and keep looking, because if there’s one person you want to make smile this Christmas, it’s Sylus. But be honest, you´re not going to admit that. Not yet. 

...

It’s Christmas! The party with your unit is small but cozy. The space is filled with the warm glow of twinkling lights, the scent of spiced wine, and the sound of laughter echoing off the walls. You drink, you eat, and you feel a rare sense of contentment as you watch everyone enjoying the night. It’s moments like these that remind you why you love this chaotic, ragtag team.

The gifts you bought last minute seem to have gone over well. Captain Jenna grinned when she unwrapped the sleek new knife you picked out for her—a practical gift, just like she’d like it. Xavier looked genuinely pleased with the soft, oversized sweater you chose, already pulling it on and joking about how he wouldn’t fall asleep everywhere now. Tera hugged you tight, eyes sparkling as she held up the spa voucher. “You really do know me,” she said with a teasing smile.

Earlier in the morning, you made a quick stop by the hospital to drop off the bag of special winter-edition macarons for Zayne. And you place the flower on the graveyard. Pray for them and wishing that you could spent one more day with them.

You glance at your watch. It’s getting late, and you promised Sylus you’d meet him after this. You take a deep breath, excusing yourself quietly from the party. Tera shoots you a knowing look as you head for the door, but she doesn’t say anything—just gives you a little wave, as if to say, good luck. 

You pull your coat tighter around yourself, clutching the gift in your hand as you start walking. There’s a mixture of excitement and fear bubbling up inside you.

Suddenly your watch vibrates urgently and flashes a warning: MetaFlux Fluctuation Detected. Your heart skips a beat. A Wanderer? Now?! You glance around, scanning the quiet street for any signs of danger. The distant sound of a woman’s scream breaks the silence, and without hesitation, you sprint in the direction of the noise, already reaching for your weapon. 

The first Wanderer lunges out from the shadows, its distorted form shifting and writhing in the dim light. You don’t waste a second. One precise shot, and it disintegrates into a cloud of shimmering dust.

„My child! Where is he?“ the woman cries out, panic in her voice. You look around fast, this is not over. 

„Mom!! Help!“ You hear the voice of the kid nearby and run over. You bolt towards the sound, pushing your legs harder. You reach the boy just in time, shielding him with your body as another Wanderer lunges forward. The creature’s claws slice through the air, narrowly missing you. You fire three quick shots, each one hitting its mark. The Wanderer lets out a guttural screech before it vanishes into thin air, dissolving into the night.

"Are you okay?“ you ask, your voice softer now, concerned. The boy nodded. His mother rushes over, wrapping her arms around him and thanking you over and over, her voice thick with emotion.

The mother and child thank you from the bottom of their hearts before leaving. You tell them to please stop by the hospital, just in case. You wave goodbye to the boy. Sigh. What a night!

"Where's my bag?" you mutter, scanning the area. You spot it lying on the ground, right where you dropped it before sprinting into action. Relief floods through you—until you notice the dark, wet stain spreading across the fabric. 

"No, no, no! Please no," you whisper, crouching down and unzipping the bag with trembling hands. The bottle of whiskey you were hunting down the last two days. Is shattered in thousand pieces.

Your heart sinks. This wasn’t just any whiskey—it was a rare, vintage bottle from a small distillery he’d mentioned once, in passing, when he thought you weren’t listening.

„Fuck!" 

You stand up, clutching the soaked bag, and check the time on your watch.

22:30.

You’re supposed to meet Sylus in half an hour, and you’re still a good fifteen minutes away from his place. Panic bubbles up inside you. Maybe you can find a late-night shop that carries something similar. Maybe there’s still a chance to fix this.

"I can make it," you say aloud, more to convince yourself than anything.

…

You finally arrive at the meeting point—a lookout near the water. It’s the same place where you spent last winter with him, watching the fireworks together.

“Kitten, you told me you were at a party, not a battlefield. What happened?”

“Eh?”

You’ve been running around for the last 30 minutes trying to find that stupid bottle and make it on time to meet Sylus. A little embarrassed, you attempt to fix your clothes and smooth your hair. Your cheeks are flushed from the effort. Sylus stands there in his black coat, looking amazing as always. Your heart beats hard in your chest. He watches you, trying to piece together what happened, and then a smile tugs at his lips.

“Even on days like this, you don’t get a break, Miss Hunter?” He runs his hand gently across your face. You flinch slightly, wincing in pain. “You’ve got a small cut. So... are you going to tell me what happened?”

“Nothing, just a Wanderer. It will heal,” you say with a shrug. He sighs softly.

“Careless as usual.” He pulls a small band-aid from his pocket. “Stay still.”

“Why do you have something like that?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“It so happens that I have a kitten who never pays attention to their injuries,” he teases.

You make an exaggerated offended grimace, but inside, it feels like a small gesture of affection. He places the band-aid gently over the cut.

“I’ll consider this your Christmas gift,” you joke.

He laughs. “Oh no, sweetie, that wouldn’t be enough. But I’m impressed with your minimalist idea of happiness.” He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out an envelope.

“You didn’t have...”

“Open it up. And thank me later.”

You take the envelope cautiously, slowly peeling it open. Could it explode? You shake your head at the silly thought. When you finally look inside, your eyes widen, and you let out a soft squeal of excitement.

“Are you for real? This tickets has been sold out for months. How did you…?”

“I have my ways, sweetie,” he replies with a smug smile.

“Thank you,” you whisper, genuinely touched.

“It’s always a pleasure making you happy.”

But your excitement fades quickly as the realization sinks in. He’s managed to make you immensely happy again, while you stand here empty-handed. You have been looking for the perfect gift and you have screwed up at the last minute. On top, you haven't found a replacement for the bottle. 

"I wanted to give you something too for Christmas...“ you started. Closing the envelope and putting it in your pocket. "but... it broke while I was protecting a kid from a Wanderer.“ You look down at your feet, feeling small and pathetic, your shoulders slumping under the weight of disappointment.

There’s a beat of silence, and then Sylus gently lifts your chin with a finger, guiding your gaze back to him. He smiles, that soft, understanding smile that always makes you feel seen. Without a word, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into a warm embrace. The chill of winter seems to disappear in his hold, replaced by the comforting heat of his body.

“The best gift is having you by my side, kitten.” he whispers into your ear, his voice low and sincere.

You feel your heart beating faster.

"Actions speak louder than words"

You agree with Sylus that both would be more honest with each other. Maybe now is the time to show him just how important he is to you. You spent so much time looking for something to buy that you forgot that the simplest gifts are often the most meaningful, especially when they come straight from the heart.

"Sylus… I actually have something else."

"Oh, is that so?“ 

„Can... I borrow your face?" He loosens his grip slightly and steps back, taking your hands in his, warming them up. He looks at you, amused and curious, and leans down.

"Close your eyes..." you whisper. He doesn’t say anything but does as you ask, his smile softening as he relaxes his face. You take a deep breath, feeling your heart race, each beat echoing louder in your chest.

The world falls silent for a moment—it's just the two of you, suspended in time. The anticipation tingles through you as you lean closer, closing the distance between you.

You press your lips gently against his cheek, and the warmth of his skin against your lips is electric. It’s a simple kiss, but it carries all the unspoken words you couldn’t say out loud. A silent confession. You linger there for just a heartbeat longer, feeling him inhale sharply, as if caught off guard by the intimacy of it. As you pull back, the first snowflakes begin to fall, drifting slowly from the sky. The soft touch of snow melts against your skin, but Sylus holds you close, not letting the moment slip away.

„Now... that’s a present only you could have given me." He gives you the most tender smile. "Thank you."

He looks like he wants to say something else but remains silent. Instead, he pulls you into a deeper embrace, burying his face in your hair as the snow continues to fall softly around you. You’re more than fine with that. No, you’re happy—grateful for this sweet moment.

You realize you’re a step closer to falling for him completely, accepting that the connection between you two is stronger than you ever imagined.

“Merry Christmas, Sylus.”

He smiles, his eyes crinkling with genuine joy.

“Merry Christmas, kitten.”

[proteusolm]

the last wild horse

[hoshifighting]

NERD!WOOZI WITH SLUTTY FINGERING

a/n: i KNOW ive talked about woozi hands, woozi fingering, too much already in this blog, so, nerd!woozi its just another excuse for me to write about it again. sorry not sorry. a/n pt.2: yes, this is woozi's hand on minghao's neck that's why im screaming in the title. WARNINGS: smut, small angst, fingering, body fluids (cum spit), clit stimulation, g'spot stimulation, intense orgasm, teasing, quick learner!jihoon

nerd!jihoon who’s all serene and timid, always too focused on his notes, pretending he doesn’t notice your little games, but deep down, he’s fully aware. you catch him sometimes, the way his pencil pauses mid-scribble when you lean a little too close, asking for the same damn pencil again. he knows you have like five pencils in that full-of-charms bag of yours, regardless here you are.

“you sure you don’t just wanna keep it?” he mumbles, barely looking up as he hands you the pencil.

you lean forward, letting your hair fall in front of your face like a curtain, just to see if he’d peek. and, of course, he does. a quick flick of his eyes, then back down to his notebook, scribbling some bullshit about physics or whatever. boring. you wonder what’d happen if you just grabbed his hand for real this time, full contact, no pencil-between-you nonsense. would he pull away? would he get all flustered, or would he grab you back, finally drop that innocent act?

“you ever gonna look at me when i ask you for something, or you too shy for that?” you tease, leaning on his desk now, your fingers inching closer to his ruler. he finally looks up at you, a little more serious than usual, and it catches you off guard.

“you keep asking for things you don’t need,” he says quietly, “why?” he scoffs, pushing his glasses up his nose like that’s gonna hide the faint flush creeping up his neck. “you can keep the damn pencil,” he mutters, eyes glued to the textbook in front of him.

and nerd!jihoon who gets so in his head about it that he doesn’t realize the moment he fucked up. ‘cause when you stand up from your chair, reaching down to grab something you “accidentally” dropped, you do it slow. bending over right in front of him, just enough that your skirt rides up a little too high, giving him a full view.

he stares for just a second too long, eyes glued to the hem of your skirt, swallowing hard like he’s trying not to make a sound. but it’s obvious, way too obvious, and when he realizes he’s been caught, his face turns red so fast you almost laugh out loud.

nerd!jihoon who's fidgeting now, trying to pretend he didn’t just eye-fuck you in the middle of the classroom.

but nerd!jihoon’s only got so much self-control, and you’re testing every bit of it.

nerd!jihoon who, for some reason, snaps at you that morning when you meet at the stairs outside the university building. it’s out of nowhere too—like, one second, you’re just giving him that casual little smile, ready to toss some flirty comment about the weather being as cold as his attitude, and the next, he’s all huffy, eyebrows furrowing deeper than usual.

“why do you keep doing that?” his voice comes out sharp, way too sharp for someone like him, the type who rarely even speaks above a whisper in class. you blink, taken aback, half-wondering if he’s joking, but when you see his jaw tighten, you realize he’s serious. dead serious. “is it that hard to leave me alone?”

ouch. you don’t even know how to react at first, like his words take a second to settle in, but when they do, it feels like someone knocked the air out of you. your eyes harden on him, and for once, you don’t have some quick retort. you just… stare. really?—he’s just gonna blow up like that?

“fine,” you mutter, voice cold as ice. and with that, you turn on your heel and walk off without another word, you don’t even look back as you head straight to the classroom, your heart pounding in your chest. you’ve never felt this weird compound of pissed and hurt before. it’s like something just snapped inside you too.

for the rest of the day, you don’t bother glancing in his direction. you gather your stuff at the end of class, all in silence, and when you make your way past his desk, you stop for just a second, pulling out all those borrowed pencils from your bag. without a word, you set them on his desk, one by one. they clatter onto his notes, each one feeling like a small “fuck you” in its own way.

jihoon doesn’t say anything, just stares at the pencils like they’re mocking him. he opens his mouth for a split second, like maybe he’s gonna explain, but nothing comes out. you don’t give him the chance either; you walk away, not bothering to look back. it’s like every interaction you’ve ever had just gets replayed in your mind, and now it’s all soured.

the next few days are weird. hell, you stop talking to him altogether. instead, you sit at your desk, quietly pulling out your own damn pencils from your pencil case, you don’t need his anymore, not when he’s gonna act like a complete ass about it. he watches you though—you can feel his stare on you, burning into the side of your head. but every time you glance in his direction, he looks away like he can’t deal with the awkwardness he’s caused.

it’s like he wants to apologize but has no idea how to start. typical jihoon—all brain and no clue when it comes to real people.

but one evening, there’s a knock on your dorm door. you open it, and there he is, standing there with a six-pack of those canned drinks you always get from the campus canteen, the same ones you always grab right after class. his face is red, cheeks flushed in a way that’s almost… cute? but you’re still mad, still remembering how he snapped at you like that.

“hey,” he says, and his voice is softer this time, merely audible. you just stand there, arms crossed, waiting for him to explain himself.

“i, uh… i brought these,” he mutters, holding the cans out like some awkward peace offering. “i noticed you… always get these. thought maybe…” his voice trails off, and he rubs the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. “i’m sorry. for what i said.”

you raise an eyebrow, still not convinced. “really? you were a complete jerk, jihoon.”

he shrinks at your words, nodding. “i know. i just… i didn’t know how to deal with it, okay? it… messed with me.”

you uncross your arms, softening just a bit. “and snapping at me was your way of handling it?”

he sighs, looking down at his shoes. “i didn’t mean it. i was just frustrated. not at you—just… at myself.”

you take a deep breath, glancing at the cans in his hands, the little effort he’s put into making amends. he’s trying. “fine,” you say finally, stepping aside to let him in. “you owe me more than just drinks, though.”

jihoon’s eyes widen a bit, his lips twitching into that familiar nervous smile. “what do you want, then?”

you scoff.

nerd!jihoon who feels the faint taste of the drink lingers on your tongue, and he groans into your mouth, probably addicted to it more than he’ll admit. he’s kissing you back—messy, needy, and a little clumsy, but you can tell he’s losing himself in it.

you shift on his lap, straddling him properly, and when you press into him, his breath hitches. it’s like he can’t keep himself together, every kiss pulling out little sounds, his hands hover awkwardly for a second, like he doesn’t know what to do with them, until you grab them and guide them up your body, pushing them to your chest, making him squeeze your tits through your shirt.

nerd!jihoon who gasps when he feels the nipples on his palms through your shirt, his lips pulling away from yours for just a second as he looks at where his hands are, eyes wide like he can’t believe it. his fingers flex against you, tentatively at first, but then you press your hand over his, forcing him to squeeze harder, and you let out a shaky breath.

then? oh, he gets it.

nerd!jihoon, who finally acts, squeezing your tits by himself like he’s been waiting for this chance his whole damn life. his fingers dig in just enough to pull a moan from your throat.

nerd!jihoon’s catching on fast now, realizing where you want to be touched, where your breath catches, where your body melts into him.

his hands roam up your sides, slipping under your oversized shirt, and when his fingers brush your bare skin, he freezes for a second. he realizes you’re not wearing anything underneath, no panties, no bra, just naked under the thin fabric. “shit,” he breathes, almost like a curse, his eyes darting up to meet yours, like he’s checking to see if this is real, if you actually want him to keep going.

you smirk, biting your lip, and press your hips down into him harder, a wordless yes, keep going.

his hand cups your pussy, and the way you immediately arch into him, gasping out his name—he’s gone. brain short-circuiting, but his body’s on autopilot now. “dont do this to me…” he mewls, too focused on the way you’re grinding into his hand, wet and ready for him.

nerd!jihoon who, once he realizes how horny you are, loses any hesitation he had before. his fingers, slender and surprisingly strong, waste no time. he’s focused—so damn focused—like he’s solving a problem in his mind, but this time, the problem is you. and he knows exactly how to handle it.

nerd!jihoon who pauses for just a second, like he’s still processing how turned on you are—how his touch alone got you dripping like this. his middle finger presses right against your clit, and he flicks it side to side—fast as hell, like too fast—and your hips jerk up into him, a soft whimper slipping out. his middle finger dips into your pussy first, just enough to feel the wetness gather on his fingertip, the way you swallow around him makes his breath hitch.

it’s like he’s testing what gets you going, what makes your thighs tremble, and god, does he know how to read your body. every gasp, every time your breath hitches, he switches it up—keeps you on edge.

he presses his middle finger deep suddenly, really deep, until you’re arching into him, your body reacting instantly to the way he knows how to hit that spot. his finger curls inside you, pushing hard, making you gasp like he’s punching the air from your lungs. he’s watching you, eyes glued to the way your hips move, like he’s trying to memorize how to make you react like this again.

"hold still," he mutters, and when you don’t, when you try to squirm because it’s too much too fast, he forces your legs open with his, his thighs pressing yours apart. “don’t... close them. i need to—” his breath catches when he adds a second finger, stretching you just enough to make your pussy clench tight around him, making your thighs shake. he presses them deep, so deep you feel the pressure low in your belly, but it’s when he starts to pull them out, flicking them up against your clit as he does it, that you lose it.

“oh fuck,” you gasp, back arching, and jihoon’s watching you so damn closely, taking mental notes on every single reaction you give him.

“so... wet. why? hm?” he whispers, like he can’t believe it, his voice shy but breathy, like he’s talking more to himself than you. his fingers slide out, slick with your cum, and without even thinking, he spits right on them—mixing the spit with the dripping wetness already covering his fingers. the sound is obscene, the slick noise of him fingering you only getting louder, wetter, messier.

and then, he adjusts.

“c’mere,” he says, voice a little rougher now, guiding you to sit between his legs, your back pressed against his chest. you can feel how hard his cock is, twitching against your ass as you settle between his thighs. his legs spread yours open, holding you wide as he slides his hand back down to your dripping pussy, his fingers diving back in like they belong there.

he uses his middle finger again—always that one—sliding it in deep, he’s too focused on you, too addicted to the way you moan when he pushes his fingers deeper. his legs wrap around yours, holding them wide open, ‘cause you’re so damn close to squeezing them shut. his voice comes out soft, right in your ear. “you’re so—fuck, so into this. just my fingers?”

he can’t believe it, can’t wrap his head around how crazy you’re going just from this—even though he’s making you drip all over his hand. but it only impulses him on. his fingers flick against your clit again, fast, precise, like he’s playing an instrument he’s mastered. your body jerks, and you feel yourself clenching around nothing, cum practically coating his fingers now. he slides them deep again, harder this time, pushing you into the bed so hard your hips are practically pinned down.

“you like that?” he asks, voice shaky, but he’s so into it. holding you open like he’s afraid you’ll try to close your legs.

his fingers are everywhere—inside you, rubbing, pressing, flicking.

“fuck—jihoon,” you moan, words tumbling out of you like you can’t control them, and his breath catches again. his fingers move faster, slick sounds filling the room as he alternates between pressing deep inside you and flicking your clit, over and over again, until you’re a complete mess in his arms.

“you’re—fuck—you’re gonna make me say something stupid,” you gasp out, barely holding onto any coherent thought, and he lets out a soft, shy laugh, like he knows exactly what you mean.

nerd!jihoon who's lost in the rhythm he’s created, only pushes harder, fingers still dancing between your thighs as he chases that sound—that sweet, desperate gasp that makes his heart race. “i think i can handle it,” he teases, but he’s definitely not prepared for the way you arch your back, pushing harder against him as your breath gets quicker, sharper.

“jihoon, please,” you whimper, the words spilling out like they’re a prayer. your body is begging for something—anything—more, but he’s holding you right at the edge, fingers moving so fast you’re pretty sure your brain is short-circuiting.

he seems to realize just how close you are. he leans in closer, his breath ghosting over your ear, “can you—can you come for me? just from this?” there’s a softness in his voice, but the way he asks it is so demanding, and you can’t help but nod.

“yes—yes!” you manage to breathe out, and that’s all the encouragement he needs.

“just let go. i got you.” it’s like the words unlock something inside you, and before you even realize it, that sweet ache intensifying.

nerd!jihoon who lets out a soft chuckle, shaky as hell, but damn if he doesn’t sound proud. his fingers don’t slow down though. his middle finger presses even deeper, practically curling up into the g'spot inside you that makes you pass out for a second, and you gasp so loud you’re sure anyone passing by your dorm would hear it.

“jihoon—fuck, right there!” you groan, and he hones in on that spot like he’s taking thoughtful reminders.

he bites his lip, watching the way your hips roll into his hand, how wet you are, cum dripping down his fingers like he’s proud of the mess you’re making. “i didn’t know you’d be… this into it,” he whispers, and that just makes your head spin more.

this guy. so shy but so fucking good at what he’s doing to you.

“jihoon, i’m gonna—oh my god!” you try to warn him, but he cuts you off.

“i know, just let go,” he encourages, voice softer now, almost reverent, as if he’s treating this moment like something sacred. his fingers slide back up to your clit

this is it. his eyes widen a little, and you can feel the way his heart races against your back. every flick against your clit sends a convulsion through your body.

you dissolve into a broken gasp, your hips moving against his hand instinctively as he works you toward that peak. please, please, just let me come.

and when he adds just a little more pressure, it’s like your whole body torches. you cum and cum, your body arching against him. “jihoon, fuck!” you cry out, a high-pitched gasp that fills the air as you feel everything shatter, your body clenching tightly around his fingers that they almost slip out.

nerd!jihoon who watches you, completely captivated, the way your body reacts, the way you’re lost in it. he doesn’t stop, though; no, he keeps moving, fingers working through your orgasm, gentle however persistent, making sure you feel every bit of that pleasure. he’s fascinated, eyes wide as he takes in the globs of cum covering his fingers, the slickness that only grows thicker the more he works you.

“jihoon, wait…” you manage to murmur, half-laughing, half-breathless. “s-sensitive.”

you melt on his chest, catching your breath, as his hand cups your pussy again, letting 'you' rest.

“that was—how do you even know how to do that?” it’s a genuine question, and you can’t help but admire him, the way he’s panting lightly, his cheeks flushed.

he chuckles nervously, looking away for a moment, then back at you shyly. “i mean… i just pay attention? it’s like… figuring out the math of it all, but way more fun.” his eyes sparkle, and you can’t help but laugh, shaking your head at how nerdy he is, even in these moments.

“well, you know what they say about nerds,” you wink, reaching out to play with the ends of his shirt. “they can be really good at—”

“okay, stop,” he laughs, cutting you off.

“so, um… can i, like, do that again sometime?” he asks, his tone shifting to something softer, almost hopeful, and the way he looks at you makes your heart flutter.

“absolutely,” you say with a grin, leaning in to give him a quick peck, your bodies still tangled together.

“how about we switch positions next time? i think i could make you scream even louder.” he teases, but his red cheeks don't lie.

you freeze at his words, heart racing as you process what he just said. he’s learned way too quickly, “which one are you talking about?” you ask, a teasing lilt in your voice, even though your cheeks are flushed too.

“any one you want,” he replies, a in a shyly-confident smirk on his face. “i’m a quick study when it comes to this kind of stuff.” he smiles wider. “just tell me what you like, and i’ll make sure i learn it.”

you can’t help but laugh. “oh, is that so? you think you can handle it?”

“absolutely,” he says, hugging your body to him. “just say the word, and i’ll show you just how good i can get.”

[senanatheskenana]

Giyuu, Sanemi, and Rengoku With Baby Fever

TW: mentions of pregnancy, Sex, fem reader

Giyuu Tomioka

He hadn't put much thought into domestic life- after all, you were his first real relationship. However, when he lays eyes on your happy smile and the way you fussed over the three younger demon slayers, he can't help the feeling that pools in the pit of his stomach. A primal need for you, for a family. He's not particularly proud of the human weakness he currently experiences but each time he looks your way, his strength melts away, leaving only his desire to create life with you.

His smile is small but amused at how you motherly coddle Inosuke, attempting to wipe the mass of dirt off his face, despite his protests. Tanjirou seems almost as enamoured by your sweet behaviour as Giyuu is.

You can tell something is different with Giyuu- the way he holds your hand is just slightly tighter, the way he looks at you ever so slightly hungrier than you've seen. He stares off into space in contented silence, and you feel he is happiest in those moments. The idea made you curious as to what he was daydreaming about.

'Three children, maybe more' he thinks, pink tinging his cheeks at feeling so soft for you. He imagines what life outside of the corp- life with you- would be like. Blissful, peaceful, connecting but of course with moments of excitement and frustration that come from raising children. Maybe your children would have his hair and your eyes- or perhaps they will look the opposite, or exactly like you or him.

His cheeks once again flare up when another thought hits his head.

'And (y/n) would surely only become more beautiful over the years'

"Giyuu~." He is snapped out of his fantasy by your hand over his. "What are you thinking about?"

He gently squeezes your hand, looking deep into your eyes with humility as he thinks through the right words to say.

"We've been married for a year, and we haven't talked about it yet. I would completely understand if you object... but i have a request, that involves both of us." you listen eagerly to him.

"Sweetheart, i will always try my best to understand your wants, there's no reason to seem so nervous," you smile tenderly at him, hands coming up to cup his cheeks. The apples of his cheeks burst into flames at your touch, butterflies erupting underneath the skin of his shuddering chest.

"(Y/N) I love you. I will always love you... And if you will be so kind, I would like to start a family with you"

He sees your face break into a smile, which makes him smile. Before he knows it you're climbing into his lap and kissing him with a passion that fills him with a need he has never experienced.

Kyojurou Rengoku

Kyojurou was sure he wanted children at some point, and as your husband, he made you aware of this, in case it wasn't for you. For the most part, your husband had great self-control.

However, it always seems to slip away when his younger brother makes a comment, about how your baby would probably have bright hair like theirs. At first, it's just that thought, but soon he's thinking about baby names, daydreaming and kicking his legs behind him giggling. You easily notice your cheerful husband becoming even more giddy than usual- not to mention far more physically affectionate.

He finds every excuse under the sun to get you under him. He takes his time, forehead pressed against yours, enraptured in pleasure. Your legs are pressed to your chest; a new position for you. The sheer depth is enough to make you dizzy, even without moving.

Kyojurou looks deeply into your eyes before kissing you passionately, sensually, as if the world is ending.

"Honey, i think we should have a baby!" he huffs out in between languid thrusts. You thought he'd never ask.

"Me too, Kyo~"

Sanemi Shinazugawa

Sanemi doesn't not want kids. He just feels he would be a bad father given all of his hangups. He worries he won't be emotionally available for a child, or might accidentally scare them when he is angry.

So this feeling is conflicted within him. On one hand, he's utterly in love with you and the way you care for Genya is heartwarming to the point of actually convincing him he might be ok if you were by his side. On the other, he was terrified of being a bad parent.

Sanemi swears you look so pretty holding your friend's new baby. You hold it like you're accustomed to it like it was yours. And you just look so fucking happy like that. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing if he- no, he couldn't just rush into these things. But you look so pretty he's having a hard time rationalising anything.

He sits beside you, peering down at the baby that tries to grasp at his fingers. It's actually sort of cute, he thinks. Then you look up at him, and he's caught off guard by a vision of you and your own baby. Your friend has to physically bite back giggles while she watches the motions of Sanemi's thoughts. She knows what's happening better than he does.

She sparks up a conversation with you to see how flustered she can make the hashira on this topic. "You know, past the halfway mark I gave up putting on my own pants- it got too annoying when I couldn't see over the bump and boobs. My husband had to help me instead!"

It seems to work like a charm. Sanemi almost zones out, thinking about how you would look pregnant. Without realising it he is salivating at the thought of your swollen chest and round tummy. 'fuck,' he thinks, 'that sounds good'

Half an hour later he's rushing to leave, hastily pulling your coat over your shoulders and waving goodbye to the baby. He didn't dislike being there in any way- he'd just rather be somewhere else with you. He tugs you down the road, looking at you with a strange new fervour, eyes darting to your lips and tummy.

Your friend closes the door behind you with a mischievous grin. "I'll give it a week before she's pregnant<3"

[its-avalon-08]

Hi. I was thinking of something with Lando Norris where Lando has been secretive and hiding his phone and everything and reader thinks he's cheating on her and feels miserable thinking she's not enough. And when she asks Lando about it he feels extremely guilty because he was actually planning to PROPOSE!!

new passwords and new surnames (ln4)

✦ pairing - lando norris x female!reader

✦ genre - angst, miscommunication, tears, fluff

Y/N sat on the couch, her knees pulled to her chest as she absentmindedly scrolled through social media. Her heart wasn’t in it, not really. It hadn’t been for weeks now. She couldn't help but replay the small, almost imperceptible changes in Lando's behavior that had slowly eroded her peace of mind.

It started so innocently. One night, while they were lying in bed, she noticed Lando's phone screen light up with a notification. His hand shot out faster than usual to grab it, turning it face-down. He flashed her a smile, that easy-going grin she adored, but something was off.

"You okay?" she had asked then, her voice soft and questioning.

"Yeah, love. Just a text from the team. Nothing important." He kissed her forehead, his lips lingering a little longer than necessary as if to erase any doubt. But the doubt had settled in that moment and had been growing ever since.

Tonight, it was all too much. The weight of uncertainty sat on her chest like a heavy stone. She couldn’t ignore how distant Lando had been lately. He changed the password on his phone, something he hadn’t done in years. When they were out together, he'd tuck his phone away whenever she got close or make some excuse to leave the room to answer calls. He laughed it off when she asked why he was being so secretive.

And she wanted to believe him. Desperately. But each time, the gnawing ache in her gut got worse. She wasn't paranoid—she was trying not to be. But the constant second-guessing was eating her alive.

"What if he's seeing someone else?" The thought pierced through her mind, sharper and more painful every time she allowed it to surface. She hated herself for even thinking it, but she couldn’t stop.

Y/N blinked, her vision blurring as tears welled up. She swallowed the lump in her throat, willing herself not to cry. Not yet.

She replayed another moment in her head. A few days ago, Lando had left for a race weekend. He’d been unusually flustered before leaving, fumbling around their shared apartment, misplacing his keys and wallet, which wasn’t like him. He barely looked her in the eyes when he kissed her goodbye, murmuring a quick, "Love you," before disappearing out the door. And later that night, when she texted him, he responded hours later with a vague, "Sorry, busy."

“Busy with what?” she whispered aloud to herself, the silence of the apartment engulfing her. Her mind filled with images of him with someone else—someone better, someone who wasn’t her.

She wasn’t enough, was she?

The thought felt like a punch to her gut. Maybe I’m not interesting anymore. Maybe he found someone who gets him better. Lando was famous, rich, and could have anyone he wanted. She wasn’t special. Not in the way some gorgeous model or influencer could be.

Y/N shifted on the couch, pressing her palms against her forehead, trying to stop the spiraling thoughts. I should ask him. No, I can’t. What if I’m wrong? What if he’s not cheating? The internal debate was killing her.

Suddenly, she heard the familiar jingle of keys at the door. Her stomach dropped. Lando was home.

He walked into the living room, looking tired but smiling at her, his blue eyes lighting up in that way that used to make her heart race. Now, all she felt was a deep ache.

"Hey, babe," he said, leaning down to kiss her cheek. "Miss me?"

She nodded but couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes. Instead, she fixed her gaze on her hands, now trembling slightly in her lap. "Yeah. How was the day?"

"Busy as hell. Meetings, more meetings, and then training," he chuckled lightly. "I could use a beer."

She nodded again, offering a weak smile. "I'll grab it for you." She needed to move, to do anything to avoid this unbearable tension.

As she stood up, her phone buzzed on the coffee table. Lando’s eyes darted to it, but his expression remained calm. He watched as she crossed the room to grab his beer from the fridge, her movements stiff and robotic. The distance between them felt like an ocean.

Her hands were cold when she handed him the drink, and for a moment, she debated whether to say anything. Should she ask him now? Her heart raced with anxiety as she stood awkwardly, her fingers gripping the fabric of her shirt as though it could keep her from unraveling completely.

She took a shaky breath and finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper, “Lando… is there something going on? Something you're not telling me?"

He froze, his hand halfway to his mouth, beer bottle in hand. His eyes flickered with surprise, maybe even guilt, and that tiny moment of hesitation broke her. She saw it, clear as day.

“What do you mean?” His voice was cautious, like he was trying to tread lightly.

Y/N swallowed hard. “You’ve been so secretive lately. You’re hiding your phone, leaving the room to take calls. You changed your password… You—” her voice cracked, the vulnerability bleeding through. “You’ve never done that before.”

Lando set his beer down on the table, his expression shifting from surprise to something darker. “Y/N, no—”

“I can’t keep ignoring it!” she interrupted, her voice louder now, the emotion bubbling up uncontrollably. “I’m trying to be calm, I’m trying to trust you, but it feels like you’re hiding something from me! And I—” She paused, taking a sharp breath as tears threatened to spill over. “I keep wondering if… if I’m not enough for you anymore.”

Lando’s eyes widened in horror, and for a moment, he looked like he was about to say something, but she kept going.

“Am I losing you, Lando? Is there someone else? Because if there is, just tell me, okay? I don’t think I can take this anymore. I feel like I’m going crazy.”

The tears finally slipped down her cheeks, and she quickly wiped them away, frustrated with herself for breaking like this in front of him. But she couldn’t hold it in any longer. It had been eating her alive.

Lando stood frozen, his mouth slightly open as if trying to form words, but nothing came out. Guilt flooded his features, and Y/N’s heart shattered a little more seeing it.

She had been right all along, hadn’t she?

And now, she was about to lose him.

Chapter Two: The Unveiling

Lando took a step closer, his expression shifting from shock to concern as he reached out, brushing his thumb against her cheek to catch a tear. “Y/N, no… You’re everything to me. I would never cheat on you. I promise. It’s just…” He hesitated, his eyes searching hers as if trying to find the right words. “It’s just been a lot.”

She looked away, trying to compose herself, but the knot in her throat tightened. “Then why all the secrecy? Why the phone? I feel like I’m losing my mind here.”

His gaze softened, and he took a deep breath. “I know I’ve been distant, but please, let me explain. It’s not what you think. I’ve just been… planning something.”

“Planning what?” Her voice cracked, the confusion mixing with the hurt that had been building for weeks. “What could possibly require all this secrecy?”

Lando stepped back, taking her hands in his, squeezing them tightly as if grounding himself. “Y/N, I’ve been trying to plan the perfect way to ask you something. And I thought… I thought if I could surprise you, it would be amazing.”

Her heart raced. “What do you mean?”

He paused, his eyes shining with emotion. “I wanted to propose to you, but I didn’t want to ruin the surprise. I thought I could keep it under wraps until the right moment. I was going to do it this weekend, and I’ve just been so caught up in making it perfect that I didn’t realize how my actions were affecting you.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, her mind spinning as she tried to process his words. “You… you wanted to propose?”

“Yes!” Lando exclaimed, his voice a mixture of relief and excitement. “I love you, Y/N, and I want to spend my life with you. I just got so caught up in the planning that I forgot how important it is to communicate. I never wanted you to feel this way.”

Her heart fluttered at his words, but the hurt still lingered. “But you were hiding things from me, Lando. It felt like you were pushing me away.”

“I know, and I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice earnest. “I was being an idiot. I didn’t want to ruin the surprise, but I ended up making everything worse.” He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. “I should have trusted you enough to share this with you. I didn’t want you to feel like you weren’t enough, because you are everything to me.”

Y/N’s heart softened at his sincerity, but the tears still streamed down her face. “You’re really serious about this?”

“More than anything,” he said, his voice trembling with emotion. “You deserve to know how much I love you, and I should’ve told you sooner. You make me a better person, and I can’t imagine my life without you.”

Just as Y/N was beginning to comprehend the gravity of his words, Lando knelt down on one knee, taking a small velvet box from his pocket. Her heart raced, and her breath caught in her throat as she realized what was happening.

“Y/N,” he said, looking up at her with all the sincerity in the world. “Will you marry me? Will you be my partner in this wild life? I promise to never hide anything from you again. I want us to share everything, no more secrets.”

For a moment, time stood still. The world around them faded, and all that mattered was the two of them in this small living room filled with unspoken fears and newfound hope. She looked into his eyes, and all she saw was love—pure, unwavering love.

“I—” she began, her voice breaking as more tears slipped down her cheeks. “I thought I was losing you, Lando. I thought I wasn’t enough.”

“You’re more than enough, Y/N,” he said, his voice steady. “You’re everything to me. So, what do you say?”

She blinked, her heart swelling as she finally let the reality of his proposal sink in. “Yes! Yes, I’ll marry you!”

Lando’s face broke into a huge smile as he slipped the ring onto her finger, a beautiful band that sparkled in the soft light. She gasped, lifting her hand to get a better look. It was perfect—simple, elegant, just like the love they shared.

“Really? You mean it?” he asked, rising to his feet, his eyes shining with joy.

“Yes!” she exclaimed, laughter spilling from her lips as she hugged him tightly. “I can’t believe you were hiding this from me!”

“I know, I know,” he chuckled, holding her close. “I’m so sorry for everything. I promise to do better.”

As they pulled away, she looked into his eyes, the weight of her earlier fears lifting. “Just promise me one thing, Lando.”

“Anything,” he replied, his gaze intense.

“From now on, no more secrets, okay? We talk about everything.”

“Deal,” he said, grinning. “I can’t wait to spend forever with you, love.”

With that, they embraced again, the tension that had filled their apartment melting away, leaving only the warmth of their love and the promise of a beautiful future together.

[rachalixie]

can’t get you off my mind

all good love stories start with a drunk stranger, don’t they?

warnings: mentions of alcohol, fem!reader

genre: fluff, comfort

word count: 4k

it starts at a bar. 

or really, it starts with a man at a bar. one that you’ve seen before in passing, a familiar face in a sea of more familiar faces. someone who you’ll later learn is one third of your best friend changbin’s production team, someone who you should have met years ago probably, someone who you would find is the perfect puzzle piece that fits into your jagged edges.

but right now, he is just a man at a bar with a beer in hand and a ridiculously dopey smile on his face. 

“marry me, please,” he says, absolutely serious but it’s a bit diluted from the way his words were slurred around the edges. “or i’ll have to kidnap you.”

“excuse me?” you raise a brow at him, his image swimming a bit as you turn your head to fully take him in. you’re not drunk, but youre a couple glasses of wine deep and you’re not known for being fully articulate whilst sober anyways. 

“i swear i’m going to marry you,” he says, eyes wide as he looks at you. “you might be the most perfect person i’ve ever seen.”

you’re not overly fond of men you haven’t met hitting on you, but this one seems a bit harmless. if you ignored the part where he said he would kidnap you. at least he wasn’t grabbing onto you or trying to touch you - that would have sent your fist flying towards his face and probably a swift exit from the bar. it was a little weird that you didn’t find him weird, but in retrospect you must have known, even then. 

“okay, listen,” you put your hands on your hips, giving him an unimpressed look. “if you find me when you’re sober, ask me again and maybe i’ll reconsider.”

“okay,” he nods, hair moving along with his movement like a puppy’s ears. “i can do that. i’ll find you, i promise. i’m gonna marry you, did you know?”

“so i’ve heard,” you roll your eyes, already feeling a bit fond about him. you didn’t think you’d meet him again, but you were sure that you’d look at this night with a fond smile later. 

he sends you the brightest smile you think you’ve ever seen on a person and scampers off, and you stand rooted to that one sticky spot in the bar for longer than you want to admit.

–

he’s in the back of your mind when you wake up the next morning, in a better mood than most - you never liked waking up early, it always took you a good hour and some coffee to be able to stand without grimacing. this morning though, you float around your apartment as you get dressed with a small smile on your face. 

a cute stranger who kept his boundaries and called you perfect? that wasn’t something that happened often, at least not to you. 

the floatiness followed you all the way through your morning routine until you found your feet stopping outside the coffee shop that you and changbin all but owned. you had no stock in it, but you’re sure that you supply them at least half of their revenue, you probably sit on their rickety chairs more often than your actual couch at home. this place has nursed you through every college class and job interview preparations and beyond, and if it ever closed you might lose time off of your life span. 

your movements from the door to the counter to your usual seat were robotic, muscle memory taking over while your head did somersaults through the clouds. it’s only when you take the first sip of coffee, the bitterness and heat hitting your tongue in a delightful dance, that you notice it. 

another man is sitting next to changbin. a man that looks awfully familiar, and it takes you a moment to realize why. it’s the man from the bar. 

“changbin?” you keep your eyes on the other man as you direct your question at changbin, trying hard to keep your face neutral. “explain?”

“i’m chan,” the man interjects before changbin can answer, reaching his hand across the table for you to shake. it’s warm, his grip somewhere perfectly in the middle of too hard and too soft, and he lets go after an appropriate amount of seconds. despite the neutral passivity of the gesture, you feel something ignite within you, and it threatens to sputter out when you catch no spark of recognition in his eyes. was he that drunk last night that he doesn’t remember you? do his sober eyes not find you as perfect?

“he crashed at my place last night,” changbin’s voice filters through your turmoil, and you finally break away from chan’s gaze to level him with a look. “and he needed coffee, so i brought him along. chan, this is y/n, my best friend.”

the conversation that followed flowed more freely than the coffee dripping from the machines behind the counter, and you almost hate how much you like it. chan is a little goofy, the man from the previous night shining through moments of seriousness and rapt attention. 

by the time you had to leave to go to work you felt like you knew him. you learned where he lived (close to you!), that he worked with changbin (he’s a producer!), and that he loved all animals but he adored dogs (he has one named berry!). just an hour of casual conversation had led to you needing more of him in every aspect of your life, but still in the back of your head lived the thought of him not remembering you from the night before.

changbin leaves first, citing some meeting he had to run to in the middle of a yawn, and when you were left with chan the embarrassment began to set in. 

“i’m going to marry you,” he blurts out, startling you so much you almost jump out of your seat. 

“what?” you ask, a mixture of surprise and disbelief combining into a confusing vortex within your head - was he going to go through this again? you didn’t know if your heart could take it. 

“i mean, i remember you,” he says before you could awkwardly excuse yourself and commit to getting to work early for the first time in a year just to escape being in a room alone with him for much longer. “i’m sorry, i was just embarrassed. i didn’t want to make a fool out of myself in front of changbin.”

“oh,” your breath leaves you all at once and you slump into your chair, understanding hitting you like a train. “that makes sense? i think?”

“i’m going to marry you,” he repeats, a mischievous glint in his eyes, the boy from last night shining through. “one day. i’m going to do it.”

“take me on a date first,” you tease back, a genuine smile stretching across your lips when he laughs, a full bodied thing that drew in eyes from the patrons across the room. for once, you didn’t seem to care that others’ eyes were on you. he made you feel comfortable. 

“what are you doing tomorrow?” his mouth turns upwards into a beautiful smile that you can’t help but return. 

“eager, are we?” you open your phone, sliding it across the table with the new contact page open on it. “i’m free.”

“you’re the most perfect person i’ve ever laid eyes on,” he says, as serious and genuine as the way he had proposed to you last night as he taps his number into your phone. “sorry if i’m a bit desperate.”

“don’t apologize,” you take your phone back, making a mental note to text him later. “i like it, for some unearthly reason. you’re cute, chan.”

the sound of his delighted laugh follows your footsteps all the way to work. 

— 

he picks you up for your first date at noon, right on the dot. he wasn’t a minute late, a polite knock sounding through your apartment just as the hour turned, as if he had been waiting and watching the time outside the door. 

god, is everything about this man endearing? 

he’s wearing shorts and a light sweater, looking like something out of a posh magazine. his hair is curly and swept off his forehead and he’s wearing a smile with the most adorable dimples shining through. 

he leads you to his car and you have to hold back an impressed whistle. you knew changbin and his team did well for themselves, the name 3racha all over the credits of songs on the radio, but this car was nice. you were going to have a talk with changbin about why he still drove the same beat up sedan he’s had since college but that was a thought for later. right now all you wanted to think about was the man who held the door open for you to slide into the passenger seat and was now holding your hand over the middle console. 

“do i get to know where we’re going?” you ask, peering at the map open on his phone but it tells you nothing more than that your destination was 15 minutes away and that he had to make a right turn in one mile. 

“it’s a surprise,” he says, voice a little nervous but it was masked with excitement. wherever he was taking you, you would be happy to be there if he was this happy the whole time. 

four songs on the radio later, one of which you teased him for when he revealed that he wrote it, he was pulling into a parking lot illuminated by flashing colorful lights. he had brought you to the fair. 

“i’ve never been to the fair!” you bounced a little in your seat, wriggling in excitement. “i’ve always wanted to go, how did you know?”

“lucky guess?” he shrugs, avoiding your gaze as he cuts the engine and unbuckles his seatbelt. 

“changbin told you, didn’t he,” you smile at the thought of chan asking his friend about what you’d like. it was cute, a word that you were probably exhausting when thinking about him even after a day of knowing him. 

“yes, but,” he flushes, the tips of his ears burning red. “i asked him after i had decided to come here, just to make sure it was a good idea. i didn’t steal it from him.”

“hey, it’s okay,” you squeeze his hand in yours that he had yet to let go of in what you hoped was a comforting gesture. you didn’t know what brought him calmness yet, but you wanted to learn. you wanted to learn everything about him. “now, take me to the fair, bang chan. i was promised a date.”

he finally meets your eyes again and he’s grinning so happily that you feel like you had just won a prize. who needed a fair when you had your very own carnival game right here? 

it turns out, you did. by the time the sun was beginning to set, your arms were full of various plushies that chan had won for you, each one earning him a hug and a kiss to his cheek. you treasured every single one, the fluttering in your chest when he stepped up to the booths to throw and shoot various things never ceasing. 

“let’s go to the ferris wheel,” you tug at him with your free hand, thanking the skies when you see no queue there. “i bet the sunset looks beautiful from the top.”

he’s quiet when he follows you there and into the carriage, his thigh pressing against yours as he slides in next to you, but you don’t notice in your excitement. it isn’t until the wheel ticks to the top and stops that he grabs your hand again, trembling a little. 

“chan? are you okay?” you ask, concern warping your voice as you turn towards him. your movement rocks the carriage a bit and he turns pale, ducking his head into your neck to hide. 

“yeah, ‘m okay,” he murmurs, his eyelashes ticking your skin when he blinks his eyes shut. “just don’t like heights very much.”

“oh my god, why didn’t you tell me?” you cry out, jumping a bit and regretting it when you rock the carriage again. “nevermind that, what can i do? it’ll go down soon, you’ll be alright.”

“just keep holding my hand?” he squeezes your fingers lightly and your heart melts. you may have made a joke that he was just trying to trick you into holding his hand any other time, but the fear in his shaking body was real and you’d never tease him for that. 

“of course,” you press a kiss to his hair, moving your other hand slowly to wrap around your intertwined fingers. the wheel begins to turn again, swaying the carriage as it descends. you keep your grip on his hand tight the entire time, all the way until you’re on your feet again on steady ground. 

“i’m so sorry,” you begin to say, the horror of subjecting him to his fear creeping up now that the crisis has passed. 

“i’m going to marry you,” he says, cutting off your apology and lifting your hands to his mouth so he could press a kiss to the back of yours. “no one’s ever been able to keep me that calm. thank you.”

you were left speechless after that and all you could do was smile at him, the ghost of it not leaving your face for the rest of the night. 

–

your thirty first date with chan ends with you crying into changbin’s arms, utterly confused and the feeling of despair creeping up your veins. you had met him your cafe as you had done several times since the fair, but when you arrived he wasn’t there. he came late, dark storms in his eyes and a hard set to his jaw and you didn’t understand what had made him like that. the usual smile and twinkle in his eyes were missing, and when you and asked him about what was wrong he had snapped at you in a way you hadn’t been talked to in years. 

you had left after that, brushing him off when his eyes had widened and he reached for you while calling out your name. you know that you should have given him a chance to explain, but at the time you were too hurt to consider it. 

you made your way to changbin’s apartment without thinking, your feet taking you to safety before your head could catch up. changbin had taken one look at your face before wrapping you up in his arm, walking you to his couch so he could cuddle you properly while words spilled out of you like a leaky faucet. you felt like you were back in college, crying and blubbering over a boy who had rejected you at a party, and you hated it. 

you didn’t notice changbin sending an angry text to chan, but the sound of changbin’s door opening with a bang startled you out of your tears. chan bursts in like a whirlwind, his hair sticking up at weird angles and a look of panic on his face as he takes you in. he reaches the couch in a few strides and falls to his knees in front of you, holding a crumpled bag from the cafe in his hand and taking your cheek gently into his other. his thumb wipes at the tear tracks there and you could practically taste the guilt emanating off of him. 

“love, i am so sorry,” he starts, ignoring changbin when he scoffs at the apology. “i shouldn’t have snapped at you, i had no right to do that. i got some bad news this morning and i wasn’t feeling my best, and i should have been honest with you. i’ll never do anything like that again, please forgive me? i’ll do anything.”

it was more his voice than his words that did it - he sounded so desperate, like he was trying to hold

onto a ledge that was crumbling, threatening to hurl his body into eternal nothingness. you knew him, you knew he was sorry, and against your first instinct you trusted him when he said he wouldn’t do it again. 

“is that an almond croissant?” you eye the bag in his hand. 

“it’s two almond croissants,” he nods fervently, his hair swishing back and forth with the movement. you sit up, sliding out of changbin’s arms and onto the floor in front of chan. chan’s arms replace changbin’s easily when you lean into him, and it feels like coming home. 

“it’s not like i have a nice couch you could be sitting on,” changbin mutters as he leaves, shaking his head fondly at the two of you before making himself scarce. 

chan kisses you, cradling your head gently into his hands, and they’re so warm. he slides his lips against yours, slowly like he’s taking his time memorizing the planes of your mouth to commit to memory. even after kissing him dozens of times you still find new things to learn about each other. 

“i swear,” he says, pulling away to meet your eyes. “i’m going to marry you, someday.”

“keep getting me croissants as apologies and we’ll see,” you say, sniffling into his neck. 

—

your eighty seventh date was spent in your bed, your head spinning like both hands on a clock simultaneously and your body exuding more sweat than you ever have. 

chan is wringing out a cool cloth to place on your forehead and it feels so nice that you moan. 

“i’m sorry,” you mutter, and chan has lost count of the amount of times you’ve said it at this point. “we had a date and i ruined it.”

“we were going to see a movie,” he says, running a hand up and down your spine. “and we will. we don’t need a movie theater when we have a screen right here, hmm?” 

“but the popcorn,” you complain, closing your eyes in bliss when he runs a hand through your hair, scratching gently at your scalp. an apology for being so sweaty was at the tip of your tongue but you hold it back in favor of enjoying the feeling of his touch. 

“i’ll make you all the popcorn you want when you’re feeling better,” he promises, dropping a kiss to the side of your head. “for now, how does soup sound?” 

“popcorn soup?“ you ask, a wave of dizziness taking over your body; if you weren’t lying down already, you’re sure that too would be falling over. 

“yeah, baby,” and even in your delirium the fondness in his voice was prominent. he couldn’t hide it even if he tried. “i’ll make you some popcorn soup. get some rest okay?”

you’re asleep before he leaves the room, and you only wake up when he shakes your shoulder a bit and helps you into an upright position. he feeds you bites of what is definitely not popcorn soup after putting a movie on your laptop, the screen sitting at the foot of your bed. the both of you fall asleep before the movie finishes, but you don’t mind. 

he stays with you for days, making you soup and tea and toast and feeding you medicine and being an all-around angel as he nurses you back to health. by the time you’re better you think you’ve fallen back in love with him several times. 

as you had expected and warned him about, he catches your sickness the next week, and now it’s your turn to be his nurse. you try and do the same job he did, but his delirium seems worse. the silver lining is that his fever isn’t as bad, so you’re babysitting a babbling boyfriend more than a sick one. 

the night before his fever breaks is the worst, since he doesn’t even recognize you. you shake your head at his silliness when he asks who you are and calls you pretty. you smile when he takes your hand in his and asks you to come closer. 

you tear up when he tells you that he has a girlfriend that he loves very much and so even though you’re pretty he can’t do anything else because his girlfriend is the prettiest one in the whole world. you let a tear slip when he tells you that he can’t wait to propose to his girlfriend and that he’s going to marry her someday. 

you tell him that you have a boyfriend that you're going to marry someday, trusting that he wouldn’t remember it in the morning. 

—

your hundredth and fifth date was not unlike your fifth, or your tenth, or your ninetieth. two and a half years later, you were just as endeared by him and he was just as obsessed with you - even more so, if it were possible. 

he takes the time to tell you how gorgeous you look when he picks you up just like he does on every date, and you hide your disgustingly fond smile for him behind his back like you do every time you see him. 

he parks and runs around the car to let you out like he does every time you habit this restaurant, a little fancier than your usual best but it was a favorite of the both of yours - across the street from the bar the two of you had met at. 

you start walking before he does, letting him jog to meet you and complain about how you left him, just like you do every time. before him. you might have thought the monotony would have gotten tiring, but he had a fantastical ability to make every moment feel like the first despite their practiced nature. 

he calls your name from behind you right on schedule and you hum in acknowledgement, turning towards him absentmindedly. the second you lay eyes on him you’re completely alert, though; he isn’t jogging after you, but rather he’s kneeling on the sidewalk, a small box in his hands as he smiles up at you. 

“i’ve told you that i’m going to marry you more times than i can count,” he starts, eyes shining like the stars twinkling in the night sky above you. “but this time i’m asking you.”

“chan,” you choke out, hands coming up to cover your mouth as it quivers. tears spring to your eyes and you silently curse yourself - you always thought you’d be level headed when you got proposed to, but nothing could have prepared you for this, not even the thousands of declarations he had made to you prior. 

“i love you. you’re the only one in the entire universe that i need more than blood or breath, you’re the song that runs through my heart and the fire that leads my path when i’m lost,” his voice is thick, like he’s trying to hold back his emotions long enough to get his words out. “i never thought that i would feel so strongly for someone, i never thought that i deserved a love like this until i met you.”

he pauses as you walk closer to him, letting you approach him before he continues. 

“my love, my eternal light,” he’s tearing up now, blinking fast to keep the salty water at bay. “will you marry me?”

“chan,” you start, kneeling down next to him and taking his wrists in your hands. “i never told you this, but ever since that first day i knew. i knew that the drunk idiot that was hitting on me would be my husband.”

he chuckles, smiling delightedly as the tears finally spring from both of your eyes in unison.

“so?” he trails off, searching your face with his eyes, waiting. 

“oh!” you tighten your grip on him in an apology. “of course i’ll marry you, gosh i love you so much.”

[bi-writes]

I feel like now that MOB and Simon are comfy together and truly utterly unbelievably in love, they'd maybe wanna have a wedding. Not in the traditional, big church tons-of-guests way, but like in the dress up, say vows, and show off your love to your loved ones (no matter how few) way. Not cause they need it or cause they feel pressured, but just cause it's be sweet. A beautiful memory for them (and an excuse for MOB to see Simon in a suit and for Simon to see her in a wedding dress yknow?)

mail-order bride

you're nervous.

more nervous than you felt on the way to this house for the first time. sitting in the back of that taxi, one suitcase in the trunk and the cat in the seat beside you, even then, even knowing you were heading to meet a stranger, you did not feel this type of nervousness.

it's deep in your belly. a taut force that tangles your insides, and you try to hide the shake in your hands as you close the small book that holds your vows and pick up the small bouquet on the dresser.

they're daisies, from the garden. simon picked them for you this morning, had woken you up by tucking one of the stems behind your ear. you made sure to add a few to your hair before dressing.

the silk sits perfectly. that shop on the main street had kept your measurements, and when you asked if they could make you something a little more special, you could not have envisioned anything more beautiful.

structured bodice to hold you in, draped in silk that fell over every curve and every line like falling water, in an elegant white that made the sentiment of what today would be all too real.

he's leaning against the doorway to the backyard when you open the bedroom door. you're barefoot, quiet, so it takes him a minute before he notices you.

both of you pause at a reasonable distance when you finally get a good look at each other.

simon looks so handsome. he's all made-up in his dress uniform, a faded green jacket buttoned over slacks with a khaki shirt underneath, but it is tailored to perfect, and the belt around his waist makes him look all the more formal. what really has you swooning is the lovely medals on his chest--lined up in beautiful rows, glinting in the sunlight as he tips the beret he's wearing to eye you carefully.

"christ," simon murmurs, taking both his hands out of his pockets. he clears his throat, shifting in his boots, and he finally holds a hand out for you, beckoning you forward. "wot a bloody sight y'are, luv."

you pad forward, smiling, and when your hand fits in his, you both squeeze, staring at one another with grins that won't fade. he leans forward to pressing his face to yours before making his way outside with you.

there's a seat under the tree, with a small table beside it. there's flowers everywhere, petals across the grass, and you follow simon under the shade as he takes a seat, guiding you into his lap so you both can sit there for a moment.

it's quiet. there's a light breeze making the leaves fall, but the sun is peeking through the clouds, and you can see the cats in the window, staring at you both as they chew between nips of cat grass. you set down your bouquet on the table beside you, settling in simon's lap as you hold the notebook to your chest.

"can...can i go first?" you ask, and simon reaches up to brush a few strands of your hair out of your face. he nods, adjusting you in his lap, and you try not to focus too hard on how much your hands shake as you flip open the little book you're holding.

the first few pages are your first few drafts, scribbled out with messy pen strokes. you settle where your real words begin, somewhere in the middle, jumbled between messy handwriting since you spent so long perfecting it all.

"simon," you start gently, and you relax a little when you feel his hand settle on your lower back, soothing you gently as he listens. "i had no idea what i was getting myself into all that time ago. my entire life, it's felt like...i've felt like i've just been running. running from the things i've always been afraid of. from people that i didn't trust. from the things that have happened and the things i thought might happen. in fact...i felt like if i didn't keep running, something terrible would catch up to me."

one of your hand falls, and simon covers it with his own. the shaking settles, and you continue.

"and then i came here," you whisper. "i-i..." you swallow. "i-i came here, and i ran right into you." you notice a few wet spots on the pages, and you steady your breaths, trying not to focus too much on the wetness you feel along your cheeks. "a-and you caught me."

you look over at him, and he's smiling, dark eyes trained on your clasped hands in your lap. he squeezes, bringing your hand up to his mouth, and you have the courage to keep going when you feel him kiss your knuckles.

"i don't know how we found each other. i-i don't know who knew that this house was mine. i don't know who understood that there was an empty place inside that belonged to me, but i'm here now. a-and i'm not...i'm not going anywhere."

you bend, leaning forward, and you press your forehead to his temple.

"no one has ever loved me the way you do, simon riley. and i-i promise i will try until forever t-to do the same for you."

it hurts. there's a place in simon's chest that physically aches, like a tender wound, squeezing against his ribs as he hugs you close to his body. the time with you is precious. he fears the moment he knows that there is not much left, but that time isn't now, and he cherishes that fact.

he has always carried a sense for those kind of things. he can tell when there is little left, like knowing there is nothing more to drink in canister without shaking it. it's a feeling, one he knows well, but he doesn't feel that with you, not yet, and he will consume every breath he can that he shares with you until then (because when he feels the time waning, he will give you every breath of his that remains if it means you get just one more second of this life).

simon reaches into his jacket, pulling out a small paper. he unfolds it gently, still holding you close, and you cling to the lapels of his jacket as he talks to you in that low, soothing voice of his.

"'m not sure where t'start," simon chuckles. "was hard for me to think of wot t'say t'ya." he takes a small breath before kissing your forehead. "'s hard ta think about wot it was like before i had ya 'ere. only eatin' because i had to. only leavin' the house because the job demanded it of me. like the whole world was a terrible fuckin' grey. so fuckin' quiet, i could hear this nasty ringin' in my ears."

simon crumples the paper a little, and you wrap a hand around the back of his neck to anchor him.

"honest...i thought the job would 'ave me. tha' i'd go out in some reckless sort of way, or maybe i'd just...let it take me with it one day. and when i knew y'were comin', i still thought tha' was how it would be. tha' i'd settle in it alone, on my own, like i always 'ave."

you close your eyes, and you can hear nothing besides his voice.

"thought i'd run outta luck. thought crawlin' out of my fuckin' grave was the last thing that they'd ever give me," he mutters, and you suck in a shaky breath when you hear the paper crumple sharply. "i don't know wot i ever did to deserve someone like you, luv. 'm not good. never 'ave been. the things i've done, wot i've seen, i wasn't meant for good things."

you pull back a little and open your eyes, and simon's own are full of pain. he grips your waist a little firmly, digging his fingers into you there.

"'n ya aren't just good. y'r perfect. like y'were made in my dreams. and still y'r 'ere, and ya haven't left, and..." he swallows. "nothing else matters, swee'eart." his eyes meet yours. big, brown ones, sadness so permeable, striking, an unnerving kind. "family is oll that matters." when your foreheads touch again, you can't stop yourself. his voice is low, gravelly, weighed down by some kind of pain that you'll never understand. simon has pieces of himself that are missing. people from a past life that he tries to keep finding, things that he knows should be here, but will forever disappoint him by no longer being real.

when he puts his hand over your heart, you can't see him anymore, not really. your tears blur your vision.

"y'r all that matters."

when you cut the cake in the kitchen, you feed each other small bites of decadent chocolate, and when you finish, you gift each other the vows you've written, to tuck away somewhere special, to read when the world gets too loud or when the colors of life get washed out by meaningless distractions.

the dance in the kitchen has lasted for minutes or hours, you can't remember. the music is soft, and you're swaying, but time is meaningless when you're looking into simon's eyes.

it is a part of him that will never change. you memorize how they look, because you want to recognize them in every place that you see them. you want to remember them everywhere, now, soon, until time rots the plants above the sink and kills the vegetables in your garden and makes threadbare the kitchen towels on the counter--you want to remember them.

so you can find him in this life, and every other one that comes after.

[starcrossed-lov3rz]

The Vow Spoken Through Time - Part 1

Daemon x Rhaenyra x Wife!Reader

Series: Series Masterlist

Warnings: MDNI, mild smut (at the end), threesome 

Tags: marriage, poly relationship, Daemon being hopelessly in love with his wives, Queen!Rhaenyra

Words: ~1.9K

Description: Y/N is having a rough morning. She's fired. She's hungover. She's in a stranger's bed. She's waking up in a new world? She's married?!

Rhaenyra and Daemon's day started normal. Waking up next to their darling wife before tending to their duties. The difference? Their wife is speaking in riddles and has no memories of them.

Check out more works in my Masterlist!

“God my head fucking hurts,” you whine, sitting up to rub your eyes. “That wine really hit out of nowhere.” Your head pounds, it has to be part of a hangover. The last thing you remember before drinking yourself to sleep was getting fired. Your boss hadn’t even had the decency to let you know face to face. An HR representative and your manager requested a zoom call at the end of the day and politely told you to ‘clean your desk.’

After nearly three years of work with the same accounting firm, it was weird to not wake up early and head into the office. The worst part really was that your performance was still stellar, the firm was just hemorrhaging money after several questionable expansions. 

Despite the pounding headache and sensitivity to light, you force yourself to open your eyes. “What the fuck?!” Glancing around the room frantically, you panic as you realize you weren’t waking up in the comfort of your room. You had to be the subject of some prank reality tv show because the decor was undoubtedly some renaissance festival shit. The walls were brick with large tapestries decorating the stone. You were laid in the center of a giant four poster bed, black and red canopies flowing.

Slipping from the tangle of sheets and blankets, you pad towards the door. “Okay,” you call out, “you got me. Very funny.” 

Silence. 

“This is so weird” you murmur, pushing the door open as gently as possible to peak out. A woman rushes by you, dressed in some kind of drab linen and an apron. “Excuse me!” you shout, attempting to get her attention. 

The short woman slowed down, stopping to curtsy quickly at the sight of you. “My lady, forgive me. I didn’t you see you there!”

“My lady?” You asked. “What are you talking about? This isn’t funny.”

“I’m not trying to be funny, my lady,” she replied quietly. “Please don’t tell your wife I was making jokes! I swear I meant no harm-”

“My wife?!” Everyone has officially gone off the deep end. First this medieval times shit, now apparently you have a wife.

The woman’s eyes go wide, “Your wife, Queen Rhaenyra. My lady, are you unwell?”

“I’m sorry,” you apologize. “I have no idea what’s going on. I lost my job. I don’t know where I am or apparently who I am. I just want-” You choke off into sobs.

“Let me help you back to your room,” she offered, taking your elbow. “I’ll let the Queen know you’re unwell.”

You nodded, letting her lead you back into the room. The woman helped you into a steaming bath and left you to soak while she fetched your wife. “Can’t believe someone made an honest woman of me,” you laugh.

At some point, the entire situation stopped feeling like a prank. Maybe it was watching the maid fill the tub painstakingly bucket by bucket, or the significant lack of electricity. Either way, your situation was beginning to feel more and more real. You grab the bar of soap and lather up a cloth, scrubbing furiously at your skin. 

“That’s weird,” you murmur as you notice that your skin seems far too perfect. You usually had a couple scars littering your arms and legs, leftovers from frequently crashing your bike as a kid and general clumsiness. They all seemed to have vanished into thin air, leaving nothing but perfectly smooth, supple skin behind. “Okay, I’m officially going crazy.”

You see a small mirror on the ledge next to the tub, and reach out with shaky hands. You sigh in relief as you glance into the mirror and see that you look the same. At least you have something familiar here.

“Admiring the view? I know I am.” A deep voice purred from behind you.

Tossing the mirror back, you swiftly cover your chest and pray that the water obscurs the rest of you. “What the fuck?!” You yell, turning to confront whatever pervert decided to interrupt your bath. A tall man towered over the tub, his white hair practically glowing as the candlelight reflected off of it.

“I’m trying to have an existential crisis in here,” you hiss. “Can you come back later or something?”

He snorted a laugh, stalking forward to grab a brush from the side table and sit behind you. “And miss this opportunity? I should think not, my love.” He gently began detangling your hair and brushing it out. 

“My love? You do know I’m a married woman?” You retort.

“You never let me forget,” he replied, kissing the top of your hair. 

“I mean I have a wife, asshole!” You twist around to snatch the brush from his hands, but he lifts it out of your reach.

“What a coincidence,” he purrs, blatantly staring at your breasts. “I do too. Two, if I’m not mistaken.” His eyes dart down to your left hand, as if he knows something you don’t.

You glance at the ring that’s been there since you woke up. The black metal has a dragon insignia that looks awfully similar to the embroidery on this man’s shirt. “Fuck.” 

The man’s brows furrow, “what’s wrong?” He sets the brush down, grabbing a sheet and pulling you from the bath. He wraps you up and sits you in his lap. The warmth seeping into your skin feels so familiar and you feel yourself begin to break. Tears stream down your cheeks, and you burrow your face into his neck to hide them. 

Warm hands rub up and down your back soothingly. “My love, I cannot fix whatever is wrong if you don’t tell me.” He hums. “You don’t even have to tell me. Just give Rhaenyra a name and I will ensure whoever made you cry will never breathe again.”

You laugh at the irony. “I don’t know who Rhaenyra is. I’m not sure I even know who I am.” 

Before he can respond, a door slams. “Daemon, thank Gods you’re here. The maid said y/n was acting ill and didn’t rememb-” 

Your head peaks up over the man–Daemon’s shoulder to see the woman who ran in. Her hair is just as white as Daemon’s and her clothing adorned with the same dragon insignia. This must be Queen Rhaenyra.

“Y/n?!” Rhaenyra rushes over, kissing your cheek before she hugs you tightly. 

“My queen,” Daemon greets, leaning in for a kiss. You find yourself pressed between the two, and as much as you don’t want to admit it….the warmth and pressure feels comforting…like home. 

“I hate to break this up,” you say, wiping the last of your tears away. “But can someone tell me what is going on. The last thing I remember was being fired, getting wine drunk, and going to bed early.”

“Fired?” Rhaenyra looked confused and immediately started inspecting every exposed inch of your skin. “Did you try to feed Caraxes again? He’s a temperamental old man, just like his rider.”

“Who is Caraxes? Do ya’ll have a dog or something?”

“Dog?!” Daemon sounded almost offended. “A dog?! Rhaenyra we should fetch a maester. Our little dragon is either begging for a punishment or in need of a healer.”

Rhaenyra attempts to cover her laugh. “Caraxes, Daemon’s dragon? You insist on telling him a goodnight story at least once a week.”

“He’s a dragon of war for fucks sake,” Daemon mutters. “You’ve been making him soft.”

“Dragon?!” Your eyes go wide. “You’re joking. You’ve gotta be fucking me right now.”

“We are most definitely no-”

“We certainly could be-”

Daemon and Rhaenyra spoke at the same time. You would have laughed, but the implications of Daemon’s words were starting to settle in.

“Wait,” you being. “So if Queen Rhaenyra is my wife….and Daemon has two wives…and you two seem to be close…that means-”

“That you both are all mine,” Daemon purrs.

“Daemon, we must call for the maester. This seems serious, she doesn’t even remember us.”

“What year is this?” You ask, not sure if you want the answer.

“125 AC.” Rhaenyra responds.

“And where are we?”

“The red keep.”

“What, is that like England or something?”

“We are in Westeros.” Rhaenyra feels your forehead. “Daemon, put y/n to bed while I have the maids summon the maester.”

You yelp in surprise and Daemon stands up, holding you close to his chest. He carries you to a vanity, setting you gently on the bench before rummaging through some drawers. “Arms up, love.” He says, pulling a white shift over your head. You stare of into space as Daemon gently braids your hair. 

“Where’d you learn to do that?” You ask as he ties a ribbon at the ends of the braid.

“You and Rhaenyra are quite the demanding duo when you want to be,” he snorts. “The staff might revolt and establish Rhaenyra’s cunt of a half-brother as king if I bothered them everytime you both needed your hair done.”

“Language,” you chide. Daemon rolls his eyes before he sweeps you back up into his arms. He carries you to the bed, depositing you in the center before he climbs in. Daemon sits up, back against the headboard as he pulls you in to lean against his chest. 

“Do you really not remember us?” He asks. 

“How long have we been married?” 

“Five years. We were married in the old ways. Your High Valyrian wasn’t as good back then though.” Daemon laughs. “But it was perfect, and I wouldn’t trade you both for anything.”

“So if Rhaenyra is queen, what does that make you?” You ask. He had to be King, right?

“A lucky man.”

You laugh, and lightly hit his chest. “No, really. I don’t remember anything. Help a girl out here.”

“Prince consort.” Daemon answers. You nod, so Rhaenyra must be in charge around here.

“So how’d I end up married to Queen Rhaenyra and Prince Consort Daemon?” You ask in the poshest British accent you can muster.

“You threw yourself at my feet saying ‘Please Rhaenyra, I cannot live without you! You are the sun that brightens the sky and the stars that guide ships home!’” Rhaenyra teased. You sit up to see that Rhaenyra isn’t alone, she brought back some balding man with her. 

“I didn’t say that-” You protest.

“Really?” Daemon laughs. “My queen, it’s not proper to toy with someone who is ill.”

“You’re one to talk,” Rhaenyra says, raising a brow. “You seemed rather close when I came in earlier.”

You groan. How did you manage to survive these two for five years. 

!!SMUT BELOW!!

PREVIEW FOR PART TWO

“No,” Daemon scolds, clasping your hands together in his larger one and wrenching your body into his. “You’re not in charge here. You’re going to listen and obey like a good little girl.” You whine in response, nodding furiously in agreement. Suddenly, Rhaenyra’s warm body brushes up against your back. She nibbles lightly at your ear before kissing and licking her way down your neck.

“No need to be cruel,” Rhaenyra purrs. “Our little dragon is just begging for attention the only way she knows how.”

You whimper, canting your hips into Daemon’s. He slides a thigh between yours, pressing it up against your cunt. Your eyes roll back and you moan at the friction. “Please,” you breathe out, your teary eyes meeting his. 

NOTE: Hey all! I'm not dead, sorry for disappearing! Life happened (new job, had to travel home for a funeral). But, I got my shit back together after taking some time for myself and I'm ready to give y'all the stories I've been cooking up. I have some steamy and inspiring requests I'm working on for Feyd Rautha (so if you requested...they're coming). Glad to be back and BE ON THE LOOKOUT FOR PART 2!!!! - Lacie <3

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[tlou-reid]

Finishing Gifts ❤︎ Aaron Hotchner

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

♡ SUMMARY: after a few days of ignoring him, Aaron makes an effort to get your behavior to return to normal

♡ WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI, smut, female and male masturbation, phone sex, mentions of watching porn, sex toys, drinking, small mentions of criminal minds-esque themes and violence, pretty much porn with very little plot, this is not edited like at all

♡ NOTE: something about writing aaron masturbating makes me go brrrrrr

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You had thought you were keeping your cool. Honestly, truly, you had thought no one would notice the small changes in your behavior. You had tried to be subtle in dodging Hotch, doing it slowly and over time. It had started with piggybacking Spencer’s theories in the field, which led to pushing to go look at a crime scene rather than to the police department with Hotch. Then evolved into getting deep into conversation with JJ as you approached the jet, using it as an excuse to claim a seat next to her rather than your normal position between Hotch and the window.

These acts had gone unnoticed, or, at least, you’d thought. In your determination to avoid them, you hadn’t noticed the strange looks Derek and Morgan had thrown each other, and then Aaron, as you relaxed next to JJ. You missed Garcia questioning what had been up with you as you extended your time making coffee before a briefing, just so you didn’t have to walk behind Hotch into the room.

But, your latest change to avoid your unit chief definitely didn’t fly under the radar. This one was loud and clear, and absolutely threw off the entire BAU.

You’d just completed, by all possible metrics, a very successful case. It was a rare one, looking at terrorism in the DC area. A group of people who were planting explosives around the city, in unsuspecting areas. Instead of targeting political buildings or memorials, they focused on smaller-scale destruction. The team had been able to put the perpetrators away with no more casualties than those that were gone before the team landed. All in all, it was incredibly stressful, but a win for the team.

So, after Emily’s suggestion and Derek’s reminder that it was an extended weekend due to a government holiday, the team was getting ready to head to the bar. You had begged to go home to shower, promising you’d take an Uber (so you could, in Penelope’s words, “get fucked up with the girls”) and meet them at the bar in about an hour.

You put on your best outfit, showing an appropriate amount of cleavage, and did your makeup to the best of your abilities. After you’d cleaned up, you went to open your Uber app, excited to have a night to relax.

However, you were cut off when a phone call overtook your screen. “Aaron” the contact name read, indicating it was your unit chief, and that he was calling from his personal cellphone. You let ring a few times before picking up, not wanting to seem too eager to talk to your boss.

“Hellooo,” you practically sung into the phone, too excited to be worried about embarrassing yourself in front of him. He simply replied with a formal “hello,” followed by your name. “Please don’t tell me you’re ruining my longggg weekend,” You said to him, and he swore he could hear some of jewelry shaking. You couldn’t keep your excitement in, shaking your wrists, which made your bracelets make noise.

He chuckled a bit at your reaction to him calling, “No, no. I was just calling to see if you had left yet.” You smiled against the phone, knowing where this conversation was going. “Nope! I was actually ordering my Uber when you called,” you informed him. “So, you haven’t ordered it?” He questioned again, to which you replied with a “uh-uh”.

You couldn’t tell but your excitement about going out with your friends was essentially oozing through the phone, causing Aaron to maintain a bright smile on his face. You weren’t aware of how your vibe, your energy, was able to lift a weight off of Aaron’s shoulders that had been there for as long as he could remember.

“I also had to run home before meeting the team. If you’d like, I can pick you up.” Your smile, somehow, grew even bigger. Any excuse to see Aaron was a good one, you’d thought.

However, your face quickly fell when you reminded yourself that you were supposed to be avoiding him. You felt a pang in your heart as you said, “Thanks, but I have a few things to finish up here! I appreciate the offer, Hotch.”

With a quick, formal goodbye, the called ended. Aaron tried to ignore the fact that you lied to him as he drove the rest of the way. You had said you were about to call your Uber, and he heard your jewelry, meaning you were putting the finishing touches on your outfit. So why wouldn’t you accept his ride?

He tried to ignore the blow to his chest when you called him Hotch. Something about the use of his last name made him feel as if he’d done something wrong. Not that it was unusual for you, or anyone really, to call him that. It was the emphasis you’d put on it. As if you were trying to make it known he was Hotch and not Aaron.

Aaron tried to turn off his profiling ability, but it was proving to be had as all of his thoughts were currently encompassed by you.

The night, and the whole weekend if you were being honest, went by in a blur. You could tell Aaron had noticed the change in your behavior. You were standoffish at the bar, pretty much avoiding any conversation with him. You just hoped by the end of the long weekend it would be forgotten, and you’d be able to continue work as normal.

This dream was quickly demolished as Aaron was summoning you into his office before you had the chance to even put your bag down and unpack your files.

The sound of calling your last name both frightened and intrigued you. You couldn’t help but be attracted to the authority in his voice, even if it could mean you were going to be in trouble.

As you stepped into the voice, Aaron didn’t even look up. He mumbled a “shut the door, please,” as he finished recording some notes on an opened file in front of him. You stood awkwardly by the door, waiting for some kind instruction or reasoning from him.

“Please,” he gestured to the seats in front of his desk. You nodded, clumsily making your way to them. “I didn’t mean to scare you or make you uncomfortable by calling you in here,” he began.

You weren’t sure if you were more scared by being called into his office, to have a conversation that required you to both sit down and shut the door, or the intense eye contact he was maintaining as he introduced whatever discussion you two were about to have.

“I just couldn’t help but notice,” he paused for a second, trying to find the right words to say, “a recent change in your behavior.” You hoped he didn’t notice the way your eyes went wide, knowing you’d been caught. You didn’t have to ask what he was talking about to know you’d been caught, but you did anyway, “What do you mean?” You thought you were playing your part well, furrowing your eyebrows to truly emphasis your fake confusion.

“It feels as though you’ve been avoiding me.” Aaron says. His tone isn’t angry or even authoritative, but rather, disappointed. There’s a slight huff in the way he spoke. He didn’t give you a chance to defend yourself before he continued, “Which is fine if you so choose to do so. I would just like to know if it was because of something I did and if I could fix it. I want the team to function as well as it can, and I feel as though it would not if there was conflict between you and I.”

Aaron had to find a professional spin to throw his statement, knowing the professionalism of this situation was debatable at best. “Oh, sir,” you blushed, not really knowing what to say, “I don’t believe there is any conflict between us.” Your voice was formal, too formal. It was obvious you were under pressure. “So, what is it then?” He questioned.

You could feel yourself growing small under his intense stare. You could also feel the wet patch growing between your legs, making you slightly uncomfortable.

“You, uh, you kind of make nervous.” With your quiet voice and stutter, and the way your thighs squeezed together, it was easy for Aaron to pick up on the reason he made you nervous. His cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink instantaneously. “Oh,” his voice trailed off, followed by your quiet, “yeah.”

There was a few beats of silence before he cleared his throat. “Well, I’m glad to hear there’s no issues between us.” You nodded with his words, growing even more nervous. Your mouth was moving before your brain could catch up, “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to, it’s just been a minute since I’ve, ya know, and I know you’re boss but I will be completely professional and this will not effect my work in or out of the field.”

While you mean to be assuring your boss that your attraction to him was no detriment to your work, you just admitted that it’s been a minute since you’ve had an orgasm. You needed to end this conversation quickly.

“If that’s all,” You said as you stood, “I have a few more reports to finish.” Aaron simply nodded, dismissing you back into the bullpen. You made a break for the bathroom, hoping to have a few minutes to collect yourself before facing the race of the team. You felt exposed, knowing you were entering a room of profilers after since a painful experience. You needed some time alone.

After a mini-breakdown, and cleaning up your messed up mascara, you made your way to your desk. Calm and collected. That’s all you had to be. Calm and collected.

Serial killers and other criminals had quieted down for the week, in an unlikely turn of events. You’d only had to travel for one day, quickly solving a kidnapping case and the finding the perpetrator. The week flew by swimmingly. Nothing odd had happened.

Until you opened your door Saturday morning.

You hadn’t ordered anything, that much you were sure of. Even if you did, you tended to shop at places with bright packaging that made you feel like you were opening a gift when it was delivered. This unsuspecting, plain box was not here on your accord, yet it had your name and address on it.

The FBI agent side of you flipped into protection mode, racing to grab your phone and dial up the one person you knew that could tell you what to do if there happened to be a bomb inside of the box. Derek Morgan. “Pretty girl, why are you facetiming me at 8:27am on a Saturday?” He teased with a smile on his face. No matter what time it was, Derek was ready to listen.

“I got this box and I don’t know what it is. I just want someone to be around when I open it.” You informed him, sitting down next to the box. You should probably be standing, just in case you had to make a run for it but you were too worried about getting it open to think that far ahead.

“Alright,” He said, urging you to open it. You nodded to him, setting up the phone so he could you see and the box in the frame. You carefully tore off the tape, and let out a sigh of relief when nothing happened when it moved. You lifted the flaps slowly, taking a loud gasp when you saw it was. You hoped Derek didn’t see, and moved quickly to pick up your phone to hang up before he could.

“It’s not a bomb! I’m good, thanks Derek!” You rushed, hanging up before he could say anything. Your eyes didn’t leave the box as you let your arms fall to your sides. Sitting inside of it was a small, pink rose toy. A vibrator. That you definitely didn’t order.

You grabbed the box, hoping none of your neighbors saw it. It’s not that masturbation was wrong or immoral or that you didn’t partake, it was just weird if the people around you were aware of your toys.

So, you made sure your door was tightly closed before putting the box on the table and digging through it. There was all the normal things, the vibrator itself, large bubble wrap, and a paper receipt with the name of the product: Intimately GG Rose Suction Simulator from Pink Cherry.

However, there was another piece of paper at the bottom of the box. It was a typed note that read, “I hope this helps us go back to normal. A.H”. You knew exactly one person with the initials A.H. so it wasn’t rocket science to figure out who had ordered you this sex toy.

You weren’t sure if you were more turned on or embarrassed.

Aaron was your boss. Your kind, protective, strong, hot, sexy, boss. But still your boss. You wondered if this is something he would’ve done for someone like Emily or Penelope if they’d been in your predicament. It clicked quickly that it definitely wasn’t, and that made you special in Aaron Hotchner’s eyes.

So, you made a mental note to give him a call, after you tried out your toy. Luckily, you had your cleaning solution and an old bottle of lube from your past encounters. You made quick work of getting the toy clean and finding a video to help you get yourself off.

Of course, the man in the video was a white man who was bit older, with broad shoulders and black hair. No coincidence there.

You started with your boobs, taking time to massage each one before pulling on and pinching them to get yourself warmed up. Between the sounds coming from the video and the excitement of finally having time to yourself, your hands didn’t take long to move downwards, tracing along the length of your body. One hand continued caressing your side as the other made its way to your core.

The thought of Aaron going out of his way to help you get off and the visual of a man who looked similar to him getting his dick sucked had you borderline dripping on your bedsheets as you used your hand to start toying with your clit. You started with small circles, matching the speed of the girl sucking Aaron’s lookalike’s dick.

You stayed like this for a while, allowing yourself to go slow, really take your time pleasuring yourself. The guy in the video had already finished on the girl’s tits by the time you reached for your rose toy. You didn’t need the visual anymore, perfectly crafting dirty scenarios of your unit chief in your head.

You started on low. There was gentle sucking on your clit as you imagined the way Aaron would kiss. He’s experienced, you know that for sure. You could imagine the way he’d start gentle, maybe even cupping your face as he pulled you close. He’d let you feel like you were in charge, before his tongue made its way inside your mouth. His dominant side would take over, using his body to press you against whatever surface you were sat on.

As you fantasized about his dominant side, you cranked up the toy to the next level. You let out a loud moan at the new feeling. Your free hand moved back to your breast, squeezing, while you did your best to imagine Aaron’s large hands doing it instead.

You could feel the coil in your tummy getting tighter and tighter as you imagined Aaron slowly stripping your body, dragging his hand along each and every curve. With a sharp pinch to your nipple and a cry of Aaron’s name, you came undone all over your rose toy.

You could feel your slick dripping down your hand as you worked yourself through your orgasm, making sure to enjoy it for as long as you could. You wished you could savor this feeling. It was the strongest, best orgasm you’d ever had. Nothing could compare to the euphoria you felt right now.

You flicked the toy off and sat it to the side once the feeling became too much. You couldn’t bring yourself to move from your position. “Fuck,” you breathed out, trying to relax the hard rise and fall of your chest.

Once you were able to relax, you made your way to the shower. You knew you had to call Aaron, but you needed to be much more relaxed than you were right now to have that conversation. The sting from the hot water helped ground you, allowing you to clear your mind. After you cleaned yourself, you cleaned the toy and put everything in your nightstand drawer for future use.

Then, you reached for your cellphone. You quickly found Aaron’s personal number and hit the call button before you could overthink what you were doing. He picked up on the second ring. “Hotchner,” he said, probably out of habit. “Hello, Aaron,” you smiled. This is the conversation you’d had with him in a while that didn’t make you feel nervous. “Hello,” he echoed with your name. You didn’t know, but he was smirking on the other side of the phone. He’d been waiting for this call.

“You sent me a gift?” You asked. “I did. Have you received it?” He wasn’t sure what grew more, his smirk or his cock. “I have. I’ve opened it and took it for a test run as well.” The way you two were beating around the bush was a turn on, but the way he sounded so self-assured, as if he knew what you were going to say, had you clenching your thighs together.

“How did it perform?” Aaron questioned, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table in front of him. This tightened the dress pants he was wearing against his hardened cock. “Very well,” You smiled. “I’m happy to hear that. I hope this is the end of all of your weird behavior.” Aaron chuckles. Just the sound of his laugh has you reaching your hand to squeeze the fat of your thighs.

“What weird behavior, Aaron?” You questioned, teasingly. This conversation is very different than any you’d had before, and it was turning you. You didn’t think it was possible with the strong orgasm you’d maybe an hour ago. But, Aaron was a special individual. He had that effect on you.

“You were avoiding me,” He scoffed. “I don’t know if I was. I think it was self-control,” You smiled, knowing you were baiting him. Without missing a beat, he took the bait, “And why did you need to practice self-control?”

Aaron leaned back in his chair, opting to press his hand against his cock instead of using the soft fabric to provide some kind of friction. He needed more, that much he knew.

“Because I was trying not to jump your bones, Aaron.” You breathed out. Your words had him squeezing his bulge, feeling like he could bust just from knowing you were attracted to him. “Fuck,” Aaron groaned into the phone. You giggled at his reaction, moving to press your hand against your core, again.

“Tell me about your toy,” He demanded, finally using the authoritarian tone that helped you get into this situation in the first time. “So you can touch yourself while I do?” You questioned, assuming he was in the same position as you. “Is that okay?” He questioned. “Of course it is, Aaron.” You promised, and used your permission as an excuse to unbutton his pants, and shove his hand under the waistband of his boxers.

As you started talking, he spread the precum, that’s been oozing from his pretty pink tip since he saw your contact name, along the length of his dick. “It was so good, Aaron. That was the best orgasm I’ve ever had.”

“Yeah?” Aaron encouraged you to keep going as he started stroking his cock. “Yeah,” You whined out, “I wish you could’ve seen me. My legs were shaking and I was leaking so much.” You smirked as you heard him groan in to the phone. His strokes had quickened in length. All he could picture was you spread out on his bed, cumming around his cock.

“What did you think about while you came?” You were surprised he was able to get the question out, especially because he only stuttered once. You wished you could see the way he squeezed his eyes together as he tugged on his cock. “You, obviously. I was thinking about your lips and your hands. I finished before I could get to the good part. I wanted to picture you fucking me from behind, pressing my face into the mattress.”

You were going to continue describing your fantasy to him, but he cut you off with a “Fuck!” as he came down his hands.

The line was silent for a few minutes before you spoke, “Hey, Aaron?” He hummed out a “yeah?”, before you asked, “Do you want to come over?”

“Give me ten minutes,” He promised, “and have the toy out.”

Well, you couldn’t refuse that.

[pucksandpower]

Come Undone

Day 26 → Cum Marking 💋 Charles Leclerc

Warnings: 18+ content, dubious consent, and somnophilia

Kinktober Masterlist

Charles can’t remember the last time he’s been this agitated. The tension has been building for days, coiling around his chest like a tight wire, and it all seems to be connected to one thing — or rather, one person.

You.

He stands in the Ferrari garage, arms crossed, leaning against a wall with his eyes trained on you. You're talking with Lewis again. That familiar laugh escapes your lips, the one Charles loves, but now it grates against his nerves.

Lewis is close, too close, and Charles can’t help but notice the way Lewis’ hand brushes your arm as he talks. It’s subtle, probably innocent, but it still sends a spark of irritation through him.

“Everything alright?” Joris asks, coming to stand beside him. His tone is casual, but there’s a knowing look in his eyes.

Charles doesn’t answer immediately, jaw tight as he watches you laugh again at something Lewis says. “Yeah,” he replies, but his voice is strained, even to his own ears.

Joris raises an eyebrow, following his gaze. “You sure about that? You’ve been glaring at Lewis like he’s the second coming of 14-year-old Max.”

Charles lets out a huff of air, half-laugh, half-sigh. “I’m fine,” he insists, though he can’t tear his eyes away from the scene unfolding in front of him.

Joris just smirks, nudging him with his shoulder. “You know, if you stare any harder, you might just set him on fire.”

Charles finally looks at Joris, who is grinning like he’s thoroughly entertained by this. “I’m not-” he starts, but Joris cuts him off.

“You’re not what? Jealous? Possessive? Both?” Joris teases, but there’s no malice in it.

Charles sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just … he’s always around her.”

“Maybe because she’s your girlfriend and he’s trying to be friendly?” Joris suggests, but Charles shakes his head.

“There’s something about the way he looks at her. It’s not just friendly.”

Joris considers this, then shrugs. “Maybe. But you know, she’s with you. Not him. And she doesn’t seem to notice anything unusual, does she?”

Charles glances back at you, still deep in conversation with Lewis, completely unaware of the turmoil in his mind. “No,” he admits reluctantly. “She doesn’t.”

“Then maybe you’re overthinking it.” Joris claps a hand on his shoulder. “But if it’s bothering you this much, maybe you should talk to her.”

Charles frowns. “And say what? ‘Hey, I think my new teammate is flirting with you, can you please stop talking to him?’ That sounds ridiculous.”

Joris laughs. “It does when you say it like that. Just … I don’t know, make sure she knows how you feel about her. So there’s no room for doubt.”

Charles nods, but his eyes drift back to you. The way Lewis leans in slightly as he talks, the easy smile on his face … it’s driving him crazy. Joris is right — you’re with him, not Lewis, but that doesn’t stop the uneasy feeling gnawing at him.

“Thanks,” he says, though his voice lacks conviction.

“Anytime,” Joris replies, patting his shoulder before walking away, leaving Charles to stew in his thoughts.

He knows he should focus on the race tomorrow, but all he can think about is how Lewis seems to find every excuse to be near you. At first, he thought he was imagining it, reading too much into friendly interactions. But as the days went on, it became harder to ignore. The casual touches, the lingering looks, the way Lewis always seems to find you when Charles isn’t around … it’s all too much.

Charles doesn’t want to be that boyfriend — the one who’s insecure, who reads into things that aren’t there — but every instinct he has is screaming that Lewis is interested in you. And the worst part? You don’t even seem to notice.

He’s pulled from his thoughts by the sound of your voice. “Charles?”

He blinks, realizing you’re standing in front of him now, a concerned look on your face. Lewis is nowhere to be seen, and Charles feels a small surge of relief at that.

“Yeah?” He replies, trying to shake off the tension.

“You okay?” You ask, tilting your head slightly as you study his face. “You seem … off.”

He forces a smile, but it feels tight. “I’m fine.”

You don’t look convinced. “Are you sure? Because you’ve been acting weird for the past few days.”

He hesitates, wondering how much to tell you. Part of him wants to just brush it off, to avoid any potential conflict, but another part of him — the part that’s been simmering with jealousy and frustration — wants to tell you everything. Maybe Joris is right; maybe it’s better to be honest with you, to clear the air before this eats him alive.

“I’ve just … I’ve noticed how much time you’ve been spending with Lewis,” he says, trying to keep his tone neutral.

You blink, clearly surprised by the direction the conversation has taken. “Lewis? What do you mean?”

Charles rubs a hand over his face, feeling a little foolish now that he’s actually saying it out loud. “It’s just … he’s always around you, and it feels like he’s flirting with you. And I don’t like it.”

Your eyes widen slightly, then you frown. “Lewis isn’t flirting with me. He’s just being friendly.”

“Maybe,” Charles concedes, “but it doesn’t feel that way to me. He’s always touching you, always finding excuses to talk to you …”

You stare at him for a moment, then shake your head, a small smile playing on your lips. “You’re being ridiculous. Lewis is just … Lewis. He’s like that with everyone.”

Charles feels a flicker of irritation at how easily you dismiss his concerns. “Not like this,” he insists. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

You sigh, crossing your arms over your chest. “And how does he look at me?”

“Like he wants something more,” Charles says, the words tumbling out before he can stop them.

There’s a beat of silence, and then you laugh — a short, incredulous sound. “You’re serious?”

“Yes, I’m serious!” Charles snaps, more frustrated by your reaction than anything else. “I know what I’m seeing, and it’s driving me crazy.”

Your smile fades, replaced by a look of confusion and something else — hurt, maybe? “Charles, I’m with you. I love you. Why would you think for a second that I would be interested in someone else?”

“It’s not that,” he says quickly, regretting his tone. “It’s not about you. It’s about him. I just … I don’t trust his intentions.”

You stare at him, and he can see the gears turning in your mind. “So you’re saying you don’t trust me?”

“No,” he replies, but the word comes out too quickly, too defensive. “That’s not what I’m saying at all.”

You sigh again, rubbing your temples. “Charles, I don’t know what you want me to say. I can’t control how other people act. And if Lewis really is flirting with me — which I don’t think he is — then he’s wasting his time because I’m with you. You’re the only one I want.”

He wants to believe you, and deep down, he does. But the jealousy is still there, a dark cloud that refuses to dissipate. “I just … I don’t like it,” he repeats, feeling like a broken record.

You step closer to him, reaching out to take his hand. “Then talk to me about it, okay? Don’t keep it bottled up until you’re this upset. We can work through it together.”

Charles squeezes your hand, grateful for the gesture even if the tension hasn’t fully left him. “I will. I promise.”

You smile softly, standing on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. “Good. Now, can we stop worrying about Lewis and focus on the race tomorrow?”

He nods, but his mind is already racing, thinking about what he can do to make sure Lewis knows you’re off-limits. It’s not enough to just talk to you about it, he needs to take action, to show both you and Lewis that you’re his and his alone.

After the race, he tells himself. After the race, he’ll do something to make it clear to everyone — including Lewis — that you belong to him.

And this time, he won’t hold back.

***

The hotel suite is quiet, save for the soft rustling of the pages as you flip through your book. Charles can hear it from where he stands near the window, staring out into the darkened city. The lights outside blur together, a sea of neon and streetlights that fail to hold his attention. All he can think about is you — lying in bed, lost in whatever story you're reading, completely unaware of the turmoil still swirling in his mind.

He turns away from the window, glancing over at you. The lamp on your nightstand casts a warm glow, illuminating the relaxed curve of your body under the sheets. Your face is serene, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you read, and Charles feels a wave of affection that is quickly followed by a surge of something more primal, something that has been simmering under the surface all day.

He walks over to the dresser, where the hotel has placed a few empty glasses, neat and pristine in a row. He picks one up, the cool glass smooth against his fingertips, and his mind is already racing with thoughts of what he’s about to do. It feels a little crazy, maybe even a little wrong, but the idea has taken root, and he knows he won’t be able to shake it.

You don’t notice when he slips into the bathroom, the door clicking shut softly behind him. The light is harsh, and it jolts him slightly, making him take a deep breath as he stares at himself in the mirror. His reflection looks back at him, eyes dark with the need he’s been trying to suppress all day.

He sets the glass on the counter, steadying himself with another deep breath. His thoughts are consumed by you — by the way you laughed with Lewis, by how oblivious you seemed to the effect it had on him, by how badly he wants to remind you that you’re his.

Slowly, he reaches down, undoing the button on his pants. His hands are shaking slightly as he lowers them, along with his boxers, the cool air of the bathroom hitting his skin. He closes his eyes, letting out a shuddering breath as he wraps his hand around himself.

It doesn’t take much to get him going. He’s been half-hard all day, the tension of jealousy and desire building up inside him. His mind drifts back to the way you looked at him earlier, the concern in your eyes when you asked if he was okay. He thinks about how soft your skin is under his touch, how you feel when he’s inside you, how you moan his name in the dark.

His strokes are slow at first, deliberate, as he imagines you on the bed, waiting for him, completely unaware of what he’s doing. The thought only heightens his arousal, and he bites his lip to stifle a groan as his hand moves faster. He can picture it so clearly — coming back into the room, seeing you lying there, trusting him completely.

The pressure builds quickly, and he has to brace himself against the counter with his free hand, his breathing ragged as he nears the edge. He forces himself to keep quiet, to not alert you to what he’s doing, but it’s difficult when the pleasure is so intense, so all-consuming.

Finally, with a choked gasp, he spills into the glass, his body trembling as he comes down from the high. He stands there for a moment, catching his breath, before he carefully sets the glass down on the counter. The sight of his release, warm and viscous, in the clear glass sends a thrill through him, a reminder of what he’s about to do.

He cleans himself up quickly, adjusting his clothes and wiping the outside of the glass clean. Then, with one last look in the mirror, he picks up the glass and exits the bathroom.

You’re still in bed when he comes back, your book now closed and resting on your chest as you lie with your eyes shut. You look so peaceful, so relaxed, and he feels a rush of tenderness mixed with the lingering heat of his arousal.

He sets the glass on his nightstand, careful not to draw your attention to it. “You still awake?” He asks softly, moving closer to the bed.

“Mm-hmm,” you murmur, not opening your eyes.

He hesitates for a moment, then sits down on the edge of the bed. “You look tired,” he comments, reaching out to gently stroke your arm. “You should get some rest.”

You smile slightly, eyes still closed. “Just winding down. It’s been a long day.”

He nods, even though you can’t see it, his fingers tracing small circles on your skin. “I was thinking …” he starts, his voice low and careful. “Maybe I could give you a massage? Help you relax.”

You hum in response, a pleased sound that makes his heart skip a beat. “That sounds nice,” you reply, shifting slightly under the covers to give him better access to your back.

Perfect, he thinks. His plan is falling into place.

He reaches for the glass on the nightstand, his movements slow and deliberate so as not to alarm you. You’re still lying with your eyes closed, completely unaware of what he’s about to do, and the thought of it sends a fresh wave of excitement through him.

“Just relax,” he whispers, leaning over you as he carefully pulls the sheets down to expose your back. “I’ll take care of everything.”

You nod slightly, your trust in him evident, and it only fuels his determination. He dips his fingers into the glass, coating them in the warm cum before setting it back down. His heart races as he leans over you, his hand hovering above your skin for a moment before he finally makes contact.

The feeling of his release on your skin is electric, sending a jolt of arousal through him. He starts at the base of your spine, his fingers gliding smoothly over your skin, spreading the liquid across your back. You sigh softly, completely unaware of what he’s using, just enjoying the sensation of his touch.

He takes his time, his movements slow and deliberate as he works his way up your back, his fingers kneading the tension out of your muscles. The room is filled with the soft sounds of your breathing, the occasional murmur of contentment escaping your lips, and it drives him wild.

He leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks. “How does that feel?” He asks, his voice rough with need.

“Good,” you reply, your voice sleepy and content. “Really good.”

He smiles, a mix of pride and possessiveness swelling in his chest. “Good,” he echoes, his hands still moving over your skin, spreading his mark across every inch of you.

His touch becomes firmer, more insistent, as he moves higher up your back. You shiver slightly under his hands, but still, you don’t open your eyes, completely trusting him. It’s intoxicating, the power he feels in this moment, knowing that he’s marking you as his in a way that no one else ever could.

He dips his fingers back into the glass, gathering more of the cum, and starts working on your shoulders. The thought of his release mingling with the natural scent of your skin is almost too much for him to handle, and he has to take a steadying breath to keep from losing control.

You let out a small moan as his fingers dig into a particularly tight spot, and he can’t resist leaning down to press a kiss to the back of your neck. “You’re mine,” he whispers against your skin, the words slipping out before he can stop them.

You don’t respond, and for a moment, he worries that he’s gone too far, that you’ve realized what he’s doing. But then you sigh contentedly, shifting slightly under his hands, and he realizes that you’re still half-asleep, blissfully unaware of what’s really happening.

The realization sends a thrill through him, and he resumes his ministrations with renewed fervor, his hands moving over your skin with purpose. He wants to cover every inch of you, to make sure that there’s no part of you that hasn’t been touched by him, that hasn’t been marked as his.

He’s lost in the sensation, in the feeling of your skin under his hands, in the thought of what he’s doing. The rest of the world fades away, leaving just the two of you in this moment, and he knows that he’s never wanted you more than he does right now.

Finally, when he’s satisfied that he’s covered every inch of your back, he pulls back slightly, his hands still resting on your shoulders. He’s breathing heavily, his heart racing, and it takes a moment for him to gather his thoughts, to come back to reality.

You’re still lying there, your eyes closed, completely unaware of what he’s done. He feels a rush of possessiveness, a fierce need to protect you, to keep you all to himself. He knows that what he’s done is risky, that it could backfire if you ever found out, but in this moment, he doesn’t care.

You’re his, and now there’s no doubt about it.

He leans down to press another kiss to your shoulder, his lips lingering on your skin for a moment before he pulls back. “You should get some sleep,” he says softly, his voice low and rough.

You murmur something in response, too tired to form coherent words, and he smiles, pulling the sheets back up over you. He watches as you settle into the pillows, a contented sigh escaping your lips, and he feels a surge of satisfaction.

He moves to the other side of the bed, slipping under the covers beside you. You instinctively curl into his side, your head resting on his chest, and he wraps an arm around you, holding you close. The warmth of your body against his is soothing, grounding him after everything that’s happened tonight.

As you nestle closer, you mumble, “Whatever lotion you used feels amazing.”

He swallows hard, his heart racing all over again, but he manages to keep his voice steady. “I’m glad you liked it,” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

You sigh contentedly, already drifting off to sleep, completely unaware of the truth. And as Charles holds you in his arms, he can’t help but smile, knowing that tonight, he’s left a mark on you that only the two of you will ever know.

***

The sun has barely begun to rise, casting a soft, golden light over the Monaco skyline as Charles stands in the kitchen of your shared apartment. The place is quiet, the kind of peaceful that only comes in the early hours of the morning. He’s dressed in a simple t-shirt and shorts, barefoot on the cool tile floor as he busies himself with breakfast.

There’s a calmness to this routine, a tranquility that he cherishes. It’s just the two of you here, no prying eyes, no tension — just the comfort of home. But even in this serene setting, a part of him is buzzing with anticipation, a subtle undercurrent of the possessiveness that he’s been feeling more and more of lately.

On the counter, among the fresh fruit and yogurt, sits a small glass, nearly identical to the one he used just a few nights ago. It’s filled with the same substance, warm and opaque, waiting for the moment when he can mix it into something that you’ll consume. The thought of it sends a thrill through him, a reminder of the secret he’s been keeping, the private bond he’s been nurturing in ways only he knows.

He’s almost lost in thought when he hears the soft pad of your footsteps approaching from the hallway. You enter the kitchen, still sleepy-eyed and wrapped in the comfort of an oversized sweatshirt, your hair slightly tousled from sleep. There’s something about seeing you like this, so natural and unguarded, that makes his chest tighten with affection — and with that familiar, possessive need.

“Morning,” you murmur, your voice still soft with sleep as you come up behind him.

He turns to greet you, a smile already playing on his lips. “Morning, mon amour,” he replies, pulling you into his arms. You melt into his embrace, your head resting against his chest, and he holds you there for a moment, savoring the feeling of you in his arms, so close, so his.

You’re warm against him, the scent of your skin mingling with the fresh coffee he’s brewed, and it’s all he can do to keep from letting his hands wander, to keep from pulling you even closer. But he knows he has a plan to stick to, so he leans down to kiss the top of your head instead, a soft, lingering gesture that makes you hum contentedly.

“I was thinking about making smoothies,” he says, his voice casual as he pulls back just enough to look down at you. “You want one?”

You nod, eyes still half-closed as you lean into him, not fully awake yet. “Yeah, that sounds nice,” you murmur, your hand coming up to rest on his chest, fingers idly tracing the fabric of his shirt.

He gives you a reassuring squeeze before gently disentangling himself from you, turning back to the counter. “Sit tight. I’ll have it ready in a few minutes.”

You wander over to the kitchen island, pulling up a stool and resting your head on your folded arms, watching him with sleepy eyes. He glances over his shoulder at you as he starts gathering ingredients — the yogurt, the fresh berries, a banana — carefully setting each one on the counter in front of him.

“You sure you’re awake enough for this?” He teases, his tone light, though his mind is already on the next step, on the glass sitting just within reach.

“Barely,” you admit with a small laugh, your eyes closing as you rest your chin on your arms. “But I’ll manage. I could use something refreshing.”

He grins, a soft chuckle escaping him as he reaches for the blender. “This should do the trick, then.” He starts adding the ingredients, layer by layer, taking his time to make sure everything is just right. The kitchen fills with the sound of fruit hitting the blender, the soft clink of the yogurt spoon against the glass, the low hum of the machine as he blends it all together.

And then, with a practiced ease, he reaches for the glass, the one that holds his release, and adds its contents to the mix. The thick liquid disappears into the smoothie, blending seamlessly with the other ingredients, leaving no trace of what he’s done. It’s the perfect secret, hidden in plain sight, and the knowledge of it sends a shiver of excitement through him.

He caps the blender, turning it on once more to make sure everything is thoroughly mixed, and then pours the smoothie into a tall glass. It’s a vibrant, inviting shade of pink from the berries, the kind of drink that promises sweetness and freshness, and he can’t help but feel a surge of satisfaction as he walks it over to you.

“Here you go,” he says, setting the glass in front of you with a smile.

You sit up, blinking your eyes open as you reach for the glass. “Thank you,” you say, your voice still soft with sleep, but there’s a warmth in your tone that makes his heart swell.

He watches, his breath catching slightly, as you take a sip. Your lips wrap around the straw, and for a moment, he can’t tear his eyes away from the sight of you drinking, the subtle curve of your mouth, the way your throat moves as you swallow. It’s such a simple thing, but knowing what’s in that glass, what you’re consuming, makes it feel like so much more.

“Mmm,” you murmur after a moment, pulling back with a pleased smile. “This is really good.”

“Yeah?” He asks, his voice a touch huskier than he intended.

You nod, taking another sip, completely unaware of the deeper meaning behind the drink. “Yeah, really good. You always make the best smoothies.”

His heart swells with pride, even as the possessiveness lingers, wrapping itself around his thoughts like a vice. You’re his, in every way that matters, and this smoothie is just another reminder of that fact — a reminder that only he knows about.

“Glad you like it,” he says, leaning against the counter as he watches you take another drink. “I put a little extra care into this one.”

You laugh softly, setting the glass down as you meet his gaze. “I can tell.”

For a moment, the two of you just look at each other, a quiet connection passing between you that feels almost electric. There’s a warmth in your eyes, a softness that makes him want to reach out and pull you into his arms again, to hold you close and never let go.

But instead, he pushes off the counter, walking back over to where you’re sitting. He places a hand on your shoulder, his thumb brushing against your skin in a slow, deliberate motion that makes your breath hitch just a little.

“Do you have any plans today?” He asks, his voice low, intimate.

You shake your head, your eyes half-lidded as you look up at him. “No, not really. Just thought I’d relax, maybe read a bit.”

He nods, his hand sliding down your arm to intertwine his fingers with yours. “Good. You deserve to relax.” He lifts your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, his lips lingering against your skin.

You smile, a soft, contented smile that makes his chest tighten with emotion. “What about you?” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I’ve got some training later, but nothing too crazy,” he replies, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “I was thinking we could spend some time together before that, though. Just the two of us.”

You nod, your smile widening as you squeeze his hand. “I’d like that.”

He feels a warmth spread through him, a deep, satisfying contentment that comes from knowing you’re his, that you’re here with him, that you trust him completely. It’s a feeling he wants to hold onto forever, to keep close to his heart.

He leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead before pulling back to look into your eyes. “Finish your smoothie,” he says, his tone gentle but insistent. “I want you to be well-fed before we start our day.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head as you pick up the glass again. “Okay, okay,” you say, taking another sip. “Bossy.”

He grins, his heart swelling with affection as he watches you drink, knowing that with every sip, you’re taking in a part of him, a part that only he can give you.

And as he watches you move around the apartment, smiling and laughing, completely unaware of the deeper connection you now share, he can’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction, a certainty that no one else could ever have what you have with him.

You’re his, in every way that matters. And he’ll do whatever it takes to keep it that way.

***

The late afternoon sun casts a warm, golden light across the Monaco apartment, bathing everything in a soft glow. The air is filled with the distant hum of the city below, but inside, all is calm, quiet — a perfect oasis for the two of you.

Charles moves around the spacious bathroom with purpose, the sound of running water filling the air as he prepares a bath for you. It’s been a long few weeks, with races and travel and the endless demands of his career, but now, finally, there’s a moment to breathe, to relax. And Charles is determined to make sure you do exactly that.

He watches the water fill the tub, swirling with bubbles from the bath salts he added, filling the room with the soothing scent of eucalyptus. But even as he sets the scene for a moment of peace, his mind is elsewhere, focused on the next step of his plan, the one that’s been playing out in quiet, secret moments ever since that night in the hotel.

He glances at the door to the bathroom, half-closed, knowing you’re just in the other room, curled up on the bed with a book, completely unaware of what he’s about to do. His heart beats a little faster at the thought, that same possessive thrill coursing through him, mixing with the tenderness he feels every time he looks at you.

The water’s almost ready now, the tub nearly full, and he knows it’s time. With a practiced ease, he reaches for the waistband of his shorts, slipping them off and setting them aside. He’s already half-hard, the anticipation of what he’s about to do sending a rush of heat through his body.

He moves to the edge of the tub, positioning himself just right, and with a deep breath, he lets his hand drift lower, closing around his length. The sensation is immediate, a familiar pleasure that he’s come to associate with these moments, these secret acts of intimacy that only he knows about.

His thoughts are filled with you, with the image of you sinking into the bath, the water wrapping around your body, warm and soothing. He strokes himself slowly, his eyes fixed on the water, imagining how it will mix with his release, how it will touch every inch of your skin, marking you as his in a way that no one else will ever know.

It doesn’t take long before he’s spilling into the water, his cum clouding the surface, disappearing into the bubbles. The sight of it sends a shiver of satisfaction through him, a sense of completion that’s as much emotional as it is physical.

He takes a moment to catch his breath, to let the last remnants of pleasure fade before he straightens, pulling his shorts back on. The water is ready now, the bath perfect, and he can’t help the small smile that tugs at his lips as he turns to leave the bathroom, ready to call you in.

“Mon cœur,” he calls softly, stepping out into the bedroom. “Your bath is ready.”

You look up from your book, your eyes lighting up at the sight of him. There’s a softness in your expression, a trust that makes his heart ache with affection, and he crosses the room to you, holding out a hand to help you up.

You take his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. “Thank you,” you say, your voice warm and full of gratitude as you follow him back into the bathroom. “This is exactly what I needed.”

He leads you to the tub, the water steaming gently, the scent of eucalyptus wrapping around you both. “Just relax,” he murmurs, his hands finding the hem of your shirt, lifting it over your head. “Let me take care of you.”

You nod, your eyes closing as he helps you undress, his touch gentle, reverent. There’s something almost ritualistic about the way he moves, his hands sliding over your skin as he removes each piece of clothing, until you’re standing naked before him, your body bathed in the soft light of the setting sun.

He guides you to the edge of the tub, helping you step in, and you sink into the water with a contented sigh, the warmth enveloping you, easing the tension from your muscles. Charles watches you, his gaze fixed on you as you settle back against the tub, your eyes closing in bliss.

“How’s the water?” He asks, his voice low, intimate.

“It’s perfect,” you murmur, your lips curving into a soft smile as you lean your head back. “So warm … feels amazing.”

He smiles, a wave of satisfaction washing over him at your words. “Good,” he says, kneeling beside the tub, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from your face. “You deserve to be pampered.”

You open your eyes, looking up at him with a gaze so full of trust, so full of love, that it nearly takes his breath away. “I’m lucky to have you,” you say softly, your hand reaching up to touch his cheek, your thumb brushing over his skin in a tender caress.

His heart swells at your words, at the sincerity in your voice. “I’m the lucky one,” he replies, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment longer than necessary, as if trying to memorize the feel of you, the scent of you.

He pulls back slightly, his hand moving to the edge of the tub where a bottle of shampoo waits, carefully placed within reach. “Let me wash your hair,” he offers, his voice gentle, almost a whisper.

You nod, your eyes closing again as you relax back into the water. “That sounds nice,” you say, your voice soft, almost drowsy.

He reaches for the shampoo, pouring some into his palm, the familiar scent filling the air. But as he moves to work it into your hair, he pauses, his eyes flicking to the small cup he’d placed on the floor behind him earlier, hidden just out of sight.

With a quick glance at you to make sure your eyes are still closed, he reaches back, his fingers closing around the cup. He moves carefully, mixing its contents with the shampoo in his hand, watching as the two substances blend together, the color and texture indistinguishable from the original.

His heart beats a little faster as he begins to work the mixture into your hair, his fingers massaging your scalp with a practiced ease. The scent of the shampoo mingles with the steam rising from the water, filling the room with a heady aroma that makes everything feel even more intimate, more connected.

You sigh softly as he works, the tension melting from your body with each gentle stroke of his fingers. “That feels amazing,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

He smiles, his heart swelling with a mixture of emotions — love, possessiveness, satisfaction. “I’m glad,” he replies, his voice low, soothing. “I want you to feel good, to feel relaxed.”

You hum in response, a sound that’s almost a purr, and he can’t help the way his chest tightens at the sound, at the sight of you so vulnerable, so trusting under his care.

As he continues to wash your hair, his fingers moving through the strands with gentle precision, he feels that same familiar thrill, the knowledge that he’s marking you in a way only he knows about. It’s a secret bond, a connection that runs deeper than words, deeper than anything else.

He finishes rinsing the shampoo from your hair, his hands cradling your head as he pours the water over you, careful to keep it from getting in your eyes. You let out another contented sigh, your body sinking deeper into the water, your skin glowing in the soft light.

“Thank you,” you murmur, your eyes still closed, a smile playing on your lips. “You always take such good care of me.”

His heart skips a beat at your words, a rush of warmth flooding his chest. “I’ll always take care of you,” he replies, his voice thick with emotion. “Always.”

You reach up, your hand finding his, your fingers intertwining with his in a gesture that feels as natural as breathing. “I love you,” you whisper, your voice filled with a depth of feeling that takes his breath away.

He squeezes your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a tender caress. “I love you too,” he replies, his voice steady, but there’s an intensity in his gaze, a fierceness that speaks to the depth of his feelings, to the possessiveness that’s only grown stronger over time.

As you relax back into the water, your eyes drifting closed once more, Charles watches you, his heart swelling with a mixture of love and possessiveness, satisfaction and desire. You’re his, in every way that matters, and with every secret act, every hidden gesture, he’s reminded of that fact.

And as he sits there beside you, his hand still holding yours, he can’t help but feel a sense of completion, a certainty that no matter what happens, you’ll always be his, in ways that no one else could ever understand.

***

The room is quiet, the only sound the soft rustle of sheets and the rhythmic hum of the city outside. The moonlight filters through the curtains, casting a pale glow across the bedroom, creating long shadows that stretch across the floor. The air is cool, a gentle breeze slipping through the cracked window, stirring the fabric of the curtains ever so slightly.

Charles lies beside you, his body still as he watches you sleep. The steady rise and fall of your chest, the soft flutter of your eyelashes as you dream, the way your lips part slightly with each breath — it’s all mesmerizing to him, a sight he never tires of. There’s a peace in this moment, in the quiet intimacy of sharing a bed with you, knowing you’re safe, warm, comfortable, that you trust him completely.

But there’s also something else — a restlessness, a need that’s been simmering beneath the surface, growing stronger with each passing day. He’s been patient, careful, methodical in the way he’s been marking you as his, but tonight, that need has reached a peak, a point where he can’t ignore it any longer.

His gaze drifts down to your lips, the soft curve of them, the way they part slightly with each exhale. An idea takes root in his mind, one that’s as thrilling as it is intimate, and before he can talk himself out of it, he’s already moving, slipping out from under the covers with a practiced ease that keeps the bed from shifting too much.

The room is still cool as he stands, his bare feet silent on the hardwood floor as he walks to the foot of the bed. He pauses there for a moment, his heart beating a little faster as he considers what he’s about to do. There’s a thrill in the secrecy of it, in the knowledge that you have no idea what’s coming, that you’re completely at his mercy in this moment.

With a quiet breath, he moves to the other side of the bed, his hands reaching for the waistband of his shorts. He slips them off, the fabric pooling at his feet, leaving him bare in the dim light of the room. His body responds immediately, the anticipation sending a rush of heat through him, his desire hardening almost instantly.

He looks down at you, your face still peaceful, unaware, and he knows he has to be careful, gentle, if this is going to work. He lowers himself onto the bed, positioning himself over you with practiced care, his body hovering just above yours. He leans in close, his breath warm against your skin as he brings himself closer to your lips.

Your eyelashes flutter, a soft murmur escaping your lips as you start to stir, but before you can fully wake, he moves, pressing the tip of his length against your mouth, the contact so light, so delicate, it’s almost like a dream.

Your lips part instinctively, a reflexive action born of years of being together, of knowing each other so intimately. Charles’ breath hitches as he feels the warmth of your mouth, the softness of your lips as they brush against him. He’s careful not to move too quickly, not to startle you awake, but even this small touch sends a shiver of pleasure through him.

“Shh, mon amour,” he whispers, his voice low, soothing. “Just relax. It’s okay.”

You murmur something unintelligible, your head shifting slightly on the pillow, but you don’t wake. Your body is still relaxed, still trusting, and that trust sends a wave of possessive satisfaction through him, a reminder that you’re his in every way that matters.

He presses forward slightly, just enough to let the tip of himself slip between your lips, careful to keep his movements slow, deliberate. He watches your face, the way your brows furrow slightly in your sleep, the way your lips instinctively close around him, the warmth of your mouth enveloping him in a way that makes his breath catch.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “Just like that.”

He moves carefully, slowly, guiding more of himself into your mouth, each inch sending a thrill of pleasure through him. The sensation is almost too much, the combination of your warmth, your softness, and the knowledge that you have no idea what’s happening, that you’re completely at his mercy in this moment.

But he’s not doing this just for his pleasure. There’s a purpose to this, a plan that’s been forming in his mind ever since he started marking you, ever since he realized how much he needed you to be his in every way. He wants you to associate this with feeling good, to connect the taste of him with pleasure, with satisfaction, even if you don’t fully understand why.

His free hand moves to your thigh, gently caressing the soft skin there, his touch light, reassuring. “You’re doing so well,” he whispers, his voice soothing, even as his heart races with the intensity of the moment.

You stir again, your lips tightening slightly around him as your body responds to his touch. He can feel the tension in your muscles, the way your breathing changes as you start to wake, but he doesn’t stop. He’s careful, precise, his movements designed to keep you on the edge of consciousness, just aware enough to feel the pleasure, but not enough to fully wake.

“Just let go,” he murmurs, his hand trailing up your thigh, his fingers brushing against the sensitive skin there. “I’ve got you.”

Your breathing quickens, a soft moan escaping your lips as your body responds to him, even in sleep. He can feel the way your muscles tense, the way your hips shift slightly, as if seeking more contact, more pleasure.

He keeps his movements slow, controlled, his own pleasure building with each careful thrust, each soft sound that escapes your lips. He watches your face, the way your brows furrow, the way your lips part around him, and he knows he’s close, so close to the edge.

But he doesn’t want to finish yet, not until he’s certain you’ve felt it too, that you’ve connected the taste of him with pleasure, with satisfaction. He moves his hand higher, his fingers brushing against the warmth between your legs, finding you already wet, already ready for him.

“Good girl,” he whispers, his voice filled with a mix of affection and possessiveness. “That’s my good girl.”

He strokes you gently, his fingers moving in slow, deliberate circles, his touch just enough to push you closer to the edge, but not enough to wake you fully. He watches as your breathing quickens, your body responding to his touch, to the combination of sensations he’s giving you.

It doesn’t take long before he feels you start to tense, your muscles tightening, your breathing becoming more erratic. He can see the pleasure building in you, can feel the way your body is reacting, and it’s almost too much for him to handle, the intensity of it sending him right to the brink.

“That’s it,” he whispers, his voice filled with satisfaction as he watches you, as he feels you. “Just let go, mon cœur. I’ve got you.”

And then, with one final thrust, one last stroke, he feels you fall over the edge, your body trembling with the force of your climax. The sight of you, the feel of you, sends him over the edge too, his own release spilling into your mouth, the pleasure almost overwhelming in its intensity.

He stays there for a moment, his breath ragged, his heart racing, as he watches you slowly relax, your body sinking back into the bed, your breathing evening out as you slip back into a deeper sleep. He’s careful as he pulls away, as he adjusts the covers around you, making sure you’re comfortable, making sure you’re warm.

He watches you for a moment longer, his heart swelling with a mixture of love and possessiveness, satisfaction and desire. You’re his, in every way that matters, and with every secret act, every hidden gesture, he’s reminded of that fact.

He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment as he whispers, “Je t’aime,” into the darkness.

And then he slips back under the covers, his body curling around yours as he holds you close, his heart still racing with the intensity of what just happened, of what he’s just done. But there’s no regret, no second thoughts, only a deep, abiding satisfaction, a certainty that you’re his, in every way that matters.

As he drifts off to sleep, his hand resting possessively on your hip, he knows that he’ll continue to mark you, to claim you, in all the ways that matter, in all the ways that only he can. Because you’re his, and he’ll do whatever it takes to keep you that way, forever.

***

The night air is thick with celebration. Monaco is alive with the sounds of revelry — cheers and laughter drifting up from the streets below. It’s late, but the adrenaline from Charles’ latest victory keeps you both buzzing. You’re in your shared apartment, the lights dimmed low, the atmosphere electric with the thrill of his win. Champagne flutes sit abandoned on the table, half-full and forgotten in the wake of more pressing desires.

Charles can’t take his eyes off you. You’re draped in his suit jacket, the oversized fabric slipping off one shoulder, revealing the curve of your collarbone, the delicate line of your neck. There’s a flush to your cheeks, the result of both the champagne and the heady excitement of the night. You’re beautiful, radiant in the aftermath of his success, and he feels a swell of pride, of possessiveness, as he watches you.

The victory tonight was sweet, but what’s even sweeter is knowing you’re his. Completely his. He’s trained you well — his perfect, responsive lover — and tonight, he’s going to show you just how well that training has paid off.

“You’re happy,” he says, his voice low, tinged with satisfaction as he watches you lean back against the sofa, your eyes bright with joy.

“Of course I am,” you reply, your smile wide, genuine. “I’m so proud of you. You were amazing out there.”

He steps closer, his gaze intense as he takes in the sight of you, his fingers itching to touch, to claim. “I couldn’t have done it without you, you know.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “I’m pretty sure your skill had something to do with it.”

“Maybe,” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a whisper as he reaches out, his fingers brushing against your cheek. “But I’m serious. You’re my good luck charm.”

You tilt your head, leaning into his touch, your eyes softening as you look up at him. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” he replies, his tone firm, leaving no room for doubt.

He moves closer, his body pressing against yours as he leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss. It’s slow, deliberate, his mouth moving against yours with practiced ease. He knows exactly how to kiss you, how to make you melt beneath him, and he feels that familiar thrill of satisfaction as you respond, your lips parting to let him in.

But tonight, he’s not just interested in kissing you. Tonight, he has something else in mind, something he’s been working towards for weeks.

He pulls back slightly, his breath warm against your lips as he murmurs, “I have something for you.”

Your brows furrow in curiosity, your lips still tingling from the kiss. “What is it?”

He doesn’t answer, not with words. Instead, he takes your hand, guiding it down between your bodies, letting you feel the hard evidence of his arousal. Your eyes widen slightly, a soft gasp escaping your lips as you realize what he’s implying, what he’s about to do.

“Charles …” your voice trails off, a mix of anticipation and uncertainty coloring your tone.

“Shh, mon amour,” he whispers, his voice soothing as he leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “Trust me.”

He doesn’t wait for a response, his hand moving to your chin, tilting your head up slightly, positioning you just right. And then, with a slow, deliberate movement, he guides himself to your lips, the tip of his length brushing against your mouth, warm and inviting.

You hesitate for a moment, a flicker of surprise in your eyes, but then your body remembers the way he’s been with you, the way he’s trained you, conditioned you, and that hesitation melts away. You part your lips slightly, allowing him to slip into your mouth, your breath catching as you taste him, as you feel him.

It’s a taste you’re familiar with by now, a taste that’s been ingrained in your subconscious over weeks of careful, methodical training. But this time, it’s different. This time, you’re awake, fully aware, and the intensity of it hits you like a tidal wave.

Your eyes flutter shut, a soft moan escaping your lips as he presses deeper, the familiar warmth and saltiness of him filling your senses. There’s something about it, something intoxicating, and you can’t help but respond, your body instinctively seeking more, craving the pleasure that’s become so closely associated with this taste.

Charles watches you, his heart pounding with a mix of excitement and satisfaction as he sees your reaction, sees the way your body tenses, the way your breath quickens. You’re perfect, absolutely perfect, and the knowledge that he’s the one who made you this way, who trained you to respond like this, sends a rush of possessive pride through him.

He moves carefully, his hips shifting slightly, allowing him to press deeper into your mouth, his hand moving to the back of your head, holding you in place. He’s careful not to go too fast, not to overwhelm you, but there’s a thrill in knowing that you’re so close, that he’s about to push you over the edge.

You whimper softly, your lips tightening around him as the pleasure builds, as the taste of him floods your senses. It’s almost too much, the intensity of it, the way your body responds so instinctively, so powerfully to this simple act. You’re teetering on the edge, so close to falling, and you can feel it, the tension building in your core, the overwhelming need for release.

Charles watches you, his own breath ragged as he feels your body’s response, as he sees the way you’re teetering on the brink. “You’re so perfect,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion, with desire. “My perfect girl.”

And then, with one final thrust, one last push, he feels you fall over the edge, your body trembling with the force of your climax. The taste of him, the feel of him, it’s all too much, and you can’t hold back, can’t stop the wave of pleasure that crashes over you, leaving you gasping, shaking, lost in the sensation.

He holds you there for a moment, letting you ride out the wave, his hand stroking your hair gently, soothingly. He can feel the way your body shudders, the way your breath hitches as you come down from the high, and it fills him with a deep, satisfying sense of accomplishment.

“Good girl,” he whispers, his voice filled with affection as he gently pulls away, his hand still cradling the back of your head, holding you close. “You did so well.”

You’re still breathing heavily, your body trembling slightly as you look up at him, your eyes wide with a mix of shock and wonder. “Charles … I …”

“Shh,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “It’s okay. You’re perfect. You’re mine.”

You nod slightly, your breath still shaky, but there’s a look of understanding in your eyes, a recognition of what just happened, of how far you’ve come, of how much you’ve changed. And Charles knows, without a doubt, that you’re his, completely his.

He pulls you into his arms, holding you close as you both settle back onto the sofa, the aftermath of the moment settling over you like a warm, comforting blanket. There’s a sense of peace, of contentment, as you rest your head against his chest, your body still humming with the afterglow of pleasure.

Charles strokes your hair, his fingers gentle as they move through the soft strands, his heart filled with an overwhelming ove for you. He’s proud of you, of how perfect you are, of how well you’ve responded to his training. And as he holds you, he knows that this is just the beginning, that there’s so much more to explore, so much more to experience together.

“You’re mine,” he whispers again, his voice filled with a quiet, possessive satisfaction. “And you always will be.”

You don’t respond, not with words, but the way you snuggle closer to him, the way your body relaxes in his arms, says it all. You’re his, in every way that matters, and there’s no place you’d rather be.

[highdefhoetry]

in the library.

cw: nsfw!! female reader, public sex in library (discreet), penetration (vaginal fingering), handjob, blowjob

summary: you’re desperate to stay quiet. he’s determined to make you scream.

There are only a handful of people in the library when you run into Zayne. You cross paths in the last aisle, where the “adult” novels could be found. You were trying to take a Nora Roberts book from the shelf when your hand brushed against something cold yet familiar. When you looked up, your eyes met those of your classmate. Well, former, back when you two were in the same gen ed course. He stood calmly on the other side of the shelf with a piercing gaze that sent chills down your back. 

“(Y/N),” he greets you with a slight nod of his head. 

“Dr. Zayne,” you awkwardly return his greeting, but when you look back to the empty space on the shelf, you find he’s already gone. He appears at your side in a heartbeat, his hazel eyes focused on the book you’re holding. 

“I’m not a doctor yet,” he corrects you.

“Haven’t you skipped a bunch of courses, though? You’re pretty much set to be one by the end of the year.”

“Unlikely. I still have a ways to go.”

Suddenly you become hyper aware of how close he’s standing. His shoulder brushes against yours as he takes the book from your hand in one smooth motion. You watch as his elegant fingers sift through the worn down pages, gently tugging each one at the corners. 

“For Now, Forever,” he reads the title. “An excellent choice.”

“You’ve read Nora Roberts?”

“Is that so surprising?”

“Well, yeah. I thought you only read boring medical texts.”

“That’s mostly true. But even I need breaks from my studies.”

“Breaks to read smutty novels?”

Silence. It seems you’ve caught him off guard. He clears his throat, and you notice his ears reddening a little.

“I was only curious about this one because it involved characters in the medical field,” he gives you a weak excuse. “I’m not a connoisseur of erotica, unlike some people.”

“Hey! Don’t say it like that. You make me sound like some kind of pervert.”

He chuckles softly at your expense.

“If I’m not mistaken, this novel in particular has a number of… graphic scenes,” he comments, his eyes drifting to your face in the process.

“I mean, yeah… all of her books are like that,” you say, trying to sound casual despite your heated cheeks. It was embarrassing having him comment on things like this so candidly. And by the way he was smirking, you could tell he was doing it on purpose. 

“You must have enjoyed these lewd scenes, too. Or else you wouldn’t have read it.”

A sudden streak of mischief takes over. You take a small step forward, closing the gap between you. His lips part as if he’s about to say something, but he remains silent.

“Speaking of that…” you tease. “Do you remember the part where they’re in the library? I think it went a little something like this…”

You place your hands on his chest, running them over his iron-pressed shirt to feel the muscles underneath. The hem is tucked into the waistband of his pants; you tug on it ever so slightly until it comes undone, allowing you access to his bare skin. He doesn’t stop you when you sneak your hands under his shirt, nor does he protest when you run your palms on his stomach. You hear his breath hitch slightly when you wander a little too low; as soon your eyes drift down and fall on the tent poking through his fitted pants, he suddenly grabs your hand and holds it firmly.

You look up again, locking eyes with the doctor in training, whose stony expression still hasn’t cracked. Although, he is looking a bit more strained…

“Zayne…?”

He pauses for a moment. Then, you see the corners of his lips curl up in a tiny smirk.

“...I remember it going a little differently.”

His steely eyes meet yours once again. You sense something deep inside them, struggling to break free, yet his demeanor remains as cool and controlled as ever. How many times have you wanted to break through that cold facade of his and curl up with the warmth of his heart? He hid it so well, but even the strongest armor had cracks. 

While you’re lost in thought, something flutters against your thigh, snaking up the hem of your skirt. The feeling makes your skin quiver, and you clamp a hand over your mouth to muffle a small cry. Meanwhile, his fingers reach the lace edges of your panties and tug them down until they’re right above your knees. The sudden rush of cool air makes you shiver.

“Zayne…” you whisper, trying to keep quiet so you don’t garner the attention of the other visitors, or worse, the librarians themselves. You look around anxiously to make sure no one is nearby while his hands grope your thighs and hips. He takes his time feeling you up before finally caressing his cold hand on your outer lips. It makes you jump, but soon you feel a warmth spread through your body, fueled by his gentle circling of your clit.

“Shhh,” he leans forward to whisper in your ear, right before sliding a finger inside you.

You let out a tiny gasp, forcing back a moan as he curls his finger upwards, seeking out the elusive spot he knows will make you cum hard. He finds it and begins to stroke the spongy walls, slowly at first, then with a bit more force. All while pumping those beautiful fingers of his in and out, in and out, in a steady rhythmic fashion. It’s taking everything in you not to scream and moan. He chuckles as he watches your face twist in pleasure and your strained efforts to silence yourself.

“Mmm… mmph!!”

“Calm down,” he croons. “You need to stay quiet in the library.”

It’s the same thing the male lead had said to the heroine of the story. You remember it vividly, for you had pictured yourself in this exact scenario, with this exact same man. Zayne’s hands are quick and skilled; his thumb continues massaging your clit, putting just enough pressure on it to warm you up without bringing you over the edge. It’s driving you mad, how gentle yet forceful he is. He stares down at you from his massive height, lips slightly curved upwards in an amused smile while you fight to remain silent as his hands and fingers roam your body. Your heart has begun to pound so intensely you wonder if he can actually hear it.

You’re close. He can sense it, too. He chuckles again when you grab onto his arms, as if bracing yourself for impact. You squeeze your eyes shut as wave after wave of electrifying pleasures surge through your body. It’s taking everything in you not to scream. You force back every moan, only letting little gasps and groans escape when he hits you in just the right place. And from the grin on his face, you can tell it amuses him to no end.

A few moments later, you finally cum. You bite your lip, feel your eyes roll in the back of your head, let out fluttered sighs as you squirt all over his hand. He caresses your waist and hips, relishes the way you twitch and shudder under his hands. The orgasm made you extra sensitive, so every touch feels like cold fire. You open your eyes to meet his, letting your lips part as you take in large gulps of air while trying to regain your composure. His soft gaze makes your heart dance. He doesn’t say anything, opting instead to admire the sight of your flushed skin and relieved expression.

But his own expression soon turns to one of restraint. His gaze falters when he feels your hand grope the tent in his pants. You rub the tip with an increasing amount of pressure and smile when you hear stifled grunts emerge from his throat. His brows furrow slightly in determination, as if he is focusing all his attention on retaining his composure. But you see the mask slip when you unzip his pants and let loose his stiff member.

Still covered by black boxers, you sneak your hands into the slit in the middle and take hold of his shaft. He grunts softly, almost losing it when you begin caressing the tip and teasing the length of his cock. You start off slow and take your time fondling him, noting what makes him sigh and gasp and when his breath becomes more erratic, more desperate. 

You pause briefly to look around, once again making sure that no one is looking, before falling to your knees.

Before he can protest, you take his cock in your mouth and run your tongue along his shaft, stopping only to kiss and lick his tip before going on. The muffled sounds he’s making are delightful. His grunts start off quiet, but the longer you suck him off, the louder they grow. He grabs fistfuls of your hair, firmly but gently so as not to hurt you, and pulls you close until his cock is hitting the back of your throat. You suppress the urge to gag; it won’t be much longer until he cums.

After a few deep thrusts and more teasing from your mouth and tongue, he erupts his load into you, gasping quietly while still holding onto your locks. You taste his cum and swallow it all, savoring the warmth he’s given you. You slowly guide his cock out of your mouth and stand back up, smiling at him while his heavy breathing subsides. He zips up his pants with a relieved sigh, as if he just released a lifetime’s worth of stress.

“Well?” you whisper. “How did it end, again…?”

Zayne looks down at you with eyes full of affection, taking your chin in hand and gently pulling your face up.

“I believe it went like this.”

He kisses you softly, and his icy exterior melts in your hands.

[insomniakisses]

Misdirected Anger

Character: Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen (HOTD)

Reader type: Gender neutral

Warnings/Notes: mentions of B&C, mentions of blood and minor bodily harm, reader is married to Rhaenyra as is daemon, but no relationship to daemon stated, mentions of past trauma and Viserys being an awful father. Cannon Targcest, reader involved Incest, Targaryen reader. Hurt & Comfort

You couldn’t believe it. Every time you thought about it you felt sick. When your sister and wife, Queen Rhaenyra, had given the order for Aemond’s death you promised that to her along with her council. Daemon had presented you with his plan that he would sneak someone in to kill Aemond, promising it would only be Aemond who died.

You had agreed, too easily now you thought about it, helping him sneak out and sale off to kings landing while you distracted your wife. Usually you wouldn’t trust Daemon, he was known for his temper and violence but he was your wife’s husband and your uncle you had assumed you could.

You couldn’t. The news the following council meeting made you feel sick you stared at him, his smirking smug little face as your queen denied and denied the accusation. Having known the pain of loosing one’s child she would never have given such an order. Neither would you.

They excuse themselves to talk, the council departs all but you and Rhaenys. She watches you, the watery eyes and the far away expression and she scoffs.

“You thought you could trust him?” Its a statement that leaves her lips, as she knows the answer already.

Her expression, however, softens when she notices the blood dripping from your hands. Having dug your nails in to your palms and how you look like you might pass out. She moves to stand, guiding you up and to your chambers.

On the way a pissed off Daemon storms past pushing you aside in his temper. You call after him to no avail letting out a shaky breath when a guard informs you of the Queen summoning you. With a not so reassuring squeeze to the arm Rhaenys leaves you.

You follow the guard, the feeling of nausea rising and tears freely flowing. You feel like a child again, about to be berated for your actions by the ruler of the realm made to feel small and insignificant in the eyes of the crown.

You barely step a foot inside before shes yelling, her anger towards Daemon, only fuelled by their argument, all being directed at you. You can hardly think strait your head spins and your hearing comes and goes the noise of the room drowning out to focus on your erratic heart beat before an insult is thrown your way again.

Small. You feel it, like your back in kings landing and its your father standing in front of you. Her voice being replaced in your mind with his, he never did like you. A fact everyone well knows, Rhaenyra herself had been the one you ALWAYS ran to. At least until Daemon became more important. Yet here she was the same ice look in her eyes. The same insults.

“Useless.” “Idiotic.” “Good for nothing.” “Waste of a space.” “Disappointed.” “I hate yo-“

She stops herself on the last one, mouth hanging open as she gasps, having turned round to see your state. Knees to your chest head resting on them as you dig your nails into your skin breathing heavy.

“Baby!” She tells falling to her knees in front of you, but your already gone, shut down and deep into your own head.

Whimpers and babbles of apologies escaping you as you rock yourself, having learnt to sooth yourself from a young age, it breaks her heart knowing she caused you such great pain and she feels guilt at the jumbled words that leave your mouth next.

“Dae-“ *gasp* “mo-n” *gasp* “Aemond” *whimper* “pro-omised” *gasp* “kill” *breathing speeds up*

She nods scooping you into her arms, and onto her lap, her hand rubbing your back as she sways you like you would a small child. Three kisses are placed to your head as her other hands plays with your hair. Her soft voice whispering “breathe baby” and “I’ve got you little dragon”

Your eyes close as you grasp at her dress, head nuzzling against her neck as your breathing calms. Hiccups escaping now and then as silent tears fall against her neck.

She stands carrying you to bed laying you down softly you watch with wet eyes and droopy eyelids as she undresses you to your underclothes in an attempt to cool your warm skin down, undressing herself before climbing in bed with you.

She lays behind you, humming when you turn to lay on her chest, her hands doing back to playing with your hair and rubbing your back. She kisses your head again, her signature three kisses, her hand tracing “I Love You” on your back and you let your eyes clothes as she whispers apologies and praises. Promising to never treat you like that again.

You just hope this is still the case when Daemon returns.

[bitchlessdino]

nobody's home (m)

Pairing: neighbor male nanny!seungcheol x afab maid!reader Genre:  smut, fluff towards the end Word count: 3.8k tags: working class au, mentions kids, big dick!Seungcheol, reader wears skirt and thong and panty hose, dom!seungcheol, brat!reader, rough sex, rough hair pulling and head movement, spitting and swallowing, heavy degradation kink, window sex, overstimulation, name calling (brat, slut, mr. choi), choking unprotected sex, breeding kink, cream pies Summary: Seungcheol and you have never crossed paths for long, but boy have you imagined it. Too preoccupied with your jobs working for some of the richest families in the city, you've sacrificed your grueling hours when you could've been fucked your brains out all this time. However, big risks come with big rewards when the holidays arrive. Then there's nobody home to stop you. author note: horny, horny, horny, that was the entire process writing all of this. i feel like i pulled this out one of my deepest most darkest horny moments bc why am i so into writing every part of this and thats so rare?? i enjoyed this alot, please enjoy guys and happy new year! its almost 2024 thats insane!!!!

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @goblinvern @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @6969lilithcat @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun @tinkerbell460 @aaniag @tacosandbitch @cottoncheol @embrace-themagic

You haven’t worked for this family all that long. Only long enough to realize the cute male nanny living in the house next door.

You've caught glimpses of him a handful of times on the lawn, overseeing the kids as they bask in the fresh air. His eyes sparkle like stars that lit the night sky and his smile outshines the opulence of this entire block of one-percenters. Witnessing that radiant smile aimed in your direction brightens your day each time. Without fail, you exchange polite greetings, accompanied by smiles and pleasant small talk, forming a delightful routine in your interactions.

As the housekeeper, you’ve had plenty of encounters while getting groceries, lawn or backyard parties, and windows. Lots of windows. You’d peer through when you’re cleaning, see him glance back at you, maybe sending you a wave as he’s mid-feeding the kid veggie tots. Your interactions with him were typically very brief and fleeting.

Now, there were no excuses. The holiday season is around the corner, and families in the neighborhood will soon be heading to the Alps, tropical destinations, or somewhere along those lines. That meant you’d be all alone in their mansion, much like someone else in the neighborhood.

You learn about it by seeing him at the grocery store. Trying not to get distracted by the loose-fitting dress shirt tucked in the waist of his trousers, you notice the little one he cares for rolls through the aisles full of toddler swagger in the shopping cart. You would gush at their delightful giggles if you didn’t find their caretaker so mind-numbingly distracting. 

With his broad shoulders, sturdy arms, and consistently solid build, you too would trust him with something so delicate and needy of attention. It was such a natural choice. However, the nearest option you had was, well, yourself.

He mentions that his employers preferred to keep their vacation exclusive to family, providing him with paid time off to use as he pleased. In turn, you mention being offered the same form of compensation, and am eternally grateful for such leniency. His expression sparks in piqued interest, briefly glancing at you before storing the hot chocolate package away in the cart. 

“Does that mean you’ll be away for the holidays?”

You muse at his question, fingers taking over your basket handle as he ponders on your response. A glimmer of optimism in his eyes beams in your direction, with a dimple etched deep in his cheek as he splays a hopeful smile. To which you answer jesterly, "Well, I hadn't implied that."

He softly chuckles, nudging you at the elbow, obviously trying to banger a proper answer. “Then tell me, what’s a pretty thing like you doing in a big house all alone during the holidays?”

His compliments delight you and warmth festers in your chest, greedy for more. "I suppose we'll find out, won't we?"

Seungcheol doesn’t have a moment to react as the child in the cart regains their energy. He shifts his gaze away momentarily and soon you escape his line of vision, seamlessly blending in amidst the bustling crowd of grocers. 

Returning to the residence, you linger by the largest window, offering a perfect view of Seungcheol dining during supper. It's a familiar scene, replaying like clockwork at the same hours each time. His silhouette in the warm glow of the neighbor's dining room becomes a sight with more to be desired, and you imagine a world where the divide doesn't exist. Staring in his eyes, you picture your entanglement. The heat of your bodies weaving together like threads in a tapestry, each bonded tightly, with only the power of shears to tear you apart.

His eyes reflect the same intensity, mentally undressing you down to the skin, making you his perfect canvas. He ponders the texture of your skin, your hair, and the sound you make when he tenderizes your flesh with his teeth. He wonders how full you feel between his fingers, or how sweet your nectar tastes. He can only envision the favor, the sensation, the warmth; holding the fantasy close to him like a secret taken to the grave.

That day would come soon enough.

Anticipating each passing hour of every day, you are elated by the promise of bidding farewell to your employers at the airport. You assure them of returning to a pristine home, meticulously cleaned from every nook and cranny. A grin, so expansive it borders on pain, graces your face, and there's a noticeable spring in your step as they fade into the depths behind the security checkpoints.

Without a moment's hesitation, you rush home, eager to connect with a kindred spirit just a few cobblestones away from your work residence. Judging by the expression in his eyes, it's clear he has fulfilled his responsibilities and bid farewell to his employers as well, eagerly awaiting your arrival. He grins at you, pleased to see you approach him.

“I see it that they made it to their flight safe?”

You hum in confirmation. “You would be seeing correctly. How did your family make it?”

"Quite smoothly," he answers nonchalantly, the dimple on his cheek sinking into a subtle but contented expression.

A palpable wave of relief releases from the depths of your lungs, and a chuckle escapes as you observe Seungcheol displaying a similar reaction. Even in the subzero temperatures, you sensed the fire of his gaze, unraveling your logical resolve and liquefying you into a puddle of your own arousal. In the depth of your gaze, he discerns your hopeful anticipation, one that matches his. “So, what are the plans for the rest of their absence?”

The corner of your lips can’t help the way lifts, smiling slyly back at him. “I’m sure you have some ideas.”

You thank the heavens every day they never reinstalled those security cameras. Utilize their vulnerability, you invite the neighbor’s nanny into their home, and the automatic door locks behind him. No use in holding back, he claims the lips swiftly, tasting need and rebellion on your tongue in a rough liplock.

His lips full and plush, they part to speak, but not with words. His tongue aligns with yours, only to tangle in incoherent mumbles that escape in between, yet communicate with you in perfect fluency. Much like the intimate gazes you share from the windows multiple times a day, the fervent kiss unfolding spoke more than the audible language ever could.

His hands work around your body, shoving off your coat and cardigan, abandoning them on the hardwood to slip his fingers beneath your shirt. A shallow breath leaves your lips and you rush him against you, planting yourselves against their pristinely white wall. The texture of the plaster digs into your backside, abrasive against your flesh and Seungcheol locks you in place by holding your thigh against his side.

“You don’t know how fucking bad I wanted to do this to you,” he growls into your kiss.

You let out a sultry chuckle, fiddling with his earlobe between the pads of your fingers. “You can say it out loud. Nobody’s home.”

He scoffs. “I said, I wanted to—“ he slams his hips against you, his cock bursting at the seams against your torso, “—fuck the living shit—“ he does so again, digging your sobbing clothed cunt with his solid thigh, “—out of this stupid, pretty cunt. That loud enough for you?”

You moan through your firm pressed lips, grinding against his steel hard thighs. “Just the perfect amount.”

In admiration, your hands roam over his body, and shamelessly rips off his dress shirt, hearing the buttons skip against the cool tile. He grunts at the sensation of the frigid air enveloping his broad stature as it pebbles goosebumps on his upper arms. Returning your savage gesture, his hand fingers through your hair and dragging it back to pin your head on the wall behind you, fisting handfuls of your locks. “That wasn’t very nice of you. Could’ve asked for permission at least first,” he snarls, baring his front teeth.

“Can’t help it,” you grin, “you just look so good without it on. I bet you look without anything on.”

His chest presses flat against your body without even space to breathe and his unyielding gaze bore into you. He aligns his conceited grin against your lips to smash it brusquely—as if thanking you—pulling at your bottom lip between his perfect teeth. “I’m sure it’s all you think about when you see me.”

Quickly, he maneuvers you; twisting your heel and guiding with a hand on your waist, he forces you against the unyielding surface of the wall and trails that same hand over your chilled spine. 

You softly gasp at his touch, feeling the flood of your clenched walls seep through your underwear and layering your inner thighs. His chilling, velvet voice beckons, coating the inside of your ears. “But I’ve dealt with brats, you know that. Let me show exactly what happens when you test the limits of my discipline.”

Seungcheol lifts the flap of your skirt, barring the shape of your cheeks protected under a layer of pantyhose and caressing its plush cushion. Then came the flat palm of his hand coming against you at full force. You jolt upon contact, clinging to the foundation of this house to recover, yet mewl at the arousal erupting inside you. A sound emerges from the depths of your throat, vaguely sounding of his name as well as plead.

“You like that, don’t you? A naughty little brat you are,” he chuckles sinisterly.

You push your back against his hips, finding the mold of his cock readily and fitting between the rounds of your ass. His soft groan follows, his erection rubbing against the pantyhose. “God, you really like that.”

“I want it,” you whine impatiently, backing your hips on him, and crushing his length, “give it to me.”

“What kind of authority figure would I be if I gave into one of my brat’s demands?” He strikes your cheek again, stinging lingering dully as your flesh had barely recovered from the last hit, and drool leaking out of the corner of your lips. “Not a very good one,” he answers.

“Please, Seungcheol...”

He does do again, if not harder, and each strike collides with both cheeks. “You’ll be referring to me as Mr. Choi now, brat.”

You never knew his surname, but upon discovery, you notice how smooth it rolls off the tongue. How delicious it sounds out of your swollen lips.

“Mr. Choi…” You breathe out, your cunt vibrating at the notion of his power.

He hums pleased, rewarding the back of your neck with a gentle peck. “Good job. What is it you want?”

“Please, Me Choi, I want your cock inside me…”

He clicks his tongue. “Do you, now?” He chides, “Are you going to behave from now on?” 

You nod gingerly. “Yes, just give it to me, please…all of it…”

“Mmh, since you’re being so polite. I guess positive reinforcement is in order.” Seungcheol’s hand caresses your hips, reaching for the curves of your ass in confident determination. The soft caress of his rich voice proceeds, “Let’s just get these out of the way.” 

He ruthlessly tears the sheer material of your pantyhose, exposing your skin and the red lacy thong that hardly holds you up. You erupt in a startled gasp, welcoming the cool embrace of the air ventilation on your blistered skin. His voice drops to a lower octave and his groaning dissolves, melding into a soft sigh. “What a pretty little holiday gift for me. Only took me a moment to realize I have to unwrap it.”

“I thought of you when I decided the color,” you admit in feigned innocence, “you seem to like the holiday colors.”

“I do. Darling of you for noticing,” he praises with a hint of tease, “and my, does it suit you. Maybe there is hope for a brat like you.”

You hear the draw of his zipper, following the heavy drop of fabric to the ground. Slightly turning your head, you see he kicks the clothes aside and grins upon inspection of his full-length lining up between your legs. Your knees began to wobble, parting your feet for a more stable stance, and you swoon with your head against the wall. “You look so big…”

The head of his cock rubs against the lace, precum leaking from the tip and creating a small mess on your already ruined panties. You hear a smile in his scoff and feel the snap of your underwear before his tip breaches your molten warmth. He whispers, “Wait until you feel how big it is pushing in and out of that pretty wet cunt of yours…”

“Mmh, Mr. Choi…” Your breath halts as his girth parts your entrance, stretching your walls until it is Seungcheol and your lubricating arousal. He seethes in relief, letting your welcoming embrace around him soothe his intensifying erection and he bucks his hips, having you adjust to his size.

You rest your forehead on the wall, feeling him bury himself inside you. “Shit…yes, Mr Choi…”

“Such bratty pussy.” He spanks both cheeks once more, watching the recoil of your flesh. “My perfect bratty little pussy…bet you’re so used to misbehaving. It won’t be like that around me.”

He took one deep, languid thrust, automatically groaning, “Fuck,” then released his hips.

You immerse in his plunder of your voice, letting it ache in need as you repeat his name. Meanwhile, your internal temperature rises with the collision of his lap and your ass growing harsh and unforgiving. Pinning your wrist together single-handedly, he lets his other grip reclaim your hair, dragging your body to him for his own use. “You feel so fucking good around me.”

He tenses his torso to take sharper strikes, pulsing deeper and quicker. Your hand slides on the solid surface in front of you, pushing yourself against him as you take every inch. Your jaw drops low, echoing a hollow whine, devoid of incoherent thoughts and instinctive response.

Seungcheol lets go of your wrists and instead sandwiches them between your back and his chest. He finds the front panels of your shirt and tears it apart similarly you did with his, echoing that familiar sound of buttons being abandoned on the ground. 

“Because you deserve the same thing to happen to you,” he softly mutters, only to cup your cladded breast hungrily, squeezing your flesh to the point it spills out of the material as his teeth kiss your neck, “and because I couldn’t stop looking at these when you’re walking around that see-through blouse by that window we share.”

Thinking about the fact that you share something made his intention all the more intimate, and you cling to his body like saran wrap due to the simple fact. You melt as he marks your body with bites, the stinging resonating on your goosebumped skin. “I wear that because of you,” you manage to squeak, “only because you wear that t-shirt that clings to your body during the summer. How it got damp from sweat fixing that broken bookcase. God, is it satisfying to rip your shirt off.”

“That window was always the culprit, hmm?”

He pries you from where you stand and drags you to the referred structure with you giggling after him. There he bends you over the dining table placed strategically in front of it, while your ass points towards the glass screen. His spanks come flying, tenderizing the already raw and blistered skin, “This damn window you always linger by.” 

His nails dig into your kneaded flesh and he fits his cock right where it belongs, plunging back inside you as he secures your head against the table. “The way I wanted to fuck you on this exact table, spank this cute fucking ass,” he roughly tugs your head up, watching your tits bounce as he ruts in you like a damn dog, and meets your warm wide-eyed gaze, “Spit in that slutty, brat mouth.”

Your lips part without delay, death gripping the edge of the mahogany, and your tongue slings out enthusiastically. He breaks out in an amused grin before it melts back into a smolder, gripping you closer until he hocks a hot load of salvia in your mouth, forcibly closing your jaw with his hands.

“Hold it,” he commands, seeing the subtle frown on your face as you obey. He smiles sinisterly, hands on your hips as he slams you towards him, watching your head bob at the harsh rhythm. He places his palm over the column of your throat, teeth clawing your cheek. “Now swallow, you slut.”

He feels the shift in your throat as it goes down, relishing that light gasp of breath leaving your lips, “Good slut. You’re finally learning.”

His power, his strength, his cadence were inexplicably captivating and you succumb to his every whim. It only intensifies as you drink in his delectable lips, so soft in contrast to the abrasive snap of his hips, hitting in a spot so sensitive you don’t even predict it coming.

Your moan resonates through the entire first floor, palming the dinner table as you ride out your high in teary anguish as Seungcheol’s pace doesn’t seem to falter, in fact, it seems to have grown angrier. Furious. 

“You fucking slut,” he spits, rubbing your overstimulated clit in the thick of your climax, squeezing the tears out of your eyes. You clutch his forearm in desperation, writhing uncontrollably. “S-Seungcheol—“

“Misbehaving again, I see.” He pulls out of you to flip you on your back. He watches at your hot cheeks expel heavy pants, sweat filming your entire torso, and eyes rolling to the back of your head. “You’re still conscious; you haven’t had enough just yet.”

Dragging by the arm, he takes you against the tempered glass, chilling your bare spine. He lifts your legs off the ground and holds them on either his side, stuffing himself back into you. Your heat drips around his cock, and he catches it in his thrusts, pressuring you to feel every inch of his cock rammed inside. 

Your ass and the pads of your fingers press against the glass, smudging its once-pristine sheen. “Mr.Choi…”

He strokes your cheek, fondness in his eyes before it lowers to your throat and closes around it. Then his eyes penetrate through you, eying you in a dark allure as he robs you of breath, and catching the daze in your eyes as he ponders in thought. 

“What are you thinking dirtying up the thing you took so long cleaning with your fingerprints and cum, hmm? Marking your claim on the house you've spent all day and night on looking perfect? A house far from being yours? How does it make you feel?”

“…Exhilarating,” you sigh shallowly, staring back at him with a smile. Your arms loop around his neck, finding security and embracing his vigorous nature. “Like it’s all worth the painstaking labor to make a complete mess of it.”

He groans at your answer, reconnecting your lips in what feels like an eternity, and cradles the side of your face endearingly with one hand still around your neck. His lips devour yours, swallowing your moans, jerking his hips, and savoring the velvet of your walls clench around him so deliciously. 

“You were just as worth the wait. Made my job so damn hard thinking your pussy wrapped around my cock, made me fucking blank out most of my day. Not a good move for me, but–really–I blame you,” he slams you against the window before quickly returning to his rhythm pace. 

“You and your perfect body—” He grinds up into you, relocating your sensitivity and you whimper, “—Your sexy fucking voice when you greet me,” and he finally, makes notice of your face, using that hand that crushed around throat now gripping your chin, “—or this beautiful face that I couldn’t wait to see contort when I push my fucking cum inside.”

Usually, you know better than to let that kind of thing happen, but after the long duration of having only distant contact, his offer becomes tempting—alluring even—that you knew someone had to physically pry you off of him until you were filled with his seed. “Well, you’re so good with kids, wanna make some of your own?”

Seungcheol beckons closer, grinning mischievously, “Should I? You want me to put my babies in you? Fill you up with cum?”

You mewl at the thought, bringing his warmth closer, “I’d be so full…taking your fat cock and all your hot cum inside me…it’d be a dream, especially knowing how good you’re taking care of us, especially me.”

“You’d want that, hmm,” driving himself into you until you're lost in your own world again—losing the grasp on reality—and he persists. “You want my cum making a mess of you and this house just so I could put some babies in this pretty cunt? Hmm? That what you want?”

You nod mindlessly, anchoring yourself to him until he finally lets up. When he does, you feel the power surges through you as if you’re fresh new battery, the electrical current being the cum he shoots up into you. You let yourself ride this high, rocking into his hips, and soon your weight takes over, deducing you to a puddle. He takes his final pumps, cooing softly at your lips as you share a kiss, then drops you back on the dining table, letting you catch your breath as the cum spills slowly out of you and stains the floor under your feet.

He stands between your legs, tracing over the texture of your thighs, and his other hand claims your waist, meeting your face with a tired but tender smile. “Hi.”

You softly chuckle, resting a palm on the back of his neck. “Hi,” you repeat back.

“So dinner?” 

You playfully roll your eyes, bordering his hips with your legs. “Are you offering to cook?”

“My job requires me to, so yes,” he traces over your jaw, drawing in closer, “Wouldn’t want to feed my clients burnt Mac and cheese with their frozen Dino nuggies.”

“True,” your arms lock at the elbows around his neck, “But what else can you make besides Mac and cheese with Dino nuggies?”

“That is the question, isn’t it?” He answers vaguely.

You finger through his hair and notice how his perspiration has left him mouthwateringly disheveled, quietly contemplating how to stretch out this vacation time. Your solution: never leave each other’s side. 

“I’ll tell you what. We can think about what to eat…after a shower. “

You retrieve his hand, tugging him in your desired direction and he follows graciously with a knowing grin. “We can do that, but we both know that shower will end up more dirty than clean.”

“Good thing I’m an expert in keeping a clean home, now it’s your turn to clean my home.”

His dimple graced his cheek, visibly interested. “My pleasure.”

[burstinn]

KÖNIG x FTM! READER

NSFW

Warnings nd Notes:

This was a request by a friend

(FtM reader who its their first time having sex. With König, König being a soft Dom)

Nsfw

Sex (18+) no minors

Gets lazy at the end

Short beginning at the end, rushed it as well

Reader is a bottom

It's König.. Again..

Did not add the size kink I read it to late when I rechecked the request

König never really knew you much, he never really understood you. You're not much of a show off person, you mostly keep your gear on. He's not judging all respects to you, he understands people like that.

That was not until you were sent on a mission together, and it went south.. Well for you anyway, your team got what they want. In expense getting you hurt in the process, and König was the only one who was close to you that can help.

So you radio him your location. Somewhere remote behind some rubble and tree. He saw you.. Your gear is off. And, maybe this was disrespectful but God. You looked so.. He didn't know how to put it, well he couldn't he had to snap out of it just to help you with your injuries.

He quickly rushed over to you, not wanting to comment about how you look. Or your.. Top surgery scars. He knew what those are, so he immediately understood why you usually don't take off your gear around anyone or how you usually don't speak much.

"Can you not tell.. Anyone about this?"

König hears you softly mutter as he finishes up your stitches. Silently eyeing you, then back to your chest.

"I won't.."

He replies back, handing you your bloodied gear which you forced yourself to wear.

That's when he started getting.. Interested in you. His own curiosity slowly flourishing into attraction towards you.

He would always find an excuse to hang out with you and it's not like you didn't notice, you're not dumb. Eventually, you did start to warm up to him. Letting yourself be, and finally confessing yes you are transgender on which he readily accepted you.

°°°

Which brings you to right now.

When you and König were joking around König suddenly brings up some sex or like sex stories or something.

Then you confessed to König, that you.. Are a virgin. Hard truth but yeah.. You felt slightly embarrassed.

"I.. Don't have any stories, König I never had-"

"You never slept with anyone..?"

"Yeah"

°°°

The soft creaking of the bed contrasting, your loud moans it reverberating throughout the walls of the room.

You whine digging your nails deep on the sheets of the bed.

Burying your head on the tear stained pillow, crying and gasping out.

You laying on your stomach, squirming under König. His length slowly inching himself inside of you. Whispering small praises and assurance in German and English that goes unheard by you, feeling yourself getting high off Königs cock already.

It hurt but fuck it felt good

You knew König was trying hard to be gentle with you, even if he did want to chase his own pleasure. But, No he focused on yours.

His thick cocks pushing down inside your soft squelching hole.

You thought you could handle it really, you prepared yourself. All that was thrown out by your incessant loud muffled whines.

His rough heavy arms slowly moving up and down your waist, pulling you slowly deeper into his cock.

"Shh.. It's alright, you're okay. You're doing so well"

"Mein maus, just breath.."

You couldn't even answer if you wanted too, opening your mouth only led to more choked out cries looking out of your mouth.

König bends over trailing his hand along your back his hand slowly reaching your neck.

His hot breath sticking to your neck, making your breath hitch in arousal. The hand on your neck moves to your mouth, shutting out your wails of pleasure.

"Es tut mir leid.. Bitte, keep it down please-"

Königs voice just as shaky as your trembling body everytime he pushes his hips forward, hitting that bundle of nerves that makes you arch your back, letting you see stars.

"Just.. Just a little bit, I'm close"

He whispers, his soft lips suckling on the soft skin of your neck. His pace slightly picks up just so he can finish faster, his actions getting more sloppy by how much close he is. He wants to cum badly..

He doesn't even mind that your getting louder to the point his hand covering your mouth almost has little effect. More tears coming out of you, one of his hand on your hip trying to keep you mouth the other on your mouth.

"That's it good boy, gut, Haah--.. So good for me"

König gasps out

The back of his balls already hitting the rear of your ass, but he doesn't stop, opting to go in and out of you. The grip on your hips and mouth tightening every time his dick pushes back inside of your tight hole.

He whines, resting his head on your shoulder, Struggling to hold himself to start fucking you senseless,stoppinghimself to just lift up your lower half and just use you as a fuck hole.

He's close, so close.

"Liebe, are.. Are you close?"

You weakly nod, clenching your hole around his hard soppy dick only makes him want to fuck you harder like no tomorrow.

"Alright.. Alright.. We'll finish together.."

He breaths, fucking in and out of you fast but gently. Removing his hand out of your mouth to focus on you until youre ready to cum. Well it doesn't take long anyway, virgin.

"König.. König! I'm going to-- I'm gonna"

You didn't need to say anything more. He pumps his dick inside of you one last time lifting your ass before he spurts inside of you. While you cum on the sheets on Königs legs as well. As you both groan in satisfaction and relief.

He stays inside of you for a moment, before pulling out slowly. Drips of his cum seeping out of your hole, he gets off you lying right next to you. Both you and his chest breathing heavily from what just transpired. He tilts his head to you, him staring at your puffy face. His tired face frowns slightly in guilt.

"I'm sorry.. Did it hurt? I should've.."

"Shut up.."

You respond shifting your body weight to just move closer to him.

"You did.. Great"

Mumbling as you kiss König on his lips, laying back down beside him as he just stares dumbfounded for some reason. Quickly recovering he smiles to himself, hugging you.

Now you both fell asleep, nice slumber haha, a good fuck and some fluff hahah I'm going to bed. (I lied I'm not going to bed.. I'm just lazy)

[starkeysprincess]

what would reader do if one of the women rafe used to dom was jealous that she was the only one he had an arrangement with after a while and “warned” her that he was going to get tired of her eventually just like he had with everyone else

nonnie, i like this question & i'm kissing your brain, this is v much yelling soft!dom!rafe to me

rafe had every single woman that he's been with completely obsessed with him, not only because of how good he is in bed but they liked the fact that he was successful, they were simply just using him for sex, in hopes of it becoming a more permanent situation.

you didn't think much of how your arrangement with rafe affected anyone until you stepped into the elevator one night, heading to the upper level of his apartment.

a woman enters the elevator and you give her a small smile. it's quiet between the two for a few seconds before you hear, "you're the one that's been going in and out of rafe's apartment, right?" the woman doesn't hesitate to ask.

your eyebrows furrow, clearly confused as to who the woman is but before you can even respond, the woman cuts you off, "you know, he's just going to get bored of you, right?".

"excuse me?" was all you could say. "look, just trust me when i say that rafe will get bored of you pretty quickly. i'm just trying to warn you" the woman shrugs. "you know, woman to woman" she adds.

"what makes you think that he'll get bored of me?" you scoff, "i was once in the same position as you are in, and look where that left me. i'm not the only one that he got tired of and you surely won't be the last".

as the elevator comes to a halt, stopping on rafe's level, you're quick to get off, the last thing you hear before the doors close on her is, "just take my advice and leave him before he gets bored and leaves you".

as you make your way to his apartment, the entire conversation continues to run through your head and it’s not until his door opens when you’re thoughts dissipate, at least, for a few minutes.

he grins as he greets you but he immediately notices the way you seem to be stuck in your thoughts, making his smile drop, “hey, what’s goin’ on?”. the next few words that leave your mouth end up leaving him shocked, “i think we should end this…whatever this is”.

he takes in a deep breath, “what? what are you talkin’ about?”. anxiousness is practically dripping from your words, your forefingers digging at your thumbs. you chew on your lip, avoiding eye contact with him, “whatever this arrangement is that we have, i wanna end it”.

he was spewing out questions, trying to find an answer, “end it? am I being too rough? did I hurt you last time?”. all you could was shake your head, “no…” there was a pause, “it’s better if we end things now before you get bored of me”.

his face softens, his hands immediately cupping your face, “hey, look at me”, making you look up at him. “call me selfish all you want but i don’t want things to end. I don’t know where this is coming from but I could never get bored of you”.

“i don’t wanna end things because i want you and only you” he whispers, his thumb caressing your cheek. rafe leans down, his face inches away from yours, his lips just merely hovering over yours before pressing against yours.

he pulls away, resting his forehead against yours, “how could i ever get bored of you when you’re always on my mind. every single second of the day, all i think about is you”

tagging: @oceandriveab / @babygorewhore / @xxbimbobunnyxx / @sturnioloshacker / @starkeyisthelastname / @rafecameroninterlude / @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles / @redhead1180 / @rafeinterlude / @crvptidgf / @drudyslut / @amandabbbbb / @starkeysheart / @flvredcas / @fae-of-prey / @nemesyaaa / @emilysuperswag / @kisses4angel / @eddieslut69 / @rafesthroatbaby / @lilacheavenn / @rafescurtainbangz / @ihe4rttwd / @peterpan-neverfails / @hallecarey1 / @heartsforvin / @hyperfixationgirl / @eternalbuckley / @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account / @native2princess

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