#don’t lose your heads 💚

[zepskies]

In the Dark

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader

Summary: You and Ben have tackled the insurmountable together, but no one said the recovery would be easy.

AN: Another story for the BMD-verse! This was requested by @sl33pylilbunny. It’s set in the six-month time gap after Part 17 and before the Epilogue of Break Me Down.

Word Count: 1,500 Tags/Warnings: Angst, traumatic memories, hurt/comfort and feels.

Read more of the BMD-verse: ⤵️

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

The building was falling apart.

You couldn’t remember why, but you were deep in a labyrinth. The only way out was further down, into what felt like an immense basement, wading through debris and pieces of the ceiling threatening to crush you at every turn.

You hadn’t stopped running and your lungs were on fire. Your heartbeat was loud in your ears. You had an iron grip on your friend’s wrist, so you wouldn’t lose her or her son in the chaos.

“Keep going,” you told them. “We’re getting out.”

A hand on your shoulder stopped you from moving forward.

And three shots rang out. You ducked and took your friend down with you, but you choked on a gasp when you looked back…

You woke with a sharp inhale.

Your eyes blinked wide and bleary in a pitch black room. You couldn’t see, but you could still hear your wild heartbeat echoing between your ears.

The more you blinked, the more your eyes adjusted. You could make out the familiarity of your bedroom. While you tried to calm your breathing, you turned onto your side, slowly.

You found Ben, asleep.

His mouth was parted as he breathed. His hair had fallen over his brows in sleep. You almost smiled…but you weren’t quite able to.

You carefully brushed the stray locks away from his forehead. Then you slid out of bed so you wouldn’t disturb him.

This had become your habit over the past couple of weeks since moving into this new apartment. You loved it, but it was hard for you to stay comfortable at night.

Though I don’t think that’s the apartment’s fault, you thought wryly. No, it was just your fucked mental health.

Shaking your head at yourself, you went down to the kitchen and made yourself some chamomile tea. That was Step 1.

Step 2 was sitting on the couch with your laptop and your headphones. You kept yourself up with YouTube videos and answering work emails. By now, they knew not to ask why you were sending them at three in the morning.

This time, however, you made a mistake.

Instead of going back to bed and lying awake for another hour until your alarm went off…you fell asleep on the couch.

You must’ve been more exhausted than you thought.

The next time you woke, it was to the odd sensation of floating. Or rather, being carried. You blinked up at Ben, whose brows were already furrowed.

“Hey,” you said, a bit sheepishly.

He didn’t answer you, nor did he set you down until he’d walked you back into the bedroom and laid you down on your side of the bed. It was still dark in the room, which meant you couldn’t have been asleep for more than an hour or so.

Ben slipped back into bed, and you turned toward him under the covers.

You felt bad about waking him up. He had his own bouts of insomnia, but it had been starting to get better, ever since you two moved in together permanently a couple of months ago.

You scooted closer to him, resting your head against his shoulder when he shifted onto his back. His arm came down around your waist, a comfortable weight that made you feel more secure.

“When was the last time you slept through the night?” he asked.

You breathed in deeply…and you let it out.

“I don’t know,” you replied.

He paused for a moment. Then he hummed in understanding. His hand moved slowly up and down your back.

You closed your eyes, but he still fell back asleep before you did.

Both of you had to work in the morning. Ben watched you out of the corner of his eye as you got ready for the day.

He’d been waiting for you to come to him with whatever was on your mind, but you were keeping it to yourself. He didn’t push you. You were smart, and whatever you needed to work out, he would let you deal with it your way, as you so often did.

It didn’t seem to affect how you did your job. At Supe Affairs, no one was the wiser. They didn’t know about the concealer covering the bags under your eyes, or that you were adding a couple shots of espresso to your usual latte every morning.

No, the fun came long after your day was done. After you had showered and dressed for bed, with a silent undercurrent of anxiety hovering in the back of your mind.

Another night, another pain in your ass.

You kept your eyes open for as long as you could, but at 2:00 a.m., you couldn’t take it anymore.

The darkness claimed you.

Three shots rang out. You ducked and took Yvette with you, but you choked on a gasp when you looked back…

Jon, your father, had a gloved fist punched through his chest cavity. 

You watched with wide eyes as Black Noir revoked his arm from your father’s body with a wet, horrific sound. You gasped when Jon fell to his knees.

But to your shock, the supe glanced right past you, Yvette, and Devon. His pale gray eyes focused on only the men in the room. He then strode forward and began picking them off one by one.

You shakily pointed out a large aisle of A-Train merchandise for your friend to hide behind. Yvette pulled her son in that direction, while you went to your father where he laid on the ground. 

With difficulty, you rolled him onto his back. You then laid a hand on his shoulder, while the other hovered over his chest. Blood pooled through the gaping chasm in his Vought-issued black jacket. 

Your lower lip trembled, and you realized then that you were crying as he struggled for breath. Even after everything he’d done to you—to your family—it still hurt you to see him like this…to know that he was dying. 

And there was no time. Not to save him, or for resolution…

“Dad,” you tried, but he stopped you. His brows were furrowed with pain, but he gripped your wrist tight. 

“Run,” he said. He held on for a moment or two longer, but when the light faded from his eyes, you closed yours. 

Your eyes wrenched open when a hand gripped your throat.

It was Black Noir, brandishing a katana between your eyes.

“…ake up.”

Words that just barely registered as you sucked in shallow breaths.

A solid pair of arms were caging you, and you instinctively fought the hold, uttering a whimper.

“Hey,” he said firmly. “It’s me.”

You gasped and finally found Ben’s face in the dark of the room. You heaved for breath as you stared up at him.

Despite your relief, tears brimmed in your eyes. Your grip tightened on his arms as your lips trembled. You opened your mouth to speak, but all that came out was a sob.

Ben slid onto his side instead of looming above you. He guided you more securely into his arms, and you let yourself rest against his chest. You buried your face there and wept.

His fingers sorted through your hair as he tried to calm you.

“I’ve got you,” he rumbled. 

Your body was exhausted. Your chest was filled with anxiety, the remnants of fear, and frustration at yourself, that you couldn’t just get over this.

But you felt his lips at the crown of your head. The sound of his steady heartbeat beneath your cheek drowned out the sound of your rapid one, and it served to steady you too. Your hand splayed against his chest, connecting you with his warm skin.

You began to calm in his arms.

“I see my father die every night,” you whispered.

Finally, you admitted the things you hadn’t been able to for weeks.

“Black Noir, Vought crumbling, trying to find you,” you said, even though your voice was shaking. “Everything, all over again…except I never make it out.”

Ben let out a deep sigh. He nodded, his lips still brushing against your forehead.

“It’s just a dream,” he said.

You shook your head. “No, it’s not.”

He could concede to that. He didn’t know what else to say to you though. All he could think to do was hold you a bit tighter.

“It’ll fade,” he said eventually. “Give it time.”

You squeezed your eyes shut. A few tears fell through, but he brushed those away from your cheek.

When you were able to look up at him again, you asked him, “Has it all faded for you?”

Part of you already knew what he might say. As a result, you expected the way he hesitated.

“You know the answer to that,” he said. His fingers continued to sift through your hair, and you breathed easier at the pleasant sensation.

“They’re like battle wounds,” he continued. “They’ll just become scars.”

That wasn’t anything new for you, he knew. You’d had scars long before he met you.

You seemed to let his words sink in though. You nodded and pressed a kiss to his chest; a wordless thank you.

“Close your eyes,” he said, low and steady.

You hesitated, but you did as he said. You closed your eyes.

And when your breathing gentled into the deep calm of sleep, Ben allowed himself to try and do the same.

AN: And there we have it. Short and angsty lol. But I can't write angst without a little hurt/comfort. 💚💚

I hope you liked this!

Series Masterlist

Soldier Boy Masterlist

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BMD Tag List:

@deans-spinster-witch @this-is-me19 @waynes-multiverse @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @spalady26 @spnwoman @syrma-sensei @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @muhahaha303 @123passwort @mrsjenniferwinchester @lyarr24

@xoxovienna @lollag0w0 @globetrotter28 @nancymcl @ashbatz @secretdreamlandmentality @kristophalis @wonderland2022 @emily-winchester @shelh93 @spoonmynoodle @chernayawidow

@buckybarnes-1917 @asgardprincess97 @sometimes-i-sing @itsyellow @theonlymaninthesky @kimberleymjw @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @iamsapphine @sanscas @se-fucking-hun @lassie-bird @jessjad @yepimthatperson @fromcaintodean @stoneyggirl2

@spnfamily-j2 @im-a-slut-for-fluff @lacilou @venicesem @mimaria420 @tearsfortheyouth @agalliasi @chriszgirl92 @kazsrm67 @deansbbyx

#In the Dark #soldier boy #reader request #soldier boy/ben x reader #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x female reader #the boys #soldier boy/ben #soldier boy x you #angst #hurt/comfort #BMD verse #Break me down verse #zepskies writes

[pedgito]

Ooh ooh I have an idea! Perv!Eddie losing his mind when his girlfriend admits she has a choking kink...but what he doesn't realize that her kink involves choking him. - @munson-blurbs 💚

author’s note: i put this off for so long and i’m sorry!! this idea was rattling around in my empty ass brain for ages and i finally decided to sit down and write it, i hope you enjoy!

cw: 18+ (minors dni), choking/breath play, degradation, dom!eddie (mentioned), slight perv!eddie, unprotected sex, eddie being so subby it’s ridiculous, if i missed anything lmk!

word count: 1.1k

“Come on now,” Eddie says patronizingly, crawling up the bed by his knees in nothing but the dark jeans he dawned almost every day, belt forgotten in a corner of the room, “out with it.”

Eddie’s never steered away from anything—the nastier, the better. He was almost always controlling the dynamics, which you didn’t mind at all. But, the thought that was floating in your head, what you really wanted, it was almost terrifying to say out loud. Eddie wouldn’t judge, he never did—but there’s a small part of you that thinks he might be completely turned off by the idea, regardless of how badly he always wants you.

The most power you have is riding him until he’s begging you to come, hands on your hips like a death grip and aiding in the hurried rock of them.

“Yeah—need you to come all over my cock, baby.” Eddie begs, “Fuck, always squeezin’ me so tight.”

And it works every time, but even then, you never really feel like you’re in control.

“Promise not to laugh?” You swear him to it, pinky held up as a binding contract. Eddie smiles darkly, teeth peeking through.

“Promise.” He replies, linking his larger finger around your delicate one, rough against your soft skin.

“I…was thinking about like, breath play.” You tell him, words feeling foreign as they fell from your mouth.

“Choking?” He deduced, hooded eyes widening at the idea as he leans in a little further from where’s bearing the weight against his open palms on the mattress, nose rubbing yours teasingly before he leans back, mourning a quiet, “Oh baby, we can do that.”

In his eyes, you can see that he’s definitely not on the same wavelength. You offer a shy shake of your head, tipping your chin up to look at him, puffing your chest out figuratively as you counter him with—

“Not me, Eddie.” You explain. “You.”

Eddie pulls back slightly, surprised.

“Me? You wanna—“ Eddie breaths out a laugh, teeth dragging against bottom lip as he sizes you up, eyes dragging over you enticingly, “think you can handle that, sweetheart?”

You tilt your head in annoyance, eyes narrowing at him.

“I think you should be asking yourself that.”

And Eddie is truly, woefully unprepared.

He’s always got an edge to him, an advantage in most of your sexual situations, both in strength and experience, but he’s never been this easily subdued, and willfully so.

You sink down onto him with a careful calculation of your hips, muscles already shaking from how thoroughly Eddie had lapped at your cunt, devising you to nothing but sounds, words failing you completely. It was almost his favorite thing, second to being buried inside you so deep, squeezing desperately at the apex of your hips, flesh bruising under his fingers where his rings pressed in a little too hard.

He gives a soft slap to your ass, a reminder that he still had every chance to flip you over and take you how he wanted.

Your touch is soft at first, fingertips rubbing against the skin of his neck, slight stubble there from his lack of shaving that week. He tipped his chin up, giving you more room—challenging you.

“Don’t be afraid,” Eddie says menacingly, “I can take it.”

And that’s where the pressure gets tighter, following all the right steps to keep things safe, but definitely enjoyable—and based on the way Eddie’s eyes light up, you’re mimicking it perfectly.

You rock your hips slowly, letting out a purposefully depraved moan as slap your hand against the wall, aiding in the assist to keep you upright, otherwise you’d have already fallen against him and let him fuck himself up into you the way he liked—fast, hard, leaving you breathless.

His lips are parted slightly, flush and red from how he’d abused them both with your mouth and your pussy, glistening with a mix of spit and you as he grunted softly, barely audible if you weren’t so attentive to the sounds he was making.

“More.” He encourages, your eyes connecting with him briefly as you nod, applying more pressure. “Oh, fuck—“ He forces out, eyes squeezing shut momentarily. His hips snap up harshly, creating a brutish rhythm as he lets himself feel consumed by you.

“Like you when you look like this,” You comment hotly, voice thick with arousal, “fucking pathetic.”

Eddie nods knowingly, the words spurring him further.

Your hand leaves the wall momentarily, body straightening as your fingers find their way to his lips, thumb pressing gently over the bottom one until he lets you in, mouth closing around the digit to suck.

“You’re worse than me,” You laugh softly, voicing ringing in his ears like an angelic melody, “and so much fucking needier.”

“God, it’s—“ His voice is garbled, strained against the hold you had on him, thrusts faltering quicker than you expect, “gonna come baby, I’m so sorry—so good, I can’t—“

“Yeah?” You tease, nodding when he finally opens his eyes, face contorted in a mix of anguish and pleasure, groaning desperately, the rock of your hips quickening ever so slightly, his touch burning hot against your skin, “Fuck, wanna feel you come inside me, Eddie. Can you do that?”

He nods quickly, obediently. His fingers wrap around the wrist attached to the hand squeezing his neck, giving one last final thrust before he’s moaning out loudly, mumbling a weak warning as he comes, sounding more like a weak plea.

“I’m ruining you,” Eddie notes through heavy breaths, “and thank fuckin’ god for that.”

You lift yourself off of him ruefully, gasping slightly at the loss of contact, moving up his chest, his cum dripping out slightly and pooling against his skin—Eddie doesn’t even care, too mesmerized by the idea of you—that he had you.

“More of that, please?” Eddie asks sweetly, hands traveling up your body until they cup around your face, cheeks heating up underneath his touch, “Mmm, there she is.”

You shove at his face playfully, turning your head to kiss at his palm lightly.

“Don’t go shy on me now,” Eddie says with a smirk, “not after all that.”

“I just wanted to try it out,” You admit, glancing at him briefly before you eyes fall to his chest, tracing the tattoo there, “s’not your thing, I know.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Eddie shakes his head, looking far more elated than usual, “I don’t need control all the time.”

You smile, huffing out a soft, pleased noise.

“Besides, it would break my heart if we never tried that again.” Eddie admits, “I don’t think I’ve ever come that fast.”

Plus, Eddie’s just a little too greedy when it comes to seeing you fall apart above him.

Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson blurb #my writing

[hanafubukki]

A Missed Valentine

Summary: Prefect asks Malleus to burn Lilia to a crisp after he failed to show up at their Valentine’s Date.

Pairing & Characters: Lilia Vanrouge x Reader (Gender Neutral); Malleus, Silver, & Sebek

Notes: This was a therapeutic write after Lilia didn’t come home to me. Now, I feel much better and can’t wait to see the Groovy of the Tamashina-Mina event and his Dorm card.

·      You walked in a huff, ignoring the floating figure next to you.

·      “Dear, please, I didn’t mean to.”

·      “Tsunotaro, please burn him to a crisp.”

·      Malleus grinned, looking amused at the request.

·      He seemed to actually contemplate doing as requested.

·      Silver shook his head at the antics in front of him.

·      And Sebek, well, he didn’t seem to know which side to take.

·      Yours, his best friend or Lilia, his lord.

·      “Dearie, I didn’t mean to-”

·      “It’s fine. I gave your chocolates away anyways. Tsunotaro seemed to enjoy them greatly.”

·      “Malleus!”

·      “What was it you said humans loved to say? ‘You snooze you lose?’ How adequate as you missed out on the Prefect’s treats because you slept in.”

·      Lilia grumbled to himself about young ones not listening to their elders and so on.

·      You rolled your eyes before reaching into your bag and pulling out a bag of treats.

·      You went up to the grumbling fae and plopped the bag of treats on his head.

·      Lilia reached up and smiled in joy as he looked at the cute bag of treats.

·      You shook your head, fighting off a grin.

·      “I’m getting a divorce if you ditch me on Valentine’s again”

·      Lilia flew and wrapped you in his arms.

·      “Don’t worry dear, I won’t!”

·      You smiled and gave into his kisses.

Hope you enjoyed 💕💚

#lilia vanrouge x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst lilia vanrouge #Lilia Vanrouge #lilia vanrouge x mc #malleus draconia #twst silver #sebek zigvolt #twst yuu #twst mc #gender neutral reader #twst reader insert

[cursedonyx]

Sebastian Sallow ABCs

Headcanons for our favourite freckled heathen 💚

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Holy SHIT this boi is affectionate. Constant hugs, cheek kisses, hand holding, even randomly picking you up off the floor to hug you from behind or throw you over his shoulder for shits and giggles. He’s got no problem with PDA’s and sometimes considers it a bit of a challenge to see how uncomfortable he can make others with how all over you he is. He’s a bit of a show-off and wants the entire world to know you’re his, and he’s yours.

In private, he’s just as affectionate, but considerably calmer. A moment not cuddling or kissing you is a moment wasted, and he’s particularly fond of nuzzling your neck, especially if it distracts you. He needs your attention like he needs oxygen, and he can get a little suffocating at times, but do be gentle with him if you need some space. He’s a sensitive thing, and craves your approval, even if he won’t admit it.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

The best way to describe a friendship with Sebastian is chaos. He’s enthusiastic, cheerful, playful, and daft as a brush. He isn’t afraid of embarrassing himself for comedic purposes, loses games and playful bets with grace, and is freely giving of his time and energy to those he loves. He’ll do anything for you, but he does expect some level of reciprocation, and may become a little irritated if he feels he’s not getting the same level of commitment back after some time, even if he won’t ask for it. He’s used to people taking advantage of his kindness, but not his best friends.

He takes the time to learn about you, watching you carefully and asking pointed, sometimes blunt questions, though he will respect you if you decline to discuss certain topics. He’ll find out soon enough anyway, he’s remarkably easy to talk to.

If he wants something specific from you, he will badger and pester and poke until you give in or lose your temper – trying to talk him out of it rarely works, as he’s extremely good at manipulating conversations to his benefit, precisely because of how well he knows you. Don’t misunderstand, Sebastian doesn’t mean to do this maliciously – he’s very strong-willed and firmly believes what he’s doing is right, or necessary. Losing your temper with him will bring him back to earth with a bump, and he will be extremely apologetic. He means it when he's sorry.

If you need him for anything, he’ll be there for you, regardless of whether it’s venting to him about something, asking his advice, going on an adventure, or just having a little cry. He wants to be there for you, and will be, no matter what. He’ll take the fall for you if you get into trouble, but he never outright asks to be repaid for that, trusting you to help him out when he needs it.

He’s mischievous, cheeky, and a terrible influence. He’s hilarious.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

All of the cuddles, all of the time, in any and every way imaginable. If he’s not flumped on top of you, he’s pulled you onto his chest so you can flump. His absolute favourite way to cuddle is his head on your stomach or chest, and you playing with his hair. It drives him wild, and if your relationship is at that stage, it won’t remain a cuddle for long. If you need to distract him, run your fingers through his hair, and he’ll be putty in your hands.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Loves cooking. Hates cleaning. Laundry day is the WORST. Can’t bake for shit but will float around the kitchen if you do until you let him lick the bowl, then he’ll leave you alone for ten minutes. He works best if there’s some kind of routine, and you remind him (regularly) when it’s his turn to do the dishes. He’ll grumble about it, but will do a good job. He prefers it if you do household chores together, especially if he can distract you from it, or turn it into some kind of game.

He’d love to settle down with the right person, but only after a year or two of adventuring and exploring the world with you.

He’s indifferent about children. Honestly, he’d really rather not, he wants you all to himself, all the time, and he’s traumatised by his parents’ deaths and how he was treated growing up. Knowing how dangerous the world can be (and how much trouble you two can find yourselves in), he doesn’t want to risk having children, only for you, or him, to die. He knows how that feels and doesn’t want any more children to suffer it. But, if it’s what you want, he’ll eventually agree, and will be a caring father, even if he does miss the time when it was just you two.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Being the fiery guy he is, there would be an argument. You’d have to do something pretty major for him to want to leave you, and he’d be devastated. Emotional. Shouting, and probably crying with rage and pain. He’d storm out, and he wouldn’t come back. He’d be heartbroken, but his pride wouldn’t let him return. If you want a chance at having him back, you’d need to go after him, but he’s stubborn. Even if it hurts him, if you hurt him enough for him to want to leave, his decision would be final.

F = Fiancé(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married? How would they propose?)

Seb tends to let his heart rule his head, and if he’s in love with you, he’s going to want that to be forever. He would want to marry you as soon as he was able to, regardless of whether or not he can afford to. Hell, he’d make you a ring of woven grass if that’s all he could manage, and to him, once it’s on your finger it would be more precious than diamond. He’d try and do the right thing, saving up and getting you a band of gold and gems, making sure he can support you, trying to plan the perfect proposal with Ominis’ help, but knowing him, “will you marry me?” will be at the forefront of his mind for months leading up to the actual event, and chances are he’ll blurt it out way ahead of time.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He’s a firecracker, and sometimes forgets his own strength. He will try to be gentle and is extremely good at comforting you if you need it, but he can be pretty rough physically, without meaning to. If you’re arguing, he’ll say things in the heat of the moment that he doesn’t necessarily mean, and will regret it immediately. If he’s calm, he’s the gentlest person you’ve ever met.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He’s pretty touch-starved, and craves hugs from those he loves. He’ll accept hugs from those he doesn’t know so well, but he’s less keen. The first time you hug him will stick out in his memory as much as your first kiss, especially if you initiate. He’ll take the chance to hug you whenever he can, and his hugs are surprisingly tender. He loves resting his head on yours, or on your shoulder, and letting his weight rest against you if you’re strong enough to hold him.

I = Intimacy (How do they like to be intimate? Any preferences/kinks?)

Sebastian can best be described as a submissive-leaning-switch. As much as he loves to please you, he can’t help but lose his mind when you take control, swiftly devolving into a begging, whimpering, desperate mess. This is a side he only shows to you. On occasion, especially if you’ve spent the day teasing him and winding him up, he will be ferocious and take what he wants the moment he’s able.

He fully understands the word ‘no,’ however, even if he’s moments away from sliding into you, he will stop, as difficult as he finds it.

He’s open to exploring with you, save for the more extreme kinks. He’s not adverse to being restrained, and he’s almost embarrassed to admit how much he loves your hand on his throat.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

He’s a freckled little green-eyed monster, this one. He won’t ever try and stop you talking to other people, and tries to see any flirting as playful banter. But, it doesn’t take much for him to see things as going too far, and he’ll always blame the other person you’re talking to, getting cross with them and encouraging you away, complaining about them as soon as they’re out of earshot. If someone oversteps their boundaries, he would hex them without a second’s thought, or, if he actually does take a moment to think, he’ll challenge them to a duel.

If you’ve been deliberately flirting to make him jealous, consider it mission accomplished. He will either whisk you away to make out with you or sleep with you to mark his territory, or he’ll sulk, and petulantly find someone else to flirt with until you get jealous. With his charm, it’s very easy for him to do.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

If you looked up the word ‘passionate’ in the dictionary, you’d see a picture of Sebastian. He loves bringing you close to him and holding you tight, tracing his lips over yours before moving over your cheek and down your neck. A quick peck will leave him breathless and wanting more, and he’ll take it if he’s got the chance. Your lips are his favourite thing to kiss, and if you’re intimate, he’ll lose his mind if you kiss his hips.

L = Love (When do they say ‘I love you?’ How are they as a romantic partner?)

When Sebastian falls, he falls hard. You take up every spare inch of his mind, often pushing aside other matters. He always wants to know how you are, where you are, who you’re with, and wants to be with you every moment of the day. He’ll be carefree and playful, doing everything he can to make you smile. If he makes you laugh hard enough that no sounds come out, he considers it an achievement and will strut around like a proud pigeon for the rest of the day.

Passion is Sebastian’s middle name, and this extends to him as a romantic partner. He loves like a wildfire, bright and fierce, all consuming. It can be exhausting, but he does appreciate the softer moments with you, and adores laying his head in your lap, or on your chest so you can play with his hair. If he’s not said it before, he’s nervous about telling you he loves you, just in case he’s made a mistake, and he’s got it wrong, and you don’t feel the same way. But he'll say it regardless, most likely in the heat of the moment, when you’ve fought off a band of goblins, or when he climaxes with you. He makes sure to tell you at least once a day, to make sure you know, and hearing you say it to him makes him grin and giggle like a kid.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

This one is NOT a morning person. He hates waking up before eleven, and even then, it’s a struggle to get out of bed, especially if you’re with him. He wants to be snuggled up to you, halfway between sleeping and waking, forever. His favourite part of the day is when you’re sleepily nuzzling and cuddling.

If he’s forced to get up, he’s happy to just fall into his clothes and go about his day, preferring to shower and such before bed. He occasionally skips breakfast in favour of an extra half an hour in bed.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Sebastian is often up until the wee hours, reading and researching his latest passion. He appreciates the quiet and the still the night brings, and tends to be more active from 5pm onwards. If you’re a night owl too, he’ll relish being able to lean against you as he reads, and he adores it when you drift off in his arms, to the point he’ll toss his book aside and just hold you. If you’re more of a morning person, he’ll make an effort to keep to your routine, but if he's in bed before eleven he’ll be awake for hours, tossing and turning and unable to settle, unless you wear him out.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

He’s pretty open about most things, but when it comes to his childhood, especially with Solomon, he doesn’t talk about it much. If he does, he tends to speak of it as though he’s struggling with a difficult colleague, distancing himself from the relationship without realising it.

If you’re romantically linked, he will eventually open up to you about what he suffered. It’ll take a moment or two for him to get going, lots of false starts and uncertain words, but then it’ll all come tumbling out in a rush. He’ll speak for hours without realising it about all he went through, jumping ahead in the timeline, or back, depending on how the memories hit him. He may get jumbled, telling the story of one event, then switching to another because he's just remembered it, then falling back to the original story. Such is the way with trauma.

Any advice you give him in overcoming what he endured will be met with acceptance, and a willingness to try. He may become frustrated if it doesn’t work immediately, but he’s not one to give up, and he will see results eventually, finding it easier to accept what happened to him wasn’t his fault.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Hotheaded AF. Easily annoyed, easily angered, but just as quick to cool down. Will occasionally say things he regrets in the heat of the moment if he’s rowing with someone he loves, and against an enemy, he can be very cool-headed, but his anger will still take over and he can be quite violent. He gets frustrated easily, especially if he’s trying to do something important, and the results just aren’t showing, but he won’t give up. If anything, the frustration just makes him more determined until his goal consumes him. Best to head him off early or distract him.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Sebastian has a very good memory for detail, considering the amount of time he spends researching. He’ll often surprise you by bringing up some tiny thing you told him years ago, something you may have even forgotten yourself. He can be distractible and distant if he’s caught up in something, but you’re important enough to him for him to set whatever he’s involved with aside, and he’ll remember what you need him to.

That said, if he needs to remember something he really, really doesn’t want to do (like going to visit your horrible great aunt felicia or going to the dentist) he’ll quite conveniently ‘forget’ and plan something else.

R = Remember (What is their favourite moment in your relationship?)

He couldn’t pick if you asked him. Everything about you is precious to him. But, if push came to shove, he’d remember all the times you stood by him, stuck your neck out for him and supported him when no one else did. The moment he realised he was in love with you will stand out in his mind until his last day.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Sebastian is wildly protective of you, and will often try to get in front of you if you’re battling poachers or other enemies, even if you’re a more powerful fighter. His protectiveness can border on possessiveness, and he’ll get angry if you’re hurt, throwing out ideas of revenge that won’t really go anywhere. He’d wrap you up in cotton wool if he could, but at the same time, he adores the danger the pair of you get into, especially as it’s quite the aphrodisiac for him once you’re both victorious and safe.

If you get protective of him, it’s a little confusing for him at first, but he quickly adapts to loving how much you care. He’s rarely had that before, and it means the world to him that you’d stand up for him.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Sebastian puts a surprising amount of effort into his dates and gifts, trying to make each experience unique and special. That said, once he finds a formula that works, he tends to stick with it, varying it up a little here and there. When it comes to you, no effort is too much, but he never goes overboard, understanding that too much can be off-putting.

He’ll always see something through to the end, regardless of the task, unless it’s something he truly wants to avoid doing, and then you’ll have a very difficult job in finding him until he thinks the ‘danger’ has passed.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Personal space? What’s that? Sebastian’s visceral need to be with you at all times can be suffocating, and you get the feeling he’d follow you to the loo if you let him. He understands the need for personal space, and alone time, and he’ll respect it if you put your foot down, but he needs reassurance that you’re still his, he’s still yours, and you’re not asking to be apart from him because you’re growing tired of him.

He’s very nosy, and if he thinks you’re hiding something, he’ll pester and pry for an answer, especially if he’s worried about you. It all comes from a place of love, but his insecurities, growing up as a twin and his love of knowledge makes him want to know everything.

Jealousy: Sebastian’s jealousy can be overbearing at times, and he doesn’t even know he’s doing it. A gentle, but firm conversation is needed to make sure he learns to respect your boundaries. Credit to him, once he knows what your boundaries are, he will respect them.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He’s cute and he knows it. Sebastian’ll make an effort with his appearance, of course, but only to the point to make sure his hair is brushed, his teeth are clean and his shirt’s not inside out. He’s got a kind of casual grace, and with his frame, everything seems to suit him. He does care what you think of him, though, and if you tell him something looks good on him, you can bet your bottom dollar he’ll be wearing whatever it is until it’s worn to threads. Compliments on his appearance mean a lot more coming from you.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

His world would end without you. If he lost you, for whatever reason, he would spend the rest of his life trying to find a way to bring you back, even if you die. And if anyone could succeed in this regard, it would be Sebastian.

X = Xtra (Random headcanons for them)

He won’t admit it, but he’d do anything for a bar of Honeydukes’ Best Chocolate. Think Scooby Doo and Scooby Snacks – it’s that level of ‘I want that in my tummy.’

Despite everything he’s been through, he’s resolutely cheerful, to the point it’s almost unhealthy. If he trusts you enough to cry in front of you, that’s a sign you’ve found a friend or lover for life – he doesn’t even cry in front of Ominis.

His bond with Anne mimics the usual twintuition – they have a way of knowing what the other is thinking, feeling or doing, even if they’re apart, which is partly why he was so desperate to cure her, he could literally feel the pain she was experiencing; knowing it was so much worse for her than the small twinges he'd occasionally get made him almost mad with fear for her.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

You’d need Anne’s approval – if Sebastian’s twin doesn’t like you, that’s going to be a problem. He trusts her opinion. If you don’t like her, he’ll lose interest faster than if you’d shat directly on the dining room table.

Sebastian’s always up for a joke and banter, but he doesn’t like cruel humour that’s designed to upset someone else to make others laugh. Bullies make him angry, and he doesn’t want anything to do with a bully.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Sebastian’s sleep is troubled, especially after Solomon, and considering that it's pretty much established that he didn't have his own bed in the cottage (though this has enabled him to fall asleep literally anywhere). His childhood is full of trauma, losing his parents, the abuse he suffered at Solomon’s hands, Anne’s curse… as he tends to push things down and try and be cheerful, this comes out in nightmares. He occasionally wakes up screaming, even though he tries to pretend it doesn’t happen. He sleeps better when you’re holding him, and if he manages to process his trauma, he’ll sleep through the night. He falls asleep very easily, but he’s a light sleeper and will wake up regularly.

#sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy headcanons #Hogwarts Legacy ABCs #Sebastian Sallow ABCs #mc x sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x reader #Sebastian Sallow x You

[its-time-to-write]

Hi love! Im obsessed with your writing. They actually make my whole day!!

I was wondering if you could do something with like protective!Jamie? Like maybe they’re out at a club and some guy won’t leave her alone!

Whatever you like? Thank you!

I did it! I didn’t know what gif to put with this. Wasn’t sure I’d finish it this weekend, but I got it done! I have finals next week, which either means I’m going to have a bunch of time or none at all. And again, thank you for being so kind. Many anonymous requests are not. 💚🍊

don’t go yet

Roy only lets Jamie go to the club when Richmond has won, which is why you’re both dressed up tonight. 

“You can have two drinks. Not fucking four, not fucking three, two. And if you fucking go over, your girlfriend will fucking tell me,” Roy had said.

Jamie had relayed this to you, more than a tad scandalized, but you just shrugged and said, “Roy’s not wrong.”

So now you’re at the club and Jamie’s had one drink that he’s been making last way too long, but he’s finally downed it and you’ve offered to grab him another one. Dani’s in the middle of some hilarious story about his old team, involving shaving cream, an unsuspecting coach, and… snails? Anyway, Jamie’s deeply invested in whatever it is which is why you’re at the bar waiting for your drinks and he’s sitting down. 

You’re contemplating what you want to do to Jamie once you get home, when an unfamiliar body sidles up to the space next to you.

You half-turn away to give him more space, but he just moves closer so you give him a look. The man, oblivious, says, “Hello gorgeous, name’s Max. What’s a sexy little thing like you doing out here all alone?”

Any distaste you had been stifling out of politeness ends. “I’m not alone, I’m here with my boyfriend,” you reply shortly. 

Max makes a show of surveying the room. “Don’t see him,” he says, “so I suppose you’re fair game.”

Your drinks appear, and you grab them. “I’ve got to go.”

“Hey now, I’m only trying to be fucking friendly. Your boyfriend doesn’t let you have friends?” He’s now blocking your path back to Jamie. You try to dodge around him, but he won’t let you. 

Max does not like that, and he snarls, “Don’t be such a bitch, I’m sure your boyfriend wouldn’t mind me having a turn, especially if he lets you out of the house looking like that.”

Your words catch in your throat, and before you can look around for help, there’s a tap on Max’s shoulder. 

“Oi mate,” says Jamie, voice calm but eyes simmering with rage, “pretty sure she wants to be left alone.”

Max turns to assess Jamie and you dart past him, behind your boyfriend. “And what’s it to you, shithead?”

Oh god. The last thing Jamie needs is to get into a fight tonight. You know that Nate would love nothing more than to bench Jamie whenever an opportunity presents itself. 

“Jamie,” you whisper, “let it go.”

Jamie doesn’t even look at you. “I’m her boyfriend, shithead.”

Max’s eyes betray a hint of surprise, then before you or Jamie can do anything he moves to shove Jamie. Jamie tenses up for a push that never happens, because Isaac has shown up from out of nowhere and has grabbed Max from behind. 

“Time to go, bruv,” Isaac says as he and Dani haul Max away.

Jamie fists are still clenched as he turns to you. Despite the anger on his face, his voice is gentle. “You alright, love?” 

You nod wordlessly and hand Jamie his drink. He takes both of them and puts them down. Your brain is playing catch-up because everything happened so fast.

“You wanna go?” he asks.

You nod again then shake your head. “No!” you protest, “This is your night out!”

Jamie’s hands are on your waist now, and you’re a little grateful because it’s grounding. You’re still reeling a bit.

“Babe,” he says, “I’m fucking exhausted, and you are too. And don’t fuckin’ lie, it ain’t gonna work. You’ve got little circles under your eyes. Let’s go home.”

You shut your mouth and sigh. That boy. He knows you too well. 

On your way out he says, “Can we do face masks? Can feel me face losing its sexy glow.”

You smile and squeeze his hand. Only Jamie can make a shit night into something good.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

[contentloadinggg]

Hiii! I had an idea for a Hozier fic :) I am an absolute sucker for friends to lovers and I wanna read a friends to lovers of Andrew. (No angst, I'm too sensitive for that, and then smut if you want) I just love the idea of him panicking to his friends about how much he likes you and how worried he is that you can tell. I also think it'd be funny if they were totally over it, telling him to grow up and what not. Just having him act like he isn't a fully grown man with how nervous you make him :) sorry for this being so long!!

Have a lovely day/night 🧡🧡

You’re so real for being too sensitive for angst, me to babe. That’s why I write smut instead. I might add more to this one. But here’s what I’ve got for now, I hope you like it and a lovely day/night to you too.

Little fic under the cut🩷

Andrew stared off at the spot you disappeared, as if he was waiting for the moment you would appear back out of the hall. Counting each second you were gone. His mind is just as much somewhere else.

“Andy! Hey, knobhead!”

The man in question jolted as he felt a beer bottle tapped on his knee. The call of his name rips him nearly painfully out of his daydreams.

“What?”

It meant to come out more harshly than that. But Andrew found himself breathless and weak. If Alex could’ve rolled his eyes any harder, he would’ve. 

“Jesus Christ, Andy. We lose you every time they’re around and every time they’re not here. When are you gonna tell them?”

Alex said, sounding just about as fed up as all of Andrew’s friends, family, anyone he told or could see his very blatant affections were. Everyone except you. Andrew felt a blush come to his cheeks, warming them a pink color. Whether it was Alex’s words or the thought of you, he wasn’t sure.

“I— I don’t know, I’m not sure if they like me like that.”

He answered, the same excuse he’s used a thousand times over. Alex scoffs, rubbing his hands over his face. As much as he loves Andrew, his intense pinning can get a bit annoying at times.

“It’s obvious! You are a grown man, Andrew! Just go for it. Or are you that fearful of rejection?”

Andrew huffs, perhaps a bit embarrassed at his very school boy like attitude. Looking back once more into the hallway you disappeared into and shrugs.

“I don’t want to lose them. If I confess and they don’t feel the same, how can we be friends after that?”

He asks, gaze falling onto his feet. Luckily, Alex seems to take some pity on him.

“I’m telling you, they do. I promise. You know I’d never lie about that.”

“Never lie about what?”

Andrew’s head snaps up at the sound of your voice. His already present flush deepening at the vulnerable conversation being interrupted. 

“Erm-“

He stutters for a moment, his tongue stuck to the roof of his dried out mouth and looks back at Alex. Who merely gestures at him to leave. Get it over with already. 

Andrew nods and stands. He can hear his own heart beating in his ears, a tremble in his knees. But he manages to get his voice to work. It sounds distant, like he’s not saying it at all.

“Actually, can I talk to you?”

Your agreement and smile stave off his nervousness. He can’t help, but smile back.

-Thad💚

#andrew hozier byrne #fanfiction #hozier x reader #andrew hozier byrne x reader #hozier smut

[writemekpop]

Torn (Part 2) | Huang Renjun & Lee Jeno

Summary: When Renjun found out you cheated on him with Jeno, he kicked you out and left you naked on the floor. You lose your memory, and Renjun hides the truth about what he’s done.

Genre: Angst, cheating AU, Renjun x Reader, Jeno x Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Part 1 | Part 2 💚

You opened your eyes, grimacing at the bright white light.

You realised you were lying in a bed, wearing a thin white gown. It had to be a hospital. You slowly lifted the sheet, and saw bruises darkening your skin. Your feet were wrapped in bandages.

Fear turned your throat to sandpaper.

You tried to sit up, to get out, but there was a pain in your head, sharp, like a blow with a baseball bat. You collapsed back onto the bed, dizzy.

The last thing you remembered was Renjun finding out you’d cheated on him with his best friend Jeno. His anger. After that, you had no memory. Your blood ran cold.

“Just tell me where she is!”

You gasped. You’d recognise that voice anywhere.

Renjun.

The door to the hospital room swung open.

“Oh my god, Y/n!” Renjun cried. He dropped to his knees beside the bed, his hazel eyes brimming with tears. “I am so sorry, baby! Are you alright?”

“R-renjun…” You reached forwards, running your hand through Renjun’s dirty-blonde fringe. “What happened? How did I get into the hospital?”

Renjun frowned. “You don’t… remember?”

Renjun’s eyes flicked up to your forehead, and his mouth dropped open.

You smoothed down your fringe, blushing at his intense gaze. Only, when your fingers touched your forehead, you winced.

Renjun reached forward and gently brushed your hand aside. He inspected your forehead. His touch was familiar, intimate – it made your heart race. 

The scar began in your hairline, travelled down your forehead, and ended in your right eyebrow. It was jagged and wide, a marker of a past violence that your mind had blocked out.

 Just then, a woman in blue scrubs came into the room. “Good to see you’re awake, Y/n. My name is Dr Jay. Do you want me to explain what’s been going on?”

You nodded.

“You hit your head really hard, Y/n. You’re suffering from something called retrograde amnesia. It means that your memories from the last day or so have been wiped.”

You blinked twice. “Amnesia…”

The doctor turned to Renjun. “You must be her boyfriend.”

Renjun gulped. His eyes flicked to you – as if he was waiting for you to confirm it.

“Yes, he’s my boyfriend,” you said quickly. Renjun visibly relaxed at your words. Why was Renjun acting like he was the one who needed forgiveness?

“I need you to help Y/n fill in the gaps of what happened last night.” With that, the doctor left.

You lifted the blanket, beckoning Renjun to lie in the bed with you. He cradled you to his chest, stroking your hair softly.

“So you don’t remember - anything?” he whispered.

You shook your head. “All I remember was you finding out about… the texts from Jeno.” Tears pooled in your eyes. “I am so sorry, baby. It was a one-time thing. It didn’t mean anything, I swear!”

Renjun shushed you, pressing his lips to your hair. “That’s okay,” he said hurriedly. “I guess we… we all make mistakes. I forgive you!”  

You frowned. Renjun was the type of person to hold a grudge for months. He still brought up the time you spilled ketchup on his favourite shirt – three years ago.

But you shrugged the doubt off. You had to be projecting – you were the liar in this relationship. Renjun would never lie to you. The thought made you want to cry.

“The doctor said I was lying naked on the street,” you said. “What happened?”

Renjun rubbed the back of his neck. “Well… I guess you were so upset about me finding out about Jeno that you- you ran out.”

“Without my clothes or shoes?” you said, mouth agape. “Why didn’t you stop me?”

Renjun’s face went red. “I… I tried to! I begged you to come back inside, but…. but you ran away so fast I couldn’t catch up.”

“I… outran… you? Barefoot?” you asked in disbelief.

Renjun clutched you tight in his arms, so tight it nearly hurt. “Darling. Let’s talk about this later. Let’s get you better first.”

You had a gnawing feeling in the pit of your stomach. Something told you he was lying.

You were about to speak up, but then the pounding in your head started again. You squeezed your eyes shut.

Renjun nuzzled into your hair. It was so comforting, you couldn’t help feeling sleepy. Maybe you were just overreacting.

“I love you, baby,” Renjun whispered.

---

It had been two weeks since you’d been discharged from the hospital, and you were back in the house you shared with Renjun.  

Ever since then, Renjun had become the most devoted boyfriend – he’d bring you fresh flowers every day, he’d brush your hair, he’d even bring you breakfast in bed.

You couldn’t help but feel guilty at his affection. After all, you were the one who had cheated. With the way he was treating you, it was felt like Renjun was the guilty one, not you.

It was a Saturday evening, and you were lying in bed, face buried in a book.

Renjun came in, handsome in his grey sweatpants and hoodie. He was clutching a steaming bowl of noodles.

“Here, baby! I brought your favourite.”

Smiling, you took the bowl from Renjun and placed it on the bedside table.

“Thank you, honey, but you didn’t have to! I’m stuffed from those pancakes you made an hour ago.”

You pulled Renjun to sit down next to you. You gazed at his almond eyes and plump lips. Your eyes were drawn south, to his sweatpants, and more importantly, what lay underneath.

“I’m hungry for something else,” you whispered.

You pulled Renjun’s lips onto yours in a steamy kiss.

You and Renjun hadn’t slept together since that night. You’d been nervous after the Jeno incident, and you’d been giving Renjun space. But now you couldn’t wait any longer. Especially after this morning, when you walked in on Renjun in the shower and laid your eyes on exactly what you had been missing all this time.

You lay down on the bed and pulled Renjun on top of you. Renjun moaned, jerking his hips against yours.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. His hand brushed the side of your breast, sending sparks shooting through you.

You shimmied out of your bottoms. Renjun did the same. He pushed himself inside.

The feeling of having Renjun inside you was too good for words. You wished you could stay joined like this forever. Gripping his shoulders, you pulled his body tighter to yours.

However, the more relaxed you became, the more Renjun stiffened. “I-“ he said against your shoulder.

“What is it, baby?”

“I can’t,” he breathed.

“Renjun, what’s up? Do you not… want to?”

Renjun let out a shaky breath, tickling your neck. “Y/n, I have something to confess. Something I should have told you weeks ago… when we left the hospital.”

Your blood ran cold. You sat up, unhooking your legs from around him. Renjun was panting, his dark hair dishevelled, and his lips were bruised and red.

“What is it?” you said.

Renjun opened his mouth to speak. “I-“

But he was interrupted by three loud thuds on the front door.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

You and Renjun looked at each other in confusion.

"Let me get that!" Renjun jumped off the bed, dressed, and bolted towards the door.

“Wait, what were you going to say?” you called.

But Renjun had already gone. The cold air bit your bare legs.

You heard Renjun open the door. Then you heard muffled shouting.

You peered out of the bedroom window. When you saw who was standing at the door, you gasped.

It was Jeno, looking unusually intimidating in his black hoodie and baseball cap. He was in a shouting match with Renjun.

You bolted down the stairs. You got there just in time to catch the end of their conversation.

“You just couldn’t wait to screw her, could you?” Renjun yelled. “I thought you were my friend!”  

Jeno scoffed. “You kicked her out and left her naked on the street. What kind of psycho does that?”

You stood in the hallway, mouth agape.

“You left me… where?” you said.

Both men turned towards you. Jeno was no longer scowling, and Renjun looked guilty.

“Listen, it’s not what it sounds like-” Renjun stuttered, his brown face turning red. Renjun ran and reached for your hand, but you yanked it away.

“What does Jeno mean about you… kicking me out?” You said, focused completely on Renjun. “You told me that I ran out myself, and that you tried to stop me.”

The edges of your vision began to blur. The man who had been feeding you, washing you, cuddling you at night, the man whose touch still burned all over your body… was a liar?

Renjun bit his lip. “I…”

Jeno cursed. “Don’t believe a word he says, Y/n. I came to check on you because I couldn’t believe when I’d heard you’d gone back to him.”

It was all clicking into place – Renjun’s over the top romantic gestures, the way he couldn’t quite meet your eyes… and he was about to confess something before Jeno interrupted him!

Your entire life felt like a frozen TV, the image stuck, the pixels finally visible. Who was Renjun, really? Who were you?

“How could you do that to me?” you asked, a tear rolling down your cheek.

Renjun huffed, hands balling into fists. “You started it, by- by cheating on me!” Renjun scowled. “Maybe I should have left you out in the cold… you- you slut!”

You gasped. But before you could react, Jeno lunged forwards and punched Renjun in the face.

Renjun staggered backwards, yelling, hands grasping his nose. You could see blood trickling down his chin.

“Get the hell out, both of you!” Renjun cried.

You turned to Jeno, looking at him properly for the first time. His dark hair was ruffled, and his eyes were wide. He held his hand out for you.

“Come on, Y/n, you can leave with me.”

You grasped his hand. The contact sent sparks shooting through you.

You nodded. “Let’s go.”

You ran out into the driveway, hands locked with Jeno. Before you made it into the car, you heard glass smashing and Renjun’s roar from inside the house. You shuddered.

You let Jeno pull you into the passenger seat of his beat-up truck. Your hands were trembling, your entire body was numb from the shock. The scar on your forehead throbbed.

You sat in the passenger seat, too dazed to put on your seatbelt. Jeno leant over you and clicked in your seatbelt for you. He was leaning so close that you could feel the warmth radiating from his firm body. The smell of his mint shampoo drove you crazy. Was Jeno always this attractive?

Jeno’s hand brushed your breast as he adjusted the strap of your seatbelt. His breath faltered. You gulped. The last time you’d been in this truck with Jeno, you’d had sex with him.

Jeno cleared his throat. He walked around to the driver’s seat and got in.

You and Jeno drove in silence. You watched the sun sink down beneath the trees. The reality of your relationship with Renjun weighed heavy on your chest.

“What do I keep doing wrong?” you mumbled, after a while.

Jeno frowned, eyes darting away from the road to look at your face. “What do you mean?”

“Why does no one want me?” you asked, not really answering his question.

“Renjun left me, you left me…” You thought about your father, who moved across the world when you were six, and had never sent you so much as a birthday card.

“Y/n!” Jeno said with an urgency that make you snap your head towards him. He pulled over into a side road.

You watched as Jeno panted, broad shoulders rising and falling.

“You’re wrong,” he said. “I want you.”

“You do?”

Jeno’s eyes lingered on your bare legs a little too long before he met your eyes. “I do. Y/n, I need-“

You leant over and smashed your mouth onto his, shutting him up. Jeno grunted against your lips, kissing you back with equal passion.

His lips never leaving yours, Jeno grasped your waist and pulled you and onto his lap, making you gasp at his strength.

Your hand slipped down to where your body met his. You pushed your clothes out of the way and kissed the moans right from his lips.

You fucked him until the windows steamed up and your thighs started to tremble from the effort.

After, you and Jeno sat on the hood of his car, both desperately trying to cool down your burning bodies. One of your bare legs was draped over Jeno’s. Your fingers traced invisible circles over his chest, trying to find the places that would make him shiver.

Jeno pulled your hand to his lips and kissed it. “I want us to be together, Y/n. You and me.”

You hummed, your mind drifting between the two men that had been inside you that night.

“You know,” Jeno said, staring out at the horizon. “I’m kinda glad that Renjun kicked you out.”

You frowned. “What?”

Jeno smiled lazily. “I mean… that was what sent you to my house… and that convinced me to finally break up with my girlfriend. I realised I wanted you.”

You started to smile, but something stopped you in your tracks. You pulled your hand away from his, crossing your arms over your chest.  

“So… I came to your house the night that Renjun kicked me out?” you asked, lightly, trying not to reveal your panic.

You were suddenly conscious that you were on an empty dirt path, hidden from the main road by trees… with a man you barely knew.

Jeno hummed in agreement.

“But the doctors said they found me alone on the street… does that mean you kicked me out too?”

Jeno sighed. “Okay… so that did happen, but who cares? We have each other now!”

“Who cares?” you shouted, your voice getting louder with each word. “Who cares? Is that all you have to say, you jerk? You’re just as bad as Renjun! No, you’re worse!” 

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Jeno left you on the street like you were nothing!

Jeno looked at you strangely. “Calm down, Y/n, you’re overreacting.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” you screamed. Your head started to spin. Renjun, Jeno… all these men did was treat you like an old Barbie, something to play with and throw out.

“I- I hate you!”

Before Jeno had a chance to respond, you grabbed your things and started to run. You ran down the street, as fast as your legs could take you. You didn’t stop running, not when your chest started to ache, not even when your feet throbbed.

You eventually ended up outside a tiny motel at the edge of the highway. Your shoes were worn, and your head was spinning. You had no choice but to go in.

The inside of the motel was warm and cozy.

There was a man behind the front desk. He was wearing a woolly brown jumper and circle rimmed glasses. He had gorgeous dark hair and tall cheek bones.

You almost laughed out loud at how ridiculously handsome he was, and out of place he looked in this tiny motel.

When he saw you, he straightened up. You realised he was tall too, and lean.

He smiled dazzlingly and held out his hand. “Nice to meet you, I’m Jae-“

“I don’t care what your name is,” you said, cutting him off. “I just have one question.”

The handsome stranger lifted one brow. “Anything.”

“Can you help me forget about all the bad men in my life?”

The man bit his pink, plump lip, thinking. After a moment, he smirked, and said:

“I can certainly try.”

—

MAIN MASTERLIST

Let us know what you thought in the comments or on anon! 💋

Taglist: @nctstrawberrycow @legbouk @saltysouldreamathlete @simpforseungkwan @jenlvr01 @alwaysthefirstsight @anonjyxd @prejsm @yixingtion @daegalfangirl @xmhnrk @2baddies-1porsche @sunshine-skz @yuskitty @starcherryberry @morningsunandnightsky @haech4n @sunincity @bockhyun @summeerrr @multifanbisexual @glitching-wren @kpoploverxx-12 @noidnoentry @yksthings @legbouk @shwizhies @beomibeom @fullsunbabe @desi-brownie @bigzaddydwaekki @o0parkjimin0o @mk-id @so1ugh

#renjun #nct dream #nct fluff #nct scenarios #jeno #nct imagines #nct drabbles #nct reactions #nct angst #lee jeno #huang renjun #nct 00 line #nct x y/n #nct x reader #writemekpop #kpop fluff #kpop imagines #nct dream fluff #nct fics #nct dream fics

[archie-sunshine]

I wanna ask about Bot x Reader headcanons but I don’t know how fun that is for you so feel free to ignore this if you wanna 💚🕷️

Anyway if you DO like those I would dissolve if you drew Swerve and a human just losing themselves. I feel like Swerve deserves to be tied down and forced to watch their human just tease the hell out of his valve with their soft and warm hands and mouth. Or if it’s like 69’ing but because of the size difference, Swerve has to hold the human upside down while eating them out, meanwhile the human gets a rush from the blood being forced to the head all while desperately trying to mouth at his spike.

SORRY FOR THE RAMBLE I JUST GO BANANAS FOR SWERVE AND WHEN YOU DRAW HIM I GO WILD (might write a fic about this too idk :3)

good god do I love human dominant /reader ficssssss arrgrhrharhgh-

ANYWAYS I see your 'tied up swerve' and raise you 'human being a sex pest after hours at swerve's' :^]

I do appreciate the headcanon of swerve being not super well endowed, it makes it so you can really get that thang in you if youre a human <3

#my art #archie answers #transformers #my requests #mtmte #valveplug #swerve #/nsfw #/nsft #lemon

[munson-blurbs]

Hello my most favorite Bug! I’ve got a fluffy smutty request for you where it’s Eddie and reader’s wedding night and they’re all giddy and giggly because this is *married* sex they’re gonna have.

Thank you, I love youuuuuuu 💚 - @corroded-hellfire

Hope you enjoy this fluffy smut!

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), oral (f! receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it up), language

WC: 1.7k

“Hi, Mrs. Munson,” Eddie whispers against your ear, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. “You’re looking absolutely stunning this evening.” His fingers brush against the buttons along the bodice of your dress.

You feel yourself blush, heat creeping into your cheeks. “Just trying to impress my husband.” You smile while grabbing the hand that he’s using to toy with the buttons. “But I don’t think he’d appreciate you trying to undress me in a hotel elevator.” You pause for a moment. “Especially considering I have a surprise for him when we get back to the room.”

“What kind of surprise?” he asks. He runs his tongue over his lower lip instinctively. “Like a…a sexy one?” The elevator dings, signaling your arrival onto the fifth floor, before you can answer. Hand still holding his, you lead him to your room and turn the key.

“Wait there,” you tell him, pointing to the king-size bed. “I’ll be right out.” You press onto your tiptoes, though not as much as usual, since you’re wearing heels, and place a sensual kiss onto his cheek. When you pull back, you notice that his smirk has turned into a pout. “What’s wrong?”

Eddie ducks his head, burying it in your neck as he nips at your skin. “Was just hopin’ that I could take this dress off of you.” He bites a bit harder this time, and you involuntarily let out a small moan. “Sounds like you’re not opposed, either,” he teases. He expertly undoes all of the buttons and starts to tug on the dress sleeves, kissing along your collarbones.

Using all of your willpower, you gently push him away. “I promise it’ll be worth it,” you reassure him, giggling when he whines. “Please, babe? I know you’ll love it.”

“Fine,” Eddie sighs dramatically, flopping onto the bed and loosening his tie. “But only because I love you so damn much.”

You grab a small bag from your suitcase and flounce into the bathroom. “Thank you,” you trill. Slipping the dress off, your body relaxes as the weight falls to the ground. Your dress was beautiful, but it was also heavy. You consider taking off your shoes as well, but decide to keep them on. Eddie will lose his mind if you come out in nothing but lingerie and heels.

The white lace bra lifts your breasts and amplifies your cleavage. You adjust the straps so it cups you perfectly. Matching panties frame the curve of your ass, sheer enough to give him a glimpse of what he wants while still leaving something to the imagination. And the garters that wrap around your thighs might just make him go completely feral. 

As soon as you step into view, Eddie takes a sharp breath in. “C’mere,” he growls, crooking his finger to beckon you to him. His hands immediately grab your ass, squeezing and giving a light spank. “Can’t believe I get to fuck you for the rest of our lives.”

“I’m all yours,” you croon, whimpering as he runs his thumbs over your clothed nipples. “And only yours, Eddie.”

“Fuck,” he exhales. “Say that again.” You feel a calloused finger trace along the bra clasp; he unhooks it easily. 

“I am all yours, Eddie Munson,” you repeat, straddling his lap and kissing him roughly. “Only you get to see me like this.” You kiss him, resting your arms on his shoulders. You start unbuttoning his shirt while pressing your lips to his lightly stubbled throat. His burgeoning erection strains against his zipper; you can feel it against your knee. You lean over so your breasts are level with his eyes, and he tilts his chin so he can suck at the undersides, flicking your nipples with his tongue.

“My wife,” he mumbles into your chest. “My beautiful, beautiful wife.” He sighs as he runs his hands along your torso. “Everything about you is just so perfect.”

“Hey, husband,” you giggle. “You gonna get naked, or are you gonna keep talking?”

He raises his eyebrows. “Oh, that’s how it’s gonna be?” He pulls you closer before gently pushing you onto the bed. He unbuttons the rest of his shirt and tosses it to the ground. His fingers fly over his belt buckle, and before you know it, he’s standing before you in just an undershirt and checkered boxer shorts. “Is that better for you?”

“Much,” you nod, pinching the t-shirt and pulling him on top of you. “But I could still do without these.” You yank off the shirt and tug at his tented underwear. A pearly bead of pre-cum dots the tip of his hard cock. 

“I have the sexiest wife in the world,” he muses, sneaking his hand under your panties and rubbing your clit with his thick middle finger. 

“‘M gonna start a running tally for every time you say ‘wife,’” you laugh, but the verbal reminder that you’re Eddie’s wife, and that he’s your husband, warms you from the inside out. 

Eddie peels the remaining lingerie from your body. “My wife, my wife, my wife, my gorgeous fuckin’ wife,” he repeats, letting his lips travel down your stomach until he reaches your hips. “Okay, what do I win?”

“There’s no prize!” You thread your hands through his hair and watch as he nibbles at your inner thighs, purposely avoiding your wanting cunt. 

“Aw, but I was really hopin’ for one of your amazing blowjobs,” he groans. 

“Actually, as a wife, I no longer have to give blowjobs.” His jaw drops dramatically, making you giggle again. “Totally true. I read it in the handbook.”

“This is some bullshit,” he mutters sulkily, though you can see his grin peeking through. “But as your loyal, loving, selfless husband, I will still eat you out. Because that’s the kind of guy I am.” He dives between your legs, licking a stripe from your hole to your clit and keeping his focus there. His tongue curls as he sucks on the sensitive bud, throwing your trembling legs over his shoulder as he works on your pussy. “That feel good, hm?”

“S-So good,” you affirm, gripping the bed sheets as he inserts a finger into you, pumping it in and out. “Right there, baby.”

“Uh-uh,” Eddie tuts. “Right there, who?”

It takes you a moment, partially because you’re already dumb from his finger and mouth, but you pick up on what he wants. “Right there, husband,” you say with a smile. “Such an incredible husband, making his wife so wet.”

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he moans. “Need to be inside you. Need you to make me feel good, like only you know how.” You feel a second finger stretch you open and you whimper softly. “You make the prettiest little noises, y’know that?”

“‘S because of you,” you manage, arching your hips into him. “Eddie, ‘m gonna cum. You’re t-too good at this, I swear.” His laugh pushes you over the edge and you finish on his tongue. 

Eddie gently brings you back down from your high, lips and chin shiny with your slick. “‘M not gonna lie,” he tells you breathlessly, “I fuckin’ love making my wife cum like that. You’re my wife, by the way.”

“Phew,” you tease. “I was worried there for a sec.” You pull him up so you can kiss his face. He tastes like you and the champagne you’d toasted with earlier. 

His deep brown eyes meet yours. “I wanna make love to you tonight,” he says. “Just nice and gentle, okay?” When you nod, he positions himself over you and trails kisses down your body. 

You feel his length twitch as it presses against your stomach, leaving behind some pre-cum. His gaze never leaves yours as he runs it along your folds and pushes into you. You cry out, feeling him growing even harder inside you as he slowly thrusts. 

Eddie laces his fingers with yours and brings your hands to either side of your head. “You looked so beautiful today,” he murmurs into your ear, rocking softly. “You always look beautiful, but when I saw you in that white dress…thought I was gonna cry right there at the altar. Think I did a little, actually.” He did; you’d watched his lower lip quiver and his eyes mist over as you’d walked down the aisle. His emotional reaction nearly made you cry, too. “Feels like I must’ve done something really right for you to wanna marry me.”

You try to focus on your words as his cock grazes your sweet spot. How did he manage to be cute and sexy at the same time? “Eddie,” you mewl, “I love you more than anything in the world. I’m so happy–fuck–to be your wife. And that you’re my husband.” Your second orgasm creeps closer. “Little faster, Eds, please.”

“Anything for my wife,” he grins, snapping his hips as he steadily increases his pace. He bites your lower lip, making you moan loudly. “God, I love you s’fucking much.”

“‘M gonna cum again,” you pant, clenching around him. “Want you to cum with me this time.”

“Mhm,” Eddie acknowledges your request, bringing himself to the edge before reaching his own climax. “Wh-Where do you want it?”

“All over my tits,” you cry out. “Show me who I belong to.”

“You’re–all–mine–” he grunts, pistoning one final time before reluctantly pulling out and spilling all over your chest. Hot, thick white ropes cover you as he lets out a string of curses. 

He plops down next to you, reaching over for a tissue to clean you up. “So, quick question,” he starts, resting on his elbow and brushing your hair from your face. “How are you so perfect?”

“Me?” you laugh. “Did you see yourself in that suit today? I’d make you wear it every day if you didn’t hate dressing up so much.”

Eddie makes a face. “Was only f’you, sweetheart,” he says, nuzzling into your neck and wrapping his arms around your waist. “You’ll never see me in anything besides ripped jeans and concert tees again.”

Now it’s your turn to pout. “What if I revoke the ‘no blowjobs’ rule?” you ask.

“You might be onto something there,” he muses, kissing your temple. “That’s why I married you.”

“My blowjobs or my compromises?”

Eddie pretends to ponder your question. “I’ll get back to you on that.”

--

#eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson fanfic #fanfic #requests

[annadoingshitpoorly]

Friends In the Dark - Prologue

Ellie Williams x Reader x Abby Anderson - Twilight AU

Minors, Men and general fuckheads DNI please 💚

Content Warnings:  Discontent about moving, reader has only ever had relationships with women, all characters that are in high school are 18, rain and storms, light stalking, being watched while asleep, dead dad is dead, your mom is doing her best

Word Count: 1.8K

You hadn’t been to Jackson in years, not since your dad had died, but your mother was dragging you back. of course she was. It wasn’t like you’d set up a life for yourself in Detroit. Your friends, your school, your ex-girlfriend (she was more of an ex-situationship, she didn’t like you as much as you liked her.) Maybe where she was involved the move was for the better. But for the rest of the stuff, you were pissed. Who moves school in their senior year? Weirdos. And army kids but that’s besides the point. It’s mainly weirdos…

You had been driving for about twenty hours (not including the night spent in that dusty motel that had definitely been aiding affairs since the eighties) when the turn off for Jackson finally popped up on a sign and almost as soon as your mom had pulled into the exit, the rain started. Big fat tears of water pelted the windscreen of the hired moving truck and the wipers could barely keep up. GREAT. Rain and cardboard boxes don’t mix too well, and if your boxes ended up getting ripped-

“So are you excited to be starting a new school?”

“I guess? I'm gonna miss everyone…”

“You know I didn’t get much of a choice in moving, besides your grandparents are here…”A hesitant pause comes from your mother, she always did this when she was nervous for your response to her upcoming suggestion or comment, “it’ll be a change but maybe a change will do you good? Us good?”

Her right hand leaves the steering wheel and comes to rest upon your knee, giving you a little squeeze of reassurance. You can still see the dent where your mom’s wedding ring once sat, moving your hand to cover her’s as it still rested on your leg and return the little squeeze. A soft smile graces your lips as you meet her gaze and see how your mother is clearly as conflicted, if not more conflicted than you were yourself. You were leaving behind something, she was returning to face everything.

The beating of the rain against the truck’s windows eventually evened out, the harsh drumming of watery bullets coming to a soft drizzle allowing you to see more than a few yards ahead of the vehicles hood, and like out of nowhere a sign came into view ‘WELCOME TO JACKSON - Population 5093’, they’ll need to change that you think to yourself. But the sign is so waterlogged and beaten down so it looks as though it hasn’t been changed in at least a decade. Taking a sharp bend in the road sends you jolting to the side, your head spins with whiplash as the seat belt digs deeply into your chest. As you come back from the shock of the slice of pain from nearly having a rib broken, a straight section of cracked asphalt spreads out ahead of you and you welcome it with open arms.

“Our new place is on the far side of town, near the river. You remember going down there when you were little, right?”

“Oh yeah! Forgot about that… Do you think Dina and Cat still live ‘round there?”

“Probably, Jackson’s always been pretty stale. Hell, I remember when those people that came out from Seattle when you were very small and it was the only thing people would talk about for about a month.” You smile to yourself as your mother loses herself to her train of thought. “The Andersons, the ones that took over old doctor Smith’s place when he died? They had a kid, I think she was about your age.”

“So you remember what she was called?”

“It was Abigail, she was my best friend, mom.”

“Oh, that's right, honey. Your dad always said I was bad with names and I'm starting to think he may have been right.”

Huh… you wonder what your childhood friends and companions were doing now, would they still be here? Maybe, if your mom was right about Jackson being as sleepy as she said they’d probably still be there, god knows it would be great not having to start completely fresh…

Trees and tired out store fronts whizz by as your mom refuses to slow for anyone or any speed limit for that matter, a steady fifty miles an hour pushes you down the Main Street quick enough that you can’t even recognise some of the landmarks before they’ve been left far behind the two of you. The streets and shops with apartments above them give way to trees, parks and large family homes with tidy lawns and nifty flagstone patios outside, the soft golden glow of fairy lights strung above the walkways in the center of town are being replaced with the light of streetlamps, their glare turning everything around them an ugly orange.

The house you pull into is plain and unassuming. Perfectly quaint. The rain is still battering the glass as the engine comes jittering to rest, a welcome break from the constant movement for both you and the machine. You sit in near silence as your mom pulls the phone from her pocket, glances up at the building then back to the illuminated screen and repeats her motions once more. She clears her throat, “Welp, this is us. Looks bigger in person.” Digging into her pocket, a jingling set of keys emerge. “Wanna run and unlock the door, we can grab the boxes when the rain stops. I just need to call the woman from the realtors to say we got here.”

Turning the key in the lock the door immediately pushes back, letting you step inside and off the wet wooden porch. Setting the backpack from your shoulders on to the ground you allow yourself to take in your surroundings. It’s definitely bigger than your apartment back in Salt Lake City, the living room has a threadbare left carpet and a couch that’s in a similar state, nothing else of note really. Making your way through the house you pass an office space and open a door to reveal a large kitchen. It’s a gaudy mess that hasn’t been updated since at least the turn of the century with a wonky dining table in one corner and yellowing cream paint plastered on the walls, the pale wood panelling and cupboards do nothing to modernize the space. Your mom will love it.

A shuffling comes up behind you and your mom lets out an impressed whistle. “Je-sus! Look at this, it’s beautiful in here! Look at those cabinets and original splash back! I can only imagine the-”

You walk off letting your mom go off on her tangent on her plans for changing (more like preserving) the ancient kitchen. A set of stairs lead off from the living room, dark wood wash and worn down carpet line the steps as you venture upstairs, opening each door as you move across the landing. A bedroom, another bedroom, a bathroom, a storage closet with a hot water tank, one last bedroom. Cute.

“Darling, would you come down here and help me with the mattresses?”

Coming back down the stairs you are met with a rather amusing sight. Your mom trying to haul a large box up the front steps and onto the porch proper, the rain dampening the boxes and causing them to slip back down to the tiled path leading away from the door.

“Just the mattresses for tonight, they left them in the garage.”

“They’re new? The mattresses?”

“Yep, hell of a lot cheaper to buy them new instead of boxing up the old ones.”

Your mom explains briefly as you push the second of the boxes from the bottom of the steps and through the door, “I’ll bring them upstairs, mom.”

She tilts her head, “and why have you decided to be so helpful all of sudden?”

Turning your head to face her, one of the boxes already in your arms. “I want the first pick of the bedrooms, that’s all!”

Pushing the door open to the second largest bedroom, you set down the smaller boxed mattress and look around at the space, the walls are plain but the paint job wasn’t too bad at all, the wooden flooring had a few stickers stuck here and there but hey you can fix that easy enough, but the features only solidify the choice in your mind. Built-in wardrobe? Great. A window seat looking out onto the street? Jackpot. And the best thing? It's all yours.

Breaking the seal on the box, you let the foam and cloth expand on the floor before going across the hall and doing the same for your mother, she appears not a minute later with a plastic cereal bowl with a faded purple butterfly on the side, the red contents swirling around the rim of the container as she hands it to you.

“I know we had dinner on the interstate but I thought you could use a snack before heading to bed, we'll be busy as heck tomorrow so I expect you to get your head down and lights out. Got it?”

You laugh at her antics and respond only with a two finger salute and a curt “Yes ma’am.”

She places a chaste kiss on your forehead and leaves you in your new room, a bowl of soup and a fuzzy blue blanket, your only visible company for the rest of the evening. Sitting on the window sill you watch as the rain dies down enough so that it’s nothing more than a mizzling drizzle, a fox runs across the deserted road the only sign of life that you see as you eat and take what can only be described as a well-deserved break from the near constant travelling of the past few days.

Setting the emptied bowl on the floor by the door, spoon clinking around inside, you make your way over onto the now spread out mattress and manage to make the rather scarce accommodations into a make-shift futon for the night. Wrapping yourself in the blanket and closing your eyes, you’re greeted by a dreamless exhaustion-induced sleep.

Your sleepless form is left spread out and content on the floor, completely none the wiser for the green eyes drinking in the sight of you from the windowsill outside.

Thanks for reading, I hope to have the first proper chapter out soon!

If you are going to follow, please remember if I check to see your age on your blog and if I can’t see an age I block you from following, so no minors. 💚

Tag List: @moonlightdivine @hi2647 @jasmine-gazaille @mortallyfurryjellyfish

chapter 1 is out and here…

#tlou #tlou x reader #abby anderson x reader #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #twilight au

[zepskies]

If You Want It To Be - Part 2

Pairing: Dean x Female Reader

Summary: When your car breaks down after a hunt, Sam and Dean tow you back to the bunker for Christmas. This time of year gives you and Dean a little courage to be honest about what you both want. And what you want, is for him to see you. (18+)

AN: Here’s Part 2! This fic is an entry for @deanwinchesterswitch's TGWRC: Christmas in July event. 🩵❄️

Themes: Mistletoe (a classic), eggnog, Christmas dinner

Word Count: 5,700 Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut central, tiny bit of angst, fluff and feels. ❤️💚

Part 2: Christmas Eve

Before you start on the Christmas cookies, you pull Castiel aside.

“Here’s the mission,” you tell the angel. “I know the guys don’t do Christmas all that often, so I want to surprise them with a nice dinner tomorrow. Think you can get this list of stuff for me? I think my addled brain forgot we needed real food too.”

Castiel looks over the scrap of notebook paper you give him with a critical eye.

“Uh, yes. This seems straightforward enough…what about pie?” he asks.

You raise a brow at him. “What about pie?”

“Dean likes pie.”

“I understand, but Christmas is for cookies. Not pies.”

“I think Dean would beg to differ,” Cas points out.

“Fine, get the man his pie,” you relent with a sigh. “Get pecan. He likes pecan, and that’s still somewhat Christmasy.”

“He likes apple better,” Cas mutters, but he still takes up your list and heads out to do your bidding.

Now with most of the bunker, namely the kitchen, all to yourself, you put on some festive music on your phone before you start to lay out all your ingredients on the counter.

Not many people know about your hobby, but you think you’ve seen enough baking shows to be proficient with some flour and egg.

You decide to begin with good old-fashioned sugar cookies that you’ll try your best to decorate later. But first, you start measuring out ingredients.

You sing along with Eartha Kitt’s “Santa Baby,” not knowing that you have an audience.

Dean spots you on his way back in from the garage. He was aiming to grab a drink of water from the fridge. He finds you instead, bopping around the kitchen. He hears you humming breathily to the music, watches you swaying your hips to her sultry notes. And he smirks. 

He steps up behind you and leans in close to your ear to ask, “What’cha making?”

You jump with a loud yelp, flinging up flour with your wooden spoon. Hearing Dean’s laughter, you whip around and give him a playful glare before swatting at him with the spoon.

“Hey!” he protests when you mark his shirt (more than once) with flour. You smirk and continue your task of mixing the dough.

Serves you right, troublemaker, you think. He comes up behind you to inspect your work.

“Cake?” he asks.

“Cookies, remember?” you tell him. “Want to help me?”

“You seem to be doing just fine.” He raises a brow as you take chunks of dough, roll them evenly in your hands, and place them on the tray. You’re making quick work of it too.

“Matter of fact, you look like a pro,” he adds.

You flash him a smile tinged with nostalgia.

“Yeah, well, my mom and I used to do this together every year when I was a kid. Snickerdoodles, oatmeal raisin, chocolate chip, oatmeal chocolate chip—”

“I think I get the picture,” Dean says with a growing smile. You return it, but your expression starts to fade the longer you think of her. 

Dean catches the shift; he knows your mom passed just a few years ago, losing her battle with lung cancer. He and Sam attended the funeral.

Dean understands. He just lost his own mother a few months ago—again. Another reason he can’t quite be Mr. Nice Guy with Jack. At least, not how they used to be. He knows it wasn’t the kid’s fault. Logically, Dean knows this. The nephilim didn’t have his soul.

In Dean’s heart though, his mom is still gone from this world. She got cheated out of her second chance at life. And deep down, selfishly, Dean feels cheated too.

It’s a reminder that gets stuck in his throat. But it dislodges another memory, one he feels comfortable enough with you to share, in the privacy of a quiet kitchen.

“I think I remember helping my mom bake something once, when I was a kid,” Dean admits. Though he clears his throat when your gaze turns to him in interest.

“Think it was chocolate chip cookies…well, whatever, they were hard as a rock,” he says, smiling at the memory. “So we went to the store and bought some from the bakery instead.”

You watch how his face softens, in the way it does whenever he talks about his mother. You smile just as softly.

“Aw, little Dean,” you say, because you can imagine it so clearly. Maybe he’s four or five, working dough between his small hands. And beautiful Mary, smiling beside him, encouraging him.

Dean’s eyes meet yours, uncomfortable with the gentle way you’re looking at him. So he clears his throat and goes into the fridge. He pulls out the eggnog and finds the rum you bought last night, specifically for what he’s about to do.

“Ooh, good idea,” you say as he fixes both of you a glass. Though you balk at his heavy pour of rum. “Geez, trying to get me drunk before noon?”

He grins at you. “Morning, night, and day are the only times to be drunk.”

You snort in response.

“Is that all?” you remark, and you wipe your hands of the wet dough (and most of the flour) before you take the glass he offers. You clink your glass with his and take a sip, even though you choke on it soon after.

“Jesus Christ, Dean,” you cough. He had to have poured half the bottle of Bacardi Superior in there.

Dean sucks between his teeth. “Yep, that is bracing.”

He glances over at you and smiles, raising a finger at the corner of your mouth.

“You’ve got some there,” he points out. You touch your chin, trying to feel for anything on your face.

“Where?”

“On your mustache, there.”

“I don’t have a mustache!” you say indignantly. You know this for a fact, as you spent a fair amount of time waxing and shaving yourself last night.

…Not that you had any particular reason to (or anyone to wax for), you just noticed that you needed some grooming. That’s all.   

Dean’s grin edges into a teasing smirk. “Don’t worry, it’s cute. Less Duck Dynasty and more Steve Harvey, Family Feud guy.”

You splutter laughing and hit his chest with the back of your hand.

“You’re such an ass.”

He chuckles and wipes the bit of eggnog from the corner of your mouth with his thumb. It makes your cheeks flare with a warm blush.

“Well, I uh, should get these into the fridge to chill,” you say. You grab the tray of rolled up cookie dough and head for the fridge, but maybe you’re more frazzled than you realize.

You accidentally knock into Dean’s elbow, making him spill half his drink down the front of his shirt.

You gasp, eyes flying wide, while he looks down at the mess now dripping from his shirt onto the floor. When he eventually looks up at you in deadpan exasperation, you have to bite your lip against a smile.

“Good job,” he cracks.

“I’m so sorry,” you say with a bubble of nervous laughter. “Hold on.”

You finish putting the tray in the fridge and immediately turn to grab a few paper towels. You go to Dean and start helping him blot out the sticky, frothy mess staining through his green flannel and black undershirt, from chest to sternum.

The problem is, the paper towel is thin and breaking off on his shirt, making your task damn near impossible. White, wet pieces of paper are coming off on his black shirt.

“Well, you’re doing great,” Dean wryly remarks.

You can’t help but giggle. “It’s not all my damn fault here. Who the hell buys one-ply paper towels?”

“Sam. Evidently, he’s cheap as hell,” he replies, eliciting another laugh from you.

Soon enough you give up on the paper towel with a huff, and you go to grab an actual hand towel. Dean follows you, which assures that you bump into him again when you turn back around.

You yelp as your foot starts to slip on the sticky drops on the floor, but Dean grabs your arms, steadying you. You can’t help but giggle again, looking up at him. He quirks an amused smile down at you.

But then your face slackens as you gaze up above his head. He curiously follows suit.

And you both realize that you’ve fallen into a trap.

Jack’s sprig of mistletoe once again lies above your head. Your heart trips up a bit faster as Dean looks down at you, this time with a growing smirk.

“My turn,” he says. His eyes are flirtatious, but they hold a hint of something deeper. Something you can’t name.

“Are you gonna go for my cheek like I’m your cousin?” he asks.

His raised brow is a challenge, and it makes you bite the inside of your lip. He can be so annoying, but you suppose he wouldn’t be Dean if he didn’t make things more difficult for you.

Well, I didn’t put on lipstick for nothing, you muse. And though anticipation and nerves trill down your spine, you lean up on your toes, take his face between your flour-stained hands, and press your lips to his.

It’s a sweet kiss, and his hands come to rest along the curve of your waist, holding you close.

When you pull away, you suddenly realize just what you’ve done as you let your hands fall away from his face. You’re not quite sure what to do with them afterwards, so they clench awkwardly in the air between you two.

Dean looks down at you with a softer, yet playful smirk. He reluctantly drops his hands from your waist.

But he makes a show of licking his lips. You taste sweeter than boozy eggnog…actually, you taste more like chocolate. He glances behind you, and sure enough, he spies the Nestle bag in the corner.   

“Chocolate chips?” he notes, eyeing you suspiciously. “Maybe those weren’t originally meant to be sugar cookies, huh?”

His gaze is drawn to the way you bite your lip again, trying to hold back an embarrassed smile. You raise a hand to wipe the imprint of MAC’s “Russian Red” lipstick from his mouth, and he smirks under the pad of your thumb.

“You saw nothing,” you warn him. You attempt to stifle another nervous giggle. “You’re officially sworn to secrecy.”

He hums at that. “I don’t know. What’s in it for me?”

“You’re asking for a bribe?” You raise a brow.

Dean’s smirk deepens. “Maybe. What’cha got for me?”

He rests a hand on the counter by your arm, subtly leaning in and looming over you with his broad frame. A hot blush heats your cheeks, then down your neck. And then excitement bubbles inside you.

Because the one thing you never thought would happen seems to be happening: Dean is actually, honest to God flirting with you. 

Your mouth twitches at a smile as you pretend to think. 

“Hmm…okay! I got it,” you say.

You grip the front of his shirt, and once again lean up on your toes so you can kiss him. This time, Dean holds you there by your cheek. His large hand presses against your warm skin, and his fingers soon delve into your hair. You hum against his lips and deepen the angle of your kiss, your palms lying flat against his chest.

So fucking firm, you think. A solid wall of a man.

Dean’s free hand falls warmly on your hip, bringing you ever closer. He makes a pleased sound when you suck and nip at his lower lip. And with each new kiss, you’re falling deeper and deeper into the intoxication of him. 

Before you realize it, he’s walked you back to press you into the little table in the kitchen, where you all shared breakfast this morning. But you surprise him by breaking the kiss. You pull away just enough to see his confused, handsome face.

“There you go. That’s your payment,” you tease. “Good enough?”

“Hell fucking no,” Dean rasps. 

He dives back in to claim your lips, and you smile, letting him do it. Your whole body is buzzing with warmth of feeling and happiness, especially when his arms slip around you firmly and pull you flush against him. Your hands travel up his flannel-clad arms to wind around his neck.

A moan catches in your throat when his lips veer away from yours, beginning a path along the curve of your jaw, down the side of your neck, stopping just under your ear. His stubble prickles against your skin in the most delicious of ways. Your eyes close at the feeling. 

You sigh and card your fingers up the back of his neck, through his hair. “Dean…”

He surprises you with a nipping kiss on your earlobe, making you jump a little with a yelp.

You utter a laugh and playfully tighten your hand in his hair. “Hey!”

The sound of his deep, muffled chuckle in your ear sends tingles along your skin and heat, down between your legs. You let out a shaking sigh and press kisses of your own to his neck.

You tug at the collar of his shirt to reveal more skin, so you can latch onto his shoulder next. It’s a playful bite, one that elicits a groan from Dean as his thigh slips between both of yours.

His hands find your waist, and with a quiet grunt, he hefts you up onto the kitchen table. You squeal at the sudden move, clinging to his shoulders when the table shakes a bit.

But it prompts you to look up at Dean’s face. You see the desire darkening his eyes to hunter green. And his hands part your knees to let him stand between them.

You blush hotly when his palms smooth up your bare thighs, over the skirt of your dress. He drags the thin fabric with him and rucks it up well above your knees. Your mouth parts on a shaky breath when those sinful hands stop at your hips, bunching up the fabric there.

“I like this dress,” he mentions. Your mouth curves with a grin.

“I think it likes you back,” you reply. Your gaze falls to his chest as you pick at the collar of his flannel. “This should go, though.”

With an amused huff, Dean shrugs out of the green plaid first. You help him with the black undershirt next, giggling a little when it gets caught on his wrist and spikes up his short hair. That’s all right, you think, because you’re about to mess it up even more.

Your hands run over his bare chest first though, as you drink him in with your eyes. Dean notices with a smirk, and he lets you pull him in again by his hair as you meet him with a passionate kiss.

He likes the way you try to devour him with lips and tongue and teeth. In turn, he slips underneath the skirt of your dress and squeezes your thighs.

You gasp into his mouth, allowing him to devour you back. It makes you realize that this is seriously heading somewhere. It’s hot and heady and his touch is making your head swim. But your heart shoots you a firm reminder…

One that makes you slower to respond to Dean’s increasingly demanding kiss.

Sensing your hesitation though, Dean slows his roll.

“You okay?” his deep voice rumbles.

When you don’t have a ready answer for him, he pulls back enough to see your face. He finds your uncertainty.

You look down in embarrassment.  

Even though his heart is still pounding (and his dick straining in his jeans), Dean moves his hands from under your skirt, back to your waist. And he raises his brows, ducking to find your eyes. Once you meet his gaze, he gives you a smile. 

“Hey, talk to me,” he prompts. His thumbs brush against your sides, earning your weak smile back. Your hands slide down his neck to rest on his shoulders.

“Sorry. I just, um…” you stumble on your words. You’re not sure how you want to say this, but Dean’s brows are knitting together. His face is more serious now as he watches you with singular focus. It gives you enough courage to put your heart in his hands.

“This, us, right now…is this a one-time deal?” you ask.

Out of all the things he thought you might say, maybe Dean should’ve prepared for that one a bit better. He frowns, considering how to answer you—and what would put the least amount of pressure on you. Even though his gut is telling him (kicking him), on what he should really tell you.

But those words get stuck in his mouth. So all he can bring himself to say is…

“If you want it to be,” he says.

You bite your lip at that. Though not in a good way, his instincts also tell him. Your gaze falls.

“That’s just it,” you say. After a moment, you manage to look up at him again. 

“I don’t think I can do that,” you say in measured tones, even though you’re scared. “I like you, Dean.” 

The “like” feels like something a lot deeper, even to your own ears.

But you don’t expect the way Dean’s guarded face softens.

He breaks into a smile that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners. He tucks a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, brushing your cheek with his thumb. You close your eyes at the tender touch. 

“Well, that’s good,” he says. “Because here I was, trying to wrap my head around how I was supposed to let you go after havin’ you…right where I want you.”

Your eyes flash open at that. Then he leans down and kisses you again. Your shock is a powerful thing, but it all but melts at his touch. You relax into him with a sigh of relief, kissing him back and closing your eyes against the sweet sting of tears.

You don’t have time to let them fall though. Dean doesn’t give that to you. He pulls you by your thighs until you’re at the edge of the table. You feel his hands travel up and curl around the waistband of your underwear. You raise up for him so he can tug them down, over your ass and thighs, and you kick the black, lacy panties off your foot with a giggle.

Dean grins, especially when you go for his belt. Your eyes briefly meet with his while you make quick work of the buckle, then the button and zipper on his jeans. You hook two fingers in the waistband of his boxer briefs and tug him closer.

“Come ‘ere,” you whisper.

Smirking, Dean obliges you, stepping closer into your orbit. And he has to grip your thighs for support when you slide a hand down the front of his underwear, feeling down the length of his hard cock with a gentle, sensuous hand. He moans, pressing his forehead into your shoulder.

“Ooh, finders keepers,” you tease. Dean snorts against your neck and presses a biting kiss there, satisfied by the way you gasp and shiver.

You feel the shape of his smile on your skin. But he grabs your arms tight when your hand squeezes experimentally around his cock.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “You gonna keep teasing me, sweetheart?”

“Maybe,” you reply cheekily. All the while, you continue to caress him within the confines of his pants, especially brushing your thumb around the sensitive head.

If you keep this up, he’s not going to last long enough to do everything he wants to do to you. Everything he’s dreamed about for years with a hand wrapped around himself…but he’s been too much of a fucking coward to make that leap with you.

He told himself he was protecting you. That you were better off with someone less damaged. That he’d just drag you down into his hellish life.

But he just can’t fucking take it anymore. 

So Dean grasps your wrist, prompting you to release him. You look down at his face and catch the way his playfulness fades into a more concentrated desire. The heat in his eyes makes your mouth part in soft surprise.

Dean picks up from where he left off before, pressing a hand to your cheek and ravaging your lips. His hand then slides into your hair and gets a firm grip. All the while, his free one slips beneath your dress and between your legs. First he just teases the seam of your pussy with the calloused pads of his fingertips.

Your breath catches in your throat as you squeeze his shoulders and lean back, giving him a better angle. And you utter a moan when those thick digits slip between your folds and sink deeply into your wet heat.

“Dean,” you gasp his name into his mouth. The hand in your hair tightens as he works you over, exploring your inner channel with two fingers while this thumb presses and circles around your clit. Your tremulous hips begin to move in time with his rhythm, meeting his thrusts as you pulse deep inside with pleasure.

His lips drift away from your mouth, pressing against your cheek, then into your neck.

“I got you, baby. Let go for me,” he says hotly in your ear. His thumb rubs more insistently against your clit in time with his pulsing fingers.

Your inner walls squeeze around his hand, tighter and tighter. And you utter a gasping moan into his ear as you cling to him. Dean strokes inside you through your shuddering release. It’s almost too much, but it prolongs the feeling of your pleasure and makes your arms tremble around his neck.

Afterwards, he rubs your lower back until you catch your breath. You manage to press a grateful kiss into his neck, then his cheek.

“Holy shit,” you utter. It earns a genuine laugh from Dean as he cups the back of your head.

“Oh, we’re not done,” he promises, leaning back to look into your eyes. “I think you’re gonna be more comfortable in my room.”

You tilt your head at him. “Or…”

You shuffle even closer to him on the table and pull off your dress, slipping it over your head. You feel a little self-conscious in exposing your full self to him, but Dean watches you undress with hungry eyes and a tight jaw.

After your black dress falls to the floor, he takes in the sight of your body, his gaze landing on the black lace bra still covering your breasts. His hands slip up the curve of your waist, up your sides, and slide behind to unhook your bra.

His mouth burns a trail down your chest, between the valley of your breasts when he drags the bra down your arms and to the floor. You grab onto his arms for support; you feel like you’re riding the hurricane that is Dean Winchester, and you don’t expect to come out intact.

“Fucking beautiful,” he murmurs against your skin, making you shudder. You suck in a breath as his hands cup your breasts, roughly kneading and rolling his thumbs over pert nipples.

“Smooth talker,” you manage to quip with a smile.

“Ain’t nothin’ but the truth,” he tells you. “Feels like I’ve been waiting a goddamn lifetime for this.”

His eyes are dark with desire, but they’re also serious. Your voice gets stuck in your throat for a moment. He’d been waiting for you?

But you realize that sometimes, words are overrated. You slide your arms around his neck and kiss him deeply, licking into his mouth and taking satisfaction from the way he groans into yours.

He holds you flush against his chest, skin to blushing skin. He runs his warm hands down your naked back, familiarizes himself with each and every one of your curves.

Dean’s waited so long for this, he doesn’t know whether to take his time, or just take you right now before someone walks into the open kitchen.

But you make the decision for him.

You break away from his lips to drag his belt and jeans down, just enough to shuffle them past his hips. Dean’s lips curve into a smirk. It would be easier to turn you around and bend you over on the table (and the thought is pretty fucking appealing right now).

…But he wants to see your face. He wants to know, looking in your eyes, what you want from him and how his touch makes you feel. 

So he helps you free his straining cock from his boxers to line himself up to your entrance.

With his arm wrapped around your waist to support you, and a hand on the table, Dean sheathes himself inside you. You both release shaking breaths as he bottoms out, stretching your inner walls and wrapping firmly around him.

“Fuck,” he grunts.

You nod at that, wiping the dewy sweat forming above his brow. He flashes you a grin, one you recognize from his younger, more boyish days. It’s a welcome sight, and you smile back and wrap your legs around his hips. If possible, it buries him deeper inside you. He groans.

“Damn, baby,” he says, panting for breath. “Haven’t even started yet, but you might just kill me.”

“There are worse ways to go,” you tease.

He snorts at that. In their line of work, isn’t that the fucking truth.

When he begins to slide out of you for the first time, you brace yourself with a hand at the back of his neck and another on the table. Dean begins a steady rhythm, one that serves you well as you get used to the size of him.

But eventually you urge him on faster, your nails scraping through his hair and against his scalp. He groans and drives into you at a clip that makes your toes curl and a keen high in your throat.

He spills hotly inside you when he comes.

You know you shouldn’t have let him, but you wanted to feel him, wanted to hold him the way he held you. And you do so, stroking his cheek and drawing a thumb across his full lower lip as he shudders.

But Dean isn’t satisfied, not until his fingers further part your folds and find your still sensitive clit. He rubs and circles insistently, until you can’t help but give him your second release, shuddering a moan as you cling to him. He holds you with an arm wrapped tight around your lower back, pressing your breasts against his chest.

You both pant for breath. His cheek rests alongside yours, and both of your eyes close for a moment. You brush your fingers more gently through his hair.

“Dean,” you start to say, but the sound of the bunker’s door unlocking makes you both freeze.

“Shit,” Dean mutters.

You can’t see them from the kitchen, but you hear Sam and Jack come in. Oh fuck.

Dean reluctantly detangles himself from you and wrestles up his underwear and jeans. Meanwhile, you hop off the kitchen table to grab your dress, pulling it on as you look for your bra and panties.

Sam calls your name, then Dean’s. But the two of you ignore him as you try to silently scramble around.

You manage to find your bra, but you don’t have time to put it on. You shove it behind the toaster. Then you find a napkin to wipe off the rest of your lipstick.

Meanwhile, Dean finds his black shirt. He hesitates when he sees it’s stained all over with flour and dried eggnog, but he puts it on anyway. (He won’t realize until later that his hair and shoulders are flecked with the stuff, just as his lips and chin are still smudged with your lipstick.)

He grabs the green flannel you throw at him, and he finds your panties tossed in the corner. He raises up the black lace in his hand and smirks at you with waggling brows.

“Give me that!” you whisper-hiss. The slick between your thighs is already becoming uncomfortable, along with the chill on your bare ass under the dress.

But instead of obeying, Dean winks at you and pockets them instead. You gape in disbelief as he flees the kitchen, presumably to disappear into his room. It leaves you in a…sticky situation, so to speak.

Sam calls your name questioningly when he comes around the corner. He pops into the kitchen with a few Walmart bags in hand. Sticking out of one of them are some stockings, you notice.

“Hey, how’s the baking going?” he asks.

“Good!” you say, though your voice is far too high and chipper. “Good. Just about to get them into the…oven.”

You turn and realize you haven’t even pre-heated the oven. You do so after pressing a few buttons, and you go to the fridge to grab the tray of chilling dough.

Sam raises a brow at you, especially when he sees your frizzy hair, and the flour stained across your bottom.

But he wisely doesn’t comment.

Later that night, Dean lays on his bed. He’s long since showered, fully clothed, arms crossed while his music plays from his laptop. But he can’t make himself focus on anything else but you.

How it was to finally have you; not just the give of your soft curves under his hands, but the sound of your voice coming apart in his ear, the way you’d begged him, at times teased him, and then gave him a run for his money with your wily hands and tongue.

Dean’s had all of that running through his head for the rest of the damn day.    

And there were stolen looks at dinner that evening. Furtive smiles. Brief, innocent touches. Moments where you blushed down to your neck, and he had to hide his amusement. (Even if his brother had noted his apparent good mood at dinner.)

But between Sam and the two angels hanging around, Dean hasn’t had a chance to talk to you after what happened in the kitchen. He doesn’t want you to get the wrong idea.

If you want it to be, he’d said, when you asked if this was going to be a one-time thing.

He hopes he made himself clear—that this is not that kind of deal. Not for him.

Now that he’s gotten a taste of what he couldn’t have, and worse, now that he knows you want more from him…he just can force himself to let go this time.

There’s a thought that he doesn’t want to face. It’s been buried so deep, for so long, that he can’t even commit it to the forefront of his mind.

But it’s there.

Despite the hell he attracts like flies to shit, he wants you. Not for one night. Not just for kicks. He wants you to stay arguing with him about stupid shit, taking his teasing and dishing it right back—like making fun of his slippers and how much he secretly likes country music.

He wants you with him and Sam on hunts, even though it also makes him worry. (But he worries much more when he knows you’re out there, hunting alone.)

Dean thinks about you when you’re not around, more often than he’d like to admit. So today, he finally had to face the truth.

He wants you. More than he’s wanted anything in a long time. And he wants to find out what it’ll be like to try this for real, with you.

The thought that you still could be thinking otherwise, wondering, doubting him, has Dean going mildly insane.

It’s not right, and he takes pride in righting wrongs.

So he decides to break out of the confines of his room to find yours. It lies down the hall and to the left; he knows because you take the same room every time you stay at the bunker, which admittedly, isn’t as often as he likes. Maybe they can change that…

“Oh. Hello, Dean,” says Castiel.

Dean inwardly curses as the angel comes from the opposite direction. Already he’s tilting his head in curiosity.

“It’s late. Feeling peckish?” he asks.

“Uh, yeah,” Dean replies. He moves past the angel and continues down the hall.

“Dean,” the angel calls to him.

Dean pauses, looking over his shoulder.

“What?”

“The kitchen is the other way,” Castiel points in the direction in which he’s going.

“Uh…well, yeah,” Dean says. “I just, uh…”

Cas’s head tilts just so, confusion soon replacing his curiosity.

“Never mind,” Dean waves a dismissive hand. He’s forced to follow his friend down the hall, away from your bedroom door which lies just inches away.

He doesn’t know that you can hear the entire conversation from the safety of your bed, comfortable in your pajamas. You have to stifle a giggle as you listen to Dean fumbling. You have a feeling you know where he’d really been headed.

So you take your phone out and text him.

Foiled by Columbo once again, you tease.

Moments later, Dean texts you back.

More like cock-blocked.

You snicker at that. You still haven’t given back my panties.

And you ain’t getting them back. They’re spoils of war.

You roll your eyes. But then Dean starts typing again.

Just to recap. Today: not a one-time thing.

Your smile grows and warms, like melted butter.

Good…can we talk tomorrow?

It’s a date, he says. And a beat later. Merry Christmas, beautiful.

You realize it’s officially 12:00 a.m. Christmas morning. You have a feeling it’s going to be a good one.

Merry Christmas, Dean.

AN: 😏 Well then. Merry Christmas, indeed. Let me know what you thought of Part 2!

Next Time:

Dean takes your hand and leads you downstairs to the garage.

There you find the remains of your car, which has rusted out parts strewn haphazardly all over the ground. You raise a brow. This is how he fixes your car? 

“You are so not winning the bet.”

Or will he? 😉

Find out in PART 3.

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#If You Want It To Be #Part 2 #spn #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female reader #dean winchester x you #tgwrcjulyevent #dw's witch events #Christmas in July! #Christmas fic #dean winchester smut #friends to lovers #sam winchester #Castiel #Jack Kline #TGWRC #dean winchester #fluff #mutual pining #supernatural #smut #zepskies writes

[vastill]

Hi! So I love your writing, and I was wondering if you could do a melissa schemmenti x female reader, where reader has body image issues, and Melissa just comforts her and shows her how beautiful she is? (can be smut or not) thank you so much if you end up doing this!

Mirror

Melissa Schemmenti/fem!reader

warnings: hurt/comfort, body image issues

words: 1500+

My requests are open!!

English is not my first language!!

A/N: hello, im back. i hope that you will like what i wrote. tbh i was struggling, the break i had from writing really threw me off. but here is some soft melissa for all of you! i hope you like it! and let me know what you think!!💚

Melissa noticed how you grew distant from her. She saw how you were much more in your head than normal and it worried her that you were carrying a burden that she wasn’t aware of. She noticed the change in how you dressed, the clothes started to become looser with every day. It was like you were trying to hide yourself from the world. From her.

It pained her to see you struggling but you turned her down every time she asked, so she observed you from afar. Melissa carried the weight of her concern silently, wondering how she could approach the subject delicately without making you feel uncomfortable.

And on one day when she returned home from school, she heard quiet sobs from your shared bedroom. Never in her life had she walked this fast. That’s where she found you standing in front of the mirror, tears streaming down your cheeks. And her heart broke into pieces, she never wanted to see you like this. She was mad at herself why she didn’t help sooner, but it was in the past. She needed to take action now.

She approached you slowly, not wanting to intrude. “Sweetheart.” She whispered gently, but nonetheless, it made you jump. You weren’t expecting her to be home so soon, or did you lose track of time? You quickly wiped your tears. But Melissa could see through the facade, she knew you too well to be fooled by a forced smile. “Hey, what’s happening? I’m really worried about you. I see that something is bothering you and I’m all ears, baby. I don’t want you to carry this alone. I love you, and whatever it is, we'll face it together.”

You felt a mix of emotions, fear of what she could think about you when you tell her about your thoughts. What if she finally sees you as you see yourself? And hope, maybe you wouldn't need to face it alone. Melissa is a kind woman, you were almost sure she will understand but this small part of uncertainty paralyzed you. You wanted to tell her everything, but the words seemed trapped within you. How can you tell the woman you love that you hate the way you look?

“I-I, Mel I don’t know how-Fuck, Mel I’m so sorry.” You looked at her and started crying again. She quickly came to you and hugged you. She guided you to the bed, holding you close to her. “Take your time, sweetheart. Breathe in, breathe out. We have all the time you need.” She whispered next to your ear, stroking your back comfortingly.

“I thought I could handle it on my own. But it’s too much and I don’t know how to fix that. I don’t know.” You whispered backing off from the hug. Melissa took your hand in hers and squeezed to tell you she was here and listening. “I always had problems with how I look. I never really liked it, since I can remember I wanted to look like someone else, just not like me.” Tears weld up in your eyes again. “And when we started dating it disappeared, you made it disappear and now when I’m finally happy it came so strong. I can’t look at myself, I don’t want to see me because I know it will only make me hate it more.”

“Oh sweetheart, why didn’t you tell me sooner? I can’t bear the thought of you struggling with it all by yourself.”

“I didn’t want to burden you with my problems. I wanted to fix myself alone but now I know it’s not possible.” You told her with a shaky voice.

“You don’t need to fix yourself. You are perfect just the way you are and I would give anything for you to see yourself like I see you.” Melissa said, her hand wiping tears from your cheeks. “You are the most beautiful person I ever saw. You are perfect inside and out.” She stood from the bed and walked to the mirror. “Come here sweetheart, I want to show you something.”

“Melissa, I really don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Do you trust me?” She asked. “With my life.”

She smiled at your response. “Then come here, just for a moment.” She said, taking you by the hand and leading you to stand in front of a full-length mirror. She stood behind you, her arms wrapped around your waist, her chin resting lightly on your shoulder. As you gazed at your reflection, she began to speak softly, her hands moving over your face and through your hair.

“Do you see those lips, darling?” She whispered gently, her thumb sliding across them. “They’re the lips I want to kiss every day when I wake up, every opportunity I have. And those eyes? The perfect color I fell in love with. They tell your story, what you have been through. But how I love when they shimmer when you are laughing.”

Her hands travelled down to your cheeks, which she stroked gently. “And those cheeks… how they blush when you’re flustered because I said something to tease you. Or this nose you scrunch every time you see what Janine brought for lunch,” she chuckled, her breath warm on your ear.

You laughed through your tears, but Melissa wasn’t done. Her fingers traced patterns over your arms, and she rested her head on your shoulder. “You see these arms?” she murmured. “These are the arms I want to be held in every night. I seek comfort in them, and you always offer it to me without hesitation.”

She moved her hands to yours, twining her fingers with yours. “And these hands… don’t get me started on them. Your touch always sends a shiver down my back, no matter how many times you stroke my arm, comb my hair, or make love to me. I always feel it.” You felt your cheeks flush at her words, but you couldn't help but feel grateful for her love.

Her hands stopped at your stomach for a moment, but then she lifted them to place them gently at the center of your chest, feeling the rise and fall of your breath beneath her palms. “And this,” she said softly, “your heart. It's the most precious thing I'm glad to say I have in my possession. It beats with the rhythm of your life, keeping you alive and giving you the strength to face each day. It's a symbol of your love, your passion, and your courage, and I promise to cherish it always.” She leaned in closer, her breath warm against your skin, and you could feel your heart beating faster in response. As she looked up at you with her deep, soulful eyes, you knew that your heart was safe with her and that together you could face anything that life might throw your way.

“You are more than what you see in the mirror, darling. You are a beautiful soul, with a kind heart, and a strong mind. Your physical appearance doesn't define you, it's just a small part of whom you are. But always remember, you are loved and cherished just the way you are, and nothing can ever change that.”

You looked at yourself in the mirror, and for the first time in a long while, you saw beyond your physical appearance. You saw the person that Melissa had described, the person who was more than just their appearance.

You turned to face Melissa. “Thank you, baby. Thank you so much.” You took a deep breath and continued, “Thank you for being you, helping me in all of this. I know it’s just the beginning but I don’t know what I would do without you. You have given me the strength to face my fears and to confront the demons that have been haunting me for so long.”

Melissa's eyes sparkled with emotion as she listened to your words. “I want you to know that I love you, just the way you are,” Melissa said, her voice soft and gentle. “You are a beautiful person, both inside and out, and nothing can ever change that.”

You felt a sense of peace and happiness wash over you, knowing that you had someone like Melissa in your life. Someone who loved you unconditionally, who believed in you, and who would never give up on you.

“Thank you, baby. Thank you so much for everything. I love you more than words can say.”

And with that, you leaned in and kissed her softly, feeling the warmth of her lips against yours, and the love in your heart overflowing.

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #wlw fiction #wlw post #abbott elementary #lisa ann walter #vastill

[arvandus]

Closet Space - Mammon x F!Reader

AGELESS BLOGS AND MINORS DNI! YOU WILL BE BLOCKED!

This is a birthday gift for @silverrings-n-prettythings (happy birthday, you fabulous bitch!) and takes place during the OM! 2023 Halloween event (loosely based, creative license was very much utilized...).  Also, disclaimer that I have NOT completed the original game yet (I’m on Chapter 29).  Therefore, discrepancies may abound.

Content warnings:  18+ NSFW content; fem!reader, female!reader; reader is dressed as a sexy nun (for the birthday girl 💚); oral (f receiving), fingering, finger sucking; reader gets lifted up, held, and carried by Mammon (he’s a demon, okay?); rough(ish) sex; some dirty talk; the L-word is dropped cuz this man is canonically a simp.

“RUNNNN!!!”

You stared wide-eyed as Mammon ran full speed at you.  He closed the distance within seconds and before you could even respond, he grabbed your hand and started pulling you with him.

And just in time, too; behind him was a mummy in hot pursuit, its eyes gleaming red, its crooked fingers outstretched and leathery mouth gaping.

You instantly fell into step next to him, your hands still linked, the high heels of your knee-high black boots clicking on the floor.

“What the hell happened?!” you demanded.

“I don’t know!” he replied.  “We were all working at the café, and suddenly they all went apeshit!”

You struggled to stay level-headed, especially considering Mammon was the one who was so scared of monsters.  But you couldn’t help the fear that tightened your spine and sharpened your senses.  The short, tight dress of your sexy nun costume threatened to hike up dangerously high as you tried to hold it down with a free hand, and your boots were killing your toes as you prayed you wouldn’t twist an ankle.  This was not the outfit you should be wearing while getting chased by a monster.

Mammon glanced down at your feet, his cheeks flushed. “How the hell can you run in those?!”

“I can’t!” you retorted.

You knew you were slowing him down, and you glanced back to see the mummy was quickly closing the distance.

“Mammoooonnnn!!!” you warned.

He glanced back and yelped, the mummy’s reaching hands inches from your backs.

“C’mon, slowpoke!” he yelled.

He yanked your hand, making you lose your balance and fall into him.  In a matter of seconds, he scooped you up in his arms and burst into a full run down the deserted hall of RAD.  The mummy behind you roared in anger, and you stared with wide eyes as the gap between you began to widen.

Mammon turned the corner and entered the main hall where the double staircase twisted up to the second floor, the black iron balcony high above.

“Hold on!” he ordered.

“What??”

Suddenly you were flying, buoyant in the air.  Or at least it felt that way, with the way the floor shrank beneath you. You watched as your nun’s hat blew off the top of your head and drifted down, down below you.  You yelped and clung to his neck, burying your face into his shoulder.

It was brief, lasting mere seconds, then suddenly you felt the impact of his boots against something hard.  You opened your eyes just in time to see his thin bat wings fold and vanish, his demon form once again tucked away. You looked down and realized he was perched on the balcony railing like a bird of prey.

“Wait, did you just fly?” you asked.

“With these skinny ass wings?? Nah, I jumped. The wings helped with balance and gliding.” Mammon replied as he hopped down with you cradled in his arms.

He set you down, his hand once again holding yours tightly.  “Demon, remember?”

“Like I ever forget,” you teased.

You both looked down below to see the mummy had made its way to the base of the stairs.

“Damn, he’s persistent...” you commented.

“Shit, shit, shit, let’s go!”

And then you were running again, but apparently not fast enough for Mammon, because he once again scooped you up in his arms, his hands hot against your bare thighs.

As he ran, his face lit up. “I have an idea.”

“NO,” you said immediately.

But he didn’t listen.  He bolted with purpose down the hall until he reached the double doors of the cafeteria.  He kicked his way through and made his way to the kitchens as you watched the double doors swing back and forth behind you.  It was dark, the cafeteria closed for the evening.  But even so, the doors were loud, and it took them forever to stop their swinging.

“Where the hell are you going??” you demanded.  “Those doors don’t even lock! He’s just gonna follow us!”

“Quit yer yappin’!” he scoffed as he pushed past another door.  He was in the kitchens now, rows and rows of counters, ovens, and stoves surrounding you. The only light in the space was the furnaces still burning low, keeping the coals hot for tomorrow’s breakfast.  It cast an eerie muted warm glow throughout the room.

You looked at where he was going, and then you realized.

“The pantry?! Seriously?!”

But before you could stop him, he opened the door and stuffed the two of you inside.

It was pitch black, and you both stumbled against each other.  Your hands reached out and found all four walls easily within a half a step’s distance.

“What?? What is this? Why is this pantry so small??” You asked.

“It connects to the larger storage room, but they lock it up with magic because they know Beel would clean it out if they didn’t,” Mammon muttered.  “There’s like... ten of these and they call connect to the same room.”

He was close to you, really close. Close enough to feel his warm breath against your hair.  Your hand found his chest, your fingers brushing against the fabric wraps of his mummy costume that he wore. You heard him inhale sharply at the contact.

“Hey—” he started.

But his words were cut short by the sound of a deep bellowing howl.  The mummy had finally reached the top of the stairs.

You both froze.

“Mammon... does this pantry door lock from the inside?” you asked around a tight throat as you began to fumble for some sort of latch.  “Like to keep Beel out?”

“Don’tcha worry.  I worked in the kitchens before to pay off some debt and learned the spell to get in the storage room.  Once we’re in, the magic will hide it again. I just gotta say the incantation.”

“Well, get to it then!” you whispered harshly.

“Yeah, yeah! Don’t rush me!” he snipped back.  “Okay, okay.... let’s see...”

He muttered the words, and you waited. And waited. The magic pulled, shuddered.

Nothing happened.

“Well that did a whole lotta nothing,” you commented dryly.

“Shaddup! Lemme try again.” He muttered the incantation again, his voice a little louder, a little firmer, his palms pressed against the shelves.

Again, nothing happened.

“What?? I don’t understand! Why isn’t it working??” he said.

“Mammon, are you sure you even remember the spell correctly?” you replied.

“Tch, of course I do!” he replied, his voice rich with indignation.

“Is it possible that they changed it?  Like changing a password or something?”

“Wait... hang on a sec...” he muttered.  You felt him moving next to you, his arms outstretched, and you could feel his hands touching the objects on the shelves. It was the sound of glassware clinking, bags rustling.  It was nearly pitch black, and you didn’t dare turn on the light, lest it shine beneath the door and give away your hiding place.

Mammon’s hand bumped something, and it fell to the floor with a loud, shattering crash.  You both flinched against the noise and waited with bated breath as you both listened.  A moment later, the unmistakable sound of a monstrous growl and the double doors slamming open resounded, and you both jumped.

Your breaths were coming in faster now.  “It’s here....” you whispered.  You clutched the sleeve of his jacket in a death grip.  “Mammon!”

The scent of spices began to hit your nose, drifting up from the broken container at your feet.

“Wait... “he muttered. He bent down and touched the powder with his fingers and sniffed.  “No...”  He stood up and opened another container and sniffed it, and then other.  “Shit! No, no, noooo....” he muttered.  He laid his head against the closed door.  “This is the wrong one.”

You felt the blood drain from your face.  “What?”

“It’s the wrong pantry! This one is just spices!”

“So?? What does that even mean?”

“It means it’s not connected to the storage room!”

“Why the hell not??”

“I don’t know, that’s just how they designed it! Ask Barbatos, he probably knows!”

“Mammon!!!” you whispered harshly.

“Hey, it’s not my fault!” he protested.

“Yes, it is!!”

“No, it’s not! I was distracted!”

“By what??”

“By the damn mummy chasing us!” he retorted.  “And you, dressed like that...”

You did a double take.  “Excuse me??”

The sound of something hard scraping against the cafeteria floor snagged both of your attention.

“Why did you have to be a sexy nun?? With that tight dress, and those boots...” Mammon muttered to himself.  “It’s okay, it’s okay... we just gotta think of... something.” Mammon let out an excited gasp.  “Hey! You’re an apprentice now, right?? You know any good spells?”

Your brain was still stuck on the ‘sexy nun’ comment.  Another scrape of noise, the sound of one of the cafeteria tables being bumped, regained your focus.

“Me?? What about you?? You’re thousands of years older than me!!”

“Yeah, do you think I’m spending all that precious time staring at spell books when I can be out there earning cold hard Grimm??”

“Ugh,” you groaned.

Another scrape, closer this time, followed by the sound of one of the stacked chairs clattering to the ground. Mammon’s arms were around your waist in an instant, holding you tight against him.

“Shit, shit, shit... hurry!” he whispered into your ear.

“Okay, okay, just... shut up and let me focus,” you muttered.

His hands released you, and you felt along the edges of the door, tested the shape of the door handle.  A binding spell, or a weaving spell? Which would be better?

“Okay, I think I got it...” you whispered.

You placed your hands on the door and began to chant.  As you chanted, your hands began to move, following the seams and leaving a trail of faint, pale light before vanishing like ripples on a pond.  You did the doorknob last, weaving the binding spell thick and taut.

“That should do it.”

The door to the kitchen banged open and you both jumped.  Mammon yelped, and you covered his mouth with your hand.  Once he was quiet, you removed your hand and you both waited and listened.

One, two....

Three.

Then you heard it.  The sound of scraping, dragging footsteps and raspy breath. It was getting closer, closer...

Your heart was pounding wildly in your chest, your palms sweating.

But it was Mammon who was really starting to lose it.

“No, no, no, no.... he’s gonna find us!” he whispered.

“Mammon!” you whispered back.

You heard a loud bang, the sound of a door being thrown open. Then the shuffling of footsteps, and another bang.  The mummy was checking all of the closed doors.

“No, it’s too late! He’s gonna find us! I’m too young to diiieeee,” he whimpered.

You could feel your eyes roll into the back of your head.  “You’re a demon! You’re not gonna die!”

But he didn’t hear you; his breaths were coming heavy and fast now, and your frustration was starting to morph into genuine concern.

“Mammon...” you tried again, your hand against his chest.

You could feel the movement of his body, could tell he was shaking his head in the darkness.  You covered his mouth with your hand just as the shuffling footsteps stopped right outside the door.  Then you heard it.  The jiggling of the doorknob.

It didn’t open. Your spell held, the knob giving off a faint glow as the magic activated.  With it, you caught a glimpse of Mammon’s terrified eyes as he stared at the door. The dim light faded as soon as the hand released the knob on the other side, once again plunging you into darkness.

It happened again, the shaking of the knob harder this time. But again, the magic held, the light shining slightly brighter than before.  Mammon whimpered against your palm, his arms finding your waist again as he clung to you.

“Mammon, pleeeease...” you begged in the faintest whisper against his ear.

The light dimmed again.  There was a long pause.  Just when you thought the mummy had left, a loud series of bangs resounded against the sealed door.  The edges glowed, the framing illuminating the small pantry space.  Mammon yelped into your palm, and your heart nearly tore out of your chest with how quickly it was pounding.

If the mummy heard him... if he learned that you were both in here...

You had to shut Mammon up.  You had to distract him.

You grabbed the thick collars of his jacket and yanked him down into a kiss.

His mouth crashed against yours, lips warm.  He froze, eyes wide in the darkness, lit against the pale glow as the mummy tried to the doorknob one more time.

The doorknob stopped jiggling and the light disappeared, once again plunging you into darkness.  One breath, two, you counted as you kept Mammon’s lips pressed against yours.  Just as he began to overcome his shock and wrap his arms around you, you heard the shuffling of the monster’s feet as he trudged away.  You pulled away, your body hot and sensitive.

You waited a couple more minutes with your ear to the door before finally braving a whisper.  “I... I think he’s gone... maybe he went to go find someone else?”

Mammon was uncharacteristically quiet.  You cast a lighting spell, and a small orb of orange light lit up the small pantry.  You tossed it up gently and it floated over your heads.

“There, that’s better...” you muttered as your eyes began to take stock of everything. 

The shelves were well stocked with various questionable devildom ingredients.  Mammon was right; it was the spices pantry, rows upon rows of glass containers with various labels on them. Eye of newt, ghost garlic, howling peppers.  You noticed the broken container on the floor, red powder scattered with Mammon-sized footprints pressed into it.  On the higher shelves sat various pickled ingredients: rabbit feet, bat wings, toad eyes...

But your attention to the pantry space was overshadowed by the heavy stillness that lingered behind you in the form of one unusually quiet greed demon.  Mammon’s silence was becoming torturous, and finally, knowing you could no longer avoid what’d happened, you turned and looked at him.

It was enough to snap him out of his stunned state.

“What the hell was that??” he demanded.

“What?”

“What do you mean ‘what’? You kissed me!”

“Well, yeah, you were starting to lose it and I had to shut you up!” you retorted.

“With a kiss? Here? Now??”

You couldn’t suppress the grin that blossomed across your face.  “Are you telling me you didn’t like it?”

“Wha- No, I didn’t say that...” he muttered as he scratched at the back of his head, his eyes looking away.

You stared at him for a long moment, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Mammon...”

“Hm?”

“You know I like you, right?”

His eyes snapped back to you, his mouth open as he tried to find words.

“Y... you do?” he finally said.  But then a lopsided grin curled up on one side and he straightened up pridefully.  “I mean, of course you do.  I’m the Great Mammon, Avatar of Greed.”

You laughed, rich and light with amusement.  You grabbed him by the wrapped bandages of his costume. “C’mere.”

Mammon’s grin was full now, his eyes gleaming in the warm light.  “You gonna kiss me again?”

“Yes,” you replied as you pulled him closer.

His arms tightened around you, pulling you against him. The scent of his expensive cologne surrounded you, and you fought the urge to bury your face into his neck and inhale.

“But I’m not scared anymore,” he teased.

“Oh,” you replied. You placed your finger to your chin thoughtfully.  “You’re right.  So maybe you should kiss me instead. As a thank you.”

“You want me to kiss ya?” He began to dip his head down, his eyes staring at your lips.  “ Y’know I won’t be able to stop when I start, right?”

“Oh? And why’s that?”

His lips were close enough to brush yours, feather soft.  “Because I’m greedy.”

“So am I,” you grinned.

A small scoff escaped his upturned lips, the warmth of his breath fanning yours for a split second before he kissed you.  Warmth spread throughout your body and you held his face in your hands.

He pulled back for just a fraction of a second to take in your dazed eyes and parted, open mouth.  Then he kissed you again, harder, as his body pressed you up against the sealed door. Your mouth opened for him instantly and Mammon took advantage of it, his tongue meeting yours hungrily. His hand came up to cup the back of your neck while his other held tightly to your waist.  Over and over you kissed, his warm tongue swiping against yours as his hands began to roam, caressing your body with a selfish touch.

You nibbled on his lip and he groaned as his body pressed harder against you, his leg taking up residence between your parted thighs.  You could already feel his hard cock pressed against your leg from within his pants, twitching eagerly against the restraining fabric.

“Your costume has been driving me fucking crazy all night,” he growled as his hands palmed at your breasts.  His body forced your legs open even wider to make room for him as he stood between them. “Especially these,” he commented, as his fingers tugged playfully on the edge of the knee-high black boots.

You glanced down at your costume with a giggle.  The short skirt was hiked up to your waist thanks to the way he had you spread for him.  It left your panties exposed, pretty and enticing.

Mammon wasted no time once he saw them, his palm cupping the shape of you through the thin fabric as he rolled and pressed his fingertips. You sucked air in through your teeth as sharp jolts of pleasure radiated.

“You better’ve put these on for me and no one else,” he growled.

Your breath shuddered from your chest as you struggled not to buckle under his firm touch.

  “Only you,” you replied.

“Good,” he whispered, and then he kissed you again, his tongue stealing your mouth.

His fingers continued to rub circles through your underwear, your wetness causing the fabric to glide easily across your sensitive skin as it soaked through, hot and slick.  You moaned into his mouth, and it spurred him on, his fingers pulling the panties aside and dipping into your wet heat.

Your body was more than ready, your walls slick and welcoming as he pushed one finger in, curled it, and then followed it quickly with a second, pushing deep into you until his knuckles were pressed against your folds. His other hand tugged the edge of your top down just enough to expose your breast, your nipple captured between his thumb and forefinger.

You gasped, your lungs filling hungrily with air as your nerves sang.  Then you exhaled, the breath carried on a wanton moan as he curled his fingers against your soft walls while his other hand rolled and pinched.

“Fuuuck,” he muttered against your lips, his breath hot. “You’re so fuckin’ hot...”

He kissed you.  Then Mammon pulled his fingers out slowly and pushed them back in.  Your eyes rolled and your mouth moaned. 

“I’ve thought about this so fuckin’ much,” he murmured as he watched you intently, “...fisted my cock every damn night to the thought of havin’ you just like this.”

Mammon pulled his fingers out again and then pushed back into you swiftly, harder, his palm grinding against your clit.  You yelped, your spine straightening as your head fell back against the hard wood of the door.  He stared in rapture and did it again.  Your fingers clung to his shoulders, your nails digging into his jacket.

It was everything Mammon had hoped for, everything he’d wanted.  Every whine and moan, every gasp and spasm were like little gifts of worship that you left on his golden altar.  It only spurred him on, eager to hear more, see more, take more. 

He began a steady, hard pace with his fingers, curling his tips on their retreat and grinding your clit on his return.  Your yelps turned into breathy whines, his name on the tip of your wet tongue and swollen lips.

He grinned devilishly. “You like that, huh? You like when I fuck your pretty pussy with my fingers?”

You were too enraptured by the sensations he was stroking in you to respond, your mind going dumb against the rapid onslaught of pleasure, and he chuckled.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, baby... gonna spoil ya, treat you the way you deserve.”

Mammon was everywhere; his fingers deep in you, the scent of his cologne surrounding you, his hot breath painting your lips.  He stole wet kisses from you with his tongue before trailing his mouth down your jawline.  He sucked on your neck harshly, pulling at the sensitive skin where your pulse fluttered wildly. It ached, sharp and rich, and you knew the mark would linger for weeks, and somewhere in your dazed mind, you thanked him.

But then he was moving further down, his teething grazing your collarbone and down your cleavage until he found your nipple. He took it into his mouth and bit it between his pearly white teeth with a growl.  Your body jolted, your hands pushing against his shoulders instinctually, but he did not relent.  Instead, his tongue lathed over the tender flesh and he began to suckle.

“M-Mammonnn...” you begged as you finally found your voice.

He released your nipple and continued to crouch lower and lower, until his face was level with your exposed, needy cunt.  His fingers still worked you, but they slowed considerably, causing you to whine.

He stared up at you, his blue-gold eyes dark with hunger.  “You haven’t been with any of my brothers, right?”

You vision focused, the seriousness of his tone forcing you to concentrate on him. “No,” you replied. “I p-promise. No one else...”

“I’ll be your first,” he said firmly.  “And I’ll be your last.  No one else is allowed to have you, ya got that?”

“You’ve always been my first,” you confessed. “I don’t want anyone else.”

He smiled at that, lips pulled into the sexy grin that you loved so much.

Then his mouth was on you, tongue dragging mercilessly across your swollen clit.  You gasped, deep and rich as your fingers tangled into his white locks and tightened on his roots.  He moaned against you, his voice reverberating into your core.  Mammon removed his fingers from you and in a single swift motion, he grabbed both of your thighs and put your legs over his shoulders.  You yelped as your body weight shifted against the door, but between his shoulders his hands gripping your ass, and the hard wood at your back, you were held steady.

The shift in your position forced your cunt harder against his face, and his tongue dived into your folds as his nose nudged your clit.  He licked and sucked, moaning like a starving man as he devoured you.  He relinquished your ass cheek with one hand, trusting in his shoulders and the door behind you to hold your weight as he pushed his wet fingers back into you, pumping them in a steady rhythm.  Your hips began to roll and buck, your fingers clenched into fists upon his head as you grinded yourself against him.  It built rapidly, faster than you could manage.

“Mammon!” you cried in warning.

You came hard, your body wracked with wave after wave of hot euphoria.  It rolled through you in shudder after shudder, the pleasure pushed out on decorated moans.   Your cunt throbbed needily around his tongue, his fingers, aching for more, more...

Your orgasm hadn’t even fully finished before he was removing his fingers from you and setting you back down on shaking, weak legs.  He came back up to face you, his mouth capturing yours in a hungry kiss as you whimpered against him.

You were torn between the aftermath of pleasure and the lingering sensation of feeling incomplete.  God, you wanted more of him, needed to feel him in you, hitting you deep and filling you up...

Before you could even so much as speak, his fingers were in your mouth, drenched in your arousal.

“Suck,” he ordered.

Your lips closed automatically, swallowing your juices off his long digits as they pressed against your tongue.

He laughed, breathy and light, as his eyes drank in the ruined sight of you.  “Look at ya, so fuckin’ greedy... I knew you were perfect for me...”

As you sucked his fingers clean, his other hand was quickly undoing his belt buckle and then his pants.  He’d barely gotten his cock free before he was lining himself up with your sopping, messy hole and pushing himself into you.  You moaned around his fingers, your eyes rolling back into your head as the filthy sounds of profanity fell from Mammon’s lips like prayers and promises.

His free hand lifted your thigh up against his hip as his body, hot and sweaty, pinned you against the door. You took every inch, every centimeter, your walls stretched and burning at the size of him, reigniting the nerves that hadn’t even had the chance to mellow before he began to fuck you.

Your legs were already weak from before, your heels making it difficult to stand.  Mammon removed his fingers from your mouth and hooked his forearms behind your knees and lifted you with ease, pinning you against the door with your knees drawn up on either side of you.  It rendered you helpless, the shift in the angle allowing him to hit you deeper until you were seeing stars.

Mammon fucked you harder, his hips pistoning his hard cock into you at a relentless place.  You clung to his shoulders as your whines and pleas grew louder, higher.  It was too much, the pleasure too rich, too sharp, it felt like wildfire...

“Fuck, you’re so fuckin’ pretty,” he moaned between his heavy panting.  He kissed you, hard and sloppy, his mouth conquering yours as if he were searching for the residual taste of your cunt on your tongue. “I love you. I love you, I love you...” he chanted.

He adjusted his hold on your thighs slightly and his pace shifted, his cock pounding, faster, deeper, a greedy pursuit of a high he’d longed for ever since he first laid eyes on you.  It hit your sweet spot over and over until it ached, throbbed, and finally you were shattering, your second orgasm ripping through you, harder than before.  You cried out, and Mammon laughed, thrilled at the sound of your pleasure.

“Yeah, let ‘em here ya baby, fuck.  Let ‘em know who you belong to.”

But then his own words fell away, and he burst with a groan, loud and heavy as he buried his face into the crook for your neck.  His cum was hot, like fire, and it filled you up, and still he fucked you through it, savoring, reveling, until it oozed down his cock and soaked his balls, his pants. 

With a final thrust, deep and hard, his cock spasmed the last drops and he moaned low in satisfaction.

Your world spun, dizzy and tumbling with lightheadedness as you gasped heavily for air.  Mammon was still for a long moment, his sweaty forehead pressed against your collarbone as his hot breaths coated your chest.

Slowly, he lowered your legs until you could wrap them around his waist.  Then, with you still held in his arms, you both slowly slid down the door until you were sitting in his lap, his softening cock still tucked snuggly in you.

You stared up at the ceiling, dazed, as the orange orb glowed and hovered, flickering like a candle.  The air was hot and stuffy, rich with the smell of sex and spices.

You tangled your fingers into his hair at the back of his head and scratched along his scalp tenderly, and he groaned contentedly.

“I love you too,” you finally rasped around tired lungs.

Mammon sat up finally and looked at you, his arms still around your waist.  “Do ya?”

You smiled at him.  “Yeah.  I do.”

He kissed you tenderly, his gentleness returning now that his lust had finally been satiated... for now.

“Good,” he replied. “Cuz I meant it when I said it.  I love ya more than anything.”

You smiled and kissed him back.  “I know,” you replied.

You leaned your head back against the door and closed your eyes.  Mammon laid his head against your chest as he snuggled you.

“Mine,” he muttered.

You giggled and ran your fingers through his hair.  “Yours,” you replied.

After a few long minutes of silence, you finally spoke.

“Mammon...”

“Hm...?”

“I have a confession.”

“Yeah? What is it?”

“I don’t know how to undo the binding spell on the door.”

“..... WHAT?”

#mammon x reader #mammon x mc #mammon x you #mammon x y/n #obey me! #obey me mammon #mammon obey me #om mammon #om! Halloween 2023

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Ok ok hear me out, the turtle brothers and the reader on Christmas?

Don’t forget to take care of yourself! Get food, water, and rest! You are wonderful and amazing! Happy holidays! 💕

🎄🎁

💜💙🧡❤️🐢

Christmas Crush Stories (Fluff)

2003!Turtles x reader

A/N: So, I am Danish, and we celebrate Christmas on the 24th, which is tonight. I don’t know a lot about American Christmas food or traditions, but I’ll see what I can do. So here’s a quick one before the family gets here💙❤️💜🧡🐢 PS. It started snowing big time as soon as I started writing this😂💚

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Some small Christmas stories with the turtles and you, their crush💚

Warnings: Christmas fluff and chaos🎄

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Leonardo:

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”, Leo asked as he watched you, standing on top of an impossibly tall ladder, all to decorate a damn Christmas tree. Who’s idea was it anyway to get a tree so tall, that not even the ladder could reach the top? If Leo could find them he would give them a stern scolding. Just because it was a long way to the ceiling of the lair, that didn’t mean their tree should go up all the way! “It’s a far drop, (Y/N)”.

“I got it, mom”, you teased, poking out your tongue at him, making him cross his arms. You knew very well that Leo only meant the best, and that he was only looking out for your well being. “Besides”, you continued, picking out another brightly coloured glass orb to place on the tree. “Someone has to decorate the tree”.

“I would much rather have a naked Christmas tree than you getting injured”, the leader in blue retorted, looking unimpressed at the tree. How dare it be the reason you would put yourself in danger.

“Relax, Leo”, you said, closing your eyes as you rolled them, causing him to uncross his arm, ready to catch you in case you would fall. Okay, maybe he was a worry hen, but closing your eyes was a recipe for disaster! “Nothing is going to happen. I’m a grown woman! I don’t fall from a ladder. Have you seen me in high heels?”

“Yeah, but when you fall while fearing high heels, the fall wouldn’t break your bones”, Leo said, feeling himself getting more and more anxious.

“I’m not gonna fall, Leo”, you sighed, getting just slightly more frustrated. In the beginning his worries were cute, but now they were starting to plant the first roots of irritation. You let go of the ladder to place your hands on your hips. “Will you please stop worrying? I’m not a child-”.

You and your big mouth. Of course the ladder shook under you, causing you to yelp in surprise and lose your balance. It happened so fast. You fell off the tall ladder, plummeting towards the ground in what felt like less of a second. Leo was just as fast, having seen this situation happening a million miles away. He was ready right underneath you, catching with ease, holding you in a bridal style. Your face burned hot under Leo’s gaze, not just from the fall, but the close proximity of his face to yours.

“Are you still sure it’s a good idea?”, he asked, letting a smug smile show.

Raphael:

“You don’t get to hawk the mistletoe all day”, Raphael grumbled at Casey, as April walked away from him one more time. Casey sighed, having hoped that this was the way to finally get a kiss from her. And it didn’t help that his red clad terrapin friend was now bugging him. “Some of us also have plans for tonight”.

“Good luck”, Casey said, stepping out from under the mistletoe on the clothing line, hand on his head, thinking of a new way to gain April’s attention. “If (Y/N) is anything like April, the only kiss you’ll get is a knuckle kiss”.

“I’ll manage”, Raph smiled as he jumped to get the mistletoe down from the clothing line, before setting out to find his long time crush; you.

You weren’t very hard to find, as you had been in the kitchen most of the day, making dinner with Mikey, Splinter and some of the turtle’s other guests. Raph managed to catch you, right as you were leaving the kitchen, trapping you in the doorway, his sudden appearance making you jump back in surprise.

“Long day, (Y/N)?”, he asked, a friendly smile on his lips. Goodness, he hoped that this would work. You still didn’t seem to have noticed the mistletoe he was holding over your head.

“Obviously, Raphael”, you said, sounding a little bitter. Oh, crud. That hadn’t been part of Raph’s plan. “I have been in the kitchen all day, and have you been helping? No! Your brother and father have been so nice to help me, but you? No! You have been playing mistletoe hunt with Casey and April!”

“Uhm… (Y/N)”.

“Christmas Eve is tonight, Raphael, and it would be nice with some help!”

“(Y/N)...”

“What?!” Raphael pointed towards the mistletoe in his hand above your head. The sight making your blood boil once more. “So that’s why you wanted to talk! I’m working my ass off in the kitchen, and you want to kiss!?”

“N- no, (Y/N), that was not-”.

“Come here you!”

But before you could manage to land any punches, Raphael started running, with you closely following on his heels. Casey saw this and started clapping his knees in laughter.

“I told you, Raph! Hahaha!”

Donatello:

“Did you know that in Denmark, they eat duck instead of turkey for Christmas?”, Donatello said, watching you and April work in the kitchen. Or you, more specifically. Sweet Donnie had been walking after you all day like a lost puppy, spouting random facts about Christmas, all in an attempt to keep your attention on him. Poor fellow didn’t seem to know any other way of doing so.

“Is that so?”, you asked with a small smile. You knew about Donnie’s little crush on you, and you had to admit that you found it very adorable. He would blabber about whatever small fact he had learned, sharing everything he knew with you. And you enjoyed every minute of it.

“Yeah”, Donnie said, smiling bright at your interest in his small facts. “They also eat something called browned potatoes, which is like caramelized potatoes made with butter and brown sugar”.

“Okay, that actually sounds pretty good”, you said.

“Yeah, it does”, Donnie smiled. And then he continued on with his many random facts and information. Like said before, you enjoyed every minute of it. You liked having Donatello around, and to be honest, you love hearing him talk. But April, not so much. You see and feel how she was growing more and more frustrated with Donnie’s continuous talking. So you decided to take action into your own hands.

“Hey, Donnie”, you said, causing him to stop in the middle of whatever he was saying.

“Yes, (Y/N)?”

“Can you keep an eye on these for me?”, you asked, pointing towards the boiling potatoes on the stove.

“Of course!”, Donnie said, stepping in beside you to take a look at the potatoes. That was when you leaned in and placed a kiss on his cheek. Donnie let out a sound of surprise, before placing a hand on where your lips had met his skin. He turned to look at you with wide eyes. “W- what was that for?”, Donnie asked, his face burning hot.

“Well, in Denmark, when someone helps you in the kitchen during Christmas, you’re supposed to kiss them”, you smiled with a shrug.

“R- really?”, Donnie said, a smile spreading on his blushing face.

“No”, you laughed, placing your chin on his shoulder. “I made that up. But you did really look like one that could use a kiss”.

“Well, I think I could use more than one”, Donnie mumbled, fiddling with his fingers.

“Then I guess I’ll have to catch you under the mistletoe”, you said.

That comment caused Donatello to leave the kitchen in a hurry, screaming and yelling. “Casey! Raph! Quit playing around! I need that mistletoe!”

Michelangelo:

“Drop the snowball, young lady! Or you will be arrested!”, Mikey yelled at you from behind a tree, his beanie and scarf almost covering his face.

It was almost Christmas. The snow was laying in a thick layer in Central Park, so you and your best friend Michelangelo decided it was the perfect opportunity to take a night stroll through the park. But with you and Mikey being the way you were, that stroll had pretty quickly ended up in a snowball fight. It had now turned into you having backed Mikey into a corner behind the tree, searching and praying for an opening in your attack.

“It will take more than the turtle police to get me!”, you yelled back with a laugh, throwing the snowball just as Mikey looked out from behind the tree. He managed to duck, just as the ball flew past his face.

“Turtle police?! It is the Turtle Titan you’re talking to!”, he yelled, throwing a snowball blindly in your direction. You dodged that with ease.

“Is that so?”, you asked in a teasing manner. “Then come and get me, oh mighty Turtle Titan!”

That was the opening and motivation Mikey needed, He jumped out from behind the tree, dodging the balls you threw his way. “By the power of the mighty Turtle Titan, you’re going down, (Y/N)!” And with that he started running after you.

You yelped and started running in the opposite direction. But Mikey and his mighty ninja skills and trained legs managed to catch up with you easily. But even a trained ninja would not fight the power of an icy path. Mikey slipped and yelled, causing you to turn just in time before he fell on top of you, causing both of you to fall to the ground. Your back against the ground with Mikey on top of you.

“What was that for?”, you asked.

“I thought you would like to make snow angels”, Mikey smiled down at you.

“If that’s the case, then why are you still on top of me?”, you teased.

“I don’t know. You seemed cold”, he said. You caught him looking down at your lips for a second, causing you to sigh loudly.

“If I kiss you, will you get off?”

“Yes ma’am!”

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt donatello #tmnt leonardo #tmnt raphael #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt raph #tmnt donnie #tmnt mikey #tmnt leo #tmnt 2003 #tmnt 2k3 #tmnt 03 #tmnt x y/n #tmnt x reader #tmnt x you #tmnt 2003 leonardo #tmnt 2003 leo #tmnt 2003 raphael #tmnt 2003 raph #tmnt 2003 donnie #tmnt 2003 donatello #tmnt 2003 mikey #tmnt 2003 michelangelo #tmnt 2003 x reader #tmnt leo x reader #tmnt leo 2003 #tmnt leonardo x reader #tmnt leonardo 2003 #tmnt 2003 leo x reader

[pixelatedraindrops]

A little drabble scenario idea I put together for @snivyartjpeg’s Kokolight Vampire AU 💜💚🦇

To Care for a Sick Vampire

Yuma seems to be even more tired/weak than usual one day and Vivia notices that something is wrong with him. He asks him if he wants to feed on any of his blood to possibly re-energize him. But to Vivia’s surprise, Yuma refuses the offer outright.

“You look tired, Yuma… Are you…hungry? Do you need to feed? I will provide for you anytime you ask…”

“…No.”

This concerns Vivia but then he notices how pale and sickly Yuma looks, even more than usual. He puts his hand to Yuma’s cheek, but it wasn’t warm. Of course not, he’s a vampire. They probably don’t get fevers to begin with since vampire blood runs cold. But he definitely wasn’t well, that much was certain.

Vivia decides to slice the palm of his hand with his large boxknife he keeps in his pocket and places it in front of Yuma’s face.

“You…need to eat, Yuma… Even if it’s just a little bit…otherwise…you won’t feel any better…”

Yuma looks hesitant at first but then complies as the scent of Vivia’s blood does tempt his urges despite his weak state. He leans his head down slowly and weakly licks and laps the fresh cut on Vivia’s palm. He does it very slowly, but he has a small expression of relief. Even if he wasn’t well, he did still want to eat. But he didn’t want to consume large amounts of blood in this state, in his fear of possibly losing himself due to the weakness and sickly feeling that he felt.

He didn’t want to cause any further trouble for the agency, especially the Chief now that his secret was out to him. He also didn’t want to unexpectedly hurt anyone if his blood urges had gone out of control. It wasn’t safe for him to be blood drunk right now.

At least, that was his worry since he didn’t really understand how his vampiric urges worked due to his amnesia. But he didn’t want to take any chances if his current state wasn’t in good condition. He couldn’t risk causing any more trouble for everyone.

Even if that meant… starving himself.

Thankfully, this small amount of blood that Vivia provided for him seemed to suffice well enough. He stops lapping the cut, looking up to his tall human partner above him.

“…Thank you…Vivia…”

After a very small feeding, he transforms into his little lilac bat form and he tries to fly. But he was still too weak as he falls downward face down toward the floor. But Vivia catches him in his hands just in time.

“You’re too weak, Yuma… I will offer more to you…after you rest for a bit…”

Yuma spends the rest of the day resting/sleeping on Vivia’s hair/lap/shoulder/arms. The poor thing was trembling the whole time. And Vivia continued to feed Yuma very small amounts of his blood whenever he looked too weak, to which the tiny sickly bat would slowly lap up like a delicate little newborn kitten. Over time, Vivia ends up with multiple cuts on his left arm.

Later, Yakou enters the sub safely after seeing that the two were not doing anything TOO weird while they were alone. Seeing Yuma in bat form probably meant they were done. But then he looks to Vivia in shock noticing his left arm is covered in bloody self inflicted wounds.

“Vivia!? What happened to your arm?! Okay, what kind of crazy blood ritual did you two do this time?!”

Vivia gently places his right uninjured hand to where Yuma lay, and a soft weak sounding squeak came from the tiny little bat as he was touched. Yakou also settled his freakout down as he heard the weak bat’s cry.

“Yuma is…not feeling well so…I’m giving him only small amounts of my blood for now… But the blood of the cuts…don’t stay fresh forever…”

“Oh, I see… well that’s not good. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Just…leave Yuma to me, Chief…”

Yakou didn’t argue. After all, he had no idea how to care for a sick vampire.

“Okay, but don’t you dare die from blood loss, you hear me?!”

Vivia smiled without saying a word further.

It looked like it was now Vivia’s turn to look after and take care of his weak little vampire partner for the day. Time to repay the favor for all the times he looked after him.

~~~~~

#rain code #yuma kokohead #vivia twilight #yakou furio #kokolight #vampire au #pixelfics #sickfic #sicknario #vivia is my second caretaker of choice behind yakou for yuma #the size difference is way too good #yuma being tiny sickly and weak #and vivia being his tall protector #i just love it so much <3 #so I came up w this little idea #idk if this counts as a fic tbh its more like a summary #sorry if I got any vampiric lore wrong I admit im no expert #I have to put yuma through it again #who do you all think I am? x’D #vivia taking care of bat yuma like a person takes care of their sick pet #he’s your responsibility now vivia you can’t be lazy this time lol

[hookhausenschips]

Burning Rubber

Chapter Seven

F1 Masterlist

Burning Rubber Masterlist

Word Count: 4,853

Summary: Feelings arise amidst Azha’s condition. Lando doesn’t want to leave her side in fear of losing her, but his job calls him to race. The other boys gain more insight on Azha’s dark past.

Warnings: angst, anxiety, details of surgery, mentions of blood and other body parts, illusions to death, bouts of grief, acceptance of potential death, graphic content, mentions of abusive relationship, toxic, cheating, flashback, mentions of miscarriage.

Author’s note: The longest chapter I’ve written for this series, I could stop writing. If any of the things mentioned above make you uncomfortable feel free to skip this chapter💚

previous next

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Third Person POV

After the nearly six-hour drive to the hospital, the group had arrived. Finding it easier to take two vehicles rather than four with the driver’s luggage in the trunk as well. Many tears were shed that night, many thoughts that couldn’t be said aloud. They had parked and rushed inside. “Excuse me but you can’t be here without a visitors badge.” One of the receptionists spoke as the group went to rush past her. Ja Khel turned towards her. “I don’t give two fucks about a visitors badge. I just drove six hours to make sure my sister isn’t dead. Take that badge and shove it up your ass you fucking idiot.” He seethed. The woman gasped in shock. “Ja Khel!” Giana shrieked and slapped him on the back of his head. She then turned to the young receptionist, “I’m sorry, we had a terrible night tonight as he said. Do you know where Azha Skye is?” She asked. “Oh, you’re family of the drift racer? I’m a big fan. Sorry, now isn’t the time. Let me check for you.” The young woman said as she began typing. She looked back to the group, “It seems they still have her in surgery, the waiting room for that is on the fourth floor. Once you reach there you continue down the hall and make a right then it will be right there. My thoughts and prayers are with you.” She said as the group all rushed to the elevators.

Sitting in the waiting room felt like years for the group of drivers. Charles and Carlos had texted their girlfriends about Azha knowing the girls had become quick friends. Lando had stepped out of the waiting room as he called the Quadrant group. “Hey, mate! How’s California?” Niran asked over the group FaceTime. The group added their greetings until they noticed Lando’s tear-stained face and bloodshot eyes. “Lando, what’s wrong?” Max asked concerned about his best friend. Lando sniffled as he sat in the hallway, “Azha..” he trailed off. The group felt their stomachs twist in anticipation, Lando took a breath trying to calm himself and stop the incoming tears. “Azha got into an accident. We’re not sure but it’s very bad. They lost her pulse twice at the scene. She just looked so broken.” He whispered. The group gasped. Ria covered her mouth in shock as tears sprung to her eyes. Max felt like he was going to throw up. Niran, Ethan, and Steve paled in the face. How could something like this happen? They all knew the risks the girl took but for it to actually come to fruition, they were all in disbelief.

“Are you alright?” Max questioned as Pietra hugged him in comfort. Lando shook his head. “Other things happened tonight but the last thing she said to me was that I ‘should leave and go back to my perfect f1 life and that I shouldn’t be there’. She said it with so much anger. But I can’t bring myself to hate her like she hates me. What if she doesn’t make it? What if those are the last words she ever says to me?” He began to sob. The group all felt their hearts shatter at their friend’s painful confession. Ria took a breath, “Lando she doesn’t hate you. If she did she wouldn’t have said anything. She still cares, she’s trying to protect us all from her lifestyle because she has seen things we haven’t. She could never hate you.” Pessimistic thoughts continued to plague Lando’s mind. “She won’t even speak to me. Let alone look at me for fucks sake.” He spoke as the group tried to comfort their friend while also trying to comfort themselves

After what felt like days a doctor had come out into the waiting room. “Are you family of Azha Skye?” The group all looked up and nodded but before the doctor could speak, “There’s one more out in the hallway, I will go get him.” Carlos spoke. The doctor nodded as the group’s eyes followed the Spaniard. Carlos found his friend around the corner on the phone. Lando not noticing his former teammate spoke, “I love her too much. I don’t think I could live or love again if I lose her. She makes everything brighter and colorful in a world of black and grey. After a shitty race her voice melts away my anxieties, and her laugh… her laugh makes everything else in the world disappear. I don’t have to think about being a Formula driver around her. I can just be me. What if I don’t get the chance to ever tell her?” The Spaniard felt his heart clench for his friend before speaking, “Lando, the doctor is here.” Lando looked up in shock before telling the quadrant crew goodbye and that he would keep them updated. “You didn’t hear that did you?” Lando asked. Carlos gave a sad smile, “I did. But no need to worry, your secret is safe with me.” He patted his friend’s shoulder as they made their way back to the waiting room.

“So we stopped a majority of the bleeding in her abdomen. Unfortunately, her heart did stop during the surgery, but we were able to revive her. During the crash, she sustained some hefty injuries, and she will have to go through some physical therapy. She suffered a broken leg, and a few broken ribs that punctured her right lung, and she suffered some head trauma as well. From the results of her brain scan, we could tell she has a subdural hematoma by her right ear. Which is bleeding between the brain and the skull. This is causing the blood to push against her brain, which is what I have come to discuss with you. The surgery that is. We will have placed her in a medically induced coma to help take that pressure off her brain afterwards. She is still in critical condition but we will keep monitoring her. Do you have any questions?” The doctor explained. “Will she be able to remember anything? Will she feel the pain in her coma?” Giana asked. The doctor nodded, “She will remember everything except for maybe a few days before the accident. She will feel some, but not completely.” He said the group nodded. “What is the surgery? Does it need to happen?” Jirani questioned. “I will not be the one performing the procedure, but it will not harm her. It is vital that she gets the surgery.” The doctor spoke. The group felt sick, they couldn’t imagine the pain the poor girl was in. “When is the surgery?” Jirani asked. The doctor cleared his throat and looked at the clock ‘6:27 am’, “I will need for one of you to sign some papers and the surgeon will come explain everything that you need to know about the surgery here shortly.” He explained, Ja Khel stood and left with the doctor to go sign the paperwork needed.

Around 7:15 am, the surgeon arrived in the waiting room to discuss the surgery. “Hello my name is Dr. Hailey Vasquez, I will be the one performing Azha’s surgery this morning.” The woman spoke as she shook every member of the group’s hands. She then sat across from them, “Right so I’m assuming you have been informed by my colleague about Azha’s condition. With critical cases, like Azha’s, this surgery must happen. With an acute subdural hematoma it is caused by serious head trauma strong enough to cause blood vessels to rupture, it then causes the blood to pool in space below the dura mater which is a membrane between the brain and skull. The blood pooling there can cause damage to the brain and its tissue, this can cause her to have problems breathing, paralysis, seizures, or if not treated it will kill her.” Lando flinched hearing those last few words, “The operation is very simple. It is called a craniotomy, which is where the surgeon, myself, creates a temporary flap in the skull. The hematoma is gently removed using suction and irrigation, where it's washed away with fluid.” She explained to them. “What are the risks or the side effects?” Keyani asked. “The side effects and risks of surgery are an increased risk of bleeding, having blood clots, or infection but this will be a very slim chance. We will have her monitored very closely. The risks of having this condition are brain hernias, seizures as I mentioned, and repeated bleeding if she was an older adult.” She spoke and the group sat in silence taking in the surgeon’s words. “We will begin the surgery here shortly. Then once she is placed into her room you all can come visit. I will be here after the surgery to debrief you while they have her settled in her room. Alright?” The group nodded and stood to thank the doctor before she left.

“When are your flights to Abu Dhabi?” Ja Khel asked the drivers. “Tomorrow.” Answered Max, Carlos Charles, and Daniel. “Tonight,” Oscar spoke. They all looked at Lando, “I’m not leaving.” He spoke firmly. The group all looked in shock. “Lando it’s the last race of the season, you can’t just not show up. Zak will have both our heads.” Oscar said. Lando shook his head, “I don’t care, I’m not leaving her. They can fine me all the money in the world, I could care less.” Giana felt her heart warm noticing the love the driver held for her sister-in-law. “She wouldn’t want you to miss the race,” Charles spoke, the others agreeing. “You’re not changing my mind so drop it,” Lando spoke before standing up and leaving the waiting room. The group all looked at each other. After a few moments of silence, “So how long has he had feelings for her?” Jirani asked. The drivers smiled, “Since the beginning basically.” Max answered. “He never shuts up about her,” Daniel added. “He’s beating himself up about the fight they had when she was in Jamaica. He’s not himself without her.” Carlos told them. Jirani nodded, “Although she acts differently, she loves him too. She tries to hide it to keep herself safe from another heartbreak. She’s pushing him away because she’s scared and she doesn’t want a repeat of Giannis.” He explained to the drivers.

“Who’s Giannis?” Charles asked. Ja Khel, Jirani, Giana, and Keyani all looked at each other. “He’s her ex-fiancé. But a straight-up manwhore. He was cheating on her the entire relationship, only using her for the trips that came with her drifting career. We didn't find out how bad it was until the end of their relationship. He was putting his hands on her. Azha was always a fighter but when it came to that scumbag she didn’t fight back. It was like she accepted that he was all she could ever have. Like she couldn’t do better.” Giana spoke. The boys all looked at each other in shock and anger. “We know Lando would never do those things and deep down she does too but she doesn’t want to be hurt again. Even though pushing him away is hurting her just as much if not more.” Keyani added. “How did they break up?” Daniel questioned. “Long story,” Giana spoke.

Azha sat in the living room reading the messages between Giannis and another woman plus the positive pregnancy test she had taken right next to it. He promised he was done with this she thought to herself. She shook her head as she turned the page in her binder that held all the evidence of his infidelity. Soon she would confront him once he walked through the door. She couldn’t live this way anymore. She looked down at her legs and arms the bruises, some fading some still dark from yesterday’s assault. Hearing keys jingle at the front door she stood from the couch. The man she loved walked through the doorway of the living room. “Giannis we need to talk.” She spoke. The man groaned, “Azha I’m not doing this right now.” “Then when Giannis?” She spoke following him into their bedroom. “You’re never home anymore. It’s time we have this talk. I’m tired of you ignoring it.” Giannis rolled his eyes as he sat on the bed taking off his shoes. “I’m not ignoring anything. I’m just tired of hearing you complain about everything I do. As if I’m the one doing wrong.” He said. The audacity Azha thought.

“You are the one doing wrong! Fucking other bitches when I’m gone on the road or when you’re with me at races. Instead of being the good fiancé you’re supposed to be supporting me during my career, you find comfort in the arms of other women. I have been nothing but loyal to you. I’ve cut off almost everyone for you! And what do I get in return? Nothing!” She could feel the tears threatening to fall. Giannis stood up, “Shut your fucking mouth. Who are you to yell at me huh?” He raised his hand, slapping Azha across the face. Azha fell to the floor, sobs wracking her body. “You’re not fucking leaving. I will fucking kill you before you ever leave.” He seethed grabbing her by her hair and dragging her to the stairs. He then proceeded to throw her down the stairs. Azha was crying and begging, “Giannis please stop. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean it.” The man laughed mockingly, “Oh you didn’t mean it. Bullshit Azha, you’re always saying shit to piss me off. Do you enjoy making me mad?” He said as he walked down towards her. Grabbing her hair once again, he dragged her into the living room.

Throwing her down onto the floor, he kicked her in the ribs. Azha felt the air leave her lungs at the impact. “Come on get up. You want to leave so badly get up and walk out the door. No one will ever fucking want you especially with how fucking fat you’ve gotten. Look at how pathetic you are. You think you can do better than me, maybe I should beat some sense into you.” Giannis said as he planted another punch to her face. Blood poured from Azha’s mouth and nose, the latter broken. He then spotted the binder and laughed, “You really think anyone is ever going to believe this shit.” He began looking through it. Raising his foot he stomped on the girl’s abdomen. “Look what you’re making me do Azha. You’re the one making me hurt you.” Giannis spoke, his voice full of venom. Then grabbing the girl and slammed her head through the glass of the coffee table. “Stupid fucking bitch.” He muttered. Azha lay on the ground, the glass surrounding her bloodied and broken body. Giannis continued to bloody the girl. He climbed on top of her wrapping his hands around her throat. As Azha coughed up blood she began to think ‘If this was the end then so be it. I hope my family knows how much I love them. That the baby and I didn’t suffer long’. She began to feel the air leave her body and Giannis choked her. She began to black out. Satisfied with what he had done, Giannis stood and left to shower before leaving the house.

A couple hours later Azha woke up, her body in immense pain. She could see her phone underneath the couch. She tried reaching for it but screamed from the pain. She bit her lip and tried to crawl closer to her phone. Pain shot through every nerve of her body. She could taste blood from biting her lip so hard it had reopened from when Giannis split it. Sighing in relief, Azha unlocked her phone and went to Keyani’s number. Her eyesight blurry she pushed the first button she could see. The familiar tone of FaceTime rang through, Azha propped her phone against the now broken coffee table. “Hey girl what’s- Azha oh my god!” Keyani screamed which alerted the rest of the house. “Where are you?” Keyani demanded. “Home.” She garbled as she began to feel lightheaded again. “Okay stay on the phone. Jirani!! Ja Khel!” Keyani yelled trying to find her keys. “Why are you screaming?” Giana asked the younger woman. “Where’s the guys?” Keyani asked frantically and damn near hysterical. “Keyani breathe they’re in the garage. What’s wrong?” Giana sternly asked. “It’s Azha.” Was all she said before running out the door with the other woman right behind her. “Ja Khel! Jirani! Start the car we have to go now!” Keyani yelled running into the garage. The boys looked at each other and their uncle’s. “Baby, what’s going on?” Jirani asked. “It’s Azha, she’s at home and she’s all bloody.” She said handing him the phone. The men gasped seeing the still image of the girl lying there on FaceTime. “You two stay here. Call 911.” Ja Khel spoke. “No! We’re going.”

Arriving at Azha’s house they found that the front door was locked. Ja Khel began to kick the door down, the girls had called 911. “Azha!!” Ja Khel yelled as he entered the house with his brother and uncles. They all spread out through the house searching for the girl. “I found her!” One of the uncles alerted picking up the girl and taking her outside. “Is she breathing?” Keyani asked. Checking for any sign of life, he felt her pulse was weak. “I’m starting CPR. Tell the damn dispatcher the ambulance needs to hurry the fuck up.” Their uncle spoke. Soon enough they heard the sirens of the ambulance and police arriving. The paramedics jumped out and took over CPR while hooking her up to get her vitals. Her brothers and the rest of the uncles walked outside hearing the commotion. “I’ll go with her,” Giana said as they placed the girl in the ambulance. The group nodded, Jirani could feel the item in his pocket begin to burn a hole. Before they could be questioned by police he reaches into his pocket, “Guys.” They all look at the male. “She’s pregnant.” He said showing them the pregnancy test. The group all looked in horror.

“Her heart stopped on the way to the hospital,” Giana spoke. Max, Carlos, Daniel, Oscar, and Charles all looked at each other in shock. “She had lost the baby. That was the only part she was devastated about.” She added. “What happened to Giannis?” Carlos asked, Ja Khel and Jirani looked at each other. “He was handled before taken to jail,” Jirani spoke shortly. “How far along was she?” Oscar asked. “14 weeks,” Keyani answered. The boys sat back in their seats in shock. Never did they think someone like Azha who is the epitome of sweet, compassionate, loving, and caring could have gone through what she had.

Clearing her throat Giana stood, “I’ll go check on Lando.” She spoke before walking out. Walking down the corridor she took a deep breath trying to calm herself down, remembering that day was like a nightmare to her. Shaking the images of Azha’s swollen and bloodied face from her mind. She spotted the driver sitting on the floor with his face tilted to the ceiling, his eyes closed. She slowly approached him, not wanting to startle him. She sat next to him, the driver could feel a presence next to him but kept his eyes shut. “You know at the beginning of my and Ja Khel’s relationship I used to push him away the same way Azha is doing to you.” The girl whispered. Lando opened his eyes and looked at the older woman questioningly. She continued, “Sure he was cute but I wasn’t interested in a relationship. But the more we hung out together I realized I really liked him. I got scared and began to push him away. Still, he persisted, he told me ‘I know you’re scared to confront this but I’m here to help you explore it. I’m not going anywhere no matter how much you try to make me leave. I’m not going to unless you can look me in my eyes and tell me you want me to leave’ and you know what I did?” Lando shook his head, “I couldn’t do it because he was right. I wanted him to stay. I wanted to explore this love. I was just scared of that feeling. Lando, that girl is enamored by you. She may have been acting like a bitch to you but those feelings run deep. It might not seem like it to you but you have to keep pushing back. Show her you’re not leaving. You both deserve to experience the love you both have for each other.” Giana spoke placing her hand on his and lightly squeezing it.

Lando felt tears well up in his eyes for what felt like the millionth time in the last seven hours. “I never got the chance to tell her.” His voice cracked. Giana pulled the younger man into her arms, and he began to sob in her arms. She tried to soothe him as he spoke every thought and feeling he was experiencing. “She will make it through this. You will be able to tell her exactly how you feel.” She spoke as the boy continued to cry out his feelings into her shirt. Later, Ja Khel rounded the corner in search of his fiancé, worried she had gotten lost. He seen the young driver asleep as his fiancé held him. She always had that motherly sense about her even before the two had their kids. He smiled at her as she returned it, “They have her settled in her room. Surgery was a success.” He whispered. She nodded, “Give him a few more minutes, he needs it.” Ja Khel hummed in agreement as he sat next to his fiancé. They all do. Soon Lando began to stir, opening his eyes and assessing his surroundings. He realized he was asleep in Giana’s lap. He sat up and began to apologize once he realized Ja Khel was there as well. The couple hushed the male. “Lando it’s fine, I know where your heart is. You needed the rest anyway after last night. The doctor came while you were asleep, Azha is in her room and the surgery was a success.” Ja Khel spoke. Lando nodded and the group stood up and headed back for the waiting room.

They all took turns sitting with the girl, she looked peaceful considering the circumstances. Lando sat there beside her bed. Her hand was cold in his, the only indication of life was the beeping of her heart monitor. The ventilator breathed for her. He didn’t want to leave her side ever. He couldn’t bear the thought that she could slip away while he was racing on the other side of the globe. He heard a voice call his name, “Lando.” He looked around the room and spotted her standing at the door. Oh now he has really begun to lose it he thought. “Lando, do not put your life on pause because of me. I will still be here when you get back.” Azha spoke walking towards him and placing her hand on his cheek making him look at her. He shook his head before leaning into her touch, “They can find another driver.” He stubbornly said. “Now you’re just being ridiculous, you’re lucky I can’t smack you or I would. You need to go race in Abu Dhabi. Not just for yourself, do it for me, Lando. Finish the race I couldn’t.” Was he really talking to her he thought? “But-.” “No buts. If you don’t go race and fuck up your career by sitting in that seat all depressed so god help me when I see you, I will run you over. Oh too soon?” The girl spoke. He nodded, “Fine. I’ll race but I’m catching the first flight back here.” Before he could speak he felt his body being shaken. “Lando, you have to eat something. Come on wake up.” Giana spoke. Blinking he looked around, Azha lay there the same as she had when he first entered the room. It was just a dream he thought solemnly. He sighed and nodded, thanking the woman for the food.

Arriving in Abu Dhabi two days later, Lando still felt bad leaving Azha’s side. ‘Four days, four days and I’ll be back’ he thinks to himself as he walks the media pen to begin the first set of interviews. Oh, how he didn’t miss media days now.

Lando had been struggling this weekend. First, with FP1 he has to sit out because of the reserve drivers. He wasn’t mad at them of course, it gave him a break from driving for the day and a break from overthinking about Azha. Then during FP2, Carlos crashed causing a red flag for almost half of the session nearly. Then Nico had crashed, Lando groaned hearing that another red flag was out and he had to return to his garage. Driving was the only thing keeping his mind off of Azha and he couldn’t even do that. Ja Khel, Jirani, Giana, and Keyani kept him updated on her condition. She seemed to be bettering as the days progressed. FP3 and Qualifying went as smoothly as they could. He had scored P5 on the grid for today’s race.

He was sitting in his car as he waited for the go-ahead to start the formation lap. He wondered how Azha was doing right then. The last thing he heard was that the doctors were taking her off of the ventilator yesterday.

Skip to end of Race

Lando had finished fifth in the final race of the season with his teammate right behind him. The same position he started the race. He was still angry about Perez colliding with him, but all he could think about was finishing his interviews and catching a flight to California. Back to her.

Azha’s hospital room, Azha’s POV

What the fuck was that annoying beeping sound and why wouldn’t it shut up I think to myself. I tried to lift my hand to smack at the sound but something stopped me. What the hell is going on? I open my eyes and wince at the lights although dimmed, they still hurt. This sure as hell isn’t the house or the garage, where am I? So many questions fly through my mind as I look around. A hospital? I spot Giana, Jirani, and Keyani all asleep around my room. I noticed Ja Khel watching the TV, it played the F1 race. I groan, why does he have that on? He must’ve heard me because his head snaps towards my direction. “Azha?” He whispers. “Yeah?” I croak. He flies out of his chair for the door yelling, “Nurse! Nurse!” Which then wakes up the other three. A group of nurses come in, brightening the lights and I flinch. Why the hell would you do that? “Ah Miss Azha, glad to see you’re awake. Do you remember anything?” The nurse asked, I shook my head no and took a sip of water another nurse handed me. The nurses looked at each other before she looked at me, “You’re at Zuckerberg Trauma Center in San Francisco. You were in a pretty severe car accident.” She said. Car accident? “It is normal to not remember, you should regain some memory of it in the upcoming days. I will alert the doctor that you’re awake. She will be here shortly.”

Abu Dhabi

Lando was in his driver’s room packing up his bag to head to the airport. He had brought his luggage with him figuring it would be easier to just grab it and go instead of having to stop at the hotel. His phone had begun to ring. Rushing over he seen it was Ja Khel. Lando answered immediately concerned about Azha’s condition. “Hey Kel, what’s up? How is she today?” He said expecting to hear the same ‘She’s still in a coma. Breathing on her own’ spiel. But he would be forever grateful for those updates. “She’s awake.” Lando heard the man speak. Lando almost dropped his phone at the statement. His heart began to hammer in his chest, hands starting to sweat. “She’s what?” He asked. He had to make sure he wasn’t dreaming so he pinched himself hard. Flinching he realized he was in fact not sleeping. “Lando she’s awake.” Ja Khel repeated. Lando rushed packing everything into his suitcase before rushing out the door and headed to the rental car. “I’ll be there in the morning. I will text you when I land.” The Brit spoke. Ja Khel smiled as he watched his sister talk with the nurses, “See you then.” They said their goodbyes before hanging up. The weekend had gotten brighter for Lando, all because of her once again. She made his world brighter like he had told the Quadrant crew.

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