#i'll never get over 'youre quite... beautiful... when youre quiet'

[bunni-v1]

Pure Vanilla Sfw & Nsfw Headcanons

🍓These are shorter than SMC's, purely (hah) since there's less to say about nsfw headcanons. He's a really simple guy, alright? Anyway, I hope you enjoy these. I'll be working on the poly hc's soon and also some requests -- cookie run related and not. Love you all MWAH!

MDNI (Seriously I'll find you)

Tw: None?; Grammar errors

Info: Pure Vanilla Cookie x Reader; Fluff; Angst (only a little); nsfw

-Pure Vanilla Cookie is a gentle soul. His hands are soft and kind to any and all he meets, and he does the most he can to keep the peace amongst those he holds dear. His calm demeanor makes him seem like the perfect candidate for a partner, but I’m gonna be 100% this guy has issues. 

-He has very real trauma from the Dark Flower War that keeps him up at night, despite how much he tries to hide it. Betrayal from one of his dearest friends also haunts him, despite things being… different now… it sticks with him as it would any normal cookie. He’s insecure to a level that a god-king should not be capable of, but he certainly feels that insecurity deeply. Oh, and he never got over White Lily Cookie.

-It’s also very likely that he wouldn’t deem himself ‘worthy’ of being loved in such a manner, especially after the situation with White Lily. He can’t save his friends, he can’t save his subjects, what would he do if he couldn’t save a lover? It would be better not to have his heart broken like that.

-Not to mention his experience with relationships is… sparse. Other than White Lily Cookie, he hasn’t really had much romantic experience – nor did he want to. His focus is often set elsewhere, and his humility can frequently get in the way of forming genuine connections with others.

-He’s so incredibly old now, he feels like his time has passed. Besides, any cookie who might proposition him is far younger, and while he respects them he wouldn’t want to get in the way of their opportunity to connect with someone who could be a better match.

-Not to mention he gets propositioned a lot. Many cookies like the idea of him, but few can actually handle how patient and gentle he really is. It doesn’t upset him, nor does he hold it against them, it’s just how the world seems to work out.

-Excuses, excuses, excuses with him. They’re never-ending.

-Then, of course, there was you. The sweet cookie you were, you had the patience of a saint. Any excuse he came up with, you seemed to find a way to prove him wrong. (You make him second guess if he really is patient, with how much you wait on him and work to prove him wrong).

-He isn’t testing you by any means when he pushes you away. Pure Vanilla Cookie really does believe you could do better than him. (Him! How could you do better than him!?) He’s trying to save you from himself, but the more steadfast you are the more he starts to fold and bend to what you like.

-It’s not like he doesn’t enjoy having you around, he quite prefers it when you’re by his side. You’re also so very pretty, he gazes at you when you aren’t looking more than he’d like to admit (his staff gives him quite the stink eye for this one). Your patience with him is admirable, and you make such an effort to get close to him. You’ve more than proven that you are serious about your confessions to him.

-After (literally) a thousand years, he decides just to try again. Leading you on was cruel, especially when he reciprocated your feelings, so he makes the effort of a confession – and great cookies above it was sweet.

-He brings you to his pagoda, a place you frequently spend sitting quietly next to him. He knows you’re fond of it, especially of the white lilies that bloom around it. You sit next to him as usual, staring off into the distance in thought while he watches you through his lashes. Your beauty is something he loves to behold, and he wonders if the kingdom would be alright if he did so for the next thousand years. Just like this, quiet and alone in the place you’ve both made your own.

-You laugh when you catch him staring, and his dough burns hot – both from the melodious sound and from being caught so shameless. He doesn’t let it linger too long, taking your hand in his with care he hadn’t shown you much yet. It’s a bit odd for him to suddenly be physical with you, but when he looks at you, and I mean looks at you, you understand what's happening.

-He tells you how he’s grown into his fondness for you, that he appreciates your patience with him and giving him a chance to think things over in himself before pushing him into a choice. He expresses what he loves about being around you and how he feels like himself when he is near your side. How he aches when you aren’t around, and that he worries for you all the time even though you’re more than safe in the walls of the kingdom.

-He goes on for so long that you have to cut him off and tell him you get the point, which just makes him laugh because that is something he likes about you. You never let him get too far ahead of himself or too deep in his head before you pull him back up for air.

-And, while you might’ve fallen first for his gentleness and his kindness, he falls leagues harder than you ever could. After his confession, he goes out of his way to have you around, and it’s not until nearly all of your things are within his room that he realizes maybe he got a little too deep a little too fast.

-Then you smile that smile and all his thoughts are washed away in favor of following after you on whatever adventure you had planned in the kingdom for the day.

-As a partner, believe it or not, Pure Vanilla Cookie is not physically affectionate so much as he is verbally affectionate. He prefers showing his love through words and acts of service. He will run himself ragged to make sure you won’t worry about anything. You’ll have to step in and stop him at times because he will go to the ends of earthbread for you.

-He’s so giving, always thinking of things he can do for you or gifts to get that would make you smile so widely at him. It’s something the other Ancients tease him relentlessly for, especially Golden Cheese and Hollyberry. 

-Though, they are all fond of you in their own way. It’s been a long time since Pure Vanilla has been so… contented with things. He finds pure joy in doting on you, and he feels secure having someone who loves him as he is. None of them can disapprove of you when you make him so happy.

-They tell you embarrassing stories of him when he was younger, not a hero or a god, but a regular cookie who tripped over his own two feet and made a fool of himself. They tell you plenty of embarrassing stories about him having earned his power too and believe that to be true, but the ones they seem most fond of are those before they rose to their current titles.

-Pure Vanilla always huffs and pouts, but doesn’t interject much more than that when he sees the wide grin on your face. Seeing you get along with his long-time friends is very important to him, so he’s glad they’ve taken a liking to you. 

-Even Dark Cacao Cookie seems to like you, humoring your little jokes and jabs as you give them. He feels as though he’s chosen the right cookie to love – though, he supposes you chose him and he just followed your lead like he always does.

-There is one tiny dilemma, though… White Lily Cookie. See, it’s not as though she is a threat to your relationship at all. She would never and could never interfere, even if she still held feelings for Pure Vanilla (if she ever did in the first place). Pure Vanilla is just a trainwreck of grief and regret surrounding her, his dearest friend.

-His love for you has never wavered, not once since he fell for you, but for a moment when he sees her, he’s terrified that it might. All of those feelings hit him at once, and he is again that reckless young cookie at the academy following her around like a lost puppy. She looks at him and his heart races, then it sinks to the pits of his stomach.

-How could he be so selfish to consider hurting you in such a way, for even a moment? He and White Lily Cookie were no longer the same as they were before their falling out, he knew that, and yet his past crept up on him like a monster in the shadows. It makes his stomach churn.

-But you lay a hand on his arm, and you give him this look like you know exactly what’s going on, and suddenly it’s all alright. You’re right here, and you’re all he needs. He knows that more than anyone else.

-That doesn’t mean it doesn’t sting in your chest when you see the way he looks at her, but you know your Pure Vanilla. He would never do anything to hurt you, he was the kindest and most loving cookie you have ever had the privilege to share your life with.

-Now, with that established, we can divulge into him as your partner.

-As I mentioned he’s very giving, but he’s terrible and receiving gifts from you. He’s not used to it, and he may outright refuse to accept it, but if you push him he’ll give. He always loves what you give him anyway, even if it’s the smallest insignificant thing. It always gets displayed somewhere he can see it, or he makes a way to use it in his daily life.

-It takes him a while to be open with you. He feels his feelings and thoughts are a burden on you, so his worries usually go unspoken unless you notice them yourself. 

-If you notice something and point it out, he’ll tell you what's wrong. He wouldn’t want to lie to you and make you more worried about things. He downplays it a lot, though. It takes a lot of stubbornness on your part to get him to open up and admit when he’s feeling really bad.

-He does let you in little by little, and you get to see more of Pure Vanilla as he is beneath all the smiles and passivity.

-I also mentioned that he’s verbally affectionate over physically. He gives you so much praise it makes your head spin in circles. Everything you do is worth praising in his eyes, even silly little things like finding your way through the castle or grabbing yourself something special to eat one day.

-Constantly mentions how lucky he is to have you, his admiration truly knows no end. Ah, and he speaks of you all around the kingdom. Other cookies think you’re a literal saint thanks to him, and you’re treated with so much respect by those in the cookie kingdom.

-Gingerbrave, Strawberry, and Wizard Cookie all adore you, and get so very excited when you offer to go on an adventure with them. (Much to Pure Vanilla’s worry and dismay.) The way you interact with them makes Pure Vanilla’s chest ache at the sight. You’re so wonderful with children, he loves seeing the way you handle them with love and care. Makes him wonder what you might be like with children of your own… Ah, that’s not a trail of thought he should go down too far just yet. One day, though.

-As sweet and loving as he is, he’s fiercely protective of you. He’s lost quite a bit in his life, and he knows he will lose more, he’d like to prevent another loss if he can help it though. If you argue with him, it’s almost always about this.

-He doesn’t like you going to dangerous locations, he doesn’t like it when you leave his side for more than a day or so, and he certainly doesn’t approve of you putting yourself at risk for adventure. Usually, you settle this by just having him come with you, but sometimes even that isn’t enough for him.

-Regardless, the angriest you see him (other than the Shadow Milk incident lol), is when you are at risk. It’s easy to forget he’s very powerful, akin to a god, but he is. He is not afraid to use that power to protect you if he must. (It’s lowkey hot I’m ngl.)

-Now he’s not the type to go overboard with this kind of stuff, he’ll only do what he must to remove the threat if he has to. He is not afraid to be violent if he needs to be, though. Immediately after he will worry over you with such gentleness it will give you whiplash.

-He’s aware his outbursts of anger are uncommon and jarring from his usual demeanor, but he’s just a cookie after all. He loves you very much, and if he can keep you safe he will for as long as you live.

-Jealousy is rare from him, which is to be expected, but he does get jealous. Specifically when he sees you interacting with cookies in a way he can’t interact with you. Physical affection is usually what gets him upset.

-Not that he can’t be physically affectionate, but that he has a hard time being physical with anyone. It’s a difficult thing he struggles with, and while you’re understanding and loving, he can’t stop the rare annoyance bubbling up in his chest when he sees one of your friends touching you so casually.

-It’s the only time other cookies might get to see him frown around the kingdom, a displeased expression etched across his normally gentle features. It won’t fade until you return your attention to him and make him feel validated in his feelings.

-After these stints, it is common that he drags you (pulls you gently by your hand) back to his room and cuddles up to you in the quiet of his bedroom. He’ll whisper his worries at your insistence, and melt into your touch as you soothe him instead of scolding like most others would.

-Oh, and it’s very very bad when Shadow Milk Cookie is involved. Shadow Milk knows just how to get under his skin, and you are an easily accessible soft spot.

-Not only is Shadow Milk far more open in expressing himself than Pure Vanilla is, but he’s very physical with everything. While Shadow Milk may not see you as anything more than a doll to play with, it infuriates Pure Vanilla to see him touch you and flirt with you like you are his when you are Pure Vanilla’s. 

-He brings out that possessive side of Pure Vanilla that he represses as hard as he can. He doesn’t want to share you, though. Not with anyone and especially not Shadow Milk Cookie. You are his life partner, the person he loves more than anything in the world, that’s not something he’s ever had before and he doesn’t want anyone else to be able to feel what your love feels like. Allow him to be selfish just this once.

-I also have a belief that ancients have something similar to a beast bite, though it’s less common that any of them “mark” a partner. Pure Vanilla is the least likely to leave such a mark on you unless you seem insistent upon learning about it.

-Functionally it’s similar to the beast bite, but there is no need for biting in their case – they can if they’d like to, though. Instead, it’s just a magical seal that can be placed upon your dough that resembles their souljam. It connects the two of you physically and emotionally. 

-When Pure Vanilla misses you, it sends a wave of sadness through you. A longing that is not your own, but feels so familiar to your own that you could easily mistake it as such. His emotions always come in big waves that nearly drown you then quiet down again as soon as they come.

-Pure Vanilla, again, wouldn’t place one on you unless you really wanted it. If you did, though, he would place it right where your spine meets your neck. The little blue mark peeks over the tops of your shirts like a tease, reminding everyone who you are with.

-Just because he is kind doesn’t mean he can’t also be a little possessive of you. You’re wonderful, after all, he can’t risk any cookie thinking you’re available.

-Besides the blue looks stunning on your dough, if he says so himself. And he does.

-Now, onto the bedroom.

-To start I’ll say Pure Vanilla is deceptively innocent-looking. It’s easy to imagine he feels no urges or wants in a sexual sense, but that’s not true at all. He’s just good at repressing them. And he’s repressed them for years and years and years.

-His sexual experience is probably also low, but I can imagine he’s had sex previously with a cookie or two (maybe even White Lily, depending on the circumstances). The important thing is that he has experience, and he’s not as awkward about it as one might think.

-It’s very similar to how he falls in love with you, once he gets a taste he really can’t stop himself from falling further and further down.

-He’s very patient though, so he won’t initiate your first time together. He’d rather you decide that since he’s more than ready to do whatever you’d like. (He’d been thinking about it since three months in, but he didn’t want to move too fast so he just pretended nothing was wrong.)

-When you do decide you are ready, he is there waiting with open arms for you. He makes sure your first time together is all about what you want and focuses on making sure you feel good. He’s a people pleaser in every aspect of his life, including the bedroom.

-But, if he had to pick what he preferred, he’d probably admit to being a service top. He likes to make you feel good, and he wants to know everything that makes your body react to him. He treats it like a secret ancient knowledge that only he is privy to. 

-He likes to know you in every aspect of your life, the bedroom is no different. He takes his time always, preferring to go slow and steady rather than fast and rough. He’s a quick learner too, picking up your likes and dislikes with an ease that would make any student jealous. Within two, maybe three sessions he’s got you read like a book. It’s infuriating how easily he manages to get you to melt under his touch.

-If you want to top, he’ll oblige you, though you can tell he really prefers taking care of you over being taken care of. There’s just something so special about being allowed to have you like this. So soft and pliant beneath him. All the trust in the world rests on his shoulders, and he holds it like it is the most important thing in the world.

-And he is so, so giving during sex.

-He takes his time with you, starting with slow and deep kisses that trail down your neck. He worships you like a god, smothering your dough with his affections. Not an inch of you will be left untouched from his lips, burning your skin into his memories so he never forgets how it feels beneath his tongue.

-And he whispers such loving words of admiration, talking about how wonderful you are for him. Mumbling against you that you taste so sweet and that each noise you make sounds like a symphony to his ears. He encourages you to let go, allow him to love you as you are, and let him see all the most vulnerable sides of you because that is all he wants.

-When he tastes your juices he sighs like he is in heaven. His pleasure is only found in you, after all. Your taste is something he could easily fall into addiction for, just like every other part of you.

-You can be rough with him while he goes down on you if you’d like, he doesn’t mind at all. Grab and pull at his hair, grind yourself into his face, and squeeze him between your legs with all your might. They’re just signs he’s doing his job right, after all.

-Oh, he’s a huge proponent of eye contact. While he can’t quite see well all the time, he always has his eyes open and on you when he can help it. This is especially prevalent when he is inside you (or when you are inside him).

-He presses his forehead to yours and watches your face contort in pleasure, allowing you to do the same. It makes the act more intimate, and he feels so much more connected to you like this. Like he can really see you for who you are in these moments, and feel that love that burns for him in your gaze.

-Alongside this, he always holds your hand. Regardless of if he’s going down on you or if you’re riding him or anything he is adamant your hands remain interlocked. It’s another layer of connection that he uses as a means of expressing his love for you.

-If you can’t tell, he’s seriously into body worship. He loves every inch of you, and sex is the easiest way that he can express this to you.

-He uses sex as an extension of his affection for you, rather than something for fun or to stake claim. It’s another form of love to him, and you can feel this through the way he treats you with such gentleness during the whole act.

-I don’t believe he’s into much other than what I’ve listed above. He’s very vanilla (lol) and traditional about sex, preferring things to be simple, sweet, and loving. 

-He prefers to keep things in the bedroom, the idea of being caught makes him run hot, but you can convince him to try a few riskier places. Like the pagoda or in quiet rooms near other cookies, so long as the doors are locked and there’s no risk of interruption.

-He does not like being cared for during the deed, it makes him feel guilty that you’re caring for him when he would rather care for you. If you are insistent he’ll give in, but he makes it known he would prefer to be providing than being provided for.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Javelin

Ona Batlle x Reader

Summary: You and Ona are each other's homes

The first time you met Ona, she kicked you in the face with a football.

In revenge, you threw it straight back at her and she accidentally lost a tooth from the impact.

You'd been best friends ever since then and your parents could barely keep the pair of you separated.

And as with all things like that, a relationship was naturally the next step.

Fumbles in the back rooms of the family home, making out in your room during family reunions, a kiss after Ona scores in an important match.

And all of those soft, teenage fumbles transformed into something much more beautiful.

You'd followed her to Manchester when she left Spain.

It had taken a lot, uprooting your whole life and moving to a different country whose language you hadn't paid much attention to in school.

Ona helped though.

Ona always helped.

That had always been the case.

Ona helped you and you helped her.

Your training never really went as long as hers. You weren't away from home as often as Ona was. Throwing a javelin wasn't quite as physically draining as football was so you were able to cook dinner and clean up and go to almost all of her matches to support her.

"That smells good."

Arms close around your waist gently and a head rests between your shoulder blades.

"Taste," You say, bringing a spoon up to Ona's lips straight from the pot," Good? Too salty? Not salty enough?"

"Perfect," Ona says," Perfect like always. You spoil me."

"You deserve to be spoiled."

Ona giggles a little, a soft kiss being pressed against your neck as she moves away. "I'll grab the plates."

You make a home in Manchester together before Barcelona come knocking and you're more than willing to return to Spain again.

You get another coaching team. You train in the heat.

You and Ona discuss a dog but nothing has come of it just yet. You bask in each other's company. You return to family reunions and seeing Ona's family on the weekend right until the summer.

The run up to the Olympics is brutal.

You're both tired and drained but it's a dream to represent Spain on a stage like that, to show people around the world just what you can do.

People watch events that they don't usually watch and if you can even convert one person into a javelin fan then it'll be an Olympics well spent.

You have your goals for this Olympics and Ona has hers.

And you hate seeing that her goals will be left unfinished.

"Hey..." You say gently as she approaches you at the barrier," I'm sorry."

You can see her putting on a brave face. You know it's fake.

You lean over and gently draw her closer.

Spain hadn't made it to the final. They'd lost the bronze medal.

Ona had lost the bronze medal.

Your own gold medal for javelin feels like a weight in your bag, heavy and you wish you could throw it in the river so Ona wouldn't be able to see it.

But you know that she knows you won it.

She'd sent a very long rambling text before setting up an accompanying phone call where she declared her love for you and told you how proud she was and how she couldn't wait to see your medal.

Now though, you don't want her to see it.

You don't want her to see it because you know she'll be reminded of what she's just lost and you can't do that to her.

You won't do that to her.

You refuse to do that to her.

So you hold Ona against you now as she rests her head in your shoulder and you play with the soft baby hairs that rest on the back of her neck.

"We've got a break now," You whisper to her, voice quiet and soft and everything she needs to hear right now," We'll go somewhere hot. With a beach. We'll relax and have some fun before the season starts again. Relax and reset."

"I wanted to win you a medal," Ona chokes out against your skin," I know you've already got one but-But I wanted to get you another one."

"I don't need another one," You assure her," I've got you. That's enough for me."

[yawnderu]

Adoration — Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Content: fluff, pregnant!reader, horrible dad jokes.

Our small talk was quite big to me. You know I love you, yeah? My entire life, I always wanted the most simple things. A cup of tea, a normal family, nice food, to be loved and accepted. To find comfort in someone, for the first time ever.

"Earth to Simon." You say teasingly, a hand being waved slowly near his eyes, as if to see if he was focusing on you. He gives you a questioning look, raising a blonde eyebrow stained with eyeblack.

"Seemed a bit lost there." You give his cheek a kiss and you could swear you felt it heat up right after. He returns it, of course, giving you an overly wet kiss on the cheek that makes you recoil and scrunch up your face in mock disgust, dragging a quiet laugh out of him. The sound is beautiful, something your enamored brain can never fully process no matter how many times you hear it.

"I'm here." He replies, arms wrapping around your waist as he brings you closer to his naked body, one hand now gently holding the back of your head as your cheek touches his chest.

"I'm here." He repeats, voice quieter as he looks down at you. The image of you has always been the lens in which he can see the world with love. Reserved for you— his hand trails down, running down your skin delicately before settling on your tummy. —and the life growing inside of you.

"I've been thinking about retiring." He says it so casually you take a few seconds to process, blinking a few times before looking up at him with a mix of confusion and excitement in your face.

"Really?" He doesn't blame you for not believing it— hell, he doesn't even believe it himself. His whole life has been dedicated to putting his life on the line, what else can he do? He'll find something. Anything.

"Yeah." He confirms, planting a soft kiss on your forehead as his hand keeps gently holding your stomach, hoping he can feel the baby kicking.

"There's too much to lose now that I have my girls with me." And he doesn't wanna take the risk anymore. He wants to grow old with you, and he wants to see his girl grow. Maybe even have a couple more kids later on.

His words are met with a soft peck, your hand gently running through his short, bleached hair.

"Are you sure?" He doesn't even hesitate before nodding, bringing your naked body closer to his, wanting to feel everything he missed out on his whole life.

"Already spoke with the old man. Said he'd support me either way." He chuckled softly, thinking back on his conversation with Price. The man was barely 10 years older than him, yet in a way, he was a father figure for Simon. Someone to look up to, a mentor.

He still remembers the first time you and Simon confirmed you were together, and how Price promised to keep his lips sealed despite fraternization being frowned upon. Price knew it would happen either way, looking at the way Simon's eyes softened when you were introduced to the team. The way he was always next to you, paying special attention to you during missions despite knowing you're part of the 141 because you're a capable soldier. Price would tease him in private about his obvious crush on you and Simon would simply say he's seeing things because of dementia.

"Then I'll retire too." You confirm, and before he can open his mouth to protest, you keep talking.

"I'm not risking our girl growing up without a mother. Can't imagine forcing her to deal with your bad jokes alone." You tease and the corners of his lips tilt up, eyes glistening with... something. You know that look.

"No, don't st—" You try to get up from bed and he gently pulls you closer, the same smug smile on his lips that shows he knows he's about to do something awful.

"What do you call a fish wearing a bowtie?" You groan loudly and try to escape his grasp, a smile tugging at your lips as he holds you even closer, planting a bunch of kisses all over your face while you try your best not to giggle.

"Sofishticated." He says bluntly, looking down at you to see your reaction. You simply look away, trying to have a serious expression yet... his jokes are so bad they're funny. A small giggle escapes you before you're full on laughing, trying to move him away from you so you can escape the never ending nightmare of his dad jokes, his low laugh coming from somewhere behind you while he holds you closer, thinking of more jokes he read online just to tell you. You are the shelter in which I find strength to carry on. Thank you.

[owlcomics101]

“Welcome home.” Dog hybrid task force x human!reader

Warnings: SFW (I am a minor), fluff, blood, language (cussing), mentions of animal abuse/violence (I do not condone), reader is gender neutral

Context: The task force was forced to be relived of duty early after killing and mauling into their handler who they mistaken their handler’s scent for someone else during a long and hard mission. This was the perfect excuse for General Shepard to finally be rid of the task force. Lasswell did all she could, but to no avail. The best Lasswell could do was give the task force the best loving home for them and that’s where you came in. You’ve been looking for someone to help you out with the farm after your parents passed away. Hybrid or not, you weren’t picky. Lasswell looked through some possible homes and that’s when she saw you. She did interview you ahead of time before informing the boys and to your surprise she loved you. Now all you had to do was pick up the boys from the airport and drive them home.

You waited by the car. It was around 5pm as you leaned on your pickup truck out front of the airport. You weren’t use to public places, you always kept to yourself on the farm. You couldn’t help but lower your hat to hide your face as city folk stared and gawked at you. You were beautiful (Or handsome). Some tried to approach you to get a better look at your pretty face under the hat but they were quickly scared off by the approaching military men. The task force all had muzzles over their mouths, shock collars digging into their poor raw necks as they were being escorted by two big military men. Soap snarled as he was shoved around by the military men. Gaz kept his ears flat against his head as he quietly growled to himself, muttering curses under his breath. Ghost kept silent the whole time, refusing to make eye contact with anyone after what happened. After what they did. Price was the first to greet you, he held his hand out for a handshake.

“You must be Y/N, pleasure to finally be meeting you-“ Price got cut off by being shocked by his collar, having to jerk his hand away and keep quiet. Snarling under his breath knowing he spoke out of turn. You flinch when he slightly jolted from the shock. You’ve never seen hybrids treated so cruel before. You wanted to say something about that but one of the military men interrupted you, handing you a small remote to the shock collars.

“If they ever step even an inch out of line, give them a flash warning before shocking them. Up the voltage if you need to.” The military man on the right said before the left spoke up.

“Don’t hesitate to call us if things go south, this is a lot to handle and we appreciate your service for this.” The left said with a nod, shoving Soap forward to keep him from trying to run off.

“Agh-i'll rip yer arm aff if ye huv a go tae push me again!” Soap snarled, his fangs bared and visible through the muzzle before Ghost elbows Soap to cut it out.

“English Johnny…” Ghost whispers. Soap lets out a huff, narrowing his eyes at the military men. You went over to the back of your pickup truck, lowering the trunk down and gesturing for the task force to sit back in the trunk. Soap was the first to get into the trunk, to him anything was better than being with those two military men. Soap was followed by Gaz then Ghost and finally Price. Price couldn’t help but give you a weary glance as if it was a silent warning. You close the trunk behind Price before heading over to the driver’s seat and starting the pickup truck. Ghost watched your every movement with cold eyes before you shut the door, leaving the four to talk amongst themselves. The boys were silent for a moment as the truck starts making its way out of the parking lot. Soap finally broke the silence.

“Well, that was quite the welcome wagon.” He said sarcastically.

“Aye.” Gaz nods in agreement, trying to soothe his sore neck from the shock collar. “How much you lot wanna bet that farmer is gonna put us to work once we get there?”

“There’s nothing to bet.” Ghost said with a hint of a growl in his voice, his arms crossed and shoulders tensed as he tried to memorize the roads and streets you were driving on. He was already thinking up an escape plan just in case. Price glanced at Ghost and could tell what Ghost was plotting, but he was more focused on you. He was studying your face, your body language, your actions. Price damm well wasn’t just going to just let anyone house him and his team let alone a lone farmer that’s able shock them with a click of a button and take them away to somewhere much worse with just a phone call. This all had him on edge his thoughts were short lived when he suddenly felt his arm jolt. The pain of the shock still seemed to be lingering on his muscles-causing them to randomly spasm. Gaz immediately takes notice of this and puts a hand on Price’s arm.

“You alright cap?” Gaz asks, concern clearly on his face along with Soap and Ghost. “I’m fine.” Price brushed Gaz off his arm.

“Are you in any pain?”

“Always.” Price replied with a bitter chuckle which managed to ease some of the tension, but Price could tell they were still worried. After a moment of silence, Soap speaks up again.

”What do you think they’re like?”

“Who?” Gaz asks with a brow raised.

“The farmer.” Soap said with a scoff.

“Seems spineless to me.” Ghost muttered, adjusting his balaclava and letting out a huff before getting elbowed by Price. Ghost was about to protest when the truck suddenly comes to a stop. The truck slowly turns onto a long dirt road, leading up to a surprising small house on top of the hill with a large barn behind it. The boys couldn’t help but stare in awe of the house’s cottage-like atmosphere. The house was over run with plants but the plants weren’t wild or unkept, they were organized and grew on their own sides of the house. Most of the plants were flowers, berries, and some ivy here and there. It was beautiful, too beautiful. The sun was already setting behind the barn casting a shadow across the fields that was surprisingly calming. The night was already alive. Crickets and frogs were singing. Fireflies danced around the tall grass. Before the task force could even fathom how they managed to end up in a place like this, the engine to the truck turns off as you get out of the truck. You take your keys out and stuff them in your pocket as you open the trunk for the others. The task force slowly gets out, one by one giving each other confused looks as you walk over to them.

“Where the hell have you taken us-urk!” Soap was cut off by you suddenly grabbing his neck, the task force immediately rushed over to protect Soap. Soap himself about to grab onto you and throw you off of him when there was a sudden snap.

Soap’s shock collar fell to the ground with a thud. Soap immediately went to feel his neck-only to be met with raw skin rather than cold metal. Soap’s breath hitched as he felt around his neck. The others stared at Soap wide eyed before looking back to you as for the first time since they met you, you spoke.

“Welcome home.”

[cryptidghostgirl]

omg omg omg totally new silly idea- human! alastor x human! reader where they meet at a party and go outside for a walk near the pier and the moon is beautiful and… they pull out weapons on each other (specifically Alastor a knife and reader a gun) and thats when they decide to form a partner in crime partnership

And in other to keep appearances they are forced to “fake date”

Mimzy: youve been spending some time with that new girl havent you, is she your gf or smth?” chuckle

Naize 20 yr old smth Alastor trying to think of a response thats not that:...

Mimzy: OMG IS SHE?

Alastor: sureeeeee

And they aren't actually into each other until a lot later into their partnership when they’re chasing some guy and reader gets to them first and just starts going at it “hey man i think hes had enough” “YOU WANT WHAT HES HAVING???” thpe shit

and Alastor has to catch his breath and he lowkey thinks hes dying because his heart starts beating a lot, And he goes again to mimzy for advice cuz i dont think he has anu friends and shes like “oh sweetie…”

And because its quite impossible to not get attached at one point theyre in another chase and reader starts laughing hysterically like “did you see him trying to run away??? lmao” and he goes “I couldnt take my eyes off you” and then just grabs her face and SMOOCH >:)

I think its a good trope- fake dating to actual dating even if its. about. murderers- :3

A/N YOU GUYS COME UP WITH THE BEST REQUESTS JESUS CHRIST!!! Also I promise I will get to the rest of the requests this weekend, I had two exams today so this is the only thing I am gonna post. Sorry.

Cover Up (Human!Alastor x Human!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: uh, murder. Mild gore. Violence. Weapons.

Word Count: 4,460 (I went a little overboard with this one)

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List

"I'll walk her home, don't worry Mimzy." Alastor was saying as Y/n pulled her coat over her shoulders.

The noises of the party still raging on filtered into the grand entryway of the house, muffled through the walls. Mimzy shot her two friends a suspicious look.

"It's nothing like that, Mimz." Y/n sighed, straightening the collar of her fur coat, "I just asked cause of all those murders in the news. Kinda freaky, don't you think? I don't really wanna be out alone at night and Al here was kind enough to offer."

Mimzy crossed her arms, eyebrows raised.

"Sure." she teased.

"Mimzy." Alastor sighed in response and she put her hands up in false surrender.

"Sorry! Sorry." she hummed playfully, "I know you two free birds would never."

Alastor rolled his eyes and, turning to Y/n, held out his arm. She took it daintily, a grateful smile on her face. The pair had just met a few hours earlier but had quickly fallen into a casual camaraderie. He lead her from the house, Mimzy calling her goodnights and wishes for their safety after their retreating forms.

It was a mostly quiet walk through the desolate midnight streets of New Orleans. Y/n hummed softly, kicking a can along with the toes of her healed shoes.

"You'll ruin them that way, wont you?" Alastor asked, feigning concern.

Y/n just shrugged.

"They're shoes. Yeah, they're nice but I wont let that stop me from living. Let's stop by the water, it's so pretty tonight."

Alastor turned slightly, looking out at the Mississippi with it's slightly turbid waters reflecting the light of the stars. He tried not to smile, it was like she wanted him to carry out his intended work. She was making it so easy for him.

"Sure."

They turned towards the rail and Y/n let go of his arm, leaning her elbows against it. She let out a sigh of longing as her eyes tracked the ripples in the surface.

Alastor watched her for a moment, the moon illuminating her features. She was a handsome woman, there was no doubt about it. It had been proved to him tenfold by the amount of prospective partners she had turned down dances with at the party in favor of drinking with him at the bar. That was not what Alastor was interested in, however. Once he was sure she was distracted, once he was sure she had no intent to take her eyes from the glowing river, he looked down. Moving his coat slightly to the side, his hand quickly found its way to the hilt of the knife he had stashed in his waistband for just such an occasion.

He pulled it out, the weight familiar, almost comforting in a sense, in his hand. There was a click. He looked up, the blade pointed to its intended target.

Y/n was facing him now, a wry smile on her face. One foot in front of the other, she took a step forward. The muzzle of the gun, the cocking of which had been the source of the noise which had drawn his attention, just a few centimeters from his chest. The tip of his knife hovered indefinitely by the open center of her coat. He chuckled in amusement, eyebrows raised.

"I thought there were a few more bodies in the news than there should have been. A gun? Really?"

Y/n shrugged.

"I'm little. I don't have the privilege of being able to overpower my victims like you."

Alastor hummed softly. A slight breeze picked up, playing with the edges of their hair.

"What a shame."

Y/n laughed lightly.

"I don't think so. It works well enough."

"Those machines are inelegant, they are detached."

"And you prefer a sense of intimacy to be involved in all your escapades?"

Alastor removed the knife, holding it up to his eyes. He turned the blade over in his hand, examining it closely. Following suit, Y/n let her hand fall to her side, the gun still cocked should an occasion arise to use it.

"I have an idea." he suddenly announced.

"Oh?" Y/n asked.

She took a step back, returning to the water's edge. Alastor followed, leaning over the railing beside her. They watched one another closely, weapons still clutched loosely in their hands.

"Yep."

"You gonna tell me what it is or am I gonna have to guess?" Y/n teased after a moment, breaking the oddly comfortable silence that had fallen after Alastor's last words.

"There have been a few times, of late, where I've come a bit... uncomfortably close to being seen."

"Getting lazy." Y/n hummed, "Or maybe just cocky."

"It seems like you could use a hand, someone with brute strength in case anything goes wrong."

She scoffed, smiling just the slightest bit.

"Are you proposing we work together?"

"You're the one who said it, not me."

Y/n shook her head slightly, amused.

"How would I know you wouldn't just turn on me? End up killing me or decide not to step in if I needed help?"

"And how would I know that you wouldn't rat me out? Alert someone to where I was and what I was doing rather than telling me someone was coming? It's called trust, Y/n."

Y/n thought it over, fiddling with the gun in her grip as she did so. Alastor watched, seeing the gears turning in her mind through the light of her eyes.

"Fine." she said at last, un-cocking the gun and holding a hand out to him, "You've got yourself a deal."

Alastor smiled, slipping the knife back into his belt before grasping her hand in his. It was chilled by the air of the January night enveloping them.

"Deal."

Y/n quickly learned Alastor's preferred demographic. He had a penchant for angry men, drunks. Y/n had been a one off, a spur of the moment opportunity he had thought to take hold of. Alastor had not been like that for her. Y/n's preferred victims were also men. Anyone that showed any pressing interest in her, anyone who tried to take her home for the night, always ended up six feet under. For both, murder was a way of processing their personal experiences and traumas.

As a result of their deal, Y/n and Alastor began to spend more time together. They had to learn one another's intricacies, their ways of thinking, their nature of being. It was a necessity if anything was actually going to work. They both had rather busy work schedules, Alastor as a radio broadcaster with his very own show and Y/n as a seamstress at a local dress shop. Because of this, more often than not, the only time they had to get to know one another was through shared meals. Both of them had to eat, needed a lunch break or dinner. It was just what worked. Because of their slightly shared demographic of victim, they ended up in bars together quite frequently as well.

It was in one of these meet ups that they ran into their first difficulty. Y/n was sitting across a table from him outside a cafe, lazily sipping on a coffee as she perused the missing persons list in a newspaper. The newspaper was old, they were exchanging information about who was responsible for what. Working together didn't just mean knowing one another as they were now, but their histories as well.

They should have known not to sit in such a public place. Both had many connections in the city due to their jobs, though few friends. It just so happened on that day that the one true friend they did have in common was walking down the very street they sat on.

"Alastor?" Mimzy exclaimed, catching sight of his familiar face and moving towards their table.

Y/n folded the newspaper, placing it on the table as she turned towards the sound. Mimzy came to a stop, her brow furrowing in mild confusion as she saw her friend was not in fact alone.

"And Y/n, fancy meeting you two here."

"Pull up a chair, Mimz." Y/n smiled and Mimzy obeyed.

Swinging a spare chair from a nearby table, she quickly joined them.

"I haven't seen you two since the party! How have you been."

"Fine, fine." Alastor hummed and Y/n nodded her assent.

"And whats this with you two getting coffee?" Mimzy asked, a teasing smile slipping onto her face as Alastor took a sip of his own drink, "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"No, not at all Mimz." Y/n shook her head, a slight smile on her face, "It's always a pleasure to see you."

"You sure this isn't a date or something? I mean, with the way you two left and everything... having coffee alone..."

Alastor nearly choked on his drink. Y/n and Mimzy turned to him as he put a hand to his chest, clearing his throat.

"Excuse me." he said and Mimzy's grin widened.

"Oh this is totally a date."

"No!" Alastor exclaimed, exchanging a fervent glance with Y/n across the table.

She raised her eyebrows, pursing her lips. Without words, she told him to handle it. Alastor sighed.

"Are you sure?" Mimzy asked, a suggestive tone to her voice.

"I... uh..." Alastor stuttered, his brain working in overdrive to think of anything else. It came up empty, "Fine. Yes. We're... we're on a date."

"You caught us." Y/n chimed in and Mimzy turned to her.

"Oh my stars! You two.... I shoulda guessed you'd get on like a house on fire. Shame I can't invite you to any more of my singles parties though Y/n, you are a riot."

Singles parties. A hunting ground. Y/n smiled.

"No, no, Mimz. We're not exclusive or anything."

Mimzy's eyes widened slightly at the revelation as Alastor shot Y/n a look across the table. Dating was going to be hard for them to sell but swingers too? What was she thinking.

"Really? How exotic." Mimzy hummed in thought.

"We're all going to hell anyways so, why not." Y/n shrugged.

"Oh you." Mimzy laughed, placing a hand on Y/n's shoulder as she got to her feet, "Well, I won't keep you love birds any longer. I'll see you next week for the next party then?"

"We'll see." Alastor hummed placidly.

Once Mimzy had gone, he rounded on Y/n.

"Swingers?" he asked, eyebrows raised, "Really?"

"Hey, you're the one who started the whole 'we're dating' thing." Y/n sighed, picking the newspaper back up and resuming the task at hand, "I just made it easier for us."

"It will utterly destroy my reputation if this gets out you know."

Y/n shot him a look over the top of the paper.

"Al, you got a lot more to worry about than pretending to be a swinger in terms of your reputation. Now, Marcus Alcost? Six four, buff, scar on his left forearm? Brown hair?"

"Blue eyes?"

"Umm... yeah."

"Yep, that was me."

"Nice. Musta been a tough one to take down."

Alastor would track men, following them out as they left the establishments in the small hours of the morning with the intent of returning to their families. He would stalk them, corner them, lead them in. Y/n would stand watch, alerting him at the first sign of trouble.

The moment she heard footsteps, chatter, Y/n would duck in. Grabbing Alastor by the arm, she would whisk him off in some random direction, having consistently used the time she was on lookout to scout for escape routes.

They had had a few close calls, one or two times he had had to press her up against a wall and pretend to kiss her to avoid prying eyes. They always had a good laugh after something like that. Mostly, things worked out well. They each had survived on their own for years at this point. They knew what they were doing, adding another person into the mix just made it a tad easier.

Y/n, on the other hand, didn't need to track her victims down, they did that work for her. She would dress up all pretty and the moment someone asked to take her home or something of the like, would agree. Then she'd pull them into some ally or another under the guise of not wanting to wait a second longer and attack. Alastor would stand behind her, arms crossed menacingly as she carried out her work. He threatened so she could perform and she never had any trouble thanks to him.

That was, until one night about a year into their little partnership. As the time had passed, their relationship had grown. They still held the ruse of dating up before anyone who asked why it was they each spent so much time with the other but, a real friendship had begun to blossom between them as well. As it turns out, they had a lot more in common than just a tendency to commit brutal murders. Y/n knew Alastor well by now, better than anyone else most likely, and he knew her as well. That was how he could tell something was wrong.

Y/n had given Alastor the usual signal from across the bar and he had settled his tab. As he followed the pair, Y/n and the tall man whose hand she held, Alastor had noticed something was off. Normally by this point Y/n was stumbling around, pretending to be drunk and ditzy. She was doing this very thing now but in a more halted and jagged way. The man she was with seemed more believably drunk than she was, swaying this way and that. Her movements were uncharacteristically harsh as she pulled the man into the ally about a block ahead of him.

Alastor picked up the pace, breaking into a light jog. He reached the ally and turned down it, expecting to see Y/n flirting with the man or with her gun out already. Instead, he was met with something entirely different.

At the back of the ally lay the huddled mass of the man. On top of him was Y/n. The thuds of her knuckles against his face was the only sound breaking the silence of the night. She hit him, again and again. Alastor stood there, stunned.

"Dear, whatever is the matter?" he asked at last, trying to wrap his head around the situation.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

"Y/n."

Thud. Thud. Thud.

He could see the splatters of blood now, on the ground around them and the wall behind. The thuds included the occasional squelch, the crack of a bone.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

"You'll ruin your hands for work tomorrow if you keep at this."

Still, she ignored him. There was a sickening crunch. Sighing, he approached.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

He could see it now, the man's mutilated face. Part of his skull looked like it had caved in. He had stopped moving long ago.

"Y/n, dear," Alastor tentatively reached out a hand towards her shoulder as he spoke, "don't you think he has had enough?"

Y/n whipped around to him, her eyes wild and her bloody raw knuckles raised. He froze, his hand hovering above her shoulder. There was blood everywhere. It soaked the sleeves of her collard shirt, it dripped from her fingers, it decorated her face and her bared teeth.

"What, you fucking want some too?"

Alastor's breath caught in his throat. His heart pounded against his ribcage, begging for escape. It wasn't fear, it couldn't be. He could take this girl down in ten seconds flat, blood hungry as she was.

Y/n's eyes, sharp with violence, softened slightly as she saw his reaction. She let her hands fall, resting them on the man's chest.

"He tried to drug me." she revealed, turning her eyes back to her mess, her masterpiece.

"He what?"

"Yeah." she sighed, using the back of her hand to push her hair from her eyes, leaving a residue of blood in the wake of the movement, "I caught him, switched the drinks."

Alastor shifted his gaze to the man before falling on Y/n once again. Her face was blank now, all the rage gone.

"He tried to drug me." she said again, her voice hollow.

At last, his hand found its home on her shoulder and she turned to face him once again. Alastor extended his free hand to Y/n. She examined it for a moment before daintily placing one of her own in his and allowing him to help her to her feet. Both her hands now rested in his as they looked back at the remains of the man.

"Well, he's definitely dead."

Alastor let go of Y/n's hands. Now free, he used one of them to turn her face to his. Blood spattered, wide eyed, lips slightly parted -- his heart fought for freedom from his chest once again.

"He deserved it."

Alastor let go of Y/n's chin and used the cuff of his jacket to wipe some of the blood from her face.

"Can you walk me home?"

Normally if she had asked something like that, Alastor would have teased her to no end. Why be scared of the monsters in the dark when she herself was one of them? But her voice had been small, timid. She had avoided his eyes and his fingers tingled at the prospect of her viewing him as protector.

"Of course, my dear."

They did not have another planned meeting until two weeks from that day. Y/n had a big project at work and wouldn't have any spare time because of it. Alastor, normally restless at the idea of having to wait so long to satisfy his bloodlust either by killing or seeing the show of death, was grateful for the respite. He was confused, overwhelmed even, because his strange reactions, the change in his patterns of thought towards the girl, hadn't ended at Y/n's front door.

No, she was haunting him. Like a vengeful ghost, he saw her in his mind. She took up every waking moment, he didn't know what to do. Alastor waited a day and still, it persisted. The skip of his heart, the odd slightly sick feeling in his stomach at the thought of their reunion. He waited three days and it didn't stop. By the time the end of the week rolled around and Alastor still found himself smiling at the prospect of only having to wait another week not to kill but to see Y/n again, he did the unthinkable. It was the only option he could come up with. Besides Y/n, she was the only other person in the world he even half trusted. Alastor called Mimzy.

"Alastor, darling!" she excitedly exclaimed into the phone, "What a surprise! What can I do for you?"

"Yeah, hey Mimzy. Um..." he struggled to find the words, fiddling with the phone cord as he walked to the window, looking down at the street below, "I just... I need your advice about something."

"What is it, hun?" she immediately replied, "Seems its got you in a tizzy, not a lot can do that."

"I... It's about Y/n."

"Uh-oh, trouble in paradise?"

"No. Maybe?" he turned from the window, collapsing in his desk chair, "I don't know."

"Spill."

"Well, we... I just.... Mimz, I can't stop thinking about her."

"Well I would hope not, you've been together for almost a year now."

"Yeah well, about that. It may have been a... stretching of the truth? Shall we say?"

"Al." Mimzy warned after a moment's silence, "If you are playing with this gi-"

"No!" he exclaimed, cutting her off and quickly crafting an excuse, "No. It was just to get our parents off our backs. We had a deal. They were both pestering us about when we were gonna get married, you know how it is."

"I thought your dad was dead?"

"My ma though, she really wants to see me settled down."

"I guess that explains the swingers thing." Mimzy sighed, "It didn't really seem in character for either of you. So, whats the matter?"

"I told you, I can't stop thinking about her. It's like... it's like... look, we're not dating, but we're friends, you know? And we were out at a bar together a few nights ago and she just... she did something and when I looked at her, it was like I died."

"That little minx." Mimzy laughed in glee, "What the heck did she do?"

"Just something, okay?"

"I have got to quiz her about this."

"No! Please, no. She'd... probably be embarrassed."

"Mmm... okay...." came Mimzy's doubtful reply, "So what was it you needed help with?"

"Well, that. It was like the breath had left my body entirely. I felt... sick, my chest hurt. It was so strange. I thought it would go away once I got some sleep but it didn't. Every time I think about her, it feels like there is a vice around my heart and I can't stop thinking about her."

"Al, seriously? This is what you're asking me about?"

"Yeah?" he uncertainly replied after a moment.

"What are you, twelve?"

"Mimzy, are you going to help or not?"

She sighed.

"Alastor, you have a crush on her."

A beat.

"I do not."

"Yes, you do. Maybe even more."

"I..." his brow furrowed, his breath left his body.

This was bad. This could be dangerous, detrimental even.

"Are you sure?"

"Butterflies in your stomach? Pains in your chest? Can't get her out of your mind? You're even breathless for christ's sake Al. It's textbook first pangs of love."

"Fuck."

Mimzy laughed.

"You're already pretend dating, what harm would asking her to do the real thing with you do? My bet is, she's probably been feeling the same thing about you. That tends to happen in cases like yours, I've seen it before. The whole 'fake love turns real' trope. It's overdone if you ask me."

"Mimzy, this isn't one of your trashy romance novels. This is my life."

"So live it radio man! Go get that girl."

Alastor was nervous, trembling even as he sat at the bar. His glass of whiskey had gone warm on the table as he watched Y/n dancing and having fun in the crowd. This was how it usually went when it was his turn to hunt, she'd have fun and he'd find a target. Once the target left, he'd grab her and they'd move out.

Tonight he was distracted and it showed. The man had nearly given them the slip. With Alastor's knife still sticking out of his shoulder, he had ducked away and started running. Of course that meant Alastor and Y/n had to give chase. They ran after him through the streets of New Orleans as he screamed bloody murder and Y/n's heels clicked definitively on the ground. He was thankful that the hour was late and no one was out and about, thankful the man was so drunk his words came out closer to garbled singing than pleas for help, thankful he was slowed by his consumption.

When they at last caught up with him, Alastor grabbed his second knife from his belt and, taking the man's hurt shoulder in his free hand, buried it deep in the man's back. He fell to the floor, sputtering, coughing up blood. In a few moments he was still. Alastor turned to Y/n, panting.

Her pretty eyes traced a path between murderer and victim a handful of times before a smile broke out onto her face. Before he could really register what was happening, she was doubled over in laughter, clutching her stomach.

Alastor watched Y/n, eyebrows raised as they both caught their breath. After about a minute, she straightened up and turned to him, wiping a tear from her eye.

"What?" Alastor asked with a wry smile, "What is so funny about a dead man."

"He..." she broke out into laughter again, "He... the way he ran! And we almost lost him?! Oh my god, Al, that coulda been so bad."

"The way... he ran?"

"He... didn't you see it? Oh my god, it was so funny. Like he was running in a three legged race with an invisible partner." she wheezed.

Alastor felt the heat pooling in his cheeks. Mimzy was right, it was time for him to live his life. A normal existence could coexist with his hobby, Y/n had already proved that to him.

"Didn't you see?" she asked again.

"No." he shook his head, "I was... I was watching you."

"You were... Al, theres no way you were." Y/n scoffed, "No way. If you were watching me, he would have gotten away. If you were watching me, it would meant that you were unconcerned by your oh-so-precious reputation being ruined. If you were watching me, it would mean..."

She trailed off as he took a step closer to her, his gaze flicking between her eyes and her lips. Y/n's cheeks flushed pink.

"Alastor."

Her voice was a dying prayer. Reaching a trembling hand up, he laid it on the back of her head, his fingers tangling with her hair as she looked up at him with wide eyes. Alastor closed the gap.

He had been so scared. Scared she would push him away, that she wouldn't kiss back. Even a little bit scared he'd just become the next name on her list of degenerate men she'd killed.

There was a moment, a split second, where his fears were realized. Then, she washed them all away. Hands buried in the lapel of his jacket, she pulled him closer, Y/n leaned in.

They broke apart after a moment, their cheeks flushed and utterly breathless.

"I-"

"Would you like to go on a date with me, Y/n?"

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Are you going to try to kill me again?"

"Oh please, I thought we'd moved past that darling."

Y/n smiled, still holding him close. Alastor let his hands fall onto her waist as they swayed slightly under the light of the moon.

"Yes Alastor. I will let you take me on a date."

"We will not be swingers."

Y/n laughed.

"Just had to make that clear."

"No, Alastor. If I am going to get you, I want you all to myself. Now, what are we going to do about that body?"

----

Next Part -> Cover Up pt. 2

[flickering-chandelier]

The Best Thing That’s Ever Been Mine

Pairing: CEO Azriel x Coworker Reader

Summary: Azriel and Reader have been dating for a while, effectively keeping it a secret at work, despite their frequent make-out sessions. When a different coworker asks Reader out, Azriel gets very, very jealous.

Based on this request! 🩷

Warnings: Az gets a little possessive, some very brief smutty moments

Word Count: 3.7k

Anne, the secretary, called your name, poking her head into your office. “The boss wants to see you.”

“Thank you,” you smiled faintly at her, smoothing down your skirt under your desk, schooling your face into a neutral mask even as heat rushed through your body.

Tapping your foot, you waited impatiently in the empty elevator, going to the top level where you made your way to the CEO’S office. 

You knocked on the door and he glanced up at you briefly before his eyes landed back on the stack of papers on his desk. “Come in,” he said.

Once you stepped over the threshold, his eyes darkened as they met yours again. “Close the door,” he said gruffly, authority dripping from every part of him. 

Slowly, you closed the door behind you. 

Eyes locked on yours, he stood up, rolling up his shirtsleeves as he stalked toward you, revealing his muscled forearms. 

He stopped when he was toe to toe with you, his body towering over yours. He reached behind you and locked the door.

In the next moment, his hands were on your face and he was kissing you deeply, his tongue sliding into your mouth as you clung to him.

His lips trailed down your neck and you moaned softly, unable to hold it in. He covered your mouth with his hand, smirking into your skin. “If you can't stay quiet, I'll have to send you back to your desk.”

You nipped at his hand with your teeth and he laughed quietly, spinning you around and backing you up toward his desk, his mouth back on yours.

When your ass collided with his massive wooden desk, he lifted you up and sat you on top of it, spreading your legs wide and stepping between them, all without breaking the kiss.

His hand ran up from your calf to your thigh, under your skirt. 

“Az,” you warned, breathlessly.

“Hmm,” he hummed, his hand pausing its ascent, his thumb drawing soothing circles on your skin.

A knock on the door made you both freeze. He sighed into your neck in frustration before silently, expertly helping you to your feet, smoothing your clothes, your hair. 

By the time Azriel casually said, “Come in,” you were seated on opposite sides of his desk, looking for all the world like two coworkers who were having a professional meeting.

Azriel nodded to you politely as the intruder entered his office: your cue to leave.

You stopped in the bathroom before returning to your desk, dabbing cool water on your face, on the back of your neck. 

A year ago, when you had started working here, you remembered meeting your CEO and thinking that he was the most beautiful man you had ever seen. You had spent months daydreaming about him, longing for him to notice you, for him to linger by your desk or look at you during a meeting.

Then one day, it happened. At the end of the day, you were getting on the elevator on your way out and he was in it. Alone. 

You stood side by side, your heart pounding. Standing so close to him, the realization hit you how massive his body was compared to yours, and you couldn’t help but glance at him as you made the descent down to ground level.

He cleared his throat, and your eyes whipped to him. “You look nice today,” he said. 

Immediately, you felt heat rush to your cheeks. “Thank you,” you said, feeling breathless. 

When the side of his mouth turned up into a half smile, you simultaneously realized that you had never seen him smile before, and you would do just about anything to make him do it again.

His eyes bore into yours, alight with an emotion that you couldn’t quite place. 

Quietly, he said your name, taking a step closer to you. 

Azriel must have seen the lust written all over your face because he jabbed the hold elevator button with his thumb, not taking his eyes from yours as the elevator lurched to a halt. 

Another moment later and you were being pushed against the wall, his hands on your neck, in your hair, his lips devouring yours. 

“Is this okay?” he said against your lips, and you could only moan, could only wrap your arms tighter around him. 

That night, you ended up at his massive penthouse, tangled up in his sheets. 

You had been together ever since.

It was thrilling, if you were honest with yourself. Azriel had thought that it would be best to keep your relationship a secret at work. You had readily agreed, not wanting to deal with the potential backlash of people finding out you were sleeping with the boss.

The first time the two of you made out at work after the elevator had been a bit of an accident. You really did need to go to his office to talk to him about something. It was confidential, so you had closed his door behind you.

…And as soon as the business was over, the pleasure started. He had smirked at you, pulled you into his lap, and kissed you senseless.

After that, it became difficult to avoid. Any time the two of you found yourselves alone together, one of you was pulling the other into a kiss.

The fact that you had never been caught only spurred you on further. You did admit that sometimes it got a little reckless. 

But that was all part of the fun.

Unfortunately, you didn't see Azriel for the rest of the day, though you did get a lot of work done because of it.

That evening, you were peering into your near empty refrigerator with a frown, when you got a text.

Azriel: Come over.

You rolled your eyes, smiling. 

You: What's the magic word?

Azriel: Pretty please come over.

You: Much better. 😘

Azriel: So you're coming?

You: I haven't eaten yet…

Azriel: I'll order whatever you want.

You: !!! I'm leaving now.

Mere moments after you knocked on Azriel's front door, he had you pinned against the wall with his body, his length prominent against your ass, his lips on your neck.

“Bitter about how things ended at work, huh?” You asked as his hand traveled up your bare thigh.

He growled into your skin. “You've been on my mind all day.”

“Oh yeah? What have you been thinking about doing?” You teased, pressing your ass further against him.

Immediately he flipped your dress up and pulled your panties down. You dug your fingernails into the wall as he unbuckled his belt.

You moaned, leaning your head back as he entered you in one fluid movement. 

His hips slapped against you over and over again as he moved in quick, deep thrusts. You were both so riled up that it didn't take long for you to finish.

Once you were cleaned up and your clothes were back in place, he kissed you gently before taking your hand and leading you to his massive, unbelievably expensive kitchen that he never used.

Spread on the counter were take out bags from three of your favorite restaurants. 

You looked at him pointedly and he shrugged, smiling faintly. “I didn't know what you wanted, so I got your top three.”

Laughing, you stood up on your tiptoes to kiss him again before getting two plates from the cabinet and opening one of the bags. “You could've just waited to order until I got here,” you said, handing him a plate.

“I couldn't let you go hungry after I ravished you,” he smirked.

You carried your plate to the table, and he sat across from you, falling into companionable silence as you ate.

After dinner, you retired to his bedroom. He had an entire closet of clothes for you there that he had slowly built up after you started dating. You tried to resist at first, but you had to admit it was convenient.

You changed into pajamas and cuddled with him as the two of you fought over the remote. 

“Sweetheart, we watched your show last time,” he said, one hand on your chest to hold you back while he raised the other far above his head, changing the show you had put on to a documentary.

You groaned, flopping back against the massive mattress dramatically. “Az, you pick the most boring shows in the world. Can't you pick an interesting documentary about murder or something?”

He raised an eyebrow at you and you seized your opportunity, pouncing on him and wrestling the remote from his hand.

You rolled to the opposite side of the bed, cradling the remote in your hands and giggling while you changed it back to your favorite reality TV show.

Azriel let out a resigned sigh as he pulled your body back into his. “Alright, fine. You win.”

Grinning, you kissed him and settled into his embrace for the rest of the night.

The next morning, you woke up with Azriel's absurdly early alarm and swore.

“Hmm?” He asked sleepily, kissing you before he even opened his eyes.

“I didn't mean to sleep over on a weekday.”

“Why does it matter?” He mumbled into your skin.

“People can't see us showing up at work together.”

“I can call a car for you,” he said. “Or we can risk it and try to be sneaky,” he smiled, kissing a line down your neck.

“Don't you think we've been risking it enough?” You asked.

Azriel settled back against the pillows again. “I don't know. With you I feel pretty invincible,” he smirked.

You rolled your eyes and he laughed. “It's up to you,” he said, kissing you one more time before padding to the adjacent bathroom. 

You followed him, stopping in front of your side of the double sinks, pulling out your toothbrush in tandem with him. He faced you as you both brushed your teeth, gently brushing stray hair out of your face. You shook your head, smiling lightly, though you did love this side of him, the one that could make any menial task feel romantic. 

He kissed your temple after you had both brushed your teeth, and you took out the makeup and hair products from the drawer he had set aside for you as he stepped into the shower. 

By the time Azriel was out of the shower, you were still finishing up your makeup. He stood behind you, smiling softly, watching your reflection as he wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his chin on the top of your head, a fluffy towel wrapped around his waist. Even after all this time, he still gave you butterflies, still set your body on fire when he touched you. 

“You’re gorgeous,” he said softly.

You couldn’t help but smile. “You’re unbelievably hot,” you said, your voice teasing but your eyes alight. 

He barked out a laugh before kissing the top of your head and sauntering back into his bedroom. “Good to know you still think so.”

Shortly after, your makeup was done and your hair looked presentable, and you joined him in the bedroom, where he was pulling his pants on, still shirtless. 

“It was my first thought, you know,” you said, arms crossed, eyes intently watching his body, every ripple of the muscles in his forearms, his biceps, his stomach. 

“What was?” he asked, looking up at you as he slung his shirt on, buttoning it up. 

“The first time I saw you. All I could think was that you’re the hottest man I’d ever seen.”

His smile turned slightly predatory as he stalked closer to you, the top few buttons of his shirt left undone. “I know. I could see it in your eyes,” he murmured, bringing his hands to your waist, his lips drifting closer and closer to yours. 

“You could?” you breathed.

“Well, I saw some kind of spark,” he said, slowly moving his mouth to your ear before playfully taking your earlobe in between his teeth. “I was hoping it was for me.”

Your breath came out in a soft exhale, your heart rate picking up speed. “We need to leave soon,” you said, trying to focus.

“Yes, we do,” he murmured, before kissing you softly, cradling your face in both his hands. 

It took every bit of effort you had to gently push him away. “Get dressed,” you said breathlessly. 

He laughed, reaching up and buttoning his shirt as you pulled out a skirt and blouse from “your” closet. “As you wish, my love,” he said, his eyes shining with amusement.

You couldn’t get enough of him that morning. So, you decided to take your chances and ride with him to work. His sportscar’s windows were tinted so extremely that nobody could possibly see in, and Azriel made it a point to always be the first one in the office, so you hoped that there wouldn’t be anyone around to see you get out of the luxury vehicle. 

His hand rested casually on your thigh as he drove, and your eyes were glued to him. With his designer sunglasses, his pristine suit, his expensive watch, he looked like he should be on the cover of some magazine for rich men, making them all drool with envy. 

Sure enough, the parking lot was completely empty when Azriel pulled into his reserved parking space. 

He smirked at you, squeezing your thigh. “I told you it would be fine, baby,” he murmured, leaning in to give you a long, slow kiss. 

You let yourself sink into the kiss, into the feeling of him, for a few beautiful moments. 

After a bit, you went inside hand in hand, thankful for the empty hallways. In the elevator, he pulled your body to his, threading his fingers through your hair, kissing you until the doors opened. 

He walked you to your office and lingered in your doorway, still holding onto your hand, giving you one more kiss before he went up to his office, shooting you a bright smile over his shoulder.

Through most of the work day, you didn’t see Azriel and kept to yourself in your office.

That is, until Spencer showed up, knocking on your door with a smirk before entering your office, leaving the door ajar. It was toward the end of the day, and most of the office had cleared out by then. 

Spencer wasn't your favorite person in the office. He was a cocky asshole, to put it blatantly. Nobody really liked to work with him, but especially not the women. His ego was bigger than anyone's, though he had done absolutely nothing to deserve it.

“Hey,” he said with a crooked smile, leaning casually against the door frame.

“Hi, Spencer,” you said, trying to keep your voice mild. “What's up?”

“I was thinking that you and I should get dinner sometime,” he said, shooting you a cocky grin that you had seen him use on other women in this very office.

You raised your eyebrow, saying cautiously, “Like a date?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “If you want to call it that.”

Fighting the urge to scowl, you said politely, “No, thanks. I have a boyfriend.”

He looked annoyed, like he wanted to say more, but thought better of it. He blundered through a somewhat awkward goodbye before he left you alone in your office again.

As soon as Spencer's footsteps faded, Azriel was in your office, his eyes on fire.

“What,” you said, surprised, “Did you hear all that?”

He growled, kicking your door shut before he was taking your hand and pulling you upright, kissing you hard, his tongue and hands unyielding.

You gasped in surprise as he lifted you in his arms and set you on your desk, still kissing you relentlessly, his hands wandering over your thighs, your cheeks.

“Az,” you breathed, but he cut you off with another searing kiss.

“You're mine,” he said against your mouth.

“Of course I am,” you said, leaning back slightly, trying to suck air into your lungs.

“Say it,” he ground out before kissing you senseless again.

“I'm yours,” you gasped, clutching to him. 

He pulled back finally, holding your face in his hands, gazing into your eyes. “And I'm yours,” he said.

“Az,” you said gently, running your thumb on his bicep in what you hoped were soothing movements. “I love you. You know that.”

“I know,” he said, breathing heavily. “I just-- that pissed me off. That guy really fucking pisses me off.”

You laughed, despite yourself. “Me too.”

He sighed, kissing you softly. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you said, leaning in to kiss him again. 

“I'm sorry I got -- you know,” he winced slightly.

“You don't have to worry about anybody else,” you said. “You're the one I want.”

“I know,” he murmured, kissing you softly. 

Spencer must have really gotten to Azriel, because he took you out to an extremely expensive restaurant that night, and he didn’t take his eyes off you for a moment while you were there.

You couldn’t help but grimace as you looked at the menu, some of the prices for an entree were more than you’d spend on food in a week. 

“Get whatever you want,” Azriel said, reading your thoughts.

“Az, these prices are ridiculous.”

He smiled faintly. “Get whatever you want,” he repeated, his eyes softening. 

You sighed, and when the waiter came by, you did indeed get what you wanted. 

As soon as you were alone, he reached for your hand across the table. “I am sorry about earlier.”

“It’s okay,” you said. “I just don’t get why you got so jealous. Spencer’s a sleaze.”

Azriel laughed lightly. “You’re the most important person in my life,” he said, his eyes sparkling under the dim lights. “I love you. I don’t like that an asshole like him thinks about you.”

You ran your thumb along his hand absentmindedly. “I’m sure he’s already moved onto thinking about somebody else.”

His eyes darkened slightly. “He better have.”

For the rest of the evening, his hands were on you, like he didn’t want to let you go. 

The following day, there was a mandatory meeting that Azriel was leading, one that both you and Spencer would be required to attend. 

You didn’t think much of it. You and Azriel had been in countless meetings together since you had started dating, and the two of you had always been perfectly capable of remaining professional throughout them, never raising any suspicion that you knew of.

Azriel, as always, was the first one in the boardroom, sitting at the head of the table with his laptop open, a stack of notes next to it.

He smirked and winked at you as you walked in and sat down a few seats away from him. 

“How are you today?” you asked pleasantly, as if you hadn’t woken up in his bed and already snuck up to his office once that morning. 

“I’m doing well, how are you?” he said in his boss-making-small-talk-with-his-employees voice.  

You nodded as a few of your coworkers wandered in, laptops under their arms. “Oh, you know. Can’t complain.”

Azriel turned his attention to the people settling in around the room, getting the pleasantries out of the way. This was a part of the job that he hated, you knew. He would much prefer to stay silent unless absolutely necessary, but he also wanted his employees to like him, to trust him.

Everything was pretty business as usual, until Spencer walked in and sat right next to you. Even from where you were sitting, you noticed Azriel’s muscles tense. There were half a dozen other open seats that Spencer could have sat in, and you were sure that Azriel was thinking the very same thing.

Spencer smirked at you as he opened his laptop. “How was your night?”

“Fine?” You said, using all of your focus to keep your eyes from flitting over to Azriel.

“Just fine?” Spencer asked, clearly amused. “Hmm. Sounds like it could've been better if you hadn't turned me down.”

Before you could form a response, Azriel cleared his throat, starting the meeting abruptly, his eyes practically burning a hole into the side of Spencer's head. 

Azriel, who was usually so good at concealing his emotions, at wearing his face in a mask of indifference, was visibly ruffled. There was a slight edge to his voice as he updated us, his eyes narrowing slightly every time they drifted over Spencer.

You wanted to reach out to him, to try and bring him back down to earth, but you obviously couldn't do that.

When he turned the focus over to someone else who started updating everyone about recent developments, his eyes landed on you and finally softened a bit. You smiled faintly at him and he seemed to relax.

It was an effort to focus on the meeting, to not stare across the table at Azriel.

Later, when Azriel said you all were free to go, you jumped up and exited quickly so you wouldn't have to deal with any more idiotic comments from Spencer.

You hid out for a little bit before you deemed it safe to go up to Azriel's office. You knocked lightly on the open door and he looked up from his desk and nodded toward the door behind you to close it.

You closed the door quietly behind you and went to him. He wrapped his arms around your waist, leaning into you. 

“It would be wrong to fire him, right?”

You laughed, leaning in to kiss him. “Yes.”

He sighed. “Right.”

Gently, you took his face in your hands. “Ignore him.”

Frowning, he said, “When he's making comments like that to you?”

“Yes,” you said, kissing him softly. “I can handle myself if he says something like that again.” 

He nodded. “I know you can.”

For a few moments, he just gazed at you. “What is it?” You asked.

Smiling, he said, “It's just… I love you.”

Kissing him sweetly, you said, “I love you, too.”

@loving-and-dreaming @birdsflyhome @hanuh @sheblogs @iambored24601 @thalia-as-blog @melmo567 @azrielshadows1nger @cigvrette-dvydrevms @evergreenlark @mariamay02 @yourqueenlilith @sillysillygoose444 @headacheseason @halibshepherd @ecliphttlunar @bookloverandalsocats

(sorry y'all I just realized that I didn't actually tag most of you because I'm Stupid so that's why you're being tagged now lol)

[rootedinrevisions]

Texas Orange

SUMMARY: Heavily based on the song "Tennesse Orange" by Megan Moroney. You're in the early stages of your relationship with Glen and he takes you to a Texas football game with him.

**This was my first time writing about Glen himself and not one of his characters. I really loved the idea and the song that inspired this fic, however think I may stick to writing his characters instead of him as a person in the future. **

WARNINGS: None

WORD COUNT: 5.4k

The Texas sun hangs low in the sky, casting a warm, golden light over the landscape as you and Glen drive through the winding roads of Austin. The truck hums steadily beneath you, the air conditioning a welcome relief from the sweltering heat outside.

You glance over at Glen, dressed in a black t-shirt with the orange Texas Longhorns symbol emblazoned on the chest, and a white Longhorns baseball cap turned backward on his head. His sunglasses shield his eyes from the bright light, and with one hand on the wheel, he holds your hand gently in the other. You glance over at him, and the corners of his mouth lift into a smile when he catches you looking at him.

"This is amazing," you say, taking in the sprawling hills and the way the cityscape rises in the distance. "I can't believe I've never been here before."

Glen chuckles, his voice low and smooth, the kind of sound that makes you feel instantly at ease. "I still can't believe that. Austin's pretty great. But, I mean, you grew up on the coast, right? Plenty of beauty there too."

You nod, your mind flashing back to memories of ocean breezes and sandy beaches, a world away from the vast, open skies of Texas. "Yeah, but it's different. I've never seen anything quite like this."

He grins, squeezing your hand gently. "You're gonna love it here. Plus, this is only the start. Wait till you see the stadium-it's a whole other world."

You laugh, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves bubble up inside you. "Speaking of the stadium, I've got to admit something. I've never actually been to a football game before. My family wasn't really into sports growing up."

Glen's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but he quickly recovers with a teasing grin. "You've never been to a game? Well, that changes today. Texas football is like a religion around here. It's something you just have to experience.

"Hopefully I'll fit in okay," you say, half-joking. The thought of stepping into the massive stadium, surrounded by thousands of passionate fans, is both thrilling and a little daunting.

He chuckles, his voice warm with affection. "Don't worry, I'll be right there with you. We'll ease you into it. Plus, my folks are going to be so excited to meet you they're gonna forget about the game, at least for a minute."

The mention of his family makes your stomach flip. This is a big step, meeting his family, even if you've both been keeping things casual. There's a part of you that wonders if this trip is more than just a casual one for Glen.

"What are they like? Your family, I mean," you ask, trying to keep your tone light.

Glen's expression softens, a fond smile playing on his lips. "They're great. They'll love you, I promise. My mom might be a little overwhelming at first, but that's just because she cares so much. And my dad, well he's the quiet type, but once you get him talking about anything Texas-related, you won't be able to get him to stop."

You smile at the thought, feeling a bit more at ease. "They sound like a good bunch."

"They are," Glen says, his voice sincere. "And they're going to love you. How could they not?"

His words bring warmth to your chest, and you squeeze his hand in return. "I hope so."

As the two of you continue to drive further into Austin, Glen gives you a mini tour. He points out a few landmarks - his favorite taco place, the park where he used to hang out with friends, and a music venue where he once saw an incredible show. You listen, soaking in every detail, feeling a sense of connection to this place that Glen clearly loves so much.

"Here we are," Glen says as he pulls into a parking spot near the stadium. The massive structure looms ahead, a sea of burnt orange and white, alive with energy even from a distance.

You take a deep breath, a mixture of anticipation and nerves swirling inside you. "This is it, huh?"

"This is it," Glen confirms, turning to you with a smile that melts away any lingering doubts. "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be," you say, smiling back at him.

As you step out of Glen's truck, you notice that nearly everyone around you is decked out in burnt orange and white. Texas Longhorns hats, jerseys, and t-shirts, all show their pride. The sea of matching colors makes you acutely aware that you're the only one not wearing any team gear.

Glen steps around the truck to join you, noticing the way your eyes scan the crowd. He gives you a playful nudge with his elbow. "Feeling a little out of place?"

You laugh, shrugging slightly. "Just a bit. I think I missed the memo on the dress code."

Without missing a beat, Glen reaches up to the back of his head and pulls off the white Longhorns cap he's been wearing. He turns it around in his hands before stepping closer to you. "Here, you can wear this. Can't have you being the odd one out."

Before you can respond, he's already placing the cap on your head. His fingers brush against your hair as he adjusts the fit, making sure it sits just right. You tilt your head up at him, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "How do I look?"

Glen takes a step back to admire his work, a slow smile spreading across his face. "You look great in Orange. Might even say you wear it better than I do."

You roll your eyes playfully, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. "You might be biased."

"Maybe," he says with a grin, his eyes sparkling with affection. "But I'm also right."

As you walk towards the section of the parking lot reserved for tailgating, Glen drapes an arm over your shoulders, keeping you close. "Tell you what, we'll hit up the merch stand once we're inside. Gotta get you a t-shirt to complete the look."

"You don't have to do that," you start to protest, but Glen shakes his head.

"I want to," he insists, squeezing your shoulder lightly. "Consider it part of the full Texas football experience."

You smile up at him, feeling more at ease with every step. "Alright, but only if you help me pick it out."

"Deal," Glen says, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your temple before leading you into the sea of orange and white.

The aroma of sizzling barbecue fills the air as you and Glen approach the tailgating area. Rows of trucks and RVs are lined up in the parking lot, each decked out in burnt orange. Flags bearing the Texas Longhorns logo flutter in the breeze, and the sounds of laughter, music, and clinking bottles create a festive atmosphere.

Glen leads you through the crowd with a confident stride, his hand securely holding yours. As you near a large, lively group gathered around a grill, Glen spots his family and friends.

"There they are," he says, nodding towards the group. "Ready to meet everyone?"

You take a deep breath, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. "Ready as I'll ever be."

Glen gives your hand a reassuring squeeze as you approach the group. His mom, Cyndy, is the first to spot the two of you, and her face lights up with a welcoming smile. She's a petite woman with a warm demeanor, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she waves you over.

"There you are!" Cyndy calls out, pulling Glen into a quick hug before turning her attention to you. "And you must be the one we've been hearing so much about. I'm Cyndy, it's so nice to finally meet you!"

You return her smile, instantly feeling at ease with her friendly nature. "It's great to meet you too. Glen's told me a lot about you."

"Oh, I'm sure he has," Cyndy says with a wink before pulling you into a hug. "Welcome, sweetheart."

Next, Glen's dad, Glen Sr., steps forward with a firm handshake and a nod. He's tall and broad-shouldered, with a quiet strength about him. "Good to have you here," he says simply, but the warmth in his tone is unmistakable.

Then, Glen's sisters Lauren and Leslie, each take their turn to greet you. Lauren gives you a friendly smile. "You're braver than I would be, meeting the whole crew at once like this. They can be a handful, but you'll be fine."

Leslie nudges Glen playfully. "You didn't warn her about us, did you?"

Glen laughs, shaking his head. "I figured I'd let you all speak for yourselves."

As you exchange pleasantries, more of Glen's friends and extended family members join in, introducing themselves and welcoming you with open arms. Someone hands you a cold drink, and before you know it, you're standing around a grill piled high with burgers, sausages, and all the fixings, soaking in the pre-game atmosphere.

The conversation quickly turns to stories about Glen's past. A few of his college buddies, each with a beer in hand, are eager to share some of their favorite memories.

"Remember that time Glen tried to impress a girl by riding a mechanical bull at that honky-tonk?" One of them starts, a grin spreading across his face.

"Oh, I remember!" Another chimes in. "He was so confident, strutted right up there like he was gonna show everyone how it's done. Lasted about five seconds before he got thrown off and landed flat on his back."

The group erupts in laughter, and even Glen can't help but chuckle at the memory. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," he says shaking his head. "At least I gave it a shot."

Cyndy leans in closer to you, a glint in her eye. "That's nothing compared to the time he and his sister decided to 'borrow' my car when they were kids. Thought they'd take a little joyride around the neighborhood...until they crashed it into a mailbox."

"Oh no!" You gasp, unable to suppress a laugh.

Lauren grins, shaking her head at the memory. "We were grounded for months. Glen thought he was so slick, but he didn't realize the mailbox he hit belonged to one of Dad's friends."

"Yep," Glen Sr adds with a rare smile, "and that's how they learned not to mess with my car."

The easy banter and lighthearted stories quickly dissolve any lingering nerves you have. Glen's family and friends are down-to-earth, welcoming you into their inner circle as if you've always been a part of it. The more they share, the more you see the depth of their bond and the way they care for each other.

As you take another bite of your burger, you look over at Glen, who's been watching you with a soft smile. "You doing okay?" he asks quietly, leaning in so only you can hear.

You nod, feeling completely at ease now. "Yeah, I'm doing great. Your family's wonderful."

His smile widens as he places a hand gently on your back. "I'm glad you think so. They're a little crazy, but they're mine."

"And now I guess I'm part of them too," you say with a playful grin.

Glen's eyes light up at your words, and he leans in to press a quick, affectionate kiss to your lips. "Yeah, I guess you are."

Just then, one of Glen's friends raises his drink and shouts "Hook 'em, Horns!" The entire group responds in unison, raising their hands in the iconic "Hook 'em Horns" gesture, with pinkies and index figures extended with the thumb tucked grasping the second and third fingers.

You try to mimic the gesture, but you don't quite cooperate. Glen catches your struggle and chuckles softly. "Here, let me help," he says, gently taking your hand in his.

With his warm fingers guiding yours, Glen carefully adjusts your hand, making sure your pinky and index fingers are extended and your thumb tucks the other fingers. His touch is gentle and precise, and you can't help but feel a little flutter in your chest as he concentrates on getting it just right.

"How's that?" you ask, looking up at him with a smile.

He gives your hand a final tweak before stepping back to admire his work. "Perfect," he says, his voice soft and affectionate. "Now you're officially part of the team."

You laugh, feeling a rush of warmth at his words. "Guess I really am one of you now."

The group continues to laugh and share stories as the sun begins to dip lower in the sky, casting a warm glow over the gathering. The pre-game atmosphere, filled with the sounds of sizzling food, clinking bottles, and cheerful banter, is everything you imagined - and more. With Glen's arm draped comfortably around your shoulders and the "Hook 'em Horns" gesture nailed down, you feel a sense of belonging that surprises you in the best possible way.

As the tailgate winds down and the anticipation for the game grows, Glen wraps his arm around your waist, guiding you through the throng of excited fans heading towards the stadium. The air is filled with the sounds of chanting, music, and the collective buzz of thousands of supporters, all eager for the big game.

"Ready for the full game day experience?" Glen asks, glancing over at you with a grin.

You nod, feeling a mixture of excitement and curiosity. "Definitely. Lead the way."

As you approach the entrance, Glen veers off towards a merchandise stand just inside the gate, keeping his promise to get you your very own Texas Longhorns shirt. The stand is awash with burnt orange and white, offering everything from t-shirts to hoodies, foam fingers, and even Longhorns-themed sunglasses.

"Okay, let's find you something," Glen says, scanning the racks of shirts. He picks out a simple, yet classic burnt orange t-shirt with the Texas Longhorns logo emblazoned across the front. Holding it up to you, he grins "How about this one?"

You take the shirt from him, feeling the soft fabric between your fingers. "It's perfect," you say, already imagining yourself fitting right in with the sea of orange in the stadium.

Glen pays for the shirt and then hands it back to you. "Go ahead and try it on. Let's see how it looks."

You pull the t-shirt over your white tank top, the bright orange contrasting perfectly with your outfit. As you smooth the fabric down, Glen steps back to admire the look.

"Hold on," he says, reaching for the white Texas Longhorns baseball cap he had been wearing earlier. With a playful grin, he gently places it back on your head, adjusting the brim so it sits just right. His fingers linger for a moment, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

You look up at him, a smile playing on your lips. "How do I look?"

Glen's gaze softens as he takes you in, a warm smile spreading across his face. "You look great," he says, his voice filled with genuine affection. "I think orange might be your color."

You laugh softly, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. "Guess I'm officially part of the team now."

"Absolutely," Glen replies, leaning in to brush a quick kiss against your forehead. "Now, let's get to our seats."

With his arm comfortably draped around your shoulders, Glen guides you through the bustling concourse and up towards the exclusive box seats he reserved for you, his family, and close friends. As you walk, you can't help but notice a few heads turning, whispers following in your wake. It's clear that Glen's presence isn't going unnoticed.

But Glen seems unfazed by the attention, focused entirely on making sure you're comfortable and enjoying yourself. "Don't worry," he says, sensing your unease as you pass by a group of fans who seem to be debating whether or not to approach. "The suite will give us a bit of privacy. It's just us and the people we want to be with."

You give him a grateful smile, relieved at the thought of a more private space. "That sounds perfect."

When you reach the suite, a staff member opens the door, revealing a spacious, comfortable area with large windows offering an unobstructed view of the field. The room is decked out with cozy seating, a fully stocked fridge, and even a table spread with game day snacks.

Glen's family is already there, mingling and settling in, and they greet you warmly as you enter. You quickly realize that this box isn't just a place to watch the game - it's a space where you can relax, enjoy the company, and soak in the experience without any interruptions.

Glen guides you to a seat near the window, right next to him. As you take in the view of the field below, and the energy of the crowd that's starting to pile into the stadium, you feel a sense of excitement bubbling up.

"So, what do you think?" Glen asks, settling in beside you, his hand casually resting on your knee.

You turn to him, your smile reflecting the excitement you feel. "It's incredible."

Glen grins, clearly pleased. "I'm glad you're here," he says giving your knee a gentle squeeze. "Now, get ready for some real Texas football."

Suddenly, the lights dim, and the giant screen at the far end of the stadium flickers to life. The Texas Longhorns logo appears, and the crowd erupts into cheers. You glance over at Glen, who is grinning ear to ear, clearly caught up in the excitement.

"Here they come," he says, nodding towards the tunnel at the edge of the field.

The sound of drums fills the air as the Texas Longhorns marching band begins playing. The brass instruments gleam under the stadium lights and the rhythm of the drums pulses through the stands, making your heart beat a little faster.

As the band starts playing the school fight song, the crowd rises to their feet, the familiar tune echoing throughout the stadium. Glen stands up, pulling you to your feet with him. The sight is breathtaking - the sea of burnt orange, the flags waving proudly, and the booming voices of thousands of fans all joining together in the song.

Glen leans in close, his voice just above a whisper in your ear. "You've got to sing along, it's tradition."

You smile nervously, not sure what the words are, but Glen's enthusiasm is contagious. As the band reaches the chorus, Glen starts singing, his voice blending with the roar of the crowd. "Texas Fight! Texas Fight! And it's goodbye to A&M..."

You start to hum along to the words, your soft voice, almost drowned out by the thousands of others. But Glen's infection energy pulls you in. His eyes spark with excitement. "Louder!" he urges, his grin widening.

You laugh, feeling the last of your hesitation melt away as you throw yourself into the chant, clapping along with the beat and shouting the words with enthusiasm. Glen's pride is evident, and he can't hide his delight at seeing you get into the spirit of the game.

As the team bursts onto the field, the stadium erupts into a thunderous roar. The players, clad in their iconic burnt orange and white uniforms, charge out of the tunnel, the sight of them stirring a fresh wave of excitement into the crowd. The band crescendos into the final notes of the fight song, and the noise level reaches a fever pitch.

Glen wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close as the team lines up on the field. "What do you think?" he asks, his voice barely audible over the noise.

You look up at him, your heart racing with the excitement of the moment. "It's amazing," you reply, your smile wide and genuine. "I can see why you love this so much."

As the players take their positions on the field, the atmosphere in the stadium becomes electric. The roar of the crowd swells, and you can feel the anticipation vibrating through the stands. You're fully immersed in the excitement, your earlier nerves replaced with growing enthusiasm as Glen points out different players and explains the significance of the game.

Just as you start to relax, the opening kickoff is moments away. You're leaning forward in your seat, eyes glued to the field when suddenly - BOOM!

The deafening sound of Smokey the Cannon firing catches you completely off guard. You jump in your seat, your heart racing as the shock of the blast reverberates through your chest.

Glen, noticing your startled reaction, can't help but chuckle. "Sorry, I should've warned you about that," he says, wrapping his arms around you in a comforting embrace. His laugh is warm and affectionate, and he pulls you close, resting his chin on your shoulder. "That's Smokey the Cannon. It fires off at every kickoff. Just part of the tradition."

You lean into his embrace, your initial fright quickly fading as you feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your back. "I think I just aged a few years," you say with a laugh, trying to shake off the lingering adrenaline. "I wasn't expecting that at all."

Glen's grip tightens slightly, his way of reassuring you. "It's loud, but you'll get used to it," he says, his voice gentle and comforting in your ear. "Trust me, by the end of the game, you'll be waiting for it."

You turn your head to catch his eye, feeling a smile tug at the corners of your mouth. "I'll take your word for it," you reply, your nerves settling as you take comfort in his closeness.

The game kicks off, and the action on the field immediately draws you back in. As the players clash, the crowd erupts into cheers and groans, their energy contagious. Glen keeps you close, his arm draped over your shoulders, and you find yourself getting more and more caught up in the excitement of it all.

Throughout the game, Glen is right there, guiding you through the experience. He explains the rules as plays unfold, pointing out the strategy behind each move. "See how the quarterback is scanning the field?" he says at one point. "He's looking for an open receiver, someone who can catch the ball and make a run for it."

You nod, trying to absorb the information. "It's a lot more complicated than I thought," you admit, appreciating his patience.

Glen grins, his eyes twinkling with enthusiasm. "That's what makes it fun," he says. "Once you start to understand the strategy, it's like watching a chess match...only with a lot more action."

As the game progresses, you find yourself cheering along with the crowd, your earlier nerves completely forgotten. Glen's explanations help you feel more connected to the game, and his excitement is infectious. Each time something exciting happens on the field - a touchdown, a particularly good tackle - he turns to you with a grin, eager to share the moment.

"Did you see that?" he asks after a particularly impressive play, his eyes alight with excitement. "That's what they call a 'Hail Mary' - a long pass to try and score a touchdown when time's running out."

You nod, caught up in the moment. "I think I'm starting to get the hang of this," you say, feeling a sense of pride as you follow the flow of the game.

Glen leans in, his voice low and full of affection. "You're doing great," he says, his hand finding yours and giving it a gentle squeeze. "I'm glad you're here with me."

You smile up at him, the warmth of his words making your heart flutter. "Me too," you reply, feeling more at home in the stadium with each passing moment.

As the game continues, the two of you settle into a comfortable rhythm - Glen explaining plays, you cheering along with the crowd, and both of you enjoying the shared experience. It's a day filled with excitement, but also with moments of quiet connection, each one deepening the bond between you.

And by the time Smokey the Cannon fires off again, you barely flinch - too caught up in the thrill of the game and the warmth of Glen's presence beside you.

The final whistle blows and the stadium erupts in a sea of burnt orange and white. Texas has won, and the energy in the air is electric. Fans are cheering, hugging, and celebrating as the Longhorns players wave to the crowd before making their way off the field. You can't help but get caught up in the excitement, clapping along as the band strikes up the fight song one last time.

As the crowd begins to thin out, Glen helps you gather your things, and the two of you make your way out of the suite. The halls of the stadium are still buzzing with excitement, fans streaming toward the exits, chatting excitedly about the game. You notice a few people casting glances your way - recognition flickering in their eyes as they realize who Glen is.

You feel a flutter of nervousness in your chest as the looks become more frequent. The idea of being recognized, of suddenly being in the spotlight, is overwhelming. But before the anxiety can take hold, Glen reaches for your hand. His grip is firm, and reassuring, and he gives you a comforting smile.

"Don't worry," he murmurs, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. "I'm right here."

His words and his touch soothe you, and you take a deep breath, focusing on the warmth of his hand in yours rather than the curious glances around you. Together, you navigate through the crowd, Glen's presence beside you acting as an anchor, keeping you steady.

As you step out into the cool evening air, the noise of the stadium fades behind you, replaced by the more distant sounds of fans celebrating in the parking lot. The crowd is thinning out, and the atmosphere feels less intense, allowing you to finally relax.

Glen leads you to his truck, and as you approach it, he glances over at you, his expression softening. "So...your first Texas game," he says as he opens the passenger door for you. "What did you think? Did it live up to the hype?"

Your smile, climbing into the truck and settling into the seat. "It really did," you reply, your tone reflecting the surprise in your voice. "I didn't think I'd get so caught up in it, but I did. The energy, the crowd, the way everyone was so passionate...it was contagious."

Glen closes the door and walks around to the driver's side, sliding into the seat beside you. He doesn't start the truck right away, instead turning slightly to face you, his gaze soft and warm.

"I'm really glad you came," he says, his voice sincere. "It means a lot to me to share this with you."

You feel your heart swell at his words, and you take a moment to let them sink in. "I'm glad I came too," you say softly, your eyes meeting his. "It's not something I ever imagined myself doing, but I'm really happy I did."

Glen reaches out and takes your hand again, his fingers intertwining with yours. "You were a great sport about everything," he says, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "Even when Smokey scared the life out of you."

You laugh, shaking your head at the memory. "I'll admit, that was a bit much," you say with a grin. "But honestly, the whole experience was incredible. I see now why it's such a big deal for you."

Glen's smile widens, and for a moment, the two of you simply sit there, hands clasped, sharing a quiet, meaningful silence. The excitement of the day is still buzzing in your veins, but there's also a deeper feeling - a sense of connection, of understanding, that goes beyond just the game.

"I'm really happy you're here with me," Glen says quietly, his voice carrying a weight of emotion. "This...it all means a lot more with you by my side."

His words hit you in a way you didn't expect, and you realize just how much this day, and this man, have come to mean to you. You squeeze his hand, feeling a warmth spread through you that has nothing to do with the game or the crowd, but everything to do with him.

"I'm happy to be here," you reply, your voice just as soft. "With you."

For a moment, the world outside the truck seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you in the stillness of the parking lot. It's a moment of quiet reflection, of mutual appreciation, and as you sit there, you realize that this experience has brought you closer to Glen in a way you hadn't anticipated.

Glen starts the engine, but before he shifts into gear, he leans over and presses a tender kiss to your lips. It's soft, sweet, and filled with unspoken emotion, a perfect ending to a day you'll never forget.

As he pulls away, you both smile at each other, the bond between you stronger than ever. As the truck rolls out of the parking lot, leaving the stadium behind, you feel a sense of contentment, knowing that this is just the beginning of something truly special.

The next morning sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow across your bedroom. You sit on the edge of your bed, phone in hand, absently twisting the brim of Glen's baseball cap between your fingers. The events of the previous day play on a loop in your mind - Glen's infectious enthusiasm, the electrifying atmosphere of the game, and the way he held your hand, guiding you through it all. A smile tugs at your lips as you remember the look in his eyes when he told you how much it meant to him to have you there.

But now, in the quiet of your room, the excitement of the game has given way to do something deeper - an unmistakable warmth in your chest, a feeling that's both exhilarating and a little terrifying. You realize that what started as casual dating has slowly grown into something more. And for the first time, you feel the need to talk to someone about it.

You take a deep breath and scroll through your contacts, landing on your mom's number. The familiar sound of the ringtone fills the room as you hold the phone to your ear, your heart beating a little faster with each passing second. Finally, you hear her voice on the other end, warm and welcoming as always.

"Hi, sweetie! How are you?" Your mom greets you, the sound of her voice instantly soothing some of your nerves.

"Hey, Mom," you reply, trying to keep your voice steady. "I'm good. Just...thinking about a lot of things."

Your mom chuckles softly. "Well, it sounds like you've got something on your mind. What's going on?"

You pause for a moment, gathering your thoughts before you begin. "I met somebody, and...he's really great, Mom. he's got these green eyes that I could just get lost in, and he's so sweet. He opens doors for me, he makes me laugh, and he...he doesn't make me cry." Your voice softens as you say the last part, a small admission of how different this feels from anything you've experienced before.

There's a brief silence on the other end, and then your mom speaks, her voice gentle. "He sounds wonderful, honey. Tell me more about him."

A smile spreads across your face as you think about Glen. "He's from Texas, not exactly where we're from, but...when I'm with him, he feels like home. He's got me doing things I never thought I'd do, like going to a football game." You laugh, still a little surprised at how much you enjoyed the experience.

Your mom laughs too, a mix of surprise and amusement in her tone. "A football game? You? Never thought I'd see the day."

"I know, right?" you reply, shaking your head at the memory. "He even gave me his hat to wear because I didn't have any Texas gear. And, Mom...I liked it. I really liked it."

There's a pause, and you can almost hear your mom's smile through the phone. "It sounds like you're really falling for this guy."

You bite your lip, the truth of her words sinking in. "I think I am," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "Mama...I like him a lot. I even learned the words to the Texas Fight Song."

Your mom's laughter rings through the phone, full of warmth and understanding. "It sounds like he's got you wrapped around his finger," she teases, but there's no judgment in her voice, only happiness for you.

"Maybe he does," you say, feeling a warmth spread through you at the thought. "But...it feels right, Mom. He feels right."

Your mom's voice softens, a hint of emotion creeping in. "I'm happy for you, sweetheart. Just take things one step at a time, and follow your heart."

You nod, even though she can't see you. "Thanks, Mom. I will."

As you end the call, you feel a sense of peace wash over you. Talking to your mom has helped you put things into perspective, and you realize that you're ready to see where things go with Glen, no matter where that may lead. The thought of him brings a smile to your face, and you can't help but feel a flutter of excitement at what the future might hold.

[bunny-jpeg]

sinful sentences (thirteen)

jenson button - "I want to make you mine."

tags: smut/pwp, age gap (20s/45), flirty!reader, unprotected sex & baby trapping, doggy style, jenson is smitten (read: unhinged), dark-ish themes

sinful sentences catalogue

you were a flirt, that was what you were good at. flash a pretty smile, wear a low-cut top and any man would happily give over some cash. flutter your eyelashes and give them a sweet laugh at their corny jokes, and the bills grew in value.

jenson was smitten, needy for your attention. he loved how you felt in his hands, how his lips felt against yours. and when he was lucky, his cock snug inside of your achy, soaked cunt. maybe it was time getting to him and missing so-called glory days. but he liked the little flirt he often saw at the bar, and he liked taking you home.

but he believed that you could do a hell of a lot better than the bar you frequented. someone quiet, secluded, with an apron around your waist, dinner on the table and his child growing in your belly.

"hey, beautiful." he purred as he draped an arm around you, "look a little lonely tonight." his lips grazed your jaw, "sad that no one's giving you attention, tinkerbell?"

"shut up." you replied and when you looked at him. when your gaze met his, he pulled you in for a heated kiss. that shut you up quite quickly. you hated it, he had this way with you that made your core simmer.

"i want to make you mine." he said, "tonight."

"i could never be yours, jenson. don't be stupid." you laughed.

there was a reason why all the men got to look but not touch, but jenson often got handfuls of your flesh and his cock buried inside of you. when he pulled away from the kiss, he smiled at you, " are you done, tinkerbell? gonna be good for me?" he leaned in, "because my wallet is feeling a little heavy, and i think you could lighten the load."

and then like a lamb you tucked yourself closer to him. you knew you were a slut for his attention, he was older, wiser, wealthier. he knew what he could get from you and it made you aroused. it didn't hurt that his cock was rather big and he knew exactly how to use it.

"when have i ever been good for you?" you asked playfully.

jenson chuckled lowly, "that's what i like to hear. causing my problems, making me watch you be a total fucking flirt. but you always come back to me." he kissed your cheek.

"are you going to give me what i want?" you asked softly as you played with the top button of the light blue shirt he wore. you then spread your hand across his chest, "please?"

jenson's smile grew, "of course, honey. i'll always give you what you want. but, you have to be a good girl for me. so put away the teeth, angel, and let's have some fun tonight."

you ended up back at his home, the expensive kind of apartment with a price tag that made most raise their eyebrows. he had the money so why not spend it.

he was quick to undress you, and while the couch was closer he did have the capacity to be a gentleman and guided you to the bedroom. your clothes remained in a pile on the floor in the living room as he shepred you into the bedroom. then, when you got through the door he got you up in his arms and onto the bed.

"hands and knees, beautiful."

"are you going to use a condom?"

jenson flashed that winner's smile, "of course, tinkerbell. gotta play it safe for you, right?" the plan was turning in his head. easy to lie with your face in the covers. he patted your cheek and leaned in to kiss you on the lips. you tasted like cranberry juice and vodka, and he tasted like rum and coke.

his other hand on your thigh as he held you. his cock stirred in his jeans at the taste of you against him. you felt like something else, you could scam your way into some cash with just a few smiles. but jenson was greedy.

"hands and knees, beautiful. i want to see that pretty pussy and that lovely ass of yours." he chuckled before he pulled away and you got on your chest and knees with your ass in the air. perfect for him.

jenson played with your pussy as he got undressed, he dragged his fingers across it. played with your clit and even sank his digits into you. he felt the tight wet heat and he wondered how many men ran through you before. but, that didn't matter now. not when he had you in his metaphorical jaws.

it'll be the only cock you needed now, jenson would take care of his wife. there wasn't even a question if you would be his wife or not. he knew you'd walk down that aisle. he wasn't raising his baby without a ring on your finger.

you held onto the pillow under your head and heard him move around once he was undressed. you looked over and saw him get a condom out a desk drawer and you exhaled a sigh of relief. he smiled wickedly when you put your face back into the pillows.

when you weren't looking at him, the unused condom was dumped in the waste bin. he said as he approached you, his heavy cock bobbed as he got up behind you on the bed. he admired the glossiness of your cunt and licked his lips.

all for him, only for him.

he sank into you, no protection keeping that pretty pussy of yours safe. no, tonight you were going to take jenson raw. the thought excited him as he shifted his knees on the bed to get a better angle to fuck you. he pressed you at the middle of your shoulders, pushing you further into the bed with your pretty ass up against his hips. you felt amazing, the tight heat of your cunt wrapped up around him.

jenson button was one lucky bastard tonight.

he rocked up into you. his movements started off slow yet powerful. he moved up against you, both hands at your hips. he used it as leverage to move against you. it felt amazing, your cunt held onto him tightly.

like your body knew it wanted to get pregnant. and who was jenson to deny a beautiful woman what she so desired. your words said one thing and your body said another.

"fuck, jenson." you shuddered as the thrusts grew. his pace had his cock pressed up into your deepest parts. it made you panting against covers as he fucked you further into them. your breathing was heavier as you cunt fluttered around him.

the pleasure clouded your mind, all rationale was out the window. you didn't even question him that he actually put the condom on. your brain was flooded with the intense heat of pleasure. you gasped into the covers as the pleasure grew in your core.

there was something thumping in your soul from his movements and your core swam with a yearning for him. the way he fucked you, even when it was rough, quick sex. there was something about it that made your head swim with lust.

damn jenson button for knowing exactly how to get you going, how to pull orgasms out of you like a rabbit from a hat.

"you feel like heaven, honey. my little fucking tinkerbell with your fairy wings that i wanna pluck from you." he wrapped his arms around you and battered his cock into you. this pace quickened and you felt your foundation shake. his words were filthy and it lit a fire in your belly.

he continued to fuck you. he pressed his weight further down on you and made you squirm when his pace became brutal. he knew exactly how to keep you under him. you thought you were getting a nice payday from this, but you were going to walk a way with a bit more than some fresh euros stuffed in your purse.

more like his cum stuffed into your slick pussy, right where it belonged. don't worry, after you have his first kid he'll let out have a break, but he hoped within a decade you two will have three little button kids running around. of course he'll buy a nice house for your little growing family. but tonight, the logistics weren't important, tonight he was on a mission.

get his little tinkerbell, the girl desperate for male attention, nice and pregnant with his kid. then everything else will fall into place. his movements quickened till he was fucking you right into the mattress. his breathing was heavy and his body tense as he fucked you.

the bed creaked a little as you panted heavily into the covers. you whined, "fuck, jenson! i'm close!" then arched your back quite a bit as you felt climax begin to take its hold on you.

"that's it, beautiful. let it out for me. good girl, good girl." he cooed lowly and it made you head swim with heated want as you felt the throb in your body of climax. jenson knew your body better than you knew it yourself.

jenson kept up his pace. he fucked you with a simmering heat. he didn't last much longer, he couldn't have. he could feel the pleasure in his gut as soon finished inside of you. as climax hit, he shoved his entire length into you. made sure that the tip of his cock became familiar with the base of your cervix. they'd become quite acquainted over the next few months.

"fuck, jenson." you gasped as his pace slowed down and he gave you a playful smack on the behind.

"better than the rest, huh?" he said as he leaned over you, kept his softening cock inside of you for a moment. he kissed the shell of your ear and felt your tremble.

in a moment of post-orgasm weakness you croaked, "yes." and jenson felt nothing but a sense of pride that tonight he got you pregnant.

-

large hand on a swollen belly. been a whine since you've been at the bar and it's been only a few weeks since you became jenson button's wife. no late nights seeking the flirty attention of men older than you.

one of them finally got you tied down and in a few months you were going to be the mother to his child. his hands were still greedy for the softness of your hips, his tongue still wanted to explore your mouth. now he could whenever he wanted.

his hand grazed your middle, he loved the feeling of it. you looked so good. looked proper even when you struggled a little to get off the couch. you carried the baby well, even if it made you rely on jenson a little more (not that he was complaining)

you still don't know how it happened, but jenson simply shrugged and said, "miracles happen every day. and this one is ours." shutting down any questions about misuse of protection. all it took was one night and one little lie, and now jenson button clipped the wings of his little tinkerbell. <3

[bi-writes]

bestfriend!roommate!simon asks you to come with him on a night out. it is not quite the evening you were expecting.

more bestfriend!roommate!simon (part 5/?)

cw: mature language and content, suggestive language and content, mentions of death, fem!receiving suggestive touching, oral(fem!receiving), simon is an ass man, simon "i wont say it out loud but thats my girl" riley

simon was standing outside of the diner. he was in his usual spot outside, leaning along the brick wall in the alleyway. you knew it was him by the small light that flickered every so often--simon was smoking his routine cigarette as he waited for you.

simon was true to his word. ever since you began working night shifts at the diner, you weren't allowed to walk home alone. it was non-negotiable, not to be discussed. someone would pick you up at the end of your shift, and if no one could make it, there was a car waiting outside, a driver poking his head out and asking for your name. and that driver would stand, shaking a little, nervous, as they walked you to your door and said, "was told if i didn't see you go inside and lock the door that...i-i wouldn't be driving with two hands anymore--"

simon did not cut corners. he did not say "tonight will be fine--she doesn't need me." simon did not get comfortable, and he did not let safety and routine ease his fears.

he had made that mistake once before, and he had nearly lost everything--nearly. he would never make that mistake again.

the bell chimed above the door as you came outside. simon tossed the cigarette onto the ground and stubbed it out with the steel toe of his boot just as you came near. you looked up at him as he came out of the shadows, smiling just a little.

"hi, simon."

"luv."

he wrapped a hand around the back of your head, bringing you close and kissing your forehead through the mask. you closed your eyes when he did this, feeling warmth flood your cheeks at the gesture.

"i need to ask you a favor," he said as you began to walk home. you put your arm through his, holding onto his bicep as you tried to skip the cracks in the pavement.

"sure, simon. what is it?"

"'m goin' out tonight. meeting with someone, at the pub. need you to come with me."

you looked up at him as he brought you to a stop before you were crossing the street. you frowned a little, laughing, confused.

"u-uh...sure...i'll come." you snuggled into his arm, resting your chin on his shoulder. "what's the occasion? need me on your arm so you can stay silent while i do all the talking?"

he grunted a bit, shaking his head.

"no. we're just going to a pub. in an hour."

"sheesh, not a lot of time for a girl to get presentable," you joked.

"you always look beautiful," simon murmured, putting the key in the front door and opening up the apartment. he put a hand on your back as he guided you in first. "that's a mad way of thinkin'."

you smiled to yourself as you went into your bedroom. you pretended not to notice the way his hand lingered on your back, or how it grazed the hem of your skirt.

when you came back out, it took every ounce of simon's self control not to groan out loud. you had his favorite jeans on. a light wash, ones that hugged your waist no nicely and accentuated the curves of your ass in a way that he couldn't see as well when you wore a skirt or a dress. and you were wearing heeled boots, ones that made you sit so good, made you a little taller, your walk just that much more sensual.

"im ready."

you shrugged on a leather jacket, and simon grabbed a black jacket of his own, fitting it on over his hoodie. the pub was only a walk away. it was somewhere you had been before; they had cheap pints and good greasy food, and the bartender called you doe--he liked your soft eyes.

you let go of simon's arm as he opened the door for you. the pub was warm, and the chatter was quiet and lively. the yellow of the lights and the smell of cigarettes and beer was so familiar and nice. you went for the bar, but simon put a hand around your waist, bringing your attention to the back of the room. your eyes fell on a man, someone with a beanie and an army green jacket hunched over a glass of single malt.

you let him redirect you, and when you finally went to sit at the table, a stern, weathered face with indiscernible blue eyes stared up at you. simon took a seat next to you, his hands folding on top of the desk.

"what...what is--"

"this is captain john price," simon interrupted you. "he's my commanding officer."

you straightened up in your seat suddenly. the captain had his eyes on you, looking you up and down--not in a rude or threatening way, more like he was just so curious. his gaze was gentle, and finally he held out his hand for you to shake. you clasped your hand in his, giving him a firm hold, and the man finally cracked a smile under his unusual mustache.

"nice to meet you," you said softly. "i...i-i'm sorry, i...i don't understand..."

"i need you to sign some papers," john said finally. "if that's alright with you, ma'am."

"ma'am? am i your mother?" you raised a brow, cracking a bit of a smile. "no need for the formalities. i'm under the impression you're the one getting simon home, so let's not beat around the bush, john."

at the use of his name and no other title, john smiled. he gave simon a look, something as if to say, i like this one. you tilted your head to the side.

"you want me to sign papers. let me see them."

john pulled a wad of papers from the inside of his jacket, sliding them over to you. you took them, unfolding them and skimming the words. there was only one set of words you needed to pay attention to before you folded the papers back up.

NEXT OF KIN

your head snapped to the side, looking at simon with an incredulous face. your lips parted, your bottom lip trembling.

"what the fuck is this? huh?"

simon clicked his teeth.

"please--"

you moved to leave, but simon had an iron grip on the back of your chair. you bared your teeth at him, hissing under your breath.

"i'm not signing shit, you asshole," you snapped. "what the fuck is this? if you wanna die out there, that's your fucking business, but don't put that shit on me, simon--"

"i need to know that if somethin' happens to me, that you're gonna be straight, so quit your whinin' and be fuckin' realistic," he said lowly. "if something happens to me right now, you don't get anything. and i can't go...i can't go out again without you signing those papers, do you understand me?"

"why do i have to do this?" you glared at him. you tried to be angry, but your eyes were glossy. you were terrified, and your heartbeat was pulsing in your ears. "why can't you just put my name somewhere and just--"

"we're not married," simon explained. "and if things go wrong...i want you to have everything. and i mean...everything."

you closed your eyes, sniffling as you tried to keep in the tears. you felt his hand touch your shoulder gently, soft circles to try and relax you.

"sign the papers," simon whispered. "just sign'em, and we can go home."

"no, i'll go home, and you can sit out in the fucking doghouse and think about how well it'll go if you ever ambush me like this again."

you flipped the papers back over, snatching the pen from john's outstretched hand and beginning to sign messily the highlighted lines on the papers. you finished, shoving the stack back across the table before kicking the chair out from behind you. it knocked simon's arm off roughly, but you just glared at him before making your way to the bar to sit. simon watched as the bartender poured you a generous drink.

"she's fuckin' pissed at you, and she sits at the bar instead of going home?"

"she's not allowed to go home without a ride," simon murmured. "a rule she knows well."

"sounds a bit--" john's voice cut short when he met simon's hard stare. john cleared his throat, tucking the papers back into his jacket. "'m gonna make sure these get filed."

"tonight," simon demanded.

"tonight," john echoed. "be all squared away."

simon folded his hands in front of him, swallowing hard as he looked at you at the bar. there were a few tears running down your face. simon hated seeing you cry; he hated even more that he was the cause of that pain, but in his eyes, this was a necessary evil.

"she's beautiful, simon."

"watch it, mate." there was no malice behind simon's response--it was more of an acknowledgement that yes indeed, she's beautiful. "this goes nowhere, cap'n. not johnny, not gaz, not laswell--"

"i know," john nodded. "i'll get it done."

john stood up to leave, and simon held onto his hand as they shook hands. he pulled him closer, staring right into his eyes.

"she gets...everything. every single bloody penny."

john nodded, letting go of him and finding his way out. simon turned his head back to the bar, watching you carefully. a man came up to you, presumably wanting to buy you a drink, but you spit something out at him which the man didn't like. simon leaned back in his chair, smirking under the mask when the man waddled outside with his hand holding his crotch and a hard, red face.

when simon closed the door behind you after stepping inside the apartment, you were quick to come closer to him. his hand twisted the locks, and then your arms were around his neck, hugging him close as you breathed in the scent of him. all of the sudden, you didn't hate the smell of cigarettes. burning cigarettes meant simon was breathing in, sucking in breath, alive.

"i'm sorry, luv," he murmured into your hair. "'m sorry i cornered you like that, but i needed to--"

"i just don't like thinking about it, simon--what the fuck would i do without you?"

"you've been without me before."

"not by choice, never by choice," you snapped. "you leave. and i just miss you." you push off the hood over his head, smoothing a hand down the back of his balaclava. "i know what you do is important. i know you're good at what you do. but while you're off saving the world..."

"don't do this to me," simon hissed. "don't play that fuckin' card."

"i can play that card all i like after tonight," you growled. "you wanna throw all that responsibility on me? the burden of carrying your cross if a bullet goes through your head? tough shit, simon! while you're off saving the world, i'm the one that gets left behind! i'm the one sitting at home, biting my nails until they bleed because i don't know if you're dead or alive!"

the room was quiet. so quiet, the creak of the floorboards sounding under you as simon gripped your hips tight. you beat a fist against his chest, letting more tears fall.

"it's not fair, simon," you whimpered. "all we've been through...everything that's happened..." you hiccuped gently. "it's not fair, you're so...you're so mean..."

"mean?" he looked hurt. a flash of it crossed his eyes, something sad.

"yes, you're mean," you whispered. "what you do to me is so mean..." you leaned in. "you touch me...you kiss me...you give me everything but then you expect me to just..." you sucked in a shaky breath. "...i don't know what i am to you, simon. i don't know what you want from me."

simon grunted at that. he was terrible with words. he didn't know how to express what he felt for you, how to tell you that you were it. that maybe instead of making you sign those papers, he should've gotten onto his knees and begged you to marry him. tied a thread around your ring finger and made price bear witness. but you were...this was already too far. living with you was too far, touching you was too far, tasting you was too far--he had enough self-control to leave before he went too far, but it killed him when he walked away from you.

so he got down on his knees. he turned you around, pushed on the small of your back until you were kneeling against the couch, ass up on your forearms as he found the button on your jeans and tugged them low. you didn't stop him, but you were still crying softly. simon wasted no time, getting behind you on his knees and tugging your panties down. he spread your ass with both hands after tugging his mask up, wasting no time as he leaned forward and buried his tongue between your folds.

"dunno what to call you," simon murmured. "no idea. all i know is that you're mine, luv--" you shoved your face into the cushions, whining as he slurped noisily, tracing letters into your cunt with his tongue and pressing kisses to the wet skin there. you were always so good for him--he never needed to get you ready, never needed to get you wet, you always seemed to know or maybe you were just that fucking needy for him that you were always this pretty between the legs when he was around. you were such a good girl--waiting, watching, smiling, she's so pretty, she's so beautiful, she's so good to me.

simon wasn't going to let a title take away the things you deserved if something happened to him. the comfort you needed, the security you were never promised, the love that simon always had but never voiced. you deserved it, and so help him, he would give it to you--he would take care of you even if he was six feet under, and there wasn't a move he didn't make that wasn't planned without you in mind.

how do i get back to her?

how i do i leave her without leaving?

how do i make sure she isn't lost even if she doesn't know where to go?

simon was the first man you ever loved. and he would be the last.

you were drooling. your eyes fluttering open and closed, your cheek squished against the cushions as simon ate your cunt from behind. it was filthy, deranged, sucking on your clit in the same place that you ate dinners and watched movies--now it was one of the places that simon ruined you again for any other man or woman or anyone who had their eye on you.

perfect, sweet little cunt--tight, tasted so good, something that could satiate the hunger on a man like him for days over. and simon was hungry. he had trauma; trauma that crawled into his dreams and turned them into nightmares, something that kept him from looking at women the way a man like him might, but he never felt that way with you. fuck, he was hard the minute he saw a sliver of your soft skin, had no problem gripping your plush ass in both hands and eating you furiously, not even a flicker of something angry in his head.

his brain turned off whenever he was with you. sex felt inevitable--hearing your cries wasn't something he wanted, it was something he needed. an angry need, one that had his tongue slipping up your folds and teasing your puckered hole before moving back down and curling inside your pretty cunt.

"c'mon, luv...c'mon, give it to me...give it to me, 'm not gonna ask again--"

you sobbed into the cushion as you came, rocking back against his mouth. you giggled with pleasure as you slid onto your stomach, simon's hands dragging your panties back up as he pressed soft kisses to the meat of your ass.

"'f someone comes around askin', sweetheart, you know what to tell'm."

you belong to a ghost. and that isn't a lie.

[yaeverse]

Dinner Date | j.ww

pairing: class president! wonwoo x playgirl!reader

summary: going on a date with your class president who actually have had a secret crush on you for a while

warnings: slight nsfw, fluff, a few wet kisses

a/n: helloo nyxies, i'm still new to writing so deepest apologies if there some grammatical errors found in my fanfic. anyways, enjoyyy

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You could say you were hell ass surprised when he asked you out to dinner after winning the school art competition. Your class president, Jeon Wonwoo, also known as the campus heartthrob had a secret crush on you for sometime now. The man was undeniably handsome, hot, smart and basically a walking wet dream that had every girl or boy drooling over him

Walking and pacing around your room, figuring out on what to wear, making sure to not look like you're whoring yourself on your first date with Wonwoo, your mind brings you back to the moment he asked you out.

(flashback)

"y/n, will you go on a date with me..?" he asks as he looks at you with a stoic face. Wonwoo actually had this all planned in his head but things didn't really go as well as he thought it would, "I'll pick you up later at seven.." he continues, leaving no space for rejection.

(end of flashback)

"Dammit, Jeon Wonwoo.. you got me nervous over a date.." you sigh, deciding on wearing a turtleneck croptop partnered with a skirt. Yeah, you've had your past relationships and flings, but oh damn, did Wonwoo got you this nervous.

Hearing your phone ring, you immediately sat up answering the call.

"Hey.." you said,

"I'm outside.." he says in a husky voice, sending shivers down your spine,

"Alright, I'm heading out.."

This was absolutely the very first moment of you being nervous of stepping out your apartment. I mean, we are talking of Jeon Wonwoo, who wouldn't be nervous.

Stepping out your door, your eyes meet Wonwoo's gaze as he stands awestruck at your beauty.

"You look.." he stutters, "beautiful, y/n.."

"oh hey, we're twinning!" you smile excitingly at the adorable coincident

He stares at you, his heart fluttering at the sight of your smile. You had quite a reputation around campus, 'Playgirl Y/N', but couldn't care less. He just saw you for who you are.

The drive was comfortably quiet. Exchanging a few glances and questions to lift the awkward tension.

"so, congrats on winning earlier.." he says, glancing in your direction,

"thanks" you smiled back, "i never thought i'd win, i messed up a few paints due to nervousness.."

"what are you talking about?" he lightly chuckles, turning the steering wheel as he talks with you, "yours was the best one there, so of course you'd win.."

You can't help but smile at his words. "thank you, wonwoo.."

After a few minutes drive, you two finally arrive.

"We're here" he says, stepping out of the driver's seat to open your door

You can't help but your eyes widen and mouth drop in agape at how beautiful, and to say expensive the place looks. He really went all out for a first date, and you think you don't deserve this kind of treatment.

"Let's go..?" he asks, guiding you by your waist, "don't be nervous, y/n, be yourself.."

"Y-you didn't really have to do all this..." you look up to meet his gaze

"Well, I wanted to"

Dinner was mostly filled with a few exchanged talks and warm conversations. Getting to know each other, and finding a few interesting facts that none of the two of you thought to be possibly real.

Spending time and getting to know him made you realize that he is everything you could ask for a guy. After having failed relationships, and jumping from one guy to another, you finally conclude that Jeon Wonwoo is YOUR TYPE OF MAN. You now can see why almost everyone in campus say the he's the perfect ideal boyfriend a girl can ever ask. He's a complete gentleman, smart, handsome, hot, a walking wet dream, like everything. You just know that after this date, you will never be the same. You could already feel the effects this guy has over you.

"Did you enjoy the dinner, y/n?" he asks,

"Of course, I did," you smile, as you took out your wallet "Oh- I can pay the dinner-"

"You're not paying dinner, princess," he chuckled, gently pushing your hand back to yourself, "I already payed anyways.."

"Y-you're too much, won.." you smile warmly at him,

"Nothing's too much, y/n," he smiles back, "You ready to go home..?"

You nod and as a gentleman he is, he escorts you outside, holding your waist. The warmth of his palm on your waist was enough to send butterflies bursting to your stomach, making your heartbeat crazy.

"So, uh, this is goodnight i guess.." he mumbles as he walks you to your door, "good night, y/n..."

"wait-" you pause, realizing what you just said

"yes..?" he immediately looked back, giving you all his attention

he walks closer to you, leaning in as he sees your eyes laid on his lips, making him chuckle.

"my eyes are up here, princess.." he smirked, "may i..?"

No words came out but you just nodded. He slowly leans in. Your heart beats in anticipation as you close your eyes, ready to feel his lips on yours.

But, oh damn, was he soft like feather.

You tensed up feeling his lips on yours. 'Get a grip, y/n, it's not like it's your first time kissing someone' you mentally scold yourself. You then feel his hand settle on your waist as the other settles behind your neck, pulling you closer to him.

You two pause for a moment to catch your breaths as he rested his forehead on yours. You smiled, and you know he's smiling as well. He then leans in again with more affection.

"Mmhh.." you hear him moan to the kiss as he swiftly licks your lower lip, begging to get in. With pleasure, you open your lips partly and he slide his tongue in immediately.

You two get lost in the moment, feeling waves of pleasure and adrenaline rush through every inch of your body at the sensation of his tongue dancing with yours. His hand grip your neck a bit tighter as he pulls you closer to give him more access inside your mouth as he makes out with you.

The kiss slowly calms down as you two pull back, gasping for air, foreheads resting against each other.

"We're going for a second date then..?" he asks with a light chuckle, his thumb caressing your waist,

"You're a good kisser, by the way.." you laugh, "And yes, a second date would be fucking great.."

He pecks your lips as he replies, "Next time, you'll receive more than a kiss, princess.."

Your face becomes a blushing mess as he smirked at your reaction

"W-Wonwoo...!" you whine playfully as you hit his chest,

"God, I'll make you scream my name next time.." he smirked, chuckling in a low tone,

"See you around, princess..." he greets you goodbye as he drives his car away

You just know that there'll be no more next guy after Wonwoo.

And you just know that in the next date, you'll end up being unable to walk

[usagiarchive]

love. — jing yuan x reader.

나의 작은 마음도, 그 안에 작은 파도처럼, 부서지고 밀려와선, 네게 녹아내리고, 그제서야 보이는 나의 영원.

sypnosis. [ 1.1k words. fluff + sfw. ] — the usual weekend trip with your lover turns into an unexpected, but welcome surprise.

usagi's note: àirén - my love (or quite literally the person i love) xīngān - darling, heart, or my humanity

“Are you ready to go?”

You nod as he reaches out to take your hand carry for you, giving him your hand as he lets you step into the starskiff first.

It had been tradition, since the two of you started dating, that every weekend, you would have a date night, every two weeks, a whole day together, doing whatever, as long as you spent it with each other, and every three months, you would go on a weekend trip.

This was established to work around both your busy schedules, with you working as a full time healer in the Alchemy Commission and with him always at the Seat of Divine Foresight.

This weekend, he was the one to choose this time and he decided to take a drive to an island beach four system hours away from the Luofu.

As soon as you took off, your lover made sure you were comfy and okay.

“You should take a nap,” he tells you, “I'll get us there, besides, I know you took Li Meng’s graveyard shift last night,”

The tone of his voice betrays little, but you know he's scolding you for putting others before yourself again.

“I know, I know, her daughter had a fever and no one could take care of Xiao Ying,” you say, snuggling into the soft, fluffy blanket he draped over you the moment you were buckled in.

“Sleep, Àirén,” he leans in to give you a kiss on your forehead, “I'll wake you when we're there,”

He does not wake you up.

Or maybe he did and you didn't get up, because the moment you open your eyes again, you're already settled into the bed of the villa he rented.

You hear him tinkering away with something in a different room, so you get up and look for him.

You find him in the walk in closet fiddling with both your clothes and putting them up in hangers.

Quietly, you sneak up on him and hug him from behind.

You feel him chuckle, “How's your sleep, my love?” he asks as he puts his hand on top of yours and draws circles on it.

“Had a really good nap,” you rasp, “Why didn't you wake me up?”

He detaches and turns around, booping your nose then cradling your face, “I did, you wouldn't wake up, so I carried you in,”

You pull him into a hug again and snuggle his chest, “Mm, okay,”

The two of you stay there for a moment, with him hugging you back, one hand on the small of your back while the other the back of your head.

“How about we go and have dinner, Àirén?” he asks, and when you nod, he pulls back, takes your hand, and leaves a kiss.

“I'll be wearing cream,” you tell him and he smiles, “I know, I packed a matching one,”

You smile back and he gives you a kiss on your forehead, “I'll leave you to get ready then.”

Jing Yuan never skimps out on dinner. Ever.

Especially so when he's with you, which rings true when you then find out that the restaurant he brings you to was one he rented out the entire outdoor deck for the two of you.

Again, as always, he reassures you that it's simply for privacy considering his position as the Luofu Arbiter General, but you know better than that.

You roll your eyes at him with a smile as he gives your intertwined hands a kiss.

The view was wonderful, the outdoor deck overlooked the beach with the orange-pink hued sunset, the breeze was cool, and it was really quiet, save for the crashing of the waves.

“It's beautiful,” you say in awe.

Jing Yuan squeezes your hand, admiring how pretty the sunset reflects on you, “Yes, it truly is beautiful,” he whispers.

The dinner goes as planned, the two of you had wine, ate really good food, then headed back to the villa.

Of course, you didn't forget to update Yanqing on what was happening (the boy worries, okay?) and sent him what he calls a “proof-of-life” picture. Yuan was sure to send him plenty.

Other than that, the night was really peaceful, the two of you snuggled together on the bed, reading books, nothing out of your usual routine.

And as always, Yuan falls asleep first and you have to stifle your cuteness aggression with how he looks. You snap a few photos to Yanqing before telling him to go to bed.

He replies with pictures of paperwork, followed by ‘as soon as i finish this i will >n<’.

You smile and put both your books away before tucking yourself into bed with him, too.

Jing Yuan wakes without you beside him, and for a moment he panics. He's always the first to rise on weekend vacations, or on the off chance that he does not, you wake him to have breakfast together.

His worries were quelled when he sees you outside in your sleepwear, reading a book.

He walks into the closet and pulls out a shawl before getting out to join you.

“It's cold,” he says as he drapes the fabric around you, “I don't want you to get sick,”

You give him a soft smile and sink onto his side as he sits next to you. He wraps a hand around your shoulder and pulls you close. The two of you sit like that, just watching the ocean wake up as the sun rises.

Suddenly, Jing Yuan says your name and you look up at him.

He pulls away from the hug and gives you a kiss on the forehead.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” he starts, and immediately your lips part in shock.

“You helped me in the times I was in my lowest, you helped me raise Yanqing, and you've become such an integral part of my life it would be a mistake not to do this,”

He pulls out a simple gold band from his pocket.

“I've spent most of my life with you, and now I want to keep living it with you,”

There were no questions needed to be asked, he knew, and you knew, too.

With a smile and a sigh, you bury your face in his neck and nod, “Yes, I would like to spend the rest of my life with you, too, Xīngān,”

Your now fiancé pulls you back and slips the ring on your finger then cradles your face.

“May I please kiss you?”

You lean forward as your answer.

BONUS:

usagi's note: im so happy i survived omg guys, i only have one presentation left then my finals THEN IM FREE. like our holiday break spans until the 3rd week of january. aaaa r u guys proud of me ?? also i love 'love.' by w2e, i like calm songs and ive always liked calm wedding proposals, i am TOTALLY projecting okay bye!!

@usagiarchive 2024. do not repost, translate, or use for AI.

[leavingsunsets]

I heard you wanted a request?

So i will request!

Could you write some fluff for ryusui from dr stone please?

Could you please write about ryusui trying to catch an oblivious crush attention?

Thank you!

Yes! Omg I got a request 🥺🥺🥺. I should re edit my acc to be open kehehe. Anyways, since there's no specified gender, it's an automatic gender neutral, okay?

"ᴅᴇꜱɪʀᴇᴅ, ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪᴀʟʟʏ."

(GN! reader x Ryusui Nanami)

Extravagant, bold. Two definitive terms that quite describe the heir of the Nanami conglomerate. He wasn't Ryusui without that, was he?

He does not shy away from stating what he wants, nor does he wither from encouraging anyone from doing the same. A person who knows himself. Direct, precise.

Yet, he somehow starts to doubt those very same facts the moment when it comes to you.

With how much Ryusui talked about desire more than the average person, it was easy to get used to how he worded his wants and his passionate pursuit of it. In fact, you nearly choked when he yelled out what you thought was a confession.

"I desire you!" was what he said, leaving you to awkwardly stand with your hand out to shake his. Luckily, this misunderstanding was quickly cleared, and your hesitance faded out the more time you've grown used to his presence.

And so, it seemed that same desensitization was like a curse for him.

As you were part of the power team, he always made sure to meet with you at the end of the day. Walking with you from the field back to where the others were.

"[name]! Great work today! Any plans for tonight?"

"Mhm! I have to go help out Kaseki. He asked me and Kohaku to help him out in carrying some woodworks after dinner."

Then, the time where you were both on the ship. As you both stood out on the deck, overlooking the sea.

"You know, [name], this view is even more beautiful, now that the person I desire most, is right here with me."

"Haha! I just saw a turtle!"

It was frustrating, but also gave a thrill, to which he didn't mind playing along with. The pursuit of passion, how far would he go, for this? Finally, one a little bolder, when the perfect opportunity comes as you're both one of the last ones by the dining.

Here, you both sit across from each other. The sound of the sea outside are faint, and gives the perfect ambience to the silence.

Swirling the wine in his glass, he takes a small sip. "When it comes to desire, I believe that there is nothing that should be worth stopping you from obtaining it."

You nod along, just as tipsy. The wine in your glass sways along. "So true, king."

He rests his elbow on the table, leaning on his fist. His other hand holding the wine glass, points at you. "Your ignorance may know no bounds, but so does my desire. And I'll let you know, that I've never denied myself of anything I've truly longed for."

Groggily, you nod. "You said a lot of fancy words, but whatever you say, king."

Ryusui watches you blink in a daze. Yeah. He's no quitter. Downing the rest of his glass, he decides to just go for it.

"[name], I desire your heart. I desire you." he goes quiet after this, staring intently. His expression is unreadable, and you would tell if you weren't still a little tipsy.

"I'm afraid I still need it, sorry." Your eyes get droopy, and you put your glass on the table. "Not... not a registered donor." you mumble.

Ryusui sighs, putting down his own glass. Nevermind. "I think it's best you go to bed now." Grabbing your arm, he throws it over your shoulder, hauling you up. Drowsily, you only nod. "Yessir.."

Luckily, you weren't that far gone, and could walk properly. So, it was no problem getting you to your room. But before he could leave you by the doorway, you suddenly reach out, surprising him.

"Hey, Ryu." you mutter, leaning on the door. He looks at you curiously, listening. "Yes?"

"I like you." you sway your head, a little sleepy. "It's fun every time I'm with you."

Ryusui stills for a moment. You yawn, letting go of him. "Well, g'night, Ryu." is the last thing you say before entering, closing the door behind you.

A beat, and one more, before, a tint of pink dusts his cheeks.

It wasn't much, but it was progress. He went straight to bed after that, eyes curving with a little more mirth that night.

[yawnderu]

Lorelei — Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader | Part II

1 2 3 4 5 6

Synopsis: Aware of the way his lifestyle doesn't align with your dream life and unwilling to quit his life as a soldier, Simon breaks things off with you. It isn't until a year later that he sees you again, a tiny carbon copy of him held in your arms.

"Can I hold her?" You dread the question. The way he asks it, the way he looks at you, the way you know he's going out of his comfort zone to come to your house, knowing you don't want him there.

"Sure." You put your pride aside, having the best interest of your baby in mind. The little girl is placed carefully in his arms, and it breaks your heart to see just how well she fits there, like a missing puzzle piece.

"She's so beautiful." He whispers, brown eyes fully focused on his daughter—his daughter. For someone who avoided the topic of family like the plague, the concept was still weird to even think about, despite the way the girl in his arms looked just like him when he was a baby, countless pictures hung around his house before they were permanently destroyed by his father in attempts to torment Mrs. Riley.

"What was that, Captain?" Simon crooned teasingly, leaning his head closer to the baby to try to understand the babbles that were slowly becoming more and more clear each passing week. Of course, she was still too young to talk, though the little girl loved babbling out at any given moment.

"She's lovely, isn't she? Shame she looks like you." Your words came out teasing for the first time ever since you saw him again, the banter in your previous friendship coming back for a second as he playfully glared down at you.

"Shame she acts like me too." He jested, the baby's mannerisms very reminiscent of his own. You poke your tongue out at him jokingly before looking back down at your daughter, the strings of your heart being pulled the more you stare at her. The little creature doesn't cry much, luckily, so you have all the time in the world to simply admire what you created— what you both created.

"Look at her tongue stickin' out." Simon pointed out to the baby's tiny tongue sticking out, a quiet laugh leaving his lips at the way she imitated you. You gently pinch her chubby cheek, planting a kiss on her forehead as a small laugh escapes you too. It's not hard for her to steal your heart, Simon noticed.

"Hush, darlin', daddy's busy flirtin' with mommy." He knows he's overstepping, but... it's worth the risk. He wants what you used to have back then, despite knowing he doesn't deserve it. He'll prove himself, Simon promised since the first time he saw you again.

"Just so you know, this—" You point between him, the baby, and you. "Doesn't mean we're together. Not a chance." You try to be stern, though you both can't deny the look in your eyes. Still, you resist, not wanting to be disappointed again. Simon leaving is an open wound that never healed.

"I know." He replied after a few seconds, not looking at you. His eyes were focused on the baby, holding her close to his chest as she cuddled up to him, quieting down from her babbling. He sat down on the couch, one of his fingers absent-mindedly running over the features of his daughter.

"I'm thinkin' of retiring within a year or two, once Makarov's dead." He starts hesitantly, not daring to look at you just yet.

"Do you think the three of us can be a family? I know I messed up, and I'm sorry." He finally looks up at you, though only for a short second before he's getting up again, gently putting the baby in her crib. He gives her a small plushie to cuddle, soft blanket wrapped over her tiny frame. He comes back to you, bare hands hesitantly reaching for yours before noticing you're about to recoil back. He doesn't blame you.

"I'll do anything." He swears, taking a step back to respect your personal space. You look away for a few seconds, arms crossed and a small frown on your lips. The thought of Simon leaving or dying is always there, eating at the back of your mind.

"You're retiring?" Is all you can ask, not bothering to hide the sheer curiosity and confusion. Simon has been a soldier since he was 18— it's all he knows. He has given up his entire life and family— why stop now?

"Yeah. Think it's time to slow down... actually live life a little, for once. I had to retire at some point, yeah?" It wasn't an easy choice at all. He has bled for the army countless times, lost his family because of it, lost so many allies he can't even count them in his head, yet the tiny girl was the one that made him realize enough is enough.

"Interesting." It's all you reply, eyes slightly narrowed as you look deep into his, seeking for any signs of hesitation or lying. You find none.

"I'm serious. I can be a father to her, and... a husband to you, if you let me. Just like you wanted." Just like you told him you wanted things to be. Just like he thought about before breaking up with you after 4 years.

"Don't have to give me an answer now, but I'm retirin' and that's final." He went to grab his backpack, pulling out a folder. He placed it in front of you gently before giving his sleeping daughter a soft kiss on the forehead, eyes fully focused on her as he memorized her features. It's gonna be a long time until he sees her again.

"I'm deploying in an hour." He mentioned, his back turned towards you as you read the papers. His will, updated to include your daughter. Previously, it was only you there.

"Not comin' back for a long while, unless things go well. If shit hits the fan..." He knows it's always a possibility when dealing with Makarov.

"You'll both have enough to live a good life." He was getting choked up. Not crying or tearing up, but uncomfortable enough that he was struggling to speak.

"Simon." You call out and he turns his head towards you, slight surprise in his features. It's the first time you call him Simon since he came back into your life— it used to be Ghost, much to his dismay, to place even more space between you. He never said anything about it.

"Something to keep your heart safe." You walk up to him, both of your hands holding one of his, placing a hard object in his palm. He looks down at it and his heart almost stops.

The ID bracelet your baby wore shortly after she was born. He nods his head once in acknowledgment, expression growing more determined as his fingers trace the outline of the plastic.

"Come back to her safe." Your hand hesitantly went to the back of his neck, pulling him closer until his forehead was against yours. He lets you, and you're both stuck looking deep into each other's eyes for what feels like forever.

"Come back to us." You plant a soft kiss to his forehead before letting go, basking in the slight sense of normalcy, ignoring your worthless pride for once. He leans down and returns the kiss to your forehead, nodding once. He stares down at you, memorizing your features the same way he did with your daughter before turning around and leaving, swearing to keep the silent promise with a newfound sense of determination.

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Taglist:

@skulfan1 @survivalshxt @ghostslittlegf

[muniimyg]

I can’t wait for bbyzia to be a daddy’s girl and jungkook being like know you know what it feels like 🥹

𐙚₊˚⊹ bbydaddy!jungkook (goodnight kisses)⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

series m.list // taglist

note: ohhhh u mean smt like this ?

//

the penthouse is quiet.

the soft hum of the baby monitor barely noticeable as you quietly slip out of zion’s room. you just tucked him in and his little snores start to fill the space as you make your way to the living room. when you step inside, the sight of jungkook stops you.

he’s sitting on the couch, zia resting on his chest. her tiny body rising and falling in time with his breathing. she’s fast asleep, her small hand curled tightly into his shirt. his hand is supporting her head, the other rubbing slow, soothing circles on her back. he’s humming, the same gentle tune you’ve heard him sing to zion countless times.

it’s a rare moment—this kind of quiet. with zia’s schedule finally falling into place, both of you have been able to get some sleep, something you didn’t think possible in those first few months. the exhaustion that once weighed heavy has given way to this warm, peaceful stillness.

your home is so peaceful. it's something you and jungkook have worked so hard to ensure for your family. it's quite beautiful to live in this space.

you lean against the doorframe, a soft smile tugging at your lips as you watch him. the gentle rise and fall of zia’s little chest matching his.

what a man.

jungkook doesn’t notice you at first—too lost in the moment. his head tilted slightly as he watches her.

“hey,” you whisper, not wanting to disturb the softness of it all.

he looks up, eyes warm and sleepy, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. he glances down at zia, who’s still deep in sleep, her fingers clutching onto him like she never wants to let go.

“you got her to sleep so fast,” you say, your voice just above a whisper. "she's always so fussy with me."

he chuckles quietly, careful not to wake her. “yeah,” he breathes out, his hand brushing lightly over her back. "i think she likes me."

"she loves you."

"good," jungkook breathes in relief. "thank god."

you hold your laugh in and roll your eyes at him. "you're good at getting zion to sleep too."

"maybe cos he gets to close his eyes and not see me."

"stop," you let yourself laugh. "you know he loves you too."

jungkook snickers. "i know... i'm just not his favourite. this one though... my zia... is it weird that i can feel it?"

you shake your head. "no. i know what you mean. i feel it too."

you take no offense to it.

even when you were pregnant, she was always so active when she heard jungkook's voice. jungkook and zia connected the second she came out. even though she's only 3 months old, she shows so much affection and gravitates towards jungkook in a way you know is so special.

after a few moments, jungkook’s voice breaks the quiet, low and full of wonder.

“can she stay like this forever?”

it’s the softness in his voice that makes your chest ache. the way he says it like he’s holding onto something too precious to lose. you move closer, sitting beside him on the couch, your head resting gently on his shoulder as you watch zia sleep against him.

“if only,” you murmur, knowing these moments are fleeting, but holding onto them all the same.

jungkook leans his head against yours, the warmth of his body grounding you in the quiet of the night. then, he shifts and asks you to take her.

"i'm gonna go kiss zion goodnight. i'll be back for her though," jungkook says. "i have to kiss her goodnight too."

"and then me?" you tease.

"always you."

[riovidalupdates]

LAST GIRL STANDING - i.

part ii.

“I’m not asking you to stay. I’m asking if this was ever real?” - Wanda Maximoff

“The issue with time is that it’s endless, yet, there’s never enough. How does it fit with us?” - Rio Vidal

“You were never a priority, but you became one that I can’t lose now.” - Agatha Harkness

pairings: wanda maximoff x fem!reader, agatha harkness x fem!reader, and rio vidal x fem!reader

summary: you’ve come to learn that you can love more than one person—because you love them in different ways. the problem: they love you in one way. so, who are you in love with and who gets hurt?

warnings: cursing, angst, intimate moments but not sex, and other stuff that i'll add as time goes on.

notes: this one has been in my drafts for a long time. i did a little bit of revision and editing, but i am busy and i do want to get this story going. as it goes on I will be more efficient with the editing. it is also a college au so there is no witches or anything like that, but other works will be! enjoy! chapters will be longer and the writing will get better. It’s been awhile since I’ve actually written a story, but I’ve been working on so many other projects and I had this all planned out before I got my new job.

word count: 1.4k

・❥・

There was never a time where you ever thought you’d be losing your sanity. Months ago, you only ever known the beauty of peace, having full control over your thoughts and emotions with no consequences. Where does the chaos abruptly begin, how does it begin, and why does it begin?

Because fuck all that, why do you have to be involved in a mess that you didn’t ask for?

You stared out of your dorm window, tracing the movement of students below as they hurried between classes. The campus was alive with energy—laughter, chatter, and the constant shuffle of feet on the worn pathways—but it all felt distant to you, like watching life happen through a glass pane. From the outside, you seemed well-adjusted. A few close friends, decent grades, a knack for blending in at social events. But lately, you had begun to feel a quiet, persistent void growing inside, one that friendship, academic success, and even casual flings couldn’t quite fill.

It wasn't that you were lonely in the traditional sense. In fact, you had friends—great friends who provided the utmost support in all that you do. Natasha Romanoff from work, Kate Bishop from short-film club, Steve Rogers from gym (he was also Natasha’s boyfriend), Tony Stark who crashed into your car the first day of move-in (he paid for all damages after you punched him), and Wanda Maximoff, your best friend. Wanda had been by your side for years, a constant source of home. There was so much to your overall relationship with her that it couldn’t be replicated with the others or anyone. Even if you were to try.

But no matter how much you spent time with Wanda, she found her footing in rather quick. And while you don’t want to assume things are going well for her, you could at least tell she was happiest when she was in the arms of her obnoxious, academically skilled boyfriend, Vision. Vision who is ahead of the IT program, the captain of the golf team, and somehow Tony’s coworker at Stark’s Industries (who cares about some intellectual freak? Not you).

Anyway, it felt like there was something missing, some deeper connection you couldn’t quite grasp. Sometimes, you’d feel yourself pulling back in conversations, faking a smile here and there when noticing yourself drifting out of sync.

You sigh as you turned away from the window, grabbing your backpack, and slinging it over your shoulder. Another day of classes to get to, papers to turn in, and your typical routine to follow. It all felt so automatic, like living on autopilot.

Perhaps there was something you weren’t doing. Maybe you were actively doing something to avoid fulfilling that aspect of void?

Your phone buzzed on the desk—Wanda.

“Dinner tonight?” She asks once you pick up. “And I swear if you say no, I am going to drive to your class and drag you out myself.”

 You considered telling her no for a moment but it’s Wanda and because of that you say, “Sure. Just don’t barge in like last time. Felt like I got in trouble with my mother…”  Despite your growing sense of detachment, you couldn’t bring herself to decline. You’ve been avoiding her like the plague. She’s your best friend and has asked to hang out for the last month or so only for you to be nowhere. Questions were beginning to rise, and you weren’t ready to answer any of them.

Her laughter echoed through and you kind of forget that you were falling into a hole of emptiness. “Look, I gotta go,  I’ll see you tonight, yeah?”

“Yeah. See you, dekta.”

Dekta. It was always that.

As you made your way across campus, weaving through the throngs of students, you felt a heaviness settle in your chest. Classes, work, clubs, and repeat. How was it that you could be surrounded by people, involved in their lives, and still feel like an outsider looking in?

You loved your friends, or at least you thought you did, but lately, even that felt like a lie you told yourself. You enjoyed your courses. So what if you have to stay up until 2am for shoots and editing, you wouldn’t have done it if you didn’t enjoy it. Actually, you were late to register, and this was kind of a last minute decision.  And you were president for the short film club, but you kind of are guessing why you’re doing this all because you hate people.

The reality is, it’s to avoid facing the deeper truth: that connection, the real kind, the kind that made you feel alive and seen. Not just from relationships, courses, and social life.

Was this what your life was going to be? Always on the fringes, never fully connecting? You wanted more but didn’t know how to get it. Maybe you didn’t even know what “more” really was.

You were good at pretending everything was fine, good at putting on a show of contentment. But deep down, you knew you were waiting for something—or someone—to break through that glass pane that kept you at arm’s length from everyone around.

But until then, you’d keep going, navigating your college life as best as you could, feeling more like an observer than a participant.

・❥・

You sat across from Wanda at your usual spot in the campus dining hall, picking at her salad as Wanda animatedly recounted the latest drama involving her boyfriend, Vision. You nodded along, making the appropriate sounds of sympathy and surprise, but part of you couldn't help but tune out the problem.

“I swear, sometimes he just doesn’t listen,” Wanda continued, exasperation creeping into her voice. “Last night I..." She sighed, looking down at her food. "I told him I needed space and time to collect my thoughts about where this is going, but he kept calling and texting, so we could talk it out..."

You forced yourself back into the conversation. “Sounds like he’s not respecting your boundaries,” you offered, glancing up at Wanda. You couldn’t help the slight resentment that crept in whenever Vision came up. There was always an unspoken tension in your friendship, one that emerged whenever Wanda talked about her boyfriend.

You didn’t know exactly why you disliked him—maybe it was his arrogant demeanor, or the way he always seemed to treat Wanda as an accessory rather than an equal. She would often vent about the small ways in which he let her down, like forgetting their date plans or brushing off her opinions, but then she would always follow it up with some form of an excuse that he cares. You would just nod along, hiding the skepticism behind a supportive smile.

"Tell me about it,” Wanda huffed, shaking her head. “It's a flaw of his and when the time is right, we'll discuss it and how we can better ourselves. Enough about me though, how about you? Anything exciting that requires you to get out of that hermit crab shell of yours? Maybe with...that TA? Angus, right?"

You snickered but also couldn’t help but notice how Wanda seemed to skirt around anything serious about her relationship with Vision (what a prick). There was a glint of something—maybe uncertainty, maybe resignation—in her eyes when she spoke about him. You wondered if Wanda was just as skilled at pretending everything was fine as you were. It made you feel a little less alone, knowing you weren’t the only one hiding something.

Yet, despite your doubts about the boyfriend, you never voiced your concerns outright. The last thing you wanted was to come across as jealous or possessive. Deep down, you wondered if there was a part of you that simply didn’t want to share Wanda—a feeling you quickly buried before it could grow into something more troubling.

Your face flushed at the mention of Agatha, and you quickly took a sip of water to hide the embarrassment. “Her name is Agnes,” you mumbled, rolling your eyes for effect. So, maybe you kind of lied. Only because you didn't want Wanda to track and stalk the girl. "And she's just intriguing..."

"Intriguing, huh?” Wanda teased. “You should talk to her more. Or, you know, talk to her at all.”

“Very funny,” You shot back. “It’s not that simple.”

But maybe it was. Maybe if you could muster up the courage to actually talk to Agatha, you’d feel less like you were floating aimlessly and more like you were taking control of your own life. You could already hear Wanda’s voice in your head, encouraging you to just go for it, to not overthink it, to take a chance.

[hells-greatest-writer]

Self Love Is Hard.

Lucifer Morningstar x Fem Reader     

CW: Angst, Negative Body Image, Fluff, Self-Harm Mention.     

Synopsis: You would think that when the King of Hell himself chose you as his love, that any doubts you had about yourself would vanish... but one night the thoughts rear its ugly head once more.   Word Count: 3,481

-------------------------------------------------     

The night was unusually quiet in the hotel. Most mornings were left with redemption exercises that Charlie had planned with the staff and guests, while the night most people stuck together having fun. Usually, you would be with Lucifer in his workshop, reading in your chair while he worked on his little duck creations. Music would be playing on the radio that Alastor had given you that you begged Lucifer to let you keep. You usually looked forward to most nights knowing it would just be you and Lucifer together, though quiet, enjoying each other's company.     

Tonight, though it was different, Lucifer was still in the Greed ring dealing with Mammon's temper tantrum over the loss of Fizzarolli, and Lucifer had to deal with the consequences of it. You knew Mammon's temper was one that Lucifer didn't want to deal with, but you had convinced him to go after Ozzie texted you about the ordeal.     

Staring at your phone, you scrolled through the messages to Lucifer with a frown.     

12:51pm: How is it going with Mammon?     

No response     

5:22pm: Alastor found a cat today, Charlie decided to keep it as a hotel pet!     

No response     

8:07pm: Any idea when you're going to be back tonight?     

Seen     

Lucifer hadn't been responding all day, and though you knew it was because he was dealing with his duties, you couldn't help but feel a bit saddened by it. Usually, he would respond with a witty comeback about how Mammon was an asshole or make a snide remark about Alastor. Instead, though you were met with the word 'Seen' at the end of your last message that was sent hours ago. It was now rounding to eleven thirty at night, and you had thought he would be back by now.     

Most of his meetings didn't last this long, you know from past meetings, what if this time something had gone wrong? What if he got hurt in the Greed ring? Could he get hurt? That thought never crossed your mind as you never seen this man injured before. He was the most powerful being in all of Hell, could he truly be hurt? If he was... especially in Greed what would happen? You knew there was a place called Ransom, would they try to take him there? Sell him off to Charlie for a huge fee?!     

All those thoughts ended quickly as your phone dinged to life indicating you got a message. Quickly, you sat up opening the message app seeing it was a message from Lucifer.     

Luci-Love: Sorry duckling, Ozzie asked me to join him in Lust for a few drinks and to catch up. I'll be home later tonight.      

You read the message, your frown deepening as you typed out a message and deleted it a few times. Your mind was beginning to race as to what he would be doing in Lust. You knew of the Succubuses that had tried to get with him last time you and him went to Lust together. It was for an anniversary dinner a few months back.     

~ ~ ~ ~ ~     

"That woman over there won't stop ogling you." You huffed as you took a sip of your red wine glaring daggers to the woman staring at Lucifer. Ever since you two entered Lust, you could feel their stares at your boyfriend, feel the way their jealousy grew as Lucifer had pulled you closer to him. You weren't usually one to be jealous, but you couldn't help but feel that envy tug in your chest. The demons of Lust were quite beautiful, sexy even if you were honest, so the fact that they were making heart eyes to the man you were with annoyed you.     

"And that man won't stop staring at me either, but you don't seem to mind that." Lucifer smirked puffing his chest out as he knew he was being stared at by so many. Why wouldn't they want to stare at the King of Hell, he was a sight to behold! Especially tonight with the way he was dressed. Instead of his usual royal garb of his white suit, he was in a deep red tuxedo with black trims. His usual white top hat, left at home for the evening, leaving his blond locks styled perfectly back.     

You cocked an eyebrow to him as he looked at you with a slight smirk on his lips before you felt him take your hands from across the table you sat at. He gave them a gentle squeeze looking into your eyes. "But darling, my eyes are on only you." He hummed, pulling your hand up to his mouth giving your knuckles a gentle kiss.     

The simple gesture helped to calm your jealous rage down for the moment, not wanting to ruin your anniversary with him. Though the nagging feeling in your chest didn't waver as the waitress flirted with Lucifer, and he seemed to flirt back. He later explained he was simply being nice and didn't hesitate to show you just who he devoted himself to that night.     

~ ~ ~ ~ ~      

That nagging feeling was back in your chest as you remembered the Lust ring. A thought tickling the back of your head wondering how many demons were trying their hand at being with Lucifer since you weren't there. How many imps were throwing themselves at him? You knew that Lucifer was loyal, but you couldn't help the doubt that creeped in through the silence.     

With a groan, you set your phone down rubbing your face with your hands. You could feel your mind slowly slipping as you imagined what the women who were fawning over Lucifer probably looked like. Gorgeous tall women no doubt with thin waists and bigger assets that would tempt the weak. You knew your body was nothing compared to theirs. You were barely even average in your eyes.     

'What does Lucifer even see in me?' Your mind wandered as you moved off the bed, your bare feet hitting the cold wooden floor of your shared bedroom. You slipped your feet into Lucifer's duck slippers as you grabbed the robe off the headboard and wrapped it around yourself.     

You slowly walked towards the bathroom wanting to splash some water on your face. Lose the thoughts that were beginning to eat away at you. Before meeting Lucifer, you struggled to love yourself. You couldn't see what he did, how he seemed to worship your body and love every inch of you. How he was always enamored by your apparent beauty that you struggled to see yourself.     

Though through the past almost two years of being with him, he has made you feel beautiful. He reminded you daily how much he adored you and loved you. How you were the only woman he ever wanted to see.      

'If that's true, then why wouldn't he just come home? Why go to Lust?' The thought filled your head as you walked into the bathroom flipping the light on. Your eyes went to the mirror and stared over yourself. Your hand tracing your cheeks that seemed too puffy, your fingers tracing your jaw that seemed to jut out too much. Your eyes watched your movements, seeming so dull as they looked lower. Even with the robe on, your eyes were able to pick out the stomach rolls.      

Instinctively, you looked down at your stomach, and sucked it in the best you could. It wasn't enough. You could still see your stomach jutting out, mocking you. Your hands grabbed at the extra flesh that was there, squeezing at it as your vision blurred with tears. The women in Lust didn't have this pudge, they didn't have this extra weight around their waists. They didn't have to worry about how their bodies looked in clothes. They didn't have to worry about making sure their skin was fully covered to hide away the stretch marks like you did.    

You wished you could just cut the extra flesh off, just grab the scissors that laid in the bathroom drawer and chop away the fat that you were so easily able to grab.     

Your hands were shaking now as you looked back to the mirror in front of you, watching your tears roll off your round cheeks. Even your tears were hideous. How did other people cry and not look as awful as you did right now. The longer you stared at yourself in the mirror, the more the tears seemed to blur your vision.     

'Hideous beast, he pities you.' That same nagging voice mocked you in the back of your mind. That had to be it, Lucifer only felt pity for you... was only keeping you around till someone better came along or came back. Your mind drifting to Lilith now, the woman who left Lucifer all those years ago.     

You had seen images of her, she was breathtaking. Tall, thin and gorgeous with long blonde hair. She radiated beauty. Lucifer and her had been married for eons before you two met, did he still miss her? Did he still find her more beautiful than you?    

The phone buzzed from the other room indicating you had a new message which snapped you out of your thoughts, even for a moment. With a deep inhale, you left the bathroom, forgetting why you even went in there in the first place as you walked to the bed grabbing your phone. You were expecting it to be Lucifer, saying he would be home soon. Instead, though, it was just Charlie texting the hotel group chat with a new idea for tomorrow's lesson.    

With a quick grunt, you threw your phone across the room watching it slam against the wall by a photo of you and Lucifer. It was a photo of the two of you sitting in a garden together, you are laying across his lap happily giggling at whatever he had been saying at the time. The look in both of your gazes was filled with nothing but love and admiration. The longer you stared at the photo though, the more you were nitpicking each imperfection you saw.   

Your hair was too frizzy, your face was too round, the way you were squinting gave you what seemed to be crow lines.    

As you stared, your eyes moved to the photo on the dresser. It was a smaller framed photo of Lucifer with Charlie and Lilith. He had offered to get rid of it, but you thought it was a sweet memento for him to have. At the time you at least thought so, but now as you walked up to it and lifted the photo you stared at the other woman in the frame. How did Lucifer go from someone like her, to someone like you? It didn't make sense to you.    

As time passed, your mind continued down the dark path of self-hatred and you found yourself sitting on the bedroom floor, your robe long lost leaving you in just your pajama shorts and tank top. In front of you was a broken mirror, shattered after you punched your own reflection. It was obvious that you should clean your bleeding fist, but you couldn't bring yourself to. Maybe you should at least clean the broken mirror before Lucifer comes home. The idea of even moving, though it seemed too much to do, all that seemed to help was sitting on the plush carpet, hugging your legs as you stared at the broken reflection now.   

The sound of whirring seemed to snap you out of your thoughts as your eyes looked up seeing the gold and red portal appearing in the room. Through the portal, you saw the purple blue sky of the Lust ring and heard people laughing and having fun. Then, coming into view was Lucifer wearing his usual white and red clothes, except his jacket hung around his arm, and his sleeves were rolled up. The buttons of his white and red pinstripe vest were undone as well, revealing the white undershirt he wore.   

After a moment the portal closed, and the room returned to the darkness it had been for the past hour or so as you sulked in the corner.    

"Darling, are you awake?" Lucifer asked as he set his coat down on the chair. He didn't notice you weren't in bed yet. He didn't see the broken mirror that you cursed yourself for not cleaning up. Nor did he see you in all your broken glory, eyes red and puffy from crying. Your eyes watched his movements as he moved to the bed only to notice you weren't there. "Darling?" His voice called out till his eyes finally found you.  

In an instant, the lights to the bedroom snapped on as he looked at you, his vermilion eyes filling with fright. He took in the scene of the broken mirror in front of you, staring at the broken shards on the floor. His eyes then moved to your body that was trembling, hugging yourself with a bloodied fist. Then his eyes met yours, and the fright filled with a deep sadness as he finally noticed how miserable you looked.  

"Oh darling..." He whispered as he walked over to you kneeling taking your hands into his. He examined the wound on your hand, noting the tiny shards of glass that glistened in the blood. He looked upset seeing the injury you had caused yourself, his mind wondering what made you do this.  

For the first time in hours, you finally spoke, your voice cracking as you did from disuse "I-I'm sorry." You were sorry now, regretting how you felt, regretting all the thoughts you had knowing this was upsetting Lucifer now. You acted reckless, in your emotions, and now after a long day, Lucifer had to see you wallowing in your pity.   

His eyes moved from your hands to your eyes as you spoke. One of his hands tenderly reaching out to cup your cheek to comfort you while the other still held your injured hand, cradling it in his own. "Let's get you cleaned up yeah?" He spoke so gently, as though if he was too loud, you'd break once more. He was obviously concerned about the injury, wanting to make sure it was dealt with before he found out what happened.  

You didn't fight him as he helped you to your feet, all the energy you had at this point was focused on not crying once again at how soft he was being with you. You didn't fight as he took you into the bathroom, nor as he guided you to sit on the edge of the bathtub. The cold porcelain of the tub seems to help ground you from the spiraling thoughts in your mind.   

Lucifer gently let your hand go as he began searching the cabinet for the first aid kit, muttering under his breath about how it seemed to have grown legs and moved. "Other... Cabinet" you told him, pointing with your good hand at the other cabinet door that he hadn't checked. He glanced over at you with a thankful smile before he grabbed the first aid kit from the other cupboard and sat beside you on the bathtub.  

He was gentle as he picked the glass out with tweezers, and careful as he applied the antiseptic onto the wound cleaning it out. The silence of the whole procedure was eating away at you, worried about what he was thinking. He probably thought you were a mess; he probably was annoyed that he had to deal with your mistakes. The fear of him leaving you poking at your mind as tears began to prick at your eyes.  

Once your hand was properly cleaned and wrapped, Lucifer brought your hand to his lips, and gave it a gentle kiss. His deep red eyes staring into your own, and those thoughts faded immediately. He didn't look angry or annoyed like you were thinking, instead, his eyes were filled with love and care. Just like in the bedroom, he brought his other hand to your face, wiping away the tear that had escaped your eyes with his thumb gliding across your cheek.  

"What's wrong Dove?" He spoke so softly still, calling you by your favorite nickname he had given you. "What happened to the mirror in the bedroom?"  

Your gaze finally broke from his as you looked away, looking anywhere else than his eyes. How do you explain to someone who loves you so much, that you doubted that love? How do you explain to someone who reminds you of your beauty daily, that you hated your body? The words seemed to be stuck in your throat, but Lucifer waited, he didn't push as the silence festered between both of you.  

The man before you simply kept his hand on your cheek providing a subtle comfort as his thumb continued to caress at your tears wiping them away with each swipe. You couldn't speak still, instead moving your hand to your cheek, holding his. His smile was sad, worried about what was eating away at your mind. 

"Speak to me Dove... What is hurting you so badly?" He finally pressed the issue after you didn't answer his first questions. All he wanted to know was what was causing you so much grief, so much pain to have you shatter the floor length mirror in your shared bedroom.  

When he left this morning, you were happy. You both had shared a tender moment wrapped in each other's arms before he left to go deal with Mammon. Now though, you were like a hallow shell of yourself, and from the damage from the mirror, Lucifer had an inkling of an idea as to why. 

This wasn't the first time you spiraled in your relationship together. He has comforted you just as much as you had comforted him in the time you two were together. He knew firsthand just how bad your mind could be to yourself. The nights where he hugged your crying form for hours proved that. Though he has never seen you this bad before. Just how long had you been alone with your thoughts?  

The silence seemed to just grow more between you two, before finally, the tension in your throat keeping you from talking seemed to loosen. With a shaky inhale of breath, you looked at his eyes which stared at yours still waiting for an answer.  

"Why me?" You began, your hand leaving his that was still against your cheek and instead fidgeted in your lap as your eyes left his. "There are so many other women out there who are far better suited for you..." That tight knot was back gripping your throat once more making it hard to speak, but you pushed through. "S-so many more women wh-who are more beautiful. M-more appealing, More-"  

Your voice was cut off as Lucifer's lips pressed against yours gently silencing you immediately. After a moment he pulled back, his other hand now coming to hold your other cheek. 

"My love, there is no one in either Heaven nor in Hell whose beauty can outweigh your own. Even if there was, you are the only woman I desire." He spoke slowly and quietly, staring deep into your own eyes. One of his hands moved and took yours, pressing it against his chest. "My heart beats for you, and for you alone." His other hand moved and took your injured hand tenderly, bringing it to his mouth kissing it once more.  

These are words you have heard him say before, words uttered during past spirals. Words he would remind you of every chance he could, no matter how much you couldn't believe them yourself. You knew he was being genuine each time, his eyes holding no falsehoods, his voice never faltering as he spoke. It was the truth, and you never understood just why.  

"You are the one I want to spend eternity with no matter the cost. The one who holds my heart in such tangles. I thought when I fell from Heaven, that would be the last time I ever fell. Then you stumbled into my life, and I fell even harder, and I do every single day. It's because you mean so much to me my little dove." He went on, taking the hand against his chest, and brought it up to his lips as well, kissing both of your hands. 

The tears in your eyes now weren't from the pain you felt anymore, but from his words. Your partner was perfect in your eyes, always knowing the right things to say, the right movements to do. He knew the words that you needed to hear, and didn't hesitate to let you know every thought.  

Without another word you leapt at him, wrapping your arms around his chest, knocking the two of you into the bathtub. The dam broke as he in turn wrapped his arms around you, holding you close to him. You wept in his arms, burying your face in his shoulder. Lucifer’s hand brushed through your hair, scratching gently at your scalp to comfort you silently, letting you release the emotions you were dealing with.    How foolish you had been to let your thoughts get the better of you. How foolish you were to doubt the love this man had for you. You knew deep down you didn’t deserve him, yet he would beg to differ and would deny those thoughts of yours. He would even counter that he didn’t deserve you. When he fell from Heaven, he didn’t think he would be deserving of such love as yours’s, yet you love him day in and day out by choice, and he didn't think he deserved it either.    After some time had passed, you had finally calmed down in his arms. Lucifer's hand not leaving your head as he continued to caress your hair, placing a soft kiss on your temple. Your tears finally had dried up, or well dried more so on Lucifer's red and white vest. Lucifer took the time to sit you both up in the bathtub, having you sit on his lap with one more kiss to your forehead. "Let's not go punching mirrors anymore, okay? If you need an outlet for that rage, we can ask Satan for some pointers." He joked as he stood up lifting you with him in his arms, carrying you as though you were weightless. You couldn't help but choke out a laugh nodding as you laid your head against his shoulder. "I learned my lesson... Mirrors fucking hurt." You responded as he carried you into the bedroom. You both would be okay, even if some days are harder than the other, you both had each other to help soften the blow of those hatred filled thoughts. Even if self love was sometimes hard, you knew that even if you couldn't love yourself, Lucifer had enough love to give you in replace of it.