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mllechartreux · 2 years ago

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Catches you Reading Smut

Summary: Reading the nasty around them.

Content: Suggestive themes, very meta. Eren, Armin, Mikasa, Levi.

W/C: 1.5k

A/N: This was fun and cute to make, please enjoy!

Masterlist

Eren

Eren was sitting on the floor playing video games, his head resting between your legs on the couch. He had been playing Halo for the past hour while you scrolled through various social media sites before settling on reading fanfiction. Now while you weren’t specifically looking for smut, it was always a welcome bonus. In this one, the main character went home with the tattooist, and to top it all off, the tattooist was the tsundere type. Can you hear her purring? You squeezed your lips together to keep from squealing and smiling too hard, no other story could have scratched this itch better. You were scanning the screen, so engrossed in the hot, rough foreplay the characters were having you didn’t notice your thighs rubbing together. Well, it was assumed they were rubbing together.

“The hell, Y/N?” he was in the middle of a campaign and couldn’t look at you, but it didn’t matter, you barely acknowledged him.

“Right babe,” completely unaware your thighs were rubbing against his cheeks while your core sat like a furnace on the back of his neck. Your characters were finally getting to the pentrative sex part when you started reading the lines on your hands. This would’ve been cool if you knew palmistry, and if you weren’t reading dirty, filthy smut just a second ago. Your entire body except your head froze as you looked up to see Eren had paused the game and was reading the fanfiction under his breath.

“So what I’m getting from this is you’re so horny you have to read porn now too,”

“First of all, why are you snatching phones?” hoping your deflection would take, he chuckled darkly, it definitely didn’t take.

“No, no, no baby that's not what we’re talking about,” green eyes hungry with lust as they stared at your poorly concealed nervousness, “matter of fact, you got more of these?” he asked, waving your phone in the air.

“Yes,” you drawled, your breath getting shorter.

“Well, since you treated my head like a watermelon why don’t you read more of these to me, it’s the least you can do for giving me a headache.” You couldn’t decide whether to groan at how dramatic he was or agree obediently with where this was headed.

Mikasa

The two of you decided to do a cross country train ride. It was two weeks long, there were multiple stops and for some you even stayed in the city for a day, hotel included. The scenery was beautiful, the ambience calming, and the two of you were in bliss to be in each others’ company for such an extended amount of time. Currently, both of you were in the train sitting next to each other, and while she was occupied with painting Youtube videos, you were finishing a slow burn fanfic you’ve been savoring for the past 3 days. 26 chapters of ‘enemies to lovers’ goodness, filled with comedy, humiliation, and the teeniest bit of angst, and of course you can’t end an ‘enemies to lovers’ fic without smut. Your headphones were in, playing a playlist you had created the day you started reading this fic. So, the background music coupled with the heavily descriptive, sultry sex scene immersed you into its world, placing you as the main character. Next to you, your girlfriend was humming appreciatively at the different techniques and especially the cartoon inspired paintings. In one video, someone had drawn an impressively vivid portrait of the Steven Universe cast. Her mouth formed an ‘O’ as she watched the time-lapsed video, sweetly inspired to produce something similar.

“Love, do you think I could make this,” voice sweet and hopeful, yet still projecting down into her lap where she watched her phone. You didn’t hear her with your mind in the gutter and the bass booming in your ears from the slow, sensual song. When you didn’t answer she glanced over, noticing your eyes were slightly widened and the hand not on your phone was lifted to your face with your pinky nail in your mouth. Seeing you so concentrated piqued her curiosity, leaning into your side, her eyes drifted down to read what had you in such a daze. Your side warmed up and the hairs on the back of your neck tingled causing you to dart your eyes up to her face, looking like a deer in headlights. She continued to read for a moment before meeting your gaze and bringing a hand to your cheek, “I wish you would’ve told me earlier, we should share recs.”

Your face softened and a glint in your eye accompanied the sly smile peaking through.

Armin

You joined Armin in his dorm room claiming his presence would help you focus better on ‘studying’. He was sitting at his desk, turned away from you, looking down at his laptop. He was always so studious and attentive, sometimes too much, but he did hold you accountable when you really wanted to get something done. However, you were really there to focus on writing a smutty fic for a new character you were obsessed with. You probably should’ve been working on homework but you gotta get it while the inspiration is flowing and the motivation is motivating. It was a childhood friends to lovers fic with A/B/O dynamics. You didn’t write A/B/O often but when your breeding kink got the better of you, it was the only thing you could write. You were already 4k words in when it was supposed to be only 2k but you were flowing. You even caught yourself laughing at some parts, “Ooo now that’s good.”

“What’s good babe?” he asked absentmindedly.

“Just how easy it is to work with you around,” smiling at him, it wasn’t really a lie.

Armin had picked up on every time you made a comment, or flinched so hard you made a noise, or even the few times you squeaked. At first he didn’t put much thought into it, but he got suspicious when he figured you couldn’t be reacting this way towards a class you would've never given attention to if you weren’t here. He took a few peeks over at you lying on your stomach on his bed, finding it cute when your legs wiggled in the air. He didn’t really have a plan to find out what you were doing but it all worked out for him when you excused yourself to go to the bathroom. When you came back and saw him sitting on the bed with one hand on your laptop and the other resting on his bulge, you stilled. Without looking up, “I didn’t know you were so filthy starfish.”

Wrapping your arms around yourself you replied, “It tends to come out when I’m feeling… needy, do you like it?”

“I think you’re a genius, when you finish with it I’ll help you take care of your needs.”

Levi

Levi had noticed for the past couple of days you weren’t getting as much sleep, and he didn’t know why. You were starting to move slower, your dark circles and eyebags could be seen from a mile away and worst of all you were making simple mistakes. It was after 9pm when Levi found you in the kitchen, sweeping with a mop. He was too stunned to say anything at first but quickly snatched the mop from your hands and replaced it with a broom, furrowing his eyebrows, “There can’t possibly be a sane reason for sweeping with a mop.”

You smiled at him sheepishly, eyes droopy, mouth opening to answer before closing and going back to sweeping.

“Y/N.”

“You said there wasn’t a sane reason,” you replied, still sweeping, unbeknownst to yourself you had been sweeping the same spot for the past 3 minutes.

He snatched the broom from you, “Go get some sleep, you’re looking and acting shitty.”

You looked at him softly, giving him a peck on the cheek, “Eye eye captain,” making your way to your shared bedroom.

These past couple of nights you couldn’t bring yourself to fall asleep until after 3am, you were currently engrossed in a story about a bodyguard pining after their charge. At first the bodyguard hated their charge but feelings started to develop between the two until they could no longer contain their love, and lust, for each other. It was delicious, and it was so hard to put down at night so of course you woke up tired and slightly delirious. You would read during the day but you had so many responsibilities so you took to reading during the night, on the plus side Levi didn’t go to bed until 4am so you weren’t bothering him with your reading.

You sunk down beneath the covers and opened your phone ready to get a few more chapters in. An hour later, Levi walked into the bedroom expecting to see you sleeping or to help you if you were still awake. Thankfully you were asleep, laying on your side with your phone open and in your hand. He went to plug your phone into the charger when he caught a phrase on the screen, ‘tight hole’. He finished the chapter all while standing beside the bed before turning off your phone and plugging it up. He wondered how you would react if he recited such things to you, definitely determined to find out.

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warystares · 1 year ago

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the way she g l i d e s through swathes of designer suits & diamanté-encrusted dresses with a COMMANDING sort of grace, it becomes difficult to envision angel cardona existing anywhere else ; draped in liquid jewels that catch & reflect light in dazzling fractals that scatter the room, she exudes an OPULENCE far beyond her humble rhinestone roots. but they've always been a chameleon, haven't they ? able to swiftly shed their skin for something shimmery & new ; a carefully curated costume for every room they enter !

they've already been told to remain on their BEST behavior here ― something about leashes, but they'll admit they were preoccupied by the chain lux was wearing ― and for the most part ? they have. but angel is not quite so VIRTUOUS as their holier name might suggest, and they can only be expected to behave for so long ! like a crow, he's drawn to SHINY things. and this particular ship, on this particular night, is rife with them ― angel himself being the BRIGHTEST of all ! a fact played to the entertainer's benefit ; their presence alone is a distraction, dazzling & deceptive.

so she hasn't scavenged too many trinkets ; angel knows better than to be reckless. she's careful. that said, she knows her WORTH. wasting her time is not an option. manicured hands admire the links of a diamond-studded bracelet in the warm light ( no matter how they came about it ! ) until a silhouette approaching catches the corner of a cat-winged eye. and, no, she's got ZERO peripheral vision in this mask ― nearly blinded by her own luminescence at times tonight ― but she could spot TEDDY NOVAK in the darkest corner of a basement rager with her gaze lash-glued shut.

. that's her baby boy !

an endearment that does not come lightly, but one that the musician has EARNED at least a hundred times over so far as angel is concerned. it's something akin to ADORATION, the way she regards him ; a purveyor of intimacy, an entrepreneur in the market of the fleeting flush of LUST, theodore novak is angel's right hand man ― he is the HYPNOTIC NEON STROBE that illuminates skin slick with glitter & sweat, the FILTHY BASS LINE that reverberates in her heart, her limbs, her hips ! even in the most intimate of dances with strangers, his p u l s e permeates every inch of the air around her. if they are close, it is by design. KISMET ! two sides of the same spinning coin, luring in eyes with each hypnotic revolution.

if angel disentangles herself from teddy only seconds after he appears at her side, it's not to create space ; she's listening to every word he says, in fact, and it's a rather IMPRESSIVE feat, the way she maintains contact with his gaze even as both her hands move to take one of his and push back his sleeve so she can clasp the diamond bracelet around his wrist. ( it's silver, and she's worked too hard on this outfit to CLASH over mixed metals ! ) a brow lifts from behind ornate disguise and glossed lips twist into a grin caught at crossroads between curious & confused. ❝ i'm sorry, baby, you said there's a what ? ❞

to be fair, angel is with him regardless ! he just wants to make sure he heard that right. and clearly, he did. ❝ okay, no, but let some dirty ass ocean-dweller say one bad word about me and it will be be PETA reading me for filth ! i'll turn that bitch into a SEPTAPUS, slap her with her own tentacle. ❞ is he serious ? probably not. maybe ? there's not a chance for either of them to deliberate before angel is hooking his arm through teddy's again, setting her sights on the staircase a few dozen paces away. ❝ i'm not worried about getting in― ❞ the truth for a duo rarely denied access wherever they desire, ❝ ―but i have no idea how we're going to find it. what do you think ? start at the top and work our way down ? ❞

𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚃𝚄𝚂 … 𝚃𝙰𝚁𝙶𝙴𝚃 . * ◟ : 𝗳𝗼𝗿 : 𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗹 .

𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐲 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 , even in the press of bodies. of course he does; what's the use of intimacy, if not this? he's lost more nights with angel than he's remembered with pretty much anyone else. teddy knows how she moves in a crowd like he knows his own name. well - poor point of comparison.

truth of the matter is, he can scout angel from a wasteland of suits and sequins for many reasons. take your pick. partly because, you know, look at her. they're all movement, all dynamic circles. in a room of calculated turns and closely held elbows, they stand out like a track turned twice the reverb of everything around it.

partly, sure, it's because teddy has danced with her long enough to read her body in the air. like wavelength; like forecasting. by this point (and what has it been? three, four years at the gravity?) he recognises the way she seesaws her way through open space. it used to be that he could time his music by it.

intimacy, see. who says the world above has a monopoly on it? gravity invented its own way of knowing. the only element that could've made this harder to guess - because there is a catch, always - is that, right now, they both have more clothes on than usual. theodore novak and angel cardona have a fucktruck of things in common, chief among which: forgettable they are not. on average, decent they are also not.

she is toying with something, when he spots her. a glass or a trinket; it catches the light like a lesser pair of eyes. teddy sidles up to them and hooks his arm around their elbow. ″ready, set, go? I heard there's a tarot-reading octopus on the higher floors. and like, I don't even care, ange. you're with me? we have to find a way in.‶

he clicks his teeth. somewhere behind him, chairs get pulled out. cards get pushed in. people's futures get timber-chopped at the poker table. not waiting for an answer, teddy fixes him with a levelled stare. ″have you, angel amadis, ever had a marine creature read you for filth? no? fucking thought so. what's the plan?‶

#✘ angel cardona | conversation #✘ angel / teddy 001 #✘ event | the faceless ship #idk why this got as long as it did angel just does not know how to shut up #anyway thank u for letting me borrow the brain cell this is all i have to show for it

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wandsandwheezes · 4 years ago

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Brat | G.W

George Fabien Weasley is a Brat tamer. This is not up for debate.

WARNINGS // SMUT 18+, rough sex, oral, throat fucking, brat, cheating, consensual relationship, breeding kink, dirty talk, degradation kink, daddy kink, dom/sub, brat taming, Husband!George <3

A/N // I can only apologise to my vanilla beans on this one... its pure, raw filth.

The bass was pumping through your veins as you danced, swaying your hips to the beat against some poor man’s crotch, liquor glazed eyes locked only, however, on your boyfriend from across the dancefloor. He sat with his legs spread on a bar stool, his full body turned towards you as he observed your every movement. George wasn’t mad yet, you hadn’t quite pushed him far enough to get there but he could already feel his own possessiveness begin to creep up on him, while a part of him loved watching other men (and sometimes women) throw themselves at you, another part ached knowing full well he would always be the one to take you home.

Your hand was on the man’s chest as you leaned up to speak into his ear, shouting over the music. The way you pushed up onto your toes with that movement made your ass stick out perfectly, the skirt you were wearing riding up just enough to give your husband something to think about. You liked this game just as much as George did, having set out the clear rules of the relationship, way before you would have let things get this far; he didn’t stop you from kissing other girls at the clubs you went to, he couldn’t deny the way it made his cock twitch when he caught your lips locked with another girls. It would always drive him crazy, seeing you so needy but knowing that the true ache was only for him. You both drew the line at kissing other men however, unless you were searching for a particularly rough punishment, which tonight you were not; only wanting to play.

Your hands were threaded in a gorgeous brunette’s soft shoulder length hair as you pulled her in for a kiss. She smelled divine, like the strongest flower in a whole garden and in that moment you were shocked to feel her pull a more dominant rank in the kiss, her hands firmly cupping your cheek as her tongue explored the dip and curve of your own. It was an unusual experience to be dominated by a woman but it was something you enjoyed, her touch more feminine than George's, but still just as firm, making you weak at the knees. She pulled away, ears pressed against your ear as she spoke.

“Guy in green by the bar can’t take his eyes off you, wanna give him something to stare at?” Your breath hitched in your throat as her lips trailed along your jaw, watching from across the dancefloor as he twiddled with the wedding band, no expression on his face but his eyes were locked on you. You breathed out a ‘yes’ in response to her, her hands coming up to grope at your ass as she went back in for another kiss. Something bubbled up inside George, wanting to tear you away but he was far too pleased with the show. So it seems, a few other men in the club, ogling at the sight of two gorgeous girls causing a scene.

You loved the way other boys would stare, It drove George mad; making him all the more possessive and commanding. When you broke away from her lips again, you caught your husband’s eyes once more, watching as he lazily beckoned you to him with his middle and pointer fingers, his elbow resting against his knee.

“Mm sorry, I’ll be back.” you whined against her lips as she tried to pull you back in, focused now only on George. She gave you a wink as you slipped from her grip, the burning eyes of your lover drinking in the sight of you, making his heart beat out of his chest in sync with the bassline of the pulsing song playing.

“What was that all about, doll, hm?” his hand found your hip as you nestled between his thighs, your head resting innocently on his shoulder as you caught your breath, still winded by the intense kiss.

“You know I like it when other boys give me attention, daddy” your fingers raked delicately through his hair, knowing you’d pushed him to the right space, your eyes trailed away from him, causing you to tilt your chin up so that your eyes could lock, he leaned in to press a tender kiss to your lips. It was all too sweet for now and it seems he was easing you in gently.

“And other girls it seems, is my cock not good enough for you, princess?” You were fully aware that you were surrounded by other people, but the dirty looks the two of you got never seemed to deter either of you, knowing full well that you loved each other deeply, trusting of one another so much that you could do things like this. His hand reached into his pocket, pulling out your wedding band, slipping it back onto your finger. The sign he was ready to take you home, already riled up enough by what he’d seen.

“It really is such a shame you’re such a disobedient little brat, we could’ve had lots more fun tonight” His hand held yours as he pulled you through the crowds, slipping past the bodies till you reached a hall, making you stop in your tracks, crossing your arms.

“I don’t want to go.” you pouted at him, feet planted firmly to the ground in protest, you'd gotten this far and you were more than ready to push your luck. He instead stood there waiting, not even attempting to continue to entertain your charade, no matter how bratty you wanted to be. You stood with silence between you as the thump of the bass filled the air, elevating the tension.

“Ready to behave and be a good girl?” He spoke softly as she shoved his hands in his pockets, watching you shake your head as you stood your ground.

“No? Wrong answer” He mocked, while he quickly spun on his heel, heading towards the exit, leaving you to call after him, stopping dead in his tracks when when you yell his name at him. "Where are you going, George?"

“Where am I going? I’m leaving you here, daddy doesn’t take bratty girls home, since you want to stay so much.” His tone made you rethink your action, quickly falling to his heel as your arm wrapped around his, pressing yourself into his side to steady yourself as he guided you out of the club.

“That changed your tune quickly, still… you need a lesson in obedience, I think.” You walked along the bustling streets of London, finding a small secluded alley to hide away before you are apparated back to yours and George's shared home. He wasted no time, having you pinned against the wall as he kissed you hungrily, showing exactly who was the dominant one as his grip tightened on your jaw. You let him kiss you like a filthy whore, even let him pull away to observe how your lipstick smeared so perfectly with his rough kisses.

It wasn't long until he had you on your knees for him, hand wrapped around his shaft as you stroked him gently, but your teasing touches weren't enough for him, holding your jaw open with one hand as he slapped the tip of his cock against your begging tongue. His eyes burning into yours with every passing moment.

"Does my desperate little brat want her mouth fucked, hm?" You nodded eagerly as you began to take his length in past your lips, attempting to bob your head, but every time he pulled back, tutting at you. His fingers running through your hair to pull it out of your face into a makeshift ponytail as he used his other hand to tease your mouth in the same way he did your cunt when you desperately wanted him, pushing his head just past your lips before pulling back out and repeating it

"Open that throat up for me, doll, you ready?" you hummed a quick please off of your tongue before his cock was pushing into your mouth, hardly managing half of his length as the tip hit the back of your throat, causing the sound of a gag to echo through the room. His hand was on the back of your head, pushing your mouth to take him a little deeper before pulling out completely. Leaving you gasping for air as a trail of saliva connected his cock and your lips together, mouth open and ready again to take his length.

"Just like that, princess" He praised as you took him in once again, this time gagging as he held your head in place to push himself as deep as you could take down your throat once again, you were getting there, you just needed the training before he could really make use of your mouth. You were eager this time he pulled away, taking another gasp of air before spitting into your hand, pumping his cock before letting him slip inside your mouth once again. You let him push, let him sink his entire length in your mouth, feeling his cock slipping down your throat with every push.

"That's my girl, take it all in darling" The symphony of moans that fell from his mouth were hidden by the fact that he could hardly function. He slowly began bucking his hips as he fucked your mouth, the room filling with wet gagging sounds as you choked over him, saliva falling from your lips whenever he gave you a breather. His hand was smoothing down the hair at the back of your head gently while his hips set their relentless pace. You enjoyed this as much as he did, moaning over him as you looked up at him with begging eyes.

"You look so pretty with your mascara running down your cheeks, baby." he cooed as his thrusts grew rougher and slower, causing more tears to spill from your eyes, drawing his favourite gagging sound from your lips more and more often.

"Fuck, I love your Throat." He moved you to the bed, letting you lie down on your back before he was fucking your mouth again, at first his slow thrusts were to watch the way his cock made your throat bulge, hand coming down to press against it, the sensation made him twitch but he held himself strong as he fucked your throat until you were begging between every breather.

"Use your words, brat, what do you want?"

You were taking deep breaths as you tried to voice what you needed from him, reserved only to needy whines and moans for him, causing him to stuff his cock inside your mouth once more.

"Daddy doesn't understand whimpering, Princess, words only." He pulled from you again, this time you found the breaths within you to attempt to ask for what you wanted.

"Fuck me, Please." You begged, eyes desperately searching for his as you reached for him. Still you took deep shallow breaths as you watched him walk around you like a predator stalking its prey.

"You think bratty girls get their cunt fucked? You've been a very good girl tonight though, I may have to oblige." He didn't take much convincing before he was buried deep inside you hands gripped possessively to your hips as he set his pace, begs falling from your lips every time he hit your back wall.

"Want me to fill you with my cum, angel? Fuck a baby nice and good into your belly?" His delicious words ripped a moan from your throat as his hands brushed your hair out of your eyes, it didn't take long for you to be on edge, thumb rubbing across your clit as he fucked you. The way you squeezed around him as you came helped milk him of his cum, feeling it drip from your cunt as he pulled out.

"You've been such a good girl, let's get that makeup off your face, hm?" He reached into your bedside table drawer, grabbing the makeup wipes, using one to glide along your tear stained cheeks, part of him guilty to remove such a stunning mark left on your face. He took extra care in gently caressing your skin as you came down from your orgasm.

He ran you a bath, sitting outside of the tub as he helped clean the sticky sweat from your skin, massaging your scalp as he washed your hair and making sure that you were comfortable, relaxed and feeling safe. He had pushed you far this evening and it was only fair to check in and make sure you were happy and satisfied.

He carried your clean body to bed, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you. you snuggled into your fresh, clean sheets that your husband had prepared, waiting for his presence in bed patiently, immediately feeling safe the second he was next to you.

"Georgie, I was thinking… What if we stopped using the contraception spell?" His eyes went wide, pulling you into a cuddle as he hummed in satisfaction, fingers finding yours to tangle together. Bringing your hand up to press a kiss to your wedding band.

"I love you, If you're ready to be a parent, we can try for a baby, as many times as it needs, if you want a baba, we'll have one, Princess."

TAGLIST // @starlightweasley @slytherinsunrise @gcdric @theweasleysredhair @whiz-bangs78 @vogueweasley @minty-malfoy @vivianweasley @feetoffthetablee @thisismynerdyself @witch-and-a-half @loony-loopy-lupinn @rip-us @hopemalfoyweasley @pigwidgexn @pansydaisy

#George Weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley fic #george weasley smut #george weasley fluff #harry potter #harry potter fic #harry potter writing

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lunapaper · 2 years ago

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Album Review: 'HOLY FVCK' - Demi Lovato

Holy fvck really is the perfect way to describe the past few years for Demi Lovato.

In 2018, the singer suffered a near-fatal overdose, which left her legally blind. She came out as non-binary, preferring to go by she/they pronouns. She became the ambassador for a conspiracy theory website. She revisited past trauma on 2021’s Dancing with the Devil... The Art of Starting Over. She had beef with that frozen yoghurt store, which drew criticism from fans and critics alike.

Lovato now channels all their fear, longing and fury into big, chugging, metal-inspired riffs and snarling pop punk on her eighth album. But while everyone and their mother seems to be jumping on the bandwagon, trying to score a collab with Travis Barker in the hopes of becoming the next Olivia Rodrigo, Lovato’s love of rock, metal and emo is true. Not too long ago, they recounted the time she crowdsurfed at Norwegian black metal band Dimmur Borgir’s show as a teenager in an attempt to evade the moshpit.

And Lovato wears her influences proudly on her sleeve.

First single ‘SKIN OF MY TEETH’ is a formidable tribute to Hole’s ‘Celebrity Skin.’ ‘Demi leaves rehab again/When is this shit gonna end?’ Lovato drawls as she longs to be free of her much-publicised demons (‘but I can’t ‘cos it’s a fuckin’ disease’). ‘SUBSTANCE’ owes a lot to Jimmy Eat World’s ‘The Middle,’ the singer searching for meaning in an increasingly shallow and fragmented world. Though it’s kinda ironic that Lovato would decry a lack of substance in the world while choosing to align herself with a platform that pushes misinformation…

‘EAT ME’ is vicious and ragged, with Royal and the Serpent’s Ryan Santiago providing the sickly-sweet yin to Lovato’s raspy yang. It wouldn’t have looked too out of place on Poppy’s I Disagree, at the same time maintaining a Muse-like grind. The title track has a slinky groove and dirty, filthy bass akin to The Pretty Reckless, with riffs like flames licking at the walls and Lovato revelling in the leather-clad melodrama. Standout ‘BONES’ has ‘Trouble’s Coming’-era Royal Blood in its blood, an underrated cut of salacious disco punk that has the singer wanting to jump a lover’s bones (natch).

HOLY FVCK is as preoccupied with the sexual as it is the sacramental, Lovato making her desires known while burning down the toxic purity cult that Disney kept her imprisoned in for so many years.

‘HEAVEN’ is a dizzy, wailing ode to self-love channelling Marilyn Manson’s ‘Beautiful People,’ with Lovato trying to reconcile the deeply-held Catholic beliefs of their family with masturbation, inspired by Matthew 5:30 (‘If your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off, because it’s better to lose one part of your body than your entire body to hell’). She plans on christening every square inch of LA in every position possible on SUM 41-style filthfest, ‘CITY OF ANGELS.’

’29,’ however, is a much, much darker.

‘Thought it was a teenage dream, just a fantasy/But was it yours or was it mine?’ Lovato spits back, allegedly at their ex, Wilmer Valderrama, a grimy, gasoline rainbow of a rock banger that’s since become an empowering catch-cry for hundreds of women on TikTok who’ve also been preyed on by older men. The singer doesn’t hold back, offering up skin-crawling lines such as ‘Just five years a bleeder, student and a teacher/Far from innocent, what the fuck's consent?’ But it’s definitely among the most cathartic of HOLY FVCK’s tracks, its chorus thrashing like a wild animal that’s burst out of its cage.

The crux of the album, though, lies with ‘HAPPY ENDING.’

‘Am I gonna die trying to find my happy ending?’ Lovato wonders, ‘And will I ever know what it's like.’ It paints a brutal portrait of the realities of addiction, never truly free of her demons. It also has a lot in common with her 2018 track, ‘Sober,’ released after suffering a relapse, but this time, Lovato seeks to turn hopelessness into something hopeful. ‘The feeling I hope that people take away from listening to this song is that I hope they don’t feel alone,’ she told fans via her website. ‘In this song, it’s talking about feeling so hopeless but I want my fans to know they’re never alone and someone has felt this way before and made it out of it.’

Then we reach the halfway mark, and the album’s tension begins to wane, Lovato soon retreating into the inoffensive Disney pop rock of years past (bar ‘DEAD FRIENDS,’ of course). The scuzzy sleaze rock of ‘HELP ME’ (featuring Emily Armstrong of LA rock trio Dead Sara), however, is a bright spot, taunting and swaggering back at the listener ‘thanks for your useless information’ and shoving their pointless opinions back in their faces.

If you’re gonna go full rock and metal, complete with the metal-style V in the album title and the bondage and crucifix imagery to match, then commit. Why hold a ‘funeral’ for your pop music if you’re just gonna end up getting cold feet halfway through and end up resurrecting its corpse?

HOLY FVCK is a long overdue burst of anger from Lovato. Rather than wallow in her pain, she revels in it, entices it and grabs it by the fucking throat – at least for the first half of the record.

It could also do with a little subtlety: For every stark confession, there’s a cliched platitude or goofy lyric. Lovato’s boasts of being ‘ungodly but heaven-sent' can also come off as trying too hard at times.

Still, ‘[y]ou can’t have light without dark,’ Lovato recently told the LA Times. ‘The dichotomy was really important to me, and I had to take my anger out of the shadows in order to heal. I am owning my dark side, and it doesn’t have to take me down.’

And by doing so, she’s never sounded better. Hopefully Lovato keeps fvcking things up like this…

- Bianca B.

#music #demi lovato #holy fvck #new #reviews #albums #Bianca B

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quixotic-writer · 3 years ago

Text

I’m Always On Top

Request: Anon(s)

Summary: It started out as a fun game between Sal and Q at the gay bar they found themselves at: get as many drinks and as drunk as you can. Jealousy soon takes over Sal and it leads to the two going home. But Sal decides to try and put Q in his place by playing dominant and taking the role of top for the evening. But as Q had always said: “i’m always on top.”

—————————————————————————

They had come to the bar together with friendly competition in the back of their heads: get as many free drinks as they can. It wasn’t just any bar, it was the local gay bar. It didn’t matter who won, the only thing they cared about was that they go home together.

The music was flooding the club and people of all walks of life from anywhere you could imagine were swaying and moving in tune with the music. Those who were sitting at the bar or leaning against it were engaged in their own social exchanges. With a shot in their hands, they toasted to each other.

“May the best man drink.” Q said. Glasses raised and it was down the hatch in a second. A shot of confidence burned their throats and they split from one another and made their way through the bar. Q had found himself sitting at the bar and someone was quick to approach him and give a little bit of sweet talk while flagging a bartender down. Sal felt a pinch of discouragement when no one was as quick to approach him, but he would soon find his confidence once he worked his personable charm.

As Q was in his seat, his eyes wandered and saw Sal across the bar. He was talking it up with a bunch of people, eyes hungry and eating him up as his hands moved around as he talked. One hand held a drink and there was another one sitting in front of him along with a little shot glass. Q felt proud of him in a weird way, managing to finesse that many drinks in such a short period of time was truly a feat. He would have thought that he would have been jealous, but for some reason he didn’t. He was absolutely crazy for Sal and he knew had those same feelings, but within Sal, that crazed love was something magnified to significant levels.

Sal was the one who got jealous, probably because he knew of Q’s vast and diverse fan base that would thirst over him and would often be all he saw online. Q could have anyone he wanted really, and he often worried if he was enough. This led to fits of jealousy and clinginess for Sal, a reaction he wished he could better control but it always got the better of him.

The night continued and drinks flowed endlessly. Q was on his 7th or maybe 8th drink and he was off on the dance floor, completely forgetting about the little competition he had agreed to for the night. Sal had totally lost track of his drink count as shots were poured endlessly. He was absolutely intoxicated, he couldn’t remember the last time he had been bought so many drinks, it made him feel special in a way. His eyes looked around for Q as he decided to slow things down a bit and sober up a little with some water. When his eyes found his boyfriend, hot anger filled him in a second.

Q was out dancing with guys all around him, not a care in the world. In his drunken brain, Sal believed that Q didn’t care about him at that moment. He was quick to leave his spot at the bar and make a bee line over to his boyfriend. He quickly grabbed him by his shirt collar and smashed his lips against his. When he pulled away, Q was excited to see him.

“Hey Sally! Surprised you don’t have a drink in your hand.” Sal glared at every one that was feeling up Q and they all quickly backed away. He reconnected their lips and quickly darted his tongue into Q’s mouth and Q moaned at the sensation, bringing Sal in closer to him. The tempo and bass of the music was vibrating in them as they flowed to the tune, hips sinfully close and grinding together. Sal finally pulled away just to catch his breath and Q was left almost speechless, hungry for something else.

“I think we’ve had enough to drink… Let’s go.” Sal said in a very demanding tone. It took Q aback a little, but took it as Sal being needy for some sexual relief after their little stunt on the dance floor together. He agreed with his lover and they called a cab.

When they reached home and made their way to the bedroom, Sal was quick and rough with his movement. He ripped open Q’s button down, exposing his chest and his lips were quickly attached to the skin leaving hickeys all over and everywhere his lips could reach as fast as possible.

“Fuck, Sal. Slow down baby.” Q felt Sal attempting to overpower him, and he didn’t even know what brought this on. But, if he kept this up, Q wasn’t afraid to put him back in his place.

Sal ignored Q as clothing was shed away. Layer after layer until they were in nothing but their boxers. Q was sitting at the edge of the bed, Sal was straddling him. Lips were intertwined, only occasionally leaving when each of them were painting the other’s skin with bruises. Their lips were smacking together, moans loud in their throats, and then Sal made the next move. He shoved Q back into the bed and was over him.

“You’re fucking mine.” He mumbled harshly before he bit down onto the flesh of Q’s neck earning a groan from him. The next thing Sal knew, there was a hand on his throat. Q sat up straight with Sal’s face mere inches away from his and a hand was gripping the sides of his throat, nothing threatening or endangering in the slightest, but something to earn dominance back. It showed signs of working as Sal let out a little whimper.

“What is your deal tonight?” Sal’s dominance quickly began melting away as Q began taking control, “I try to have fun tonight and you cut in, and now you’re trying to top me?”

“They were all over you Brian.” He mustered out trying to keep a brave face. He tried to resist falling into submission, but the way Q was looking at him, the way his hand was on his neck, the posture he was holding, he knew this momentary bliss of being in the dominant role would soon dissipate.

“Because you’re being a little brat you think you’re all of a sudden dominant sweetheart?” Regret filled Sal as he felt an impending punishment coming clear into view, and it was, once again, because he let his jealousy get the better of him. The rush of momentary power was exhilarating, but not worth the cost of the punishment he was about to receive. “I’m always on top.”

“I-I’m sorry!”

“You’re sorry, what?” Sal was now backed down to lay in the bed as Q hovered over him with lust filled eyes.

“I’m sorry daddy! Please!” Q chuckled as he watched Sal squirm beneath him. He rubs his hand over his clothed erection earning more whimpers as his back arches, seeking more contact from the dominant.

“You’re only saying that because you’re in trouble.” His lips made contact with Sal’s bare skin and littered the untainted skin with marks of his own. His hands were delicate, finger tips tracing over his skin making goosebumps form wherever he touched. Sal’s skin felt like it was on fire. The juxtaposition of Q’s careful hands and his rough mouth made him strain painfully against his boxers, aching for more as he tangled a hand into Q’s hair, physically begging for more sensations, and above all: friction. “You don’t get to cum ‘til I say. Got it?” Q reached underneath the bed and pulled out a box of toys that they had begun collecting since they had been together.

“Please just touch me, I'm sorry, please I need you! I won’t do it again, I'm sorry!” Q promptly removed Sal’s boxers, watching as he sprung free and was twitching like crazy already. This was gonna be fun.

“I don’t want to hear anymore. You’ll learn now. On your stomach.” Sal listened, not wanting anything to be worse. He dreaded what Q was about to do to him, but at the same time, it sent a pleasurable chill down his spine that made pulsate. He felt Q’s hands smooth over the curve of his ass before his cold fingers found their way to Sal’s entrance. He let out a shaky sigh before lube covered fingers found their way in him and stretched him out.

One finger, then another, then another was added. Each time he was stretched out more, the louder his pleasured noises became. Strained mewls, prolonged moans, throat wrenching gasps.

“You should hear yourself, you filthy slut. Making so many noises already and you only have my fingers in you.” The dirty talk only made Sal’s hips buck backward into the fingers that slid in and out of him. His cock was rubbing against the sheets below him and only added to his growing pleasure. His eyes were closed as he savored each sensation. “You take my fingers so well though, don’t you? I know just how to make you feel good, I know you in and out, and I know just how to get you off.” His hot breath was in his ear and it only brought him closer and closer to ecstasy. Truly Q was the only person that knew just how to pleasure him, and his confidence in knowing that as a fact was so hot.

“God, daddy. More! I’m gonna cum!” After that last sentence fell out of his mouth, Sal was left empty as Q removed his fingers. “No, please!”

“Remember sweetheart, you’re getting punished. If you cum at all, it’ll only be worse for you.” Q sat himself on the bed with a hitachi wand in his hand. Back against the headrest, he pulled Sal between his legs and had him resting against his chest. Sal could feel his hard on pressing against his ass, he was always impressed with the will power Q had when it came to being hard. When he fell into a dominant position, he held himself back. Q found more sexual gratification in pleasuring others than himself.

Q placed the wand aside for the moment, and instead, his hand took grasp of Sal’s now leaking cock. A shallow pump around the head of his cock easily made Sal’s hips jerk off the bed and hands grip at the thighs that encased him where he was.

“So sensitive already baby?” Q teased as his hand kept pumping Sal. Sal watched, hypnotized by the hand moving up and down, watching as the tip of his cock poked between the top of Q’s fist only to disappear once again as it rose again. Q would twist his fist, tighten his grip, and kiss and lick at Sal’s exposed skin as he pleasured him, savoring the noises that came out of the submissive. “Tell me baby, tell me how it feels.” Sal was gasping for air and almost felt like he would never be able to form a sentence with the amount of blissed out fog that clouded his brain. “Tell me or I'll stop now and go to bed.” The commanding tone forced Sal’s lips to part as he tried to form anything, something comprehensible.

“It feels… mmm… so… so good. I… I can’t… I–”

“Can’t what sweetheart?” The innocent tone felt mocking. It frustrated Sal as all he wanted to do was cum.

“I just… I just wanna… Cum!” Sal’s hips started bucking into Q’s fist, and Q kept his hand still for just a moment. He watched as Sal tried so desperately to please himself, but as soon as he knew that he was dangerously close, he took his hand away and watched again as Sal squirmed and whined.

“Not so fast Sally. Good things come to those who wait.” He lays tender kisses on the sides of his face and his shoulder as his hands smooth over the skin of his inner thighs, so close to being where Sal wanted them, but never giving him the satisfaction. A hand strayed away and took the hitachi wand that was set aside. “I know just how much you love this toy. The many times I've had you tied up,” he switches it on, low hum filling the room, “left you for hours just to see how much you had in you.” He glides it along Sal’s thighs, hovering around his most sensitive spots where he could sense the vibrations but feel none of the sensation he craved.

Q took the wand and ran it quickly on the underside of Sal’s cock and watched him moan and squirm. Sal kept trying to keep Q’s hand where he wanted it, kept trying to gain some control over everything, but it was no use because Q would simply overpower Sal and pull away, straying him away from climax.

“You’re so impatient.” The teasing went on for what felt like forever to Sal. Circles around the head of his cock, delicate strokes at the base, vibrator held under his balls. No matter how much Sal begged, whined, pleaded, and apologized, it seemed as though Q had tuned him out fully and was getting pure enjoyment out of the sadistic sexual torture he was putting his boyfriend through. He loved watching how much Sal’s cock was twitching at the faintest sensation, how much precum was slowly spilling out of his slit, and all the noises that made that made his own cock pulsate and twitch. He would let out an occasional moan or grunt whenever Sal would buck his hips, causing a little bit of friction on his cock that rested against his back, or whenever he made a particularly delicious sound.

After a while, Sal had once again lost all ability to remotely let out any words that would make any sort of sense. His speech skills had withered away as he drowned in his own pleasure as a means to reach his high that he knew he wouldn’t get to until Q gave him the word.

“Why don’t we have a little change in pace?” Q turned the vibrator off and Sal was yet again left to step away from the edge of euphoria as he was so close once again. He was panting and he looked at his cock; Slick with precum, the once rose colored tip was now red and begging for release, he could feel his crotch pulsating. He was panting and he felt spent but he hadn’t even gotten to cum yet. Q stepped away and reached into the box of toys once again, pulling out a decent sized dildo and giving it to Sal. “Go ahead, pleasure yourself for me.” Sal felt almost like it was a joke, that there was going to be something more. He didn’t question though as he teased his eager hole with the tip of the dildo, pushing himself up against some pillows on the bed and spreading his legs. Q sat across from him, legs touching Sal’s as he watched his lover’s movements closely.

Sal relished in the sensation of the dildo entering him. It didn’t feel nearly as good as Q does, but after the time spent left on edge and feeling empty after Q had removed his fingers, this felt like heaven for him. Slowly, he pushed it all the way in up until the base and he held his motions still, taking in the full sensation that he craved as his head rolled back and his eyes closed, a breathy moan and relieved sigh filled the quiet room.

“Go ahead baby, make as much noise as you want. You know I love it. Put on a show.” Per his request, Sal went on to make a sinfully gorgeous and pornographic display just for his lover. He kept his motions fluid and sensual, biting his lip but never holding back on any noises, mewling out a little ‘yes’ or ‘fuck’ here and there, eyes half hooded and going back and forth between eye contact with Q and his cock that he was stroking in a tight fist. “Tell me how it feels sweetheart.”

“Oh, daddy! It feels so… mmm… so fucking good.” Sal felt himself start to get close again and watching Q get himself off as hard as he was wasn’t helping him hold out at all.

“Yeah?” Q was close, he felt as though he had been teasing himself all evening, but neglecting his own pleasure for however long they had been encased in the bedroom was well worth witnessing the display of sexual torture he had been putting Sal through. He was sadistic, but he knew Sal loved it, it was evident by how much Sal was loving it now.

“Fuck yeah… But it doesn’t feel nearly… nearly as good as you.” He had to take pauses between his words to let out more pleasurable noises, hoping that if Q came, he would get to as well. “Your thick cock in my ass… tearing me in two… and you know… you know I love the pain.” Sal had hit a particularly sweet spot inside of himself and he almost toppled over. He started slowing his movements more despite wanting to cum so badly, but he didn’t want a worse punishment. He knew the next consequence would be not cumming at all or not being able to cum for a period of time no matter how often they had sex.

“I fuck you so good, huh, baby? Better than that piece of silicone you have in your ass? I know you love it rough, I know you love the torture. You just love being dominated, being played with, my little fuck toy.” Q’s fist tightened more and his hand was a blur as he chased his high.

“I want you to fuck me so bad daddy.” Q didn’t need to hear anything else, he was all over Sal. He quickly threw the dildo aside and locked lips with Sal, grinding their hard-ons together as tongues swirled about.

“I’m gonna fuck you better than you ever could with that dildo.” He grunted as he lined himself up with Sal’s entrance.

“Fuck me ‘til I can’t walk.” Q’s eyes met Sal’s in that moment, his normally tender cocoa eyes were gleaming with love, but now, they were filled with a fire ignited from within that spelled out one word: lust.

Q bucked his hips and almost knocked the wind out of Sal in that single motion.

“Gonna cum!” The dirty talk, finally feeling Q inside of him, and the (what felt like) hours of teasing is starting to send him into a spiral of blinding ecstasy.

“You fucking better not! You better hold it in, you do not get to cum yet.” Sal raked his fingers down Q’s back, doing his best to hold on and hold back for his own sake. Tears were streaming down his face, half of it was from pleasure, half of it was from pain because he had been holding back for so long already. Sal’s lips were parted as painful and pleasured cries fell out of his mouth. “That’s right, let the neighbors hear how bad you’ve been, let them know who owns you.”

“Daddy! Please! I… I can’t! I…” It started to become painful, he knew he could safeword at any time and it would be over, but he had come this far and he was going to deal with his punishment. As Q continued thrusting, he felt Sal tighten around him and he felt like he was seeing stars as he was just at the edge,

“Gonna… Fucking… Cum!” With a few rough, slow thrusts, Q buried himself to the hilt as he released himself into Sal with a long moan. Both men were panting, but Q knew that it wasn’t over just yet. He took Sal’s cock in hand and started pumping him hard and fast in a tight fist, “C’mon baby you wanted it so bad, take it. Cum for me!” Sal was practically screaming as he came explosively all over his chest in big thick spurts. Q kept pumping him and pumping him until Sal felt as though there was nothing left in him.

Once his orgasm had finished ripping through him, both were left on the bed panting, exhausted from their strenuous night.

“You Okay?” Q asked as he shifted his head to look at Sal. He didn’t say anything but nodded his head to respond. “You know I'm crazy for you and only you, right?”

“I know,” Sal spoke softly. “I guess it was a bit of the alcohol and my jealousy problems again. You’re just so good looking and I just feel like you could have anyone you want.”

“But I chose you. And I will always choose you.” Sal looked over and smiled. Their lips met in a soft kiss and they giggled together. “Let’s get you cleaned up and in bed. I bet you’re tired as hell… You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, I promise. Even though it was torture, one of the best orgasms I ever felt.” They got up off the bed and went into the bathroom,

“So good you’d want me to do it again?” Q teased.

“Not for a fucking long while!”

“Or whenever your jealousy gets the best of you again and you try to top again.” Q laughed and Sal felt a little ashamed because of it.

“I don’t even know what possessed me to even try and do that.”

“Jealousy.” Sal just rolled his eyes as he stepped into the shower. “C’mon Sally you know i’m just teasing. You love me.” He stepped in behind Sal and peppered his cheek with kisses,

“I guess I do.” He said with a smirk.

#smut #vulquinn #suki writes

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1997devil · 4 years ago

Text

magic, madness, heaven, sin

pairing: joshua x fem reader

w.c.: 2.5k (oops)

includes: one night stand!shua, mentions of infidelity in the beginning, mentions of alcohol, lots of dirty talk (praises), slight oral (male receiving), protected(!!!) sex

the strobe lights of the nightclub amplify the pounding of your headache from the shots you’d downed in succession. you welcome it anyways, for it succeeds in chasing away the visions of the man who you’d dumped just hours before this.

he’d been your everything, and your mother would account for how much you’d loved him, from all the gushing about him that you did during your weekly phone calls. it definitely was your fault for the breakup because it definitely was your fault you caught him kissing the girl he said was nothing but a close friend from work. you figured they were pretty close enough with the way he shoved his tongue into her mouth, hands ghosting over her chest.

the worst part was, they were doing it in your living room. the very room you’d poured all of your soul into, making weekly trips to ikea and antique stores to find the little trinkets you knew would shape the perfect ambiance. you’d flung the promise ring he had slotted onto your left ring finger at him, aiming directly at the crown of his hair you’d spent hours carding your fingers through. he only barely managed to catch a glimpse of you as you hurried back out of the apartment, needing to be anywhere but there, the very place you’d dubbed your safe spot. the taxi driver had only inquired where your destination was and was kind enough to offer you some tissues when you’d arrived at the nearest nightclub, after hearing sniffles from his backseat.

you can still feel the weight of the ring that had been on your finger, fiddling with it out of habit only to not find it in its place as it should be. anger rises at your throat and your fingers wrap around the glass to down the drink – gibson, dry as he liked it. your eyes glaze over the space, skimming over strangers’ heads dancing on the dance floor, the bass of the dj set resonating from the walls and into your ears. it lures you from your spot at the bar to the dance floor, not caring your drink is spilling everywhere from bumping into bodies swaying to the beat.

you find a space somewhere in the corners and you just casually nod along to the music, sipping from your cocktail. despite a part of you still clinging to the past, the other part of you feels free, like a bird set free from its cage. you feel yourself losing to the swimming feeling induced by the alcohol in your veins. you manage to bring yourself back to the bar when you fear your ankles might snap from the way you sway in your heels, safely disposing yourself on one of the plush chairs lining the marble-tiled bar.

you go back to languidly scanning across the cramped room until your eyes land on a man weaving in and out of your sight among the throng of the people on the dance floor. he seems to be with two of his other friends, one with dyed silver hair that seems to sparkle in the strobe lights and another one with cropped brown hair and a godlike facial structure you can pinpoint even from far away.

you keep your eyes trained on the first guy you spotted. something simmers within you as you not so equivocally check him out: is he wearing a sheer shirt? and is that the glint of a silver ear cuff on his right ear? all of a sudden you meet his eyes and the drunken fog in your mind seems to clear up in a snap.

the pitter-patter of your heart rings louder than the booming bass as you watch him whisper something to one of his friends before he turns away and walks towards you. he’s even more beautiful as he comes closer to you, what with his catlike eyes and pink lips that leave you dying to know how they taste. you notice there’s a swipe of eyeshadow on his lids as the hoods of his eyes drop as he finally arrives at his destination.

“hello,” the man starts, voice tinged with a drop in an octave that sends honey dripping down your spine, “something caught your attention?”

you preen at being caught for checking him out so blatantly but you manage to keep your composure. “if i say it’s you, what would i get?”

he chuckles. “you’ll see.”

you run the risk of being bold, and your finger goes up to play with the dangly cuff on his right earlobe. “this did.”

his hands – goodness they’re huge, wouldn’t that mean that – wrap around your wrist, and he leaves a light kiss on your knuckles before he drops it to your side, fingers still holding on.

“you can call me joshua.” you recall ever hearing this nickname being shouted in a grainy instagram story by one of your friends, and come to think of it, it was uploaded with a geotag that led to this same club. “what about you?”

––

there’s an odd flashback yet not out of place as joshua drags you by the wrist towards the restrooms somewhere near the back of the club. it makes you feel like a dumb university student once more, looking to relieve the stress of submitting essays and final assessments. the thick concrete of the walls mute the music a bit and you can hear the voice in your head sounding urgent alarms and telling you to stop. you don’t listen to the bells as your hands grip joshua’s belt to tug him closer to you.

joshua leans into you, and your arms travel to rest on his chest, unleashes a weight on him that’s dizzying and thrilling.

“is there a man i should be worried about?”

“was.” you can barely let a word out without choking at the feeling of him skittering kisses along your jawline. that’s all he needs to hear.

he shoves a leg in between yours, telling you to grind your clothed core on his thigh.

you harshly pant as you rut your core onto his leg, the friction of the material of his trousers against your bare thigh sending you into a frenzy. “baby’s already so needy,” joshua smirks before he dips his head and closes the distance to meet your mouth, effectively shutting you up, swallowing your gasps.

it’s filthy and sweet, tasting the cranberry juice from joshua’s tongue. he holds you firmly with his fingers on your jaw, lets you lick deeper into his mouth, swallows every whimper that drips from your throat. when you separate there’s a sheen on your swollen lips and joshua just wants to taste from it all night long. the desperation in your tummy grows tenfold the more he tells you to keep grinding, even bouncing his leg which sends jolts all over your body.

joshua shoves you off of his leg right before you come, and it takes all of your willpower to separate yourself. (joshua can hardly admit just how hard he got from hearing your sob at stopping you right before you hit your high.) both of you unanimously agree that fucking in the club bathroom is for college students who still have the shamelessness and suave to pull it off, so you manage to leave the place and hail a cab and joshua mutters his address before he turns to you again, hands heavy on your thigh as he presses kisses to your shoulder and cheek.

he grabs your hand once more when you palm him over his pants, and you can already feel how he needs it just as badly as you do. he brings it up to his lips, pressing kisses onto the knuckles which muffles his dirty words so the driver can’t hear. “you’ll be good for me, won’t you, baby? wait till i get home so i can fuck you like you were begging me in the club?” you think your voice will crack if you vocally respond so you just nod in an albeit urgent manner, letting him know just how desperate you are.

you manage to hand the driver the bills and thank him before you slip out of the cab and up the stairs into joshua’s apartment. joshua doesn’t know how he manages to unlock the door, haphazardly pulling his shoes off and take you to the bedroom with the way you’re pressing warm kisses to his neck, but he manages to do so and presses you against the door.

your cheeks are flushed even under the harsh lighting of his bedroom and soft giggles leave your lips, and a part of joshua that’s still sober even from all the drinks seungcheol shoved towards him at the club earlier flutters, thinking to himself just how beautiful you look even when you’re half wrecked from your ministrations in the club restroom.

joshua kisses you again, hands working to unzip your dress as he turns you towards the bed, before the back of your knees hit the edge of the mattress and has you lay over his sheets.

he just about growls when he finally gets your dress off and sees the lacey white lingerie that frames and decorates your body. he’s entranced by the way the lace lines your chest to your stomach, no doubt the bottoms are ruined from how wet and desperate you were from riding his thigh. it’s enough to make him shudder, eyes growing darker at how he just wants to fuck you already.

“do you like it?” you ask, slightly muffled by your hand right above your mouth, shy yet with a wide smile.

he bends down, leaves butterfly kisses trailing from your tummy to your neck, where he sucks marks that your coworker will probably see. “you look beautiful, sweetheart. did you get all dressed up? hope someone would fuck you so good so you’d forget about him?”

“y-yeah,” you punctuate your answer with a high pitched moan when he suckles on your sweet spot.

his fingers press onto your clothed core, right where the wet spot smears the fabric. he rubs small figure eights, and it makes you grip onto his arm as a means of grounding yourself from the pleasure. under the clasp of your fingers on his arm do you realize he’s still clothed, and you tug on his sleeve as a signal.

he chuckles at feeling you tug and hearing you whine, so he straightens back up and takes his time unbuttoning his shirt. your eyes are glazed over when he pushes the clothes off of his shoulder, revealing his body you knew wasn’t so bad from the way your palms were running along his chest and back.

it feels like forever watching him unbuckle his belt and you know he’s purposefully dragging it out to tease you. you huff before you rise from the sheets, your impatient hands slapping his away so you can unzip his pants yourself. his trousers and briefs come off in one go, and his cock stands against his stomach, already hard and leaking pearls of precome right at the tip.

you’re overcome with the urge to tease him back so you slowly take his length into your mouth. joshua’s hand immediately comes up to tangle in your hair, and you whine at the delicious tug of his fingers finding purchase amidst your locks. you run your tongue at the underside of his cock, tracing the prominent veins which has him groaning so deeply.

you work him up even more than he already was, and he tugs you off right as he’s about to come. your lips are slick and cherry red from your act and joshua swoops to kiss you again, tasting his own release from your mouth as he slowly lays you back down on the bed.

joshua deftly unhooks your bra, and nearly rips your underwear off, laying you bare right in front of him. “my goodness,” he hums as he pushes you up towards the headboard, laying on his pillows. “you’re so pretty, sweetheart,” biting and suckling on your nipples as he keeps his glimmering eyes on your face, watching as you throw your head back from the pleasure. “i haven’t even put my cock in you and you’re already so wrecked, hm? so pliant, so desperate, all ready for me?”

he lifts himself from you again to grab a condom in his nightstand drawer, and your hands can’t seem to settle as he slips it on his length, warm hands pushing your ankles and thighs to widen your legs. “are you nervous, baby?”

“k-kinda,” you mumble, watching as he comfortingly runs his hand on your thighs. “h-haven’t done this with anyone else in a bit,” all the boldness in you from the club earlier simmering down now that joshua’s really about to fuck you.

“-ssokay, sweetheart,” his voice drops into a low rumble that makes your tummy flutter yet again., “i’ll take care of you,” he comes closer to you, pressing his lips to yours to distract you from the feeling of him pushing into your core. you’re so wet that he slides in with ease, and the burn melts into pleasure that tickles you all the way to your fingertips. your hands circle around his neck, keeping him close to you. the combination of his gentle kisses and the thrust of his hips rips sweet moans from your throat that joshua gladly drinks up.

“fuck,” he groans as your walls squeeze around him, “s-so tight, so g-good,” he slurs as he continues to thrust, “you take me in so well, don’t you, sweetheart? so nice and–f-fuck –so warm for me.” he continues praising you as you chase your high, his words getting to you, the hold of your arms around his shoulders tightening.

“you gonna come for me, baby? gonna come on my c-cock?” he grunts, pressing into you, not even an inch of space between your bodies.

“y-yes, please, make me come,” you cried out, losing yourself to how good joshua is making you feel. joshua thrusts a bit more until the coil in you finally snaps, not even needing to verbalize how close you are as you reach your orgasm, whining a mixture of joshua’s name and incoherent garbles masked as moans, joshua swallowing every single sound that comes out of your mouth. he fucks into you once, twice before coming, tipped over at your walls clamping down on his cock as you came, you curling your fingers in his jet black hair. you stay like this for a while, joshua riding out your orgasm languidly until you brokenly whine, practically crying at this point at how good he feels.

your vision blurs as he slips out, disposes his condom, before returning with a wet washcloth to clean you up. he slips a random t-shirt he grabbed from his closet onto your bare body, the hem coming down to right above your thighs. you feel like putty as he takes care of you, his voice lulling you as he speaks his last praises, keeping you awake until he slips to behind you underneath the covers. he presses a kiss and a “goodnight” to your temple before he drifts off.

(you’re just thankful he doesn’t kick you out the second he’s done fucking you. maybe you could get used to this.)

#seventeen #svt #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen fic #seventeen smut #joshua #hong jisoo #joshua scenarios #joshua imagines #joshua fic #joshua smut #t:fic #f:mild #mine #wrote this so i could read it myself thank u

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chocosvt · 5 years ago

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⚬ pairing: soonyoung x fem!reader ⚬ word count: 6503 ⚬ warnings: degradation, drinking ⚬ genres: this is just smut. filthy smut. featuring a lot of dirty talk from soonyoung and a hint of a secret au!

✧✎ synopsis: the tension between you and a mystifying stranger at the club only thickens each time you meet. he seems like a risk you’re willing to take.

✧✎ a/n: GOD. i have not written straight up smut in two years! i mean, there is a little bit of a background plot, i hope it’s all enjoyable hehe. also, the “secret au” is pretty easy to guess lol, but i suppose it could be a couple of things!

The first time you see him, you’re surrounded by your friends, packaged into a small space that grants you just enough room to sway your body and bring a pink-coloured drink to your lips. He’s across the room, leaning back on a white sofa. Impassively, he overlooks the crowd, until his entourage returns from the shadows to occupy the hard cushions. One of them leans into his ear and whispers something. You force yourself to swallow more of the sweet syrup from your glass, wondering what was said that makes him smirk.

A hand touches your bare shoulder, to which you turn around and grin rather intoxicatedly at your friend. She’s equally inebriated, and as the music reverberates toward the centre of the floor, you wrap an arm around her waist to pull her in close and move with the beat. You take another sip from the glass before hoisting it high in the air, hips undulating, feeling the heat and the dizziness and her hot breath hitting your ear as she mouths along to the lyrics.

Eventually, you two part, and your turn yourself back around almost immediately. As much as you want to believe it’s not because of the stranger, that seems to be the only plausible explanation, and it only burns that much deeper when you realize he’s staring at you. One arm stretches around the back of the sofa, his other hand loosely holding an amber shot glass at his knee. For a moment you stop moving to return his gaze. The stranger isn’t coy. He evidently scans your body, starting at your laced stilettos, venturing up the black fabric hugging your waist, and landing at the haze in your eyes.

You feel warm, but it’s not the muggy air, the crowded club, or even the violet lights.

However, you’re soon met with the repercussions of the dance floor as an unfamiliar body slams into yours, jostling you forward. You grimace as alcohol sloshes over your glass, prompting you to quickly escape toward a less populated pocket of space. The stranger’s glance follows you, yet his mood has shifted. Instead, he chuckles and shakes his head while bringing the shot glass to his lips, downing the golden liquid in a short swig. Your heart thunders upon watching him gently elbow his friend, where he utters something into his ear that preludes their amused, somewhat snide expressions.

It’s downright embarrassing. You can only deduce they’re enjoying your accident with the drink, even when the same predicament had probably just happened to someone else at the opposite end of the room. The stranger’s gaze seems to be searching out a different body, though you aren’t certain, rather you weave your way through the tables to find the washroom and rinse the alcohol from your hand. Admittedly, you feel disappointed to lose the stranger’s attraction. You can’t remember the last time you experienced a successful hook-up where you weren’t exaggerating your lacklustre pleasure.

Your hopes had simply been too high.

The second time you see him, you’re sucking restlessly at a straw, completely emptying the glass until there’s nothing but crushed ice cubes watering down the last few drops of alcohol. Looking up from the table, you spot him buried in the wave of sluggish bodies, the violet light tingeing his partially unbuttoned dress shirt and his black hair. But it rapidly dawns that he’s not dancing alone, for a girl twirls into his arms, pressing her backside to his front, rubbing herself against him while his hands explore her torso. The light hits a new angle on his throat, illuminating the trail of hickies.

It cuts through you, for the envy is like a blade generously sharpened. Even though you will yourself to look away, it becomes an impossible task, to which you trace their every movement without missing a heartbeat. His hand, clad in a myriad of silver rings, engulfs her breast and squeezes. Her head tilts back onto his shoulder, gasping something that seems to be full of euphoria. His eyes flicker quickly, and as though you’re a rabbit that’s to be nicked by an arrow, you’re caught directly in the crosshairs. You wish there had been more alcohol lining your glass so you could’ve turned further numb.

Enveloped in the stranger’s trance, you watch his hand slide around the column of her neck, how his gaze never falters even when he licks a stripe up her skin and nips at her ear. Folding one leg over the other, you attempt to snuff the venereal warmth that flutters at your abdomen, hating that you’re imaging what each sensation would feel like if you were against his body rather than her. His eyes are black, poisonous, and yet you contain so little care that he might be a menace, not when he grinds his hips against the dip of her spine while she hides her face in his neck, already suckling another bruise.

You have no idea what she’s feeling, or why he can’t take his eyes off you. It’s a bit unabashed and perhaps from a place of unsatiated neediness, but you’d really love for him to fuck you.

Maybe your third encounter will be the charm.

“Drink or dare?”

“Dare.”

For the past two rounds, you had purely subjected your body to the potent taste of sour, cold lime and gin mixed with tonic. Not desiring to ram your consciousness further into the ground, you finally chose dare, which uproots some whistles and snickers from around the table. Your friend bites her lip, straining her neck while her eyes cherry pick through the club-goers. Despite the alcohol exchanging your blood for liquid fire, there’s a nervousness in your tummy, and you can’t help fiddling with the hem of your black dress upon waiting for her sinister verdict.

“Alright,” she says, almost yelling over the thunderous bass, “I dare you to ask that guy what his biggest secret is!”

You follow her pointed finger, and your heart seems to immediately shrivel. He’s standing by the white sofa, invested in a conversation with another man who’s holding a martini glass, filled with a drink that’s an electric shade of blue. He offers the drink toward him, but the stranger denies, aggressively pushing away the glass. You sense a scuffle is going to break out between the two men, until someone else who always seems to accompany the stranger steps in, diminishing the conflict.

“Well?” She calls out to you, quirking an eyebrow. “You going or not?”

“I’m going!”

You slide off the stool and pull down your dress. As you shift your way through the crowd, you attempt to rally some confidence, rehearsing the different approaches you could take upon introducing yourself. Yet, there’s a gigantic roadblock. How are you going to persuade him to reveal his biggest secret? From what you already gleaned, he appears unforthcoming, but awfully magnetic.

By the time you’re tapping his shoulder, your confidence disintegrates like a dried flower petal and every nonchalant line you practiced in a spasm floats out your head.

His eyes are much darker in proximity, the colour of sable, and he smells like a royal cologne you can’t afford. He waits for you to speak first, almost as though he knows how nervous you are, wanting to revel in the trembling notes of your voice.

“I-I’m supposed— I’m, uh… How are you?” It’s painful, but you manage to choke it out.

With his hands casually buried in his pockets, his shoulders relaxed, he shrugs.

“I’m fine, honey. And yourself?”

Your blood surges, for you can feel it dragging through your veins, and a heat unlike any other draws a glimmering film to your palms. Due to the pounding music, you both have to raise your voices.

“I’m –uh– good? Yeah, I’m good!” Somehow, your lexicon could exist on the point of a needle.

The stranger chuckles. He’s enjoying your flustered nature far too much.

Quickly, you spiel out another question: “what’s your name?”

However, he doesn’t catch it. Instead, he taps his ear and leans in.

“What’s your name?” Your entire chest beats wildly upon repeating the question. The black fibres of his hair smell like passionfruit, but there’s a distant scent, and you think it’s charcoal.

He pulls back and smiles. “Soonyoung.” His name simmers in the thick air for a moment.

Your skin intensely prickles as his gaze then traces the length of your body, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip, plump and pink as he asks, “what about you?”

Soonyoung lowers his head again, to which your lips nearly touch his ear upon replying with your name. Once more, he smiles contentedly, while you believe that the scent in his hair has to be charcoal, or maybe even gunpowder. You think about the man with the electric blue drink, how he must’ve sunk into the shadows after Soonyoung’s friend intervened. The dare is still in the back of your mind, even when you inquire on a different topic.

“Why do you look at me all the time?”

There’s something about the darkness in his eyes that keeps you allured, even when you sense it’s better to reject the dare all together and brace through another gulp of gin and tonic.

“Hm. That’s not what you came here to say now is it, honey?”

His response unsteadies you. As Soonyoung counters your question with another question, a small curl develops at the corners of his mouth, as though he knows something you don’t. From his backside, another companion of his abruptly slides by, his hand settling on Soonyoung’s shoulder while he whispers into his ear. The man disappears immediately afterward, like he was nothing but mist.

The strangeness of it all leads you to fumble.

“Well… I-I was dared to come over here. I have to ask what your biggest secret is…”

It’s rather embarrassing to admit. You’d shoot a glare toward your friends if you weren’t so enraptured by Soonyoung’s unfaltering eyes.

“My biggest secret?” He drags a hand slowly through his hair while he bites his lip, thinking. You presume the gold watch on his wrist must cost more than your rent.

“I think I have a good one.” The manner in which Soonyoung’s tone had deepened piques your curiosity, though his soft smirk suggests you should consider if you truly want to know the answer.

Not willing to capitulate when you’ve succeeded this far, you dare grin at him, ensuring that you’re heard overtop the club music when you invite, “tell me.”

The sweltering of the amethyst lights and the concentrated gin coursing beneath your flesh does nothing to mitigate how hot you feel. When Soonyoung steps in close, his cologne seems to envelope you in an unbreakable spell, and your fingernails dig into the flexible, tight fabric of your dress when his lips brush your ear’s cusp. His voice laps like velvet at your very core.

“I think about fucking you, calling you my pretty little slut as I shove your face in my pillow and put my cock so deep inside you that you’re screaming. Every time I have a girl in my bed, I imagine it’s you, begging me to give it to you harder, begging me for my cum, and I make you take it all, just so I can watch how it drips out of you, honey. ”

Then, Soonyoung is leaning away with an expression that’s wholly complacent, meanwhile your universe is splitting itself apart beneath the flame of his words, a sensation much too slick now dampening the lace between your thighs. You can’t help but wet your dry lips.

“Is that a big enough secret for you, huh?” He purrs, a purple glint flashing in his eyes.

Nothing pieces together in your head. There is not one sentence bothering to make itself apparent, let alone any margin of thought that was relatively pure. Engulfed in the midst of unintelligible music and sanity that endlessly dwindles, you decide the only sensible reply is to kiss Soonyoung. This is just an opportunity you can’t lose. Pressing your chest to his, one hand gripping his shoulder, you at long last acquaint yourself with his candied taste and the softness of his pink mouth.

Soonyoung grins upon the pressure, the gin and tonic that coats your unhesitant tongue, how you mewl so helplessly when he digs his fingers into your hips like they were meant to be imprinted with bruises. Winding your arms around the boy’s neck, you fall into him in complete vulnerability, pull him down closer while he licks into your mouth.

“Fuck,” he chuckles breathily, his hands venturing lower to squeeze your ass, “bet you’d let me bend you right over on this couch, wouldn’t you, honey?”

Sliding your fingers through the feathery, black hair at his nape, you push your lips to his once more, nipping at his bottom lip that shimmers with your own saliva. Honestly, Soonyoung isn’t far from the truth. The last time you experienced such a sharp, needy pang at the apex of your thighs is thrust back too far in your memory. His hands reach down over your ass to the dress’ hem, where he hikes up the tight material slightly, his fingertips suddenly stroking you through your underwear.

“Please, Soonyoung,” his name feels so right as it escapes your throat, “I need you.”

“Yeah?” His firm grip plants back on your hips, and he catches your stare, deep and lustful. “You’d let me take you home, baby? Are you sure you want this?”

Immediately, you nod your head, arms fastening around his neck. “You can take me anywhere.”

Maybe it’s selfish, but you don’t once consider your friends crowded at the table across the club, nor would you care if they witnessed Soonyoung’s hand slipping beneath your dress to brush your clothed folds, not when a sensation felt that appeasing. He smirks, then briefly turns around, tapping a member of his entourage on the shoulder to exchange another whisper. The only thing you register is your burning excitement when Soonyoung tilts his head in the direction of the backdoor exit.

“C’mon,” he takes your hand, “my place isn’t a far walk.”

Soonyoung seems to live in the esteemed, Grand Plaza that’s no further than a street down from the club. It’s surrounded by the flashy nightlife, and as he pulls you into the foyer, completely marbled and elegant, you infer that he must be paying bigtime in order to maintain an apartment amidst the city’s pumping heart. The second you reach the elevator, he’s already pinned you against the cold metal, his kisses full of aggression and clever tongue that you pathetically whine for.

His palm sneaks up your dress, cupping at your pussy aching for any degree of attention. You grind into his hand and Soonyoung delights at your arousal. In fact, as the elevator nears the appropriate floor, a desire to touch every crevice of your body consumes him. Before you can take in another breath, the sweet pressure deserts your core, his fingers now pulling aside the plunging v of your dress so that he can free your breast, to which he immediately licks and suckles over the soft skin. A small ding resonates from the elevator, though he spends an extra moment lapping at your nipple.

You step away to avoid an embarrassing blunder with the doors and hastily readjust your dress. Once Soonyoung confirms that the corridor is clear, it’s a blitz to his room, his key card shoved carelessly into the slot before he’s dragging you inside. The sight of his apartment admittedly stuns you, particularly the tall, slender windowpanes that reach directly to the floor, the high arch of the ceiling and the diamond chandelier hanging like a celestial object.

Soonyoung touches your waist, pushing your spine to his door. His fingers then graze underneath your dress to the inside of your thigh, where he merely snaps your lace panties against the skin.

“You’re going to be my good little slut for the night, aren’t you?” He asks, his tone dripping much like syrup. You nod without question, and his other hand rests next to your head while he murmurs huskily into your ear, “take your underwear off for me, sweetheart.”

The fabric slides down your legs and drops at your ankles, which you manage to kick away, though you don’t miss the embarrassingly large wet patch that stains the lace. It only amplifies this desperation that’s been blooming inside you, and as Soonyoung slowly drops to his knees, a shaft of moonlight falling across the complete blackness in his eyes, you can’t help the shudder that strings so icily down your back. He begins tucking up the dress until it sits nice and snug over your hips.

Something about the way he gazes at your heat crushes every bit of breath from your lungs. Without warning, Soonyoung nestles his face between your thighs and delivers a long, hard lick, his eyes fluttering open to gauge your contorted expression as his tongue drags against your nerves.

He smirks wolfishly. “You’re so gorgeous, baby. Does your pussy always get this soaked?”

You struggle to articulate when Soonyoung places another lethargic lick with the flat of his tongue, a scoff half-rumbling in his chest while he massages your clit using the slick muscle. Somehow, you find the words, though they sound strangely distant as they echo outside your haze of pleasure.

“N-No, only when I-I think about you.”

Soonyoung’s guttural laugh strikes your core, and with a swift movement, he manages your leg over the back of his shoulder, improving his access to your plentiful wetness. A sharp inhale rushes between your teeth upon the boy sliding his index finger past your slit, until the thick silver ring dissuades him from pushing the digit in any further. He curls it, rubs against your silk to make you moan. Your fingers scratch into the door, not yet sure if you should be rifling them through his locks.

“Yeah? You think about me, baby?” It almost seems like a taunt. “Entertain me then.”

Just as you open your mouth, Soonyoung deviously slips in another finger past your opening, trails of gloss seeping down his hand as he stretches your pulsating warmth.

“I-I imagine this,” even with the boy on his knees and his fingers ticking your sweet spot, it’s still difficult to admit such filth, “I imagine you e-eating me out, n’making me cum.”

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” He purrs knowingly against your clit, his lips kissing the sensitive bud. “Such a good girl, letting me taste this pretty pussy.”

You hum in agreement, eyes falling shut to bask in the overwhelming sensations and how expertly Soonyoung reads on your slightest twitch or exhale, pinpointing the areas that prominently break you down and render you incoherent. Every so often you feel the cold silver of his rings brush your heat as he continues pumping his fingers, to which Soonyoung notes that your leg always trembles against his shoulder. Smiling, he presses his fingers in further, the rings just touching your inner walls while he swirls his tongue at a slow, thorough pace against your clit, satisfying the ache.

Unable to process the insane pleasure, your spine arches from the door and your fingers latch into the boy’s strong, black roots. You pull up on his scalp, cursing vehemently.

“F-Fuck, Soonyoung! Soso good—nngh—don’t stop, please!”

You almost feel apologetic for his neighbours who must hear these unabashed shouts muffle through his walls each night, though you can’t be bothered to moderate your volume when Soonyoung abuses your g-spot with the deep, consistent massaging of his fingers. He attaches his mouth overtop your clit, his tongue lathering across the bud before he starts flicking it harshly. At that moment, nothing else surges through you but an unprecedented hedonism, and you stuff his face in further to your heat. With your head tossed back against the door, you almost fear how greatly this orgasm builds.

It feels like the pressure situated at your abdomen could burst you open like a water balloon, and the only manner in which you can express the pleasure is to wail helplessly. As Soonyoung’s touch sinks so deliciously against that heavenly spot, his tongue, unrelenting and passionate, working to abuse your swollen bud, your body discovers its incapability to hold out a moment longer. Instead, it crumbles, and with a piercing cry of Soonyoung’s name your arousal gushes onto the boy’s awaiting face.

But he doesn’t wither away or allow the room to stop spinning, rather he delivers a few more vigorous pumps with his fingers and licks over your throbbing bud, all while you feel some of the liquid drip down your inner thigh. Breathing feebly, you tug hard at his scalp in an attempt to make him remove his mouth, for your heat feels raw and swells with oversensitivity.

“Soonyoung, please,” your eyes heavily pull open, “i-it’s hurting too much.”

At last, his fingers retreat from your opening and his mouth allows the cool air to ghost over your flesh. It’s alarming to observe the droplets of your cum that glisten on his face, his lips, so flushed and shiny, yet the boy’s tongue only curls out to collect the arousal.

“Fuck, you’re amazing. Did you know you could squirt, sweetheart?” His smile is cunning. “Or has no one ever treated your pussy that well?”

“I’ve never done it before,” you laugh breathlessly, and your head hits the back of the door as you attempt to process what just happened, “I didn’t know something could feel that good.”

While your fingers brush back his hair, Soonyoung places soft pecks up your inner thigh until he reaches the enflamed skin of your core. He catches your infatuated gaze, ensuring you watch as the very tip of his tongue pushes in shallow past your opening before the muscle circles delicately around your clit. Your hips jerk against his face, to which the immediate reverberations in his chuckle vibrate past your folds. Attentively, Soonyoung kisses the sensitive bud, and then your stomach.

After removing your leg from his shoulder, he rises to his feet, the darkness still dancing in his eyes like a flickering shadow. He feels like a foreboding addiction, one that you can’t give up.

“You’re perhaps the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” He compliments, his hand sliding around to stroke the small of your back, his lips just brushing your ear’s shell. “Even better than I imagined.”

Despite the complete filth laced into his speech, his voice somehow contains a tender cadence when he pulls back slightly to murmur against your temple, “now that I know how you taste, I wanna know how you feel, honey. How tight that little pussy is when it’s squeezing around my cock.”

A lightheaded blur emerges from your high, now subsiding, less electric. At the mere thought of Soonyoung pounding you remorselessly into the pillows, your knees begin to wobble and that yearning ache rebuilds itself at your abdomen. To steady yourself, you grip his shoulder, though when you look down, you’re somewhat astounded at the pool of wetness gathered on his floorboards. If just his tongue and fingers could force you to gush, then you wonder how you’ll stay together on his cock.

The trip to his bedroom is all but graceful, rather it’s your legs wrapped snuggly around his waist while his palms splay and squeeze against your ass, your tongues consistently brushing together as you taste yourself from his plump mouth. You had been expecting Soonyoung to just toss you on his bed like an insignificant ragdoll, but to your gratitude, he lays you down gently, spends his next few minutes licking and suckling at your throat. To be marked by him ignites a small grin on your face.

“I want this off, sweetheart,” he demands, tugging at your dress, “do you need help?”

“Yes please. I-I think, with the zipper.” You grunt, reaching behind you to feel the ridges.

After shifting yourself around, Soonyoung stands at the end of the bed, one hand resting on your shoulder blade while the latter undoes the zipper and reveals your back. The little hairs bristle along your skin as you feel a compassionate kiss against the first bump in your spine. Upon helping you slide the fabric down to your waist, Soonyoung’s mouth continues to drift across your shoulder, his hands sliding up your ribs until each hand palms reverently at your breasts. His teeth then dig into a sensitive patch at your neck, giving more vibrance to the low groan that flutters past your lips.

He whispers silkily, “I can’t wait to be inside you, baby. Hm? My good little slut? So beautiful and needy? I can’t wait to fuck you ‘til you’re nice and full.”

Your dress lands somewhere at the base of the mattress, and once your heels are unbuckled, they thump against the floor next to it. Soonyoung guides you into the exact position he desires, which entails your chest flush with his grey bedsheets, cheek sinking against his pillow while your ass pokes into the air. Behind you, there’s the rustle of his clothes being removed, prompting you to wriggle your hips in anticipation and whine for his touch to continue grazing your skin.

His slides off his belt without any particular haste. Impatience prickles, and you moan for him.

“M’so wet, Soonyoung. Please, I need you to fuck me, c-can’t wait anymore.”

You spare a glance over your shoulder, examining his firm torso, the muscles smooth and lithe, how he begins shoving his pants down over his hips. It’s antagonizing.

“I know, honey,” he soothes, his black eyes glistening, “you’ve been so patient for me.”

At last, the mattress dips to suggest that Soonyoung is taking his place behind you, to which you can hear the lewd sound of his hand passing up and down his cock, leaking and painfully hard. Despite the sensitivity lingering from your last orgasm, your entire core still throbs in such overwhelming arousal, a sweltering urge to be stretched completely open. He leans over you, pecking your temple.

“Terrible timing,” Soonyoung laughs, his fingers circling below your navel, “but you are on the pill, right? I’d love a child one day, just not at this exact moment.”

“I am.” You smile, though you aren’t sure how entirely bad it would be to bear his child, and you can’t tell if it’s the gin and tonic finally bleeding through your rationality or the viscid lust.

“Perfect.” He hums, his hand gripping onto one side of your hip while he presses his engorged head into your slick.

At an indulgent pace, Soonyoung drags himself through your slippery folds and rubs at your clit, a satisfied, low rumble emanating from his chest upon a sight so impure, especially as your gloss coats his length, sticky and wet. Your chest heaves largely at his teasing, engendering you to grind back against his body in a desperate hope to have him split you open.

It’s to your absolute pleasure that Soonyoung obliges. He begins pressing his cock in past your opening, your jaw falling slack until he’s digging in as far as he can fit, inducing the delicious stretch that ripples throughout your body. You breathe in raggedly and hiss his name between clenched teeth, fingers curling into the bedsheets once he’s grounded himself enough to start thrusting.

“O-Oh ffuck,” Soonyoung slurs, swallowing tautly, “you’re such a tight little bitch, hm? Just begging for me to ruin this pretty fucking pussy. I’ve waited so long for this, baby. You have no idea.”

He clutches your hips and slams you back onto his cock, grinding himself so deep inside you that the edges of your vision speckle with white dots. While it’s a bit tough for you to admit that your last sexual encounter had been months ago, it only seems to enhance how wonderful each sensation is now, how euphoric it is to feel his length rub against your inner heat and tick all those aching spots that your own fingers fail to prod. Soonyoung shifts onto his one knee, and suddenly he’s striking a newfound depth. You can’t help the loud squeal bursting from your mouth as he bruises your hips.

Suddenly, the boy is reaching for your arm. It’s pinned behind your back, his fingers latched around the wrist while his other hand threads against your scalp.

“That’s it, babygirl,” he growls upon shoving your cheek into the pillow, “scream for me, just like that. Let everyone know how much of a slut you are.”

With an unrelenting pace, he snaps into you, and the obscene noises of your heat sucking in his cock echo endlessly around the bedroom. At this point, you’re completely void of shame. As Soonyoung pounds into you, his hand ironclad around your wrist, your desire to cum warps into a critical essentiality. The tears stream hot and abundant down your face, muddling your makeup.

“H-Harder, Soonyoung! Please! Give it to me harder!”

“Yeah?” The sweat gleams on the column of his neck, black hair tousling before his eyes that shine mercilessly. “My pretty little slut wants it harder? You want me to fucking break you, baby?”

You don’t care if your body cracks in half like a ceramic. The way his cock is pressing consistently and roughly against that pliant, sensitive spot, it’s the only sensation you can feel. Even his fingers helping to smother your cheek against the pillow, damp with your tears and drool, is a sting rather infinitesimal compared to the pleasure. A cold breath expands in your lungs, and you take advantage of it to plead with Soonyoung, your voice falling apart at the seams while you beg to cum.

Unable to deny you, he takes it upon himself to fuck you so hard that the bedframe slaps into the wall. Soonyoung has already adapted to that spot which makes you weep, and he bites his lip harshly while abusing it with the head of cock. Your body immediately attempts to twist itself up as the ecstasy splatters like rain, though Soonyoung uses his grip on your arm and hair to keep you in position, instead forcing you to take the stimulation until you’re erratically clenching around him.

“Right there, honey? Does it feel good when my cock hits you right fuckin’ there? Huh?”

“Fuck, Soonyoung!” Your howl pierces the dense air, and he can tell you’re sobbing. “M’cumming!”

He tosses his head back as you convulse around him, the juices dripping down the back of your thighs while your world momentarily fades. You’re clamping against his cock with such warmth and silk that Soonyoung releases only a minute later, his seed thickly coating the inside of your heat, his length throbbing with every hot spurt. His guttural cursing subsides into laboured breaths. You feel his hands leave your wrist and hair, retreating to their favoured hold on your hips where he manages to deliver a few more thrusts, languid enough for him to watch his cum get pumped back inside you.

Spent in every single manner, you possess only a dying wisp of energy. You whimper and tremble at the vacancy when Soonyoung removes his cock, a feeling you never thought could be this horrible. Not soon after, his cum slowly pools from your opening, trailing down the inside of each thigh, to which he slightly stretches your ass in order to see just how much he’s emptied into you.

“I can’t believe you’re this beautiful,” he sounds mesmerized, “fuck, baby. Just look at you, so full of my cum. I’ve waited so fucking long to see you like this.”

Soonyoung then leans forward, pressing a kiss to the base of your spine.

“My good little girl. Perfect, aren’t you? Just for me?”

His soft chuckle is somehow a comforting sound, even when your body collapses against his sheets and there’s nothing you’re able to do but nod in agreement. You’re purely exhausted in the afterglow, too tired to even care that his cum is spilling out of you or that you’ve completely deserted your friends at the club. Soonyoung kisses a trail up your back and stops at your shining temple. You can’t tell if he ever joined you in bed or not, though he did stay with you for a few minutes afterward, rubbing your back, brushing his lips over shoulders, a beaming praise whispered every now and then.

You just know you fell asleep smiling.

By the fragile light of morning, you hear Soonyoung’s voice. It doesn’t seem as though he’s beside you or even sitting atop the bed, more like he’s standing somewhere distant. The dimness to the room helps your eyes adjust, and with a low groan you turn your back to the window, snuggling into one of the boy’s cold pillows. When you peek downward, you notice that a decent-sized blue blanket had been strewn across your waist, which you quickly pull further up your body to hide from the cool air. Through the fuzziness, you spot Soonyoung leaning against the doorframe to his washroom.

He’s partially dressed, wearing his black pants while a towel hangs around the back of his neck. The bathroom mirror is smudged with fog and slipping beads of vapour. It isn’t until you hear his quiet voice for the second time that you realize Soonyoung is speaking with someone over the phone. Your eyes fall shut as you attempt to concentrate on snippets of the conversation.

“Fine, we’ll meet at the abandoned hanger off Lake Avenue… Yeah… Just the handgun… Isn’t that too many though?... No, no, not the stash at East End… If he shows up then it’s fucked… That’s what I’m assuming… Okay, sure… Call me back after noon.”

Then, Soonyoung hangs up his phone and slides it with a sigh into his pants pocket. Your eyes open wide again, and you blink a few times to properly clear the sleepy, clinging remnants. Not wanting to overstay your welcome and become a potential hinderance, you slowly shuffle up in his bed, the blue blanket pooling around your hips.

“Did you sleep well?” Soonyoung inquires, tossing the towel from his neck onto the bed.

Pulling the blanket up to your chin, you nod at him. “Yeah, I did,” your voice has yet to lose its monotone rasp, “who were you talking with?”

“Just a friend.” He replies.

Soonyoung walks toward a desk placed across from the bed, picking up a white dress shirt that he slips into. He leaves the front unbuttoned, though he cuffs up the long, flimsy sleeves.

“Hey, do you think I could take a quick bath or something? I promise I won’t be long.”

As he continues to adjust the sleeves, he shrugs. “Yeah, you want me to start it?”

“It’s fine.” You decline politely.

Though the moment you swing your legs over the edge of the bed and prepare to stand, a doubtful inkling has you rethinking that choice. A resounding soreness thumps at your core, the marrow of your hips, yet you pretend that your muscles feel nothing like gelatine and attempt to take your first steps after such a rigorous night. Soonyoung watches in amusement, for your knees immediately begin wobbling while that deep-rooted ache has you buckling to the carpet.

When you look up, cheeks heated from embarrassment, Soonyoung is standing before you baring a fond smile.

“Are you sure you don’t need my help?” He inquires again, folding some black hair behind his ear.

“No,” you sigh, “I’m sorry. I need help, please?”

“All you have to do is ask, sweetheart.”

Soonyoung proceeds to bend down, tucking you carefully against his chest while your arms loop in a secure fashion around his neck. Feeling like a moonstruck bride whose being carried off to her honeymoon, you can’t evade the tiny smile that flits from each corner of your mouth, and it sticks coyly, even when Soonyoung sets you down on the closed toilet in order to run the bath water. You realize you’re going to need your dress, heels, the lace underwear that’d been deserted by his doorway.

Swallowing nervously, you watch as warm water fills the tub.

“I’m sorry to keep bothering you, but do you think you could grab my clothes? A-And I might need to use your phone, since I never took my purse with me last night. My friends are probably worried.”

He stands from the porcelain edge, a laugh rumbling in his chest, “why are you so apologetic?”

“I don’t know,” you quickly shrink into yourself when Soonyoung’s gaze falls over you, hardly as poisonousness compared to the night before, “I don’t want to be an inconvenience if you’re busy, and you just seem like a busy person.”

“And I also fucked you so hard that you can’t even walk.” He reasons lightheartedly, keeping an eye on the bathtub, “I don’t mind, honey. I’ll get your clothes, okay? I’ll take care of you.”

At least if he’s a poison, it’s a sweet one.

“Don’t worry about your friends either,” Soonyoung comments, at last shutting off the faucet while thin steam curls into the air, “One of my guys told them you’d be safe. They know where you are.”

“Really? Thanks.”

He baffles you; he feels mysterious yet personable. You want to ask him what he does for a living, especially upon recounting his earlier phone call, though you dismiss the question when Soonyoung helps you slide into the tub. The hot water works magnificently to relieve the soreness from your muscles, and though it’s a bit uncomfortable to squeeze back into that tight, black dress and the expensive heels, at least you’re able to walk (as long as you keep a hand flush against the wall).

Thankfully, Soonyoung helps you toward the front door of his apartment. A one-night stand has never felt so painful to leave behind, and you’re overwhelmed with poignancy as you wonder why you had never approached him sooner. He announces that there’s a driver stationed out front the Plaza, in a jet-black car you don’t catch the name of, and that you only have to lend him your address.

“He’ll take you home.” Soonyoung assures you.

Already, you find it astonishingly natural to trust him, engendering your hesitance as you stand in the corridor wishing you could somehow stay.

“What if I want to see you again?” You pipe up, catching his gaze.

Your heart is racing, and warmth dapples each arch of your cheek.

Soonyoung steps forward, cupping your face in his palms, his soft mouth pressing to yours while a fragrant, winter mint cuts sharp to your senses.

“You know where to find me, sweetheart.” He responds casually, and smiles as though he knows you’ll come back to him. “See you around.”

✧✎ a/n: i am handing out water bottles down here guys, it’s okay i got you covered! after not writing serious smut for so long, it just FELT SO? BIZARRE? TO TAMPER WITH IT AGAIN. like i remember the times when i could write smut with a straight face and you’d think i was typing my will or something. anywho. I REALLY HOPE IT SATISFIED SOME OF U!! and WHAT DO U THINK THE SECRET AU IS HEHEHEH

#seventeen scenarios #seventeen smut #soonyoung scenarios #soonyoung smut #svt smut #hoshi smut #svt fanfic #soonyoung fanfic #seventeen fics #seventeen imagines #soonyoung imagines

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bumbleberrysky · 4 years ago

Text

alexa, play candyshop (bass boosted) | 01

pairing: gabriel x reader genre: soulmate au, canon divergent around s13, hurt/comfort, humour, future smut (probs) wc: 3.2k rating: sfw warnings: none except the appearance of battered gabriel fresh out of asmodeus’ hold notes: welcome to my first dive into writing for supernatural! i saw someone say that s13 lit a fire under their ass like nothing else and honestly i don’t think i could have described it better. i binged so much while catching up the past few weeks idk who i am anymore

You knew there was a reason some divine power brought you to the Winchesters all those years ago, but to this day you still have no idea what that reason is. It's something you're destined to find out soon though, especially when you return to the bunker after months away and find not only a new face, but one that belongs to someone who up until that point you'd thought was dead. What does his return have to do with the changes you're suddenly experiencing in yourself? Will you finally find out the reason you'd been brought here in the first place? Maybe...

Chuck works in mysterious ways after all.

next.

“Honeys, I’m home!”

The bunker has the same light aroma of musty air and metal as you let yourself in through the heavy front door, feet carrying you, out of habit more than anything, to the steel landing that marks the entrance to the fortress. It’s been so long since you were last here that the two men you used to hunt with regularly have likely forgotten they gave you a spare key. Well, they hadn’t exactly given it to you so much as you’d made a copy on the down-low and kept it for occasions such as this.

One hand keeps pressure on your arm, an attempt to stem the bleeding, and the other carries your single carry-on bag. You make it about halfway down the stairs before your gaze swings out over the foyer and you freeze, mid-step.

Sam and Dean, the two figures you expected to find here, are standing stock-still with their guns half-poised (not directed at you) and expressions on their faces that are a combination of shocked, pissed, and extremely confused (mostly directed at you). Following the line of their weapons leads you to the other two occupants in the room, most definitely unexpected and completely unfamiliar.

One is in rags, cowering, and whimpering, unrecognisable underneath filthy tangled hair that covers his face, and the other is in a prim suit marred only by blood and a bit of dirt, barely a single strand of dark hair atop his head out of place.

“Twinkletoes? What the hell are you doing here?!”

It’s Dean’s stupid, old nickname for you that breaks you out of your shock, a glare already falling onto your face with the practised ease of muscle memory.

“I’ll answer that when you tell me what the hell I just walked in on—” You come the rest of the way down the stairs, slower and more cautious now, with your gaze trained on the two at the other end of the table. It’s when the man in rags finally looks up from where he had been cowering and you catch a glimpse of his face, bloody and bruised but instantly familiar, that your words swell and catch in your throat.

“… Gabriel?”

The brothers in front of you heave a great, unanimous sigh, a look passed between them telling you that you’re about to be on the receiving end of a very ludicrous and typical Winchester story.

x x x

The first time you met Gabriel was not long after you’d gone through the biggest plot twist of your entire life. You’d gone to sleep in your bed, in your home, and woken up in a completely different part of the world, like some magician had snapped their fingers and you’d been the punchline of their very next trick. Much to your regret and distaste, some minor investigation revealed that where you’d woken up in the backseat of a car on the side of the road was in some state in the US. You’d sworn to yourself that you would never step foot here in your entire life and then, like God or whoever reigned above was laughing straight in your face, you’d just up and woken up in some random car in a place that made you long to be literally anywhere else.

Preferably somewhere where the occupants didn’t have such easy access to guns.

…like the two men who screamed and pointed theirs at you when you popped up from their backseat after they climbed into the cabin, fast food in their arms.

That was the first time you’d met the infamous hunting brothers, the Winchesters, and the first time of many you’d nearly died in their company.

It had taken a while for them to trust you, but after you inviting yourself onto a few of their cases and saving their asses a handful of times (ignoring the amount of times they saved yours because you forgot that almost every American slept with a gun beneath their pillow) they’d eventually taken you under their proverbial wing. It helped that you had literally nowhere else to go and nothing but the clothes on your back and a bare handful of belongings to your name. Once they figured out you weren’t hiding anything up your sleeve and that you’re just naturally annoying and a little dumb, they’d happily invited you to become an official-unofficial part of their little hunting gang. This means you’re also familiar with the hilarious angel they have in their back pocket. Castiel is a riot and one of the things you miss most when you go off to hunt on your own.

Having been around during the whole ordeal of Lucifer and Michael going through the motions of continuing their family spat on an apocalyptic scale, you too grew to be familiar with their youngest brother, the archangel Gabriel. Of course, while you’d been there for a fair amount of the angel-turned-trickster’s shenanigans, you weren’t there for the final appearance he made at a hotel in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere. In complete juxtaposition to the fact that you could count on one hand the amount of times you’d interacted properly with Gabriel, the sensations you experienced at the news of his sacrifice, his death, were unlike anything you’d ever felt before. You like to consider yourself much more emotionally healthy and with an emotional range far larger than that of a teaspoon and the Winchesters’, but that… that news was something that it had taken you months to recover from fully.

And even then, apparently your recovery wasn’t as complete as you’d thought, because hearing what the boys have told you now has made your eyes burn and your stomach turn into a nest of manic bees, your insides lined with flowers and pollen. You think, for a moment, that you just might be sick.

You’re sitting in the library, Gabriel having been taken to a room of his own by one Winchester while the other fills you in before they’re both reunited before you, and you’re in the kind of mood where you sort of want to just sit there and dissociate for a few hours, truthfully. You can tell you’re not going to get that opportunity though, so in the wake of the bombshell they’d just dropped on you about all you’d missed in the past few months—that they had apparently forgotten to tell you over the phone when you checked in occasionally— you do the next best thing you can think of for the moment.

Put it on the backburner, baby.

You massage your temple with your fingers as you lean your head into your hand, a sigh escaping through your nose. “See, this is why it feels like I have been brought on as a babysitter—I leave for a few months and you old men manage to dig up another almost-apocalypse and find and raise Lucifer’s kid?”

“Alright, first of all,” Dean whips out a finger to point at you, filling you with glee. You’ve barely been back a few hours and already you’re stepping back into your favourite “stir-the absolute-shit-out-of-Dean” pants. As always, he is almost pitifully quick to rise to the bait. “Old? Who are you calling old? Alright so maybe we have a few years on you but that’s just because you’re a toddler and w—”

“Dean,” Sam places a placating hand on his brother’s shoulder, a look that seems to be a mixture of amusement and exasperation crossing his features. “You’re making it too easy for her.”

The older Winchester pauses, turning to pin you with an accusing look. You smile, not even attempting to appear innocent. After staring at you for several long moments, Dean makes the ‘eyes-on-you’ gesture with his fingers before turning away, rolling the tension from his shoulders as he takes a seat across from you.

“You were gone for almost a year this time, did you have any luck, well, leaving?” Sam brings your attention back to him, the question dragging out a sigh that feels like it’s been dredged from the very depths of your being.

“No,” you answer, sounding somewhat petulant even to your own ears. “Why is it so hard to leave this god-forsaken country! I hate it here. I’m sick of trying to make a run for it and being zapped back into a swamp, or—or a pool at the top of a penthouse suite in the middle of some random city! It sucks balls.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Dean waves his hand, enjoying the dirty look you give him. “So you still haven’t found whatever purpose you’re meant to fulfil while here?”

You huff, shaking your head. “No. It’s been years and I still have no idea why I woke up here that day. Or why I can’t leave.”

Over the time you’ve spent with the Winchesters, a few things became apparent to the three of you about your stay here. One, it was indefinite. You’d discovered quickly that you are, quite literally, unable to leave. Every time you get close to escaping this country you black out and wake up back inside. Sometimes in a helpful place, sometimes…. Not.

Two, the three of you had thrown around and entertained the idea that maybe you’d been brought here for a reason, that like them maybe you’d been divinely allocated a role to play. But you’ve been through a lot with the Winchesters, whether in person or by association, and still…

You’re no closer to being able to leave and return from whence you came.

You have no idea why you’re here!

This is something that has really contributed to your temporary career as a hunter here. That isn’t to say that this profession isn’t something you were involved in before you came here, but you’ve really… you really dove into it, whether as a distraction or as an ongoing investigation as to what on earth was going to set you free of your tie to this place. A part of you thinks that each case you take on, each person or family you save and creature you slay might be the one reason that brought you here, and the one task that with its completion will grant you freedom. You’ve never been a fan of being caged; just because this one spans a grand total of 9.834 million square kilometres doesn’t make it any less of one.

This most recent expedition that led you to part from the Winchesters for such a long time was another of your failed attempts to leave. You think you’ve tried escaping at every possible point along the coastline and border by now, with a definite lack of success.

“Well, if it really is some divine intervention keeping you here, then it’s better if you just sit back and settle down, twinkletoes.” Dean huffs a laugh, leaning back in his chair with an accompanying creak from the wood. “Those divine types have proven to be… kind of assholes.”

You frown, but he isn’t saying anything you haven’t already thought. It’s part of why you’d settled so easily into hunting here, actually. ‘When in Rome…’, as they say. You’re familiar with the hunting grind and there is comfort in familiarity.

“Are you going to stay a while?” Sam asks, opening the first-aid box he’d first brought over when you’d settled down. Ah, right—you’d almost forgotten about the injury on your arm, despite the fact that you are still pressing a palm to it. You listen as he speaks, almost swearing you can detect a hint of hopefulness in his voice. “You still have a room here for you, of course. We haven’t touched anything inside.”

“Yeah, mostly because we didn’t wanna deal with the mess and the booby-trapped doors—” Dean’s under-the-breath mutter is cut off by your coo, a wide smile pulling your lips.

“Oh, you two missed me, didn’t you?” Instantly, you are successful in ruffling Dean’s feathers— Sam might take a bit more work, though. “I know I really light this dark, dingy place up but I didn’t know it was that bad without me! Ah, perhaps I will stay a while. You know, out of charity.”

“Sammy,” Dean says, beseeching. “It’s not too late—you hold her back and I’ll find her key. It’s not too cold, she’ll be alright outside.”

An appalled and affronted look slips onto your face and Sam has to clear his throat so that he doesn’t laugh and add to his brother’s torment.

“I’m not a misbehaving puppy,” you say, holding your arm out for Sam as he comes over and finally freeing your bloody hand. “Wait, unless you want me to be. Been broadening your horizons beyond animated tentacle porn have you, Deanie-bo-beenie?”

On cue, Dean’s face flushes light red, whether from anger or a brief spritz of embarrassment, only God knows. You can see Sam’s face grow tense from the effort of holding back noise in your peripheral as he tends to your arm.

“You know what? I’m better than this. I’m gonna let it go.” Dean rises from his chair, making a show of dusting off your metaphorical drama. His light eyes flick to you, squinting. “I’m tired; I have a date with my memory foam pillow and nice, warm, feather duvet and a good night’s rest, so goodnight. I hope your bed has bed bugs, twinkletoes, and I hope they bite.”

“I hope you sleep well too, Dean!” you call after him, deciding you’ll have to give him a break from the bullying tomorrow or else he’ll explode before you can have much fun. “Do you want me to come tuck you in?”

“No! Goodnight!”

His yell and disappearance down the hall is followed a few moments later by the familiar sound of a door slamming shut,

“That’s not very fair of you,” Sam announces, sounding strained and very much like he’s trying not to laugh lest Dean has an ear pressed to his door. “He’s too tired to fight back right now.”

“I know,” you answer, wincing as he wipes down the laceration on your bicep and cleans the blood away with an alcohol wipe. It burns, but it’s definitely not the most painful thing you have ever experienced. “I hadn’t seen you guys in so long, though. I couldn’t help myself.”

Sam simply snorts, reaching for the needle and thread to being stitching the skin back together, and you breathe harshly through your nose as you reach for another topic to distract yourself.

“Are the two—sorry, the three of you actually dads now? To… to Lucifer’s half-angel kid? I thought angels getting frisky with humans was, uh… illegal up in heaven.”

You feel rather than see Sam roll his eyes, your own pointedly directed away from your arm where he has begun to get to work. “It’s Lucifer, y/n, I don’t think he cares about what’s illegal up in heaven.”

You purse your lips—he makes a fair point. Honestly, you feel a little silly for questioning it. “Right, and he’s… trapped in some other dimension? An alternate world where the apocalypse really happened.”

“Yep,” Sam says, hitting a particularly painful spot with his needle. You hiss, giving him a glare.

“I wasn’t even gone a year! Just hearing all this shit is stressing me out so much, dude.” You sigh, attempting to adjust your position in the wooden chair without jostling your arm too much. Thankfully, practice has made Sam quick at his job and already he is almost done piecing you back together. He finishes up with a knot, snipping the thread and then placing a large bandage carefully over the wound. He dusts his hands once done, standing from where he was leaning against the table and proceeding to loom over you like a T-Rex.

“You’re blocking my light, bro,” you inform him, narrowly avoiding a subsequent good-natured smack to your good arm. “Damn, what the hell! Didn’t you take an oath or some shit? I’m your patient!”

“I was studying law, not medicine,” Sam retorts dryly. He turns to leave and put the first aid supplies away, his back facing you but not before you see how his lips twitch. “So your annoying ass is free game.”

“Maybe so,” you acquiesce, rising from your seat with a light grunt as you jostle your arm. You consider asking Sam where Castiel is, to see if you can get a hit of the good stuff and skip the healing process, but think better of it. You always feel a bit bad asking him to heal you, though you barely ever have to since he’s like a rabid mother hen the second he sees blood on any of you. “God, I’m beat. I didn’t think I could get any more tired than I was before, but as always catching up with you two has aged me a few years and now I’m just about as tired as you two are all the time.”

Sam doesn’t rise to the ‘old man’ bait you dangle in front of him—never really does, if you’re being honest; that’s mostly Dean’s vice— but he does offer you a smile that is unexpectedly sincere and fond.

“Go to bed, toddler,” he retorts, before continuing in a softer tone, “… It’s good to see you again, y/n. I’m glad you’re here. Dean and Mom are going out on a hunt in the next few days and I think you can really help with, uh… the whole Gabriel thing.”

For a moment, you don’t say anything. You’d sort of been trying to avoid thinking about the elephant in your mind, for the very same reason that makes your eyes burn once more. It hurts, a lot, thinking and imagining what he must have gone through at the hands of Asmodeus. It feels like your heart is going to tear itself to pieces in your chest from the sheer extent of your empathy and how terrible you feel for him. The Gabriel you saw cowering before you earlier is nothing like the confident feathery asshole you used to know.

Even having only seen him once, it’s enough to make you fearful of the possibility that… he might be too far gone to ever return to that last echo of his previous self.

“I’m not sure what I’ll even be able to do to help,” you respond, approaching the doorway to the hall with your bag in tow. You pause to finish what you’re saying, meeting Sam’s puppy-like gaze from across the room. “But I’ll try. It hurts to see him like that, so… I’ll stay a while, to do whatever I can.”

Sam’s answering thankful smile and nod is all you can ask for in response as you turn and head further into the bunker, dragging your bags back to the room you’d come to call your own over the years. Your gaze strays on the way to one of the doors that has a little note taped on saying, ‘please do not open suddenly or loudly’, undoubtedly the room that they have allocated to Gabriel for the time being. Heart heavy in your chest, you continue on down the hall and tear your gaze away.

You’re not sure how much you can do for him, but you hope you can do something.

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