#but I still can't stand him so not much is still too much

[thevoidstaredback]

I don't have it in me to do a whole thing rn, but a heartbreaking piece of dialogue just popped into my head for this:

"Danny!" Nightwing yelled over the crashing wind, "Danny, stop!"

"'Danny'?" Phantom scoffed, his grip around Batman's throat unrelenting, "Danny doesn't exist anymore."

Somehow, the world fell quiet. "What?" Red Robin whispered.

Growling, Phantom repeated, "Danny. Doesn't. Exist. Anymore."

"I don't... I don't understand." Nightwing said, "What do you mean he doesn't exist? You're standing right here!"

The grip Batman had on Phantom's wrist fell loose, but not away, his body starting to fall slack. Was this how he dies? He'd never feared death before, not since he was a child, but the black creeping along the edges of his vision, the air leaving his lungs and not returning- To be killed by his own son? Robin would've ribbed at him about patricide. But Robin isn't here anymore...

Phantom's fist tightens around Batman's neck. "He killed him." Louder, he repeats, "He killed him!"

"Who?!" Red Robin demands, desperation colouring his entire being. He tries to step forward, but his leg collapses under him, his shattered knee unable to hold his weight.

Batman finally falls limp, his eyes closing as the last of his air finally leaves his lungs. There's a loud snap of bone before he falls from Phantom's grip, unmoving and laying awkwardly.

"Dad!" Nightwing screams. Red Robin sobs.

"He killed him!" Phantom's red eyes bore into Nightwing's own, glowing and powerful and vengeful.

"I'll kill you, Danny!" he screams, charging at the thing that was supposed to be his brother, "I'll fucking kill you!"

"Don't!" Red Robin cries, unable to stop him, but it's too late and he goes ignored.

Phantom doesn't so much as flinch as he swats Nightwing aside. The vigilante flies across the battlefield, crashing through a tree before landing in a heap on the group, dead upon impact.

"Dick!" Red Robin screams, dragging himself forward, reaching for his brother. His arms shutter and he falls, sobbing into the dirt. "No... No, no, no, no! Bruce... Dick... I can't- I don't-" He looks up, locking eyes with Phantom. "Why. Why did you kill them!"

"Because he killed Danny!"

"Bruce didn't kill anyone!"

"He killed them!"

"Who the fuck killed who?! Bruce hasn't killed anyone!"

"He killed them!"

"Who!?"

"My family!"

"We were your family!"

Phantom fell quiet, the battlefield silent behind him. "No," he whispered, "If you were, you would've been there. You would've stopped him. You would've-" his voice broke, "Danny'd still be okay and they'd still be alive, but they're not and he's not and you're not and I'm still here and everyone else is still here!" He panted a moment in an effort to regather himself. "Everyone has to die because the world promised to protect them. You 'heroes' failed and this is the consequence."

Slowly, Red Robin pushed himself to stand, ignoring the pain the throbbed across his entire body. "We didn't even know about Danny until-!"

"You should've looked harder!" Phantom shouted, cutting him off.

"We can't be everywhere at once!"

"Then do better!"

"We're human!" The admittance fell heavy across the battlefield of corpses. Red Robin inhaled deeply. "I'm sorry that your family is gone. I'm sorry that Danny's gone. But this? This isn't going to fix it."

"Maybe not," Phantom agreed, "But it sure does make me feel a hell of a lot better."

Bruce rubbed a hand down his face. "Just once," he mumbled, "I'd like someone in this family to not be a hero."

Tim continued typing in one window, narrowing the search, as he read an article in another. "Might be your lucky night, B. Because if Danny is Phantom, he didn't go the vigilante route. He went rogue."

DP x DC idea where Damian recognizes his brother, only its Dan on his way to bulldoze the world.

[cosmicanakin]

╰ ﹒ (sorta) long awaited PART 2 to this DEAN BLURB. 🍋‍🟩

i'm shit at writing a second part to any standalone FICS or BLURBS so i'm rlly sorry if this isn't the 'makeup sex' type blurb yall were lookin' for <3

⎯⎯ warning(s) smut | emotional vulnerability | strong language | semi-public sex | rough sex | praise kink | dirty talk (yum) | jealousy | overstimulation | POSSESSIVE!DEAN | power dynamics | mirror sex. ఌ︎ EIGHTEEN PLUS! ADULT CONTENT | minors do NOT interact.

the bar is loud, filled with the familiar hum of conversations, clinking glasses, and the occasional burst of laughter. you sit at a table near the back, surrounded by a few of your close friends—hunters like you, women who know the life, know the dangers, and are just as good at blowing off steam after a successful hunt. tonight, the drinks flow easily, and the laughter comes even easier. it's rare to get a reprieve like this, to have a night off where you can just relax and enjoy yourself. you deserve it. you know you do.

but even as your friends trade stories and jokes, your mind keeps drifting. keeps circling back to him. DEAN WINCHESTER. it's been weeks since you left him in that motel room, since you walked away without an explanation, with only a hastily written note. you haven't spoken to him since, haven't called, haven't reached out. not because you didn't want to. GOD, you wanted to. but fear held you back. fear of what he felt, of what you felt, of how everything had changed with those three words he'd let slip between gasps of pleasure.

i love you.

you still hear his voice in your head, still feel the way his body had tensed beneath you when he realized what he'd said. you'd thought about calling him a hundred times, a thousand times actually, to tell him you felt the same. that the reason you ran was because you were scared—scared of how much you loved him, how deeply you'd fallen without even realizing it. but every time you picked up the phone, you hesitated, and the moment passed.

now, sitting in this bar, surrounded by friends, you can't help but wonder if you made a mistake. if walking away from him was the worst decision you could've made. but before you can spiral any further, you hear it—a laugh. a deep, familiar laugh that sends a shock of recognition through your entire body.

you freeze, your drink halfway to your lips, as you turn your head and see him. DEAN WINCHESTER. standing at the entrance of the bar, his brother, sam, by his side. dean doesn't see you at first, too busy scanning the room, probably taking in the scene out of habit, always the hunter, always alert. but then his eyes snap to yours.

it feels like the air is sucked from the room. your heart stutters in your chest, and for a moment, you can't move, can't breathe. he looks just like you remember—broad shoulders, brown leather jacket, that chiseled jawline you've traced with your fingers more times than you can count. but there's something in his eyes, a flicker of something raw and unresolved, and you know he's thinking about that night, about the last time you saw each other.

he doesn't move. neither do you.

but his gaze lingers on you, even as a blonde woman sidles up to him, clearly trying to get his attention. she's pretty—tall, curvy, the kind of woman who turns heads in a place like this. but dean barely spares her a glance, his eyes locked on you like he can't tear himself away. you feel a surge of something hot and uncomfortable twist in your chest—jealousy, anger, desire. god, you miss him. you miss him so much it hurts.

and it's not just him. it's the way he made you feel, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered, the way his hands felt on your skin, rough and gentle all at once. the way he'd held you that night, the way he'd said he loved you, like it was the most natural thing in the world. like he couldn’t help it.

you tear your gaze away, pretending to focus on the conversation at your table, but your mind is spinning. your body is buzzing with the awareness of him, of how close he is, of how much you want him. but the thought of facing him, of having that conversation, of admitting how you feel... it terrifies you.

so you do the only thing you can think of. you excuse yourself, telling your friends you need to use the bathroom, and slip away from the table, weaving through the crowded bar until you reach the small, dingy restroom at the back. you close the door behind you, the fluorescent lights flickering overhead, and lean against the sink, staring at your reflection in the cracked mirror.

your heart is racing, your skin flushed, and all you can think about is dean. about the way his muscles flexed under that leather jacket, the way he looked at you like he was starving for you. heat pools low in your belly, and filthy thoughts flood your mind—thoughts of him pressing you against the mirror, fucking you from behind until you're a mess, just like he did that night in the motel.

you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to push the thoughts away, but it's no use. your body wants him. you want him.

and then the door creaks open.

your eyes snap open, and you see him—dean, standing in the doorway, his eyes dark with that same hunger you feel. he steps inside, closing the door behind him, locking it with a click. your heart pounds in your chest, and you can't move, can't speak, as he crosses the small space between you, his body heat radiating off him in waves.

he doesn't say a word. he doesn't have to.

his hands are on you in an instant, rough and desperate, pulling at your clothes, as you do the same to him. his leather jacket hits the floor, followed by your shirt, your jeans, his belt clinking as he yanks it free. his breath is hot against your neck, and he's whispering in your ear, his voice low and gravelly.

"you're such a bad girl for leaving me like that," he growls, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your throat. "but god, y'feel so fucking good... s'perfect."

his words send a shiver down your spine, and you can't stop the whimper that escapes your lips as he spins you around, pressing you against the mirror. your breath fogs the glass as his hands grip your hips, his body pressing against yours from behind. he wastes no time, thrusting into you with a force that makes your knees buckle, but his strong arms hold you steady, keep you grounded.

you're a mess beneath him, a blubbering, trembling mess as he fucks you hard and fast, his hips pistoning into yours with a desperation that matches your own. he's everywhere, all at once—his hands, his mouth, his body consuming you, and you can't think, can't breathe, can't do anything but feel.

"you're mine,” he growls, his voice rough and possessive in your ear. "you've always been mine."

and it's true. you know it's true. you've always been his.

you lose track of time, of how many times you come, his name spilling from your lips like a prayer, your body shaking with the force of it. by the time he finally pulls out of you, you're spent, your legs trembling, your breath ragged. but dean takes care of you, cleaning you up, pressing soft kisses to your skin as he helps you back into your clothes, his touch gentle and tender, so different from the roughness of moments ago.

when you're both dressed, you turn to him, your eyes meeting his, and without thinking, you pull him into a kiss. it's not like the others—it's not fueled by lust or desperation. this kiss is soft, slow, full of something deeper, something you've been too afraid to admit 'til now.

when you finally pull away, dean looks at you, his eyes searching yours. "what was that for?" he asks, his voice quiet, vulnerable.

you take a deep breath, your heart pounding in your chest. "i love you," you admit, the words catching in your throat. "and i'm sorry for leaving you like that. i was scared. but, fuck… i love you too, dean. i always have."

the smile that breaks across his face is like sunrise, brilliant and beautiful. he pulls you close again, pressing his body into yours. "yeah?"

"yeah," you whisper back. "turns out you're kind of hard to resist, winchester."

he laughs, the sound rumbling through his chest where you're pressed against him. "good thing i'm not trying to resist you anymore either, sweetheart."

when you eventually make your way back to the bar, sam takes one look at your slightly disheveled appearance and dean's stupid grin and rolls his eyes, but he's smiling. your friends are also giving you knowing looks, and the blonde from earlier has long since found another target.

none of that matters, because dean's hand finds yours again, and this time, neither of you are running anywhere. he also pulls you close to him again, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was both tender and passionate, a promise of something more.

something real.

꣑୧ UNOFFICIAL TAGLIST. @anqeliclust @aileenunfiltered @embarrasingmf @stereotypicalbarbie @ninii-winchester @suckitands33 @ohheyguyss @spxideyver @artyandink @titsout4nicholas 𓂃 ݁ 𖦹

[eelclaw]

the protagonists of the broken code. who's rootspring

i am tbc's number 1 hater! negative thoughts below

shadowsight: other characters sometimes acknowledge that he was manipulated by ashfur, but the narrative puts all of the blame for the ashfur situation on him, neglecting that (a) he did exactly what he was supposed to do as a healer (obey and take messages from a starclan cat), and (b) the codebreaker hysteria was far more a product of clan culture than the actions of a single apprentice. he isn't treated like the victim that he is, and it is frustrating and not cathartic.

bristlefrost: what the hell does she even do. what does her spy arc accomplish or contribute (like mother, like daughter). she finds out that bramblestar isn't bramblestar far too early. she's so perfect and she has no flaws and she's so empty. i want her to be worse. how much more interesting would she be if she was sneaky and selfish? if she was loyal to the imposter because she truly believed in what he was saying? not to mention how she reciprocates rootspring's feelings with literally zero warning, and ceases to have what little character she'd had to begin with. i genuinely don't care that she dies, they did nothing to make her an engaging character. miss bristlefrost, i'm sorry they did you so bad.

rootspring: first rootpaw thinks he's weird because of his father. i hate this because i hate tree. later, rootpaw thinks he's weird because he can see ghosts. so they give him this "i just want to be normal" deal, and the clans suddenly pretend that ghosts are silly and not real. sure, rootspring and tree are the first clan cats with this specific power. and i get that the clans have very rigid beliefs, and they are afraid of anything that contradicts those beliefs, and that's interesting! but ghosts have been appearing to clan cats all the way back to tpb. fireheart tries to kill clawface at one point and he senses spottedleaf's spirit beside him, there to avenge her death. so rootspring's issue is stupid and he's nothingburger to me.

bramblestar: the arc really depends on me giving a shit about what happens to him. which i don't.

i think bramblestar is unintentionally a bad person and a great character. he proves himself by rejecting tigerstar, but he's still deeply insecure. he makes mistake after mistake (conspiring with tigerstar; hesitating to save firestar from the fox trap; forsaking his children after finding out they're not biologically his; using his power over squirrelflight as a warrior, deputy, and leader to control her), and for none of these mistakes is he held accountable (no thunderclan cat except leafpool learns that he plotted with tigerstar; he is allowed to remain deputy; his children think he was the best father ever; in every situation, squirrelflight seems to bear the consequences of his actions).

in other words, bramblestar gets chance after chance to redeem himself, and he keeps fucking it up. again, that's interesting! there is a story here about how difficult childhoods affect adults, and how powerful men are not held responsible for hurting people. except that's not how he's written. he's written as a completely good person, a brave and noble leader, and all of the clans respect him and they need to get him back.

there's a crazy amount of bramblestar worship in this arc. even rootspring, a brand new skyclan apprentice, thinks about how important bramblestar, the thunderclan leader, is, and how all the clans wouldn't be the same without him. i can't take it seriously.

graystripe: graystripe also got a crazy amount of worship. i couldn't stand reading every few paragraphs about how great he is.

side note: shadowsight, bristlefrost, and rootspring all want the same thing. they advocate against killing bramblestar's body. wouldn't it be more interesting if the protagonists had different perspectives and opinions? if they wanted different things? for example, it makes sense that shadowsight wouldn't want bramblestar dead. he feels like the only way to make up for his mistake is to recover bramblestar alive. but bristlefrost could be in favor of killing bramblestar, because the only way to make up for her mistake (supporting the imposter) is to get rid of him. putting our protagonists at odds would generate some interesting conflict.

conclusion: i also have problems with ashfur (why does ashfur try to stir up trouble with codebreaking which will certainly get him caught when he could just take over bramblestar's body and live quietly with squirrelflight), tigerheartstar, mothwing, starclan, the dark forest insta-death water, firestar possessing rootspring, the pacing (oh my god! they were debating whether to kill bramblestar for like three books! and for three more books they were running in circles in the dark forest!), etc. but i've already written a lot and i'm out of steam lol.

let me finish by saying these are kids books, and i'm not expecting them to be the cream of the crop, but there are a lot of writing choices which are incredibly misogynistic and/or completely baffling from a narrative standpoint. i still have a soft spot for this series though. dammit. okay bye

[loveesiren]

Baby Daddy (Pt. 2)

Rafe Cameron x Reader

A/n: Here's part two! Let me know if you guys want more to this story :)

Warnings: Birth, emergency c-section, language, fluff

Word Count: 1.7k+

You leaned your head on Rafe's shoulder, his hand rubbing your swollen belly as you were handed yet another gift.

You were grateful for this baby shower that Rose had put together but you couldn't help the fact that you were absolutely exhausted.

You were in no way prepared for how much pregnancy took a toll on your body. Especially in the third trimester.

You held the tiny pink blanket up. The soft fabric was lined with silk and it was absolutely adorable.

"And when you finally tell us her name, we'll get it stitched on there. Along with her birthday." Sarah said with a smile as her and John B watched you examine their gift.

"It's perfect," You say. "And her name will be revealed once she's born." You chuckle.

"I can't believe you're making us wait," John B whines, rolling his eyes.

"She's gonna be here any day now," Rafe smiled, looking down at you. "And this has been great but Y/N really needs to get some rest."

"But there is still more presents!" Rose whines.

"And she will open them later," Rafe scolds. "She's exhausted."

You were practically falling asleep in Rafe's arms.

"Alright, fine," Rose says as she stands up. "For anyone who would like to continue celebrating, join me in the back yard!"

John B and Sarah stay behind, cleaning up the mess of wrapping paper that littered the living room.

"I'm going to take her up to bed," Rafe said as he stood up and pulled you off the couch.

"Rafe, no, too fat." You grumbled as you felt him try to lift you. "I can do it."

"Baby-"

"I can do it!"

John B and Sarah laugh as you fall back on the couch, obviously too tired to move.

Rafe sighs before bending over and scooping you into his arms.

"Rafe, no-"

"Shhhh," He says, picking you up effortlessly. "Uhm, do you guys need me to-"

"Go," Sarah says with a smile. "We got it."

Rafe offers a small smile before carrying you upstairs to the room the two of you shared. Rose had turned the guest room next to Rafe's room into a nursery. The two rooms sat in a part of the house that was mostly cut off from the rest. It was the perfect little corner for the two of you and your baby while you saved up for your own place.

Rafe laid you down on the bed and pulled the covers over the two of you as he crawled in next to you and cradled your belly. "Get some rest, Mama." He said, placing a kiss on your temple.

"Rafe..." You whispered.

"Yes?"

You could feel his fingers trail over your skin. The way he cared for you and was so gentle and excited for your baby, you couldn't wait anymore. You had to tell him.

"I love you." You say as you look up to meet his eyes.

His breath caught in his throat as he registered your words. "W-what?"

You giggled. "I love you, Rafe. You're amazing. And you're going to be an amazing dad. I know we've been doing this whole pregnancy thing in kind of a weird way but I'd kind of like to be a real a fami-"

Rafe pressed his lips to yours, caressing your cheek as he deepened the kiss. "I've been in love with you for so long," He admitted against your lips. "I want all of this. I want us. I want our baby. I want to be a family."

You smiled at his response. He'd changed so much since you found out you were pregnant. He quit coke. He worked hard. He was constantly at your side making sure you had everything you needed. You practically had to pull him off you so you could go check on John B.

You could see his eyes swelling with tears. "What's wrong, baby?" You asked as you cupped his cheek.

"Nothing," He shook his head as a tear fell from his eye. "I just have my dream girl and I get to meet my fucking daughter soon. My life is perfect."

You couldn't help but tear up at his words. You ran your fingers through his hair as he rested his head on your shoulder. It wasn't long before the two of you drifted off to sleep.

———-

"AHHHHH!" You screamed as you shot up in bed. "Oh my fucking God!"

"What is it baby?!" Rafe asked eagerly as he quickly flipped on the lamp.

"It fucking hurts!" You spit. "Rafe...Rafe I think I'm contracting." You're barely able to get the words out.

"Oh, fuck. Okay!" He yells as he hops out of bed. He opens the door and yells into the hallway. "Dad! Rose!"

"Fuck, FUCK!" You scream.

"Okay, hold on baby, I have your bag." Rafe runs to his closet and pulls out the bag he had packed for you for when the time finally came. "Rose!" He screams again.

"I'm coming! What is it?" She says as her and Ward enter the room. "Oh, okay!"

Rose is by your side instantly, helping you off the bed.

"Ah! I can't-" You say as you fall to the floor. "I can't walk, it hurts so much."

"I got you baby," Rafe says, once again scooping you into his arms with minimal effort.

"Ward, start the car!" Rose commands as she grabs your bag and you all head downstairs.

Rafe climbs into the back seat with you. You dig your nails into his arm as another contraction invades your body.

"It's okay, sweet girl." Rafe says as he presses his lips to your forehead. "Just breathe with me, okay?" He holds your swollen belly up, relieving some of the pressure so you're able to catch your breath.

You can feel the car speeding to the hospital. You can hear Ward and Rose arguing in the front seat. You can feel Rafe wrapped around you, whispering sweetly into your ear. But you couldn't help the black haze that was washing over your vision as you lost consciousness.

"Hey, hey!" Rafe said as he lightly tapped your cheek. "Y/N, baby, stay with me!"

"We're almost there!" Ward says.

"She's unconscious!" Rafe screams.

_____________

Your eyes fluttered open. It was almost painful to keep your eyelids up.

Large windows lined the room, letting in the sunrise. Purple skies as the sun made it's way into view.

You felt so confused. You placed a hand on your belly. No bump. You instantly shot up, panicking at your missing baby bump you had grown so used to.

"Rafe!" You screamed.

"Hey, hey!" Rafe said as he came out of the bathroom, bouncing a tiny human in his arms. "Calm down baby, I'm here. We're here." He smiles as he sits on the bed next to you.

"Is that...is that my daughter?" You ask, taking in her tiny features. She had Rafe's eyes and your lips. A perfect mix of the two of you.

Rafe smiles, moving to place her in your arms. "You did so good, mama."

You hold her gently, tears filling your eyes as she instantly looked for your nipple. You happily fed her, gushing over the fact she knew you were her mother.

"I-I don't even remember."

"It was complicated," Rafe begins, rubbing one hand over your leg and one over her tiny head. "Emergency c-section. Thought I was gonna lose you. But you were so strong."

You couldn't help but cry. A tear falling on your child's cheek but Rafe brushed it away.

"She's been so fussy until now. She doesn't like the bottle." Rafe chuckles.

"How long have a been out?"

"Two days,"

You shudder, realizing you missed the first two days of your child's life.

Rafe pulls himself up to sit behind you. You lean back against his chest as you continue to feed your child. He runs his fingers up and down your arms and places kisses on your temples.

"I love you so much," He whispers.

"I love you too," You said as you felt yourself drift back to sleep. Rafe brought his arms around you to help hold your baby as she finished nursing.

When you woke up again the sun was setting. Rafe was draped over you, snoring softly. Your daughter in a bassinet beside you, sleeping peacefully.

You heard a knock at the door. Rafe shot up, rubbing his eyes as he tried to process what was going on.

"Hmmm, okay." He said, half asleep as he stumbled towards the door.

You felt bad. You knew he'd been doing all of this on his own while you were out. He needed sleep.

"Hey," Rafe said as your family members piled in. You were grateful for the large room.

Rose and Wheezie carried flowers and gifts, placing them on the dresser by the window. Ward followed behind them.

John B and Sarah came in after them with balloons, setting them to the side as they quickly ran to see your baby.

"Jesus," Rafe grumbled as he laid back down beside you. "M' sorry baby. They wouldn't let anyone but me in until today."

You pet his hair and place a kiss on his head as he rests against your shoulder. "It's okay, babe."

You were wide awake now. Rafe tried his best to sit up and interact but you could tell he wasn't going to last long.

John B held your baby as everyone else crowded around him. She was smiling up at him and it made your heart melt.

"So," Sarah asked. "What's her name?"

You turned to Rafe and smiled. He smiled and rubbed his eyes. "Her name is Juliette Lilith Cameron." He announced.

All the girls gushed over the name. John B smiled down at his niece, bouncing her happily.

Ward came around the side of the bed and placed a hand on Rafe's shoulder. "Congratulations, son. You're going to be a great father."

Rafe smiles at his dads words. "Thanks, dad." He gushes. You can't help but tear up. You knew how much Rafe wanted his dad to be proud of him.

After everyone had a turn holding Juliette, Rafe finally ushered them all out, claiming you and baby needed your rest. But in all honesty, you and Juliette were fine. Rafe was the one that needed a break.

After you nursed Juliette and laid her down to sleep, you and Rafe snuggled in your hospital bed, eating mediocre hospital food and watching Family Feud.

"Can I get you anything, baby?" Rafe mumbled against your shoulder, barely able to keep his eyes open.

"Get some sleep, my love." You whisper, placing a kiss on his head.

"Gotta take care of my girls first," He mumbles.

"We're good," You promise him. "We need you to be well rested."

Rafe hums into your skin, wrapping his arm tighter around you but not tight enough to hurt you since you were still healing.

"Love my girls," Was the last thing he said before he drifted off to sleep.

Tags: @torturedtypewritersdept @bigenergy777 @outerbankspov @purplerose291 @shayofandoms @mirellef2001

[cherie-doll]

ughhh, tell me why i can't get könig being at his peak dilf era out of my head

like that man sometimes wakes up feeling tired even after he gets a full eight hours of sleep and will look in the mirror thinking he's let himself go from all the years of drinking alcohol giving him a dad bod but you love it??? like he doesn't understand why someone as attractive as you is going after him, seriously what's wrong with people nowadays he thinks?

but those muscles haven't gone away and they still are very much noticeable under those formal suits he wears to reunions ;D you're clinging to his arm, feeling him under the layers of clothes while he's sweating like crazy under it

he'll look around at your grand selection of younger candidates but you're stubborn on wanting this rugged bull

eventually his flaws would surely bore you, right? wrong, even in all those years of "experience" he doesn't realize that only makes you seek to grow closer not further apart

and he accidentally enables this, he'll be mindlessly trying to get a twig or something out of your hair and your mind is static just enjoying the feeling of those big, veiny hands running through your hair and that deep voice that is now slow and deliberate because he thinks before talking now, you saw that man washing the dishes and you just stand there leaning against the doorframe imagining him with an apron not caring if he's not washing the dishes right or he's letting the water drip everywhere

him snoring softly on the couch with a drink in his hand and you're practically frothing at the mouth with how good he looks in those sweatpants, or his appetite still being big and you don't care that he eats like two or three big plates in one sitting you're just glad he prefers home cooked meals to dining out

oh and he was prescribed glasses by the doctor so anytime he's reading or watching tv in the evenings you're blocking his view by sitting on his lap and pushing the glasses up or down his nose

and what about all the medicine he takes? twins! you too! him for physical health and you for mental-

doesn't matter if he's greying, feeling more tired, aching and feeling sore, takes things slower you want that man and it's making you feral.

[petriwriting]

Swimming Lessons - JJ Maybank X Reader

Request.

A/N: This was so cute...

Growing up in the outerbanks and being unable to swim was hysterically ironic. You enjoyed the pool, and the beach as long as the water wasn't too deep. You liked baths, hot tubs and jacuzzis, but for some reason you just never learned how to swim properly, which raised an insecurity that you couldn't swim. Of course, naturally everyone can swim, but the thought of the darkness undernarth you and the absence of the grounding earth under your feet, it was absolutely terrifying. But, you were willing to learn.

"JJ I can't swim."

you protest, it's the evening, the air is warm and humid and the sea breeze has a slight chill. JJ holds you, bridal style over the water. 

"JJ I'm serious!" you say louder, growing scared as he carries you into deeper water, it's now waist length deep for him. He's still standing, which means you could too, but it is a bit scary since you can't swim. Your bottom starts to meet the cold water and you squeal. "Hey I got you," JJ says with a laugh. you hold onto him tighter. "I don't understand how you can do this for fun." you say. 

"Swimming is boring, wait till I can show you how to surf. You'll be flying across those waves." He jokes continuously. He pretended to drop you and laughed it off again, enjoying your nervous laughter and smile. You protest one more time. "JJ I can't swim." you say serious this time, your tone sobering up. "And I told you I won't let you drown," he says sternly. you sigh in defeat. He gently puts you down, slightly deeper than before, your chest is met with the chilly ocean water and sea foam. "This.. isn't too bad." you say, you are simply standing in the sand, not really swimming. 

Before you can say anything else a huge wave crashes over you, sending you hurdling into JJ who holds you still. "Oh my god," you exclaim. "That was scary," you sigh, pushing your wet hair out of your face. "Babe, it's the ocean. there will be waves." JJ says, with a look. "They aren't even that bad today. this is pretty calm." he reassures you. 

"Alright, let's try this." he insists. "Float on your back, just to practice." he instructs, you follow suit hesitantly and do as he says. you are floating on your back, or trying to at least. There is comfort in knowing you can easily stand if you need to. "Hey," he says, his eyes are looking deep into yours. It's a sweet moment. "I got you." he says gently. 

You try again, one more time until you are comfortably floating on your back in JJ's arms. He cheers you on encouragingly. "one more time, ok?" he asks. "This time you gotta close your eyes. I'll be right here, promise." he says. you begin to float on your back the same as before. you keep your eyes open for as long as you can until he is insistent you close them. Darkness. you feel the flow of the waves, and are relaxed and amazed by the ocean and how she carries you and cradles you as if you're a baby. you got a glimpse of why JJ and his friends loved surfing and swimming so much. It was comforting. It felt safe.

You open your eyes and you have drifted and floated out further than you would have liked, JJ's arms are not beneath you and you begin to panic, your feet can't feel the sand beneath them, terrified, you remembered everything JJ had told you about swimming. "It's as easy as breathing, you'll know what to do. It's an instinct." 

You look up and see JJ has swam out closer to the shore and is waiting and watching for you. You are slightly angry he broke the promise but you swim towards him and before you know it you're swimming. He claps and cheers for you. "You got this!" you swim right up to him and pull him under the water. swimming now feels effortless. He got you out of your comfort zone.

"Nice try you can't drown me i'm a strong swimmer," He jokes. The two of you race to the shore and you chase him up onto the beach until you're both exhausted and laying on the sand. "JJ," you say finally after some silence. "Thank you for teaching me to swim." you say. "Nah, don't thank me. you did all the work," he smirks, looking down at your lips for a pause and then kissing you tenderly. 

[sapphicmsmarvel]

tattoo artist azriel

Notes: possibly pervert azriel but y/n’s a pervert too. Dirty lines. This wasn’t gonna be smut but it is now. Sub Azriel but also, he’s a power sub. This derailed so fast. I promise we will go back to the tattoo stuff eventually. Plus size reader. Lots of run on sentences. I can't write smut so I tried my best. 

funny enough this is probably one of the fics that’s nearest to my heart. 

Word count bc this is the longest thing ive ever written at a whopping 4k

Pls listen to motivate by little mix for this. 

-You met each other because your friend worked at a tattoo shop with him. 

-When you walked in the door and saw this man that looked like a greek god standing there you almost bolted in the opposite direction and was going to text your best friend to just meet you outside. 

-You knew about Azriel from your best friend. Kind but introverted. He didn’t talk much aside from jokey comments. But he was a man that your friend had deemed a safe one. You knew he was attractive based on photos, but the first moment you saw him in person, you didn’t expect him to still be so attractive. 

-Little did you know, he also knew about you. 

-He had seen a picture of you because on your friends desk there’s a collage of you and all of your guys’ friends. Anything that gives her motivation in such a touch and go industry. 

-It was a photo where you were laughing at something your friend had said. Mouth fully open, nose scrunched and eyes squinting. 

-He was enamoured with you. Something about you just put him into a trance. He didn’t want to sound like a stalker, because he sure felt like one. But he thought you were really pretty. 

-He got to meet you because you had come to pick your best friend up for lunch. She was finishing up with a client as you sat at the front of the building. 

“You can walk back there with her, you know.” Azriel leaned against the counter.

You shook your head, “nah, I’ll start yapping and oversharing with her client. She doesn’t need that.” 

He chuckled, “I’m Azriel.” 

“I’m Y/n.” You beamed and he felt his heart squeeze. 

-Your best friend interrupted you two ten minutes later to drag you to lunch. He couldn’t help the blush that formed on his face when you waved and smiled with your big pearly whites. 

-After a few months, he got the nerve to ask your best friend about you. He saw you about once a week now to pick your friend up for her lunch break. And every time he tried to work up the nerve to ask you out or ask your friend about you. You guys would chat every single time you saw each other, slowly getting to know each other more. 

-”Hey.” Azriel started. 

“Hey!” Your best friend chirped. “What’s up?” 

“Is Y/N single?” 

She had stopped sketching completely and looked up at him. “Are you serious?” 

“Yeah, I wouldn’t be asking this as a joke.” He blinked in surprise. 

“Azriel, she’s a serious type of girl. She’s not into hookups, and if you break her heart I have a slew of inappropriate things to tattoo on you.” 

His stomach sank, this wasn’t going well. “I’m serious. I really like her, she's funny and cute.” 

“She’s also queer. You need to be okay with that in order for me to let you date her.” She narrowed her eyes at Azriel, vetting him for you. “Oh, that doesn’t bug me. As long as she’s into men right?” He shrugged. 

“In her words, she unfortunately is.” He knew she was testing him. For homophobia, or if he was okay with men-bashing.

Considering he knew he wasn’t the problem, he was totally fine with men-bashing. 

“Lucky for me.” He said determinedly. 

That’s when your friend smiled, and began forming a plan. 

-Your friend through a summer solstice party. It was a bonfire in her backyard. You and Azriel had been briefly seeing each other all night. But at the end, you two were by the fire and began talking. 

-He looked up to your friend's house and saw her give him a big thumbs up. He appreciated the encouragement but he was wigging out. 

-He had brought you two s’mores and a blanket for the cool summer air. 

You two happily munched on the snack, then he decided to get it over with before he threw up into the fire pit. 

He looked over and saw you looked ethereal in the warm hues of orange and yellow as the fire crackled and popped. You had just licked a smudge of chocolate from your thumb. 

He took a deep breath, “Y/N, I have a question.” 

“Oh don’t say it like that. My stomach just fell into my ass.” You said exasperated. Fearing the worst. 

“It’s nothing bad, at least I hope you don't think it is.” He sighed, “will you go on a date with me?” 

“You don’t sound too happy to ask me out.” You laughed nervously. “No! No. I’m just so nervous. You’re really pretty and smart and funny. I've been interested for months.” He’s never been so candid towards someone he’s pursuing, but you are special and have the ability to strip him bare without even trying. 

You smiled, “I want to say yes…” 

“But?” He prompted. “It’s really scary for me to date.” You confessed, nervously biting your lip. “Tell me about it.” He shifted more towards you so he was facing you. “What can I do to make you more comfortable?” 

Your heart turned gooey like the melted chocolate you had just eaten. “It’s really me that’s the problem.” 

“I doubt that.” He said earnestly. 

You huffed a laugh out your nose. “I’ve been on two dates. They both sucked and just made me feel shitty. I don’t like feeling like that. And there’s so much pressure to look good and be this person I don’t know if I am.” You shrugged. “Like putting the best parts of myself and not my whole self.” 

“No offense, but only two? Honestly, you’re really attractive. I was expecting more competition.” He quickly realized how bad ‘only two’ sounded. He didn’t want to accidentally make it seem like he was calling you a ‘slut’. Even if you did sleep around, that didn’t stop him from being interested. 

You shrugged. “Nobody wants to date a queer fat girl because they're insecure.”

That sentence pissed him off on your behalf, however he loved that you knew they were insecure and that you deserved better. 

“I think you’re beautiful.” He said. 

You blushed, “thank you. And I know you mean that.” 

“I do.” He nodded, then he got an idea. “Do you feel shitty right now? Is this feeling like you’re performing?” “No?” You answered with your own question. 

“How about this for our first date?” 

You giggled, “we’ve barely seen each other tonight.” 

“This. Right here by the fire. This can be our first date.” He declared. “No pressure. No performing.” 

It was so cute and sweet, he’s so cute and sweet. 

You couldn’t help your answer. “I’d love that. Let’s schedule a second one?” 

He felt like his chest was about to collapse from happiness.  

-Your second date, he drove his motorcycle to pick you up. He had advised against dresses or skirts and to make sure to bring a jacket. 

You felt your heart race the second you saw this hot piece of ass on a motorcycle with a helmet for you.

-At stop lights he would reach an arm around to stroke your thigh. And while it was very forward, it gave you the courage to run your hands up and down his chest. Your nails lightly grazing his pecs. 

-He was glad the light turned green so he could think about something weird to get his boner to go away. 

-You two ended the night at a rooftop bar that your friend advised him on. You hadn’t been there but she knew you’d love it and you did. 

-The warm summer breeze but there was still a slight chill. The fairy lights, the city lights. The appetizers and drinks. Alcohol for you, non-alcoholic for him. 

-You felt peace with him. Like you aren’t being scrutinized or put on display. You felt more comfortable with him than you felt with most people. 

-And you had only known him for a few months. 

-You felt safe and protected. 

-Once he dropped you back at your place. You didn’t want the night to end which was rare for you. Usually, you couldn’t leave a date fast enough. 

“Can I kiss you?” He asked, he was blushing and nervous. 

“Please do.” You whispered. 

“Trust me, Y/N. You never have to beg when it comes to me.” He confessed before he pulled you to him. 

It was a kiss that made your knees weak. It was intense, it was butterfly inducing. You felt flames in your stomach caress up to your chest. Your chest swooped with adrenaline.  His hands moved from your waist to your cheeks, cupping them as he kissed you deeper. You had kissed others before, you had hookups, but they never made you wet from a simple kiss. 

But this wasn’t a simple kiss. You always thought romance books were incorrect but it was nice to have fantasy. No, this was straight out of fiction. 

You wanted to suck his soul out. You wanted to become so intertwined within each other you wouldn’t know where you ended and he began. 

“Come inside.” You said, pulling away from him, he continued to kiss your neck as you fumbled the keys. 

“This wasn’t my intention by kissing you.” He whispered in between kisses behind your ears. 

Ah ha! You finally got the key into the lock. “Yeah well you got me wet so you’re gonna fix it.” 

He was clearly caught off guard because he snorted a genuine laugh. “It would be my honor.” You finally opened the door. 

The second that door was shut and locked you dropped to your knees. “Y/N.” He hissed. “I was planning on eating you out.” 

“Okay and I’m going to suck your soul out.” You fumbled the zipper.

“Y/N-”

“Azriel I have never wanted to suck a man's dick the way I do yours. Please? Let me?” You made sure to throw on your big puppy eyes and you got him. 

He threw his head back. “I’m not gonna last.” 

“Good.” Your eyes darkened. “Now, unzip your pants for me like a good boy.” 

He sighed, “you’re going to wreck me. But also I’m allowing this because I can’t wait to fuck you till you cry.” 

Oh fuck. Was your only thought as his pants and underwear hit the ground. Causing his cock to spring up and smack his stomach. 

Not only were his words scorchingly hot, but seeing his tattoos up and down his body was a wet dream incarnate. 

He was thick and long. His tip was red and weeping. A fat drop of precum on the tip. 

And he was pierced. He had a jacobs ladder piercing which made you salivate and wonder how it would feel inside you. There was a snake tattoo wrapped around his waist, with its head by his belly button and then the tail ending part way down his left thigh. 

You could not wait to get your tongue on his skin. 

You licked a stripe from his balls to tip. He hissed as your warm mouth enveloped his most sensitive skin. 

You were glad you had blowjob practice before him, his dick hit the back of your throat and you were able to stop yourself from gagging. You could feel he was holding back so you came off of him with a pop. He groaned in annoyance but then somehow felt harder than before when you hoarsely whispered:

“Fuck my throat, Azriel.” 

He swallowed, “tap my thigh if it gets too much.” 

You nodded, smiling. Your swollen lips were a siren’s call. You were practically vibrating to get your mouth on him and be used. 

He grabbed your hair gently, yet firmly and used your mouth like a fleshlight. It was so delightfully filthy it made you grow even wetter.

You’ve never been more happy for a guy to shoot his load down your throat. You swallowed every drop. 

He had a good diet at least because his come didn’t taste like battery acid. 

He shucked off the rest of his pants and pulled you from your knees quickly. He pulled you into a kiss. “Fuck, it should not be so hot to taste myself on your lips.” He murmured between your swollen lips. 

He took off your tank top, showing your sports bra. “Where’s your room?” He said kissing your throat. 

“Down the hallway, the only door on the right.” You whispered huskily. 

“Good, because I’m about to do some multitasking.” He said, then lifted you up as if you weighed nothing. 

“Shit!” You yelped. 

He then dove into your cleavage, however you pulled his head away and ripped your bra off and threw it so he had easy access. He sucked a nipple into his mouth and you moaned. He really did multitask because he began walking to your bedroom. 

“Left of the door against the back wall, is my bed.” You said between gasps. He switched tits. 

You didn't even realize you had moved so fast until your back hit your bed. He ripped his shirt off and you couldn’t help but gaze at his ink. Whorls and delicate lines inked down his chest as if there were shadows caressing his skin. You had seen his arm tattoos constantly and they never failed to take your breath away, but these. 

These were almost as sinful as the snake on his hips. 

He began kissing down your stomach. 

“This isn’t like me.” You whispered as he kissed your chubby stomach. 

“What?”

“I don’t do quick…hookups.” “This isn’t a hookup to me, Y/N.” He nearly growled as he tore your leggings and panties down your legs. You looked down to see him sniff your panties greedily and felt more warmth gush from your cunt. 

“You have no idea what I’ve thought about doing to you.” He said darkly. He grabbed your thighs. “I’m about to make you forget about anybody before me.”

“Well, no one’s gone down on me before so…” You trailed off weakly. 

He shot his head up from kissing your thighs. “What.”

You shrugged, feeling slightly defensive. “No one’s really wanted to.” 

“The day I say I don’t want to eat you out, shoot me. Cause that’s not me.” 

“Well, let’s not go that far-oh!” You yelped as you felt his teeth graze the soft skin of your thigh.

“God, these thighs…” He muttered, biting your thigh gently, causing a sting of arousal to shoot straight to your clit. His warm tongue soothed the light bite marks. 

You moaned. His mouth sucked your clit into his mouth with so much force your back bow3ed off the bed. 

“Fuck.” You cried out. 

He spelled his fucking name in your cunt with his tongue. His teeth ever so slightly grazed against the nub. How he knew you liked some pain you had no idea but you were grateful for such an intuitive partner. 

It didn’t take long for you to get to the crescendo of this symphony. The slurping sounds, his moans as he tastes you, it was enough. 

Your wildest fantasies didn’t live up to this. Your vibrator for once, did not beat the actual act of intimacy. 

He licked you gently as you came down from the high. He crawled up to your face and gave you a sweet kiss where you got to taste yourself. 

“Fuck, you were right. Tasting yourself on your partner's lips is hot.” You sighed. 

He chuckled, “I don’t have condoms, if you even wanted to go that far.” He said sadly. But you knew it was cause he didn’t bring condoms. Not over the fact that you might not want to go that far. 

“Top drawer of the left nightstand.” You whispered. 

He smiled like he was given his favorite candy. He walked over and grabbed it, tearing it open gently with his teeth and rolling it onto his dick. 

“Please tell me if it gets too much, I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“Please fuck me Az.” You begged. 

When he entered you, he thought he was going to bust right there. You were warm and inviting. Then you clenched around him and based on the gleam in your tear filled eyes, you took great pleasure in torturing him. 

“You know, when you’re used to my size I’m going to make you regret that move.” 

“Oh, so you have an ego?” You said and wrapped your legs around his waist. Your heels digging into the meat of his ass. 

But you weren’t fairing well either when it came to self control. He felt so fucking good. His piercings pressed up against each muscle inside of you. Rubbing against your walls so deliciously that your toes were curling. Your eyes filled with tears because the pleasure was so incredibly intense but you wanted more. You were ready to dive headfirst and drown in all things Azriel. 

He deeply, yet gently, thrust into you, hitting that sweet spongy spot inside of you (that nobody has ever hit before) causing you to gasp and arch into him, forcing him deeper. 

Your senses were in overdrive. Skin slapping, moaning, gasping, bed squeaking. Feeling his abs pressed against your soft stomach as your tits we’re pressed against his pecs. His head pressed into your neck as he deeply thrusted in and out of you.  

Neither of you lasted much longer. 

-After intense aftercare and very sweet words. You two decided you were a couple because you were insane for each other even after only two dates. 

-It was incredibly impulsive. But it felt good and felt like he was your forever. That’s when you believed in the saying “when you know, you know.”  

-Once you and Azriel began officially dating and calling each other ‘boyfriend’ and ‘girlfriend’. He put a picture up of you at his station. You were looking at the city lights from a rooftop bar you two had gone to. You were gazing out towards the lights with a sweet smile on your face. Your hair was a mess because you had just gotten off of work and needed drinks and appetizers with your man to decompress. 

-You didn’t even know he had taken it. Which made it more meaningful for him because you weren’t posing or ‘making yourself look nice’. You were real, authentic and gazing at something you loved, the city lights. 

-Your best friend saw it and her heart felt like it grew bigger because she knew you had someone who cared for you. 

-His IPad was filled with drawings of you. Some were able to be shown but a lot were just for his eyes. He couldn’t help it. Your thighs and rolls looked like they were sculpted by Greeks themselves. So delightfully plush. 

-He also dabbles in photography. Either with his phone, polaroid or film camera. He makes you put different lingerie on so he can keep the images of you forever. 

-and jack off while you two are apart from each other. 

-This man is loyal. Not only were you at his station, but there was a polaroid in his phone case of you. That one was a bit more risque and you only allowed it to be taken and put in his phone case because his phone case was black and no one couldn’t see through it. It was just in the back of his phone as a bit of motivation to keep working for his hot girlfriend. He’d pop his phone case off and secretly peek at it. 

-it was you in a dark blue lace corset. You had posed with a hand heart against your chest and a beaming smile. It would be seen as innocent if it wasn’t for the clothes you were wearing and the fact that your nipples were seen through it. Your tits were deliciously pressed up tight against the lace cups. 

-On his lock screen was a blurry photo Feyre had snapped of you two at a party. He was kissing your temple, you were half in his arms. Your arm that was wrapped around his waist and closest to the camera. Except it was flipping off Feyre (the live photo you can hear your laugh and Feyre’s and then the camera pans down because Feyre was caught). Your eye was winking from the force of Azriel’s kiss on your temple. Your smile was wide and you were clearly laughing. 

-He stopped letting clients take their clothes off for placement tattoos. Even if in some cases it could be easier to tattoo a cleavage with the person's top off, he won’t do it. -He feels bad enough that his arms have to rest on their chest. 

-The only tits he wants to see are yours. 

-You find it hysterical that so many people fall for your man. It was a bit of masochism in your case, enjoying flaunting the fact that this God of a man was taken and happily invested in you. 

-It helped that your man was totally fine with you being a weirdo. 

-One time he bent over in front of you and you just, “I want to bite your ass.” 

“I mean, you can.” 

-You’ve tied bows around his biceps and taken a picture. You loved that photo because not only does this big buff tattooed man have a little pink bow wrapped around his biceps but there's also red kiss marks all over his arm. 

-That photo alone could get you off. 

-You’re a big fan of marking your territory. You keep red lipstick in your bag just to give him a kiss on his neck or anywhere where anybody could see it. Just to mark your territory. 

-He eats it up. Like “yes that’s my lady, yes she’s hot. and she’s all mine and i’m all hers.” 

-Usually leads to you two fucking in the bathroom. 

-He is your good boy but can also choke you the fuck out. 

“Come on, take it like a good girl.”

“Use your words, baby. I can’t decipher your babbling.” As he overstimulates you with his tongue and a vibrator. 

-He’d happily be used as your personal toy. 

-You sneak photos of him tattooing clients, it’s just so hot to see him so focused and into his job. 

-He definitely offered to tattoo you but you kept declining, then he designed a beautiful sleeve design that incorporated all of your favorite books for your one year anniversary. 

-So you got that sleeve done. 

-It was one of the only parts of your body that had ink. You were a baby with pain but it was satisfying too. The only way you sat through for a sleeve is all the kisses Azriel gave you. 

-He was never the type to like partner tattoos but he gets it with you. He has a heart with your first initial on his right ring finger as a promise to put a real ring on his left ring finger that also belongs to you. 

-At tattoo conventions, tons of artists always want to meet him. You try to encourage them to go talk to him because let’s face it, Azriel is intimidating to just walk up to. His art style is very recognizable and people love him. 

-You’re known as the Shop Sweetheart. Not only does your boyfriend work there but so does your best friend. It’s common that you drop coffee or food off if the team is working late. 

-He treated you like a queen. Nobody had ever treated you so kindly yet also messed with you like a best friend would.

-Peace and love to your girl best friend. But this man was your partner in crime and in love.

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

hi !! i was thinking about logical by olivia rodrigo when she sings "said i was too young i was too soft, can't take a joke can't get you off" and it got me thinking of rupert campbell black x younger!reader getting into a huge argument about something and he says that to her in the heat of the moment and then maybe they end up having make up sex idk

thank you <33

February Sky.

The highs are so high, but the lows are so low.

rupert campbell black x female reader

warnings - smut. cursing. age gap. angst. so much use of the word darling. this might be a tiny bit toxic, but...

word count - 2.3k

authors note - title taken from logical by olivia rodrigo (which fits him so well, by the way). thank you for this request, erica!! it works so beautifully. I tried not to make it too toxic, but I think rupert is a tiny bit toxic, regardless. oops. and yet we love him anyway.

masterlist. inbox.

“What’s the matter?”

You’re curled up in the armchair by the fire, cup of tea warming the palms of your hands as the flames warm your toes. You’re still wearing your ballgown, hair still pretty in its updo and makeup still perfectly done.

“Darling,” you hear come from the kitchen, where he’s no doubt pouring himself a whiskey.

You stay quiet, taking a sip from your mug and sitting in your frustration.

Rupert appears in the doorway, leaning against the frame and taking in the sight of you. The first thing he observes is how cosy you look. The second thing he observes is how annoyed you look.

“Darling,” he repeats, walking over to kneel in front of you. “What’s the matter? Did you not have a good time?”

You’ve gotten very good at picking your battles with Rupert. Sometimes, you let go of whatever’s bothering you to save yourself the aggravation of an argument. Other days, much like today, you just can’t seem to keep a lid on your anger.

“I was having a good time until you made me feel stupid in front of everyone.”

“W-what? What are you talking about?”

You look down at him, his wide eyes staring up at you with genuine confusion painted across them.

“When I told that story about the horses, at the dinner table. I saw that look you gave Bas. It was like you were laughing at me, not with me.”

“I wasn’t trying to make you feel stupid. You know I wouldn’t do that.”

“Do I? You did the same thing a few weeks ago at Lizzie’s. You so easily undermine me when I’m speaking with a look or a laugh. That’s all it takes, and you don’t even realise.”

“Darling, I’m just joking with my friends. I’m not sure why you’re taking this so personally. It’s a non issue that you’re making into an issue.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Well I could argue that it’s not fair that you’re telling me that I make you feel stupid. That’s an accusation that’s not fair.”

He gets up, moving to stand by the fire with his glass in his hand.

“I feel like you’re just dismissing me,” you say quietly, squeezing the mug tighter in your hands.

“Because you’re acting like a child.”

“You’re treating me like a child,” you retort quickly, sitting up straighter in your chair.

“Look, darling. Maybe this is just our gap in life experience rearing its head. You’ve got a lot to learn, and sometimes it shows.”

“You know, our age gap only becomes a problem when you make it a problem. You want a sweet, young girlfriend until she acts her age, and then it’s an issue.”

“Because you can be so mature, and then all of a sudden you’re throwing a tantrum like a child,” he fumes, placing his glass down on the mantelpiece and folding his arms over his chest. “You’re young and you’re soft, I’m not oblivious to that. But sometimes you can’t take a joke - or sometimes you miss the joke completely. It’s not my fault if you twist that into me making you feel stupid.”

You put your mug down onto the side table, willing yourself not to get upset. You stand up so you’re no longer below him, still keeping a distance between the two of you. Breathing in deeply, you exhale shakily in an attempt to keep yourself and your composure together.

“You’re acting like my age is something that came up later, Rupert - and that’s not true at all. You knew how old I was when we met. You knew I was significantly younger than you.”

“Yes, I did. Maybe I just wasn’t aware of how often it would come up as a point when we argued.”

He leans against the fireplace wall, sharp features illuminated by the light of the flames. All that can be heard are the sounds of wood crackling and two sets of lungs heaving for breath.

“You’re making me feel like I’m insane,” you burst suddenly, sick of biting your tongue. “You’re acting as if everything is all my fault. When will you take some responsibility, Rupert? When will you hold your hands up and say ‘do you know what - I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done it’, hmm? Why do I always have to apologise?”

“Darling-”

“No, I’m sick of it. One minute, you’re telling me our age gap doesn’t matter because we’re in love and I’m mature and intelligent and everything you need - and the next minute you’re treating me like some sort of virginal lamb that doesn’t know the difference between left and right. Make up your mind, because you’re making me dizzy.”

“If you’re so sick of it, why are we doing this? If you are so sick of it, you know where the door is, darling. I’m not forcing you to stay here.”

That’s all it takes for the tears to start falling, hot and heavy down your cheeks. Your sadness seems to be uncontrollable, stemming from your chest and humming through your veins. You’re surprised you’re not turning blue, a perfect personification of sorrow.

You stand your ground and cry in place, refusing to move to him for comfort. Eventually, he breaks first, unable to watch you sob any longer.

“My darling,” he soothes, striding across the space to wrap his arms around you. “My sweet girl.”

His nicknames only make you cry harder, burying your face in his crisp white dress shirt and undoubtedly getting makeup all over it. He doesn’t care, one hand gripping the back of your neck while the other wraps around your waist to pull you closer.

“That was really mean,” you blubber into his chest. “Do you actually want me to leave?”

“No,” he reassures, rocking you in his arms gently. “No, darling. No. God, that’s the last thing I want. Honest.”

“Why did you say it then?”

Your voice is muffled, face still pressed against him. He smells so familiar and masculine and Rupert that it only makes you cry more.

“I… I don’t know,” he confesses, squeezing you tighter. “I shouldn’t have. You know me, I- I say things I don’t mean when I’m angry.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Your fingers are gripping the back of his shirt, holding on for dear life.

“I know, darling. I know.”

You sniffle as you pull back slightly to look up at him, surprised to see his eyes teary and glistening.

“Do you love me, Rupert? Because, because- if you… if you really wanted me to leave… you’d tell me, wouldn’t you?”

“Sweet girl,” he breathes, cradling your face in his hands. “Of course I love you. The fact you even have to ask breaks my heart. I don’t want to you leave - I love having you here. And god forbid, if something bad did happen between us… we both know we wouldn’t stick around and pretend that this is something it’s not.”

Part of you knows that he’s good at this - saying exactly what you want and need to hear. The rest of you is stupidly relieved, letting his words wash over you like a balm on a scrape.

“I didn’t like it when you laughed at me tonight. One, because it made me feel stupid, and two… because I don’t want people to doubt us. You know what they’re all like. They see the tiniest crack and dig their fingers into it until it’s a gaping wound that they can all gossip about.”

“You’re right, you’re right,” he murmurs as he sweeps his thumbs back and forth across your cheekbones. “I shouldn’t give them any ammunition. I’m sorry, darling. I didn’t realise it would upset you so much. There was no malicious intent on my part, I swear - it was just a joke between friends. You know Bas adores you.”

“I know,” you half chuckle. “He tells me every single time he sees me.”

“Exactly,” Rupert grins, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. “But no one adores you the way I do. I can promise you that.”

You nod, wrapping your arms around his middle and resting your head against his chest. The top few buttons of his shirt are undone, meaning you can feel his warm skin against your cheek, comforting and familiar.

“Rupert?”

He hums, encouraging you to continue.

“Will you stop bringing up my age when we argue? I don’t ever mention that you’re older than me, but you’re so quick to call me young or inexperienced or a baby.”

“Yes, darling. I’m sorry that it seems like a focal point for us - it’s not, I swear.”

“You kissed me.”

“Hmm?”

“You kissed me, that day in the garden. Not the other way around. You made the move first. I’m not some innocent girl chasing after you because I’m naive and too young to know any better.”

“I know that. I kissed you because I thought you were the most magnificent girl I’d ever met. I still do.”

He tightens his arms around you, gently rocking you like a child again.

“I don’t want to argue anymore,” you mumble, sighing deeply.

“Neither do I, darling. We’re finished with the arguing now. Promise.”

Rupert takes half a step back, to give him a better look at you. You still look beautiful, even if you do have mascara running down your cheeks and lipstick smudged across your face.

“I love you,” he murmurs as he leans in to kiss you.

“I love you too,” you manage to mutter against his lips, kissing him back as hard as you can.

He kisses you carefully, methodically, as if he’s worried he’ll spook you and you’ll take off running. He’s keeping you close, hands gripping your hips to plaster your body to his. You tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging the dark locks with a little too much force, which he doesn’t seem to mind.

Rupert walks you both towards the fire, lips never parting from yours. His hand finds the back of your dress, pulling down the zip in one smooth movement. It falls to your feet, kicked to the side in disregard. He sits down in the armchair and pulls you with him so you’re straddling his lap, legs on either side of his hips and arms thrown around his neck.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispers, fingers tracing patterns up and down your bare back.

You press kisses into his neck and down his chest, the hair there tickling your face as you do it. Your hips have slowly started to move against his, both of you out of breath as the stakes get higher and higher.

He undoes the zip on his trousers, smirking when you whimper at his knuckles brushing your wet core. He pulls them down just enough to free himself, not worried about getting completely undressed.

“I want these off,” he instructs, pulling at the waistband of your underwear. “Now, darling.”

You wiggle them down your legs, kicking them off one foot in the direction of your dress. You’re fully naked in his lap, while he’s still wearing his shirt unbuttoned with his trousers halfway down his thighs. You both look debauched, more scandalous than you could ever imagine. You wish for a moment that you had a mirror, desperate to watch the way you need each other.

You take matters into your own hands and line him up, sinking down slowly so you can savour the stretch. It burns just right, the slight ache a welcome intrusion.

“Shit, darling. That’s it. Good girl.”

Tangling your fingers into the back of his hair, you start to wind your hips up and down - gently at first, and then with more vigour. Rupert lets his head loll back into the chair, exposing that gorgeously tanned neck of his. You nip at it with your teeth, grinning when he groans all low and slow.

He cups your tits, squeezing and pinching as he begins to buck his hips to meet yours. You’re determined to do all the work yourself, but he can read your body language like a book, whether you like it or not. He knows you’re getting tired, but will point blank refuse to admit it.

One of his hands slinks between you to rub firm circles onto your clit, both of you moaning when you clench down around him. He can tell you’re almost there, just needing the tiniest push to throw you over the edge.

“There we go, good girl. My good girl. All mine.”

That’s all you need, back arching and legs shaking as you reach your climax. Yours triggers Rupert’s, the most delicious groan leaving his mouth as he comes. He looks like a Greek God, all chiseled and glistening in the firelight.

Burying your head into the crook of his neck, you breathe him and try to calm your pounding heart. You can feel his heart battering against his chest where it’s pressed against yours, bodies tangled together in the armchair.

The two of you catch your breath for a while, revelling in the warmth of the fire and the company of the other. Eventually, Rupert carries you upstairs, murmuring sweet nothings into your ear and stroking your hair as he does it.

I was wrong, earlier, you think as he tucks you into bed and immediately climbs in next to you, plastering himself to your back. No one could love me like Rupert does.

i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again, even if I sound like a broken record…

reblogs are gold dust to writers!! reblog the fics you read and enjoy, and your favourite writers will keep writing them for you!! it really is that simple!! <3

[sanjoongie]

𝒴𝑜𝓊'𝓇𝑒 𝓂𝓎 𝐸𝓃𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽

ღPairing: Older Omega! reader (f) x Younger Alpha! Wooyoung

ღGenre: smut, angst, fluff

ღAu: a/b/o au, werewolf au, supernatural au

ღTrope: age gap, hurt/comfort

ღRated: 18+, MDNI

ღWarnings: guiding bottom dom! reader, inexperienced top sub! wooyoung, breast play, pre-ejaculation, masturbation (f&m), fingering (f), outerjob (rubbing cock against labia), penetrative sex with a condom, cum play, (not pre-negotiated) somnophilia

ღWord Count: 3,793

ღSummary: when your date stands you up, you start to believe that you're unlovable, before a young pup of an alpha decides to try to change your mind

ღAuthor's Note: I had this idea rattling in my skull for a while so I'm glad to finally finish it up for Wooyoung's birthday. To the birthday boy who deserves all the recognition in the world: i hope your heart is full of bursting on this day, so full of love and knowledge that you are loved. Keep your smile bright forever and i hope your laughter knows no bounds.

ღdivider by @cafekitsune

You sat at the bar, your heart sinking beyond repair. You had a date. Or you thought you had. The longer you waited, the more sympathetic the looks you got from the bartender. You were clearly being stood up.

You were old for an omega, you knew that. You were at the cusp of not being able to carry healthy pups. But you still remembered the days when alphas used to fight for the right to even buy you a drink.

You sighed and raised your finger to signal to the bartender that you were ready to square up your bill. Gone were those days you supposed. You would have to mentally pack away your pride and your ego and look towards perhaps the pool of older, lone wolves, who were looking for a quick hump between the sheets and give you a slap on the ass in thanks. You would have to come to terms that you wouldn't find your mate, your other half, any time soon.

“Y-you’re leaving?” A male stuttered behind you.

You turned in your bar seat to see a young male stumble forward. His eyes were intense on yours and you guessed he was an alpha. If he was a beta, he'd be fighting with meeting your gaze. 

“This bar serves me no purpose now,” You said with a sad smile. 

The pup--no he was an alpha, you shouldn't demean him that way--squared his shoulders with determination. “Perhaps I could be of service then.”

You scoffed. “I doubt it.”

The alpha frowned at you. “I could!”

Your face became open with honesty. “I offer you no insult, Alpha--”

“--my name is Wooyoung”

“Wooyoung, then. I came here to meet my date. He must have stood me up when he saw me at the bar. So unless you plan on dragging him here--”

“I can replace your date.”

That stunned you for a moment. You blinked, brain unable to absorb his words. “No, you can't,” You disagreed immediately.

The alpha swallowed but stepped forward confidently. “I'm strong. I've got stamina. I might be young and inexperienced but my enthusiasm can make up for that.”

You raised both of your eyebrows in complete surprise. “I didn't come here for a one night stand.”

Wooyoung took another step closer. His nostrils flared. “You smell ripe, like you're ready to be plucked.”

Maybe you had had too much to drink while you waited for your date, or you had grown more and more glum. “You don't want me, Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung shook his head adamantly. “You're wrong. I was drawn to you the minute you entered here. I sat patiently, waiting to see if you were expecting someone. The minute I saw you squaring up the bill, I came over here.”

You felt confused. What would a young buck with much to prove want with you? You lifted your chin pridefully. “I'll not break you in only for you to leave me for a younger omega. My heart would break. If that's your plan, just please, leave me alone.”

Wooyoung whined in the back of his throat, not in desperation but in sympathy. “I promise, that is not my intention.”

Your eyes scanned Wooyoung’s face. He appeared eager; he was quivering as if he was holding himself back. More importantly, his scent didn't stink of malintent. 

“A trial, then,” You offered. 

Wooyoung nodded. “Anything. Whatever you like.”

You twisted your mouth, still unsure. “You're entirely too agreeable for an alpha, Wooyoung.”

“You smell like crisp apples and sweet wine,” Wooyoung mentioned with a half smile. 

You gasped and immediately sniffed the air but could not catch a special whiff of anything. How is it that Wooyoung seemed to smell your scent, as if you were a mate for him, but you couldn't? You had never heard of this. “Impossible.”

Wooyoung’s smile grew into a grin. “I like a challenge.”

You shook your head slowly. “That does not sound logical, nor does it sound proper. I can't allow you to throw yourself at me if I don't--”

“Please.” Wooyoung commanding bark made your back straighten to respond to an alpha. “I don't think I can let you out of my sight. My wolf is gnawing at my control right now to claim you in this bar as we speak. He's convinced you're ours. Let me--” Wooyoung closed his eyes. He breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth in measured breaths. “Let us show you what we can provide for you.”

You were being honest. You had not come to drink and fuck. You were unable to fuck without emotions, you had come to learn about yourself as you phased out of your early omega years. The need to find a den, to find a mate, to--you whined. You just wanted to be loved.

“Would you risk committing your heart even if there was a chance I couldn’t return it?” You asked him bluntly.

Wooyoung’s tongue played with a freckle on his lip. It seemed more like a nervous tick rather than a seduction technique. “Yes.”

“You can come back to my place then,” You finally agreed. “You can show me what you and your wolf can provide.”

That's how you found yourself sitting on your bed, legs crossed, watching with fond amusement as Wooyoung pulled his shirt off by grabbing it from behind. He stood with his baggy pants hanging off his hips, the band of his underwear peeking from under. His eyes swung as it followed the jiggling of your foot.

“Condoms are in the first drawer,” You said. You jerked your head to the direction you had provided. 

Wooyoung’s eyes moved towards the drawer but came back to your form. “I don't think--”

“I may be old but there's still a risk,” You snapped with some irritability. 

Wooyoung frowned. “You're not in heat.”

“Ah, you sweet summer child,” You sighed. You patted a spot beside you on the bed. “Come here, Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung lopped over, sitting as close to you as he could. His skin burned against yours, arm to arm. 

“You're an alpha. You could trigger my heat. I'd rather have a clean fuck. There's no need to spill all of your seed--”

Wooyoung groaned. “Please, I--”

You placed a hand on Wooyoung’s thigh and it seemed to soothe him. “Show me your restraint. Show me that you can follow my lead. Show me I can trust you with my body and maybe I'll think about trusting you with my heart.”

Wooyoung licked his lips. “I can do that.”

Your hand moved up his leg and your eyes widened when you found that Wooyoung was already hard. He smiled hopefully and you felt your heart flutter from it. You lifted your hand from his cock and cupped his head instead. You licked his lip, asking for entrance and he dropped his jaw immediately. 

You hummed in approval and slanted your mouth over his to taste his mouth. His kisses were sloppy but they were eager and you felt your lower half tighten in response to that eagerness. 

Wooyoung surged forward, his nose bumping awkwardly against your cheek, but still his hand found your hair as you let him guide you to lie down. His other hand gripped your breast harshly and you hissed at the pain. 

“No, Wooyoung.” Wooyoung watched you with wide-eyed interest as your hand moved over his own. You squeezed his hand and released. “Gently, please.”

Wooyoung cocked his head. “But--”

You shook his head and his mouth snapped shut. “Pain can add to pleasure. But the pleasure has to be there first.”

Wooyoung was either inexperienced or no one had bothered to tell him he was doing it wrong, with his sharp jaw and pretty doe eyes. Still, he picked things up quickly, you noted with pride. In no time at all, he had you moaning as he licked one nipple and played a dull fingernail around the areola of your other, your blouse partway unbuttoned and the bra pushed up. You watched his eyes sharpen with mischief and his teeth gently bite down on your pert nipple. 

You pressed your lips inwards and nodded in approval. “Just like that, Woo--young!” You drew out the last syllable of his name as he pulled your nipple outwards with his teeth. 

Wooyoung whimpered at your praise and thrusted his pelvis against your leg. “I’m--I need--oh god--”

Wooyoung let out the most delicious, delectable, delightful cry as he came in his pants after a few thrusts. He whimpered against your breast, rubbing his cheek against it, as he rode out his high and then sighed. 

“Oh, Wooyoung,” You said his name in sympathy. 

You untangled yourself from Wooyoung’s heavy body and got up to wet a washcloth. You pulled down his pants and underwear and helped clean him up. Wooyoung lazily licked his lips and watched with hooded eyes as you took care of him. The entire time his cock did not soften and it made you excited even though he had come prematurely.  

“I can go again,” Wooyoung assured you.

You chuckled under your breath. “I can see that.” You reached over for the previously mentioned condom and ripped it open with help from your teeth.

“Let--” Wooyoung hissed as you gripped the base of his cock. “Let me!” he insisted. 

You held the tip of the condom between your thumb and forefinger, frozen in the moment from his alpha command. “What’s wrong, Wooyoung? Afraid you’ll come again when I put the condom on you?”

Wooyoung whined in the back of his throat. “Don’t tease me!”

You wiggled the condom until Wooyoung put out his hand so that you could drop it. “As you wish, Alpha.”

Wooyoung rolled the condom down his cock and you nodded in approval. The pretty blue against his dark skin was very complimenting. You ditched your tight pleather skirt and underwear, keeping on the see-through blouse and black bra that Wooyoung had not managed to get you to ditch previously. You moved to your hands and knees on your bed and turned to look over your shoulder. “I’m ready.”

“You want me to mount you from behind?” Wooyoung whined. “That's the mating position. With a condom?”

You shook your head. Your instincts were really messing with you. You turned around, placing your ass on the sheets and propped yourself up with your arms. Your legs were spread, knees bent and inviting. “Show me what you’ve got, Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung shuffled until he knelt between your legs. He aimed his cockhead to your entrance and looked at you expectantly from under his brow. 

“Rub against me first, Woo,” You instructed him. 

Wooyoung pushed his lips inwards, nodding and began to rock himself against your lower lips. Your hips jerked at the feeling of his cock against your clit and Wooyoung smiled in satisfaction. “Like that?” He asked.

“Mhmm,” you hummed in confirmation. “Just like that.”

Once you started to clench around nothing, however, as Wooyoung got a rhythm going, the young alpha began to whine. “Please, can I fuck you?” he asked. 

You tried really hard to suppress your laughter in order to not hurt his pride but he really was fucking cute like this. “Push into me, go ahead,” you said with a jerk of your chin. 

You both groaned as Wooyoung filled you up full tilt. You wrapped your arms and your legs around Wooyoung to bring him closer to your body. With little to no room to move, Wooyoung’s hips jerked as he attempted to fuck you. You closed your eyes and rocked your hips with his movements, enjoying some friction of Wooyoung’s pelvis against yours. 

“Oh yes Wooyoung feels good,” You moaned, enjoying the feel of your climax build. “You’re such a good boy.”

“Fuck,” Wooyoung whined at your praise and then his hips stilled inside you again. 

You let him ride his climax, feeling his cock jerking inside of you as he spurted inside of the condom. “ ‘snot fair,” he pouted, mouthing at your neck. “You squeeze me too good.”

After discarding the condom, you patted his shoulder in assurance. “Come on, pup, I’ll show you what to do to make me feel good.”

That’s how Wooyoung ended up crouched between your legs, watching adamantly as you stroke your finger over your clit. He drank in your pace, how you begin by circling but then press much harder once your clit is swollen. He licked his lips, as if he wanted to eat you out, but you decided that was next level to what he was capable of currently. 

“Don’t,” Wooyoung put his hand on top of yours and your fingers halted at his soft alpha bark. “I want to be the one.”

You switched positions, Wooyoung’s arms wrapped around you so that you could show him exactly how to curl his fingers inside of you. He was eager to learn still and would catch on quite quickly, enough to make you surprised at how soon enough, you were moaning at the build up of your climax once again. 

“Yeah, right there Wooyoung, yeah yeah YEAH!” Your hips lift up and soon your climax washed through your nerves, lighting them up with pleasure. 

You can feel Wooyoung rutting against you from behind as you come down from your high. “Wanna feel you clench around my cock. Please,” He added belatedly. 

You turned around in his grasp and pushed him into your bed. “You’re going to ride me?” He squeaked in surprise. 

“Have you not let anyone before?” You ask with a raised eyebrow.

Wooyoung shook his head. “No, mostly everyone just lays there waiting for me to fuck them.”

You snorted. “Well this omega knows what she wants.”

Another condom was donned, this one pink. You couldn't help but admire the way Wooyoung was still hard, lying on his back on your bed. His eyes studied you and you couldn't help but feel good at being the object of his desire, tonight. 

This time, while straddling his hips, you work him into you, enjoying the foreplay of his tip in and out of you until your body adjusts to the intrusion. You don’t let yourself rest with Wooyoung fully inside of you, however. You start to wave your body above him. 

You grab Wooyoung’s hands and he squeezes gently, thumbs flicking over your nipples. You lock your hands over his, enjoying the feel of his hands on you. The view of his hands on you isn’t so bad either. 

At this angle, the tip of Wooyoung had the perfect opportunity to rub against your g-spot. Once you started to feel the urge for more pleasure, you got on the balls of your feet and started to bounce. You braced your weight against Wooyoung’s stomach and instructed him to flex his pelvis muscles. The minute he did, you gasped as this allowed some far greater pleasure. 

“You gotta be good for me, sweet pup,” You coached Wooyoung as his hands gripped your thighs. “You gotta hold back.”

Wooyoung’s face screwed up, and he breathed deeply out of his nose. “But it feels so good!”

You slowed your pace, if only to lean down and run a hand over his face to reassure him. “It’ll feel so much better when I’m clenching around you. You want me to come first this time, right? You wanna make your omega come?”

Wooyoung whined, leaning into your touch. “I wanna feel you come around my cock.”

You swallowed hard, hearing those words from his lips felt like sin. “You can do it, Woo, you can hold back for me.”

Wooyoung’s noises of pleasure and frustration filled the room. It sounded like he wanted to come so badly. He whimpered and growled, but he held back as you picked up your pace, bouncing on his flexed pelvic muscles. 

“Al-almost there, Woo--young!” You gasped out, feeling your climax gain some leeway.

This time Wooyoung mirrored the position he took you the first time, locking his arms behind your back, keeping you chest to chest, as he fucked up into your wet pussy. Your moans come out in vibrated ‘yeah’s’ until finally your climax bursts through you. Wooyoung gasped, feeling your pussy walls clench around him and then he was emptying out into the condom once again. 

“That…was…perfect…Wooyoung,” You panted, head tucked in between his shoulder and his neck.

After countless rounds of sex, your climax finally took you out. You fell asleep to the feeling of Wooyoung inside of you and the content smile on your face said it all. 

You’re not sure how long you sleep but you are sure what woke you up: Wooyoung’s whining. You felt his rough tongue around your nipple and smiled to yourself. The alpha was simply insatiable and you cannot find yourself upset that he was using your body for his pleasure once again. 

Your body bounced with the consistency of jerking off. Wooyoung had come three times and still he was reaching for a forth with his hand. You were starting to think you could get used to this. Wooyoung hissed your name, his body quivering against you, and you realize that he’s come now. 

You opened your mouth to tease him gently but are surprised when you feel his fingers prod your entrance. He pushed into you seamlessly, pumping two fingers in and out. Your hips react to the pleasure, thrusting upwards.

“That’s it Sweetheart, take my fucking fingers, god you’re so responsive, even when you’re asleep,” Wooyoung moaned. 

Wooyoung took his time, using his fingers to get you off. Your mouth makes a silent ‘o’ and you come to the tender lovemaking of your new lover. Perhaps you could get used to a man looking to pleasure you despite not receiving something from you in return. 

“That’s it. Be a good omega and take all my cum inside of you.”

Your eyes snapped open. Wooyoung’s face is covered in a satisfied smirk. You looked down to your open legs and find that Wooyoung’s fingers are covered in a white substance and that is not your own. 

“Wooyoung!” You shouted, scaring Wooyoung out of his bliss. 

Wooyoung’s eyes widened, realization hitting him that you had consistently told him to wear a condom that night. “I-I’m sorry, my instincts came over me, I couldn't help myself!”

You pulled your sheet over your body and pulled away from Wooyoung. “I want you to leave my home immediately.”

Wooyoung’s lips wobbled precociously. “I’m sorry, please!”

“I told you, you could enact my heat! I don’t want to bring pups in this world with a casual lover, are you fucking kidding me, Wooyoung?” You felt hot tears fall down your face and you dash them away angrily. “I knew I should have never taken in such an inexperienced alpha. Leave. Now. I don’t ever want to see you again.”

“No,” Wooyoung said in the most broken-hearted voice you had ever heard. “You still smell like crisp apples and sweet wine to me.”

“I don’t care!” You yelled. “Go!”

The next couple days are filled with anxiety and sorrow. You were terrified of getting pregnant from Wooyoung fingerfucking you with his cum. The sorrow came from the wolf song that you heard outside your place day and night. Wooyoung was lamenting that you banished him from your life. You had warned him about risking his heart. He had smelled the scent of his mate and you had not. This was turning out exactly as you had feared.

Finally, when the moon was but a sliver in the sky, you had enough. The pregnancy scare had passed, you did not get put into heat, so you came out to confront Wooyoung.

The minute you stepped out your door, there was Wooyoung. His eyes are sunken and dull. He looks like he’s been through hell and back. “Sweetheart,” he whined, gripping the hem of his shirt tightly between white-knuckled fists. 

“Wooyoung, this has got to stop!” You insisted.

“Please, I want to apologize and make things right,” Wooyoung said with a desperate tone. “I can’t bear to be far away from you, don’t send me away.”

“I’m not pregnant. You didn’t ignite my heat. Your responsibility is done.” You wave your hand away as if to dismiss the alpha. 

“I can be a good boy!” Wooyoung cried out, snatching up both your hands. “I know I can do it.”

You try to pull your hands back but Wooyoung isn’t relenting. “You’re too young, Woo, you can’t control yourself. And that’s fine. Just not with me.”

Wooyoung stomped his foot in frustration. “I can't help it if all my instincts howl to fill you full of my cum and make you mine,” he snarled.

You both stared at each other, surprised at Wooyoung’s outburst. You cautiously sniffed the air, confused as to how Wooyoung recognized you as mate and not… you swallowed nervously. 

Wooyoung hung his head dejectedly in response to your silence. “I’m sorry. I’ll stop bothering you.”

“You smell like cotton candy and campfires,” You spilled out suddenly. 

Wooyoung froze, as if he was afraid to disturb your words. “You smell me now?”

“Do you still smell me?” You wondered. 

“Your scent is permanently etched into my olfactory sense,” Wooyoung growled lowly and then he whined. 

“Well, I guess, perhaps--”

Whatever you had been stumbling through was cut off as Wooyoung gripped your head and slammed his mouth against yours. His kiss was so eager, full of tongue and teeth, that you felt yourself melt into him. Why was he like this? It was as if he was made for you, like he was your--

“Wait, Wooyoung, you don’t want me!” You attempted to protest one more time, your insecurities bleeding out. You didn’t want someone like him to be chained to you. “I’m not--”

“You're my enough,” Wooyoung panted, pressing his forehead to yours. “Whatever you’re about to say, I don’t care. You’re what I need.”

The last bit of resistance you had for this bond dissolved. Your heart seemed to burst from the acknowledgement. And your wolf peaked out from behind where you kept her. With Wooyoung’s stamina, you could have pups growing in weeks, perhaps even--

Wooyoung whimpered. “We need to get inside or I’m going to ravage you in front of the woods.”

You pressed your legs together. God, your body wanted him so badly. “Can you make it that far?” You teased. “As I recall--”

Wooyoung snatched up your hand and began to drag you back to your place. “I’m gonna make you mine over every inch of your home. And then twice over again,” He swore.

At least you knew that was a promise he could keep.

[tinylilacbun]

I feel like it would be so funny qhen the pogues find out jj already got a new job, and then find out is a job babysitting for kooks. I feel like everyone in the room would be speechless at first and pope would be like "babysit to what, a dog?" "no?? she's three. very cute by the way-and wait, is that even a thing?" "oh, poor kid🤦🏿‍♂️" and altought they all suport each other, they're all kiiind of insecure reguarding jj's new "awesome" plan, because, well, they don't think jj is actually the most patient and responsible to be around kids. I mean, how did he even got this job? How could someone look at jj and think "wow, he's so good with babies"

but then they would all change their minds on the first time jj brings reader to hang out with them, and they witness JJ turn into a role different version of himself - helping reader do basic things like braiding her hair or eat her veggies, and even nap with her laying on his chest in the couch while the pogues are all staring in... awe and confusion? lmao I would be too

Wait, can I request something with this concept?

I can so imagine them being like "Nah, you gotta be joking." And then JJ pulls out his phone showing all the silly photos he has of you both together, being all smug about it too and the pogues are completely baffled looking at him like: 😦

They're asking him various questions, like how's the pay? How the hell he managed to get a babysitter job, knowing this boy can't even take care of himself for all we know. How kooks trust JJ freaking maybank with their kid??

The pogues are concerned that their friend is being threatened to say that your parents are actually really nice and pay him well, so well that he doesn't want to bring it up.

Obviously they want proof of that and see it for themselves, so JJ asks your parents if he could take his friends with him next time he babysits before anything else and of course your parents said yes, why wouldn't they? They trust him.

And so the pogues finally meet the reason JJ has been rather busy lately as you come running from your room the second you hear his voice, crashing into his awaiting arms.

"Jayj! Missed you so much." You giggle as JJ stands up with you clinging to him, your legs dangling in the air.

"I was here two days ago." He reminds you with a chuckle and you pout.

"Still missed you!"

Then you notice his friends standing behind him, a smile growing on each of their faces. JJ sets you back down and you go to hide behind his legs, suddenly shy from all the new people as you whisper out a small 'hi'.

Kie and Sarah coo at how adorable you are, just wanting to pinch your cheeks. John B, Pope, and Cleo just give you a small wave, which you of course return.

"You gotta give her some time to warm up, and don't touch her until she says it's okay." JJ warns them, his hand ruffling your hair.

Some time later the others are actually impressed by how attentive JJ is with you, always answering when you ask something no matter how silly it is, playing with you what you want, even getting you to eat the nasty veggies.

Now you all are sprawled on the big sofa in the living room, your favorite movie playing on the tv but you're already napping on JJ's chest as he draws shapes on your back.

"I have to be honest, I really thought you were kidding us with this whole thing but damn JJ you really know what you're doing." John says, watching how gentle the blonde is with you, he's never seen his best friend being this soft with anyone, much less a kook.

JJ shushes him, pressing a finger to his lips. "Princess is getting her beauty sleep, don't you dare disrupt that, bro."

Taglist

For everything:

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse

@mythixmagic @iris-xoxo-juhu @mylettterstoyou @sunf1ower16 @sweetstars-posts @rafecameronsloverrrrr

For JJ:

@chiaraanatra @chimindity @flora-eva

[xthedevilscircusx]

Lucifer cursed under his breath, but he can't exactly be mad at Alastor. This isn't his fault. This is the gluttony ring. He already knew there might be side effects from eating and staying here for too long. Despite his slight annoyance when he got a good look at Alastor again, he begins to laugh. Damn, he would have taken a picture, but he knows the other would just distort it. It's a shame because if he tells Charlie about this, he doubts she will ever believe him.

"Fine. Whatever floats your boat." Lucifer can already tell he would regret it, but he wasn't going to fight with someone who is clearly out of their mind.

So with that, the king bought pretty much all the damn beignets which he had to carry out in a huge box. All the while the imp is dragged along through the whole interaction.

When he got Alastor his damn pastries he went back for the hellhound and evidence that was left behind. He used the same chains to bound the imp and hound together so he can easily escort them back to Pride via guards.

"Damn it, I really was hoping it wouldn't be one of mine. What a bummer!" Bee is standing outside talking to Lucifer, while his Radio Demon is eating---still.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, it was an imp to. Most likely one of mine, but I'm going to have to take the hellhound with me to Pride, I'm sure you understand why."

Bee sighed, "Yeah no need to explain. He's yours." She peeked over Lucifer's shoulder to Alastor. "uuuh is he going to be alright?"

Lucifer shook his head, "Not sure if 'alright' is the best word to use, but once we get back to Pride, he should be normal again. Sinners apparently are just as affected here as any hellborn."

[manhattanstrawberry]

𝙎𝙊𝙐𝙋 ━━𝙎. 𝙂𝙚𝙩𝙤

Synopsis: Suguru wakes up on a late Saturday evening and the soup on the stove can’t compare to the warmth he feels when you’re near

Tags: fluff!! intimacy, established relationship, pet names (baby, sweetheart)

Word count: 1k

Authors note: I love you Suguru Geto. Just a short Drabble I did in like 10 minutes because I really wanted to write for him. I hope you enjoy!!

Art credits: 521jie

He thinks he must’ve been a caring, loved king in his past life or possibly he fed every little duck in the city’s pond, small pieces of bread so that they barely went hungry ever again or perhaps a cat that brought nothing but happiness to a kind old woman. He had to have been one of the best people on earth in his past life because it was the only solid reason he could come up with to be blessed with the sight he can't tear his eyes away from right now. 

It’s simple, the sounds of crashing waves of a beach are nowhere to be heard, if you look to your right outside the large windows there's no Eiffel tower and if you were to look down the Trevi fountain is certainly not down below. 

It’s just you, in his shirt, wandering around the kitchen doing whatever it is that you're doing. Your upper thigh graces him every now and then when your body quickly turns, to find something in the kitchen. He’s got to get dressed soon and get his day started, preferably not at 5 pm on a Saturday evening but you had insisted he slept in this weekend— “catch up on his beauty sleep” he remembered you saying two nights before. You two ended up staying in bed for the day but his body must've been chasing rest as he slept through most of the day, the sun already setting. 

You're caught up in making "lunch", hoping to give him a taste of warmth, as you smell the flavors seeping into the air from the darling pumpkin dutch oven pot he bought for you a year ago. It was either the pumpkin or the basic red one and he just had to indulge in your love for decorated items around the apartment. 

He too can smell the flavors of lunch but all of his senses are taken by you. All he can see is you, he can still smell the lotion you apply right after your shower every night from the bed sheets he just unraveled from, he can hear the tap of your feet as you move across the kitchen and the small hums that leave you as you finally find the ingredients you're looking for, he can almost feel the soft skin of your exposed legs and arms that he kisses every night and right now he's craving the sweet taste of your lips he could never forget and always seek for.

He can feel the cool air on his skin, his shirt missing from his chest, decorating yours, perhaps you couldn't feel the chill due to the heat coming from the stove. The harsh sound of the wind along with the snow outside is drowned out by the closed windows, and he can hear the quiet jazz from the speakers hooked up to the television if he listens just hard enough. You concentrate on the pot on the stove, stirring with a wooden spoon and then bringing it up to your lips to have a taste. He watches from the archway, a little jealous of the spoon but he stays still just to indulge in the sight a little longer. 

You’re beautiful, bewitching and he almost feels homesick just standing a few feet away from you.  

He can almost feel himself getting warm just from the sight of you and the way you rub your eyes as the steam rises to your face. 

“Suguru, how long have you been standing there?” you placed the cover over the pot as a small smile settles on your face “Did you rest well?” 

He moves from the wall in slow strides to meet you as you walk over to him, he nods before taking you in his arms. He holds your waist bringing you close as his head falls to your shoulder. You settle your head on to his shoulder as he drapes himself on top of you holding you tighter. Your fingers run against his scalp and down the length of his hair, it’s soft and perfect, a little too much like him. He hums at the feeling of your hands in his hair and straightens up to look at you, a tired smile on his face as he places a kiss on your nose and then to your forehead. You giggle and the sound goes into his ears and straight to his heart.

He can feel the weight of his love for you coursing through his body and he wants nothing more than to take you back to bed and hold you even closer that the concept of space doesn't exist anymore. His hand rests on the back of your head, “What are you cooking sweetheart?” the other hand holding your waist close to him. 

“Soup.” 

He hums, feeling warmer from your arms around his waist and the idea of soup in his stomach. 

“Are you cold,” his hand glides to your cheek, his thumb caressing your warm skin. You lean into his touch moving even closer to him, the fabric of your—his shirt pressed against his bare torso. 

“Not really,” You sigh. “I felt warm over by the stove and then I came over to you, I still feel warm. You must've been cold though, I’m sorry I didnt turn on the heater.” You frowned at him. 

“It’s alright, I feel warm with you right here.” His arm tightened around your waist. 

“Put on a sweater or atleast a shirt, baby.” You tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. You let your hand travel down his neck and to his shoulder rubbing it up and down slowly to provide some heat to his exposed skin. 

“Hm, if I remember correctly, someone took it.” He looked to the side feigning sadness. You lightly slapped his shoulder before going back to your attempt of warming him up. He looked back at your face, his eyes, arms and heart filled with you as he warmly smiled. 

He’s just so endearing and sweet and he’s yours. 

“Get a sweater, okay? The soup should be finished right now.” You begin to pull away, but he takes a step to hold on to you a little longer. Your hand rests on his bicep as his face moves a little closer to yours. 

“I’ll put something on.” He kisses your cheek before moving closer to your lips, “I just can’t stand the idea of having soup before I taste you.” 

Divider creds: @saradika

© manhattanstrawberry please do not plagiarize or repost my work

[icarusflewsworld]

Rhysand & Cassian & Azriel X OC

Hello, here is the chapter 10 of a fanfiction on the world of Acotar where our three favorite Batboys are the mates of a single woman.

I hope you like it! Thank you for reading.

Thanks again to everyone who commented. You brightened my days, you are the best thank you. ❤️❤️

! Don't forget to read the previous chapters ! : Here

Happy reading!

Chapitre 10

“It’s been three fucking days, Rhys,” Azriel exploded, standing up from behind the bushes where they were hiding. He looked down at his two brothers kneeling beside him, his breathing shaky and rapid. He tried to calm down but nothing worked. He never could. Ever since he had met Luxiana, he had been angry all the time, angry because fear was devouring him. He needed to be near her to know she was safe, but the whole world seemed to want to get between her and him.

Rhysand blew out a breath as he closed his eyes, used to his brothers' mood swings during those last weeks, but he had to say that these last few days were even worse. Even for him. He also had so much more trouble concentrating. He knew it was because it had been three weeks since they had returned from the Archerons and that, consequently, Luxiana was with Tamlin during all this time. 

He wasn't sleeping anymore. Cassian wasn't eating anymore and Azriel was screaming and fighting all the time. They were losing their minds. But they were so scared. So scared that something would happen to their soulmate. So many bad things could happen to her that it was driving the Illyrians completely crazy with worry.

They hadn't heard from her and hadn't been able to take any news anyway. Firstly so as not to arouse Tamlin's suspicions but also because they were busy elsewhere. Busy finding a reliable way to capture the Suriel. They had even completely neglected the other matters concerning the King of Hybern, they weren't even looking for the second part of the book when it was more than vital to find it. No, as soon as they got back, they had thrown themselves body and soul into the search for the Suriel. Even Cassian had read countless books to try to find a way to capture the creature.

They had ended up, after two weeks of intensive searching, going to a dark and gloomy forest to the west with the aim of setting a trap for the Suriel. They had read in some books that the creature had a taste for freshly dead chickens.

They had been hiding in the bushes for three days, hoping the Suriel would fall into their traps. And the number of chickens they had to kill, and which now lay in a mountain in front of them, was astronomical. But the Suriel was still not there.

Cassian stood up in turn, sighing. "He's right Rhys, it's not working. We're wasting our time. We have to find another solution. We have no more time to waste away from her. I... I can't anymore." He looked sad and tired. The dark circles under his eyes made him look puny and he had lost a little weight.

They all three looked equally bad anyway.

Rhys stood up too, his eyes downcast. They were right. They were so pitiful. But what else could they do? It was a dead-end solution. He needed to know if this woman was their soulmate but at the same time it seemed so true that it seemed wrong to have to ask. Besides, in the meantime she was at Tamlin's, she might be in danger and that was killing him. "Alright," he breathed with all his might, "let's find another solution."

Cassian nodded and Azriel gritted his teeth. He had been gritting his teeth for weeks anyway. “Let’s go,” he spat nastily but involuntarily.

Rhysand took a step forward, moving closer to his brothers so he could teleport them with him. But suddenly, a furtive shadow danced at the corners of their pupils, making them turn their heads to the side.

They almost jumped, their eyes widening in surprise. There, perched on a huge fallen and half-rotten tree, only a few steps away from them, was a pale, livid creature. The Suriel. It had just appeared and sat on the trunk, as if nothing had happened. The creature crossed its legs as it raised one of its thin hands, playing with its long fingers and making appear with a strange magic a white teacup more ordinary than anything there that was here.

The three Illyrians gaped, even less surprised when the Suriel took a sip of his steaming hot tea. What the hell was going on? They glanced at their trap and frowned when they saw it still intact. The Suriel had come on his own?

“You had questions for me?” the Suriel spoke in a distant voice, as if from another dimension. He took another sip of his drink, savoring the flavor of the Illyrians’ surprise in front of him.

“You…” Rhysand began, searching for words, still not believing his eyes. He glanced at his brothers who looked as confused as he did. He took a step forward, towards the pale creature. “You surrendered on your own?”

The creature nodded and raised his teacup into the air. "You had questions," he repeated as his only reply.

Cassian frowned. He was going to ask the Suriel why he was here. Why he had come of his own free will, but the omniscient creature already knew his question. It answered him without Azriel even having to speak. "Because you have questions to ask me, the answers to which are extremely important."

Azriel narrowed his eyes. He was disturbed. His shadows didn't even seem to detect the creature and the fact that it surrendered itself was more than suspicious. It was hiding something and he didn't have time for secrets. Not when his soulmate was in danger. Not when Luxiana was possibly his soulmate and that he had already wasted too much time away from her. "Why didn't you surrender before then? Three days ago when we arrived, for example, or even before if you know everything. We've been trying to meet you for weeks."

“Because it wasn’t the right time, now it is. Now, you are ready to hear the answers to your questions.” The creature stared at them with a blank, creepy gaze that made Cassian shiver. The Suriel didn’t seem to feel any emotion, but when he looked at the three Faes in front of him, feelings stirred in his chest. Their relationship with that girl would determine the future of the world. “Ask your questions.”

It was at that moment that the three Illyrians realized. The Suriel was in front of them. It didn't matter why or how he had gotten there. He was there. That meant they were going to have the answers to their questions. The questions they had been asking themselves for weeks.

A ball of anxiety crushed their stomachs in one violent blow, burning their eyes, making their breaths cut and their muscles tremble. It might all be over very quickly. She might not be their soulmate and then it would all be done. But damn, they were so afraid of that. Of losing this woman. And if she was their soulmate… Yes, it would fill them with joy, of course, but also with anxiety.

A silence fell. A silence that none of the three Illyrians wanted to break. They were too afraid of the answers they might get. Normally, they could have been brave but today, this fear was overwhelming. After all, they didn't only have their fear and anxiety to deal with but those of their two brothers as well.

Cassian looked down. He was tired. He and his brothers were warriors. They had lived through wars and battles. Seen and suffer through horrors but they had never been so afraid and they had never felt so cowardly as they did now. It wasn't him. It wasn't them. This had to end. He needed to know.

Azriel froze, with all his muscles tense. He was terrified, he felt almost in danger of death. Then suddenly, he thought of Luxiana, he saw her smiling face in his mind and smelled her vanilla scent even though she wasn't there. He relaxed. He had no doubts anyway. He knew who she was to him. She was his soulmate and that was all that mattered. He just needed her. And then, he could accept sharing her with his brothers if it meant he could have her for himself a little.

Rhysand had to ask the question. He had to, he knew it. It had to come from him. He was Cassian and Azriel's lord. He had to help them through their trials. He had to be braver and more courageous than they were. But the truth was, if he were truly brave and courageous, he wouldn't be here. He would have left Luxiana far away from them, far away from him. Far away from the danger they are for her. But he was selfish. Terrified and selfish. He wanted her. "Is Luxiana our soulmate?" He spoke, softly, trembling, almost inaudibly, but the Suriel didn't really need to hear the question.

The Suriel was just waiting for him to ask it, because that would mean they were ready to hear the answer. And now, they were. "Yes," he answered simply.

A weight lifted from the shoulders of the three Illyrians before crashing down on them again, making them capsize and stumble, as if the earth beneath their feet had trembled. Rhysand fell to his knees, his gaze fixed straight ahead. Cassian let himself fall buttocks to the ground in the same state as Rhysand. Azriel tensed his muscles so much that he gained a few centimeters.

Rhysand couldn't breathe anymore but at the same time he took in deep breaths of fresh air that filled his lungs. So many conflicting feelings were overwhelming him. His eyes began to sparkle. She was his soulmate. Luxiana was truly his soulmate. He began to smile, his heart beating painfully in his chest. Then his joy faded. She was his soulmate and she was with Tamlin, his worst enemy. She was his soulmate and she was human. But he had met his soulmate!

Cassian's legs couldn't hold the weight of the enormity that had fallen on him. This sexy, intelligent and characterful woman was really his soulmate? He was so lucky. But at the same time he felt cursed by the cauldron. His wings fell limply on his back, he no longer had the strength to make them stand up straight. A barbed wire surrounded his throat. His soulmate was a human. She was fragile. She only had a few precious days before leaving him... He couldn't bear it. His eyes began to burn. He had to take advantage of the time he still had with her.

Azriel felt empty. Completely and abysmally empty. He had experienced so much in the last few weeks and it had all stopped suddenly. He didn't realize it. He didn't understand. It wasn't possible. There were three of them. He couldn't accept sharing his soulmate with his brothers. "It's impossible. She can't be our true mate. Not for all three of us. We can't have multiple soulmates."

He thought out loud but the Suriel had only been waiting for this opportunity. And the intrigued eyes of Cassian and Rhysand who had looked up at him were just waiting for an answer. "It is very rare, so rare that the history of the world has only seen this phenomenon occur three times. Three small times in billions of years of existence."

Azriel shook his head, still not believing it. "But how? Why?"

The Suriel took a slow sip of tea, waiting to fully capture the attention of the three Illyrians. "Sometimes, when the history of the world is at one of its turning points, fate takes the side of a part. Unfortunately, it cannot drastically influence the course of history but it can rig it. Help its favored side win by giving it advantages and facilities."

Cassian stood up slowly, reeling, just as confused as his two brothers. "I don't understand," he said, feeling like none of this had to do with them or Luxiana.

The Suriel already knew what the Illyrien with the red siphons was going to say, he smiled. "Some people are born to influence the history of the world, such as Luxiana. And fate took your side by binding you to her."

Rhysand sank further towards the ground, somehow stopping himself from falling completely onto the damp earth. Each of the Suriel's words made his realization and what was happening grow ever larger.

“Why the three of us?” Azriel cried, his eyes burning, his fists clenched. There had to be a reason. There had to be a reason why fate had decided that he would not be enough for his soulmate on his own.

"Because destiny is not the only entity to decide. Because other factors that come into decision have decided to give a balance to everything. And that's what they did with Luxiana. A being so capable of great things cannot subsidize for eternity. That's why she is so fragile. So strong but so fragile. It is the balance of nature that destiny wanted to thwart a little by binding you to her. To protect her. To save her so that she can influence the world as she is supposed to do."

Azriel realized suddenly. Like a hammer blow that fell on him, breaking him into lots of little pieces. His legs gave away and he joined the ground with Rhysand, the air no longer even penetrating his throat that was too tight.

The three Illyrians, trembling until then, understood. They finally understood. They had been bound to Luxiana by destiny to love her, cherish her and protect her. To allow her to change the course of history.

It necessarily implied that she would be in danger and that terrified them but it also implied that everything made sense. That she was so important to the world that destiny had decided to bind her to the three strongest warriors in this country. Their soul mate. It was now a certainty. She was their soul mate. She was their soul mate!

Cassian laughed. He laughed with all his might, bending in two to hold his stomach with both hands. The weight of worry and fear he had felt all those days had disappeared. He laughed with relief, then joy, then excitement. He was going to have to fight to protect his soulmate and damn it, he would do it with pleasure. He knew how to fight and he was even very good at it. His soulmate would be fine because he would protect her with all his might. She was his soulmate and he was going to be able to go get her, he was going to be able to spend time with her. His heart swelled in his chest and his dark circles almost disappeared by themselves. He had found his soulmate and she was incredible. She was perfect. And she was his soulmate.

Rhysand began to smile too, lightening up just as much as Cassian. Everything was explained. Everything. And at the same time, everything that the Suriel had just told them was so unimportant. So unimportant when he was now certain that he had met his soul mate. He was able to take a deep breath and although his heart was still a little tight with apprehension and fear, it didn't matter. It didn't matter because he would face the difficulties with his soul mate by his side. A tear ran down his cheek. He almost felt like he was floating in the air thinking about Luxiana and her scent. Already imagining the life they were going to have together. At four. That was why destiny had made him so close to his brothers. He no longer had any doubts about anything now. He was going to do everything to protect his soul mate. Everything. And he intended to enjoy his days with her.

Azriel closed his eyes and took a deep breath. In fact, he took several. He was terrified. He had to resign himself for the well-being of his soulmate, to share her with his brothers. He had to do it for her to be happy and to protect her. In truth, the more he thought about it, the more it chased away the enormous weight from his body. The more he thought about Luxiana loving her brothers, the calmer he became. As long as she was happy, that was what mattered. That was what he wanted more than anything. For her to be happy and safe. Especially since he was going to need his brothers' help to protect his clumsy soulmate. His Luxiana. The Suriel had said that nature had balanced things out by making Luxiana fragile, and he was so afraid of not being good at the task of protecting her. He was so afraid of failing. But at the same time, he began to vibrate. To vibrate with excitement. He had then deserved to meet his soulmate and even if destiny punished him by giving him a fragile woman, he would do penance and protect her with all his soul. She was human but he was not going to let her be hurt.

The Suriel suddenly laughed, startling the three Illyrians. "Is she?" he asked, taking a sip of his tea.

The three brothers slowly calmed down, and looked at each other in confusion. What was he talking about? No one had spoken and none of them had said anything.

"You should go," the Suriel said, interrupting their train of thought. "Go to her, because she's not going to affect the history if you're not by her side, and you won't be by her side if she falls in love with someone else."

The three of them froze, jumping up, suddenly looking cold and serious. They had just learned that Luxiana was indeed their soulmate. They had just learned that they could finally possess her and that nothing was holding them back anymore but now, the Suriel was telling them that she could fall in love with someone else.

"A redhead for example, one of the sons high lords. She seems to like him much more than she should."

“Lucien?” Azriel cried out, realizing who the Suriel was talking about. His heart began to pound wildly in his chest and his fists clenched. He should have killed that bastard when he had the chance. How dare he even think about stealing his soulmate?

"I'm going to crush that bastard's head!" Cassian spat, clenching his fists in front of him, imagining the redhead's face in them. He swore that if it was too late and his soulmate had started loving someone else, he would kill him to take his place. All his evil instincts were awakening under this jealousy. But now that he knew that Luxaina was his soulmate, he had no reason to hold them back because after all, she was his.

Rhysand felt a mixture of emotions. Fear, stress, but also joy and excitement. He had gotten a kind of green light from the Suriel to love this woman and that was all he had been waiting for. He felt like he had lived only for her. Only to meet her and although that was maybe a little bit of the case, it made him happy. She seemed so worth it. He was suddenly so eager to get to know her. She was his soulmate for goodness sake, the woman of his life. He had no reason to keep her away from him anymore, even less now that the Suriel had told him he had to protect her. "Let's go get her," he wanted to look up at the Suriel to thank him but in a cloud of strange magic, he disappeared.

They had no more time to waste. All three of them took a deep breath, calming themselves down, regaining a cool head, mentally preparing themselves, thinking of a plan. Then they teleported to Tamlin's. They were going to get their soulmate back.

[mudandmire]

Azris one-shot

listen. listenlistenlisten I don't know what this is, I just thought it would be nice to see Eris drool over some thick, meaty Azriel. Not my intention to make him sound like a well-cooked steak but alas.

I wrote this in a very short amount of time so if there's typos or issues my bad but also I'm trying to get better at *gestures vaguely* not caring so much that it stops me from posting :D

(be warned there is smut, semi-graphic but I'm still virgin-esque at this so not fully)

*drops this and runs*

...

Eris had never truly thought of it—like looking at the sun straight on, it would probably burn him to do so. But that didn't mean he didn't see. Search the differences between two bodies and try and imagine where his hands would go on the soft curves of a waistline. The blush pink of kissed cheeks and satin skin framed by long, silken locks of hair. He could like it, could find the beauty in it, of course. But it was more like looking at flowers, the glimmer of sunlight on the surface of a lake. Such beauty was expected, known, and only to be looked at and admired—nothing to touch, certainly nothing to desire.

This body was different in all forms.

The camps had melded at some point, Eris had ended up somewhere different this time and honestly he was too stuck in his head to find his way back. The inky blue black of the night court wear became more common, Eris realized distantly he was somewhere in or close to the night court camp. Yet still, it wasn't enough to send him back-pedaling to his own camp, his own tent.

A male had come crashing to the earth, and Eris had seen skin. It was only once he had shut his agape mouth with a snap that he recognized the cobalt blaze of stones on the Illyrians chest and hands. Azriel—because surely he was forever cursed to only know that name, and so intimately that he knows the taste of his blood in his mouth yet doesn't know the shape the tattoo on his chest takes.

Azriel was yelling, tendons stark against his skin, sweat and a streak of blood across his forehead and jaw. His leathers were torn, from throat to nearly the waistline of his pants, hanging in ribbons around his body as he shucked off the arm of the male he was helping stagger to a medic. Something about the anger, so present it seemed to rattle his whole frame till those exposed parts of his body was jolting with it. Eris knew in some way that Illyrians are carved differently than autumn fae, even more so than high fae, yet it doesn't stop his mouth from going dry at the full look at just how different.

It's meat—he thinks it half-crazed. A healthy thickness to Azriel's chest that brings a curve to his pectorals, flexing with his movements as he shoves away one of the males, still shouting. Eris follows the path easily down, like his own trail of droplets of water or sweat or whatever remains staining his skin that glossy bronze. The weight of those muscles continues further, bunching at his abdomen which heaves and flexes and the hollow of his navel catches the light—

Shit. Cauldron boil him there are no words strong enough to describe the pang of lust that strikes him blind right between the eyes. It must've traveled all the way down the line of his spine because suddenly Eris can't breathe, can't look away, can't do anything but stay stuck, standing and feeling for the first time what he thinks is the white hot flame of desire flickering at the base of his spine. Some tease, some gentle prodding of 'you see me now?'

It's not like he didn't know. Eris had dragged Azriel's unconscious body enough times to know how impossibly heavy he is. It doesn't matter—seeing it, even partially bared to him like this, may just be the thing to send him to his knees.

He wants it.

Cauldron damn him to Hel, he wants.

And he's never been good at it, getting a hand around himself and reaching some pinnacle, some kind of precipice of relief so grand it's all the males his age could whisper and talk about. But he thinks, a little wild, a little starved, he thinks if he had the full weight of that body between his thighs. If he had it, warm with blood and flush with heat, maybe keeping the stripe of dried blood on his stubbled jaw—he thinks he could do it. Find the kind of release the soldiers in his army seem to find easily between the legs of a female.

And that's—that's the problem. That's him, in the depths of the problem.

It's amazing how many realizations he comes to within the span of what can be no longer than a couple heart beats. But in one moment Eris is watching the way Azriel's powerful body moves, muscles flexing under the bronze glint of his skin, and the next they're meeting eyes. Eris's body had gone from bubbling with a new kind of heat to icy with dread. The kind he only knows in window-less cells, iron chains.

Azriel meets his eyes, even from paces away, and Eris curses to himself as he feels his stomach swoop. Trying to dip closer to where that flame had rested even though it's hardly anything more than a dimming ember now. His eyes narrow, and Eris just hopes he can't see any of the lingering tinges of lust in his own gaze. That everything he felt had been kept in his head away from the environment outside.

For a moment he thinks he has succeeded in maintaining that careless facade, Azriel's own gaze darkening and his mouth tightening with a scowl. But then something happens, faster than Eris can understand, and he watches through what feels like fog as something crosses the Illyrian's face. His head tips, predatory and watchful, and begins to walk over.

Eris breathes out harshly, refusing to admit that it comes out trembling, that there's a part of him shaking deep behind his rib cage in fear that Azriel saw. Saw what Eris tried to hide and is coming to make an example out of him.

Eris draws himself up, chin pointed and looking down his nose as Azriel gets closer.

"Can I help you?"

Azriel doesn't say anything, the silence unnerving, as he just watches Eris from under the shadow of his lashes.

"Behind you." He says, Eris has to work to ignore the swell of his pectorals in front of him.

He swallows hard, off-balance, "I—pardon?"

"Tent, behind you, it's empty."

Eris starts to catch on—and it may not make a lot of sense, he may be welcoming his own murder, but there's something in the way Azriel's looking at him that brings the white hot flame back. The bubbles in his stomach, a clench at the base of his spine.

-

He's the first one in, the first one to cross the threshold of the tent but Azriel's not that far behind.

It's a different world when he steps through, maybe just a single moment in that world. A moment where Eris is allowed to look, to want.

And he wants.

-

Azriel's big, from up close and far away and right between his thighs the breadth of his shoulders is enough to send a tender ache through the muscles of his legs and the joints of his hips. It's messy from the start—trying to stay quiet and Eris coming to the mortifying realization that he's miserably bad at that. So Azriel keeps his mouth on his, or slides his fingers between his lips when he asks for lubricant, or presses his whole palm down across his mouth when he slides in.

All of him—Eris feels the length of him against the base of his spine and shivers hard—inside, pressed close, gods how can a body be so hot and not burn to ashes? And from there it's a chase. Eris keeps his teeth pinched in the meat of Azriel's scarred palm, and Azriel keeps his noises buried in the crook of his sweat-damp neck. He's all muscle, and there's no soft dip of a waist to cradle. There's no satin skin or delicate blush. Azriel is heavy, his stomach rolls over itself when his hips thrust back in, skin and muscle and Eris swears he can feel the flex of it all on his own neglected arousal.

His hands are—gods his hands—they're rough and worn, yet every now and then one will leave their position branding his hips with petal-shaped bruises and come up to cradle the back of his head. They run gentle over the back of his thigh when he pries him apart further—asking for him to open his body more, thighs to hip to where he's split open and raw at the center of his being.

The scars themselves are finger-prints.

These aren't the hands of anyone, of any male. Eris knows now, as the heave of their chests gets dire; the air hot and wet between their mouths, the constant, hard push of his cock right up into that one place that sets his belly on fire—he knows he'll forever remember this touch. Know these palms blind he swears he's been branded by the lightning-shaped ridges of them.

There's a moment where Eris loses sight, fingers locked in silken raven hair, as his hips move in harder, faster, his eyes rolling back to the point white sparks dance behind them. It's the end, some primal part of him knows what's coming even if he's never reached pleasure like this, and yet he digs in further with his nails, his heels as if keeping Azriel close will stave off the inevitable.

It does the opposite, Azriel's grunting low in his throat, animalistic and wanting and Eris sighs a soft moan when he feels the indentation of teeth at the hinge of his jaw. The noises their bodies make is nearly enough to send him off, but he's hanging there, just at the edge, just waiting.

Azriel's biceps flex, reaching under Eris's thighs and pulling them out and up so the backs of his knees rest in the crooks of his arms. He's folded, bared even further than he possibly thought he could be—feeling the roll of his own skin against himself and wondering when it got so wet. Gods does it do it, though. Azriel keeps himself closer than ever, hot breath against his cheek as Eris claws at him, a wail muffled behind his own hand, and feels the break through his body.

The angle, the pressure against that one perfect spot, Azriel's warmth and weight drawing so much heat from him, into him, everything snaps in one moment.

Azriel is there through it all, when Eris futilely arches up in some form of welcoming the lightning branding his spine, and when he comes back down. Still coiled tight under Azriel's working hips, though they falter in pace again, and again, and once more before Azriel curls over Eris's sweat-soaked, shaking body like the protective limbs of a tree.

The weight of his heaving stomach pressing against Eris's own makes him swallow hard, carding a trembling hand through Azriel's tangled locks, wondering if the scent of sex will stick to him like sunlight or if he'll only smell like he would after a battle, a sparring match. For a moment it's easy, gentle, breathing together and trying to find the balance they had completely lost once they crossed the threshold of the tent. Eris doesn't mind, the company is nice, even the ache of the stretch which has grown into a dull throb is pleasant.

It's the after he's dreading. The unsticking of their bodies, because Eris is warm here, and he knows deep down when Azriel pries himself away something vital will be ripped from him.

But it's a quick tryst in an empty tent, they both have things to do, and Azriel still has dried blood flaking on his cheeks. Eris supposes he can keep the memory of it for himself, just a little while.

...

(can you tell I didn't know how to end it)

um so like Hi. It's been a minute I blame college and my abysmal time management. First azris thing I've written in m o n t h s and man am I rusty but wow it feels good to get these two freaks back on my page 😎

[zepskies]

Ahaha that is a great gif @lamentationsofalonelypotato! Diving into the rest of your lovely comments...

I mean, I'm sad that it's coming to a close, but I'm hoping that in the future there might be a fic with a little Elijah (or a little Jude) running around. 😏

I was also sad to get to the end, but tbh I still had ideas even after writing the ending. So you might be on to something there with a little Elijah... 😘

I love the little details about him and Benny pranking each other, but it really just made me sad because Dean left them 😭 But at the same time they are opening up with one another and sharing their life stories and I couldn't be happier.

It's bittersweet, isn't it? 🥲 On the one hand, bonding. On the other hand, it's a memory of everything Dean's left behind.

Again I stan a strong woman and Mila is just so stinking badass that I love her so much. Also yes girl, PROTECT 👏🏻 YOUR👏🏻 MAN👏🏻

Hahaa I love her too!! 🥰 100% She's gotta protect her man, even if she's not totally sure he should be her man yet. 😝

Love that you're referencing the honorable choice title here, and showing that Dean is a man of honor and that he did make a choice that maybe messed up his life, but he cared more about doing the right thing. And I think you did a great job of titling the series and the chapters in general. Each one corresponds beautifully to the themes in the chapters so you should be proud!

Aw thank you so much!! I try my best to create meaningful story titles and chapter titles, and making room for those moments that reflect the major themes of the story. "Choice" is of course the biggest theme in this story, as it could be for every story--characters making decisions that push the story forward and help define their character.

I know that something dramatic is about to happen and that I shouldn't be thinking about this right now, but I just love height difference so much😭. When a guy is bigger than his girl oh wow it sends me to the moon. I think it's so cute and goodness the cuddles must be so fun.

LOL I love it!! I absolutely love the height difference thing too. 😏 I'd imagine the spooning is the best!

Again, devastating moment, but... SHE SAID HIS NAME FOR THE FIRST TIME! And the running her fingers through his hair?!?!?!?!

She said his name for the first time!! That moment after the river was probably my favorite scene to write, since it's the first time they truly explore their connection. 🥰

I'm cackling. I love Mila so much. The sass, the teasing. Oh goodness they're so cute and I am so scared that there's going to be a last minute perilous situation and somebody is gonna die.

Ahaha don't be too scared! I'm all about happy endings, and I'm so glad you're loving their dynamic. 💜

Also him respecting her when she said that she doesn't have sex before marriage is just so HONORABLE AND WORTHY and why can't there be men that respectful all the time? Dean Winchester is really just ruining other men for me everywhere. 😭

Ughh right?? Dean is just a Good Man, no matter how much he doesn't see it in himself sometimes.

So... the face squishing is a family trait I see. But man, Dean standing there while a random lady just squishing his face while his eyes are wide in horror is so funny to me.

Ahaha I'm so glad you caught that! It was such a funny visual to me too, and I felt like it was something that would happen to Dean. 😂

This bit is so good. It's so true and honest and a little heart breaking, but it's such a wonderful thing for them to talk about, because Mila knows that he's thrown away his life to save hers. And it's so wonderful that he's able to give her that confirmation and reassurance that he doesn't regret the choice he made. Because it was the right choice, the -AHEM- Honorable Choice lol 😂

Aww thank you. There are a lot of bittersweet moments in this, and this is one of them. But like you said, I felt it was important for them to have this moment where she acknowledges what he's done for her, as well as gauging if he holds any resentment. Of course, Dean doesn't regret his choice. 😉

Oh this chapter was so good my sweet friend! I'm a little sad to see that it's ending, but it was so wonderfully written and neither of them died. I was really scared about that 😅. AND it ended with a wedding (sort of?). Now little Elijah can run around the camp helping his mother and learn how to break in horses with his father. ❤️

Thank you very, very much my wonderful friend!! 😭 I'm too much of a hopeless romantic to have either Dean or Mila die. I researched into wedding customs for the Lakota people at this time, and apparently until Christianity reached their culture, they didn't have formal "weddings" in the sense that we know them today. It was more of, as long as the man got the blessing of the woman's father (and gave a nice gift), the couple would pair off and from then on live together as husband and wife.

Safe to say, Dean didn't get the chance to go about that custom lol, but there are other cultural elements I would want to explore in future chapters--along with them having a kid!! I LOVE the idea of Dean finding his role in the tribe by helping take care of/break in the horses. 💕💕

Thank you again so much for reading!

The Honorable Choice - Part 3

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC 

Summary: June 1872. Captain Dean Winchester of the U.S. Cavalry is tasked with one job: break a wild mustang. He just didn’t expect the woman who infiltrates his camp, intent on freeing her tribe’s horse.

AN: The last chapter! Hold on, it's about to get bumpy...

Disclaimer: I got inspired after a recent rewatch of Spirit: The Stallion of the Cimarron (literally a perfect movie), as well as having Yellowstone in the back of my brain. I’ve done extensive research for this one, both on the American Indian Lakota tribe, and on American history during this time in the late 1800s (AKA: the Old West, during the American Indian Wars and the Sioux Wars). Of course, one of my main goals is to avoid inaccuracies, both historical and cultural.

**Pronunciation guide at the end!

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: @jacklesversebingo Western AU

Song Inspo: The Spirit Soundtrack

Word Count: 5.7K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Protective Dean, survival situations, smut (mutual masturbation, fingering, and more), angst, and fluff.

🐎 Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

🎙️ Listen to the podfic version here!

Part 3: Worthy

They travel together for two more days. Dean isn’t really a talkative man, but inevitably, he finds himself speaking to fill the comfortable stretches of quiet plodding across the grasslands.

He tells her about growing up on his family’s farm, where his father was firm but fair, and a larger-than-life presence when Sam and Dean were kids. His mother though, she was the only one who could ever go toe to toe with John Winchester and win.

“She tamed him,” Mila remarks with a smile. Dean’s lips quirk in response.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” he chuckles, “but he knew he couldn’t pull a whole lot of shit with Mom. She’s a real pistol when she’s gotta be.”

Talking about them makes his heart heavy and sobers his mood, so he deflects with other stories, other chapters of his life. 

He talks about going through basic training alongside Benny Lafitte. As privates, Dean pranked his friend by filling his lumpy old pillow with raw eggs and chicken feathers. In retaliation, Benny swapped Dean’s morning coffee with actual dirt and hot water. Their boyish games escalated until they were nearly kicked out of the military.

Dean managed to smooth things over though. He’s always had a way of charming people, even the gruff Sergeant Major, Bobby Singer.

Mila admits that she and her cousin Šóta used to sneak out of the village when they were younger. He taught her how to climb trees, how to fight and protect herself, and how to ride a horse astride, like a man. He was the only one who ever encouraged her to have the “free mind” her mother dreamed about.

The more she confides in him, her eyes sparking with life and her hands gesticulating along with her words, the more Dean listens.  

On the third day, it’s nearing mid-afternoon when Dean slows Baby to a stop. After miles and miles of forest and grassland covered, they’ve finally approached a large, wide river. Mila stops beside him.

“My tribe lives beyond the river,” she says, “but the current is strong now.”

Dean looks over at her. A question he hasn’t wanted to ask crops back up. He feels that now is the time to voice it.

“Yeah, about that…I’m thinking your tribe doesn’t take very well to outsiders,” he says. “White men in particular.”

Mila presses her lips together. He can tell she’s been thinking the same thing, but she turns to him with a determined set to her features.

“I will protect you,” she says.

Dean frowns. He doesn’t like the sound of that. On one hand, it warms him that she seems to really mean it. On the other hand, he doesn’t want to know what it’ll take for her to protect him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks.

She turns her face away and doesn’t seem to want to answer at first.

“Mila…”

“The Chief is my uncle,” she says at last. “He will listen to me.”

Dean blinks. Well, that changes things…maybe.

He’s still not convinced, but at this point, he really doesn’t have many options. It’s either take his chances with her tribe, or become a vagabond. He’s not sure how long he could survive in wilds of the West alone, especially while trying to dodge military patrols.

In the past three days, it’s taken Dean all that time to come to terms with a simple fact. He’ll likely never see his brother again, or his mother. It’s a pain that cuts into him deeply, down to his bones. It stings behind his eyes.

But if he only has two choices, then he at least wants to make sure Mila gets home safely…even if that means he won’t be.

He’s come this far. If his career is worth the price of what he feels is right, then his life is worth it too.

With that decision made, Dean expels a long, somewhat faltering breath. He locks away the rest of his uncertainty, his apprehension, and even his grief. He hides deep inside, where she won’t see it. 

“All right, the current doesn’t look too bad over here,” he says, pointing to farther north along the river. “The horses can make it.”

Mila nods in agreement. She still looks uneasy, though she tries to hide it too. She ventures ahead into the river. Dean follows close behind.

The water is shallow at first, but it all too quickly gets deeper. The horses plod over the river stones and vegetation under the surface, and the humans are led deeper, until they’re submerged into the water up to their waists.

It’s good that Mila rides that giant mustang; if she were on a mare, like Dean, she’d already be sunk up to her shoulders. Baby’s a big girl, to be sure, but Mila is nearly a foot shorter than him, with a smaller frame. He watches her carefully as she makes her way ahead of him.

That’s why he’s able to act fast when Mato slips, dunking Mila under the water. She gasps and tries to cling onto him, but the current is fierce. It pushes Mato down the river no matter how much he scrambles and kicks at the water, braying wildly in distress.

Shit! Dean tugs sharply at Baby’s reigns and strives to catch up to them. He grabs Mato’s reigns and pulls and pulls, until he and Baby are able to drag him to the other side of the river where he can get a foothold with his hooves.

Mila is starting to fall off his back. She struggles to cling on while the river pushes at her, with her wet hair falling in her eyes. Dean leans back as far as he can to try and pull her up.

“It’s okay, I’ve gotcha,” he calls out, even though his heart hammers with alarm.

She reaches out for his hand in turn. Just as his fingers begin to close over hers, a wave from the current crashes into her. A short scream tears from her throat after she loses her grip on Mato’s neck. Without her weight, he’s able to pull himself back up onto the bank along with Baby.

Damn it! Gut-wrenching alarm spears Dean into action. He leaps down from Baby and removes his gloves, his hat, and his uniform jacket, so he can dive into the water. Thank God he’s a strong swimmer.

Mila seems to be too. She carves through the water against the current the best she can and tries to keep her head above the waves, but Dean can see it’s a losing battle. He manages to grab hold of her arm, and then wraps an arm around her waist to keep her close. Both of them work together to try and cling to any passing rock or low-hanging vine as the current sweeps them out toward an ultimate end.

A waterfall.

Of course. Goddamn it. Dean doesn’t know how steep it is on the other side, and he doesn’t want to know. All he’s trying to do is keep himself and Mila above the water.

She hooks her hand around a sharp rock. It bites into her hand, making her cry out, but she clings to it for all she’s worth. She holds onto Dean just as tightly, even though the current wants to take him. She tries to pull him closer, close enough for him to get a hold on the rock as well.

This time, it’s Dean who loses his footing. The rocks slip beneath the soles of his feet when he attempts to gain some leverage.

A shout of surprise escapes from him when he fails, and it gets swallowed up by water rushing down his throat.

“Dean!” Mila yells, for the first time using his name. The last thing he registers is the fear in her eyes—afraid for him.

The river takes him over the edge of the abyss, and he falls.

He never expected that he would get to open his eyes again, let alone to the sight that greets him. Mila’s familiar face, framed by the dark, drying waves of her hair, is bright with firelight. It dances in orange-gold across her features. Her eyes are warm like rich molasses when she looks down and finds him awake.

She smiles in relief.

He realizes that he’s lying on soft grass with his head pillowed in her lap. She’s taken off his boots and half of his white undershirt; she tore one of his sleeves to wrap around a mercifully shallow gash in his shoulder.

The horses are drinking from the river nearby, with a pile of apples split between them. There’s a fish roasted over the fire, but all Dean cares about is the way her fingers are running through his hair. She sings a soft song under her breath while she passes her other hand over his injured arm without touching it.

He doesn’t understand the words, but he thinks she might be trying to heal him. He’s heard plenty of stories about the Sioux people, most he’s taken with a grain of salt. He does remember Cas saying that their healers are different from doctors.  

Dean’s never given their hoodoo much thought, but right about now, he hopes it works.

“Mornin’,” he croaks.

Mila’s relieved face becomes touched with amusement.

“It’s night,” she says. “You slept for a long time.”

Dean wants to sit up and take an inventory of his injuries, but he can’t make his body move just yet. He’s too tired and bruised. He also likes being in her arms. He likes her fingers in his hair, now moving to his cheek. He sighs through his nose in contentment as her thumb drifts over his overgrown stubble. 

“Thank you,” she says. Emotion is thick in her voice.

Dean meets her eyes again, and he smiles. He raises the back of his hand to touch her smooth cheek, gently. He lets his fingers glide across her tan skin, down the column of her neck. Her breath hitches.

She takes his calloused hand in her slender one. Her long hair falls like a curtain over her shoulder, almost like it’s shielding them from whatever is left to come for them beyond the forest. Dean wraps an ebony strand around his finger, just to feel it fall loosely again.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” he says.

Mila graces him with another smile from her lips. He wants to know what they taste like.

“I guess you are pretty, for a White Man,” she says teasingly.

Her fingers trace his brow, his jawline, even the tip of his chin. She seems to be avoiding his plush mouth, even though her gaze keeps dropping there. Dean pretends to frown.

“Sweetheart, that’s not the way you talk about a man,” he says.

Her brows raise. “No?”

“Handsome. Strong. Toothsome, if you will,” he says, enjoying the way she begins to blush. “That’s what you wanna call a man.”

“Toothsome. I don’t know this word,” she admits. “Am I supposed to eat you?”

Dean resists the urge to say the first incorrigible thing that pops into his head. Instead, his body shakes with laughter.

It’s difficult at first, all his muscles pulling at him in protest, but he raises himself into a sitting position. He cups Mila’s cheek, dragging his thumb across her lower lip. Her lashes are dark and long. They move when she looks up at him. He knows the look in her eyes, wanting, desiring, but also unsure of what she should allow him.

Dean leans in slowly, giving her time to decide.

She tilts her face up to his. He noses at her cheek, his eyes falling closed along with hers.

He finds her lips with his own on instinct and feeling alone. Soft and tender movements, testing, asking.

She answers him. Her fingers tangle in the front of his tattered shirt as her lips begin to move against his. Dean wraps an arm around her waist and gathers her against his chest. His other hand glides down her arm, down her side and along every soft curve. Her clothes are still damp, and so are his.

“It’ll be faster to dry our clothes if we’re not wearing ‘em,” Dean rumbles. His voice is deep with desire. He presses kisses along the side of her jaw, behind her ear, down her neck and shoulder. He earns her pleased hum, her heavier breaths, and her fingers once again in his hair.

“I can’t,” she gasps. She says something in her native tongue, too fast for Dean to even register. He slows down so he can meet her eyes.

“What was that?” he asks. Her face falls, and she starts to trip over her words.

“I am not…how you say, married. I have to be…”

Dean smiles ruefully, sliding a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Chaste?” he offers. She nods, her brows furrowed. Her grip on his shirt tightens.

“Yes,” she says. “In the eyes of my people, it is…”

“I get it,” Dean says. When she still seems conflicted, he presses a kiss to her forehead. 

“Really, I understand,” he says.

His problem is that he stares into her eyes too long, and at her kiss-swollen lips. He dives back in for another taste.

This time, he’s a little less gentlemanly than he promised. His tongue sweeps along her lower lip, begging entrance. She makes a sound of surprise, but she opens up to him. Her gentle hands slide up his chest to hold his face, and her thumbs stroke his cheeks. He holds one of her wrists to keep her there as his tongue dances with hers. She tastes like the river, and like salty tears.

Had she cried for him? How long did she sit with his body, waiting to see if he would wake up?

Despite those worrying thoughts, Dean knows this feels right. More right than he’s ever felt.

It’s harder than he might’ve imagined, but he still pulls away, before he won’t be able to stop himself. Mila pants for breath. She seems to feel she should let him go, but also doesn’t show any sign of wanting to. Smiling, Dean caresses her cheek one more time before he turns to the fish she roasted.

“This looks good,” he says, clearing his throat. “What kinda fish is this?”

With a sigh, she attempts to steady herself and moves to join him by the fire.

That night, Mila dreams.

She dreams of wings, white and beautiful. She hears the cry of an eagle before she sees his great wingspan take off in flight. He soon finds his mate, and they dance together in the sky. 

When she wakes, the fire has gone out and it’s still dark in the night. It takes her a moment to realize that she’s safe. Finally safe.

And she’s lying securely in Dean’s arms.

She’s no longer conflicted when she stares up at his face.

She will bring him home to her tribe, and she will explain. If they still don’t welcome him, then she prays for the strength to keep to her honor. Because now, she begins to realize…

Her heart has already chosen.

“Kimmímila, what have you done?” her uncle asks in the language of their people.

He is Tahatan, Chief of their tribe.

Mila’s father, Chatan, and her cousin Šóta have tied Dean Winchester to a post in the center of the Chief’s large tipi. Dean kneels with his head bowed in respect, even though he keeps sneaking looks at Mila to try and gauge what’s happening. He doesn’t understand a word of any of it.

“You’ve brought this outsider into our village, this White Man!” Tahatan shouts, his voice deep and resounding.

Mila steps forward, despite her mother’s embarrassment and her father trying to grab her shoulder. For the second time in her life, she defies her father for what she believes is right. The first was to rescue a member of their tribe—because even a horse’s spirit should not be broken by greed.

“Uncle, I’ve told you the story, though you don’t want to believe it,” she says. “Dean Winchester saved me when he could have killed me, or worse. He defied his own people. He is dead to his own people, for me, and because of me. You may think they lack all honor, but this man is different.”

She looks over at Dean, and he meets her gaze. He wears an anxious frown as he looks between her and the chief, but she has a feeling that his fear is for her, not for himself.

She kneels beside him, then looks up at her uncle with all the stubbornness she’s ever possessed in her life. She feels it’s led her to exactly this moment.

“And we are one,” she says. Nerves trill up her spine as she says it. She predicts the way shock falls over the room. The way her father curses out loud, angry. The way her mother covers her mouth in dismay. The way the Chief takes a step back, tilting his head at his niece.

“You would take it that far?” he asks.

Her face doesn’t change. “It’s already done.”

Tahatan is beside himself, both angry and perplexed. He goes back to his chair of wicker and wood that lies centered in the room. He drops heavily into it. After a long while, in which he thinks in silence…he releases a heavy sigh. He gestures for his brother and his son to untie Dean. The men do so, but they don’t let him go free. They force him to stand and bring him forward to kneel again before the Chief.

“Dean Winchester,” Tahatan says.

“Yes, sir,” Dean replies.

“You prove yourself to be a man with honor,” he says in English. “Kimmímila has chosen you. She claims you have chosen her in return. Do you deny this?”

Dean glances over at her. She bites the inside of her lip, a bit worried about how he’ll react. She’s not sure he completely understands what Tahatan is telling him, but he nods, regardless.

“No, sir. I don’t deny it,” Dean says.

“Then, you will be allowed to stay, and live among us,” Tahatan declares. "We will see for ourselves what you are. We will see if you are worthy."

Dean gives a nod, crossed with a bow of some kind. He obviously isn’t sure of what he’s supposed to do, but he does say thank you. Mila wraps her hands around his uninjured arm and helps him to his feet. She smiles at him to let him know that the worst is over. He blows out a breath in relief.

“Is that it?” he whispers. He expected more of a thrashing, if he’s honest.

“Almost,” she replies. The two of them stop short before her father, Chatan.

Dean straightens up and holds out his hand. “Sir.”

Chatan glances down at the white hand extended toward him. His gaze raises back up to Dean. 

He grunts in acknowledgement, but he turns on his heels and storms out of the tipi. Her mother comes forward next. She examines Dean from all angles. She takes his face in her hand, somewhat squishing his cheeks, so she can look deeply into his startled eyes.

She seems satisfied by what she finds, and she lets him go. Afterward, she takes Mila’s hand and heaves a deep sigh.

She kisses her daughter’s hand and says nothing else, leaving them to find her husband and calm him down.

Dean turns to Mila with a look that says, please tell me that’s it.

She smiles more genuinely.

“Come,” she says.

She leads him by the hand out of the Chief’s tipi and through the village. Dean takes in the rows of other tall, cone-like structures covered in buffalo skin, as well as all the faces that turn to stare at him in a mix of curiosity, wariness, and even fear. Some of them whisper to each other, taking their children by the hand and keeping them close.

Dean’s still on guard himself, even when Mila takes him to a smaller tipi. It’s been closed up for a while now, by the look of it. Weeds have grown right outside the entrance. 

“This one’s yours?” Dean asks.

She pauses, giving him another small smile. “Ours.”

Dean raises a brow. Ours. Really?

She opens the flap in the front and beckons him inside. There’s still enough daylight to shine through the outer lining. Inside, his gaze flits over the old pile of stones in the center for heating, clothes folded in the corner, some cooking pots and utensils, paintings on wood and clay, and a couple of beaded decorations. Buffalo skin bedding is laid out on the other side with a couple of soft looking furs. 

Son of a gun. Dean doesn’t even blink as he processes it all. He’s in a damn tipi. This is really about to become his life.

Shaking his head a little, he forces himself to focus on Mila. She’s his anchor, and she seems to sense that he’s reeling. She guides him to sit beside her on the bedding, holding his hands in hers. After a moment, he reaches up to tuck a curling strand of hair behind her ear.

“You didn’t get in too much trouble because of me, did you?” he asks.

She shakes her head. “No. My father and uncle are very similar. Strong to anger, but it is quick to run out. At least with me.”

Dean thinks he understands. Short fuse, quick fizzle.

“There is just…one thing,” Mila says. Her eyes fall away from his, like she’s embarrassed. He squeezes her hands.

“What?” he asks, his brows furrowing. It gets her to look at him again, but she seems worried to tell him.

“To convince my uncle to let you stay, I told them that we…” she trails, trying to find the right words in English. “That we are married.”

Dean’s brows raise high. His heart trips up faster. Okay, “ours” makes a lot more sense now.

“I am sorry,” she says quietly. “I didn’t want you hurt—”

“Sweetheart,” Dean says, cupping her cheek. Even with the hammering of his heart, he grins. “I’m pretty sure that’s where this was going anyway.”

In fact, this is a best-case scenario, as far as he’s concerned. He leans in to kiss her, and it doesn’t take long at all for her to sigh in relief, melting against him.

“We’re married, huh?” he asks. “No ceremony? No white dress?”

“We are bonded,” she replies, nodding as she meets every one of his kisses. “Or, we will be.”

She tugs him closer and revels in the feeling of his hands beginning to roam her body, sliding down her waist, her hips and thighs.

“Guess that means we have to seal the deal,” he grins. His lips drift away from hers to burn a familiar path across her cheek. He takes to nibbling her ear, making her flinch and laugh as it tickles.

“Seal-the-deal. What does that mean?” she asks.

Dean chuckles lowly in her ear. “Oh, I think you know.”

He guides her onto her back, over the comfortable mess of furs. He wants to take his time exploring every inch of soft, tan skin, but he first sweeps her hair away from her eyes, the back of his hand brushing against her cheek. She smiles up at him softly.

“Do you regret?” she whispers, reaching up to touch his chin with two slender fingers. “Do you regret helping me?”

Dean considers her question. He knows he’ll carry his family in his heart until the day he dies. His brother, his mother, the memory of his father. Benny and Cas, even Jack, and so many others.

It’s already a heavy burden, but he had always been prepared to lose his life on the battlefield, in service of his country. At least this way, he gains a new life. 

“No. Never did,” Dean replies. “Not even once.”

He bows his head toward hers, and he proves it to her. His lips capture hers, fueled by passion and wanting. Mila’s hands slide over his shoulders and down his back. Maybe without her realizing it, she implores him to let go of the weight heaped on his shoulders.

When he begins to bunch up the hem of her dress, she sits up to help guide his hands. Her quickening breaths mesh with his as the first layer of clothing drops beside the bedding. His tattered shirt joins her dress, along with pants and shoes and boots, until all that’s left is skin against warm, bare skin. He lays on his side right beside her and explores wherever she lets him begin.  

“Beautiful,” Dean murmurs, as his lips follow the column of her neck, down between her breasts. Her breaths rise to meet him, especially when he begins to toy with a dark, pebbled nipple. Her fingers slip through his hair, and his name falls from her lips. He palms one breast while kissing and gently teasing the other, exploring sensitive flesh and grazing her sensitive fleshwith his teeth.

“No man’s ever touched you?” he asks, despite knowing the answer.

She shakes her head, her fingers gripping his hair tighter as his lips and tongue move against her skin.

“No,” Mila gasps a reply. Her hand slides down the back of his neck, and the more he teases her, her nails soon create faint red lines down his back, her thighs squeezing together. She feels a throbbing ache at the very center of her. Despite her inexperience with men, she knows what it means, and she knows what she wants.

Dean’s mouth drags away from her breast. He pulls back so he can meet her eyes. A smile curves his lips, and he takes one of her hands from his shoulders. 

“Have you ever touched yourself?” he asks. He guides her hand down her body, brushing over a wet, sensitive nipple, down her stomach, and between her legs. This time, Mila nods in answer. She stares up at Dean with eyes like molten honey. He leans in to kiss her neck.

“Show me,” he says.

She shudders at the depths in his voice. It increases the flood of wetness she already feels, even before she slips two fingers between the folds of her sex. She gathers some of that slick and circles it over the source of her pleasure, the small nub above her entrance.

Dean takes his hardened length in his hand. While she writhes by her own hand, he drinks her in with his eyes. A soft groan falls from his lips as he pumps himself a few times, sliding a thumb across the weeping head of his cock.

He can’t be a spectator for long though. He nips tantalizingly at her neck, creating a zing of added sensation across her skin. She whimpers, though she tries to stifle it, her knee bending further.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Dean says. “Let me hear you.”

He releases himself and replaces her hand with his own. He slips two long fingers inside her drenched entrance, earning a gasping moan from her. She latches onto his shoulders and buries her face into his neck. She whispers fervent things he doesn’t understand, but it only spurs him on.

His thumb circles insistently over her clit as his fingers pulse inside her. Her hips buck a needy rhythm against his hand, until her thighs begin to shake, and her inner walls squeeze even tighter around his fingers.

“Shit, that’s it, baby,” he pants gruffly against her cheek. “Let go for me.”

Warmth snaps and floods from her throbbing core, and she cries out near his ear, her nails biting into his skin. Her release coats his fingers.

Mila drops her head back against the furs underneath her. Her chest rises and falls quickly while she tries to catch her breath, her eyes tightly shut. Dean surprises her with a soft kiss.

“Mila,” he prods. He wants to see her eyes again, so pretty and wanton when she comes. He veers away from her lips to kiss her cheek, and then the other side of her neck. “Let me see you, sweetheart.”

She huffs a small laugh. Opening her eyes, she gestures to her bare body. “This is not enough?”

Dean’s lips tug at a smile. He shakes his head. “As a matter of fact, no.”

He shifts over her, finding his place between the cradle of her thighs. His elbows come to rest on either side of her head. She feels trapped by his body, even as she welcomes his weight and the feeling of his arousal, long and heavy and hard, trapped between their bodies. This man fills every corner of her world in this moment.

“If I’m your husband now, that means I get all of you,” he says with a grin. She gazes up at him, both in blushing amusement and affection.

“All of me,” Mila repeats. She takes his face in her hands and brings him closer, until her lips are a whisper from his. “Then I want all of you.” 

Dean chuckles. “You sure about that?”

She smiles in satisfaction, and her lips claim him this time. One kiss turns into many, each one mounting in passion and desire. Dean groans into her when she begins to touch him. Her hands are soft, but direct in their seeking; they caress his shoulders, run down his chest and stomach, and then, more tentatively explore the now painfully hard length of him pressing against her.

He makes a grateful sound of pleasure when her hand wraps around his cock, squeezing gently. His fingers bury themselves in her hair.

“I want all of you,” she says, this time a plea and a demand all at once as she strokes him.

Dean nods in agreement. He’s come this far. He can do that for her too.

He spreads her thighs a bit wider and encourages her to adjust the angle of her hips for him. His hand glides down her plush thigh and gets a healthy grip. Then he slides his hand under hers and guides his cock through her folds, first just holding himself at her warm, wet entrance.

He manages to wait for a second, in order to meet her gaze. She’s already holding onto his arms tightly, like he’s become her anchor. Her thighs wrap around his hips and beckon him closer.

Slowly, he pushes inside. He takes care in how he works her open. She winces at the sting of his girth stretching her, but his fingers once again massage her clit, stroking her arousal back into a keening flame. He swallows her gasps and moans as he bottoms out inside her, fully sheathed. Tears prick at her eyes, but not from pain.

Mila’s dream flashes like a waking vision behind her eyes. Wings take flight, along with the gleam of a golden beak and a sharp eye.

She blinks, and the image disappears. She’s left with the man who has become hers, making love to her with every stroke of him deep inside her. She presses grateful kisses across his neck and shoulder, wherever she can reach while she clings to his strong arms.

The thick head of him brushes a sensitive place over and over, one that tightens the coil in her lower belly and makes her core tremble again with warmth, until her body convulses against him, pulsing in pleasure, gripping him tight from the inside. Mila’s fingers clench in his hair just as tightly as her release hits her in a powerful wave; even her voice becomes lost to it.

Gritting his teeth, Dean grips the soft flesh of her hip and chases his own end. The way her inner walls choke his cock, he has no choice but to come hot inside her, his spend mixing with her own release. A strangled shout tears from his throat.

He has to brace himself before he crushes her. With his forearms resting on either side of her head, he lowers his forehead against hers. Her legs slip from where they’ve been tightly molded to his hips, her feet meeting the floor. Eventually he slips out of her. He watches his seed drip out and create a mess on the dark furs. The sight of it satisfies something primal deep inside him.

Later he’ll ask her about washing up (and about supper), but for now, he just turns onto his back beside her. She inches toward him, and he raises an arm so she can splay out against his side. They both lay there for a moment in the quiet, just catching their breath together. It marks the end of a long journey, and yet, the start of one too.

Mila turns to raise onto her elbow. She reaches over to wipe the sweat from his brow in a tender touch. Dean smiles up at her. He takes her hand and presses a kiss into her palm.

“I could get used to this,” he says.

Her eyes widen in surprise, but then she laughs softly. “Yes.”

Her hand moves down to his chest, over his heart. She sobers as she considers her people, and how much trust has yet to be bridged—not only her own father and uncle, but the entire tribe. When she led him through the village, they called him wašíču.

Fat-taker. Greedy White. Not one of us.

“It will be hard for you here,” Mila says. She worries it will be too hard for Dean.  

He just squeezes her hand, earning her attention through tumultuous thoughts.

“I’m not afraid of a little hard work,” Dean replies. His usual confident charm is infused in his smile, but she has a feeling he’s just trying to reassure her.

Sensing she’s not convinced, Dean reaches up to hold her cheek, guiding her to look at him and not the floor.

“Listen. I made my choice, and I’m sticking it out, come hell or high water,” he says.

Mila’s brows knit together. “Hell-or-high… What does that mean?”

Dean sits up on his elbow along with her. He takes her chin between his fingers and meets her gaze.

“It means if you want me, you’ve got me. The rest, we’ll figure out as we go along,” he says.

A smile slowly lightens Mila’s face. She tilts her chin up to meet him with a kiss.

“I will be with you,” she says. It’s a promise.

Dean smiles back.

“Good,” he says. “Because that’s just about all I need.”

AN: There we have it, friends. 💜 I really, truly hope you enjoyed this mini series! To be honest, I have more ideas for this little world (like how Dean might try to assimilate into this culture), but I'll leave it to you guys to let me know if that's something you'd be interested in reading.

Until then, I would love to know what you thought of this chapter! 

Pronunciation Guide:

Šóta ("sho-tah") Chatan ("chat-tan") Tahatan ("ta-hat-tann") Wašíču ("wash-ee-jew")

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[dangerpronebuddie]

hi yes sorry i am late but i would like to know about ryliver and also sex complicates everything pls and thank <3

Hi Charlie 🥰 you're never too late!

Okay the Ryliver fic is incredibly self indulgent and I am just a little bit obsessed with it. Long story short, Oliver has the brilliant idea to practice Buck and Eddie's first kiss. There's not supposed to be a moment of hesitation between buddie, so he thinks this is the perfect way to negate that. It's totally not gonna lead anywhere else 😉. A small treat for you 🥰:

Ryan's lips are soft against his own. The kiss itself is soft, a gentle pressure, like they're holding back. Oliver pulls away and looks into Ryan's eyes, fully prepared to tease him about how that didn't even really count as a kiss, but the remark dies in his throat. There's something in Ryan's eyes. Something Oliver's seen before, but from Eddie. It's different seeing it now. “Oliver,” Ryan says in a whisper, sounding wrecked from just one kiss. Oliver can't say he's faring much better. Something sparks between them, burning away the remaining timidness. Oliver dives forward, desperate to taste his name on Ryan's lips. He slots their lips together, and if Ryan asks why, he really doesn't have a logical explanation other than the fact he wanted to.

And Sex Complicates Everything started out as a drabble prompt Tanis sent me in an ask a while back (I'm talking pre 7x09), but I got an idea that ran away from me and it became 20% sex, 80% feels. In summary, Eddie still can't get it up after Marisol and well, Buck did say he wished he could help! Have a little of my favorite part:

He feels like a cavity has cracked open inside him, joining the other fissures and caverns created in his efforts not to shake apart throughout his life. The one thing that kept him from completely crumbling is standing before him growing more concerned the longer he stays silent. "Does your offer still stand?" Eddie blurts out. "Uh, what offer?" Buck asks. "You said you wished you could help," Eddie says. He knows he sounds insane, and what he's asking of Buck is insane. But he's getting more than a little desperate. He wasn't lying when he said he was pent up. "I did," Buck says slowly, taking another step closer. "Are you saying you want me to?" "Look, I know this sounds crazy, but I really need your help. Nothing was working with Marisol, not just that, but I... I think something else might be causing this whole issue and I just- I need..."

Ask about my WIPs!