#you have to keep looking even after you are convinced there is nothing there

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

So in The Pro Art says something like “letting you go back to your husband every day isn’t going to be easy is it” - in your mind would he eventually try and convince the reader to leave her marriage for him or would he just kinda accept that she’s not his and keep it as a relationship of infidelity?

the pro

Notes: Got a long-winded answer for you, nonnie.

Warnings: Infidelity; married Reader; coach Art Donaldson

"You could leave him, you know."

It's murmured against your hip. You don't look at him for a few moments; you don't move, and for a few beats, you don't even breathe. It's not the first time he's said it to you, but it catches you off-guard every time.

The first time, he said it right in front of your husband.

The fact that Art had become a near-permanent fixture on your husband's party lists was a blessing and a curse. It was always tantalizing to have him around, but it was also torture. You didn't allow yourself to be drawn away or followed as Art had that first night together. The two of you had agreed after the fact that it had been a reckless act, and that there was too high a risk of getting caught when the house was full of people.

It didn't stop you from fooling around at the house after lessons. It was still reckless, but you'd won the favor and trust of the house staff. They steered clear when Art came to see you, and turned a blind eye if they happened to see him going up or down the stairs.

You came to know every inch of Art's body as well as you knew your own—every scar, freckle, slope—all of it. You learned the taste of salt by lapping a bead of sweat off of the swell of his Adam's apple. You memorized the way a blush spread across his cheeks when you took his cock into your mouth, and the flutter of his lashes as he struggled to against his pleasure to watch—because he liked to watch. You held the memories of his touch, his kiss, his embrace when you went on business trips with your husband, and savored the scant phone calls that you managed to take and make with Art when you were away.

It was enough to get by, and enough to sate you through those parties when he was so painfully close—especially when you were subject to Art palling around with your husband. It was worse still when you'd become the butt of your husband's jokes, though these days, it was about how focused you were on your tennis.

You could see the tightness in Art's expression, the growing cracks in his patience as you forced a smile through tease after tease. But Art had widened his own smile and barbed his words:

"Careful. She could leave you any time she wanted."

You were stunned, and you knew that you weren't covering it well. But your husband hadn't taken it seriously in the slightest. His laughter had covered your shock as he clarified:

"For tennis?"

Art's eyes held your steadily as he lifted his glass to his lips.

"Sure," He agreed after a sip. "For tennis."

--

The next time Art mentioned it, you chalked it up to the heat of the moment.

Art wasn't always mouthy during sex, but sometimes, he seemed unable to stop himself. You had been away from one another for nearly three weeks—no practice or meetings, nothing but a handful of phone calls and a string of texts a mile long.

When you'd returned from your trip, you'd had to wait another week before you'd been able to sneak away and go to his place. You'd hardly been a step inside the door before he was on you. You didn't make it past the front hall before he'd had your tennis skirt shoved up, your panties pulled aside as he drove into you. His body was flush against yours, his hands grasping your hips in a way that you feared would bruise.

"Never letting you out of my sight again," He groaned, "I want you to leave him."

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, holding on for dear life as one of his harder thrusts made the table beneath you rattle, sending a stack of mail sliding to the floor.

But that had been months ago, and he hadn't brought it up since.

As you finally draw in a deep breath now, you force yourself to focus on his ceiling, your fingers tenderly combing over his scalp. You feel him shift against you, his chin resting on your belly.

"...D'you hear me?" He finally presses, and you sigh, knowing that you can't hold off any longer.

"It's not that easy."

"Sure it is."

"No, it isn't."

"You're making it difficult."

"Art."

"You could pack up your shit and walk out tomorrow."

"In theory, sure."

"And in practice. What the hell's stopping you?" Art pushes himself to get a better look at you.

"Besides the fact that I'd be broke?"

"I'll take care of you."

"...You already took care of me," You tease, letting your eyes lower between his legs, a teasing smile on your lips. But when you meet Art's gaze again, your find his expression hardened with annoyance.

"I mean it."

You roll your eyes, swinging your legs over the side of the bed and pushing yourself up.

"I don't have time for this."

"For what? A question?"

"It's not a real question, Art. You're being facetious," You insist, snatching your bra and underwear from where they've been tossed.

"I've never been more serious in my life—Hey, hang on a second," He pleads, taking hold of your arm. You go still, fingers flexing in the fabric of your clothing. Why does he have to do this now? The two of you are meant to be cuddling in your afterglow, not bickering like this.

"I am tired of sneaking around," Art presses closer, the heat of his body beginning to break down the icy wall that you're desperately trying to build up around yourself. "I hate seeing you fake smiles at those stupid parties, and I am sick of not waking up with you."

You squeeze your eyes shut as you force your upset down.

"Art."

"I'm tired of pretending that I don't think about you all the time—"

"Art, don't—"

"And I am tired of pretending that I don't love you."

It takes all of your strength to stay standing. You just manage to shake him off, lowering yourself to sit on the edge of the bed again as you try to keep your cool.

"Why would you say something like that?" You breathe. You feel Art's hands smooth over your knees and thighs as he kneels in front of you.

"Because I can't lie to myself anymore," He murmurs. "And I don't want to lie to you about it, either."

"Sometimes a lie can be a good thing." You scrub your hand across your face, trying to settle yourself. When you lower it, you find Art looking crestfallen. You shake your head, cupping his cheeks.

"I don't mean that," You insist. "I'm sorry."

"Tell me you don't feel it, too."

Sometimes a lie can be a good thing. But you know that if you manage it, you'll break this beautiful boy.

"You know that I do."

You watch Art's shoulders relax before he surges up for a kiss. You whine softly as he eases you back onto the bed, rolling his hips. You shiver as you feel his cock twitching and hardening against your thigh.

"You'll leave him?" He mumbles against your lips.

"Yes."

"Soon?"

"Yes."

"Promise me."

"I swear, Art."

"I love you."

You tip your head back, cupping his face and sweeping your thumbs across the swell of his cheekbones.

"I love you, too."

[misslovasstuff]

Op!men seeing you hurt

sanji x reader, zoro x reader

Sanji

The only occasion when he calls you by your name and not one of his words of endearment

With the speed of light, he rushes when he hears you’ve been shot in your leg.

He’s panicked but tries to keep his cool

“Show me please, - Sanji touches your thigh gently, touching the end of your dress to pull it up but you stop his hand. - Y/n?”

“I’m fine… it’s nothing.” - you claim, trying not to let your expression give away your pain.

Sanji stared at you, clenching his jaw as he shakes his head, anger building up. Who even dares to hurt you this way?

“Please, let me see. - he notices the worry on your face and tries to lighten up the situation. - What, are you shy? Love, it was only yesterday when you had my head pressed in between. Now…”

Your cheeks blush, looking away and getting somewhat a sense of relief seeing him smile, although you know deep down it was forced to reassure you.

Sanji raises your dress up, noticing your wound on your thigh. His eyes widen and he curses.

“Damnit!… - he caresses the unwounded area of your thigh as he looks at your eyes. - It must hurt a lot, right? Let’s take you to Chopper!”

Sanji picks you up and you put your hands around him, head resting on his chest.

“I’m really sorry, Sanji. I didn’t mean to be a bother for you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. - he says sharply. - If you wanna feel sorry about something, feel sorry for the bastards that did this to you and that have to deal with me. I’m gonna give them ten times more of the pain you’re feeling now, love.”

“I am in no pain when I’m with you.” - your voice gentle and soft and words so genuine and selfless make Sanji feel even more at fault for letting you get hurt. But his heart starts beating faster and he can’t deny it as your hand rests on his chest.

“I won’t let you get hurt ever again. I promise.” - Sanji kisses your forehead, flames of anger extinguished by your gentle love only to burn brighter than ever after he leaves you at Chopper’s care, kissing the palm of your hand and finishing the business he has with the ignorants who dared to touch his woman.

Zoro

“Are you ok?! Oi, answer me!” - Zoro shakes your body, noticing a lack of reaction.

“…who did this… - he whispers, putting strands of hair behind your ear. - Please answer me, baby. Open your eyes… please…”

He’d never beg for anything, but now more than ever, Zoro felt most helpless. Hi strength could not help, nor his swordsmanship or any other asset he deemed as important.

He had his lover layed on the ground and hurt, and he wasn’t there to protect, to defend, to lay down his life for you.

“fucking hell… - he cusses, grip on his sword tightening. - … why didn’t you call for me?!”

Zoro takes your body, pulling you close to his embrace as his forehead meets yours.

“How can the world hurt such a soul like yours… tell me… open your eyes and scold me as always… please, love…” - his voice has a distinctive desperate tone, jaw clenched that relaxes when he feels his clothes pulled.

You reach your hand to the nape of his shirt, opening your eyes and giggling slightly at his widen gaze.

“You’re so silly, you know?” - and there, you scold him. But instead of having a counter argument, Zoro hugs you tightly, pecking your lips before asking many questions.

“Are you in much pain? Are you feeling fine? Which bastard did this to you, give me his name cause I swear to-

“Relax, - you breathe heavily but still manage to relax your fuming boyfriend. - the fight is over isn’t it? Let’s just go back to the sunny.”

Zoro sighs, scanning your face before saying:

“I could have not handled a second more in this world without you. I’m so glad you’re okay.”

It’s true, although your vision a bit blurry, you can feel his voice shaking and his tight grip on your arms as he holds you, perhaps to convince himself that you’re here with him, and you’re alive.

“Then I’ll make sure to love you for a lifetime, Zoro.”

This man doesn’t usually shed tears but, his eyes get a bit watery as he presses his lips against yours, then shaking his head and sighing in relief.

“Ok enough kissing now, let’s get you treated.”

“You’re the one kissing me, idiot!”

[dudeitiskarev]

Like The Movies | Aaron Hotchner

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x female reader

Summary: he met you on a snowy winter day and since then, a tradition was born.

Tags/warnings: soft Hotch; mild nudity; mentions of food; pregnant reader; very silly tooth rotting fluff

Word count: 1.1k

Author’s note: another repost! It’s cold today and thought of this fic :,)

MAIN MASTERLIST | HOTCH MASTERLIST

It wasn’t a dangerous activity—swimming on an almost freezing lake, or at least try to—but this time, the weather was being too passionate about covering everything with a thick blanket of snow.

Your hands were ice clutching his bicep, holding onto it him if your life depended on it, and his eyelashes were turning heavy, making it difficult to see beyond his nose. It was your tradition, though, and you were already with just your underwear on in a 27 degree Christmas morning.

There was no going back now.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Aaron said between clacking teeth.

“It was your idea.” Your chin shook too. “And yes. It always turns out to be a good idea. Fun stories to tell to our future grandkids, remember?”

That’s what you always told him when something slightly stupid happened—planned or not.

“Well, it’s a little different this year.” He turned his head to you. “There is a snowstorm now. And… there is a baby inside you.”

“It’s still a fetus.“ You looked up at him with a playful smirk. You’d given him the news early that morning as his Christmas present—along with some new ties and a massage coupon valid for a year. “And there wasn’t a snowstorm when we left home. Did you check the weather?”

“No?”

You narrowed your eyes and both examined your surroundings. The storm had gotten worse.

“Maybe this isn’t a good idea,” you gave in.

The thing was, it’d never been a good idea for him at all. Before he met you, Christmas had never been a good time of the year—for many reasons—but since you came into his life, that changed. You flipped his world upside down and Christmas turned into his favorite holiday just because of how happy the colorful lights and hot cocoa made you.

You were his favorite season, and for that, he was willing to feel that dagger-like pain just because of what came right after—being wrapped with a blanket, sharing heat between laughs.

“Let’s go back to the car,” he said. “This year we can make an exception and pretend to swim on the lake.”

“But—”

Aaron turned his entire body to you and closed the space between you, cupping your face. “She can freeze.” He gestured in between you with his brows.

“She won’t.” You smiled, placing your hand over your stomach by instinct.

“So you agree it’s a girl?” He was convinced you two were having a girl, even when it was too early to tell.

“It’s a fetus.”

“Let’s go back inside.” He laughed.

“No. Let’s do it quickly.“ You pulled him to the shore by his wrist. "We’re already here."

Aaron sucked in a hesitant breath.

"Please?” You pursed your lips. But he really was scared that your baby—or fetus—might freeze. "Hotch, she’s safe. Nothing will happen.“

"Fine.” He brought you close into a hug and scooped you by your thighs, holding you tight. “But it’s better like this. With her in between us.”

"Okay.“ You laughed and clung onto him with heart and bones as he dragged his feet through the snow and started to get in the freezing lake.

"It’s—oh, god, it’s cold,” he said with a tight high-pitched voice.

"Just ten more seconds.“ You squealed when the water reached your hanging feet and held your breath when the water reached your back.

Your stomach and his were glued together, keeping the baby warm, and you couldn’t help but laugh at the involuntary funny sounds he kept making.

“God, I love you so much,” he said between clenched teeth.

“I’m sorry!” You said loudly. “Okay! We’re done! Out! Out!”

Aaron moved as fast as he could and sprinted back to the car with you still in his arms, locking yourselves in the back seat where everything to keep you warm was already settled.

“Skin to skin! Skin to skin!” You barely let Aaron adjust and you were already straddling his lap.

He reached for the towel and quickly dried your bodies before placing the fuzzy blanket over you.

“I think we should find another Christmas tradition.” He kissed your temple as he started to rub your back.

“But I love this one.” You sniffed your nose.

“I love it too. But next year, with our baby, we won’t be able to do it.”

“I know.” You smiled at him and pecked his cold lips.

It was hard to believe that soon it wasn’t going to be just the two of you and your dog Chester.

“We’re really having a baby.” You sighed, so in love.

“We are.”

“I’m scared.”

“Don’t be.” He cupped your face. “Don’t be. I know it’s scary, but everything’s gonna be alright.”

He’s always been so good at calming your thoughts down.

“I’m scared to love so much.”

“I’m a little worried about this new love we’re gonna have. But it’s a good thing.”

His cheeks and nose were still flushed by the cold and his almond-shaped eyes were glimmering with a different light. Aaron often wished he could be with you inside your little bubble forever, away from the city and everything that came with it. You were enough for him and thinking about this new chapter in his life made him want to step aside and get to be with you through it all. It was a tough decision, but there was no rush to decide just yet.

Soon your bodies gained back temperature with the help of the hot cocoa, extra blankets and laughs.

“Okay, I think we should go. My parents are probably tired of babysitting Chester, and they’re waiting for us to start prepping dinner.” You put back on your hoodie, ready to hop on the passenger seat.

“Wait.” He swiftly took you back on his lap so you wouldn’t escape. “I uh, have another present for you.”

“You bastard. I knew it. I don’t want it. Save it for next year.”

“Oh, I think you’re gonna want this one.” He reached inside his pocket and pulled out a small ring, holding it right between your noses.

“Hotch,” you whispered in shock.

“I was going to propose this morning, but you had a better present for me so I had to improvise and put this one off.” That better present being the positive pregnancy test. “Marry me.”

Your eyes turned glassy and now your chin shook trying not to cry, but you couldn’t not to. The tear drops almost jumped out of you.

“Oh don’t cry.” Aaron wiped them off with his thumbs. “Honey, don’t cry.”

“It’s the hormones.” You laughed, drying your tears with your shirtsleeve.

“Is that a yes, then?”

“Of course.” You laughed again while nodding. “I love you so much. I can’t wait for you to be my husband.” He reached for your hand and put on the ring, placing a kiss over it. It fit perfectly. “You’re crying too?” You caught the single tear with a kiss.

“It’s the hormones.”

[rufflebuttercup]

romance analysis unit | spencer reid

summary: you like spencer. spencer likes you. somehow, you're the only ones on the team who can't see it - and that calls for some BAU intervention.

a/n: i had a bit of an impulsive moment and decided to delete my old blog (vintagecarat) because i wanted a redo, so if you've seen a variation of this fic before, it’s not been stolen - i promise! this is my favourite x reader i've ever written, so i had to rewrite it, of course!

enjoy the fic, and have a fantastic day! <3 requests are open!

note(s): gn!reader & no pronouns used, mention of alcohol, mention of canon-typical violence, reader gets hurt, mentions of blood, one bed trope

word count: 5,173

One year, seven months and sixteen days. That's how long it had been since you'd started working at the BAU.

One year, seven months and nine days. That's how long it had been since you'd realized that you had a sickeningly huge crush on Spencer Reid.

It had been a long time since you'd had a crush. The last time had been in elementary school, and you'd been convinced that you were in love with the boy who sat two seats to the left of you in class. He’d gone on to marry your best friend and leave you with a broken heart. In hindsight, though, you were only five.

You'd fallen for people before, and you'd had a string of partners in the past, but it had been such a long time since you'd felt the way you did when you looked at Spencer. Seeing him smile made your heart thud erratically in your chest. Hearing him ramble made you smile in the giddiest and most euphoric way possible. Feeling his fingers brush against yours whenever he handed you your morning coffee made your brain turn to mush and left you unable to form a coherent sentence for at least ten minutes. You were trying your hardest to break that last habit, though.

Your crush on Spencer quickly became a topic that you knew you wanted to keep a secret from the rest of the team. The last thing you needed was all of your progress as the newest team member to be weighed down by a crush that made you blush and giggle like a child.

During a particularly wild night out with the team, though, your plan to keep your crush on Spencer a secret went flying out of the nearest window, along with any shred of dignity you had remaining after drinking one too many shots. It had been a miracle that Spencer hadn't been there at the exact moment the words spouted from your lips. At least you had your drunk self to thank for something, you supposed.

Penelope had been the first one you'd told. Definitely a foolish move on your part, but you were too drunk in the moment to make any logical decisions. Emily and JJ had gone to the bar to get more drinks - "another round of shots", Emily had screamed before dragging JJ away - leaving you and Penelope alone to guard the table in the corner. She was the one who'd brought up the conversation, and naturally, you'd followed along without a care in the world. If there was anything good to come of the situation, then it was the look on Penelope’s face. You wished you’d taken a picture of her expression as the words tumbled from your mouth.

Penelope couldn’t keep a secret to save her life, and once she knew, it was only a matter of time before Emily and JJ knew. She’d screamed so loudly that you’d almost gotten kicked out of the bar for causing a disturbance.

"Place your bets," Emily had shouted over the pounding bass music, slamming a twenty-dollar bill onto the table, "How long until Garcia tells Morgan?"

It barely even took an hour. Emily ended up winning her own bet.

Derek had practically cornered you at your desk the next time he saw you in the bullpen, failing miserably to hide the smirk on his face as he showed you his phone and the babbling, completely unintelligible, texts from Penelope.

With the alcohol out of your system and the devastating hangover a painful memory, you wanted nothing more than for the ground to swallow you whole. Maybe you could quit, or request a transfer, or simply disappear to the other side of the country and become a recluse in the wilderness. Wishful thinking, of course.

From that moment on, you noticed that the rest of the team was messing with you. You didn’t have any proof, but you were sure of it. You’d enter the conference room to find that the only seat remaining was next to Spencer. You’d find yourself paired up with Spencer more often during cases. You and Spencer would frequently be the last two members left in the bullpen at the end of the day. 

It wasn't as if you particularly minded. You and Spencer were best friends. You had been from the moment you'd walked into the bullpen on your first day and immediately made a comment about the book he was reading. You were used to being around him more often than not, but it was a lot harder to act as if nothing had changed when you were on edge 90% of the time. You were always wondering if he knew anything about the crush you had on him, or if someone else was about to blurt out the secret that you were trying so desperately hard to keep hidden. You couldn't bring it up because you'd either out yourself or you'd be forced to have a conversation that you were sure would end in rejection.

It was an endless cycle, and you hated it.

You were in the bullpen with Dave, perched on the edge of your desk as he rattled off his famous carbonara recipe. You’d always wanted to be a better cook, and Dave had promised you that he'd teach you, even though he really didn't want you burning his kitchen down to the ground.

“Okay, so, do you add the cheese and the egg together, or separately?”

“You combine the egg first, and then you add the cheese.”

“Oh. Right. So…”

It was at that moment that Derek decided to sidle over to the conversation, perching himself on your desk beside you with an all-too familiar smirk on his face. 

“Since when have you been interested in learning how to cook?” he gave you a not-so-subtle nudge.

You shot Derek a glare, “Derek. Don't.”

"Unless you were planning a date for pretty boy over there.”

He nodded his head in Spencer's direction, and you couldn't help but follow his eyes. It was automatic. The sight of Spencer pouring pretty much the entire jar of sugar into his coffee made you smile, but it was definitely an expression you wiped off your face when you heard Derek's laughter.

“I swear to God, Derek…”

“Guys,” JJ interrupted, entering the bullpen with a case file in hand, “We've got a case.”

“Is it bad?”

JJ simply grimaced. 

“Of course it is,” you said with a sigh, hopping off your desk. Derek was still failing to hide his laughter beside you, and you swatted at him, “Shut up, Derek.”

“I didn't do anything.”

“You didn't have to.”

It didn’t surprise you at all to see that the seat beside Spencer was the only one available. As you slid into it, you caught Emily smirking at you from across the table, though she was clearly trying to hide it. You shook your head at her, though you couldn’t stop a tiny smile from ghosting over your lips as you focused your attention onto the case file in your hands.

ꨄ︎

It always seemed as though every case at the BAU was worse than the last one.

You’d all been called to a small town in Wyoming after a frantic call from the police department. Three victims had been found in the town’s frozen lake with anchors tied to their ankles to keep them below the surface. A fourth victim had gone missing, and there was no doubt that she’d end up like the others if she wasn’t found. It was a horrifying fact that everybody knew, but nobody wanted to admit.

It was later, almost 11 pm, and you were no closer to solving the case than you had been when you’d first arrived. It was as if the unsub was always three steps ahead of you, and it was frustratingly annoying. You’d spent a good portion of the afternoon scouring through decade old case files. The lead detective was convinced that it was related to a similar case that had happened in the 1990s. You hadn’t found any striking similarities between the two and you were beginning to wonder if there would be any at all. He was clutching at straws, desperately trying to close the case as quickly as possible. You couldn’t fault him for that.

Just as the words on the case file were beginning to blur into one large amalgamation, a gentle hand landed on your shoulder, “Hey,” JJ said, “We’re all heading to the hotel.”

“You go ahead,” you waved dismissively, stifling a yawn, “I’m going to finish looking over these files, and…”

“Hotch’s orders,” she cut you off, “You need a break. We all do.”

You looked to the doors of the precinct and saw the rest of the team ready to leave, muttering amongst themselves in a tired conversation. Aaron raised his eyebrows, almost expectantly, at you.

“Alright,” you didn’t bother trying to hide another yawn, “I’m coming.”

JJ smiled softly at you, almost dragging you to your feet because of how exhausted you were. It didn’t really feel as if your brain was in control of your body as you padded after her. You’d been so caught up in the details of the case that you hadn’t realized how tired you truly were. The sudden rush of air that hit you as you exited the building made you even drowsier.

“You look exhausted,” Spencer chuckled as he helped you into the SUV with a gentle hand on the small of your back that almost made you combust right then and there, "I've seen you tired, but this is another level."

You simply made a little grunt in response. You didn't have enough energy to come up with one of your usual witty comebacks. You clumsily collapsed into your seat, and you leaned your head back against the headrest as your eyes fluttered shut.

It wasn't too long of a drive to the hotel, but that didn't stop you from catching a quick power nap during the brief moment of peace. You couldn't get Spencer out of your head. Or, more specifically, that hand on the small of your back. He'd never touched you like that before. Ever. It was sending your brain spiraling, to be honest.

“We’re here,” Spencer’s voice filtered into your ear as he gently shook your shoulder,  “Wake up.”

Your eyes snapped open, and you glanced to your left. After a moment, your eyes came back into focus, and it hit you that your head was leaning on Spencer’s shoulder, “Oh,” you quickly sat up, though you almost choked as the seat belt snapped you back against the seat, “Sorry.”

You were so very glad that most of the team weren’t in the same SUV as the two of you because they’d never let you hear the end of it. The only other person was Aaron, and as you caught his eye in the rearview mirror, you could tell that he was trying not to uncharacteristically laugh at you. You did your best to ignore him, which wasn’t exactly easy when your face began to burn with a familiar wave of heat that you’d grown accustomed to.

That chuckle of Spencer’s that you loved so much and made your heart do flip-flops in your chest echoed in your ears, “It’s fine. You clearly needed it. And I do make an excellent pillow.”

You snorted out a laugh, and you gave him a shove as you climbed out of the car beside him, “Shut up.”

The rest of the team were all waiting beside the front desk with their bags as you and Spencer entered. Even though you made sure to look in any other direction, you definitely saw the subtle smirks Derek and Emily were shooting you out of the corner of your eye. 

Aaron finished his hushed conversation with the receptionist, and with a curt nod, he moved back over to the rest of the team with key cards in his hand, “They don’t have enough rooms for all of us. Looks like we’re doubling up.”

If Spencer noticed the subtle smirks and side glances from the rest of the team, he never mentioned them.

Instead, he nudged your shoulder, “We’re sharing, right?”

“Of course, we’re sharing. I wouldn’t expect anything less,” you took the key card Aaron was holding out to you, and you couldn’t help but notice his lips twitching up into a tiny little-half smirk. You brushed it off, though, “I’m sleeping on the bed nearest the window this time.”

“That’s not fair,” Spencer followed you as you made your way to the elevator, “I like sleeping near the window.”

“No. Not happening. You slept near the window last time.”

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you as the elevator shot up to your designated floor. Your eyes wandered around the small space, and you found yourself looking anywhere other than at Spencer. You weren’t an anxious person, and it wasn’t as if being alone with Spencer was a new thing to you, but your mind was racing. All because of that one small gesture. His hand on the small of your back. You couldn’t stop thinking about it, and you wished you could because it was making your cheeks burn.

“Even the elevators are fancy,” you muttered, casting a quick glance around the elevator’s plush and yet miniscule interior, “For a small town, they sure do have nice hotels.”

Things really were dire when you started making small talk. You were the type of person who could make a mountain out of a molehill with how much you talked. You almost rivaled Spencer with how much you could babble on. Small talk wasn’t your thing at all.

“What’s the matter with you?”

“Hm?”

“You hate small talk,” Spencer said, and you bit back a laugh at that. It was as if you and Spencer were on the same wavelength sometimes, “And you’re picking at the hole in your sweater. You only ever do that when you’ve got something on your mind.”

You immediately glanced down at your hands, dropping them from your sweater as if it burned. You hadn’t even realized you’d been picking at the hole until Spencer mentioned it. You hadn’t even realized that there was a hole at all. Your bottom lip jutted out in a quick pout, “I love this sweater.”

Spencer chuckled at that, “So,” he continued, “You’re clearly nervous about something. And it’s not the case, because cases never make you nervous.”

“Really?” you said, a hint of laughter creeping into your tone, “You’re analyzing me?”

The elevator reached your floor, and the doors opened with a loud ding, “I’m not analyzing,” Spencer stepped out, “I’m simply making an astute observation.”

“Okay, well stop astutely observing me,” you followed after him, “Don’t worry. I’m fine. You know I’d tell you, “ it wasn’t necessarily a lie. Maybe you’d tell him. Eventually. 

Spencer glanced back at you briefly as if he didn’t believe a word coming out of your mouth, but he never said anything. Instead, he took the keycard from you and held it against the lock, waiting for the light to turn green before pushing open the door, “Oh.”

“What?” you sidestepped around him, “Oh.”

There was only one bed. Sure, it was a double, but it was still tiny. It was in that moment that you decided perhaps becoming an unsub wouldn’t be a lost cause. 

“I’ll take the couch.”

“I can sleep on the couch.”

You and Spencer finished your sentences at the same time, and you turned to look at each other. As soon as you locked eyes, you both started to laugh at the stupidity of the situation. 

“I’m not letting you sleep on the couch.”

“I’m not letting you sleep on the couch either,” you argued, “It’ll kill your back, Spence. You’re way too tall.”

“It’s not fair on you, though. You’ll…” Spencer was about to argue some more, but he stopped when he saw the look on your face. Spencer couldn’t argue his way out of a wet paper bag - when it came to you, at least.

“Look, Spence. It’s fine,” you dropped your bag onto the couch before he could protest, “There. Easy. No harm done.”

Spencer frowned, but he reluctantly put his own bag on the bed, “Fine. We’re swapping tomorrow night, though,” he told you, almost ordering you, “You’re not sleeping on the couch the entire time we’re here.”

“Deal,” your lips curled up into a smile, and you sat down on the couch, “See. I told you I’d be sleeping near the window.”

Spencer laughed at that. 

ꨄ︎

From your space on the couch, you could faintly see the glowing green alarm clock that sat on the bedside table. A strange commodity for a hotel room. It almost looked alien. 

2:32 a.m. 

You couldn’t sleep. You had a bad enough sleep schedule at the best of times, but the injury on your side was making things worse. It still burned, and if you gently put pressure on the area, you could still feel the deep wound through the layers of bandages. 

You were almost three days into the case, and you’d finally had a solid lead. It had taken a lot of digging, but Penelope had discovered the unsub’s hunting ground; an old speakeasy hidden so deep in the town that nobody had been able to trace it. Since you were the closest in victimology, you’d agreed to go undercover to catch the unsub once and for all. All you’d ended up with was a knife embedded deep into your side as the unsub escaped once again.

You’d been in the hospital for hours after that. The knife had gone in so deep that it was close to catching something vital, and the doctors had told you that you were lucky to be alive. You’d spent most of that afternoon in a hospital bed, listening to the monotonous sound of beeping machines. After a concerned lecture from Aaron - he’d told you not to follow the unsub but you hadn’t exactly listened - you were bandaged up and sent on your way.

Spencer had told you to take the bed. He’d almost forced you into it at one point. But you’d seen the way he’d tried to discreetly stretch out his cramp throughout the day, and you were far too stubborn, so you refused his offer and tried to sleep on the couch for the night. It wasn’t working, though. 

You huffed in pain, shifting uncomfortably in the hopes of finding a better position to sleep in. Every movement made your bandages rub against the wounded area. You finally thought you found a comfortable enough position and you tried to settle down, but then you felt a dampness seeping through your bandages, and you cursed under your breath.

“No, no, no,” you muttered, pulling your shirt up and surveying your body. Even in the darkness, you could see the dark spot where the blood had begun to soak through, “Goddamnit.” 

You pushed yourself off the couch and tip-toed across the room. You didn’t want to wake Spencer, especially not in your current state. You kept a hand tightly pressed against your side as you slowly moved. You didn’t want to get blood on the carpet. The staff seemed lovely, and you didn’t want to ruin their day with your mess. Every single step made you wince as a sharp pain shot straight through your body, and your breaths came out as sharp little puffs of air. 

A muffled noise from the bed caught your attention, and you saw Spencer begin to stir. He gently mumbled your name as he sat up and stared at you with bleary eyes, “What are you doing?” he looked you up and down, and then his eyes settled on the blood, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you told him, though you clearly weren’t, “I think the stitches came undone or something. It’s fine,” you tried to wave his worries off, “Go back to sleep.”

Spencer did the opposite. He clambered out of bed and turned on the light, lighting up the room so that you could both see each other clearly. Your heart started to thud a little faster when you saw that the shirt he was wearing to sleep in was a little undone towards the top. You’d never noticed that before. 

“You’re not fine,” his eyes were laser focused on the blood as he took a step closer to you, “You’re bleeding.”

“Good observation skills, Spencer,” you laughed a little, though you grunted in pain as it aggravated the injury, “I told you, it’s fine. I’ll redress it, and…” you paused when you saw the look in his eyes. It was a look he’d never given you before, and it stole your breath for a moment. 

“Let me see.”

“Spencer...”

“It’s obviously hurting you,” his sentence was almost demanding, and yet there was a soft and concerning tone to his voice, too, “Let me see it.”

You sighed. There was no way you could refuse when he spoke to you with that tone of voice. You gingerly lifted your shirt high enough for him to see it, “It looks worse than it is.”

Spencer gently pulled away the loose bandages and inspected the open wound, his eyes never leaving your body, “Doesn’t matter,” he muttered, “You’re not redressing it yourself, and you’re certainly not stitching yourself back up.”

You barely had a chance to respond before Spencer had darted into the bathroom, and he came out moments later with a roll of bandages the hospital had given you. 

“Here. Sit,” he sat back down on the bed, and he patted the space beside him, “You’ll have to go back to hospital tomorrow. I’ll help you rebandage it for tonight,” his eyes darted between your own eyes and the blood that seemed to be pooling on your side, “Please.”

You hesitated for a moment, “Spencer…” there was no point in arguing with him, you knew that, and your wound hurt the longer it was left open, “Fine.”

You sat down beside Spencer, curling your legs up under you as you turned your back to him. Your hands gripped the hem of your shirt, holding it up high enough so that it wasn’t dangling in the way. This wasn’t the first time that Spencer had patched you up after an injury in the field, but this was the first time where you were definitely feeling a little light-headed. 

“Ow.”

“Sorry,” Spencer’s voice was a gentle whisper against your ear. You hadn’t even realized that he was practically leaning his head on your shoulder, “Sorry.”

Spencer’s hands were so gentle on your skin that it was almost as if he wasn’t even touching you at all. The only indication that he was even helping you was the bandages around your torso since he wrapped them so tightly that they felt like a strangely comforting hug. 

“There,” Spencer said, almost proudly, and he gave you a pat on the shoulder, “Done.”

You glanced down at your body before dropping your shirt. The wound didn’t even seem to hurt any more. You became very aware very quickly that Spencer’s hands hadn’t left your hips, “Thank you.”

You shuffled around until you were facing him, and when your eyes locked, it suddenly felt as if time had come to a standstill. That look was back in his eyes; the one that you’d never seen before that made you feel as though you were melting on the inside. You weren’t entirely sure what was racing faster; your heart or your mind. 

And suddenly, before you could really comprehend your actions, your lips were on his. Your body acted before your brain could catch up. Your hands tugged slightly on the collar of his shirt as if you were trying to pull him closer to you. The kiss was tender, and yet it was so full of obvious desire. Warmth flooded your entire body as your stomach seemed to explode with swarms of butterflies. This was a moment you’d thought about for a long time, and once your brain caught up, you couldn’t quite comprehend that it was happening.

It may have only been a few seconds, but it felt like hours. You pulled away, and it was only after you saw the startled expression on Spencer’s face and the faint blush that crept up his neck that you realized what you’d done, “Spence…” your mouth opened and closed, but now words came out for a good few seconds, “Spencer. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

Your panicked babbling was cut off as Spencer pressed a quick kiss to your lips, “Shut up,” he smiled, and he pressed his index fingers where his lips had been moments ago, “Just shut up for a minute.”

If this were any other time, you’d be rather offended that he told you to shut up, and you’d keep talking. In this situation, however, you were happy to keep your mouth shut.

“You didn’t mean to, what? You didn’t mean to kiss me?”

“No. I mean… Yes, but also no, but…”

Spencer raised an eyebrow with a faint smirk, “I thought I told you to shut up.”

You pressed your lips together in a fine line, “Sorry.”

Spencer’s hands left your hips, and he took your hands in his own. He squeezed them gently, and his thumbs began tracing soft little circles onto your palms, “You kissed me.”

You were more than ready for the ground to open up and swallow you whole. Spencer seemed to notice because his grip on your hands got a little tighter as if he knew you’d go run, “I’m glad you kissed me.”

There was no stopping the surprised squeak that escaped your lips, “What?!”

Spencer chuckled at that, and the pink blush had spread up to his cheeks, “I’m glad you kissed me,” he repeated, “I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time.”

“You… You…” your mouth was hanging open, and your eyes were wide. You must’ve looked like an absolute idiot, “You have…?”

“Of course, I did.”

This conversation was going in an entirely different direction to how you’d assumed it was. You’d never seen Spencer look or talk with so much affection before. Spencer said your name with so much love in his tone that it snapped you out of your shocked state, “I like you.”

For a single moment in time, it felt as if the world had stopped spinning. You simply stared, unable to do much of anything else except feel a sharp tug at your heart, “You… You do…?”

“Are you capable of putting a sentence together, or not?” Spencer laughed, and he interlaced his fingers with yours, “Yes, I do. A lot, actually,” he smiled at you, and there was a hint of teasing, “I might be a genius, but even the dumbest person in the room could figure you out right now.”

You cracked a smile, and your shocked expression gave way to a relieved and delighted one, “I really like you, too.”

“Do you? I hadn’t noticed.”

“Shut up,” you giggled, and you never giggled. You knew this crush was childish, but this was on another level entirely.

“I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you giggle.”

“I’m not giggling.”

“Oh, you absolutely are. You’ve always been a terrible liar,” Spencer grinned at you, and then his lips connected with yours. 

The kiss seemed more affectionate than earlier, and a lot more passionate. Your hands wound around his neck, and his hands found a comfortable resting place on your waist. Your lips seemed to perfectly fit together like two puzzle pieces. It could’ve been seconds, or it could’ve been minutes. You weren’t entirely sure how long it had been, but you eventually pulled away from each other, and you were both a little breathless from the intensity. Intense was something you never expected from Spencer. You liked it, though.

You let your forehead rest against Spencer’s, “I hate to ruin the mood and everything, but…” your eyes flitted back and forth to the couch, “Does this mean I don’t have to sleep on the couch anymore?”

“Absolutely not,” Spencer pulled you a little closer, “You’re not sleeping on the couch. Especially not now.”

“Good,” you curled into him as he pulled you closer to his side, letting your head rest against his chest with a gentle sigh, “The bed has better company.”

Spencer maneuvered the two of you until you were lying on the bed, and he tucked you that tiny bit closer into him. You’d imagined him hugging you plenty of times, but this felt better than any imagination could. He kissed the top of your head, and he ran a gentle hand up and down your back, “Sure does.”

ꨄ︎

“Penelope Garcia! I’m going to kill you!”

You stormed through the BAU and entered Penelope’s office, slamming the door open with such a bang that it made the walls shudder.

Penelope grinned as she spun around in her chair to face you, “Ah, my sweet angel,” she spoke with a beaming grin on her face, “Do you require my assistance?”

“You little…” you stepped a little closer, but it was hard to look even slightly threatening with a goofy grin on your face that you were trying to hide, “You gave me and Spencer the only room with a single bed?”

“I did no such thing.”

“I spoke to everyone else, Pen. Everyone else had a bed of their own.”

Penelope continued to smirk at you, not even trying to hide her laughter, “It worked, didn’t it? I haven’t seen you as happy as this in weeks.”

You faltered at that. She wasn’t wrong. Ever since you’d gotten back from Wyoming, you’d been happier than anyone had ever seen you. Of course, everyone knew about you and Spencer, and it didn’t take long for the good-natured teasing to pick straight back up, “Yeah. Okay. It worked, but…”

Penelope held up a manicured finger to cut you off, “Besides, my sweet,” she continued, leaning forward in her chair as if she had a secret to tell you, “I was the one who booked the rooms, yes, but I wasn’t the one who handed out the keys, was I?”

Another pause. The words slowly sunk in, and then your mouth dropped open in a mix of shock, humiliation, and a little bit of gratitude, “You… You don’t mean…”

Penelope grinned. She could practically see the gears turning in your head, and it made her laugh, “Oh, I mean exactly what you think I mean, my love.”

“Hotch set us up?!” you didn’t even wait for Penelope’s response. You turned on your heel and marched out of her office, leaving Penelope laughing to herself behind you, “Aaron Hotchner! I’m going to kill you.”

[ghostofhyuck]

NCT Dream when they realized that they're in love with you, their fake girlfriend.

Mark Lee

It started with jealousy. Really. Mark should've known but to stay within the boundaries you two established. You two are fake dating because you're tired of explaining to your parents that you don't need a boyfriend at the moment, so Mark came into the rescue. Mark knew that you don't want any commitments at the moment but oh, when you started to have crush on this classmate of yours, it left a sour impression on him. He was having a push-and-pull moment with his feelings bec first of all, you two aren't in a real relationship, and second, he doesn't have the right to be jealous. But why is he jealous? It probably took Mark days to realized that he's in love with you and his jealousy was the result of it. 

Huang Renjun

You and Renjun are platonic soulmates. That's what you two are and despite the whole fake dating scenario, nothing changes between the two of you. BUT that's what Renjun thought. It started with the way he noticed that you prefer wearing makeup on your stressful days, and leaves your face bare during normal days. Then he remembers your drink order at a local coffee shop near your university, or how your hair smells like candy mixed with roses. Renjun unknowingly remembers all these small detail of yours, and he couldn't help but to notice you more. Day by day, slowly it became an epiphany to him, that italicized, "oh." he's in love with you. 

Lee Jeno

It was an intimate moment between the two of you. On a late-night convenience store run, you two strucked a conversation that you two never had ever since you two entered a fake relationship. It ranged from senseless topics to serious ones, like your future, your dream, and what you want to do after graduating college. Jeno hums quietly as he listen to your thoughts, he couldn't help but to stare at you, fond because your face was full of expression. So the moment you slipped out that you're uncertain about relationships in your future, Jeno was strucked. That's when he realized that he couldn't imagine his future without you, and a part of him was convinced, that maybe you two should make this relationship be real. 

Lee Donghyuck

it's rare for you to go on radio silence. It's not that Haechan's worried or anything, but as his fake gf, you're the type to give him update or what-nots in case there's an emergency where you two need to act like a couple. So when you're not responding to his messages, Haechan found himself going to your apartment, knocking on the door twice. It took him a few minutes to wait until you opened the door --- both of you are surprised to see each other. Haechan found himself staring at your crying face, (you're in the middle of a breakdown.) "what happened!?" he asked with an angry tone, thinking that someone hurt you. Okay, maybe Haechan is worried about you, and he felt himself hurting because you're in that situation. 

Na Jaemin

Despite being in a fake relationship, you and Jaemin agreed that you two can still meet other people. I mean, the fake relationship is just so your ex would stop bothering you. It worked but you two maintain it because nothing changed between the two of you. You know that Jaemin keeps on seeing other girls, and you're not worry about it, since you don't have plans of having a boyfriend at the moment. (And what you have with Jaemin is very platonic.) But what you don't know is that Jaemin had that weird feeling whenever he's around with another girl. That he feels like he's cheating on you, and no matter how many girls he tried to meet, he always finds himself looking for you instead. 

Zhong Chenle

It started with a fight. A huge misunderstanding that was followed by a miscommunication. It's been a week since you two fought and your anger to Chenle never perished. He was being unreasonable for someone who's a fake bf! He thinks that he's right and wanted to stand on his opinion even though you explained to him calmly your side. But it seems like he doesn't want to believe you, so you walked out first. It's been a week and the guilt is eating Chenle up. Having received an intervention from his friends not only about the fight but also about your fake relationship with him, Chenle probably had an epiphany moment when one of them blurted out, "do you love her?" and then he realized, "oh shit, i do love her." 

Park Jisung

When you and Jisung entered a fake relationship, there were rules and boundaries that shouldn't be crossed --- one of them are physical touches like hugs and kisses. BUT it was a party. Everyone was drunk, and you two became the center of the dares. It was just a kiss, they say. You two are dating, so a kiss would be harmless right? And as much as Jisung tried to avoid it, you ended up only giving him a nod, a permission to him to do it. It was probably one of the best five seconds of his life. After the kiss, Jisung would be so dumbstruck about it, even though he apologized to you after and you brushed it off, he couldn't help but to still think about it. He was sleepless!! he wanted to kiss you again, but this time, he wanted it to be real and genuine. 

[waynes-multiverse]

Plastic Hearts – Part 25

Pairing: Director!Dean Winchester x Actress!Reader

Series Summary: Los Angeles, 1985. Y/N’s a young actress without any success, hopping from one failed audition to the next until one desperate mistake brings her to her breaking point. Dean Winchester, on the other hand, is a grade A asshole and washed-up director at the end of his career, known for his godawful slasher movies in the 70s and his love for blow, booze, and women. Lost in the toxic Hollywood life, their paths cross when one hopeless little wrestling show changes their trajectory.

Chapter Warnings: +18, a tinge of angst, FLUFF

Word Count: 5.7k

A/N: I'm not sad... 🥲 Honestly, I don't have words beyond gratitude and cliché goodbyes, so let's end this journey together 🤍

<< 24 || Spotify Playlist || Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

25. Dare

“Ugh, I can’t believe you convinced everyone to come out here,” Jo groans and raises her flat palm to her brows, shielding her eyes from the scalding desert sun. “What the fuck is wrong with Palm Springs, huh?”

“C’mon, we’ve always wanted to go to Joshua Tree together since we moved to LA. This is like the perfect time,” Y/N argues cheerfully and nudges her friend with her elbow. “Look! It’s so peaceful.”

“There’s a dead carcass over there. Looks like a symbol of my marriage,” Jo deadpans.

Y/N purses her lips before compelling another positive smile to her face. “We can get rid of that. The girls really needed this after the whole Crowley debacle.”

The group left straight after the network meeting in Dean’s office this morning, which didn’t go as planned, to say the least. While several executives were surely interested, Crowley and H-ELLTV put an abrupt end to it. Apparently, they sold their fucking souls by signing a contract with the devil. Crowley’s words still rang in her ears on repeat.

“Hate to be the bearer of bad news, ladies, but H-ELLTV owns your characters, which means you can’t sell them to another network. You all signed a contract and made a deal. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, fucking asshole…” Jo huffs her agreement but then throws her friend a suspicious sideways look. “What’s up with you, though? Why are you so chipper and cheerful like a fucking Disney princess? I thought you of all people would be fucking depressed and devastated about the stupid show ending.”

Y/N shrugs. “I am. I’m just trying to make the best of our last weekend together. Can’t I be happy?”

“Fuck no.” Jo shakes her head. “Something’s up with you. Usually, when you’re like this, it’s overcompensation ‘cause you’ve fucked something up. If I were still married, I’d think you’ve fucked my husband all over again. So, what did you do?”

Y/N shrugs once more and keeps her eyes trained on the sprawling desert landscape in front of her. “Nothing.”

“Dean also was a bigger asshole than usual this morning. So, I’m asking again, what shit did you fuck up now?”

“Nothing, okay? Dean’s always an asshole,” Y/N deflects defensively. Although, even she has to admit – those were some spectacularly icy green eyes this morning. Not that he ever looked directly at her or spoke with her even once. She probably would’ve turned to stone if he did.

“Fine, don’t tell. God knows I don’t fucking care,” Jo says indifferently and joins the other women as they set up their tents on the campground.

Y/N lets out a small sigh as she stares at the bluest sky she’s ever seen while the hot desert sun beams down on her. She watches the girls for a while, her heart slightly cracking at the thought this might be the last time they all hang out together. This year has been the best one she’s ever had.

But then, her heart stings even more when she thinks about the one person who isn’t here, wondering what he’s doing right now. If anything, she owes it all to him.

Dean nurses his beer with a sigh, his green eyes barely paying attention to the half-naked girl who’s winding herself up and down a silver pole in front of him. This used to bring him joy – day-drinking at a strip club and watching tits bounce. But now all he thinks about is how that girl looks nothing like Y/N. None of them do.

“Hey, son. Startin’ early today,” Bobby notes with a chuckle as he sits down next to him.

“Yeah, they canceled the show.” And while that’s certainly true, it’s not the reason why Dean’s sulking at a titty bar.

“Too damn bad. I loved the show!” Bobby tells him enthusiastically. “It was insane. Good insane. It had everything – comedy, drama, heartache, tits, violence, a fucking wedding? There’s something for everyone there.”

“Well, uh, thanks, Bobby. Really appreciate it,” Dean tells him politely. He likes the guy, but he’s not in the mood for chitchat. He’s barely in the mood for naked women, for crying out loud. This is a deep fucking depression.

There are only two promises he’s made to himself: One, he won’t slump like he did after his last divorce. There will be no excessive drinking, which leads to excessively pathetic crying, which leads to a myriad of bad choices out of sheer desperation. Remember that awful dating videotape he made? Yes, there will be no more of that. And then there’s of course two, no drugs – no matter how much he tells himself he wants or fucking needs them. A tiny dot of hope seems to be still dormant in his plastic heart, reminding him that she might come back, and he doesn’t want to risk disappointing her once she does.

Dean has worked fucking hard to be the best version he can be – a version she doesn’t seem to give a shit about. But even he has to admit: He likes himself a lot better now, so he refuses to turn back to old comforts, albeit it’s the hardest thing he’s ever had to do.

“You guys interested in doing a floor show?”

Bobby’s words pull him from his reverie. Dean arches a brow at him, straightening a bit in his seat. “What? Here?”

Bobby rolls his eyes. “No, idjit. My wife Ellen has some stakes in a club on the Vegas Strip. She manages the hotel there, too. They’re looking for a new headliner. Just do the exact same show, night after night, 300 miles east. Vegas is where the money is. Headliners make at least 25 grand a week. You think that gym is big? We have to fill 1,100 seats.”

Dean stumps and blinks at the old man a bit baffled. “Well, uh… I’ll think about it. Talk to my partner, the girls…”

Bobby smiles and pats his shoulder as he gets up. “You do that. I’ll call you tomorrow. Now, how about a lap dance? On the house. Can pick any girl that fancies your heartache. You ain’t foolin’ an old man like me.”

Dean chuckles. “Nah, I’m good. But thanks. Think I’m gonna head home and drink myself into a coma there.”

“It’s getting dark soon. How much longer?” Jo’s brown eyes dart to Y/N as she drags her feet over a rocky path. The sun stings less than it did when they started their little hike, but her skin feels perfectly tanned by now and the water is running low.

“Uh, I think it’s supposed to be just up ahead that hill,” Y/N muses and swirls her head around the formation of rocks that all look the same, squinting her eyes into the distance.

Jo sighs, and her stare intensifies. “You’ve been saying that for over an hour. Are we lost?”

“Noooo…” Y/N doesn’t sound convincing and surely doesn’t fool Jo with her reply.

“Alright, gimme the map.”

“I don’t have the map. I gave it to Meg.”

Jo groans and rolls her eyes, throwing her arms up in exasperation.

“What? Meg’s the trail leader. Trail leader gets the map,” Y/N defends her faux pas with reason.

“Great! So we’re fucking lost in the desert,” the blonde huffs.

Y/N chuckles lightly, mostly out of uncomfortableness and panic she tries to hide behind it. “No, there’s a trail marker right over there,” she says, pointing to a pile of rocks. “That looks manmade.”

Jo quirks her brow. “You mean like that pile of rocks? Or that one over there?”

Y/N follows her friend’s gaze, only to realize that there are lots of piles of rock that all look too fucking similar. She purses her lips and scratches her head before resting her arms on her squared-off hips. “I think we’re lost.”

“Yeah.” With an exhaustive sigh, Jo plops down on another pile of rocks and watches as the orange sun dips behind the horizon, shadows of blue slowly crawling across the desert floor and swallowing the light.

Y/N clumsily lowers herself down next to the blonde. Her leg hurts like a bitch, and the desert sand that has wound its way into her cast itches a good deal. Her hands and arms hurt as well from clinging to her crutches all afternoon. Maybe Dean was right, and this was a bad idea, after all. Why does he always have to be fucking right about everything? How can one person be so annoying and frustrating all at once?

“Well, you finally get your wish,” Jo deadpans. “We’re gonna die together.”

“I’m sorry,” Y/N says ruefully and looks at the first stars appearing in the night sky. “Maybe the stars will guide us home.”

Jo just looks at her, unamused and unsurprised. “You’ve never been camping, have you?”

Y/N twitches her shoulders apologetically. “It was only supposed to be a three-mile moderate beginner’s trail to a beautiful vista. It’s what the guidebook said.”

Jo shakes her head and blows a raspberry, hugging her knees. “Joanna Wesson, 27, found dead near a random cluster of rocks that might have looked like a trail marker. She was best known for playing Beth Crowne on the soap opera Paradise Bay before trying to revive her career on an unsuccessful wrestling show. She is survived by her son, Sammy, and her bitter ex-husband Sam with his secretary Jessica.”

“Well, at least you get an obituary,” Y/N quips. “Mine would just read: Soap Star Found Dead Next to Unidentified Woman in National Park.”

Jo even snorts at that. “Well, I’m sure Dean would cut and edit an adorable video tribute with a bunch of B-roll about you at your funeral.”

“Yeah, maybe…” Y/N pensively licks her lips, her heart doing those painful twinges again whenever she thinks of him. “You know yet what you’re gonna do next?”

“No, I-… I think I wanna produce,” Jo announces with determination in her hazel eyes. “I don’t wanna ask permission. I’m so tired of it all. For once, I wanna boss people around and tell ‘em what to do. You know, you were right.”

Baffled, Y/N raises a brow. “About what?”

“Men,” Jo says simply and then spits with fire, “I fucking hate them all. The Crowleys and the Dicks and the Cases and the Sams and the Deans… They make the choices. They dictate the terms… I’m sick of it all. I just hate asking them for anything.”

“Dean’s not so bad,” Y/N says quietly but doesn’t look at Jo. Her heart stings for the millionth time. “I got that role for the Sondheim musical. They called this morning.”

Jo’s lips curve into a soft smile that reaches her eyes. “Congrats. I’m not surprised. You were really fucking good.”

Y/N’s heart flutters a little at the compliment. Tears begin to sting her eyes. She can’t remember the last time Jo was nice to her. “Thank you.”

“You don’t seem happy about it,” Jo notes attentively.

“No, I am,” Y/N manages to choke out, but the sniffling betrays her intentions.

“But?”

Y/N bobs her head, swallowing. “I think I’m ready to talk about it now.”

“Fucking finally,” Jo huffs and rubs her cold and goosebump-littered arms as the heat disappears, the nightly air bringing a fresh breeze.

“Dean told me he loves me,” Y/N confesses. “He’s in love with me.”

“Yeah, no shit. Kinda obvious,” Jo says without a twitch of surprise. “Don’t feel bad for not loving him back. That’s what they want… For us to feel bad about every single fucking thing.”

“That’s just it. I don’t think that’s how I feel,” Y/N replies and lets out a jittery sigh.

Jo’s head turns to her, eyeing her friend up and down. “And how do we feel about that? I can’t tell. It’s too dark to see your face.”

“I-, uh, I don’t exactly know,” Y/N says, which is partially true. She might know how she feels about the green-eyed director, but not how she feels about the situation overall.

Jo purses her lips and nods. “Alright, here’s a couple of options: happy, excited, scared, or… repulsed?”

“Well, uhm… scared,” Y/N admits slowly and gulps. “And excited… happy.”

Jo throws her arms up, shaking her head at the stars. “Jesus fuck! Then what the fuck are we doing here?! Is that why you dragged me all the way to the fucking desert? Because you’re running from your feelings?”

“Kinda. I thought the peaceful quiet and beautiful nature would bring me some much-needed clarity,” Y/N explains.

Jo lifts a brow but tries not to seem too annoyed. She’s accustomed to her friend’s theatrics, after all. “And? Did it?”

“The hike didn’t, but facing death kinda does,” Y/N jokes and begins to laugh a little, Jo soon joining her. When their laughter dies down and the desert sounds of chirping crickets and screeching eagles remain, Y/N exhales a shaky breath. “I’m in love with him, too. He makes me really fucking happy. But… I finally feel like I’m on the right track with my career. I am where I’m supposed to be, you know? I don’t wanna throw that away for a guy.”

“Who says you should?”

“I don’t know… Isn’t that how it goes? You did it,” Y/N argues.

Jo licks her lips and clicks her tongue. “Yeah, ‘cause I chose the wrong fucking guy. Sam made me give up everything I ever loved and told me what to love instead. If you pick the right guy, he won’t make you do that.”

“How do I know it’s the right guy, though?”

Jo smiles softly. “Look, I’m not Dean’s biggest fan, but he’s yours. You know that, right? He’d never hold you back. He adores the ground you walk on. Yes, he’s an asshole with so many fucking issues, and he’s goddamn annoying most of the time, but he’s always had your back, even when he pretended that he didn’t. The guy would probably sell every limb and his fucking soul to see you get everything you ever wanted, Y/N. He wouldn’t be a mistake. You know what would be a mistake? Not trying because you’re too scared of making one. Don’t be fucking stupid.”

Thoughtfully, Y/N nods in agreement and grabs her crutches, rising from her rocky seat. “I need to see him. We have to head back to the city.”

“Finally! Thank fucking God.” With a grunt, Jo jumps to her feet and helps Y/N to steady hers. “Maybe the girls made a fire bright enough, so we can find our way back.”

“Shit.”

“What? They have matches, don’t they? I’m sure these bitches can manage a simple fire, right?” Jo then notices Y/N’s hand curling around her bicep, her grip tightening. And then, Jo glances in the direction of Y/N’s eyes and sees the same damn thing. Her brown eyes widen.

“Mountain lion.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” the blonde hisses and holds on to her friend as well. Both women freeze on the spot. “What-, uh, what should we do?”

“I don’t know. Maybe we should throw a stick?”

“A stick?” Jo arches her brow. The big cat snarls and stalks a little closer, making the two women jump back. Their hearts are thumping in their throats at this point. “It’s not a fucking dog, Y/N. It won’t play fetch with you.”

“I know that. How about you come up with a better idea, then?” Y/N snaps through gritted teeth. The lion hisses again, causing the women to tremble down to their bones and hug each other tighter. “I think I should jump it.”

“Are you nuts? No!”

“Look, while it eats me, you can flee. I can’t run with my cast anyways. This is the best option,” Y/N insists, but Jo vehemently shakes her head.

“Fuck no! You’re not sacrificing yourself. We die together. You’re not leaving me behind,” Jo maintains. “I always knew my death would be your fault. Don’t ask me how, but I knew you’d get me killed somehow.”

The wild cat takes another step forward and lowers to the ground as if to get ready to jump its prey – them. But then a few tumbling rocks and breaking twigs draw its attention behind the women. Is there an even bigger cat here?

And suddenly, Meg leaps forward from above them with a loud howl and snarls at the cat, which hastily tucks its tail between its legs and flees down the hill into the dark night. Y/N and Jo expel a big breath of relief and a shaky laugh as they find Meg.

“Meg, what the fuck? Did you just scare away a mountain lion?” Y/N gapes at her friend in utter disbelief.

Meg only shrugs her shoulders. “I hate cats. What are you guys doing out here so long?”

“We got lost. Couldn’t find our way back to camp,” Y/N explains.

Meg furrows her brow and thumbs behind her. “It’s just over there. You guys have been hiking around the same hill for five hours.”

Jo shoots Y/N a small glare of annoyance and blows some loose strands of blonde hair out of her face. “Of course we did…” she mutters.

“We have to get back to LA!” Y/N declares eagerly, trying to climb the small rocky hill with her crutches, foregoing the more suitable pathway.

“Right now? It’s probably 3am when we get to Burbank. Can’t this wait till tomorrow?” Jo says as she attempts to climb after her friend.

“No! I almost died! Twice… Dean needs to know how I feel before I get bit by a rattlesnake, too,” Y/N reiterates passionately.

“It’s probably for the best,” Meg chimes in. “We kinda forgot to pack food. I was about to hunt something for us when I ran into you guys. We have tons of drugs and booze, though.”

Y/N’s knuckles thunder persistently on Dean’s door and conjure up a storm. She has jumped out of Ruby’s limo so fast, the girls are still scrambling out and flooding Dean’s front lawn one by one. They’re loud and obnoxious, but the ringing in her ears makes their chatter barely noticeable.

The lock clicks and the door opens. Dean stands in front of her with weary green eyes, heavy with sleep, tousled bed-head, and a furiously scrunched brow. He half yawns and half grumbles, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Once he feels clearer, minus the soft buzz of whiskey remnants in his bloodstream, he blinks at the young actress in front of him and then tilts his head at the circus show behind her.

God, between his punk rock daughter and this, his neighbors must really hate him.

“What are you doing here? Aren’t you guys supposed to be camping in fucking Joshua Tree?” His voice is a gravelly bark. He doesn’t mean to sound so harsh, especially when he just woke from a dream about her, but he’s not as masochistic as he used to be. He’s not a fan of torturing himself with the image of her any longer.

Y/N’s heart somersaults as soon as she sees him, even though his apprehension hurts a bit. “Look, I almost died tonight. We got lost in the desert and then a mountain lion almost fucking ate us.”

Dean licks his lips, nodding. “Yeah, I’m not fucking surprised. Told you Palm Springs is the better option. So, did anyone fucking die? What’s the head count?”

“No one died.”

“Huh. Then why the fuck are you here in the middle of the night, Y/N?” Dean bites, his brow creasing in anger. He can’t even fucking look at her for a second without his heart being on the brink of an explosion. Even saying her goddamn name hurts like needle pricks in an abused vein.

“I–” Y/N swallows thickly. Her drumming heart is stuck in her airway along with her words.

“She’s here to tell you she loves you!” Ruby hollers behind her before several girls tackle her and clasp her mouth shut.

Dean’s heart twists upon the sick joke, his frown deepening. But then he glances at Y/N and thinks he can spot the truth in her eyes. He thought that once before, though, and was terribly wrong.

Y/N gives a shrug of one shoulder with tears brimming in her eyes. A small smile forms on her lips. “What she said.”

Dean nods and drags a hand over his freckled face, feeling the tears well in his eyes, too. Fucking whiskey. Always renders him goddamn sentimental. “Look, uhm, you kinda gotta tell me this yourself. Otherwise, I won’t believe it, okay?”

Upon his request, Y/N takes a deep breath and looks him into his eyes. “I’m in fucking love with you.” As soon as the words are out, she starts crying and the tears fall down her cheeks. Meanwhile, Dean’s heart tumbles into free fall, and he’s sure not even a parachute can stop it. “I’ve never said that to anyone in my life. Is-, is it too late?”

Dean snorts and shakes his head, grinning brighter than the California sun on the longest day of the year. “Fuck no. Even if it had taken you thirty years, I still would’ve taken you back. That’s kinda how once-in-a-lifetime love works, sweetheart.”

“Okay. Sounds like a good movie,” Y/N jokes between her tears, her fingers tingling to touch him.

“Yeah, best one there is.”

His hands grab hold of her and pull her into his embrace. He claims her lips, Y/N eagerly parting her mouth as his tongue slips between. The kiss is rushed and fervent and perfectly desperate. They’re both so gone they can’t even hear the girls cheering and applauding them in the background.

“You’re gonna come inside?” Dean asks in a murmur against her lips, barely letting her breath.

“Uhm…”

“Hey, Lothario, you got space for us, too?” Cassie shouts with a wide smirk.

“Yeah, we’re fucking starving,” Ruby adds with an impatiently arched brow.

“We, uh, forgot to pack food,” Y/N explains with a chuckle.

Dean sighs and smiles knowingly. “Of course you did.” He then turns to the women waiting on his lawn. “Alright, get in. I’ll order some pizzas.”

The women then proceed to brush past the couple and filter into Dean’s house. Missouri pinches his cheeks, Ruby pats his head, Cassie fist-bumps him and sends Y/N a flirty wink, Meg tousles his hair, Charlie shrugs apologetically, and Jo offers an annoyed eye roll.

“I’m never gonna get rid of them, am I?” Dean looks down at her and tightens his jaw, even when a grin is visible.

“No, I’m afraid not. It’s like you’ve adopted twelve strays. One of which actually turned out to be your long-lost puppy. They’re gonna be here until you die and then eat your corpse,” Y/N quips.

“Funny.” Dean clicks his tongue, his dimples itching to form a grin.

“Oooo! Let’s call the guys!” he hears Ruby exclaim from inside his living room. “It’s a fucking wrap party at the boss’ house!”

“No! No party! Guys, c’mon!” Dean storms inside after them, leaving Y/N giggling on his doorstep.

“Let’s call Garth, Kevin, and Benny!” Donna suggests, ignoring his protests. It’s like they can’t fucking hear him.

“I’ll call my husband, too!” Bela adds and eagerly dials Cas’ number on his landline.

“Oh, right, Cas…” Dean mutters with an eye roll as he remembers the impromptu wedding. “No fucking Benny!”

Y/N joins his side and rubs his back in comfort as he watches his house sink into female doom. “You okay?”

The deep trenches in his brow flatten into soft valleys as his green eyes lock on her. He dips his head and pulls her to his lips, kissing her slow and reverently. “Better.” He smirks. “Just gonna have to sage the whole house tomorrow.”

That earns him a playful slap on his chest. He laughs and pulls her closer with an arm around her waist.

“Hey, uh, speaking of party…” Dean mumbles before he addresses the whole room, grabbing their attention with an authoritative clear of his throat. He’s still got it. “You guys wanna do shows in Vegas?”

“What?!”

Dean’s eyes find Y/N’s gaping face. He chuckles a little. “Yeah, uh, Bobby offered me a deal. There’s nothing in the network contract about live shows. I already went over it with Cas this afternoon. It pays well, too. You guys interested? It’s not like any of you have actual jobs lined up, right?”

Y/N closes her mouth. “I got that Sondheim musical in San Diego. It’s a workshop production, but if it goes well, it could go all the way to Broadway. I could end up in New York.”

“Good,” Dean says and smirks. “You’re fucking fired.”

“WHAT?!” Y/N’s mouth falls open again. “You said you’d never fire me!”

“Yeah, well, this is for your own good,” Dean reasons. “You think I’m gonna let you quit Sondheim for some stupid wrestling show in Vegas? You gotta be fucking nuts! This is what you fucking wanted. Don’t make me kick your stupid ass onto that stage. It’s gonna look embarrassing for you again…”

Y/N bites her lips to conceal her grin. Her eyes meet Jo’s, who mouths ‘I told you so’ at her. “Thank you,” she tells Dean and kisses his cheek. He furrows his brow at her in suspicion. “But rehearsals don’t start until June. Still gonna need a job till then.”

“Oh.” Dean’s brow shoots up in realization. “The June in nine months?”

“Yeah, the June in nine months,” Y/N confirms with a laugh.

“Whoops. Well, consider yourself rehired till June, then,” Dean relents.

“So, if I ever have to work in New York–”

“Then we’ll go to New York. Big fucking whoop-dee-doo. You know I hate LA.”

Y/N giggles, nodding. “What would you do in New York?”

“Same I do here, just on a little balcony instead of a backyard. I sit with my typewriter by a table and smoke and drink,” Dean retorts. “I’ve actually been working on a new script. I’m moving away from horror and into Western.”

“Got inspired by the motel’s wallpaper, huh?” Y/N teases. “What’s it about?”

“Father-daughter storyline. Thought I’d give that a shot…”

1990, 5 years later…

“Dean! We’re gonna be late!” Y/N reminds him and holds the blindfold in place over her eyes as he drags her somewhere by the hand. Her heels can barely keep up with his fast pace. “You know, check-in at LAX is the worst. Our flight departs in two hours. I’m nominated, Dean! I can’t reschedule! The girls are all flying in, too…”

“I know! I’m fucking hurrying, okay?” Dean assures. However, she can hear the stress and tension in his gravelly voice. He then suddenly halts and positions her into place by her shoulders before carefully taking off the blindfold. “Alright, here we are.”

Y/N blinks her eyes open and recognizes blurry shapes of purple and gold. She lifts an eyebrow as ornaments on the walls and a big stage come into view as well. “The Aztec porno theater?”

“Mayan,” Dean corrects her and wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he gets down in front of her on one knee and tries to fumble out the too-big ring box from his too-tiny suit jacket pocket. “Son of a bitch!”

“Dean, wait!” Y/N stops his endeavor with raised palms, her eyebrows meeting her hairline when she realizes what he’s about to do.

“Oh, c’mon, Y/N!” Dean frowns in frustration and rises to his feet with a huff and a shaking head. “I know you’re against marriage and the patriarchy and all that bullshit, but c’mon… We’ve been dating for five years. We have a good thing going, right?”

After spending a whole year in beautiful Las Vegas – the Paris of Nevada – the two of them moved to New York. Dean sold his house in Burbank and opted for a Brooklyn apartment instead. Claire also studied film at NYU before she graduated last Spring. But every few months, the couple finds themselves back in LA – for interviews, for business, for friends.

“Dean–”

“No! You know me. I’d make a great fucking husband. You love it when I make reporters laugh on the red carpet. I’m an awesome trophy husband, okay?”

“DEAN!”

“WHAT?!”

Why the fuck is she angry now? He should be the one that’s angry. She’s turning down the best opportunity of her life. She should consider herself lucky he wants to spend the rest of his life with her. He even had an amazing speech prepared to knock her right off her feet, but does he get to say it now? How he wanted to grow fucking old together and support each other? How he wanted to marry her all those years ago when she told him she was pregnant? Nope...

“I’m fucking pregnant!”

Dean blinks at her in confusion before his eyes begin to wander around the familiar theater. Did he take something? Drink too much? Did he actually travel through time or is this a weird fever dream on his deathbed?

“What’s it with you and this theater? And why do you always yell that?”

“Because you never listen.” Y/N giggles and bites her lower lip. “And I’ll gladly marry you if that’s what you were going for. I just figured I’d tell you before in case you wanna change your mind and bail.”

“Why the fuck would I bail?” Dean’s brows knit together, close to offense.

She shrugs and holds up her palms in surrender. “I don’t know! I didn’t want you to feel trapped.”

“Why? Isn’t it mine?”

Y/N rolls her eyes, a grin twitching on her pink lips as she slaps his arm. “Yes, of course it’s yours.”

“And you’re keeping it? You sure?” Dean throws her a quizzical look.

Her brow furrows. “Why, you aren’t?”

“No, I am!” he assures her swiftly, realizing how it sounded. “Hell yeah, I want another kid! You know I always wanted to make up for missing out on Claire so much! I finally get to change a diaper, go to the park, or the fucking zoo while my wife works… It’ll be so fun!”

Y/N tries to stifle her laugh. He seems happy, judging by the joyful glint in his green eyes. They resemble sparkling emeralds.

“But are you sure, y' know?” Dean checks with a deep look into her eyes. “I mean, I do what I can to support you and keep the thing alive in your absence, but you know you’re still gonna be benched for a couple of months, right? I’m not a fucking seahorse.”

Y/N laughs a little at that. “I know. I’m fine with sitting on the bench for a little while. I’m kinda exhausted. I did two Broadway musicals almost back to back, three off-Broadway shows, all the workshops and the rehearsals and Matinees and the dancing and the singing… Not to mention I’m nominated for a fucking Tony tonight,” she says and is close to out of breath by the time she finishes her list of accomplishments.

“Which you’re gonna win,” Dean reassures her persistently. He’s been telling her since the nominations were announced (and even before that when he first saw her in the role on the first night).

“We’ll see,” she brushes him off, although her blushed cheeks betray her words. In her heart, she hopes so as well. “Anyways, I could use the break,” she admits and takes his hands in hers, interlacing their fingers. She places a loving kiss on his lips. “Right time, right guy, right baby,” she says, smiling.

Dean squeezes her hand happily and pulls her to his lips for a searing kiss. “So, where did we land on that whole marriage thing?”

“See? You’re never listening,” she teases, laughing. “Yes, I’ll marry you. Under one condition…”

Dean smirks. “I've had the same exact thought – Vegas. It’s perfect!”

“What, no! I don’t wanna get married in filthy Vegas, you dork!” Y/N frowns playfully, shaking her head. “I wanna get married in Nebraska. I want my dad to marry us."

Dean’s brow creases. He chuckles in amusement. “What, like a shotgun wedding? Could be fun… Pastor marries pregnant daughter to older man. Is this gonna make headlines in the townie paper?”

Y/N snorts, shaking her head at him. “No, it’s a shotgun wedding. It’s very common,” she deadpans.

“I’ve never met your parents,” Dean realizes then. “Why have I never met your parents? It’s weird they never come visit you,” he ponders.

“Oh no, they do,” Y/N tells him, pursing her lips as she twirls her hair around her finger. “They’ve seen me both in Into The Woods and Gypsy.”

“Really, when?” Dean narrows his eyes at her.

“Whenever you were in LA, visiting Claire,” Y/N admits ruefully. She never told them she was dating the director, not sure if they’d approve – not that she gives a shit, but she wanted to spare herself all the sermons and the exploring of the Sunday school dating pool. Whenever they asked who owned the men’s clothes in her apartment, she lied and said she had a gay-but-in-the-closet roommate. “But you can meet them now,” she promises with a reassuring smile on her lips. Thank God she’s an excellent, Tony-nominated actress. “I’m sure they learn to love you just like I did.”

“Learn to?”

“I love you.” Y/N smiles mischievously and shuts up any further comments by kissing him.

Dean grins and relents with a blissful sigh. “I love you, too.”

THE END 🌅

Thank you all so much for reading and making me laugh with your comments and screams throughout! 🤍

Are we done with these two for good? Probably not. I've left gaps and doors open on purpose, so I'm sure they'll make an appearance again at some point in the future 😉

TAGS:

Everything Jensen: @alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey

@deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies

@agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28

@mxltifxnd0m @lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33 @onlyangel-444

@syrma-sensei @perpetualabsurdity @deans-baby-momma @yoobusgoobus @jessjad

@hunter-or-the-hunted @k-slla @just-levyy @mrsjenniferwinchester @illicithallways

@muhahaha303 @ultimatecin73 @nancymcl @leigh70

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for @qwertynerd97 behind the cut; the wet nurse omegaverse. ( chrono || non-chrono )

“It wasn’t your fault,” Bruce reminds him, which is something they’ve all done a thousand times at this point. Clark just smiles bitterly. 

“You know I’m never going to believe that,” he says, which is true. Clark’s never once believed that, which is why they’ve all said it a thousand times–Bruce and Diana, and certainly his parents, and everyone else in all of their packs, and especially Lois. But Clark’s always blamed himself for what happened, though. 

Bruce suspects he’ll do it all the way to the grave, though that doesn’t mean he’s going to stop trying to convince him otherwise. 

It wasn’t Clark’s fault, and Clark doesn’t deserve this. Doesn’t deserve to hear Lor call a total stranger “Jeju” or watch Jon excitedly and instinctively fawn over said stranger in ways that make it obvious just how much he’s been missing nursing from Clark. If things had been different . . . 

Well, if things had been different, things would be different. 

That’s irrelevant, though, because they have to work with the way things are now. 

“And you know I’ll never agree with you,” Bruce says, leaning forward against his desk and watching Clark carefully. Clark doesn’t look at him. Keeps his eyes on his own hands, no doubt blaming himself for perceived crimes that don’t exist and never did. “You didn’t do anything wrong, then or now.” 

“Jon almost died because of me,” Clark says to his hands. “There was kryptonite in my system. There was kryptonite in my milk. And he almost died. Because I thought I was fine. Because I wasn’t careful enough.” 

Bruce gets back up and goes to his idiot of a packmate. Rubs the scent gland in one of his wrists across one of the ones in Clark’s neck, just briefly. He doesn’t put anything into his scent, because he knows there’s nothing Clark will accept from him right now. 

It’s an improvement that he’ll even accept being scented at all, when talking about this. 

“No one could expect you to be that careful,” he says. He doesn’t remind Clark of the details the other already knows. Clark has an eidetic memory, and even if he didn’t, Bruce knows he’d never forget. But it’s not Clark’s fault, and it never was. There was so little kryptonite in his system that he hadn’t even noticed it, after all his years of exposure. Even with super-senses, he hadn’t noticed it. 

But Jon, at four, hadn’t ever been exposed to it before, and hadn’t had enough of his powers in to have Clark’s capacity for recovery. Jon had been a happy, fat little pup who’d been safe and protected all his life, and when he’d crawled into bed with his dam all sleepy and hungry and wanting to cuddle and nurse first thing in the early morning, Clark had thought it was fine, and had let him, and drifted off into a lazy, contented doze while he had. 

And then he’d woken up to his happy, fat little pup vomiting up his milk and whimpering in pain, choking on his own vomit and barely breathing, with green glowing in his veins.

Jon had nearly died. He’d spent almost a week in the Fortress infirmary and another month recovering his strength, and after that, Clark had never nursed him again. He’d lost his milk completely, and in six years it’s never once come back. Not for Jon then, and not for Lor now. 

The Fortress AI had said it was most likely psychosomatic. Clark had said it was better that way. 

But then Lor had shown up, and Lor isn’t old enough to get by without milk yet. 

So then they did all this, and all this happened, and now Bruce is putting up a stranger in his primary pack’s den while Clark and his own primary pack hides out with their new pup; brings that pup into their fold and protects and takes care of him to the best of their abilities. 

And the best of their abilities currently involves a stranger who may or may not be being abused and taken advantage of by the agency he’s working for, and Bruce needs to not let Clark realize that fact. The only reason he knows Clark hasn’t realized it is because Clark signed the contract. 

Clark most likely just thinks that Carl just lost a litter and hasn't followed through on the line of thought to wonder about the multiple agencies he's already worked for or exactly how old he actually is. 

Or isn't, to be more specific. 

“I expect me to be that careful,” Clark says tightly, shaking his head once. 

It's not really something Bruce can argue with, but he's willing to put in the effort. 

“And you're wrong to,” he says matter-of-factly, brushing his wrist across Clark’s neck one last time before stepping back from him again. None of them can be perfect, no matter how hard they try or what they do. 

But if he says that, Clark will be too busy choking on the irony of it coming out of specifically his mouth to actually listen, so he'll just hold his tongue there. 

For the moment, anyway. 

“Jon almost died because of me,” Clark repeats, tired and worn. The words are worn too–worn-in, old and familiar and oft-repeated. Bruce’s jaw tightens, just a tick. He knew Clark wasn’t okay about this, but this is definitely bringing up how much the other just hasn’t dealt with all his feelings about it. Hasn’t processed or moved on like he should have. 

Bruce has absolutely no room whatsoever to talk about not letting go of traumatic experiences, but that doesn’t mean he likes to see it happening. 

He doesn’t want it happening, more accurately. Not to anyone, but especially not to anyone as vital to him as Clark is. 

Watching his pups suffer through the things they can’t let go of is the only thing that’s worse, he’d say.

[arsonlookers]

Broken Marriage

childe x reader ANGST [modern au]

[ warning: A LOT OF SWEARING PLEASE BE REMINDED AND TALK OF INFIDELITY ]

You two have been in a healthy and romantic relationship for over 6 years, you're marriage looked perfect from an outsider's even your parent's perspective. Childe was blunt and sarcastic and cold sometimes but he was loving and sweet at times, and you can tell he truly cares.

Over time for one year and a half, you noticed that Childe had slowly been growing colder and driving away from you. He seemed extremely uncomfortable when he walked in the room and he'd always make excuses for staying out late. He didn't love you the same anymore for this past year.

He comes home late as he usually does and goes to his little office room where he always usually stays

"Childe?" You called out to your husband from the other room. "Are you okay?" You were met with silence and for a moment you thought he didn't hear you. He finally spoke over the sound of his computer.

"Yeah, I'm fine." He replied but his tone was obviously irritated.

look at his door room totally not convinced, you already know what is going on you just want confirmation on why the hell is he acting like this this time.

so You enter his little office room and look over at him. He was leaning back on his chair, looking at his screen and typing away. You couldn't read his expression but you had a feeling something was wrong. again

You walked over and gently touched his arm. "I know you're not okay. Please talk to me."

"There's nothing to talk about, babe."

He didn't tear his eyes from his screen, his voice was quiet but you could hear the coldness in it. The last time he called you "babe" was a month ago.

SO full and irritated by this kind of behavior he has with you. You are so done now, you are done being PATIENT with him, and all his tantrums.

You coldly say to him "Did you really think" You glare at him

This time He finally looked away from his Screen and turned towards you. His face was cold and serious, the exact opposite of his old loving self. He seemed to be holding back a lot of words.

you continued "I'd just forgive and forget...no" This time you are ready to spill the secret he has been holding onto you

The look on his face remained unchanged. After a short pause he let out a sigh, like he was preparing for a speech.

"Look, I don't know how to be any clearer, but I've just been feeling different lately. I don't feel the same about you anymore."

" After all this course of a year, After catching you with her that day, Your blood should run cold" You continued

Childe's look went from cold to pure hatred as the words "her" left your lips. He gripped the sides of the chair, his knuckles slowly turning white.

"Her?" He repeated and you could see his lip twitch.

"Oh don't you dare pretend now Childe" You glared hard with range but still keeps your calm cold tone as you said that

"so cold" Looking down at him from where you are standing "You,…you two-timing, cheap lying, wannabe"

Childe's hands gripped even tighter and he slowly stood up from his seat. This wasn't the man you knew, this was a stranger.

*"You're nothing but a dirty whore who can't keep her legs closed." His voice was low but it was clear how much anger he had stored inside.

feeling offended and hurt by what he said you Slap him hard on his right cheek for what he said.

He flinched and his face immediately turned red to match his mood. His eyes narrowed and he glared up at you with hatred. He rubbed his cheek and stepped forward, he seemed like a different person now. You didn't know how far he'd go but you had a gut feeling he'd do something worse if you provoked him further.

'but I am not scared of him at all' You thought as you stood your stand and face him with your own coldness and glare "You're a fool if you thought that I'd just let this go"

Childe was clearly annoyed by your lack of fear. He let out a short scoff and grabbed your arms.

"You won't let this go? Is that a threat? Because I'm warning you right now, you don't want to see what I'm like when I'm angry."

"Oh Childe I think you already are " you glared at him "You have been like this…you have changed…" mocking him "You not the same person I married 6 years ago"

Childe's face scrunched up from your mocking. He leaned closer to you, so that his face was inches from yours.

"You're right, I'm not the same person I was 6 years ago. You're not even the same person. This marriage has gone nowhere but downhill for the past year and I don't think it's going to go anywhere. We both deserve to find someone that's right for us and that person isn't each other."

feeling like something inside you boils from his statement "God you’re just so obvious, Is that why you Already CHEATED on me huh?" questioning him with a tone of mocking

Childe let out a low growl, his grip on your arms tightened.

"Why can't you just keep your whore mouth shut? It's not my fault you aren't good enough for me, it's not my damn fault for liking her more than you. If you just tried to be better instead of playing the victim all the time…"

something inside you was breaking but at the same time too cold and indifferent from what you are feeling currently just anger and disappointment coursing through your veins

"Do you really think I needed it? Your fcking opinion means nothing to me" with venom through your words

Childe's face was filled with pure anger, he was shaking now and you could see the veins in his neck starting to bulge. He was completely losing control.

"Then why the hell did you even marry me in the first place?! Why would you let me waste 6 years of my life on you if you don't even care about what I think?"

You look at him dumbfounded as if you are hearing to the most stupidest things you have heard of

"That is because I didn't marry a cheater before Childe!? Just why did you change?! what did you see in her that I don't have?? "

Childe looked down at you with a frown. The anger on his face seemed to fade a bit, like he was beginning to pity you now.

"I didn't change I just realized things about you. I realized that I married the wrong person. You're weak and insecure and it's honestly pathetic. And if you want to know what I saw in her, she's everything you're not."

This time you can feel the little love you have left for him is starting to fade and break away from what you are feeling changed by hatred, shock, sadness, anger, and all negative emotions you feel in the course of your life

"…..wow" in a sarcastic tone "Really wow" The look of disbelief was evident on your face

As he sees your reaction he didn't like it one bit so he said it again

"Do you want me to say it again for you? If your dumbass didn't get it the first time."

Childe's voice was dripping with sarcasm but he wasn't lying. He was beginning to think you were even more pathetic than he first thought.

"Did you happen to forget, all the little details Like texting her In the middle of the night?Beside me!? Did you really think I'm that DUmb HUh?! HAHAHAHAHA fck Childe I didn't know I also just married a person who literary would be so fcking idiot " You backfired him back

"The texting during the middle of the night wasn't even the worst of it. I really didn't think you were that blind, but if that's the case, how did you not realize I've been seeing her more often than you. Your dumbass didn't even realize I didn't come home some nights because I was with her."

You could feel his hatred coming back into his voice again and his anger was starting to get to him.

'wow the audacity to get angry at me' You thought but at the same time what he said sounded so ridiculous and so outright sound like a joke to your ears

"pffftttt haha" you tried to surpass the need to laugh at the moment

"I should have guessed you wouldn't be able to handle the truth. I mean are we surprised? You can't even handle the fact that you're not good enough for me anymore."

He leaned closer to you again, his face being mere inches away from yours. The look in his eyes was scary, it almost seemed like he was going to hurt you if you said one more thing.

"HHAHAHAHAHHAHA you think I'm that surprised anymore?! What are you an idiot? you would think that "I" didn't know that my fcking husband is fcking another girl behind my back DIDNT know?! oh, let me tell you Childe" Pointing at his chest

"I fcking knew from the start I fcking knew all your business trips are just trips In her house to just fck her, and pretend you're both married, Don't even get me started with your list and list of hotels receipts just to fck her there you horny little shit!?"

Childe was now completely losing it. His grip on your shoulders was now so hard that his nails were digging in your skin. His breath was shallow and you could feel the heat emitting from his rage. The look in his eyes has completely changed, he was pure anger now.

"You knew? You knew all along and you still stayed? You are a bigger idiot than I thought. Is that why you weren't able to satisfy me? Because she was doing it better than you?" he mocked looking down at you with range in his eyes

But all you can feel is the need to let him know about what you truly feel at this moment. feeling a little sting inside your heart for hearing him say that but also feels your whole being, being able to let it all out.

"maybe?! Maybe LOVING THE FCK OUT OF YOU IS MY IDIOTCY . That's my fault you little shit. MY FAULT FOR EVEN STANDING UP TO YOU FOR ALL THE DRAMA THE PAIN THE TORTURE YOU HAVE FCKING GIVEN ME ALL THIS TIME!? YOU ASK ME WHY I STAY? AND SAY I'M AN IDIOT FOR IT??? HAHAHAHAHA SORRY FOR BEING AN IDIOT WHO LOVES HER FCKING CHEATING HUSBAND BECAUSE SHE CANTS JUST LET GO TO HER BELOVED AJAX?! you fcking shit " pinches his arms so hard that you are sure to leave a nail mark on it to make him let go of your arm

Childe lets out a roar of rage, his grip on your shoulders is still strong but he's starting to lose his strength since he can't keep on holding you back. All of the years of being patient with you have lead up to this moment now and he was finally snapping. He yells the next words with anger and hatred.

"Beloved?! You call being cheated on for the past year "love"? Love? You've got to be kidding me! You're just as dumb as I thought you were. I am so glad I'm getting a divorce!"

hearing this made you blow up and just doesn't care anymore so you reply with "OH YEAH?! THEN FINE I'M DONE?! YOU FCKING WHORE OF A SHIT AND A HORNY FCKING PIECE OF GARBAGE GO TO YOUR TRASH CAN WILL YOU MAYBE "SHE" CAN HANDLE YOU YOU PIECE OF UNRECYCLABLE TRASH?!" slaps him again* "Get YOUR FCKING HANDS OFF ME!?"

Childe's face went from anger to shock and pain as the second slap landed. His grip on you tightened again, his fingers tightening around your shoulders, his nails piercing your skin. Your words seemed to sting him but the pain just made him angrier.

"Shut your whore mouth, you stupid c*nt."

Hearing it you just can't stop talking back at him "OH YEAH!? ARE YOU TALKING TO YOURSELF?! Congrats!! YOU KNOW YOURSELF THAT MUCH!?" you sarcastically replied

Childe's body clenched and he grunted as the insult hit him. He didn't say anything but the fact that it hurt him was clear. Without warning, his grip let go of your shoulders and he pushed you away with such force that you fell backwards onto the floor. His eyes looked at you with nothing but hatred now.

So you stand up by yourself from the cold floor "bastard till the end" Cold glare as you contact his eyes with yours.

Childe stood there for just a moment, looking down at you. He was about to leave the room but he paused, as if he had something more to say.

"You're right; I am a bastard all the way through. I don't like you. Hell, I never even loved you in the first place. The only reason I married you at all is because I felt sorry for you."

Something inside you is now...empty after hearing what he said to you. feeling stabbed inside… again and again inside your pitiful full of holes and broken heart

"is that so… then let me tell you Tartaglia I only married you because I did loved you and I meant the Ajax that I married not the cunt like you .. So let me remind you clear EVEN if you married me because of pity I dont fcking care"

"Oh really? You don't care if your husband married you out of pity because you're as pathetic as they come?"

Childe took a step forward, getting closer to you again.

"I knew you were stupid, but I didn't think you were that stupid. Who the hell would love you if I didn't? You're not loveable."

with range blinding your vision third slap came from your right hand in a flash of the eye harder this time "Leave already you FCKING CUNT?! "

Childe flinches again, this time showing more of his pain. He seemed to be more in his feelings than he was before. He looks away and scoffs, he could've just left but he stays, as if he can't seem to walk away.

"Fine, I'm leaving. But before I do, I'm going to give you one last piece of advice: Don't be so fcking annoying. Maybe then someone might love you."

You look at him leaving the door

"then some advice from me is. Don't be such a fcking horny cunt who can't be satisfied by one woman. then maybe the only possible woman to love you truly and won't leave you for the rest of your lifetime." Slammed the door hard in front of his face

Childe's face scrunched up in anger as your words hit him once again. He wanted to say more, he wanted to get the last word in but, at the same time, he was ready for this to be over. He slammed his fists against the door loudly before finally walking away.

THE END[?]

Well, looks like this marriage is definitely over. The two of you seem to be going your separate ways now and it looks like there's no hope of reconciliation. Although the two of you have made harsh remarks at each other, it's clear that there is still a bit of underlying feelings.

You would be stuck with these memories of being cheated on and emotionally abused for years to come. The pain from all the events leading up to the end won't be easily forgotten for you, but that also isn't something that will stay with you forever you convince yourself. That, you will find someone better and have a healthier relationship, just like you wanted from your relationship with Childe.

Overall, it's safe to say that there are a few lessons to be learned from this story: don't stay in a relationship out of pity, and don't cheat on your partner!

A/n: Hi Ars here! I just wanted to say that I don't really know if this is counted as angst??? I mean that was pretty intense I tell you. Well, I don't really know for now since exams are over I think I will slowly start to work on my other drafts as well but at the same time take a break from the stress life has gifted Given to me. I feel like being sucked by mosquitos after answering problems 😢

P.s : hidden easter egg : search for the references :>

Anyway, help me decide if I should continue or no? Thank you Have a great day ahead of you!!!

©2024arsonlookers

[trashytoastboi]

Day of Sloth - Belphegor

~NSFW Alphabet ~

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

Warning: NSFW content ahead (Whole bunch of this and that)

A = Aftercare (What are they like after sex?) 

⭐️ He’s very sleepy afterwards, uses most of energy just staying up or at the very least teaching you a lesson if you doubt his skills. It’s normal for Belphie to just take a quick breather and short nap before he can do anything. More than no aftercare it’s just a little delayed, unless it was particularly rough or taxing. His aftercare is making sure you’re comfortable, comfort and rest is tantamount. He will look after you with soft affections, affirmations and loving whispers that ground you back in the present after he fucked you into oblivion. Belphie is very aware about how his size takes a toll on your body (Honestly was your surprise the first time because you weren’t expecting it) and he kisses all the bruises he leaves from grabbing you too hard when he’s really into it. 

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partners.) 

⭐️ Like isn’t really something he can put to his own body but if he had to choose something, he’d probably choose his tail. It’s neat, he likes how it can be honest for him when Belphie is unable to. How it serves to seek you out, and how you love it when it wraps around you. Sometimes protectively but more to keep you from running away while he’s drilling himself in deeper, forcing the cock you love so much deeper and harder than before. He gets more feral with every thrust listening to your moans or how you think stealthily crawling away from him would go unnoticed.  As for you, that question is difficult- he loves ALL of you however if there's one place that just takes the cake for him- it’s your thighs. Why? They’re multipurpose. He watches his fingers sink into the soft flesh while he keeps you nice and spread for him, or how good they feel when he’s grabbing them tight to keep you in place, how plush they feel when they’re trapping his head between your legs. Best of all- he can take the most amazing nap on them afterwards. 

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum, basically) 

⭐️ Given his sloth disposition he actually finds it messy and effort to pull out just to cum on you so he’s all for cumming inside- whether it’s your mouth or otherwise. He doesn’t want his cum to go to waste either, he, out of all the brothers was the last one you really expected to have a low key breeding kink but here we are. He’s polite enough to mind what he eats for when he’s anticipating making you swallow, trying to give you something that doesn’t taste all that bad. He’d know- he’s tasted himself on your lips after you finished sucking him off. The thing that caught you off guard the first time Belphie decided to cum inside was the sheer amount- you didn’t think it could make you feel any fuller than you were already feeling stuffed with his whole cock that he insistently thrust into you even after you begged him to slow down and give you a break, but he wanted to cum and ignored your pleas for a break, you could hold on for one more surely. 

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs.)

⭐️ Belphie had hinted at something, albeit playfully. Maybe that’s why you didn’t take him seriously. He gave you permission, approval- telling you that even if he’s sleeping you could take what you needed from him. Had by some chance you woken up in the middle of the night, feeling that demanding ache between your legs he wanted nothing more than to be used by you. The idea of it was just so hot to Belphie the mere idea of it made him hard just with mere mention. Belphie kept waiting and waiting, pretending to fall asleep and when that wasn’t enough to push you over the edge of convincing he'd intentionally rile you up only to leave you high and dry. He’d conveniently go to sleep, subtly reminding you that it’s okay. To his disappointment you didn’t seem to do that. After days of Belphie’s routine of working you up and letting you down, you snapped. Belphie did give you permission so it wouldn’t be bad would it? After he fell “asleep”, you listened to his breathing to make sure he really was asleep when you straddled him, it took everything in Belphie not to moan. He could feel the way you moved your hips with desperation but control so not to wake him up, how you muffled all your adorable sounds and softly bite your lip while soft little squeaks and whimpers came through. It took everything for him to not thrust up into you and make you into a loud moaning mess. He’d never tell you, but he was never actually asleep but he sure loved how cute you were when you thought he was.

E = Experienced (How experienced are they? Do they know what they're doing?)

⭐️ Well previously he didn’t really have romance or relationships on his list of priorities- at all. He had better things to do, or so he’ll tell you. So sex just wasn’t a concern for him, sure he had the urges, but nothing he couldn't take care of himself . He only really felt desire for another person after meeting you. Something about you churned and stirred unfamiliar feelings and desires in Belphie. He was a virgin - keyword was. Until you came along and changed that, he’s got very little experience. In fact, no one else except you unless you want to count him listening to Asmo’s TMI rambles. He makes up for experience with being an incredibly fast and eager learner, he quickly makes up for it. Had you not known you would have thought Belphie had a decent amount of experience under his belt with the way he expertly handles your body. Much to your irritation that he can so easily toy with your body and bring you to pleasure or frustration. He’s so eager to learn all about your tastes and kinks, all the while finding out about his own at the same time.  

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying.)

⭐️ Cowgirl - Belphie loves this position mostly because it puts him in the perfect position to lay back in the comfort of his pillows and blankets, watching how you ride him, how your body moves and every gasp and moan that tumbles from your open mouth as you lean your head back feeling how he fills you so well. ♡ He loves it, just letting you take control moving however you want, but what he really loves is those little frustrated whines when you need Belphie to make you cum because you couldn’t do it alone. It’s the perfect position when he wants to be a pillow princess- no pun intended. 

⭐️ Reverse Cowgirl - For almost the same reasons as cowgirl but this one has a little more charm to it, when Belphie can reach up and entangle his hands in your hair while he pulls you back so your back rests against his chest. He whispers filthy things to you in the sweetest voice while his hand toy with your body while he encourages you to keep being good for him.  

⭐️ Side by Side - Perfect position for when he’s feeling a little sleepy, can snuggle you, slipping inside while he buries his face in your neck, pressing inconsistent kisses while he sloppily thrusts inside while holding you nice and close, sometimes he does this while half asleep. 

⭐️ Missionary - For the times when Belphie feels like he has the energy to take the reigns, well you already know you won’t be walking the next day. Belphie has no chill, when he gets in the mood to take over it’s so intense that all you can do is hold on for dear life.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? Etc)

⭐️ 6/10 He keeps things light hearted, unintentionally but he does make little silly comments that elicit a chuckle or two from you. He utters compliments between kisses or gives sarcastic quips to something you said. Some of the things he says when he’s sleepy is so funny, it’s unhinged. You’d have to take a moment to regain composure when you’re giggling over something he said. Blephie will pout, making sure he gets his point across when he sinks his teeth into your shoulder and pick up the pace until he’s fucked you out. It gives you whiplash when he goes from silly and funny to suddenly serious, he enjoys it seeing how quickly he can change your mind. 

H =  Hair (How well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? Etc) 

⭐️ Neatly trimmed and well kept. Little happy trail leading down, same colour as his hair but what surprised you was the singular strip of white it’s completely natural but Belphie gets embarrassed by it even though you tell him it looks cute. He’s admitted quite bashfully that he’s attempted to dye it but it wouldn’t take and just grew back the exact same way. 

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment? The romantic aspect) 

⭐️ He loves the intimacy, the closeness is the best part of it. Even if you’re just having a quickie Belphie makes it feel so intimate. He likes holding you close whether in a gentle or rough way he just needs you close to him, he always grabs you with an undertone of urgency and desperation as if you’d run away from him otherwise. If he’s in his demon form his tail wraps around you affectionately. He loves being close as he fucks into you, or just pleasuring you in general when he shares your warmth, listening to all the little moans, broken words and whimpers that spill from your mouth. It drives him wild when he feels you holding onto him, if you caress or kiss him first he loves it so much. Sometimes he just wants to enjoy the moment and will slow down as if to appreciate everything about you, silently worshiping you as he takes you. He loves giving you lots of kisses and nuzzling into you while he utters little mentions of how much he loves you, appreciating the softness of your touch and care he just lives for it. 

J = Jack Off (Masturbation Headcanon)

⭐️ Sometimes Belphie needs a little something before bed just to ensure a deeper sleep (Or so he says, he surprisingly acts shy when you ask him about it) He doesn’t need much, obviously it would feel soooo much better if you were with him but you’re not so he’ll take care of it himself. If he’s able he’d want to hear your voice on call if you’re too far away from him, even if you didn’t know what he was doing on the other side of the call hearing you would make it feel all the more real. He closes his eyes to get comfortable, leaning his head back into the pillows while he thinks about you. It’s your hands sliding down his sides, slipping in the waistband of his pants. He knows it’s not your hands though- his hands aren’t as soft as yours, nor does he have the patience to imitate the way you tease him, forcing him to anticipate your touch while building him up with steady frustration. He runs hand down his cock, he hisses softly and lets out a groan as he pictures you next to him being the one who touches him, whispering all your love and sin in his ears until he finally cums all over his hand. He gets a little annoyed with the mess but he feels better in one way but his craving for you just went up again. 

K = Kink (One or more of the kinks)

⭐️ Among the many that Belphie has there’s three worth mentioning as top of the list: 

⭐️ Somnophilia - Goes both ways, he likes seeing how sweet you are when you’re all sleepy and needy for him, loves when you do it to him too. With permission of course otherwise Belphie would never have done it. It took a lot for him to discuss doing it with you but you thankfully agreed. 

⭐️ Edging - More of a preference for himself, he likes it when you edge him, but he edges himself too. Used to do it unknowingly until you explained it and he got to learn about how to do it better. Prefers to make you cum but sometimes enjoys seeing just how needy and desperate you can get you wanna cum. 

⭐️ Endytophilia - Aka being partially clothed/ wearing clothes. Purely because Belphie is too lazy to undress himself, and sometimes he’s really impatient and just wants you right away so clothes are only pushed aside/pulled down enough to get the job done. He’s seen you wearing his clothes and blames that for the development of this kink. He LOVES fucking you while you’re wearing his clothing something about seeing you biting down on the sleeve of his sweater while he pounds into you just makes him go feral. 

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

⭐️ Favorite location is his bed, although Belphie has two. One in the attic and one in his shared bedroom with Beel. Although the former is the better option since he wouldn’t want to disturb his twin with the ruckus the two of you were going to cause. Belphie is a creature of comfort and prefers his own familiar spaces compared to anywhere else. He feels like he can focus more on you if he’s not worried about someone walking in and the like. He’s not exactly jumping at the idea of public sex but wouldn’t oppose it if it's what you wanted, he’d be more than happy to oblige if you wanted to try for the thrill of it. But at the end of the day he’s just way happier in his own confined space. Although he’s comfortable with the compromise of doing it somewhere in the House of Lamentation, as he considers it a familiar space. It’s risky but it’s just his brothers so if they walk in then oh well.  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going?)

⭐️ Intimate contact, and suggestive touches. Those subtle hints you drop when you look at him a certain way, when your fingers run through his hair as you pull him in for a kiss that lasts a little too long to be considered innocent. You’re usually a little too shy to outright say what you want unless you’re very worked up and raring to go, mostly it’s those little hints that Belphie loves pretending not to notice or know what you mean. He’ll just bat his eyes at you “I don’t know what you want unless you tell me.” He’ll say so sweetly and unsuspecting when that tiny smile tugging at the corner of his mouth gives away the lie. You also know that the trump card is to kiss his neck and ears, if he’s in demon form then playing with his horns and tail are surefire ways to get him going. Also- SOUNDS. If you let anything that remotely sounds like a little whine or whimper out, it makes him remember just how you sound when you’re in the throes of pleasure and it brings all the memories back. 

N = No (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

⭐️ Things like impact play, choking and anything too rough have been off the table. He doesn’t want to hurt you, he’s given you a spank here and there or a hair pull but it’s hardly enough to be considered painful. The idea of hurting you brings up unpleasant memories of how he treated you in the past and things he still regrets. No matter how you reassure him and tell Belphie that you’ve forgiven him; he won’t forgive himself for hurting you. It’s another reason he doesn’t like getting rough- and rough meaning he lets go of all of his brakes. If you get too rough he’ll calm you down in gentle ways, he’s overly cautious, even when he seems really in the moment he’s still aware EXACTLY how he’s handling you. Belphie has never allowed himself to fully lose control and doesn’t plan to, even if you’re willing to experiment if he thinks there is any risk to you he won’t do it. 

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

⭐️ Likes giving and receiving with more emphasis on giving. He enjoys that he could be snuggling with you one minute then have his face buried between your thighs the next driving you to another orgasm with nothing other than his mouth while you’re losing your mind. He smirks at how easy it is, knowing that it’s him making you babble nonsense while you cum again. Plus a bonus it doesn’t expend that much energy. It helps that he’s reallllly good at it. So good in fact that he can confidently do it in his sleep. The amount of times you've eventually gotten so overstimulated and had your pleas fall on deaf ears only to push him away and discover that he had fallen asleep doesn’t even surprise you anymore with how commonplace it’s become. As for receiving; Belphie doesn’t feel right if he’s the only one to receive, he enjoys doing it for you but to be the only one to receive just doesn't sit right with him so he’ll insist on a little 69 ;)

⭐️ Although if you were to insist it was a little treat just for him he’d accept, loving the way your pretty lips wrap around his cock as he thrusts lazily into your mouth and looking down at you to see your face while you look up at him lovingly. 

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? Etc) 

⭐️ Slow, sensual and soft. He’s gentle as a default, and will go a little harder if you beg him to. Nothing too hardcore though, he likes being gentle with you. To convey all his love and need in a physical manner when he gets into it. His gentle pace still doesn't change the fact that his size takes it out of you and if he picks up the pace even just a little more than the norm oh you know about it. He’s aware of himself, and never goes too crazy but he has moments when you just feel too damn good clamping down on him like that. He just has to pick up the pace a little and sink in a little deeper just so he can see your expression when he’s hitting your favourite spot over and over again. Sometimes his pace can frustrate you when it feels like you’re being kept on the edge for too long. You’d be getting antsy and impatient trying to move yourself but he’d hold you in place giving you kisses and nuzzling against you. Whimpering into your mouth while he lavishes your body with attention, every slow and intentional thrust aimed to pleasure and entice. Even if it takes a little bit, trust him- he’ll get you there. Afterall who doesn’t like slow burn. 

Q = Quickie (They opinions on quickies, how often etc)

⭐️ It’s not that he can’t do quickies, however, they’re too…well, quick for his taste. He likes to maximize the time spent with you and enjoy it fully without having to rush. He treasures you and he likes taking time to show you just how much he appreciates you. Belphie feels that quickies don’t give him adequate time to do that but of course if you’re begging him to get you off before heading to RAD he’ll gladly do so, no questions asked. Will be honest when he sees you getting down straight to business it’s pretty hot to see how domineering you can be when there’s something you want. There’s no teasing touches or sweet kisses, nothing but your unbridled pleads and rushed actions as you try to urge Belphie to hurry. 

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? Etc)

⭐️ Belphie enjoys experimenting and finding new things together with you. It might become something you both love or hate but at least you tried, the only things that Belphie is reluctant towards is things that involve potentially hurting you. He won’t do it, and if he compromises then he’ll do the most gentle of said thing. You appreciate he’s trying and well there’s so much to try that you didn’t miss it. Roleplay? Done it- loved it, will probably do it again. Bondage- Belphie has insane talent as a rigger which was surprising for BOTH of you to say the least. It's enjoyable knowing that you can bring up something new you want to try out and Belphie is usually eager to try.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

⭐️ Hard to get a super accurate understanding of Belphie’s stamina as he prefers taking things slower, even going as far as edging himself until he finally breaks. He’s not really good at going for consecutive rounds as he usually gets super sleepy after he finishes. Sometimes he can push for a second round but hardly ever. If he does go for the second round he’s even more lackadaisical and sleepy however if he has a short rest he’ll find the energy to go again with a little more vigor. Even though he can’t do multiple rounds he lasts quite a long time so usually don’t need the second one because you’re already all fucked out by that time. 

T = Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or on themselves?)

⭐️ Discovered an unexpected love for toys, both on himself and on you. Belphie gets excited thinking about everything they can do- I mean there are just so many with different functions, gimmicks and abilities. Like when he’s holding you from behind, thrusting his cock up into you, pressing the vibrator right against you while you squeal in delight trying to push it away because of being so sensitive already. Belphie will sweetly beg for you to cum for him again and again. Belphie also loves watching you use them on yourself, watching how you can pleasure yourself while whining for him and using a toy that feels nowhere as good but will still get the job done. He lays back stroking himself while gazing upon the show you put on for him. Bonus points if he’s taking a video for him to replay again when he needs it. 

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease?)

⭐️ He is a tease unintentionally, Belphie just likes to take his time. Whether or not you’re losing your mind over how slow he is going or not. He’ll get you all hot and bothered for him, praising you between every little kiss and touch, feeling his own sense of urgency so he’s rutting against your thigh enjoying the miniscule amount of friction it provides. Oh but Belphie has patience and keeps it up until you’re the one pouncing on him. Belphie likes providing more than anything but he also really likes how cute and needy you can get when you’re begging to cum, sometimes he just wants to prolong it a little. 

V = Volume (How loud they are? What sounds they make? Etc)

⭐️ Belphie is not very loud, mostly soft gasps, whimpers and a few moans spattered in between. He likes making you get loud for him though. Overall Belphie is pretty soft volume wise, there’s no real reason for him to get so loud. He just holds you close and speaks in whispers. You’ll know when he’s close because his voice gets really breathy and whiny when he’s about to cum. Although Belphie does hold his voice back a lot and suppresses his sounds. You’ve noticed that he does get embarrassed on the off chance his voice gets a little louder than the norm or when he actually lets out a proper moan, but watching him bite his lip as he holds back is so cute. 

W = Wild Card (A random headcanon for the character?)

⭐️ You noticed a little habit whenever Belphie is in demon form, he’ll nuzzle a lot more whether it’s against you, the bed, just anywhere. You didn’t understand it at first until you discovered how incredibly sensitive his horns are and his nuzzling is when he’s rubbing his horns against something for friction. When you found out you touched his horns and heard the loudest sound from Belphie yet and how flustered he looked when you touched. He was buried so deep inside you, not moving while you stroked his horns until he came- it’s your favorite thing to do now. Whenever he’s in demon form you’ll just reach up and play with his horns. 

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on under those clothes?)

⭐️ One of the more surprising things for you was definitely Belphie’s size, length and girth wise. It wasn’t to say you were expecting him to be on the smaller side but it was just surprising. Thicker going down towards the base, has a little piercing (Most unexpected from Belphie) argues he got it just for the sake of it, there was no real reason but you seem to like it so he keeps it. 

⭐️ Any changes for his demon form? Oh honey…Yes and you discovered this when he accidentally shifted while inside you. You got to feel just how he seemed to get thicker, there weren't any super drastic differences aside from how it got thicker, took on a more comical purple colour towards the base and seemed to get more prominent veins that you could definitely feel. 

Z = Zzz (How quickly they fall asleep afterwards?)

⭐️ Well…Falling asleep during isn’t exactly rare for Belphie either. After he finishes it’s almost instantaneous that he falls asleep, you can try to keep him up but he’ll be so eepy and out of it that you almost start to feel bad for him. He likes listening to you talk to him, pillow talk is a little one sided because he’s nodding off next to you just listening to your voice while it lulls him into a restful sleep until he gets up to finally get around to cleaning up and the rest of it. 

Taglist: @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf

[zorosprincess]

Two Week Notice

PAIRING - Oikawa Tooru x Reader WC - 1.2K GENRE - Angst SYNOPSIS - You think that being in love with you felt like a job to him. Not something he really wanted, just something you had to do. You didn't have to tell me, I knew that you would leave.

PREV PART | MASTERLIST | NEXT PART

You knew you never wanted to see Oikawa Tooru after the first time. That you never wanted to date him or love him or trust him. You knew that the second you met him.

But he convinced you to ignore that initial decision. He proved himself. Time and time again. Convinced you of his seriousness. Dated you. Made you fall in love with him. Made you trust him.

Looking back now, you should have seen it coming. The end. The inevitable end you'd seen from the very beginning. The one you learned to ignore.

You should have noticed that the way Tooru loved changed after nearly 3 years together. How it stopped being something that he did actively.

There’s a difference, you've learned. Between being loved actively and being loved passively.

Actively loving. Falling in love over and over again. Every action breathing commitment and sincerity. The acknowledgement that you will never in your life stop falling in love with them.

Passively loving. Loving someone, who they are and what they’ve done. Not what they could be and could do. Knowing you will never stop being in love with someone, even when you’ve stopped falling.

Sometimes, without a healthy mix between the two… passively loving someone feels more like a job. That’s what you're sure Tooru felt at the end. That being in love with you felt like a job.

You're sure it’s not what he wanted, not anymore at least, just something that he had to do, to keep up with the promises he'd made, the responsibilities he'd made his own when he stepped into this relationship.

Passive love without active love is like a job. You go in, you complete your tasks and do your chores, follow routines. You give them hugs and kisses, you bring them gifts, you assure them that you’re there no matter what, soothe them when you’re crying.

And god does it feel good for a while, its fulfilling, a job well-done seeing that you’ve made something better. That you've built a relationship, a beautiful relationship.

But really, truly, nothing feels as good as going home at the end of your day at a job. Not having to have that responsibility anymore.

You suppose that if you're referring to his love feeling like a job, it's only fitting that the signed you ignored leading to the end should have been his two week notice. Even if it wasn't something explicit.

Should have noticed the small things, abbreviations in sentiments. 'Love you' in place of 'I love you.' Things you'd deliberately ignored.

What should have warned you, really, was the argument you had just two weeks before the end.

“Please tell me you won’t be disappointed in me if I can’t do it. If I don’t pass.”

You'd been crying on the floor of your half-packed closet. Trying to pack both his and your things into boxes to prepare for moving apartments.

The stress was overwhelming you, trying to explain why you couldn't bring yourself to finish the biggest exam of your life. The exam you needed to finish, to pass in order to get the job you'd been offered.

The fear of disappointing anyone weighed on you, held you down. A confession you'd just made to him.

"I'm not going to tell you that." He was standing above you and your body seemed to freeze as his voice floated down. "I would be disappointed." His usually soft and playful voice had taken a cold edge. One you'd never heard directed to you, only ever on the court with opponents. He looked annoyed.

You tried to tell yourself you were overreacting. Just tough love, you convinced yourself.

"What?" You tried to ignore the crack in your voice as you looked up at him. You looked at him, and he couldn't even look at you.

"I would be disappointed. Because you wouldn't have even tried." It felt like the worst thing he could say to you. You wouldn't have even tried. The worst offense in the eyes of Oikawa Tooru. The king of trying and overtrying until he was run down and broken.

"I'm done telling you that I wouldn't be disappointed in you. I would be, because you've had plenty of time to do it. If you fail and don't get this job; yeah, I'll be disappointed in you."

That should have been his two week notice. His resignation. The 'I'm done' that didn't slip past his lips.

You should have known. That's what you kept telling yourself now. You'd spent at least a month by the time he left, asking if you two were okay. If you needed to help or change or fix anything. He shouldn't have had to tell you, you knew. You knew he would leave. You should have known.

If there was one thing you'd learned from working in minimum wage for the last few years, it was that if people wanna leave, you should let them leave. Making them stay just makes them resent you and the entire situation.

You can't help but wonder if that was what happened with Tooru. If he wanted to leave way before he truly did. If he resented you now.

You'd never ask. Not in a million years. It isn't even really your business anymore. You suppose that you didn't truly need to know why Tooru wanted to go, only that he didn't want to stay.

He had given that unspoken two week notice. The kind you give at a job you know that you'll be leaving. Where you stop doing the maintenance to keep up the appearance. Where you work slower and respond less. Don't pick up the phone when they try to get ahold of you on your day off.

His actual resignation came silently. Like a no-call, no-show to a shift. The kind where your boss has to call and ask 'hey are you coming in today?' only to get your voicemail or your reply that you, in fact, will never be in again.

It came as a pause in the conversation. A 'Tooru, why aren't you replying?'

It came in response to the question you had to ask. A 'are you breaking up with me?'

Only to get silence. Only to get his reply that he, in face, was done.

God was it infuriating. Like learning your best worker was actually just as flaky as the previous ones. That he wouldn't pick up when you called or answer any texts. That he'd leave silently instead of giving the respect of letting you know.

He made you feel just like a job. All the effort and time you put into trying to be better for him, for your relationship. All of that thrown out the window, disregarded. Overworked. Underpaid.

Yeah, maybe Tooru resented you at the end. Saw you as a job, something to test his patience, to give him more skills that would boost his resume for the next application.

Maybe he stayed to have something where he felt like he did a good thing... that because he worked hard for a while it would make it hurt less.

And his last sentiment. His 'this is the healthiest breakup I've ever had.'

Yeah. That one hurt you too.

a/n thanks for coming to the free therapy of fictionalizing my irl breakup experiences. based on "Two Week Notice" by Leanna Firestone

TAGLIST - OPEN @all-in-the-fandoms @pearl-blue-musings

[aemonds-fire]

Answered Prayers: HOTD Dark Series Aemond Targaryen x Female OC Part Four : A Twisted Little Game

First infatuation, then obsession. Prince Aemond has found the lady of his dreams, and the gods give him a way to keep her. But she is not the sweet, demure lady he expects. She has a will of her own and is willing to go to great lengths to get what she wants. Perhaps they are more alike than they thought.

Series Warnings - 18+, Minors DNI, Smut, Dark, Murder, mention of murder/suicide, medieval-canon sexism, coercion, some DUB/CON - NON/CON , Profanity

Word Count 3832

Aemond Targaryen Masterlist

Answered Prayers Masterlist

Not long back in his own chambers, Aemond already realizes that sleep will elude him again this night. Sitting before the fireplace, holding a cup of wine in his slender fingers, he is cursing himself and you.

‘Is she a cruel jest by the gods?’ He asks himself. 'To deliver this perfect maiden to me only to have her bewitch and bedevil me to the verge of madness?’

First came the shock that you had played a part in the deaths of your father and stepmother. He immediately recognized the silver-topped glass vial as the one you held in your hand when you met by chance that night. To think that this innocent, perfect lady was capable of murder surprised him greatly. What also surprised him was that it did not matter to him. Strangely, it even excited him, making him want you even more, so under his skin you have become. If anything, he found he rather admired your courage and your determination to avenge your mother. Wanting to right a wrong was something he could understand.

His heart soared when he realized he had found a way to possess the lady of his dreams. He would keep your secret, and you would become his wife. But again, you surprised him with your resistance to the idea of marriage.

He truly went to your chambers tonight to talk with you and to convince you that he would be everything you could want in a husband. He would be protective, honorable, and dutiful; you would be the lady of your house, as well as a princess of the realm.

However, his restraint was tested immediately. The mere sight of you had his cock twitching, knowing that only the thin material of your gown separated him from your exquisite body. Your audacity in daring him to drink the wine you offered him, knowing your history with poison, was truly impressive. He did not think you were foolish, but it was still a risk on his part, and the challenge got his blood up.

But just like earlier in the day, you could not speak for more than a moment before antagonizing each other. Your immediate resistance to marriage, as well as the theory that he was simply doing this to have you in his bed, infuriated him.

He offers you not only silence but marriage, and you spurn it, wanting only his silence, not him.

'What lady would want to marry that?' He’s heard in the past.

Despite the intense release of pleasure your mouth gave him, his need is creeping back already. He wants nothing more than to be between your thighs right now, with his cock being squeezed by your tight maiden cunt.

But he let his pent-up frustration and ire get the better of him. Deliberately leaving you unsatisfied was an impulsively spiteful act, he thinks with a smirk, but you exasperate him to no end.

He has never met a lady like you, and your response to him is confusing. Unlike other ladies, you have never looked at his face with distaste or turned away from the sight of him. Thinking about it, you have not shown any reaction to the scar that mars his face, as if it doesn't bother you at all. Though a virtuous maiden, you did not reject his touch but reveled in the pleasure, while the idea of marrying him is apparently abhorrent to you.

He could actually admire your strong will, audacity, and fierceness, were it not directed at him. Though, after leaving you the way he did tonight, he’s sure more of your fiery stubbornness will come his way.

He has no intention of giving you a choice regarding marriage, whether you want it or not. While your resistance excites him, he craves your submission and your obedience. He will never give you up; truthfully, even his promise to expose your crime and face execution is an empty threat that he had no intention of carrying out. The more you resist him, the more determined he is to have you. In the meantime, you have shown him a way to weaken your resolve.

He remembers a night over a year ago, when he was sitting in this same chair before the fireplace.

He barely turned his head when he heard someone enter his chambers late one night. He knew who it was right away, for only his brother Aegon was foolish enough to barge into his chambers without leave. Sighing in frustration, he was about to simply tell his brother to get out when he also heard female laughter.

Getting up to confront Aegon about this unwanted intrusion, he saw his brother, clearly drunk as usual, with his arm around a young woman. She was pretty, about his own age, and obviously a whore.

“Aegon, leave. The keep is large enough that you can surely find an empty room somewhere. You won’t be fucking your whore in my chambers,” he told him brusquely.

Aegon chuckled, turned to his female companion, and said, “Do you see what I mean?”

Turning back to his brother, he continued, “I didn’t bring her to your chambers so I could fuck her; I brought her here so you could fuck her.” Aegon led the girl further into the room, closer to Aemond. “You see, my brother, for some reason, tries to ignore the fact that he has a cock, but by doing so, he makes life rather unbearable for the rest of us,” he tells her.

Even in the dim light, Aemond could see through the sheer material of her whore’s dress, revealing that she was naked beneath it. His eye drawn to her full breasts, pert nipples poking against the flimsy fabric, and he felt himself begin to harden despite his annoyance. Clenching his jaw and warring with himself about whether or not to take what was being offered, he bit back another demand that they leave.

Aegon, seeing his younger brother’s resistance weaken, whispered something in the girl’s ear, prompting her to unfasten her dress at her shoulder and let it fall, pooling at her feet. At Aegon’s urging, she went over to Aemond, smiling prettily when she took his hand and placed it on her breast.

At the feel of her hardened peak against his open palm, he couldn’t help but cup her flesh, squeezing and feeling the weight of her breast in his hand.

Aegon continued to harass him. “I’ll leave the two of you alone now, unless you would like me to stay and watch, or perhaps join in?”

Not even bothering to look at his brother, Aemond growled low, “Get out.” Aegon, knowing not to press his luck too far, left to find his own amusement.

Despite his aversion to whores, Aemond soon had her bent over, his strong hands gripping her hips roughly, rutting into her hard from behind. There was neither gentleness nor regard for her pleasure from him as the sounds of skin hitting skin and her soft moans floated through his bedchamber. He took her three times that night before finally being satisfied enough to send her off.

Before leaving him, she said, ”You have a beautiful cock, my prince. If you ever care to learn what pleases a woman, I would be happy to show you.”

Aemond secretly brought the whore back to his chambers on several occasions out of curiosity about a woman's pleasure and the desire to have her again.

For the next several days, you and Aemond play a game akin to cat and mouse. Despite avoiding direct contact, you both make your presence known, hopefully to the annoyance of the other.

When you were with Helaena and the children in her chambers and he came to visit, you quickly complained of a sudden headache and a desire to rest. You were able to avoid his offer of escorting you to your chambers by insisting he continue his visit with his family, even placing little Princess Jaehaera in his arms.

Another day, you decide to make your way to the training yard to watch him spar with Ser Cole, delighting when you realize your presence distracts him, forcing him to yield to the knight. With your prettiest smile, you return his glare of annoyance before disappearing back into the Keep.

You spend your afternoons with a small group of ladies, chatting and working on your embroidery. Despite being far from your favorite activity, you feel secure in their presence, thinking even the fearsome prince would hesitate to cross some of these old crones.

Today, when you spy the prince watching you from a distance, you simply ignore him and walk the other way.

But Aemond is on your mind the entire time, with you trying to sort out your feelings about what happened and about him. Your last encounter with him should have shamed, devastated, and revolted you, but it hasn't. You're more angry with him than anything else for awakening your body and leaving you wanting more.

You have never been more conflicted in your life. He stands in the way of your independence, yet when he touches you, everything you want means nothing; you just want more of him. You know that if you allow him to take your virtue and ruin you, he will simply have another way to force you into marriage. His amorous advances cannot sway you, you tell yourself.

‘What sort of twisted little game has this become?’ you ask yourself.

But the prince has clearly lost patience with the game. That night, just after settling yourself into your bed to sleep, you hear him enter your chambers. Knowing that simply pretending to be asleep will not work, you sit up, pulling the covers over your chest.

Watching him walk towards you in the darkness, you can’t help but feel the quickening of your pulse. He moves like a predator, stalking prey, the moonlight coming through the window glinting off his long silver hair. Tonight, instead of his usual black leather, he wears a simple white shirt over loose trousers.

“I’ve missed you, Lady Mira,” he says, his voice smooth as silk. He stops at the foot of your bed, and his eye never leaves you.

Determined to resist him, you snap, “I haven’t missed you.”

“Hmm, you seem uptight, my lady," he said, smiling devilishly. “Are unfulfilled desires keeping you from resting at night?”

"Of course not,” you lie. “I was about to go to sleep, so please leave.”

“Hmm, still upset with me, I see,” he sighs, though the smirk on his lips tells you he is not bothered by it.

You get up, frustrated by his presence, and reach for your robe. Before you can put it on, you feel him behind you, his arm going around your waist. Crooning in your ear, "The sight of you in bed is quite lovely, and something I intend to get used to."

"Take your hands off me and leave," you hiss as you try to pull away from him.

“Such a temper, maegītsos,” he chides you while pulling you closer. “And I came to make up for my poor behavior the other night. (little witch)

Continuing to struggle, ”You can make up for it by getting out of my chambers.”

Spinning you around to face him, he says, “No, I have a better way.” Not giving you a chance to respond, he kisses you. His lips claim yours forcefully and possessively.

You try to push him away, but you cannot match his strength, and your efforts at resistance are ignored by him.

Breaking his kiss momentarily, he reminds you, “Your body for my silence, remember?” He wraps you in his arms tightly until you cease your struggles. “Sȳres riñus,” he purrs into your ear, between little nips of your skin. (good girl)

Leaning against his chest, you unconsciously tilt your head to let him trail his lips down your neck, each kiss fanning the flames of desire growing within you. You gasp when he tugs down the front of your gown to free your breasts before cupping them in his strong hands and fondling them while rolling your nipples between his fingers.

"Aemond," you whimper, as each tease of your stimulated peaks sends little shivers through you.

He lowers his head to fasten his lips around your areola, sucking gently. With one hand, he holds on to your other breast, while the other moves down to grasp your hip. The flicks of his tongue on your sensitive nipple cause wetness to pool between your legs. When his mouth moves to switch his attention to your other breast, he murmurs against your skin, “Shhh, I will soon ease that ache in your cunt.”

Your hand tangles in his hair, while his lips and tongue seduce your body, breaking down your resolve. Soft hums of pleasure escape your throat as your hand digs into his shoulder, gripping him tightly.

He finally releases your breasts and straightens to his full height, his eye lingering on your disheveled state. Suddenly, you feel very small standing this close to him, with your gown pushed down past your shoulders and your bosom exposed to him. When you move to cover yourself, he quickly stops you. “No, I want to see all of my future wife,” he tells you as his hands take hold of the material covering you, pushing everything down until it falls around your feet, leaving you completely naked before him.

Fearful that this will go much further than you wish it to, you whisper, “Your grace, no..." while trying to back away, only stopping when the back of your legs bump into the side of your bed. His strong hands then push you down, forcing you to lie back. Panic sets in, and you try to scamper back away from him, but he quickly grabs hold of your legs at the knees, dragging you back to him.

You let out a small cry when you feel his strength pull you across the bed. You’re holding your breath as you watch him kneel on the floor while pushing your thighs apart, baring to his eye the most intimate part of your body that no man has ever seen before. You stare at him until he finally raises his gaze and your eyes meet, and you watch one corner of his lips turn up in a wicked smile, hearing him whisper the word "gevie" before extending his tongue, teasing that little bundle of nerves within your folds.(beautiful)

The sensation immediately rips a whimper from you—this shock of pure sensual pleasure that he is making you feel. You don’t even notice when he hooks one of your thighs over his shoulder, your other leg still being pushed wide by his firm hand gripping your flesh.

Letting your head drop back on the bed, you stare at the ceiling as his mouth ravishes your cunt, licking and sucking. You can hear the lewd, wet sounds coming from between your legs. When he fastens his lips around your stimulated bud, sucking and flicking his tongue repeatedly, you can’t hold back the moan that comes from your mouth.

“You will need to be more quiet. If we are caught like this, my mother will have us married before the new moon,’ he teases you. The vibration from his voice sends shivers through you, making you fist the bedclothes.

Before long, you begin to feel the tingling pressure deep inside you, gradually building. Your breathing is now quick, shallow breaths. Soon, your release hits you, much more intense than anything you’ve felt before, forcing you to bite your lip to keep crying out and forcing Aemond to hold your hips tightly to keep you still.

He keeps lapping up the wetness from you while you feel waves of pleasure roll through your body. Despite the fact that you’ve reached your peak, he continues to tease your now-overstimulated bud.

When you whimper for him to stop, he ignores your pleas. When you try to twist away, he holds you tighter, and when you feel one of his long, slender fingers probe your entrance before slowly sliding into your tightness, you cannot hold back a loud gasp.

His finger, coated in your slick wetness, moves easily back and forth. He murmurs against your thigh, "Your cunt is so fucking tight."

The sensation is not unpleasant until he begins pumping two fingers inside you, causing an uncomfortable stretch of your walls, but that is soon overridden when he starts rubbing your little bud with his thumb. Every time he brushes a specific spot inside you, the stimulation intensifies, leaving your legs quivering and forcing you to cover your mouth to stifle your moans.

"Look at you, writhing on my fingers," he mutters, watching you lose yourself in the ecstasy he is causing. Gradually, he eases his touches, letting you enjoy the bliss that overcomes you and delighting in the knowledge that he can reduce you to a whimpering, shaking mess.

The feeling of power that he has over your body arouses him tremendously, hardening his cock to near painfulness in his breeches. He finally rises from the floor to lie down on the bed, pulling your limp body next to him, pressing the bulge in his trousers against you, and placing his face next to yours. “I want to fuck you so badly,” he whispers in your ear. "I prayed for you, and the gods gave you to me, but I want to honor them by waiting until we're married to claim your maidenhead."

As you try to recover your senses from your second release of the night, you can feel his length straining against his clothes. You can smell yourself on him when he brushes his lips on your cheek, and you shiver when his large hand splays on the skin of your belly before moving up to cup your breast.

The sight of your naked body, feeling you tremble at his touch, and the knowledge that you cannot resist him send an unstoppable surge of lust through him. After a moment of indecision, Aemond begins loosening his trousers, freeing his cock. Growling with desire, he grabs a handful of your hair and says, “But if I cannot have your cunt tonight, I need your mouth on me again.” He quickly shifts his hips while the hand tugging on your hair forces you up to all fours. “Or would you rather I start fucking my heirs into you instead?”

When you begin to protest, a sharp pull of your hair causes your words to die on your lips. You know it is this or he will take your virtue tonight, giving him one more way to bind you to him for the rest of your life. When he places his length on your lips, once again you open your mouth to him.

The next several minutes are filled with him instructing you to lick and suck and how to work your mouth on him, between a stream of filthy praises at how well you take his cock, how perfect you are for him, and how he intends to fuck you. While you bob your head up and down on his shaft, his hand on your head guiding your pace, his other hand roughly fondles your breast, tweaking your nipple, before his long arm reaches between your legs.

“You’re still fucking dripping,” he says, swirling his fingers in your wetness before pushing two back into you, causing you to moan around his cock. As you suck him to his peak, he wrests another from you.

The two of you lay side by side on your bed for a few moments before you move to get up on shaky legs, finding your nightgown and slipping it back on. You walk over to a table and pour yourself a cup of wine, drinking deeply and feeling the need to rinse the taste of his seed from your mouth.

Looking towards your bed, you take in the sight before you. The fearsome Prince Aemond, always presenting a stoic form and impeccably groomed with never a long silver hair out of place, lies still with his eye closed, seemingly ready to drift off to sleep. As he breathes, you can see his chest rise and fall. Right now, his sharp features appear softer.

You almost want to laugh at the realization that you do not understand this man who is determined to make you his wife at all. He is a mystery wrapped in another mystery. He is a fierce warrior and dragonrider who seems to have a desperate need for something—you cannot figure out what—but there is so much roiling beneath the cold exterior.

Right now, you feel like a little girl from a little house on the southwest coast of the realm who foolishly tried to play with a dragon.

For some reason, he has decided you are the one he wants, and he will not let go. And you have no idea how to free yourself from him. The second vial of poison you still have hidden is useless to you with him. The discovery of a royal prince dead from poison would lead to an intense search for the culprit, while another poisoning so soon after the deaths of your father and stepmother would draw unwanted attention towards you. 

For the first time, you wonder if perhaps marrying him wouldn’t be so bad.

You know your parents' marriage bed was not pleasurable for your mother. You are quite certain your father never made your mother feel like Aemond has made you feel. You ask yourself, "Does that make me a whore, or is there something else between us?"

"You're drinking the wine, so it's obviously not poisoned. Would it be too much trouble for you to stop staring at me and bring me a cup?” The sound of his voice snaps you out of your thoughts.

He is now sitting up in your bed, adjusting his trousers. You pour him a cup and hand it to him. As you hand the cup to him, he asks, ‘What were you thinking?”

Sighing, “I was thinking how much I don’t understand you.”

Getting up to stand next to you, he pauses for a moment before saying, “I don’t think anyone really understands me.”

“That sounds lonely,” you tell him. Walking back to the table to refill your cup, you add, “I should hate you for what you’re doing.”

“But you don’t,” he says, following you. Aemond pauses for a moment before saying, “No one will ever love you like I do.”

Glancing over at him, you ask, “Do you love me or do you wish to possess me? They are two different things.” Taking a final sip of your wine, you add, “I may not hate you, but that doesn’t mean I like you either.”

[mumblelard]

indiana is back or alternate timeline texas refuses to leave

if i don't walk in the rain this morning, the rules require me to use that time to sweep and vacuum which i do not want to do, but finn is stopping by for an end of week drink, and i might have some company over later tonight, so i really should

[shotmrmiller]

pornstar au

f!reader x simon 'ghost' riley

3.7k words (sorry)

tw: teacher-student relationship but it's just a scene for porn. explicit. horrifyingly so.

You burst into the classroom and stride purposefully towards your professor, who is seated in his leather chair, engrossed in his work. Impatiently tapping your foot, you waited for him to finish marking essays. However, after 5 minutes, your patience with this unbearable man ran out.

"Professor."

He hums, a deep sound coming from the back of his throat yet doesn't look up from what he's doing. A real piece of work, he is. How fucking aggravating.

"Professor Riley," your voice takes an irreverent tone.

The hand that had been writing non-stop comes to a sudden pause, and he finally directs his attention to you. Meeting your gaze, his dark eyes are hooded, his lips set in a firm line. His job is to literally deal with students, yet he dares to look annoyed.

"Are you gonna tell me what's wrong 'r am I gonna have to learn how to read minds?" he states.

Taking in a calming breath, you clench the crumpled essay in your hand. "Can you explain to me why you failed me on this? I did exactly as you asked!"

He must know precisely what you're talking about because he simply turns back to the papers on his desk.

"Tha's your problem. You did exactly as I asked, with no thought behind it. Just wrote the bare minimum, if you can even call it writin'. It's copy-paste," Professor Riley sets the pen down and leans back in the chair.

"I need ya to use tha' head o' yours when in this class. Otherwise, you'll fail the rest o' your classes too."

Fucking hell.

Professor Riley shifts in his seat, seemingly done with the conversation, and finishes, "If tha's all."

Shit. Your pause is too long, and the director calls it. Fuck.

"I'm really sorry, Ghost, I didn't mean-" Your words of apology dissolve into thin air as his strong hand finds its place on your hip— giving it a gentle, but firm squeeze.

"S'all righ', love. Mistakes happen. Matter fact," his eyes drift from you to behind you to beckon someone with two fingers. "C'mere, you."

It's the set assistant, and he's brought the script with him. Ghost swiftly stops him from handing it to you, instead pushing it onto the assistant's chest. "Won't be needin' tha', thanks. Tell the director tha' we'll be ad-libin'. Now sod off."

The assistant follows his command in haste, scurrying off to follow Ghost's instructions.

"Hey," he murmurs. Your eyes meet his, feeling the intensity of it quickens your heartbeat. "Say whatever you like, just remember to follow the storyline, alright?"

Follow the storyline. In porn. The irony isn't lost on you, but you bite the side of your gummy cheek to keep from laughing. "Yes, sir."

He drops his hand from where he held you slowly, seemingly almost reluctant to let go. "Ready?" Ghost's thin lips curl into a smirk when you nod at his question. "Good girl."

Your fingers tightly grip the flimsy material of your uniform skirt at his praise, and warmth pools in your lower belly.

His good girl.

A high-pitched voice cuts through your thoughts, signaling the restart of the shooting. You exhale a long breath, unclenching your hands in the process.

Action.

"If tha' all." Ghost reaches for his pen when you frantically grab onto his Oxford sleeve.

"Wait, Professor, please! I can't," you stammer, "I cannot fail this class! My parents would kill me if I studied abroad only to flunk. The tuition—"

His tone is authoritative as he abruptly cuts off your lengthy excuse. "Enough. Nothing can change the mark I've given you."

Your ears pricked up at his wording, and the corners of your lips pulled up into a roguish smile. "No?" Ghost stills before turning to face you, countenance blank. "Nothing at all, Professor?" With a coy tilt of your head, your wide, doe-like eyes meet his as your fingertips trace an alluring path from his forearm down to his knuckles.

"I really can't convince you in any way to change that grade for me?" You lean on the edge of his wooden desk— skirt so short it doesn't even graze the surface of it— and lightly curl your hand around his pointer finger. "It can be our little secret, Professor Riley," you purr.

Ghost lifts a single brow, and settles back into his seat, arms crossed over his barrel chest as his eyes travel from your feet to your exposed cleavage, fixating on the soft skin peeking out from your uniform top.

"Please?" his hushed voice reverberates inside your skull. "I promise to be a good girl."

That catches his attention, eyes flashing to yours, the fire behind them hot— you hope it burns you.

"'Sat, right? Tha' changes things now, doesn't it?" Ghost rolls his chair back, away from his desk, and spreads his thick legs apart in invitation, arms resting on the rests— the dictionary definition of casual. "Convince me then, pet."

"Yes, sir." Sauntering to stand in between his legs, you swallow thickly— the bulge in his groin was quite frankly, intimidating. You've had large, but this was in a league of its own.

"You gonna do it from up there? I know I'm bigger than average but not tha' big." A huff escapes from your lips. A whole comedian.

Knees pressed into the cold, tile floor, you expertly undo the button of his trousers and with his help, pulled them down along with his pants— just enough for his cock to spring free.

Bloody fucking hell.

His cock is monstrous. It rested against his belly, heavy and thick. The pink tip slightly peeking from under his foreskin. There was a groomed thatch of coarse hair at the base, and his balls were also heavy— one hanging lower than the other.

Ghost leans forward and cradles the underside of your jaw with one large hand, fingers gently caressing the delicate skin of your cheek, while the other pumps his rigid cock in anticipation. "Not scared, are ya?" His grin was wicked. "I promise it don't bite."

Grabbing his wrist, you maneuver his hand so that his thumb now rests on your soft lips. "Might not, but I do, Professor." And catch the tip of his finger between your blunt teeth, the subtle sting of it making him hiss.

"Perfect, pretty girl," he says, almost inaudible. His words of praise are for you alone— not for the scene, nor the camera. You peer up at him through your lashes, mewling softly at the expression on his face.

His brow was set, hooded eyes sultry, a rosy hue across his cheeks and nose, and lips parted as he panted quietly.

Delicious.

Ghost then pushes his thumb further into your slick mouth and hooks it behind your bottom teeth, delicately pulling you closer to him as he tips his head down— taking his thumb out with a pop. His warm breath fans across your face as he moves closer until his lips connect with yours. He slid his tongue into your mouth, tasting of frosty mint and his own unique taste.

Your hands come up, fingers digging into the meat of his thighs when he grasps your wrist and moves it to the focal point of his desire— his breath hitching when you give his cock a firm squeeze. Ghost bites your bottom lip before breaking away, a guttural noise escaping him when you begin to stroke him. "Tighten your hand around—" he breaks off, moaning against your kiss-swollen lips when you comply.

He threads his fingers through your hair that sits at the base of your skull, curling them into a fist and tugging back— craning your neck, hair pulled taut.

"So obedient. Jus' f'me, love?" you hum cheekily, a mischievous grin spreading across your face.

"Would you hold it against me if I said no?" he chuckles under his breath, the grip on your hair tightening marginally.

"I'd say tha' you're lyin'." He sucks in a breath when you press down lightly onto his slit with your thumb. "Cheeky."

He loosens the hold he has on you, feeling your scalp prickle with tender relief, and relaxes back into the chair. "All yours, sweetheart."

That light wasn't getting any greener, so with a grunt, you shifted your weight, ignoring your aching knees, and wrapped your lips around his cock.

Barely.

The salty bite of his arousal and musk spread on your tongue as you took him in deep, stilling once he hit the back of your throat.

"Fuck, look at me."

Slightly tipping your head back, you do as he says, your throat closing around him as he slips in even further.

"Fuckfuckfuck," a hiss, "such a hot little mouth, just swallowin' me righ' up." Your lungs burn with the lack of oxygen, forcing you to pull back to gasp for air. Ghost squeezes himself at the base and taps your cheek with his saliva-coated length.

"A dirty slag like you, jus' takin' me like a professional. Tha' what you are? A professional cock sucker, love?" he taunts. Your pussy clenches when he calls you a slag, pressing your thighs together in the hope of some friction; Something to alleviate the throbbing ache in between your legs.

Ghost with eyes as keen as ever, notices. Damn.

"Oh? Little harlot likes to get degraded, does she? Reminded of her place? How I'd love to teach you exactly where you belong, but tha' wouldn't be you convincin' me to change your bad grade, now would it?"

His cock taps on your swollen lips. "Another time, hm? Now open. Make me see reason."

Ghost's wish is your command. With enthusiasm, you take him in your mouth, slowly bobbing your head, place a hand right under your lips, and twist with every push and pull.

It's sloppy, spit covering your hand, dripping down to his balls. Your jaw aches, a burning pressure a little under your ear, but what gives you the strength to continue is the loud moans coming from Ghost. He holds nothing back, his hand engulfing the crown of your head while he gently pushes you down. A performer down to his very bones.

You were about to pause the recording, the pain in your mandible and knees almost becoming too much when he suddenly pulled you off of him.

"Wha—?" Ghost seizes you by the upper arms, forcibly bringing you to your feet, disregarding your pained whimper, and places you on the sturdy desk.

He's curling his fingers into the waistband of your frilly knickers, slipping them down your legs and pocketing them. There's a quiet popping sound when he bends his knees, going eye level with your bare cunt.

In a hushed tone, you say, "This isn't part of the scene." Ghost drags his eyes from your glistening slit to your face, gaze suffocating, smothering the very air in your lungs.

"Just a taste, love." He curls one hand under your thigh, lifting it to perch it on the edge of the desk, the other he throws over his strong shoulder. The only sound in the room is your soft moans as he expertly slides his warm tongue through your slick folds, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

By god does he eat pussy like it's his job. Peering down at him, you can't stop the sounds that spill from your mouth when his tongue visibly splits your pussy lips open, flicking at your clit, lapping up your arousal like it is honey. You take hold of his short hair, tugging at the strands as each swirl of his talented tongue pushes you closer to your peak.

His eyes cut to yours when he presses a thick finger into you, drinking in your desperate expression as you keen, begging for more, blabbering about it being so good, yet not enough, please god more.

Ghost curls his finger, only taking a second to find your sweet spot, and pushes— bursts of light flashing in your peripheral vision. You begin to rock your hips unconsciously, chasing your ecstasy, and Ghost simply flattens his tongue, letting you grind against it.

You teeter on the edge of bliss, a tightening in your stomach, right under where his finger is. Shaky exhales leave you, the leg that's on the desk visibly trembling from the tension that threatens to snap you in half.

He presses a kiss to your sodden pussy, and croons, "Gonna come f'me?" You jerkily nod.

"Yes fuck yes, I'm gonna come for you, just for you, Professor Riley pleaseee—" your blathering turns into a high-pitched squeal as he lightly sucks on your pearl, hips lifting off the desk as a blinding orgasm crashes into you, pleasure bursting through your very core, cunt pulsating with every wave of ecstasy around Ghost's finger.

He wastes no time in rising to his feet and slotting his mouth over yours, the taste of your slick strong, potent on his tongue. Ghost breaks away, his breath smelling of your desire. "Exquisite, like ambrosia. Addicting."

Ghost's hand cups your sensitive quim and whispers, "Think you can take me? Tha' orgasm took a lot outta ya."

Silly question. "I'm a big girl, Ghost. I can take it."

He licks the front of his teeth and glances down to where his hand rests. "Course you can, love. Turn around f'me."

Your movements are sluggish as you turn over onto your stomach, rising to the tip of your toes as you present yourself to him.

Ghost grabs the sides of your waist, and flips your skirt up, tucking the edge into the waistband of it. His hands palm your cheeks, thumbs digging into the meat of your ass to spread you open, completely exposed to him.

"Fuck me if tha' isn't the prettiest sight I've ever had the pleasure of seein'." He doesn't acknowledge your scoff as he spreads your hands out, placing them flat on the table— enveloping your hand with his own, intertwining his fingers with yours.

His leans over your semi-prone body, cock gently prodding at your entrance, gliding easily through your folds. "Ready?"

Arching your back, his tip slips inside, just barely. That's your answer.

You can hear the smarmy grin that spreads on his face, and wanted to snark back but you're rendered mute when he pushes in. Your eyes cross at the stretch of his cock, a feeling so sublime you know that no one will ever be able to duplicate. Your fingers tighten around his as you mewl when he bottoms out, hips flush against your arse.

Ghost sucks in a breath through his teeth when you shift your weight, and whatever you did has him sliding in deeper— turning his hiss into a guttural groan. "Fuck, you have no fuckin' idea how good you feel."

Probably not, but you have every idea how good he feels.

"You okay, love? Took me so well like you were made jus' f'me. So warm and soft, tight like a vice around my cock. Pretty pussy split wide open, stuffed full of me." He speaks unfettered filth to you, dripping over your ears like molasses, thick and syrupy. Your head feels heavy on your shoulders— dizzy, drunk on his scent, his cock that's got you tearing at the seams.

Then he begins to move, pulling out until an inch remains inside, and pushing in until he's nudging the plug of your womb, feeling a deep pinch under your navel.

This is what it's like to get fucked by Ghost. The one everyone covets after, hoping he drags down the very heavens with his bare hands and lays it at their feet. And here he is, fucking you. A newbie, a fresh face no one knows yet, a name that'll probably never grace the front page.

You doubt his motives are altruistic, but goddamn does it not matter; Not with the way he's carving a space inside of you that only he will ever fit in, or the way he's curling his free hand around your neck, thumb pressed right over your racing pulse.

He lowers himself until his strong chest is to your back, his teeth nipping the tip of your ear. "The moment I saw you gettin' fucked by Johnny, I knew I had t'have ya." Your walls clamp down on him involuntarily, wrenching a pained noise from him. "Fuckin' hell, I knew this pussy would be magical."

Ghost's lips skim over the shell of your ear before pressing a chaste kiss on it. "Lemme hear how good I make ya feel, pet. Don't hold back on me now." He grinds into your arse, going in so deep that it feels like he's trying to push past the entrance of your womb. "S'alrigh'. I'll jus' have t'pull 'em outta ya."

He releases you, placing both hands flat on the desk, on either side of your shoulders. "Take em for myself, make 'em mine." Straightening all the way, he digs his fingers into the soft flesh of your waist.

"What a view. Perfection." He rolls his hips, rhythm languid, loud squelching noises coming from where he fills you. "Drippin' cream all over my cock, pet. Can't tell me this isn't 'cause of me."

How the fuck can he still talk? How is he coherent? Why isn't his brain turned into mush like yours is?

"Fuckin' ya speechless, am I? Oh, sweetheart, but I'm barely gettin' started." Ghost slowly pulls out, and curls his hand around your shoulder, nudging you to turn over. "On your back, now."

You lazily flip over, hair sticking to your sweat-slick skin, and he hooks his arms underneath your legs and drags you to the edge until your arse hangs from it. "I wanna see that pretty face when you come." He wastes no time in sheathing himself back inside your swollen channel, walls fluttering at the invasion.

Ghost hooks one leg over his shoulder to lean forward, pinning you to the desk with his upper body, and maneuvers your other to wrap around his wide waist. "That cock drunk look on your face makes my balls tighten, what a fuckin' expression you've got, christ," he growls. "Knowin' I put it there makes it all the better."

He gives you a chaste kiss on the lips and gives you a smile that is all teeth. "Now let's make you sing."

Grunting, he straightens. plants his feet firmly, stance wide, and begins to fuck you. The videos of the famed Ghost you saw are nothing, nothing, in comparison to real life. His full weight is behind every spine-jarring thrust, it makes your teeth clack, it rattles your brain inside your skull. He does it so perfectly because at no point do you feel any discomfort, not even a twinge. It's all a pleasure that blazes, an all-encompassing heat that threatens to swallow you whole, burn you from the inside out.

His cock punches the breath out of your lungs, wails clawing out of your throat, and it's so good, so fucking good— god, maybe he is god, you don't know, everything is so blurry, hazy—

All senses focus on the sudden touch between your legs, an expert thumb drawing tight circles on your slippery clit and there's no way you're going to survive this—

"There she is, the girl I saw in the video. Tha's an expression I see in myfuckin' sleep. Give me what's mine, pet. Let me feel you, cream all over my cock."

He's relentless in his pursuit of your climax, a wave of pleasure so intense, it just might drag you out to sea, drowning you.

Ghost, the fucking god of sex, stops his ministrations to spit on your pussy. Spit. From his full height, a glob of warm saliva drops to your mons, and he smears it with his fingers over your pussy lips before rubbing your clit. His thrusts slow in pace, turning into a firm snap of his hips, making sure you feel every ridge of his cock, and in less than a minute, your spine arches off the desk.

Your mouth opens into a silent scream, lids snapping shut as you break underneath him, warmth gushing from where he's continuously sinking into you, a steady, slow rhythm that never ends.

"Came all over me, didn't ya? Bet you didn't know you could even do tha'."

You didn't.

"Jus' for tha', I'm gonna give you somethin' in return, yeah? A little reward for bein' so good," he praises.

Your tongue is heavy in your mouth, swollen and thick, and unconsciousness creeps at the very edges of your mind.

All you can do is lie there and take it, his sloppy thrusts, his harsh panting until he moans, "'m close, so fuckin' close," and with whatever remnants of strength you have left, you use to squeeze him tightly— unwilling to let go because his come is yours now, you've earned it.

"Come in me, Ghost," you whimper.

That does it. He slams his hands on either side of your head and borderline roars out his release, cock twitching inside of your used cunt, filling you with his spend.

Cut.

Ghost's breathing is labored, a harsh pant that fans over your overheated skin, damp with sweat.

His brows are furrowed, his eyes squeezed shut, gulping in air and shivering in the aftershock of his climax.

To be fucked by Ghost is to see the Garden of Eden behind your eyelids.

Now you understand. You understand why he has no equal. He is unparalleled.

Jesus Christ, you're fucked. So, so fucked.

He slowly opens his eyes and peers down at you with a wolfish grin.

"Perfection."

--

A week later, your video with Ghost is the most viewed on the entire website. Not one other video even scratches the bottom of where your video sits.

Ghost truly is the king.

Curiously enough, your friend is the one who lets you know that Mr. life-altering cock himself never kisses during work. Not once in any video of his has he ever kissed, apart from a short pressing of lips to skin.

Your heart traitorously flutters at the thought of it meaning something more. Catching feelings when you get fucked for a living is not the move. But there's no stopping it from misbehaving, especially when you receive another script, to make another video with Ghost.

Another. one.

Fuck. Fuck!!

You cannot wait.

@mishaglass

[chuluoyi]

jealousy, jealousy...

- nanami kento x reader

your husband seems to be immune to jealousy, and you've pretty much convinced yourself that he just doesn't have it in him... or does he?

genre/warnings: crack, fluff, jealous!nanami (he is in denial), implied suggestive content, mentions of pregnancy, gojo cameo (i just can't pass up the chance of him annoying the heck out of nanami ahaha)

note: based on this ask, this is a little continuation to the secret wife! and this is in the same universe as love entries so gojo is married to the love entries reader! :)

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

By all means, Nanami Kento is not a jealous man.

He knows his worth. And he knows you. Out of all people, you wouldn't try anything with anyone.

Even more so with Ino. He knows him too, and there is just no way.

So... he really shouldn't get riled up, especially when it was his shitty senior who tried to set him on fire—

"It's still beyond me, how you managed to bag her," Gojo remarked with a bark of snort. Both of them shared the same table in this high-end bar, an afterparty for the school's graduation, but Nanami was seriously considering to move after Yaga left earlier until this clown came. "And keep her a secret too. I mean, that's so foul! If I were your wife, I'd divorce you on the spot."

Nanami threw him a pointed look. "The feeling is mutual. I feel bad for her for putting up with you too. And please don't be gross and say things like you being my wife. It's appalling."

Gojo's wife being his close friend and former classmate was what foul, Nanami thought. Sure, he would acknowledge Gojo's relentless efforts, but still, anyone willing to be this shameless paintbrush's wife must lead a really daring life.

The strongest sorcerer rolled his eyes. "Nah, I'll have you know that my married life is full of bliss. I have a proof, look at my—"

"If you want to show me hickeys, I'll seriously report you for harassing me."

And to that, Gojo merely whined and pursed his lips, and Nanami finally had some peace. He really entertained the thought of going back, because Gojo wasn't exactly a fun company, and this was getting late, until…

"Hey, Ino—the one who always follows you around," Gojo suddenly said. "Whoa, you're letting him close to your wife too, huh?"

Nanami whipped his head to where you were, and true to what Gojo said, you were indeed there, talking animatedly to his junior.

You were all smiles, and Ino was every bit as excited as you were. There was nothing remotely wrong with how you were conversing. You two looked like a pair of really, really good friends.

Ever since word of your marriage got out and became common knowledge, you've been receiving the kind of attention that Nanami wasn't sure he preferred. While he hadn't intended to keep it a secret, he certainly felt that a more private life was preferable.

But the thing was… weren't you too close with him? If it were up to him, Ino could've had at least two steps back. What were you discussing anyway?

"You're a lax husband, Nanamin, heh," Gojo whistled, totally grinning because he won this fight. "I know you probably think it's harmless, but a puppy is still a dog, you know~"

A puppy... is what?

That night, that phrase was what going through in his mind over and over as he chugged down his drinks.

No way, no way... It must have been because he had too much to drink. He couldn't possibly!

The next time he felt that unpleasant feeling, it was on one night, at the comfort of your home.

Both of you had just finished watching a movie, still lounging on the sofa. You were blissfully humming, texting away on your phone at—Nanami looked at the clock—11 p.m.

Now, now, he wasn't one who would be checking your phone or such, but he couldn't deny the curiosity within him, because you weren't usually texting anyone this late at night.

"Hehe~" suddenly, you giggled and Nanami glanced at you in wonder. You seemed to be having fun.

Who... are you texting?

Despite telling himself he wouldn't meddle in your affairs, he gruffly cleared his throat. "Dear, it's late."

"Oh?" you whipped your head to him. "Oh, yeah..."

You were genuinely confused, your husband was folding his face as if he was sour of something. "Kento? What's wrong?"

But suddenly, his face lit up into a smile, kind of forced though. "Ah, nothing..." And suddenly he lifted you up from the sofa, making you almost yelp as you dropped your phone and wrapped your arms around his neck. "Time for bed."

However, what you didn't realize was that your phone's screen lit up just as the sender replied to your message, and Nanami caught a glimpse of it.

Ino.

A puppy is still a dog, you know~

The heck?

"Kento?" you asked again, and he immediately turned to you, unable to read the message. Still, his mind was reeling in many ways, and when he looked into your innocent, round eyes, suddenly he clicked his tongue, eyes slitting in dissatisfaction.

"Time for bed, dear."

Long story short, that night, your husband was somehow a little more aggressive than usual... even as he fondled you ever so softly at the end.

The third time, Nanami had enough.

He had just finished a mission when he got that call from Ino, informing him that you were at a clinic after nearly passing out.

Out of anyone else... how could you not call him first?!

He may be vexed, but worry was what clouded his mind the most. You were almost five months pregnant now, and to have this happening to you—

He walked in to find you lying on the small bed, your eyes lighting up when you saw him. "Kento..."

"What happened to you? Why didn't you call me?" his voice was rough, and your smile fell. You felt him gripping your hand tightly. "How can you—"

Ino, sensing his apprehension, suddenly intervened, "Uh, Nanami-san, it's not—"

Nanami turned to him sharply, causing him to gulp.

"We were... in a bakery when Y/N-san suddenly felt faint," the younger man explained. "Please don't be too hard on her."

"And why are you with my wife in broad daylight?"

"Kento, it's not what it looks like!" you squeezed his hand urgently. "We were just... trying to find a cake, you know..."

"...what?"

And that day, everything Nanami thought he knew was turned on its axis. Perhaps, if he wasn't thinking too much—if Gojo's words hadn't taken his mind, he wouldn't jump into conclusions this easily.

Your first wedding anniversary was just in a couple of weeks, and you had enlisted in Ino's help to find this one bakery that he swore sold only the best goods. Your texts to each other were solely about that—nothing more, nothing less.

"Aww, Kento~" you cooed as Nanami helped you into your shared bed once you got back home. "You got jealous, it's cute, and I'm happy~"

He huffed. "I was not jealous."

"Ehh, didn't look like that to me though~"

"Listen," he said, taking hold of your shoulders once he had seated you on the bed, looking straight into your eyes. "From now on, whatever you do... you have to contact me first, alright?"

"Oh—?"

"When you need something, when you don't feel well, when you feel like you might be in some kind of danger..." his tone was serious, emphasizing each word. "You have to reach out to me first. You don't go to Ino, Gojo, or anyone else—me. You go to me. I'm your husband, and I intend to fulfill that role well for you."

And he placed a hand on your tummy, gently caressing it. "And of course the father role for the baby too."

You clamped up, totally speechless. This unexpected development made your heart soar with a heap of giddiness.

"Yes!" Your smile was so wide and radiant that Nanami was sure he had started to blush too. Then you flung yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck in a hug. "And you know... you're already the best husband and soon-to-be father ever! So you don't have anything to worry about, okay?"

Ah, how nice. Nanami chuckled as he placed his hand on the small of your back.

"Mhm, and from now on, I'll take charge of our anniversary. You only have to take it easy, alright?"

And when you giggled, he thought having you in his embrace like this was enough to satisfy him—after all, he was a simple man.

Epilogue

"I know even Nanami gets jealous! Heh, heh, heh~"

Gojo laughed crisply, and Shoko snorted as they listened to Ino recount the story, with the latter scratching his head uncomfortably.

"I really didn't mean anything, and now I feel kinda bad," the younger man said, his head dropping. "Nanami-san seemed upset too..."

"Not many things can get under his skin," Shoko remarked. "I really thought he'd be more rational, but having an expecting wife must've taken quite a toll on him too."

"Nah, don't find more excuses, Shoko! Now is time to pay up~!"

As Shoko grumbled and Ino was lost in his own thoughts, a loud cough suddenly echoed behind them.

"Gojo-san... Ieiri-san..." Nanami leveled his unamused gaze on them, his glasses glinting in the light, causing the two gulp. "What are you two doing?"

[queenie-the-court-jester]

yandere bunny hybrid x reader

A/n: the Intro was rushed because I got too excited to write the smut. Not proofread 🌺

Tw: noncon turns to dubcon, androgynous breeding kink, little dirty talk, he's a horny bastard. Mommy kink but it can be applied to any gender. Slapping body parts, he has a minor lactation kink. Mdni please!

★you met the little furball while you were out on a evening walk. It was the middle of winter and being cooped up inside the house all day was starting to get a little claustrophobic

★you didn't notice him at first since he blended in with the snow. Stopping mid-walk when you heard a weak little whine coming from behind you. Slowly turning around, you saw a pair of red eyes staring at you from beneath the snow

★approaching them slowly, you could finally see him more clearly. Milky white skin turning a light blue due to hypothermia. He didn't have the strength to run when you picked him up. Patting his head, you headed back home.

★giving him a warm bath and setting him next to the fireplace, you slowly nursed him back to health. He was very reluctant at first, but your touch was too comforting to pull away from. He hasn't felt this safe since he was just a baby bun! He stayed with you nearly the entire winter

★midway he starts to get himself familiar with your home, peeking under furniture and into rooms, he seemed to understand you when you'd ask him questions in English

"what's your name little fella?"

"cotton.."

★eventually you had to let him go back into the wild, just a month before spring arrived. He was reluctant but with enough convincing he finally left. Looking back at you from the forest edge, watching you wave goodbye with that beautiful smile he loves

❣️cotton who goes into heat early because he can't stop thinking of you. Burrying himself in his burrow, humping the air. Nothing is as soft as you and your bed. Nothing can make him feel as safe as your touch does

❣️he shoos any females who wish to mate away. Claiming he already has a mate. Oh he wished you'd come into the forest looking for him, to take care of him again as he fills your tight little hole up with his cum

❣️he spends most of his time shamelessly masturbating to the thought of you. His entire heat cycle has been on loop since he left, so finally gathering the balls he heads back to your cottage. Watching you from a distance, lazily stroking his already sensitive cock.

★just minding your business, you don't notice the certain bunny hybrid approaching slowly. You don't have much time to react before a familiar mop of white hair tackles you to the ground. Desperately humping your clothed sex as he whines and grunts.

"cotton!? What the hell are you doing!?"

"hah- nhg need.. mate.. pretty mate.. need to breed! Ohh!"

★you tried pushing him off, but when did he get so strong!? Pining your arms down and ripping your clothes off, wasting no time in lapping at your genitals. Eating you out like a starved man, sucking and nipping your inner thighs until he's sure you're nice and lubed up

★he carefully pressed the tip in, but he doesn't last long as he slowly sinks deeper into your gummy walls. Letting go of your arms and roughly grabbing your hips, which were sure to bruise later, brutally fucking your brains out. Slapping your chest and privates as he grinds his cock deeper

★he keeps going even after he's ripped multiple orgasms out of you. The pleasure slowly chipping off your resistance. Leaving you a blubbering moaning mess under the bunny. A pool of his cum under where your sexes kept meeting.

★it doesn't matter what gender you are, he's determined to breed you until you're swelling with his children. He couldn't wait to suck and bite your chest once it was swollen with milk!

"gonna be so pretty- mph! So pretty, all swollen 'n fat with my babies.. gonna be a good mate, right? G-gonna give me lots of 'em right? Oh ohhh! Cumming again! 'Yer squeezing all my cum out! Mommy!!"

★let's just say that you should get use to your new roommate husband, because now there's no way of getting rid of him. Ever.

[runa-falls]

FREE USE WITH MIGUEL? LIKE ANYWHERE ANYTIME?

a/n: YES NONNIE, ANY--FUCKING--TIME. AND HERES ONE OF THOSE TIMES :^) idk if this is free-use or feral!reader or both. anyway, just enjoy it lol. like every time, this got away from me

special thanks to mona (@whatthefishh) for letting me scream this shit to her over discord + for helping me figure out exactly what 'free use' is lol

cw: smut (18+), free use kink, small very small bit of somnophilia (CAN'T ESCAPE IT), non-explicit oral (m-receiving), afab!reader, mentions of ovulation (+ period) horniness, fingering, cockwarming, fucking w/ multiple orgasms, the same Spanish pet name used over and over, reader is basically a bothersome cat, writer is so all over the place it's confusing.

wc: 2.4k (this was supposed to be a quick thot but wtvr)

---

miguel is a gracious boyfriend, he practically lives to please you. so when you approach him in the middle of the day with nothing but his shirt draped over your figure, he has a hard time rejecting your advances.

sure, he tries, but every time he gives you what he wants.

you're spoiled, really.

miguel works at home as much as possible. he hates having to leave you before the sun rises, walking away from a perfectly cozy bed and wet cunt (😳).

miguel convinces himself that Spider HQ can survive a day or two without him on site. he has several capable Spiders that do most of the heavy lifting for him and LYLA isn't afraid to take charge, sitting her holographic ass in the boss' chair.

he can set up mission plans and keep track of everything from his laptop, and he's always on call if he is needed for anything. the only issue is that working remotely doesn't work when he can't get anything done.

he's trying to go over notes from a meeting that was held earlier this morning.

he was supposed to be there, but you physically wouldn't let him out of bed. he swears you're a Spider yourself with the strength you have when you're especially needy and sleepy.

he smelled it when he woke up in the middle of the night to you mouthing over his boxers, that decadent sweetness that indicates you're ovulating.

you were desperate to get a taste of him, to fill that unbearable emptiness inside of you, whimpering with relief when you finally feel his fingers bury themselves in your hair to push your further against his bulge.

he learned early in your relationship that your insatiable appetite for him increases tenfold during your window of fertility (don't even mention your period). and so does your need for sleep. so he caters to your needs accordingly.

you passed out after convincing him to fuck the heat out of you, to snuff out the fire until your neediness recedes. apparently, the only time you aren't horny is when you're sleeping (though that isn't true... you wake up horny all the time??).

you've been sleeping soundly ever since, utterly exhausted by his thorough support, but he knows that once you wake up, you'll be crying for him again.

he crawled back into bed with you after telling LYLA to take over for the day, but after a few hours of almost suffocating because of the way you curl up on his chest like a cat, he got up to get some coffee and finish some computer work.

as soon as his warmth left you, you fussed. eyes still closed as you whined and moaned for his body. he shushed you, gently smoothing down your bedhead until you settled.

it didn't last for long.

you padded out of bed with bleary eyes, clearly looking for him when you walked into the living room. he offered you a quick "morning, cariño." before focusing back on his computer. he had to limit as much contact with you as possible if he wanted to finish his work.

just a few more pages and a couple of emails, and then he can give you all the attention you need.

his shirt brushes against your thigh like a summer dress as you make your way through the room.

he looked adorable with his loose white long sleeve on and black dad-glasses. his hair is still curly and fluffed, telling you he wasn't planning on leaving you anytime soon.

you shuffle over to the couch, sitting next to him with a sigh.

he doesn't react.

somehow, the minimal recognition that you're there, his adamant refusal to look at you, turns you on as much as it irritates you.

he's really trying his best to be a good boss, hm? trying to resist a temptation that's barely a foot away from him.

it makes you feel dirty and deprived. you blatantly rub your legs together, urging him to look. your gaze washes over his sharp jawline watching as it clenches at your soft coos.

"...baby."

"'m working, amor." his voice is still soft, despite the efforts he's taking to ignore you.

you huff.

"but--"

"not right now."

you scoot closer to him, strategically allowing the hem of his shirt to ride up on your thighs. so he's really going to make you do it...

you tug at his sleeve, taking his arm away from his work (though it doesn't look like he was working on much at all, he's been sitting on that exact page for 5 minutes now).

"not right now, mi vida..." he protests lightly, but he doesn't move away. he's not even trying, you think.

you smirk at his empty words. you can see the way he's looking at you: your messy hair, bare legs, the shadow of his shirt hiding away your most sensitive spot. his breathing grows heavier and so does his stare.

"i have work--" miguel is always so soft and sweet to you, melting in your hand though he has all the power to stop it.

"please, miguel? just one, for me?" his lips part as you place his hand against your bare thigh, slowly dragging it upwards until it meets your center.

he doesn't take his hand away, doesn't even pull back a single inch, instead, he instantly complies, cupping his warm hand over its entirety. he chokes out a low groan. you're not wearing anything underneath.

"ok, i guess if it's only once..." he whispers, already breathy. he's leaning over you, almost on top of you, forcing your legs to spread impossibly wide.

he watches as his finger rubs against your slick center, spreading your wetness until you're glistening for him under the late morning light. he pushes in slowly, so slowly, eyes flicking up to your face to witness the small o your mouth makes as he presses in deeper.

his mouth waters as he fingers you, he wishes he had enough time to go down on you, and taste your slick straight from the source. he knows how much you love it when he fucks you with his tongue and suckles on your clit. but no, he has work to do. he needs to get you off so he can finally focus.

"this what you needed, cariño?" it's all but growled into your space, his voice low and taunting. all you can do is nod with bleary eyes as your hands grip onto his thick bicep for support.

he adds another finger and thrusts them into you quicker, angling them just so his palm can gently nudge at your clit. he can feel you tightening around him already, fluttering with each pass that he makes against your g spot. he presses harder, drinking in your choked gasp and shaking thighs.

you're so wet, spilling over his fingers and dripping against his hand. the noises between you are deafening. a mixture of sopping thrusts, heavy breathing, and quiet mewls fill the still silence of the living room.

he's so good at this, too good at this.

how can he make you fall apart with just his hands, caress every sensitive nerve with a single stroke?

you're at the cusp of euphoria. your body, filled to the brim with pleasure, urges you to let go, to take what you want. but you don't want to. you want to stay at the edge forever with his hands on you, to be at the center of his affections, always just one breath away from transcendence.

you're not ready for him to stop touching you anytime soon, you realize. you still need it and after you'll need it again. you need him.

his glasses start sliding as he looks down at you, dropping until they're barely at the tip of his nose. he's focused, eyes locked on how he fills you again and again.

his fingers speed up, expertly aiming against that special spot inside of you. your hips rise from the couch, needing him as deep as possible. then it all falls apart.

you cry out, back arching and eyes rolling. your body is barely touching the couch under you and it feels like you're being lifted up by unknown forces as you reach your climax. white fills your vision and heat thrums through your limbs. you can't hide your one orgasm from him, it's too intense.

before you could recover, he slips his fingers out of you.

"alright, honey, we're done." he casually sucks your essence off of his fingers before propping his glasses back to the arch of his nose.

"ok, ok, i get it. you're busy." you pant, still pulsing from your high. and...he's already back to work. he wasn't kidding when he said he had stuff to do. "i'll just...be sitting here."

so you watch him get back to work, or you try to. the incessant scrolling, typing, reading, and muttering thoughts that accompany his work is usually enough to put you to sleep. it's an unusual lullaby that's attached to him. one that brings you the comfort of knowing he's near.

but he's hard.

he seems so relaxed, so content to work, but his erection presses so desperately against his sweats, outlined perfectly by the grey fabric.

so how could you not touch him? he clearly needs your help... and if he doesn't, then you need it.

you want to be good, you do, but when he types so effortlessly like that with the fingers that were just stuffed in your cunt, or when he looks over his dad-glasses to look at something like a hot fucking nerd, you can't help it.

it's been, what, 12 minutes? that's enough work for the day in your opinion.

you start slow, hesitantly, watching to make sure he's not looking at you (though he can clearly see you from his peripheral vision). you stand up on the couch right next to him. you're a bit unstable on the squishy cushions so you use his shoulder for support.

he looks over at you, confused as to why you decided to walk all over the furniture like a toddler.

you carefully maneuver over his arms to settle yourself on his lap. you're a koala around him, holding your torso to his, looping your arms around his neck and sharing your shimmering lustful body heat. he grunts when you scoot even closer to him, your bare pussy pressing entirely against his covered cock.

but he ignores it.

he doesn't say anything, barely even moves, and just continues to work. you pout a bit, but let him. you convince yourself that you're content with just sitting here and enjoying his company (despite the large distraction that pulses against your pussy, pressing so sweetly under your needy clit).

you listen to his steady heartbeat and slow breaths, the occasional sound of tapping keys. you nuzzle against the soft shirt that stretches over his chest. you're fine.

it's not like you're leaking all over his sweatpants, leaving a puddle at the apex of the fabric. you're not crying on the inside, so empty and fluttering around nothing. you're fine.

until you arent.

you lazily lift your hips above his, nearly head-butting his chin in the process. his arms lift to help you get settled, hands resting on your waist, as patient as ever.

you reach below you and he stiffens. he wasn't expecting you to--

your hand buries itself under his sweats, delicate fingers brushing over his erection. he breathes out your name when you squeeze him teasingly before pulling him out.

"what did i say?" he grunts, hand swiftly wrapping around your wrist. the words are lost on your ears as you caress the silky steel in your fist. it pulses at your touch. he needs this.

he says your name once more.

"you're working."

"then why are you trying to fuck me?!"

"i'm only going to sit on it." you give him an innocent look. you slowly lower yourself so your dripping center meets his before sliding your glistening lips over his hardness. "won't move or say a thing, promise!"

"cariño..."

"just wanna warm you, baby." you position him right against your entrance. "is that so wrong?" you lower yourself before he can say anything else.

you take him easily with how wet you are, and he fills you perfectly. he sucks in a breath at the feeling then growls out, "don't move."

well, you do move (is anyone surprised). you move a lot. but he moves too. harsher and more competitive. who the hell fucks competitively?

you moan over him, bouncing on his cock eagerly. his hands hold your waist, guiding your movements just how he likes it: fast and hard. his laptop, somewhere on the other side of the couch, is forgotten and probably long dead by now. so much for working at home.

you've cum at least four times already, but who's keeping count (you're not. you're so fucked out, you have to manually breathe now.)

he won't let up anymore. you asked for it and you're getting it.

"do i gotta fuck you to sleep, hm? is that the only way you'll leave me the fuck alone and let me work?"

you only admit now that you're eyes were definitely bigger than your stomach. you're practically drooling as he takes control once again, snapping his hips from under you, harsh and punishing. as if this is a punishment.

he has to carry you back to bed that afternoon. he couldn't just leave you on the couch, naked and shivering. plus you'd be a distraction with your bruised hips and fucked out cunt.

you murmur adorably in your sleep as your body unconsciously nuzzles further into his arms. he places you lovingly on the bed and you immediately curl up. he sighs, brushing your hair out of your face because he knows how much you hate it when it gets in your eyes or tickles at your nose during the night.

you look so cozy and comfortable. but so alone in this huge bed.

he debates laying down with you, only until you're in a deeper sleep.

maybe just a few minutes?

LYLA had a few choice words when he woke up in the morning....