#fanfiction will fix me

[diadotcom]

feeling strangely weird and depressed about my relationship with my father. i am going to fix it with mav and rooster fanfiction. gtg brb in about….. 12 hours

[zephyrchama]

Vampire MC part III - with Leviathan

heads up - this is suggestive

(intro/vampire MC masterlist can be found here)

It was no surprise you hadn’t run into Leviathan since your transformation. He was more elusive than most demons.

You didn’t have a chance to see him until there was a commotion out in the hall. You peeked your head out from behind the bedroom door just in time to see Leviathan trip and fall, splendidly faceplanting on the hallway floor. Hard enough to make you wince. Mammon cackled as he ran around a corner, seizing his chance to escape.

“You have twenty four hours, you deadbeat!” Leviathan shouted, punching the floor and rubbing his fist into the ground. He was absolutely seething. His tail trailed out behind him, thrashing to and fro and bumping against the walls.

You opened the door a little wider. “Did Mammon forget to pay you back again?”

“Gah!” Leviathan, in the midst of picking himself up, stumbled and almost fell down again. “H-how long have you been there? No, uh, nevermind. Ughh. How uncool of me…”

He went to wipe his nose with a sleeve. That’s when you caught a whiff of something delectable.

”Levi, are you injured?”

“Huh? No? Oh, wait…” It was hard to see on the black fabric covering his hand, but you clearly spied a thin red line dripping out his nose. It was hard to ignore.

You gripped the door tightly, shying back behind it so Levi couldn’t see your face. “Come in here a second.”

---

The two of you sat on your bed as you fiddled with the latch of a first aid kit. The alluring scent of blood had a grip on your concentration and the more you tried to focus on the kit, the less your fingers seemed to work. Leviathan draped his tail over the footboard where it anxiously thudded against the hardwood every few seconds.

“So, um. I guess we both have a reason to avoid the sun now, huh? Ha…” he awkwardly trailed off. Leviathan looked concerned, like there was something more important to say, but he couldn’t quite find the words. He watched you with pity. All he could manage was, “are you okay? I know you’ve been through a lot, probably.”

As he spoke, another drop of blood slid down his face which he tried to cover with his hand. Your posture stiffened as you fought to ignore it. Leviathan was wholly ignorant of how much you were holding back. After all, vampires are supposed to attack humans. Who ever saw a vampire go after a demon?

The first aid kit finally popped open with a loud crack, spilling bandages and gauze over the sheets. You both jumped. In the scramble to help put everything back, Leviathan leaned in a little too close. Your pupils thinned and instinct took over, a burning urge to take care of the blood before it dried up.

You grabbed Leviathan by the shoulder. Not strongly, but enough for him to pause and give you a questioning look. Enough time to quickly close the distance between you.

Leviathan froze in place as you dragged your tongue over his lips and under his nose, cleaning up the traces of nosebleed. He was completely still, save for the quiver of his lips when your fangs lightly pressed down on them. Your hands moved to his chest as you snaked your tongue down his chin, lapping across the bare skin on the front of his neck, and prepared for a juicy bite. He held his breath. However, the sensation of something hard and cold on your teeth jolted you out of the fog.

It was easy to forget that Leviathan had scales on the side of his neck when in demon form. You pulled away with a “sorry,” mortified to have licked his face like that, but Leviathan started trembling in excitement. He was panting.

“That was just like Scarlet Moon! Even the way your eyes changed color! Do they do that when you’re hungry? It was just like my favorite scene from the spin-off manga when Kyuu and Ki-chan are locked in the forbidden tower and need to feed to restore their magic and escape.” His leg and tail bounced and his face was flushed. He kept talking on about the series and you couldn’t tell if his cheeks were red from being in such close proximity to you or from being so excited about his anime. Maybe both.

That paltry sample only made you more hungry though, like a light appetizer before the main course. You pushed the medical kit aside.

“Levi, you taste really good.” You parted your lips and breathed slowly, trying to pick up the scent again. It lingered on his gloves. “Can I have some more?” you asked. It wasn’t your intention to sound needy, the words just so happened to come out that way.

“Me? You really want some of me?” He could see the truthfulness in your body language, in how your eyes were now a deep crimson. Leviathan was not used to being craved. He covered his face again and wrapped his tail tightly around the bedpost, as if to anchor himself. As if he was the one losing control instead of you.

“I’m going to get eaten by a vampire? By you?” he stammered. “ I don’t think my heart is ready yet, do I need a bath? No, don’t run. That's pathetic. I’d do anything for you. I can do this! I’m just like Kyuu, I’m ready!”

You were gearing up while he rambled and pounced as soon as Leviathan gave the go-ahead. He yelped, not expecting you to literally jump on him and push him back against the footboard. Your fingers dug into his hoodie while your lips searched the bare side of his neck. The sound of his blood rushing a mile a minute made finding a prime vein easy.

His fanboy heart was too overwhelmed thinking about how cool this was - something he always fantasized of! - to fully notice your body melding against his as your thirst was satiated. He'd realize it when trying to relive the memory later. His hoodie made for a comfortable head rest.

Leviathan wondered, would it be too weird to ask you to do this again while you watched Scarlet Moon together?

[iwasntstable]

✧₊⁺ 𝗡.𝗦. | 𝗪𝗛𝗘𝗡 𝗜 𝗠𝗜𝗦𝗦 𝗬𝗢𝗨

| WORD COUNT: 1.4k | RATING: SFW | CONTENT TAGS: fluff | The things you do when you're missing Noah while he's away.

➔𝐢𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧𝐭𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞➔➔　𝘪𝘯𝘷𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘈𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘷𝘦!+　　[𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝐀𝐎𝟯]

NOTE: Enjoy this little fluff piece to make up for the angst I posted 2 days ago 🖤

Noah has been gone for 2 weeks now. You text and call throughout the day, every day—when he has time. Preparations for their upcoming projects, music video filming, and meeting after meeting to discuss the business side of things take up all of his time. He always works hard, but this was another level that you weren’t used to.

You’ve never been one to yearn particularly hard after a partner, missing them a normal, regular amount, then feeling fulfilled when you reunite after a couple of days. But with Noah, it was different. When you parted, it felt like half of you was missing. Your place was too quiet when he wasn't around. You didn't live in a particularly big place, but it seems vast and empty now that you're alone. Even though the gaping hole his absence left in your life is indisputable, you try to carry on as best as you can.

But even while doing the most mundane tasks, your thoughts are preoccupied with Noah. Wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face into your neck, embracing you tightly from behind as you make a sandwich. Your personal space is as much his as it is yours.

“What are you doing?” You giggle, trying your best to assemble the food with his towering frame clinging to you.

“Just wanna cuddle you,” he mumbles into your neck. Your cheeks grow warm, turning as best you can in his hold to look at him over your shoulder.

But when you look, he’s not there. The hum of the fridge and the chill in the evening air are your only companions. The kitchen is too big without him clinging to your back and the smile brought to your face by the memory drops. With a dejected sigh, you place the last piece of bread on top, finishing your little meal and retreating to the living room.

Picking at the bread, you scour your streaming options for something to watch, seeing shows and movies you’re interested in, but just don’t feel in the mood to watch right now. You add them to your ‘Watch Later...’ list and keep searching.

In the “Continue Watching...” section, the show with way too many seasons you were working your way through is first in line. The preview reminds you where you left off, and you get the urge to hit play, but you were watching this with Noah. He sits forward, yelling at the screen for the characters to, “no! Don’t do that! Oh my God… It’s like they want to die!” Looking bewildered in your direction.

You can’t stifle the laugh, prompting him to hit you playfully with one of the couch cushions.

“What?!” he exclaims, his eyes bright and smiling wide, his hands speaking for him. “Why would you walk in the direction of the bomb? Is she stupid?!”

"No, you’re right,” you clutch your abdomen, the beginnings of an ache in your side from laughing so hard. “I know she’s the main character, but why is she so unlikable? Oh my God…” You let out a long breath, wiping the tears away from your eyes.

Blinking rapidly to rid them of the burn, you play Howl’s Moving Castle instead. Abandoning both the movie and the sandwich half finished when the weight in your chest becomes too heavy.

You don’t even bother to clean up, going straight to your room and crawling under the covers. Attempting to seek comfort in the sheets. But the other side of the bed is too empty and smells too much like him. You reach out, laying your hand on the pillow where he should be. Running your hand through his hair, his drowsy eyes close, a content smile on his lips as he enjoys your affections.

“I love you,” he says quietly, turning his cheek into your palm.

A tear escapes your eye. “I miss you,” you whisper to the space beside you.

You can’t sleep. You haven’t been able to sleep properly for a while now. Only 2 weeks he’s been away, and he’ll be back in just a few days time. You never thought you’d find yourself yearning like this, but the ache in your heart won’t subside, and your usual distractions are failing you. So you decide to indulge in your sadness. 

Taking your laptop from where you left it on the floor, you pull up Spotify. Gravitating immediately to the Bad Omens artist page and hitting play on the The Death of Peace of Mind album. Closing your eyes as soon as his voice comes through the speakers, the soft tone of his singing at the beginning of Concrete Jungle. You push all of the loud thoughts from your mind, focussing only on him. It helps. The tracks trick your brain into thinking he’s here with you. Taking his pillow and holding it to your chest, you allow yourself to be enveloped by the sound and scent of him. You don’t even notice when you start to drift off to sleep. If he couldn’t physically be here to bring you peace of mind, at least his voice could.

When Noah unlocks your door, he’s surprised to see the TV off, a half-eaten sandwich on the coffee table, and you absent from your usual spot on the couch. It was late, but you’re a night owl; it's out of character for you to sleep so early. He re-locks the door behind him and moves quietly through the room, toeing off his shoes and leaving them next to yours. Deciding too, to place his bags down by the door. He didn’t want to knock anything over and wake you if you really were asleep.

He hears the music before he opens the door, the pang of recognition becoming clearer when he cracks it open, and sees your sleeping form in the bed. Your laptop sitting open on his side of the bed, Just Pretend filling the silence of the room. Noah can’t help but smile, his socked feet soundlessly closing the distance between him and the bed where he sits carefully beside you.

Watching you sleep for a moment, his heart feels full at this image of you. Smiling at the sight, he slips his phone from the pocket of his sweatpants, opening the camera app and double-checking that the flash isn’t on. He snaps a couple of pictures, grinning as he does so. The laptop is visible over your shoulder, clearly showing his album open and playing on Spotify. He places his phone down next to yours on the bedside table and lays a hand gently on your shoulder. He’s reluctant to pull you from your sleep, but he needs you. And it’s clear that you need him too.

“Babe,” he whispers, his palm smoothing over your shoulder. He leans in closer, calling your name just a little louder and shaking you gently.

You begin to stir. Dreaming of Noah being where he belongs by your side in bed. Your head rests against his chest as he caresses your arm gently.

“Wake up,” he says softly, and your eyes crack open. Squinting against the sunlight. “Wake up, baby.”

He’s singing too. “Weigh down on me, stay ‘til morning, weigh down…”

“Hey,” he says softly, “what’re you doing?”

“Noah?” You mumble, realising the light in your eyes was your laptop, and it was as though you could hear two of him.

“Hi, I’m here. We wrapped up early, I tried to call you,” he brushes your hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear.

You roll onto your back, and there he is. Hair fluffy, holding a slight wave, and an infectious grin across his face as he looks at you. He looks so soft and warm in his hoodie, and you just want to dive into his arms. So you do, sitting up to collapse into him. He pulls you onto his lap, rocking you side to side, holding you so fiercely it was as though he were trying to make up for every second you'd been separated. You hold on just as tightly, feeling the warmth of his body seep into yours.

“Let me turn this off,” he moves carefully, loosening his grip temporarily to hit the spacebar and silence his own voice, then holding you tight again. “You don’t need that now that I’m back.”

“I missed you,” your voice comes muffled against his chest, wavering as you desperately try not to break down.

“I missed you too, so much,” he sighs, sinking into you deeper. “But I’m back now, and I have no plans to go anywhere any time soon.”

🗀 C:/PROJECTS/MYWORK/BLURB/WHENIMISSYOU [projects] ﹂ [my-work] | in-progress | favourites 　﹂ all | series | one-shot | [blurb] | head-cannons | ask 　　﹂ [when-i-miss-you]

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✉ C:/SYSTEM/APP/TAG

ᯤ 𝗨𝗦𝗘𝗥𝗦 (22) :　 ⌞⬤ 10 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾⌝ › @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning › @runadaggerthroughmychest › @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard › @seven-glass-kids › @english-fucker

› @lma1986 › @shayzillaaaa › @madamaaubergine › @thewrstinme › @amourtoken

⌞⬤ 5 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒⌝ › @livingdeceasedgirl › @alwaysfightforwhoyouare › @thecoyotescry › @romanreigns-supreme › @slutforcoffein

⌞⦵ 5 𝖽𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖻⌝ › @deathofpeaceofmindem › @bluestdai › @fadingangelwisp › @broken0mens › @ferduttini

⌞◯ 2 𝗈𝖿𝖿𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾⌝ › @lovesick-evangelist › @fadingintothegrey

　+[MSG : join the taglist!]

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[unfinishedslurs]

The boy stops in his tracks. “I know you,” he says, tilting his head curiously. He’s not tall, but he’s regal nonetheless, dressed all in white. Something about him makes Leia’s hair stand on end, and although she hides it she feels a stirring in her own chest. I know you like I know my own soul, she thinks wildly, and wonders where it came from. Has she gone insane?

“That’s nice,” she says, and shoots him anyway.

He deflects it in a flash of light, a glowing blue laser sword appearing in his hand like magic. She’s only seen one of those before, and it’s Vader’s. If this boy is anything like Vader, she realizes, she’s in deep shit.

She’s smart enough to know when she’s outmatched. Leia makes the tactical decision to run for her life.

Later, as she’s getting the hell out of there, she wonders why he didn’t try to stop her.

She remembers being young and tugging on her mothers skirts, demanding to know why their guest was so sad. “Does he not like it here?” She’d asked, and then, trembling, because Kenobi always seemed saddest around her. “Is it…because of me?”

“Oh, Leia,” her mother sighed, lifting her into her arms. “It’s not that, I promise.”

“Then what is it?”

“Master Kenobi lost a child under his care, years ago.” Breha’s eyes grew deeper, darker. “It was not his fault, but he blames himself. You remind him of that child, that’s all.”

Leia had quieted at that, contemplative.

The next time she’d seen Master Kenobi, she had given him a hug. He didn’t seem to know what to do with that, so she resolved to give him more of them. “He’s lonely,” she’d told her mother. “No one should be lonely.”

Looking at Obi-Wan Kenobi now, the memory seemed so far away. He’d aged thirty years in the ten it had been.

He looks, Leia thinks with a small twinge of regret, very lonely.

“Leia,” he greets. “It’s been a long time.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Leia sees a glint of white.

Kenobi freezes in his tracks. “Luke?” He whispers, and through the distance Leia can hear it as if he’d been speaking directly into her ear.

Master Kenobi lost a child under his care, her mother whispers in her head. He blames himself.

In an instant, Leia understands everything.

Kenobi is still staring at the boy he’d lost so long ago when Vader cuts him down.

Later, as she’s pacing around on the Falcon to Han muttering darkly about Princesses and supernatural abilities, she rememberers the way the boy collapsed, as if all his strings had been cut. Vader was too occupied with him to even look at her as she shot at him desperately.

Luke. She hates him more than she hates herself.

“They know where you are,” he hisses frantically. “They’re coming for you. You have to run.”

“Wait!” Leia quickly pulls up their sonar. Nothing yet, but it would explain the distant queasiness she’d felt since they’d landed. She tended to trust her gut. “How do you know? How much time do we have?”

“Not important, and not enough,” he says. “I have to go, and so do you. You need to leave yesterday.”

“How do I know I can trust you? I don’t even know who you are.”

He pauses. “Call me Skywalker.”

“That’s not an answer, Skywalker.”

“Yes it is.”

She opens her mouth to argue, but there are faint voices on the other end, drawing nearer.

“Shit,” Skywalker mutters. “I have to go. I’ll be in contact, okay? Don’t ever tell me where you are, or where you’re heading. Vader and Palpatine aren’t shy about reading minds. Just leave as soon as you can, and figure out the rest.”

“But—“

It’s too late. The comm has disconnected.

She stares down at it, disbelieving. How would the Empire know they’re here? Why should she trust a stranger who somehow got her personal comm code?

Gut feeling or not, on paper this was a perfect location. Supplied, armored, and most importantly, extremely well hidden. There was no real reason to think it would possibly be found out.

It’s probably a trap. Almost definitely a trap.

Han sticks his head in the door, a sour look on his face. “Hey Princess, can you tell these idiots—“

She makes a decision then and there.

“We’re leaving.”

“What?”

“We’re evacuating, effective immediately.” She pushes past him, and he follows so close he’s nearly stepping on her heel.

“Why? I think it’s pretty cozy here. Actual sunlight doesn’t hurt, either.”

“Apparently too cozy.” She grabs the first person she sees, a pilot who stares at her with wide eyes. “Emergency evacuation. Spread the word to pack everything you can and leave, I’ll let you know where we’re headed when we’re in orbit.”

He salutes and scurries off.

“Woah, hey now.” Han snatches at her elbow until she turns around to face him. “What’s going on?”

“There’s a new informant. He told me the Empire knows we’re here. They’re coming for us.”

“And you trust this person because…”

“I don’t have a choice,” she snaps. Someone runs past them, holding three packs filled to the brim with rations. “It’s either he’s lying and we’re not in danger, or he’s telling the truth and we’re going to die if we don’t listen. It’s not exactly hard math.”

It could be a trap of course, but he hadn’t suggested any sort of direction or destination to follow, and Leia wasn’t inclined to share. Especially not after his tidbit about Vader and Palpatine reading minds.

He squints at her. “That’s not it.”

“What?”

“I don’t believe you,” he insists. He’s so infuriating. Leia doesn’t know why she hasn’t kicked him out yet.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes you do, and you’re either gonna tell me why, or find a different transport when we head out of here.”

“Who said I was riding on your hunk of junk?” She demands. She actually was planning on going with them, since the Falcon has more than enough room for all the supplies that can’t fit in the other ships and none of the trustworthiness of the other pilots, but Han doesn’t need to know that.

“Well?”

Damn him. Damn him for knowing how to read her. She doesn’t know when she let that happen.

“I feel it,” she admits, defeated. “Something tells me he’s trustworthy. We’ll wait and see if it’s right.”

He studies her. She holds her head high, but inside she’s jittery at the scrutiny. They don’t have time for this.

“Yeah, all right,” Han finally says.

“Really?”

“Yes, really.” He rolls his eyes, like she’s not acting absolutely insane by putting all her trust in a random man she’s never even met. “Now come on, Princess, weren’t you the one who said we had to hurry?”

What is it about this man that makes it impossible to tell whether she wants to punch him or drag him into the nearest supply closet? They don’t have time to find out.

“So there’s good news and bad news.”

“Bad news first,” she demands.

“They know there’s a mole.”

“Shit.” Of course they know, how could they not? She should have been more careful, less obvious about the correlation of their movements with the Empire’s plans. “The good news?”

“They’ve tasked me with hunting down this ‘pathetic rebel spy,’” Skywalker says, humor in his voice. “That should buy me some time.”

Leia can’t quite stop the snort she lets out. “Seriously?”

“Yep. You’re speaking to a professional mole-hunter, here.”

“Well congratulations on the promotion, Skywalker.”

“Thank you,” he says grandly. Then, quieter, “It won’t last, Princess. They’ll find out eventually.”

“I know. Just hang in there, it will be over soon.”

“Will it?” He asks, suddenly sounding very young. She realizes that she has no idea how old he is. She doesn’t know anything about the man who has saved them more times than she cared to admit, and the idea rattles her until they sign off.

Later, she looks up the name Skywalker in their archives. There are a few results, but only one sticks out.

Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight and hero of the Clone Wars. Killed at the hands of Darth Vader. There are gossip articles too, speculations on his relationship with the pregnant Senator Padmé Amidala, who died around the same time Skywalker did. The baby, it seems, died with her.

Unless he didn’t.

It’s ridiculous. It’s impossible. The idea is so ludicrous that Leia almost rejects it entirely.

But it makes sense. By the Maker, it makes sense.

The child of Anakin Skywalker, it seems, would be a powerful Force user indeed. Powerful enough for Kenobi to take the baby and run. Powerful enough for the Emperor to want him for his own gain. Powerful enough to send Vader after Kenobi and take the boy himself.

Maybe even powerful enough to shield his mind from Vader and Palpatine’s intrusions.

Powerful enough to hide the fact that he’s a spy.

Leia sinks into her chair, covering her face as she laughs.

Maybe Luke isn’t so bad after all.

“No, no, no,” she mutters, digging through the smoking wreckage of the TIE fighter. “Don’t be dead, please don’t be dead.”

“Princess…” Han lays a hand on her shoulder that she immediately shrugs off.

“No, he’s not dead. He’s not. Luke!”

A faint cough answers her, and she’s so relieved to hear it she could cry. Behind her, Han starts bellowing for a medic and, “Some damn help here, do you expect us to move all this ourselves?”

“Luke, it’s me,” she sobs. “It’s Leia. You’re at the Rebel Base. You’re safe.”

More coughing, and there’s a worrying rasp to his voice when he says, “You know…my name?”

“I figured it out.”

“Smart.” This time, the coughing is so bad Leia and Han both wince.

“Shit, kid,” Han says, moving another piece of rubble. “Don’t talk. We’re gonna get you out of here, all right?”

“Stand back,” Luke chokes out.

“What?”

“Stand back. Please.”

Han protests, but something in Leia knows they should listen to him. She drags him back, and motions everyone else to fall back with them. They do, albeit reluctantly.

“Clear,” she calls, hoping Luke can hear her.

The TIE explodes.

“Fuck!” Han goes back in, Leia on his heels with the terrifying feeling that she’d just allowed Luke to die, before they both stop in their tracks. Around them, the broken pieces of the TIE are floating.

And curled up in the middle is a man dressed all in white.

“Luke!” She pushes past Han to start dragging him out, and after another moment of staring around them, he helps her.

As soon as they get clear, the pieces fall to the ground with a clatter. Luke falls limp with them.

Han is still looking at the TIE. “Can you do that?” He asks quietly.

Leia pauses her examination of the unconscious man in front of her to glare at him. “Is that what you’re most concerned with right now? Really?”

“Excuse me for asking, Princess!”

“It’s white,” Luke grumbles, pulling at his hospital gown bitterly. “I hate wearing white.”

“Should I be offended?”

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t even. You look great and you know it. I just feel like I never left.”

“Well,” she says gingerly. “I guess it’s a good thing you got sick of it. If we went around in matching outfits all the time, people might think we’re twins.”

He snorts. “Yeah, right.”

[pharawee]

Are you thinking about me now?

[leejihoonownsmyheart]

Control (M)

Summary:

Seungcheol is the one mistake you should never make. The one you always do. The relationship that you equally have the most and least control over.

Genre: 8k words, College age but school is not mentioned, big dick!Cheol, simp!cheol, fuck buddies, pining, emotional repressed!y/n, y/n describes her relationship with Seungcheol as a mistake a lot, Cheol's possessive

Smut warnings: light degradation, dubcon, creampie, unprotected sex, public sex, cunnilingus, fingering, blowjobs, praise(?)

-

“So, you’re smart, you’re beautiful, you’re kind-”

You laughed, smiling at the boy in front of you. He was tall, and handsome. Dark, slicked back hair.

“Stop with the flattery,” you insisted. He laughed.

“I can’t help it,” he cooed. “You deserve all the praise in the world.”

He was such a flatterer, but you didn’t even care. You craved the attention that came from such an attractive man. A man that you could brag to your friends for fucking. A man who you wouldn’t see again after tonight.

You let your hand reach forward, your fingers brushing over his biceps. You gave them a small squeeze. He reveled under your touch. He pulled you close to him by your hips, his fingers brushing over the hem of your skirt.

“You’re dancing with the devil, baby,” he commented, and the little nickname felt completely wrong coming from his mouth. But you didn’t care. You needed to be with this guy. Needed to sleep with him to remind yourself who you were.

You needed to sleep with someone. Needed a stranger’s cock to fuck you open.

You needed a change.

“Come on,” you said, your voice soft. “Let’s go somewhere a little quieter. Yongsun.”

His smile only grew, and you knew that he thought he had hit the jackpot. A thrill of pride ran through your body at the fact that he liked you so much. You had been able to so quickly get him to succumb to your touch.

You guided him up the stairs, dragging him into the first empty bedroom you could find. You closed the door behind the two of you and he made his way over to the bed. When you turned around, he was sitting there at the edge. Comfortable even though it was a room that he had never been in before.

“Come here baby,” Yongsun murmured, and the phrase rolled right over your head. You wanted to hit yourself. Come on, get yourself together. He was gorgeous, you were going to get laid. This was exactly what you should want. This was the dream.

Yongsun pulled you closer so that you were in between his legs. He smiled at you, his eyes flickering down your body. His hands slid around you, rubbing over the curve of your ass.

“You’re so beautiful,” he mumbled. You wrapped your arms loosely around Yongsun’s neck, letting him drag you forward, his lips pressing warm kisses to your neck. You tilted your head up, and his hands slid down to your thighs and up under your skirt. His thumbs trailed over the edge of your panties.

“Let’s see how excited you are to be with me,” he mumbled against your neck. His fingers dipped into your panties and then he pulled away.

“Are you…?”

You groaned, pulling away from Yongsun.

“Sorry. Sorry,” you mumbled. “It’s not you I’m just tired...”

Disappointment flickered across Yongsun’s face, but he nodded.

“Yeah, I get it.”

You bid your farewells to Yongsun and as you did you felt eyes on you from across the room. You didn’t have to look to know who it was. Just his gaze made your body heat up. You closed your eyes briefly, exasperated. Fuck, why did he make you feel this way? No one should ever have this much power of you.

You avoided looking at him, instead making your way through the party and out into the cool summer air. You hesitated at the front steps, knowing full well you shouldn’t wait there but needing to anyways.

The door to the house opened less than a minute after you had closed it. You felt arms wrap around your waist and you instantly let your head loll to the side. This times when lips touched your neck you felt it run straight to your core.

“Seungcheol, please-” You mumbled. “I don’t want to tonight.”

Seungcheol ignored you, continuing to press kisses to your neck.

“Really? Is that why you came back downstairs after only five minutes?” He asked you. His fingers dipped under your shirt and you arched your back into his touch. “Come on, you know that you want this just as badly as I do.”

You couldn’t help the desperate noise that left your lips.

“Seungcheol, someone is going to see us,” you whispered, your voice low. You felt him smile against your neck.

“Good,” he mumbled. “Maybe then you’ll admit how much you like me.”

One of his hands dipped beneath the band of your skirt, his fingers dipping into your underwear. His fingers brushed your clit and then dipped further between your folds. He let out a low groan.

“Is all this just for me?” He asked you. You felt his now wet fingers drag back up to your clit, beginning to rub clumsy, slow circles around it. Your head lolled back against Seungcheol, his lips trailing up your body.

His lips finally came up to yours, pressing softly to the corner of your lips. You turned your face to the side, trying to get his lips more firmly on yours but unfortunately for you he turned away with a smile.

“Why’d you leave that other boy, hm?” Seungcheol asked you as he continued to rub your clit in circles. “I could practically see his cock bulging in his pants. He wanted you so badly.”

His hand that was still on your stomach dragged lightly up your body, pressing your bra to the side and wrapping his hand around your boob. His thumb flicked across your hard nipple. You whined.

“I’m not- I-I wasn’t in the mood,” you mumbled, but Seungcheol knew you well enough that he could tell you were lying through your teeth. He chided you softly.

“Well, you’re clearly in the mood now,” he said. He let your lips brush again, but again when you tried to initiate a kiss, he pulled away from you. You bite down on your lip as he pressed his fingers harder on your clit, but his pace was still slow. He was taking his time, cocky about the fact that you wanted him. He knew that you weren’t going to stop him.

You felt pleasure coiling through your body as Seungcheol’s fingers pinched your tits, and you couldn’t help the way your face turned, desperate for his lips. If not just to kiss him, but also to keep the frankly embarrassing moans from leaving your lips.

It was obvious to anyone around how badly you wanted Seungcheol, no matter how hard you pretended not to.

You thanked God no one was around.

You could feel yourself being dragged closer and closer to the edge.

“You going to cum for me?” Seungcheol asked softly. “I can hear how desperate you are. It’s okay to need me, baby. You know I need you too.”

You whimpered, your eyes fluttering closed.

“F-fuck, Cheol, I-”

You heard the door to the house open and you had never unraveled yourself from Seungcheol faster. Your hands patted down your clothes quickly. The person stumbling out of the party glanced at you and you hoped to God they couldn’t tell by your heavy breathing that they had just ripped an orgasm away from you.

The person who had stumbled out of the door glanced at you, their eyes glazed over from the alcohol. They smiled.

“Such a rad party,” the guy said. He stumbled a little, and another person came through the door. A girl. She rolled her eyes and grabbed the arm of the stumbling guy.

“Sorry about idiot here,” she commented. Her eyes flickered to you.

“Y/n…” She mumbled. Her eyes narrowed a bit when she looked behind you. “Seungcheol.”

You both nodded at her, but she didn’t comment on you two any further. To be fair, at this point you two were practically social distanced from one another.

“I’ll see you two around.”

You nodded and you and Seungcheol echoed awkward expressions of agreement. You waited until the two walked away, and once you had seen the two get into a car you felt your head fall into your hands. Disgust filled your body. God, what were you doing?

“Y/n…” You ignored Seungcheol, and he didn’t move. “Y/n, come here.”

You stayed put, and you heard him sigh.

“It’s okay to need my cock baby, come here so I can make you feel good, huh?”

You groaned but you couldn’t help it, you felt yourself moving back over to him just like he wanted. That smile flickered across his lips again, pride to himself at having been able to get you to do what he wanted all over again.

“So good for me,” Seungcheol breathed, wrapping his arms around your body. He pressed his forehead to yours. “You gonna let me have you today?”

You tilted your head up, arms draped over Seungcheol’s shoulders in a similar way as to how it had been with Yongsun not long ago. Seungcheol kept his lips frustratingly away from yours, as if reminding him of how badly you wanted him. Reminding you that despite the fact you pretended in front of others that you didn’t want him, you would do anything for him when it came down to it.

“Please,” you whispered. Seungcheol’s fingers toyed with the hem of your underwear.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Seungcheol replied, his voice steady but low. “Are you going to let me have you today?”

You bit down on your lip, you didn’t want to admit it, but you couldn’t help it.

“Yes,” you agreed, nodding your head. You leaned forward, trying so hard to get his lips, but he still pulled back. “Seungcheol, please.”

Your frustration was starting to grow.

“Stop teasing me, Cheol,” you mumbled. You lowered one of your hands to Seungcheol’s pants. You dipped your hand into them, wrapping your fingers around Seungcheol’s already hard cock. You tugged at it, pulling a groan from Seungcheol.

“I thought you were worried about getting caught,” he mumbled. You shook your head against him.

“I don’t care anymore, I need you,” you mumbled. You gave Seungcheol’s dick another tug, your thumb flicking over the tip. “Besides, everyone here is too drunk off their asses to notice anyways.”

Seungcheol hummed and let you drag him around the side of the house, to a place where you two were hidden in the shadows of the night. You grabbed his pants, dropping them down to his ankles and crouched down. Your tongue darted to like your lips as you took in the sight of his length.

“You don’t even want me to get you home?” Seungcheol asked, his tone was low and teasing. He knew that you were past that. He knew that now that you needed him, you wouldn’t be able to put it off. So you ignored him in favor of sucking his cock into your mouth.

Besides, it was better this way. If you guys fucked here, if you fucked now, then you wouldn’t have to worry about sneaking out of his apartment… Or getting him to sneak out of yours.

He was so proud that he was fucking you. It was hell keeping him from telling others. Every time that you ended up here with the tip of his cock brushing the back of your throat he grew cockier. More insistent that you liked him.

Maybe he was right. After all, anyone who didn’t like him wouldn’t be on their knees in a backyard sucking his cock.

Seungcheol groaned, his fingers lightly burying in your hair. His mouth was letting the most perfect little moans and whines leave his lips. The whines proof of his struggle for self-control. You knew how badly he wanted to grab you by your roots and force his cock deep into your throat. He held back on days like this when your attention seemed fickle. He wanted to make sure that you didn’t leave.

You wouldn’t mind it if he fucked your face like his life depended on it, but that wasn’t something you were ready to tell him.

No… That was something you wanted him to figure out for himself.

“Fuck,” Seungcheol grunted. “I thought you said I could have you today?” His voice was so rough. “Get off your fucking knees and pull your skirt up.”

You popped off of Seungcheol’s cock, giving his shaft a few pumps, eyes looking up at him innocently.

“Someone’s needy,” you mumbled. His fingers tightened in your hair.

“If we were having it my way we wouldn’t be outside right now.”

Your lips pressed together, but your core burned regardless. You got to your feet, pulling your skirt up to bunch around your hips and placing your hands on the house. You looked back over at Seungcheol. You wanted to say something cocky, assert your own control over the situation, but instead you just looked at him with wide pleading eyes.

His lips flickered back into a smile, and his hand came down sharply on your ass. A moan was ripped from your body as Seungcheol rubbed the spot he had just hit. His fingers pushed aside your panties, and he pressed two of his fingers into you.

“F-fuck.”

“You’re such a little slut, y/n,” Seungcheol mumbled. You whined, the words, however derogatory feeling like a compliment from his lips. He pushed his fingers into you slowly. Taking his time even though you wanted his cock right now and fast. “But I’m the one who makes you like this aren’t I?”

A whined tore itself from out of your lips.

“Cheol, please,” you whined.

“Left Yongsun just for me,” Seungcheol said, the praise going straight to your core. “Left that bedroom to get fucked by me in the yard. You’re too pretty to let me fuck you out here.”

“Shut up,” you mumbled. A laugh vibrated Seungcheol’s body.

“Yes ma’am.”

He wrapped an arm around your waist, and brushed the tip of his cock between your folds. You mewled, your fingers curling into balls. You let your forehead fall forward.

“You’re so perfect, y/n,” Seungcheol murmured. His lips pressed to your lips as he slid his cock into you. You couldn’t help it. The pleasurable burn that ran through your body as his cock filled your body. He was huge, always so fucking huge. You didn’t think you would ever get used to it. “So perfect for me, take my cock so perfectly.”

“You’re such a tease,” you bit out, but your words met thin air. Seungcheol didn’t care that he was teasing you. He didn’t care that him taking his time was driving you crazy. He never did. You rarely came around to begin with.

“Tell me how much you need me, y/n,” Seungcheol breathed. You shook your head, which made Seungcheol’s teeth nip at your neck. Your body shivered; your gaze shot up.

“Cheol,” you blurted. “You know you can’t leave marks.”

“I’m sorry baby,” he mumbled. “I can’t help it. You know I can’t help it. I want everyone to know your mine.”

“I’m not yours,” you bit back. The comment made his cock slip from your pussy. You cried out in desperation, pushing your ass back towards Seungcheol. “Cheol, fuck I-”

You could hear his free hand wrap around his cock, and he started to pump it. You could hear how wet from your pussy he was.

“Cheol, cheol, cheol,” you panted. “I-I’m sorry.”

“That’s not what I want to hear,” Seungcheol replied. His pumps were getting faster.

“B-But-”

“You’re not mine yeah? So why should I fuck you?”

Your heart was pounding. You wanted his cock so badly.

“I was lying, okay?” You blurted. “I’m yours, okay? All yours. Please Cheol, please-”

Seungcheol pushed his cock back into you, setting a faster pace. His hand wrapped around your waist again, his fingers pushing down on your clit.

“That’s right baby, you’re all mine,” he agreed. “We both know how badly you need me. Why don’t you show me? Why don’t you show me how badly you need me.”

Your body began to shake as your walls began to clamp around Seungcheol’s dick, your orgasm being ripped from your body like you really were all Seungcheol’s. He fucked you through your orgasm, his lips pressing those kisses to your neck.

“Where do you want my cum?” He asked, as if he didn’t already know the answer.

“Inside.”

Your name fell off of his lips like a promise, his cum being pumped deep inside of you. Your body burned under his attention, your breath coming in heavy pants as his thrusts slowed. He stopped buried deep inside of you. His lips brushed up against your ear. You turned your head, hoping to finally get his lips but he pulled away from you just like he always did.

That was his biggest grab for control in your relationship. He never let you kiss him. No matter how badly you wanted to. No matter how badly he wanted to.

You two were silent for a minute, dragged out of your sex-haze by the front door to the house being opened and closed. You nudged Seungcheol with your elbow.

“We’ve got to go.”

You could feel how badly he didn’t want to go but regardless he pulled himself out of you. You were too nonchalant when it came to him, maybe. You stood up, fixing your panties and brushing down your skirt. Seungcheol pulled his pants back up, hooking his thumbs into his jeans pockets. He stared at you, as you tried to make yourself look like you hadn’t been fucked. You could feel his cum leaking down your legs.

“Can I take you home?” Seungcheol asked. You didn’t respond to him, you just glanced at him. He knew the answer. He sighed, his eyes flitting away from you.

You walked over to him, against your better judgement. You got up to the tips of your toes and you pressed a kiss to his cheek. You tapped his cheek right after.

“We can’t do this again.”

His lips flickered up into a smile.

“You know we will.”

-

“There she is.”

Mocking applause filled your apartment living room as you emerged from your bedroom after having gotten home at nearly four in the morning. Your two roommates, Seokmin and Dayoung looked at you with matching wide smiles on their lips. You groaned, burying your face in your hands as you walked.

“Another day, another party that you disappear from,” Dayoung said with a whistle. You gave her a mocking life and walked into the kitchen, pulling open the fridge door. “The question that remains… Did you get laid?”

Memories of Seungcheol flickered through your mind. You pressed your lips together, forcing a smile.

“You know I did,” you replied, trying to hide your shame. Your fingers twitched. The worst part being that you wanted Seungcheol to be inside of you right now. You shook the thoughts from your head.

“You do nothing but score,” Seokmin said with a surprised laugh. You shrugged off the statement.

“Can’t help it,” you replied. “I’m too pretty.”

Honestly, it was true. You were always getting the attention of other people. If you really wanted, you could have anyone you wanted.

“Aren’t you tired of it?” Seokmin asked you. You frowned.

“Tired of…?”

“Tired of sleeping with different people all the time?” Seokmin asked. “Doesn’t it get exhausting?”

You pretended to entertain what Seokmin had said.

“I’m not interested in just being with one person,” you replied pointedly. “There’s something exciting about fucking someone else every week.” You let a teasing smile cross your lips. “I don’t think just one dick could ever satisfy me.”

-

You slammed Seungcheol against the wall of his bedroom, desperately pushing his shirt up over his head.

“Come on Cheol,” you insisted. Seungcheol hummed, allowing you to pull his shirt off, watching you as you got down on your knees and began to undo his belt buckle. “Wearing too much. Work with me.”

You threw Seungcheol’s belt to the side and unbuttoned his pants. You pushed his pants down his legs, tearing his underwear down. He wasn’t helping you at all, just watching you in amusement. You didn’t even care, you whined when you saw his cock was out.

“Fuck, I love your cock so much,” you mumbled. You wrapped your fingers around him and gave him a tug.

“Aren’t you worried?” Seungcheol asked, his voice light and airy. “Wonwoo and Mingyu are just through the door.”

“They don’t know it’s me,” you replied pointedly.

Seungcheol chuckled.

“Right, I forgot. You climbed in through the window,” he teased. “All for what? For me?”

“You’re not special,” you mumbled, hoping to knock him down a peg. It probably didn’t help that as soon as you said it you sucked the tip of Seungcheol’s cock into your mouth. He let out an airy moan, and his fingers threaded into your hair.

“I’m feeling pretty special right now,” he breathed. “After all, I’m the one that you’re on your knees for.”

“Shut up,” you mumbled around Seungcheol’s dick. You sucked him deep into your mouth but before you could start setting your own pace Seungcheol’s hands began to guide you over his length. He moved your head slowly up and down, little moans tumbling from his lips as he did.

You placed your hands on his thighs, fingers tightening against him.

“You’re so perfect,” Seungcheol whispered, his voice so quiet you almost felt like you weren’t meant to hear it. “So, fucking beautiful.”

He tugged your head up a little, so that your eyes were on his.

“I wish you could see yourself. Mouth stretched out over my cock, eyes wide and perfect for me,” he mumbled. Your gaze flickered down, embarrassed. You tapped his thigh, and his fingers released your hair.

You pulled off of his cock.

“Shut up,” you emphasized again. “Fuck me, Cheol.”

“I’ll always do what you want,” Seungcheol promised. He reached down, his hands grabbing your cheeks. He pulled you up by them, the brief thought flickering through your mind that maybe he was going to kiss you. Of course, once you were up his hands lowered to your chest. His fingers hooked between the buttons of your shirt and then suddenly he pulled. Button’s scattered across Seungcheol’s floor, but before you could complain, he had one hand on your shoulder, the other one pushing your breasts up and out of your bra.

Then, with a solid push you were pushed back onto his bed. You let out a soft whimper before his hands were on your hips. He pulled your pants down your ankles, and then your panties, before falling to his knees in front of you. He hiked your hips closer to him, his tongue darting across his lips.

“I think I’m the luckiest guy alive,” Seungcheol mumbled. “I thought surely… I heard you were on some date with a guy tonight.”

Memories flickered through your mind of your date that night. Dinner at Applebee’s wasn’t exactly your idea of a date. You didn’t know why you always told Seokmin you would go on these dates.

“I was,” you agreed softly. “Not that it’s your business.”

Seungcheol dipped his head forward, his tongue darting between your folds. He licked up to your clit and then sucked your clit into his mouth, his tongue flicking over it. You cried out, arching your back.

“But you’re here with me now,” he mumbled against you. You rolled your eyes.

“You aren’t special, Cheol,” you replied, a breathy moan leaving your lips.

“Right. Cheol.” There was that mocking tone. “Not special at all.” He smiled against you, focusing on eating you out for a few moments. As he sucked on your clit, he slipped his middle finger into you. “But I’m more special than that boy you were with.”

He looked up at you, and your eyes flickered away from him.

“Look at me baby,” he said. You looked back down at him. “What was his name?”

His teeth nipped at your clit as he pushed a second finger into you. You whined.

“It doesn’t matter.”

He pressed his fingers hard into you, making you cry out.

“No, it matters,” he insisted. “Want to know who I am better than.”

“Seungcheol-”

“Shh,” Seungcheol said. He slid up your body, grabbing your hands and dragging you closer to him by his hips again. “I don’t want to hear anything from you until you tell me his name.”

Seungcheol’s dick brushed against your swollen clit.

“Fuck, Cheol you idi-” Seungcheol pushed his tip into you and then pulled it right back out. “Kevin, okay? His name was Kevin.”

Seungcheol pushed himself deep into you, making your entire body arch into his touch. Seungcheol’s lips trailed down to your collarbone, and he smiled against your skin.

“I’m going to fuck you until you forget Kevin’s name,” he promised.

Every time you went back to Seungcheol it was stupider. Every time it made him just that much more cocky. You remembered when you were talking to a guy, and your phone vibrated.

Don’t text him: Upstairs. Now.

You had looked at him from across the room, a frustrated expression crossing over your lips.

No, you mouthed.

Seungcheol raised his eyebrows dragging his lips into a downwards smile. He shrugged and made his way up the stairs.

You were up there within five minutes.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” you whispered against his neck. He hummed.

“What was his name?”

“Sunwoo,” you breathed. Seungcheol clicked his tongue, pulling your head back by your ponytail.

“Let’s see how long you remember that.”

-

“Hey bitch,” Sujun exclaimed excitedly. She wrapped her arms around you in a hug, and then pulled away after placing a kiss to your cheek. “How’s it going?”

“Good,” you said with a laugh. “I hate bars but for you? Always worth it.”

She let out part of a whoop, evidence of having pregamed even though it was only five.

“You don’t even know how fun tonight is going to be.”

“Oh, I think she has some idea.”

Your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach. You turned over your shoulder, shooting Seungcheol a glare that his sister wouldn’t be able to see.

“Seungcheol!” Sujun said excitedly. “You are the perfect person to help me with this! You know what my favorite game to play with y/n is?”

You groaned, burying your face into your hands.

“Sujun-”

“Let’s get y/n laid!”

“Oh.”

Amusement twinkled through Seungcheol’s eyes.

“Well, that sounds hard. I wouldn’t know what y/n’s type is.”

You glared daggers at him while Sujun wasn’t looking.

“Long hair, bright eyes, long face… Not too many muscles…” You trailed off. “The exact opposite of you really.”

Seungcheol’s eyebrows danced.

“Hm, sure,” he agreed.

He played that game with Sujun, and she didn’t even realize the underlying jealous tones in Seungcheol’s voice as he spoke about what guys you should go home with. She didn’t notice the look in his eyes when you started talking to the guy they had all decided on.

She didn’t hear you sneaking him into your apartment.

“What was his name?”

“I didn’t even fucking ask.”

Kicking Seungcheol out was the hardest. You almost never invited him over because of it. It was hard enough to leave his place every morning. He always looked at you with big puppy eyes begging you to come back. Promising you that you would be so much happier if you spent the day with him.

When he stayed over you were always quite literally pushing him out.

“You have exactly five minutes before Dayoung gets out of the shower, Seungcheol come on.”

“I’ll be in your bed tonight anyways, why don’t I just stay and wait?” There was a smile on his face even though there was a heavy look in his eyes. “I can stay around like a stay-at-home boyfriend.”

If you were being honest, you had known right away that he had fallen for you and you were just trying to pretend like he hadn’t. It was in his touch, the way he spoke to you. You knew that from the start he had seen you as his and you were holding him at a distance. You were quite literally using him, but he was letting you because you were leading him on and that made you think it was okay.

“I think I’m a bad person,” you admitted. There was too much alcohol in your system for you to be talking about this. You turned your head to look over at Seokmin, as your eyes flitted away from your phone with the singular message of: You’re not out tonight, right? Come over.

“You’re not a bad person,” Seokmin negated with a roll of his eyes. Your lips flickered into a smile.

“You don’t know that. You don’t know what I’m doing.”

Your phone vibrated.

Or are you pretending to be someone else’s tonight?

You groaned and threw your phone at Seokmin.

“Jesus christ, Seokmin I’m such a bad person,” you blurted. He glanced at your phone screen.

“Who is Don’t Text Him?” He asked. You raised your beer to your lips, finishing it off and tossing the can across the room.

“I can’t tell you,” you replied. “But he’s a good guy. And I’m leading him on like a fucking dog.”

“Well, if he’s letting you lead him on-”

You groaned loudly, turning your gaze back over to Seokmin.

“What do I do?” You blurted. “What do I do? He practically thinks we’re together.”

“Just cut it off,” Seokmin replied pointedly. “You can’t lead him on if you aren’t fucking him.”

Easier said than done.

-

“I fucking can’t stand you,” you whispered as you shut the closet door behind you. “You played it too risky, you can’t be that close to me.”

“You didn’t really seem like you disliked it that much,” Seungcheol teased. His lips were turned up as you pulled his cock from out of his pants. You didn’t even bother to drag them down. You slid your hand up and down his hard cock.

“You aren’t some sex god Seungcheol-”

He grabbed you by your hips and turned you around suddenly. He pushed up your skirt, and aside your panties- Something you were much too accustomed to. His hand came down on your ass, before his fingers slid into your wet heat.

“Come on baby, you need to be honest,” he said softly. “Do you think that your pussy gets this wet for just any man? You’re so perfect for me that you’re already ready for my cock.”

He placed his hands to either side of your body and pressed his cock into you. You felt your head dip a little, pressing your ass back against him. Just proving him right. Just pushing him deeper.

“Fuck baby,” Seungcheol said, his voice close to that of a whine. “You really are so perfect for me, aren’t you?”

“It’s not all for you,” you protested, but even as you spoke you were pushing back against him, silently begging him to go faster.

“No?” He asked softly. “Then who’s it for? Kevin…? Sunwoo…?”

You bite down hard on your bottom lip.

“Seungcheol-”

“No, that’s not what you call me is it?” He asked. His pace was slow. Stupid, Seungcheol and his stupid slow thrusts. He was always taking his time.

“I don’t have time for this,” you grunted. “Faster.”

“Ask me nicer,” Seungcheol replied.

“No-”

“Then I can stop,” Seungcheol agreed. His cock slipped out of you, but it was so brief it practically never happened. You pressed back against him quickly, forcing his cock back into you.

“Don’t stop,” you blurted. “Please, Cheol, I need you so fucking badly. Faster. Please.”

He laughed.

“Of course, I will,” he agreed. “Since you sound so sweet for me.”

He picked up his pace, to the one that you wanted. Nothing being able to be heard from within the closet other than your own moans and the sound of skin on skin. You felt Seungcheol’s lips on your skin and you wished that he would bite down on you. No matter how much you said you didn’t, you wanted people to know.

You were just so scared.

Seungcheol brought you to your orgasm fast, just the way that you were used to from him and his lips brushed your ear as he whispered: “Where?”

And you fought it in yourself not to scream in desperation with your response.

“Inside.” A beat, and honestly more didn’t need to be said but you said it anyways. “Always, inside.”

You let your head bump against the wall in front of you and your fingers curled into balls as Seungcheol’s warm cum started to fill you. You felt an orgasm rip through your body as he fucked his cum into you, and he fucked you through it until you were both panting and coming down from your highs.

After a few minutes he slipped his cock out of you and you felt his cum drip down your thighs a little. You were so annoyed at yourself for letting him fuck you here because now you were going to have to deal with this situation the best you could in a public bathroom, but it was your own fault really.

Aggravation flooded your body at the situation as you pulled your clothes on, and Seungcheol just stood there watching you as you got dressed with that cocky expression on his face. You wanted to hit him.

“This can’t keep happening,” you hissed. As you spoke you heard footsteps from outside of the door. You threw your hands over Seungcheol’s mouth, suddenly finding yourself unable to breathe. Seungcheol’s tongue darted out to your hand, and you pulled away from him. He gave you an amused expression.

“That’s what you say every time,” he said. “You don’t mean it. You’ll be back.”

“I’m serious this time,” you insisted. Seungcheol just smiled, leaning forward. He teased you, his lips hovering just above yours. You fell for his trap of course, tilting your head up to catch his lips. He pulled away.

“Yeah, I can see how serious you are,” he agreed. Frustration bubbled in your stomach, and you pushed open the closet door. You stumbled out and looked around the hallway. Luckily, no one was around.

“What if someone caught us?” You asked him. “What if your sister found out?”

Seungcheol’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Who cares?” He asked. You shot him a glare.

“I care. She’ll have my head.”

“She’ll get over it,” he replied. The topic of his sister was bothering him, but you didn’t think it was for the reasons most people would be annoyed. “I don’t get why you’re so obsessed with keeping this secret from her.”

“It’s not just keeping this secret from her,” you shot back at him. You started to walk away from him, but he was following you. You were betting on him following you, honestly. “This isn’t something that should be happening. We’ve known each other since we were kids.”

“We have,” Seungcheol agreed.

“Which is exactly the point. This is a mistake Seungcheol. Every time we have done this, it’s been a mistake.”

Seungcheol grabbed you by your wrist.

“A mistake, huh?” He asked. “Was it a mistake every time you said you were mine? Whenever you begged me for my cum? Every time you sabotaged whatever connection with whatever guy you were with that night just to end up fucking me?”

“God, you’re so cocky,” you blurted. You ripped your wrist out of Seungcheol’s grasp and pushed hard at his chest. “It meant nothing. It means nothing. You just have a good cock, Seungcheol. That’s it.”

Hurt shot through Seungcheol’s eyes but you didn’t back down. You stood your ground, crossing your arms over your chest. You glared at him as he waited for you to take back your words.

You two stared at each other and then you heard someone from beside you say something. Your eyes widened and you put some space between you and Seungcheol. Real fear of being recognized, and having your dispute being acknowledged as just that: a dispute running through your body.

Once the person had passed your eyes flickered back to Seungcheol. He scoffed at you.

“Got it,” he bit out. “This really is the last time.”

Seungcheol walked away before you could say another word.

Honestly? There was something in the back of your throat as you watched Seungcheol walk away. You tried to remind yourself that Seungcheol didn’t matter. Tried to remind yourself about what you had just been saying. That Seungcheol was a mistake. Something that should have never happened.

But still, you felt something achy in your stomach as you looked at him.

In the weeks that followed Seungcheol didn’t reach out to you, and you didn’t reach out to him. You went to parties just as usual, but his eyes weren’t on you anymore.

And when you went upstairs with someone, and they turned up dry… You just ended up going home and having to take a cold shower.

“Your nights have been short recently,” Seokmin commented one morning. You glared at him as you chugged a cup of orange juice, frankly desperate to get your raging headache to calm down.

“There’s not a lot of fish in the sea.”

Seokmin chuckled.

“You should go on a date.”

You didn’t want to go on a date. You were feeling empty inside for a reason that you could not understand. Every single person that you tried to fuck was a disappointment, someone that you just couldn’t imagine being inside you.

Still, you ended up agreeing to go. Maybe it would snap you out of this… Whatever this was.

You wanted to scream when you saw Seungcheol sitting at a table with some girl. You didn’t know who it was and you were literally on a date with someone else but you didn’t care.

“Can we sit…” You pointed to the table across from where Seungcheol was on his date. The waitress had a look of confusion flicker across her brows, but she nodded.

“Yes, that’s perfectly fine,” she replied. Han shot you a confused look, but you shot him back a distracting smile.

“It’s a nice table, yeah?”

You spent the whole night ignoring Han. Spent it staring at Seungcheol like your life depended on it. Your eyes flickered from between Han and Seungcheol. Each smile from Seungcheol to that girl set your chest a flame.

Fuck, this date couldn’t go well. It couldn’t because if it did it was really over between the two of you and you weren’t ready for that. It hadn’t been over yet. Not really, but this. This made it feel real.

“So, then he-”

“I have to go to the bathroom,” you blurted. Han gave you another confused look but you didn’t care. You briskly got up from the table, bumping into Seungcheol as you passed him. Your eyes caught his and an apologetic smile spread over your lips, an attempt at hiding your desperation.

“Sorry,” you blurted. “I was just on my way to the bathroom.”

As soon as the words were out of your mouth you were walking back to the bathroom. You had barely made it through the door before Seungcheol was pushing through it too.

“Y/n, fuck,” Seungcheol blurted. “What are you-”

“Mine,” you mumbled. You wrapped your arms around Seungcheol’s body. “You’re mine. Not hers, mine.”

Your fingers fumbled at Seungcheol’s belt, unbuckling it and pulling out Seungcheol’s dick. You could feel it hardening under your touch. You hopped up onto the bathroom counter, hiking up your dress.

“Come on,” you insisted. You didn’t care that you hadn’t eased yourself open yet, you needed to remind Seungcheol that he was obsessed with you. You tugged Seungcheol closer, wrapping your legs around his hips and rubbing his tip through your folds. “Cheol, please. I need you.”

“You’re on a date too,” Seungcheol said, his voice strained. His hands came to your hips, tightening on the fabric bunched there. He pulled it up a bit.

“So, you did see me,” you mumbled. He had just been pretending all night not to see you. You wondered, selfishly, if all those laughs had been real. The flirty smile on his lips had been undeniable.

“Of course, I saw you,” Seungcheol replied. “You’re mine. When I heard you were going on this stupid date, I nearly lost my mind.”

Seungcheol pushed his cock deep inside of you, making you cry out. You wrapped your arms around his body, burying your face in his neck. You pressed a few kisses to his neck, trying to hide moans there.

“Your pussy was made for my cock,” Seungcheol mumbled. “Your body was made to be mine.”

You nodded against Seungcheol’s skin.

“You’re right,” you agreed. “You’re right. I don’t know why I pretended for so long.”

Your teeth nipped down on Seungcheol’s neck, making him hiss, his hips stuttering against you.

“You’re breaking your own rules baby,” he mumbled. You mewled, tilting your own head up.

“Fuck my rules.”

Seungcheol had been looking for permission to mark you since this had started. His teeth immediately bit down on your neck, and he smoothed over the mark as soon as he left it. Normally when Seungcheol fucked you he was slow and agonizing but not tonight.

“What finally triggered it?” Seungcheol asked you, his lips still against your neck.

“Can’t stand you smiling at that girl,” you admitted breathlessly. “Can’t stand you on a date with anyone else.”

“We’re not dating, y/n,” Seungcheol reminded you. “We’re not dating because you don’t want to.”

His words were rough, but his lips curved into a smile.

“Seungcheol I’m sorry,” you mumbled. “I don’t know why I pretended I didn’t want you.”

Seungcheol grunted his agreement to your words.

“I should leave you here. Soak you with my cum and not let you cum. Make you sit in here thinking about the fact that I’m on a date with someone else. Someone who makes me laugh. Someone who appreciates me.”

You wrapped your arms even tighter around Seungcheol’s body terrified that he was going to honor his words.

“But she’s not yours Seungcheol,” you insisted. “I’m yours.”

Seungcheol nodded.

“That you are baby,” he agreed softly. “All mine. My jealous little girl.”

“I’m not-” Why were you trying to lie right now? You were the one who had dragged Seungcheol here. Made him come into this bathroom. Practically begged him to fuck you.

“It’s okay that you’re a little jealous,” Seungcheol cooed. “I’m jealous too. Hate it when I see other men draped all over you. Hate it when they look at you and think that they have a fucking chance.”

“They don’t,” you breathed. “Not really Cheol. No one has really had a chance with me since I started fucking you.”

Seungcheol hummed and it sounded unconvinced, but his grip tightened on you. He was getting closer.

“Seungcheol, I love you,” you whispered, your voice breaking. Seungcheol shook his head.

“Y/n-”

“I mean it, I really do,” you insisted, knowing he was going to negate your words. “It’s not just because you’re fucking me. I love you.”

Seungcheol raised his lips to yours. His thrusts slowed for a moment and one of his hands raised to your cheek. His lips flickered back into a smile, and his lips brushed yours teasingly.

“Say it again,” he said softly. Your eyes fluttered shut and you began to roll your hips down to meet Seungcheol’s thrusts.

“I love you Seungcheol,” you repeated, sounding wrecked.

“Good girl,” he breathed. His lips pressed to yours. Chastely, at first, and then more heated as time went by. It was like he was starving, desperate for your lips and honestly? That’s how you felt. All these months you had wanted to kiss him. All this time you had needed to feel his lips on yours.

To finally feel his lips? You were so fucking relieved.

All this time you had been afraid to admit how much you needed him. All this time you had been scared of your own feelings. Because it was Seungcheol. Choi Seungcheol. You weren’t supposed to be in love with him. You weren’t allowed to be in love with him.

If he had kissed you before, you thought that this would have been so much easier.

“I love you too, y/n,” he admitted softly. His fingers came down between you two, rubbing slow circles on your clit. “You going to cum for me?”

You whined against his lips, nodding, desperate, needing him to kiss you more. You chased the connection, but he kept his lips just slightly away from you.

“That’s my good girl,” he mumbled. “Be good and cum for me baby.”

“K-Kiss me, Cheol,” you whined back. He nodded.

“Anything for you,” he said. “Anything for my perfect little girl.”

His lips pressed back to yours and as soon as he did you began to come around his cock. You dragged him right over the edge with you. He didn’t even ask if it was okay to cum inside of you but that only filled you with comfort. He knew you were his. He knew that your pussy was all for him to cum inside.

Seungcheol’s thrusts progressively came to a stop, and his body collapsed against yours. Completely spent, but he didn’t stop kissing you regardless. You found yourself gasping against his lips, so fucking desperate and needy and you didn’t even care.

Seungcheol pulled back, always the one pulling back, always stronger than you were when it came down to it.

“You have to go back to your date baby,” Seungcheol said. He slipped himself out of you, and you let your head fall back against the mirror. You shook your head in exhaustion. “I don’t want-”

“Shh,” Seungcheol whispered back. “I’ll see you again soon now, won’t I?”

You nodded your agreement. Seungcheol grabbed you by your hips, dragging you off the counter. He pulled your panties back into place and pulled your dress down. You stared at him, chest heaving as he tried to make you look presentable. His lips flickered into a smile.

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours briefly.

“Okay.”

He pulled away from you and just as he did you grabbed his wrist.

“Come over tonight,” you whispered. His lips flickered up.

“Yeah?” He was silent for just a second, but his excitement was obvious. “Can I stay over?”

You nodded once, and his smile grew larger.

“And we can get breakfast together?”

Another nod, and it looked like his smile was going to break his face in half.

“You promise?” He asked.

“You’re the one who said that we have to get back to our dates,” you insisted. You pushed at his back, trying to get him out of the bathroom. “I promise, okay?”

Seungcheol turned around again quickly and pressed his lips to yours in another fast kiss. He smiled at you and then took a deep breath.

“Okay. But don’t go back on it.”

Before you could assure Seungcheol that you wouldn’t go back on the promise he was finally leaving the bathroom.

Han knew you were lying when you came back to him and told him that you weren’t feeling well but despite knowing it was a lie he didn’t know exactly why you were lying. He gave you a smile, saying he understood and also insisting that you get some rest.

You were honest when you told him that you were sorry about the date going bad and that you didn’t think you two should go on a second one. Honest when you told him you thought you liked someone else.

And the embarrassment of having to end the date in that way completely vanished when you kept your promise to let Seungcheol stay the night. And that wasn’t the last time that you kept that promise to him.

Taglist: ... @vintageot5, @woo8hao, @toruro, @wonudazed

[zepskies]

Dream With Me - Part 2

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus-sized!Reader (Latina)

Summary: When your asshole ex-boyfriend calls for help on a case, you have a tough decision to make. But Dean isn’t going to let you do anything alone. AKA: The last hunt you, Sam, and Dean will ever go on together.

[Set in 15x20]

AN: Yes, that barn scene. 🫣

(In case you missed it, here's Part 1.)

Word Count: 3.4K

Tags/Warnings: Protective Dean (and angry Dean), blood and violence, angst, and a big twist…

☕ Midnight Espresso Masterlist

Part 2: “We Can Fix This”

The vampires leave you and Carter alone after a while.

You two are the convenient bait, literally chained to your chairs. You’re so irate, you can’t even look at him. His head hangs low, with his chin nearly meeting his chest.

“I’m sorry I got you into this,” he says again. 

“I don’t care,” you flatly reply. 

Carter grimaces. “I didn’t know any other way to get them here. I figured the three of you could hold your own.”

At that, you finally turn your head towards him. 

“But you sold out your own. You sold me out,” you say. “What kind of man are you?”

Not the one you thought, is the answer. 

The problem is, you still need him if you're going to get out of this.

Once you’re able to see past your anger, you two begin to brainstorm on how to escape your restraints. Carter has been working on his for much longer than yours, but his hands are still too large to slip through the thick ropes. Your ankles are tied to the chair as well.

You turn your chair backwards towards him, careful to not let the chair’s legs scrape too badly against the ground. You’re forced to touch hands with him in order to slide him the small knife you hide in the sleeve of your jacket. 

It takes several minutes of quiet sawing, but after a while, he’s finally able to free his hands, then more quickly his legs. He’s about to start on you when you both hear footsteps drawing near the stairs. You and Carter lock eyes. 

“Don’t leave me here,” you whisper instinctively. Carter puts the little knife back into your hand and closes your hand over it. Right about now, you wish you could reach his neck with it.  

“We can’t take them all. I’ll get help,” he says.

You suck in a breath as you realize it. He really is about to leave you. 

“They need you alive as bait more than they need me. You’ll be fine,” he says.

“Carter, you dick,” you hiss. Tears sting behind your eyes, but you blink to try and keep them at bay. You’ll never admit it, but your fear of fangs and the clammy, undead hands of vampires runs deep.

Carter sees your fear, and he can’t help himself; he frames your face with his hands for a quick second, despite the way you glare at him and pull your head away, trying to evade his touch. His eyes hide the depths of his regret, but he doesn’t have time to say anything more.

He leaves you, ducking out the back entrance to the barn that leads into the woods.

“What’s going on?” Jenny says, as she comes down the stairs. Her face falls when she sees Carter’s empty chair. 

“What the hell?!” she shouts. Two of the men in her nest come running out to meet her. She gives one of them an order to run after Carter. 

Her attention snaps to you. “I’m guessing you helped your boyfriend escape?”

You don’t answer her at first as she draws near, but inside, you’re trembling a bit. You have an idea of what’s coming. Nevertheless, you try to remain stoic. Strong.

“Not my boyfriend,” you reply. Jenny cocks her head.

“Oh, that’s right. He betrayed you, and now he's left you in the hands of monsters,” she says. She holds her hands on her hips. “You must be the most gullible woman in the world.”

Your lips thin into a line. “Or you’re just stupid enough to leave a couple of hunters alone. You better damn hope he doesn’t find Sam and Dean. Even when they don’t know what’s coming, they should be the stuff of your nightmares. But when they’re prepared?”

You lick your dry lips and give Jenny a grim smile, with more confidence than you actually feel.

“Say goodbye to your family,” you say.

After a beat, Jenny smiles tightly and grabs your face. Her nails bite into your cheeks and make you wince.  

“All right, Nate. You can have a taste,” she says.

She steps to the side as one of the larger backup dancers in her little entourage draws near. Jenny wrenches your head back by your hair, so he can lean in and bite into your neck. Your scream reverberates on the barn walls.

Sam and Dean left the car parked closer to the main road. They’re prepared for anything as they trek through the woods, with silver bullets in their guns and machetes strapped to their belts, along with witch killing bullets in their pockets for good measure. 

Sam has pinpointed not just an estimate of your location, but also those coordinates as a few minutes away by foot. With their long strides, they can hopefully reach you soon.

“Wait,” Dean says, stopping his brother with a hand on his arm. “I hear something coming.”

Sam hears it too. Quick footsteps running on the crunch of dead leaves.

Carter comes stumbling from between the trees, out of breath, but still on the run while another man gains on him. When Carter sees Sam and Dean, his eyes widen with recognition. 

“Vampires!” he shouts at them. 

The brothers immediately switch from guns to the machetes on their belts. Dean reaches the vampire first, but he ducks the initial swing of Dean’s blade. It’s a quick scuffle, in which Sam manages to behead the creature. Blood sprays across Sam’s chest as the body falls to the ground.

Dean’s angry gaze shifts to Carter, who’s catching his breath. Dean doesn’t give him a chance to recover when he grabs the man by his collar. He pins him up to the nearest tree, hard, and holds his blade up to Carter’s neck, even though the man raises his hands in surrender.

“All right, all right!” Carter exlaims.

“Where is she?” Dean demands.

“A nest of vamps, in a barn up and over the hill. They took her, they’ve got her,” Carter says.

Dean wars between processing that, and becoming fucking furious.

“You left her there?!” he growls. Sam’s face furrows as well in anger, though he watches his brother out of the corner of his eye.

“Just let me explain!” Carter says. 

Dean tightens the edge of his machete against the other man’s throat.

“Talk fast,” he warns.

“They’re waiting for you and Sam,” Carter says. “They nabbed me on account of you two assholes. That’s why they took her, so you’d have to come to them.”

Dean’s jaw locks. He glances at Sam, who’s just as angry as him. He’s just better at keeping a handle on it.

“So wait, lemme get this straight,” Dean says, as he continues to put the pieces together in his mind. He tips the end of the machete towards Carter’s chest. “They grabbed you up. So you called her, brought her into this, to save your own damn skin?”

Carter sighs harshly. 

“Look, I know I’m going to hell. But the longer we stand around here waiting for you to do mental math, the longer they’ve got her alone,” he says. “I managed to get free, but I didn’t have time to get her out with me. So I left to find you.”

Dean's anger burns under his skin, but he lets Carter off the tree, just to turn him around and point the machete at his back. It’s reminiscent of years past, when a far darker blade used to fit all too well in Dean's right hand. 

“Walk,” he barks the order. “Any twitchy moves, and my Christmas comes early.”

You've slipped in and out of consciousness, but finally you garner the strength to blink your eyes awake. Jenny had been watching you up until a few minutes ago, giving you reprieve when she went into the back room to join her nest. 

You heave a shaky sigh and wince at the pain emanating from your neck. You have a gaping bite wound that still oozes blood with every infinitesimal movement of your head. 

Fuck. You really hate vampires. 

You won’t bleed out, probably, but the situation isn’t good. You have no idea if Carter will come back, or if Sam and Dean even know how to find you. 

You try to remember that they’re masters at the impossible, and this is certainly not the biggest challenge you three have ever faced. Hell, if you could survive getting dusted by God, then you can survive a nest of flea-bitten vamps.

Wincing with strain, you try to twist your wrists under this rope so you can start sawing at it with your little knife. All the while, your thoughts inevitably bring you back to Dean.

You regret snapping at him. Because his instincts were right, yet again. You had trusted Carter the slightest bit, and he’d proved to you, yet again, that he's an even bigger piece of shit than you took him for. 

A door quietly creaks open, and you’re able to turn your head in that direction. Your eyes widen in surprise when you see Sam and Dean. Your breath escapes you.

And that’s when Dean’s eyes lock on you. He hastens over to you first, with Sam following right behind. Carter comes in after them, but all you can focus on is Dean. There’s relief written across his furrowed face when he kneels beside you and immediately starts cutting at the ropes that bind your hands with his machete. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says, rushed, but purposeful when he meets your gaze.  

“Hey,” you whisper back, with a hint of a smile, despite your eyes that shine with both relief and unshed tears.

“You okay?” he asks gruffly. 

“Yeah,” you reply, even if you don’t entirely mean it.

Dean touches your cheek and wipes a tear there. He then tilts his head to take a better look at the glaring bite on your neck. He grimaces and lets out an angry exhale, his jaw clenching, but he finishes cutting through the ropes. 

When your hands are finally free, you hiss in relief, rubbing some of the sting out of them. It allows you to reach for his face and bring him in for a quick, but hard kiss. And then another for good measure.

Dean accepts them, briefly savoring them with his eyes closed, but he has to shift his attention as he starts on the ropes around your ankles next. 

Neither of you notice the way Carter looks away from the scene. He feels out of place, and even hides a thread of jealousy deep down. 

Meanwhile, Sam keeps watch with his machete at the ready. He gestures at Carter to keep an eye on the stairs leading to the second floor while he watches the door to the back room. 

When you’re completely free, Dean helps you stand. He steadies you with an arm around your waist when you sway a bit on your feet. You’ve lost enough blood that it’s a problem, but you assure him wordlessly that you just need a moment. Then, you give him a nod, and he starts to move with you towards the door. 

But danger comes—just not from upstairs or the back room.

The vampires swarm in from both entrances to the barn. 

A fight ensues, in which Dean’s top priority is keeping you safe, and yours is making sure his blind spots are covered. Your main problem is that you don’t have a weapon, and neither does Carter. He eventually gets beat down, while Sam and Dean are also overpowered, and you’re all but thrown to the ground.

Jenny comes in right as Carter and Dean are pinned down beside one another by three vampires.

“Wait…I know you,” Dean realizes. It takes him another moment, but soon he’s able to connect the familiar face with a name.

“Jenny.” The name falls from his lips in wonder. It’s been fifteen years, but he almost never forgets a face. He smirks, giving a cocky look to the vampires holding him down.

“We tried to kill each other back in the day. Ain’t that a bitch?”

“That’s all you remember?” Jenny asks, raising a brow. “Do you remember Luther and Kate?”

Dean has to wrack his brain, but it does trigger a memory of how his dad shot Luther, a centuries’ old vampire, with the Colt.

“Well, if I remember right, we left Kate alive,” he says, maintaining a cocky quirk of his brow. “Eh, bit sloppy, but we were young. What’re ya gonna do?”

He notices you on the ground behind Kate. You’re inching towards a scythe from the collection of rusty farming equipment that spans each corner of the barn. Slowly, your hand wraps around the farming tool.

Jenny’s face becomes grim, and even colored with pain.

“Yeah, well, Kate got reckless. It wasn’t long before another hunter found us. She saved me,” she says. “But because of you, she lost the only man she ever loved. And I lost my sister.”

Jenny smiles, and it’s all fangs.

“So today, I get dibs.”

With a short yell of strain, you heft the heavy scythe and behead Jenny.

The distraction gives Sam an opening to get ahold of his own dropped machete. He beheads one of the vampires that’s holding Dean. He and Carter are then able to break free of the other two in order to keep fighting.

However, Nate, the vampire that bit you, is drawn to your scent—to the blood from your open wound. He sniffs the air, and his gaze finds you with a smirk. 

He grabs your scythe, and with a force that stuns you, he twists it out of your grip and backhands you hard. You cry out and stumble to the ground. Before he can take advantage of it, Dean grabs the vampire’s arm and punches him. 

Nate grapples with him, his larger frame and enhanced strength allowing him to push Dean back. The two are headed for a large wooden support beam. As you pick yourself up from the floor, you think you see something protruding from the beam. It sends up a flare in your subconscious. 

So when Nate starts bulldozing Dean back like a linebacker, you use what strength you have to charge at the vampire. Your body collides with his side, and the two of you crash onto the dusty ground. 

Dean falls hard against the beam, but he trips back at a lower angle. He cracks his head against the wood and slides down to the ground onto his seat. He’s winded, probably half-concussed, but when he looks up and over his shoulder, he sees a long piece of rebar sticking out of the beam. He just barely missed it.  

Well, fuck me, he thinks. 

Nate elbows you off of him and knocks you onto the ground, where he grabs your hair and yanks your head to the side. You wince in pain as you struggle and push against his chest, but it’s no use. He’s got you pinned. His fangs descend.

Until Dean takes hold of him by the shoulders and bodily hefts him off of you. It gives you a chance to breathe and scramble to your feet. Nate punches Dean solidly across his face, keeping him occupied. 

You look around for any weapon you can use. You see a flash of silver on the ground a few feet away, and you realize it’s Dean’s forgotten machete. You attempt to get by the vampire to grab it, but Nate catches you with the edge of his backhand. 

You stumble, though you don’t entirely go down as you try to catch your breath. While Dean is trying to hold him back by his arm, Nate kicks you in the side, sending you crashing toward what looks like an old weedwhacker. Except, it’s mostly made of metal.

You fall onto it hard.

Meanwhile, Dean finally sees the machete he dropped. He picks it up and gives an instinctive, powerful swing. It decapitates Nate, and the large body falls to the ground with a heavy thump.

Dean heaves for breath afterward. He looks over and sees that Sam and Carter have finished up with the others. 

Dean turns back to find you, and he notices that you’re still sprawled out against some farming tools. 

“Hey, you okay?” he asks. He goes to you and grabs your arm to help you up, but you stop him with a hiss. 

“Wait, wait, Dean,” you raise a hand at him.

You look up at him with panic in your eyes. You have a white-knuckle grip on an iron handle.

When you try to push your body up, Dean realizes, with no small amount of horror, that you’re stuck.

You’ve fallen straight onto a rusty, circular blade. 

Dean immediately lowers to his knees beside you. His hand grips your shoulder. 

“Oh, God,” you utter. “I can’t move.”

Dean takes maybe half a beat, before his brain kicks into high gear. 

“Sam!” he barks. 

Hearing the urgency in his brother’s voice, Sam rushes over on your other side. His eyes are wide when he realizes what’s happening, but he meets Dean’s steely gaze.

Together they maneuver the saw in such a way that it allows you to raise up to your knees, despite your whimpers of pain. Already small streams of blood fall from your body and down the side of the blade.

Sam and Dean share a knowing look. They really shouldn’t take out the blade until they get you to a hospital, but this tool is too damn big. There’s no way to stabilize you.

“Okay, it’s okay…we’re gonna have to take this out so we can get you to the car,” Dean says, rubbing a hand over his mouth. It’s a nervous tick you know well. You nod in agreement, even though you know this is about to hurt like fucking hell.

Sam braces you from behind, while Dean takes the saw by the handle and carefully takes the blade out of your side. Your scream echoes horribly in the barn, making his jaw lock and his body tense up even more, but he carries through with his task. Once the blade is free, Dean tosses it away. 

Sam lays you down and takes off his jacket and his outer layer of plaid, as does Dean. One of the shirts is bundled like packing, to press against your gaping wound, while the other flannel is used to keep it all tied tightly around your waist. It’s white-hot agony all throughout the process, and you definitely black out for a few moments, your eyelids fluttering shut.

When you do come to, you try your best to contain your pain—and work through the way your head is swimming toward falling into shock. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart. We gotcha,” Dean murmurs. His hands work as quickly as possible while trying not to do more damage to your body.

All the while, Carter watches in worry. 

Once you’re as wrapped up and stabilized as you can be, you, Sam, and Dean realize that both flannels are slowly being soaked with your blood. Dean wastes no time in positioning you in his arms. Sam helps him raise you off the ground, but Dean takes you fully and starts to carry you out of the barn. Sam opens the door for him and follows Dean’s lead, with Carter in tow.

You manage to raise your head enough to look up at Dean. He looks down on you, noting that your normally tan face is already far too pale. And still, the right side of your neck is bloody and raw. 

“You’re really gonna carry me all the way to the car?” you ask weakly. 

“You got a problem with that?” Dean retorts, with an attempt at a smile. 

His voice is steady, but you see everything in his eyes. You see the depths of his worry, and his fear. For once, you don’t know how to soothe him. You grab onto the front of his black undershirt and rest your head against his chest, just trying to keep your eyes open. 

“You’re gonna be fine, baby,” he says. “We can fix this. Just stay with me, okay?”

You feel his lips press a quick kiss to your forehead.

You try your best to believe him. 

AN: ...Well, sort of "fixed" it?

I know, I know, I'm sorry. 🫣 But trust me, we're not done yet...

Next Time:

Dean’s heartbeat pounds in his ears.

By the time the four of you reach the Impala, you’re in a cold sweat, pale, and barely conscious. Dean unlocks the car and carefully seats you on one side of the backseat, while Sam hurries to the other side. He then helps guide you in as Dean maneuvers you into laying across the backseat. Sam’s going to stay with you for the ride to the hospital.   

“Watch her head,” Dean warns, his tone sharp. 

“I got her,” Sam assures. He holds you securely against his chest, with your head tucked under his chin.

Dean lets out an unsteady breath. When he turns around, Carter’s standing too close, peering at you anxiously. 

“Get her to a hospital—” he starts to say, but Dean’s blood-stained fist cuts off his words, cracking against his jaw.

Dean put all his strength into that one.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 3 (Finale!)

Ko-Fi Me ☕

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[urdreamgirls-dreamgirl]

When witches turn eighteen years old, it’s customary for them to be sent out into the world, to practice their magic and find their calling. So when Eddie Munson’s birthday passes in July, he packs a suitcase, says goodbye to his Uncle Wayne—the best garden witch in the tri-county area, ask anyone!—zips his cat into the neck of his leather jacket (whom he’d cleverly named Kitty when he was six years old), climbs on his broom, and sets off for the city on the coast.

Once he gets there, Eddie’s not entirely sure where to go. He’s never actually been to the city before, but he’d heard so many stories—from classmates and friends, from travelers passing through his small town who’d come searching for Wayne’s recipes, from the witches who returned after their year-long apprenticeships—that he’d known since he was thirteen that he had to see it for himself. He wanders the cobblestone streets with his broom and his bag and marvels at the crowds. He watches a magician perform on the street—doesn’t miss it when he slips a card up his sleeve or shifts a coin through his fingers, but it still makes him smile—before he stumbles onto a ‘help wanted’ sign in a shop window. Kitty lets out a tiny meow from where she’s tucked under Eddie’s chin, like she’s trying to get his attention. Eddie glances down at her and she shifts her gaze from his face to the sign and back again.

“Alright, I hear ya,” Eddie murmurs, grinning and cupping a hand over her head for a quick pet.

A tiny bell jingles overhead as Eddie pushes open the front door. Immediately, he’s met with the smell of baking bread and sugary frosting. He breathes deep, giving Kitty another pat on her head. He stands at the counter for a moment before a boy around his age appears from the back room.

“Hi, welcome to The Bakery. What can I help you with?” The boy is grinning wide, wiping his flour-covered hands on his apron. He’s got soft brown hair and eyes to match. Eddie meets his gaze and feels himself blush.

“Um, you have a ‘help wanted’ sign in your window?” Eddie hooks his thumb over his shoulder, gesturing at the sign.

“Oh! Yeah, we just put that up today actually. We’re looking for a delivery person,” the boy is still grinning, eyeing Eddie’s broom. “I’m Steve.” He holds out his hand over the counter for Eddie to shake.

“Eddie.” Steve’s hand is surprisingly soft when Eddie shakes it.

“The job comes with a room over the bakery, our hours are from 6am to 5pm every day but Thursday, and we’d like you to start immediately.”

“Oh, um. Just like that?”

Steve grins again. “I may not be smart, but even I know not to turn away a witch when one comes knocking.” He knocks his knuckles against the wooden counter and Eddie returns his smile. “Come on, I’ll show you the room.” Steve turns to head back the way he came and Eddie takes a moment to look down at Kitty. She blinks at him, all-knowing, and it makes Eddie blush again. He rolls his eyes and sticks his tongue out at her before following behind Steve.

He follows Steve out the bakery’s back door and up a set of wooden stairs that lead from the garden to a small deck, where Steve pulls a key from his pocket and unlocks one of the two doors. He gestures for Eddie to step through the doorway before following behind him.

“The room is furnished, there’s a small stove there in the corner with a sink and a washroom just over there,” Steve gestures to a door on the opposite wall from the tiny bed. “My apartment’s the next door over and I have a full kitchen, which you’re welcome to use if you need to. Here’s your key,” Steve drops the warm piece of metal into Eddie’s palm, “and I’ll have the spare key to my place and the bakery for you tomorrow. Make yourself at home and head down to the bakery tomorrow morning.” Steve pats him on the shoulder before heading back out of the tiny room and down into the bakery.

Eddie is left to do nothing but blink at the empty space Steve had left behind. He’s not entirely sure what just happened, but he’s pretty sure he’s landed both a job and a place to stay. Not bad for his first day in the city.

~*~

A year passes and Eddie is happy. He writes to Wayne and tells him all about Steve and the recipes he tries out in the bakery. Tells Wayne that he suspects that Steve might have some witch blood he doesn’t know about; the things he can do with buttercream are pure magic. Eddie visits Wayne once for his birthday—it’s a long way by broom—weighed down by pastries and cakes that Steve insists he take home with him.

Eddie starts to learn the landscape of the city, learns when to fly over the coastline and when to keep tight to the city streets. He makes his own posters, starts to do some deliveries after hours too, which leads him to meet all sorts of interesting people. He meets artists and performers, writers and teachers, even the man who services the big clock at the center of the city (which Eddie finds particularly impressive).

He spends time with Steve. Steve is funny and smart, despite what he’d said the first day Eddie had met him. He can cook, not just bake, and he insists that Eddie joins him for dinner at least three nights a week. At first, Eddie had tried to say no to Steve’s invitations, thinking that Steve was just being polite, but Steve had insisted and Eddie realized that Steve was actually pretty lonely. He wasn’t from the city and he didn’t have much family; he’d come here when his parents had died. He’d apprenticed with an older woman named Claudia, who’d left the bakery to him when she’d retired not too long ago. Steve’s eyes go soft whenever he mentions her. Her son, Dustin, still helps them around the bakery three days a week, counting down the days until he leaves for university (he only ever relays the amount of days and Eddie’s pretty bad at math, but by his count, Dustin’s still got about three years to go).

Steve also talks about his best friend, Robin, who’s away at art school. Steve is hoping when she comes back in the spring, she’ll work at the bakery decorating the cakes. Eddie’s surprised to learn that Robin is also a witch; he hadn’t known many witches to go to art school.

The year passes in dinners and picnics, in deliveries and odd jobs, and when spring is finally turning over into summer again, Robin arrives home to the bakery.

“Stevie!” A voice calls from the front of the shop, scratchy and warm, drowning out the jingle of the bell. Eddie is sat on the counter in the back room, completely entranced by the way Steve’s arm muscles jump under his skin as he kneads bread dough. He’s barely listening to some story Steve’s telling about something Dustin had done the other day.

Eddie watches as Steve stops what he’s doing completely. “Robbie?” A smile spreads across Steve’s face, quick and involuntary. He doesn’t even pause to wipe his hands before he’s rushing into the front of the shop. Eddie watches through the door as a pretty girl with short blond hair throws her arms around Steve’s neck. He lifts her off the ground, spinning her around, leaving flour fingerprints across the back of her navy t-shirt.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming today?” Steve asks when he’s finally returned her to an upright position on her own two feet.

“Because then it wouldn’t have been a surprise, dingus.” She pokes a finger into his ribs and he half-heartedly tries to shove her away.

Watching them, Eddie feels something tighten in his chest that he can’t quite explain. He knows this is Robin—he’s seen pictures of her before—knows she’s Steve’s best friend, but this is more than mere friendship. This is something else entirely. Something magic. Eddie’s a good witch. He knows true love when he sees it.

“You have to meet Eddie,” Steve says before calling through the doorway, “Eddie, come meet Robin!”

Eddie hops off the counter and does as he’s told.

~*~

A few weeks later, Eddie wakes with a pounding headache. There’s a breeze coming through his window off the coast and it makes him shiver. He coughs and looks around for Kitty, but she isn’t curled in her usual spot on his pillow. Eddie sniffles.

He pulls himself from his bed and feels dizzy. He washes his face and drinks some orange juice before he heads down to the bakery.

“Wow, you look awful,” Robin says by way of greeting. She grimaces as he comes through the doorway.

“Gee thanks,” Eddie grumbles half-heartedly in her direction. His voice sounds heavy and hoarse.

Steve crosses the room from where he stands in front of the ovens and presses the back of his hand to Eddie’s forehead. “Eddie, you’re burning up. You should go back to bed. I’ll bring you soup later.” He pushes Eddie in the direction of the back door.

“But the deliveries,” Eddie mumbles, eyes already half closing as he dreams of getting back into his sleep-warm bed.

Steve smiles softly. “Don’t worry. Robin and Dustin can handle it.” Eddie glances behind Steve at Robin, who nods at Eddie reassuringly.

“Okay.” Eddie’s voice is a whisper and then he’s stumbling back up the stairs and falling into his bed. He wonders again where Kitty’s run off to.

~*~

Eddie is in and out of consciousness for three days. He has strange dreams, some of them nightmares where monsters chase after him as he tries to fly away on his broom; others are about Steve and Robin and even Dustin, good dreams of the life he’s made here for himself.

Steve keeps his promise and brings him soup every day, helping Eddie sit up against his pillows and even helping Eddie spoon the broth into his mouth. Eddie thinks he maybe should be a little embarrassed about it, but it’s so nice and comforting that he can’t. It reminds him of home, of recipes from Wayne’s garden.

Robin comes to sit with him on the second night, stroking his hair and humming lullabies while he drifts off.

On the third day, when Eddie is starting to feel better, Kitty finally reappears. Eddie asks her where she’d run off to, but she doesn’t answer. She’s been keeping secrets lately.

~*~

After three days, Eddie finally returns to work. Steve gives him the first delivery, tells him Dustin and Robin can continue to help out, just for a few days, so Eddie doesn’t overexert himself. Eddie nods.

He ties the tiny pastry box to the handle of his broom and mounts it on the sidewalk outside. He kicks off from the cobblestones. Nothing happens. Flying had always come easily to Eddie. It was second nature to him, something he never really had to think about. Not all witches could fly, but Eddie can’t really remember a time when he couldn’t.

He tries to kick off from the sidewalk again. Again, nothing happens. Eddie can feel the panic rise in his chest. He swallows, tries again. Still nothing.

He hears himself let out a small whimper and he’s glad Steve’s gone back inside and can’t hear him. He glances through the shop window and sees Robin’s clever eyes watching him. She meets his gaze. He can see the naked concern there. He swallows again.

He climbs off the broom and unties the package. He carries both as he re-enters the bakery.

“Something’s wrong,” he says to Robin and Steve.

“What do you mean?” Steve asks coming out of the back room again.

“Dunno,” Eddie replies. “Broom’s broken or something. Can’t fly.” He shakes the broom in his hand.

“Does that happen?” Steve’s brow furrows. Eddie shrugs.

“Maybe you’re still sick,” Robin says. “You should go back to bed. Try again in a few days.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” Eddie looks down at his feet. He passes the box to Robin and then decides she’s right. Decides he should go back to bed.

“Don’t worry, Eddie,” Steve says, reassuringly. “It’ll pass. Robin and Dustin can keep doing the deliveries for a little while.”

~*~

Eddie’s magic doesn’t come back. It’s not just the flying either. Kitty stays away longer. Eddie finds himself misunderstanding her more often than not. He keeps messing up simple cleaning spells and the easy home remedies he’s been brewing since before he can remember.

He takes his broom out every night and under the cover of darkness tries and tries and tries again. Sometimes he feels eyes watching him from Steve’s apartment, but when he glances up, all he can see is the flutter of curtains.

~*~

After three weeks of a miserable, magic-less existence, Robin knocks on the door of Eddie’s small room.

“Wanna talk?” She asks from the doorway.

Eddie considers saying no. Instead he nods and gestures toward his small kitchen table. She sits.

“I saw you practicing,” she says, diving right in.

“Yeah.” Eddie doesn’t try to deny it or even play dumb and ask what she means. She’s a witch. She’ll know. “Flying used to be like breathing. I didn’t even notice I was doing it half the time. Think I learned to fly before I could even walk. Now it’s all I think about. Feels like something’s missing now, like my lungs or, like, a part of my heart or something.”

Robin nods, knowing. “That happened to me, you know. Lost my magic. Felt like I lost an arm.”

Eddie swallows. “What helped get it back?”

“I met Steve,” she says softly, a fond smile playing around the corners of her lips. “I left home earlier than other witches. I never really fit in. I wanted to go to school. Didn’t know if I even wanted to practice my magic at all. My parents said if I stuck it out, I could leave when I was fourteen. So I did. I waited and counted the days and finally it was time. Spent a year in the city. I loved it. But then, one of my friends… something happened to her.” Robin looks sad and twists her fingers together, fidgeting. “She had to leave the city. When she left, I got really sick. Couldn’t do magic for almost a year.”

“A year?” Eddie asks, mouth hanging open. “I can’t not fly for a whole year.”

Robin hums. “You figure it out. You have to. Some days it’s more noticeable than others.”

“But you met Steve. And you got your magic back?” Eddie prompts.

“Yeah. It’s like that saying, you know the one? ‘True love makes the best magic.’” She says it like she’s said it a hundred thousand times before.

Eddie grumbles. “Don’t think I’m gonna fall in love and magically fix my flying problem.” He crosses his arms over his chest.

“I didn’t say anything about falling in love.” Robin smiles again, big and bright this time. “There’s more than one kind of true love.”

~*~

Eddie thinks about what Robin had said to him for days. He turns it over in his mind again and again and again.

He starts laying out treats for Kitty. He misses her. Even before he got sick and lost his magic, he’d started to leave her behind more and more on his deliveries. He’d realized he could fly faster without worrying about her falling from inside his jacket.

She’s hesitant, but she starts coming back more. When they sleep, she returns to her place on Eddie’s pillow and Eddie feels good with the soft, warm weight of her next to his head as he slowly drifts into sleep.

Before he’d gotten sick, he’d taken on too many deliveries. He’d stopped having time to chat with the customers, to hear the little stories of their lives, of cleaning the clock tower at the center of town or a new plot point one of the writers had just figured out. He’d missed hearing the explanations of what celebrations he was delivering cupcakes or tarts or heart-shaped cakes for. Delivering on foot gave him a lot more time to stop and watch the street performers, to help tourists with directions. On foot, Eddie began to appreciate the city again, like he had before, when he’d first gotten here. When it felt like he’d been dropped right into the center of a dream realized.

He starts having more dinners with Robin and Steve. He’d stopped doing it so much, not wanting to feel like a wonky third wheel. But they slot him in right next to them, right in the middle. They fill him in on inside jokes and old stories. Sometimes Dustin joins them and Eddie tells stories of Wayne and the strange people who used to appear on their doorstep in search of some of his magic.

Eddie starts to feel happy again.

~*~

A week after he talked to Robin, Eddie brings his broom out into the center of the street. It’s close to dusk, the sun low in the sky, and the bakery is closed for the day. Steve, Robin, and Dustin stand shoulder to shoulder on the sidewalk, waiting.

Eddie breathes deep. He swallows. Breathes again. And then he mounts his broom like he has a million times before. He grips the polished handle. He feels it thrum beneath his fingertips. He takes another deep breath, closes his eyes, and kicks off from the cobblestones.

There’s a strange sort of hush to the street. Eddie can’t tell if he’s in the air. He squints an eye open and sees Steve, Robin, and Dustin waving up at him. He can’t help the grin that spreads across his face. He lets out a shout.

He does a few circles around, just above their heads, while they all scream and clap for him. Eddie can’t help but laugh. He’d missed this.

When he finally lands, they all rush to hug him. Dustin lets go first and then Steve.

Robin’s arms are still around him when she whispers into his ear, low enough so only he can hear it. “See? True love magic.” Eddie smiles again and gives her one last tight squeeze before letting go.

Dustin and Robin head back inside, leaving Steve and Eddie to stare at each other in the empty street. Steve is still grinning, his hands in his pocket.

“How’s it feel?” Steve nods toward the broom.

“Feels like breathing,” Eddie tells him, closing the space between them. Steve’s cheeks flush and Eddie doesn’t miss the way his eyes flick from Eddie’s gaze down to his lips and back again. Steve licks his own lips. “Feels like home.”

Steve is breathing a little harder now as Eddie continues to slowly close the distance between them.

“Feels like magic,” Eddie whispers, before he brushes his lips against Steve’s. He pulls back slightly. “Feels like love.” Steve’s hand comes up to curl around the back of Eddie’s neck, pulling Eddie in close for a real and proper kiss, right there in the empty street, under the setting sun.

now on ao3 :)

(For @outpastthebrakers for commenting on the post where I mentioned this!!!! Warning: this was fully written under the influence of a sleeping pill in abt an hour and a half. Don’t hold that against me :P)

[percki]

on my knees

tags: 18+, mature content, MDNI, Gale x reader, f!Tav, 2nd person pronouns, act 3, semi-public sex, porn w/o plot, lap dance, explicit consent, bondage, restraints, dom/sub, switch Gale, oral sex (m! and f! receiving), lap sex, hand jobs, overstimulation, orgasm denial, praise kink

ao3 link

“Urgh.” Rolan stands up, wiping a smear of Lorroakan’s blood off the sleeve of his robes. “Your aasimar friend is… violent.”

“I’m so sorry for the mess, Rolan. We can clean everything up –” You glance around the upper level of the tower, at the holy fire, congealed mud, pasty mixture of water and ash, and a fair amount of blood. At the wizard’s broken body, his face swollen with bruises, his mouth agape, sprawled at the foot of his throne of books. “– Um, but it might take a while.”

Rolan waves one long-nailed hand in your direction, his discolored face grateful – if not a bit exasperated. “Don’t worry about it, my friend. You have already done so much for me – consider my debt forgiven, and all will be well.” You smile at that, watching the tiefling wizard grunt with exertion as he hauls Lorroakan’s body towards the portal. “And, erm – help yourself to any treasures you come across, of course. I’ll be… downstairs…” He pushes the corpse through the shimmering portal, and sends you one last earnest, sharp-toothed smile over his shoulder. “...Burying a body.”

With that, Rolan pushes up the sleeves of his robes (sorcerer’s robes, trimmed in silver, unbefitting for a wizard, but they suit him well nonetheless) and steps through the portal, no doubt bracing himself to break the news to his new employees. ‘Hey, so remember those adventurers that just came in? They killed Lorroakan, violently, and I’m your boss now. Surprise!’ You’re sure the staff at Sorcerous Sundries have endured worse surprises; working for Lorroakan sounds akin to an eternity of torture in the Hells.

Aylin sheathes her sword and crosses over to you, removing her helmet. Her ash-blonde hair spills over her shoulders, and her gold-streaked face glistens with blood and sweat. “I shall be at your camp, if you have need of me,” she declares, and inclines her head in gratitude. “You fought well – as you have before. I remain thankful for your assistance.” Less wordy than usual – Lorroakan’s death must be weighing on her. You don’t blame her.

“Thank you, Dame Aylin,” you say, and bow in respect. She smiles at that, silver eyes gleaming.

“Ooh, wait!” Karlach runs up to you, her arms full of wine bottles – no doubt pilfered from Lorroakan’s hidden stash. The woman has a nose for alcohol – she could find a bottle of Baldur’s Grape blindfolded, disoriented, in the middle of a rainstorm. Shadowheart is close behind, a new cloak slung over her shoulders and a fair amount of gold filling her pockets. “We’ll probably go back to camp, too – Fringe and I have to try all this wine.”

“To make sure it isn’t poisoned,” Shadowheart adds, green eyes twinkling with humor. “You can handle yourselves without us, can’t you?”

You grin. “Save a bottle of Mermaid Whiskey for me.”

“Blech. You can have it all.” Karlach sticks out her split tongue, her smile wide. “See ya!” She bolts through the portal head-first: dangerous, with the amount of alcohol in her arms and the fiery infernal engine in her chest. You hear a distant crash, and wince.

Shadowheart follows close behind, calling, “Save the Tyche Pink!”

You hear the rush of wings and look over – Aylin is gone, too, a flash of silver in the clear blue sky. You watch her fly, the wind buffeting her white wings – deva-like, altogether unnatural, inhuman, beautiful in an untouchable, deadly, frightening way – as she soars. The sunlight seems to collect around her, like a remnant of her celestial mother’s power lingers, still, even after the heat and rage of battle is done.

“And then there were two.”

Gale’s voice snaps you out of your reverie. You look up, meeting his eyes. Dark brown, deep, gentle, shining with a light all too familiar. He’s standing by the throne of books, his right hand resting on a copy of Folktales of Faerún: The Angelic Aasimar. 

You kneel over the ashes of the water myrmidon, sifting through the remains for treasure. Nothing. “I suppose Rolan will take a while…” You look around the tower once more, keen eyes picking out chests, display cases, bookshelves – anything that could hide a nice new set of robes for Gale, or a dagger for Astarion, or perhaps some armor for Wyll… “Will you cast Feather Fall? I want to look on the lower levels…” You trail off, reading something in Gale’s eyes. His fingers flex on the spine of the book, his shoulders thrown back, his lilac robes fitting his form well. Is he… posing? You smile and straighten, dusting ash off your sleeves, and move to his side, twining your left arm with his right, leaning comfortably against his side. “The Annals are in the vaults,” you say, knowing his primary objective here, halfheartedly attempting to lift his spirits. Thoughts of the Crown are dangerous – you have seen how easily the lure of power can corrupt, a thousand times (with Kagha in the Emerald Grove, with Minthara at the goblin camp, with Ketheric and Gortash and now Lorroakan). But despite your reservations, you know his ambition fuels him, that it drives his fire, that thoughts of greatness and respect do raise his spirits. “We could go down ourselves…”

Gale turns into you, resting his forehead on your shoulder, his beard scratching at your neck. He presses a kiss to your collarbone, and sighs deeply, inhaling your scent – blood and smoke and sweat, and the faintest hints of his cologne lingering on your skin. “I… Not yet,” he says vaguely, and kisses your neck again, deeper this time. Your breath hitches as he trails long, searing kisses up your neck, along the line of your jaw, leading up to your lips.

“Gale…” You whisper, voice low. “I –” He nips at your bottom lip, smiling against your chin, and you can feel your face heat up. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” he says devilishly, oak eyes sparkling, looking up at you through thick, dark lashes. “You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, and you can feel the vibration of his voice against your skin, sending a chill down your spine. “I can’t believe…” He blinks, as if waking from a dream, and cradles your jaw with his hand, straightening to his full height.

You kiss him, this time, tasting blood on his lips, and you stop, examining his face carefully. A bruise is forming at the bridge of his nose, blood tracing a path down the apex of his lips to his chin. You frown, brow creasing in worry. “You’re hurt.”

“Hm?” Gale touches his face gingerly, delicate, careful fingers prodding the quickly-purpling skin. “Oh. Yes. That. It’s quite alright –”

“It’s not alright,” you reply. “Let me heal you.” You take his shoulders in your hands and guide him into a seated position on Lorroakan’s throne, his back reclined against a collection of Ramazith’s annotated tomes. You kneel before him, positioning yourself between his legs, and summon a simple healing incantation, your hand hovering over his nose, the blue glow of the spell reflected in his eyes. “Te curo,” you murmur, and watch as his skin knits itself together, blood drying, swelling fading, the bruise vanishing beneath your fingers. “Better?”

“Better,” he admits, and looks at you with intent in his eyes, his gaze dark and focused on your features. “My love,” he starts, then hesitates. His face turns a delicious shade of pink.

“Yes?” You lean forward, hanging onto his words. He adjusts his legs, his thighs bracketing your shoulders, and you feel the slightest thrill at your compromising position, you in your armor and him in his robes, you kneeling before him like a supplicant at an altar.

“Rolan may not return for some time,” Gale says. “We could…” He stops again, biting his lip.

You guess his meaning immediately – your thoughts are remarkably in-tune. You can’t deny that you hadn’t thought about it, hadn’t wished for… Well. For Gale. Your peaceful nights since arriving in the Lower City have been few and far between, interrupted as they are: by vampires, by nightmares, by Orin’s ministrations. It’s been some time since you and Gale had time to yourselves.

And now, it seems, you have all the time in the world.

“Do you want to?” You question, and his eyes darken, his pupils expanding infinitesimally. You lean forward, cupping his cock with your hand, and smile to feel him already half-hard beneath your touch.

“I – yes,” he breathes, and raises his hand to cast Mage Hand, the incantation on his lips, when you catch him by the wrist, holding him still.

“No magic,” you say breathlessly, and straighten back up to your full height, smiling down at him. “As mortals do, remember?”

Gale watches you intently as you undo the first few buckles of your armor, leather slipping between your fingers. He sits up, reaching out his hands to help –

And you push him back.

“Don’t move,” you warn him, and plant one hand securely on his chest, holding him in place, as you draw a piece of silken fabric out of your pack. You hold it up for him to see, and upon realizing your intention, his eyes widen, pupils expanding impossibly wide. “Do you want this?” You ask, and he confirms with a nod of his head. You narrow your eyes and lean in, your face centimeters away from his, your breath ghosting on his lips. “Say it, please, love.”

He swallows thickly, eyes locked on yours, and says, his voice a rumble in his chest, “I want you to tie me up.”

You smile, and reward him with a bruising, biting kiss. “Good boy,” you murmur, and relish the way his face reddens, his jaw going slightly slack at the praise. “Lean forward for me?” He acquiesces, already holding his hands behind his back, and you climb up into his lap to twine the silk around his wrists, your touch featherlight and gentle. You test the knot, and smile. Not too tight – but he certainly won’t get any ideas about spellcasting. “Does that feel okay?”

“Yes,” he says into your shoulder, his voice muffled by the layers of your armor. You stand back up and step completely out of your clothes, metal buckles and buttons clinking as your many layers fall to the floor, and then you stand before Gale in your undergarments, your skin rising with goosebumps from the cool air, his eyes roving a path up and down your figure.

You feel a little warm from the intensity of his gaze, but you steel your nerves and continue. You reach out with your senses, using the knowledge of the Weave that Gale taught you of so long ago, and you can feel a soft tinkling at the edge of your perception, the distant sound of music, and you pull it towards you. In one of the pleasure dens far below, a slow, sensual number starts up, and you filter the sound through the available space, filling the tower with music.

Gale’s lips part as he realizes your plan. “Love,” he starts, “I haven’t –”

You feel a twinge of self-doubt, standing there near-nude before a man who is completely clothed. You have no experience with this whatsoever – apart from what you have read and seen – and you’re not sure that Gale loves you enough to forgive you if you make a total ass of yourself. “This is okay, right?” You rush to ask, holding your hands out for his before realizing that he’s still tied. You tuck them behind your back, straightening your posture. “Um – I know this is probably unusual, but, you know, in the Quarta Sune –”

Gale grins, his dimples making a rare appearance, and the sight of it pulls at your heartstrings. “You are perfect,” he promises, lifting his dark eyes up to your face. “This is perfect. Please, keep going.”

The slight rasp of his voice goes straight to your core, and you step forward before you’re entirely conscious of your movements, looping your arms around his neck and kissing him deeply. He leans into you with a groan, and you can feel his shoulders move, his hands resisting the bindings, and you pull back. “No touching,” you say softly, “right? This is about you.”

He lets out a frustrated sigh, his expression adorably resentful, and you laugh and kiss the bridge of his nose.

“Later,” you promise, and with that, you stand up, and turn away from him, facing the windows, the setting sun illuminating your skin. The music restarts, strings amping up, and you sway your hips to the tune, letting instinct take over. One, two, three, you breathe, feeling the rhythm run through you, and as the music crescendos, you drop down onto Gale’s lap, your ass just brushing over his thighs, hoping your undulating body looks sensual rather than spasmodic, and your efforts are rewarded with a delicious, blinding groan from behind you. You turn back around to face him – one, two, three – and lean in close, your scent intoxicating, his body warming your skin, and bracket his legs with your knees, one hand carding through his hair and the other slowly unbuttoning his robes, your knuckles barely brushing the velvet-soft hair on his chest. You slide your hands down the planes of his torso, and then, just as he’s leaning forward, again, anticipating your lips on his –

You step back again, turning, lifting your hands over your head and letting your hair down, smiling to yourself as you peek over your shoulder at his exasperated face. One, two, three. You let your ass ghost over his lap again, closer this time, holding there for a few moments longer than he considers tolerable, and just as his patience goes and his hips buck, you return to your starting position, looking down at him chidingly.

“Please,” he whispers, and you raise your brows, your hands going to the clasp of your bra. He watches, rapt, as you slide the fabric off your breasts and let it fall to the ground atop your discarded armor, your nipples peaking in the cool air. You repeat the motion with your panties, and you’re sure Gale catches sight of the soaked fabric as you toss it aside: his face turns a flattering shade of crimson, his arms straining against his silken ropes.

“How can I deny you?” You say, and with smooth, uninterrupted movements, you slide onto his lap, rocking your hips back and forth, tantalizingly slow, atop him. His robes slip open completely, and you can feel his cock straining against the fabric of his undergarments, barely brushing against the skin of your thighs. Your hands roam along the skin of his chest, thumbs swirling careful circles in the dips of his collarbone and shoulders, your palms warm against his skin. “You’re doing so well,” you praise him, and lean forward to kiss along the line of his clavicle, then slowly up his neck, sucking hard enough to bruise, tasting his sandalwood cologne, his soapy shaving cream, the sweat and salt lingering there, your tongue pulsing against his jaw. “So good for me,” you continue, running your hands through his hair, “you’re perfect, Gale.”

And then, surprising him, you slide off his lap and drop to your knees, slotting your body perfectly in between his legs, and in one swift motion, you free his aching cock from his undergarments and lean forward once more, fitting your lips around the head.

“O-oh,” he moans, straining to keep still as you take him deeper, your hands tracing patterns on the skin of his thighs, reaching up to his hips, your nails scratching lightly, and then, as you adjust yourself and push him back so as to get more leverage, you wrap one hand around his shaft and devote the other one to palm gently at his balls, still a touch too gentle. “Mmm – more,” he sighs, and you obey, licking a stripe up the underside of his cock and then fitting it back in your mouth, deep enough to brush the back of your throat, pre-cum salty on your tongue. You hollow your cheeks, looking up at him through lowered lashes, and his mouth falls open, releasing the most pleasurable moans and groans, sighs and mewls slipping between his lips, chanted noises that may be words – you catch the sound of your name, and please, and yes, in the chorus of sounds that escape his chest, rising and falling in octave with every swipe of your tongue and bob of your head. “P-please,” he says again, “please, let me –”

You guess his meaning, and reach behind him; the movement sending his cock to the very back of your throat, and his back arches in pleasure; and pull the strings of his bindings, untying his hands. The moment he’s free, he takes your head in his hands, cradling your jaw, and lets his fingers twine in the strands of your hair as you suck with renewed eagerness, sliding back nearly completely only to take him in fully again, the feel of his cock in your mouth dizzying, intoxicating, sending white-hot shivers through your body –

You glance down, and through the haze of pleasure, through the shadows of sunset, through the sweat and slick on your body, you see a flash of blue cupping your cunt, and you can suddenly feel the gentle, not-quite-there brush of the Mage Hand’s fingers against your clit. You war between pleasure and indignation for a moment – and indignation wins. You pull back, Gale’s weeping cock inches away from your mouth but still suspended in midair, and he huffs, putting his hands over his eyes, his pleasure cut short just on the path to climax. “Why did you –”

“No magic,” you repeat, and you can feel the Mage Hand dissolve. Gale peeks out from through his fingers, caught, and not the least bit ashamed. “Do I need to tie you up again? Completely, this time?”

“I –” His cock twitches, beads of precum leaking from the tip, stunning the both of you into silence.

You let a devilish grin slide across your face. “Oh. You want me to tie you up, love? Top to tip, completely trussed up for me?” You pull away from him and reach in your pack for more ribbon. “Red or purple, my sweet?”

Gale manages an arrogant smile, his face still flushed red. “Purple, of course.”

“Good choice,” you grin, and stand, running the ribbons through your hands reverently. “This will only take a minute,” you promise. “Why don’t you take those bothersome clothes off before I get started?”

He does, and you let your eyes run over his figure appreciatively for a minute before going to work. Hands on the ‘arms’ of the throne, the ribbon secured around a stack of encyclopedias. His legs against the respective ‘legs’ of the throne, straining slightly against his bonds. You stand before him, and he angles his hips up slightly, his eyes pleading.

“So cooperative,” you murmur, running your hands gently up his thighs. “So patient. So good.” You lift your hand to your mouth and spit on your fingers, holding eye contact, and he breathes shakily as you wrap your hand around his cock, leaning forward, mouthing kisses along his neck and collarbone. You start slowly, tantalizingly, pumping your hand along his length with a careful, measured speed that makes Gale’s breath hitch in his throat.

“Please – more,” he moans, his lips chasing yours. “Faster.”

You acquiesce, moving quicker, twisting your wrist the way you know that he likes. His breaths come faster, too, a mindless stream of yes and please and more coupled with your name falling from his mouth. You kiss him with bruising intensity, feeling his cock twitch in your fingers, his body straining against his bonds.

He comes with a muffled yell, his eyes rolling completely back in his head, and you kiss him fiercely as his come paints your stomach and thighs where you sit atop him. “Please – gods – please, untie me, let me –”

You smile against his lips and loosen the ribbons, yelping when his arms encircle you with surprising strength, lifting you up by your thighs and laying you out on the tile floor of the tower, the ground cold on your skin, your head canted back as Gale trails kisses down your thighs. “Ah – Gale,” you sigh as his fingers whisper up the inside of your legs, your skin rising with goosebumps. “I can’t –” You try to lift your head, to see where he is and what he’s doing, but your neck won’t cooperate. “What –”

“I hope you don’t mind,” Gale murmurs into your thigh, his hand lifting your leg to his lips, his beard tickling your skin pleasantly. “There’s only so long I can go without magic, my love. I thought –” Here, his tongue slides up to your cunt, tracing around your lips gently, and you moan, your boneless body arching in pleasure. “I thought you might enjoy feeling how I felt. Constrained. At my mercy.” His tongue winds a circle around your clit, and your breaths come faster, your thighs shaking madly. “Do you?”

“Do I – ah – what?”

“Enjoy it,” Gale says into your cunt, and the vibration makes you shudder.

“I – yes, I – please, I want to touch you, I want to –”

“Mmm,” Gale hums, his tongue working careful, restrained circles around your clit, dipping down to taste your slick. “Not yet.”

It’s been less than two minutes, and you’re already shaking, riding high, your eyes unfocused, as Gale takes you apart with his tongue. The painted constellations of the ceiling dance in and out of focus, and your moans echo around the circular tower, a mix of yes and please and Gale falling from your mouth, a reminder of the way you coaxed Gale’s orgasm from him with delicate fingers not five minutes before. “Gale, I – oh, gods, I can’t – please, I want to see you, I –”

The spell breaks, and you lift your head to see Gale’s face completely buried in your cunt, his sweaty hair spread out on your thighs, his eyes closed in ecstasy, and the image is enough to send you over the edge, a scream in your throat, your legs shaking wildly as you come, Gale’s tongue still working at you gently, until the sensation is too much and you kick him softly, signaling get off me, because your vocal cords aren’t working at the moment.

“You’re gorgeous,” he says, and crawls up to kiss you, and you taste yourself on his tongue, salty-sweet and heady. “But we should probably go before Rolan comes back. I suspect we won’t have an opportunity to take advantage of his hospitality again.”

“Gale…” You wind your arms around his neck and kiss him deeply, your eyes fluttering shut. “You might have to Dimension Door us out of here. I don’t think my legs will move.”

“I’ll carry you,” he smiles, and helping you stand, he laces his robes back up and aids you in buckling your armor. “Now come. There’s a bath at the Elfsong that’s calling my name.”

You sigh softly, leaning your head into his shoulder, and watch dreamily as he conjures the portal. “Wait – what about the Annals?”

“Oh.” Gale looks down at the lower levels of the tower. “I suppose we’ll have to come back tomorrow.” He looks almost downcast, but then the expression fades, and he’s just Gale again, smiling at you. “Let’s go.”

[savvylittlecoxswain]

Characters Bios for The Boys in the Boat

[fettuccin-e]

Angel Incarnate

Kinktober Day 7: Soft and Slow

Tags: Javier Peña x Reader, afab!fem!reader, unprotected piv, slight breeding kink, really really light angst, domesticity, javi is finally happy guys okay (w/c: 1K)

A/N: Alright so this is so fluffy it hardly even feels like a kinktober prompt but y'know what javi has his dick out so it counts okay. anyway i had a really fun time writing this because i love it when sad characters are happy it brings me insurmountable joy (For the month I've been using these prompts from flightlessangelwings!)

Everything around him has always been so violent. His world has always been bloody and bruised and chaotic, and Javier had always supposed that it was just meant to be that way.

He didn’t deserve anything better than the angry pain of Bogatá. He’d hurt too many people, ripped apart too many lives to be redeemed, to deserve any kind of sweetness. His life boiled down to blood and tears, the endless race against the narcos too much to take anything slow. The only sex he had was rough and violent, just like his life, just like his soul.

Getting back to Laredo, to his father’s ranch, had been a kind of culture shock that he didn’t think he could experience anymore. The lack of gunfire, the lack of violence, day in and day out, had him reeling.

He’d tried burying himself in the work, fixing up his childhood home and tending to the cattle and the horses, hardly venturing into town at all. The people who knew Javi, the young man who left Laredo with a bride at the altar for a life as an agent, did not need to know Javier, the broken, hollow, shell of a man. He didn’t need their pity, their looks of confusion mixed with sympathy.

He regrets those first few months now, the ones that he spent hiding from the rest of the world. After all, the first time he went out into town, went into the only little library for miles, he found you.

And you, God, you’re so different. So kind and patient, even when he’s rough with you, even when he tries to push you away. It’s a kind of slow, soft sweetness that sings through his bones, that makes him feel human again. 

You’re slow with him, gentle in a way that he hasn’t been treated in years. He feels precious here, with you, between the soft sheets of your shared bed, as you roll your hips on top of him, taking him slow and so deep inside of you.

He wants to grip your hips so hard they bruise, roll you over and slam into you until you’re sobbing and writhing from the pleasure of it. He wants to press your face into the pillows and fuck you hard into the mattress. 

But he holds back, just like you want him to. Let yourself just feel, Javi, you had told him one day, after he’d taken control from you, just like he wants to right now. We don’t have to rush.

So he doesn’t. He brushes his hands along your waist, relishing in your soft skin as  you drop yourself down on his cock, over and over again. You gasp as he stretches you apart.

“That’s it, baby, so beautiful for me,” Javier murmurs. “That feel good, sweetheart?”

You nod, whining as he guides you down to grind deep into your g-spot. “It’s so- it’s so good, Javi. You feel so big like this.”

Javier groans as you clench around him, tight and wet and fucking perfect. The soft morning light filters through the curtains you put up last week, illuminating your skin and enshrining you like an angel. You are an angel, he thinks, as close to heaven as he’ll ever get.

He leans up, searching for a kiss that you gladly grant him. He loves kissing you, licking into your mouth and tasting you as you moan for him.

You curl your hands into his hair, grown longer with his time away from the DEA. The one time he’d asked you about cutting it, you’d protested so hard he’d laughed for thirty minutes straight. He’d started letting it grow after that.

You lean back up, undulating your hips in a way that has him groaning, pulling on your hips to help you along.

“You want to cum, Javi?” you murmur, pulling him in so fucking deep his eyes roll to the back of his head.

“Por favor, nena, si,” he gasps, and God, you’re the only one that can make him beg like this. To make him desperate like this.

“Come on, honey, fill me up,” you coo, and Javi is lost to it. His hips jerk up of their own accord, pumping into you involuntarily with his orgasm. He spills into you without the fear of knocking you up, knowing that there’s no violence, no uncertainty with you. A small, not-so-secret part of him actually hopes it’ll take.

You whine above him, pushing your hips down on him over and over, frantic for your climax. He reaches a hand between you both and rubs slow, hard circles into your clit, and fuck, the way you cum will always steal the breath from his lungs. Your eyes clench shut, your mouth exhaling a beautiful, melodic little moan as you rock yourself on his cock, working yourself through it.

“That’s it, beautiful, so fucking good to me, so pretty for me,” he husks, and you curl yourself over him, meeting his lips in a sticky-wet kiss that has you both desperate for more. He palms his hands over your back, pulling you down to rest on top of him as you both breathe through the aftershocks of your orgasms.

You both don’t move for a long time, content to bask in each other’s warmth as the morning sun rises, bringing another day to spend together. It’s a kind of peace, a kind of contentment, he’d thought was a pipe dream for so, so long.

“How did I ever find you?” He murmurs into the quiet of the room. You tilt your head up from where it rests on his chest to smile softly at him. He feels like he could drown in your gaze.

“I think we were always meant to find each other,” you whisper, and like always, he knows you’re right.

[numbuh424]

shoutout to whatever L and Light had going on in Time Speaks

[celestie0]

haven’t drawn in forever but i’m working on a kickoff gojo wip 😨🥺🤧🧚‍♀️✨

[elsaellaelys]

Heart shaped sunglass, heart shaped ass

summary: Y/N watches her boyfriend fixes her car while she listens to Lana del Rey's unreleased songs.

pairing: JJ Maybank x Fem!reader

570 words

a/n: my first JJ writing! I'm new is this fic thing and english is not my first language so don't judge to much! I know it's short cause I'm out of ideas so send me some! 3>

--★--

Cherry Cola is cold down Y/N's throat formatting a great combination with the hot wind blowing at her face. The summer is hitting just perfectly and she couldn't be more grateful for being able to use her new mini jeans skirt freely at anytime, even more grateful for moments like this, legs dangling from the garden chair as she is sitting sideways on it, heart shape sunglass on the tip of her nose, Lana's unreleased song whistling on the speaker - Girl That Got Away just finished - watching her boyfriend JJ so concentraded on fixing her car, arms tensing as he presses the tool, tank top hanging loose, looking literally hot, can notice that by the sweat running down his face and neck and chest... She knows she's being spoiled, but in defense her mind goes dead when she stares at that engine. Is clear that she didn't had the money to afford the Kia Soul's repair, but she worked to have it since she was 12 and JJ knew it better than anyone to gladly fix it for her.

She couldn't help feeling a little bit guilty as she inclines her head to see his abdomen through the shirt.

I mean... there' so much to look, can't waste that.

His abs just perfectly tonned, begging to be touched - at this point she just don't know if it's not her the one who is begging - muscles flexing with the force he's putting on the work, veins lightly at sight. Suddenly her mouth feels really dry and she needs her drink again, licking her lips, biting it a little bit with her teeth absentmindedly.

JJ came across to it cause his look shoot up for a second to catch her in the act.

"Like what you see?" he asks, cocky smile in his face, besides the hard work he seems to be enjoying his pretty girlfriend sitting there so beautifully, tight mini skirt, red bikini top, lips so tasteful between her teeth - and all because of him.

Y/N eyes grow wide before she goes back to take another sip of her Cola.

"I do" she says with a shy smirk. Getting up to stand behind JJ putting her arms around his torso.

His sweat strong body against her.

Her soft delicate skin against him.

"Do you want a Cola? Or maybe I can sneak one of my dad's beers for you." the girl ask, hands running down his arms and up to play with the hair in the back of his neck.

"That'd great, but you know what would be the greatest?" she shakes her head as no. "A sip of those pretty lips of yours" JJ turns around to meet her, holding her lips softly between his, arms tight around Y/N's body pressing it against him. She whimper in the kiss and he pull away with a groan.

"I'm almost finished" he mumbles.

"Great!" Y/N says, guiding his grease dirty hands to her ass making he squeeze it, not really caring about the stains. "I've got to give you your payment later" she adds as she leave a peck on JJ's lips before slipping out of his grip to grab the beer, making he sigh as he watches her hips sway, out of his hold.

Lana del Rey's voice singing throught the air. "Every man gets his wish..."

"I really hope you're right" JJ says to the speaker.

[black-and-yellow]

[bellessimaa]

No but hear me out, Kanthony in India could be quite the story.

Anthony Bridgerton in a kurta! Him seeing Kate in a saree or lehenga because lets face it, the man will lose whatever braincells he had left and simply disintegrate.

The only problem with the writers trying to send Kanthony away to India is the timing of it. Edwina is already married and Kate is with child. After the trauma of Hyacinth’s birth, nothing on earth can convince me that Anthony Bridgerton would willingly let his wife take a hazardous six month journey back to India. Tha just doesn’t make sense.

Another thing that does not make sense woth the timeline is that, if Edwina made a match in India, it must have been while Kate and Anthony were on their honeymoon and I’m sorry but how on earth do you expect me to believe that Kate would miss her little sister’s wedding?

It is all tempting me to write again, something like a fix it where Kate and Anthony embark on a journey to India, because Edwina is supposed to get married, maybe to someone from the maharaja’s court because why not?

Kate leaves for India, but with her endearing, besotted husband who worships the grounds she walks on. They come to India and they do all the things that we are craving to see on screen (Anthony in Kurta? Another sneaky, playful haldi ceremony in the privacy of their rooms? Another mehendi ceremony because ofcourse Kate will have Anthony’s name sneakily written on her hands in hindi? Vexing one another? Potentially some old suitors of Kate, just to make Anthony sweat? Her taking him to all the spots of her childhood, just the way he did in Aubrey hall? Babymaking? Recieving the happy news firsthand?)

Anyway this list will never end. I dont know if we would get a spin off or not, but I might just get around to writing this.