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cuteandhughesy · 2 days ago

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Love Is Not Dying | Vince Dunn

summary: hooking up with the hottest guy who think you’ve ever seen can’t go wrong…right?

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a/n: formed from this request! thought i’d combine this idea with the very much high-demand need for vince dunn! so with that being said here’s so smut to satisfy your eyes on valentine’s day 💌🤭

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contrary to what movies, shows, books and anything and everything else tells you—moving to a new city is actually really refreshing. there's something about a fresh start that just feels so good. the delicious cafes, the smell of a new apartment, the new restaurants and people everywhere you turn...what's not to like?

seattle is your fresh start—your new city. a place where you can forget about your old life and asshole ex-boyfriend back in massachusetts. getting treated like the dirt on the bottom of a shoe and being cheated on for 2 and a half years really pushes you to get the hell away from hingham.

moving to seattle seemed like the most logical option considering it's where your younger brother lived—playing for the kraken like the ridiculously talented athlete he's always proven himself to be. hockey has never really been your thing though, regardless of matty's undying devotion. you prefer to cheer him on from your couch...with your dad texting you anytime matty scores. you didn't even know seattle had a nhl team until they drafted your brother.

your phone buzzes in your jacket pocket, vibrating the leather and tickling your skin.

little shit

hey. you're still coming over for breakfast tomorrow?

matty's text has you snickering, and you almost walk into a bike rack lining the sidewalk. you blink, a flush covering your cheeks.

y/n

planning on it. unless you've changed your mind and want to treat some random hookup to my well deserved time with you

the bag on your shoulder begins slipping, the faux leather providing the perfect slip and slide for the strap of your canvas tote. the last thing you need is to drop the grocery bag and shatter your eggs and spill the milk. then the whole trip out would be pointless.

matty can tell you're joking around, he knows you too well to assume otherwise. you have always been close, and because of the distance between states, you'd only been seeing one another at christmas and in the summer since 2021–when he was drafted. but now you're in seattle, and your younger brother is only a 10 minute drive from your new apartment.

you've only been here three days, and matty has been bugging you about having breakfast since the u-haul pulled into your complex. little bastard couldn't even help you unpack because of his strict schedule—two game day naps your ass.

little shit

I was going to ask if you wanted sweet or savoury—but maybe I should reconsider having you over if you'd be so inclined to think i'd cancel on my favourite sister

y/n

i'm your only sister

little shit

see you tomorrow 😌

you roll your eyes with nothing but fondness, shoving your phone in your pocket as you continue the walk back to your apartment. it doesn't take long until you're back home, unloading the small grocery haul from the strawberry printed tote bag.

your new job at seattle's biggest law firm—which you still can't believe hired you—started yesterday, and it's only been a day but you feel so welcomed and accepted already. it's another confirmation that you're meant to be in seattle. one of your new co-workers jasmine, a stunning woman with dark skin and chocolate eyes, invited you out to one of the local bars tonight.

you'd gotten the text on the way to the grocery store, as well as a follow up message that she and a few other employees wanted to get to know you better. ever the social butterfly you agreed easily—excitement flowing through your veins at the thought of letting loose, mingling and hopefully forming some friendships.

jasmine let you know that everyone was meeting at the bar around 8:30, and you were welcome to join them anytime then. you make yourself some dinner, a delicious saucy pasta that has you serving yourself a second bowl, before jumping into the shower.

you take your time in there, making sure your scalp is scrubbed, and your legs and underarms are shaved—you're not sure if you're going to wear a tank top, and you're going to be prepared. by the time you've blowed dried your hair into loose, bouncy curls, put on your usual dusting of makeup and decided what to wear—it's time to leave.

you order an uber as you're planning on having a couple drinks, and as you finish up with your shoes, the notification of your rides arrival lights up your phone. on the way to the bar you busy yourself with your phone—responding to emails and texts that you've been neglecting since getting to seattle. you even respond to matty's picture of waffle ingredients laid out on his counter, as well as his annoying message.

little shit

you never answered. so sweet it is 🖕🏽

y/n

if you think I wanted anything but sweet you're just stupid

little shit

ouch. i'm going to poison your breakfast

the uber comes to a rather rough stop against the curb, the middle aged man giving you a polite smile that also says hey, get out. i've got work to do.

you bid a thank you and step onto the sidewalk, the late october air nipping your skin despite it being a warmer evening. you run your hands through your hair to try and tame any frizzy fly aways that have sprouted in the uber, and make your way inside the cozy bar.

you're immediately enveloped in the atmosphere of what feels like a family owned bar—exposed brick and worn leather booths lining the walls, matching the scuffed floorboards under your feet. the lights are dim, giving that mysterious vibe that does nothing but intrigue you. it's cute and packed.

you should've expected it to be busy considering it's a friday night, but the amount of people lingering and mingling throughout the room is just baffling. you push up into your tip toes, searching through the sea of people to try and spot your co-workers. well, jasmine—because you're not sure who else is here.

jasmine finds you first, standing up at their claimed booth and waving. "y/n! we're over here."

you smile as your eyes connect, making your way through the crowd and dodging tipsy people as you walk towards the booth. "hey," you greet warmly, accepting the sweet hug jasmine offers. "this place is nice."

"and fucking packed." your other co-worker, a defense lawyer named brock, mumbles with a grin, taking a slow sip of his beer as he eyes you.

joseph, another lawyer stands from his spot on the outside of the booth, gesturing for you to slip in beside him. you smile politely, slipping your pea coat off and hanging it over your arm. "thanks."

"you look great." jasmine compliments warmly, twirling the mouthful of wine left in the bottom of her glass, creating a mini whirlpool. "seriously where'd you get that jacket—it's killer."

you grin, sliding the clothing item of jasmine's desire between your hip and the wall. your jewelry chimes together as you pick up the small drink menu. "it's from h&m, can you believe that."

she gasps, lips forming a small shocked but amused 'o'. "I wasn't aware of h&m's game."

you laugh, thumbing through the sheets of laminated card stock that display the assortment of different drinks. there's even some typical bar food listed like fries and wings—slathered in sauce and grease. joseph doesn't sit back down beside you, but instead jerks his thumb over his shoulder and in the direction of the bar. "anybody want a drink? i'm going up for another round."

"hit me." brock says deeply, finishing off the last swig of foamy beer in the bottom of his bottle. jasmine follows suit, asking for another mulberry wine with a exaggerated grin.

joseph looks at you expectantly, a playful quirk to his one dark eyebrow. "i'll have whatever whiskey they have, with some coke. diet please, joseph." you say confidently, closing the menu and slotting it back into the metal holder at the end of the table.

brock hums in what seems like approval, drumming his fingers on the slightly sticky table top. "you heard the lady, joey boy."

despite the almost arrogant attitude brock seems to have, he's actually really fucking nice—hell so is joseph, and jasmine even more so. you can't believe how lucky you've been at this job, and having three amazing people to work alongside you is a dream come true.

seattle already feels like home and you haven't even been here a week. you spend a good two hours laughing, chatting—and drinking—with your new friends, and everything in your little world flows easily.

it's almost 11:30 when you slurp up the last sip of watered down whiskey and coke concoction through one of those small black mixing straws. you pout with a tiny whine, dropping the glass back to the table. "i'm empty."

joseph snorts behind the rim of his bottle. "want another?"

"yeah," you huff. "but I'll get it—need to stretch my legs before I start to cramp." jasmine laughs playfully as joseph lets you slide out of the booth, stumbling slightly as your feet find the worn wood floorboards.

jasmine takes a slow gulp of her wine, eyes nothing but mischievous as she eyes you. "sure you just don't wanna get closer to that group of hotties over there? that one brunette can't stop checking you out."

your brows pull, as well as your smile. "where?" you ask wildly, looking over you shoulder to try and find this alleged group of men jasmine alludes to. you find them easily. theres 5 men, all broad and tall, sticking out like a sore thumb. there's one guy in particular—a stupidly good looking guy—who must've been watching you, because as soon as you catch his eyes, his head turns away faster than you can blink.

"don't look!" she scolds with a hushed tone, but her words have no bite against her amused expression.

"I don't care." you admit cheekily, pulling your gaze away from jasmine and back to the guys sitting on the opposite side of the busy bar. although now it's not as bustling, but still packed enough that you have to weave through bodies to get to the bar top.

the female bartender, probably around 50, looks at you flatly. but even with that deadpanned looks you can see a friendly glimmer in her eyes, and the subtle way her lip quirks upwards in a smile. "what can I get you honey?"

somebody on your left bumps into you, too distracted talking over her friends to pay attention to you. you sigh gently, but ignore it, giving the bartender your full attention. "whiskey and coke please. diet."

she lets out a half breath of laughter, grabbing one of the shallow glasses from underneath the counter. "got sick of your boyfriend coming up here?"

you're confused at first, but then the blonde bartenders brows flick towards, eyes darting back to your table—to joseph. "oh," you chime, "he's not my boyfriend but yeah, I was ready to get out of that booth and stretch my legs a little."

your eyes find her shiny gold name tag, 'marlene: owner.' you should've known this woman was important to this place, her energy is just that strong. marlene turns away from you, walking further down the bar is search of the whiskey she's been serving you all evening.

the bar has cleared a bit in the time she's gone, and the oblivious blonde who bumped you earlier and her group has gone back to the makeshift dance floor—but there's still enough of a crowd that if you look on either side of yourself, your eyes are landing on somebodies face or shoulder (depending on their height obviously).

marlene returns after a minute or two, sliding a perfectly made glass over to you—the diet coke bubbles, coming up and stinging your nose. "here you go baby."

"thanks," you grin, opening your small shoulder bag and digging through your various cards. "how much?"

"oh no," marlene snickers, pulling your attention back to her unreadable expression. "it's been paid for." before you have a chance to question what she means, marlene's hazy eyes flicker to the other side of the bar—where she was just making your drink. that's when you see him. the guy who you caught starring at you earlier. the mystery man isn't with his friends, but he's got three beers in his hands like he's been sent up to fetch them.

his cheeks are pink, skin pale. his broad shoulders are covering by a black fitted long sleeve, the material hugging his biceps and doing nothing to hide the ridges of muscles underneath his skin. the man's eyes dart up, finding you and marlene.

unlike before he holds your eye contact for a moment, tipping his head in a greeting and a small smile pulling at his plump limps. your brows raise in amusement before turning back to marlene. "i'm sure i'll see you again."

she snickers. "i'm sure you and him both will."

you take your drink before rounding to the other side of the long bar counter, pushing between bodies until your right next to the attractive mystery man. your chest smooshes against his bicep, and when your nipples catch wind of the contact against his hard muscles, they pinch and tighten.

he looks down at you curiously, but amused nonetheless—tongue darting out to swipe along his lower lip.

"so first was staring at me across the room, and then next was buying my drink..." you trail off lightly, eyes twinkling with playfulness as you pause in anticipation. "what's after that?"

he breathes a soft laugh, eyes quickly flickering away from you and across the bar. but just as fast, mystery man is looking back down at you. hoping to appear seductive, you slowly take your straw into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the mixing stick before taking a drink—hopefully you're tempting him.

he swallows thickly. "well maybe you'll find out once you finish your drink." his tone is teasing, and it shoots straight down to your core. you haven't even thought of a man sexually since breaking up with your boyfriend—and honestly even having sex with him didn't do anything for you.

you're touch starved, and so horny it's not even funny. so go forbid you start throbbing as soon as an attractive stranger buys you a drink and keeps eyeing your lips. sue you.

your brows raise, and before he can blink, you take your straw out of the glass, raising the rim to your lips and chugging the entire thing. once it's empty, you wipe your mouth and plop the mixing stick into the empty glass and put it back on the bar.

he takes his bottom lip into his mouth, and he can't help but eye the way your lips have been moistened by your drink—and maybe even taking a quick peek at your cleavage. he's stronger than no other man.

"alright," he smiles, tone full of appraisal and making your heart skip. "I'm vince." his hand justs out, and you take it, your small hand almost completely enclosed by his much larger palm.

"i'm y/n." you smile, and the sight has vince's breath hitching. suddenly he's completely forgotten that he's still waiting on jared's wine (his taste is too expensive for beer apparently), and when you ask him to dance with you, he quickly agrees, abandoning the beer bottles in the bar.

from your booth, your new co-workers watch you lead vince out into the crowd, both of you looking at one another with a look that just screams tension. joseph's brows raise, but an amused smile is on his face. "she's insane."

brock blows out some air. "she's hot."

"she's a baddie." jasmine corrects brock, elbowing him in the ribs as a warning for his behaviour. but he just snickers again, watching through lidded eyes as you vince begin moving with one another in a slow, steady motion—knowing grins on your faces as you whisper to one another about god knows what.

you love the way vince is touching you—grabbing you—like you're his. but it's also not possessive, and even though the way he's handling you is confident, you can feel an underlying shyness, or perhaps hesitation in this movements.

vince doesn't want to make you uncomfortable, and he also doesn't want to come across awkward. it's not everyday he's out at the bars, dancing with strangers like this. a very beautiful stranger who makes his dick twitch in anticipation nonetheless.

you dance together for what feels like forever—but could honestly only be 10 minutes. every look vince sends your way, every lick along his bottom lip, every touch, breath, laugh, and whispered words has your stomach dropping and head spinning.

his voice isn't super deep, but it's got a certain rasp that has you hanging onto every word and question that passes through his tempting lips. between dancing with vince and going back up to the bar together for refills—marlene giving you that look everytime she spots you tucked under his arm—you learn quite a bit about the handsome stranger.

vince works in sports, but he didn't disclose his actual profession. it has your mind working overtime—is he a journalist? maybe a football star? does seattle have a basketball team? he's originally from a small town in canada, one that you've never heard of. his ideal vacation is somewhere tropical, his favourite food is italian and he's a boobs guy based on the fact he can't stop looking at yours.

thank the fashions gods for low cut shirts.

and it's not like he's been only letting you ask him questions. vince has been just as interested in asking you about your life (and squeezing your hips, but that's a whole another story). telling him about moving out to spend time with your younger brother and working at a high end law firm came easily, and the almost proud smile on vince's face made your decision feel validating.

which says something, because validation from a stranger is never something you've strived towards. vince doesn't feel like a stranger though, which is a shame because after tonight, chances are he will be.

a little while later jasmine is sliding up next to you and vince, her eyes narrowed playfully as she looks at the lack of space between the two of you. "hey," she starts, her grin growing. "we're hungry, thinking about getting pizza. you guys wanna come?"

a small gasp leaves you, and your eyes light up like fireflies. your drunk brain and empty stomach agree—pizza would be divine. "oh my god! yes."

jasmine cheers, lips tainted with her wine. "yay! okay i'll get your coat and we will meet you outside." her eyes dart to vince again, smiling increasing before she slips back through the crowd.

you take your lip between your teeth, but even that can't stop your smile from widening. your small hands wrap around vince's forearms, squeezing the muscles beneath your fingers as you blink up at him. "you coming? please come with me. we can share pizza lady and the tramp style."

he laughs, a real hearty laugh that comes from his stomach. his fingers slide up your back, passing over your bras straps. "how would that even work?"

you shrug. "I don't know but we can figure it out."

vince's eyes twinkle with something you don't recognize, and his lips quirk up higher in an amused grin. you blink up at him again, all doe eyes and babydoll like and he's nodding. "okay, let's go."

you grin triumphantly, and he lets you pull him through the crowd easily. there's something so sexy about it, especially when you know he could easily overpower you in any way—at any moment.

the chilly air nips at your bare arms, leaving a wake of goosebumps all over your skin. you curse three different swears, all of them blending together to create one big fuck fest. vince snickers, rubbing his hands over your arms in attempt to warm you up. he's so hot you're pretty sure your underwear are soaked with arousal.

when joseph passes you your coat, vince takes it from your co-worker with a nod, and then he helps you slip it on. you're seriously going to die before getting pizza.

the walk isn't more than 10 minutes, and you can smell the tomato sauce and warm dough as you approach the building, lit up by neon signs. inside is busy, mostly drunk college kids. vince keeps you close, and arm around your waist between you and your coat like he's from a damn rom com. "what are wanting?" he asks you softly, leaning down so he's whispering in your ear.

you hum pleasantly. "just cheese."

joseph gets garlic bread for himself, and he threatens if anyone tries to steal a bite he'll walk them over the head with the red plastic basket. jasmine and brock get a deep dish pizza to share, loaded with vegetables and pepperoni, while you and vince get your cheese pizza. and yes, he pays for not only your order, but your co-workers orders too.

you might be in love and you might have to keep him forever.

because it's busy, the seating options are a little sparse, and you won't be able to all sit together. your co-workers get a table meant for two, but steal a spare chair from a friendly group of frat guys and make it a table for three. you and vince find a spot at the counter, two available stools in the corner against the wall—next to the neon outline of pizza slice.

your so squished in there that you're overlapping with vince, and your leg might as well be draped over his spread, huge thighs. you take an unattractive bite of your slice, and groan happily.

vince smiles, chewing his own bite of pizza as you watches you with amusement. "good?"

you nod. "so good." you finish off the slice before speaking again, sucking your thumb into your mouth to taste the pizza grease. "what's your favourite disney movie?"

he's almost at the crust of his second slice of pizza. vince hums between bites, brows pulled in concentration as he thinks of an answer. "sleeping beauty."

your lips quirks. "really?" he nods. "you kind of remind me of prince phillip you know, all sexy and tall." you admit shamelessly, picking up another slice and biting the into crust first.

vince blushes, but doesn't look embarrassed. "you think i'm sexy?" he questions, dusting his hands off against his thighs. you watch his fingers as they run over his legs, and when he catches you staring, vince's smirk widens.

"yeah, I do."

his tongue swipes along his bottom lip, and he leans closer to you by an inch or two. "I think you're really sexy." vince says, voice all low and hushed like he doesn't want anyone to overhear. nobody could even if they wanted to, the array of loud voices and charli xcx playing over the speakers is too loud.

you take your lip into your mouth as you smirk. you decide to tease him, "does that though have anything to do with my cleavage?"

vince's eyes twinkle again. he holds your gaze, and his brows pull together the smallest amount—smirk never wavering. "part of it, yeah." to accentuate his point, vince's gaze flickers to your boobs for a moment, and then finds your warm face again.

your cross your legs to try and relive some of the throbbing pressure in your corse. "perv. eat your pizza." you send him a teasing glare and smile before you take a bite of your slice in an attempt to try and not jump his bones in front of everyone. vince's eyes linger on you for a long moment but eventually he does what he's told, picking up a slice and taking a huge bite.

a moment passes, and he swallows. "you always this curious?" it's not accusatory, but instead curious. vince waits for your response, wiping his mouth with a logo branded napkin before balling it up and setting it on the nearly empty pizza stone.

"always," you nod. "you can learn so much about a person when you ask them questions—questions that aren't informative but rather fun and silly. like the disney movie one."

he hums. "so what have you learned about me from my disney answer?"

you purse your lips in thought, dropping the rest of your slice back down to the stone. you ponder for a moment as you try and find the words. your eyes flicker over his, and you lean in close, your leg pushing against his. "I think that you're a bit of a hopeless romantic, even though you'd never admit it. you're a bit shy, but you love meeting new people. you'd do anything for the people you love—even if that means pricking yourself on a cursed needle."

vince nods, a deep sound rattling in his throat as he looks at you. without realizing it, he's leaned in closer to you, and if you wanted to, you could brush the tips of your noses together. he takes his bottom lip into his mouth, biting down on the skin as his gaze darts over your face. "interesting."

your quirk a brow. "am I right?"

he releases his lip with a gentle pop, gaze never once wandering from your warm, beautiful face. vince swallows, "yeah. you're right."

you cheer and that has vince's fond smile widening. he has to ignore the way your small, painted fingers absentmindedly run over his jean covered knee or else he'll have no choice but to take your clothes off and fuck you on the counter.

vince blinks the dirty thought out of his mind. "ask me another question. I like when you're talking."

a beat passes before your eyes glaze over with lust. you put your hands on the top of his thigh for leverage as you lean into his space, lips brushing the shell of his ear as you speak. "are you gunna to fuck me tonight?"

his body tenses, you can feel it under your palms. you grin in satisfaction, pulling back just enough so your eyes lock. vince's hand slides over the side of your face, fingers threading through your hair as he holds you. before he can talk himself out of it, he leans in and kisses you.

it's chaste and experimental like he's testing the waters and giving you the opportunity to stop him. but you don't want him to stop, your earlier words doing enough to prove that. you kiss him again, a more firm pressure that last 5 seconds. he taste like pizza and beer, and you can't get enough.

and then vince kisses you for a third time, his lips slotting between yours in a proper, hotter embrace that has your toes curling in your shoes and belly swooping. mindful of the public space, he releases your mouth after merely 15 seconds, resting his forehead on yours as you both breathe heavily. "I want to ruin you."

"ruin me." you whisper, pressing one more kiss to his glistening lips. "let's get out of here." you breathe against him, sliding off your stool and standing between his spread thighs.

the taxi ride back to your place is excruciating. you can't keeps your hands off one another—subtle squeezes and trailing fingers over sensitive areas. vince kisses your neck in open mouthed, hot intervals, and each time you moan—which makes him snicker against your skin.

the taxi driver keeps sending you looks through the rearview, but you don't even care.

as soon as you're in the elevator, vince's lips are on yours—capturing them in a breath taking kiss that has you tingling. your hands rake over his strong chest, feeling up his muscles underneath his black long sleeve.

he shudders at the feeling, but his kiss doesn't waver. vince has one hand tucked in your hair, scratching at your scalp soothingly while his other hand squeezes handfuls of your ass—the combination the perfect mix of soft and rough.

"I need you." you whimper against his lips. vince sighs deeply, pushing his bulge against your lower belly—he doesn't have to repeat your words. he doesn't need to in order for you to know it's reciprocated.

the elevator dings, and the heavy doors slide open. your grin, pulling away from vince and taking ahold of his hands. you pull him down the hallway quickly, stealing flirtatious glances over your shoulder. as your hands begin unlocking the door, vince smacks your ass firmly before giving it another hard squeeze.

he leans into your back. "you're so fucking pretty." vince presses a kiss to the junction of your neck, and it has you faltering, eyes fluttering closed and a sigh leaving your puffy lips.

thankfully vince pushes the door open further and saves you from having to move. he uses his hips to shuffle you into your own apartment, never stopping the suckling against your neck as he gently kicks the door closed.

his hands are all over you again, squeezing your hips and running up your belly until his thumbs brush the underside of your boobs. he repeats the motions until your withering, wordlessly begging for more. vince pushes you to the wall, and you shiver when the cold surface touches your chest—nipples pinching under your top.

vince slips off your coat, and his lips trial after it—down your shoulder and towards your elbow. your gasp lightly, looking down over your shoulder with hooded eyes as he removes your jacket, throwing it towards your couch. his eyes flicker up towards yours. "wanna taste you. you gunna let me taste you, baby?"

"yeah," you whine, fingers flexing against the wall. "please...please."

vince smirks and doesn't make you wait, dropping to his knees before his hands trail up the backs of your thighs, rounding over your ass and hooking into the waist pants of your pants. he roughly yanks them down, exposing your skimpy underwear and sticky arousal.

you thank god for choosing sexy underwear tonight.

he groans, palming your ass and exposing your core further, which is barley covered by the fabric anyways. vince nips the skin of your ass, before smoothing the sting with a open mouthed kiss. "fucking god, y/n."

you moan, pushing your hips back as you search for some much needed friction. vince is in a trance, fingers squeezing your thighs and ass as he admires your pussy. there's really no reason for your underwear at this point, he thinks, because there's not enough fabric to cover half of your pussy, never mind all of it.

you're glistening, practically dripping. you can feel vince lean in closer, breath fanning over your slick folds. he nudges your spread thighs further apart, hooking his index finger into the crotch of your lacy paintes and yanking them to the side.

vince licks his lips. "so messy and pretty." he doesn't waste anymore time, and he dives in, licking a wide strip from your clit and back to your leaking entrance.

"oh god." you sigh shakily, eyes fluttering once again at the feeling of vince's mouth on your needy heat. vince has the perfect combination of sucking, licking and kissing that has your knees going weak. "you're so good at this...holy fuck."

vince smirks against you and then sucks your clit perfectly, his nose running along your entrance perfectly. "never tasted something this good."

you gasp, one of your hands leaving the wall and reaching behind you, threading your fingers through vince's thick brown hair. "i'm close." you admit breathily, squeezing his roots in an attempt to keep him close.

vince hums, but much to your dismay he pulls away from you, leaving your pussy to throb and flutter around nothing—searching for more. you pout, but the sight of your arousal soaking vince's lips and chin has you moaning again.

vince smacks your ass as he gets off the floor, flipping you around to face him.

"why'd you stop?" you pout, pushing your boobs against his chest, fingers relaxing over his biceps teasingly.

he smirks. "relax, you'll get it again." vince kisses you again, and you can taste yourself when he slips his tongue into your mouth. the next few moments are a flurry of hurried movements. you pulling off vince's shirt and unbuckling his leather belt—vince practically ripping your tank top off and exposing your tight nipples and heavy tits.

his calloused palms slide up your ribs and cup your tits, giving them a quick squeeze. your head falls back against the wall as vince's thumbs swipe over your nipples, a back and forth motion that has them getting impossibly harder.

"your place is nice." he says lowly. his casual scentence is contradictory to his actions—pinching your nipple between his thumb and index finger.

you mewl, arching into his touch desperately. "thanks...ugh-lots of..mhmm. lots of places to fuck me on." your words are broken by your own moans and sighs of pleasure. it's kind of pathetic but vince thinks there's nothing hotter.

he face dips down to your chest, inclosing his warm mouth on your nipple—tongue swirling and prodding the bud like it's his profession. your hands are in his hair again, carding through the locks and tugging when he sucks just right.

vince switches to your other nipple. "where do you want me to fuck you?" he asks before taking you into his mouth, repeating his movements on your nipple while he palms your now unattended one.

you lick along your bottom lip and watch through lidded eyes as vince sucks your tits. you're pretty sure your arousal is leaking onto the floor and puddling between your heels. "you could take me on the floor and I'd be happy."

he releases your nipple with a quiet pop. "don't say that....because I will."

you grin softly, bringing his face back to yours for another kiss. vince's hands slide up the backs of your thighs, and then in one quick movement he's hauling you off the ground, wrapping your legs around his hips.

you gasp lightly against his lips, your soaking core bumping his lower stomach and sliding over his defined v-line. vince doesn't stop kissing you, walking you over to the new couch in your makeshift living room. there's still a few boxes pilled on top of your coffee table, and there's loose clothes thrown over the back of the chair from when you'd been sorting through suitcases earlier.

the room is casted in the moonlights glow and the warm light under your microwave. it makes everything feel soft—makes it feel private and hot. vince drops you against the plush cushions, and you squeal happily.

vince smirks, "how's the couch?"

you take your bottom lip into your mouth, watching with lustful eyes as he begins undoing his button, tugging down his zipper and releasing some of the confinement against his hard bulge. "it's perfect."

his brow quirks up in amusement. "perfect huh?" vince asks, pulling of his jeans completely. he retrieves his wallet from his back pocket before throwing the pants behind him—making you giggle.

you hum in response as vince pulls out a square foil package from his wallet. a condom.

he smirks, leaning over your body. "wanna know what else is perfect?" vince asks lowly. your mouth opens as a quick breath leaves you, but vince isn't actually waiting for a response. two of his long, thick fingers trace over your collarbone and brush against your pulse point. "your skin is perfect."

then those two fingers flow down to your sternum and tease around your breasts—tracing over your nipples with just enough pressure to have you whining. "and these tits." vince trails down to your belly, passing over your hip bones. "and these hips." next is your core, his fingers slipping through your wet folds. "and god this pussy is perfect."

and with the cherry on top, vince slips the same two fingers he's been running along your body into your entrance. the squelch your walls make sound his fingers is intoxicating, and you practically scream out. "tell me what feels good baby." he tells you, eyes reluctantly leaving your pussy where you take his pumping fingers, and flickering to your warm face.

you begin babbling, making a mess around his hand— dripping off his fingers as he continues to thrust into you. "god," you let out a sharp gasp, walls squeezing his fingers and stopping him momentarily. "this...your fingers feel really good."

vince smirks, and he thrusts his fingers into you a few more times—each time rougher than the last. he feels like he's going to combust with the sight of you under him, withering and whining like you've never been touched like this…maybe you haven't been touched like this before. pride swells in his chest at the thought.

vince’s impossibly hard cock twitches uncomfortably in his boxers—if he doesn't get inside you soon he's going to die. in a fluid motion, he is pulling his fingers out of your warmth.

you mewl in protest, but vince is too busy ripping open the condom package and then pulling himself from his underwear to hear your cry. his dick hears the sound though, and it throbs—ready.

vince rolls the latex on expertly, and he lines his red tip up with your slippery entrance. your hips shift, and his head slips inside your entrance—both of your groaning loudly at the feeling.

vince pulls back out, and a devilish smirk grows on his face as you huff all horny and frustrated. "what happened to the shy vince from earlier?" your tone is slightly whiny, but he can tell you're teasing him—your small hands wrapping around his ribs and torso.

"he's not feeling so shy with your pretty face under him." with that, vince pushes his cock into you. the stretch is heavenly, and your walls mold against him like second nature. you moan, nails digging into his pale skin as he comes to a hilt—balls resting against your ass and tip brushing your cervix.

"that okay?" he asks you breathlessly—dazed eyes flickering over your blotchy skin and puffy, parted lips. he can't help but let his gaze fall between your bodies, right down to where you're connected. vince's hips jerk involuntarily at the sight of your creamy walls holding him in, and you whine pathetically at the feeling.

"so good, vince. oh my god." you probably look like a pornstar on your couch right now. vince buried into your dripping entrance with your legs spread wide, heels still on because you'd been too horny to remember to take them off. but as vince begins rolling his hips into you, all thoughts die out, and you can only focus on him.

his pace picks up quickly, much to your satisfaction, pounding you into the couch like he knows nothing else but your pussy. vince's breath fans over your neck and ear, sending shivers down your spine as you hold onto him.

"fuuuccckk, that's—yeah that's good baby." vince groans deeply, hips snapping against yours loudly, the sound echoing in your otherwise quite apartment. "that's right, taking me so well."

his cock rams into you quickly and perfectly, ilicting another round of ridiculously loud moans from you. you're too wound up to even respond properly, your words coming out in a jumbled string of curses and groans. the couch squeaks under his unfaltering thrusts.

your eyes pinch shut, and the grip on vince tightens as your walls begin to flutter—an all too familiar pattern as you near a desperately needed orgasm. "please." you whine breathlessly. you don't even know what you're asking him for, but it doesn't matter—not to you and not to vince.

his thrusts don't stop or slow, his balls smacking your ass as he continues to pound you into the cushions. vince curses, pushing one of your legs against your chest to open your pussy up even further. "you gunna cum, y/n?"

you nod quickly, your head pushing further back into the couch pillows as your walls clamp down on his cock. "yeah! oh my fuck, yes. i'm cumming."

vince hisses at the feeling of your release— gooey, warm walls squeezing and fluttering over his length. "holy fucking—ugh." it has vince following suit, stilling as he groans into your neck and shooting his sticky load into the latex protection.

it could be 2 minutes or 15–you're not sure—but vince's body is so heavy and warm on top of you that it has your eyes closing. he presses a kiss to your jawline, lifting himself off you. "you okay?"

you nod sleepy, a lazy grin on your glistening lips. "mhmmm. i'm tired now."

vince chuckles, pulling out of your spent pussy. you whine for what feels like the hundredth time tonight, watching through tired eyes as vince ties off the used condom, padding into your kitchen and tossing the latex in your garbage. he tucks himself pack into his boxers as he gets back onto the couch—kneeling between your legs and slipping of your heels.

you wrap your arms over his shoulders, and he kisses you. this kiss is different—softer and sweeter, but just as good as all the others you've shared tonight. you pull away, "stay the night."

he grins, "i'll stay as long as you want me too."

he's so fucking cute, you think blissfully.

vince pulls the throw blanket off the back of your couch, tossing it over both of your bodies as he tucks himself behind you on the couch. his torso is warm and wide against your back—it's so comfortable and soft, and your eyes begin closing soon after.

—

your phone is ringing.

that's the first thing you register as your eyes flutter open. you squint at the harsh morning light streaming through your windows, looking around for the pesty ringing device to silence it.

behind you, vince's arm tightens around your waist, his semi-hard cock rolling against your bare ass instinctively. memories of the night before flood your mind, and you feel hot all over again.

he groans, tucking his head into your shoulder.

your phone is still ringing. you sigh, locating it on the floor beside the coffee table. you pick it up, and your eyes widen at your brothers contact photo lighting up your screen—it's some goofy .5 picture you took of him at christmas. you were supposed to be at his place for breakfast 10 minutes ago.

"shit!" you curse.

vince's eyes flicker open at your panicked tone, and he catches sight of the incoming call before you answer it—jumping off the couch, stark naked and nearly tripping over your heels as you dart into your bedroom.

you throw on the first thing you can find as matty's voice filters through your speakers. "did you fall off a cliff on the way here?"

"I overslept," you say, dragging your ratty hairbrush through your sex messy hair. it gets caught on at angle and you wince. "i'm just about to leave."

matty says something else that sounds like see you soon, but you're too distracted by everything to hear him properly. you hang up the phone with a rushed goodbye, shoving it into the pocket of your jeans. you spray an unhealthy amount of body spray over your clothes and hair, hopefully masking the scent of sex.

you dart back out into the living room. "i'm so sorry, I have to meet my brother for—why do you look like you're about to puke?"

vince is sitting up, posture ridged. his complexion in pale, more so than usual, and he's got his hands cupped over his mouth in a prayer like position. "he's your brother?"

your brows furrow in confusion. "yeah, i'm supposed to meet him for breakfast." the look on vince’s face contorts into what looks like pain, and it has you faltering, stomach dropping to your ass. "why?"

vince's eyes flicker to yours, and he drops his hands from his face. "we play hockey together. i'm matty's roommate."

for fucks sake.

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myjjongie · 5 hours ago

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☾ BITE ME ── p. jongseong

IN WHICH: the vampire that always crashes at your place saves you from danger. going back to your place, you both finally have a well deserved heart to heart moment.

PAIRING: vampire!jay x human!fem reader GENRE/WARNINGS: lowercase intended !!, one shot, fluff, skinship, kissing, they make out frfr, biting (fangs), slight sexual harassment, mentions of blood once again WORD COUNT: 2.4k ₊⊹♡ EVIE'S NOTE: another morning another early ass post. per everyone's wish i have made part 2. won't say much on it cause i don't wanna spoil things. but i hope i delivered part 2 well. but yes hope you guys like it. btw vampire jay ily PART I

your arms wrapped around your body. hands underneath your arms hoping to keep them warm. the air in the night was cold yet crisp, as you made your way home from work.

you made a turn into the shortcut you first met jay at all those nights ago. once again it was weeks since you last saw him. you instinctively frowned at the thought of him. jay made it seem like he’d be back within the week.

yet here you were again waiting around for him. promising yourself the next time you saw him you’d give him a piece of your mind. that is if he isn’t covered in wounds like every other time he stops by your place…

a deep sigh left your chest, your warm breath turning into a ghostly mist. continuing your trek home the sudden sound of approaching footsteps stopped you for a moment.

usually the shortcut to your apartment was rarely used. only known to those who lived in your building. despite that it was one am at night, no one would be walking home at this hour. your pace quickened wanting to get out of the alley way as soon as possible.

as your pace quickened so did the footsteps behind you, even if they sounded uneven with your own. each beat felt like it echoed louder than the last. a frantic rhythm matching the pounding in your chest.

almost making it to the end of the alley, your body was forcefully pulled back. body turned around to be met with the pungent smell of alcohol.

“what’s a pretty lady like you doing here so late at night?”

the minute the man’s breath hit your nose, bile formed in your throat. you yanked at your wrist in hopes of getting out of his grasp. to your demise even in his drunken state the man’s grip was strong.

swallowing back the urge to vomit you spoke through clenched teeth. “let go of me…”

the man laughed giving you a drunken smile. a chill running down your spine. your life flashing before your eyes in that second. panic soon set in. your mind hurriedly figuring out how to escape from him.

“come on. don’t be stubborn. let’s have a good time together.” his words came out in a slur as his body began to sway.

“go to hell.”

the man’s joyful expression soon twisted to anger. his brows knitted into annoyance. taking note in the change of attitude your body went into flight or fight mode. adrenaline pumped through your veins as you strongly kicked the man in his shin.

you had hoped to kick him with the intent of aiming in the area where it would hurt must. but ultimately fell short.

the man let out a ragged breath, soon cursing out in pain. his grip on you loosened. perfect timing to run away. you turned on your heels and bolted. but only after a few strides, did your legs buckle. sending you to the ground. as you fell to the ground, your palms steadied your fall. turning your head to check on the man you eyed his movements.

noticing him let go of his aching shin. fear dawned on you as he got ready to chase you down. ignoring the stinging of your palms you forced yourself back up. you began to run again. despite the sharpness of the cold air slicing at your skin. you ran, pushing past the stinging in your legs and hands.

tears began to burn into your eyes. the echoing of the drunken man’s yelling frightened you. your vision began to blur from the tears. as you aimlessly blinked and wiped them away, your body collided into someone. your already frantic thoughts worsened. fearing that the man wasn’t alone this whole time.

the new stranger wrapped an arm around your body. his firm grasp was tight as you began to punch at his chest. unable to see who was the drunken man’s accomplice. you began to fight your way out of his grasp.

“yn it’s okay it’s me.”

your ears perked at the all too familiar voice. soon your hands that were hitting at his chest stopped. the firm hold that felt threatening was replaced with familiarity. it was jay.

“jay…” your voice came out weak as you looked up at him. cheeks drenched with your tears as more still fell from your eyes.

you looked into his eyes a habit you formed over the year. the usual burgundy color shifted into a deep crimson. a hue so intense it glowed under the moonlit alley.

“you know i don’t like it when you cry..” his tone was gentle. a soothing hush to calm the constant pounding in your chest.

his lips gently pressed against your forehead. a reassurance to show you were safe. safe with him. “get behind me okay?” obliging to his words you hurried behind him.

your shaky hands tightly held onto the bottom hem of his leather jacket.

“leave..” instead of the gentle tone jay had with you, it was now demandingly cold. jay’s red eyes shined as his voice deepened with the intention of hurting the man if he refused to listen.

you faintly heard frantic breathing. then the drunken man’s voice loudly breaking through the deafening silence. “what are you?!”

instead of the sound of confrontation, the sound of hurried steps instead echoed out into the distance.

“he’s gone.” jay’s once cold voice altered the second he spoke to you.

you eerily peeked from behind jay’s arm, eyeing out if the man was really gone or not. seeing the now empty alley way your panic faded. you gripped the jacket tighter as you softly spoke.

“thank you. if you weren’t here i. i don’t know what would’ve happened.” tears began to brim your eyes once again. jay turned around to look at you. mostly needing to make sure that thing didn’t harm you. he couldn’t help but lift his hand to wipe away the faint tears.

a satisfied sigh left his chest seeing you unscathed. your head raised to look up at him, head tilting at his sigh. when looking at him you noticed his eyes were back to the burgundy color you loved.

remembering the promise of scolding him your brows furrowed ready to scold the vampire. yet before even doing so jay’s breathing staggered. his focus wavered as his senses picked up on something in particular.

“are you okay?! were you hurt before you got here?” your tone immediately shifted to worry. jay’s body soon swayed. causing you to help steady him.

“no. i’m not hurt. there’s a smell that’s. it’s so sweet.” his voice came off ragged as his breathing increased. his desperate breathing reminded you that of a fever. raising your hand to his forehead, it felt hot to the touch. that’s when you noticed it. your palms faintly covered in red. the sweet smell jay was talking about was from you. it was your blood.

“shit.” you couldn’t help but curse under your breath. the only thing you could do now was drag jay home.

finally stumbling through the entrance of your apartment, you rested against the door. a sense of deja vu washing over as you caught your breath. you steadied jay against the wall, preparing to take both your shoes off. before even trying to do so, you were caged against the door. the sudden action catching you off guard.

you looked up at jay. his eyes casted a dark tone to them. his desire once again piling up. every inch of him felt like it was burning with that desire. but he needed to control himself. yet that same control was slipping through his fingers.

“yn..” jay spoke in a husked whisper. almost as if. no. he was yearning for you. how could he force himself to pull away. especially when you were right there. so close to him. his forehead pressed against yours, half lidded eyes studying your features. he needed you.

eyeing the mole he noticed weeks ago. his eyes scanned for face. he had to know if you’d be okay with this. okay with him, his desires, the carnal need to sink his fangs into you. yet there you were standing before him. not a single doubt written on your face.

jay’s hands left the side of your body to hold your face. you melted into his touch. everything with him always felt just right. his thumbs caressed your cheeks gently.

“i… i’ve wanted this for so long…” he murmured. soon his lips gently met with yours. the soft press of his lips sent a shiver down your spine. the sensation was cold yet held a touch of warmth to it.

jay’s hands that cupped your face now found its way at your waist. one arm holding you tightly to his body while the other was planted on the door. as the seconds went by jay’s kissing became more earnest, more heated. his tongue swiped at the bottom of your lip. a silent invitation to deepen the soon intimate kiss.

your breath hitched as your lips parted for him. the kiss deepening as your tongues met together. heat soon rose between your bodies. jay’s hold only pulled you closer to him. the space of distance feeling unbearable. his kissing soon turned sloppy leaving a quiet moan to slip between your lips. to then be swallowed by another kiss.

the kiss between you two was truly more than heat. it was a years worth of silent yearning. mixed with the ache of jay’s fear spilling into this moment. you could feel the entirety of his need. the way his body clung desperately to yours. fearing as though you’d slip away from his grasp now that he had you.

jay finally parted from the kiss. he watched as you gasped softly for air, all while he steadied his own breathing. your fingers burned as you held onto his shirt for support. small jolts of a tingling sensation shooting through your body. jay couldn’t help but eye at how swollen your lips looked in this moment.

he would be lying if he didn’t enjoy this more than he anticipated he would’ve. once more jay leaned back down to kiss you again. but instead of doing so deeply. he began to lay kisses along your cheeks. to your jawline. then to your neck.

once meeting your neck his movements stopped. his head rested on your shoulder as he eyed the side of your face. noticing the absence of his affection you looked over at him. your gentle eyes meeting his regretful ones.

“are you sure…” he sounded hesitant. worried that you weren’t one hundred percent about your decision. “you’re like a moon to me yn. always there for me even when everything else feels dark. you alone bring light to me when i need it most. i don’t wanna lose you to this. this desire of a vampire…”

“you won’t lose me jay. i don’t care about the danger, or the hunger, or the difference in our worlds. i care about you. i love you.” your hand reached up to his cheek. a gentle finger caressing his face in reassurance.

“god. i’ve loved you since that first night.” his voice breathless as he continued to speak. “i’ve always found myself coming back you, all those nights since then.” jay’s hand took yours bringing your palm to his lips. soon kissing and licking away the blood that stained your hand. the sensation was ticklish causing a gentle laugh to come out.

now as both your hands were intertwined jay resumed his original actions. not only did he leave pecks of kisses along the nape of your neck, but faint nibbles. occasionally sucking at your skin leaving a visible mark.

the more he spent his time in the crook of your neck. the more his fangs started to protrude out. once happy with the litter of love bites all over your neck he raised his head.

“i’m gonna bite you now okay?” his eyes still held doubt. understanding if you wanted to back out now before it was too late.

once he has a taste of your blood he would never wanna live without it. that was the curse of his desire he had to live. even if it meant for the rest of his life. a desire he prayed will never hurt you.

“it’s okay, jay. bite me…” your voice was a hushed whisper as you tilted your head more to the side. opening up the crook of your neck more for him.

you squeezed your eyes shut as you braced for the pain. soon there it was. a burning sensation pulsing through out your neck. a whimper left you lips as his fangs sank deeper into your skin. you could feel jay hesitate, ready to stop. your fingers tangled into his hair, easing his worries. signaling it was okay.

finally jay’s fangs settled into your neck. the taste of your blood made his body tremble. the taste was unlike anything he had before. it was sweet yet bitter. something that would forever be distinct to you.

your body began to weaken as he sucked up your blood. noticing the way your legs gave in jay knew it was enough. un sinking from your neck he raised his head. jay couldn’t help but admire the new symmetrical dots that stood out on your neck. a mark that showed you were his.

jay took notice of your groggily demeanor. taking it upon himself, he scooped you into his arms.

now settled into the bed you couldn’t help but sleepily play with his fingers as he patched up your lightly torn palms. once satisfied with his work he got into the bed getting comfy next to you.

“you’re not gonna disappear for weeks on end anymore right?” you stared up at him with heavy eyelids. sleep slowly yet steadily lulling you in.

“of course not. i’ll be here right by your side always.” jay leaned down to place a chaste kiss to your forehead. as he stroked your hair gently.

“good. that means you need a phone so i can get in contact with you whenever—” before you could pester on, you dozed off. your breathing gentle and rhythmic. jay couldn’t help but tuck a hair behind your ear. eyeing your sleeping face as he smiled down at you.

“yes yes. anything for you my lune. sleep well.” his words were hushed as he pulled you closer to him. exhaustion soon weighing down on him as well.

perm taglist ( open! send a ask to be added ) . . . @ikeulove @leehsngs @nickiminajleftasscheek @ijustwannareadstuff20

©myjjongie 2025

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sinmartini · 2 days ago

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"crybaby." // soldier boy

notes: MDNI 18+ summary: soldier boy knows exactly how to get under your skin. luckily, he knows how to fix it, too. wc: 1110 warnings: p in v (unprotected), dubcon, use of the word 'dad,' arrogant!soldier boy (what else is new), pet names, fem!reader, not proofread, objectification, slight misogyny, age gap, gun mention.

“I don’t like you,” you told Soldier Boy. Plain and simple. That was that.

There was something about the way he stared, about the way he spoke, about the way he moved. Leather clinging to his skin, a gun plastered to his hip as he barely glanced at you when you talked to him.

Soldier Boy, or Ben, was the newest addition to your team, and you had never met anyone who could get under your skin the way he could. He didn’t even have to speak to crawl under your skin, resting against every single one of your nerves. It was amazing, truly, the way he could rile you up with a flick of his brow, or the arrogance caress of his tongue against his bottom lip.

Ben only made a gruff noise in response, but you could see the way he lifted his shoulders and dropped them in a way that exuded, ‘I don’t really care.’

“You’re arrogant,” you told him, deciding that right now was the best time to list all of the things about him that drove you crazy (newsflash: getting into it with Soldier Boy while the two of you were alone was probably your dumbest idea to date), “you stretch out on the couch like you own the place, the way you walk irritates me, and I think you’re unkind.”

Ben finally looked over at you, a small smirk dancing across his lips as he began counting all of the items you listed on his fingers. You tried not to watch the flick of his fingers, the way the veins on his hands popped as you spoke. “Only four things? There’s gotta be more, princess.”

“See!” You stood from the couch, hoping someone— Frenchie, Hughie, Kimiko— would walk through the door and save you from having to spend too much alone time with Ben. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about. You’re so arrogant.”

“I never said I wasn’t,” Ben threw his shoulders up, nonchalance washed over his features like he didn’t have a care in the world. It was absolutely, mind bogglingly infuriating to you.

Typically, you let this kind of stuff roll off your back. If someone annoyed you, you could ignore it. Hell, even if someone was downright mean to you, it was easy to remove yourself from the feelings it stirred and detach from the situation. But for whatever reason, that was not the case with Soldier Boy. The more you tried to detach yourself, the more you found yourself doing the complete opposite.

“Whatever,” you huffed, falling back into the couch, careful to leave enough space between yourself and Ben.

“I think you just don’t know how to handle me,” Ben stated, running his palm against the meat of his thigh as he stretched his legs out, completely manspreading.

“What?” The hell was that supposed to mean?

“I mean,” Ben sat up straighter, his eyes now locked on the side of your head as you tried your best to not catch his gaze, “I think you’re used to boys who you can boss around, and I don’t take shit like that from you which makes you feel a little… Well, crazy.”

You could feel your throat tightening. The worst thing about when you felt angry, or worse, called out, was the tears that would prickle at the corner of your eyes. As soon as that feeling settled in, it was hard to stop. Saliva pooled in your mouth, frustration causing your heart to beat a little faster.

“No,” you tried to correct him, but your voice quivered just enough to catch his attention, and his expression which was once nonchalant was now piqued with interest. You could see it, the way Ben’s eyes were lighting up, his lips turning upward into a devilish smile. And this was probably the most irritating thing about him— he was so handsome.

“Crybaby,” Ben cooed, his tone laced with mockery, a delicate taunt dancing across his face as he offered a faux pout. “Come here.”

You sat there, arms crossed over your chest as he mocked you, only adding to the pressure you felt in your chest and tightness in your throat. How were you supposed to respond to that? As so many iterations of responses you might be able to conjure if you weren’t feeling so overwhelmed flowed in and out of your brain, Ben piped up once more. “I said c’mere.”

There wasn’t any rhyme or reason as to why you listened to him, why you moved across the couch cushions like a kitten, and crawled into his lap when you were just telling him how much you didn’t like him. And you didn’t understand why you didn’t protest when he lifted your skirt just enough to slide his thumb in between your thighs and stroke softly, almost in a soothing way.

“Dad’s gotcha,” Ben said, and you froze at his words, not expecting to like the way they fell from his lips in hushed whisper, “we’ve just gotta fuck it out right, princess?”

And that’s how you ended up with his cock inside of you, curling up into you as he moved you up and down his shaft in a beat that kissed your cervix with every slam. His hands were wrapped around your hips, fingers indented into your skin in such a harsh way, you were sure there would be bruises in the shape of his fingers tomorrow.

Whines pulled from your throat, falling from your lips as your eyes rolled to the back of your head in pure ecstasy.

“I hate you,” you told him, riding him reverse cowgirl style on the couch that the rest of team payback would be splaying out on later. Did you feel a little guilty for this? Yeah. A bit. But no one had to know, right?

“You don’t hate me, princess,” Ben corrected, pushing up into you as his large hands moved your core back down on him. That one motion pushed you over the edge completely, hitting your peak without any clitoral stimulation.

The moans that came from you were moans you didn’t even know you could curate. They sounded innately primal, desire consuming your every being as you rode out your high on his cock, sweat accumulating in a thin layer on top of your skin.

“We’ll do that again?” You asked Ben, nearly forgetting that this was the same man you were adamant about hating, his cock still inside of you as you leaned your back against his chest, heaves causing your chest to rise and fall at a fast pace, “right?”

“If you’re good,” Ben could only chuckle.

#soldier boy #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy smut #the boys fanfic #soldier boy fic #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x y/n #the boys smut #soldier boy x fem!reader #the boys #soldier boy. ✩˚｡⋆#soldier boy drabble #soldier boy one shot

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noahthesatanist · 22 hours ago

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demonolatry intro

Step One: Get Your Reading Straight

If you want to take this seriously, you must get your hands on some solid books. Not just the surface level crap that everyone regurgitates, but actual texts that present demons as what they are: ancient divine spirits, not edgy, misunderstood villains. Two books you NEED:

The Goetia Devils by Rev. Cain – Forget the old grimoires that call demons “liars” and “deceivers.” This book gives you real insight into their nature their personalities likes and interest and background It’s absolutely required reading. The Goetia Hymns by Rev. Cain – You want to actually call upon demons? Use these. 200 prayers and hymns for everything to all 72 goetic demons it is one of a kind

If you can’t get them, I wouldn’t mind sending info from them because this knowledge deserves to be shared with those who are serious about it. But do not just rely on basic "Google" tier knowledge.

Step Two: Stop Thinking Like a Christian

One of the biggest things that screws people up when they get into demonolatry is that they still carry Christian baggage. I dont mean that in the laveyan way of erm no war happened rather they didnt lose anything they fought and secured freedom, hell is not a prison yahweh and his slaves have no power over hell

Demons are not waiting around for "redemption," they already found salvation they are smart noble beings with their own wants and needs likes and dislikes they are not playing the game of Yahweh’s petty universe. They are the opposition, the divine rebels, the rulers of the Infernal Empire that will ensure hells ultimate victory You are not "selling your soul" (seriously, kill that thought), you are joining a side and that side is about power, knowledge, and liberation from the shackles of the false god.

Step Three: Pick a Few Demons to Start With

You do not need to call all 72 Goetic spirits at once like some overexcited fool. Work with a few to start, and get to know them personally. I can recommend good beginner demons

Step Four: Create a Sacred Space

No, you don’t need a massive ritual room, but at least set up something to dedicate to your work. Even if it’s a small altar in a private place, it helps to create a focal point for your devotion and rituals.

What you can include: A black or dark cloth (symbol of the unknown, the abyss, the infernal realm). Candles (color depends on the demon you are working with). Sigils (drawn or printed out, charged with your intent). Incense (sandalwood, myrrh, or frankincense work well). Offerings (wine, blood, poetry, personal dedication).

And before someone asks no, blood offerings are NOT required, but they are powerful .If you’re not ready for that, stick with incense and dedication first.

Step Five: Start With Meditation, Not Begging

This is where most people fuck up they start demanding favors from demons before even knowing what they’re doing. No. Stop.

Start simple: Sit in front of a sigil. Focus on it until it "moves" or shifts.

Chant the demon’s enn quietly. See what sensations arise.

Write down thoughts, visions, or dreams you experience.

Most people expect some loud, booming voice or shadow figure in their room. No. Demons communicate through impressions, emotions, synchronicities, and deep intuitive knowledge. If you’re not developing those senses, you’ll miss 90% of what they are trying to show you.

Step Six: First Invocation

Once you feel a connection, you can start formal invocations. The best approach is a polite, but firm invitation NOT "commanding" like some delusional Christian grimoires suggest.

Light your candles, incense, and set up your altar space. Draw or place the sigil of the demon. Chant their enn while focusing on their sigil. State your intention clearly and respectfully. Be patient and observe. Demons may communicate through thoughts, emotions, or later dreams and signs. Close the ritual properly. Thank the demon, extinguish candles, and ground yourself.

Step Seven: Keep a Grimoire

If you aren’t writing things down, you’re wasting your time. Period.

Log your meditations. Write down any dreams, symbols, or feelings. Keep track of what works and what doesn’t. Note what offerings and rituals seem to get the strongest results.

Demonolatry is a living practice, not a fixed set of rules. The more you explore, the deeper your understanding will be.

Final Notes: What NOT to Do

🚫 DO NOT command demons. You are here to learn, not to act like some arrogant king. 🚫 DO NOT expect quick results. Demons test your patience, intelligence, and dedication before revealing deeper wisdom. 🚫 DO NOT treat this like a trend. If you’re just here for aesthetics, they will ignore you at best, punish you at worst.

Demonolatry is a lifelong path of study, experience, and revelation. If you’re serious, then welcome aboard. But if you’re just looking for some quick magic trick or spooky aesthetic, you might as well quit now.

#satanism #satanic #theistic satanism #theistic luciferianism #hail satan #lucifer #hail lucifer #luciferian #ave satanas #occult #demonaltry #demon #demonolatry #demonology #goetic demons #luciferianism

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katyspersonal · 2 days ago

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One of my least favourite genres of "fans" in the fandoms are people who chronically mis-diagnose who is a drama-bent hater in any given discourse.

Like, for example, you know cringe Gehrman haters who not only have reasons TO hate this character that go completely against things stated in canon to begin with, but also consistently try to make a point about how fans of this characters are irrational and "try so hard for *gasp* CIS WHITE MAAALE", if not accuse them of being misogyny apologists? Yet they are "just silly people with their own opinions 🥺", but someone who points out how this behavior is obnoxious, unfair and makes fandom a worse place? Now THAT'S a bad person who stirs up the drama in their eyes! And not toxic people who made them retort in the first place! Similar situation with Godrick, minus the misogyny accusations bit.

Or, you know fans of Malenia and Miquella who are particularly obnoxious and will spread hostility and toxicity towards any fans whose reading of these characters is a single bit critical, if not straight up harass those with "heretical" readings of them? The loosers that will scream misogyny / media illiteracy / etc if someone (correctly) thinks these characters done some wrong shit, and who became straight up cultish because SOTE crashed their perfect pure innocent idol expectation that they kept using as excuse to be toxic? They are "just fed up with weird Redditors and try to cope with shitty Fromslop writing 🥺". However, someone who points out THEY are the actual problem in the fandom and have been such even before the DLC? Now, this is the bad person that stirs drama. Similar with Marika, only SOTE gave her toxic stans more means to harass "heretics" over the awful sin of giving her complexity and agency, rather than crashed their idol.

Like, yeah, sure. How daaaare you to point out unfairness in the fandom and react at fans bullying other fans for no reason! :т I have very concrete names in mind during typing this post and I am glad those people fucked off from my field of vision for good. I don't know who the hell taught them that bullying is completely acceptable but it is reacting at that bullying that is bad and immature. You guys should be less accepting of toxic people who deliberately cultivate hostility towards fans who did nothing wrong and then play victims when someone doesn't have it, instead of pushing that spineless "be a bigger person" crap. Being a pushover is not "bigger person". Also just because you also dislike/like a character that became the cornerstone of toxicity doesn't mean you should accept literally any nonsense your "fellow fans" do, like if you are some sort of "community uwu" that can't afford "losing" a single member, no matter how bad?

#fandomry rambles #bloodborne #elden ring #no seriously who taught those people that disagreeing with bullying is worse than bullying?!#seriously who?????

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grandpeachpersona · 3 days ago

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It's A Man's World

Chapter 11 ☆Love☆

A/N: Writer's block is a bitch Warnings: Fluff, and a hell of a lot of tension, Friends to lovers Word count 1,954 As always feedback is appreciated ;)

It seems my ever-growing list of things to avoid is becoming quite overwhelming. Now, drinking has firmly secured its spot at the top of that list.

What I initially thought was just a case of being “a little tipsy” turned out to be a full-blown state of drunkenness. To complicate the situation even further, Joe made a surprise visit, and I have no recollection of the night we shared.

I’m left grappling with the uneasy knot in my stomach, worried I might have done something foolish or embarrassing during those hazy moments.

As much as I yearn to sit down with him and unpack what happened, I’ve been engulfed in a barrage of press engagements since 9 a.m. this morning. When I slipped out earlier, Joe was still peacefully nestled in bed, oblivious to the whirlwind I had to face.

What truly stirs something deep within me is the knowledge that he chose to spend his bye-week here by my side. He could very well have returned to his sprawling mansion in Cincinnati, indulging in rest and relaxation before his next game. Yet, he opted for this intimate time with me, and that makes it incredibly difficult to mask my emotions. To the outside world, it may seem insignificant, but to me, it's everything—an affirmation of something I can no longer ignore.

If I could interview myself, I wouldn’t hesitate. All day long, the questions echoed around me: “How does this win feel?” or “What’s next for Miss MVP?”

But finally, for the first time, I returned home to a sanctuary of silence—no camera flashes and no reporters jostling for a story.

As I stepped into the apartment, a hush enveloped me, the only sound was the gentle clink of my keys as they fell onto the table by the door.

“Joe?” I called out, my voice breaking the stillness, but after a few seconds, there was only silence in reply.

Furrowing my brow in curiosity, I made my way to the guest room. The door stood ajar, but as I peered inside, it was empty. Where on earth could he be?

As I rounded the corner back into the kitchen, something caught my eye on the counter. Approaching it, I found a stunning bouquet of deep blue roses, their velvety petals catching the soft light, accompanied by a simple, elegant card.

“Get dressed, baby. I owe you a date.”

– Joey B

Short, sweet, and to the point. Yep, that’s Joe all over again.

Glancing beneath the note, I spotted an address along with the time: 7 PM. A quick look at the clock on the stove revealed it was just past 5:00, plenty of time to transform into something special.

Before I dashed off to prepare, I opened the cabinet under the sink, retrieving a glass vase. I delicately arranged the flowers, their fragrance beginning to fill the air as I placed the vase front and center on the counter.

A small smile tugged at the corners of my mouth, fueled by the beauty of the blooms and the realization that this date was truly happening. Like, for real, for real. Please, don’t wake me up from this dream.

Breathe, Sierra. Breathe.

I repeated the mantra to myself for what felt like the hundredth time, each syllable echoing in the anxious corners of my mind. It’s just Joe—my best friend since college. I’ll be alright, won’t I?

“Girl, did you hear me?” Mia’s voice burst through the car speaker, shattering my spiral of thoughts like glass.

“Yeah, I heard you,” I replied, even though her words had barely registered. “But—”

“Ain't no buts, Ri!” she interjected decisively, her tone firm yet comforting. “Just be yourself. It’s not like you’re going on a date with some complete stranger. You’ve got this, sis—trust me!” she encouraged, her warmth seeping through the phone and wrapping around me like a cozy blanket.

Nodding my head, I felt the weight of her support, even as I approached a red light. I leaned back against the plush seat, closing my eyes briefly as I took a deep breath that filled my lungs with a slight hint of lavender air freshener. “Yeah… Yeah, I’ll be fine,” I murmured to myself, a hesitant determination lacing my voice.

As I pulled up to the restaurant, I was in awe of its impressive exterior. The Amber Room—slightly amusing in name, as it sounds more like a strip club than a dining establishment—made me chuckle to myself.

I shook my head, reminding myself to focus. This better not be a strip club, especially given the part of town I was in. As my grandma would say, “Nothing but rich folk out here.”

Taking a deep breath, I repeated the words in my head: just be yourself, just be yourself. Once I felt ready, I turned off the car, grabbed my purse, and stepped out, locking the door behind me as I headed into the restaurant.

With each step I took toward the hostess stand, my heels clicked against the marble floor, so pristine that I could see my reflection in it. Upon approaching the stand, the hostess immediately recognized me and asked me to follow her.

As we walked through the dining area, I couldn't help but feel a bit underdressed. Most of the women in the restaurant wore elegant dresses or sophisticated pantsuits, while I had opted for a nice blouse, black jeans, and heeled ankle boots.

“Girl, shut up! You look fine,” I reassured myself.

The hostess led me around the corner to the private dining rooms, stopping in front of one and gesturing for me to enter with a warm smile. “Enjoy,” she said.

I nodded and smiled back as I pulled back the curtain. The moment I stepped inside, it felt like the air was sucked out of the room as he looked up from his phone.

His hair was freshly cut, the lighting in the room bounced off his sharp jawline, eyes were just as pretty as ever, and from what I could tell Joe took the same clothing route as me with his low black turtle neck and a silver chain. And he confirmed it when he stood up a nice pair of black pants and black and white forces. This man is just too damn Fine.

“There’s my girl,” he said, his voice filled with warmth that washed away a bit of my anxiety. I felt my cheeks heat up as I made my way to him, the ambiance enveloping us like a comforting embrace.

“Hey,” I managed, my pulse quickening as I took my seat across from him.

“You look amazing,” he said, his eyes meeting mine with a sincerity that made my heart flutter.

“Thanks! I was a little unsure about the outfit,” I admitted, feeling the tension in my shoulders ease a bit.

He chuckled, lifting his glass of water. “You could wear a potato sack, and you’d still look incredible.”

As we chatted over our meals, I discovered that our laughter and banter flowed as naturally as it had in college. Each shared memory and inside joke rekindled a sense of ease. I started to realize that this date, this moment with Joe, was more than just a friendly outing—it was a reminder of the bond we shared.

When dessert arrived, we both leaned in, sharing bites of rich chocolate cake, our playful teasing filling the air as sweetly as the treat itself.

“Why don’t we do this more often?” I asked, a hint of vulnerability in my tone.

“Because neither of us ever thought we’d be here,” he replied softly, his gaze holding mine. “But now that we are, I want to make it a regular thing.”

In that moment, the weight of the past began to lift, replaced by something warm and promising. Whatever uncertainties had plagued me faded into the background as we dug deeper into our conversation, hearts open and honest.

Joe and I talked about everything under the sun and then some over dinner. The conversation was never-ending which led us to now me and Joe sitting on the couch splitting a piece of strawberry cheesecake that the restaurant gave me as congrats on the World Series win.

“You said a regular thing,” I said, putting my fork on the plate. “Do you mean that in a friend type of way or a girlfriend type of way?” I asked just ripping the bandage off

He cut his eyes toward me before he chuckled “I don't take my friends out on dates Ri nor do I buy them flowers’

Still didn't answer my question.

“But”

Oh no

“If you were mine you’d get all the dates and flowers you want”

My heart raced at his words, a mix of excitement and uncertainty swirling within me. “Joe, are you saying what I think you’re saying?” I tried to play it cool, but there was a tremor in my voice that gave away just how much this moment mattered. He leaned closer, a teasing smirk spreading across his face, making his blue eyes sparkle in the soft light of the living room. “I just mean, I see you as more than just a friend. You know that, right?” His tone shifted, sincerity breaking through the lighthearted banter. I could feel the weight of that statement hanging between us, heavy with possibility.

I took a deep breath, my mind racing through all the moments we had shared—the laughter, the late-night talks, the quiet glances that lingered just a heartbeat too long. “I’ve thought about it, Joe,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “But… what does that really mean for us?” The question hung in the air, fragile yet charged, and for a moment, I could almost hear the rapid cadence of both our hearts. He seemed to ponder my words, his playful smirk replaced by a serious expression, and I could see the depth of his feelings reflected in his gaze.

“Whatever it means, I want to find out together,” Joe finally replied, his voice steady but soft, as if he understood the gravity of the moment. There was an intensity in his gaze that made my heart race even faster. “I’ve never felt this way before. It scares me, but in the best possible way.” My breath hitched at his words, a flicker of light in the whirlwind of my thoughts. The uncertainty of the future loomed large, but in that instant, it felt as if we were rewriting the very boundaries of our friendship. I took a step closer, feeling the warmth radiate between us, as if the universe itself was aligning in our favor. "Then let's take that leap together," I whispered back, my voice trembling but resolute.

“Will you be mine Ri?” Joe asked the question I've been waiting to be asked for years and with zero hesitation I answered

“I already was”

Before I knew it Joe's lips were on mine the faint taste of the strawberry still on his lips just making me want him more. As our lips moved in perfect harmony, I could feel the warmth of his hands gently cradling my face, deepening the kiss with a fervor that took my breath away. The world around us faded into oblivion, the noise of the bustling café drowned out by the racing heartbeat in my ears. Each moment felt electric, sending shivers down my spine as I pulled him closer, wanting to bridge the gap we’d kept for so long. It was as if all the unsaid words and stolen glances had finally culminated into this singular, beautiful connection.

In other words, if felt like…Love

@hoodharlow @enretrogue

#joe burrow #cincinnati bengals #nfl #joe burrow x reader #black oc #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow x black!reader #black!reader

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studiogrimm810 · 14 hours ago

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Intentions

pairings/characters: (pining) sam x you, dean is barely there

summary: after a disappointing call from your father regarding your place with in the family, sam is the only one who can truly understand and offer you the support you need to process this heartbreak

warnings: disowning, strained family dynamic, alone for the holidays, a dad💀

word count: 2,892

A/N: this was a request by the lovely elle (@blossomingorchids), i hope i struck the tune you were looking for. this was SO much fun to write!!!🧎🏻

———————

The Life was never easy. Jumping from town to town, motel to the backseat of your shitty sedan, diners and dive bars- it was completely contradictory of luxurious. But one thing you could always rely on was the gratification of seeing your family.

After what has felt like months of isolation and constant grind, it was now the holiday season. Snow blanketed the icy ground, framing the view from where you sat on a motel porch, reminding you of such. It had been too long since you’ve seen your family and you didn’t have to reach out to know that your mother would give you a piece or two of her mind in regards to your lifestyle.

You missed her birthday, the more notable holidays you celebrate in the autumn months, and now maybe the last monumental holiday of the year- but you’ll make it work.

Finally, after weeks of hoping, days of organizing, and a quick vampire hunt with the Winchesters, you plan to bid the boys an early goodbye in preparations for visiting your family. Your chest swells with uncontainable excitement at the thought of surprising your mother.

Currently, you nursed the rest of your beer handed to you earlier by Dean and watched as lazy waves of fresh, flakey snow settled on the already icy mounds that coated any greenery turned brown due to a frosty death.

You waited for the buzzing adrenaline from your hunt to drain as you claimed this too cold and wildly uncomfortable patio chair as yours. Sam occupied the other chair and Dean simply leaned onto the hood of his precious baby. You all watched the innocent weather- doing what it does and leading you and all other occupying humans to adjust accordingly to its indomitable force.

The weather almost makes you worry about not making it back to your childhood home- almost.

At this point, nothing can stop you from coming home and seeing the warmth of a motherly glow emit from her smile or seeing the threat of tears in your fathers lids. Maybe you’re setting your expectations too high, claiming your own presence in your family’s home to be too monumental of a regard- but the ache in your chest overrides any fear and settles the homesick nostalgia deeper into your very being.

It was going to be a great holiday.

“How we feeling ‘bout another round?” Dean asks, thrusting himself to his feet from the hood of Baby.

“Count me in,” Sam tips his almost empty bottle, keeping his eyes focused out to the beyond of snow.

“I’ll pass, I have to get on the road soon if I want to make it by breakfast,” you sit up, placing your empty bottle with an echoing clink on the pavement of the sidewalk below.

“Are you sure you're up for the drive? It’s still a good four hours,” Sam said with a raised brow, finishing off his drink, and referring to your hometown just a few hours north.

“Hells yeah,” you scoff a quick jerked smile, unable to contain the simmering excitement. You just loved surprises. “I’ll probably have to hit the road soon though. Don’t want the alcohol to make me too sleepy,” you sit up, pulling out your phone to check the time- 2:32 AM.

“Just be safe, yeah?” Sam asks with a simple and polite smile that he uses to cover his deeper worry of your mental state on such little sleep after two beers and an adrenaline filled hunt.

Before you can respond though, your phone rings with a call. Your fathers name flashes on the screen. The lax expression hardens like oobleck at the slap of reality- why is he calling so late? Your previous restless excitement freezes into a still under-layer of stiff bone.

“Excuse me,” you say mindlessly, standing and walking a few paces to the field beside the motel, swiping to answer the call.

“Dad?” You ask, a subconscious fear that they’re in trouble tearing a ripple in your speech.

“Hey, kid,” his tired and strained voice forces through the call- you can almost see the stubble on his chin from the pull in his voice.

“Is everything okay? Why are you up so late?” You ask, the blizzard of nerves tangling up every overthought under your skin putting you on edge.

“We’re fine, kiddo, all is well here- just…” his voice trails, harnessing something with a weight beyond a few loaded words. He sighs, a heavy puff. “We’ve been talking and-,” your dad takes another simple pause, and you imagine him running a hand down his face with a slight eye roll like he usually does in times of exhausted stress. “We just think that maybe it’s better off that you’re not around for the holidays.”

As if Medusa tiptoed out from the woodwork, your body settled like stone. A heavy, weighted dread that shredded any emotion above contentment settled deep in your stomach and you felt six years old again.

“What do you mean?” The words ghost past your lips without registering their syllables.

“Look, honey. You know we love you. I just think that it’s better off that you’re not around for the holidays,” he sighs, “your mother worries so much for you but- but the longer you’re gone, the easier it is for her to relax. I know that you probably couldn’t even make time for us anyways,” the disappointment cuts deep.

“Dad-.”

“No, I get you're ‘saving the world’ or whatever, but you still have a responsibility with us. Your siblings feel your absence, your mother grieves for a child she hasn’t lost- all because of your need to be self-sacrificial. Your duty isn’t to the strangers you help, it’s to the family you neglect,” his words pour out with a confident slur and you deduce he’s been drinking. “Just do us a favor and don’t show up. Don’t remind us how close we are to losing you or how your absence has left us disappointed in the adult you’ve become. It’s better that you just stick with the life you chose instead of teetering back and forth between suicide and comfort.”

You’re speechless. The words that you’ve queued for retaliation dissolve under his spewing confidence. He is angry and hurt and drunk. You can picture him now- freshly abandoned recliner with a double six-pack worth of Bud’s scattered about the side table. He’s pacing the homey living room that’s frosted with warm holiday decor, probably the only one awake in the house. The house that’s full of your family. Your family.

Your entire family is in that home and you’re here.

Your entire family?

A family.

Not yours, not anymore.

“If you’ve ever cared for us, don’t bother. We’ve anticipated your reckless death for so long it may as well be fate. I love you, kid, but just forget about us like we have you.”

The line is dead before the words fully settle into your bones like the enochian sigil Cas implemented years ago- maybe even replacing it with the force at which it was etched.

Sure, your father has always been emotionally distant and your relationship with him strained, but you never imagined him speaking to you like that. The brutal honesty of his poisoned words have done their damage though, securing all of your doubts and insecurities of your place in your family.

It was a tough decision- you promise it was. You tried college, even gave a normal life the previously proclaimed try, but it didn’t fit. It felt like you had stuck yourself into a fizzy bottle of cola that threatened to spit you out at any moment. It was too strict, too encompassing, and too expectant. However, since you’ve been on your own and riding the Eisenhower roads from troubled town to troubled town, you’ve found your purpose. You’re skilled, stealthy, witty- made for The Life. And it was hard to abandon the path paved for you by your family’s privilege, but it was necessary for you to feel comfortable in your own skin.

Your arm loses its stability and your wrist slacks back to your side, barely clutching your phone in your hand.

The field beyond is wavy with white powder and the quiet that is absorbed by it solidifies your presence. You turn back to see Sam accept a fresh beer from his brother. Dean settles back into his spot on the sleek black hood of his personified ego, uttering unintelligible words with an effortless smirk.

You pocket your phone and cast one more envious glance along the steady horizon.

Walking back to the brothers, your embedded guilt worsens as you feel the shift of energy amongst the trio.

“Everything okay?” Sam asks first because of course he does.

“Slight change of plans,” you sniffle, refusing to feel embarrassed since you can blame the simple act on the freezing temperatures around you. “I can take you up on that other round,” you attempt a casual smirk to Dean as you settle back into your chair. The brothers share a glance.

“Who was that?” Sam asked with a slight tick of his head toward your phone, his gaze latching onto the direction of the pocketed item.

“My dad,” you sink into the previously comfortable position that now feels like a lazy river that’s swirling you down into a nothingness pit of, well, nothing.

“Heard,” Dean nods, kicking himself off the hood and heading back inside to retrieve an ice cold beer. In hindsight, he could’ve left the packs outside on the icy pavement and saved himself a trip or two.

“What did he say?” Sam sits forward, resting his elbows on his knees and slacking the fizzing bottle in his bruised hand- marked from previously saving your ass from the clutches of a blood-drunk vamp.

“Basically told me I’m not-,” your words start with such baffled confidence but quickly melt into heartbroken speechlessness. You sniffle, unable to blame it on the cold this time due to the stray tear that rolls down your cheek.

You’ve confided in Sam more than once about your rocky relationship with your family but it was still difficult to formulate the situation for another to envision.

“Said it’s better I don’t come home. That I’ve only disappointed and worried them with my ‘choices’. I think he disowned me,” the last five words melt out in a guttural despair. The reality hits, the meaning of your fathers words and the implications of them already saving themselves a spot in the newest dictionary. It’s settled. You’re alone.

“He said that?” Sam bucks back in a shocked confusion, his brows furrowed in misunderstanding.

“He sounded so done with me. Like he would rather accept losing me than my ‘flaky’ appearances. Like they’d all be better off,” the words waver your volume, causing an embarrassing sob to rip from your lips.

Soft shuffling followed by a nearly inaudible click of a door latching, lead to Sam’s warm hand on your back. His fingertips curl slightly, causing his nails to trail a short and sweet drag over your clothed skin.

“I’m so sorry,” his words are genuine. They’re loaded and meaningful. You can almost hear your own heartache in his voice but the feel of his palm steadying you settles the second threat of a sob.

“Family is hard,” he starts, his thumb caressing over the wrinkled folds of your jacket that ripple under his influence. “You’ll never be able to please everyone, and you’ll never be able to rise to their unreasonable expectations. I know you,” he sets his bottle on the pavement and uses his now free hand to push back some of your fallen hair. “You’re kind, caring, strong, empathetic. You try so hard for the approval of others and I hate that you don’t receive the respect you deserve for the effort you contribute.”

He’s quick and organized, almost like he’s practiced this before. For you or himself? You don’t know, but crafted for a misunderstood child for sure.

“Unconditional love is the one thing each and every one of us is entitled to from birth but is unfortunately the one thing that’s rarely supplied to us. I’m so fucking sorry that the people responsable for giving you that would cast you aside like this.”

His free hand rests on your knee, almost like he’s trying to funnel the depth of his words upon your skin.

“You’re doing the right thing, yaknow,” he says and you know he’s considering the insecurities you’ve once disclosed with him. “This life is hard and complicated and isn’t made for just anyone. You’re talented and smart and-,” he halted. When you look up, his lips are pressed thin and he’s obviously holding back.

“I’m just sorry,” he shakes his head, deciding to finish his projected rant, his grip on your form stiff but assuring.

The night is still- silent. The tiny crystals falling from the clouds above settled on the frozen blankets with soft clinks and trickles. Icy rain, almost. The sound is melodic.

“I don’t understand how he can default to this- accepting my fate as if I’m walking a damn plank,” you sniffle, wiping away a few more tears that stain your skin with almost freezing force due to the weather.

“He’s hurting,” Sam defaults, “he’s scared and he doesn’t understand. But that’s still no excuse.”

A comfortable but emotionally aching silence settles between you two. Dean’s taking too long with your beer but you remember the click from earlier was the motel door closing, offering you and his younger brother some space.

“Me and Dean didn’t have much planned for our Christmas, we never do,” he scoffs a soft chuckle, “but we can make an effort for you. I know that Dean secretly loves building gingerbread houses.” Sam nudges you softly, hoping to lighten the tension embedded in your shoulders.

You appreciate his effort, you really do, but your fathers words are still fresh. His voice still echoes in your skull, reminding you of all the ways you’ve disappointed them in your life.

Sam can see the conflict in your tense features. You’ve now buried your face in your palm but by the scrunched skin that lines your hidden eyes, he can tell the toll this incident is taking on you. He really hopes his words of encouragement weren’t too preachy but were instead a helpful chant you needed to hear. He definitely knows how it might have helped him when he was hurting badly.

He knows the feeling all too well. He’s disappointed John, Dean, Bobby. Just about everyone he’s looked up to in his life has casted back down a look of disgusted contentment that framed him like a spotlight- showing how his once innocent infantile being was now an abdominal hallmark of the literal apocalypse.

All his life, his skin has felt wrong, his hands moved in a way he didn’t want, even his body ached for a taunting drug that led him to his most regrettable moment, but he always intended good. He always sought felicity for those around him. And he never intended the pain his actions inflicted on those he only wanted to protect.

And selfishly, worst of all, he was constantly misunderstood. Something he wouldn’t wish upon his worst enemy. Hell, even Lucifer had his reasons.

He knew his speech was a lot of ‘self-help’ words you would almost want to cringe at, but he desperately wanted- no, needed. Fucking needed, you to know that despite all of whatever your father said to you, that Sam knew your intentions were selfless and thoughtful. That you aren’t just some dumb kid who took up this life on a whim.

“You’re doing the right thing.” And that. That is what settled with you the most. It’s what you believed, but until now, you trusted no one to remind you.

“Then why does it feel so wrong?” You peak out from the comfort of your own palm again.

“Because it hurts,” he says with a sympathetic cringe. “Because life isn’t fair and acceptance is a curse.”

The crystals continue to fall all around you two. Sam’s firm hold on your knee and repetitive caress on your back keep you steady.

“But I can promise you one thing,” he says with emphasis that implies he’ll continue once you look at him fully. “You’ll never lose us,” Sam means him and Dean out of obligation, but he wishes to specify himself. He wishes to make himself stand out a bit higher to remind you that you aren’t just another hunter friend with relatable baggage but yet a good friend which he shared a profound bond with.

You’re different. He’s different. But to each other, you’re the same.

To each other, you’re worthy of love without bounds, you’re deserving of a microphone to defend yourself with, you’re obligated a benefit of the doubt.

For each other, you’re always there to listen, examine, and determine a deeper understanding of intent and not initial thought.

With each other, you’re whole. You’re beyond a mutual understanding. You’re quite simply understood. And even when you aren’t, there is still the unspoken promise of patience to be understood.

Sam Winchester offers more than you feel you’ll ever deserve. But for him, he fears he could never supply you just enough.

———————

thank you so much for reading!! <3

>pictures are not my own, i have the originals linked here (pinterest) >>check out my other works here

>tags: @blossomingorchids

#supernatural #sam winchester #fanfiction #fandom #supernatural fanfiction #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester angst #sam winchester x you #supernatural angst #spnfandom #spn fanfic #sam winchester one shot #sam winchester oneshot #sam winchester hurt/comfort

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morning-sweets · 1 day ago

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~Nightmare~

Hiya @keeira ! I was your secret valentine for the DCA Bee Team!! Horror is not my element I admit, but I had a lot of fun writing it! I hope you like it! <3

Wordcount: 3,700

Warnings: Fear, Minor Injury (it’s not real)

Pit-pat. Pit-pat. Pit-pat. Your feet hit the soft padded floor of the daycare. The colorful vinyl is cold against your bare skin. It sends your nerves alight with each touch. Up and up and up until your shoulders tingle with the sensation and you have to roll your shoulders back to make it go away.

The daycare looks…different. Vastly different.

The humming overhead lights are shut off. The bright, cheery colors that make up what you consider the daycare are gone. Kidnapped by dark blues and black that lengthen and deepen the farther you step inside its grasp. It’s cold. So cold you can almost see your own breath in the shadows. That’s not right, is it? It smells like dust and mold. Like the play structures haven’t been wiped down in years, or played in for days. It clogs up your lungs. You want to cough. A daycare shouldn’t smell stale and dead. But it looks dead. Even in the dark, illuminated only by fake stars, you can see the horrendous state of what you know is home to hundreds.

Some of the glass windows have been smashed in. Netting in the play structures have been ripped to dangling threads. Little toys torn in half. Tables turned upside down and strewn out of place. Even a large cut-out of the popular gator has been horrifically demolished. You can hardly tell it’s him. And as you continue to slowly make your way towards the ballpit you notice deep tears in some of the padded tiles. The foam inside is torn to shreds. This doesn’t look like a place you’d find any kids. Or anyone. Not anymore.

This isn’t right. This isn’t right at all.

It’s so empty and quiet. Why is it quiet? It’s so quiet that it becomes loud in your ears. Ringing through your head as you strain to hear even a pin drop. But nothing comes.The instinct to scream crawls its way to the front of your mind. To make some kind of noise. To make the eerie stillness go away. The daycare shouldn’t be quiet. It’s never quiet.

Where are the children?

Where is the laughter and loud squeals of fun?

Hell, where is the stupid song that plays on loop constantly? It shouldn’t be like this.

You want to yell out for someone. Scream and shout, and hope someone might answer your cry. But who? Who would answer your call? The instinct dies as you stand still, pondering. Staring downwards, you notice your grip has become pale as you hold yourself close. You let go to find crescent indents in your forearms.

Something feels…off. Missing. The daycare feels like it’s missing something. Someone should answer your calls. Someone would answer. You know this for a fact. It isn’t missing something, it’s missing someone.

But who?

You look around, finding yourself standing at the foamy castle wall that surrounds the ballpit. Though as you peer over the edge, you find there are no balls in the ballpit. Or, not as many as there should be. The remaining plastic balls are crumpled. Popped, and wadded up as if they were made of paper. Where did they all go? You wonder. They couldn’t have just disappeared. Maybe it’s cleaning day? But that doesn’t make sense. That doesn’t answer why they left the broken ones in the pit. Those would’ve just been thrown out.

You walk over to one of the colorful rainbow bridges that lead into the ballpit. Crossing over, you stand at the edge of the bridge for a second, before walking over to the nearest broken ball and picking it up. In the darkness, you can’t tell what color it is your holding. It’s a much darker color compared to some of the others, almost black. The next one you pick up is lighter in color. Holding them side by side in your palms, you think the darker one is blue and the lighter, pink. The next one you grab is darker. Then the next, dark again. Then light. Eventually, you find yourself with a pile of crumpled balls cradled in your arms. Each a different shape and color. Carefully, you carry them out of the ballpit. Back over the rainbow bridge, across the dark, dirty daycare, to the security desk, and dump them all into the trash can. There. The daycare can smile just a little more. You think to yourself, looking over the daycare once more. Although nothing really changed, you’re pleased to have done something for this sad and dark place.

Tick-tick-tick. You hear a quiet ticking noise echo around the daycare; the sound of something being wound up. It continues to wind, so tight you think it might just snap. Tick-tick-tick. You can’t figure out where it’s coming from. Tick-tick-ti-. Then it stops and it’s quiet for a moment. A soft, music box lullaby starts to play, seemingly from nowhere. It flows throughout the daycare. It’s beautiful, yet haunting. You follow the sound with your ears, looking up towards the painted wizard tower on the far wall. The music box sings from behind the drawn curtains.

You debate if you should go up there or not. You’ve been up there before, quite a few times, but not by yourself. A darkness clouds your brain. You don’t remember who could’ve been with you. You stare at the balcony for a moment longer, listening to the slow lullaby before making up your mind.

Slipping out of the daycare’s play area, you head for the second floor of the theater. On the way there, you notice that the rest of the daycare’s space is just in as bad shape as the play area.

The gift shop was closed, rollers shut over the windows and entrance. Tables were thrown over and chairs were missing just like inside the play area. Vending machines emitted no glow and were missing buttons. You make your way up a set of stairs, the ones closest to the upstairs entrance of the theatre. As you pass a series of party rooms, you can see remnants of popped balloons, and torn tablecloths. On one of the tables, there's a lonely plate of moldy birthday cake.

This place hasn’t seen anyone for a while, you think again. And then you realize something. A realization you should’ve had the minute it started, and a shiver runs down your spine. You are not alone here. Someone is up there, behind those drawn curtains, playing that lullaby, filling this place with music. It couldn’t have gone off by itself. The thought of not being alone here, or who could be here with you, makes your blood run cold.

You stand in front of the theater’s entrance, staring up at its large scroll-like sign with Fazbear Theater written in big blue letters. You find something odd. There are two unpainted circles on either side of the text, tucked between where the scroll ends and the clouds above, like something used to be there but was torn off the sign. You can’t remember what could’ve been there. You feel that you should know what’s missing. You can feel it, forcing its way to the front of your brain, and then it’s dragged back down into the depths before you can even picture what it could’ve been. It leaves a terrible ache in its wake, and so you give up trying to remember.

The power is off, so you haul open the large rolling door yourself. It flies up with a loud clattering shck-shck-shck. You walk past an abandoned and dirty concessions counter. It reeks of food; rotten pizza and overly buttered popcorn. In the distance, you hear a mouse squeak.

You continue on into the main theater. There’s nothing playing on the screen. In fact, there’s a large gash in it. You don’t peek over the railing to see the downstairs; you know it’s a mess. Walking to the other side of the theater, your heart pounds as the music becomes louder with every step. You don’t know what you’ll find as you stand in front of the peeling Captain Foxy’s Pirate Adventure Coming Soon poster. A pit of uncertainty, anxiety, and fear finds itself in your stomach. With an exhale, you knock. Knocking once, twice, thrice, you hear the click of the lock and the hidden door creaks open. The hallway behind it is dingy, unlit, and uninviting and painted a gross, muted orange. It reminds you of an orange gone bad.

The colorful carpet is crunchy with grime underneath your feet. You grimace at the texture. The music box trickles through the cracked open door at the end. When you reach it, you find the room inside is dark. You push open the door a little bit more to get a better look. The room, like everything else, is dirty and a mess.

However, this room has always been that way.

Boxes upon boxes of miscellaneous items are everywhere. There’s a little red and green play structure of a house in the corner, with children sized chairs to accompany it. Piñatas and vinyl colored foam blocks are scattered about. There’s a thin layer of dust blanketing everything, and large cobwebs in the corners.

You ignore the disassembled STAFF bots, and the wet-floor bot that lays face down on the floor. You never knew why those were there. It leaves you with an awful feeling crawling inside you each time you see them.

The lullaby still plays, and your heart still pounds as you walk farther inside. But there is nobody here. There is no visible source of the music either. Your brows furrowed in confusion as you inspected the room carefully, turning in a full circle until you faced the door you entered from. There, you see a blue plastic tube stuck in the wall on its right. The tube is wide enough for you to crawl through. Music, the music box, flows outwards from within. Crouching down in front of the tube, you peer inside. It’s dark, but there’s an odd, pulsing glow in the corner that illuminates the area. It looks like a room, similar to the one you’re in now. You can’t see what the glowing light is from where you are crouched.

Your hands grip the top lip of the tube and haul yourself inside. It’s a tight fit, but you manage quite easily to get to the other side. This room was a lot smaller than the other, and dirtier. The music is the loudest it’s been. It swells in the room, bouncing off the concrete walls over and over again. Your eyes find the source. An arcade cabinet.

An arcade cabinet?

The cabinet sits in the far corner of the small room, and by the looks of it, it's…running? But the power isn’t on.

Confusion replaces the anxiety and fear in your gut. Who turned on this arcade machine? You take a couple steps closer to the machine. Its screen is bright white, with nothing else displayed. It hurts to look at and you decided to look elsewhere. Your eyes find the top of the arcade game and read the name. Balloon World. You’ve heard of that before. Don’t you collect balloons, or something, in this? You haven’t seen this game in any of the arcades, is this one broken? As you’re lost in thought, the music box abruptly stops, and the screen goes dark. You squint, hesitating before leaning into the machine to get a better look at the screen. It was working just a second ago, why did it shut off? You reached up to grab hold of the side of the cabinet, when you glanced down at the floor. Your eyes trailed the cord of the machine to the outlet. Then you paused.

The plug laid in a heap on the floor, and there was no outlet. It hadn’t been plugged in.

Your eyes widen and fear trickles its way back into your system. How was it playing music if it wasn’t plugged in? Your thoughts are cut off by an ugly, raspy laugh and you shriek when something grabs your still extended arm.

“Awwhh. W-what’s the matter, Spitfire? You look like y-you just s-saw a ghost!” A loud voice taunts. It’s laced with static and an awful raspiness. Your fearful gaze finds the arcade cabinet’s screen and you find bright orange eyes staring back at you. It giggles at you with a wide toothy maw. “ Scaaared?” It taunts you again.

An eclipsed sun had overtaken the screen of Balloon World. A dark face with bright orange rays that looked razor sharp. And currently, it somehow had a hand outside the arcade cabinet and was pulling you closer. The hand was dark as well, and horribly disorienting to look at. It fizzled and buzzed with static — you could feel it against your skin, it almost burned — it looked like it didn’t belong, like it shouldn’t exist. Another shot out from the machine’s screen, reaching out for you. You screamed, pulling at the first one, desperately trying to pry it off.

“Let go!” You yelled. All it did was laugh at you as its other hand grabbed yours, halting your attempts. It dragged you closer and closer to the arcade cabinet. Your heart skips a beat as it clicks what’s happening. It’s trying to pull you in. Inside the cabinet.

You tried to pull yourself out of its hands, a new wave of adrenaline washing over you. “C-c’mon, Spitfire! I d-d-don’t bite,” It tried to assure you. But the smile that grew and contorted across its face said the opposite. You shook your head at its words and continued to struggle in its grasp but it wouldn’t let go. Whatever this thing was, was big and very strong. It’s hand wrapped fully around your bicep, and the other practically enclosed your hand in its palm. It was futile trying to fight it.

“Let me go! Please!” You begged. Your foot hit the base of the arcade cabinet. Then the other. Your body lurched forward with a painful tug. You fervently fought against it, but it was a losing battle. Another hand rose suddenly from the slanted screen and grabbed the underside of your face. “Oh, Spitfire~” It cackled out the nickname with glee. It jerked your head towards the screen. “Why don’t you come inside?” It asked, like it was a friend inviting you into its home. You looked into the screen, just mere inches away from your face, its bright orange eyes bore into yours. You resisted, yanking your head back and away from it, twisting every which way. This finally seemed to annoy the creature inside the machine.

Its smile fell, losing the act as it tilted its head to the side, and then it was suddenly closer than ever to the screen. All you could see were those glowing eyes. There was a dark and frustrated look inside them. “I said come inside.” It snarled at you. And then its grip on you tightened. Digging into the fat of your cheeks, crushing the bones of your hand together, bruising the flesh of your arm, as it doubles its attempt to drag you in. This time, you couldn’t fight against it.

It felt like time slowed down as you fought hopelessly. Pleading, praying, to not lose this game of tug-of-war. No! You tried to yell, like it would do something. No! No, no, no, no- Your cheek pressed against the screen of the arcade cabinet after what felt like hours of resisting, and you screamed. It burned. It felt like your skin was melting. Static buzzed inside your ear. Your vision blurred as you felt the screen give out, and you felt yourself slipping through into the abyss of the arcade machine.

Please! Someone save me!

Your screams cut off as the rest of your body vanished into the cabinet.

And then you woke up.

With a jolt, you lurched up from your rest. A cough burst from your windpipe after a gasp much too sharp for your poor body.

“Are you alright?” A soft, raspy voice sounded. Then there was a hand on the small of your back and you shrieked. You jumped up and away from the figure and curled up in the nearest corner.

“Get away! Don’t touch me!” You yelled, fists raised and ready to attack.

“Starlight?” The voice called, concern filling the single world. Your eyes darted toward the source. Red eyes shone across the room. A single hand reached out for you. “Starlight, what’s wrong?” They asked, it was almost a whisper, like they were afraid to spook you even more.

“Moon?” You questioned, lowering your hands.

“Yes. It’s me,” Moon nodded, his hat jingling along with the motion. “I promise it is.” He offered his hand to you. You wanted to sob in relief at the sight. Tears pooled in your eyes as you practically jumped into the bed you had flown from moments earlier. Wrapping your arms tightly around Moon’s torso, you let yourself sob into his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, Moon. I didn’t realize it was you.” You mumbled. He hummed soothingly in response, wrapping an arm around your torso while the other rubbed your back in small circles. “It’s okay, my little star. It’s okay. There is no reason to apologize.” He spoke quietly. The hand circling your back took your cheek instead. You obliged, letting it guide you away from Moon’s shoulder to meet his eyes. His eyes softened as he took in your tear streaked cheeks and puffy eyes. “Did you have a nightmare?” The animatronic asked you, wiping at your face. You nodded with a sniffle. Another sob tore its way through you and you cried into Moon’s hands. “Shhh…shhh…It’s okay, you’re okay,” Moon comforted. “I’ve got you, I'm here.” He ran a hand soothingly through your hair as you collected yourself enough to speak.

“It was so horrible. The daycare was a mess, a-and I couldn’t remember you. O-or Sun! And then there was this lullaby, and I followed it into your room, and-” Your rambling paused as you thought of something. Something that pooled dread in your gut. “Moon?” You whispered his name, afraid.

“Yes, Starlight?” He whispered back with a tilt of his head. You caught the bell on the end of his hat before it could even make a sound.

“Is there an arcade cabinet in there?” You looked dead into Moon’s eyes as you asked this. You pointed a finger gingerly towards the hole in the wall. His eyes followed your hand, then flickered downward as he noticed your tightening hold on him. You couldn’t read his expression as his eyes met yours again. His optics held no thought as he stared back at you, processing what you had just asked. You were afraid of what he was going to say as another second of silence passed, then he spoke.

“No, my love. There is not an arcade cabinet in there,” He assured you, with a gentle stroke to your cheek.

You sighed happily at that — you didn’t even know you were holding your breath —, content with his answer. Moon seemed to understand this as you draped your hand gently over his hand still on your cheek, turning your head to place a kiss on his palm. The animatronic purred softly at the affection.

“Do you think you can sleep again?” He rumbled out. He kissed your forehead as he said this, returning your affection. You took a second, before nodding. “I think so.” “Would you like me to stay with you until you fall asleep?” “You’re not going to stay the entire time?” “I still have a job to do, Starlight; rounds to make. I’ll be back before you know it,” He smiled at you, petting your head apologetically as you pouted. “But I can stay for now, if you’d like. ” You returned his smile with a small one of your own.

“Yes, please.”

Moon laid down with you until you managed to fall back asleep. He stroked your back and kissed your shoulders lovingly, whispering comforts to you as he attempted to coax you back to sleep. At one point, he started to wind up the music box inside his chassis but you stopped him, placing your hands on his chest. It was too fresh in your mind.

He laid there as he felt your breath even out, your hand that gripped his loosened ever so slightly, and he knew you had finally succumbed. A red hue dusted your face as Moon’s eyes watched you for a moment longer. He leaned in, kissing your cheek once before gently prying himself out of your grip and leaving the bed.

Moon’s movement made no sound, not even the bells on his feet jingled, as he tiptoed across the room, easily stepping past and over the little toys and pillows and other things that littered the floor. The animatronic crouched down in front of the blue tube in the wall. He slipped his upper half inside easily, supporting his weight on his hands and feet.

There, in the corner of the small concrete room was an arcade cabinet. A Balloon World arcade cabinet.

Moon stared at the arcade cabinet, long and hard. Like maybe that would scare it off. The machine wasn’t plugged in, its screen dark and covered in dust. Moon hated coming in here. There was a reason they told you to not come in here. And they appreciated that you never questioned it, agreeing to respect their boundaries. Oh the things they’d do for you. To keep you safe. You were wonderful and oh so nice to them. They didn’t deserve you.

Moon kept his eyes on the arcade cabinet before speaking in a low tone, a warning. “Don’t do that again.” He growled, addressing the machine. He was quiet, sure to not disturb you, but it still held that stern coldness. “I’ll dismantle you if I have to,” He threatened. “Do you understand?”

The only thing he got in response was a long staticky giggle. One that promised it did understand, but didn’t care.

#ouhh i hope you like it #i really like how this turned out #challenged me in such a good way #wjejdjsd #dca fandom #dca community #fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf #fnaf dca #morningsweetswrites #five nights at freddy’s security breach #five nights at freddys #dcabeeteamv25

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noneatnonedotcom · 1 day ago

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no but the various supernatural factions litterally mind wipe anyone who knows but isn't supposed to. think MIB nerolisers but able to target masses of people. teliportation magic is also a thing. until the war goes red hot it's more like a constant battle against invaders who don't have the numbers to really hold land but can turn humans into devils and mind control those who don't interest them. this is just a few centuries after the major war between the fallen the devils and the forces of heaven. and all three factions are near extinction and no one knows where god is because if he was dead he'd just respawn again. the devils would be screwed if they couldn't turn humans to devils via the peerage system and the angels are afraid to make more angels without the okay of God, so the fallen aren't getting any more full blooded members either. having to settle for half breeds with humans and various other supernatural creatures. that being said while the devils do need to adjust their society in the face of extinction and heaven really should just make more angels to maintain god's system. none of the factions really wanna fight again and genuinely do care about humanity as more than a means to an end. they've all just got flaws in how they go about it.

the issue is with all the other factions who wanna try and take control now that big G is missing. if more than just the main three factions knew about that well the olympians exist. that should tell you how bad things could get if the Abrahamic religions fall. most gods are assholes same with most supernatural creatures.

so the united states and canada being the only places on earth without either heaven hell or the fallen or some other supernatural group controlling them have taken it upon themselves to prepare for the worst and handle anything that might try to take root in north America, besides the few cities controlled by devils that already exist and the church being a thing. TLDR; things are bad, but everyone has an interest in keeping things as peaceful and secret as possible.

elaborating on the Highschool DXD/rwby idea me and weatherman came up with.

we're probably gonna have to start the story well before cannon, just because with the abilities of warlord jaune being natural to him I doubt he'd be an unknown for long.

so jaune's gonna be 12, along with most of the rwby cast living in America. ruby is 10

first up jaune, jaune arc is not at all related to joan of arc in fact his family has no heroic ancestry at least on a mythical level. his ancestors have been soldiers in the united states since the revolution. his powers quite literally come out of nowhere. when jaune realizes that he has spidersense and instant mastery of anyweapon he picks up as well as making the weapon glow white and gold and be way stronger he decides to become a superhero. unknowingly starting a one man war with the devils and fallen in North America. his family is not Christian and holds no gods instead the follow the ancient Celtic tradition that the cycle of reincarnation is an endless battle to prove honor and conquer everything you can before you die so you can do It all again in the next life.

ozpin: ozpin is a wizard who was obsessed with reincarnation and uncovering the mysteries of it. as a result of his experiments he made it that every time he died he would wake up in the body of a new born no memory lost, he does have to deal with growing up every time though. his current body is named oscar and while young his magical know how makes him pretty much the defacto leader of the American mystical defense league. he lives in Canada.

salem: an ancient princess who sought eternal youth, she succeeded and lives semi happily in the north American wilderness occasionally offering magical aid to those who find her. she's got a soft spot for romance as she grew up on ideals of courtly love. she's exceptionally knowledgeable but is enjoying her retirement from mystical bullshit.

summer rose: servent to salem she was the main protector of north America for a long time. she has a unique mutation that hinders magic connected to her silver eyes. intense emotions cause her eyes to flash removing all magic in her sight. with an enchanted axe she's quite capable of handling most threats in north America since the place is pretty dead magically speaking. easily able to take on low class devils and strays she worked with her team to take on the forces of darkness. her day job is a school teacher for a private school run by salem.

tai-yang xiao-long: a user of senjutsu his mastery is at a pretty low level, still more than enough to keep his friends safe his day job is a martial arts instructor.

qrow branwren: the scar qrow himself. qrow got a job working for the feds as he got older being sent out to investigate strange occurrences for the department of mystic investigation or the DMI as the only one who actually gets paid for looking into this bullshit his friends make him foot the bill for travel most of the time. he doesn't mind too much since he lives with tai and summer. taught by ozpin in his last life qrow's a pretty average mage. still more than enough to handle the threats he gets put up against. now if only he knew why those fallen assholes had such an interest in him.

raven branwren: currently working as muscle for whatever criminal will hire her raven is most well known for her enchanted katana that she stole and will never give back. it enhances her physical abilities and she's the main villain jaune faces as he tries to be a super hero. she's well aware she's not that strong in the grand scheme of things but she's got a talent for getting jaune riled up to fight and then leaving her enemies to deal with him, kid's too easy.

ruby rose: ten year old daughter of summer rose and inheritor of her eyes ruby was born with the sacred gear petal burst which being a dryad allows her to turn herself into rose petals and move at extremely high speeds. she prefers her magic shooting laser gun. but she can summon a rose themed scythe when in melee combat. she doesn't need to make it a scythe but she's a little edge lord.

weiss schnee: daughter of a wealthy buisness magnate weiss was obsessed with the occult secretly she wants to be a magical girl. her studies allowed her to buy a magical rapier that increased her abilities in combat. she's also a pretty good hand at magic though she'll need to be better to fight the forces of evil with love! she is also from the great white north.

blake belladona: nekomata who's parents are first generation immigrants to the united states, they came here for work and fell in love with the country. blake is a huge weeb and wants to be a ninja. she's currently studying senjutsu to better aid that goal. she will go out of her way to make mysterious entrances and exits. she has a ninjato her parents got for her that has been mystically enchanted to be able to cut anything.

yang xiao-long: daughter of tai-yang she also studies senjutsu but has a much greater talent for it. already well on her way to mastery she also has a sacred gear. burning vengeance is a dragon based sacred gear that absorbs kinetic energy and redistributes it. in time yang will learn to power it via her own punches as well as direct kinetic energy in such a way that she's practically invincible. but for now she's only just discovered it. it appears as a pair of gauntlets and grants her more power based on how hard she is hit.

pyrrha nikos: descendant of Achilles pyrrha was told from a young age she was destined for greatness. growing without pear she thought her only option was to be picked up by some faction of the supernatural and that would be it, instead she met jaune and for once fought someone just as talented. this lit a fire in her that hasn't gone out since she will find out just who this "huntsman" really is and she will have him join her. together they shall forge their own destiny.

she holds the spear and sheild of her ancestor. Diatrekhōn Astēr Lonkhē: Straightforward is sometimes the best way to go. Rather than rely on special capabilities that form the core of a fighting style, the best course of action is to have a reliable weapon that enhances what you can do even without it. The spear of Achilles does just that. A very well made weapon, with a sharp and sturdy design, with high capability for use as a spear and a throwing javelin. It has two magical abilities. The first is that the wounds created by the spear cannot be healed without very powerful magic, so long as the spear exists. the wounds this weapon makes become part of the normal state of any victim.

The second ability is to create a bounded field for dueling. A battleground is created where it becomes impossible for gods, outside help or luck of any kind to interfere in the battle between the two combatants. This created battleground is a separate dimension, divided in space and time from the outside world, ensuring any duel lasts just a brief moment to outside view. The duel rules are decided on by both combatants together, but enforced fully on agreement, and the battleground can only be summoned provided both agree with full knowledge of the details of this ability. Only once one of the two are defeated can the field be escaped.

Akhilleus Kosmos: "The shield made for Achilles by the god Hephaestus. Engraved with a detailed depiction of the Greek world, the shield, beyond being an effective indestructible object, is able to project a immensely powerful bounded field in response to any attack. the bounded field acts as if all of Greece was between the attacker and you when activated. Should an attack be incapable of piercing both through such a magical dimensional construct and lack the power to tear through an entire country, it will fail to reach you. However, not only does the shield’s bounded field cost energy to activate and maintain, it will prove far less capable against any attack particularly capable against ‘worlds’ or dimensional constructs like this."

nora: daughter of thor, nora was supposed to be at home learning to fight, she instead stole her father's chariot and went to America to see what kind of trouble she could get into. as a demi-god she's quite strong and can control holy lightning. she's the equal of pyrrha physically though because she likes to skip out on training she's not quite as skilled. she uses a hammer as large as she is. it's enchanted not to break under her strength but that's it. and that's all she needs.

her dad wishes she would stay put, he misses hanging out with his darling baby girl and making massive thunderstorms together.

Ren: son of a chinese sword master ren has been on the path of physical cultivation for as long as he can remember. meditating daily to put more and more energy from his senjutsu into his body strengthening it. as he father says muscles, unlike women, will never betray you.

after all technique requires a specific stance or situation to be useful, muscles will always be ready. he's been friends with jaune since they were little but only recently has jaune discovered his abilities.

ren's sword storm flower is a gift given to him by nora made in a Chinese style it is capable of cultivating with him being infused with just as much senjutsu as he is.

first arc: let's be heroes! jaune uncovers his powers and decides to be a superhero not knowing about the supernatural world. he ends up picking fights with devils who own his territory and between them and the criminals he has his hands full. he tends to just use whatever is on hand if it's a surprise attack but when he's going out in his costume (a pumpkin Pete hoodie with a mask he can pull up) he takes his baseball bat with him. while doing his hero thing he meets all sorts of people that he will later team up with and also starts to get the attention of various magical factions. second arc: this is mine now! jaune is able to weild a piece of the hold sword Excalibur. more than that he's now on the hunt for all the pieces the only saving grace is that he has school so his travels are only infrequent. ren pushes his cultivation further while helping his friend. and pyrrha creates her red huntress persona to try and get closer to jaune. nora joins in an becomes her side kick.

Weiss begins her decent ascension into being a magical girl. and knowing that the power of friendship is how to win brings ruby yang and blake with her. they mainly just beat up low level devils and mages but they have fun.

arc three: fake heroes! the hero faction tries to recruit our heroes will they succeed? and why are our heroes just mercilessly mocking the hero faction of the chaos brigade? isn't this just bullying?

not sure what to do for arcs past this leme know what you'd do

@weatherman667 @howlingday @heliosthegriffin

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