#i had different plans for this but it just took me places

[bpmiranda]

The Bodyguard II |l. howlett|

A/N: slow burn, friends to lovers, angst, 21y/o f!character, bodyguard!logan x original character, flirtationship, drug use, depictions of violence, mentions of organized crime

The Bodyguard

Mercedes had imagined a proposition like this would occur when Emilio had begun to pay for her to go to nursing school, but she was far too excited at the time to question it. As she was nearing her graduation, it was beginning to sink in that this might be the life she was stuck with and it didn’t sit well with her.

“You would basically be on retainer for the cartel.” Logan concluded.

“Yeah, some dream job,” She muttered as she set her empty coffee cup down in front of her to run her fingers through her hair. “Logan, I had plans to leave Tijuana. I wanted to go to the States and start my own thing over there. If I get caught up in Emilio’s business…” She trailed off, fidgeting nervously with her cuticles. “I don’t want to get hurt.”

“You won’t get hurt,” Logan reassured her as he placed a comforting hand on her knee and squeezed it. “I wouldn’t be doing my job if you did. And you could still go anywhere you want to go.” He said with a shrug as he leaned back in his chair and watched her shake her head.

Mercedes gave him a doubtful look, those deep brown eyes looking at him sadly and he hated to see her like that. “No one says no to the cartel, or my brother. Do you really think it’ll be that easy for me?”

Logan couldn’t help but be sympathetic towards her. Maybe it was the years that they had known each other that made him grow soft for her. Maybe it was that little pout on her lips as she confided in him, trusted him entirely with her issues. Maybe he just enjoyed being useful to her. “I’ll help you figure something out, sugar.”

Over time, and with a lot of effort, Logan had earned a certain amount of authority within the Vasquez cartel, mainly over issues of security, but Emilio had come to trust him as a confidante. Especially when it came to anything dealing with his sister. After dropping Mercedes off at the clinic where she worked part-time one morning, Logan arranged to meet with her brother.

Emilio was having breakfast with his wife at her family’s restaurant which Logan knew well. Her name was Clara Espinoza, the Espinozas’ were old family friends of the Vasquez’ and she was a long time lover of Emilio’s. “Logan!” The drug lord greeted him with a strong handshake and a hug. “Come, eat with us.” Logan was guided into a chair across from the couple and he thanked them for the invitation. “What to drink? Un café? Una cerveza? (A coffee? A beer?) Whatever you want, amigo.” Emilio gestured at the waiter standing over Logan.

“Beer’s fine.” Logan said gruffly and the waiter nodded before retreating. “Thanks for meeting me. I won’t take too much of your time.” Logan returned his attention to his boss who waved him off as he sipped his coffee.

“No, no, you’ve caught me at a good time,” Emilio said with a grin and Clara chuckled softly beside him. He smiled, kissed her cheek and gestured to her. “How can I be in a rush when my lovely wife is sharing this wonderful meal with me?” Clara blushed, scoffing lightly at her husband as she shook her head. “Dime, Logan, que sucede con Mercedes?” (Tell me, Logan, what’s going on with Mercedes?) Emilio asked as he sat back and wrapped an arm around his wife.

“Seems like she’s got different plans than those that have been made for her,” Logan said to which Emilio gave him an understanding nod and he continued. “She told me she’d rather find work in the States after she’s graduated nursing school.”

“Hm,” Emilio nodded as he took in a deep breath, rubbing his chin with his free hand that wasn’t caressing his wife’s shoulder. “That puts me in quite a predicament. You see,” Emilio set both his arms on the table as he gestured with both hands. “My men cannot heal as quickly as you, am I right?” Logan nodded, knowing exactly where the conversation was heading, but not daring interrupt, not because Logan couldn’t hold his own in a fight with Emilio - it was a matter of respect. “And more often than not, I cannot have my men checking into a hospital after getting shot in the arm or the leg or wherever. Too many questions.” Emilio thanked the waiter who suddenly appeared and placed Logan’s beer in front of him. Logan took a long swig as his boss continued talking. “And so, I need a nurse available to my men. You see my predicament, don’t you, Logan?”

“Sure.” Logan said.

“What is she really worried about?” Emilio asked.

Logan clicked his tongue as he shrugged. “She’s scared of getting hurt, and I can’t blame her. With all due respect, I’ve tangled with some of your men. They’re not exactly the picture of chivalry.”

“Lo sé, lo se,” (I know, I know,) Emilio sighed, rubbing his jaw pensively and he turned to his wife. “What would you advise me, amor mío (love of mine)?”

Clara smiled appreciatively at her husband and she looked at Logan. “Mercedes wants to pursue her career in the United States?” Logan nodded. “Would you go with her? To protect her?” Another more eager nod. “So then my Emilio must fund a trip for two across the border without her being seen because everyone knows who she is and in turn who her brother is, which will not come cheap.” She explains, looking over at Emilio who nods, following his wife’s train of thought. “Then if you make it across the border, we pay for housing, supplies, maybe Emilio sends an extra man for the love he has for Mercedes. However, we have already lost you, Logan, and you are worth twenty men and she cannot very well live on her own in a country where we have no strings to pull. Does this make sense?” Logan nods, his jaw tight and his hold tighter on the beer bottle.

Suddenly, Emilio clapped, laughing lightly while he looked at Clara as if the problem had solved itself. “Ah, pues ahí esta!” (Ah, well, there it is!) He exclaimed happily and Logan stared at his beer bottle, wondering how Mercedes would react to him giving her the bad news that she’s already got the job she doesn’t want. “(My sister) Mi hermana has nothing to worry about because she has you, amigo. You will be with her the twenty-four hours of the day, seven days of the week. Twenty-four, seven, si?” Logan nodded. “She comes in to patch somebody up, you come in with her. I send her to one of my safehouses, you go with her. Easy peasy, done.” Emilio dusted off his hands and raised them up. “Algo más?” (Anything else?)

“Nothing.”

While Logan was waiting outside of the clinic later that day for Mercedes, he smoked a cigar and wondered how he would break the news to her that she did not in fact have a choice. It felt awful to bring her bad news, but there wasn’t much he could do short of running away with her. Running off would mean she would be hurt, and staying would mean only possibly getting hurt. Logan felt more comfortable with possibilities than playing around with her safety across the border.

“Hey,” Mercedes suddenly greeted him with a kiss on the cheek as she slid into the passenger seat and she buckled her belt. “Did you talk to Emilio?” Her eyes were wide and expectant and Logan sighed.

“I did.” He said as he started the car.

From his tone alone, she knew he didn’t have good news for her. It wasn’t like she expected anything different, at least not the realist part of her. The dreamer side of her had held onto a little bit of hope, however. “But he said you’ll be with me the whole time?” She asked after he had explained how the conversation had gone.

“Twenty-four, seven.” Logan nodded, looking over at her as they stopped at red light. “Is that a little more comforting?” He asked with a smirk and she rolled her eyes playfully.

“I guess.” She teased and he chuckled. “Was Clara there?” Her foot was tapping anxiously in the air as she had her legs crossed. Logan hesitated, but he nodded, keeping his eyes on the stoplight and hoping it would turn green before she asked him a more uncomfortable question - which she did anyway. “What did she say?” Mercedes asked in a bitter tone because she knew Clara would always put in her two cents simply because Emilio couldn’t live without them. Logan cleared his throat and looked over at her with a little shake of his head. “Tell me. I won’t be upset.” She lied.

Mercedes and Clara did not get along, this was a fact Logan knew and he’d be a fool to add fuel to that fire. It began with some dispute not long after the wedding about some items in her father’s home, the home Clara was now living in which Mercedes couldn’t stand. Another reason she decided to move to the other side of town.

“Sweetheart, just know Emilio’s keeping you around, okay?” Logan almost sighed in relief when the light turned green and he pressed on the gas to get her home as quickly as possible. Her hand suddenly rested on his thigh and she lightly drummed her fingers on his strong muscle. “Stop that.” He barked and she only continued, lightly rubbing his knee as she gave him a doe eyed look. “‘Cedes, I’d take a bullet for you, but I’m not getting between you and her.” Logan said firmly, a sad attempt at saying no to her.

“Was it her idea to keep me here?” She asked and he sighed, her grip tightened on his leg at this and he nodded. “Mierda!” (Shit!) She punched his thigh which made him chuckle and she crossed her arms furiously. “That bitch.”

While she stewed in the passenger seat, Logan finally parked outside of her apartment building and he walked her inside, up to her door where he leaned against the frame and watched her angrily fight her key into the lock of her doorknob. “Don’t think about it too much, alright, kid?” He told her as she finally got the door open. Mercedes turned to him with an unamused expression. “The guys your brother’s got running for him are professionals. What are the chances you’ll have to patch someone up very often anyway?”

It was more often than either of them thought and being on retainer for her brother had worsened Mercedes’ attitude. Logan noticed she seemed to hide in her apartment aside from going to work or school. It concerned him, but she kept pushing him away, telling him everything was fine when he had come to know her so well that he knew she was lying. But what more could he do if she didn’t want to talk to him about it? There was still a job to get done.

“‘Cedes!” Logan was pounding on her door, glancing at the time on his wristwatch as he continued knocking until she appeared in front of him with an annoyed expression.

“Logan!” Mercedes scolded, her brows furrowed as she stared up at him in disbelief. “I have neighbors.” She said as she pulled him into her apartment and shut the door behind him. “What the hell’s going on?” She asked him, crossing her arms over herself and it was then that he realized she was wearing only a tank top and some panties. Her hair was frizzy as if she were just getting up and he chuckled.

“You’re sleeping in now?” He asked, sounding more like a father figure than he intended to and she rolled her eyes as she walked into her kitchen. His eyes fell on her ass, not failing to notice how it moved with every step and he found himself following her.

“Is that what this is?” She asked as she filled a glass with water from the faucet and turned back around to watch him as she drank it. “A wake up call?” She asked as she set the glass down. Logan shook his head, not necessarily in a big rush now as he was looking at her. Mercedes suddenly snapped her fingers at him and his eyes met her deep brown ones. “Que paso, Logan?” (What happened, Logan?) She urged in an irritated tone.

“Emilio needs you. Someone’s been cut up pretty bad and they need stitches.” Logan answered and her eyes widened.

“You’re fucking kidding.” She groaned in disbelief as she hurriedly ran to her room to get dressed and Logan took his sunglasses off to rub a hand over his face. Pull it together, he thought to himself as he refilled the glass she had used and chugged down some cold water.

At the safe house, Logan kept her shielded behind him while guiding her into the rundown, empty home which sat in the middle of a sketchy neighborhood. His gaze seared every guy that watched them come through, protectively holding onto her waist as he led her into the bedroom where a young boy was sobbing and wincing from the pain of some deep slashes he received in an arm and a leg. “Oh, shit.” Mercedes breathed out as she quickly knelt beside him on the makeshift cot.

“Oye, amigo, para fuera!” (Hey, buddy, get out!) Another guy in the room tried to shove Logan out and he simply punched him in the face, his knuckles didn’t even bruise while the guy now had blood spurting out of his nose. Mercedes looked over her shoulder at them and Logan shrugged it off, leaning against the door and crossing his arms.

“He might need you to take a look at that when you’re done.” Logan said and she only gave him a little incredulous head shake before returning her attention to the boy bleeding out.

No one tried to tell Logan anything once he made it clear he wasn’t leaving the room while she was still in there. Logan watched her easily calm the young boy down with chit chat and explained what she was doing before she did it. It seemed second nature to her to care for others and he wondered if she was like this at the clinic as well. This was the Mercedes he had come to know, sweet and gentle. It confirmed for him that there was something else going on with her that made her turn to smoking and lacking in the general upkeep of her space.

After about an hour, she finished stitching the kid up. “Ahí está,” (There you go) Mercedes said as she snipped the thread in the boy’s arm and wrapped a bandage around the wounds. “Change them every two hours and keep them clean, okay?” She said and the boy nodded, thanking her in Spanish and squeezing her hand gratefully as he rested back on the cot, sighing in relief that he wouldn’t be bleeding out today.

The guy whom Logan had punched approached them suddenly and Mercedes quickly placed a hand on Logan’s chest as he made a move towards him. “Wait,” She told him as she dug in her medical bag and pulled out an ice pack. “No está rota,” (It’s not broken,) She told the guy as she inspected his bleeding nose while she shook the pack before handing it to him. “But next time it might be if you try anything like that again.” She warned and he nodded as he backed up.

Mercedes then turned to Logan with a little smile as she zipped up her bag. “Ready?” He asked her with a bit of a proud smirk, stepping away from the door as she nodded and he guided her back out. The guy running this safe house stopped them at the front door and he looked Mercedes up and down quizzically before taking her hand and sticking a wad of money in her palm. “Gracias, doctora.” (Thanks, doctor.) He said and then he looked at Logan and nodded towards his car parked in front. “Now get outta here.”

The car ride was silent and Logan was curious as to what was going on in her mind. “Wanna get a drink?” He asked, looking over at her and she nodded with a small smile.

The bar they stop at is one on Emilio’s payroll and Mercedes is immediately greeted and tended to when they walk in. Logan follows behind her as he eyes the other patrons, making sure there isn’t an unfamiliar or unwelcomed face in the bar. Once seated in a corner booth, they order their drinks, and Logan notices her mood is more uplifted than before they arrived at the safe house. “Thanks for staying with me.” She says suddenly, her hands folded in her lap as she looks at him across the round table.

Logan lights a cigar while he shrugs. “Just part of the agreement with Emilio.” He says and she only smirks. “What?” He asked her with a raised brow as he closed his zippo lighter and stuffed it back into his pocket.

“Was part of the agreement to punch anyone that tried to keep you from me?” She asked and Logan chuckled as he blew out a cloud of smoke above them.

It wasn’t, but she didn’t need to know that. “Would you have preferred that I left you alone in there with him?” He asked and she rolled her eyes as she shook her head, still smirking as she knew he was avoiding the obvious.

The way he stared at her this morning was no slip up. “I’ve seen how you look at me, Lo.” She said, resting her hands on the table in front of her and he moistened his lips as he waited for her to continue. “I look at you sometimes.” She said with a nonchalant shrug, and he felt a connection between his pelvis and his heart, aching for the girl across from him.

“Sugar,” Logan said with a sigh as he ashed his cigar in the ashtray sitting on the table. “You don’t want to go down that road with me.”

A small frown turned her lips and she asked, “Don’t you think it’d be fun?” Her elbow propped up on the table and she rested her chin on her palm as she gazed at the handsome features of his face, wondering what his lips might feel like on hers or on her neck or somewhere else. The adrenaline is this afternoon was still pumping through her and she desperately needed a way to release it.

Logan wasn’t sure what her game was, but he figured he’d play along. “Say we fuck tonight when I drop you off,” He says and she bites her lip at the thought, closing her eyes as she makes a show of really thinking about it. The thought aroused her and Logan pretended not to notice, pretended his mouth didn’t water from her scent. “What happens in the morning when I pick you up?”

“So you wouldn’t spend the night with me?” She asked, her eyes opening and feigning to be hurt as she placed her hand over her heart to which Logan rolled his eyes.

“Forget it.” He smirked, thanking the waitress as she dropped off their drinks and he noticed she gave him a flirty look as she mumbled a soft ‘my pleasure’ while also setting down a napkin in front of him with her phone number.

Mercedes noticed too and she couldn’t help the light scoff that left her lips. Logan downed his shot of whiskey and he avoided looking at her as he knew exactly what she was thinking. “Clearly you’ve got choices.” She said as she sipped her drink, eyeing him over the rim of her glass. Logan could’ve sworn he detected a hint of jealousy, but he decided not to pull at the thread. He had to remain professional, had to get her home at the end of the day without fucking her, or he risked everything he had built.

They had a few more drinks over which they talked about the general stuff which they usually do; her schooling, their work, Emilio’s work. It interested her more than anything, however, to know more about his life before her, the centuries he had spent wandering around, and how things had changed. Meanwhile, everything before meeting her was slowly beginning to matter less and less to Logan.

“When exactly did you get into that stuff?” He asked as he watched her roll up after he swallowed his fourth shot of whiskey.

Mercedes shrugged as she finished sealing the joint with the moisture of her tongue and she slid around the table towards him, holding the spliff between her lips while Logan lit it for her. As she was about to slide back around to her seat, his arm came down around her shoulders and he kept her there beside him. She smiled to herself and rested against him. “This girl at college always had some and we would smoke from time to time.” She said after blowing out a cloud and ashing in the same tray he was using.

“Is that the friend that’s got you behaving differently?” He asked as his thumb gently caressed her bare shoulder and she looked up at him.

“Different how?” She asked, hitting her joint again.

Logan shrugged as he toked on his cigar, doing another scan of the patrons in the bar around them before ashing. “Your room’s messy which isn’t normal for you, you’re smoking weed and drinking which isn’t something you’ve shown interest in before recently, you said you were scared of working for the cartel, but I seem to remember you didn’t want to let fear control your life. Something changed.” He pointed out.

Mercedes was quiet for a moment before saying, “You’re the first person that‘s asked.” She said softly. Logan looked down at her and leaned away from her a little bit. “I’m not a normal college student, Logan.” She sighed, resting her elbow on the table and her head in her hand as she turned her body towards him. “I just want to be a normal girl with friends who do drugs and has a messy room and doesn’t care so much about trying to please someone who isn’t even paying attention.” Logan realizes she’s talking about Emilio and he frowns when her eyes water threateningly. “My dad used to call me everyday and talk to me. We’d have conversations that normal fathers and daughters have, you know?” Logan nodded even though he didn’t. “I just miss that. I miss just being his daughter and him telling me how much he loved me; he was the only one that unconditionally supported me.”

Logan should’ve realized she had not properly processed her father’s death. It was quite sudden and tragic, and he recalled now that she had been away at college when it happened. Mercedes didn’t get to say goodbye like Emilio did and that was clearly taking its toll on her now. “Wanna go home and talk about it?” He asked and she gave him a little playful look.

“Don’t you have a waitress to see about?” Logan smirked and glanced over at the waitress who was already smiling sweetly at him.

“I’ve got her number. I can just call and apologize later.” He said as he nudged the young girl and she smiled bashfully, nodding as he guided her out of the booth. He set some cash down on the table before her leading her out to his car - forgetting the napkin with the waitress’s number.

At a stoplight, Logan looked over Mercedes having gotten the feeling that something was on her mind and he placed a hand on her knee. Her sweet face looked over at him and he gave her a nod. Her eyes moved away from him and onto the stoplights. “Are you going to leave me someday?” She asked quietly. Logan raised an eyebrow curiously as she picked at her cuticles. “My dad passed away, Emilio got married and stopped calling me all together,” Her teary eyes looked over at him and she gave him a sad smile. “You’re the only person I’ve got left.”

Logan’s heart ached as he heard her confess that she felt abandoned, cast aside, and her attempt at distancing herself was beginning to make sense now. “I’m not going to leave you, ‘Cedes.” He told her, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles. “You’re mine to take care of, aren’t you?” He teased and she couldn’t fight the smile on her face.

In her apartment, Logan was sitting at the kitchen table while she paced around and talked about how it felt to have missed the funeral, to not have been at her father’s deathbed to share her last words to him. Slowly, through the night, he could see her coming back to him. That sweet girl he had first met five years ago, every tear seemed to be washing away this new persona of hers that pretended not to care when in reality, she cared a lot.

“You know what the weirdest part is though?”

They were on her couch now. She was sitting with her legs criss crossed, facing him while he sat back on the other end, smoking his cigar, his thighs spread out as he sat comfortably. “Tell me.” Logan said, looking at her as she picked at her cuticles.

Mercedes looked back up at him and shrugged. “I thought I’d be scared of the men my brother works with, but I think I was more scared that I couldn’t sympathize with them.” Her eyes searched his face for understanding and he nodded, wanting her to continue. “Seeing that boy today, it made me realize he and I aren’t cut out for this life, but maybe that’s because people like my brother need people like us around. People that can care for them without judgment.”

There was a moment of silence during which Logan considered telling her that he thought she was perhaps the most compassionate person he ever knew, that he couldn’t have ever imagined he would come to care this much for her. But what would that do?

“You’ve got a good heart, kid.” He said as he took another puff of his cigar. “Even better head, don’t stop using it, yeah?”

A soft laugh left her lips as she began to lay down. “Thanks for listening to me ramble, Lo.” She whispered, looking up at him with sleepy eyes as they had been talking for almost two hours now. Her head was lying on the couch’s arm rest while her legs were now draped over his lap and he couldn’t stop staring at her.

“My pleasure.” His tone was mocking of the waitress, making her chuckle and she playfully pushed on his ribs with her foot which made him laugh as he caught it and caressed it softly. “Get some sleep. I’ll spend the night.”

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

🏷️: @dontfeedthebigbadwolf @peterparkernotfound @httpsells @evasmlp @ayatotiddies @thatlittlered @seasonofthenerd @littlemisscantloveyouback @scorpiosaintt @simpingfor-wakasa @spencerswh0r3 @thatweirdtheaternerd12 @shybluebirdninja @iamburdened

[novamariestark]

Can I get a Dean Winchesterx reader using prompts 9 and 10 off list one and prompt 46 off list two, please?

Summary: A quiet date night with Dean gets interrupted.

Warnings: proofread but there's always a mistake after posting 🤣

Word count: 1229

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Prompts: “LITERALLY EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS IS ILLEGAL!” “Did you just... agree with me?” “I'm actually going to kill you”

[A/N] hope you like 😁

How did we even get here? Sometimes, life takes a strange turn, almost as if the universe decides to have a little fun with you—except you’re not laughing. The night had started so differently. It was supposed to be simple—normal even. Sam had dropped the two of you off at that tiny, run-down bar a few miles outside town, giving you some space for your long-awaited “date night.” You were supposed to have a quiet evening, maybe a few drinks, some laughs. No monsters. No hunts.

But, because some idiot stumbled into the bar, raving about a “monster” they’d seen outside town that meant date night was over. You’d barely finished your drink before you were dragged out, headed straight for where the alleged sighting had taken place. The kicker? Sam had taken the Impala to pick up some supplies, promising to come back later. So here you were, stranded without Baby, crouched behind a row of garbage bins like a couple of amateurs. This is not how you imagined your alone time with Dean would go. You had hoped for something more... normal.

Dean was in front of you, so at least you had something nice to look at. You’d be lying if you said he didn’t look good, but seriously? This was the worst idea he’d had all week—and that was saying something. At first you thought you had heard him wrong but oh no. You had heard him right.

You glanced at him, unable to believe what was coming out of his mouth. “Are you seriously suggesting we rob a cop car?” you asked, trying to keep your voice calm, even though you were two seconds away from smacking some sense into him.

Dean turned to you with that infuriatingly casual grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Borrow,” he corrected, like that made it better. “It’s not illegal if we give it back.”

You stared at him for a moment, your brain struggling to comprehend the sheer level of Dean Winchester logic you were dealing with right now. He had to be joking. But he wasn’t. He was dead serious.

“Okay,” you shot back, your voice dripping with so much sarcasm that it could be visible, “maybe next we can walk into the nearest bank and help ourselves to the entirety of the vault. You know, for funsies.” Dean’s only response was to roll his eyes, still not seeing the problem. You took a deep breath as you waved your hands around for emphasis. “LITERALLY EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS IS ILLEGAL!”

Honestly, you weren’t sure whether to laugh or scream. You were a hunter—a damn good one. You could handle ghosts, demons, and all manner of monsters that most people couldn’t even fathom. And yet, here you were, stuck with this idiot, debating grand theft auto like it was something minute like, who’s turn it was to wash the dishes.

You gave him the deadliest deadpan look you could muster, hoping he’d catch a hint of how ridiculous he sounded. “I’m actually going to kill you.”

Dean’s grin only widened, those green eyes glimmering in the dim light. “But you’ll look good doing it.”

You rolled your eyes, though you could feel the faint heat creeping up your neck. His charm was both your kryptonite and your fuel—it was hard to stay mad when he looked at you like that, but then again, it also made you want to throw something at him. Preferably something heavy.

Glancing back at the cop car, you sighed. This was ridiculous. Utterly insane. The rational part of your brain screamed at you to shut this down, to come up with a better plan. But the other part—the part that had been on countless hunts with Dean, the part that trusted him more than anyone else—knew you were probably going to go along with it anyway.

“Fine,” you sighed, the word leaving your lips before you even knew you thought it.

The second it slipped out, you mentally kicked yourself. Seriously? Fine? Fine? Really? That’s all it took? One look from him, and you were ready to throw common sense out the window? You weren’t fine. Yet somehow, here you were, agreeing to what had to be the stupidest plan Dean Winchester had ever come up with. And that was a long list.

Dean’s voice cut through your spiralling thoughts, pulling you back to the present. “Did you just... agree with me?” His tone was laced with mock disbelief, but that smirk—oh, that damn smirk—said it all. He was enjoying this way too much, and it didn’t help that the glint in his eyes practically sparkled.

You hated that look. The one that always made your stomach do flips, like a rollercoaster you swore you’d never ride again, but kept getting back on anyway. It wasn’t just the smirk. It was Dean. He had this magnetic pull, and no matter how much your brain screamed No!, your heart—and apparently your mouth—tended to betray you in his presence.

“Don’t get used to it,” you muttered, crossing your arms, trying to regain some control over the situation. You weren’t completely rolling over here. You’d follow him into the fire, sure—but you’d still give him hell for it.

Dean winked, already turning his attention back to the car, pulling out his lock-picking tools and started to unlock the car, “Don’t worry, I’ll make it up to you,” he whispered, shooting you another wink and that cheeky smirk of his that sometimes you wanted to smack and others, kiss until you both looked like smurfs.

Your heart fluttered in spite of itself as you tried to ignore the way he seemed so damn... charming while committing a felony. His words floated around your head. “Don’t worry, I’ll make it up to you.” Oh, you knew exactly what he was implying. Your lips twitched involuntarily. Damn him.

You crossed your arms, glaring at the back of his head, “What? My criminal record?”

Dean finally got the lock to pop, a click breaking the silence. He stood up, turning back to you with that grin, “See? Easy as pie.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, but you love it,” he said, with the cocky tone in his voice because he knew he wasn’t wrong. You hated how much he knew it, how much he knew you.

You took a step closer to him, eyes narrowing as you shot him a pointed look. “Just get in the damn car, Winchester.”

Dean chuckled as he pulled the door open, “After you, sweetheart,” he said, gesturing to the passenger seat.

You climbed into the car, the faint smell of cheap air freshener and coffee mixing with the cool air of the night. Dean slid in beside you, looking far too pleased with himself. The engine roared to life, and as the tires crunched over gravel, you couldn’t help but shoot him another sideways glance.

“So, what’s the plan, genius?” you asked, crossing your arms as if that might protect you.

Dean shrugged, “Find the monster, kill the monster, return the car—no harm, no foul.”

“If we end up in jail, you’re explaining this to Sam.” You said, leaning back into the seat, propping your elbow on the door, and resting your chin on your palm.

[literary-motif]

In All My Dreams I Drown

Asirel Cain x Reader

Asirel experiences sleep paralysis.

Warnings: Insomnia, sleep paralysis

Asirel was not afraid of the dark. He had never been. The inky blackness of night had a way of soothing him. It seemed almost like the only escape from the crushing responsibility he carried during the day — almost because although the US slept, there were plenty of places around the world that were bussing with life and plenty of phone calls and e-mails he received during the dark hours. 

Still, it felt different. Breathing was easier during the night. He had always enjoyed being awake while the world around him slept. 

He had stretched this indulgence a little too far, it seemed. 

When he first started he had finished business at perhaps one in the morning, going off to bed soon after. One had turned to two over the years, two to three. Now when he looked up from his computer screen, it was usual to see the blue tint of the early morning light, just before the sunrise. He went to bed when the sun rose, but his daily responsibilities never lessened. 

Somehow, there was always more to do — more to plan, more to think about,  more to work out. He was always busy, and although his hours of sleep had been steadily reduced over many years, the time he tried to wake up rarely varied. 

It was becoming an issue. Asirel was very much aware of that. He had fought long and hard to reduce his hours, choosing to slip into bed as early as eleven at night, only to lie awake until the early hours anyway. 

What had started as simply an unconventional sleeping schedule had developed into a more serious issue. 

“Mr. Cain,” the blonde woman before him had said, giving him a sympathetic smile he thought she must flash to every patient. The sterile whiteness of her office nearly outshone the brightness of her coat, the stethoscope practically gleaming under the harsh artificial lights. “I am afraid there is not much I can do. Plainly speaking, it seems to me that you are under a lot of stress — if you reduce the stress, I am sure your insomnia will disappear.”

He had wanted to scoff but returned her smile with his own. It was polite, although a bit sardonic. “How do you suppose I do that, Doctor?”

She blinked as if nobody had ever asked her that question. “Well, it depends on what causes the stress, but either way I’d suggest—”

Physical activity. This time he did scoff, hiding it behind a cough. 

Working out seemed the cure for everything, just like water. Asirel, have you tried going outside more? His mother’s words had felt mocking, and hearing the same advice from this professional who did not take his ailment seriously made a bitter taste appear in his mouth. 

Headache? Drink some water. Back pain? Have you tried losing weight? Insomnia? Why, do some sports! 

Pathetic. He took the prescription for sleeping pills without another word. 

Sleeplessness in adults was very common, stress from work being mostly the cause of it, and although he supposed everyone experienced a bad night of sleep every once in a while — where they tossed and turned endlessly, without getting their mind to shut up as thoughts and worries swirled around until night turned to day and it felt like they had not slept at all — if these issues persisted for over half a month, things were no longer casual. 

Reduce the stress she had said. How exactly could he do that, when his very existence came with a relentless pressure pushing down on his shoulders? His life was heavy. He did important things, and although he loved the responsibility and influence he had — the power. He loved the power of his job — he was the first to admit that his work had cost him many sleepless nights and hours pouring over papers at his desk with seemingly no end in sight. 

The world was draining him of his strength, the love for his work — and the determination to change things according to his vision for it — faded under the relentless strain he had been under. He was at the end of his rope.

Much like a broken arm or sprained ankle, his insomnia hurt. It had causes, it had consequences. His mind felt like mush on some days, his thoughts dragging along until it took too much energy to direct their stream. His memory worsened, and the days blended — he remembered only little bursts of something, the important bits of meetings and conversations while all the rest faded to black. 

How long since he had last seen his mother? A day? A week? When had his sister called? This morning? The day before yesterday? It was all a big lump of gray. 

When had he last fed you? It must not have been that long ago, or else you would have complained.

Asirel was exhausted. He needed the world to stop for a day until he had his mind back together and ceased fraying at the edges. He took two sleeping pills, downing them with a large gulp of water.

They did not work as he had wished. He lay on his back, listening to the clock ticking on the other side of the room until his eyelids dropped, but he did not sleep. He lay awake for hours — still hours — until he slipped into oblivion, but his sleep was far from restful. 

It felt like he did not sleep at all.

He thought he opened his eyes in the morning, looking at the rays of sun streaming in through his window. He found he could not move. His heart skipped a beat, his mind slipping into a spiral of panic that the rational part of his brain sliced through with two words: sleep paralysis.

Where were the hallucinations? 

As the thought crossed his mind, he heard it. Loud banging came from the hallway, stomping that came closer and closer. His heart sped up, fear pulling him under despite knowing this was not real. He knew it, but the bangs approaching, getting louder and louder in tandem with his racing heartbeat made it hard to believe it. 

He tried to close his eyes, not wanting to see what his mind would come up with to torment him, but he could not. The room would not disappear before him, and he still could not move. 

Terror seized him, and he tried fighting the unshakable pressure pinning him down. The world around him felt like dough, his body limp around it as it was pushed into the mattress. There was a weight on his chest, heavy, unlike anything he had ever experienced before as it crushed him, keeping his lungs trapped. 

Something moved at the edge of his vision. The stomping approached closer and closer. Asirel wanted to scream. He tried, but his mouth did not comply, there was no air in his lungs. The only thing escaping him was a low whimper. The stomping came from right beside his bed.

A figure walked into his line of vision. It vaguely looked like him, but as he stared into its pale face — too pale — he saw blood trickling from its mouth. Its hair was dirty, a dark shade of blonde with specks of deep red in it. Its black eyes stared at him as it approached. 

He had never been as scared as he was now, helplessly trapped in his mind while this shadow version of himself reached out a bloodied hand towards his face. It leaned closer, hovering inches from him. 

“They’re coming to make you pay,” it said, "make you pay. Pay. For all you have done, they’ll make you pay. Pay. Pay. I’ll kill you if you don’t pay. Make you pay. They’re coming. They’re coming! Hide!”

The door flung open. Asirel felt himself resurfacing. The apparition vanished, the banging stopped and he blinked his eyes open. His brain felt numb, slowly awakening with pins and needles as he turned around. He still felt heavy, barely awake as reality slowly clicked back into place.

You stood in the doorway, surveying the room with a stance that told him you were ready to lunge at an attacker. Once you realized the room was empty, your eyebrows furrowed. “I heard your heart beating out of your chest not twenty seconds ago, Asirel. What’s going on?”

The pressure on his chest had lifted, and he let out a deep sigh as he moved a hand — relief flooding when he realized he could — to rest against his forehead. What an experience. Something still felt off, and there was a creeping terror at the edge of his mind that he could not shake. 

“Had,” he cleared his throat, closing his eyes to escape your puzzled expression, “had a— a nightmare, I suppose.” It was not the truth, but he did not feel like explaining sleep paralysis to you. The experience was still too fresh on his mind, and he feared talking about it might make it more real, turning this into a permanent curse. “Thanks for— for waking me.” Thanks for watching out for me.

You stared at him, the trembling in his voice and his still accelerated heartbeat telling you that something had shaken him to his core. “No problem,” you said, approaching him to sit on the edge of the bed. 

Asirel gave you an uncertain look. Hesitatingly, he lifted the edge of the covers. 

You chuckled, slipping in beside him. He snuggled into your arms immediately, resting his head on your shoulder and breathing in your scent. 

It grounded him, having you close. Your strong arms around him made him feel secure like nothing else could, certain that you would protect him. Despite it all, he knew he could trust you — and you knew he did as you heard his heartbeat even out and his breathing deepen. “Do you mind if I—?” he mumbled, eyelids drooping.

“Go ahead. I’ll be here when you wake up,” you said, fastening your hold on him. Asirel drifted off to sleep in your arms, catching a few hours of the most restful sleep he had had in a long time. 

[cinnaleaf]

ESSENCE OF US - CH 5: DATE NIGHT*

Please read responsibly. This fic will get hot and heavy as the story progresses, 18+ only MDNI | READ CH 4 HERE | MASTERLIST | READ CH 6 HERE [soon]

summary: a fleeting encounter with a mysterious Trent leaves you wondering if fate is playing a bigger match. your paths continue to cross in unexpected places as the fragrances around you mirror the growing tension between you. maybe it's just a coincidence..or maybe its destiny in the making.

warnings: ANGST, SMUT, oral sex (female receiving), language, implied anxiety genre: fluff, angst, slow(ish) burn romance, slight smau wc: ~7.1k a/n: you asked for angst..i hope i delivered. please share your thoughts in my inbox!!

Enchantée(f)/Enchanté(m): 'nice to meet you' Rêveur: 'dreamer'

You stood in front of your mirror applying the final touch of gloss to your lips. Your nerves had been a mess all day and you were mentally spiraling, trying to convince yourself to chill out. It wasn't like it was your first time with Trent. You saw him plenty of times, but tonight felt different compared to the random run-ins and late nights. The anticipation of it all had your stomach doing somersaults.

Why am I so nervous? It’s just Trent. No big deal.

You took a deep breath, staring at your reflection like it was going to give you the answers to the superstorm brewing in your head. This date wasn't like all the other encounters where you ran into him. This date was planned. Intentional. Something about him putting in effort to plan all of it made things feel serious. 

“Okay..he's already seen me naked. It can't get any worse than that,” you said to your reflection, trying to hype yourself up. The pep talk wasn't really stopping your heart rate from skyrocketing though. 

Then you heard a knock. 

The kind of knock that makes your stomach lurch.

You took one glance at yourself in the mirror, trying to keep it together before you opened the door. He looked perfect as always. Honestly, he had no business looking that good. His gaze looked you over before settling on your face. “Damn..you look beautiful.”

“Thanks. You look good too...” you replied neutrally, trying to play it cool. It wasn't really working but it was worth a shot. He stepped closer, his eyes still scanning over you. “Nahh. You're showing out tonight Y/N. Look at you!” You laughed nervously, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “You've seen me before…”

“Not like this..I almost don’t want to go to the class,” he said softly, leaning in towards you. Before you could respond he kissed you. It was slow and deliberate, like he wanted to take his time to savour you. You almost forgot where you were for a second as you felt the warmth of his hand resting on your hip. When he pulled back, he smiled as he looked into your eyes. “Ready for tonight?”

You smiled, although your stomach was still doing somersaults. “Um y–yeah. I think so.”

“You sure? You look like you're about to faint,” he teased.

You rolled your eyes, trying not to laugh. “I'm not going to faint! This is just our first date. It feels weird.”

“Why is it weird?”

You shrugged, biting your bottom lip. “We've done everything but this. Just feels different, that’s all.” Trent chuckled as he brushed his thumb over the corner of your lips “Don't overthink it Y/N. We'll have fun.”

“Maybe..” you admitted. You definitely had a habit of overthinking and Trent was starting to clock it. He had a way of making you feel comfortable, but anxiety was always lurking in the background, waiting for the perfect moment to strike and mess with your head. 

“Y/N..” he said softly, “It's just us having a good time.” You nodded, trying to shake off your nerves. “Ugh. You're right..I'm being dumb.”

“You're not dumb. We’ll have a good time tonight,” he said while kissing your temple. Once you were in his car, his hand rested on your thigh as he drove to the cooking studio. “So..you gonna tell me if I get another date? Really trying to impress you here.” You burst out laughing, “The bar was low Trent..you already passed.” Trent joined in on your laughter, not offended in the slightest. “Low? Never that. I'm setting a standard.”

“Mhmm..we'll see.”

The city lights flickered by as he continued to drive. By the time you made it to the studio, your nerves had been replaced with excitement. The chef greeted both of you with a welcoming smile as she handed an apron to both of you. “Welcome, lovebirds! We're making a three course meal tonight. We’re starting with roasted bruschetta topped with heirloom tomatoes and fresh basil, followed by homemade pasta in a truffle sauce. And for dessert, a chocolate soufflé.”

Lovebirds?? 

The lighting in the cooking studio bathed the room as you and Trent tied your aprons. The space had a cozy and inviting feel to it while still being romantic. Every time Trent caught your eye, he looked at you like you were the most fascinating thing in the room. Your conversation with him flowed naturally as you began preparing the bruschetta. Trent grabbed a tomato, slicing it with more precision than you expected. Maybe he did know his way around the kitchen.

Trent leaned in closer to you as you started prepping the rest of the ingredients. “So how’d you end up in the perfume business? Love Notes..that’s all you?” You were a bit surprised by his curiosity as you glanced up at him. “Yep, it’s mine” you said, before placing an ingredient down. “I used to mix random things together when I was a kid. My parents would get so pissed off, so I would sneak around and do it while they were sleeping.”

Trent laughed, fascination displayed on his face. “So you turned that into perfume?”

“Eventually..” you said, smiling as you began to chiffonade the basil in front of you. “I studied chemistry in uni because I wanted to learn how to mix things professionally. I created a fragrance during my last year for fun..but it ended up getting some attention. Too much attention, actually.”

“It went viral or something?”

You shrugged, feeling shy now. “Sorta. A fragrance house offered to buy the formula from me. That's where I got the money to start Les Notes d'Amour.” Trent set his knife down, turning his attention to you fully. “So, you made a popular perfume and just..sold it to someone else?”

“Yeah, pretty much. I don't know if you've ever heard of it but it's called ‘Enchantée’. I thought I used too much tuberose but—” Trent stared at you for a minute with an unreadable expression as you continued to talk. Then he broke into the biggest smile you’d ever seen before cutting you off mid-sentence. “Enchanté! That's my mum's favorite perfume.”

“Wait..what?!”

“Yeah! She's been wearing it for a long time. That's wild..you made that??” he said, laughing softly. Your heart skipped a beat once you realized there was another layer of connection between the two of you. 

“Trent…are you being serious or are you fucking with me right now? Please.”

The universe sure had a funny way of circling back, always leading you right back to him. “I swear! She talks about it all the time. She never goes a day without it.”

What were the odds? First the train, the café, Paris, and now this. Insane.

“Small world, huh?” you whispered, nudging into him. He nodded, still grinning like he had won the lottery. “Just the universe and all its plot twists. It's been playing matchmaker from the start.” He was right. The idea of fate bringing you together felt more real with every moment you shared with him. You knew there was chemistry, but you never expected it to deepen in this way, it felt surreal. “So..after that I opened Love Notes..” you continued in a softer voice. “I started creating custom fragrances for brides and grooms, celebs, and I made signature collections. I want everyone to have something that’s made just for them.”

Trent reached over, brushing his hand over yours. “That's valid. I didn't know you were out here changing the game like that.” You smiled, feeling your heart race again. “I love it. It never feels like work to me.” You could see the admiration in Trent's eyes. He was taking in every word you said, every part of your journey, your world. “What about you?” you asked, shifting the focus to him. “I know footie is life or whatever, but what about your family? You seem close.”

You saw his expression soften when you mentioned his family. “Yeah, we're close. I've got two brothers who always have my back. We're tight.” You could hear the love in his voice as he continued to gush over his family. “That's so sweet,” you said, admiring how genuine he was being.

“Yeah, they're the reason I’m where I am. Couldn’t do it without ‘em.”

Before you could respond to him, he cupped your chin to tilt your face towards his. He searched your eyes before leaning in, giving you a slow and tender kiss. It felt like a quiet affirmation of the serendipity that seemed to weave your lives together in ways neither of you could fully understand at the moment. He gazed at you, looking like he was about to say something that would change everything.

“Maybe..” he began in a low voice. “Maybe we should stop pretending we're just—”

Your heart pounded, the anticipation pulling you closer as if the entire universe was holding its breath, waiting to hear what he wanted to say.

Was this it?

You felt that familiar tension you always felt with him—like right before lightning strikes. Just as his lips parted to speak again, the chef's voice cut through the silence like a bolt of lightning. 

“How's the bruschetta coming along over there, lovebirds?”

You and Trent jerked back, the spell between you breaking as you turned towards her. Trent was clearly thrown off and it was kind of funny. “Uh, right. The bruschetta,” he sounded like he was trying to shake off the intensity of the moment. You laughed, your tension easing once you saw the frustrated look in his eyes. He leaned into you, whispering in your ear. “I swear, worst timing ever.” You giggled, shaking your head. “The universe is just having a laugh at us, no?”

“Or keeping us on our toes,” he joked. “I guess it wants me to wait a little bit before I say what I really want to.” Whatever he was about to say wasn't forgotten...just postponed.

You both turned back to the partially assembled bruschetta, although his eyes were on you a lot more than they were on the tomatoes. Every time your hands brushed against his, you felt your skin tingle, reminding you of what almost happened. 

Eventually, you managed to pull it off pretty well. Sure, it was just toasted bread with toppings but it looked delicious. “See? I told you I knew how to cook,” Trent said with a smirk as he slid the bruschetta onto a plate. “Umm, let's not get carried away. All you did was chop some tomatoes and toast bread.” He nudged you with his shoulder lightly, “Ah, just wait til we get to a real challenge like the pasta.”

“Can't wait to see that disaster,” you teased, moving on to the next dish. The chef brought over a bowl of flour, eggs, and oil as she explained the technique of mixing it by hand. “Knead it just right. Don't be afraid to get messy, it's part of the fun!” You saw Trent's eyes light up as soon as the words 'messy' and 'fun' were mentioned. You were in danger, girl.

You made a well in the flour for the eggs as you followed the chef's instructions intently, but Trent was less focused on perfection. He dove straight into the flour, sending small flour cloud puffs into the air. “Slow down!” you shrieked, laughing as you tried to fix the pile of flour that was spilling over the counter. He grinned mischievously before grabbing a small handful of flour and tossed it in your direction. It hit you on the shoulder as a cloud of white dust settled on your outfit.

“Trent, I swear to god–”

He grabbed more flour before you were able to finish your sentence and flicked it at you. You grabbed a huge handful in retaliation, hitting his shirt, his hair, and half his face. “Oh, that's how it is?” he wiped some flour off his cheek, grinning like a kid in a candy store. You tried to dodge his next attempt but he was moving quicker than you were, setting off a flour warfare. Your face scrunched up, both of you laughing so hard you could barely breathe. “We have to clean this up later,” you warned. He stepped closer, dusting some flour off your shoulders. “Yeah, yeah I know.”

Unbeknownst to you, the chef had pulled out her phone and recorded the entire thing. “You two are too cute! Don’t mind me..just getting this for the ‘gram.” You hesitated for a second, wondering how this would look to everyone watching online. The thought of it made your anxiety start to creep in, but then you glanced at Trent. He looked absolutely ridiculous and had flour all over him, yet he was still grinning ear to ear. Suddenly, it didn’t feel like a big deal anymore. You were having the time of your life, and you didn’t care to think about the specifics of it at the time.

Eventually, you both managed to get back to the dough. Shared laughter filled the studio as you both struggled to knead the pasta into shape. You managed to pull it together before moving on to prepare the chocolate soufflé. There was no funny business this time, you both worked perfectly in sync before placing the soufflé in the oven. 

While the soufflé baked, you and Trent sat down at the table to enjoy the bruschetta and pasta. There were soft flickerings of candlelight which would have been romantic under most circumstances, but the fact that both of you were covered in flour made it feel like the goofiest thing ever. Trent’s shirt was basically covered and you had flour all over your face. You couldn’t stop the fit of giggles every time you looked at each other.

“This is a good look for us,” Trent said, chuckling as he wiped a bit of flour from your cheek. “Ready for me to post our masterpiece?” You hesitated for a second before smiling. The lightness of the evening still had you on cloud nine. “Yeah go ahead. It’s just a plate of pasta, right?” He pulled out his phone, snapping a picture of plated food on the table before posting it to his story. You weren't really in the shot. The only thing that could be seen was the tiniest sliver of hair in the frame, but the flour coated mess in the background was obvious. 

Just a harmless picture, you figured. There was no way the chef’s video would go viral. She wasn’t too well known, plus, the night had been too fun to worry about all the little details. It was just a plate of food, right? 

But then again… the internet was the internet.

In record time, your phone started pinging. Again…and then again. Frowning, you picked up your phone as the notifications came flooding in faster than you could process. Trent glanced over with his eyebrows raised in curiosity.

“All good?”

You swiped open Instagram, immediately noticing SpillTheBeansUK had already reposted Trent's story, along with the chef's video. The video featured you and Trent in a fit of laughter while covered in flour, and people were connecting the dots faster than you imagined:

@.SpillTheBeansUK 👀 Looks like TAA’s mystery girl @.yourusername strikes again! The flour fight, the looks, the vibes..this is more than just a date. When’s the wedding?

@.ChillOutMate its giving hard launch but im shy

@.TAA_Angel03 Girly you’re feeding MY MAN well so you’re good in my book. But Trent..please come home we can fix this baby

@.InTheStands92 T isn’t subtle with his story at all LOL. He may as well have tagged her

@.CuppaT66 Man tried so hard not to reveal and still failed lmao

@.Y2KBabe20 Is this a soft launch or hard launch? confused but INVESTED

@.TeamHardLaunch ok, fuck a soft launch.. when is the wedding

@.YNGotFansNow The chef really did us a solid here. We needed this update!! But the fact they still don’t follow each other is driving me mad 😩

@.YNperfume_fan I wonder what scent Y/N wore for this date night? Something gourmand to match the vibe I bet.

@.ConspiracyBabe they’re not gonna hard launch until Y/N’s new fragrance collection drops. She’s gonna tie it all together and Trent’s gonna promote it. This is all PR strategy. 👀

@.FootieStan08 I want to hate but the way they’re looking at each other in that video is so cute. Fuming tho 😤

@.GossipLuvr ‘The Wait’  a fragrance by Y/N. Notes of suspense and slow burn angst. 😂

@.YNPerfumeJunkie not me refreshing her website just in case a surprise perfume launch happens after this date night 😭

@.TeamYNOfficial liking the chef’s post and then posting his own like we can’t piece it all together. You’re so obvious T

@.LoyalTStan wait…someone said they’ve been married for a year but keeping it private. I saw it on a forum  👀 

@.GirlWhatLies A YEAR?? sis they’ve been publicly spotted together like 2 times. Where are you getting this info??! lmao wtf

You handed the phone to Trent, who couldn’t stop laughing as he scrolled through the comments. “Man, these people are wild.”

“Right?” you replied, still giggling. “They’re already planning our wedding and we haven’t even had dessert yet.”

“I guess we’ll have to tell them to RSVP at a later date...” You scrunched up your eyebrows, giving Trent a confused look. “Huh? What are you on about?”

“We can’t have people RSVPing to our wedding if we’re not official yet, right?” he said, with a smug smile. Your brain was struggling to catch up with what was happening. 

You blinked, completely taken aback as you realized. “Wait..are you asking me—”

Just as you were beginning to clarify—and possibly answer his question, a shrill, ear splitting beep filled the air followed by the blaring of a smoke alarm. You both whipped your heads toward the oven. 

*BEEP!

!BEEP*

*BEEP!

!BEEP*

“Oh! The soufflé!” you yelped, eyes wide with panic. Trent’s laughter erupted beside you, both of you jumped out of your chairs, scrambling towards a chaotic mess of flour and panic. You grabbed a towel, frantically waving it near the alarm as the smell of burnt chocolate filled the air. The noise was so loud and annoying you could barely think, let alone hear anyone over the noise.

“IT’S BURNT!” you yelled over the blaring alarm, waving the towel harder.

Trent, still chuckling, quickly grabbed oven mitts and yanked open the oven door. “YEAH, NO SHIT!” he shouted, barely containing his laughter.

The whole thing was hilarious, truly. There was flour still clinging to both of you while smoke billowed from the oven, the alarm was blaring like a screaming toddler, and your phone was still pinging with notifications. Throughout all the chaos, it felt like your body was pumped with pure adrenaline. You knew what you wanted to say, and you needed to say it now.

“YES!” you screamed at the top of your lungs, continuing to fan the towel wildly. “I’LL BE YOUR GIRLFRIEND!” 

Trent whipped his head around, a huge grin spread across his face but the noise was so deafening he clearly misheard you. “YEAH! WE’LL CLEAN THE OVEN AFTER THIS!”

You blinked, caught off guard by his response. “WHAT? NO!! I SAID I’LL BE YOUR GIRLFRIEND!”

Trent stared at you for a second as your words connected in his head, then he burst into hysterical laughter while taking the oven mitts off. “OHHHH! GIRLFRIEND, NOT OVEN! THAT MAKES SENSE!”

You were laughing too now, the absurdity of the situation hitting you all at once. “YES! YOUR GIRLFRIEND, SILLY!”

Without missing a beat, Trent crossed the smoky kitchen in a few quick steps and grabbed you by the waist, pulling you into a deep fiery kiss. The fire alarm was still blaring while the smell of burnt chocolate filled the room, but none of it mattered. His hands held you close, your flour covered fingers gripping the front of his shirt as you kissed him back with just as much urgency.

Somewhere in the background, the chef stood with her arms crossed, smiling like she witnessed the greatest love story she had ever seen. She made no move to stop the chaos. She just let it unfold like she knew this was exactly how it was supposed to happen.

When you finally broke the kiss, you were both breathless and laughing as you tried to catch your breath. The alarm continued to screech dramatically.

“WELL,” Trent yelled, still holding onto you, “THAT’S ONE WAY TO MAKE IT OFFICIAL!”

You laughed, pulling him closer. “DEFINITELY NOT WHAT I IMAGINED!”

He grinned, his voice teasing. “BUT YOU SAID YES! A WIN IS A WIN BABY!”

As the fire alarm finally died down, and the chef gave you both a thumbs-up from across the room and you knew one thing for sure: 

The whole situation was perfectly imperfect in the best way..and it was yours.

After helping the chef clean up the studio kitchen, you and Trent headed back to your apartment for some much needed alone time. Flour still clung to your clothes as you stepped inside, but Trent didn't seem to care. The moment he heard the door click, his hands found your waist to pull you close. The way he gripped you was so needy, like he had been waiting to have you alone all night. He wasted no time pulling you into a hungry kiss as his hands made their way down to knead your ass. 

“Shower?” you whispered against his lips, barely managing to pull away.

“I won’t say no to that,” he winked, clearly having more intentions than just a shower.

You both tossed your flour covered clothes aside quickly before stepping into the shower. The water cascaded over your skin as it washed away the remaining remnants of the chaotic date night. Trent's hands immediately found their place, cemented onto your hips to pull you close to him from behind. 

He murmured against your neck, "Y'know..I had a good time tonight.”

You turned your head as your breath caught slightly from his hands sliding up your sides, his fingers tracing the curves on your body. "Mmm, me too." His lips moved to your shoulder as you felt heat rush to your core. You tilted your head and rested it on his shoulder when his hands moved lower, teasing the skin above your thighs.

"Trent please.." you whimpered, voice filled with desperation. “I need you.” His fingers immediately found their way between your legs, slipping inside you in a slow and deliberate motion. You gasped, clutching his arm to steady yourself as he curled his fingers inside of you with the perfect rhythm.

“You like that?” Trent whispered against your ear in a low and erotic voice, clearly enjoying the way your body reacted to his fingers. You moaned softly, biting your lip as you nodded. “Y-yesss.” 

His other hand slid up to cup your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple sending sparks of fire coursing through you. “You’re so wet for me, baby,” he said, moving his fingers faster and deeper. 

You moaned in response, your body arching into his touch as the water streamed over both of you. The tension in your core tightened and you could feel yourself teetering on the brink of seventh heaven. Just as you were getting close to falling over the edge, a sudden thought blared in your mind—the shop.

Your eyes flew open, a sudden panic rising in your chest. 

Fuck, did I turn off the equiptment?! 

Your mind started racing as the anxiety came in full throttle. You hated when this happened. Always thinking about the next thing, especially right now, frustrated the hell out of you. Trent felt your body tense up and his hand immediately froze in place. “Shit..did I hurt you? I'm sorry.”

“No, no,” you quickly reassured him. “I think I forgot to turn something off at Love Notes. I need to go check, like right now.”

Trent stared at you, looking like he was caught between desire and confusion. “Now???”

“Yes, now! I can’t leave it on overnight.” you said, pulling away as you stepped out to quickly dry off and get dressed. Trent sighed, running his hand over his neck. “Only you would remember that right now, Y/N.”

“Sorry,” you mouthed, feeling guilty for letting your mind ruin the moment.

By the time you arrived at Les Notes d'Amour it was late, really late. The streets were basically empty and the shop was dark with the exception of dim lighting that illuminated the displays. You headed straight back to where the equipment was, relief washing over you when you saw nothing had gone wrong. The machinery had been off the entire time. You took a deep breath, double checking everything again to make sure you weren’t losing your mind. Trent stood nearby, leaning on the doorframe and looking completely relaxed like always. “Better?”

“Much better. Thanks for coming with me” you smiled, feeling the weight lift off your shoulders.

“No problem..” he said, stepping closer. “now since we’re here..”

You raised your eyebrow, curious. “What??” 

He grinned, a familiar glint of mischief dancing in his eyes. “How about we make that aftershave we talked about?”

“Right now? You’re serious?”

“Yeah,” he said, leaning against the counter. “We’re already here anyway. Let's do it.”

You rolled your eyes playfully as you grabbed your perfume diary and some of your favorite oils. You immediately went into your element, gathering ingredients as Trent wandered around the shop. He occasionally picked up a bottle, sniffing it with curiosity.

“So..” he said, coming to stand next to you, “whatcha got?”

You explained the process as you went along, handing him different oils to smell. He made a funny face at some, but others seemed to catch his interest. You walked him through the idea of base notes, heart notes, and top notes. “I want something warm,” Trent said confidently. “Not too heavy, a little fresh.” You nodded, pulling together ingredients based on his preferences. “How about lavender? It's light and fresh. We can mix it with something like apple and spice for warmth.” While working, you mixed in a note of vanilla, cedar, and sandalwood to round the scent out—it was smooth yet bold as a testament to his calm confidence. While you were busy scribbling the formula down on a sticky note, Trent wandered over with a pen, flipping to a blank page in your notebook to write a note. 

He started doodling in soft strokes as he sketched a small eclipse. The delicate lines formed a shadow of the moon crossing in front of the sun. He hesitated for a second before writing the words that had been on his mind since Paris.

I want you for as long as the stars shine. - T

You were still mixing oils on the far end of the room looking like a mad scientist. He glanced over at you to make sure you were still distracted as he closed the notebook, hiding his little secret for you to find later. When you turned back around, Trent was leaning against the counter looking too innocent. You raised your eyebrow, knowing something was up. “What are you up to?”

“Nothing,” he said with a cheeky grin spreading across his face. “Just letting my girl work her magic.” You narrowed your eyes playfully, still smiling. “I know you’re up to no good..” You eyed him suspiciously but decided to let it slide. “Okay sneaky, what do you think of the scent?” Trent took a deep breath, taking in the warm fragrance.

“Oh nah..what is this..?” he yelped, pulling the bottle away from his face dramatically. Your heart sank for a millisecond before you saw the corners of his mouth twitching. He was just fucking with you.

“Stop fucking around,” you said, rolling you eyes. “You're the worst liar ever.”

He started cracking up before pulling you into a quick hug. “You got me. But nah..you did amazing. I love it.” You pulled away from him, crossing your arms as you pretended to be annoyed. In reality, you were loving the way he was hyping you up. “You're so annoying, I swear.”

“Yeah, a little bit,” he grinned, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “What are we going to name it?”

You paused, thinking for a moment before looking at the bottle. This part of the process was the most fun, naming your creation to describe the meaning beyond the bottle. “What about Rêveur?” you asked, the name rolling off your tongue easily. 

“What’s that?” he asked inquisitively. 

“Dreamer,” you replied with a soft smile. “It's perfect for you. You already made so many of your dreams come true.” Trent was silent but when he finally spoke, his voice lost its usual playfulness. “Hmm..Rêveur..” he repeated as he nodded. “I like that. Dreamer..yeah, that's perfect.”

As the name hung in the air, Trent set the bottle aside as his eyes darkened with admiration..and something more primal. You barely finished naming the scent before his arms were circling around your waist, his lips ghosting over your neck. “You're amazing, you know?” You opened your mouth to respond but your words were caught in your throat as his lips claimed yours in a hungry kiss. His hands roamed your body as he walked you backward until your body hit the display counter. Your perfume bottles rattled but you didn't care, all you could focus on was the heat pooling between your legs, the sensation of his touch, his lips moving from your mouth to your neck, then lower, lower...

“Trent..” you gasped, gripping the edge of the counter. He pulled back, dropping to his knees with confidence. “You made something for me, yeah? I think I need to reward you.”

Your pulse quickened as his hands slid up your thighs, pulling off the tiny shorts you had thrown on after your shower earlier. He hooked his fingers under your panties and dragged them down agonisingly slow before locking his eyes on yours, daring you to stop him.

You couldn't think clearly around this man, so there was no way you were stopping him. In fact, you needed him to keep going, and quickly.

“You deserve this,” he whispered as he kissed your inner thigh, sending a chill through you. His words made your breath hitch, but then his mouth was on you and you felt your whole world tilt. His tongue moved in perfect rhythm, flicking, teasing, and sucking until your knees buckled. You gripped the counter for support, gasping his name as he held you in place. Every stroke of his tongue brought you closer to ecstasy.

“F-fuck, that feels so good,” you could barely get the words out due to his tongue’s relentless assault on your pussy. He hummed against you and the vibrations had you seeing stars. His hands gripped your thighs tighter to hold you steady. You could feel the pressure twisting, tightening, building until you couldn't take it anymore. You were teetering on the edge of a devastatingly perfect orgasm as your body begged for release. He pulled back just enough to murmur against your skin, “Let go, baby. I wanna taste you when you cum.”

You arched your back against the counter, moaning his name as your orgasm tore through you like a wildfire. It was so intense that it was almost unbearable, but he didn't stop. His tongue was working you through the aftershocks to draw out every bit of pleasure until you were completely undone. When he finally pulled away, he rose to his feet with a cocky grin.

“Best aftershave I ever made,” you panted, trying to catch your breath.

Trent laughed, cupping your chin with his hands as he murmured against your lips, deep with affection. “Thank you.”

No. Thank YOU, you thought to yourself.

The way he looked at you made your heart race, but your mind started racing too as the warmth of the moment faded. A feeling of uneasiness stirred inside you. For a second you smiled at him, but the weight of everything you hadn't told him yet crept up and threatened to pull you down like a rip current. If you were going to have something real with him, you needed to be completely honest. He needed to know the truth. 

About you. About everything.

“Trent..” you began in a shaky voice. You pulled away, gesturing around the room. “This...all of this..is like my baby. It's the only thing I've ever truly had control over in my life.”

His brow furrowed, sensing the shift in your mood. “What do you mean?”

You ran a hand through your hair, sighing as you tried to find the right words. “I wasn't always like this. Successful, I mean. I almost lost all of it. Everything I built...all of this.” You gestured around the room again. “Because of him.”

“..Who?”

“My ex,” you spoke quietly, not wanting his name to linger on your tongue at all. “He was older..successful, charming..all of that. It was everything I thought I wanted, well–everything my parents wanted for me.” You swallowed thickly, the memories rushing back like ghosts haunting you.

“I thought the ups and downs were just a part of starting something new, y'know? I thought the struggles were normal but they weren't. He sabotaged me.” Trent's jaw clenched as he sat up straighter, turning his full attention to you. “He didn't want me to have something of my own,” you continued, your voice trembling. “He wanted a young trophy wife..someone he could parade around with at events. He seemed so established..so powerful. I guess I was drawn to that.”

Trent's hand tensed on your leg, “What did he do?”

The words started spilling out before you could stop them. “He fucked everything up. He stole some of my clients and pulled them into his failing business ventures. He shared ideas I was working on with competitors..he wanted to destroy me. He hated that I had ‘Love Notes’. He wanted me to feel like I needed him.” You paused as the bitter taste of the memory made your throat tight. “And I was so stupid..I stayed. Because my parents were so proud of me for being with him. They thought he was perfect. They wanted me to have this perfect life and if I walked away..I knew they'd be disappointed.”

He nodded, silently giving you more time to open up at your own pace.

You could feel tears welling up but you pushed them back. “I thought I had to keep up appearances because it was what everyone expected. Every day I stayed..I lost more of myself. My business was crumbling..my confidence didn't exist. And I didn't even realize it was because of him.” You paused, taking a deep breath. “It wasn't until Camille stepped in that I really started to see how fucked everything was. She saw right through him and hated him from the start…but she never pushed me. She just waited until I was ready.”

Trent looked at you with a mix of concern and admiration. He was being so patient with you. “Camille pulled every string she could to get me away from him. She cut off every business tie he had. Her family–they're connected in ways I don't even fully understand myself..but they made sure he wouldn't come near me again.” 

To be honest, they were the only reason your life wasn’t in shambles right now. 

“I owe her everything,” you admitted quietly. 

“Camille is a real one,” Trent said quietly, still taking in what you had just told him.

“Yeah, she is,” you agreed. “She warned me not to fall too fast for you but–” Trent's eyes softened as he pulled you into him. “I'm not him, Y/N. You don't have to worry about that. He sounds like a piece of shit.”

“I know..but it's hard,” you whispered, feeling the comfort of his words wash over you. “I have this fear that I'm not enough. Like–I'm going to mess everything up. And you're...you. You made all your dreams come true and I'm trying to keep my head above water half the time.”

Trent's thumb moved to your cheek, wiping away a tear that fell down. “Nah, it's not like that,” he said quietly. “I feel pressure constantly. Everyone expects me to win every match, be the best on and off the pitch. I feel like I'm not enough sometimes too.” You didn't really expect him to open up like this, at least not right now. You didn't know he felt the same kind of weight you carried. “You don't show it,” you muttered. "You always seem so confident like you have it all together.”

He smiled but there was a hint of sadness in his brown eyes. “Yeah, I'm good at hiding it. I have to be. Can't show your weakness when the whole world is watching.”

“I just don't want to lose myself,” you admitted in a small voice. “I can't go through that again.” Trent pulled you into a warm embrace to ground you. “I’m not going to hurt you Y/N. Just tell me what you need and I'll give it to you.”

“I want to believe that, but I'm scared of what it means to be with you. I'm scared of messing up and not being enough for you.” Trent kissed your cheek, continuing to hold you close to him. “You don't need to be perfect Y/N. I don't need that..I just need you.” For a moment, you stayed wrapped in his arms as the weight of what was said filled the room. “You won't lose yourself,” he whispered. “Not with me.”

Maybe Trent was right. You clawed your way out of hell a year and a half ago. Despite your short time together, he made you feel something no one else ever had, especially not your god awful ex. Trent wanted you to believe you deserved every little good thing coming your way. He wanted you to see yourself the way others did, and he wasn't going to stop until you finally saw it too.

The drive back to your place was quiet but not awkward; both of you needed a minute to process everything. Trent's hand rested on it's usual place–your thigh. Every once in a while he would give your leg a reassuring squeeze to remind you he was right there and not going anywhere. You glanced at him, noticing his brow was furrowed like he was deep in thought. He seemed like he was mulling over everything you told him and it made you feel vulnerable..but it felt safe. You were thankful you didn't have to speak right now, both of you just existing in comfortable silence together after a heavy conversation.

Meanwhile, Trent's brain was running a mile a minute. What you told him about your ex had him fuming, he couldn't believe someone would do that to you. He didn't show it though. He knew how evil some people could be, and the fact that someone nearly made you lose everything made his stomach turn. And then there was the pressure he knew all too well–the public eye. He was used to it, but the idea of you facing that kind of attention made him want to wrap you in bubble wrap. He was protective.. maybe more than he should have been, but it was clear he didn't want anyone to hurt you again..not even him.

“Are you okay?” you asked quietly, breaking the silence. He glanced at you with his hand still resting on your thigh. “Yeah, I'm just thinking.”

“Thinking about???”

“You,” he admitted in a soft voice. “You're strong for getting out of that mess and building a life for yourself.” You swallowed, throat tight with emotion. “But Camille, she–”

“Yeah, I know,” he cut you off gently. “You didn't let him win though, and that says a lot about who you are as a person.” You didn't know how to respond to his statement so you just nodded, feeling your chest warm up at his words.

As you stepped inside your apartment, the quietness of the night settled around you. Trent followed close behind, which made everything feel more secure. You turned to face him, feeling the weight of everything you shared earlier. “Tonight was a lot,” you said, giving him a tired smile. He nodded, stepping closer. “Yeah, maybe. But I'm glad you told me.” 

You sighed, feeling exhaustion hit you at once. “You needed to know.” His hands found your waist and pulled you into him, “I’m still not going anywhere, Y/N.” You rested your head against his chest, letting his heartbeat soothe your thoughts. “I'm so sleepy,” you muttered against his shirt. “Let's get some sleep then, yeah? It’s late,” he said softly, guiding you to the bed. 

Once you climbed in, you fell asleep nearly instantly as Trent wrapped his arm protectively around you. Your phones were still pinging with notifications, they never really stopped honestly. Trent glanced at the screen as more people pieced together your 'soft launch'—if you could even call it that. He smirked to himself, shaking his head at the chaos that ensued tonight. He reached over gently, grabbing both phones and put them on silent.

While the two of you rested, the world outside hadn't stopped. The internet sleuths were in full force, your phones pinging silently as notifications poured in. The aftermath of tonight's not-so-subtle soft launch had the internet working overtime, piecing together clues you didn't realize were even there.

@.TarotQueenMystic Just pulled some cards for Trent and Y/N: ‘The Lovers’, ‘The Tower’, and ‘Nine of Swords’. This connection is seriously intense but they're about to hit a turning point. ‘The Lovers’ card shows a true deep bond..but ‘The Tower’? That's a warning. Something is about to shake up their world for sure. ‘Nine of Swords’ shows some sleepless nights ahead. Things are definitely going to go up in smoke before they get better! Something or someone could bring it all down, but it’s all a part of the universe’s plan. Stay tuned 🔮✨

@.FanFicReality ngl it feels like we’re being edged bc wtf is this supposed to mean? hello???

@.premierleagueprincess i was today years old when i realised i need a tarot reader on speed dial for my ship omg!!

@.LFCQueen Not the tower card...ain’t that the one where everything goes to shit? 😳

@.soccerchicTX I knew something felt cosmic about them! The lovers card is fate babes. They’re endgame if they can get through this

@.TuberosaConspiracy Omg guys Y/N uses tuberose in almost every collection. It’s all about intense love and dangerous attraction. Coincidence? I think NOT!!!

@.ImTalkingToYouReaders Tuberose means WHAT?!! We’ve been sleeping on these perfume easter eggs!!

im glad y’all told me u wanted angst bc now i’m feeling a bit chaotic 🥳

thank you for reading! 💌

[geotjwrs]

can you do a Sabrina Carpenter x Male Reader where he (R) ask her to marry him at one of her concerts

short 'n sweet

Pairings ; Sabrina Carpenter x Male!Reader

Warning/s ; none

The crowd buzzed with excitement as Sabrina stepped back onto the stage, her silhouette glowing against the bright lights. The energy in the arena was palpable, a sea of excited fans eagerly awaiting the next song. Sabrina’s smile was warm as she waved at her audience, feeding off their enthusiasm, but tonight was special for more than just her fans. She had a surprise planned for one person in particular—someone who had no idea what was coming.

Y/N stood in the front row, his heart pounding. He had always loved watching Sabrina perform, the way she could light up a stage with her voice and her presence. But tonight felt different. Sabrina had invited him to this concert personally, and while he thought it was just a sweet gesture, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more. He was about to find out just how right he was.

Sabrina grabbed the microphone, her smile turning playful as the band quieted behind her. The crowd settled, sensing something unexpected was about to happen.

“So, I’ve got a little surprise for you all tonight,” Sabrina began, her voice carrying a hint of mischief. The crowd murmured in curiosity, leaning in to catch her next words.

She glanced over at Y/N, her eyes twinkling as if she were holding back a secret. He felt his breath catch in his throat, the noise of the crowd fading as her gaze lingered on him for just a second longer than usual.

“There’s someone really important to me here tonight,” she said, walking to the edge of the stage. Her voice softened, and the atmosphere shifted as if the arena itself was leaning in to listen.

The lights followed her as she stepped down, her hand outstretched toward the front row. The crowd erupted in cheers, but Y/N’s heart nearly stopped when he realized she was heading straight for him. Sabrina smiled, locking eyes with him as she reached out her hand.

“Y/N, would you come up here with me?” she asked, her voice sweet but with a hint of excitement.

The crowd’s cheers grew louder as Y/N, feeling his palms grow sweaty, took her hand. This was unexpected. His heart pounded in his chest as he looked into Sabrina’s eyes, trying to figure out what was going on. She just smiled warmly, her touch steadying him as she pulled him toward the stage.

Security parted the way, and before he knew it, Y/N was being ushered up to the platform. The bright lights were almost blinding, but all he could focus on was Sabrina, her presence calming the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside him.

Sabrina led him to a small stool placed center stage, turning to the crowd with a grin that made the entire arena feel like an intimate gathering. “Alright, guys, this one’s for someone very special.”

The crowd exploded into cheers and applause, but Y/N barely heard it. His entire world had shrunk down to Sabrina standing in front of him, her smile glowing under the spotlight. He sat down, still holding her hand, feeling the rush of adrenaline mixed with confusion and excitement.

Sabrina gave him a soft smile, her eyes locked with his for a moment before she turned back to the microphone.

“Y/N,” she began, “you’ve been such a huge part of my life, and tonight, I wanted to do something just for you. So, I’m going to sing you a little song.”

Y/N’s breath caught in his throat. He had been to so many of her concerts, watched her perform countless times, but this was different. This wasn’t Sabrina Carpenter, the pop star. This was Sabrina, the person he loved, sharing something personal and intimate with him in front of thousands of people.

The guitar strummed softly behind her, the melody slow and sweet. The lights dimmed, leaving the stage bathed in a warm, soft glow. Sabrina began to sing, her voice tender and full of emotion.

It wasn’t one of her hit singles or something that had made the charts. This was something new, something Y/N had never heard before. Her voice floated through the arena, the lyrics delicate and heartfelt. Each word seemed to speak directly to him, telling the story of their time together, the moments that had brought them closer.

The audience fell into a hushed silence, the magic of the moment settling over everyone as Sabrina poured her heart into the song. Her eyes never left his, as if the entire world had vanished and it was just the two of them, alone in the universe.

Y/N could feel the tears prickling at the corners of his eyes, overwhelmed by the love and sincerity in her voice. She was laying her soul bare in front of thousands of people, but all he could think about was how lucky he was to have someone like her in his life.

The song reached its final verse, the melody fading gently as Sabrina’s voice softened to a whisper. The last note lingered in the air, a beautiful, lingering echo of the love they shared. The crowd erupted into applause, but Y/N barely heard it. His chest felt tight with emotion, his heart so full it could burst.

Sabrina took a step closer to him, reaching out her hand. He stood up, taking it, and she pulled him into a gentle hug. “You liked it?” she whispered in his ear, her voice shaky with nerves.

Y/N pulled back just enough to look into her eyes. “That was incredible,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re incredible.”

Sabrina blushed, her smile shy in a way that made Y/N’s heart flutter. They were still standing center stage, the crowd cheering around them, but for that moment, it felt like it was just the two of them, wrapped in their own little bubble of love.

Y/N was overwhelmed. His heart was pounding not just from the concert, not just from the song, but from the realization that he didn’t want to wait any longer. He had carried the velvet box in his pocket for weeks now, waiting for the perfect moment. And now, standing here with Sabrina, bathed in the warmth of the crowd’s love and the intimacy of her song, he knew this was it.

Without thinking, Y/N reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the small velvet box. Sabrina, still holding his hand, felt him pull away slightly. When she turned to look at him, her eyes widened in shock.

The crowd went silent as Y/N dropped to one knee, the bright lights illuminating him as he held the box open in front of Sabrina. The ring sparkled under the stage lights, but all Y/N could see was the look of pure surprise and love on her face.

“Sabrina,” he began, his voice steady despite the emotions coursing through him, “I wasn’t planning this tonight. But after hearing you sing that song, after standing here with you, I realized I don’t want to wait any longer.”

Tears welled in Sabrina’s eyes as she looked down at him, her hand flying to cover her mouth in shock.

“You’ve brought so much joy, so much light into my life,” Y/N continued, his heart racing. “I love you more than words can express. I want to spend the rest of my life making you as happy as you’ve made me. So, Sabrina Annlynn Carpenter, will you marry me?”

For a moment, time stood still. The crowd was silent, holding its collective breath as everyone waited for Sabrina’s response. Y/N felt the world pause, his heart pounding in his chest as he looked up at her, his love for her written in every line of his face.

Sabrina stared down at him, her eyes wide with emotion, her hand trembling as she pulled it away from her mouth. A single tear slipped down her cheek, and then, with a shaky laugh, she nodded.

“Yes,” she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion. “Yes, of course I’ll marry you.”

The arena exploded into cheers, the noise almost deafening as Y/N slipped the ring onto her finger. He stood up, pulling her into his arms as the crowd roared around them. Sabrina laughed through her tears, her arms wrapped tightly around him as if she never wanted to let go.

“You did it,” she whispered in his ear, her voice trembling with joy.

Y/N pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, his hand gently brushing a tear from her cheek. “I had to. I love you too much not to.”

Sabrina smiled, her eyes shining with happiness as she leaned in, pressing her lips to his in a soft, tender kiss. The crowd cheered even louder, but all Y/N could feel was the warmth of her lips, the softness of her touch, and the overwhelming sense of love that surrounded them.

When they finally pulled apart, Sabrina turned back to the microphone, still holding Y/N’s hand tightly in hers. She laughed, wiping at her tears as she waved to the crowd.

“Well,” she said, her voice full of joy, “I guess we just gave you all a little more than you expected tonight.”

The crowd erupted into laughter and applause, and Sabrina turned back to Y/N, her smile radiant.

“This is the best night of my life,” she whispered, her eyes filled with love as she looked up at him.

Y/N smiled, pulling her close again. “Mine too,” he whispered back. “And it’s only the beginning.”

[minminbunny]

Stalker X Stalker AU - Lurker! Han Jisung/Exhibitionist Gender Neutral! Reader

*smut part - AFAB/AMAB

💕Drabble Masterlist

❤️Ultimate Masterlist

You furrowed your eyebrows, walking down the stairs to open your front door. The doorbell rang but when you opened it, no one was there. Only a pretty little box sat on your welcome mat. You looked around and picked it up, your name was written on the tag. 'Can't be wrong address then,' you thought, bringing the box in. You tugged on the ribbon and opened it. Your heart sank at the contents, a bloody letter. 

At least what you initially thought was blood, there wasn't a familiar metallic smell, it smelled closer to strawberry jam. You took a whiff and it was indeed strawberry jam. You stifled a chuckle and placed the letter aside, further within the box was a quokka plush, and it smelled like cologne. You brought it to your nose and melted, deep subtle musky, more floral than anything. "This isn't so bad," you murmured, looking deeper within the box, only to find a bracelet, it had a singular charm. It was about time you checked the letter, it wrote:

"To my precious love,

If you're reading this, you received my gift. I may have been eating a jelly sandwich while thinking of what to write. I hope the gifts are to your liking. The bracelet is incomplete, but don't worry. This isn't the only gift. One day it'll be complete with me by your side.

Yours Truly,

J.One"

You stared at the alias, trying to figure out who your secret admirer is. Maybe he's near, maybe he's long distance, you would never know. You held the quokka plush close, "I hope to see you too," you whispered, stroking the fur. Jisung gulped, watching the whole unboxing through a video camera he installed around the house. The cameras were installed during the previous tenant and they didn't tell you. 

It was a surprise to him when he saw you move in. His heart pounded, his pupils dilated, it was love at first sight. Even through a PC screen. Jisung released a shaky breath, relieved that you liked the gift. He already had them planned to send out on specific days "Wait for me, baby. I'll be there at the end of all of this," he whispered, watching you with a lovesick gaze. 

You knew there were cameras but you didn't bother to turn them off. You liked being watched, liked pretending you were in a show like the office where the camera pans to the person. It was fun, and you had access to them too, so it did serve as a security feature. The one in your bedroom was odd but it only spurred on your filthy desires. 

You wanted to be on display but being a cam person or an only fans model might hinder your working experience. It was a risk you weren't willing to take. You plopped yourself onto the bed, quokka plush in arms as you looked into the camera, "I know you're watching me," you feint afraid, clutching the quokka close. "Are you J.One?" you asked, knowing you wouldn't get a response. 

You plopped on the bed, "If you are then you'd know I liked the gifts. Would rather have you here though," you mumbled, feeling touch starved after all these years. "You know, I used to wish that the monster under my bed was real so I could get cuddles. It was desperate but the offer still stands," you said, showing a bit of your true intentions. Jisung gulped, hearing your sweet voice address you directly, "Soon, my love. I'll give you what you need soon," he said, grazing your cheek on the screen.

Day after day a new box arrived at your door. Each day brought a different charm, a guitar, a music note, a knife, a coffee cup. Today was just another day where you unbox your gift,  the bracelet stayed around your wrist like a physical claim. You didn't want to take it off and Jisung loved hearing the click clacks of the charms when you walked around the house. "Pretty," you whispered, tracing the letter in your hands. Jisung got more diligent with his letter decorating after knowing that you kept it in your safekeeping box. The letter read:

"To my darling love,

I hope the day finds you well. You looked absolutely adorable with your little bracelet. Wouldn't you like to imagine me pinning you down while the jingle with each thrust? I fantasize a lot, my dear. The gift today is a bit more mature to say, if you're comfortable. I'll be honored to see you in it.

Your love,

J.One"

You gulped at thought, your breathing getting shallow as you looked deeper into the box. Your breath hitched as you took it up, a skimpy lacy lingerie. A simple slip on lingerie that didn't hide much to the imagination. You looked deeper into the box and found a pair of animal ears and a tail. A soft scoff escaped your lips, "You bastard," you smiled, holding it up to the camera. 

"Kinky aren't you?" you teased, rolling your eyes. You held the outfit in your hands, "I'll wear them, on one condition," you said, crossing your arms. Jisung smirked, willing to do whatever you asked. You bit your bottom lip, "Call me, please. It's scary if I play alone, J.One," you sulked, jutting you lips in attempt to swoon him. Jisung gulped, his cock throbbed at the sight. Your pretty gaze made his mind spin. 

He clicked on your contact, it was already saved to 'My Love'. You flinched when your phone rang, you didn't expect him to comply, "Hello?" you asked, nervousness evident on your face. Jisung chuckled, sending shivers down your spine, "I'm weak to a doll like you. One pity gaze and I'm on my knees, darling. Are you happy to hear my voice?" he asked, loving the way you pressed your thighs together. 

You nodded your head, knowing he's watching, "Yes. You sound great. I'm glad to put a voice to the name," you said, hands trembling from excitement. Jisung cooed, "I'm happy you like my voice, doll. Now, why don't you get changed, hm? Let me see you in that pretty outfit I chose," he encouraged, palming his cock with his other hand. You nodded and did as told, changing into the skimpy lingerie with it's accessories. 

Jisung looked away from the camera, not wanting to ruin his own surprise, "May I look now, love?" he asked, trying to keep his moans subtle. "Take a look," you said, bashfully showing him the outfit. Jisung groaned, squeezing his bulge at the sight, "Fuck, baby. You look stunning. Come on, give me a twirl," he instructed, tugging down his pants. You did as told and bit your bottom lip, "Can we go play now?" you asked, eager to touch yourself. Jisung hissed, letting his cock spring against his abdomen, "Of course, darling. Give me a show," he chuckled, watching you trip over your feet as you scurried up the stairs.

NSFW BELOW CUT

AFAB

"Spread your legs further, that's it," he instructed, watching you thrust your dildo in and out of your tight fluttering cunt. He zoomed the camera in, ensuring a 4K view. You arched your back, thrusting the toy to his commands, the pillow beneath your ass gave him a better view. "Hah, hah, hhgh," you gasped, pumping the toy at a languid pace. You needed more, your body craved more as you listened to Jisung's throaty groans. 

"That's it, take it slow. You're doing so mmh good for me, darling," thrusting his hips within his flashlight in sync with yours. You whimpered at the squelching audio echo within your ears, "Need faster, J. Please," you hiccuped, clenching around the dildo just to feel more. 

Jisung chuckled, "I can't torture my baby doll too long. Pick up the pace, darling. Pound your cunt like you normally would, Show how fucking good that cunt of yours take cock," he growled, hearing your broken whines and moans as you twist and thrust the dildo at a relentless pace. It was raw, needy and desperate. Just the way you loved it. 

Jisung groaned, bucking his hips to match your pace, "Shit, shit, hah. Rub your clit, love. Fuck, hhgh, cum with me," he grits, pounding the fleshight as rough as you were, his eyes glued to the screen when you screamed out his name. "Fuck, fuck, Jisung!" you sobbed, creaming around your dildo. Jisung choked on his breath, cumming into the toy with little to no resistance, "Fuck," he gasped,  filling up the flashlight with his orgasm. 

You whimpered, thrusting the dildo to ease down your high, "Jisung," you mewled, staring into the camera. Jisung gulped, slumping back into his seat, "Tell me, doll. How do you know my name?" he asked, brushing his hair back. You gave him a dopey smile, "I knew since the beginning, Han. I always knew," you said, reaching your hand beneath your pillow to pull out his missing boxers. Jisung chuckled, resting his head on the desk, "Fuck, love. You got me all hard again," he growled, staring at the screen. You bit your bottom lip, "Good, 'cause I'm ready for round 2," you giggled, giving him a flying kiss.

AMAB

"Spread your legs further, that's it," he instructed, watching you thrust your dildo in and out of your tight fluttering hole. He zoomed the camera in, ensuring a 4K view. You arched your back, thrusting the toy to his commands, the pillow beneath your ass gave him a better view. "Hah, hah, hhgh," you gasped, pumping the toy at a languid pace. You needed more, your body craved more as you listened to Jisung's throaty groans. 

"That's it, take it slow. You're doing so mmh good for me, darling," thrusting his hips within his flashlight in sync with yours. You whimpered at the squelching audio echo within your ears, "Need faster, J. Please," you hiccuped, clenching around the dildo just to feel more. 

Jisung chuckled, "I can't torture my baby doll too long. Pick up the pace, darling. Pound your hole like you normally would, Show how fucking good that hole of yours take cock," he growled, hearing your broken whines and moans as you twist and thrust the dildo at a relentless pace. It was raw, needy and desperate. Just the way you loved it. 

Jisung groaned, bucking his hips to match your pace, "Shit, shit, hah. Rub your cockhead, love. Fuck, hhgh, cum with me," he grits, pounding the fleshight as rough as you were, his eyes glued to the screen when you screamed out his name. "Fuck, fuck, Jisung!" you sobbed, creaming onto your torso. Jisung choked on his breath, cumming into the toy with little to no resistance, "Fuck," he gasped,  filling up the flashlight with his orgasm. 

You whimpered, thrusting the dildo to ease down your high, "Jisung," you mewled, staring into the camera. Jisung gulped, slumping back into his seat, "Tell me, doll. How do you know my name?" he asked, brushing his hair back. You gave him a dopey smile, "I knew since the beginning, Han. I always knew," you said, reaching your hand beneath your pillow to pull out his missing boxers. Jisung chuckled, resting his head on the desk, "Fuck, love. You got me all hard again," he growled, staring at the screen. You bit your bottom lip, "Good, 'cause I'm ready for round 2," you giggled, giving him a flying kiss.

[fangirlynjunk]

You know I think I want to like put into words my interpretation of TGWDLM as its stands and after the Hatchetverse has had way more content because I'm sure if I saw it stand alone and not AFTER I'd seen Nerdy Prudes I'd have a different feeling, and I saw someone's post that got me thinking

I think for whatever reason Pokotho took an interest in Paul, maybe because of CCRP, maybe he was one of the many born with the gift. I wouldn't be surprised if Paul is actually so averse to musicals because some part of his soul knows and fears Pokotho and therefore fears musicals because they feel/look like a hivemind to him.

So Pokotho took everything Paul knew away slowly. His job, where he spent most of his time. Beanie's, the place he visited every day to see Emma. Charlotte, one of his friends, Alice the kid he used to babysit, his best friend Bill, his new ally MacNamara, then Ted. All of Hatchetfield, the place Paul always loved despite it's flaws.

But not Emma, Pokotho let Paul keep Emma to let him have false hope maybe. Or maybe because somehow Paul was keeping her safe, but either way Emma survived. And I think maybe that was just a cruel way to both lord over how he won in the end to Emma (and Paul, if Paul was still in there), or as a sort of reference to when Emma asked Paul if she was the villain of his life. (and he very tenderly said 'I don't think your a villian Emma' and my heart swelled and I sincerely believe that made Emma fall in love with him because she was always the bad kid and here was Paul breaking that expectation just like how Pete always affirms to Steph that she's smarter then she thinks she is you see what I'm saying?)

Emma wasn't the villain to Paul's life, but she was to Pokotho's plans. I'm still VERY sure if Emma and Paul had the time to develop their relationship in TGWDLM that they could have saved each other, at least. I doubt a happy ending would happen, but they could have at least defeat Pokotho temporarily.

Paul always saw the good in Hatchetfield, something the Lords in Black hate.

I also find it interesting that Prof Hidgens COULD easily be a Pokotho minion but Pokotho only ever seems kind of interested in using him? Like, he was ready and willing so fast in TGWDLM but Pokotho couldn't care less. And in Workin' Boys (assuming the lighting was a clue) I really just think Pokotho took offense to the reworked script or was bored and happens to like hanging out at the theater because... well its Pokotho.

[naughtystiel]

Wolf in sheep's clothing

[singingachorus]

forest makes my heart hurt. like bad.

[imaginarypasta]

literally there is no point to asking someone “are you ok with this” if you’re not going to be cool if the answer is no!!

[ketchuppee]

During the 2008 recession, my aunt lost her job. Her, her partner, and my three cousins moved across the country to stay with us while they got back on their feet. My house turned from a family of four to a family of nine overnight, complete with three dogs and five cats between us.

It took a few years for them to get a place of their own, but after a few rentals and apartments, they now own a split level ranch in a town nearby. I’ve lost track of how many coworkers and friends have stayed with them when they were in a tight spot. A mother and son getting out of an abusive relationship, a divorcee trying to stay local for his kids while they work out a custody agreement, you name it. My aunt and uncle knew first hand what that kindness meant, and always find space for someone who needed it, the way my parents had for them.

That same aunt and uncle visited me in [redacted] city last year. They are prolific drinkers, so we spent most of the day bar hopping. As we wandered the city, any time we passed a homeless person, my uncle would pull out a fresh cigarette and ask them if they had a light. Regardless of if they had a lighter on hand or not, he offered them a few bucks in exchange, which he explained to me after was because he felt it would be easier for them to accept in exchange for a service, no matter how small.

I work for a company that produces a lot of fabric waste. Every few weeks, I bring two big black trash bags full of discarded material over to a woman who works down the hall. She distributes them to local churches, quilting clubs, and teachers who can use them for crafts. She’s currently in the process of working with our building to set up a recycling program for the smaller pieces of fabric that are harder to find use for.

One of my best friends gives monthly donations to four or five local organizations. She’s fortunate enough to have a tech job that gives her a good salary, and she knows that a recurring donation is more valuable to a non-profit because they can rely on that money month after month, and can plan ways to stretch that dollar for maximum impact. One of those organizations is a native plant trust, and once she’s out of her apartment complex and in a home with a yard, she has plans to convert it into a haven of local flora.

My partner works for a company that is working to help regulate crypto and hold the current bad actors in the space accountable for their actions. We unfortunately live in a time where technology develops far too fast for bureaucracy to keep up with, but just because people use a technology for ill gain doesn’t mean the technology itself is bad. The blockchain is something that she finds fascinating and powerful, and she is using her degree and her expertise to turn it into a tool for good.

I knew someone who always had a bag of treats in their purse, on the odd chance they came across a stray cat or dog, they had something to offer them.

I follow artists who post about every local election they know of, because they know their platform gives them more reach than the average person, and that they can leverage that platform to encourage people to vote in elections that get less attention, but in many ways have more impact on the direction our country is going to go.

All of this to say, there’s more than one way to do good in the world. Social media leads us to believe that the loudest, the most vocal, the most prolific poster is the most virtuous, but they are only a piece of the puzzle. (And if virtue for virtues sake is your end goal, you’ve already lost, but that’s a different post). Community is built of people leveraging their privileges to help those without them. We need people doing all of those things and more, because no individual can or should do all of it. You would be stretched too thin, your efforts valiant, but less effective in your ambition.

None of this is to encourage inaction. Identify your unique strengths, skills, and privileges, and put them to use. Determine what causes are important to you, and commit to doing what you can to help them. Collective action is how change is made, but don’t forget that we need diversity in actions taken.

[tender-rosiey]

How do you think sukuna would act with a baby girl?? The same as his son? Maybe a bit more soft since he reminds him of reader?

troublesome — ryomen sukuna x f!reader

a/n: i have something else in store for geto <3

sukuna never planned on becoming a parent, but then you became pregnant. he had two choices: kill the kid from now or let you give birth to it.

he spent a good couple of days deciding on what to do, until he finally made his mind and headed to your room, swiftly. there you were in all your glory, eyes snapping to your husband the moment he entered.

you smiled, standing up, “hey, sukuna.” then walked to him and placed a small kiss on his cheek.

he, however, said nothing and simply kept staring you down then he said a simple phrase, “the kid.”

your eyes widened, your thoughts jumbled, and your nerves were all over the place. still, you manage to get out a response, “what about it?”

he stayed silent, and it drove you over the edge. you needed him to say something—anything. will he let you have it, or will he kill it? he was never fond of kids, always killed them first in his raids. will your own child with him bear the same fate as the others he had slaughtered and even eaten?

is this a joke from the universe? you married the king of curses, and, therefore, your punishment is never getting to experience the joy of having kids? but even if he does end up choosing wanting to kill it, how will he—

“I will let you keep it.”

you never thought a simple sentence would induce so much happiness in you. you cup his face and  start showering him in kisses, and you unceasingly thank him, “thank you, sukuna! thank you so much!”

he grunts, hand resting on your waist, “just don’t cause me trouble, and it better be a boy.” he takes hold of your chin and makes you lock eyes with him, “I don’t want a whiny, slimy little girl.”

and because the world loves him so much, he was indeed graced with a whiny, slimy little girl.

the moment the woman announced that it’s a girl, your face paled, and your husband’s frown could’ve never been deeper. his eyes traced every action that happened from the cleaning of the baby to the little girl being nestled cozily in your arms.

she starts calming down when she feels the warmth of your skin against her own. slowly, her breathing evens out, and she falls into a deep slumber.

the servants rush out of the room, leaving you, your husband, and your newborn daughter.

you don’t know what to do: do you speak first or do you wait for him to do it? you keep searching his face for any positive emotion, something that would give you hope and make you forget about his sharp scowl.

he puts a hand out and orders, “hand her to me.”

your heart fell to your stomach. there’s nothing you could do. whatever he decided on was what will happen. you desperately wanted to hold her for a bit longer and to feel her comforting weight in your arms.

though, your husband got impatient, eyes sharply looking you in the eyes, and he glowered, “y/n.”

despite your heart screaming and trying to resist ever letting him touch a single hair on your baby, you shakily put her in his hand. she starts huffing, puffing, and squirming in his hold. fearing the worst, you squeezed your eyes shut.

you simply won’t be able to take witnessing your daughter’s slaughter with your very own eyes.

you expect to hear a slash, a little thud, but you’re met with nothing, just a groan from your husband as he mutters, “she is small.”

you blink owlishly then stare at him. he is slowly raising and lowering the hand—an attempt to rock her maybe—that has your baby in it. then, he situates her against his chest.

he looks up to you and states, “she is also ugly.”

frowning, you retort, “that’s because of your genes.”

your husband quirks an eyebrow, “you’re balantly insulting me even after I spared it?”

“her.”

“same difference.”

sukuna shuffles until he is seated beside you and silently pulls you into his embrace.

you just took notice of how he is trying to avoid touching her with his nails and how his hold on her is rather gentle. the little girl lets out a small sigh then snuggles into his chest. her dad copies her with a sigh of his own then he grunts, “not a single word.”

a small giddy giggle escapes you, and you nuzzle into his chest in turn. he squeezes you lightly, before scoffing, “or a sound.”

later on that day, after you were transferred into the master bedroom along with your daughter, you’re left to rest in the expansive bed with your daughter napping in the crib right under the window.

you thought the light might give her some sort of comfort—call it a mother’s instinct. you wanted her to grow up in the light, not to be sheltered and hidden in shadows. who knows if these shadows will devour whole or not.

but you will try your best to provide her with a normal life.

as you start to drift off to sleep, you take note of a large figure standing in front of the window. he is blocking the light from sky—at least the one from the window above her crib. quickly, you are able to define its features and identify that it’s—thank god—your husband.

he has this sort of contemplating look on his face, a solemn look, maybe a bit troubled too. he keeps staring at the sleeping baby as she takes small and slow breaths.

she is fragile, he knows. he also knows that a flick of his finger will end her right then and there.

but he finds his hand only capable of gently caressing her cheek, and a wave of shock is sent through him when his daughter leans toward his touch. his daughter. he heaves a sigh and a frown is etched onto his face.

this is going to be a troublesome journey.

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @sonder-paradise @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies@pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @kryscent @kunikida-simp @whoami-72 @mx-0-child @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu @nineooooo @chuuyasboots @alekssashka7 @rieejjyubi02 @satoryaa @nothisispatrick300 @fallencrescentmoon @etheviese @ho34gojo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @the-weeping-author @stray-npc @libbyistired @anon1412 @anakalana @maehemthemisfit @satorustar @b4nka1 @sad-darksoul @ko-fi-heart @pumpkindudeishere @suyaaachin @babyqueen17 @chaosguy352 @murakami-kotone @sukun4ryomen @yumieis @hearts4itoshi @sleepyxxhead @dunixxd @sleepycrybbylaiah @imjustaduckwholikesbread @emilyyyy-08 @spacebaby1 @arabellatreaty @viscade

copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

[starmocha]

but if it's forever, it's even better Sylus/Reader | 4610 words | AO3 “Did you just…say you were…ovulating?” A/N: I finally have a new proper desk again. And I decided to christen it by writing Sylus smut. MDNI.

Sylus had always made it explicitly known that his home was yours to do as you pleased. He had never once forbidden you from treading into any of the rooms, never once told you that you were not allowed to touch his belongings or use his staff as needed. In fact, he had actively encouraged you to make yourself at home, to treat his place as yours—a home away from home.

Yes, he had made this offer explicitly clear.

It still, however, did not prepare him for just how comfortable you had made yourself in his spare room.

Having awoken not too long ago, Sylus had originally planned to check in on his houseguest. A seemingly innocuous decision that somehow led to him standing outside the guest room, his hand gripping tightly the doorknob as he unwittingly listened to the faint buzzing noises inside the room, mixed with the wanton moans you were making.

“This…girl…” Sylus’ breath quickened, his hold on the doorknob unconsciously tightened, as his mind reeled with images of you shamelessly pleasuring yourself in one of his many beds. He knew he should leave you to…finish, but at the same time, the noises he was hearing was so enticing and sweet, like a siren’s song keeping him trapped in place.

He could hear the vibration adjusting to a different frequency, changing from quick, short bursts to an aggressive pulsation that made you moaned louder, voice reaching a new pitch. Sylus took a glance around the hallways, wondering to himself if you even realized that the walls here were in no way sound-proofed. However, if this was going to become a regular occurrence for your future visits, then perhaps, he should add that change to his home in the near future, Sylus thought wryly.

“Ah—what? No…fuck!”

The buzzing stopped abruptly and Sylus heard your immediate frustrated curse from behind the closed door. He smirked, realizing what might have happened.

He should leave.

However, he would rather mess with you instead—in more ways than one.

He gave three swift knocks, startling you immediately. “Battery died, sweetie?”

He laughed when he heard your mortified shriek.

“You heard?!”

“It’s my house,” he reminded you as if that was enough. “Let me in.”

“No!”

“Sweetie, I do have the keys to all of the rooms in this house,” he said calmly, smirking again when he heard your panicked shuffling inside the room, “I’ll come in one way or another—”

“Wait, wait, wait, wait!”

Sylus crossed his arms, shaking his head in amusement as he heard more panicked noises behind the door. Even he couldn’t imagine what state of mortification you were in. He blinked when he heard you let loose a string of curses as it sounded like items were being thrown haphazardly around. Just as he was about to speak again, the door swung opened and he stared down at you, wrapped carelessly in the bed comforter, face completely scarlet, and your breathing rapid and uneven—possibly as a result from your little private time, but more than likely it was a result of being caught by, of all people, the leader of Onychinus.

“Now I know I offered my home for you to use freely, but—”

“Oh, just get in here!” you quickly yanked Sylus by the arm into the bedroom, promptly shutting the door before anyone else could catch sight of the scene. You immediately locked the door again, turned around, and slid down the door in a state of absolute humiliation. You could barely bring yourself to look at Sylus in the eyes.

“I…I can explain…”

“Go ahead,” Sylus said, sitting down on the edge of the bed, legs crossed as he stared at your pitiful state. “I’d love to know why Miss Hunter decided to play with herself in my home—and not invite me to join in the fun.”

You glared at him.

“Sweetie, it’s very impolite to glare at the host who so graciously offered you his home while yours is being fumigated for…what was it? Cockroaches?”

“Silverfish…”

“Right,” he said, “Now, sweetie, care to explain yourself?”

“Um,” you started, but honestly, you didn’t even know how to explain yourself to him exactly without making the situation worse. You wrapped the comforter tighter around yourself. “You know this comforter is very soft, Sylus. Maybe I should buy one just like this—”

“I can take you shopping for whatever you may need or want,” he interrupted, seeing through your flimsy attempt to deflect from this awkward conversation, “But only if you explain to me why you were fucking yourself silly with a sex toy just a moment ago.”

“I was…” you racked your brain. “That is to say I am…”

“Go on.”

“Well…I am…” you covered yourself completely in the comforter and the final word you said was completely muffled by your sudden blanket-cocoon.

Sylus sighed, mildly exasperated, and stood up, crossing the room quickly in just a few strides. He bent down to your height on the floor and reached forward to pull the comforter back. He frowned when you avoided eye contact with him. “What was that last word?”

“Sylus…”

“The longer you stall, the worse you’re making for yourself,” he said.

“Ovulating.”

There was an immediate deafening silence in the room as Sylus stared at you, completely unprepared and blindsided by that one word. You stared right back, cheeks burning up even more as you realized what you had just told him.

When Sylus managed to find his voice again, he started hesitantly, “Did you just…say you were…ovulating?”

You nodded.

“And that meant you…”

“I was horny.”

Sylus found his brain shutting down again by your bold confession. He cleared his throat, trying to recompose himself. “And you happened to have brought along your…toy?”

“Well…”

“And you forgot to charge it?”

You flustered and glared at him, hearing that insufferable trademark teasing tone in his voice again. “I thought I did!”

“Well, you thought wrong,” he quipped, amused, “There is one thing about this whole situation that is a bit upsetting for me.”

“Upsetting for you?!”

He nodded, unabashed. “If this kitten was feeling a little frisky, she does know I am just a few doors away, right?”

“Oh, we are not having this conversation!”

Before you could even get up, Sylus pulled you into his embrace, and he stumbled back on the floor with you in his lap. He steadied his balance with one hand behind him while his other arm wrapped around your waist, keeping you close to him. He laughed lowly, “You’re right, this comforter does feel soft.”

“What do you think you are doing?!”

He cocked his head to the side in amusement when you glared at him again. “Now, sweetie, I just had to listen to you play with yourself for god knows how long—you don’t think that did something to me?”

“I…I just told you I was ovulating…”

“Mmhmm, you did,” he agreed affably.

“Sylus…” You gasped as he lowered the comforter, revealing your nude body underneath. He smiled appreciatively at the sight while you struggled to speak under his scrutinizing gaze. “I’m not on birth control…I could…I could get pregnant…”

“I know,” he said, unconcerned. Before you could respond, he smiled at you roguishly with a slight knowing tilt of his head. “Would that be a bad thing, sweetie?”

“Wh—what?”

“You pregnant with my baby,” he murmured, his hand skimming over your flat belly.

“A baby? You’re joking…”

“Oh?” Sylus looked up, smirking, “Did it sound like I was joking?”

“Sylus, quit teasing me…”

You yelped in surprise when suddenly he shifted you so you were straddling him. Sylus tightened his hold around you, the comforter falling completely off of your body as you found yourself trapped in his embrace. You shivered, unsure if it was because of the sudden cool air caressing your nude body, or more than likely, it was because of the man before you keeping you in his lap. Sylus’ face moved closer to yours, and you attempted to avert his gaze again, but he grabbed your chin, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him. You felt your stomach dropped when he spoke, his voice held none of his usual teasing.

“Sweetie, I am serious,” he murmured, loosening his grip from your chin, but you found yourself now unable to tear your eyes away from him as he spoke, “I wouldn’t mind seeing this belly of yours all round and swollen with my baby.”

He leaned in and pecked your lips, smirking briefly when you widened your eyes in surprise. He continued, “I wouldn’t mind if people knew it was me who knocked you up—in fact, I’d like that very much.”

“Sylus…”

“I wouldn’t mind if…we have a family together.”

Sylus gauged your reaction, seemingly mindful of his words for fear of scaring you away, but in his eyes, there was a strong resolve. When you didn’t outright object or react negatively to his words, Sylus smiled.

“Mm…” he pressed his forehead to yours, his warm breath brushed against your lips, “We would make such a beautiful baby together…”

Your cheeks tinged pink, but you found yourself at a loss for words, unable to rebuke him. The way he was speaking was making you tingle, feeling a tiny shred of embarrassment, but surprisingly more than that, there was a sense of enthrallment by his words.

“Half you, half me,” he continued, his eyes had brightened when he had said ‘you’. Sylus reached for your hand, guiding it to his lips. He tilted his head to the side again, smiling, “Doesn’t that sound nice?”

You nodded numbly, almost instinctively, as if his deep, smooth voice was hypnotizing you. He continued to speak, but you were barely hearing him now, lost in your own thoughts as you watched this man before you wearing an expression of almost pure joy. You weren’t sure if you had ever seen Sylus as happy as he was now talking about having a baby with you.

The more he spoke, though, the more the thought became enticing to you. Sylus loved you unconditionally and wholeheartedly. All you had to do was ask and he would move Heaven and Earth for you. The depths of his love for you would extend and magnify a thousandfold for the child you two would have together.

Dependable, protective, loving—could you ask for anything more in a partner?

You watched him, seeing his large hand covered your entire tummy, and you could see the almost wistful look in his crimson eyes. Your head tilted a little in wonder, remembering that Sylus had never once brought up the subject of family—his own growing up or even the prospective future. This was the closest the two of you had ever treaded on the topic, and the fact that he was the one who had suggested it first made you realized that he had pondered about the matter before, enough so that he had decided that his future was you and the family you would have together.

You swallowed slowly, feeling a swarm of butterflies fluttered in your belly. You were nervous, a little scared, but more than anything, you had never felt surer of what you were about to say than now.

Your future was with him. That was all you knew, and all you wanted.

“Sylus…”

“What is it, sweetie?”

“I…” you swallowed hard, face flushed with arousal as you locked eyes with the man in front of you, “I…need you…to fuck a baby into me.”

Sylus’ breath hitched the moment those words left your mouth. He steadied his breathing the best he could, but he could feel his heart racing at the thought, at the plea in your soft voice. “Is that what you want?” His words were barely above a whisper, as he could feel himself hardening at the thought of impregnating you with his baby. He continued, the rasp in his deep voice noticeable, “You want me to knock you up, sweetie?”

Just from the sound of his voice alone had you clenching, and you nodded. You had already decided on this, already spoken the words out loud. There was no going back now. You wanted this.

“Use your words,” he commanded, “I want you to say it.”

I need you to say it, his eyes seemed to implore you.

His hands were already around your waist, pulling you up flushed against his body. Your hands rested on his toned chest and you gazed up into those scarlet eyes darkening with desire, the mere sight stealing your breath away as your body trembled with anticipation of what was going to happen tonight the moment you reaffirm your earlier plea.

“I want…”

You could feel Sylus’ fingers digging into your hips, there was an air of impatience around him as he waited for you finish your sentence. You could almost hear the sharp hiss of breath from his barely parted lips as he gazed at you intently.

“…your baby,” you finished, “I want to…have your baby.”

The moment that last word left your lips, you gasped sharply as Sylus immediately lifted you into his strong arms, your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist for support as he carried you to the bed. Within seconds, he had you pinned down on the bed, his larger body hovered over you. “That’s a dangerous thing to tell me, sweetheart,” he murmured, his finger tipped your chin up, exposing your neck to him, “Because now I have no intention of letting you leave this bed until you’re knocked up with my baby.”

You bit down on your lips, holding back another gasp as you felt his large hands trailed down your body, feeling familiar curves with practiced ease. “Ah—!” You squirmed when his lips trailed down your chest to your belly, his hands caressing the flat abdomen with revere.

“Your body is already so gorgeous,” he murmured, kissing your belly again, unaware of your reddened cheeks, “And it’ll become even more beautiful when our baby grows inside you…”

You felt your heart skipped a beat. The way he was speaking as if you were already pregnant made you blushed in embarrassment. You squirmed again, but Sylus immediately gripped your hips, keeping you in place.

“What…” you racked your brain for words, feeling suddenly insecure by his keen attention to your body. When Sylus looked up at you questioningly, you couldn’t help but frowned a little, “You’re just saying that…men don’t really find pregnant women attractive…”

He laughed at your words, making you even more embarrassed. He shook his head in disagreement. “Sweetie, how can a man not find the woman carrying his baby the most beautiful being in the world?”

Sylus loomed over you, his lips hovering above yours as his eyes gazed down at you with deep affections. His hand caressed your cheek in comfort as he spoke, “Sweetie, I can barely restrain myself from touching you now.”

“Hmm?” You looked at him quizzically, making him smiled wider.

“I won’t be able to control myself,” he continued, brushing his lips against yours, “Mm, I’m gonna want to feel you all the time—feel our baby in your womb.”

“Sylus…you’re making me embarrassed now…”

“I’m just stating facts,” he responded, brushing your flyaway hair out of your face, “So trust me, sweetie, I mean it when I say you are the most beautiful woman in my life.”

As if to prove his point, he covered you in endless kisses, responding to your pleased gasps and sighs with his own knowing hums. “We’re going to make such a beautiful baby,” he murmured. “I can’t wait…”

“Sy—”

“Can’t wait to see you grow, to see you swell…” he continued to mumble lazily into your skin, his lips leaving trails of kisses all over. “My beautiful hunter…my beautiful…goddess…”

From his tantalizing words to his expert ministrations, you could feel yourself throbbing, aching to be filled by him. You tugged at his shirt, and he laughed at your impatience before he undressed himself, taking off piece by piece as slow as possible to further tease you, the amusement on his face a complete opposite to your frustration. When the last article of clothing—his boxer briefs—was removed, he allowed you a moment to rake your eyes over his toned body. Sylus ran his hand over his hair, pushing it back as he looked at you with a look of pure lust.

“God,” he muttered, “This is happening…”

He nudged your thighs apart, pleased that you were already so wet, willing, and ready for him. He grasped his hardened member, giving it a few strokes as he prepared to line himself up to your waiting entrance.

“Already this wet, sweetie?” he questioned, his tone light and teasing, “From your little solo playtime, or perhaps, me?”

He didn’t even leave you enough time to respond. You gasped and arched forward, feeling just the tip pressing in. You wrapped your arms around his neck, bracing yourself for the massive intrusion.

“Answer me, sweetie,” he murmured, letting more of himself in.

“Y—you!”

He hummed in satisfaction.

You gasped as more of him entered, the feeling of how massive he was bringing tears of both pain and pleasure to your eyes. “Oh—oh, god!” you whimpered when he bottomed out, filling you completely.

“My sweet little cock-warmer,” he murmured, planting more sweet kisses down your neck.

“S-Sylus…please…”

“Please what, sweetie?” he asked, though you both knew he was well aware of what you desired in that moment. When you didn’t respond, he nipped your left earlobe, his sinfully deep voice sending shivers down your spine and straight to your core as he whispered, “Say it, and I’ll give you everything you desire, sweetie.”

You panted softly, almost convinced that with just a few right words, his devilish voice alone could make you cum, but right now, in this particular moment, with his cock situated so perfectly inside you, you needed more.

“Please…”

He raised a brow, an amused smirk tugging at his lips as his crimson eyes gleamed in satisfaction at seeing you already so helpless and needy. You could feel his large hands gripping your hips tighter, fingers digging into your flesh, almost as if he was waiting for you to break the final restraint he held.

“…Fuck me,” you uttered at last, voice soft and vulnerable, “Please, Sylus, fuck me…”

You gasped suddenly as he pulled out slowly and then slammed back in, that first thrust already making you see stars and ripping out a cry of pure pleasure from your throat.

“Is this what you want?” he asked, already knowing the answer as he set a steady pace, “Is this what you need, sweetie?”

“Yes!” you yelled out, arms encircled around his neck tighter as you let him take control.

“Doing so well,” Sylus crooned, his thrusts steadily becoming harder, faster, “What a good—hnngh—fucking—hah—girl you are…taking me—ah—so well…”

You were barely aware of your back touching the mattress again as he lowered you back down, taking you in deeper. Your arms loosened around his neck, fingers finding their way to grip the bedsheets. You tossed your head to the side, moaning when his mouth took in your nipple, suckling on it gently at first before his skilled tongue swirled over the sensitive nub, the sensation was enough to have you arching up into him again. He pulled away, making you whined in frustration at the sudden loss of attention, but just as quickly his hand took over to massage your breast, keeping you moaning helplessly for him as he teased and pinched your nipple, feeling it firming under his expert touch.

“Your breasts will fill up with milk for our baby,” he murmured, already picturing you nursing his baby. He smiled at the thought, unable to contain his excitement. He squeezed your breast harder and you cried from the feeling of his calloused hand on your soft flesh.

Amidst the pleasurable stimulations of him massaging your breast as he drove himself into you, you had a thought—a need, really. “I…” you felt your cheeks warming up again, embarrassed or otherwise, you weren’t sure anymore, but you still voiced your newfound desire aloud, “Sylus…I want…”

“Hmm?” He tilted his head a little, his gentle smile remaining as he waited for you to finish your thought. With his thick member so deep inside you, you could barely think straight, your focus shifting back and forth between the feel of him and his arousing words that spawned your new thought.

“I want you…to have the…first taste.”

His smile faltered. “What?” Sylus paused, but there was an intense look of intrigue in his eyes, never once expecting such words to leave your lips, but the bold suggestion had him excited by the prospect. He watched you intensely, waiting for you to repeat the sweet offer and confirming that he had not misheard you.

“My milk,” you clarified, face flushed red, “I’d want…you to taste it first…”

“You want me to…” He couldn’t even finish the sentence as he laughed, delighted by this surprising offer. The look he gave you was a mix of arousal and absolute adoration. “Oh, sweetie,” his voice was breathless as he pulled you in for another intense kiss, “You are going to be my fucking demise.”

You whined against his lips, your voice swallowed by him eagerly. The overwhelming stimulations of his relentless kisses and renewed strength had you fumbling with your thoughts and words as the only thing you could focus on was just the feel of him touching you—inside you.

“Oh god, oh god!” you whimpered when he started moving faster, driving into you harder, deeper. “Ah—Sy-Sylus!” You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling the beginning of the familiar tightening that signified your impending release.

Lost in your focus on the feeling of your approaching climax, you didn’t even notice that Sylus’ movements had become more hurried, graceless, and eager. His eyes greedily drank in the sight of you beneath him losing yourself to this state of euphoria. His mouth parted, panting, as he gripped your hips harder, enough that there would be bruise marks by morning. He could barely hold back a groan as he felt your walls tightening around him.

This is it.

You were so fertile right now, the perfect moment for him to fill your womb full of his virile seed. Watching you unraveled before him, Sylus’ eyes darkened with pure lust, a haze washing over him as he was consumed with only one thought and goal.

She’s perfect.

So perfect.

Gonna fill her up.

Knock her up.

Mine, she’s all mine.

Fill that pretty little cunt.

Pump her full.

Breed her.

You screamed in pleasure as without a word, Sylus pumped you full of his seed, emptying into you so much that there was no way you wouldn’t get pregnant from this encounter.

“Sylus!” Your legs wrapped around his waist tighter, pulling him in deeper, needing him to fill you completely. Your walls tightened around him, squeezing and milking all of him for your womb. You were going to get pregnant. You were going to have his baby.

Sylus’ baby.

You whined and sobbed into his shoulder as you felt both his release dripping down your thighs and the lingering aftershocks of your orgasm still coursing through your spent body. His arms wrapped securely around your waist, keeping you held against him, close enough that you felt all of his body heat and the warm sweat that glistened on his skin.

“Good…girl,” he gasped, rubbing your back up and down as you came down from your high, “Such a good girl for me. Only me.”

Sylus lowered you back down on the plush mattress, your half-lidded eyes gazed up at him, meeting his pleased smile. You lay on the bed boneless, drained, and satisfied, feeling his heavy body still hovering over you as you listened to his deep voice murmuring, unsure whether he was speaking to you anymore or to himself.

“…Mine. Mine to have.”

Mine to breed.

He stared down at you, almost in a state of awe, the realization of what had happened made his heart speed up. His eyes focused on your belly, already imagining that it was going to grow bigger, rounder, in the coming months with his child in your fertile womb. There was no way you wouldn’t get pregnant from this session, but even if you didn’t, Sylus had already planned on fucking you until you showed the first sign of pregnancy. Hell, he wasn’t sure if he could even restrain himself from taking you even when you were round and full with his child.

“Oh, sweetie…”

You looked up at him doe-eyed, making his heart softened further. For all of his talks about his lack of luck, he knew he had hit the jackpot with you. The greatest fortune of his life was meeting you, and he was willing to risk all of the good luck in his lifetime to keep you in his life by his side.

Sylus’ cheek brushed against your head before he leaned inward and pressed his lips there. His hands continued to rub you up and down while you both recovered from your shared climaxes. “Shh, I got you, I got you, sweetie…”

When he pulled out of you, Sylus laid down on his back on the bed, dragging you to lay on top of him. He continued to hold you close to him, clearly having no intention of letting you out of his embrace any time soon. Just as well, because all you wanted in that moment was to remain close to him—skin to skin and heartbeats in-sync.

“Sylus…”

He hummed softly, his hands still rubbing your back gently. You could feel your heart calming down, your breathing returning to normal. You rested your head on his chest, feeling the gentle rise and fall as his own breathing evened out.

The world suddenly felt so still and quiet, as if you and him were the only occupants remaining. You raised your head from its place on his chest, eyes widened when you made out his loving smile. You sighed happily when he caressed your cheek and his thumb brushed over your lips.

Your heart fluttered as he spoke, his normally deep voice a light, soft murmur:

“My pretty hunter.”

“You’re so full of it…”

He laughed and shook his head, amused by your weak attempt to counter him. His eyes wandered down, lingering on your flat stomach once more. He looked pleased.

“Your body is going to change so much,” he husked and your heart skipped a beat once more, “It’ll be all my fault that you’re nice and swollen with my baby.”

“Sy-Sylus!”

He chuckled again and pulled you deeper into his embrace. Your cheek pressed against his chest again, his large hand resting gently, but firmly, on the back of your head keeping you in place. Your stomach did flips when he spoke again:

“Rest for now, sweetie, the night is just beginning.”

“What?”

He laughed. “Oh, sweetie, we are just getting started,” he said, eyes twinkling in amusement when he caught sight of the pretty blush rising on your cheeks, “I meant what I said earlier: you are not leaving this bed until you are pregnant with my baby.”

You started to protest, but he captured your lips with his, parting just long enough to whisper: “I’m going to enjoy you all night long, sweetheart.”

[strawhbrrries]

Starin' Problem.

pairing: dbf!no outbreak!joel miller x afab!reader

summary: a red dress and a glass of whiskey is all it took for Joel to lose every ounce of self control he once had.

warnings: porn no plot, female pronouns, age gap (both consenting adults), unprotected p in v, fingering, creampie, slight creep joel, daddy kink, breeding kink...,mean joel, dirty talk, praise!!!, no use of y/n or descriptions of reader, not proofread

word count: 1.3k words

recommended listening: granite by sleep token

authors note: i'm pretty sure I had planned for this to take place at reader's parent's wedding but i never specified so it's just some fancy event they planned lmfao, enjoy &lt;333

“Quit starin’.” Your father whispered into Joel’s ear, following his eyes to you, his daughter, across the room. “Let's not have a problem tonight.”

“I ain’t.” Joel grunted, taking a sip of the whiskey in his hand as he continued to watch you. “We won’t have any problems.”  

He’d spent most of the night trying to decide if you’d worn any underwear under the dress, with a slit that ended right under your hip he was convinced you weren’t but then you’d turn a specific way and he swore he could make out a line. The low neckline left nothing to the imagination and only added to the torture you were putting Joel through at the hands of fashion, he never knew he could be so turned on by someone your age but here he was with a rock hard cock, staring like a creep.

“Whoever that guy with your dad is has been staring at you all night.” One of the girls you’d been standing with spoke, a hint of jealousy in her voice. 

You turned your head around, making eye contact with Joel, and looking him up and down. You couldn’t deny the attraction you had for him, and the dark red suit your father had picked out to match the same red of the dresses your mom had picked out wasn’t helping at all. He looked you up and down before making eye contact with you again, taking another sip of his whiskey, and twirling a finger around. 

“Joel? He’s probably on a secret mission to keep an eye on me.” You joked, acting like you had stepped on your dress as an excuse to spin around without anyone suspecting anything. 

“He can keep an eye on me.” A different girl responded, giggling as they continued to joke about him.

He could’ve orgasmed right then and there as you spun around, the two of you hadn’t spoken all night and yet here you were entertaining him. His glass of whiskey was almost empty, if he played his cards right maybe he’d be able to get you alone, away from the annoying girls you’d been around all night. 

You watched him glance at his glass before heading off to what you assumed was the kitchen, he hadn’t made any signal for you to follow but this was your moment. 

“What would my dear father think if he knew his best friend was eyeing up his daughter?” You whispered, coming up behind Joel and dragging your nails down his back. 

“Does his dear daughter care?” Joel whispered back, setting his glass down and turning around to face you. “Seemed like you quite enjoyed it.”

He trailed a finger over the neckline of your dress, hooking it under the fabric and exposing one of your breasts. A low groan escaped his throat, accompanied by him fixing his suit pants. His fingers found your nipple, rolling and tugging it slightly. 

“Seems to me you’re enjoying it a whole bunch.” He chuckled, using his other hand to tilt your chin up, leaning down so your lips were inches apart.

“Fuck, Joel-” 

He smashed his lips against yours, swallowing every whimper escaping your lips, pulling the other side of your dress down to expose both breasts. Your hands made quick work of unbuttoning his suit jacket, pulling it off of him and throwing it on the floor, before moving to his dress shirt. 

“Naughty girl, lettin’ some old man touch you in a kitchen at your parent’s party.” He spoke against your lips, shoving your dress down to your hips and taking a step back to admire you. “God you’re fuckin’ pretty.” 

“Joel, please.” You whined, grabbing at the last few buttons left on his shirt desperately as if it was going to get them unbuttoned faster.

“I haven’t even touched you yet and you’re already beggin’. Fuckin’ whore.” He chuckled, helping you unbutton his shirt and tossing it to the side with his jacket. “Need some dick, huh?” 

You shook your head, shoving the rest of the dress over your hips and onto the floor, grabbing his head and smashing your lips back together. His fingers danced their way down your skin, memorizing every bump and curve in the chance that he wouldn’t get to do this again, making their way under your thighs and lifting you onto the counter behind him. 

He trailed a finger up and down your folds, gathering your wetness and bringing it to his mouth, groaning at the taste. The sensation of his finger slowly pushing in and out was so overwhelming, you were practically floating on cloud nine and there was nothing you’d change about it.

“Tell me how bad you want it.” Joel rasped, lips pressed up against your ear, removing the rest of his clothing. “Tell daddy how bad you need it.”

“Daddy, please…fuck- need it so bad.” Your words were barely audible, desperate and whiny.

The feeling of his cock pushing inside of you had you throwing your head back, hand slapped over your mouth to muffle any and all noise he’d pull out of you. He pulled back out slowly, watching your pussy grip his cock as he pushed back in. Forbidden sex had never felt so good, he’d find any and every reason to visit you after tonight if he could experience this again. His beard scratched against your neck as he bent over, pulling your body closer to him, sucking and biting at the skin he could reach. 

“God, I could make you a fuckin’ mom.” Joel groaned, leaning his head further into the crook of your neck. “Look so fuckin’ pretty, full of my babies.”

“Daddy-”

“That’s right, say my name, baby.” He switched the arm that was bearing your weight and brought the newly freed hand to your hair, tugging it back enough so he could see your face. 

His hips pistoned in and out, cock reaching places you didn’t even know it could, but if you told him that he’d make a joke about you not sleeping with a real man like him. He placed wet kisses down your neck and all the way down to your nipples, sucking on them in turns. 

“Joel, please, I’m so close..” You cried, eyes filled to the brim with tears that threatened to spill at any moment.

“That’s too damn bad, because that’s not my name.” He chuckled, evilly, wiping away the tears that had slid down your cheeks. “Try again, I know you can do it, baby.”

“Daddy, daddy please.” 

“Good girl.” 

He brought his thumb down to your clit, drawing figure eights in time with his thrusts, coaxing your orgasm right out of you. You slumped into him as it hit you, body shaking as it made its way through you. He continued to thrust into you, chasing his own white, hot high. Your small whimpers as you came back to the world was enough to send Joel over the edge, painting your insides a nice milky white. His own body slumping into yours as he recovered from the pleasure. 

“Did such a good job, darlin’.” He praised, smoothing your hair down as you continued your way out of cloud nine. “Did so good for me.”

You gave him a weak smile, smoothing the hairs that were stuck to his sweaty forehead back to their spot. He sat you back down on the counter and filled his glass up with water before handing it to you, the aftertaste of whiskey was enough to perk you right up. 

Joel helped you back into your dress, fixing your hair to cover the hickeys that were soon to appear, sliding your underwear back up but making sure to push his cum back inside of you before sliding them all the way up.

“C’mon, we got speeches to make.”

[reiderwriter]

I'm Your Fluffer!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x female reader (best friends to lovers)

For @imagining-in-the-margins FWB Challenge!

Prompt: "I'm your boyfriend without the benefits." "Do you want the benefits?" "Yes- No... I'm your fluffer!" (Inspired by New Girl) (yes, I suggested this prompt, bo idc if that's cheating)

Warnings: Mentions of BDSM, unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, choking, mentions of spanking, and butt worship, slight Dom Spencer, bratty reader, creampie. The classics, yk.

A/N: I'm back!!!! I took a break because I couldn't bring myself to even look at a word document for about a month, but there's nothing like a Pom challenge to get me writing again! I did have a lot planned for my 1 year anniversary, but because I was sick, and then busy, and then work got hectic, I had to put it off. I still am going to try to finish my kink bingo Carr, though, even though its a month late, but I had two fics left iirc, and I have both of them plotted, so I may as well! I will, however, be abandoning the final epilogue of I Can't Help Myself, because I wrote myself into a depressed corner with that one, and honestly, some people were getting very pushy about it, and it wasn't fun anymore. Anyway! This one was fun to write, so I'm going to stick to one shots for the foreseeable future, or incredibly limited series.

Masterlist

Spencer was your friend. A good friend. Your best friend, perhaps. A really good, very best friend.

Obviously, you were good friends because he always knew when you were feeling down. He bought you flowers regularly when he passed by flower shops. He came over to your place and helped you build every piece of flatpack furniture you had, which, as a single woman in your mid-twenties, was every piece of furniture that you owned.

You really looked forward to the movie nights the two of you had weekly. The popcorn, the blankets, the cuddling, his lips by your ear, in-time translating the foreign movies word for word as you watched it, the shivers down your spine as you pressed further into the heat of him.

Spencer was the best best friend you could ask for.

He was also the most frustrated.

“Kid, what are you doing this weekend? I'm thinking of hitting some clubs, you know, getting my groove on, maybe meeting A few ladies,” Morgan smirked, rubbing his hands together as he gently moved side to side, already dancing to himself as he anticipated his big weekend out. “You in, or are you in?”

“I can't. I promised Y/N I'd help her with some document digitalisation. We're going to order pizza and watch Star Trek while backing up her entire paper trail.”

The smile on Spencer's face was so stupid that Morgan had to stop himself from wiping it off of him immediately.

“Man, you are so down bad for that girl,” he mused, shaking his head.

“What? Down bad?”

“You like her. It's okay to admit it.”

“We're friends. I'm happy being friends,” Spencer said, picking up his bag and walking to the elevator desperate to escape a repeat of a conversation he'd already had three times that week.

“You know everyone thinks you're dating.”

“Well aware. Despite the number of times we've both stated to the contrary, people don't seem to accept ‘we're just friends’ when they hear it.”

“That may be because you're doing things that just friends don't do.”

“Everything we do is totally platonic.”

“You buy her flowers-

“I buy my mother flowers,” Spencer said, turning on the man and raising his hands in exasperation.

“You know that's different. Do you buy Emily flowers?”

Silence.

“What about JJ?”

“I bought JJ flowers!” He grinned triumphantly until the other man spoke again.

“When she was in the hospital. Giving birth. Okay, what about the movie nights?”

Rolling his eyes, the younger man walked on, pressing the bell for the elevator and allowing his friend to keep bothering him.

“Friends watch movies together, Morgan. We've watched movies together, are we dating?”

“One, you are not my type, pretty boy, and two, you didn't exactly have your dick pressed against my ass the entire time we watched a film now, did you?”

“Be q- be quiet. I don't have my dick against her ass ever.”

“Oh, I'm sorry, was it pressed against her stomach instead? I know she likes to lie on top of-”

“Derek!”

The elevator arrived, and the two quickly jumped in, to Spencer's relief.

“All I'm saying, kid, is-”

“Hold the elevator!” You shouted, running to it quickly with Penelope Garcia on your heels.

“Thanks, Spence!” You said, smiling at him as you entered the small space.

And continued your not too unsimilar conversation with Penelope.

“So, as I was saying Penelope,” you shot her a look that told her you were finished with the conversation. You were not dating Spencer Reid, and you were unlikely to in the future because of his total and complete lack of interest in you.

“You can set me up this weekend, right? It's been an age since I've been on a date, and I would really like to-” you glanced around the elevator and whispered the end of your sentence, suddenly mindful of your company. “You know.”

“If you're absolutely sure, I have a few men in mind that could throw you about, but-”

You squealed and squeezed the woman as the elevator landed on your floor and jumped out of the elevator quickly, cheeks burning.

“Thanks, Pen, you're the best!”

“Y/N, wait,” Spencer called out behind you, desperately holding the elevator open for a few more seconds.

“I thought we were doing your papers this weekend? Star trek, pizza, remember?”

You stared guiltily at the floor as you forced your voice to sound as casual as possible, not sure you could make any excuse that didn't sound pathetic.

“Oh, sorry, Spencer. I totally forgot. We can rain check, right? I… I really need this.”

Spencer was aware of what disappointment felt like, but it never hollowed out his chest like your lack of eye contact in that moment did.

“Yeah. Sure, of course. We can do that whenever.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Spencer. You're the best… friend.”

He smiled and let the door finally shut, aware of the two sets of eyes now watching him.

It took a surprisingly long time for the ‘I told you so’ to come, but come it did, as if Morgan were unable to help himself.

“You're telling me that you're not into her at all?”

“I'm…not into her like that at all.”

“And you're fine with me setting her up on a date with a man that'll do somewhat empowering, somewhat disgusting things with her?” Penelope piled on.

“What? That's…that's not my business,” he ground out.

“No. Of course it’s not. Because you're not her boyfriend.”

“Exactly, I'm not her boyfriend-”

“You're her fluffer.”

With a pat on the shoulder, the elevator hit its last stop, and Morgan exited, leaving Spencer scrambling after him as Penelope waved the two of them off.

“What? No, what's a fluffer?”

Morgan chuckled and waved him off, walking to his car.

“Come on, what's a fluffer, and why am I hers?”

“You've seen porn before, right?” The older man asked, pausing as he opened his driver side door. “Actually don't answer that. The fluffer is the person who keeps the actors and actresses… ready between takes. Prepares them for the good stuff.”

With a bright flush across his cheeks, Spencer tried his best for an indignant look, landing somewhat closer to a petulant child.

“I am not her fluffer. We have never-”

“I know you've never. If you had, we wouldn't be standing here right now having this conversation. What I'm saying is you should.”

“We're friends!”

Climbing into the car and closing the door, Morgan dismissed the younger man quickly, but he wasn't finished.

Knocking on the door, Spencer waiting a beat, then two for it to open again.

“I'm not her fluffer.”

“You build her furniture and cuddle with her. You're doing everything a boyfriend would do, without any of the boyfriend rewards.”

“What rewards?” he gasped, exasperated.

A single look was all the reply he got before Morgan out his keys into the ignition and started driving.

Spencer never made the decision to turn up at your house later that night. He just found himself all of a sudden at your front door on a Friday night, pulling out the key from the plant pot by the front door and letting himself in. Unlocking his shoes, he called out through the apartment, letting you know he was there as he slipped into the house shoes you'd bought him after the first of many movie nights.

“Spencer? We cancelled earlier, remember?” you said emerging from your bedroom, fitted in the tightest dress he'd ever seen you in. He already had no answer for your question, but seeing you like that, getting ready, he had no answer to any question at all. If you'd have asked him his name, he wouldn't have known it.

Well, he would've, but only because you'd said it only three seconds ago and had reminded him that he was, in fact, standing in your apartment when he should've been literally anywhere else.

“Um. I'm…I'm just-” he scratched the back of his neck, waiting for something to come to him.

“Spencer, I'm leaving in like an hour, so there's no time to watch a movie, and I have to get ready, so-”

“I'm… I'm angry?”

You raised an eyebrow at his questioning tone, unsure where this conversation was going.

“You sure about that?”

“Yeah..yes. I'm sure. I'm angry. We, we had plans, and you gave me like an hours notice and cancelled them to go do something stupid-”

“Spencer! I'm going on a date. That's not stupid.”

“It is when you have me!”

He half shouted, half murmured the words, as if he himself were unsure of how confident he was in making that statement.

“That came out wrong-”

“Yeah, I think it did.”

“What I mean is- I mean…Morgan said that-”

You crossed your arms and sat yourself on the arm of your sofa, looking forward at him and waiting for him to get through whatever this was. You hoped the entire time that he was saying what you'd wanted him to say for the last year and a half.

“Have you ever watched porn?”

Not what you were hoping for, but a start, at least.

“Spencer!”

“That came out wrong, I- don't throw the couch cushions at me. I have a point, I swear!”

You lowered your next projectile and gestured for him to go on, not fully relinquishing it just yet.

“I'm your fluffer! I get you…in the mood for dates, and- and- I do all the boyfriend stuff without any of the boyfriend benefits!”

He stood in front of you, red-faced, and you stared him down a second or two as you collected your thoughts.

“Do you…want the boyfriend benefits?”

“Yes! No, wait - wait a second. I- I- What are the boyfriend benefits exactly?”

You threw the pillow down and turned your back on him, not entirely sure what you were expecting from the most oblivious genius on the planet.

“Y/N, wait. Wait-”

With a hand wrapped around your wrist, Spencer spun you around, and, tripping over your feet, you landed hard on your sofa. Your fall should've been relatively pain-free, but for the 6-foot man that landed directly on top of you.

“Get up.”

“What are the boyfriend benefits?”

“You should know if you're saying you want them! Now, get up!”

“Not until you tell me.”

“Spencer!”

“Y/N!”

You groaned and writhed under him, but he just dropped his weight onto you, unmoving, hands pinning your wrists lazily, leg poking between your two, hips pinning yours.

It certainly wasn't the closest you'd ever been, but in those circumstances, during that conversation, you felt more flustered than you had before.

“What are the benefits.”

“You really want me to say? You're not afraid it's going to throw off our friendship, ruin whatever good thing we have going?”

“I think that if you go out tonight, and enjoy your date, and get a boyfriend, that he's going to feel weird about this good thing we have going and it's going to be over anyway. Tell me.”

You desperately searched for a way out of this situation, but a stronger part of you wanted to simply wrap your legs around him and let him take as much advantage as he could.

You settled for disturbing him.

“Fine. A boyfriend would be able to spank me.”

“Y/N, be serious.”

“I am. I like it. A boyfriend would pull my hair back and make me count as he hit my cute round ass until it turned all red, and I couldn't sit down comfortably anymore. A boyfriend would then kiss it better.”

You'd never spoken about sex with Spencer, and you hoped the vulgarity would force him back to his senses. Instead, he didn't stir, and you had no choice but to continue.

“Another boyfriend benefit would be choking me. I like that, too. Are your hands big enough to wrap around my throat, Spencer?”

“Yes.”

The answer came so quickly and do confidently, you weren't sure you actually heard it outlook until he spoke again.

“What other benefits, Y/N?”

“A… boyfriend would get to cum inside me,” you whispered, suddenly aware of hips rocking into yours slowly as his cock poked up, listening intently to the promises spilling from your lips that you likely should've regretted.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I want the benefits.”

Your body was hot everywhere he touched you, but he didn't move, didn't follow through on anything just yet. But you were aware of his head moving closer and closer to yours and panicked.

“And what have you done? As my fluffer? To deserve those benefits?”

“What have I done?” He asked, pulling back an inch. Even as his chest rested, flush against yours, your breasts pushed up against him as his hands held yours over your head.

“I-I bought you flowers-”

“Emily buys me flowers, too. So does Penelope. Should I let them be my boyfriend?”

With your hands in use, you took advantage of his distraction and wrapped your legs up and around his waist, rolling your hips up into him.

“I suppose I do like flowers, though. What else?”

“I… We're always t-together?”

“We work together.”

Using the leverage of his weight against yours, you rolled up harder into his hips, grinding into him slowly as you watched his resolve melt away.

“The m-movie nights are-”

“The movie nights where you rut your cock into me while we watch a movie? Friends do that all the time. You're just translating the movie for me after all.”

“Y/N, please don't-”

“Don't say that? Okay. I'll just let someone else hump against my thighs to get off because you're too proud to admit you want to sink your dick into me and pound me?”

“Y/N-”

“Maybe that's why you don't have the boyfriend privileges, Spencer. Because I'm waiting for something, you're too much of a prude to try-”

His lips meet yours before you can finish the thought, and you're not sure whether it's a triumph or a defeat.

After precisely five seconds of his lips on yours, though, you no longer cared.

Releasing your hands gently, he lifted his hips an inch, distracting you enough to force his tongue into your mouth as his hand found its way between your legs.

“Did you really mean it?” He asked between kisses as you rake your hands through his hair, getting lost in him. “About the benefits?”

You allowed yourself to imagine it for a second, Spencer's hands on your throat. His hands on your ass. His mouth buried between your legs.

You moaned into his kiss, and he laughed - actually laughed - as he pulled away.

“Spencer!”

“No, no, please, don't let me keep you from your thoughts, I'll just be down here.”

His fingers reached your clit and he wasn't surprised to find you already wet, legs spread. Snaking another hand to your neck though, he wasn't exactly as opposed to the ideas you'd flung at him as he'd acted.

You gasped as his hand closed around your neck, the prettiest necklace you'd ever worn. You grabbed a hold of his hands as he pulled your underwear off, pushing them down your legs as he gently pushed your legs open wider and replaced his fingers with his tongue.

You curled up on yourself, craving your body to watch him devour your pussy as you tried your best to keep your breaths shallow, to keep breathing entirely as he squeezed your throat.

His tongue licked and flattened, his head bobbing up and down and then stilling as your hips began moving by themselves, letting you ride his face as you moaned and whined and desperately ran towards your climax.

You wrapped a leg around his shoulder, pressing down on his back to keep him in position, grabbing a handful of hair as you jerked against his face, fucking it as he looked up at you through hooded eyes, drinking down every drop of you.

His hold on your neck tightened, and you felt your body shudder as you squeaked out his name, not wanting this to end so soon, needing to feel more of this. He let you ride it out until you were whining in frustration again, hips twitching from the friction of his tongue against your cunt.

Then he pushed away.

He wasn't gone long, but you followed him up. You thought about pushing him down to the couch again, thought about sitting on his pretty boy face and doing it all over again. You thought of turning over and presenting your ass to him, letting him punish you like you'd promised. Your thoughts ceased as quickly as they came when he pulled his cock free of his pants, not even bothering to pull them off fully before pulling you into his lap, lining himself up, and pushing you down onto his hot, hard, lengthy cock.

You swear you would've screamed if his to guess hadn't already claimed your mouth. A good scream. A “holy shit holy shit holy shit” scream. Definitely a “I didn't know it was that big, and honestly I'm a little scared” scream. But overall, a “god that feels so good” scream.

From the lack of movement, you were sure that Spencer was giving you a moment to adjust to his intrusion, and you were thankful as you clung to his neck, hands balling in the material of his shirt on his back.

Although he was bigger than expected, he wasn't uncomfortably large, and you calmed quickly, giving him a quick nod as you buried yourself in his neck, hiding your face to stop yourself from drooling, mouth wide as he tipped you back against the couch pillows, lifting your legs slightly and slipping his hands underneath yous thighs, and began his steady pace of thrusts.

You were sure your world was imploding on itself, that all your senses had ceased except that of touch, and his touch was fire. But you heard the wet, slutty sounds of your pussy welcoming him, you smelt the sweat against his skin, and, opening your eyes, you saw the absolute pleasure blasted against his features as he groaned in your ear.

And before you could form another coherent thought, he'd claimed another boyfriend benefit, as, rocking his hips against yours, he slowed to a stutter as he emptied himself inside you.

“Spencer!!” you moaned, but he wasn't done, spitting on his fingers and finding your clit again as you squealed, twitching and turning and milling his cock with your movements as you found your second release.

You moaned his name again, though it sounded less like his name this time, and more like a definite noise complaint from your neighbours in the morning.

“Spencer?” you asked, still trying to regain your breath as he, once again, collapsed on top of you.

“Mhmm,” he said, slowly pulling out of you, watching the mess you'd made together drip out too, and resisting the urge to push right back into you and go again.

“Was that a friendly fuck, or a boyfriend fuck?”

His eyes snapped to yours again as you continued.

“I just want to give Penelope the correct reason for cancelling on her friend when I text her-”

“I came inside you.”

“So you did.”

“Y/N!”

“.... So that wasn't a fluffer thing, but a boyfriend thing, got i-”

With a kiss, he shut you up again, and you realized quickly that you probably wouldn't have the time to send that text anyway.

[aphel1on]

the longer i look at this panel the more deranged i feel about it. this is environmental storytelling at its finest.

the eodio stand-in doll in particular makes me crazy. where did it come from? did thistle just pop into the village like "hey ungrateful wretches, one of you needs to make me a life-sized mannequin, For Reasons". did he make it himself? seems quite unlikely, yet the possibility haunts me. i mean, i guess there could've been one just lying around the dungeon somewhere. it's the act of replacement itself that really gets to me. (edit: it's been pointed out to me that the eodio doll also could have been left behind as part of delgal's escape plan. slightly different kind of madness but tbh, just as funny-sad to me if that happened and thistle went Ok, Guess That's Eodio Now.)

both the wives are there too. we know very little about them, which makes me tend to assume thistle wasn't all that close to them, but they're still included. when did they end up here? did he kick their souls out of their bodies at some point, or were they among those who left their bodies voluntarily to try and escape? when did yaad become an effective orphan, delgal an effective widower? women in the margins of the narrative, tell me your stories!

and the fact that they're surrounded with the living paintings, which thistle habitually wanders through to relive the past. this truly is his inner sanctum, his place of utmost comfort... and it may as well be a tomb.

that panel is so creepy when you first see it. just a sense of "ohh jeez, there's a lot to unpack there".

and actually, yeah, it remains creepy from pretty much any angle, but the more you think about it the more it's also tragic.

this is where many of thistle's happiest moments took place. everything he had in that picture is now gone. first he lost their warm regard, then one-by-one their bodies became hollow shells. before the end, none of the people here needed or enjoyed food anymore. the dinner table, as a center of both family life and nutrition, became obsolete.

a line from someone else's excellent post about thistle has stuck in my head ever since i read it: "to eat is to live, but to eat together is to be loved". to me, this is the sentiment and symbolism at the core of everything that happens in dungeon meshi.

it makes this bit all the sadder and more disturbing.

there's several things to note here:

thistle has gone from seated and eating with them as part of the family, to a lonely and ominous figure hovering over delgal's shoulder

eodio is conspicuously absent from view, and his body would have been a husk by now, but yaad says parents, which forces me to assume that they are sitting at the table with eodio's soulless body, hidden under yaad's speech bubble

they're not actually eating anything.

those plates are empty. you could assume that they've already finished eating, maybe, but yaad refers to it as sitting around the dinner table. in fact, he compares it to what he's currently doing; sitting at the dinner table watching the touden party eat, not eating anything himself.

it paints a pretty grim picture. for some time even after the fantasy had fallen apart, even after there was no need or desire to eat, they kept gathering around the dinner table. at that point, i'd guess only so as not to provoke thistle's wrath.

but even that last happened a long, long time ago.

this is a callback to what senshi said in the golden kingdom: the reason the people keep maintaining their fields and silverware and so forth is that they need to do so in order to stay sane.

paradoxically, the dinner table is the most striking evidence of thistle's insanity, and at the same time, it's the only anchor to sanity he has left.

he kept enforcing the ritual of dinner together long after it lost significance. when even that was impossible- because almost everyone's souls were gone- he kept their bodies at the table anyway. it's fine. it's fine! he's protected them, physically, just like he set out to. they're all still breathing. at a glance it looks like they could wake up and resume dinner at any moment. like this, it's easy to pretend.

isn't that what being a dungeon lord is, at the core of it? rejecting reality, staying in the prison of one's impossible desires. it's just one long game of pretend.

thistle did all this to protect his loved ones. no matter how obsessive and twisted he became in pursuit of that over the years, his core motivation never changed. this is all he has left of that dream: his loved ones' bodies gathered around the locus of their happiest memories together. like this, he can tell himself he's succeeded.

when eodio's body vanished with delgal's soul in it- when he couldn't even have that anymore... well.

i want to reach through the screen and shake him. no, they're not, thistle. THISTLE, NO, THEY'RE NOT! the doll of eodio is the closest thing to him in this panel, underlining the point. when that final illusion was shattered, he became completely unable to cope with reality.

therefore casually forgetting the creepy eodio doll isn't real.

thistle isn't stupid. eodio's body vanished at the same time as delgal's soul. shortly after, more adventurers came pouring in than ever before. deep down, he knows what happened. if he didn't, being confronted with the truth by mithrun wouldn't have made him panic so hard he summoned chimera falin to the first floor.

yet still...

he absolutely can't admit that to himself. he is clinging to the last scraps of the illusion with everything he has.

this is a dungeon lord at the end of desire. this is a lotus-eater machine left running long after its conclusion. this is mithrun lying listlessly in his bed, his replica lover having given up any pretense of being human. the illusion is all that's left. (an illusion is all it ever was.) thistle and the citizens of the golden kingdom- they're ghosts just as much as the ones who wander the dungeon floors. and if it weren't for thistle sealing the lion away, he would've been eaten by it long ago.

all of this encapsulated by that single panel of the dinner table.