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chlmtsdoll · 8 months ago

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I’VE ALWAYS DREAMED OF…

౨ৎ Pairing: Art Donaldson/Tashi Duncan x female reader, Art Donaldson x reader, Art x Tashi

౨ৎ Summary: after being dismissed from your ballet academy and your dreams of being a dancer come crashing down, you decide to take on a new accomplishment — becoming a tennis protege to Tashi and Art.

౨ৎ Word count: 2.4k

౨ৎ Warnings: no use of y/n, inexperienced!reader, age gap (reader in early 20’s) dilf/milf age Art & Tashi, talk of oral (F reviving), fingering, size kink ? corruption (ish), mention of masterbation, brief mention of ED, pinning Art, needy reader, I have literally 0 knowledge of sports//tennis so if everything is inaccurate I’m sorry. I’m simply just a romantic smut addict who loves these characters 🤍

౨ৎ part two | three | four

You wouldn’t have wished that full body shock sensation of that day on your worst enemy. Never in a million years would you think all that discipline, bloody feet and overextension on your body to the point of black outs and collapse would have lead to that moment — the day you got dismissed from your ballet academy.

It had been your dream since a little girl to form a stable career as a traveling ballerina. To dance on European stages and tour around different countries doing what you loved. What set your heart on fire. But when you started to grow out of your bodies potential form, now in your early twenties, the instructors had to make the final decision to cut you from your class. You could no longer dance.

No one told you that after you turned around seventeen you’d no longer be the ‘correct’ body shape to be a ballerina. Not any doctors, not your parents — it was all fine up until your twenty first birthday. But even after you got the news that you were entering a red zone, you starved, and you looked into surgeons that would make you look like the ideal ballerina, but nothing was up to the terms of the academies you had qualified for.

The depression of your once life long dream had taken a complete toll over you for a year until you had to pick yourself up again.

Somewhere at least

You tried out other hobbies that took just your hands, baking, sewing, painting. But none of it made your soul feel like it had a real purpose. You needed to compete — you needed to move, your feet needed to glide quickly but delicately all at once. You needed that power and center of stage. You wanted all eyes on you while you made your body flex with determination and a fire light in your eyes.

And that’s when you started searching for tennis coaches.

You figured with your years worth of forming around good discipline and structure in ballet, tennis was a close second to the kind of agility you needed as an athlete of some sort, you knew you were no pro. Nor maybe ever going to be. But you had to do this, it was now tennis or nothing — and you were too young and too ambitious to give up just yet.

So you found them. Her first. Tashi Donaldson.

You knew of her, being in this Industry especially with being around so many wealthier kinds of sports enthusiasts, her name was gonna come around sometimes — and her husband of course plenty, Art Donaldson.

With some friends of friends, and many emails and more emails you were able to officially meet them after a couple days of searching and applying for tennis coaching nonstop. And when that day finally came, If it weren’t for their outshining talent at what they do for the tennis world, you would of figured they were models or at least assumed they should be.

They were both beautiful in an otherworldly sense — jaws that to you could cut like knives and bodies of literal gods.

You were shorter, and more petite as most ballerinas were, so when Tashi towered over you your first meet, all the confidence and sophistication you had previously practiced for this exact moment before hand, dissolved almost immediately — you were so intimidated by the powerful essence that poured off of her, the way her short waves flowed when she turned and her shirt dresses were left unbuttoned at just the perfect degree. Not too much on display, but just the right amount of cleavage and skin showing to leave her inferior curious for more, yearning for that bit of softness to Tashi that was merely her skin.

Speaking of softness, Art on the other hand had total power to his presence, with his name in grand letters everywhere. A full Olympic gold medalist tennis superstar. You’d think it all would go to his head, but that day you first shook hands with the mesmerizing man, you felt only warmth as he took your delicate into his bigger yet soft hands. You were left to find nothing but gentle kindness behind his eyes — you even noticed a bit of brown in his perfect blue irises.

And from that moment you had already known you’d become completely and utterly obsessed with him.

Yet that was six months ago now. Quickly you moved from your once apartment in New York City that you referred to as your ‘struggling ballerina habitat’ to the Donaldson estate — it was best you’d be as hands on with your tennis as possible, according to Tashi. But nothing could of prepared you for as hands on as it would get.

It had been two weeks into your training that the couple had come to you with a proposal. Art and Tashi would make a deal, that you’d be their play thing. But mainly for Art. His wife stated it would help up his game if he had something young, girlish and sweet to distract him in the meanwhile when he got too caught up in 40 loves, and wanting to do justice to Tashi’s failed tennis career. Sometimes it got all too much, and by that, most of the time. He needed you.

And how did you need him.

Within the first month you and Art had gotten feverishly close. With all the admiring you did of him and how he came to have the sports world in the palm of his hand, his rise to fame and all the while having a wife and daughter. Your smiles and soft blushes when he caressed your cheek — how you poked fun at him for not understanding your pop culture references or slang. It all gave him a nolstagia for his youth that made his heart pump a little faster and his racket hit a little harder on the court.

He was so so beyond sweet with you, helping you with your back hands, his fingers drifting your frame from behind as he positioned your body to his liking, and his grins when your mini tennis skirts (that Tashi ordered you to wear) would rise against his clothed thigh to only reveal the bit of lace panties you had on underneath.

With all the overwhelming feelings you didn’t deny the pleasure of touching yourself at night to the thought of his short strawberry blonde waves between your fingers as his lips made out with your pussy for hours. His tongue making you let out unimaginable noises to then kiss the taste of yourself off his lips.

So you couldn’t have been more down when Tashi made you sign for your little agreement.

You didn’t care if you were nothing but a fuck to get Art’s name permanently on the forums of different Tennis courts across the country. You’d do anything for just a glimpse of him. It was all you had really. Anything for Tashi to say you did well.

Anything for them.

It all had been in return of a place for you to stay as well. With your background coming from being a young ballerina from a big city — you hardly got paid anything manageable in the slightest. So it was nothing for Tashi and Art to shower you in their riches — the best maids, cooks, dietary plans, luxury hotels with new designer sports attire waiting for your arrival on top of your own beautifully decorated room in their home and a promised bright career ahead of you.

You’d just never bother to complain for also getting to receive the kind of affection and intimacy from the two who just needed a little bit of something. You, to make them feel alive again.

Now, you were settled into your silk pajama set that was personally picked out for you by Tashi, in a dusty pink rose color — the color she kept her nails because she mentioned it drove Art crazy. Giggles and soft laughter could be heard from the grand living room as you sat across from Art before bed. Watching his grin behind folded knuckles to his face, you bit your lip softly. “I haven’t been able to do it again since.”

“You can. And you will, you just need a little motivation.” you tittered softly with a smile. Taking in the sight of the man sitting so close yet too far from you.

You two had been watching highlights of some of Arts best matches from over the years.

You loved this. Sitting and listening to him talk about his career for however long he wanted, asking questions about how it felt to be so good at a craft — it made him feel assured telling you, teaching you. His confidence raised by the easy flow of conversation you had to offer. Because that’s what you were for, keeping him in that space of authority to at least something in his life and an escape from the tough business world that had broken down a man like him too many times before. So if you were keeping him up, Tashi was keeping you in.

Motivation

You could practically hear Art murmur the word to himself in his head and he looked at you with a sly grin on his face to which you only blushed and inched closer to his presence just a few pillows away from you.

“Yeah ? You gonna serve just like I showed you on the court tomorrow, ballerina ?”

Your lips immediately perked into a silly wide smile and you giggled like a school girl at the former accusation that was now Arts little nickname for you. Your chin resting in the crease of your elbow shyly as you nodded.

“It’ll be perfect. I promise.”

Art leaned in to leave a soft and delicately placed kiss to your neck. You shivered at the sweet somberness between the two of you, eyes almost fluttering closed as time stopped for a moment — but it was all cut short when Tashi came in from tucking Lily to bed. A demeanor on her face and body language like something had been not so lovely with her at that moment.

In her pajama slip, she had grabbed the remote from the table in front of the two of you and turned the tv off.

“Say goodnight.” She spoke with a soft assertiveness and Art had stood, he left a quick kiss to your cheek that didn’t leave you satisfied but wanting to whine his name to stay. Just for a little longer. But instead you let out a quite “night” as he made his way to Tashi.

Their lips pressed in a deep and slower smooch, you watched as some saliva collected in your mouth and you swallowed almost a little too loudly.

The way Art had softened into her made your stomach churn with want. Tashi had a gentle hand to his cheek as he pecked her one last time before disappearing through the hallway and you stood as well. Tashi’s eyes were locked on yours, and something gave you the notion that you weren’t allowed to leave just yet.

It had gone quite for a second as she focused on you, and you wanted to start picking your nails right there.

“I don’t like to end the night unsure, so do you want to tell me why you were slacking off on the court today ?”

Her words were crisp and landed on you like a paper cut you hadn’t seen coming. Your throat already tightening. You knew the chances of this night ending with her giving you that same kind of kiss she gave Art, was now looking too slim. And you feared for everything.

“I-I just haven’t been feeling too good on my feet lately,” your words already weakening under the woman’s gaze. “I’ve been trying to keep my lounges quick, steady, but the arch is hard to get rid of after-“

“Look. And listen to me.” Your eyes shot up from your feet as Tashi cut you and she began, “You’re not dancing in a recital and you’re not a fucking ballerina.”

She scorned you cold and straight forward. You immediately felt merely pushed back by force at her words.

“I don’t care if you’ll need to spend extra time with your physical therapist, I want you on your feet completely and ready to go tomorrow. This is tennis. That’s your life now, so start playing it because I don’t care for wasting my time, Understood ?”

Tashi knew how the ballerina facade went — the presenting as sweet, innocent, as fragile as a tea cup to the world, yet being built up to be an absolute machine. Being able to withstand even the harshest of hits to the ground or the lashing out of choreographers and instructors till gods end. It’s why she was never soft with you when it came to tennis, just like she wasn’t with Art.

You had nodded rather quickly and you were not going to let the readied tears resting on your ducts fall. You were gonna take the taunt like a big girl and get it together — because the truth is, you had been distracted during practice today.

But not by your poor aching feet, but by the way Art watched your perfectly toned legs as you leaped and glided across that court like some well, ballerina.

How when just the sight of your hair braided in two knots with ribbons on the end just became all too much for him to bare. He pulled you aside, the chill down your spine was maddening as he whispered in your ear the kinds of things you did to him. The way you made him feel. The things you made him want to do to with your little body.

His tender and wondrous fingers had ended up clean beneath your skirt without hesitation. Brushing against the lining of your panties and you were up against Gatorade bottles and protein mix before you could form a real thought. He leaned into you, standing tall there above you. Having to raise to the tips of your toes for him to tuck his fingers were you needed him most. You could see the rare excitement of dominance take over a darker tone in his eyes as his fingers sold into your sweet aching cunt, too tight for more than a finger.

The pulse of your heat and the beat of your heart racing at an embarrassing rate. His strawberry blonde locks brushed your desperate expression with eas that you’d fall apart in his arms at any moment knowing how fragile a young thing like you had been when it was just the two of you and your defenses were at their weakest. “Mmh, Art.” You breathed out in a whine, grabbing his muscular arm rather quickly as you nearly lost balance.

“Say it. Tell me you weren’t thinking about anything other than my hand up your skirt on that court.” He slowed into your ear and you whimpered softly as another finger, long and coated with your wetness entered you at once. “I see right through you. The thoughts that wind up in that innocent little head. So desperate. So willing to give up your cunt to me…. Or Tashi.”

Playing shy and dumb up front, though he had been right.

You would bend over and take the moment they said — You had to fight back strangled moans as you felt yourself being stretched by just his two fingers. It was known to both him and Tashi that you were untouched. With strict ballet schedules, school, and endless nights staying up till two am doing chassé after chassé till your toes were sore, you hardly ever had the time for pleasure. It had been anything if kept hidden and burried deep for a ballerina of your training to be caught up exploring her sexual desires — so as of current Art still hadn’t taken you there fully. But warming you up easily with his glorious mouth and apposing fingers inside of you would start you off heavenly.

“Need it… n-need you.” you huffed as Arts hand slipped under your sports bra to squeeze your breast, quick to rub your sensitive bud under his touch as his lips passed yours. His fingers working at a rough pace at this point that you felt your stomach tighten and he reached a spot you didn’t even know had existed. A high pitched groan had left your lips and he locked with yours to keep you fairly quiet. Then just as you would feel that gracious rush of relief soon to be yours, hitting you like a flow off a mountain — that sly smile of mischief had grown on Arts lips, before pulling his hand out from your skirt, and pressing a kiss to your jaw.

“Alright.. good to know.” Is all he uttered before walking away. Walking back out on that court and leaving you there, practically soaked and needing more.

Fuck

You’ve never found yourself so sexually frustrated that it was a different kind of rush you weren’t exactly prepared for. You knew Tashi was the one who loved a good game, and Art came off so easy going to the get up, not needing much for the win — till it was time to touch you or Tashi. Then it had just been all game. All teasing. All begging for more. He craved it, lived for it.

“I asked if you understood.” Tashi’s voice had you coming back to your senses and into the present. Standing in front of the woman already bored of the entire conversation.

You did know that her taking you in at all even with your background being in a completely different kind of wave from her world, was a huge risk to her career and her name. You really were almost too fucking lucky enough to be standing in the home of star athletes like she and Art. To be more intertwined with them than anyone out there. Skin to skin and an intimacy that was almost spiritual.

So with that knowledge, you truly didn’t see it being beneath Tashi to send you back right where you came from. To which that made a burn in your chest.

You couldn’t lose what you had worked so hard for, you couldn’t lose her attention and so much care even if seemed distant. You couldn’t lose Art, not when you were this close to being finally one with him this time. They believed in you enough, and they’d know when you were ready. It’s not like you had any direction before you were chosen by them anyways.

Tashi was completely right, you were no longer just some ballerina trying to make it. You were gonna be theirs to keep — they were gonna love you, and everything you did, every step and hit on that court till it hurt. You were gonna make them proud. You were going to play some good fucking tennis.

You had looked up at Tashi, doe eyed yet tired with a nod, “I understand. Completely.”

A/N: this is the first time I haven’t done full on p in v smut since I wanted to keep it short and sweet bc I plan on turning this fic into a series hopefully :) I rly loved this idea and thought it was a unique spin on the challengers uv — also want to bring in some Patrick action asp so lmk what you think or where it can go from here !! I love feedback it’s sooo appreciated <3 xoxo

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wendichester · 5 days ago

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HIII HOW R UUU???? plz can I request Sam x reader who’s got a lot of energy, like a little crazy in a good way bc I feel like Sam would be tired from a hunt or smth and reader would be dancing to music, Sam would pretend to be grumpy but he really finds it cute

(bonus points if reader calls him Sammy a lot🤭)

𖦹๋࣭⭑ time of my life,

summary. you're a little ball of energy and sam finds you adorable!

pairing. sam winchester x reader

wordcount. 438

notes. HIYA! thank you so much for requesting, buns! hope you like it 🩷

The moment Sam steps into the bunker, all he wants to do is collapse into bed. The hunt was exhausting—long hours, barely any sleep, a gnarly scratch on his shoulder that he’ll have to disinfect later. His entire body aches.

But the second he hears your voice—loud, off-key, and enthusiastic—he knows rest is going to have to wait.

“I’VE HAD THE TIME OF MY LIIIIIFE—”

Sam stops in the doorway to the library, rubbing a hand over his face as he takes in the absolute chaos before him.

You’re in the middle of the room, dancing like you’re at a concert, barefoot and wearing one of his hoodies—his favorite one, at that. The sleeves are way too long on you, covering your hands as you throw your arms in the air. Your phone sits on the table, blasting (I’ve Had) The Time of My Life at full volume.

Sam sighs, leaning against the doorframe. “Really?”

You spin around at the sound of his voice, your eyes lighting up the second you see him. “Sammy!”

He rolls his eyes, but there’s no real annoyance there. “You’re gonna wake up the whole damn bunker.”

“Oh, please,” you scoff, skipping over to him. “Dean could sleep through a zombie attack.”

Sam smirks but doesn’t argue. Instead, he watches as you bounce on the balls of your feet, energy radiating off you in waves. He knows you can’t help it—you’re just like this, always buzzing with life, and honestly, it’s one of his favorite things about you.

You grab his hand, tugging at him. “Dance with me.”

He snorts. “Yeah, that’s not happening.”

“Sammyyyyy,” you whine, dragging out his name in the way you know makes him weak.

“I’m tired,” he protests, but you don’t let go of his hand.

“You can be tired and have fun,” you say, tugging him further into the room. “Come on. Just one dance.”

Sam groans, but the way you’re grinning at him—so full of joy and mischief—has his resolve crumbling. He lets you pull him closer, wrapping your arms around his neck as you sway dramatically to the music.

“There you go,” you tease, voice warm. “Was that so hard?”

Sam shakes his head, sighing heavily, but there’s a fond smile tugging at his lips. His hands settle on your waist, holding you close. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet,” you hum, resting your head against his chest, “you love me anyway.”

Sam chuckles, pressing a soft kiss to your hair. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “I do.”

The song changes to something softer, and he sways with you for a little while longer, exhaustion forgotten—at least for now.

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @ariasong11 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @whereiwakewarm ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas ⋆ @blackmarketfruitrollups ⋆ @impala67rollingthroughtown ⋆ @nervoussystemss ⋆ @daryls-luvrr ⋆ @defnot-svnshine ⋆ @sunnyteume ⋆ @drakelover78 ⋆ @angelblqde ⋆ @mostlymarvelgirl ⋆ @whisperingdaze ⋆ @bossyblondie ⋆ @iluvnewtie ⋆ @dyhsversion ⋆ @drakelover78 ⋆ @s0urw00lf ⋆ @mrs-pondwater19

#sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #sam winchester fluff #sam winchester fic #supernatural #.docx #.req

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ramblingoak · 7 months ago

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A Thousand Kisses

For an Anon that requested a lazy kiss with Copia.

Papa Emeritus IV x Reader

Warnings: soft, tired and kissable Copia, sfw, 540 words, not beta read (thank you to @gothdaddyissues for the dividers)

“I never want to move again.”

You grinned at Copia even though he couldn’t see it with his face buried in his pillow. The poor man had been practicing with the ghouls all day for the upcoming tour. When he finally showed up at your door it was with a hoarse voice and a stiff posture. You couldn’t even get his clothes off without him groaning every time he had to move. As soon as you had wiped off most of his makeup and made him take some painkillers he had collapsed onto the bed.

“You should really take a hot shower, otherwise you’re not gonna be able to move in the morning.”

“I can’t move now, amore.” He turned his head to the side so his voice wasn’t muffled, his bright green eye focusing on you. “I’m broken.”

“Broken, huh? That’s too bad, Papa. I’ll have to adjust my plans for tonight.”

“Pl-ah cazzo,” Copia whimpered as he rolled onto his back, taking a few deep breaths before trying again. “Plans, you say?”

“You know, just the usual.” You toed off your shoes and crawled onto the bed, moving slowly until you were resting on your side next to him. His chest rumbled like a purring cat when you rubbed a hand up and down his bare chest. “A candlelit dinner, some dancing…”

“Please don’t say dancing right now.”

He pouted when you laughed at him and you couldn’t resist shifting so you could kiss his full bottom lip.

“What about wobbling, Papa? Would you wobble for me?”

“Amore, you know that I would normally do anything for you, yeah?” You nodded before resting your chin on his chest. He managed to bring a hand up to your cheek, swiping his thumb across it gently before speaking again. “But Lilith herself couldn’t get me to wobble right now.”

He smiled softly when you kissed his palm before he laid his arm back down on the bed. Even that had him wincing and you frowned down at him.

“Is there anything I can do for you, Papa? Anything at all.”

Copia was quiet and still for a few moments, long enough you almost thought he had fallen asleep. You started to move away to let him rest but he slid an arm around your waist to keep you in place.

“Anything?” He opened his eyes and gave you a lazy smile when he felt you nod against his chest again. “A kiss then.”

“Just one?”

“Hmm, or two. Three maybe, if you feel I deserve it.”

You leaned in to give him the first one, your lips lingering on his for a couple of seconds. It was your turn to cup his cheek, rubbing at spot of white that you had missed earlier. Copia’s eyes were bleary with sleep and you stifled a grin when you realized he probably wouldn’t last till the third kiss. It didn’t matter though, you’d still give him all the tired and lazy kisses you could until he was asleep.

“You deserve a thousand kisses, Copia.”

“A thousand, amore?” He smiled against your lips when you gave him the second one, his hand idly rubbing up and down your back while he gazed into your eyes. “I’ll hold you to that.”

If you'd like to be added/removed from the tag list (or if I accidentally left your name off) of this fic or any of my others please leave a comment or send me a dm! Thank you 💙

My Masterlist ~ My Archive of our Own ~ My Ko-Fi Tip Jar

#copia x reader #papa emeritus iv x reader #the band ghost fanfiction #ghost band fanfic #copia fanfiction #papa emeritus iv #oakie's writing

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moonstruckme · 1 year ago

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Girlllllll I'm literally obsessed with emt!Marauders. Could you maybe write one where the reader is at their apartment for dinner or something, and starts to have a panic attack, and thinks they're dying and gets the Marauders because they believe they're having a heart attack? Thanks :)

Thanks for requesting love!

cw: panic attack

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

At first you mistake the pounding on the door for your heartbeat. It thunders in your chest, beating against your rib cage like it's vying for escape. But then the sound comes again, and you remember than you actually did go through with making the call.

You go to get the door, opening it to find a startlingly attractive paramedic wiping his shoes on your mat. Dark eyebrows rise, disappearing behind a mop of curly hair, when he sees you.

“You look a bit young for a heart attack,” he says.

“James, don’t fuck around.” Another man, taller, shoulders past him carrying a medical bag. “You called emergency services?” he asks you. You nod mutely, having discovered over the phone that talking only makes your chest hurt worse. “Alright, can we come in?”

You nod again, backing away from the door to give them room to enter. A third paramedic follows, immediately taking you by the elbow and guiding you over to your own couch. “Hi, doll, I’m Sirius. What’s your name?”

You wheeze out an answer, sitting when Sirius encourages you downward. He seems unperturbed by your agitated state, smiling as he crouches in front of you. Any other time, the effect would be heart-stopping. You wish it worked like that now.

“Y/n, do you have a family history of heart problems? Any pre-existing conditions?” You shake your head no to both, and he nods calmly. “Okay, but you think you’re having a heart attack, huh?”

You press a hand to your chest, tears invading your vision as the other paramedic—James, you’d heard him called—squats beside Sirius, looking at you concernedly.

“It hurts,” you croak out.

“Got it,” James reassures you. He passes a pair of gloves to Sirius, who begins wiggling them on. “When did it start to hurt? Did anything happen that might’ve caused it?”

“I don’t think so,” you shake your head. Your lungs feel like they could collapse in on themselves at any moment, but James holds your gaze, grounding you. “It just—I was making dinner, and it just started.”

“I understand,” he says, voice soothing. “Okay, I’m pretty sure I know what’s going on here. You’re having a panic attack, sweetheart.” You must look anguished at the lack of validation for your hurt, because James sets a gloved hand on your forearm, rubbing comfortingly. “It’s really scary, I know, but you’re not dying. We’re gonna get you feeling better, alright?”

You want to trust him, you really do, but everything in your body is contradicting him right now. You’re dying, you know it. You can feel it in your bones. A tear spills out of your eye.

“It’s all right,” he promises you. “Listen, this here is Remus, he’s going to help get you breathing a bit better for us, yeah?” The second paramedic, the one who’d come in with the bag, sits down on the couch beside you. He gives you a small smile, the myriad of small and large scars across his face shifting with the movement. James gives your arm a solid pat. You try not to jolt. “You’re in good hands, I promise.”

“Hi, are you comfortable?” Remus asks you. He has a gentle sort of voice, a bit raspy but soft where it counts.

You’re sitting with both feet flat on the floor, your hands in your lap like you’re a guest in someone else’s house. This all seems a bit more polite than you were expecting. It’s missing the urgency of blaring sirens and shouting voices you’d forced yourself to mentally prepare when you’d made the call for help. You feel horribly stiff, but you nod at Remus anyway, because you’re not sure comfortable is something you can find right now.

A small furrow appears between his brows. “Are you sure? You can sit however feels best for you, love, we’ll move around to accommodate you.”

You shift around awkwardly, bringing your feet onto the couch with your knees near your chest. Remus gives you a rewarding smile.

“Good, good. Okay, we’re just going to try to slow your breathing down a bit, yeah?” He takes your hand in his kindly, touching your palm to his chest. “It might be hard at first, but try to copy me, please.”

He inhales deeply, and you manage maybe half of what he does before the air comes whooshing back out of you. A sob works its way up in your chest. You don’t know how there’s still room for anything else in there.

“It’s okay, you’re fine,” Remus says. His thumb strokes over the back of your hand. “We just have to keep going, it’ll get easier.”

You want desperately for him to be right, and he is. You’re not sure how much time passes with Remus holding your hand to his chest, breathing for the both of you, but eventually you’re able to mimic him. He starts counting, four in, hold for four, and then four out, encouraging you every step of the way.

You feel a pressure on the inside of your wrist. You look down, but Remus catches your chin in his hand. “You’re all right, love, James is just getting your vitals. You’re doing so well, keep going.”

You do your best to keep focussed on him, ignoring the occasional prodding or the feel of cool metal against your back. The pain in your chest eases to a dull ache. Soon, you’re no longer straining to hear over the blood rushing past your ears.

“Alright.” Your concentration breaks at the sound of a voice to your left, and you look over to see Sirius coming through the door. You hadn’t realized he’d left. “We’re all set in the back, how are we doing in here?”

“Pretty good,” Remus says, giving your hand a kind squeeze before letting it drop from his chest. His voice takes on a wry quality as he turns to Sirius. “Could’ve been better if you hadn’t distracted her, but now I suppose we’ll never know.”

“Sorry.” Your voice sounds hoarse and torn up.

Remus looks at you with something close to alarm, but Sirius speaks before he can. “Oh, it’s nothing to do with you, dollface, he just likes giving me shit.” He steps forward, peering at you. “You look tons better. No gurney, then?”

“Don’t think so,” James says, and you look down to find him crouched at your side, draping a stethoscope back over his neck. “Heart rate’s coming down with breathing, and it doesn’t seem like anything else is amiss. Should be an easy ride.” He looks at you, warm brown eyes melting you like wax. “Think you can walk out to the ambulance, sweetheart?”

“I—sure, yeah.” You stand on shaky legs, and both Remus and James stand with you, hands hovering in case you need them. You feel so pathetically frail you almost want to laugh. “Um, why are we going to the ambulance?”

“We’re just going to bring you to the hospital to make sure there’s nothing else wrong,” Remus says. “It’s nothing to worry about, just precautionary stuff.”

“But I’m—I’m okay, right?”

“We think so,” James reassures you, taking your elbow to help you off the curb by the ambulance. “Do you not feel okay?”

“I feel better,” you say uncertainly. “It’s just…” You bring your hands up closer to your face. They’re trembling gently, just like the rest of you. “I can’t stop.”

“That’s totally normal,” Remus promises. James abandons your side to hop into the ambulance, reaching down to help you up, and Remus’ hands ghost over your waist as you clamber inside. He climbs up after you. “You might also have some muscle soreness, nausea, fatigue. It’s probably all just your body coming down from the attack, but you should still tell us, okay?”

“Okay,” you echo, nodding. “Yeah, I’m really tired.”

“That’s fine, sweetheart.” James rubs your shoulder warmly, encouraging you to sit on the gurney in the center of the ambulance. “You can take a little nap on the way if you gotta. I’ll wake you when we get there.”

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 9 months ago

Text

Just Keep Breathing

Sam and Dean & little sister!reader, Castiel & Winchester!reader, Rowena & Winchester!reader

Requested by Anonymous (x2)

Synopsis: You get sick from a mysterious illness, and you just can’t seem to get better.

“Finally!”

Dean’s voice was the first you heard as you stumbled into the bunker after an insanely long school day. You were somehow sweating and freezing at the same time, and it felt like you might collapse any second.

“Grab a book, there’s a ton of lore to go through,” Dean continued. “We’re looking for more info on witches, seems like there might be…” Dean’s voice trailed off when he looked up to see you all but slumping down the stairs. “Hey kid, you ok?”

“Mm-hmm,” you huffed in response as your backpack dropped to the floor—had you done that? You didn’t remember making the decision to take it off, it seemed to just fall off your slumped shoulders on its own.

“Ok, commere.” You blinked and there was Dean, his hand lifting to your forehead and his brow drawn in concern. “Jeez, you’re burning up.”

At Dean’s words, Sam looked up.

“She’s sick?” He asked.

“Yeah.” Dean removed his hand and lowered himself to one knee to look at your downturned, unfocused gaze. “Sweetheart, look at me.”

You tried to focus on Dean’s eyes, but your gaze refused to settle.

“Yeah ok,” Dean sighed. “Let’s get you to bed.”

You let Dean lead you to your room and tuck you into bed. He even helped you take your shoes off when your fingers fumbled with the laces.

“Did you eat today?” Dean asked as you settled in.

“I…” you wracked your befuddled brain. “I had lunch…but then I threw it up sometime after sixth period.”

“Ok.” Dean cringed. “You get some sleep, I’m gonna go make you food.”

“Nooo.”

Dean turned in surprise at your desperate whine.

“What? What’s wrong?”

You grabbed at his sleeve and tugged.

“Don’t go,” you sniffled. “I don’t want food, I just want you to stay.”

“Ok, ok,” Dean relented, figuring that once you were asleep he could make you something. “You better not get me sick,” he said, only half kidding, as he sat on your bed. When you reached out to him, he went to put his arms around you, but the second his hands touched you, you flinched away.

“That hurts!” You were starting to cry now as you backed away from your brother.

“What hurts?” Dean was baffled. “I barely even…” he trailed off as he pressed the back of his hand to your head again, ignoring the way you hissed and tried to flinch away from him. “Jeesh, it’s even worse now,” Dean mumbled. “Just lay back now, you gotta get some sleep, ok?”

“Don’t go,” you begged.

“I’m not going anywhere, just take it easy sweetheart,” Dean promised. “Get some rest.”

Dean waited until he was sure you were asleep before he went to talk to Sam.

“She asleep?” Sam asked, not even looking up from the lore book he was studying.

“Yeah…” Dean’s voice trailed off as he stood there awkwardly for a moment. “Sam, something’s wrong.”

“Wrong? What, with Y/N?”

“Yeah. I don’t know how to explain it…she was getting hot so fast, and when I tried to touch her, it was like I burned her or something. I don’t know, I guess I can’t be sure, but something about her getting sick doesn’t feel…normal.”

“Ok.” Sam nodded. “Well, you call around at the school and see if there’s a bug going around. I’m gonna hit the lore a bit more.”

The boys didn’t speak as they got to work.

…

Sam was heading to the kitchen when he heard you calling for him. He detoured into your room, his heart constricting when he saw you—you were pale and sweaty, the sheets sticking to your skin. He couldn’t tell if your cheeks were glistening from tears or sweat—it was obvious you were in pain.

“Hey honey,” he greeted gently. “Did you need something?”

“Can you stay with me?” You pleaded. Sam didn’t hesitate, coming over to sit on your bed. You reached out to hold his hand, but when your fingers touched his you hissed and pulled away.

“Something wrong?” Sam asked, remembering what Dean had said.

“It hurts.” Now there was no mistaking the tears on your face for sweat—Sam had never seen you so upset and in pain. “It’s like-like my skin is on fire and-and I just want a hug but when anybody touches me it just—it just gets worse.” You were out of breath and choking on your words by the end, and it took every ounce of Sam’s will to ignore his big brother instinct and not pull you into his arms—the last thing he wanted was to hurt you worse.

“Stay right here, I’m coming right back,” Sam said as he stood. You didn’t say anything, you just watched curiously—and a little worried—as Sam left. Sure enough, he returned a minute later with a bowl full of water and a glove.

“Ok, I’m gonna try something, hold still,” Sam instructed.

You started to giggle when Sam pulled the glove on and plunged his hand in the bowl. He grinned at you, happy to hear you laughing again.

“Ok now, hold still,” Sam insisted. “This is serious.” But he was still grinning as he took his dripping, gloved hand and pressed it against your forehead. “How does that feel?”

You closed your eyes in contentment as the cool water hit your skin and the gentle cloth brushed against your forehead.

“Better,” you told Sam with a smile. “Thanks, Sammy.”

“Anytime,” Sam said.

The two of you stayed like that for most of the afternoon, with Sam comforting you and trying to cool you off with the wet glove. Sam was determined to do anything he could to make you feel better while Dean was trying to investigate the cause of your illness. He’d also been calling Cas all day, but he hadn’t gotten an answer.

Dean was just about to give up on the books and catch a few hours of sleep when he heard Sam calling for him. He followed the sound to your room, where he found his little siblings resting on your bed.

“Can you sing me a song?” You asked, shyly picking at your sheets.

“Uhm…” Dean swallowed, a little uncomfortable. “Sure sweetheart.”

Sam relented his spot next to you so that Dean could climb in. He started off just humming “Hey Jude,” and within minutes you were fast asleep.

“You were right, Dean,” Sam said when he was sure you were asleep. “I don’t know what it is but—but it’s bad.”

“Ok well we don’t need to panic,” Dean assured him, noticing Sam’s rising anxiety. “She’s been sick before, let’s just give it a little longer and see what happens. Maybe Cas’ll finally come around and set her straight.”

“I don’t remember,” Sam mumbled.

“What?” Dean asked.

“Her getting sick. I barely ever remember her being sick.”

“Dad always sent you to school whether she was sick or not. I usually stayed behind to take care of her.” A ghost of a smile passed across Dean’s lips. “Most of the time I had to convince dad that I’d caught whatever she had so that he’d let me stay with her. I never wanted to leave her when she was sick.”

Sam was quiet for a long moment before a thought occurred to him.

“I don’t ever remember you sick.”

At this, Dean shrugged.

“I usually just powered through it. I had a job to do, after all.”

Sam was about to comment on that when his eyes suddenly snapped to you.

“Dean, is…is she breathing?” Dean jumped up as Sam moved closer to you. “Dean she’s not breathing!”

Dean blocked Sam from getting in the way and grabbed hold of your shoulders.

“Hey…hey!”

You jolted awake when Deans shook you, taking a great gulp of air the moment you were awake.

“Hey…ok…” Dean breathed a sigh of relief, holding you in his arms until he heard you crying as you tried to pull away. “You ok?” He asked as he let you go.

“It still hurts,” you sniffled. “What…what happened?”

“You stopped breathing,” Sam said. “It…jeez kid, you scared us.”

Dean noticed that your breaths still sounded labored.

“Are you ok?” He asked.

“It…it kinda hurts,” you muttered almost to yourself as you rubbed at your chest.

“Breathing?” Sam met Dean’s eyes—they were terrified.

Your only response was a tiny nod as you continued to take shallow breaths.

“I’m gonna try Cas again,” Dean said, standing from your bed.

“I’m…” Sam hesitated, as though he didn’t want to tell Dean what he was thinking. “I’m gonna call Rowena.”

“Rowena?” Dean demanded. “Why?”

“Because we don’t know what this is, Dean!” Sam insisted. “For all we know, she got cursed! We were looking into witch activity in the area. Maybe Rowena can help.”

Dean backed off.

“Fine. Call her.”

…

“I can’t heal her.”

“That’s because it’s a spell, you idiot.”

“I can’t be sure of that.”

“Well I can!”

“Ok, ok,” Dean interrupted Rowena and Cas’s argument. “This isn’t helping anything. Rowena, what can you do?”

“Not much I’m afraid,” Rowena sighed. “I can’t undo the spell.”

“Well can you at least tell us what the spell is?” Sam cut in before Dean had a chance to get angry.

“That’s easy enough. It seems to be some kind of…anti-body spell.”

“What does that mean?” Dean demanded.

“It means that her body is slowly starting to reject what it needs or wants the most. Basic needs like food, water, probably even sleep, will start to hurt her.”

“It hurt when I touched her skin,” Sam interrupted.

Rowena shrugged, and continued. “I suppose the need or desire for physical affection counts. It will get worse, though. Things that she can’t live without will be too painful for her to do. Eventually even breathing will be unbearable.”

“It already hurts to breathe.” Everyone had all but forgotten you were there until you made yourself known. Your voice came out in a terrified whisper, but everyone heard you clearly.

“We’re gonna fix it,” Dean asserted. “All we have to do is find the witch, right? Then kill her.”

“It might not be that simple,” Rowena sighed. “I mean, it could’ve been anyone. For all we know, they put a spell on Y/N to make her forget them.”

“Then what are we gonna do?!” Dean demanded.

“You and Cas try to find that witch,” Sam jumped in, trying to find a way to keep panic down. “We already have a head start, since we were pretty sure one was in the area anyway. You know where most of the strange activity was, start there. Rowena and I will stay here, try and see if there’s an undo spell.”

Dean didn’t hesitate to agree. If he wasn’t so preoccupied worrying over you, he would’ve been very proud of Sam, stepping up while he was panicking. Now that Dean had a direction, he was calmer—he was ready.

“Ok. Let’s go.”

…

“Please don’t leave me.”

Dean and Cas had already left, and Rowena and Sam were halfway out of your room when you tear-strained voice reached Sam. He turned to face you, and his resolve to hit the books in the library crumbled when he saw you, shaking in fear and taking shallow, painful breaths.

“Bring me some books to look through,” he muttered to Rowena before coming to sit on your bed.

It was silent in your room for a few deafening seconds, before your shattered gaze met Sam’s and you spoke, breaking his heart.

“I don’t wanna die, Sammy.”

“Hey,” Sam turned to face you, resisting once again the urge to pull you into his arms. “Me and Dean are never gonna let that happen. You know that, right?”

“It-it hurts to breathe,” you cried. “And it keeps getting worse. I don’t—I don’t know how long I can do it.”

“Hey, hey…” Sam was reaching for you when he remembered that that would only make you hurt worse. His hand froze in the air, halfway to your face. “I…” Sam‘s voice cracked. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Don’t…don’t say that, ok? You have to keep fighting, ok? We’re gonna find a way to fix this, but you just have to keep fighting.” Sam was so desperate to hug you that he pulled his sleeves over his hand to cover his skin and pulled you into his arms. You allowed it for several seconds, wanting so desperately to just sink into his arms. But you couldn’t.

“That…” you struggled to get the words out; you didn’t want to say them. “That hurts, too, Sammy.”

Sam flinched back like he’d been shot, looking down at you in utter defeat.

“I’m…I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

The despair in the room was total.

…

“I’ve got it!”

Sam regretted his outburst when you jolted awake. Rowena had warned the both of you that sleeping might end up making you hurt more rather than feel better, but you had all but passed out from exhaustion and pain, and Sam didn’t have the heart to stop you. Even in sleep, your body and face twitched in pain periodically.

Now that you were awake, it was obvious that Rowena was right; it had made it worse.

“What—“ your breathing was labored as each breath pained you. “What happened?”

Rowena stepped into the room, having heard Sam’s declaration.

“I found the spell,” Sam insisted, holding the book up. Rowena approached him with a dubious frown. However, once she started to read the spell she slowly nodded.

“This might just do it,” she said.

“I’m gonna call Dean.”

…

Dean and Cas returned within an hour.

“Not a single lead,” Dean said, annoyed. “So this had better work.”

“Let’s hope so,” Sam sighed, looking at Rowena. She nodded.

“It’s a good thing that this bunker is well-stocked,” she said. “I believe we’re running out of time.”

Your gaze turned downwards when everyone glanced at you at Rowena’s words. Sure enough, your breaths had been getting shallower and shorter in your failed attempts to make them hurt less. You were also weak and pale from the lack of food and water you’d had over the past two days.

“Do it.” Dean was the first to look away from you as he spoke to Rowena.

Rowena handed you a cup filled with a mixture of herbs and things you didn’t want to know about. Your lip was quivering as you lifted the cup to your lips—you’d avoided food and water for a reason; if breathing was like a stab to the chest, how would swallowing down a potion feel?

Sam’s heart was breaking as he watched you struggle to swallow through the pain, and Dean couldn’t even look.

As soon as you had the potion down, Rowena started reading a Latin incantation from the book. Sam watched you carefully as Rowena finished it. He crossed his fingers behind his back, holding his breath as he hoped that your own would become less labored. Instead, your eyes widened in surprise as your breaths became even more panicked.

“What’s happening?” Dean demanded, his eyes flashing from you to Rowena. “What did you do?!”

“I-I don’t understand…” Rowena muttered, flipping through the book. “It should have…”

“Sam…De…” you whimpered.

Dean’s panicked eyes met Sam’s, then yours, before they went back to Rowena.

“Found it!” Rowena breathed relief, before her eyes once again clouded with worry. “Oh no.”

“What?” Sam and Dean demanded in unison.

“The-the counterspell…it takes an hour to work, and as it works through the curse, the curse…fights back.”

“What does that mean?” Dean’s breathing sounded almost as labored as yours as he struggled to keep down his fear as well as his anger.

“It means that it’ll get worse before it gets better. If we…if we had found this at the beginning, it would’ve worked easily, but…”

“But she might not survive an hour like this,” Cas finished for Rowena, realizing what she was saying before either brother.

“What can we do?” Sam asked.

“Nothing.” Rowena shook her head. “This spell was her only hope, so…so we just have to wait and see if she outlasts the curse now. It shouldn’t take any more than an hour.”

“Ok,” Dean said, coming to sit by you. “You can do this kiddo, ok? We’re gonna be right here, you’re gonna be fine.”

The seconds crawled by one eternity at a time. Every time Dean thought you couldn’t look more in pain, your face twisted again as you tried over and over to take a deep enough breath to satisfy your starving lungs. Once it reached fifteen minutes left, Dean noticed that every minute or so you stopped breathing completely.

“Hey, c’mon.” Dean resisted the urge to cup your face. “C’mon keep breathing, you can do it.”

Suddenly you were reaching your arms out to Dean, and he was backing away.

“I-I don’t want to hurt you,” Dean said.

“Don’t…care,” You whimpered. “I…n-need y—“ you couldn’t seem to get out full words, but Dean didn’t need anything more.

“Ok, yeah.” You were in Dean’s arms in a second. “Ok, I’m here sweetheart. I’m here, you just gotta keep breathing. Keep breathing for me.”

You burrowed against your big brother despite the pain, trying all you could to keep breathing. The pain was so blindingly unbearable that you started to feel your vision blur and blacken. Sam was the first to notice you drooping in Dean’s arms, and he reached down and pulled your face away from Dean’s chest so he could look at you.

“Hey, you gotta stay awake honey,” Sam insisted.

“Don’t let her sleep!” Rowena commanded. “Her body will stop breathing automatically if she passes out.”

“Hey, hey,” Dean’s gentle taps to your face felt like full-on punches, but they did the trick. Your eyes fluttered open once more, and your hands gripped onto Dean even harder. Sam had joined Dean on your bed, his one arm wrapped around your shoulders from behind while Dean continued to hold you in his lap. Their touch was like fire on your skin, but never had a burn been so welcome.

“Keep breathing,” Dean was repeating over and over, and without that mantra you truly would have stopped ten minutes ago.

“Seven more minutes,” Cas announced.

You went to take another small breath, and you couldn’t keep the cry of pain in when it was the worst pain yet. It hit you so hard that you felt the darkness returning.

“No no no, hey,” Dean pleaded. “Breathe kiddo, you’ve gotta keep breathing.”

You’d barely even noticed that you stopped. It felt so good to stop. The pain of your unfilled lungs wasn’t nearly as horrible as the pain of breathing.

The relief was so great that you barely even felt when the blackness finally took over, and you slumped in Dean’s arms.

…

“No no no no…” Dean was shaking you over and over, but you were out cold. “Come on, breathe!”

“Six minutes,” Castiel said.

“She won’t last that long,” Sam breathed.

“It-it’s not an exact science,” Rowena cut in. “It might…maybe it will work a little faster.”

With nothing else to do, the four watched, barely breathing, as your body lay unnaturally still on your bed. Cas was watching his watch like a guard dog, counting the seconds until you would have brain damage…until you could die…

The great, gasping breath that escaped your lips as you sat up had all four onlookers nearly crying in relief. Sam and Dean had already been crying, but even the witch and the angel couldn’t hold in their emotions anymore as you began to breathe deeply again, tears of relief streaming down your own face.

Dean held you in his arms without fear, and you clung to him without pain. Sam’s arm was still around your shoulders—he hadn’t moved an inch.

“You’re ok,” Dean breathed as you cried on his shirt, and no one was sure if he was reassuring you or himself. “You’re ok sweetheart, I’ve got you.”

You refused to let go of your brothers, having spent two days unable to take comfort in them when you needed them most. The three of you stayed like that for so long that eventually Rowena left, but Cas stayed to watch over the Winchesters he had sworn to protect—to watch over the one he’d almost lost.

He watched silently as the three siblings fell asleep—you first, then Sam, then—once he was sure that his little brother and sister were ok—finally Dean.

He watched, knowing that they had almost lost everything today.

He watched, knowing that they would only be closer because of it.

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl

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jasminumdew · 3 months ago

Text

Rafayel (merman x siren reader)

Notes: This was written based on Rafayel’s rut which was presented in the Ebb and Flow card

Summary: You went out hunting to feed your sick merman lover, but he doesn’t seem to be hungry, at least not in that way.

Event host: this fic was written for Monster Mash Event, hosted by lovely @nanamiscocksleeve

Warnings: MDNI, gore, manslaughter, merman goes into rut, public sex

W/c: 1.2k

“Captain, we’re very close to that area now”

“Prepare the spears, net, every crew member gets to the harpoon gun now. We only get one chance, either we catch it or it’s the last day for all of us”

With the captain’s order, everyone quickly rushes to the ship's sides. All eyes were focused on the sudden movement of the waves, so no one paid attention to the piercing eyes locking on their backs. It’s not until the first note sang out that they realized their mistake.

“Everyone, plug your ears. NOW!!” The captain's screams couldn’t reach their ears anymore, since it was filled with the most heavenly voice they’d ever heard. Can this be considered a peaceful death - when your heart was fluttering, mind clouded and blurry by a symphony? You wouldn’t say that, because only 10 seconds after hearing your song, the hallucination starts. One by one, the crew members collapsed onto the floor, some jumped and fed themselves to the hungry monster under the deep sea. Their hands reach to the nearest weapons, frantic red eyes looking like it’s gonna be popped out by how irritated the blood vessels got, having to witness their own death caused by their own hands.

You don’t feel any grief for being that cruel to them. Humans share many similar features with sirens, even more than they have with mermaids. But they are all so weak, no really, they don’t have a pair of wings behind their backs or feathers on their thighs to protect them from the harsh weather like your kind do, nor do they have tails to move fast underwater like mermaids. That’s why they are only lower species who are destined to be feasted on. You keep rambling while tearing their breast out with your sharp claws, their constant begging falls on deaf ears. You’re not familiar with skinning humans so some organs were mixed with meat and fat, normally there’s another one that would deal with this task and you just gonna let them feed you the best bits. You couldn’t help grinning from ear to ear, thinking how proud of you he’s gonna be when you bring him this fresh heart that’s still beating slowly on your bloody palm.

As you fly back home, you find his silhouette resting on the entrance, where the waves can reach his merman’s tail.

“Babyyy I’m back. Look what I got!”

He huffs, narrowing his eyes.

“Couldn’t you tell me already? Gosh, the smell is awful. Human meat?”

You’re taken aback by his cold and sarcastic demeanor but quickly brush it off, considering he’s not in his best condition.

“It’s a human heart. I hope it can cheer you up or at least make you less grumpy”

You reach out to pat his hair, it always does a great job to calm him down. Before you even touched his blue strand, your wrist was grabbed firmly by his hand.

“You went hunting alone? Do you know how dangerous it is? They have weapons that can kill us in a heartbeat. Why didn’t you tell me first?”

The heat spreading from his palm feels like it can burn your delicate skin, you try to struggle out of his hold but to no avail.

“But you needed to rest. I’m fully capable of killing them alone, there weren’t even a scratch”

“You’re covered in blood. Next time don’t do unnecessary things like this. You smell like dead people.” He continues his nagging, there’s no point in getting hurt over his words, you know he would never say things like this in the right headspace. You put the bloody heart aside and clean all the nasty blood on your feathers, it seems to be clear that he doesn’t want any snack right now.

As you finish cleaning up, you take a seat on his big tail, careful not to scratch him accidentally with your sharp claws. His body stiffens when you sit on his lap, grunting in his throat as your hand touches his forehead to check his body heat.

“Raf? This body temperature is not normal at all! What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine” his hands gripping on your waist to stop you from squirming on his lap, “It happens once a year. I just sleep it off”

Once a year? Suddenly everything clicks in your mind.

“You’re in a rut, aren’t you?” Every signal is checked: abnormal body heat, labored breathing, dilated pupils, unexplainable mood swings…He doesn’t reply but his eyes shift to his lower abdomen. Your gaze follows him to find his thin fabric was drenched in precum. Blood rushes to your cheek and your heart beats with excitement when you pull it down, revealing his enormous erection. Merman’s manhood in general is way bigger than that of sirens, but it’s especially huge today, the heavy red tip rests on his belly, waiting to pump his seed all over your fertile flower.

Your heavy wings spread out, covering your bodies from the outside world to get some privacy.

“Don’t”

“What?” your eyes looking up all confused.

“Don’t spread your wings. I want everyone to see that you’re mine to claim.”

You do just as you were told to, not without looking around to check for anyone around first. You don’t dare to confess, but the thought of someone watching you being such a slut for your lover caused waves of arousal inside you. Just from the smirk on his lips, you can tell he knows it already.

He nearly choked on his breath when you ran your hand down his erected shaft, his tail splashes the waves impatiently. You kiss your way down his abdomen, licking and biting on his skin. Your mouth can only take half of his length, the rest have your hands do the work. Within minutes of you sucking his sensitive tip, he pushes your head away. His cock twitches angrily, begging for friction.

“I need to feel you, please. I’ll make up for you later, but I really have to cum inside you”

With a nod from you, he aligns his tip clumsily and thrusts all the way in, reaching your womb. It doesn’t go any softer after he finishes, but the semen acts as an aphrodisiac to you. Your inside burns with the slow thrusts and lazy strokes on your bundle of nerves, so much that you sob into his chest, begging him to pick up the pace. At night, when your womb has no space for his cum anymore, that’s when he comes back to normal and peppers you with kisses. You’re sure that your eggs are all fertilized now, and he’ll need to find a bigger cave for your crowded family tomorrow.

There’s so many things to prepare, but now, you just sleep in each other’s embrace without any care and leave it for tomorrow. Such an odd thing that two species who have nothing in common fell in love with each other. It’s truly beautiful, how you two can find out a whole new world that you’ve never known of, he’s the deep dangerous sea that you craved for one time to dive in, and you’re the cloud, the moon, the sun he couldn’t reach. Everything just feels right being with the right person, no matter the differences.

#ncs monster mash #lads rafayel #love and deepspace rafayel #love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #rafayel x reader #love and deepspace smut #lads smut

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angelicabunny · 1 year ago

Text

Soaking Wet.

requested: yes!!

summary: chris walking in on you in the shower

warnings: smut (ofc 😛), shower sex, a little rough, chris sturniolo x reader.

the hot water trickled down my back as i pushed my hair out of my face, letting the water soak it. my body feeling more relaxed by the second, i haven’t had time home alone in forever with the triplets constantly filming and working from home. don’t get me wrong i love them but sometimes it’s too much.

the candle lit on the counter released a warm vanilla scent as i watched the mirror fog up.

not having time alone also meant not having time alone, to please myself. i haven’t felt pleasure in over a month. before i knew it my hand was snaked around the shower head, bringing it closer to my throbbing clit. my body was begging for sensation. the warm water gently spraying my needy clit, almost giving me enough feeling, god it felt amazing.

the quietest moans escaped my mouth before my mind drifted. the triplets were all out separately meaning any one could come home any time soon. i placed the shower head back before i went too far. i closed my eyes while facing the falling water, letting it wash away my frustration and lust.

i mustn’t have heard the sound of the door opening, or the sound of footsteps trailing up the stairs but someone was definitely home. the foot steps continued past the bathroom meaning it was chris, his room was just down the hall, i didn’t bother calling out he knew i was home.

all of a sudden i heard the bathroom door knob click and the door fly open. i turned in shock staring at chris.

“holy shit , i’m so fucking sorry!” he yelled while trying not to look at me.

“chris!”, i screamed while rushing to cover my indecency, “what are you doing?!” i cried while feeling my face burn.

he couldn’t do anything but stare, his jaw sitting slightly open, his breathing shallow.

there had always been a certain tension between us, yet neither of us acted on it.

i took him in with my eyes, his brown hair slightly fluffier, a small layer of sweat covering him. i felt his eyes consume me as he fixed his hair. all of a sudden he was removing his shirt, throwing it to the ground. followed by his pants and boxers. i made room for him in the shower, i could feel myself getting desperate. he jumped in, grabbing my face, pulling me in for a rough kiss. his movements showing how hungry he was. i tipped my head back, exposing my neck, his soft lips left rough kisses along it.

he made his way up to my ear, the sound of his heavy breathing traveled into them as the water still sprayed above us, “you have no idea how long i’ve waited for this.” he whispered in my ear while pushing his rock hard cock against me.

“c-chris, we cant,” i whimpered pathetically.

i could feel him smirk against my skin, “no one’s gonna be home for hours.” he grunted.

i let out the quietest sob as he bit my earlobe teasing me. his hand made its way down to my entrance, his long fingers collecting my slick, “god you’re already soaking wet.” he said roughly before gripping my hips and picking me up. my plush thighs clasping around him as he pushed inside of me. “god you’re fucking tight.” he said through his teeth.

his biceps twitching with every movement as he gripped my ass roughly, bouncing me around like a rag doll. my arms wrapped around his neck, trying to support my weight as he continued to throw me around on his cock.

“it’s okay ma you can let go, i got you.” he said in a low raspy voice. i shook my head in response. i couldn’t let go. i was so close. one more thrust and i’d collapse.

“c-can’t, so fucking close.” i slurred.

his grip tightened around me as he pushed into me harder. my mind now filled with fog. “just be patient for me, i’m almost there.” he grunted.

my eyes had no place else to go but the back of my head. i was practically drooling as he left harsh kisses on my neck. his cock throbbing inside of me and hitting places i’ve never felt before. the familiar sensation grew stronger, i was on the edge. the pit of my stomach growing tighter. before i could get a word out a wave of pleasure exploded throughout my veins.

“oh god!l” i cried in an almost pornographic voice.

“oh f-fuck.” chris moaned while thrusting once more, his warm ropes of cum filling me as my legs trembled around him.

a quiet gasp left my mouth as he pulled out roughly, placing me back down onto the tiles. his arms pulling me in as his head lowered. his hair wet and separated yet still sitting perfectly.

“you’re mine now.” he whispered into my ear while holding my chin up.

i couldn’t do anything but nod in response. a smirk growing on his face.

“let me clean you up pretty girl.” he said while admiring my curves.

sorry this took so long to post !! and sorry it’s so short and rushed. i’ve had no motivation whatsoever but i will definitely start posting more again. ty for 200 as well, i love you all !!

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #fanfic #smut #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo smut

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berlinswifey · 7 months ago

Text

Caught up on Twitch - Agent 00

Warning - Smut, cussing… that’s mostly it

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

I was relaxing on Agent’s bean bag as he was screaming at his chat for the 100th time that night, probably about his big ass forehead.

“Chat y’all STAY dick riding bro!” He said as he got up to get a bottle of water for himself.

Getting up, I sat down in his chair and started talking to the chat cause I was lowkey bored.

“Hey guys! I’m bored, give me something to do,” I exclaimed reading the chat messages.

Eezybakeoven: TRUTH OR DARE!!!!!!!!

AgentsMaker: My wife frfr guys…

Bigjustbust: Hiiiiiiiiiiii!!!!!!!!!

Agentgurl_00: Truth or dare

“Din, wanna do truth or dare?” I said turning around but he was already pressed up behind me. Like nigga moveeeeee. “Bro what are you doing, back up.”

“Girl who is you talking to, you’re in MY chair, talking to MY stream. Get up.” He tilted the chair to push me out of it.

I kissed my teeth and stood up and sat on the other chair while glaring at Agent who just sat down with a big ass smile on his face like everything is sweet.

“Anyways chat, I came up with a great idea. We should play truth or dare,” This nigga,“Totally an original idea, so let’s do it guys, I’m gonna turn on text-to-speech, yall don’t be weird.”

[YoMamaHouse Donated 1 Dollar:

I dare one of you to tell us something nobody knows!!!]

“You wanna do or should I, Din?”

“You can go right ahead.”

“Okay, so I am in love with one of my closest friends. Next person!” I smiled and continued on while I could feel his eyes burning into my skin as I looked everywhere but at him.

[Nutonmyface6969 Donated 1 Dollar: Make out with any food in the fridge for a minute]

“I got this one,” he got up and went to the fridge and grabbed an apple.

He took the apple and and stared at it for a good few seconds before starting, he was giving it light pecks before he started to tongue down the apple, licking it sensual while keeping eye contact, to say this was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen was an understatement. I was getting turned from just watching a man make out with a fruit. I know how Daphne felt in Bridgerton now.

“And time, good job lover boy. Y’all gonna get married now?” I giggled before turning away from the camera to gather myself cause girlllllll.

“Chat, we’ll be back in a few minutes. I gotta go handle something.” He paused the stream and turned me around and pulled me to him.

“Bro what are you doing! We were in the middle of something!” I kept on rambling until I was cut off by a pair of lips. I was shocked for a minute before I kissed back and deepened the kiss. He grabbed my waist and pulled me on top of his lap.

“Wait baby, let’s go to your bed first.” He nodded, looking dazed and picked me up, practically running to his room and threw me on the bed.

He leaned down on top of me and kissed my jaw down to my neck while my hands were pinned up over my head with his left hand, preventing me from touching him. His tongue swirled around my neck as I squirmed and moaned.

“Let me touch you baby, I wanna feel you,” I moaned while tugging my hands.

He gazed at me through his hooded eyes and let go of my hands. They immediately grasped his hair and he let out a strained sigh and proceeded to pull my shorts off my body.

“No underwear on? You were ready for this, weren’t you?” He said as he flipped me over on my knees and started to finger me. I moved against his hand while letting out soft moans. “Fuck, that’s my girl. Let me get a taste baby, let me taste you.”

I moaned as he started to eat me out from behind, I struggled to stay up on my arms and let my chest collapse onto the bed and started breathing heavily. He landed a hard smack to my ass as he spread my folds and stuck his tongue inside of me. He’s not the first person I’ve been with but he is the best.

He found my clit, flicking it with his tounge before he shove two fingers in me, “You’re dripping baby.” I wanted to say something but everything just came out as a whine or a moan. His hands spread my ass, his thumb finding its way to my hole before he slipped it in.

I let out a scream and he used his other hand to rub my back as he tried to soothe me. I was so close from the immense pleasure from him eating me and fingering my ass as well. I started moaning louder as I was nearing my release and he could feel it too, he pulled his thumb out of my ass and started to rub my clit vigorously until I started squirting all over the bed and his face.

“Let it out girl, let it all out,” he said as he continued to rub my clit, helping me ride out my orgasm. He flipped me over and kissed me as I tasted myself on his tongue.

“You ready babe?” He asked lining himself up—, wait when did he take his pants off?????

Oh well, who cares?

I nodded and then felt him sheathed himself inside of me in a single stroke.

My eyes rolled back in pure ecstasy. I whimpered as he started off slowly, letting me adjust to his size.

“Yes!” I choked out. Using his right hand to spread my leg out more to allow him to go deeper. I could barely catch my breath as he started to go faster, the head board rocking against the wall. Pinned down by both his cock and his hand on my leg . A line of sensations hit me, each more pleasurable than the last.

I looked up at him, admiring his features as he focused on pleasing me. The sweat that rolled off his forehead already, the way his eyebrows scrunched up and the stare he kept onto my face as he started to thrust faster and harder.

“Fuck, baby,” he moaned,“you’re taking me so well baby. You finna cum baby?” I nodded, “Yeah?” I nodded again, “Yeah?” I moaned out a loud yes as he started chuckling.

“Cum with me baby.”

I started to unravel onto him and I could’ve sworn I saw stars bro. His thrusts started to get sloppy as he came inside of me with a heavy sigh.

“Din?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“I know.”

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

AND THIS IS IT GUYS

it’s not the best cause I did do this last minute so I didn’t proofread it. So there may be some errors.

But tell me how you guys liked it!!!!

💜💜💜

#x black reader #black writers #agent 00 x reader #amp x reader #agent 00 #kai cenat #duke dennis #chrisnxtdoor

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didyoulookforme · 2 months ago

Text

walkabout

your teacher asks you to tutor none other than matty healy. the very beginning of the bf matty au.

warning: cheesy fluff. teenagers being dramatic. grammatical errors, typos.

au masterlist here

-----

you cannot believe your luck.

of all the people mr. davis could assign you to tutor, it has to be matty healy. matty, who sits at the back of the classroom, half-asleep, drumming on the desk like he’s got an entire band in his head. the boy who’s always late, looking as if he just rolled out of bed. the one everyone can’t stop whispering about—quiet, untouchable, with that mess of hair and a permanent slouch that somehow makes him even more infuriatingly attractive to every single girl in school.

“so, you’ll do it, yeah?” mr. davis asks, holding you both back after class, his tone practically daring you to argue. his eyes flick between the two of you, clearly expecting some kind of protest.

no. absolutely not. you want to say, mr. davis, i will do literally anything else. mop the floors. clean the whiteboards. just, please, don’t make me do this.

but instead, you say, “of course,” because that’s what good students do, isn’t it?

mr. davis turns to matty, who, by the way, hasn’t even looked at you once. not even a glance. “and you? will you actually show up?”

“yeah. sure.” matty shrugs, voice low, casual, not impolite exactly but not making any promises either.

when you leave the classroom, your brain is spinning. how is this your life now? you spend the rest of the day picturing every way this could go wrong. matty showing up late—or not at all. matty being too quiet, distant, barely meeting your eyes. matty fidgeting in his seat, counting the minutes until he can leave, not paying attention whatsoever.

and after school, you unload all your frustration onto your friend, desperate for a shred of sympathy. but really, you should’ve known better.

“shut the fuck up.”

her voice slices through the air, sharp and disbelieving. she’s already sitting up, magazine abandoned, eyes wide like you’d just confessed you were moving to mars. “are you serious?”

“unfortunately,” you groan, covering yourself with your favourite pillow, your words coming out muffled. “apparently, someone thinks i’m a miracle worker who can make him care about school.”

“holy shit.” she leans forward, her grin stretching wider by the second. you can feel it without even looking. “you’re kidding. matty fucking healy?”

“yes.” you drag the pillow over your face wishing it could block out her inevitable reaction. “he doesn’t even try in class. now i’m supposed to magically make him care about algebra?”

“oh, who gives a flying fuck about algebra!” she waves a hand dismissively. “you’re gonna be sitting across from him. alone. for an hour. every week. that’s… basically the fucking dream.”

“oh my god,” you collapse further into the bed hoping the worn sheets beneath can provide some sort of comfort. “you’re delusional.”

“no, you’re delusional if you think this isn’t fate.” she’s practically vibrating with excitement now. “you have to find out everything about him.”

“he’s not some alien experiment,” you deadpan, lifting your head just enough to glare at her. “he’s just a guy who probably can’t add fractions.” still, the thought lingers. maybe you do want to know more—just a little. not because you care, obviously, but because it’s… curious. infuriatingly so.

“and yet, he’s also the hottest guy in school. don’t even try to deny it.”

you hesitate. she’s not wrong, exactly, but you can’t admit that—not out loud.

“there’s no—”

“don’t.” she cuts you off like a stern teacher catching a student mid-lie. “i know you. i remember. you had the biggest crush on him.”

you can’t help that your face burns instantly. “that was years ago.”

“doesn’t matter,” she sings songs, her grin practically glowing. “you were obsessed. you used to be like, ‘oh my god, matty’s curls looks so soft’ and ‘did you see how he dressed today?’ you were embarrassing.”

“i was twelve.” your voice cracks, too defensive, maybe too high-pitched. “it doesn’t count.”

“oh, it absolutely counts.” she leans closer, “plus, you’re really flustered right now.”

“i’m not!”

“you so are.” the smile plastered on her face is absolutely wicked now. “you still like him, don’t you?”

your stomach warps into knots. “jesus christ, no!” you practically shout, burying your face in your hands.

“sure,” she drags the word out. “but just so you know, louise totally made out with him at that party last month.”

your head snaps up so fast you’re pretty sure you strain something. “what?”

“uh-huh.” she looks far too pleased with herself. “she said he’s, like, weirdly good at it.”

“matty healy?” those two words don’t even make sense in your mouth and brain anymore.

“apparently, he’s super eager and… sweet. can you imagine? matty fucking healy being cute?”

you snort, because no. you can’t.

“right? same. but louise swears it’s true. she said he kept pulling her closer and saying, ‘is this okay?’ and ‘you’re really pretty.’”

your gut twists again, this awful, fluttery thing you refuse to acknowledge.

“you’re so full of shit.”

“she’s full of shit,” she corrects, laughing. “but honestly? if it’s true, it makes him even more confusing. how can someone be broody and sweet? pick a fucking lane.”

and there it is again—that thought you don’t want to have. matty healy. sweet. yup.

he barely talks to anyone, always hunched over a notebook or sketching weird little patterns on the edges of his papers. he’s quiet in this intense, self-contained way, like he doesn’t want anyone seeing too much. he doesn’t seem like the type to ask ‘is this alright?’ or let alone call someone pretty.

but what if he is? what if there’s something softer under all the sharp edges, something he keeps hidden on purpose? what if—

no. fucking. way. it’s ridiculous. you shove the thought down, locking it in the imaginary safe inside your brain. plus, he’s probably never even thought about you twice.

“he’s not like that,” you say finally, more to yourself than to her.

“oh, yeah?” she raises an eyebrow, daring you to argue. “guess you’ll find out, won’t you?”

“jesus christ, stop it.” you grab the nearest cushion and launch it at her, but she just laughs, catching it before it hits her face.

“hey, i’m just saying,” her grin is downright evil now. “if he’s a good kisser, you’re practically obligated to confirm it.”

“get out,” you groan, flopping back down.

but even as you bury your face back in the pillow, you can’t stop thinking about it.

what if she wasn’t wrong?

—

by the time the first session rolls around, your nerves are a complete wreck. your hands are clammy, you feel a bit lightheaded, and you’re already regretting every decision that’s led you here. the library is practically dead—just the low buzz of those ancient fluorescent lights and the occasional shuffle of someone flipping a page somewhere in the distance. it smells strange, this weird mix of dusty books and that lemony floor cleaner that somehow always feels sticky no matter how fresh it is.

your swear your bag is a million pounds, stuffed to the brim with textbooks and notes you’re not even sure will matter. every step toward the back of the room seems slower than the last, as if your feet are trying to talk you out of this whole thing. but you press on, your heart hammering, every instinct screaming to spin around and hide in the safety of the nearest aisle.

he’s already there when you stumble around the corner, looking exactly how you expected. his hair’s a reckless mess, all careless pieces falling into his face because gravity’s obviously playing favourites. his shoulders droop so far it’s a small miracle he hasn’t slid off the chair entirely. his tie’s hanging on by sheer willpower, slack and crooked, and his shirt—don’t even get started on the shirt—looks like it’s been wadded up at the bottom of a gym bag for weeks. yet by some ungodly miracle, he still looks stupidly good. you’re sure the universe must’ve bent the rules just for him.

you stop dead in your tracks, your stomach doing this annoying thing once again, but this time more from dread than nerves. he’s not quite intimidating but there’s something about the sheer disinterest radiating off him that makes you hesitate. you’re clutching your bag so hard your knuckles are white, and for one brief, tempting second, bolting feels like a legitimate option. but then he glances up, his eyes widening just enough to make it clear he didn’t think you’d actually show. the expression isn’t inviting, but it’s enough to stop you from finding the exit. barely.

“oh. hi.” his voice is soft, so quiet it takes you a second to register that he’s spoken.

you swallow hard, willing your nerves to calm, and walk over, lowering yourself into the seat across from him. “hi.” your voice comes out steadier than you feel, the single word hovering awkwardly in the air.

you pull your bag onto the table and set it down with exaggerated care, as if even the slightest sound might disrupt the fragile calm between you. he doesn’t say anything else, just shrugs, his movements loose and lazy, still half-melting into the chair.

“are you ready?” you manage, keeping your tone neutral, polite, professional even.

another shrug. “yeah. sure.”

his voice is low and rough. perhaps it hasn’t gotten much use today. it’s still not exactly rude, but it’s not encouraging either. you nod, your hands fumbling slightly as you flip open your notebook. you start simple, writing out a basic equation: 3x + 4 = 10.

“try this one,” you say, sliding the notebook toward him.

he picks up his pen, taps it rhythmically against the table for a few beats, then scribbles something down. x = 2.

“good,” you say before you can stop yourself, a flicker of surprise coloring your voice. you didn’t expect him to nail it on the first try, and the unexpected ease of it catches you off guard. “okay, what about this one?” you write out another problem: 2(x - 3) = 8.

he stares at the equation for a long moment, his brow furrowing slightly as he traces the numbers with his eyes. his lips press together in concentration and for a brief second, you think he might actually be invested in figuring it out. then he bites his bottom lip, and it’s glossy and pink when he lets go, and you have to snap your attention back to your notebook, pretending you didn’t notice.

“uh… x is… 11?”

it’s wrong, obviously, and you should’ve seen it coming, but something about the way he says it—hesitant, unsure—makes you bite back a laugh. instead, you shake your head, the corners of your mouth tugging into an involuntary smile. “not quite. here, let me show you.”

you walk him through the steps, breaking it down as simply as you can, and to his credit, he listens. his eyes follow your pen as you write, nodding slowly while he tries to piece it all together. his hair falls into his face as he leans in, the faintest shadow of understanding flickering across his expression.

“oh. so x is 7.”

“exactly.”

he leans back with a soft sigh, dragging a hand through his hair. his fingers catch in the tangles, but it doesn’t seem to bother him—it’s more automatic than deliberate. “right. makes sense, i guess.”

you glance at his notebook, curiosity tugging at the edges of your focus. it’s open, but not to anything remotely useful. instead of math problems, the pages are crammed with chaotic scribbles—tiny guitars, abstract shapes, half-finished stick figures tangled with half-finished sentences. words scratched out and rewritten so many times they’re barely legible, spiraling across the margins in waves of ink that don’t seem to lead anywhere.

you try not to stare, but it��s impossible to ignore the sheer disarray of it. it feels oddly intimate, a window into his head he hasn’t really hidden but hasn’t offered up, either.

“this one’s hard,” he mutters, pulling you back. his voice is quiet again, but there’s a faint sense of frustration as he frowns at the problem you’ve written: 5x - 2 = 3x + 6.

“it’s not too bad,” you say, leaning forward slightly, your tone gentle. “just move all the x terms to one side and the numbers to the other.”

he scratches something down, his pen pausing mid-air as he hesitates, then scribbles a little more. finally, he looks up, the faintest smirk curling at the edges of his lips. “x is… 4?”

you nod, feeling a flicker of warmth at the small victory. “exactly. see? you’re getting it.”

his lips tug into a smile—small, tentative, almost reluctant—and it’s not much, but it’s something. you look away, turning the page in your notebook, refusing to acknowledge the way your chest flutters for half a second.

the hour drags and flies at the same time. he tries, which surprises you more than anything else given that he has the attention span of a newborn goldfish. his foot taps a steady rhythm against the floor, and his fingers keep tugging at the frayed edge of his sleeve, but when you gently redirect him, he comes back.

the more time you spend with him, the more details start to sink in. the way his voice softens when he’s unsure of something. the way his nails are bitten down to jagged nubs. the way his lips part slightly when he’s thinking, his gaze flicking back and forth between the notebook and the table as if the answer might reveal itself if he stares long enough.

when the hour’s finally up, you take your time packing up, every movement drawn out and careful, watching out of the corner of your eye as he shoves papers into his bag. half of them are crumpled, a few look like they’ve barely survived, and none of them seem to end up where they’re supposed to.

“thanks for this,” he mutters, barely loud enough to register, his focus stuck on cramming his notebook into the disaster zone. “i mean… yeah. thanks.”

“no worries.” you aim for light, casual, as if your pulse isn’t doing that weird, too-fast thud in your chest. “that’s why i’m here. see you next week?”

he nods, barely, and there’s this tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth—a smile that doesn’t quite make it but lingers just enough to be noticeable. “yeah. see you.”

he walks off, hands shoved deep into his pockets, his bag hanging awkwardly from one shoulder, papers still sticking out at random angles. you’re just about to leave when your eyes catch something on the table. a crumpled piece of paper, left behind in his whirlwind of packing.

you pause, glancing around like you’re about to commit some kind of crime, but the library’s empty. no one’s watching. your fingers hover for half a second before curiosity gets the better of you, and you pick it up, smoothing the wrinkles carefully.

the handwriting is a mess—words scratched out and rewritten, lines twisted into tangles of uncertainty: and this is how it starts

take your shoes off in the back of my car van

you share my shirt, looks so good

when it’s just hangin’ off your back (???)

you stare at it, the edges still crumpled, the ink smudged in places where his hand must have dragged across the page. it feels too personal, but you can’t stop looking. your fingers hover for a second before folding it up and slipping it into your bag, your thoughts buzzing with questions you’re not sure you should even want answers to.

#my flight got delayed for about three hours so i had nothing better to do than write fluff lol #hopefully no one could tell what i was writing..#matty healy x reader #the 1975 fanfic #matty fic #matty healy fic #matty healy fanfic #matty healy one shot #matty healy imagine #matty healy x y/n #matty healy x you #the 1975 fanfiction #the 1975 imagine #the 1975 fic #mw #bf matty #young bf matty

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save-the-villainous-cat · 9 months ago

Note

Hero shows up at the gates of villain’s manor, all beat up and heavily injured, looking to seek help. Of course, they immediately get treated roughly & shoved away by the guards at the gate. But little do they know that just as villain was about to exit the gates to go somewhere, they witness the scene and immediately comes to the hero’s rescue. Then proceeds to shoot a death glare to their guards, promising to deal with them later after taking care of their hero :)

Before another plea could drop from their lips, the hero fell to their knees. Rain and blood soaked alike through the many layers of their uniform and the adrenaline was fading ever so slightly.

Somewhere in their exhausted mind, they decided to sleep right here in front of the door if they had to. Even if it meant they’d freeze to death. What else was there to do?

It must’ve looked funny how the hero had collapsed there and readied themselves to beg again. As if they were a worshipper who prayed to a god that would never answer.

The guards had no sympathy left for them and the hero couldn’t even blame them — they were the enemy after all, the big bad enemy. But the punches and the pushing around…that had robbed the hero of all the energy and hope they had had left.

“Please,” they tried again. Their voice was hoarse. Their throat burnt. “I can’t go home.”

One of the guards laughed and the hero lowered their head. It was easy to focus on the rain instead of the unkind words the other spoke. After a few other insults, the hero stopped listening and concentrated on their breathing. Keeping themselves alive was a priority right now. They didn’t need disgusting comments.

They needed bandages, they needed rubbing alcohol. They needed a bathroom and towels. They needed needles. Thread.

Maybe a hand to hold onto.

The hero closed their eyes for just a moment. They figured no one would see the tear running down their cheek when it rained cats and dogs like this.

When had they become this fragile? They couldn’t remember. But they knew the wound burnt into their shoulder and that the blood would seriously trouble them in a few minutes.

They were sure they’d pass out any second now.

“You’re going to catch a cold.”

The hero gathered the strength to look up and to their surprise, they saw their nemesis, all dressed up. Confused, the hero looked around, only to find the two guards further away, talking quietly. They avoided to look into their direction.

The villain looked upset.

“You…”

The villain shook their head and tutted. They crouched and their fancy clothes got drenched in filthy puddle water. The hero wanted to protest but forming words was so, so difficult right now.

“You don’t look good,” the villain said. They cupped the hero’s face with one hand but the hero realised a little too late that it wasn’t an offer of affection. The villain was merely checking if they had a fever. In their voice was a hint of frustration. “I’m sorry about that.”

“…about?” The villain’s hands went over the hero’s body quickly and even though the hero understood they were searching for broken bones, they wanted the villain’s hand to stay on them a little longer.

“My guards...I’m sorry they treated you like that.” Now, the villain’s voice was calmer. A bit more controlled.

“Oh…” The hero tasted bile. For whatever reason, they felt bad that the villain was here, getting their clothes all dirty and punishing their guards.

No matter what they did, the hero felt like a burden. Even now when they truly needed help.

“What happened to your shoulder?” the villain asked.

“Are you gonna kill them?” the hero asked quietly.

“The people who did this to you? Probably.”

“I meant your guards,” the hero said. They stared at the two, suddenly feeling anxious. Maybe they shouldn’t have come here. Whatever they touched only decayed.

But the villain chuckled softly. The hero felt some sort of relief.

“No, of course not,” they said. Nevertheless, their gaze on the two wasn’t that friendly. “They’ll get a scolding, of course. But there’s no need for any harsh punishments.”

Their expression was soft now and the hero couldn’t help but feel the sweet comfort of their enemy’s hands on them. The pain in their shoulder was merciless and they were quite sure death was already kissing them. But it didn’t feel urgent.

“…your clothes,” the hero whispered. The expensive fabric was drenched in blood and rain. The hero felt guilty.

“I won’t go to the auction, don’t worry.”

“The auction?” the hero whispered but they started to feel quite lightheaded.

“Don’t worry about that. One more thing, though. You told my guards you can’t go home. Why’d you come here?” the villain asked. The hero didn’t realise it yet but the villain pulled them closer to pick them up.

“Ah, that’s kinda embarrassing—”

“I won’t judge you.” The villain’s lips brushed the hero’s ear now and the hero couldn’t help but shiver.

They grabbed the hero, ready to pick them up and the hero nearly mistook them for an angel.

“I kinda still live with my parents…I know it’s embarrassing but—”

“Don’t worry.” The villain’s smile was warm. “Today you’ll stay with me.”

The hero knew there was no room for a debate.

#greetings from Norway!#boom clap the sound of my heart #writing snippet #heroxvillain prompt #heroxvillain snippet #heroes and villains #hero #villain #hero x villain #heroxvillain #an answer for an ask #request

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callsign-rogueone · 1 year ago

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the last six years - b.s.

Brennan Sorrengail x reader Only one person has remained by Brennan’s side for the last six years, through the good and the bad. [requested] wc: 3.9k 🏷: SPOILERS FOR FOURTH WING AND IRON FLAME. fatal injury, blood, and multiple character deaths. basically every bad thing that has ever happened to Brennan will be in this series. I took some major creative liberties with this one and made a bunch of stuff up regarding Tyrrish culture, but we’re just gonna breeze right past that. more to come, because Brennan is just so husband material… mans had me giggling and kicking my feet every time he spoke.

“Tairn! We need Naolin!” You scream, praying that he is alive to hear you. “Bren, please, stay with me.”

His chest rises and falls slowly; he's still breathing. Breathing is good. “Y’need to get out of here.”

“No. I’m not leaving you. Eyes open, Bren, please,” you beg, pressing your hands deeper into the wound. “Tairn!”

“Thirty seconds out!” He yells back.

There’s not much you can do. To remove the arrow is a death sentence when you don’t have any medical supplies. It’s the only thing keeping the blood in his body, but even then it’s doing a shitty job; the warm crimson continues spilling out through your fingers, seemingly endless.

“S’ gonna be okay, sweetheart,” Brennan soothes, feeling your panic.

“Bren, you need to stay awake. You can’t die. I can’t keep going without you.” Tears are pouring freely down your cheeks, dripping down onto the dark fabric of his flight jacket.

“You’re bleeding,” he mumbles, ignoring your pleas. He’s slipping away, fast, falling into the slow confusion that comes with a shortage of blood to the brain. “Let me mend you.”

“I’ll worry about myself later. Right now we need to keep you alive.”

Heavy bootsteps enter the room. “Holy shit,” Naolin breathes, at your side in an instant. He digs in his bag, producing sutures and gauze.

If you act quickly, and if by some miracle the arrowhead hasn’t pierced Brennan’s heart, you can keep him stable long enough to find another mender. You break the shaft of the arrow, Brennan whimpering in pain as it shifts within his chest.

“I know, my love, I’m so sorry,” you soothe, wiping your palms on your pant legs and moving to cradle his head in your lap as Naolin takes over. You keep whispering reassurances to him, terrified that if you stop, it’ll sever the last thread holding him in this world. “You’re doing so good, Bren. Almost done, I promise.”

Naolin gives you a look that tells you no, he’s not almost done.

Brennan’s grip on your hand loosens, and you scramble to grab his wrist, bloodied fingers trying to find a pulse -- to no avail. “No,” you cry, tears pouring down your cheeks, “Bren, please wake up, please.”

The slow thump beneath your fingertips stops. Brennan’s heart is no longer beating.

You sob, a desperate sound that splits the air of the ballroom, and Naolin makes his decision, grasping Brennan’s hand and yours. “The two of you need each other.”

“Nao, you can’t-” you gasp at the rush of energy that rips through you, the pain in your broken ribs diminishing instantly. You feel like you’ve been given a shot of pure adrenaline.

Naolin stops breathing just as Brennan starts again, collapsing to the marble floor, and your lips part in shock.

“He is gone,” Tairn confirms, fighting to keep his voice even. “May your gods honor his sacrifice and reward him in the next life.”

“I’m so sorry.”

His eyes are closed. That comforts you in some tiny way, that he looks whole, uninjured, like he could just be sleeping, but you know that isn’t the case.

Brennan’s breaths are even, pulse steady. The wound looks days old now, the fresh blood coating the skin the only evidence that he had nearly died today. He’ll pull through, as long as you can get out of here.

You say a prayer to Malek on your friend’s behalf, casting one last glance at his unmoving body, and gather Brennan into your arms -- he’s still breathing, but limp, exhausted. You can carry him out of here, but where will you go?

A man bearing a crossbolt steps into the ballroom.

You make no movement toward your weapon, still holding Brennan’s body to your chest. “We surrender,” you rasp, praying he will take pity on a pair of bloodsoaked young lovers and their fallen comrade.

He steps closer, not responding.

The words escape you before you can think. The old language feels foreign on your tongue, misshapen from years of disuse. “I am a daughter of the house Lindell, and a citizen of Tyrrendor. I have sworn an oath to-”

“I know who you are, Lady,” he says. “Come with me.”

He stops in front of an abandoned farmhouse, painted gold in the sunset. “Bathe, sleep. I’ll be back when I can.”

You remain by Brennan’s side. You stitch up his wounds, wash the dried blood from his skin, count his heartbeats as he continues to sleep.

Night comes, bringing freezing wind through the cracked windows, and you climb into the bed beside him, pulling the few blankets you’d found over the pair of you. He curls into your side, seeking warmth — his skin is still cold, but not as icy as it had been when you limped him over here.

When you wake the next morning, the man has not yet returned.

“Ban?” You ask quietly. You haven’t heard from the dragon since you’d dismounted over a day ago, but she must still live, as you do.

“Nearby, with Marbh,” she reassures. “Tairn has returned to Basgiath to be with his mate. It will take years for him to recover from this loss, but he will live on.”

You continue to stroke Brennan’s hair, taking solace in the steadiness of his breathing.

“Your devotion to the mender is the strongest I have seen from any human,” she says quietly.

“He has become the air I breathe. It was unbearable when he…” you don’t even want to think the words. “I don’t know what I would have done, had Naolin not intervened.”

Brennan stirs, stretching in the cute way you’ve seen him do so many times after waking up, scrunching his face at the bright morning light streaming into the room. He takes you in, thanking the gods that the only injury you bear is a yellowing bruise on your cheek. A gentle hand cradles your face, and it vanishes.

“Naolin?” He asks quietly, and something tells you he already knows deep down.

You shake your head, your eyes brimming with tears. “He gave his life to save you.”

He looses a shuddering breath, and you gather him into your arms, crying together.

You attempt to mentally prepare yourself to enter the assembly room, adjusting your posture -- shoulders back, chin up, eyes forward.

“Not a word,” you warn Brennan quietly. “Keep your shields up, like I taught you.”

“I didn’t know we were taking prisoners,” a lanky teenage boy calls, eyeing you from his perch on the edge of a table. In the years you’ve been away, he’s grown into his father’s dark features, and the lazy confidence that can only come with a noble title. “I was wondering when you’d be back from playing soldier. Have they brought you here to negotiate?”

“Lovely to see you again too, Xaden,” you say dryly, addressing the boy by name, and Brennan’s gaze whips toward you in shock. “No, I am not here to negotiate. We are here to surrender, and if you will have us, we will take your side in this fight to free Tyrrendor from those who have oppressed her for centuries.”

“They would be an asset to us, should this prove to not be a setup,” one of the elders says, keeping his hand on the hilt of his longsword.

“She has proved her allegiance to Tyrrendor time and time again,” Xaden defends coldly, dismissing the man who looks old enough to be his grandfather. “It is the general's son that I’m more concerned with.”

You look him directly in the eye as you speak, raising your chin. “Sorrengail is a strong rider and skilled mender, but above all, he is a good man. I could not have chosen anyone better to share the crown with when the day comes.”

Brennan looks at you like he has no idea who you are, trying to discern if this is a dream.

Xaden finds this amusing. “She really didn’t tell you? Always so secretive, that one. Your girlfriend is heir apparent to the Duchy of Lindell, as I am to Aretia, where you stand.”

He looks to the elders, who all nod in affirmation, deeming your appraisal of Brennan satisfactory. “It’s good to have you back, Lady. Things were getting boring without you.”

You lower your head to him in thanks, Brennan quickly copying you.

You tug Brennan into the hall after you’re dismissed.

“Did you really mean that?” He asks, head still spinning.

“Every word,” you reply. “From the moment you extended that hand to me in our first year at Basgiath, I knew you were good to your core, Brennan Sorrengail. It would be an honor to share my duty with you.”

“Your mate needs you,” Marbh says, making a rare appearance.

Your heart drops. You sprint down the valley trail back to the house, attempting to ascertain what had happened, but you aren’t given a response. Marbh has always been vague.

You find Brennan tucked into a corner of your shared room, back pressed to the wall. He’s clutching a piece of parchment that you recognize to be a Basgiath death roll. He extends it to you wordlessly, and your eyes race down the list, searching for Mira, his mother, another of your friends…

The final name on the list, below the rider’s quadrant cadets, almost as an afterthought… Major William Sorrengail. His father.

“Oh, Bren,” you breathe, gathering him into your arms, “I’m so sorry.”

His entire body shakes with a sob, and it takes everything in you to not cry as well, but you remain strong, needing to be there for him. “I knew I’d never see him again,” he says in a cracked whisper, “but now…” But now it’s real.

You’d never met the man, and now you never will, but you know what a profound impact Brennan’s father had on his life, imparting so many of the qualities that you admire about Brennan; his dedication to his studies, his respect for the scribes that so many others dismiss or overlook, his unwavering compassion…

You offer a silent prayer to Malek on his behalf, asking that He show the scribe the same kindness that he had shown others in life.

“I don’t know why, or how,” Brennan rasps, “I don’t know who was there with him in the end, if Mira and Violet got to say goodbye, if my mother…” he can’t finish the sentence, words cut with shaking breaths. He loses the strength to hold himself up, collapsing into your embrace. “I should be there,” he sniffles, “I should have been there.”

“I know how much you love him. He knew too, I’m sure he did. They all do.” You hold him tighter, stroking his hair. “The girls are strong. They will mourn, but they will get through it together.”

He’s run out of tears, leaving him with a headache and a hollow feeling in his chest. He eventually relaxes, not saying a word as you smooth down the soft waves of his hair, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. He’s fallen asleep. You just hope his dreams will be kind to him.

“Enough,” you command, and all heads turn toward you. “I will not have you disrespect Riorson nor his partner in his own home. Have you forgotten what he has done for our young?”

Ulices stiffens. “My apologies, Lady.” He says the title with an ounce of venom, but yields, returning to his seat.

Violet continues to study you. You’re dressed simply, head to toe rider’s black mixed with traditional Tyrrish leather armor and intricate braids that she has only seen drawn in history books, but it’s obvious in your posture that you’re nobility - you do not dip your head below the horizon even for a moment, and you speak with the confidence that others will listen.

“We have better things to do than argue about what should have happened. There is no turning back time,” you say calmly. “I agree that we have been given a legion of students rather than trained warriors, but it has become our job to train them.”

Brennan speaks next. He’s been silent since the meeting started. “What professors have joined us should resume modified versions of their courses, and we will fill in the gaps. Match up those with similar signets for mentorship. Emeterrio can continue to lead combat training, and Devera Battle Brief. Kaori has not joined us, but I think there is an obvious replacement.”

You’re saddened by the news, but you smile softly at his praise.

Violet realizes that the scribbled amendments in the dragons section of Brennan’s book weren’t Mira’s, but yours. You’ve been close for years, then. You must have brought him here with you when you deserted. Part of her wonders if you’d attended Basgiath because you wanted to, or as a spy.

“Do not question the royal one’s integrity,” Tairn warns her, but does not elaborate further.

“The riot has decided that everyone here can be trusted,” you state. “And if anyone turns out not to be, we will do what we have to do, without hesitation, for the good of the movement.”

There’s sounds of agreement from the other six, and then the meeting is over.

“Hey,” he says softly, leaning against the doorframe, clutching a bloodied rag to his face.

“What the hell happened to you?”

“Mira’s fist happened,” he explains, lifting it, and you wince at the sight of his nose, the bridge split and bruising. “I’ll be fine in a day or two.”

Your heart twists. Brennan hasn’t been able to see his sisters for nearly a decade, spending the last six years in hiding and the two before that stationed across the continent with hardly enough leave to travel back and forth to Basgiath. For Mira to have punched him straight in the face instead of the tearful hug he’d dreamed of… it must have crushed him.

You press a gentle kiss to his cheek, careful not to bump his nose. “I’ll talk to her,” you say softly. “Go see the healers.”

You’ve only met the middle Sorrengail in passing, nearly ten years ago now, but she’s exactly as Brennan had described her; a younger version of their mother, and just as strong-willed. Evidently, she remembers you, scowling and crossing her arms at the sight of you, but still standing at attention — there’s no missing the Major’s insignia on your chest. Violet stands as well, but doesn’t look as sour as her sister.

You wave a hand. “At ease. I am not here to issue orders, rather to talk about your brother.”

Mira prickles, Violet looking concerned.

You choose your words carefully. “I do not expect either of you to forgive him overnight, nor for you to forgive me for my complacency in this matter. All I ask is that you show him some compassion. It has been hard for him too, being apart from his family. When your father-”

“That is not a sentence you should finish,” Mira interrupts.

“Mira,” Violet scolds softly, “be nice.”

“No,” she snaps, “I don’t think you understand. We mourned him. We called him a hero, thought he died honorably in battle when he really just deserted and changed his name.”

“He did die,” you say, and the eyes of both women flit back toward you. You look over your shoulder. “He bled out on the floor of that ballroom, and his heart stopped. Our friend siphoned away his life to save him.”

“Tairn’s previous rider,” Violet says in a whisper, as if the dragon will not hear her that way.

“Yes. Naolin.” You say his name with a heavy voice. No wonder Tairn won’t speak to her of the one who came before. That explains the gruff dragon’s defense of you, too.

Mira is silent, likely feeling guilt over her outburst as she realizes her brother still lives in the house he’d been killed in, with the son of the man who had ended his life.

“The elders gave him the name Aisereigh — meaning resurrected — as a layer of protection from those who hold vendettas against your mother. It hurt him to take it, and to not be able to give me the Sorrengail name, but it was necessary for his survival.”

Violet’s eyes land on the band circling your ring finger, a smooth strip of silver carved with Tyrrish runes. Brennan had worn a matching one when she’d seen him the day after War Games, but she hadn’t thought anything of it until now. “You’re married.”

You nod. “Three years ago, right on that bluff at the top of the valley, on a gorgeous summer day. Both of us wish those he loves most could have been there.”

“Thank you,” Violet says quietly, “for staying with him through it all.”

“I have been by his side since our first year at Basgiath, and I will remain there as long as we shall live, as I have vowed to,” you reply with the same blunt conviction that she’s used to from Xaden — that must be a Tyrrish thing. “Now please excuse me. I have a class to teach in a few minutes.”

Mira lowers her head to you in a gesture of respect. “I’m sorry,” she says, but she does not say what for.

You give her a soft smile in return, heading back into the house.

“Major Aisereigh will be taking over your dragonkind course, as Professor Kaori did not elect to join us here,” Professor Devera announces.

It’s strange to be standing on the dais as an equal with the woman who’d had a hand in kidnapping you from Brennan’s bed to torture you eight years ago, but nearly everything about your life since that night has been strange.

“I don’t know precisely what Kaori did and did not cover thus far in the term, but given that every person in this room has managed to bond a dragon, you are clearly proficient, and I will treat you as such,” you begin. “Dragons are independent, often to a fault, but do not forget that your health depends on theirs. As riders, you must learn how to care for them properly. That’s what we will be focusing on for the remainder of the term, along with flight mechanics and keeping your seat under stress.”

You glance at Brennan, who is sitting incognito in the back row, broken nose now mended, and he nods, an easy smile on his face. You’re doing great.

The lesson passes easily, your students much more engaged than you remember your peers having been in Professor Kaori’s class.

“I will be needing volunteers to help with the maintenance of the riot while they’re grounded.”

At least thirty hands shoot straight up — half the class.

The trek up the valley wall is never easy, but you make winded conversation with several of the volunteers, mainly nervous first-years who confide that they need the extra practice.

You stop at the top of the trail, cupping a hand to your mouth and calling out a few short notes, and Banrion is at your side in seconds, shaking the ground with her landing. At least a dozen others land nearby, sitting upright in waiting.

“You’ve brought children,” she appraises, eyeing them with distaste.

“Cadets,” you correct, “that you will be helping me teach. So be nice.”

She chuffs softly. “Fine.”

“I have chosen some more agreeable members of the riot to aid me today, to ease you into their care, but let me make this clear,” you say to the class, who have retreated to give you and Ban a healthy distance. “the majority still find it deeply offensive to be addressed by a human that is not their rider. Unless your bonded has joined us today, please refrain from speaking to any directly.”

You wait for nods of affirmation. “Banrion and I will demonstrate pre-flight checks once, and then you will split into groups of two or three to do the same with the remainder here.”

Once you get everyone settled, you find Brennan — he’d tagged along quietly, not wanting to part ways after the morning’s chaos.

“Well done, Professor,” he says, smiling. “You just might make this a day job.”

You laugh. “Is this everything twenty-year-old Bren thought it would be?”

“It is,” he says quietly. “And more.”

You gaze out at the field of cadets. “Marked and unmarked, living in harmony.”

Brennan squeezes your hand in acknowledgment, remembering how scared you had been when the first marked ones left for Basgiath, and each year since. It had hurt you deeply when not all of them returned.

Tairn stalks up to you, dipping his head in greeting. “Good to see you again, royal one.”

You smile. “Glad you’re still around, big guy. You have made an excellent choice in Violet. How is the golden one?”

“Still dreamless,” he answers, not deigning to reply to your compliment.

You worry your lip between your teeth, concerned.

He casts a glance around at the young cadets in the vale, who are taking their tasks very seriously. “You remain as revered a leader as you were at Basgiath.”

You’re actually touched, but you won’t dare mention that to Tairn.

“It is not an easy feat to raise young,” a green scorpiontail says in agreement, looking down fondly at the first-years that are inspecting her claws for cracks, “but the two of you are doing a fine job.”

You smile. “And how are your young?”

“Safe,” she answers. “You may come see them after dark.”

“It would be an honor.”

“Professor?” A cadet calls from across the field, sounding mildly concerned.

You pull apart from Brennan reluctantly. “Duty calls. I’ll see you tonight.”

“Kiss for your thoughts?” you ask playfully, seeing the weary look on his face. It’s been a long day for him, with multiple arguments among the assembly and all the emotions of reuniting with Mira.

“I have both of my sisters back,” he breathes, still in disbelief. “I thought I’d never see them again.”

You lay a hand on his back, resting your head on his shoulder. “I spoke with them before class. Mira was particularly upset, but she softened when I told her what really happened.”

He’s quiet. “She has every right to hate me for what I did. She should despise me for the rest of my life.”

“But she doesn’t,” you remind him gently. “She holds anger, but she doesn’t hate you. You’re her brother, and she knows you love her. You wrote her an entire textbook on how to survive the rider’s quadrant. If that isn’t testament enough, I don't know what is.”

He shakes his head, smiling softly. “How do you always know the right thing to say?”

You grin, moving to climb into his lap. “Because I know you, and I know exactly what goes on in that beautiful brain of yours.”

“Yeah?” he asks, nose brushing against yours, a ringed hand settling on your waist. “What am I thinking about right now?”

“Hmm. Probably about how long of a day it’s been, and how you’d like to unwind after all of it?”

“You’re absolutely right,” he says. “I’ll take that kiss now.”

You lean forward, connecting your lips to his, and the rest of the world falls silent, melting away until all that’s left is you, your husband, and the love you share, love that has endured death itself.

#brennan sorrengail #brennan aisereigh #brennan sorrengail x reader #fourth wing fanfic #reader insert #x reader #fourth wing x reader #fourth wing #mine #dividers by user cafekitsune #Brennan and Duchess

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mountttmase · 1 year ago

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Someone You Can Trust

Note - so this was actually a request from @carlottawllms 🤭 thank you for trusting me so much with your ideas and I hope this lives up to your expectations 🩷 feedback would be appreciated pleaseeeeeee

Pairing - Mason Mount × Reader

Word count - 4.6k

Warnings - smutty and fluffy

Visiting Mason in Manchester was always a good time.

No matter what you were doing it was just good to be back in his company with all of your shared friends, catching up on everything you’d missed and with it being international break he had a bit more time to spend with you guys now. Taking you all out for dinner at his new favourite restaurant before going out for a few drinks. You weren’t out long though, everyone complaining that they were tired after the long journey that day so you all made your way back to Masons to get ready for bed.

Everyone else had gone up already but you and Mason had made home in the kitchen. Chatting away like time meant nothing but before long he was pulling you upstairs and into his room as he was getting a little uncomfortable sat on the kitchen stools.

‘Wow, Mason Mount's bedroom, I’m honoured’ you laughed, flopping down next to him but the groan and roll of his eyes let you know he wasn’t entirely happy with your sarcasm.

‘You should be. First girl I’ve had in here I’ll have you know’ he huffed, taking his jeans off before collapsing down next to you. To anyone else it might of looked a bit weird but the pair of you were close and before long he was turning on his side so you could face each other but you noticed his cheeky smile was missing.

‘Yeah like I’m gonna believe that’ you teased, knowing Mason had always been a bit of a ladies man but the pair of you never really discussed any of that.

‘It’s true. I’m a changed man’ he laughed ‘Not that I was sleeping with the world and his wife before but you know what I mean…’ he laughed awkwardly.

‘So what’s changed?’

‘Dunno, just don’t fancy it anymore. It’s not… fun’

‘You were flirting with that girl all night, you can’t tell me you weren’t having a good time then’ you teased, watching his cheeks flush slightly but his cheeky smile returned and you felt better. ‘I really thought you were gonna get her number at least’

‘Well yeah I can talk the talk but I can’t seem to walk the walk right now’ he huffed, shuffling so he could lie on his back and look up at the ceiling. The prospect of having this conversation whilst having to look at you clearly was too much for him so you followed suit and laid down on your back next to him. ‘Flirting’s fine, I can talk for England but anything more it’s like I panic lately. Like I’ve put all this pressure on myself and it’s messing me up. It’s like I’m sabotaging myself so we don’t make it to the main event’

‘So you’re not enjoying it? Sex I mean’

‘I guess’ he laughed awkwardly and you could see his face was as red as a tomato from the corner of your eye. You wanted to push him to talk about it some more but you also didn’t want to make him uncomfortable so without a second thought you reached over to try and find his hand on the bed. Linking your pinkies together and you were surprised he held yours tightly.

‘You don’t have to be awkward about it, Mase. We’re friends right? And we’ve all done it’

‘Yeah I guess so’

‘So what don’t you like?’

‘I dunno like… I always feel rushed. There’s a lot of pressure to… you know. Get them where they need to go but it’s like I don’t know what I like anymore. I focus so much on the other person that when it gets to the main event it’s all I can think about and it’s like I put myself off. Sometimes it feels a bit underwhelming and tense and the more I try the worse it gets’

‘So you wanna be a bit selfish huh?’ You smiled, turning your head to face him but he refused to look at you.

‘N-no I just-‘

‘I’m kidding Mase’ you laughed watching his face fall slightly before turning his head away from you.

‘It doesn’t matter anyway, let’s just go to sleep. You can stay here if you want or the room over the hall is free’ he told you, turning fully onto his side and away from you and you felt your heart sink.

You hadn’t meant to upset him, you just wanted to get to the bottom of why he wasn’t feeling it but in the process you’d made him feel awkward. Not that he ever needed to be around you, you’d been best friends for years and whilst the furthest you’d gone with him was a drunken three second kiss in a club once, in the back of your mind you liked to think you knew what he would like and what he would want.

That didn’t make you feel any better though, looking at him now. His body slumped into the mattress as he sulked, the back of his neck as red as his cheeks out of embarrassment and all you wanted was to apologise and let him know he had nothing to be embarrassed of.

In the end you shuffled up to him, you front pressed into his back as you snaked an arm around his waist to hold him close and you smiled as you felt him relax into you.

‘Sorry Mase, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad or awkward or anything’ you told him quietly. Pressing a small kiss to the back of his neck to let him know how sorry you were and you were surprised to feel him shiver at the contact. ‘You know you’ve got nothing to be ashamed of and all I want is to help’

‘I know’ he sighed, threading his fingers through yours that were settled on his tummy before you dropped another kiss on the same spot on his neck. Pride filling you as you a shuddery breath left his lips and all you wanted was to carry on making him feel good.

‘You’re allowed to want to be a bit selfish. Sex is a two way street and you shouldn't feel pressured about worrying if the other person is enjoying it to the detriment of your own pleasure. You need someone who’ll look after you too’

He didn’t answer, only a short breath passing his lips that let you know he’d heard you and you knew you needed to work a little harder.

‘These girls, you don’t really know them do you? You don’t know what they like and they don’t know what you like and that’s the issue really isn’t it? You wanna be relaxed but your too focused on figuring each other out’

‘Basically’ he uttered, his head nodding into the pillow and you lent up just a smidge so you could place another kiss just behind his ear this time. His nervous gulp making his whole body move but soon enough he was relaxing back into you.

‘You need someone you can trust. Someone who knows you and you can’t trust them can you? You want a connection and you can’t give them the time to figure you out and know what buttons to press. That’s what you want isn’t it?’

‘Yeah’ he gulped, his breathing changing the more you spoke to him and you knew it was now or never or you’d back out. I’m

‘They don’t know you like I do Mason. They can’t give you what I can’ you told him. The words falling from your lips before you’d even thought about it but as soon as they had you knew what you had to do. What you wanted to do for your best friend even though this wasn’t typically what best friends did.

‘You can trust me Mase. And I bet I can make you feel so good’ you told him, lightly scratching your nails over his abs as you felt them tense under your touch. ‘Will you let me try?’

‘Y/n I- I don’t know’ he mumbled, his voice sounding conflicted but he hadn’t said yes so you started to pull away just in case he was feeling uncomfortable with your touches.

‘That’s okay, I’ll stop’ you told him, pulling back as you didn’t want to push him and make him feel weird but you were surprised to feel him grab your wrist and pull you back into him.

‘No i… I don’t want you to stop, I just…’

‘Mase it’s okay’ you told him, keeping your voice light so he didn’t think you were upset. ‘We can just go to sleep and forget about it’

‘No’ he huffed, turning in your grasp so he could face you but there was an unreadable expression on his features. ‘I’m just a little nervous, like what would it mean?’

‘It doesn’t have to mean anything’ you reassured him, reaching out to stroke his cheek. ‘You’re my friend Mase, I care about you a lot and I wanna make you feel good’ you whispered. ‘Sex is supposed to be fun and sometimes we just need a little reminder. I’m happy to be the one to remind you if that’s what you want. But if you don’t want to, that's alright too. No pressure’

‘Well how am I supposed to say no to that?’ he chuckled. Hands finally reaching for your waist and you let him stroke your skin lightly. ‘I just don’t want you to feel like you have to’

‘That’s not it at all, Mase. I want to’ you told him, reaching over to kiss his cheek lightly and you revelled in the way his eyes fluttered shut. ‘Lay back for me?’

He did as you said, laying on his back as he looked at you with a tense expression but you knew just how to relax him. Curling into the side of his body so you could tuck your face into his neck and as soon as you felt him relax you started peppering kisses along his jaw and down his neck.

You started slow, now wanting to overwhelm him with lots of affection but you knew you were starting to drive him wild. Noticing his breath getting shallow with each kiss and when you discreetly nipped his collarbone he let out a hiss. The sound making butterflies erupt in your tummy and you knew you wanted to make him do it again.

Mason's arm that was around your body was gripping your waist tightly but there was something else you wanted him to hold so you took his wrist and moved it down so he could grip your bum instead. Feeling him give it a light squeeze and you hummed in satisfaction to let him know it was okay.

‘Can I take this off please, mase?’ you asked, fingers gripping the hem of his shirt in hopes you could access more of his skin and when he nodded in agreement you hoisted yourself up so you could straddle him. Pulling the fabric from his body and letting him lay back down before you decided what you wanted to do to him.

You knew Mason was a sucker for touch, no matter who he was with he'd have his hands on them in some way so you figured he’d like it to be reciprocated. And who wouldn't want to touch him? He was flawless in every way from the smattering of hair on his chest to the mole that sat on his abs that you wanted to kiss everytime you caught a glimpse of it.

You stared off trailing your fingertips over his body, your barely there touches effecting him immediately as his abs clenched and his breath got caught in his throat but the way he gripped your bum with both hands now let you knew he was loving it.

‘Is this okay Mason?’

’y-yeah’ he stuttered, trying to keep his voice steady but you knew him and you knew he was feeling good. ‘That feels really nice’

‘Yeah?’ you smiled, pride washing over you as you'd read him so well, but little did he know he hadn't seen anything yet. ‘You just stay relaxed, okay? i’ll make it worth your while’

You noticed it instantly, your words making him panic already as was clearly thinking about skipping to the end and whether he could get there but you just kept on touching him and relaxing him as best you could.

‘Just relax for me Mase, there’s no rush okay? We’ll take as long as we want’ you murmured, feeling his hands move to the hem of your shirt now. Biting your lip as you pulled it over your head but little did he know you had nothing on underneath and the sight of your bare chest made him whimper.

‘Jesus Christ, y/n. Warn a guy’ he chuckled but you still gave him no warning when you covered his hands with your own so you could drag them up your body and cup your chest. Rocking your hips over his in hopes of riling him up a bit but to your surprise he was already rock hard under you.

‘You like that masey?’ You teased, feeling him squeeze your warm skin as he dragged his bottom lip through his teeth

‘Fuck’ he whispered, eyes rolling back in his head before he moved his hands to wrap around your back. Pulling you forward so your bare chest was pressed up against his and the shy smile on his face made your heart thump. ‘I’ve always wanted to know what you were hiding under there’ he laughed, feeling shy as he looked right into your eyes. ‘I know we’re friends and everything but I’ve always been curious’

‘Well I hope I didn’t disappoint’

‘Nuh uh’ he smiled. The tips of his fingers running up and down your back just how you’d done to his chest and the realisation that he probably wanted to touch as well as be touched made you smile.

Without another word, you placed your lips back on his neck. Remembering the place he’d reacted to the most just before and you sucked on it lightly until he was bucking his hips.

Mason's body deserved to be worshipped and that’s exactly what we’re about to do. Shuffling yourself over to straddle just one thigh now but it gave you a bit more movement to do what you needed to. Kissing every inch of his skin you could and finally making your way down to the mole on his tummy. Flicking your tongue over it before licking a stripe up his body to his nipple so you could give it a playful bite.

‘You’re a tease’ he laughed, his hands threading through your hair at the sides so he could feel you but you carried on, giving the other side the same attention before trailing your kisses back down his body until you got to the waistband of his boxers. You kissed along the fabric before dipping your tongue just past the elastic waistband so you could lick a stripe across his skin again just under his belly button, but you could feel him tense before laughing and pulling you up to look at him. ‘If the mission was to make me cum then you every nearly almost did’

‘Sorry’ you chuckled, hiding your face in his neck but the quick squeeze he gave you let you know you had nothing to be sorry for.

‘Don’t be, whatever you’re doing’s obviously working’

‘Can I take these off?’ You asked, fingers running back running along the waistband of boxers again and you felt him nod but he stopped you as you sat up so he could look at you properly.

‘You can, but I want yours off too, yeah?’ He told you, eyes flickering down to your bottom half that was currently covered by your jeans as you were only meant to be in here for a chat and you knew he was only asking so he wouldn’t be the only one without anything on.

‘Okay’ you whispered, rolling off the side of the bed so you could stand up and undress yourself first but Mason wasn’t happy about this. Sitting up and reaching for you so he could pull you between his legs and unbutton them for you.

You should have realised he had ulterior motives but it was still a shock when you felt his mouth close over your nipple as he tugged your jeans down and you moaned louder than you intended to. Your fingers hiding in his hair so he couldn’t move but there was no need as he seemed content on sucking and flicking your skin with his tongue until your knees were going weak and you had to pull him off.

‘You sound so pretty when you moan for me’ he whispered, kissing the space between your breasts before peppering them down your skin as far as he could.

‘Stop it, this is supposed to be about you’ you scolded, trying to bat his hands away but he just held you tighter.

‘I know, and I wanna touch you’ he smirked. Giving your bum another gentle squeeze before finally pulling your underwear down to your ankles to join your jeans.

You thought it might be weird being completely naked in front of your best friend but he made you feel so at ease that you didn’t bat an eyelid. Letting his eyes explore all the parts of you he’d never seen before you gripped his chin so he’d look into your eyes and you were surprised at how dark they were. He looked hungry for you and all you wanted was to give him what he needed.

‘Lay down’ you whispered. Head nodding back towards the pillows and you watched him shuffle back before you placed yourself back in between his legs so you could pull his underwear from him. The gentle thud of his length hitting his tummy was like music to your ears and you were glad to see the effect you were having on him.

You still didn't want to go in all guns blazing so you carried on pressing kisses to his skin. Your fingers scratching over his tummy and thighs before you finally gave him what he wanted. Licking a stripe up the length of him before taking what you could of him in your mouth. He was big and you needed a hand to tackle all of him but you got a steady rhythm going and you could feel his thigh muscles dancing under his skin as you moved your mouth over him.

Him telling you he wanted to touch you was still ringing in your ears and you could see him fisting the sheets next to you as your mouth worked on him so you grabbed one of them. Placing it in your hair so he could touch you in some way and you were pleased to find he didn’t seem to want to alter your movements or force you to go faster. He just wanted to touch you and you moaned when he started to massage your scalp lightly.

‘Fuck, y/n. That feels so insane’ he whimpered. The sound making your tummy flutter. ‘Always knew that mouth would come in useful one day’

‘Fuck off’ you laughed after coming off of him with a pop but you knew he was only joking. Mason always described you as a chatterbox when you were with him, telling you he thought you saved up all your words for when you were next to him but you were only like that with him because you were comfortable enough with him to be yourself.

‘Sorry’ he chuckled, running his thumb under your lip to clean you up but you were ready to let him have it with both barrels now as some form of punishment so without a second thought you lowered yourself back down and took him back in your mouth. Making sure to stick your bum in the air more so he could get a good view of it and you could tell he liked it as he groaned even louder than before.

You could tell he was loving you slowing it all down, letting him feel every drag of your lips and flick of your tongue as he came apart underneath you until he couldn’t take it anymore. Pulling you up and off of him so your faces were level but he could clearly see the confusion in your eyes.

‘Sorry, I’m just really close and I don’t wanna finish there’ he told you sheepishly.

‘Where do you wanna finish Mase?’ You asked seductively but he answered you with his eyes. Watching and they flashed down to your core and the fact he wanted to fully have you made your heart race. ‘Oh, you want the full package then huh?’ You laughed with a wink before he nodded.

‘Well it is all about me’ he teased. Hands running up your arms before he gripped the back of your neck gently. ‘Is that okay?’

‘Yeah’ you whispered, attempting to move your legs so you could straddle him but the feeling of him pulling your face closer to his stopped you.

You hadn’t wanted to kiss him, not because you didn’t want to but because you thought it might have been too intimate for him. You were only friends at the end of the day and no matter how far this had gone or was going to go a proper kiss felt like it crossed some sort of line however Mason was now ready to plough right through it. Attaching his lips to yours in a soft kiss, wondering if he’d just got caught up in the moment before you realised that was more of a thank you than anything else and you kissed him back with a smile.

Still in a teasing mood you moved to sit over his lap. Not getting down to business just yet but you allowed yourself to feel him bare under you. Sliding up and down his length as his face contorted in pleasure and you knew you wanted to make him beg for you a little bit, half because you thought it might get him off but also for your own enjoyment.

‘Please, y/n’ he suddenly whimpered, the sound making your spine tingle in excitement.

‘What is it, Mase?’

‘Please don’t tease, I wanna be inside you’

‘Are you sure that’s what you want?’ You asked playfully, watching him nod at you frantically as he tried to lift your hips up but you wouldn’t budge. ‘Is it what you deserve?’

‘Yes, f-fuck yes please. Please let me fuck you baby’ he whined, squeezing your waist as you felt your legs give way at how needy he was being but you knew you needed to put him out of his misery. Lifting your hips and lining him up with your entrance before you slowly sank down on him. Both sighing in what sounded life relief as you took all of him in.

‘Do that feel good, Mase?’

‘F-fuck yeah it does’

‘I’m gonna take my time with you okay? I wanna feel every part of you’ you told him, resting your palms flat on his chest before rolling your hips once. His hands were squeezing your bum selfishly as he moaned into the air and the sound only made you want to bounce up and down on him faster.

‘Fuck Mase, that’s it’ you whimpered, noticing your praise was getting him off as much as you actions so you carried on. Wanting to blow his mind in every conceivable way. ‘You’re so good Mase’

‘Fuck’

‘That’s it, you feel so good’

The main aim of this whole thing was to remind Mason how to enjoy sex again and you could see just by looking down at him that he was having the time of his life. His bottom lip trapped between his teeth as his eyes rolled back in his head but it was the small smile that he couldn't hide that was filling you with pleasure the most. He wasn’t thinking about anyone but himself and what he liked and felt good and all you wanted was for him to reach his high. Little did you know what with the mix of your mouth being on him and now being inside of you, he was closer than you thought.

‘Y/n, p-please I-I…’

‘What Masey, what do you need’

‘It feels s-so good I c-can’t hold it’ he stuttered, hands travelling up to hold your waist in order to try and move your body up and down on him even faster and the sudden change in pace had you clenching around him even tighter.

‘Don’t hold it then, yeah? I want you to cum for me Masey’ you told him, looking down at him through your hazy eyes.

‘But you-‘

‘Don’t worry about me or where I'm at, just cum for me. This is about you remember so just do what feels good and cum’

That was all it took for him to let himself go, stuttering your name into the air as he reached his high and you looked down at him in awe. Mason was always attractive but seeing him right now, flushed and glowing after you’d just made him feel good made your heart flutter so you gently climbed off of him so you could lay next to his body. Letting him wrap you up in his embrace but you noticed he was hiding his face in your neck and no matter what you did he wouldn’t look at you.

‘Mase?’ You laughed, trying to push on his shoulder but he wasn’t having any of it. ‘Mase? What is it?’

‘Nothing’ he laughed, finally looking back at you and you could tell from his blushy cheeks that he was a little embarrassed and overwhelmed. ‘Just, thank you’

‘No need to thank me, it’s what best friends do’

‘I don’t think Dec would be too happy if I asked him to do the same’ he chuckled and you laughed along with him before he got a little more serious again. ‘Was I okay?’

‘It wasn’t about you being okay, Mase. It was about you enjoying sex again. Did you enjoy it?’

‘I did, yeah. A lot’ he told you, fingers touching your cheek lightly and you smiled at how gentle he was bending with you. ‘But I wanted you to enjoy it too’

‘I did’

‘But you didn’t cum’

‘That’s okay’ you smiled, trying to reassure him. ‘That's not why we did this’

‘Would you let me try though? I hate the thought of leaving you hanging’

‘Mase-‘

You were cut off when he pressed his lips to yours for the second time that night. Shock flooding you as this time he definitely wasn’t caught up in the moment but you relaxed into the kiss and were surprised at how much you enjoyed it.

‘Please’ he whispered, peppering kisses across your jaw to try and convince you, and as you were only human and accepted straight away. Nodding lightly as he rolled you onto your back ready to repay you for everything you’d done for him tonight.

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