#This plan would be such a massive headache

[goopgirlie813]

There's this anxiety being expressed here that if we don't have prisons and the proposed programs fail, that we will have no protection against those Dhamer and Breivik types. When proposing a new and unfamiliar way of structuring society, people want assurance that they will have some method to guarantee safety that is at minimum on par with what we have now. If prison abolition cannot protect people from something that prisons can, people are going to pick prisons.

The subtext behind these responses is that people prioritize safety and security over idealistic visions. People are expressing that prisons offer a concrete solution to the threat of Dahmer types (lock them where they cannot access victims) and they don't see an equally concrete solution from your proposal. That is a massive safety risk. They do not want to take that risk. They want assurance that your proposal can protect them and their loved ones as reliably or more reliably than the prison system. The fact that they keep asking shows that they do not yet have that assurance.

So the questions people are worried about here: the prison system kept Dahmer from killing more people. Would yours be able to do the same? How can I be sure that the "Dahmers" of the future will not cause more carnage under your system than under the prison system? What is your system's plan B? What are the failsafes? Where is the redundancy (we NEED redundancy to accomodate failures)? How can I know that my loved ones will be safe?

Your proposal is competing with the prison system in multiple metrics. For everyone here, the metric of concern is reliability. You have to prove that your system is as reliable or more reliable at stopping and preventing violence than the prison system. Keyword, "Prove." As in, demonstrated in reality and not just mapped out in a hypothetical scenario.

To be clear here, I am not saying your proposal is bad. I don't really disagree with you and you bring up some good points. But even I would not be willing to risk reducing the safety of my loved ones by jumping in before the details are nailed down. The prison system isn't perfect, but it stops certain problems in a way we can see. Most of us will not knowingly throw that away.

Logic alone is not enough to justify replacing an important aspect of society, because if your logic overlooks even a single data point the whole thing could collapse, leaving everyone completely unprotected. This is still in the "hypothesis" stage and we need to actually test and demonstrate it with experimentation before leaning hard into implementation. These criticisms you are recieving are telling you exactly what details you still need to nail down. If you listen closely, they are telling you exactly what steps to take to persuade them.

@organic-homegrown-boyfriend was highlighting a percieved lack of versatility and a concern that your proposal would have blind spots for certain crimes. The question is, "how can your system account for a variety of crimes and motives?" It is a request to explain or propose how your system can measure up to the prison system in terms of addressing complex or difficult crimes. Specifically, he's asking about rape, which is already notoriously difficult to convict people for and which even now many people get away with. To quote him, "how are you thinking that the alternatives you suggested would make the situation better instead of exponentially worse?" How can you guarantee that it will work? Not just how do you think it will work. How do you know it will work? How can I know it will work?

The implication is, "I will not change the system if there is any reasonable chance that it could make it easier for rapists to get away. I will not support prison abolition unless you can assure me that there is no way it will make this situation worse." It is not unreasonable to refuse to do something if you have reason to believe it may increase a problem like that.

@peavers-headache and @jambeast were highlighting a lack of redundancy. A lack of back up plan. The question is, "what do you do if this fails?" Because you need to do something. It is a request to explain or propose back up plans to prepare for the possibility of that scenario. That's important. Do you understand why that's important? Providing an answer covers your bases and grounds your proposal in reality. It shows that you've thought through the logistics and aren't operating purely on ideology. It makes the proposal more reliable. Easier to trust and therefore easier to support.

Point is, criticism often tells you a lot about how the other person is percieving what you say. If you want to persuade, you have to be aware of that and not defensive.

Pretty sure @needabetternamelater has reblogged like 5 of my posts and then blocked me. So that's funny. But, just in case it's just a glitch that won't let me reblog those replies.

What do we do with rapists in a prisonless society? Well, 1. Fewer than 1% of rapists go to prison, so holding up prison as the standard that any other solution has to beat isn't hard. What do with do with rapists in a society with prisons? For 99+%? Not prison.

2. Prisons do not reduce the amount of rapes that happen. So again, prison fails pretty handedly at being both a prevention and a punishment. (It's a bit like arguing 'without the death penalty, what will we do with shop lifters?")

3. I've explain many times, on posts you've responded to, the variety of responses a justice system can have to any crime, including sexual assault. Mandatory counseling, restraining orders, restorative/reparation hearings, housing and employment restrictions, fines, caseworker check ins, mental health consults, and vocational training are all possible responses, and which would would have the best chance of preventing recidivism would depend on the specifics of that person and the risk factors in them reoffending.

In the past, we locked people in pillories and cut off their hands for crimes. Phasing out a cruel and ineffective punishment doesn't mean there's free reign for crime.

[violent138]

Bruce Wayne would make contingency plans very much like an apoptopic bleb, where the goal was to keep the effects of his death as contained as he could, and even account for his kids' reactions. I can see Alfred/someone else manning the Cave, sending out posthumous instructions to keep everyone kicking, ease the transition into a possible new Batman/no Batman (with separate plans for each possible successor), and about forty different contingencies coming into play at the Watchtower, possibly even in the form of an encoded Kryptonian AI Bruce, who comes programmed with an insult Hal Jordan feature.

[falling-hand-in-unlovable-hand]

i really do think the majority of my problems would be solved if i was a dragon

[cheolhub]

BABY FEVER — CHOI SEUNGCHEOL ࿐

summary. after a picnic date at the park goes horribly wrong, all choi seungcheol wants for his birthday is to fuck a baby into you.

wc. 3.4k+

warnings. established relationship, kinda ? dom!cheol, f. reader, pussy-drunk-bitch-in-heat cheol, breeding kink, literal baby making, marriage kink if you squint, reader referred to as mommy (x2), unprotected sex, oral (f. receiving), light body worship (f. receiving), vulgar language… heavy praise, pet names [baby, angel, princess] — MINORS DNI 18+

note. it’s an international holiday (aka cheol day) hehehe HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY LVRBOY <333 forgive me bc this is actually so rough… i forced myself to finish it in time for his bday 😍 please be gentle!! i promise ill make it up to all of u with a MUCH better cheol fic -3- happy coupsie day 2 u all x (thank yew @jeonghantis for reading this for me TWICE and always encouraging me <3)

you have to admit, this is not how you thought seungcheol’s birthday lunch would pan out. 

no, you definitely did not expect to end the day with your legs wrapped around your beloved boyfriend’s waist while he split you open on his cock, breathily promising that he’ll give you a baby. a ring. a life for the both of you.

because when you took said boyfriend out for a picnic in the park, you did expect a serene lunch date with him and his favorite food. you even wore the sundress he bought for your birthday. it was supposed to be the perfect gift. 

but you hadn’t realized how busy it’d be. how could you have known? it was just a random tuesday afternoon in the midst of august– arguably the hottest month of the year. who, besides the two of you, would want to be out on a day like this?

rowdy, unrestrained children. that’s who. 

it seems that children and parents have nothing better to do than crash birthdays and cause you massive headaches. 

when you looked over at seungcheol on the blanket halfway through your food, you discerned the faraway look in his eyes. he hasn’t said much. much less of how he feels about his “gift.” he wasn’t there– probably disassociated because of the noise. you realized then that you probably should’ve picked a different spot… or stuck to the homemade candlelit dinner you had initially planned. or done literally anything else. 

“cheollie… do you wanna leave?” you asked, concern laced in your voice. “we don’t have to stay, we can go home and do whatever you want.”

his jaw clenched and unclenched at the sound of your voice. he offered a shuddered breath and gave you a curt nod. “yeah, let’s go home.” 

and so you did. you felt defeated as seungcheol bruisingly gripped the steering wheel the entire ride home. you felt defeated as you sat in the passenger seat thinking of ways to fix his now-ruined birthday. you felt defeated as you two rode away in silence. complete silence. 

when you arrive back at your home, you dejectedly drop the basket off in the kitchen without bothering to unpack it. cheol stays on your tail the entire time, following you back to your room after throwing the keys on the island next to the picnic basket. 

and when you reach your destination, you let him in before closing the door behind you and then he pounces.  he has you pinned to said door in an instant. 

completely thrown off by his change in behavior, you splutter out, “ch-cheol, what the fuck?!”

“baby,” he mutters breathily, his eyes scanning your features. the faraway look in his eyes has been replaced, both of them filled with something completely different. lust. it’s like the last hour never even happened.

he has you caged in. one of hands pressed flat against the door and the other gripping your waist. there’s a mere inch of a gap separating the two of you and you can feel all the heat radiating off of his body. 

still wide-eyed, staring up at him, you softly– apprehensively– ask, “cheol? are you okay?” 

admittedly, seungcheol is not okay. not in the slightest. he doesn’t want to scare you, but watching kids run around– hearing how happy they were– had him thinking thoughts. thoughts of having a kid of his own. 

it had his heart fluttering at first, the idea of having a mini him running around the house. it filled him with the utmost joy.

then his thoughts escalated. thoughts of having a kid turned into thoughts of having a kid with you. thoughts of getting you round and pregnant with his child rotted large portions of his brain away.

and it progressively got worse and worse. with every passing minute, the images in his brain became more clear till the only thing on his mind was folding you in half and fucking a baby into you while you begged for it. 

he’s not sure how to relay said thoughts to you. the two of you have been dating for years and you’re in a really good place, both financially and emotionally.

but dropping the ‘i want a kid’ bomb? before he’s even proposed? it’s taboo…untraditional… it’s something you potentially don’t even want, so he should ease into the conversation of children and marriage.

but…choi seungcheol thinks he’s lost the ability to think and speak clearly. that’s why he blurts it out without logically thinking it over, lost in a haze of lust and need and burning hot desire. 

“wanna have a baby,” 

your stomach drops and the air in your lungs vanishes, leaving you breathless.

“w-what…cheol? a baby?” you ask slowly. “you… wanna have a baby?” 

a small growl bubbles in his chest when you repeat his words. “wanna give you a baby.” 

heat creeps up your neck and within seconds– when you realize the intent of his words– your entire body burns as arousal courses through your veins. seungcheol doesn’t just want to have a kid… he wants to fuck one into you. 

you can’t say you’ve never thought of having one before, but it was always farther down the line. after marriage and settling down.

even still, your stomach swirls in anticipation, imagining seungcheol as a father. as your husband. 

so you reply, “do… do you think we’re ready for that? we’re still pretty young and… we aren’t married…”

your words trail off and you look away, eyes trained on his chest instead. 

“i’m gonna marry you.” he says as a matter of factly. “look at me.” he demands, the hand next to your head moves to grip your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “there’s no doubt in my mind. i’m going to marry you, baby.”

hearing that is surreal. he’s said it twice and the words are still rattling around in your empty brain. he’s gonna marry you. there’s no doubt in his mind. 

you’d think your heart is about to lurch out of your chest the way it pounds against your ribcage. your palms are dripping with sweat, your knees are buckling about ready to give out on you, your stomach is in knots because, fuck yes, you want this. you want him. and– you guessed it– you want to bear his child. 

you don’t know how long you’ve been standing, blankly staring at him. before you can even speak up, seungcheol is dropping to his knees in front of you, both of his hands on your waist now.

you almost think he’s going to propose, leaving you even more speechless, but he leaves a soft kiss on your tummy. he’s gentle, kissing you through the fabric of your dress right above your navel. his lips venture down, though, and his pleading eyes look up at you waiting for your okay. 

you let out the breath you were holding, nodding your head.

and cheol swears he would lose it if he hadn’t already. 

he reaches for your panties under your dress, yanking them off your body and letting them pool at your feet. his hand moves to hold your dress up, wrinkling it in his grip. the other lifts one of your legs and drapes it over his shoulder before he finally dives into your cunt.

“cheol!” you gasp as you feel his tongue lay flat against your folds. your hands thread through his hair, gripping at his locks as he laps up your arousal. “sl-slow– fuck, baby– slow down,”

seungcheol is a giver, that’s always been common knowledge.

but you tend to forget that he is exceptionally greedy when it comes to eating you out. he can never get enough of you, slurping at your hole and sucking your clit till you’ve cum countless times on his face. a glutton for pussy, you could say.

it’s why he can’t slow down despite your request. his tongue digs into you while he noses at your clit, moaning against your cunt to bring you closer to the euphoric feeling you’ve been craving since he asked to fuck a baby into you. 

and it works. it always does. your moaning and whining and begging and it’s fucking music to his ears. 

“tastes so good, angel,” he moans against you, words coming out muffled. the vibrations shock your body and you can’t help but jolt, back arching off the door. your hands tighten their grip on his hair, pushing him further into your cunt. 

and that’s the thing about seungcheol being insatiable. you always end up greedier than him. it’s like an orchestrated plan. 

“more,” you beg through a whine, grinding your pussy into his face. “please more, feels s’good, cheollie,” 

he groans against you again, digging his nails into your thigh eliciting your pretty mewls. he tightly wraps his lips around your clit, flicking the swollen bud with his tongue. you throw your head back against the door, eyebrows knitting together as you’re overcome with pleasure. 

it hits you before you can even blink. you’re letting out a breathless mantra of seungcheol’s name, your stomach knots up, your breathing increases and you completely lose control as you let go all over his face. 

he keeps eating you out, whining while lapping up your release as if he’d been deprived of the taste of your cum for weeks. as if he hadn’t eaten you out just last night. and the morning before that. and three times in a row the day before.

when he’s finally done, he gently sets your leg back down. he observes the way you tremble, struggling to keep balance so his hands are back on your waist, releasing the wrinkled fabric and letting it fall back over your legs.

he stands to his feet, towering over you once again. his hard cock strains in his jeans and he gives you a look that screams ‘i need you’ to which you look up at him with hooded eyes. the sheen of your arousal on his skin, his disheveled hair is quite the sight.

“baby…” he pants, inching closer to you. 

“put one in me,” you whisper. you, too, have no doubt in your mind about this. about him. you want everything he’s offering to you. “fuck a baby into me, cheol, i want it. i want you.”

seungcheol thinks his life flashes before his eyes when he hears your words. he thinks, maybe, he mishears you for a second, but when you keep that expectant look on your face, he knows that this is very real. that he’s gonna fuck you full of cum and pray it takes. 

he closes the gap between you, pressing his lips against yours.

it’s not your average kiss. it’s hot and heavy and, fuck, you think he just might eat you alive. his body is flush against yours now and you feel his bulge digging into your tummy. 

feeling him like this has you craving the weight of his cock on your tongue, but you know cheol has no plan of relinquishing any type of control tonight. even if it does mean he’s missing out on the world’s best head.

you kick off your shoes and fumble with the button on his jeans while whining into his mouth. you eventually give up after the button doesn’t budge, wrapping your arms around his neck and grinding against his clothed bulge instead, basking in the way he groans back into your mouth.

he pulls back, swollen lips turning down in a cute pout, “baby, need to fuck you right now…”

you tug at his shirt, whispering, “then fuck me, cheol.” 

a guttural groan bubbles in the back of his throat. he pulls your dress up by the hem, growling a soft, “off.” 

“you first.” 

he raises an eyebrow at you but doesn’t say anything else, tugging his shirt over his head and tossing it on to the ground. his hands are back on your dress, but you shake your head. 

“pants, too,” you whisper with a cheeky smile. 

“didn’t realize this was a strip tease,” he grumbles passively, stepping out of his shoes while his hands easily pop the button of his jeans and yanking them down his thick thighs. 

your eyes flit down to his boxers and your saliva pools in your mouth, threatening to spill past your lips at the mere sight of his clothed hard-on. 

he interrupts your gawking, gruff, stern voice filling your ears, “take your fucking dress off.”

you giggle, raising your arms. he’s not slow and he’s most certainly not gentle when he practically rips the dress up and off, discarding it into the pile of clothes that lay haphazardly on the floor.

he doesn’t even give you a second before grabbing– manhandling– you and guiding you to the bed. 

he lays you down and internally melts. “you’re so gorgeous, baby,” he mumbles, spreading your legs open and eyeing your pulsing cunt. “you’re perfect.”

you don’t know how it’s possible at this point, but you grow even hotter. feverish. you always love his praise and you know he’s well-aware of the fact because he smirks as you squirm and clench around nothing. 

“cheollie,” you whimper. 

his hands splay over your bare stomach and his cock throbs as an array of dirty thoughts re-enter his mind. 

“you’re gonna look so cute when i put a baby in you, isn’t that right?” he murmurs, hands ghosting over your skin before they land on your tits, fondling them through your bra without a care in the world. “gonna be such a pretty mommy…” he tells you, voice dropping an octave. 

you moan at the contact and his promiscuous words. arousal drools from your hole, surely soaking a puddle into the sheets under you. you’re not sure how much longer you can wait for him to impale you on his cock before you become a weeping mess. 

you whine, eyes threatening to close, “please make me a mommy, cheollie.”

seungcheol lets out a sharp breath, quickly removing his hands from your tits, opting on using them to push his boxers down. 

when his length slaps against his abdomen, he lets out a soft groan. he doesn’t wait for anything else, grabbing his cock, spitting on it, stroking it a few times and, finally, pushing his angry red tip against your hole. 

when the head of his cock gets trapped between the warm walls of your cunt, seungcheol curses. “tightest fuckin’ thing,” he mutters, shoving himself deeper and deeper, listening to your high-pitched whines and whimpers. 

and when he’s finally balls deep inside of you, his eyes flicker up from your pussy swallowing him whole to your contorted, fucked out face that he loves dearly. 

he’s breathless, asking, “you good, baby?”

you offer a broken nod and a weak, “s’good.”

it’s all he needs to hear before standing all the way up on his knees, grasping at your waist, and lifting your lower back off the bed. 

you squeal, “cheol! what are you–” 

you’re cut off by your own yelp when he pulls out and slams back into you without much of a warning. his cock reaches deeper than you think you’ve ever felt and it has your eyes rolling back and your hands pulling the sheets off the bed. 

his hips are relentless, continuously driving his cock in and out of you at an impressive speed while groaning out words of praise. you feel his tip bruisingly kiss your cervix and the pained pleasure brings tears to your eyes. 

“s-seungcheol–” you sob, arching further into the air. 

“i know, baby,” he moans in response. “but, fuck, you’re taking it so well. look so fucking pretty taking my cock like this.” he wants to throw his head back in pleasure, but he can’t bear to tear his eyes away from you. 

tears helplessly fall down the sides of your face and your mouth is cracked open, letting out the most gorgeous sounds. your tits spill from your bra, bouncing with every thrust and it’s too good. you look too fucking good. 

and you’re going to look even better with his cum leaking out of your cunt. 

you ache with the partial bridge seungcheol has you in. you’re not sure if you want to focus on the profound pain or intense pleasure, but when he drops your body back on the bed and his thumb catches your clit, you have no other choice. 

you gasp, crying out and clamping around him with an iron grip, “fuh-fuck! cheol– cheollie!”

he growls, rubbing the sensitive bud faster and faster. “you gonna cum for me?”

you pant, chest heaving as you nod your head vigorously. your eyes screw shut and your jaw drops further as you feel the familiar knotting in your tummy. your impending orgasm bubbles in the pit of your belly, a stream of whines and moans leaving your mouth. 

“cum f’me, angel.” he coaxes breathily, cock twitching and throbbing inside of you. “s’gonna feel so good, just cum for me.” he practically begs and you think it’s because he’s just as close. 

you can’t even find it in you to care because the onslaught of pleasure wracks your body. you clench around him once, twice, three times– and, before you know it, the knots in your tummy come completely undone and you’re left a shaking mess under him.

“that’s it, that’s my fucking girl.” he nearly whines, fucking you through your orgasm while you jerk and thrash on the bed. “god, i love this pussy, your body, everything, baby– i love you.”

you cry, silently praying he’ll press his lips against yours because, god, you love him, too. so much. but your voice is hoarse and you don’t think you can conjure up the words to give him. 

it’s like he reads your mind, slipping his hand in between your tits and pulling your body up by the material of your bra and wraps his arms around your body. his mouth presses against yours, swallowing all of your sounds as you swallow his. 

your arms wrap around his neck, sobbing in overstimulation as he kisses the life out of you.  when he pulls away, you wrap your legs around his waist, the heels of your feet digging into his lower back. you continue to whine, burying your face into his sweaty neck to muffle the noises. 

he holds you tighter, pounding into you without any regard to your sounds. “gonna fill you up, princess. gonna fuck you full of my cum, give you a baby, marry you,” he grunts loudly. “everything. gonna– fuck– gonna give you everything.”

you nod, sinking your teeth into his neck. 

and seungcheol can’t hold back, moaning your name before pressing his cock as far as he can go and stilling there. ribbons of his release coat your bruised walls and you feel the warmth radiate throughout your body. 

cheol’s pants slowly morph into breathy chuckles as he comes to terms with what he’s done. 

you shudder, feeling full in more ways than one. you pull your head from the crook of his neck, looking at his gummy grin and dazed eyes and you give him a lopsided grin. you look so content, even after he nearly fucked the life out of you. 

“was it too much?” he asks gently after a few minutes of silently staring at each other.

“a lil…” you whisper, weakly clamping around him. “you know i love it when you get like this, though.”

“i know.” he mumbles, unraveling himself from you to marvel at his work. he pulls out of you and watches the way his cum slowly dribbles out of your hole. he can’t help but groan at the sight. “you think this’ll be enough, angel?”

“a few more rounds probably wouldn’t hurt.” you giggle. 

“that can probably be arranged.” he hums cheekily. “but, seriously, baby. thank you… for today. you always know how to surprise me.”

“really? i kinda… thought you hated the whole picnic lunch date,” you murmur. “thought i ruined your day.”

“no, baby, i loved it.” he says through a smile, kissing the corner of your mouth. “it was great, i swear… i just thought about fucking a baby into you a little too hard.”

“i’m really glad.” you smile, “and, now that you hopefully did… how would you rate year 28?”

“10/10. truly the best birthday ever.” he says. “i got everything i ever wanted.”

© cheolhub — all rights reserved, please refrain from copying, reposting, modifying or translating my work on any platform.

[seafoamsol]

The best years of my life...

... what I wouldn't give to have them back.

I had the great pleasure of working with @spiderscribe on a DeadCeptor work for the @tf-bigbang, which you can (and should!) read [ HERE ]!

Details and artist commentary under the cut!

Okay, first off, I just wanna say, thank you so much to @spiderscribe for picking up my very loose scribble and taking the jump. She's an absolute champ, and I IMPLORE you to read her writing. She did a knockout job on the fic, and guaranteed, these two pieces wouldn't have been so elaborate without her. If you're a fan of deadceptor, parallels, lovers to enemies to apocalyptic teammates to ???s, I'm sure you'll find that and more in there.

[ HERE ] is the link to that, if you missed it the first time around.

The background for the supermarket was a MASSIVE undertaking. I ended up blurring it in the final to keep the dream-like quality, but there is a lot happening there! Most of the time I spent on the background was (jokingly) complaining though.

Anyone who works retail will know the agony of customer-misplaced stock. The little canisters of energon additives seem like prime candidates to be placed willy-nilly.

The little warning sign... My favorite soda, apple sidra, has a carcinogen warning, so I'm familiar with it. It was slightly surprising to me that those warnings are not countrywide, despite the fact that they very clearly say "California Proposition 65", and well. Not something else, like "Federal" or whatever.

The bags of nuts and bolts below, I asked several people what flavor they would be, and I suppose I failed in my job, because I wanted the purple to be the "regular" flavor, and the green to be the "sour". But grape and lemon-lime work as well!

The tub is full of rust-sticks. I have no idea if that came across. My friends kept calling the individually wrapped ones slim jims, which I mean, I guess!

The car batteries... My idea was that they were similar to shots, in a way? So that's how I ended up with a battery with enough terminals to rival an international airport. It's also sunset-coloured, because, I don't know, that's what Party Flavor is to me.

Okay. The second illustration. This one was a headache, mostly due to my own lack of planning, and the fact that I lost the file for... basically everything I did, including the above illustration. So it was a bit of a rush job.

The background bots started off as these very vague silhouettes, which I'm a little proud of. Look at how nice and somewhat readable they are! Okay, now what if I ruined it? What? You don't like that? That's rather unfortunate, because that's what I proceeded to do. In fact, if I take off all.. 10 or something adjustment layers, they look like this:

My process went: Shadow block> Fill rest of form> Color randomiser> Copy and skew (to populate background)> Hue adjustment> Gradient map> Fill Light> Chromatic aberration> Vignette> Levels> Curves.

The.... Magenta cube is there because due to the nature of the color randomiser, the foot had a high value, and stuck out like nobody's business in the end.

Here's what it would look like without the cube. Begone, distracting white blob! (I didn't have to worry about the lava arm because Percy happened to cover it up. What a save! But if he didn't then... there would have been a second cube.)

Basically, it was a mess. But... at least it came out fine in the end! I hope!

I'd love to have speedpaints on hand, but I was switching between CSP and PS for a good majority of the work.

I'd say that's it for these two pieces! I actually have more, but those demand more time. I'm much slower at doing inks than I am at painting, but I hope you'll get to see them soon.

[peachdues]

BIRTHDAY SURPRISES — NSFW

Sanemi Shinazugawa x Reader

A/N: there is nothing redeemable about this. It’s just 7.9k words of pure filth in honor of my man’s birthday.

My husband got a boner reading this, so enjoy you whores.

CW: MDNI • Explicit sexual content • daddy!kink • elevator blowjobs • creampies • rough sex • kinky sex • brat-taming/mild dumbification • overstimulation • fluff at the end followed by more smut • not proof read lmao

Sanemi Shinazugawa has never liked the month of November.

For starters, the stupid month can’t decide what damn season it wants to be. It’s somehow too cold to really qualify as autumn and the leaves have usually fallen to the ground, brown and dead and useless, but it’s also still too warm to snow.

And November is such a tease — smack dab between two great holidays yet offering nothing but a restlessness that persists until the end of the year.

So no, Sanemi Shinazugawa isn’t fond of this time of year. But the universe has never shied away from giving him the middle finger, so Sanemi supposes he shouldn’t be surprised his birthday falls during such a bullshit month like November.

He’d been content to spend the day of his birth like he did every other year — hunkered down in his apartment with some cheap takeout, alone, without anyone to make a big fuss about it. That was the plan — his goddamn plan.

So how the fuck did he end up here?

The “here” in question is a suite at one of the city’s most exclusive hotels. The room is stuffed full of faces, some familiar but most not, packed together like sardines. The music is loud and pulsing and it threatens to give him a nasty headache.

It was Tengen who convinced him to allow this — though, Sanemi doesn’t suppose he was given much of a choice in the matter. But his friend group learned of his impending birthday a few weeks earlier, and before Sanemi could level a few, well-backed threats against any party planning, Tengen had booked the massive suite in which he now found himself, and promised Sanemi that he wouldn’t have to buy a single drink.

Sanemi agreed only on the condition that he be allowed to book a separate hotel room — several floors below where this godforsaken party now raged.

At least Tengen had meant it when he promised Sanemi wouldn’t have to spend a dime on alcohol. He took care to run up his friend’s tab by ordering several shots of Grey Goose, throwing them back as easily as water.

Hey, it was his birthday, after all.

The hotel suite is a blur of lights and colors and bodies pressed together in dark corners. Truthfully, Sanemi really can’t find any one thing to pay attention to; it’s ironic that this party is supposedly for him, and yet he feels like the most invisible person in the room.

But then he spots you — beautiful, witty, and charming you — seated in the lounge area, surrounded by both shared friends and strangers, and it’s like a spotlight has been pointed directly at you. All else seems to fall away, recessing into the shadows of the room, and his attention is locked solely on you; the star of the show that is his birthday party.

The feelings swirling in Sanemi’s chest are dangerous; lethal. He knows he should look away and accept the fact that you, with your endless pick of eligible women and men, would never deign to chase after someone like him, someone with as many scars on his heart as are seared into his skin. He knows that. He knows he’s only setting himself up to get more pissed off — to hate his birthday more than he already does.

But he can’t stop watching you.

And even if he could, he doesn’t want to. He’s only been in love with you since the moment Shinobu tugged you into a booth at a bar they all frequented. There hadnt really been any room for you to sit — not with seven of them already packed tightly onto the bench — but you’d taken one look at him and grinned, something that could only be described as mischief lighting your eyes.

“You don’t mind if I sit here, do you?” You’d asked him sweetly as you plopped your ass right down on his lap. “You look like you’re the comfiest one here.”

Sanemi, who was known for having a quick temper and an even quicker mouth, had been stunned into silence by the presence of a beautiful woman, perched on his knee like it was the most natural thing to sit on a stranger’s lap. His friends had been hard-pressed to suppress their smirks at the way Sanemi gaped at the back of your head, and he was fairly certain it was because you’d been so ballsy that you’d secured a permanent spot in their weekly bar rotation.

That had been over a year ago, and Sanemi’s infatuation with you grew deeper by the day.

Not that he’d ever done anything about it — even though, at times, it felt like you were all but baiting him into acting on his feelings. He wanted to believe the way your eyes followed him wherever he went in a room meant something, that your lingering touches were an invitation for more, but he could never bring himself to find out.

That cowardice, he supposed bitterly, was exactly what led him here, sitting alone at the suite room bar, watching as countless others flirted with you and you, right back.

A few times your eyes had tracked him across the room; one time, you looked as though you were about to push through the throng of people shoved into Tengen’s suite to come talk to him, but a hand on your bicep caught you and diverted your attention.

It’s then that Sanemi snaps. The moment he watches as the asshole in question pulls you against him for a slow grind, that jealous, monstrous thing in his chest rears its ugly head, growling and gnawing to be let free.

He’d hoped, for one pathetic moment, that you would push the man away, shake your head, do something that indicated you weren’t the least bit interested in him, no matter how fascinating his multi-colored eyes were, or how charming his feral grin was, but you didn’t. And the moment he sees the douchebag pull your hips flush against his, Sanemi knows he needs to get some air.

So with less grace than he knows he probably should show, Sanemi shoves his way towards the door leading out the suite and into the hallway.

Fuck it, he decides. He would go back to his room, several floors below, take a shower and hit the fucking hay. His birthday was bullshit, anyways.

He storms towards the elevators, slightly tipsy and certainly angry. He stabs a finger against the down button, his leg bouncing as he waits for the elevator to come and save him from his own party.

“What’re you doing out here, birthday boy?”

His stomach sinks to his ass at the familiar cadence of the voice behind him. Reluctantly, he turns and sees you making your way down the hallway wall, a smirk on your pretty lips and looking downright sinful in that flimsy, silvery dress that barely reaches the middle of your thighs.

That damn elevator can’t come fast enough.

“Go back to the party,” he says tightly, though he still won’t look you directly in the eyes. “Don’t let me interrupt your good time.”

You draw up short. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sanemi only scoffs and jabs frustratingly at the elevator button, willing for the telltale ding that will allow him to step into the lift and get far the fuck away from this rager he didn’t want.

From you.

“What’s wrong with you? Did something happen?” You push, resuming your advance on him and shortening the space between your bodies. “Sanemi —“

“Save it,” Sanemi bites, and because he cannot help himself, he adds, “I just don’t particularly feel like watching you spread your legs for some lowlife asshole who can’t be bothered to remember your name.”

You blink, comprehension dawning on your face before melting to anger. “That’s what you’re so pissy about?”

Sanemi silently begs the elevator to hurry the fuck up, because now you’re only a few feet away from him and he doesn’t want you to see his fraying restraint.

You fold your arms across your chest, hip jutting out to the side. “You’re acting like a bitch because some jackass tried to grind on me? Why do you even care?”

Sanemi dodges your question with ease.

“You’re the one who fuckin’ followed me out here.”

The elevator dings and Sanemi is damn near falling to his knees in gratitude at its timing. The double sliding doors have barely finished opening before he’s already inside, jamming his finger into the button marked 26, praying it’ll move faster than it arrived.

The doors start to close but a pair of hands slam against both sides of the doorway, preventing them from joining in the middle.

You stand in the center of the threshold, eyes bright and nostrils flaring, the elevator doors half-closed around you.

“It wasn’t easy to throw this party together y’know,” you snap at him, and dully, Sanemi thinks the glare you give him is strong enough to wither plants. “Everyone went out of their way to try and make you feel special, but you’ve been nothing but an asshole about it.”

“I didn’t ask you all to do this — I begged you not to,” Sanemi retorts just as hotly, his arms folding across his chest. “I didn’t want a fuckin’ party.”

“Well, what do you want?”

the silence that stretches between you is more telling than any answer he could have given. By the way your lips part, you seem to realize it at the same moment he does, and that’s when Sanemi knows he’s fucked.

The two of you stare at one another for a moment, the weight of Sanemi’s unspoken admission hanging above your heads like the sword of Damocles.

But then, the blade drops, and it must impale you both, because suddenly your hands fall from the elevator doors and are tangling in his hair at the same moment Sanemi’s fingers latch onto your waist, and your mouths slam together in a fiery clash of lips and teeth.

The elevator doors slide shut behind you right as Sanemi presses you up against the paneled wall and slides his tongue into your mouth.

At the first stroke of his tongue against yours, you tense, and for one panicked moment, he fears he’s gone too far. But then you’re melting against him, and the way you tug on his hair and whimper his name against his lips makes Sanemi loses his goddamn mind.

Time stands still and there are no thoughts in Sanemi’s brain but the feel of your hands running down his arms, his chest, pushing under the open collar of his shirt to dance along his burning skin.

They can’t get to the 26th floor fast enough, no matter how fast the numbers tick past, bringing them closer and closer to privacy —

The elevator jolts to a stop, somewhere between the 29th and 28th floors, and does not move.

It’s just his fucking luck; the girl of his dreams is pressed flush against him, her lips at his ear as she begs for him, and the goddamn elevator has forgotten how to work. If his hands weren’t so busy pushing under the hem of that slip you call a dress to fondle the curve of your ass, he might’ve put a hole through the one of the doors.

He punches the button for the 26th floor again and again, his sanity fraying with each urgent jab of his fingers, yet the elevator still does not move.

If the idea that the pair of you are stranded in a metal box of death suspended over twenty stories high bothers you, Sanemi wouldn’t be able to tell — not when you’ve decided to turn your attention someplace else.

“What’re you —“ Sanemi’s voice is hardly more than a croak as your hands busy themselves with the buckle on his belt, fumbling and tugging until the leather fastened around his hips gives way.

“Shhh!” A press of your index finger to his lips silences him. “Birthday boys shouldn’t worry!”

Your fingers hook under the waistband of his pants and suddenly they’re following you down as you slide to your knees before him.

Sanemi’s eyes nearly bulge out of his head at the way your half-lidded gaze drifts from his face down his body, coming to rest on the tent of his briefs, jutting out from between his thighs.

Your voice is syrupy and warm as you whisper, “I guess I should let you have your first gift,”

Sanemi forgets how to breathe when you peer back up at him, your eyes suddenly round and wide; he nearly forgets how to stand when you lean forward and press your cheek against the side of his cock where it strains against his underwear.

Sanemi sucks in sharply through clenched teeth at the sudden rush of cold elevator air against the heated, sensitive skin of his bare cock, your fingers having tugged him free from the confines of his briefs.

“F-first?” He can’t stop the way the question stutters out, not when your lips, just barely gazing against him, drag from his base to his tip. The soft exhale of your warm breath up his length has his hands shooting behind him for something — anything — to grip.

You hum in confirmation, and Sanemi’s vision almost blacks out when your tongue peeks past your glossy, red-stained lips to trail over his leaking head.

“But you’ll have to wait ‘til we get to your room before you can unwrap the next one.”

Sanemi swears he’ll set the entire hotel building on fire if the elevator doesn’t start working in the next fucking minute. His vicious promise, however, fades to the back of his mind, along with every other coherent thought he’s ever had as your lips part around his head and you take him into your mouth.

“Holy fuck,” Sanemi hisses and his head falls back against the elevator wall with a dull thump.

You him pleasantly around his cock and Sanemi nearly cums right there, the vibrations from your mouth too sweet, adding gasoline to the already raging inferno of his desire.

At first, you keep your hands primly folded behind you, only allowing your mouth to work his shaft. Every time you slide up off him, you curl your tongue against the underside of his cock and every time, Sanemi has to draw upon every morsel of self-restraint he possesses to not buck further down your throat.

But soon, your hands pat their way to his, and you bring his hands against either side of your head. You hold them there for only a moment, just long enough for Sanemi’s stomach to flip as he realizes what you’re giving him permission to do.

You peer up at him with those big eyes, so wide and deceptively innocent, and he knows you’re trying to kill him.“Motherfucking — Y/N,” he moans, threading his fingers through your hair. “Fuck.”

With his grip in your hair secure, Sanemi begins to fuck your mouth. His cock slides in and out of your heat, every push shoving a little more of himself further into your mouth. You only relax your throat, your tongue still curling against the underside of his shaft in a way that makes Sanemi see white.

Sanemi’s hold on your hair tightens. “Fucking take it,” he pants, hips bucking against your face. “My little cock whore.” From his position over you, Sanemi can see the way his words make you squirm with need, your answering moan long, and deep.

Your hands flutter to the side of his thighs, and Sanemi almost winces at the prick of your nails against his skin. But despite the saliva steadily trailing down your chin and the guttural sounds choking in the back of your throat, you’re tugging him closer, your fingers inching around to grip his backside, pressing him closer and closer to you until your nose brushes his groin.

The elevator jolts with movement and resumes its descent, but neither of you notice. All Sanemi can focus on his the way his tip bumps against the back of your throat, and how your cheeks hollow against him as he ruts into your mouth.

Sanemi makes a strangled noise in the vague shape of your name. “I-I’m gonna —“

You only need to swallow around him once before Sanemi is filling your throat with his cum. With a deep groan, his head drops back, his hand splayed across the back of your skull, keeping your nose pressed against his base as he rocks his hips, his cock twitching violently in your mouth.

His eyes fly open when he feels the wetness from your tears against the sensitive skin of his groin, and he’s quick to pull out of your mouth. Your hands bracing against his thighs as you gulp down air in heavy, shuddering gasps.

“Fuck — I’m sorry,” his hands smooth worryingly over your hair. “That was too rough, I’m so fuckin’ sorry-“

Your head snaps up, and Sanemi feels a brief moment of panic at the sight of your mascara, streaked down your cheeks from an onslaught of tears. Bht then you’re smiling at him, a big, triumphant, radiant smile, and Sanemi feels almost as dumb in the head as he had when your mouth was around his cock.

The elevator slows and Sanemi hastily tucks himself back into his pants. The moment his belt is refastened, his hand is on your arm, gently guiding you up to stand right as a ding! sounds, and the doors slide open to reveal the 26th floor.

You step out first, turning back to him expectantly. “Well? What room?”

Sanemi’s heart falls to his ass as he beholds the assured confidence blazing in your eyes. “2602,” he manages to croak.

You tug him out of the elevator and for a few moments, he’s dumbstruck by his good fortune. It almost feels like a dream, that your here, leading him down the winding hallway of this oversized and overpriced hotel, eager to get back to his room and do whatever the hell it is that’s lit that fire in your eyes.

Sanemi’s awe is short-lived, replaced by a crashing wave of need and boiling desire, hot and furiously bubbling under his skin. His hand tightens around yours and he jerks you around, spinning you until you’re caged tightly between the hallway wall and his chest.

His mouth attacks your neck, biting and sucking his claim into your skin, no matter how temporary. Your leg hikes up to hook around his hips, your foot pressed against his calf, and it seems neither of you care that you’re very much still on an open hallway as opposed to the privacy of his hotel room.

“I’m not holding back with you,” he whispers against the hollow of your throat. His hands slide hotly down your sides, fingers toying under the absurdly short hem of your dress, kneading just beneath the curve of your ass. “You asked me what I wanted — I want this. You.”

Your sultry giggle in his ear chokes off as Sanemi’s finger dips under your ass from behind to run firmly over your clothed slit. A breathy fuck falls from his lips as he feels the wetness seeping through the fabric of your underwear.

“That’s your main gift,” you’re tugging on his hair again until you’ve pulled him away from your throat so that you can slant your mouth over his. “Me. However you want me.”

You take his bottom lip between your teeth and suck, and Sanemi swears he’s died and gone to heaven. “As many times as you want.”

“And in whatever positions you want.”

Sanemi has never been a particularly religious man, but he thinks he’s about one nanosecond from dropping to his knees in worship of you.

Sanemi wastes no time in hauling you over his shoulder, throwing any and all cares to the wind of being seen as he slaps your ass and books the remaining trek back to his hotel room. Youre lucky his room is only around the corner, given that you won’t stop groping his ass.

Somehow, Sanemi manages to fumble for his keycard and swipes it, and he has you inside his room and pushed up against the door before it even fully latches shut.

You’re moaning and panting just from his hands, and Sanemi can feel himself already growing hard once more. His lips are feverish as they roam from your lips, to your neck, and down to the hem of your dress concealing your soft breasts from sight. His hands are even greedier, bunching the tissue-paper-like fabric of you dress between his fingers as he explores the curves and dips of your body.

“God you feel so fucking good,” he mutters against your lips between kisses. “I can’t get enough of you.”

From the way your hands drag down his chest, fingers sliding between the undone buttons of his shirt to explore his chest, he knows you’re just as starved as he is.

With a slight whine, you push him back, breaking your kiss. Sanemi looks at you, but the question building on his tongue does as you kick your heels off, your fingers flying to the straps of your dress.

Sanemi feels locked in place by the heat of your gaze, and he swears he can feel his pulse tick in his neck. One by one, you push the straps of your dress from your shoulders, letting the satiny material fall down your waist and puddle around your feet.

If Sanemi thought he was losing his mind before, he knows for certain that he likely needs to be committed now.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Sanemi’s stare is unabashed and gaping. For beneath that flimsy scrap of shiny fabric pretending to be a dress was not your bare skin, but dark green lace and mesh and corset paneling.

A teddy.

You twist slightly so you’re looking over your shoulder, fully exposing your ass and the thong-like back of your one-piece to the slack-jawed birthday boy.

“I figured you would like this one.”

Your words knock Sanemi right off his axis, his head spinning so fast, it’s a miracle it’s still attached to his shoulders.

You’d worn fucking lingerie for his party.

For him.

You’d gone out of your way to wear something you thought he would like on the mere chance you’d end up as you were now, here in his room. You’d planned for it.

You didn’t leave him any other choice; he was going to fucking ruin you.

His hand flies behind his neck to grip his shirt, ripping it over his head and throwing it unceremoniously to the side.

Sanemi doesn’t fail to notice the way your tongue darts out to wet your lips, your pupils blowing wide at the sight of the sculpted planes of his chest and abdomen.

He kicks off his shoes and his hands shove his pants quickly down his legs, grateful that he hadn’t bothered to refasten his belt or button after the stunt you pulled in the elevator.

“C’mere,” he orders, roughly. Left in just his black briefs, he lunges forward to take you into his arms once more.

Your peal of laughter as Sanemi throws you onto his king-sized hotel bed is the prettiest thing he’s ever heard. He wastes no time pouncing on you, eager to reconnect your lips, to kiss you until you’re left as breathless and wanting as he is.

Between messy kisses, Sanemi’s hands make their way down your body, squeezing and marveling at the way your body seems made for his touch. And as if the feeling of your skin beneath his palms isn’t enough to drive him wild, you’re so responsive to his touch. Every stroke of his hands seems to bring you alive until you’re practically thrumming with want and begging him for more.

His fingers slide over your lace-covered cunt and he swears at the dampness he feels clean through the fabric of your teddy.

“Eager, are we?” He hums, his lips following down the path he traced with his hands. “Tell me what you need, sweetheart.”

Your hips buck impatiently against him as his face settles between your thighs. He grins at your desperation, trailing open-mouthed kisses across your inner thigh until he reaches your covered slit.

He lets his tongue peek out between his lips and drags it over until he reaches your other thigh, groaning at the faint taste of you dampening the lace.

Sanemi’s fingers push under the edge of the teddy, a breath blowing past his lips when he connects with your dripping cunt.

“Look how fucking soaked you are,” he says in awe, marveling the way your slick coats his fingers. “Is this all for me?”

You groan, pushing your hips down to grind harder against his hand.

“Just fuck me already,” you huff. “I’m ready now.”

Sanemi tsks softly at you. “You need to ask a lot nicer than that, sweet girl.”

Your impatient demands taper off into soft moans as Sanemi sinks a single finger into your entrance, his cock growing impossibly hard at the feeling of you clenching easily around him.

Sanemi practically trembles at the thought of sinking into your heat, of how you might feel clenching and pulsing around his length while he fucks you the way he’s been dreaming since he met you.

But while he might be pent up, Sanemi isn’t so much of an asshole that he wouldn’t make sure you were good and ready to take him.

So he simply tugs the crotch of your teddy aside and without any further teasing or torture, he latches his mouth to your cunt with a deep moan.

As his tongue darts between your folds, Sanemi realizes that all the cake in the world couldn’t compare to how fucking sweet your pussy tastes.

You cry out, his name stuttering out between a staccato of moans and cooes for more. Your hands twist in his hair, alternating between pulling his face closer to your core and pushing him away, the pleasure almost too much for you to bear.

Sanemi thinks he could get drunk on your taste. His eyes open to watch the way your face pinches, how your jaw goes slack to let his name drip from your tongue.

Your hands unwind from his hair to tug at the sinful draping of lace fitted against your body like a glove. “Off,” you whimper. “Off.”

It takes him a moment to realize what you want. But after another plea of “off,” Sanemi’s hands are already working to push the teddy down your lithe form.

“I’ve got you, baby, I’ve got you,” he soothes, dragging the lingerie off your legs. Sanemi swears softly at the sight of you, bare and spread out on his mattress, your body pliant and ready for him to use however he chooses.

“S-Sanemi,” he can’t suppress his grin at the apparent whine in your tone. “I feel so — so empty —“

He doesn’t try to hold in the groan resounding deep from his chest. Youre asking — practically begging — for his cock, and Sanemi doesn’t have the willpower to deny you.

“Fuck this,” he snarls, and suddenly your body is caged under his, his hips slotting perfectly into the cradle of your thighs. “I need to be in you.”

His lips dance feverishly up the side of your neck until they reconnect with yours.

For a moment, your kiss slows to something more sensual and passionate, as opposed to the heated and frantic kisses you’d exchanged earlier. The sigh you exhale against his mouth is the sexiest thing Sanemi has ever heard, and the feeling of your fingers latching in his hair is a sensation he never wants to forget.

Your tongue swipes along his lower lip in a silent request for entry that he’s only too happy to grant. You moan against the taste of yourself on his tongue.

Sanemi knows he’s been head over heels for you for a long time, but the way your tongue dances languidly with his has him utterly undone.

If you wanted to, he’d let you swallow him whole.

Your kiss melts into something more needy and frantic, and Sanemi feels your wetness grind down against his thigh, a pleading whimper building on your lips. With an eagerness that makes his head spin, your legs shift to lock around his waist, and one of the hands you’d had latched in his hair drifts down his abdomen until it finds his cock, heavy and hot in your palm.

“I’ve got a condom —“ Sanemi manages between desperate kisses. “In my wallet —“

But your legs tighten around his hips and your hand pumps harder at his stiffened length. “Don’t need it,” you murmur against his lips. “On the pill.”

Sanemi thinks he might pass out. “Fuck — are you sure?”

You nod, eyes bright and alert even in spite of your sleepy, fucked-out smile. “Wanna feel you, baby.”

Don’t have to fucking tell him twice. Especially not when you’re calling him baby, even if it’s a pet name you’ll only use on him for the night.

With deft hands, Sanemi flips you so that your front is pressed against the mattress. You scramble beneath him to plant your knees, raising your ass high in the air, your cunt held out in an offering he could never refuse.

He gives one of your pert ass cheeks an appreciative smack before he shuffles forward on his knees. He rests one foot on the outside of your leg, parallel with your hip, and slots his other knee between your parted thighs. One hand grips the base of his cock while the other kneads at your hip, holding you steady while also keeping your limbs relaxed as he lines his tip up with your dripping entrance.

“Unless you say otherwise, ‘M goin’ hard,” he warns, his voice rougher than gravel. “Been waiting too long to do this.”

Ever the devilish little minx, you wiggle your hips back against him, and his breath chokes in his throat when your wet heat catches him at his tip.

You look back over your shoulder and Sanemi’s gaze darkens at the challenge in your eyes. “Give me everything you’ve got.”

Sanemi decides to respond to your taunt not with his words, but with his body. In a single, fluid movement, he plunges his cock deep into your heated core, his fingers tightening around your hips with bruising force.

“Jesus fuck,” he pants once he’s fully embedded to the hilt inside your warmth.

It’s unreal; the feeling of your silken, pleasure-soaked walls moulding around his cock like you were made to take him sends a bolt lightning surging down his spine, making him shudder.

A cross between a cry and a scream tears from your throat, muffled only by the press of your mouth against the starchy blankets of his hotel bed. He’s about to ask if you’re okay, if you want him to go slow for a bit since he knows he’s a larger than average. but then you’re throwing your hips back against him, circling and grinding and mewling for more.

“Fuck me,” you moan. “Fuck me, Sanemi — please.”

“God fucking damn,” Sanemi hisses through clenched teeth. And he knows he can’t deny you, not when your whining so prettily for him; nor when your pussy feels this fucking good.

He draws back, his cock sliding out of you until only his tip remains. He lingers there, for just a hair’s breadth of a moment, teasing.

Your impatient whine doesn’t last long as Sanemi slams you back onto him, the sound choking off in your throat. He doesn’t give you time to recover; he digs his fingers into the flesh of your hips and drives his cock into you again and again, pounding a relentless rhythm into you that has you sobbing into the mattress.

“Yes, yes, yes!” You blubber, your fingers fisted into the blankets below for purchase as you push yourself back to meet his frenzied thrusts.

Sanemi can’t tear his eyes away from where his cock, shiny with your wetness, disappears in and out of you. “You’re taking me so fuckin’ well,” he says in awe. Your pussy is gripping him like a vice, practically sucking him back into your heat. “You like letting me use you, huh?”

Sanemi shifts so that his weight is on the knee resting beside your leg, allowing him to push harder and deeper into your cunt. You try to lift your head, but Sanemi’s hand leaves its place on your hip to press down on the back of your neck, squeezing lightly.

“Oh f-fuck,” you groaned, voice slightly muffled from where your face was half-pressed into the mattress. “Oh god — just like that — D-daddy, yes —“

Sanemi’s hips stutter. Daddy. No one has ever called him that in the bedroom before, but fuck if it doesn’t somehow make him harder than a fucking diamond.

Especially because it seems like it slipped out of you without much thought, your eyes too busy staring at the back of your skull as every punishing thrust of Sanemi’s cock into your pliant cunt makes your body bounce against the mattress.

He likes it. A lot.

“Should’ve known you’d have a daddy kink, filthy little thing,” he groans, his hand reaching under you to toy with your swollen clit.

You only moan in response, and Sanemi can’t help but to swirl his fingers around that nub, savoring the way it makes your thighs quiver beneath you.

The hand still pressing against the back of your neck slides up to grip your hair, and Sanemi pulls your head up from the bed. “Do you call everyone ‘daddy,’ sweetness, or just those who fuck you the way you like it?”

“Not everyone” you gasp, voice strained against the tight arch of your neck. “Just you — ah! Only you.”

With a growl, Sanemi’s arm locks around your middle and hauls you up until your back is flush against his chest. One hand wraps around your jaw, his fingers squeezing your cheeks to keep your head back as he continues pounding into you.

“Look at you,” his exhales hotly against your ear, his teeth grazing your lobe. “Daddy’s pretty little toy.”

Your thighs quake in their effort to keep you up. Your moans raise an octave, warbling out of your throat as you settle heavily against him, utterly helpless against the pleasure rolling through your body.

Sanemi’s hand drops from your jaw to drag teasingly down your torso. When he reaches your lower belly, he presses his palm flat, the pressure allowing the blunt head of his cock to rub against that sensitive spot that makes you sing his name.

“You feel that, baby?” And the whine that slips out of you is one he wishes he could bottle up. “That’s all me — that’s how deeply I’m fucking you.”

He’s practically holding you up, your limbs little more than jelly, but he doesn’t mind. He only increases the pressure of his hand, rubbing slightly over the softness of your stomach.

“And that’s where I’m gonna fill you up, ‘til you’re nice and full, hm?”

A stilted cry of his name is dragged from your lips, and Sanemi swears he’d marry you tomorrow, if you’d let him.

It’s not lost on him that this is likely a one-time thing; that you’ll likely leave his hotel room and the two of you won’t speak of it again, but he can’t find it within himself to give a shit.

It doesn’t matter if this is just a slightly drunken hook up — it doesn’t matter to him if it’s just sex. You’re letting him use your body for his pleasure, and that thought is enough to make his brain turn to liquid between his ears.

Sanemi falls back against the bed, bringing you with him, your back still pressed against his chest. He winds an arm around one of your thighs, holding it open to allow himself to continue fucking up into you with the speed of a racehorse.

“God you’re so fuckin’ tight — don’t want me to leave, do you, precious?”

He chuckles in your ear, catching your lobe between his teeth. His hand wedges between your thighs to play with your clit again, and the way your pussy flutters around him signals that you’re right on the precipice of your orgasm.

The first of the night, if he had anything to say about it.

“Maybe I should make you my own personal cocksleeve — would you like that, sweetheart?” You’re mewling, nodding frantically as you squirm and thrash atop him.

“Would you like to sit on Daddy’s cock all day, keep him nice and warm?”

“Yes!” You sob, and Sanemi’s fingers circle your clit even harder, determined to to make you cum. “Yes, ‘Nemi, please! I’ll be your good girl — I’ll be so good —“

Sanemi’s pace falters slightly at your words, a new idea — a wicked idea, forming fast in his mind. “You will, huh?”

He abruptly pulls out of you, though the anguished cry that rattles out of you at the loss of his warmth tugs at his heartstrings. After all, you’d been so close.

Sanemi wastes no time flipping you under him, hooking both your legs over his muscled shoulders until the underside of your thighs press flat against his chest.

“You’ll cum when I say so,” he shoves his painfully hard cock back into your pulsing warmth, his knuckles turning white under his grip against the rumpled blankets as he fights to keep his eyes from rolling back at the feeling of being sheathed back inside you once more.

“And you’re gonna fuckin’ look at me when i fill you up,” Sanemi snarls between ferocious snaps of his hips. “I wanna see that gorgeous face when I cum inside this pretty little pussy.”

“Yes! Yes s-sir.”

“Yeah? And who’s fucking you this good?”

“Y-you,”

He ducks his head down to nip sharply at your breast. “Try again.”

“You are — D-daddy,”

Sanemi’s pace only increases. “Still not what I’m looking for, princess,” he’s borderline cruel and he knows it, but he also knows what he wants. “Tell me whose pussy this is.”

You don’t answer; you can’t, given how slack your jaw has gone, your mouth frozen in a perfect “o” as Sanemi pushes the head of his cock right at that spot deep within you that makes you seize down on him hard enough that he sees stars.

He growls your name and when you still don’t respond, he snaps his hips particularly hard against yours.

“Say it.”

His hand shoves between your bodies, and Sanemi pinches your clit harshly between this thumb and index finger.

“Sanemi!” You wail, writhing under him. His fingers rub soothing circles against your clit, though the relentless thrust of his cock does not ease.

“That’s my girl,” he praises, and the pressure of his fingers against your throbbing nub increases. “Now cum on this fucking cock.”

That does it.

Your back arcs sharply up off the mattress, thighs tightening around his hips as your cunt clenching around him with earth-shattering force. Sanemi feels a smug wave of pride as a surge of fluid springs forth and coats his abdomen and groin.

You fall back against the bed, limp and spent, but Sanemi isn’t done with you yet; you won’t be, not until Sanemi has left his mark.

He shifts over you, his full weight pressing you down into the mattress; his hands pushing your knees up until they’re level with your chest. You sigh and hum, still wading through the haze of your orgasm, but given the way you let your thighs spread a little wider, you’re aware enough to know that Sanemi is readying you to take his release.

It’s not enough; Sanemi doesn’t want you lost in the aftermath of your euphoria — he wants you crying out for his.

His hand grips your face, your cheeks squishing together beneath his fingers as he forces your head to tilt toward him. Your eyes flutter open, bleary and unfocused before the clouds part and your attention is locked wholly on him.

“Beg for it,” he grits out, his hand smacking against your clit until you howled. “Beg for my cum.”

“Please!” Your cry is shrill and desperate, your hands tightening weakly around his shoulders. “Please f-fill me up — oh, Sanemi —“

He nearly loses it at the way you say his name, like it’s some damn prayer and he, your salvation, but he holds back. It’s not enough — he wants you as filthy and wanton as him.

“Use your words,” his words leave him in a single, inexorable command.

Your lower lip wobbles. “Your cum — please, please fill this pussy up. Fill me up, fuck it into me —“

Sanemi cuts off your babbling with a single, bruising kiss. He feels his balls tighten, and the prickle at the base of his spine grows hotter, signaling just how close he is to nirvana.

His hand finds one of yours where it clings to his shoulder, a fruitful attempt to anchor yourself, and he pulls it away. Sanemi presses your hand back against the mattress, interlacing his fingers with yours.

Your pussy flutters around him in time with your thumb stroking over his knuckle, and that’s all it takes.

“Oh fuck —“ Sanemi grunts before he feels himself explode. With a strangled yell, Sanemi’s hips slam into yours, pushing his cock as deep as it can possibly go, and his release crashes into him with mind-blowing force.

it’s the hardest and the most he’s ever come in his entire life. Nothing else has ever or will ever compare to this.

But even as his release spurts heavily inside your honeyed core, Sanemi doesn’t relent in his pace. His hips keep rolling steadily into you, prolonging his release to the point his toes curl, and he wonders whether his nose might start bleeding.

The corners of your mouth tilt up, a pleased groan vibrating loud and wanton in your throat as you feel him fuck his hot seed right into the Eden of your body.

Despite the mind-numbing pleasure of his orgasm, Sanemi won’t let himself look away. The face you make as he fills you up is the prettiest damn thing he’s ever seen.

Sanemi stays buried in your heat for several more moments as he comes down from his high, his head dropping into the crook of your shoulder. With a grunt, he pulls out, dropping down next to you in a flurry of messy blankets and pillows.

You push yourself to your side, a hand coming to push the sweat-dampened ends of his bangs from his eyes. “Good birthday?” You tease, your cheeks flushed bright red, your eyes bright.

“The best,” Sanemi agrees, his eyes scanning your face, committing every detail of you and your post-sex glow to memory.

The two of you lay next to one another for a little while, talking and quietly laughing. Neither one of you seems eager to leave the bed, and Sanemi in particular finds himself hoping today never ends.

Eventually, nature calls and he excuses himself — reluctantly — to the bathroom. When he emerges, he’s greeted with the sight of your ass, bare and exposed as you nestle into the bed, one leg kicking lazily up into the air behind you.

Fuck, you’re too beautiful, and he is far too weak.

He approaches the side of the bed, stretching out one hand to drag teasingly down your spine, until he reaches your ass, knuckles kneading the soft flesh.

His eyes flit to the small clock perched on the hotel nightstand. Sanemi’s grin turns lupine as he reads time reflected by the green-tinted digits.

Sanemi’s fingers skirt down to your ankle, gripping it firmly in his hand. He tugs you over the side of the bed until your head dangles off the edge, your hair stretching towards the ground. “Looks like it’s still my birthday, darling. I ain’t finished enjoying my present yet,” he grips the base of his half-hard cock and taps it against your lips. “And I’ve been dying to cum all over this pretty face of yours.”

—-

True to his word, Sanemi takes him time ravishing his birthday gift. When the clock on the nightstand finally reads 12:01 AM, he flops down next to you, chest heaving as he works to catch his breath.

You lay beside him, panting in tandem with him from the exertion of the night’s activities. There isn’t an inch of you that isn’t sticky as a result of the heady mixture of your sweat and Sanemi’s cum.

You feel his eyes searing into you as you trail a finger through the milky white splattered across your chest — a favorite place of his to cum, as you’d learned, second only to spilling inside of you.

Sanemi hardly holds back a whimper at the way you bring it to your lips, letting your tongue lick your finger clean of his pleasure.

“You’re trying to drive me wild, woman,” he throws a tired arm over his face, shrouding his eyes. “You torture all your hookups like this?”

He’s surprised at how quickly you sit up in bed, your eyes flashing.

“Hookup?”

Sanemi props a fist under his cheek. “Well, yeah,” he winces slightly, searching for more careful words. “I don’t expect anything from you. I appreciate the birthday surprise, though.”

Your gaze is leveled, and your voice even. “I don’t buy lingerie for one-night stands, Sanemi. That shit is an investment.”

His eyes blow wide, and he feels the erratic thrum of his heart stuttering in his throat.

“I want you,” you say firmly. “And I had every intention when I followed you in here tonight for this —“ your hand waves back and forth between your chests. “— to continue.”

It’s a miracle Sanemi is able to speak at all. “I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give.”

You grin. “Well, now that you’ve fucked me, I guess you should take me on a date.” You pause, trailing one delicate finger down his chest. “But I won’t make you wait until we’ve been on three before I let you fuck me again.”

Your hand dips below the edge of the blanket and glides teasingly over his cock, already beginning to stir once more. “You’re far too delicious.”

Sanemi snatches your hand and rolls you under him before you can blink, your answering giggle the sweetest music ever to grace his ears.

“Y’know, in other parts of the world, it’s still the 29th,” he murmurs huskily, grazing his lips against yours. “So by that logic…”

You nod, eyebrows drawn together in seriousness. “We’re obligated to keep celebrating.”

Sanemi’s lips are already trailing down your body, savoring the taste of himself on your skin. He settles back between your legs, marveling at the way your thighs fall to the side so easily to accommodate his mass.

He presses a sweet kiss against your clit. “You’re just the gift that keeps on giving, aren’t you, darlin’?”

[swappingforgood]

Happy Father’s Day?

When I woke up on Sunday morning, I had a massive headache, which was no surprise for me because me and my dad shared a bunch of drinks with each other. We decided to get drunk together since everyone else was busy and had other plans, and me being the youngest son, I felt bad for him. After our respective fourth beers, my dad said something that caught me off guard. “You know, Liam, you’re turning out to be quite the looker,” my dad said in his deeper voice as I blushed and looked away and returned the compliment. "Thanks, dad, but I would much rather look like you,” I said as I slurred my words before continuing. “I’m hairless on my chest and stomach, unlike you. I wish I looked more like you." He chuckled and moved closer before reaching out to hold my hand and saying he wouldn’t mind looking more like me. Now, in the morning, as I look around the room, I realize I’m not in my college dorm room; I’m in my parents room. I get up and almost stumble over from the hangover, but also my larger feet. Huh? I don’t have large feet or these bigger legs or this manlier stomach. Before the panic takes over, I run to the bathroom to see my dad's face staring back at me. I touch my face and watch his reflection do the same, and I lift up my shirt, and again, the reflection does the same. It hits me; I’m in my dad's body, and if I’m in his body, I get a text from him saying that our drunken wishes came true, and he said he couldn’t be happier and told me to enjoy my new body because he doesn’t want to change back. I was sad at first until I lifted up my shirt again to see my older frame covered in a mix of dark hair and fat, which caused a stir in my pants. Honestly, I can get used to this. Happy Father’s Day to me!

[pellucid-constellations]

hi! If you’re still taking requests I would looooove some Az comforting the reader, maybe she’s having a bad day and is trying to play it off and tell everyone she’s ok but Az sees right through her and she ends up crying and he comforts her or something if you’re up for it. I love love love your writing by the way <3

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Word count: ~1.3k

Warnings: A tiny bit of angsty thoughts

a/n: I loveeee hurt/comfort and this kind of took on a life of its own. Enjoy!!! Thanks for the request ❤️

____________________________________________

You could feel his eyes on you from across the room—calculating, contemplative, planning. You had been doing your best to ignore him for the better part of the evening, but his presence was hardly discrete as he stood strong and stiff in the corner. 

This day had been atrocious. 

You had woken up before dawn to begin preparations for the gala currently taking place, been screamed at by multiple vendors unhappy about their placements, got caught in the rain on your way around town, and barely had time to sit down before you were thrust into a chair and made to get ready for the night. 

And that was just today.

There had been pressure from all sides to find comradery between the courts after the war, and as an emissary to the night court and the one most familiar with each High Lord, you had been elected to carry out that task. A task that had taken weeks of bad days to come to fruition. 

To put it lightly, you were beaten down. 

“Perhaps you can speak to the High Lord about that, yes?” the Spring Court emissary drawled, an ending to the 20-minute speech you had hardly been listening to. 

You smiled anyway. “Oh yes, of course. Perhaps you could send me a follow-up correspondence in a few weeks to ensure I get your reply readily?” 

The emissary scoffed, looking you up and down with a cloistered sneer. “Can’t even keep track of little conversation? Typical. I guess I can send you a reminder, though…” 

The vicious man’s words began to bubble out of your mind, a low buzzing replacing the demeaning tone. You jutted your jaw to the side and pursed your lips in an attempt to hold back the burning in your waterline. 

This was exhausting and too much and was quickly becoming a thankless job. You had told Rhysand you were up to the feat, but you had not accounted for all of the screaming and complaining and belittling some of the courts seemed to favor. 

From the corner of your eye, you saw Azriel kick up from the wall. You threw him a watery, chastising look—knowing by the gleam in his eye that he was set to cause trouble with the man before you—but the Shadowsinger only raised a brow and tugged on the bond deep in your chest. 

Azriel had grown weary of your tired excuses and your half-hearted assurances that you were doing okay. It was obvious that every time you lied, he grew more impatient, more concerned. 

But you had to do this—for Rhysand, for Feyre, for the court. 

You hadn’t been able to fight in the war, so you could throw a simple gala and suck it up. 

Your mate stopped his approach, but you saw his jaw clench and his fingers roll up into his palm as the man only continued to drone on. 

“Do you think you could do that, then?” 

Shit. You had not been listening to a word he said, too concerned with Azriel’s thwarted approach. 

“I apologize,” you shook your head with a sheepish smile. “Could do what? It’s just so loud in here.” 

“Is this truly the best the night court has to offer?” 

That made the battle with your tears even more difficult. You swallowed the lump growing in your throat and tried to pretend you weren’t staving off a massive headache alone with it. 

“I know, I’m sorry. There is just much I have to do for the night and my mind is elsewhere—” 

“Thank you, Fike. You can send a letter addressed to the night court emissary when the night concludes,” Azriel cut in, interrupting the rough scratch of your voice. “It’s uncouth to speak so much of business at a party. And you are always so boring.” 

You heard the remnants of another scoff leave the Spring Court emissary's mouth, but Azriel was already guiding you out of the ballroom and into the hallway with a steady hand on your back. You took deep breaths as you went, your nose burning with the action. 

Get yourself together. You’re fine. A small issue in an otherwise—

Azriel hummed and pressed you against the wall of the hallway, quelling your rampant thoughts with the hand on your stomach. His other was pressed above your head, trapping you in an embrace, keeping only him in your eyeline. 

“You’re okay,” he comforted, taking exaggerated, deep breaths. “Just us here.”

You blinked and shook your head in quick succession. “No, I know, Az. I’m completely fine. I just needed to get away from Fike. I have to go back in.” 

“You are crying, my love.” Azriel brought his hand up from your stomach and brushed away tears you hadn’t felt fall. “You’re overwhelmed. I don’t know why you’ve put yourself under this much stress, but you need to stop for a moment.” 

“No. No, I'm okay. I’m not stressed. I don’t know what’s happening to me—why I’m crying. I feel fine.” 

Azriel’s expression pinched, grimacing as he watched your chest rise and fall unsteadily. “Y/n—” 

“It’s just a gala,” you affirmed, more tears falling with the quick flurry of your words. “Just a gala. I can do this one thing. You all fought in a war and you made me stay home. You could have died. I can host a stupid gala.” 

You furiously wiped at the wet tracks on your cheeks, brushing Azriel’s soft touch aside. But he only halted your movements, his fingers wrapping around your wrist. 

“Hey—hey. Don’t be so rough. Y/n, this is not a stupid gala. Look at me.” When you refused, Azriel released your wrist and tipped your chin up until you met his eye. He smiled despite the pain in your eyes. “There’s my girl.” 

And despite the pain, you huffed out a small laugh. 

Azriel would take it. He readied the spiel he’d been prepping since you began this venture. “This is not just a stupid gala and you didn't just stay home during the war.” Azriel pressed a kiss to your forehead, a pause he couldn’t help but take. “You protected everyone in the allied courts. You were our informant. You were winnowing so often you passed out, need I remind you.” 

“But I wasn’t—” 

“I don’t care if you weren’t fighting. What you did was just as valuable and you know that. Just as this gala is valuable to our peace. You are valuable.” 

Your face heated beneath his words, his body pressed to yours in the hallway as the gala continued on. 

“I need to be useful,” you admitted, after a pause. “This needed to be perfect.” 

“It is perfect, my love. My sweet mate. You need to take a rest. You’re breaking apart and I can’t stand to see you like this. Come here.” Azriel slotted your head in the bend between his shoulder and his neck, sliding his hands down your back until his wings came around as well. “Can I force you into bed? Just for an hour at most. I swear I’ll wake you up and we will come back down.” 

You made to move away from him in disbelief, still panicked at the idea of abandoning your work, but Azriel only held you tighter. 

“That wasn’t really a question.” 

And so Azriel took you to bed. 

[wraithlafitte]

bitchin'

pairing: dean winchester x reader

CONTENT: violence (hunting), SMUT, only one bed~ enemies to lovers (kinda), unprotected p in v (encase before you embrace), hate sex, Dean calls reader "princess" mockingly, manhandling, slapping, spanking, big dick!Dean has all the audacity, dirty talk, degradation, choking, cum eating, brat taming, edging, overstimulation, squirting

word count: 4.7k

To say you were unhappy to be working with Dean Winchester would be putting it lightly. A massive understatement, in fact. But, as luck would have it, you needed backup on a vamp case; and when you called Bobby Singer for help, it turned out that Dean was the only hunter nearby.

Your jaw set uncomfortably as you dialed his number and held the phone to your ear. Asking for help from anyone was hard, but from this man? Practically your mortal enemy? A feeling of shame, or maybe embarrassment, crept into your stomach as you listened to the phone ring.

He's probably just watching it ring, you thought cynically. Who's to say he would pick up at all? Maybe he won't, you hoped.

There was a laundry list of reasons why Dean was the last person you'd want to work with on a case. He was reckless, had no respect for plans, and tended to go in guns blazing without regard for his own life, which meant that you would constantly be saving his ass. And boy, was he a pain in yours.

The cherry on top of the Dean Winchester disaster cake was that he hated your guts. You never really figured out why, but you assumed it was his misogynistic tendency to be completely contrary to any woman he met who didn't fall all over him. God forbid a woman doesn't care about his rugged good looks or roguish bravery!

When he finally picked up, you could practically hear the smirk in his voice, dripping with self-righteousness. "Well, well. What do you want?"

You decided it would be best to cut to the chase and just get it over with. "I'm working a case in Nevada," you said calmly. He would not get you riled up. "Vegas. There's a vamp nest, been snatching homeless people. Tunnel dwellers," you added. "Not that it matters. People are people, vamps are vamps."

"What are you tellin' me for?" Dean asked gruffly. He was gonna make you say it. Of fucking course he was, because he just had to hold it over your head.

"Need backup," you said curtly. "There's at least five of them."

"So what you're sayin' is...." The smugness in his voice was unmistakeable.

"I need your help, you dick."

"Oh do you now."

You huffed, already fed up with him. "Bobby says you're the only hunter he knows nearby. Said you're in Flagstaff."

"Maybe I am," he said vaguely. "Bobby should know not to tell you anything about where I am or recommend me as reinforcements for you."

"He didn't want to, but I made him. Are you coming or not?" you said sharply.

I'll be there by nightfall. Don't wait up," he said teasingly and hung up, leaving you to listen to the tone, steaming.

Why does he have to make everything so difficult?

Rough pounding on the door of your motel room startled you up from your chair at midnight. Dean wasn't even in the room yet, and he was already tormenting you. You went to the door and jerked it open, pinching the bridge of your nose. You could feel the headache coming on.

"Honey, I'm home," Dean said wickedly. He pushed past you into the room, dropping his duffel bags in the middle of the floor. He dropped into the chair you had just vacated and looked up at you with a shit-eating grin.

"Don't make this any harder than it has to be," you warned him, eyes narrowing.

"Hey, I'm just excited to kill some vamps," he said, jabbing a finger towards you.

"Give it up. We both know you would rather be anywhere else."

"True," he conceded. "But let me just bask in the moment real quick."

You roll your eyes and return to your task, packing up your stuff. "Don't get too comfortable. We can't stay here. I was followed earlier."

"Perfect," Dean said sarcastically. "Of course you were."

You turn on him. "It can happen to anyone."

"Sure," he mocked. "So what's the plan, genius?"

Your face hardened. "We take the fight to them."

"Say no more."

The vampire's nest was in an abandoned warehouse (real original) that was a few streets away from one of the tunnels that the homeless had set up camp in. Chain link fence, corrugated metal, broken windows, the whole deal. And of course Dean wouldn't wait to make a game plan, sliding open a side door like nothing bad was waiting to jump him. In a vampire nest. At night.

All you could do was follow him, machete at the ready, and hope that the scuffing of his boots on the concrete floor wouldn't alert any vampires to your presence.

Dean ducked down, holding a fist in the air. You hurried behind him and crouched behind a shelf just in time to miss a patrolling vampire rounding the corner. Without missing a beat, Dean jumped out behind it and chopped it at the neck soundlessly. The body fell to the floor. As much as you hated to admit it, he was good.

You crept in the direction the fang had come from, Dean hot on your heels. He was so close you could hear his leather jacket creaking, smell his cologne, feel him practically breathing down your neck. You shot him a glare over your shoulder, then suddenly you hear voices. You stopped abruptly in your tracks, causing Dean to bump into you. You elbowed him and gave him a look.

Peeking around the doorframe, you saw what appeared to be the vamps' main hangout room. And there were a lot more than five of them, lounging around the walls, circling victims that were hung by their wrists from a beam.

"We can take them," Dean whispered in your ear.

You looked at him in disbelief. "Are you kidding me?" you hissed back. You tried to count the dark shapes in the next room. "There's at least ten in there. There's only two of us."

"We can do it." Without waiting for a reply, Dean busted down the door and started swinging. You had no choice but to follow as the vampires started coming out of their startled stupor and attacking.

Dean cut down two of them easily, their heads rolling on the floor before they knew what hit them. The rest, however, had time to react.

One of the vampires rushed you, just managing to avoid your blade as you swung it. She snarled and leapt towards you. You slashed her across the chest and she howled, clutching her shirt. You took the opportunity and decapitated her.

Someone grabbed you from behind, claw-like nails scratching your neck as it was forced to the side, baring your skin. You stabbed behind you, blade finding purchase, and used the distraction to cut off the fang's head.

Another vamp rushed you from the front. You swung your blade out in defense, but he just grabbed it and ripped it from your hand. Then, as if they could smell your defenselessness, you were suddenly swarmed, vampires clawing at your skin, your clothes, pulling your hair. Several hard punches landed to your gut and your face and the wind was knocked out of you as you fell to the floor, smacking the side of your head into the concrete. You yelped in pain and shock.

A boot pressed into the side of your neck and your vision was suddenly obscured by a heavy-set vampire bearing down on you, grinning. "Not so tough now without your little sword," he sneered, fangs descending. His mouth was smeared with blood and you could smell the tang of iron on his breath. You struggled to breathe as the pressure on your neck increased, your vision getting spotty.

Great, this is how I die....

As if in the distance, you heard Dean shout. The looming face of the vamp was promptly detached from its body, hitting the floor by your head. His body fell on top of yours, his gross bloody neck stump right in your view. The boot left your neck and charged in the direction of Dean's voice.

You struggled to free yourself from beneath the former vamp, ears ringing from your near-suffocation. You could hear the ensuing scuffle, all grunts and wet slices and heavy footfalls, but you had no idea who was winning.

Then, it was silent.

You held your breath instinctively, listening to a lone pair of footsteps approaching you. You found yourself realizing for the first time that you hoped Dean was coming. Better than the alternative.

Sure enough, Dean's hunt-beaten face appeared above you, screwed up with effort as he pushed the large vamp's body off of you. You sat up quickly, surveying the carnage, slapping away the extended helping hand. The shock of your near death experience wore off quickly, but the adrenaline from the fight did not, so your energy turned towards Dean.

"What the fuck, Dean?" you yelled, rising to your feet, wincing from the pain in your sides.

"What do you mean what the fuck?" he returned angrily. "I just saved your goddamn life!"

"After you endangered it!" you shoved him, scowling furiously. "Ten to two are not good odds! We could have fucking died! I almost did!"

"Hazards of the job, sweetheart!"

"There's hazards, and then there's suicide," you replied, fuming.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Don't have to thank me."

"I won't." You shoved him out of your way and made for the door. "Don't you ever fucking do that again."

"Not so fast, princess," Dean called after you. "Hunt's not over."

You froze in your tracks. "What."

"I didn't get all of 'em." You whirled around to face Dean, who was looking uncharacteristically sheepish.

Your voice was dangerously quiet. "What do you mean you didn't get all of them?"

He made an attempt at a self-confident grin. "They saw me ganking their buddies like nobody's business, turned tail and ran. I was more concerned about saving your life than to chase."

You smirked tauntingly. "Oh, you cared about my life?"

Dean just shrugged. "Couldn't just leave you there."

"Whatever." You started walking to the entrance again. "Since you let some get away, I say we get a night's sleep. They'll probably be expecting us to come after them, so they won't hunt again tonight. We can pick up the trail in the morning."

"What do you mean you only have one room left?" Dean asked angrily, slamming his hands down on the motel counter.

The clerk looked at him blankly. "Just what I said."

You were at the cheapest motel you could find in the city that was built on tourism. You and Dean were both short on cash, so it seemed like the best option. It was this or take shelter with the junkies in the tunnels.

"I'm not spending the night in the same room as her!"

You hit his shoulder. "Hey!"

"Like you don't feel the same," Dean said exasperatedly, digging out his wallet. "Next cheapest is still too expensive. I'm basically broke," he whined, rifling through his meager collection of bills.

"What happened to all your credit cards, Mr. Fraud?" you sneered.

Dean glared at you. You glared back. After a few moments, the clerk cleared his throat.

"So, do you want the room or not?"

You dropped your bags just inside the door of the room. "You're fucking kidding me."

Dean pushed past you. "What- oh. Oh my goddd." He ran his hand down his face tiredly.

Staring you in the face was the decidedly lumpy surface of a double bed. One. That fucking clerk could've warned you.

You and Dean slowly looked at each other, then you made a mad dash to claim the bed, shoving each other out of the way, kicking, tackling, until you both lay tangled on the floor, still not in the bed. You had his arm pinned behind his back, but he was pinning you to the floor with his weight.

You jerked on his arm, panting, and he grunted painfully, digging his knee into your side.

"Say.. uncle," you gritted out.

"You first!" Dean rasped.

"No!"

You laid there for a few more seconds, then, almost as if it was painful, Dean asked, "Should we- call it a draw?"

You rolled your eyes and released him. He rolled off of you, getting to his feet. He didn't help you up, of course.

"I'm not sleeping on the floor," he said spitefully.

"Well, neither am I." Your eyes narrowed.

You laid on the bed stiffly, positioned all the way at the edge of the mattress, as far away from Dean as possible. He was doing the same, and the blanket was pulled taut between you as you wordlessly battled over it.

You were steaming. You should have known that everything would go to shit if you called on him. He completely ruined what should have been a one-hour job, endangering your life and letting a few vamps go. He did, technically, save your life though. You were grateful, but you wouldn't tell him that in a million years.

Adrenaline from the hunt and your constant fighting with Dean coursed through your veins, keeping every sense on high alert. Every tug of the sheets from Dean lit a fire under your skin. His weight behind you on the bed filled you with a painful awareness of how touch-starved you truly were. As much as you tried to suppress it, tension began building in your core.

You shifted uncomfortably, squeezing your thighs together. "Ugh," you let out before you could stop yourself.

"Shut up," Dean grumbled through the darkness.

The sound of his voice, rough with tiredness, intensified how extremely horny you felt. You felt your underwear getting damp in spite of your hate for the man.

"God dammit," you said frustratedly, sitting up and swinging your legs over the side of the bed.

"What?" Dean said, throwing the covers back and sitting up too. "Why can't you just let me fucking sleep?"

"Nothing," you snapped, taking a swig from your water bottle. Hydrating would calm you down, surely.

"Yeah, right," he snapped back. "What the fuck is wrong?"

"I'm really fucking horny, Christ!" you blurt, whirling on him.

"If I fuck you, will you stop bitchin'?" Dean demanded, fire and a deadly seriousness in his eyes.

You opened and closed your mouth, stunned.

He just smirked at you. "Is that what it takes to shut you up?"

You stared at him. "Are you serious?"

"You want me so bad, huh." He moved across the bed and settled right behind you, his face in your neck, inches away from your own.

"Shut up," you say, flustered, still trying to keep some semblance of control. But you couldn't deny the arousal pooling in your gut.

"Say the word," Dean said smoothly, breath fanning over your exposed shoulder.

"Fuck," you whispered, cursing what you're about to do. You turned your head and smashed your lips to his.

Dean responded immediately, pulling you backwards and into his lap. He bit at your lips, forcing his tongue inside your mouth. You made an indignant sound, battling him for dominance, teeth clashing in a messy display of pure desire.

Your lips only parted to rip off each other's shirts. You dug your fingernails into Dean's bare shoulders as hard as you could, trying to elicit some kind of reaction from him, which came in the form of a deep groan into your mouth. He broke away, panting, and flung you onto your back on the mattress.

Leering down at you, he placed himself between your legs. "That's how you wanna play, huh princess?"

He yanked your leg up by the knee and slapped the back of your thigh. An involuntary moan escaped your mouth, and Dean chuckled darkly. "Oh, this is gonna be fun."

"Just shut up and fuck me," you whined, hitting his side with your foot.

"Ah-ah," he tutted. "Bad girls don't get what they want."

You sat up and came nose to nose with him. "If you think for one second that I am going to sit here and play submissive for you-"

Dean laced his fingers through the back of your hair and sharply tugged your head back. You moaned in response. A smile slowly grew over his face and he let go abruptly and shoved you back down. Your back barely hit the mattress before he was yanking off your sleep shorts and underwear in one go, tossing them to the far reaches of the room. You gasped as the cool air from the room hit your core, driving home the fact that you were now completely exposed to him.

"Aw, already so wet for me," Dean jeered, running a finger up your slit roughly. You flinched away from the sudden contact, heat spreading to your face.

"Don't flatter yourself," you gasped as he shoved a finger inside you, curling it vigorously, relishing the wet sounds your pussy produced.

Dean palmed himself through his pajama pants, groaning. He closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them again, he added a second finger inside you, scissoring you open. At least he has the decency to prepare me, you thought.

He yanked his fingers out of you, giving your pussy a quick slap, and you whined at the sudden empty feeling.

"Don't whine," Dean said roughly, getting off the bed and kicking off his pants and boxers. You looked down, unable to help yourself.

You saw where he got all his confidence from. He was big. You practically quivered with anticipation. You loved a good stretch, and you liked it rough, and this was about to be both.

"Like what you see?" Dean mocked, shaking his cock.

"Looks like maybe your confidence isn't completely unwarranted," you admitted dryly. You could feel your combative spirit giving way to lust, but you weren't giving up that easily.

He winked, grabbed your ankles and jerked you to the edge of the bed, your thighs around his waist, your hair fanned out on the blanket behind your head. Dean took hold of your calves and pressed your knees up by your face, leaning over you and pinning you down with his weight again. Only this time, it was way hotter.

"Gonna be good for me?" he asked, voice dripping with mock sweetness.

"In your fucking dreams," you spat.

In one fluid motion, he backed off of you, grabbed you by the waist, and spun you onto your stomach. You squeaked as a heavy hand landed on your ass, much harder than he hit before.

You used your feet, barely touching the floor, to push yourself back towards him, hoping he would get the point and just fuck you already without you having to ask him again.

"So fucking needy," he murmured in your ear. "Use your words, princess."

"Fuck you," you moaned, feeling his cock jerk against your leg.

"Mmm, that's not right," Dean warned, fingers digging into your hips.

You grit your teeth. "Fuck me."

Dean splayed his fingers over your ass cheeks, spreading you open for him, and thrust into you roughly, filling you in one go.

You gasped, feeling his cock throb inside you as your pussy complained against the intrusion and desperately tried to adjust to his size. He groaned as you clenched around him, pulling out slowly and slamming back in.

"Dean," you gasped out. "Don't be such a fucking tease."

"I'll do whatever the fuck I want, princess," Dean growled, his thrusts becoming faster. "You asked for this."

"Technically- you offered," you corrected, eyes screwing shut at the pleasure building inside you with each thrust.

"God, shut- up," Dean griped, punctuating his words with a deep thrust that hit just right, eliciting an embarrassingly loud moan from you.

He just grunted, hips colliding against you, now just chasing his own high. You pressed your face into the bed, clutching the blanket with both fists, fortifying yourself against Dean's relentless pace. His fingers pressed deeply into your hips, carving out a place for him, letting you know you wouldn't be coming away from this encounter unbruised.

"God, you're so fucking tight," Dean rasped, slapping your ass. You moaned in response, unable to think of a witty retort. "Bet it's been a long time since you were fucked, huh?"

When you didn't reply, he slapped your ass again, on the other side, sending fireworks through your core.

"Bet that's why you're so desperate for me," he groaned. "Haven't gotten laid in a while. Bet that's why you're such a bitch, too," he added snarkily.

"Oh, fuck off," you mumbled into the mattress.

Dean pulled out, much to your chagrin, turning you onto your back again. "If you want," he said, eyes glimmering with mischief.

You pouted and whined, hooking your feet around his waist and trying to pull him back. You were rewarded with a sharp slap to your pussy. You cried out from the stimulation.

"Don't whine," he growled, pushing into you again on the last word.

"Sorry," you whispered in spite of yourself, gripping onto his arms as he cages you in with his body.

"What was that?" Dean said, grinning wickedly and thrusting into you sharply.

"Fuck-" you moaned instead, refusing to cooperate.

He wraps his hand around your throat loosely, putting slight pressure just under your jaw. Your eyes widened as he slowly increased the pressure, jeering down at you, still slamming into you at an incredible pace. Your body started to become overwhelmed with all the sensory input and your core tightened.

You knew Dean felt it, because he grimaced. "Gonna come, you little slut?" he taunted, reaching down with his free hand to rub harshly at your clit. A low whine released from the back of your throat.

His grip tightened around your neck to see your reaction. You gasped, straining to get a full breath in, your pussy clenching hard around his cock.

"Such a fucking slut that you're gonna come from being choked out," Dean said through gritted teeth, his thrusts becoming sloppy.

"Fuck- Dean," you choked out, both hands wrapped around his wrist. He eased up on the pressure some (he didn't want to kill you) and your hands moved desperately up his arm, gripping him tightly.

Dean was getting close, you could tell, but the question remained: would he come before you? And if he did, would he still take care of you? Somehow you doubted it. The self-absorbed jackass was probably going to cum inside you and fall asleep, like almost every other man you'd slept with.

Suddenly Dean lurched forward, shoving his face into the space between your neck and shoulder, breathing heavily in your ear. You clenched in surprise (and also because a man getting desperate was one of the hottest things on the planet).

Dean groaned deeply in response and bit down on your shoulder, hard. You cried out, half from pain and half from the surprising pleasure it sent roaring through you, causing your cunt to squeeze down on him tightly. He practically whimpered, detaching from your skin and pulling out, pumping himself a few times before spilling onto your stomach with a moan.

He looked down at the mess he'd made of you, dragging his fingers through his cum. Then he brought those fingers up to your mouth and pressed them against your lips. "Open."

You scowled at him, once again determined to be contrary.

Dean glared back. "Open, or you don't get to come," he said harshly, forcing his fingers between your lips and teeth.

So he was planning to take care of you. Your neediness returned in full force, and you opened your mouth to allow him to shove his fingers deep into your mouth. You gagged as his fingertips hit the back of your throat, the taste of his cum filling your mouth. He pressed down on your tongue and you dutifully sucked on his fingers as he smirked down at the sight.

"Good little slut," Dean said nastily, obviously feeling proud of himself. He started to pull his fingers out and you closed your teeth, scraping his skin as he did. He slapped your cheek lazily once his hand was free. "Swallow it."

You glared, but did as you were told, sticking out your tongue to prove it.

Dean grinned. "Ready for your reward, princess?"

You moaned needily, throwing your head back and bucking your hips up towards him.

"Such a fucking whore," he chastised, bringing his hand to your clit and stroking around it lazily. A pang of arousal shot through you as you quickly approached the edge again. All thoughts of defiance went out the window as you grinded against his hand.

"Please," you whimpered, squirming under his touch.

"Since you asked so nicely," Dean mocked. He stuffed your pussy with three fingers at once, thrusting and curling them inside you. "Fuckin' dripping, princess."

He brought his other hand to your clit, thumbing it in figure eights in time with his fingers. You gasped as your core tightened. His fingers were bringing you so close to the brink and just keeping you there, never increasing the pressure just enough to push you over.

"Fuuuck," you moaned, panting. "Please, Dean! I need- I need-"

"You need what?" he teased. He twisted his fingers up to your g-spot, simultaneously ceasing his movements on your clit to press down on it hard.

"Oh, God!" you cried out, almost hyperventilating. The feeling of your orgasm building up was almost too much to bear. A dry sob wracked your body.

Dean nipped at your chest, gazing up at your contorted face with eyes so innocent looking you could've sworn, for a moment, that this was not a man you hated with your entire being, who was not currently doing the most sinful things to you with his hands.

You whimpered pathetically. "Please," you said in a small voice. "I need to come so bad." Your face flushed with shame as you finally admit what he's done to you, both with your words and body.

"All you had to do was ask," Dean said, sickly sweet. His hands sparked into motion again, redoubling their efforts. You let out a strangled scream as you were brought right back to the precipice, only this time, surely, he's going to let you?

It was like a pot boiling over, overwhelming heat spreading from your core out through your stomach, making your legs shake and your abs tighten. You made another strangled, desperate noise as you grinded down on his hand.

"That's it, princess, fuck yourself on my fingers," Dean goaded.

You struggled to catch your breath, eyes wide. Your face was hot and wet, and you realized numbly that tears were streaming down your face, running into your hair. He started to take his hands away, but your hands chased them, seizing them and bringing them back to your core.

Dean seemed surprised, but more than willing to fuck you past the point of no return. "Fuck, you just can't get enough, huh," he said, sounding mildly impressed. Your body shook as he all but stilled his fingers inside you, just rubbing your clit slowly until it became too much to bear and you pushed him off.

You laid there panting quietly, your body shivering from the aftershocks of one of the most intense orgasms you'd had in a while. For once, it seemed like Dean didn't know what to say.

You closed your eyes for a moment, then suddenly felt his hand on your clit again, rubbing vigorously. Your eyes flew open and you looked down to see Dean's face set in determination. You clutched at his wrist, trying weakly to get him away, knees trying to close around him, but it didn't take long for you to cum again with a shriek, heels digging into the mattress to push yourself away. Your cunt pulsed around nothing, and you felt a gush of arousal leave you. Dean looked delighted.

"I fucking knew it," he said triumphantly, holding up his hand to survey the mess.

"What?" you asked feebly as another shiver ran through your body.

"Knew you'd be so touch-starved I could get you to squirt," Dean explained smugly. He licked some of your arousal off his hand.

You threw your head back onto the bed exasperatedly. "God, I hate you."

"Could've fooled me," he returned, displaying his hand to you and smirking.

dividers once again by @cafekitsune and @saradika-graphics

[v3nusxsky]

So I'm asking as me as not anon only because I'm sure you know it's me from my comment, but also still want to be anon after this paragraph (if that makes sense) ❤️

I literally am obsessed with your writing, it is so freaking good I could just curl up and re read everything you've posted (and I may have done that, ngl) especially for Larissa. That woman has an absolute chokehold on me.

Is there any chance you could do a lactation/breeding/mommy/shapeshifting dick with dom Larissa and sub r, and can the r be a short masc with short hair?

You are amazing in every way and lovely beyond compare!

Breed me mommy 18+

*authors note~ wrote this with a massive headache after my first long distance drive so I apologise if it’s bad! This is for all my people who have massive crushes on Larissa Weems coupled with a huge breeding kink. On my knees for the 6 foot 3 goddess Larissa Weems*

Trigger warnings~ breeding kink, lactation kink, mommy kink, shapeshifting cock and ability to lactate, dom Larissa/ sub masc, dirty talk, oral sex, praise kink, soft dominant, thigh riding, slight choking, missionary, doggy, oral fixation, hints of emotional sub after the act

Prompt~ see ask^^^

It was your idea to watch The Devil Wears Prada with your lover Larissa Weems. Your intent was to create a calming atmosphere for her after a long stressful day. A nice meal, some cuddles while you watch the film and then head to bed together. Peaceful. Happy. It started all going to plan, your beautiful candlelight dinner that just so happened to be the exact favourite dish of your lover. The wine was plentiful and the conversation flowed effortlessly.

“I’ll take good care of you. I promise” you murmured to the principal as she delicately folded her long legs to sit on the sofa with you before patting her hardly clothed thigh twice. A silent command. “Let mommy hold you tonight darling” she whispered before shifting your pliant body onto her lap and pressing play on the already set up film.

It all started innocently. Her slender fingers trailing over your clothed arms, legs and stomach. Every time you’d tilt your head to catch her obvious teasing acts she would be laser focused on the screen. But slowly Larissa had more on her mind. She couldn’t help but press her ruby lips to the column of your throat as you chuckled. The way your pulse beat against her gentle kisses caused her to smile in your skin. It’s just never been easy for her to keep her hands for herself when you’re in the same room as she is. Let alone sat on her lap, so innocently nibbling on your lip as you fought to concentrate. She’d be your undoing, that much she knew, but how much of her obvious teasing you could take wasn’t.

It wasn’t long before you began to absentmindedly search to find purchase on Larissa’s wrists and guide them where you desperately needed them. Only she wasn’t done yet, pulling her hands from you as you whined unhappily. “Behave darling” she tutted as if you were a disobedient puppy, “Mommys trying to watch this.”

How long was this damn film? You couldn’t help but curse yourself for not picking a shorter film. So just about the half way point you snapped, turning yourself around in her lap to attack her lips with desperate sloppy kisses. Instantly, she reciprocated with just the right amount of enthusiasm to subconsciously encourage your growing arousal. Before you knew it, you were tugging at the pins holding her beautiful in place as your hips began to grind downward. “God darling, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted you to be a mess in my lap. Such a sweet thing for me” she praised happily before moving her hands to grip your hips hard enough to leave marks.

Larissa was known for her passion and patience. But here and now she was most definitely not a patient woman. As soon as your arousal began to seep through your shorts onto her stockings she lost control. Effortlessly scooping you up into her arms, carrying you into your shared room as your lips battled for a dominance you didn’t truly want. Being tossed around by your older lover was something you’d never get bored of. The way she tossed you on the bed like you weighed no more than a pillow was such a turn on.

Squirming on the bed you allowed Larissa to strip you bare minus your sports bra, knowing how it helped you feel more masculine in these moments before stepping back and admiring your beautiful self. Subconsciously, you began to curl up into yourself, effectively hiding your body from her only to be reprimanded, “don’t be embarrassed darling. God you turn me on so much my love. I just need to be inside you now. To touch you now. Can mommy touch you? Please baby?” You stuttered in mild shock “I-inside me?” You’ve spoke about your future and likes/ dislikes and what you would like to explore together, and apparently tonight was the night for her to try and shift. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to watch you be a good slut and take mommys cock. Every. Single. Inch.”

“Please mommy, just touch me please I don’t care how” you whimpered reaching out to pull her to you and free her from her dress. Her beautiful tits on display along with a now very generous member trying to strain from her lace panties. “You wanna help take this off darling? They are rather uncomfortable” she mumbled before stealing a couple of kisses that lingered a touch too long. Eagerly manoeuvring your body closer to her and your shaky hands reached to her waist to tug at the lace and accidentally resulted in tearing it from the shifters body. “That was so fucking hot darling” she gasped as you tried to wriggle closer.

“Wanna taste mommy” doe eyes looked up at the principal and you tried to tug her new appendage closer to your mouth. Her manicured hand helped guide her shaft to your awaiting lips. “I’ll be gentle love, remember you can tap out” was all she managed to get out before you happily sucked the head of her cock into your mouth. It took some adjusting and working to find a rhythm. It was taking all her restraint to not harshly fuck into your warmth. If this was how your sweet mouth felt then your other hole would be heavenly. With a tug to your hair she pulled you off her dick with a little whine of protest coming from you. Clearly this would be something she needs to work on her stamina for.

“Your turn darling” she murmured before pushing you back on the bed and attacking your body with nips and kisses. “Wann feel you inside me please mommy” you pleaded innocently. “I don’t want to hurt you love” she started only to be cut off with your frantic begging, “I want you to fuck me mommy. Please. Please let me feel you.”

“I’ll be gentle” she stated as a matter of fact before lining herself up with your soaking cunt and slowly pushing in. There was a sting in some places and a stretch in others but when she sunk into you to the hilt you couldn’t help the ungodly loud moan that ripped itself from your throat. “You sound so pretty darling, tell me when I can move” Larissa murmured using the height difference to her advantage to smother your neck in pretty little marks. Hers.

“Move, please god mommy move” you whined encouraging her to finally give you what you wanted. The first few thrusts of her hips were slow and gentle. Experimental. Loving how snug you wrapped around her. The feeling of her cock stroking your inner walls was most definitely become addictive. “Fuck, darling we have to change positions. You’re gonna make me cum” Larissa groaned trying to convince herself to pull out of your warmth.

It was now you were thanking whatever god existed that your lover could shift her anatomy, meaning she could lift you whenever she felt like. “On your knees” she gravely whispered, her fingers gripping tightly into your hips as she helped you position yourself. Like a starving woman she immediately began to work herself into your pussy and picking up her pace and accuracy of her thrusts. Getting the angle just right to hit your G spot.

“Want to cum in you darling. Let mommy cum inside your pretty pussy darling? Oh god you’d look so beautiful all swollen and pregnant for me. Please darling I won’t last too long if you keep squeezing me like that” she moaned without thinking. “Mommy please, please, I need more. Please want to feel it mommy. Want to be mommy’s forever” you mewled, your hands clawing at any skin you could reach as she pleaded you to come with her. To be so good for her and take all her cum. Stilling with the sheer amount of sticky goods that were filling your womb up to the brim as your walls spasamed around her dick, milking her of everything she was offering.

It was in the blissful moments where Larissa had shifted her anatomy back to normal and gathered you into her embrace, that you began to process what she’d said. “Mommy?” You muttered still thick in your subspace, “do you really want to have a baby with me?” Silence was all that filled the room before she pressed a sweet kiss to your head and replied honestly, “of course my darling. I love you so much and would love to start a family with you if you want to? I didn’t realise just how much I’d want to get you pregnant until that moment. God, you’d be the best mother in the world. In fact you would look so gorgeous pregnant that I might just have to keep you pregnant forever.” Little did Larissa know that night you spent crying and planning to try for a family, that she’d already succeeded on the first baby.

“I love you so much darling” she mumbled as you finally settled down for the night, your fuzzy head resting on her bare breasts. You couldn’t help but tease her perky nipples by blowing cool air on them before sucking them into your lips on instinct. “Mine” you mumbled contentedly as your light suckling continued. “All yours baby, all yours. Just your mommy darling” she reassured running her hands through your short hair and scratching soothingly at your scalp until your suckles stopped. Indicating you’d finally sipped off to sleep.

Word count~ 1594

[merchelsea]

took care of my girl - max verstappen

pairing: max verstappen + fem! driver!(charles gf) reader

summary: after a lifechanging turn in your plans, you need to sort things out with charles to be able to get together with your true love, max. things can't always get so hard, can they?

author's note: the so required part two is FINALLY out. a massive thank you to every one that asked for this, i hope you enjoy it! (a HUGE thank you to @stupidandunnecessary for helping me outt)

word count: +1,6k

previous part

last night, charles and you exchanged less than ten words. you wanted to talk to him, but you didn't know how to start, nor how to do it without hurting him.

it was clear that his feelings were not love, maybe some attraction and friendship, but not love. still, you didn't want to hurt him.

you loved max, but you were in a relationship with charles. you weren't quite sure if he would understand, and even if he did, things were a lot more complicated since you were three public figures.

charles woke up to find you, very dizzy and confused, staring at the ceiling of the room in silence. he regained his sences before you thought of moving, and he soon started talking.

"you love him." he stated, looking over at you. startled, you turned to look at him, taken aback by his smiling face. "I- what?" you asked him.

"max. you love him." with that smile planted on his lips, you struggled to articulate something to tell the him. your well-prepared speech for this very moment seemed to vanish, and your words failed you.

"I'm sorry." it was the only thing you could say after having your mouth half-opened for seconds.

"what are you sorry for? loving someone? that is not your fault." he reassured you. "I'm not angry, if that's why your apologizing. I'm happy for you." you couldn't quite comprehend what he was trying to tell you, and he noticed it by the puzzled glances you shot at him.

"I'm happy for you both. I know I've never been a top contestant to the 'best boyfriend' award, quite the contrary. but I also know we both started this relationship out of loneliness." he claimed. it was evident that you weren't the only one preparing for this moment.

"I'm still sorry." you persisted. he chuckled, but you never even gave him a trace of a smile. you couldn't.

"you don't have to be. you deserved to be happy. to be loved in the same intensity that you love someone. that is something only verstappen can do." leclerc understood this situation a whole lot more than you expected him to, and you were starting to wonder if he might have a female max in his life.

"its a fact, even tho it pains me to admit. I could never make you happy the way he does." he added.

"you deserve that too. I know this probably means nothing to you right now, but it's true." you smiled sadly to him, and he shook his head in disagreemeant.

"it will never mean nothing to me. apart from everything, you were my friend first, and I would hate for that to end." you smiled softly at him, the sadness now less evident. you two stood silent for a while, just breathing and thinking. "look, I'm sorry for not being the boyfriend you deserved." he appologized, breaking the akward smile.

he was ready to continue, and he would have done so if you hadn't interrupted. "it's not entirely your fault. we didn't work out because we didn't love each other. period." charles too was sad about how your realtionship was ending, but he was also grateful that none of you had to get hurt before it happened.

"now, I think we are both mature enough to recognize that and begin another chapter." you continued. he nodded softly and you both stood quite looking at the ceiling.

"y/n, you should really go get him. I still have a headache to deal with but I'll try to pack everything and leave before you return home." he advised with a warm smile. he rose from the bed, moving around it to bend over and kiss your forehead.

"you deserve this, mon chéri." he whispered as he exited the room to confront his weary reflection in the bathroom mirror.

after changing, you left the bedroom with the intention of grabbing a bite to eat. however, you decided that sharing a meal with Max might be better, so you sent him a text. within seconds, he responded, as if he had been awaiting your message his whole life.

the truth is, max could deny all he wanted, but he panicked when he got home and realized charles would be sleeping in the same bed as you, and probably trying to get you back. although he now knew that you loved him, it didn't change the fact that you had been with charles while still harboring those feelings, and that thought terrified him.

that's why he left his hotel without even hesitating and met you at a coffee shop near your house.

"how did he react?" he was clearly trying to avoid the subject, and noticing it, you respected his decision and never brought it up. but he has his limits, and he clearly crossed those. he needed to know, and if you were being real, you needed to tell him as well.

"better than I expected." you replied with a smile, which wasn't what he had anticipated. he couldn't decipher whether your smile meant "we broke up" or "we got back together."

"better how?" he asked, not so sure now that he wanted to know.

verstappen didn't think of himself as an anxious person, but when it came to you, he struggled to conceal his apprehension. He yearned to know every detail, and he might have even fainted if you hadn't filled him in.

"well, he told me to come and get you." you were finding that whole situation a lot more funny than you should, max acting all calm when it was so clear that he was freaking out could be ranked on top of the most entertaining things in the world.

he let out a heavy breath that he was holding for god knows why and you finally could see the beautiful smile he was hiding behind the seriousness.

"really?" he asked, smile still playing on his lips. you nodded, smiling too. anyone who passed by would think you two were a couple on the best stage of your relationship, smiles so wide that everyone could see were genuine.

"well you already have me, so…" max points with a joking tone, every word coming out of his mouth being the most truthful. "why do i always want to kiss you in situations or places where i can't?" he throws his head back, frustrated.

"oh why can't you kiss me now?" you asked. cofusion and also frustration kicking in when you realize its not going to be today as well. you begun to think max might be actually afraid to kiss you.

"there's people here. and i know it's a discreet place, but still…" you almost grasped what the dutch meant, were it not for your intense desire for his lips to meet yours. "what? I don't care about the people, you know I don't."

it's true, he knows you never cared about people's opinions. that's why, from the both of you, he was always the one that helped you with everything you thought of putting out to the world. most of it not coming out thanks to him.

"you may not, but I do. you know how this things work and I don't want my gi- your name associated with sleeping around for a seat."

your smile didn't fail on showing up. he could have just said the most horrific thing ever, you hadn't listened. max verstappen calling you 'my girl' was something out of this world for you. you covered your face with your hands as the gleam in your eyes intensified.

"but, you know, you could always take me home." he added, grinning with both his lips and eyes. "let me finish this and we'll go right away." max nodded and took his phone out, pretending to be composed on the outside while feeling like an exuberant child within. he eventually even snapped a few pictures of you to keep for himself and immediately changed his locked screen. he's not familiar with the concept of going slow.

exiting the coffee shop, you and max laughed like a pair of joyful fools, unable to recall precisely what was so amusing. at some point, you found yourselves laughing at each other for no apparent reason. what you both knew for certain was that spending time together was effortless—it brought a profound sense of peace.

as you closed the door behind you, max took your hand and pulled you close to him. his free hand found its place on your cheek, his thumb tenderly caressing it. "after all these years, I can finally kiss you."

the smile on the red bull driver's face emphasized his happiness. although your smile wasn't as broad, your eyes spoke volumes.

in the end, his focus remained on your eyes. for three years, max had gazed into those same brown eyes, yet each time felt like he could continue indefinitely. and, indeed, he could.

from his prespective, it was the greatest view one could have. and he was genuinely sorry for everyone that would never get the chance to do so.

when he finally let go of your eyes, he foccused on your lips, not as mesmerizing, but equally breathtaking.

before he kissed you, you got a good look at his deep ocean blue eyes. had you not been studying them since the day you met their owner, you might have easily lost yourself in their beauty.

you almost cursed max for closing them, but if that meant you got to study his lips too, you could never complain.

once he guided you into the kiss, one of your hands instinctively traveled to the back of his neck, while the other one squeezed his, trying to be sure that this was really happening.

it became evident that your lips were made solely for each other—the way they fit perfectly, moved in harmony, and how max's lips embraced yours as if he had been doing it for a lifetime. every element aligned to create perfection—this is what love felt like.

with max, it felt right. with max, it was love.

taglist: @mehrmonga @yourusername1 @lexiecamposv @electrobutterfly @miakatharinaa @jeconnaismeslimitesus

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

❤️

Summary; You're feeling a little bit shitty and being sick always makes you clingy, Eddie snaps at you while he's planning Hellfire not realising the reason why you're so clingy.

Warnings; Kinda mean Eddie, then soft Eddie, fluff, the reader is sick (headache), minors dni

Don't copy, reuse or repost my work 💕

❤️

Since you woke up this morning you had been feeling out of sorts, a pounding headache made you feel nauseated and it made you crave cuddles from your boyfriend Eddie.

When you were sick you always wanted cuddles, more affection.

Eddie was planning a massive campaign for Hellfire and normally you would never bother him during this time but you were feeling like shit and you just wanted Eddie to hold you for a little while.

Even though he had graduated now he still loved doing the campaign with his friends and you loved to join them sometimes, whether it was Eddie teaching you how to play or joining in on the campaign.

When you go to the drama club he's deep in planning for the campaign, scribbling notes and making sure everything is set up perfect.

"Eddie?" he briefly looks up and smiles.

"Hey princess" You kiss his cheek and cuddle into him. He stops what he's doing for a second, presses a kiss to your lips then manoeuvres around you to continue planning out the campaign.

"How's the planning going?" he nods barely taking his eyes off the notes he's wrote.

"Fine" you whine as he moves and you just want five minutes with him and walk up to him nuzzling into his chest.

You tug on his shirt and frustration gives way on his features.

"Jesus H Christ! The guys will be here any minute and I have so much to do. What is it?" he snaps and you wince at his annoyed tone as move away.

"You know what, it's fine. Sorry for bothering you" you reply hurt and he pauses, his irritation wavering.

"Princess, this is my big campaign it's important" The rest of Hellfire come in and you fake a smile, feeling even more shitty that Eddie snapped at you.

"I'll see you later Eddie, have a good campaign okay?" you smile at the guys then rush out before Eddie can call you back.

❤️

The campaign was a massive success, he had spent a lot of time on it and he was pleased everything went so well.

However, all through Hellfire, he felt guilty that he snapped at you, the way you tried to hide how upset you were caused his heart to ache.

The truth was he was still getting used to being with someone this long, he only really had hook ups and brief relationships.

Nobody really caught his eye until you came along, no one made him want to commit to something...more until you came along.

He loved you so much and it scared the shit out of him at first at how deeply he loved you, he was less scared now but he was still navigating having a busy love life with his social life.

Before you all that took up his time was Hellfire and band practice but now he was getting used to having an amazing partner who now took up a pretty large part of his thoughts.

You rarely ever bothered him during the later stages of planning a campaign, except when he taught you how to play when you expressed interest in attending a few meetings.

Something must be bothering you and he curses himself that he doesn't know what's wrong. He didn't even give you a chance to explain.

The boys and Erica loved you as well and Erica was very vocal about the fact that he had messed up.

Unbelievable. He was told off by an eleven-year-old.

He's anxious to speak to you now and hopes you went back to his trailer as per the usual after Hellfire night.

💕

When Eddie gets home, Uncle Wayne is waiting for him.

"Hey, Wayne. Is Princess here?" Wayne nods.

"You know your girl is sick son, she's stubborn as a mule and tried to pretend she isn't but I ain't falling for it" he freezes.

You were sick? Shit! he immediately hurries into his room and finds you fast asleep on his bed.

Very gently he settles down on the bed and your eyes flutter open.

"Eddie. How was the campaign?" he gets into bed with you and holds you close.

"It was great sweetheart, you could have stuck around" you sigh and shake your head.

"Didn't want to bother you" he feels his heart clench painfully.

"Babe..."

"You were planning Hellfire, you were already grumpy" he winces remembering his response to you wanting to cuddle.

"I was a big douchebag, a complete butthead sweetheart. Yeah, the campaigns important but you're my girl and much much more important to me"

He kisses your forehead.

"We've only been dating for a few months and it's not an excuse it's just Hellfire used to be the most important part of my life, and now you are but I still love Hellfire and sometimes I get lost in my own head about it"

This softens you a little bit and you snuggle deeper into him.

"Eddie, I never ever want you to apologise for what you love. It's so lovely seeing you get excited about Hellfire. I love that, I just needed some extra Eddie cuddles that's all, was feeling shitty"

He nods and rests his chin on top of your head.

"Yeah, Wayne told me you're sick. You're also very stubborn. However, Doctor Munson's orders are bedrest, cuddles and lots of soup"

You peer up at him and pout adorably.

"Kisses too?" he grins, feeling his heart melt at that pout. Fuck, if his friends could see the big bad Dungeon Master reduced to a puddle over a pout.

"Yes, Princess and my famous hot chocolate" you beam.

"Before all that tell me a little more about the campaign. I want to hear about it?" he settles down and chats to you excitedly, ready for a night with his girl.

💕

[lemoncrushh]

Mistletoe & Holly

Summary: Harry finally reveals to his friend Holly how he feels about her on her birthday...which just happens to be Christmas.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 4833

A/N: As promised, this is one of my two holiday fics from the past. Originally written and posted in 2021. In Harry's POV.

Holly’s birthday was the 25th of December. “Freaking Christmas Day”, as she'd put it when we'd become friends years ago.

"I was born on freaking Christmas Day, Harry! Like baby Jesus. Can you believe it?"

Her mum had been told she couldn't have children, but 'lo and behold one day after having a horrible upset stomach and a case of indigestion, she went to the doctor only to find out she was pregnant. Holly'd laughed about it then when she told me, making light of the fact that she'd been a miracle baby. I couldn't help but think she was indeed a miracle.

To say I'd had a crush on her would be an understatement. I reckon in those early days it was just a crush, as I followed her around like a dumb lovestruck puppy. But I didn’t really know what love was yet; I just thought she was pretty, and she was cool because she had the entire second floor of her parents’ house to herself. She sat behind me in class, and I’d let her copy off my papers, or she’d let me do the same, even though neither of us got the best marks.

It wasn’t until the second year that I realised my feelings for her were more than mere infatuation. She started dating…other guys…and I didn’t like it. Especially when she would tell me about them. I found myself jealous, and I didn’t like that either. I would sulk, wishing I could turn back the clock to when it was just her and me. But the truth was, there never had been a her and me. We were never a thing and were never gonna be. I’d missed my chance. I was in the friend zone.

Still, every year I would celebrate her birthday with her. I thought it was a shame that she had to share her birthday with the biggest holiday of the year, so we’d do it a week before, a tradition I came up with myself.

“You need to have your day, Holly,” I insisted. “A day that’s just for you.”

“Okay,” she agreed, giving me that grin she’d use when she was humouring me. “What do you suggest we do to celebrate?”

I shrugged. “I’ll think of something. Just leave it to me.”

That first year I’ll admit was a little lame. It was too late to plan a party, not that I would have known whom to invite anyway. I baked her a cake (okay, my mum helped me a little), and I brought it to her house. The look on her face when she’d opened the door was totally worth it. She beamed at me with her big eyes and lovely crooked-tooth smile, and I could have kissed her had I not been holding that massive cake in my hands. Okay, maybe not.

We sat on the floor with our backs against the sofa whilst we ate cake and watched Star Wars - her choice. Somewhere around the middle of the movie, I gave her my other gift, a stuffed bear wearing a beanie. Yes, I know, cheesy. But I was a kid. She kept it on her bed for a long time, so I guess she didn’t hate it.

The next year I was able to plan a party, and a lot of kids came. But the downside was that Holly had a semi-boyfriend, a prat named Duncan who kept trying to get her alone. I came close to getting him to eat one of the cookies I'd brought, knowing he was allergic to nuts, but Holly quickly slapped it out of his hand, giving me a look. I lied and told her I hadn’t known of his allergy, and spent the rest of the party in the kitchen with her mum and dad, claiming I had a headache.

That wasn't the last time I had to walk around with my tail between my legs. After the X-Factor and becoming part of One Direction, we continued to stay in touch. But I'd forgotten about my pact with Holly until it was almost too late, and the guys and I were making plans for Louis's birthday.

"You should come," I told Holly on the phone. "We'll make it a joint thing. A massive celebration."

“Are you sure?” she asked, and I could detect the tone of hesitation.

“Of course. It’ll be fun.”

The party itself had been fun, but what I had neglected to do was try to make it extra special for Holly, seeing as most everyone else was there for Louis. After my bandmate had blown out his candles, and we roasted him for a bit, I brought out the cake for Holly, a round one with white icing and holly and berries on the top. While she put on her best smile, I could tell she was disappointed that no one made a big deal, barely singing an encore of “Happy Birthday” as they stood digging their forks into Louis’s cake.

Each year, I tried to one-up myself, hoping I’d make her birthday more enjoyable than the last - or at least better than that one. I made it a point never to combine her day with Louis’s again as the entire idea was based on her having her own day.

A few years later, however, I did the worst thing I possibly could. Niall and I had gotten into the liquor before the festivities had started, long before Holly even arrived. To this day I don’t really know why I did it, but I blame it on the nerves. I’d had it in the back of my mind that I was finally going to tell Holly how I felt about her. She’d had another boyfriend earlier that year, Eric, and I’d hated him. I mean, gritting-my-teeth-every-time-he-appeared and keeping-my-hands-in-fists-in-case-he-breathed-wrong hated him. He was a dickhead and just...completely wrong for Holly. She deserved much better. She deserved to be with someone who treated her like a queen. She deserved to be with me.

So when she and Eric had broken up before Halloween, I was so relieved and elated, I wanted to throw her the best birthday party ever. I was going to tell her everything in my heart. And up to then, I hadn’t told a soul. 

That is, until Niall handed me a drink. I wasn’t sure what was in it, but it tasted amazing. The more I drank, the more I liked it. I was feeling pretty good, making jokes and having fun until I found myself telling Niall my plan. 

“Shit, good luck, mate,” he said, slapping me on the back. “Just...what if she turns you down?”

Before that moment, I hadn’t even considered that Holly wouldn’t love me back. I mean, certainly there was no guarantee that she would fall into my arms as soon as I confessed. She might have some reservations, even, what with us being such good friends and all. But what if she actually said she had no feelings for me at all and told me to get lost? Suddenly, I felt a sourness in my stomach, and not from the liquor.

To make matters worse, as if on cue, the door opened and in stepped Holly. For a second my face lit up, all doubts I’d just had a second earlier now dissolving at the sight of her in her black dress and red lipstick. Straightening my shirt, I stood back, waiting until her other friends gave her welcoming hugs to make my move.

And that’s when I saw him.

Fucking Eric was stood right behind her.

In less than two seconds, I strode across the room, my eyes shooting daggers at the wanker.

“Hey, Harry!” Holly beamed at me, but I barely noticed. “Looks like a great party.”

“What’s he doing here?” I growled, my hands in fists ready to take a punch if needed. Eric merely raised his eyebrows, as though he already knew he was unwelcome.

“Oh, I hope you don’t mind,” Holly said meekly. “I invited him.”

“You’re back together?”

Holly shrugged, a pink blush to her cheeks as she looked over her shoulder at him. “Maybe. We’ve been talking…”

Eric gave a grin so smug that I felt my arm swing back, but someone grabbed it. Turning my head, I saw Niall who shook his at me. Just then I heard a squeal to my left as another one of Holly’s friends ran up to greet the birthday girl. As they embraced, I suddenly felt the room close in on me, so I pushed through the crowd back to wherever Niall was keeping that good tasting concoction.

I don’t remember much else about that night except some girl whose name I’ve forgotten. Niall tells me I “played disciple”, following her wherever she went until she agreed to join me in a spare room. I’m not sure what I was doing, or how far I actually got with her, but apparently Holly walked in on us. She’s never told me what she saw, and I’m not sure if that’s more for her benefit or mine.

But yeah. Not my finest hour.

As the years went by, Holly and I remained friends, keeping in touch mostly through her private social media accounts, occasionally reaching out or getting together when our paths crossed. I heard of her new boyfriends, one I even met in person whom I considered to be a proper lad. Holly asked about my relationships as well, never sounding jealous or snarky, only supportive. I reckoned we’d both matured, particularly from my end. Eventually my romantic feelings for her evaporated to more of a warm, mutual understanding. Or at least that’s what I told myself.

This year, Holly decided to have her party at her place. She’d recently purchased her own place, her first “big girl flat” she called it, and was excited to show it off. She let me know that I needn’t plan anything, that she had it all under control.

Slamming the car door behind me, I looked up at her building, the windows and balcony trimmed in clear lights, a wreath decorating the center of the railing. I thought of all the previous Decembers I’d spent with Holly, celebrating her birthday, and suddenly felt a sense of loneliness. I hadn’t been dating anyone in what seemed like a long time as I tried to recall if she currently had a boyfriend.

The large, red, square box under my arm, I wiped my brow with the back of my other gloved hand, feeling the first fall of snow. Trudging up the steps, I rang the buzzer for Holly’s flat, an unmistakable smile twitching my lips when I heard her voice welcoming me in.

“Oh, I’ve missed you, my love,” she cooed softly into my ear as she wrapped her arms around my neck. I tried my best to keep my adolescent desires at bay as I innocently inhaled the scent of her perfume. “You need to come around more often.”

“And when’s the last time you came to see me, hmm?” I teased.

Her mouth in a straight line, Holly considered my comment. “You know, we can’t all afford to follow you around on tour for a year.”

“Have I been gone that long?”

“Longer,” Holly chided, taking my coat and setting my present on the credenza behind her, next to the other shiny wrapped gifts.

I chuckled. “Impossible. I saw you last birthday.”

“Fair enough. Just don’t make it a habit.”

“Too late, darling.”

I caught the gleam in Holly’s eye just before I felt a hand slap my shoulder, making me turn.

“Harry, lad! Wonderful to see you!”

“You as well, Richard, how are you?” I greeted Holly’s dad who guided me into the next room. My gaze searching for Holly, I caught her hanging my coat just before the doorbell rang again and Richard poured me a bourbon.

I sat in Holly’s living room, chatting with Richard and Megan, Holly’s mum, and few of Holly’s friends - some I’d known for years and some I’d just met. Holly, being the gracious hostess, greeted each person to arrive, so it was a while before she finally joined us. I noticed how she pushed her hair behind her right ear; I noticed how she sipped her cocktail; I noticed how she threw her head back laughing at something funny that was said. I noticed everything.

But more importantly, I noticed how no one had claimed the spot next to her, taking her hand or sliding their arm around her shoulder, chatting like she was their better half.

Holly was single. Just like me.

“Harry,” she suddenly addressed me as she rose from her chair with a smile, “let me show you the rest of the flat.”

Setting my glass on the table, I eagerly stood up. Then Holly surprised me by turning toward the other guests.

“You lot can sit tight and talk amongst yourselves for a bit, can’t you? I need some alone time with my old friend.”

“Of course, love!” Megan cheered, waving us away. “Take your time.”

With a smirk on my face and a thump in my chest, I began to follow Holly out of the room just in time to hear Richard’s remark that I was sure was not meant for me to hear.

“Old friend, my arse!” he quipped. “Girl’s been mad about him since-”

“Shhh!” Megan interrupted. “Quiet, Richard, they’ll hear you!”

“Harry, are you coming?” Holly’s voice called, making me realise I’d stopped just outside the doorway.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“I’ll show you the kitchen last because it’s closest to the den,” she explained. “And that way we can circle back around.”

“Alright,” I nodded sheepishly as she stopped at the end of the hall with a smile. However, instead of gesturing toward the room ahead of her, she pointed at the lovely french doors beside where we stood.

“This is probably my favourite part of this flat,” she said wistfully. “It was the selling point for me.”

I knew the doors must open to the balcony I’d seen outside when I’d arrived before she grabbed the handles and pushed them open. A gust of wind blew in, causing her hair to lift and flow behind her, like she was Elsa in Frozen.

“Sorry,” she muttered, “I know it’s horribly frigid out there. I just wanted you to see.”

“It’s very lovely,” I grinned, stepping up next to her.

“I can’t wait to have morning tea out here,” she added, grabbing my arm. “But I’m afraid that will have to wait until spring.”

In what felt like slow motion, Holly squeezed my arm against her chest, and I felt the warmth of her even through my jumper. I couldn’t help but smile as she pressed her nose to my shoulder before releasing her hold and pulling the doors shut.

“Brrrr,” she shook. “Perhaps that was a bad idea.”

I chuckled as I followed her to the open doorway to our left.

“Toilet,” she confirmed with a shrug. “Nothing fancy. And this is my bedroom.”

The room at the end of the hall was open to reveal a large bed, decorated in loads of blankets and massive amounts of pillows, all in shades of blue and grey. As I stepped into the room, the familiar scent that I only associated with Holly filled my nostrils. Everything felt very serene, as though I’d been there before, and I never wanted to leave.

“I tried to make it as calming as possible,” I heard her speak behind me. “Like my own personal sanctuary.”

“I reckon you succeeded,” I nodded. “It’s beautiful, Holly.”

“Thanks,” she beamed. “Okay, now for the kitchen.”

Holly surprised me again by holding out her hand, which I took gratefully. Passing by the french doors again, I noticed something I hadn’t before - a small sprig of a plant hanging just above the doors.

“Hey, is that…” I pointed.

I caught the pink in Holly’s cheeks before she giggled and nodded. “Mistletoe. I just thought it was cute, and kinda funny.”

“Alright then,” I smirked, recalling Richard’s previous hushed words.

“Mum and Dad may want to use it later,” she shrugged before turning the corner where I swore I heard her murmur, “or someone else.”

Pulling me into the kitchen, she stopped only to emphatically announce her pleasure in having more counter space than she’d ever had in her life. I smiled at her animated enthusiasm, happy for her that she finally owned her own place.

As she gestured to the exit to the left, I followed her back into the living room where a resounding game of charades was being played. I laughed as I watched Holly’s friend Gina try her best to mime the clue whilst Richard called out absurd answers.

“It might be time for Dad to put down the bourbon,” I heard Holly chuckle to my left just before Megan called out the correct answer and the room cheered.

“Ah, the birthday girl’s returned!” announced another of Holly’s friends. “I say it’s time to open the gifts!”

I felt Holly’s hand push the back of my arm, guiding me to the party. I took the chair I’d sat in earlier, across from Holly’s as I awaited the presents ritual. I was suddenly reminded of what I’d gotten her when Richard and Megan brought in the gifts collected on the credenza, setting them at Holly’s feet. My ridiculous red box sat in the back of the pile, like a caboose of confession.

I considered that she might take it lightly and even joke about it, the way she probably would have had she had a significant other. I supposed that was my own initial idea when I’d made the purchases and put it together. But now...after seeing her again, and all the feelings flooding back...I knew I’d been kidding myself.

Now everyone was going to watch her open it and see the awkward reaction she was bound to have. Good one, Styles.

One by one, I sat in silence and watched Holly open each gift, all earning oohs and ahs. When she finally reached for mine, I knew I was doomed.

“I hope you don’t mind,” she said to the entire room, though her eyes were focused on me. “I saved this one for last.”

I could feel the stares without shifting my eyes. Licking my lips, I awaited the inevitable. When she tore off the wrapping and lifted the lid to the box, however, I got a different reaction from what I’d expected. Instead of looking confused and awkward, Holly laughed gleefully, throwing a hand over her mouth just as she snorted. Though I tried my best to laugh along with her, I was extremely perplexed.

“Oh my God,” she shrieked, lifting the bouquet of mistletoe. “That’s so funny, Harry! How did you know?”

Giving a light-hearted shrug, I muttered, “Just thought it was cute and funny.”

Gina, sat to Holly’s left, took the mistletoe from her hands and lifted it above Holly’s head. “Alright, who’s ready to kiss the birthday girl?”

Feeling a sudden wave of embarrassment, I was glad when Gina took it upon herself to give Holly a kiss on the check. And even more relieved when Marcus, her friend sat to her right pointed at the box.

“Looks like there’s more, Hol,” he said.

As Gina claimed the mistletoe, Holly reached inside the box for the second item - a monogrammed photo album I’d had made especially for her.

“Oh this is lovely!” she breathed, setting the box on the floor to balance the album in her lap. “Oh and look! There’s mistletoe and holly on it. How clever, H!”

When she opened it, I saw how wide her eyes got, realising what was inside.

“This...this is all you and me.”

“All of your birthdays,” I confirmed, “at least since I’ve known you. Except for the one that I ruined. And few other...fun moments.”

I heard a few awws and a “that’s so lovely, Harry” from Megan, but all I could focus on was Holly as she scanned each and every photo.

“How did you...find all these?” she asked. As she lifted her head, I noticed the wetness in her eyes.

I shrugged. “Most of them I already had. I’ve just been...collecting them.”

“I had no idea we’d taken so many pictures,” she sniffed. “Thank you, Harry, this is really special.”

“You’re welcome,” I nodded, relieved that she hadn’t thought more of it than a mere gesture of friendship.

Shutting the book, Holly reached forward for the box, noticing one more thing was inside.

“Oh, there’s more?” she asked with raised brows.

At the bottom of the box was another smaller box. When Holly lifted the lid, she gasped.

When Holly and I were fourteen, I’d given her a friendship bracelet. She’d worn it every single day for two years until one day she’d gotten it soiled. That birthday, I’d given her a new one. Though she’d argued with me that she didn’t want to replace the original, she was ultimately happy that I had.

That birthday that I’d ruined - the one where I nearly punched Eric and fooled around with some girl I don’t remember - my gift had been a silver charm bracelet. My idea had been to tell her that it was to officially replace that friendship bracelet, which I knew was long gone. But I hadn’t gotten the chance to see her open it because I’d been drunk and preoccupied.

I’d never seen Holly wearing that bracelet, either.

This year…

“Wow, Harry, I…” she began, more tears forming in her eyes as she lifted the gold braided bracelet in her hand, “I dunno what to say. This is...way more than you’ve ever given me.”

“That’s so gorgeous,” oohed Gina as she leant over to see Holly slip it onto her wrist.

“It’s to...replace that old one,” I explained.

“Which one?” Holly asked.

“The one that I never got to give you,” I admitted. “The one that is probably tainted because I was such an asshole that night and got wasted at your party.”

“Oh,” Holly mouthed. I could see the recognition in her face. She knew exactly what I was referring to.

“I regret that night, terribly, love,” I added, pressing a hand to my chest.

“Oh my God, what happened?” inquired Gina.

“I’d rather not talk about it,” muttered Holly, closing the box and returning it to the floor.

“I ruined her birthday,” I said before I even realised what I was doing. “Because I couldn’t just admit to her how I felt about her.”

Jaws dropped all around the room as Holly stared at me.

“Good on ya, mate!” I heard Richard say. “I always suspected!”

“Richard!” Megan scoffed in a loud whisper.

“Well, I did!”

The room seemed to fall away as I saw Holly rise from her chair and sprint down the hall. It wasn’t the reaction I’d expected, but it wasn’t a surprising one. Hastily, I followed her, wondering what the bloody hell I was going to say next. Hopefully I hadn’t just ruined a second birthday.

I found her stood next to the balcony doors, her hands on the knobs like she was debating whether or not to open them. I cleared my throat to let her know I was there, as I heard her whimper.

“Holly,” I managed to say, my mouth as dry as a desert. “Are you...okay?”

I saw her shoulders drop before she nodded. “I’m fine.”

Stepping closer, I could tell she was wiping her eyes.

“You don’t seem fine. I made a fool of myself and humiliated you in the process. I’m so sorry, Holly.”

“No, Harry,” she said. “I’m the fool.”

Turning to face me, she threw up her hands. “I had no idea.”

“That’s my fault,” I admitted. “I’m shit at communication. And I was afraid of rejection.”

“Since when?”

“Since...forever.”

With a tiny, quiet laugh, Holly shook her head. “Me too.”

“What?”

“Not only am I shit at communication, Harry,” she confessed, “but I suck at giving hints apparently.”

“No, I suck at taking them,” I giggled. “‘Cause I don’t recall any hints that you felt...any way about me.”

“See?” she threw up her hands again. “God, Harry, can you even imagine the feeling of being gutted when you’re crushing on your best friend and you walk in on him getting head from some other girl?”

Her words were like a knife right through my heart as I slowly closed my eyes and sighed. “I’m so very sorry, Hol.”

“The worst of it was that I had only invited Eric to the party to make you jealous.”

“What?” I asked again, my eyes popping open in disbelief.

“I was convinced you would never like me back the way I wanted you to. So because I knew you hated Eric, I reckoned you might take more notice if I got back together with him.”

“Holly, what the fuck?” I ran my hand down my face.

“I know,” she muttered. “Not my proudest moment.”

“Can we just erase that night out of our lives?” I suggested.

With a tight smile, Holly looked down at her new bracelet, tracing the plaits. “Maybe.”

“So, what do we do now?” I inquired.

“I don’t know that either,” she admitted. “This was rather sudden. To be honest, Harry, I’d thought I’d gotten over you. And then you-”

Her words were interrupted by my sudden kiss. Soft and tender, it was a quick kiss, though I could feel her sigh against me.

“What was that for?” she breathed.

With a smirk, I raised my brows and pointed at the ceiling. “Mistletoe.”

“Oh.”

“You were saying?”

“I…” she began, a dreamy look in her eyes, “don’t remember.”

I pulled her into my arms then and kissed her with purpose, doing my best to replace all the time that we’d lost. I knew it would take years to even get close, but I was willing to try.

I felt Holly’s hand slide down my arm and grab my hand before she pulled back. With swollen lips and a look in her eyes I’d ever seen before, she led me toward her bedroom, closing the door behind us.

With only a lamp lighting the room, I joined her on the bed, kicking off my shoes. We made out like teenagers - as though the years had not made any difference in how we felt or what we wanted. The only real difference was that I was no longer afraid to let it be known.

My head spinning and my heart pounding, I suddenly felt Holly press a hand against my chest.

“Harry? Let’s not make this a bad fanfiction, okay?”

I chuckled in disbelief. “What?”

“You know, the friends-to-lovers trope, where we finally have sex and at the end, we just assume everything ended splendidly like a fairy tale.”

“Well, love, I was kinda hoping it will,” I stated honestly.

Holly tilted her head, her soft hair falling against the pillow and her shoulder, her expression both innocent and seductive. I had to bite my lip.

“I think you know what I mean.”

“Okay,” I grinned. “So how should it end, then?”

“Well…,” she sighed, the vibration against my chest causing me to take a breath. “It seems rather silly to say we should take it slow given that…”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“But how about we ease into it? See what happens.” She ran her delicate hands up my biceps, her suggestion nearly being blanketed by her touch.

“That seems like a good idea,” I agreed as I leant forward and kissed her inviting lips again. She hummed low as I separated our kiss, taking a moment before opening her eyes. Then grasping at a curl near my ear, her eyes danced as she wrapped it around her finger.

“How does one tell her best friend that she loves him?” she suddenly asked.

A wide grin spreading across my face, I let my fingers trace the side of her beautiful face.

“I reckon you just did, my love.”

I kissed her deeply then, her fingers tangling tighter in my hair. Mistletoe or not, I knew in that moment that I could continue to kiss her forever, if she let me. When I felt her leg slide against my hip, however, and she gasped against my mouth, I knew we should return to our original vow.

“We should probably get back to the party,” I admitted.

“Hmm, yeah,” Holly nodded with a sigh. “Let’s do that before my dad calls out a search crew.”

I laughed against her neck, feeling her giggle rise from her throat. Giving it a few more pecks, I finally lifted my head to look at her pretty, glowing face.

“Happy Birthday, Holly.”

“Happy Christmas, Harry.”

MASTERLIST | KO-FI | FEEDBACK

[miaowitch]

What Makes a Date? (18+)

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Read on Ao3 or below !!

Sam (SDV) / Fem! Farmer OC

cw ⋆｡‧˚♡ swearing, smut, porn with plot, grinding over clothes, blowjobs, cumming without warning, sam pov, sams a loser?, canon/oc

summary ⋆｡‧˚♡

Sam has two tickets to his favorite band, but none of his friends want to come with him. What does he do instead? Ask the farmer on a totally platonic outing, just as friends with no underlying feelings! Everything should go according to plan, especially the part where he ends up in her house! Right?

5k words

Sam found himself in an odd situation. Two tickets to a concert in Zuzu City, two busy friends, and one available farmer. He’d been talking with Bella for a few months. Every time she came around he couldn’t help feeling like his heart would burst from his chest alien-style, but all in all he tried his hardest to be normal around her. Even if he’d written hundreds of scrapped melodies about her, even if he dreamt of her constantly, even if he wanted her laugh as his alarm clock. Samuel Neilson was a normal 20-year-old who could have hot friends. 

He’d been a fan of the band JamPot since middle school, and he figured Sebastian and Abigail would’ve died hearing about the tickets. They were all massive fans in fact, they’d discovered them together on YouTube in fact. Sure, he could only take one, but Sebastian rarely left his house anyway. Abigail was his backup plan for concerts most times, he just liked extending the offer to Seb. Abigail would never turn down the option to go to a concert without paying. 

He decided to ask them both on their weekly pool night, Sebastian was riding on his first win of the night and Abigail was lounging on the couch closest to the table. Sam thumbed the tickets in his pocket before working up the courage to ask, “Hey uh-” He started, pulling out the envelope. “Either of you wanna go with me to see JamPot on Saturday?” Sam’s hopeful tone was instantly crushed by their simultaneous rejection. “Sorry, Sammy. I’ve got plans on Saturday.” Abigail finally looked up from her phone to look at his defeated expression. “Yeah, I’ve gotta catch up on work. It wouldn’t be smart to..” Sebastian had just finished setting up the next game, but Sam couldn’t care less. “Whaat?” Sam whined out, leaning on the pool stick now. “I spent 50 on the other ticket, just hoping one of you’d tag along!” 

Sebastian, as if he was unbothered by his friend's distress, just rolled his eyes in response. “Just ask Bella.” Beginning the match by hitting the cue ball, managing to hit a solid color into a corner pocket. Sam stood dumbfounded. He didn’t want to go alone, but he also didn’t know if Bella would even agree to the…date? Would it be a date? He pondered for a minute before Sebastian cleared his throat in frustration. “You’re stripes, now play the fucking game, dude.”

The rest of the night, Sam was in a sort of daze, wondering if he was even close enough to the farmer to ask her to a concert. What if she rejected him, thinking it was a date? What if he wanted it to be a date? After his…circumstances with Penny, he wasn’t sure if he should even try to make a move. Walking out of the pub at 11, he was still thinking about Sebastian’s suggestion. Abigail waved goodbye, the one sober member of the group. Sam was slumped on Sebastian’s shoulder, the two held each other up with drunk motivation. “Can I..” Sam sighed, tossing his head back. “Just take me to your basement, Sebby.” He didn’t plan on drinking so much, but he knew his mom would kill him if he walked in wasted. “Whatev’r…” Sebastian slurred back, as he lead Sam around the corner to the mountain path. 

Sam didn’t quite remember how he’d gotten to Sebastian’s house. He woke up with a twinging headache, sprawled on the rug next to Sebastian’s bed. An old throw blanket was tossed over top of his body, but no pillow. His mouth was dry, lips cracked slightly as he pried them apart. “Seb…” He groaned, his voice was dangerously hoarse. Clearing it, he called once more as he sat up. “Seb. Get up.” Sam reached up to push at Sebastian’s sleeping back, but only received an angry groan in return. Being friends with Sebastian for so long, he understood that groan as a rejection to waking up.

Sam decided to just leave on his own, his mother was probably concerned about the fact that he hadn’t even come home. The alarm clock on Sebastian’s bedside read off [11:00 am]. He sighed, searching for his shirt that had been thrown off in the night. Picking himself up from the floor, he grabbed his phone, found his shirt, and slipped on his laceless shoes. Hobbling up the stairs was the hardest part, with stiff joints it was hard to even walk a straight line.

“Hello, Sam!” Robin announced to the house as Sam emerged from the basement. He winced at her volume, but still put on a smile. “Hey, Robin, sorry I crashed last night.” Sam adjusted the faded band shirt, hoping she couldn’t tell he’d been half naked two seconds prior. “Seb’s still asleep downstairs, I don’t know if he’s getting up any time soon.” He rubbed the back of his neck, anxious that Robin could still smell the alcohol. She didn’t seem to catch on, laughing softly. “Oh, Sam, you don’t have to apologize for staying over.” She sat back in the chair behind the front counter. “You two always stay up so late at night, at least you’re having fun.” 

Sam said his goodbyes, walking out the front door and closing it silently for the sake of his aching head. He took a deep breath, feeling around in his pocket for his phone to text his mom that he was headed home. Instead, Sam found the tickets that cursed him. “Fuck.” He muttered to himself, but apparently not quiet enough. Bella was rounding the corner at that very moment. 

“Fuck what?” She appeared with a sly, teasing smile. Sam felt his throat tighten up. “Me?” He replied with a violent voice crack. Sam couldn't help feeling like an ass when Bella was around. Something about her jet black hair, piercing blue eyes, and….assets? He didn't want to disrespect her, she was a nice friend. Why would he talk about her like that? He respected her too much. 

Bella laughed, harmoniously (to Sam). While covering her smile, which killed Sam, she dropped it after her giggles. A happy sigh escaped her, straightening up to really get a good look at him. “You look rough.” Bella spoke with almost a hinge of concern, looking him up and down. Sam had been so caught up in overthinking, he forgot completely about why he had been overthinking. “Rough? Yeah, I guess I feel the same too.” His hand nervously rubbed at his neck, Sam had a habit of doing it. “A-Actually I had a question for you!” Bella cocked her head, Sam felt his stomach toss. 

Bella was a girl who loved music. It was her and Sam’s first conversation. Wearing an old TilledSoil shirt, a band Sam had seen upwards of 10 times. After their hour of conversation on their favorite bands, Sam deemed Bella to be cool. He knew she would agree to going to a free concert with him, but was he even confident enough to ask her out? “What’s up?” Bella asked, now actually concerned for Sam. He’d been clutching the tickets for the entire time. The ticket envelope crumpled in his grip. “Do you wanna go to a concert with me- If you’re not busy or- or anything.” He felt like a total ass. 

There was no reason for her to actually reject him, but every bone in his body was cringing out. Standing in front of his best friend’s house, asking someone to go on a maybe-date. If Sebastian had been awake, he’d be instantly cooked. “What band?” Bella spoke up to break the internal panic that fogged his brain. That and the hangover headache. “JamPot!” Sam blurted out, making his headache come back with a vengeance. “They’re just…some dumb pop punk band from overseas.. I just have another ticket!” Yet she was already smiling, “JamPot? I don’t think I’ve listened to them since middle school!” Pulling out her phone, she looked back up at him. “When’s the show?”

Sam seemingly forgot every single detail about the show in that very minute. After frantically opening the envelope to look at the tickets, he looked back up. “Tomorrow, doors at 7?” Bella then started looking through her phone for a moment. “I’ll drive too! All you gotta do is tag along!” Sam wasn’t trying to beg, but god, he just didn’t want to waste the money. She looked back up with a smile, “Deal, I’m free to go tomorrow.” Stammering to himself for a moment, Sam finally got out a sentence. “Cool! I’ll pick you up at 6?” Bella agreed, and Sam floated back into town on a high.

Sure, his mom was pissed, and he was slightly late to work. Sam just couldn’t care. He was just really excited to hang out with his friend Bella. There wasn’t anything else lingering there, no matter how many times Sebastian and Abigail brought it up. This was just two really good friends going to hang out at a concert. Getting close, and sweaty…and doing normal friend things. Sam wasn’t going to ruin anything. Surely. 

Sebastian and Abigail heard the ‘news’ from him over a text, both were convinced it was going to end in Sam’s demise. Abigail bet on Bella thinking it was a date, but Sam shut her down immediately. There’s no way Bella would think it was a date. Even as he put a little bit of extra time into getting ready the next day, he was positive that Bella was on the same page as him. After assuring himself that his hair was perfectly quaffed, he headed out to pick up Bella. 

His car was just a hand-me-down from Jodie, her old car from before they’d gotten a family van. Sam wasted a few minutes throwing trash from the passenger to the backseat. Scrambling just to make it to the farm at six. Pelican Town wasn’t the most drivable, but it was still nice to have a car for longer trips. He just hoped it was comfortable enough for Bella. Not that it was a big deal, of course, she was just like every other friend. He just wanted her to enjoy her first ride in his car.

Sam arrived at the farm at 5:52, pulling into the gravel driveway just after he was done freaking out about being late. He fixed his hair in the rearview mirror, fussing over nothing at all. Waiting for just another minute, he was too impatient and honked at the horn once. He didn’t have her number, but he also wasn’t sure if he could just walk up to the front door. What if she thought he was rushing her? At the moment Sam honked– Bella opened her front door. A black cat ran from the house, and Bella locked up the front door. Sam was leaning on the steering wheel, watching her. When she looked at him with a smile, he instantly straightened up. His palms were grossly sweaty, and suddenly he felt underdressed. 

Bella walked to the passenger side of the car. Sam for a moment felt compelled to brush off the seat before she sat down, but still held himself back. Sharing greetings, Sam took a moment to really look at her. Trying to get his breath back, he smiled. “Ready for the show?” Sam managed to get out, gripping the wheel with white knuckles. Bella could probably wear a burlap sack and look good, but her black skinny jeans and cropped tee suited her perfectly. Bella smiled back, buckling in. “You know it.” 

It was hard to pay attention to the road with her in the passenger seat. Bella wasn’t distracting in a bad way, but Sam couldn’t help wondering what the feeling in his gut was. He just didn’t want to mess anything up. The drive wasn’t boring by any means, Bella and Sam talked the whole way there. Bella mentioned listening to JamPot’s new album, and Sam had to hold himself back from gushing about each detail in the chord progressions. But– It wasn’t long until he did start gushing about it. It was really difficult for Sam to not spill every thought around her. Normally, people would just grin and bare it while Sam rambled about music, but Bella listened to him. She seemed like she really was interested, a rare find. The drive and the time spent waiting in line was mostly just the pair talking about shared interests. Finding out she also preferred Hawaiian Pizza was a game changer for him. 

The venue was old. It’d been there since the early 70s, but was still kept up with. High ceilings, low concrete floors and bars located on both sides. It was already halfway packed in, the merch tables weren’t busy either. Small fairy lights decorated the trim of the brick walls, highlighting the merch tables easily. 

When they were actually in the venue, Bella split off to find the merch table while Sam grabbed a spot on the floor. “I’ll see you in a few.” She smiled, softly placing a hand on his upper arm before walking off. Before Sam melted to the sticky concrete, he had to text his friends. Sending a frantic text to Sebastian, Sam felt his head swimming. [ “Is this a date?” ] He typed the words with nervous, shaking thumbs. Sam was wrong, kicking himself in the ass. What if he was in the process of destroying any chance with Bella? What if he did like her more than he was allowing himself? 

[ “Yes.”  ] Sebastian responded, Sam mentally crumbled.

This was the issue with Sam. He didn’t read the room properly, didn’t understand most situations. It’s what ruined a lot of past relationships for him. Bella didn’t seem like she was hating their conversations, but girls were just so confusing to him. During his overthinking, Bella returned. A new beanie on her head, and a CD in her hand. The new JamPot album. “I got this for you, I wasn’t sure if you had it already.” Holding it out to him, Bella had no clue what had been occurring in Sam’s head. “What?! I’ll pay you back, Bella, I swear.” All fear dropped from his mind, her presence was enough for him to stop overthinking. She shook her head, “It’s for the ticket, don’t worry about it.” Bella’s hand touched his arm again. Soothing his anxiety, but slightly raising his blood pressure. 

After each of the two openers, Bella and Sam kept getting closer and closer. The crowd crushed together in excitement, filling the air with the heat of upwards of 200 people. “Are you okay?” Sam spoke up, bending to Bella’s ear just so she could hear him. She responded with a thumbs up, but still moved closer to Sam. Somehow they’d pressed forward to the barricade, in the middle-left. The headliner hadn’t come on yet, but Sam was preparing. His hands were holding the barricade, with Bella standing between them. He knew she’d be fine on her own in the crowd, but he wanted to keep her safe. The crowd had been rough all night, the openers being much heavier than JamPot, but Sam didn’t want her getting crushed against anyone else. 

Music played across the loudspeakers to fill the silence for the crowd during the stage set. The energy throughout the show had made him less high-strung, less worried on the topic of their night. “You’re having fun, right?” Sam asked, again at a higher volume, just so she could hear him. Bella nodded, leaning against the barricade and looking up at him. “Thanks for bringing me, Sam!” She hadn’t been able to stop smiling that night. 

It was honestly rare that Sam had seen her leave the farm. She and Abigail hung out by the mines occasionally, and he’d see her on walks by the water. Sam just rarely saw her doing anything out of Pelican Town in the few months they’d known each other. He liked taking her out, taking her places with him. “N-No problem.” Feeling that same tossing in his stomach, for some reason his face felt hotter. Maybe it was just the room? 

If Sam thought the first half of the show was close quarters, he wasn’t ready for the second half. Pressing up tightly to Bella’s back as she jumped around was the hardest thing Sam had to endure. On one hand, Bella was safe and comfortable at the barricade, while Sam had to get knocked into continuously. On the other, every single movement against Sam’s dick was like the purest form of torture. It’s not like she was grinding into him, but every once in a while they’d make contact when Bella would start jumping around. Gritting his teeth through it, Sam stood strong. Even if he ached, feeling the slightest brush of her hair against him. Her perfume with hints of clove, brushing by him, was his own heaven. The only thing Sam could circle back to at that moment was the original question.

Was it a date? Sam really tried to focus on the band, but how could he? He’d tune in for a song, then get lost in thought, staring at the back of Bella’s head. The end of the show came quicker than he’d been paying attention. The encore was really just one song, then the whole night was over. Sam felt like an ass, once again, for letting his mind wander all night. Walking out of the venue, Sam stayed close behind Bella. He felt like he’d been a weird freak all night, he just watched her. Bella didn’t notice anything, she’d been talking about how great the show was all the way to the car. Sam bantered back, acting as if he had really watched the concert.

After finally making it to the car, everything sort of shifted. Bella felt a little shyer now that they were fully alone. “Um– Sam?” She asked, as Sam put his keys in to start the car. “Yeah, Bella?” He looked over to her, the radio in the car started playing some obnoxious radio song. The CD hadn’t been automatically reading, so he reached up to press the button. “Well, I just wanted to thank you for taking me on this date. I really had a lot of fun with you tonight.” 

Sam froze in place.

Date? It was a Date?

The annoying pop track played its repetitive tune. Sam was staring at Bella with a dumb look on his face. “It was a–?” He managed to catch himself before saying his first thought, “Right– Well, I just thought..” His extended hand toward the stereo retracted, holding the back of his neck to feel at any beads of sweat. “I just thought it was about time, y’know?” A goofy grin cracked on his face, feeling suddenly free of his worries. “Me too..” Bella had been messing with a strand of hair framing her face. “I really appreciate it, Sam. We should really do this again, okay?” She smiled again, softly. The fluorescent lights in the garage gave her an outer glow, a soft halo on her black hair. Sam had to look away before he forgot the route home. 

Still, a sort of tension lingered in the car. They talked like normal, joking about the show. They talked about typical things from the daily special at the saloon, to weather during the week. Sam considered for a moment that he was just being dense, not understanding the palpable pauses between each topic. Bella adjusted in her seat every few minutes, Sam could’ve sworn he caught her looking his way every few minutes. His energy was high from the concert’s atmosphere, so maybe his mind was just working overtime. 

Eventually, though, they made it to Bella’s home. Pulling in the same gravel driveway as a few hours prior. Sitting in silence for a moment, neither truly wanted the night to be over with. Bella finally offered though, “Sam, I think I might have a pizza in the house. If you’re hungry or something..” Bella played with the fabric of her beanie, now clutched in her lap. Her hair was slightly messed up from hat hair, but to Sam, she hardly looked imperfect. 

“Yeah, uh.. I don’t see why not.” Sam turned off the car a little too enthusiastically. Mentally high-fiving himself for making it this far. Considering how the situation started, he didn’t even think he’d be in a car with Bella. Let alone be on a date with Bella. It was only midnight, his mom knew he’d be back late, so Sam didn’t have any reason to say no. 

“Sorry if it’s a little messy, I don’t normally have people over..” She apologized, unlocking the door with a set of keys attached to a decorated keychain. Sam figured it would probably be cleaner than his room, and he was right in assumption. Bella was exaggerating. Only a couple of cups laid on the coffee table, a few sweatshirts and jackets were draped on one of the dining room tables, and burnt out candles littered the main living room. “It’s not messy, don’t worry.” Sam made sure to close the door behind him, only slightly jumping when a black cat ran through the house and towards the bedroom. 

Sam quickly followed Bella into the kitchen, where she was staring at the box of frozen pizza branded with JojaMart logos. “Have you had this before?” She asked with a pensive tone, looking over her shoulder and back at Sam standing in the doorway. He felt a knot in his throat. “Please, I think I’ve had every frozen pizza in the Joja aisles.” Sam tried to push past it, leaning on the dining table to keep himself from collapsing. 

“It says it’ll take 30 minutes, can you wait that long?” Bella set the box on the counter and turned to him. It was one of those fancier brands with a rising crust. “I could make us some sandwiches if you’re too tired, I know I’m already keeping you out pretty late..” Her lips pursed in thought, but Sam scrambled. “I-I can wait!” Bella began opening the box, and setting the frozen disk pizza onto the tin tray. Watching her preheat the oven, Sam felt his heart race. Two peers, in a house…alone. Sam hadn’t thought this far ahead. 

Sure, he’d kept a condom in his wallet, but that didn’t mean he just expected to get laid. He wasn’t that cocky. He understood that they were just two friends, fresh off an unexpected date. Two very available people that liked each other a considerable amount. Sam just knew the kind of guy that he was. He wasn’t the type to hold off if he wanted something. And god, did he want Bella. 

She turned around now, unaware of the horrible thoughts in Sam’s brain. He wondered if he should just go home. “Well, we’ve got a 30-minute wait… anything you wanna do while we wait?” Bella took a few steps closer, setting the flannel she was wearing on the kitchen table behind Sam. “You.” He felt tempted to say his desires out loud, but held himself firm. “Oh, I could just watch TV if you want.” He was lying, but it was late. Sam doubted that she was that into him. 

Following Bella into her living room, he took a spot on one end of her blue, velvet couch. Bella placed herself on the other side after getting the remote to her tiny television set. She sat forward, stiff as she tapped through channels, just trying to find something to fill their silence. The tension between the two was thick, Sam just tried to relax. Leaning back in his seat and getting comfortable. It was almost 11 at night, there was nothing to be worried about. As if the notorious early bird farmer Bella would stay up much later than 12. 

A couple of minutes passed, but Bella didn’t seem to relax. Sam kept stealing glances, but each time she would lock eyes with him. Her panic hidden as she looked back to the boring music documentary they landed on. “Are you comfortable?” Sam finally offered, figuring that it was an innocent question. Bella finally looked at him, “Um… Well…” She shifted in her seat, “I guess not, I just can’t rest after concerts..” Bella seemed almost embarrassed, “I just have such a hard time laying down..” 

Sam opened an arm at the instant. “C’mere then, I’ll show you how to relax, Bella.” He didn’t have bad intentions at all. Sebastian was the same way, you had to force him down to get any sleep after going through concert adrenaline. Sam had no problem getting cozy, he just wanted to help her out. 

He was more than surprised when she actually agreed to it, Bella gladly crawled over to lay on his chest. Sam positioned himself to lay along the couch, one hand behind his head to pad the hard arm of the couch. Bella just draped herself on the inside of the couch, pressed onto him, but hardly comfortable. She still felt like she wasn't quite comfortable, so Sam let a hand creep down and rub the space between her shoulders. A sigh released, and Bella let her guard down.

Sam’s hand continued to rub circles around her back, and Bella’s sighs became more frequent. Every shift she’d make against his thigh, every shudder as his hand shifted to her mid-back. He wasn’t sure what he was doing to make her react that way, but he’d always been told he had magic hands when it came to massages. “Are you still comfortable?” He asked again, not sure why he was whispering. Bella could hardly be heard as she softly moaned at his touch. Sam felt himself going insane as their eyes met. Her lashes fluttered, his heart could’ve given out at any time. 

It only took a second for Sam to realize what was actually going on. Bella moved up, now straddling him to the couch. A mere centimeter away from his lips as she felt her own hesitation. “Bella? C-Can we…” Sam started, but Bella cut him off. Their lips met with sparks under Sam’s skin. His hands drifted to her waist, rubbing slow circles with his thumb as their tongues mingled. One of Bella’s hands moved to his hair, lacing together with gelled, blonde strands. Even lightly brushed against his hair almost made him burst, but whatever Bella was doing to him made him weaker to the touch. 

Their kiss broke with Sam panting, holding on tighter with one hand on Bella’s waist. Basically guiding her to grind against the center of his crotch. “Ohhh… Oh god, Bella…” Sam couldn’t help begging for her, what else was he supposed to do with a beautiful woman on his dick? Her hips gyrated, moving forwards and back to tease at his quickly hardening cock. 

It’d been too long for Sam. He didn’t fool around as much as he had before Bella came to town, but she was enough to dedicate his life to a monogamous relationship. “Y-You’re so fucking good, holy shit…” He gasped as her hands trailed up his chest. Holding herself firm as she now stopped and held herself up. Moving down, she positioned herself between his legs. Sam propped himself up, sweaty and confused. Watching Bella lay on her stomach with a determined look in her eyes, she understood her intentions as she unbuckled his checkered belt. Her soft hands pulled down blue checkered boxers, taking in everything slowly. 

Sam’s ears were burning hot, he threw his head back to avoid her seeing his embarrassment. Bella, on the other hand, slid her hand around his cock with love. Licking her lips with anticipation as she took it all in. Gently kissing the blushing head of his cock, leaking precum and begging for more. Sam writhed under her, missing her lips after every sweet peck down the shaft. He begged, desperate for something that wasn’t a teasing kiss. Bella listened, smiling devilishly as she swept her long black hair behind her. 

Bella’s hands firmly stayed on Sam’s hips, making sure he wasn’t bucking too hard. Her mouth wrapped around him warmly, lowering slowly to halfway, then bobbing back up. “S-Shit..” Sam cursed, biting his lip to stop from exclusively swearing. His right hand gripped at the back of the couch, while his left hand trailed to Bella’s head. Softly petting as she moved with intention. Her big eyes looking up as if she wasn’t melting him with each move she made. 

“B-Bella slow down, Please-” She bobbed faster, and stopped teasing him. His hand now gripped in her hair, inky black strands lacing between his fingers. “Fuck- Fuck, you’re so good to me, Wh-” Sam’s rambling was cut short by his body near folding from her mouth hitting the base of his cock. Sam wasn’t monstrously lengthy, but he was still slightly longer than average. Aside from the fact that he wasn’t getting very many blowjobs, he’d just assumed deepthroating didn’t exist. Tortuously, she moved her mouth up, with her tongue pressed to the bottom of his shaft. Sam couldn’t keep his mouth closed. A mixture of her name, whimpering, and swears poured out as she worked her head up and down. His head pounded, a whooshing in his ears grew louder.

Without warning her, Sam crumpled under her. Cumming into her mouth, now holding onto her head gently to keep her still. Bella moaned, the vibrations only making him moan out louder as he bottomed out. She pulled herself off as his hands fell, a quiet ‘pop’ broke the humming in his head. As she got up and left towards the kitchen. He’d realized the timer started going off when Sam heard the creaking of her oven door. “Bella?” Sam called out, almost missing her after she left the room. A second later, Bella’s head peeked around the wall of the kitchen. “Do you still want pizza?” She acted like she hadn’t just been on his cock, like she still couldn’t taste him in her throat. 

“No, I think I want something else.” He propped himself up, smiling back at her. 

[kismets-barista]

Hold onto your Stetson, @ohposhers; have I got some personal HickDory lore for you 😎💜🌟🫧

Excuse the insanity for those who don't feel compelled towards these two

SO!

Hickory and JD met a few good years before the events of the World Tour when Dory was traveling to find Lonesome Flats, got heatstroke and passed out in the desert. Wakes up to Hickory shadowed in the flickering light of a campfire beneath a canopy of the brightest stars he'd seen since the Neverglades, but it wouldn't be until QUITE a few months later until they really started developing crushes against each other. (Cowboy under the stars, you'd think he'd fall right then and there, right? 🌟)

Why was Hickory already in Lonesome Flats, you might ask? Where was Dickory?

In a glue trap, I say in response. Hickory came from Yodelsberg (is there a canonical name for this?) for international study and to learn about new music. He fell in love with country because yodeling and country music are actually quite gorgeous together. She Taught Me to Yodel, anyone?

Delta Dawn obviously didn't take to Dory showing up and around the town, but after some convincing by Hickory and lots of proving himself (plus a vulture attack that resulted in John Dory saving the very young niece of Delta Dawn- Clampers-) he 'earned' a place there and began to work around town.

It was weird for him.

He'd never quite settled down, until then.

(Now, the specific timeline, yearly I mean is a little muddled because I'm still crafting this, but I'll put them out about three years, now.)

John Dory was still living in Lonesome Flats, and he'd started a relationship with Hickory. They loved each other, as my cohort in crime @protagonist-art (CHECK OUT THEIR ART I LOVE THEM SM MUAH) has Hickory tell John when we get write them, "More than the moon loves the ocean." As surely as the tide pulls in and out, so the lovers return to each other.

So Via, what does Hickory think about BroZone?

Oh, my sweet star.

He doesn't know.

After returning to the devastated Troll Tree, John Dory lost a piece of his heart in the damaged pod they used to live in. It was the first time he went grey, and the memories of his brothers started shifting from what was, to what would never be again. He couldn't find it within himself to talk about them, and has his secrets.

But so does Hickory.

Girl wdym stop being so mysterious.

Heh. I know. It's just a glimpse into my dark mind /ref. Anyways, Hickory never told John Dory he was a Yodeler troll. (Another piece of lore that Quizzy and I worked on together and I think it's brilliant.)

Huh? Aren't they in a long-term relationship? Won't this cause issues later on if they don't share these things with each other?

Oh, they love every aspect of each other too much for their bond to truly be broken.

And yet.

One morning, years after just living and loving, John Dory wakes up with a massive headache and nausea.

"Maybe it's that horse that kicked me yesterday, could've gotten me harder than we both thought."

"Lemme check for a knot, Darlin'."

No knots, but there was an egg.

🌟 (Here I'll say that I'm massively in love with the headcanon that trolls conceive through true love- it isn't quite necessary for them to physically do anything unless they want to. Just them, wholeheartedly trusting and putting everything into their relationship and pouring their heart out to their partner.)

They were absolutely ECSTATIC, and rightfully terrified in their own ways. Neither of them were looking for children but not against it, and after resting for a few days they began to plan. A nursery in the house, baby books with millions of names scattered on the coffee table, toys and cute little baby clothes for when the little one hatched.

Wanna know two of the names John Dory had in mind? Rhonda and Dolly.

They were ecstatic until the night John Dory woke up absolutely ill and with a pit in his stomach.

They lost the egg, and it was the second time John Dory went grey in his life.

A week after this had happened, John Dory left a bundled lock of his hair at Hickory's nightstand and did what he knows how to do all too well. He ran.

Hickory never went too far out of Lonesome Flats in the hopes that John Dory would come back. He couldn't imagine what would happen if his love came back and didn't find him there.

The events of World Tour come about, Hickory meets Branch, and travels for the first time since John Dory left.

John Dory continued to travel, until the events of Band Together.

But don't worry, dear readers, for as surely as the tides come in, so will the lovers meet again. 🌟

Aaaand BOOM! That's it! 💜 I've got lore behind the names Rhonda and Dolly as well, and am SO down to answer any questions about them that anyone has. For you, Posh, thank you for asking and helping me to share a story I've been working on, and for everyone else that read this, thank you kindly! I hope that everyone who made it this far has quite a lovely day, or if you didn't, have a lovely day anyways!

Remember to take your meds, drink water, eat something, and stretch!

💜🌟🫧

[auclairedetoru]

Best friend!Eren loves college, he really does! He got into the one he wanted and is majoring in something he loves, and in return his grades are doing fantastic, top of his class even!

Except for that one specific class.

God, just thinking about it pissed him off. He doesn't know why he couldn't understand it, it's like the professor was speaking in a dead language. He came back home with a headache every time he tries to focus and learn like everyone else. He swears it was going to be his 13th reason eventually. It made him rethink his entire life plan and whether it was worth getting his degree.

Seeing his frustration, his best friend y/n decided to help him out. Did she understand anything he had written in his notes? Absolutely not, it wasn't a class she needed to take, but she hated seeing him so lost and stressed, especially when they were so close to finales week.

“You like rewards, how about you give yourself a little treat every time you memorise something, if it works on dogs it can work on humans.”

Eren thought it was genius. The smile that spread on his face gave her hope that she might've finally solved his problem and gave him at least a little bit of motivation, but what Eren was thinking about was the opposite of hers. He agreed with the idea of a reward, but what kind of reward specifically?

Well...

“How about I memorise everything, and if I'm successful, you give me a kiss.”

Y/n felt dizzy at how fast she turned to look at him, eyes nearly popping out of her skull. A kiss?! What was he thinking?! She might have always had a suspicion he was dropped on his head as a baby, but this just confirmed it.

“Are you crazy?”

“Crazy for you.” he wiggled his eyebrows at her making her roll her eyes. God, he was so annoying, why was she friends with him again?

Despite thinking he's mentally unstable, she did give it a thought. Not every day you get the chance to kiss your hot best friend that you have a massive crush on, right? Might as well take the opportunity, it might never happen again. Plus, he clearly wants it to happen, he wouldn't suggest it if he didn't want to kiss her too.

“Fine,” she adds a hint of annoyance in her voice so he wouldn't figure out how nervous the thought alone made her, “let's see if you can do it.”

Eren was motivated, to say the least. He locked himself in his room for three days, only leaving for the bathroom and to grab food. He missed out on two parties, his neighbors fist fighting, the release of a new season of his favourite show and a boba tea date with Armin.

On Monday evening, he went to y/n's apartment and sat in her living room with the biggest confident smirk she has ever seen on him. He has always been very cocky, but not over something he was crying over three days prior.

“Ready?” she shuffled his flash cards to give him a little bit of a challenge and to see if he can remember everything if they're not in the order he memorised them. Eren nods, “let's do this, I'm ready for my reward.”

... And it worked.

She quizzed him on everything in every possible way. She even tried to trick him, but he was able to catch on quickly and prove her wrong. After weeks of struggling and threatening to drop out over this subject, Eren finally got a hold of it... All because of a promise of a kiss.

A kiss he was eagerly waiting for.

Y/n has never felt her cheeks heat up like this in her life. As much as she knew her best friend is very smart and could do anything he sets his mind on, she really didn't think he could pull this off, not after he tried everything. Tutors, bombarding the professor with questions, help online, they all didn't work! How was she supposed to have any faith that a stupid little kiss reward would make his brain magically start understanding this class!?

It's dumb, really. But she did want it too.

“Well,” Eren started with a huge smile, “I've proven myself, now please give me the reward I worked hard for and rightfully deserve.”

With a shaky breath, y/n leaned in, and without wasting any more time, Eren leaned down and pressed his lips against hers.

She was expecting it, of course she was, but did that make it any less shocking? Did that make her heart beat steadier? No, quite the opposite actually. Her hands were shaking, her heart was performing acrobatics behind her ribcage, and she wanted to run away and never be seen after they pulled away.

For Eren, it felt like heaven. The kiss was quick, too quick in his opinion, but he was able to feel the softness of her lips against his. God, the things he would do to feel them again. He wanted to pull her on his lap and kiss her until he was too tired to keep his eyes open, then he would pull her into his arms to sleep just to go back to kissing her the next morning.

“Can I have one more?” he asked while looking down at her shy expression.

“no! Stop embarrassing me!” she hit him on the chest before burying her face in his hoodie. He laughs and wraps his arms around her, squeezing her a little and teasing her a little more.

When Eren thinks back to their first actual kiss, he laughs at how oblivious both of them were to each other's feelings. They were very transparent about them, showing the other very clear signs that they wanted more, but they chose to ignore them and instead overthink about getting rejected and ruining their friendship.

That was all in the past now, and with the way the present is going, they can't be happier.

More best friend!Eren.