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fandoms-x-reader · 1 day ago

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Unpredictable

Requested By: @beawesome04

Summary: The brothers and dateables reactions to an MC whose magic is hard to control and tends to have unpredictable consequences when they use it. The Seven Demons Brothers x Reader Diavolo, Barbatos, Simeon, & Solomon x Reader Word Count: 6,560

Solomon had promised you that everything would be alright when he first suggested teaching you magic.

Solomon was clearly a renowned sorcerer so you believed that he would be an excellent teacher in the matter.

But, Solomon was a very unpredictable person, and as such his magic lessons tended to be a bit unpredictable as well.

He had asked you to summon one of the brothers as a test of your ability, swearing that it would be a simple summoning spell.

You wanted to choose which brother you summoned with your pact, but that choice wasn’t given to you as all of the brothers seemed to be doing something at the current moment.

The only one who wasn’t busy was the strictest one - Lucifer.

You did everything you could to try to persuade Solomon to let you skip the lesson on summoning for now, but he refused to back down.

Before you knew it, you were saying the chant to summon the firstborn.

You swore you said and did everything correctly and when Lucifer suddenly appeared in front of you, you were relieved that you had done it.

But, that relief quickly faded when you took a better look at Lucifer.

He had a bewildered look on his face, clearly confused as to why he was just summoned, but more than that, most of his features had changed color.

His skin color, eye color, and hair color matched yours to the exact shade.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion as Solomon stifled his laughter from beside you.

You hoped that you could fix the situation before Lucifer saw what had happened but luck once again proved to not be on your side as you noticed a mirror conveniently placed in the room.

As soon as Lucifer saw himself in the mirror, his expression changed to one of anger and you could tell he was holding back one of his infamous lectures.

He was the one who encouraged you to work with Solomon on your magic so he could hardly be upset if things didn’t go right the first time, but changing his appearance was also not something he could tolerate.

“I’ll fix it, I promise!” you swore, coming up next to Lucifer who was now standing in front of the mirror.

You let out a small gasp as you came to the mirror, realizing that not only did Lucifer have your colored features, but you had his. Your hair was as dark as a raven’s and your eyes as red as blood.

Lucifer couldn’t help but take in your appearance as well, noting that under better circumstances, your appearance matching his own would drive him absolutely crazy.

Solomon’s chuckle brought Lucifer back to reality and he turned to look at the sorcerer.

Lucifer demanded Solomon to fix this mess and once that was done, Lucifer made sure to give you both a good lecture on the intricacies of magic and the consequences of doing it improperly.

Of course, you didn’t end up in any real trouble, but he did make you promise not to summon him again unless it was a real emergency.

Mammon’s experience with your unpredictable magic was entirely his own fault.

You had tried explaining to him on multiple different occasions that you were not fully trained and that you were still learning how to control your magic.

You only knew a few basic spells and you hadn’t even learned how to perfect those yet.

But, as usual, when Mammon had something on his mind, everything went in one ear and out the other.

And, your inexperience in magic was no exception.

Mammon had come up with a brilliant idea to use your magic to help him cheat at the casino so that he could “win big”.

Everything about the scheme seemed like a terrible idea, so naturally you declined.

But, Mammon was persistent and begged you to help him until you caved.

The casino wasn’t the regular one that Mammon went to. This one was on a nice ship and it was one that was only passing through.

It was perfect because even if they caught Mammon cheating, they wouldn’t be around past that one night.

You sat at the bar while Mammon went to the tables to play. He thought that if the two of you were standing next to each other the entire time, it would be easier to spot that he was cheating.

You had no expectations of this working, but you gave it your best shot anyway.

All you had to do was change the cards in Mammon’s hand to ones that he could win with.

You chanted a spell quietly under your breath and then watched intensely as Mammon turned over the cards in his hands, revealing a winning hand.

You let out a small chuckle, surprised at the results and Mammon looked at you from the table, a happy-go-lucky smile on his face as he sent you a wink.

You continued to say the same spell, and to your surprise, Mammon was gathering a large sum of money. Everything was going well.

“Hey, are you using magic?” you heard someone say as they roughly grabbed your arm, making you snap your eyes open.

Magic was strictly prohibited at the casino because people could easily use it to cheat.

You were trying to come up with a reasonable excuse when you felt a familiar hand grab yours and pull you towards him.

“Time to run!” Mammon told you, pulling you past people, his winnings tucked into his arm as he held onto them for dear life.

“You’ve gotta use your magic to block ‘em!” Mammon told you, noticing a few of the security detail closing in on the two of you.

You meant to move the furniture around to block the path after the two of you, but instead, you sent the furniture flying in every which way.

You heard people screaming and running as they tried to dodge the flying tables and chairs that were now putting holes into the walls of the ship. “Whoops,” you said under your breath.

“Watch out!” Mammon yelled. You turned to look in front of you and noticed someone almost grabbed you.

You moved your hand in panic and watched as the demon went flying overboard. “Sorry!” you shouted after him.

“We’re gonna have to jump. Can you make a boat?’ Mammon asked, not waiting for you to answer before jumping off the ship and bringing you along.

A yacht would have done or even a canoe or a raft, but it seemed the more panicked you were, the more unpredictable your magic was.

Suddenly, a massive pirate ship appeared out of thin air and you hit the deck with a small thud as you felt like you could finally breathe again.

Somehow, the ship was steering itself away from the casino ship, but you weren’t about to start asking questions.

You let out a small breath of relief and you heard Mammon suddenly burst into laughter beside you. “Your magic - is really - somethin’,” he told you, nearly crying from laughing so hard.

You gave him a playful smack but couldn’t help but smile at how hard he was laughing.

Next time, you were going to make sure you were fully in control before agreeing to use your magic.

Levi was not one that liked to get in trouble with Lucifer.

Typically, he just tried to keep his head down and do his own thing.

As long as he could be a proper otaku, he was okay.

He didn’t feel the need to get you involved in schemes like his other brothers did.

In fact, he had made a promise to himself to never make you use your magic unless it was an absolute emergency.

And those last six words were key in his promise.

Because an incredibly rare new Ruri-chan figurine had just been released and it was going at an unbelievably fast rate for an incredibly high price.

Normally, Levi would have money saved up for this precise situation, but he had lent some to Mammon, mostly to get him to stop asking, and his older brother hadn’t paid him back yet.

Of course, Levi had done everything from begging and pleading to threatening Mammon to get his money back, but there was no money to give.

So, with no one else to turn to for help, he went to his true friend.

He would never beg you for money like a certain scumbag.

Instead, he just wanted you to use your magic to help him get one of the figurines.

He figured between his hacking skills and your magic, there was no way the two of you wouldn’t be able to swindle one.

You reluctantly agreed to help Levi, knowing how much it meant to him to get the figurine.

You didn’t know exactly what spell you were supposed to say, but you followed Levi’s lead.

He clearly had a plan and nothing would stop him from executing it.

You did as Levi asked and held your breath as you stared at the computer screen.

“Thank you for your purchase,” soon popped up on the screen and Levi let out a shout of triumph while you let out a breath of relief. Finally, your magic went the right way.

Suddenly a loud spark sounded from the computer and you and Levi shared an uneasy look. Spoke too soon.

The spark was followed by multiple smaller ones and then suddenly Levi’s entire computer was on fire.

“What do we do?” you asked Levi who was panicking at the thought of his entire setup going up in flames.

“Do a water spell,” he replied, his eyes wide, the fire reflecting off them.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you replied, looking at the consequences of the magic you had just performed.

The flames grew even larger, threatening to burn everything in sight; and, in an attempt to save his otaku haven, Levi did the only thing he thought was logical - he summoned Lotan.

And while it did stop the fire from spreading, summoning Lotan once again flooded the House of Lamentation.

Lucifer immediately knew the source. After all, there was only one brother who summoned Lotan.

Levi got his rare figurine, but you and Levi had to sit through an incredibly long lecture from Lucifer about using magic properly and not doing it for something as simple as a doll.

And after he said that, you had to listen to an even longer lecture from Levi, explaining to Lucifer how the figure he bought wasn’t a doll.

Satan was someone who was quite skilled in magic.

He studied spells and curses religiously, always trying to find one to use against Lucifer.

And because of his studying, he knew a lot about training someone in magic as well.

After all, he taught himself almost everything he knew about it.

And, Satan was having a hard time controlling his rage when it came to you and Solomon.

He knew that Solomon was only training you in magic, but in his opinion, the two of you were spending way too much time together.

And the fact that the two of you were always alone together with no one to keep Solomon in check drove Satan crazy.

So, he decided to take some of your training upon himself.

Naturally, you were grateful for the opportunity. After all, everyone knew how talented Satan was in everything he did.

Not to mention, there were a few other times Satan had tutored you in other subjects. So you were sure he would be an excellent teacher of magic.

He would never tell you this, but Satan wore a smug smile the whole day you agreed to let him teach you.

He was just hoping Solomon would ask him why Satan was smiling.

The two of you agreed to meet in one of the magic classrooms after school. They would already have any spellbooks or ingredients the two of you needed and they were well-built in case something went wrong.

You sat down at one of the desks and began reading one of the spellbooks.

Satan sat down next to you, taking a peek at what you were reading. “Has Solomon been teaching you a lot of spells?” he asked.

You looked up from your book and softly shook your head no. “Not really, he’s more of the experiment and see what happens type than following spells in a spellbook,” you replied.

Satan let out a small chuckle before saying, “For someone just learning magic, the results must be a bit unpredictable.”

You chuckled in response before nodding your head and telling him, “You have no idea.”

Satan then gently took the spellbook from you and began flipping through it.

You leaned in a bit closer, taking a look over his shoulder as he skimmed through the pages, looking for the perfect spell.

“Here, this one is simple,” Satan told you and you read through it briefly.

It was simple candle magic. All you had to do was light a candle.

Satan got the candle and placed it in front of you and you followed the spell exactly how it was written in the spellbook.

You closed your eyes to focus and then opened them again to light the candle.

Instead of lighting the candle, you managed to create a large fireball that flew through the classroom and burned a hole in the wall in front of you.

You winced at the damage and then turned to look at Satan who was staring at the hole with wide eyes, temporarily at a loss for words.

You were getting more and more anxious the longer Satan remained silent, unsure if he was going to laugh, get angry, or give you a long lecture.

After another moment, Satan took in a deep breath before locking eyes with you and telling you, “No more training with Solomon.”

You let out a small sigh, once again taking in the destruction you caused before replying, “Fair enough.”

Because Asmo and Solomon had a strong friendship, it was common for Asmo to be at your magic lessons.

He usually wasn’t listening to what you were being taught. Instead, he would do his nails in the background or start planning his next social media video.

Of course, he would take intermittent breaks from doing his own things to be your own personal cheerleader, encouraging you as much as he could.

And if you were ever starting to get tired, Asmo would be the first to tell Solomon the lesson was over for the day because you needed rest.

Because Asmo was hanging around the two of you often, it also made him the perfect test subject.

Today, you were working a potion to bring someone good luck and fortune.

Solomon had been a little lenient on the ingredients that you were using, wanting to see if you would be able to create the potion on your own, using your own intuition.

You were completely against the idea but Solomon swore that you wouldn’t be able to do magic on your own if you didn’t learn how to be independent with it instead of following a spellbook.

His logic made some sense, but you were also beyond nervous.

All you had to do was make the potion and then get Asmo to drink it.

Asmo, having not listened to what was going on, was more than happy to try your potion, accepting it as a gift from you.

You watched in anticipation as Asmo downed the mysterious liquid.

Asmo let out a small cough after drinking it, telling you, “It has a good kick to it.”

You held your breath as a pink mist slowly surrounded Asmo and in the blink of an eye, Asmo was no longer standing there.

In his place, on the ground, sat a beautifully made wicked cupcake.

Solomon took a step closer before crouching down and examining the cupcake, letting out a quiet sound of questioning.

“What were you thinking about when you made the potion?” Solomon asked you, glancing up at you from his spot on the ground.

“I was thinking about what you told me. In order to make a good potion of fortune, you have to think of the person you intend on giving the potion to and what would bring them fortune,” you replied.

“What do you think would make Asmo more fortunate?” Solomon questioned curiously.

“Being more irresistible,” you answered.

“As irresistible as a wicked cupcake?” Solomon asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked at you, a hint of a smile on his face.

You let out a small gasp as you realized you had turned your friend into a cupcake.

“Is it reversible?” you asked Solomon and he nodded his head, standing up to his original position.

Solomon chanted a spell quietly and you watched as Asmo slowly morphed back into himself.

When he was fully back, you and his locked eyes, and you immediately began apologizing.

Asmo stopped you after your third apology and told you, “How about we just save your potions for Mammon from now on, ‘kay?”

You were in your bedroom, studying hard for an upcoming exam when there was suddenly a knock on your door.

You invited the person in without getting up or even looking up from your book.

So, it wasn’t until they were sitting down next to you that you were able to see who it was.

A small smile formed on your lips as you saw the orange-haired Avatar of Gluttony sitting there with an unusually large pouty look on his face.

“Are you okay?’ you asked him and his big puppy dog eyes looked up at you as he shook his head no.

“I ate everything in the fridge and Lucifer said that I couldn’t eat anymore until dinner,” Beel replied.

“Well, dinner is just in a couple of hours. You should be fine, right?” you questioned, and Beel let out a small sigh.

“I worked out twice as hard today to get ready for the big game. So, my appetite is twice as big and I only had half the amount of food I usually would post-workout,” Beel explained.

As if to confirm what Beel was saying, his stomach let out an unnaturally loud growl and Beel winced slightly in pain from the hunger.

“I’m sorry Beel, if I had any snacks in here, I would give them to you,” you told him and he let out another sigh as his mind began turning.

“Maybe you could make a snack appear,” Beel suggested, his eyes lighting up at the idea.

You immediately understood where he was going with this and you shook your head, “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Please, it could be something small. Just to help me last until dinner,” Beel begged you, desperation shining in those big eyes.

You fully intended to stay away from magic today and just focus on your actual studies, but how could you say no to him when he was begging you so wholeheartedly?

You took a moment to prepare yourself before doing a spell, and Beel watched your every move eagerly.

Once the spell was completed, you were expecting a small meal on the table, or at the most a couple of things.

Instead, your entire room was covered from floor to ceiling in food.

Beel’s eyes widened in excitement as he told you, “You’re the best at magic.”

He immediately got to eating, and you let out a small chuckle. Of all the consequences that came from your magic, this wasn’t too bad - as long as Beel ate all of it before Lucifer found out.

Suddenly, you heard a lot of commotion coming from elsewhere in the House of Lamentation. You and Beel stayed quiet to try and focus on the noises you were hearing.

Only then did you realize the other brothers were shouting about how the entire House of Lamentation had been filled with food.

You and Beel shared a look of panic as you heard a familiar set of footsteps coming your way and you knew that another long lecture was just around the corner.

Belphie liked to be a little more hands-on with his magic than simple spells.

But desperate times called for desperate measures.

He and Satan were up to true Anti-Lucifer League business and they had found the perfect spell to try and prank Lucifer with.

Belphie gathered all the ingredients and it was up to Satan to actually perform the spell since he was more proficient when it came to magic.

Somehow, like always, Lucifer had caught wind that the two of them were up to something and Lucifer had decided to lock Satan in his room for the time being under the pretense that, “He was too busy right now to have to deal with something childish.”

This naturally only made Belphie and Satan even more angry and now they were hellbent on finding some way to get revenge.

Belphie still had all of the ingredients and so he approached you - someone who was both in the Anti-Lucifer League and learning magic.

You were already treading in deep water with Lucifer because of your previous magic mishaps.

You were pretty sure that you were one more mistake from him banning you from using magic ever again.

So, the last thing you wanted to do was use a spell that specifically targeted the eldest.

But, Belphie was very convincing and before you knew it, the two of you were in the Assembly Hall, quietly scheming.

The spell itself was simple enough to cast. All you had to was put the ingredients together and then cast it on the intended victim’s chair.

Then, when that person sat in the chair, vines would slowly wrap around them, entrapping them in the chair.

You had suggested that you perform the spell on the chair in Lucifer’s study but Belphie thought it would be so much funnier if it happened in front of Lord Diavolo.

This left the two of you trying to quickly get this spell done in the Assembly Room because Diavolo and Lucifer could walk in any second.

“That’s all of the ingredients,” Belphie told you and you nodded your head, knowing it was your turn now.

You began chanting the spell and everything was going smoothly.

Right as you were stating the last part of the spell, you suddenly heard voices outside the door of the Assembly Hall.

You faltered at the idea of being caught, and in that moment you had turned away from the chair slightly as you finished the spell.

Suddenly, you heard a strangled shout from Belphie and immediately looked in his direction, only to find that you were already facing him.

You realized you had cast the spell at him, and instead of a chair turning into vines and trapping him, they came down from the ceiling, wrapping him up and suspending him from the roof and covering his mouth.

You let out a small gasp, somewhat stifling some laughter as you watched the youngest squirm in the air, doing whatever he could to get out of his restraints.

You didn’t have enough time to help him before you heard the door to the Assembly Hall open and you quickly hid, knowing that it wouldn’t do either of you any good if you got caught.

You covered your mouth to stay silent and you listened as Barbatos, Diavolo, and Lucifer all seemed to be in conversation.

All conversation stopped though the moment they laid eyes on Belphie, helplessly strung up from the ceiling.

Lucifer let out a long sigh as he stared at his brother before sitting down in his chair.

“Shouldn’t we help him?” Diavolo asked but Lucifer shook his head.

“This is his own fault, I’m sure of it. Let’s continue with the meeting,” Lucifer replied and you once again had to stifle your laughter at the thought of Belphie hanging from the air, slightly swinging with a look of rage on his face as he attempted to curse Lucifer.

Diavolo had heard about your unfortunate magic mishaps from Lucifer a few different times.

And every time, Diavolo laughed wholeheartedly as Lucifer explained exactly what happened.

He found it both amusing and endearing that your magic was so unpredictable.

And he had to admit he was starting to feel a little left out that everyone was getting to have such fun experiences with you except him.

He wanted a chance to experience your magic for himself, so he invited you over to the Demon Lord’s Castle.

He told you that he simply wanted to evaluate your progress in magic, even though he had gotten plenty of progress reports from the eldest demon brother.

He invited you into one of the many rooms of the Demon Lord’s Castle.

Despite most of the rooms being completely furnished, this room was nearly empty - perfect for magical misfires.

He tried to remind himself to breathe as you began performing a spell, waiting on the edge of his seat for what was about to happen.

There was something exciting about not knowing what events were about to occur.

Diavolo asked you to perform a simple teleportation spell.

You tried and tried, but every time you opened your eyes, you and Diavolo were still in the Demon Lord’s Castle.

You let out a sigh after the fifth attempt and Diavolo gave you a supporting smile.

“Maybe some fresh air will help,” Diavolo suggested, motioning for you to follow him.

You nodded your head and followed him to the door of the castle, but when he opened it, you realized that none of the surroundings outside looked normal.

Diavolo froze for a moment, noticing the same thing you did, and as he tried to piece together where the two of you were, you realized that the teleportation spell did work.

But, instead of teleporting the two of you like you were supposed to, you teleported the entire castle.

You held your breath as you waited for Diavolo to say something, and when he didn’t, you were afraid he was mad at you.

You were about to ask him as much when he started laughing. It started as a small chuckle, but by the end of it, he was practically doubled over from laughing so hard.

“This is fantastic,” you heard him mutter under his breath before he turned to you, closing the door.

“Try and get us back to the Devildom,” Diavolo told you.

You took in a deep breath, before reciting the spell, silently praying that it would work.

Praying - that was a mistake.

As Diavolo opened the door again, you realized that you recognized your surroundings this time, but it wasn’t the Devildom. It was the Celestial Realm.

Diavolo seemed a bit concerned as he looked around. “We should leave here immediately,” Diavolo stated, shutting the door and letting out a small sigh.

Your hands shook slightly as you realized the mistake of bringing the ruler of the Devildom to the Celestial Realm and you quickly recited the spell again, desperate to get out of there.

This time, when Diavolo opened the door, you heard a terrible screeching followed by a large fireball flying toward you and Diavolo.

He quickly shut the door, barely saving both of your lives and you chanted the spell one last time.

You let out a deep breath of relief as you saw the usual Devildom surrounding you when Diavolo opened the door this time.

“I’m not doing that ever again,” you told him, feeling like you had just gone ten rounds in a boxing ring.

Diavolo let out another chuckle, a smile resting on his face as he looked at you. He clearly enjoyed himself.

He didn’t get the chance to enjoy himself much and he noticed that whenever he did, you were always somewhat involved.

“With more training, I’m sure you’ll get your powers under control,” Diavolo reassured you.

He wasn’t mad at you, but he also probably wouldn’t ask you to use your magic again until you’ve had a bit more practice.

A trip to the Celestial Realm and nearly getting incinerated was enough excitement to last him for a while.

Diavolo may not have been mad at what happened, but Barbatos certainly was.

He wasn’t mad at you - he could never be mad at you.

But, he was mad at Lord Diavolo. The young master knew how unpredictable your powers were and yet he still asked you to use them.

And he was the most mad at Solomon. Though, that was a grudge he had been holding onto for a while. Barbatos was always looking for a reason to be mad at Solomon.

And your lack of control in magic certainly qualified as one.

Solomon had been entrusted with teaching you magic since he was supposed to be a great and knowledgeable sorcerer.

But, Barbatos was beginning to doubt Solomon’s abilities.

And, since your magic had nearly gotten the young master killed, Barbatos could no longer let this slide.

Barbatos had invited you over to the Demon Lord’s Castle once again to try and teach you magic his way.

He was a very powerful demon himself and he knew how hard it was to control your powers.

It took him a long time and lots of experience before he was fully able to master his own powers.

And you had to admit, out of everyone, Barbatos had come the closest to getting you to perform magic without anything going wrong.

He had put every ounce into helping you concentrate and take slow, deliberate movements so that every single part of the spell was performed correctly.

It was a transfiguration spell. There was a cat statue in front of you and all you had to do was make it real.

But, when you opened your eyes, you realized the horror and chaos that you had created.

There wasn’t just one creature in front of you, but at least a dozen. And, they weren’t cats but rats. And there in the middle of it all sat Barbatos, his eyes wide and crazed.

You were certain he was about to freak out and you were proven correct as Barbatos suddenly stood up and sprinted out of the room, returning with the proper supplies to get rid of the rats.

He was frantically chasing them around the room and you felt terrible, so you attempted to help him.

You wanted to teleport the rats to the underground labyrinth but instead, you teleported yourself and Barbatos down there.

“At least I got the right location this time,” you said sheepishly as you looked at Barbatos who had a somewhat exasperated look on his face.

Before you knew what was happening, Barbatos had you locked down in his room, you presumed so that you couldn’t do any more damage.

It took him hours to get every last rat out of the castle and when he finally did, he returned to you in his room.

He seemed much calmer now that the rats were gone and he even brought you some tea to apologize for locking you in his bedroom.

He promised that he would help you get better control of your powers, but no more transfiguration spells until you completely mastered them.

Simeon had seen you at Purgatory Halls many times since you went there a lot for your magic lessons with Solomon.

But, Simeon rarely listened in on your lessons or watched you perform magic, so he had no idea if it was going well or poorly.

He assumed things were going well since there were no accidents that happened at Purgatory Hall.

But, that was mostly because when you went there, Solomon had you reading spell books and getting familiar with different types of spells.

He saved the actual practice of magic for the classrooms at school or outdoor areas - somewhere he believed it would be okay for a mishap to happen.

So, how was Simeon supposed to know your magic was unpredictable?

Luke’s birthday was coming up and Simeon wanted to surprise him by baking a special cake since Luke loved all things sweet.

Simeon knew how to bake a simple cake, but he didn’t think that would be enough.

He wanted something more extravagant - something that would surprise Luke.

So, he enlisted your help and asked you to help him bake the cake.

Simeon believed with your powers and his baking ability, the two of you could bake something that would truly surprise Luke.

And that’s what you thought about the entire time. In your mind, you wanted to surprise him by possibly creating a cake that reminded him of the Celestial Realm or one of his favorite things.

So, you were really disappointed when the cake came out looking like just an ordinary cake.

Simeon reassured you that it was fine and that you did your best. He promised you that it would taste great and Luke would love it anyway.

Everyone gathered in the Assembly Hall after school as a makeshift party for Luke and Simeon brought the cake before running off to fetch him.

The others complimented the cake that you and Simeon made and you thanked them kindly without giving them any more details.

After the experiences you and all of them had with your magic, you were sure that they would be afraid of any cake that was made with your magic.

So, you figured it would be better not to tell them about it. Besides, the cake came out completely normal, so no harm no foul, right?

Luke came into the Assembly Hall a bit timidly, afraid of why he was being summoned to a room full of the Devildom’s most powerful demons.

But, as he looked around, he quickly understood what was happening.

The smile on his face as he now confidently walked up to the rest of you was enough to make baking the cake worth it and you proudly presented him with the cake.

Everyone wished Luke a happy birthday and then you lit the candles and told him to make a wish and blow them out.

Luke did as he was told, but when he blew the candles out, he was met with disaster as the cake exploded.

Everyone in the room, including you, and most of the furniture was coated in both the cake and its frosting and other miscellaneous toppings.

You stood there, still holding the plate the cake was on and you realized that your powers did have an effect on the cake.

“Surprise,” you weakly said as everyone turned to face you. A deep blush coated your cheeks at the mistake, but thankfully, the cake hid most of it.

You sat down the plate that you were holding and attempted to fix the situation by using magic, but Solomon stopped you and performed the spell himself.

He knew that you could fix the situation if you were given the chance, but the look in Lucifer’s eyes after being covered in cake gave Solomon the feeling that he was about to lose it.

So, he performed the spell himself for your sake and miraculously the cake managed to come off the furniture.

Everyone had to go home to get the cake off themselves and you decided to go to Purgatory Hall with the angels and Solomon. You felt terrible about ruining Luke’s birthday cake.

Once you were all cleaned up, Simeon apologized for making you use your powers and explained that he didn’t realize they were a bit unpredictable.

He felt like he pressured you to use them but once you reassured him that you wanted to help do something nice, a lot of the weight was lifted off his shoulders.

He offered to bring you some books on magic from the Celestial Realm, hoping that there would be some different information in them that might help you learn to control your powers.

As for Luke, he didn’t understand why you had baked him an exploding cake, but he wasn’t angry and he was definitely surprised.

He just wished he had been able to eat a piece before it exploded everywhere.

Solomon had been hearing an earful from almost everyone about your magic training.

No one seemed to think he was doing a good enough job at helping you control your magic.

But they didn’t realize how hard it was to train someone in magic, let alone someone who was as powerful as you.

A lot of people thought that the unpredictable consequences of using your magic were mistakes but Solomon thought differently.

He thought it was a good thing for you to experience all the goods and bads of your magic.

It was the only way you were going to get a full grasp of your abilities and how powerful you were.

Solomon loved being experimental when it came to magic.

He didn’t give you spell books to read from or give you specific instructions on how to perform a spell.

If he did, then you would become dependent on those things, unable to perform a successful spell without wanting to refer to a book first.

Solomon wanted you to be able to figure things out for yourself - to be able to perform magic on your own without needing help from someone else, or a spell book.

And he always looked on the bright side of things if something did go wrong.

So what if you turned the cat statue into rats instead of a real cat? At least you were able to do a transfiguration spell.

And maybe you teleported the entire Demon’s Lord Castle to a few different places you didn’t mean to; but, most sorcerers have a hard time doing teleportation spells on themselves, let alone something so big.

Everything you did and every consequence that may have come from it was all a testament to your powers and it always made Solomon proud.

Because of the incessant lectures from the others, Solomon would do his best to help you control your powers.

But, he’ll never treat your mishaps as something negative. In fact, sometimes he even encouraged them.

There was one time that a potion you had been making accidentally backfired on Solomon rendering him unable to speak properly.

Every time he spoke, his words would get jumbled together so he couldn’t reverse the spell himself or tell you how to do it.

Eventually, you had to go to Satan to help and although he agreed, he gave Solomon a long “I told you so” conversation about how this is why he needed to be more proactive in helping you control your powers.

That was the closest Solomon ever came to being “upset” about something that happened with your magic, but even then it was just because of Satan’s speech.

There has never been a day where Solomon wasn’t grateful that he got the opportunity to teach you though.

Not only did he enjoy getting the chance to grow closer to you, but he had never met someone with such magic potential.

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klausysworld · 3 days ago

Note

hii! could you please do a klaus x stefan x reader smut.

(klaus and reader are in a relationship.) klaus dares her to suck stefan off whilst sat on his lap. Klaus feels her getting wet as she sucks stefan off and says something like “that’s it love, cover my fingers in your cum”

could you also please include degrading pet names and klaus getting possessive like “does he taste as good as I do love?”

then he fucks reader out of jealousy/possessiveness and makes her and stefan hold eye contact.

I totally understand if you’re not comfortable doing this!! thank youu 🤍

Indulgences

I had been with Klaus for a couple of years now. He made me feel safe despite knowing how dangerous he was.

Klaus had his ups and downs of course but who didn't? I still loved him.

Even when he proposed ideas of threesomes sometimes and I'd have to watch as he made love to another woman, although he always insisted it wasn't love making and it never meant anything.

I didn't always like having to share him but it made him happy so I did.

Sometimes I could tell right away when he saw a woman that he'd want us to be with later. He always made sure to pay me attention too during the sessions but it wasn't the same as when it was just us.

Sometimes I would pull away and he'd send the other girl home. He would pull me back to him and kiss my face.

"I'm sorry sweetheart." Klaus would whisper, his fingers in my hair. "It wasn't a good time and I should have recognised that." He would murmur. "I'll make it up to you, my love."

And he always would.

That was his only fault really, that he indulged a little too much. But it could have been a lot worse.

When we got to Mystic Falls I got to stay in my own hotel whilst he did his supernatural business but he made sure to come over in the evenings to have dinner with me and spend some time.

It was hard when he turned into a wolf for a couple days, we hadn't really been apart since we'd gotten together but when he messaged me to come over to an address I knew something was happening.

When I got there I could already tell something was different about him as he wrapped his arms around my hips and pulled me in for a kiss. His eyes were gold when I looked up at them before they faded back to blue. Just after that the sound of heaving pulled my attention to the man on the floor, face dripping with blood.

Klaus pet my back as he kissed my ear. "Stefan's coming with us to find our wolves." He murmured and I nodded.

"Okay." I whispered and nodded and he smiled.

"We'll buy you some new clothes on the way, do you want to go get in the car?" He asked but it was demand disguised.

"Should I sit in the back?" I asked but he shook his head.

"No love, you stay beside me; always." He murmured and kissed my lips firmly before guiding me to the door.

Throughout the trip I was nice to Stefan and in return he was nice to me. Sometimes I would think that if I ever got to choose who we had a threesome with that it would be Stefan.

He was kind of like Klaus; sometimes he looked scary but he had a gentleness to him and he felt safe too. I wondered if he was like Klaus in bed too, if he needed to have threesomes with his girl.

Sometimes I thought about him when Klaus slid between my legs on top of the hotel bed. I wondered if Stefan could hear us through the walls. I wondered what he thought.

I'd look over at him when we were just standing around, waiting for Klaus to come out and sent Stefan in. Stefan would look back at me, smile a little and sometimes if we were stood close enough his hand would touch mine before Klaus could see.

But I didn't not love Klaus. I definitely did.

And I enjoyed being with him, feeling him hold me and touch me. He would ask me what was wrong and he would wake up early to get me some breakfast. Every now and then he would ask if he could drink from me which was something we only really did during passionate sex on special occasions but I think he could sense something off on the trip.

I must've been staring too long, Klaus picked up on it and he had dragged me up the hotel stairs.

"Do you like him, love? You like how Stefan looks?" He sneered, hands gripping my arms as he held me against the wall. "You want to feel him, don't you? Taste him, fuck him." He growled and I looked down, feeling guilty.

His breathing was heavy as a silence hung over us. I sniffed a bit and he sighed, his hold loosening before he caressed my arms and pulled me in for a hug.

"I'm sorry." I whimpered and he nuzzled my hair.

"I can't be angry with you sweetheart. You're perfect for me and you've done this for me so many times." He murmured.

"Done what?" I whispered and he cupped my face, tilting my head up to look at him.

"Indulged." He muttered, eyes dark as he kissed my lips. "I have no doubt Stefan won't be interested sweetheart, I know he looks at you too. I just wasn't sure it was mutual."

"We don't have to." I mumbled and shook my head. "I don't even want to, I don't like sharing." I pulled away and he guided me back to him.

"You don't have to do any sharing this time, my love. I'll learn to share this time." He told me with a kiss to the side of my head and as much as the idea had an appeal, I didn't really want anybody like I wanted Klaus.

"I only like you inside me." I whispered, remembering the only other time we had been with a man instead of a woman and he had had me whilst Klaus watched. It didn't feel right, not like Klaus did.

"Then you can just do as much as you'd like. Maybe you just want a touch or a tase? Allow me to give you this sweetheart. I want this for you." Klaus convinced and I considered it.

We didn't talk about it again, but I'd wondered if Klaus mentioned it to Stefan. The vampire had been eyeing me much more, his touch lingering whenever he got the chance and it was making my body crazy.

When we got to Chicago and Klaus woke up his sister Rebekah, I felt jealous. She and Stefan looked at each other with nothing but desire. I didn't want to share.

So once we got to the hotel and Rebekah went into her room, I went into Stefan's.

He was already grinning when I stepped inside and his hands gripped my waist. "I knew you wouldn't be able to keep ignoring me." He whispered, his forehead against mine.

I was down on the hotel bed in a second and everything felt right, except for one thing. "Klaus." I whined, my body sitting up but Stefan pushed me back down.

"He's on his way." He murmured and kissed my lips, It felt so good. I had to wonder if it felt that good when Klaus got to do that with other girls.

For a brief second, I forgot about Klaus and just focused on Stefan. The coldness of his hands, the taste of his tongue.

But Klaus made sure I wouldn't truly forget him.

I was lifted away from Stefan after a few moments and Klaus's warmth swallowed me.

"Tsk, my love." He scolded but his eyes and tone held no malice as he kissed my cheek. "Shouldn't be starting without me."

"I'm sorry." I mumbled but I wasn't, he had started without me before.

The buttons were picked undone one by one until my body was bare in Klaus's lap. "Look at Stefan, sweetheart." He murmured, his hand turning my head so I was looking at Stefan's naked body. He was leant back against the headboard and pillows, body on display and knowing smile on his face. My eyes drifted down to his cock, hard and waiting for me like Klaus's always was. "Good girl, go ahead." Klaus whispered, hands smoothing my body.

I could feel the nerves building as I crawled forward, Stefan's hands were immediately in my hair and guiding me down. I kissed softly from his base to the tip, listening to his breathing hitch and feeling Klaus grip my hips with tension.

He felt different against my tongue, I traced along the most prominent veins and up to the head, tucking lightly and listening to him groan.

"Mmm, just like that-" Stefan groaned and Klaus chuckled.

"Hear that, love? Stefan loves what a good cocksucker you are." He breathed into my ear and I whimpered with my lips still stretched around Stefan.

My head was pushed and pulled up and down, my throat relaxing to feel every inch of his shaft pump between the muscle. My eyes were half closed, Stefan's groaning face above me now blur.

My mind was a haze as my tongue rubbed at his skin swallowed every hint of a taste of his impending release.

Just as I sucked off the few beads of pre cum form his tip, two fingers slid through my folds making my body arch on instinct.

I went to lift my head, to look but a firm palm pushed me down. "Don't you dare." Klaus's voice growled from behind me. "We both know you want to feel him cum down that pretty throat of yours so keep going." He ordered as fingers pushed inside my cunt making me whimper and squirm in his lap.

I swallowed around Stefan's cock again, trying to reduce the amount I was salivating around him.

Klaus's fingers curled inside me, stroking me from the inside and making me clench around him.

Stefan's hands stroked me head, urging me to keep going.

Everything was so overwhelming, my body was already full of need just from the thought of any of this happening let alone it actually occurring.

They both felt so good, I could taste Stefan ready to cum and feel my cunt in a similar state.

Klaus could feel it too.

"Already about to cum on my fingers, love?" He purred, his lips behind my ear making shivers slip down my spine. "Go on, sweetheart. Show Stefan what a slutty pussy you have. Cum on my fingers." He commanded, his voice low and dark as both fingers moved withs supernatural speed.

My body rocked with his hand as Stefan's taste burst against my tongue and throat and his cry of relief broke through the tension of the air. I could feel myself shaking as I let go around Klaus's hand and swallowed Stefan's cum away, sucking the head for the last bit to come out.

My lips slipped off him, my cheek resting against his bare thigh as I panted and felt Klaus's fingers slowly circle my clit.

Klaus wrapped his arms around my midsection, pulling me back against his clothed chest. "That's my girl." He murmured, kissing my ear softly. "But that's enough. You're mine." He whispered, carrying me out of the hotel room, leaving Stefan a mess and bringing me up to the suite.

I was laid back down on my side, his body holding my down like usual. "I hated every second of that." He muttered, "Feeling how soaked you got from using that tongue on someone else." I whimpered in response and looked up at him as he shoved his belt off and tore the zipper straight off my jeans, letting his cock spring free.

I let out a cry when he pushed inside me in one fast thrust, a groan leaving him. "Klaus-" I gasped and he leant down to swallow my words. Our tongue tangled together before pulled away with a grunt and rocked his hips quickly.

"Tell me I taste better." He growled and I moaned.

"You do..." I whispered and he let out a puff of air.

"Say it."

"You taste better, better than Stefan- ah!" I cried out as he thrust particularly hard.

His hand was around my throat, keeping me down and at his mercy as his body moved in a frenzy against mine

I could feel his lack of control compared to usual, he was angry. It made him faster, his cockhead smacking into my spot repeatedly, so much so that It just felt as if he were rubbing right against it.

My pussy was weeping around him, wetting my thighs and the sheets below as I whimpered and moaned his name weakly.

His body collapsed into mine, his arms clinging to me tight as he nuzzled my throat and sucked a dark mark into the skin. His fangs pierced the skin but it didn't hurt much anymore.

We were rolled so I was on top of him, his cock still half hard and held between my walls.

"I love you." He murmured. "And I love all you do for me." In response I just tucked my head under his chin and let his hands guide my legs either side of his hips. "You're mine." He whispered and I smiled because I knew it.

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buck-star · 16 hours ago

Text

Marshmallow lover | B.B & S.R

>> Bucky comes home from a mission, flashbacks are brought back. But luckily you know what Bucky needs to clam down. Not only you and Steve but also hot chocolate. <<

Pairing: Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes × Boyfriend!Steve Rogers x Girlfriend!Reader

Wordcount: 2.852 Words

Warnings: poly-relationship, m/m/f, established relationship, anxiety/panic, mention of punching), nicknames (babydoll, princess, majesty), fluff

Authors Note: Reposted because I accidentally deleted the other one. Dedicated to @mercurial-chuckles. Cause you asked for Stucky, hehe. I had another idea but I just haven't had enough motivation or ideas to write it. So I hope you like that one anyway. Divider made by me.

Masterlist | Stucky x Reader Masterlist

It was one of these early winter days, where the weather wasn't too cold but you could already feel the breeze the winter was bringing with itself. The air was cool; your hands would have been ice blocks already, but luckily your boyfriend was holding one of them, and the other has been stuck in your pocket since the two of you left the house.

Actually, the two of you thought about staying home until Bucky came home — from the mission — in the evening. But when Bucky told you that he wouldn't be home before the late evening, Steve decided to force you in a loving way to go shopping with him. He knew you loved decoration, so it was the best opportunity to make you leave the house and have some fun with him. Otherwise, you would have sat in the hallway, watching the front door until Bucky walked inside.

It happened once, and both of your men made sure that they would distract you if the other one was on a mission and came home late. Of course, they understood why you acted like that; it was weird to have one of you not in bed at night or missing at the table during meals. Even watching television was different if one of them was on a mission — which didn't happen often anymore.

But after the last time you refused to leave the spot in the hallway unless you had to use the bathroom, Steve took you shopping this time. And luckily, he managed to get your mind off of the fact that Bucky could be injured when he came home. Even though you seemed distracted, Steve felt a little restless; he knew you felt the same, but he just hoped the decoration was distracting enough for you. Little did he know that you hoped the same for him, because deep down, you wanted to return home to make sure that Bucky was fine once he came home. But you tried to calm yourself; Bucky could call you once he was home, and he could take care of himself for a bit too. Plus, he sometimes even enjoyed having a moment just for himself after some missions.

When you had some items you wanted and were happy with, you and Steve made your way back home. It was just a short walk, but the later it got, the colder it was. You were shivering, and Steve's strong arm around your waist and his muscular body pressed against your side didn't help much to warm you up. “You know, my tooth...” you chuckled softly, moving them inside your shoes even though you didn't really feel them because of the cold anymore. “They are pretty cold. Guess they would fall off if I bumped them.”

“Then we get you home pretty fast. Don't want your toes to fall off. Bucky wouldn't like that either," Steve joked, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your hair. The two of you didn't talk much; there was no need. It was just the closeness to one another, the happiness and love that you felt whenever you were close to your boyfriends. So you just walked quietly along the streets with him, the sky slowly darkening, and you were glad you were almost home already.

After a few more minutes of walking, you finally walked into the warm house. It was almost a burning feeling on your skin, and you hissed softly. Steve had to shove you into the house, or else you would probably have walked backwards and out of the warmth back into the cold. He chuckled behind you, his calloused hands holding you by your waist before pushing you further into the hallway so he was able to close the door behind you.

“It's warm, isn't it? Maybe it’s because you're surrounded by such hot men.” Steve laughed softly, taking your jacket, before he took off his own jacket and shoes. You narrowed your eyes when you walked further into your house, looking around to find Bucky. You were sure he was home; his shoes were in the hallway where they belonged. But instead of your boyfriend coming immediately to greet the two of you, he was nowhere to be seen. Steve's voice interrupted your thoughts before you could even start to worry. “Maybe he's in the bedroom; he loves showers after a mission. While you look for him, I'm gonna make some hot chocolate for us.”

You nodded, pecking Steve's lips softly, before you turned away to walk to your shared bedroom. You didn't hear any noises, neither the shower nor Bucky looking through the wardrobe to find something comfortable to wear. You tried as best as you could to not worry about him. Bucky was sometimes pretty quiet, especially after missions. It was almost like he had to get used to home again to know he wasn't on a mission any longer.

The door of your bedroom was almost closed, but you saw a little part of the bed, the small bedside table, and a hint of something else — feet. Or it was more the toes that were curled, like they were the only part that was holding him grounded. You pushed the door open, looking to the side where Bucky was sitting. Your eyes widened as you saw him curled up into himself. His knees were pressed against his chest, his hands properly bruising his skin already, while his eyes were unfocused. Bucky was just staring into the air with a fearful expression on his handsome face.

You slowly walked closer to him, unsure what to do. Sweat was running down his forehead; even his hair was sweaty, and his clothes were stuck to him like a second skin — soaked in sweat. You're not sure how long he was sitting there like that; his teeth gritted, his jaw clenched, and you noticed his other muscles being more visible than usual through his clothes. Bucky was tense like he was still in a fight, and in a certain way he was — but instead of fighting against some people like Hydra, he was fighting his own battle with himself, with his fear in his mind.

“Bucky?” You asked softly, your voice just above a whisper when you kneeled down in front of him. There was still some distance, so he wasn't able to reach you if he would punch or kick. You have seen Steve in such situations with Bucky before; he had to take the one or another punch already — which caused Bucky to feel even more guilty after. But Steve always assured him that it's not as bad as it looks and that it would never change anything about the way he feels for Bucky or sees his boyfriend. And even though he never hurt you, Bucky was always sorry that you had to see him struggling so much with his nightmares and flashbacks from the past — you never judged him; you only loved him more when he couldn't love himself.

Bucky didn't react when you called him by his name. His fingers only tightened around his legs. You wanted to reach out, but you know you shouldn't. Bucky once had his hand around Steve's throat the moment his fingertips brushed along his lover's leg. And you knew Steve was stronger than you; he had struggled to get the other super soldier off of him, so you were pretty sure Bucky would crash you before you could even call for Steve. And both told you to never call Steve for help; they trust and love you, but they were too worried about you — and Bucky would never be okay with himself again if he would hurt you. And you understood it.

After another time calling him by his name but getting no answer, you sigh softly. Tears slowly formed in his eyes, rolling down his cheeks, and everything inside of you screamed to wipe them away, to pull him into you, but you were too afraid to scare him even more. So, you decided to make the only thing that came as an alternative solution to your mind — Steve.

From the time you walked into the bedroom to the moment you got up to walk to the door and shout for Steve, only a few minutes passed. But for you, it felt like at least twenty minutes, not being able to help Bucky and not wanting to leave his side while you tried to come up with something that could help without Steve's help.

You opened the door of your shared bedroom a bit more, looking out into the hallway. “Steve!” You shouted, earning immediately a soft ‘Yes.’ from him. He was still making the hot chocolate, but he was worried the moment you shouted his name instead of coming into the kitchen with Bucky. “I—I need you here. Or Bucky needs you... WE NEED YOU.”

Steve would have chuckled about your wording, but he knew that this wasn’t a situation to laugh about. He immediately turned off everything that could burn. His footsteps were loud and heavy when he walked to your shared bedroom. He noticed you looking out of the door, narrowing his eyes when he didn't see Bucky close to you. The big grump was actually holding you close, hugging, carrying, or kissing you the whole time. But right now, it was only you who waited for him to come to the bedroom.

"Where's Buck? Are you okay? Did he… What's wrong?” Steve asked, not even letting you a moment to answer. You brought your hand to his cheek, stroking it softly before giving him a slight, soft smile. He knew you didn't feel like you tried to show, but he knew you did it to calm the two of you down. It wouldn't help any of you to freak out or be more worried. After a moment, you take your hand away, taking a step to the side, and letting Steve walk into the room.

“He doesn't react when I talk to him. I-I don't know what I can do, but you... You trailed off, watching Steve's eyes widen as he saw your boyfriend looking like a lost puppy. You watched him walk over to Bucky, pulling you with him before Steve pushed you to sit down on the bed, and he kneeled down in front of Bucky. Steve was way closer than you were earlier, and you pulled your knees up, hugging them while you watched your boyfriends intensely. “You know what to do, right?”

Steve nodded, smiling softly. He turned his head back to Bucky, placing his hand on the brown-haired man's knees. Bucky hissed; his metal hand shot up to place a punch into Steve's pretty face, but he caught Bucky's hand. Steve held Bucky's hand tightly, trying to force his hand back down, and after a moment it even worked. You watched them with slightly parted lips; when did Steve find out how to catch Bucky's hand — especially his metal hand?

“Buck, it's me. It's Steve. You're home; do you hear me?” Steve asked, his voice soft. He ran his thick fingers slowly up and down the side of Bucky's thigh. He leaned a bit closer; his other hand was still holding Bucky's metal hand, and you wonder if Bucky was trying to punch him with his other hand but he didn't. “You're home, with me and our princess. You know, your babydoll.”

Bucky gasped softly, his eyes wider than before. His hands made grabbing motions, and Steve smiled softly, feeling Bucky being less tense than he was just a moment ago. Steve let go of his boyfriend's metal hand, using his hand to wipe away some sweat from Bucky's forehead.

“Hi, Buck,” he chuckled. Bucky slowly calmed down, noticing his surroundings. Bucky was slowly letting go of his legs, stretching them slowly between Steve's legs while his head fell forward against Steve's shoulder. “You're home; we are home. We got ya. Scared our princess a bit.”

“My babydoll?” Bucky's voice was hoarse and quiet, but Steve understood him anyway. He slowly nodded, caressing Bucky wet strands. Steve then turned his head to you, nodding at Bucky and mouthing that he just asked for you before he even asked anything else. “My babydoll, my Stevie.”

“We’re here, Buck. Do you want her to come closer as well, or do you need a moment?” Steve asked softly. He knew — you both knew — that Bucky was still pretty shaken up and that he could use some time to calm down or that he needed to feel the two of you, to smell the two of you, and to see the two of you to calm down completely.

Since the brown-haired man didn't really trust his voice, he only lifted his hand, making a grabby hand into the direction of the bed where you were still sitting. His other hand was interlaced with Steves, holding him close to Bucky. You slowly moved down from the bed; your knees were cracking softly when you stretched them out, and Steve laughed softly.

“Thought we were old, but you're cracking just like we do,” he told you, smirking before he moved a bit to the side to make space for you in front of Bucky. You rolled your eyes, moving closer to Bucky, but before you could have even said anything or moved another inch, he pulled you into his lap. You were straddling his thick thighs, your chest pressed against his.

Bucky hid his face in the crock of your neck, pulling Steve against his side so the two of you — the two people he loved the most, who meant everything to him — were as close as possible to him. After a moment of comfortable silence, he lifted his head. He was still sweaty, but his ocean blue eyes were brightened, and the sparkle you and Steve loved so much were visible again. A soft smile was tugging at Bucky's lips, causing you to smile as well. He leaned closer, pecking your lips before he did the same with Steve, sighing softly.

“Hi,” he chuckled, resting his head on your shoulder once again. “Missed you two. Do I smell hot chocolate?”

Both you and Steve laughed softly. When it came to hot chocolate, especially with marshmallows, you had to be faster than Bucky, or else he — accidentally — drank everything before you even reached the kitchen.

“Mhm, it’s probably cold again, but I can warm it up while you get a shower, sweaty,” Steve teased, using the nickname on purpose instead of ‘sweety’. Bucky rolled his eyes, growling softly, but he then nodded. Steve wasn't wrong; he felt like he had already taken a shower, but this time with his own sweat. “We got some marshmallows, and our princess got a lot of decorations.”

You nodded; your eyes lit up as you opened your mouth to start and explain what you got and why you got it. Bucky chuckled, loving your excitement. But he wanted you to show him and explain it while the three of you would be sitting wrapped up in a blanket on the couch with hot chocolate and marshmallows. So he pressed his lips onto yours before you could even start to tell him more about it.

“But I'm taking my babydoll to take a shower with me,” Bucky grumbled, and there he was again. Your Bucky, the love of your and Steve’s lives who never let go of you, who needed to be close to you, needed to kiss you and just show you all the love and affection. Of course, he did the same with Steve too, but he had another task, so it was you who was going to join him in the shower. “Plus, need her to wash my hair. Feels so much better when she massages the shampoo into my hair with her soft hands.”

“Of course you do,” Steve chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to Bucky and then your forehead before he got up to get the chocolate ready. Bucky opened his mouth, but Steve turned around, smirking at him. “Yeah, with as many marshmallows as you wish, my majesty.”

“Good boy.” Bucky grinned at Steve, who suddenly blushed and turned away. “Mission completed, making Stevie blush. Now, my next mission is to get you into the shower with me. Mhm, missed you. I love you so much, babydoll. And you too, Steve, I know you're standing in the hallway.”

“I love you too,” you say in unison with Steve, who then made his way down the hallway back to the kitchen. Bucky got up, keeping you in his arms before he walked with you to the bathroom, getting the two of you into the shower. It wasn't just cleaning him; it was a lot more Bucky being possessive and touch-starved, and you were his solution — you were gladly his way to get touches and be happy when it meant kisses, hugs, soft touches, and all the compliments you loved so much to hear from your boyfriends.

Taglist: @pono-pura-vida @sergeantbarnessdoll @rogersbarber @kimmie113080 @sebastianstanisahotmf

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dancinglikebutterflywings · 8 hours ago

Text

7:10 AM | Timestamp

Pairing: Dad!Jung Wooyoung x Mum!Reader Synopsis: Wooyoung's favourite girls surprise him for his birthday. Requested by: No one Warnings: I love writing girl!dad Wooyoung so much. Pregnancy. Word Count: 875

A/N: this ended up being longer than a timestamp so enjoy. This took longer to post because my laptop was playing up.

Wooyoung Masterlist | ATEEZ Masterlist | Taglist Sign-Up

"What's all this?" Y/N’s husband’s sleepy voice comes from behind her as she puts on the final touches of setting the table for breakfast.

Turning around, she sees Wooyoung gazing at her with wide, curious eyes, their six-year-old daughter beaming with excitement in his arms. Y/N gives her daughter a playful frown. The little girl had been eager to wake her father for his birthday surprise but she can’t fault her for it. Hae-young had no idea about the plan until Y/N had woken her up this morning, asking if she wanted to help surprise Daddy. There was no way Y/N would have spilled the beans to Hae-young before today. The little girl definitely inherited Wooyoung's yapping tendencies, making her terrible at keeping secrets. If she knew about what Y/N was planning earlier, the surprise would have been ruined.

"What do we say to Appa?" Y/N prompts Hae-young.

"Happy Birthday, Appa!" she exclaims joyfully, throwing her arms up in excitement, nearly making Wooyoung lose his hold on her.

Wooyoung's sleepy grin grows as he finally registers what's happening, his eyes moving from the beautifully decorated table with flowers, balloons, seaweed soup, a couple of gift bags, and a small homemade cake to the excited face of his daughter. "Did you do all this for me?"

"Eomma did, but I helped!" she proudly declares.

Y/N watches as Hae-young beams with pride. The sight of their daughter’s enthusiasm fills her with warmth, and she can’t help but smile back at them both. Wooyoung, still half-asleep but now fully engaged, his eyes sparkling with affection, praises his little girl for a job well done before pressing a kiss to her cheek and leaning forward to press a kiss on Y/N's check also.

Hae-young's laughter rings through the room like music, and Y/N feels her heart swell at the sight of her family.

"Come on, Appa! You have to open my gift first!" Hae-young tells him, wriggling her way out of her dad's hold before taking his hand, tugging him towards the table.

As soon as Wooyoung settles into his seat, Hae-young climbs onto his lap, reaching across the table for the larger black gift bag filled with all the things she picked out for him.

"What did you get for me?" he asks taking the bag, opening it and reaches inside. The first thing he pulls out a black toy stuffed cat, this one different to his Aniteez sitting in her room. This one has big, sparkling green eyes and a tiny pink bow around its neck. Wooyoung chuckles, holding it up for Hae-young to see. "A black cat? You know your Appa very well."

Hae-young giggles, clearly delighted with her choice of stuffed animal. "There's more, Appa."

"Is there?" he replies, reaching back into the bag and pulling out three smaller gifts. One is a new bottle of black nail polish that Hae-young insisted on getting after seeing Wooyoung's nails painted for the latest comeback. Another is a box featuring his favorite cologne, and the last looks like a jewellery box. He opens it to reveal a small, intricately designed keychain with a photo of her inside it. Wooyoung smiles recognizing the image. It was of Hae-young, beaming with joy, her hair tousled by the wind, standing on her grandparent’s front doorstep.

"Wow, Hae-young, I love it so much, I’m going to put it on my keys before I leave for work, so I can show all your uncles!" he exclaims, his voice filled with genuine admiration. “they’re going to be so jealous!”

“Do you think so?” she asks hopeful.

“I know so,” he assures her. “Now, do you know what eomma got me?”

She takes a moment to think about it but shakes her head, no.

"Why don’t you go eat while I open eomma's gift, okay?" he suggests, shifting in his seat. She obediently moves to sit in the chair next to him.

Y/N picks up the small black gift bag and hands it to him. "It’s not much, but I hope you like it," she says, her voice tinged with nervousness. He looks at her with a hint of concern, takes the bag, and opens it. As he pulls out a box larger than the one containing the keychain, his eyes widen in surprise. Looking at her, a mix of excitement and hope fills his gaze.

"Is this for real?" he asks, glancing between the sonogram photo and the positive pregnancy test, then back at her.

"Yes," Y/N replies, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

In a burst of excitement, Wooyoung quickly stands from his chair, almost knocking it backwards, and wraps her in his arms, pressing his lips to hers. "I love you so much," he says in between kisses. "Best birthday ever," he adds when he pulls away enough to wipe her tears that had fallen, not realizing he has tears in his own eyes.

"Appa? Eomma? Is something wrong?" they hear Hae-young ask, her innocent curiosity breaking through the moment.

Wooyoung quickly wipes away the tears that had begun to form in his eyes, kneeling down to Hae-young's level. He glances at his wife before looking back at her. "Nothing’s wrong, sweetheart. Appa's just having the best birthday he's ever had."

@staytiny2000 - @treehouse-mouse - @katzline - @alexxavicry - @jedi-dreea

@rainydayteacups - @green-agent - @tinyelfperson - @yeonjunnie – @hollxe1

@deltamoon666 - @skz1-4-3 - @everythingboutkpop - @oddracha - @http-gyu

@skittyneos - @pinkpunkdynamite - @keshivibes - @bookswillfindyouaway - @katsukis1wife

@jjoongstar - @arki-sha - @forever-atiny - @lixisoul99 - @do-you-remember-summer-127 -

@catzachvsvt - @ateez-atiny380 - @reayahnadeem24

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winxfairyliveshere · 2 days ago

Text

Ruben Dias x Wife Reader (Part 2)

Part 1

Hi! I really got so happy that you guys liked the part 1. I hope you will like this too.English is not my mother language so please excuse me for mistakes. Feedbacks are welcomed, enjoy <3

You climbed the stairs making too much effort. Your first pregnancy was not like this hard. But this time, it's complicated. After you climbed half of the stairs you stopped and took a few big breathes. Ruben was in the downstairs making noises you had no idea where they are coming from. You thought he was picking up his shoes. After you climbed the whole stairs you said to yourself, yes!, because it was really hard.

You waddled to your son's room, door was open. There were teeth brushing noises coming from his bathroom. You watched him while he is brushing. Oh, in your eyes he is the biggest man in the world. He can talk, he can sleep alone and he doesn't like it when you bath him! He is not the baby in the bassinet crying for you, looking for your skin anymore.

But while you are thinking all of this you thought you need to step up because he was being too harsh with his teeth. "Oh, oh buddy calm down, calm down." You took his hand and guided him. "You need to be gentle, remember? We have talked about this before, like this."

Brushing was over, you helped him get off the chair. He ran to the books and started to yell "I want Portuguese, Portuguese!" while bouncing. You started to collecting Portuguese books for him and said "Which one do you want?". He pulled one of the books from your hand and started waving in the air. You walked to the bed with him, he got in first.

"Come on mommy be fast"

"I am coming Teo, look i am huge."

"You are not huge mom you are pregnant." said while giving you a dead ass look.

Did he really pick this book? Really? He had dozens of books but he picked this one? Like he is doing this on purpose. Eu Amo Meu Papai (I love my dad).

Ruben's POV

Ruben scrathed his scalp while she was climbing the stairs. Wanted to help her like he always does, but he thought this time she will shove him. So he continued to clean his shoes but no. He just can't do it. He threw the cloth in his hand, it made cleaners fell. Collected all the shoes and put them in their bags.

"You are not in the football world." said to her. He thought, am i wrong though? Maybe he was, maybe he was not. He couldn't decide. He said in his head "She still sees me like the day we first met; strong and solid. But she is forgetting one thing: my age." That's why he said those sentences. And the word she said about "not seeing her as a soulmate?" Crap. "I was not under of a another man." Total bullshit. She can't.

The best thing he can do right now is fall into coma without dying: sleeping. So he went upstairs, his family's voices became more distinct as he walked towards his room.

"Did you like it?"

"Yes, mãe. Your Portuguese is getting better also." He giggled at Teo's words.

"What! My Portuguese is always nice. Look at yours."

"Papai talks better."

"Of course he talks better, he is Portuguese." Something in Ruben's heart always melted when he acknowledge his identity: talking Portuguese, watching Portuguese cartoons or wanting to wear Portugal jersey.

Reader's POV

You ruffled his hair while saying "Of course he talks better, he is Portuguese." This boy always surprises you with his words.

"Teo, i am sorry for what happened. I should not yell." You played with his ears and said "Sorry ears"

"Maybe you should say sorry to papai's ears too." You looked at him. Gosh, he is literally Ruben's twin. You literally gave birth to another Ruben.

"Should i?"

"Can we go -yawns- to the papai's game?" You understood the signals he is giving and started to caress his head and hair. That's the trick for falling asleep. Right that time, door opened and you saw your husband. Ruben slowly entered the room, he was very careful not to make any noise. You made eye contact for a moment but quickly looked away from his eyes. He stretched his long and muscular arm towards your son's head and caressed his cheek. He slowly brought his head closer to Teo's face and left a small kiss on his other cheek. At that moment you smelled him, his presence almost crushed you. His neck was literally displaying itself right in front of your eyes. But remember, you guys had a fight. Fight.

You slowly removed your arm from under Teo's head. You need a help for getting up and here he is. Ruben stretched out his hands to you, you grabbed them. If you were not angry with him, you would have kissed his hands. You stood up with his help, didn't say a word. You tucked Teo in bed, Ruben was walking in front of you. You adjusted the intensity of night lamp and walked out of the room. When you closed the room, you felt his existence behind you. You didn't turn to him. When you realize he is gone, you walked to your room. Ruben was folding his t-shirt, already in night clothes. He doesn't like waking up to the pile of clothes all messy. You entered bathroom, took the toothbrush in one hand and the toothpaste in the other. Thanks to the big bathroom mirror, you could see Ruben. After brushing you applied your lip and face moisturizer and hopped to the another care routine which is Ruben found "unnecessary". Brushing hair! Well Ruben does not find brushing hair unnecessary, he founds brushing hair for 10 mins unnecessary. You deal with hair loss due to pregnancy, whatever you try does not help. So you find yourself brushing your hair for at least 10 mins. Maybe it makes worse, but when you do not brush it, there is always a big pile of hair on your pillow which makes you sad.

Ruben was laying on his back. Eyes fully open. Right to the ceiling. He opened duvet for you and you saw your pregnancy pillow placed like you always did. Was he saying sorry through his acts?

You sat on the bed, leaning your back against the headboard. Looked at him, still glued his eyes to the ceiling.

"Did your ears get hurt too?" you asked. He turned his head towards you. "What?" he said with a little smile.

"I asked a very clear question." After your response, he stopped lying on the bed and sat instead of it.

"Y/n, look at me." he cupped your face. His hands, you loved his hands. Always made you so safe: holding them, his hand on your thigh while driving, wandering around your body, his long fingers around your neck. Best necklace in the world.

Altough you think like that, you looked at him with a attidute and said, "I do not think i said something wrong. I am right about what i said."

"Yes i know but you need to listen to me also. I am so happy and blessed to have you in my life. I know no matter what happens, you are my number one supporter, you will stand with me. I am so happy for our family." caressed your belly, "So much i can not put into words. I said those words because football is changing, i am changing Y/n. Last game, i fucked up. Fucked up everything. Like it was not me playing. Then when i was in the changing room, sitting while i am disgusting with my performance, i saw them." You looked at him with interested eyes. "I saw my opponets. Yes opponets. They are my teammates but that was the first time i saw them as a opponent. With their young and stable bodies, they came and sat in front of me. I saw myself in them, when i was in Benfica, i always waited for some one to drop so i can get in the game. Y/n i am getting old."

"You are not getting old! You are just 32."

"That means i am getting old minha vida (my life). " said while caressing your arm.

"Nowadays footballers play until they are 40. You are no where close to 40 Ruben."

"I know but that does not relax me. There are people coming behind me and waiting for me not to play. One game, just one game me playing bad, that's it. That's their chance to shine. And i do not want others shine. Not yet."

You felt insane discomfort in your body. His words were like rain, storm. You could not do anything but stand.

"I really appreciate your support and trust towards me and i am sorry for what i said. You are my everything, my world. Like you are Earth and i am Moon, hovering around you. I am so sorry Y/n, i just feel so much pressure. I should not acted like that with you. And while Teo was there."

All your guard is down right now. You hugged him, felt sorry for him. Left a few pecks around his neck and shoulder. He looked at you with smiling eyes firstly but they changed so quick like he remembered something. He distanced himself.

"What? Am i smelling? I took a shower this morning." You started to sniff yourself.

"No no you are not. I just remembered something. Forbidden words, you said them." You did not understand his point.

"You talked about another man remember?"

You burst out laughing.

"No, stop laughing stop it." He tried to close your mouth but no, you did not stop laughing. You pulled the duvet over yourself, he spooned you with his body.

"As i said before, i am right about my words, i said facts. I was under you not any other man."

"I know amor i know. You are only mine."

Tags: @carmilladias @caraclocekfjrv @hockey-racing-fubol @mahivah @ciaraovnot and who sent me a message anonymous 💞

I think i need to find title for this one :)

#footballer imagine #ruben dias imagine #ruben dias #fanfic #footballer angst #footballer blurb #footballer x reader #footballer x y/n #footballer x you #manchester city #ruben dias x reader

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caxde · 14 hours ago

Note

Hey you! I loved the bright eyes request!! I’d love to request a next part where Eddie finally asks princess out and Lua calls you mommy as she heard it at school or daycare and her and Eddie talk about it? 🫣

Also sorry I’m a pain I just love your story so much! It’s my favorite

Hi babe! I'm sorry it took so long, I have been going through it. I hope you enjoy it!

bright eyes universe drabble ~2.1k girl!dad eddie

“Careful Lu, let dada flip it.” He whispered as he grabbed the plastic spatula away from her hand.

Her curious eyes followed every move he made, watching closely and in awe as he rapidly flipped the chocolate chip pancake they had made together.

They had snuck into your trailer with everything prepared, pancake mix in one of those old reused glass jars. He got that new habit from you and your pantry.

Lua kept giggling at the idea of waking you up. Her cheeks became rosier by the second as her eyes squinted. She had a hard time controlling her excitement given has she had only joked about wanting to wake you up, lucky for her her indulgent dad had the same idea.

She climbed down the chair she used to see what Eddie cooked -he had a new habit, talking her through every process, trying to get her to talk more, better, longer sentences- and given that he was pouring more mix into the buttered pan he was too focused to stop her. He figured she’d sit on the floor as she usually did.

Lua had other ideas in her head, she found her way to your bedroom door. A light push was enough for it to open and the little giggles became a chuckling that made you toss in your bed, now that you laid half awake.

Her tiny footsteps found the side you were sleeping and a koi smile appeared on your lips as you realised what was happening. As soon as you felt the pressure on the mattress and her whispered grunting of her effort to climb your bed you knew you had to wrap her under your sheets.

So you did, your eyes halved open as you saw her big and wide smile. You couldn’t help but let your lips curl upwards. Her hair looked exactly as Eddie’s did when he had a long night of just dreaming and tossing, a tangled perfected mess. You let out a small “AH” before opening your arms as you held your duvet, pulling it down in a swift motion, trapping her inside while she jumped to hug you.

The small giggles and screams made Eddie rush to your room, finding the scene he found both endearing and magical. The warm morning light creeping into your room illuminates your bedroom in a way that makes it seem like it was already a warm and special memory. He stood there for a second by the threshold crossing his arms as he saw you both emerge from under the covers, he could help but shake his head in disbelief from how lucky he felt.

You made eye contact with him briefly as Lua continued blabbering her good mornings and her excited questions and he mouthed a soft “morning” he caught you blushing before you mouthed back a soft “good”.

He walked back to the kitchenaid with a different rhythm, a happier and more awake one.

You waited in the car while he dropped Lua off into kindergarten, watching with a shy smile at the idealistic picture and the four hugs and six forehead kisses of reassurance Lua had needed before going inside the classroom.

You laughed quietly to yourself as you waited for him to come back, seeing how an excited grin appeared on his face as he found his way back to you.

“Hi” Eddie muttered as soon as he opened the door, sitting back in the driver seat. His head reached for yours so your lips could meet properly.

A sweet and short kiss laid at the top of your lips.

“Hi” You whispered back, feeling that familiar flush in your cheeks as that lucky feeling invaded your body once again.

“So, what do you want to do?” He asked as he started the car, it caught you by surprise if you were honest, he could tell by the way your lips pressed together.

“I thought you had work?” You half asked. You were the one that needed reassurance now.

“Not until lunch.” He said nonchalantly, his right hand finding your thigh, stroking it softly and absentmindedly.

“Wade’s doing the pick up then?” You followed as he started to drive, not sure where to go yet.

“Shit.” He muttered as realisation hit.

He looked at you with a horrified look. You knew in that instance he was starting to panic, he was starting to feel bad about himself, his mind telling him all sort of horrible and despicable things he would never dare to speak aloud.

“Do you want me to…?” The space between his eyebrows where a wrinkle was relaxed suddenly. You simply smiled back, your hand petting his that still laid on top of your thigh.

“You don’t have to…” You shook your head as soon as he said it.

“It doesn’t bother me, Moon.” His hand tangled with yours. You saw him blushing at the softness of your tone.

“I know it doesn’t… I just don’t want you to feel like you have to fix my fuck ups” He tried to explain as his eyes left the road to look at yours.

“But I like fixing your fuck ups” You chirped back with a sweet sing-song voice that made him earnestly smile. “I also like you” You add just so you could see him blush a bit.

“Idiot” Eddie whispered through his teeth, smiling wide at the sound of your words.

“Your idiot.”

“Yeah, lucky me.” He left a kiss on the back of your palm as he continued to drive aimlessly, singing along to the songs on the radio with you.

Truthful bliss was felt once the two of you were together.

You did feel nervous, yet again, it would be weird if you didn’t feel it. Everyone around you was older and they all seemed to have their life figured all out. You clocked a pattern -as you usually did when you were feeling a bit too anxious- those of them that seemed more uptight, blonder and with cleaner clothes seemed to take an effort so they could stay out of your way. Yet the ones that were a bit more tired, with wilder hair and kinder smiles dedicated soft nods and smiles to your direction.

It was a weird reassurance.

The blue door opened and with it the soft chatter and spontaneous giggles and scream from toddlers invaded the previously quiet street. You waited for the eager parents to rush through the door, you knew you had to introduce yourself to the teacher, even if Eddie had called in advance and explained to them that you were picking her daughter, it still invaded you with a sense of nervousness, your heart beating louder in your chest.

You found your way, a few steps away from the door as a shy Lua emerged, holding hands with a young girl, a couple years older than you at best. You let your knees touch the ground as you open your arms, she rushed to hold you with an excited giggle.

“Hi bug! You had a good day?” You asked as you embraced her, picking her up from the ground, her backpack hanging off her, way too big for her.

“Yeah!” She hid her head on your chest as she continued to chuckle, excited by your presence.

“So… You’re Lua’s mom?” The teacher asked.

Your eyes widened, as shock invaded your body. You started to shake your head profusely as you rocked Lua whose head poked out once she heard her name. Mom is a word that you hadn’t discussed or introduced. Not since you did accidentally met her actual mother, and yet the word has only been discussed out of earshot from her, between you and Eddie in hushed voices and wet eyes.

“No, no… Uh, I'm Eddie’s partner.” You struggled to find your words, trying to make sense of what was happening. You saw how she turned white with embarrassment.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to…” She started to apologise, but you just shook your head once again before she could understand your need for her to stop talking. “I just thought, and since I had never seen Lua’s mom I just figured you, I mean she had finally come I..” She kept trying to male it right but your cheeks were becoming redder than Lua’s shirt.

“It’s fine really.” You told her with a kind smile and a soft touch to her arm. “We actually have to go, I have to take her to her dad’s car shop. You’re ready bug?”

“Yeah…” She added with a confused voice. Lua waited for both of you to be alone. She needed to know what that new word meant. “Princess?” She softly asked.

“Yes bug?”

“What’s mom?” You could tell she was genuinely curious. “Are you mom?”

“Oh..” You mumbled trying to know what you were allowed to respond. “Um… You know why Eddie’s your dad?” She nodded slowly, not really following. “Eddie’s your dad because he had you, and your mom is the other person that had you, because it takes two people to really like and love each other to make such a special person.” You started to explain as you helped her into the little kid seat Eddie had in his van. “Your dad loves you very much and takes care of you.” You added as you left a soft kiss on her forehead. With the impeding feeling you were somehow fucking it all up.

“You take care of me” She responded once you were looking into her eyes.

“Yes.”

“And you love me?” That childish way of asking with a pure innocence made you smile softly.

“Of course I do, bug.”

“Then you’re mom.” She concluded. You shook your head as you fastened her seatbelt. You left that where it was, you weren’t sure what to answer.

“Dada!” Lua screamed as soon as she set foot on the car shop, running directly to where Eddie was.

“Hi Lu!” Eddie matched her energy perfectly, grabbing her in one swift motion and letting her rest on top of the car he was finishing the check up. “How was school?”

“Fun!” She added with a chuckle as she looked at him with a glee in her eyes.

“I wanna hear all about it. Dada’s gonna go for a snack and then you tell me, okay?” She nodded enthusiastically as Eddie found its way to you so he could steal a kiss.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” You grabbed his hand as he passed swiftly by you to reach for his bag where he had an assortment of snacks for Lua to choose from. “Lua learned a new word today.”

“Oh no, did I miss her first curse word?” He added with a sarcastic hope that would make you chuckle in another circumstance.

“Actually, she learned mom” You whispered, he was now recreating the same expression you had made when the young girl had said it to you. “She asked what it meant, I tried to explain but she was convinced that I was… well- that.” You finished as his eyes shifted between you and her.

“I’m sorry you had to…” He started, deciding to change what he was about to say before even speaking, even if it was no use since you had already guessed what he was about to. “You are kinda like her mom though… I mean she knows you more than…. This is a weird conversation, right?” He checked with you, grabbing your hand and pushing you a bit closer. Needing to feel like he wasn’t completely losing his mind.

“It is a weird conversation. I just… I’m not her mom, I could… I would never want to impose that I just… I do take care of her and I love her and I love you but I just… I’m not” He squeezed your hand three times so your eyes met his. That maroon colour lets you get lost in them.

“You love me?” He asked with a smile on his face, trying to distract you from the pit of overthinking you were fastly approaching.

“Yes.” You answered with flushed hot cheeks.

“I love you too…” He whispered before pushing you into a hug, whispering the next words close to your ear. “We’ll figure it out, whatever makes you comfortable. We can talk about it over dinner, tomorrow?”

“I’d like that.” You whispered back, leaving a sound kiss on his cheek.

He smiled at you with that grin that made you bite the interior of your cheek in response. You stood there looking at him, and the way he rushed back to Lua, letting her pick whatever snack she pleased.

You wanted more than anything to be a part of this for as long as possible, you desired to stay in this bubble forever.

Full of love, hope and fondness.

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extinctlesspains · 2 days ago

Note

Uhmmm you can’t just post sensei wolf and not put out a fic 😭🤚 pretty please ma’am he’s to hot to not have one

A/n: IKKK I'VE BEEN LOOKING FOR IDEAS FOR HIM AND I FINALLY GOT SOME 😭😭

𝑀𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑛 𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑡: 𝑆𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑒𝑖 𝑊𝑜𝑙𝑓

𝐵𝑦 𝑒𝑥𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑡𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑠

»»——⍟——««

𝑃𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: 𝑆𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑒𝑖 𝑊𝑜𝑙𝑓 𝑥 𝑆𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑒𝑖! 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: 𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑠𝑡 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑓𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓

𝑆𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑤𝑜𝑙𝑓 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑎𝑙𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑎 𝑑𝑖𝑓𝑓𝑖𝑐𝑢𝑙𝑡 𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑝. 𝑂𝑛𝑒 𝑑𝑎𝑦 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑛𝑒𝑥𝑡, 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛 𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔.

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠:𝐹𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑌/𝑛.

■□■□■□■□■■□■□■□■□■■□■□■□■□■

The Sekai Taikai tournament was alive with the sounds of determination—punches landing, kiais echoing, feet pivoting on the mats. The air held the scent of sweat and effort, but beneath the surface, an unspoken tension simmered. You felt it in every sideways glance, every lingering silence between you and Sensei Wolf.

The rivalry on the mat wasn’t the only battle being fought.

You paced the perimeter of the building, correcting stances, offering encouragement, pushing your students harder than usual. Their success in the Sekai Taikai was non-negotiable, and you couldn’t afford distractions. Especially not him.

Wolf mirrored your movements on the other side of the room, his voice cutting through the air as he barked commands at his own team. The intensity in his eyes, the unwavering authority—it was the same confidence that had once drawn you in, before everything fell apart.

Memories pressed at the edges of your mind: late-night training sessions that turned into shared confessions, quiet moments of understanding, and then... the fallout. Harsh words, misunderstandings, pride. It was easier to pretend none of it mattered, but each passing day made that facade harder to maintain.

When the session ended, the students filed out, their chatter fading into the evening air. You stayed behind in the training room. , running through drills alone, the rhythmic movements a welcome distraction. But you felt his presence before you saw him.

“You don’t have to stay late every night.”

You didn’t turn around. “Neither do you.”

Wolf’s footsteps were soft but deliberate as he approached. He stopped a few feet away, the silence stretching like a taut wire between you. Finally, he spoke, his voice low but steady.

“I messed up.”

The words hung in the air, unexpected and heavy. You turned to face him, arms crossed. “Is that supposed to mean something?”

He met your gaze, eyes searching yours for a flicker of the understanding you used to share. “It’s not supposed to mean something. It does.” He hesitated, then continued, his voice softer. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what happened... between us. I didn’t handle it right.”

A bitter laugh escaped your lips. “That’s an understatement.”

Wolf sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I’m not too proud to say it—I’m sorry. I let my ego get in the way. I thought I had all the answers, but I didn’t.”

You wanted to hold on to your anger, to the walls you’d built around yourself, but his words chipped away at him.

“Why now, Wolf?” Your voice was quieter than you intended. “What’s changed?”

He took a step closer, the vulnerability in his eyes catching you off guard. “Everything. This tournament, these kids... they need us. And I need...” He trailed off, the words hanging between you. “I can’t do this without you.”

Your heart clenched. There it was—the raw honesty you hadn’t seen in so long. “You think saying sorry fixes everything?”

He shook his head. “No. But it’s a start.”

The training room felt smaller, the space between you shrinking. Memories of what you’d built together, both on and off the mat, flooded back. The arguments, yes, but also the laughter, the trust, the shared dream of making these kids stronger than either of you had ever been.

“I don’t know if I can just forget, Wolf.”

He nodded, understanding in his eyes. “I’m not asking you to forget. I’m asking for a second chance—to prove that I’ve changed. That we can fix this.”

Silence stretched again, but this time it felt different—softer, filled with possibility. You studied him, the sincerity in his eyes, the weight of the words he wasn’t saying. Finally, you sighed.

“One chance, Wolf. Don’t waste it.”

A rare, genuine smile broke across his face. “I won’t.”

As you both stood there, the tension between you shifted, the first cracks appearing in the walls you’d both built. It wasn’t a perfect resolution, but it was a start—a fragile truce built on hope and shared history.

The real fight was just beginning, but for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel like you were facing it alone.

#cobra kai #cobra kai x reader #karate kid #karatekidxreader #miguel diaz #robby keene #daniel larusso #kwon cobra kai #johnny lawrence #kwon jae sung #sensei wolf cobra kai #sensei wolf #sensei wolf x reader

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ournosleep69-blog · 1 day ago

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Joel Takes Your Virginity (yippee)

Haven’t done this in a while, so please bear with me!! I also need more ideas for what to write LOL. Thinking about doing some Arthur Morgan stories?? Mayhaps?? I also do angst & fluff YIPPEEE

Pairing: Joel Miller (hbo) x fem!reader (use of she/her, feminine terms)

Word count: 4.3k Warnings & Content: Smut, 18+. Age gap (reader is 19, Joel in his 40s), fem!reader, oral - female receiving, praise, P-in-V unprotected, loss of virginity, slight awkwardness, established relationship, creampie, dom!Joel, marking, sleepy aftercare, veryvery smutty, set in Jackson.

It’s already been a wonderful eleven months being with Joel. Sure, moving into his house before you two had even crossed a year together was a little bit risky, yet, it felt right; still feels right. Plus, you two had connected before you’d even gotten together, so it wasn’t as if it happened completely out of the blue.

Everything was amazing - Joel was the best boyfriend you could ask for; sweet, gentle, yet protective and ready to defend you if it came down to it (and it has, many times). He was thoughtful, and never wanted you to do things yourself, even if it was as simple as making coffee in the mornings. The age gap may earn some…questionable looks from a few randoms here in Jackson, but he never cared. Joel loved you loud, and he was damn proud of it.

On an intimacy level, however, you two hadn’t gone past the casual late-night makeout sessions, the hickeys here and there, the occasional groping. But it never went past any of that. It began to frustrate you, even if it was your doing. You stopped things before they went past that line of intimacy, but it was only because you were scared. What if you weren’t as good as the other girls he’s had? How many girls has he had, exactly? What if you can’t please him the first time-

“Thinkin’ hard over there?” Joel’s gruff voice interrupts your thoughts as his large hand comes out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His words ground you back into reality, and suddenly, you’re back on the couch with your boyfriend, watching some cheesy action film on a small TV. “Starin’ off into space like that, you alright?”

Your gaze flickers over to Joel, noticing his hand gently squeezing your thigh in a reassuring manner. He seems to be worried, his brows furrowed, the slight wrinkles on his forehead deepening.

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” you quickly brush his worries aside. Your hand reaches out to grab his own, feeling the way his palm and fingers nearly dwarf yours in size. “Just thinking.”

“Thinkin’?” With a grunt, the Texan shifts closer to you, his free hand trailing down to your chin to tilt your head in his direction. God, the man was stunning. Even in his late forties, he looked so full of youth. His brown eyes, deep and intense, met yours, beckoning you to be honest.

A sense of uncertainty fills your brain. It’s best to be honest, but you feel odd talking about it - intimacy was never your strong suit, even if it’s only because you were so inexperienced. So, you inhale a deep breath, your eyes fluttering slightly as you prepare to express yourself.

“I wanna…well,” it’d be nice to turn your head and dodge his eye contact because you can already feel your cheeks heating up, but he keeps you in place. “I just think maybe we, uh, we take things..” Fuck, this was hard.

“I want to have sex. With you. Uhm, right. Yeah.” Jesus Christ, you kick yourself mentally, a palm slapping over your face in embarrassment. That was so awkward you might as well have just jumped his bones instead.

You can see a wave of surprise rush over Joel’s features. His eyes widen slightly, lips parting to say something, yet he remains silent, only the sounds of his near-silent breaths filling the room. The hand on your thigh tightens just a bit.

He then clears his throat, “you sure, pumpkin? That’s a big step. I don’t want you to feel like you have to. We can go as slow as you w-” But you cut him off by leaning in just slightly. The air between you thickens with tension, and you can feel Joel’s body tensing with anticipation.

“I’m ready,” it’s all Joel needed to grab your hand, leading you up from the couch and towards your shared bedroom upstairs.

☆☆☆☆☆☆

It was a quick mess of clothes being discarded as soon as you two passed the threshold leading into the bedroom. Joel’s arms are tight around your waist, your own clinging to his shirt while your lips fight for dominance; a fight Joel quickly wins every. Single. Time.

Hot tongues slide and tangle against each other while your feet step towards the bed. Joel’s strong arms, marred with scars and scratches from all of his arduous years of surviving, guide you to lay back on the bed.

“Just lay back, sweetheart. I wanna make your first time somethin’ special, you hear me?” The older man murmurs whilst slowly crawling on top of you.

Your back sinks into the fluffy softness of the covers, eyes flitting up to meet Joel’s intense ones. His gaze is roving over your body, pupils widening at the sight of every inch; the swell of your breasts, your flared hips, those plush lips and beautiful eyes. He could spend countless hours just ranting about how amazing you are, how special you are to him.

How much he loves you.

His lips brush against the shell of your ear, breath warming the skin there whenever he talks. And the way his hand slides up to your stomach, tracing the contours, makes your insides clench. Though things were starting to get steamy, the nerves were starting to take over.

“Hey, hey. Darlin’, breathe,” You tried to keep it together as much as you could, but Joel could see the slight tremble in your body, the way you were unintentionally digging your nails into his shoulder. “Are you sure this is somethin’ you want?”

“Yes. It- It is. I know it…it doesn’t seem like it, but,” a shy laugh escapes your lips, and you loosen your grip. “But I want this. I’m serious, Joel.”

At your words, the Texan nods firmly. His touch resumes on your stomach, fingertips trailing up and over your ribcage, feeling the ridges even through the skin. His touch is featherlight, calming even. And then his fingers brush against the bottom of your underwear, earning a gasp from your mouth.

“Someone’s eager..” He murmurs, shifting his hips nearly imperceptibly. But you could feel the hot bulge of his arousal pressed to the soft flesh of your inner thigh, the way it twitches through the thin fabric of his boxers.

“I could- could say the same about, uh, you,” It sounded a lot smoother in your head, but not so much when you stutter it out.

But he was right. The soft cotton panties that adorned your hips were damp in the crotch from your arousal, the slickness only growing with each touch, each loving caress from your older lover.

“Remember what I said, pumpkin. Breathe, in and out.” For someone so…intimidating, Joel can never help himself from babying you; especially in this moment of pure vulnerability for you, for your relationship.

Taking his advice, you suck in a deep breath, letting the oxygen sit in your lungs for a few seconds before you exhale just as slowly. The nerves are still there, but they’re calming down, and you can feel yourself enjoying the moment even more.

Joel can tell, too, because his touch becomes bolder. Leaning in, his lips descend upon your neck. He makes sure to carefully nip at the sensitive flesh behind your ear, earning a soft moan. But the acts of affection lower, and he starts to trail down the column of your throat with them, occasionally slipping the tip of his tongue out to taste you.

By the time he’s got you more opened up to the idea of this, you’re squirming under him, trying to press your hips up into his own. He chuckles, the movement making his beard scratch nicely against your jawline.

One of his hands begins to slip down, dipping below the elastic waistband of your underwear. He stops just short of actually making contact with your pussy, his fingers pulling back slightly. Joel leans his head back, only enough to look down at you. He can see the flush on your cheeks and it makes his dick throb.

“Is this okay?” He asks with a slight tilt of his head, those weathered puppy eyes staring longingly into yours.

“Yeah..” You breathe. The anticipation combined with your arousal is sending tingles up your legs and into the apex of your thighs, amplifying every one of your intense feelings. Your pulse quickens, the steady thrum of your heart filling your ears.

Without hesitation, his fingers finally make contact with your most intimate area. Joel emits a soft groan, while you emit an even softer whimper. His touch is electric, sending jolts of pleasure through your legs and lower stomach, even if he hasn’t touched a particularly sensitive area yet.

“You’re fuckin’ soaked,” he whispers, voice hoarse and full of incredulousness. The older man continues his exploration of your cunt, index finger languidly sliding between your hot folds, feeling the way it glides so easily from your evident need. You’re too flustered to say anything, so you only look away, wanting to shrink away from his gaze.

“Hey, look at me. Please.”

You tilt your head back, too weak and in love to ignore his loving plea. A genuine, tender smile curls at the corners of his lips. “I wanna see every emotion on that pretty lil’ face, ‘kay?”

“Fuck-” You gasp again when his digits find your clit, beginning to rub tight circles over the sensitive bud. It throbs under his touch, your legs quivering just a bit while your entrance clenches around nothing, eager to be filled with something. Anything.

“S’alright, let it out.” Joel praises lovingly as he kisses your cheek, continuing his movements that have your hips rocking up and arching to chase that pleasurable feeling.

With his thumb now replacing his fingers, Joel pays more attention to your entrance. But before he does anything, he suddenly lifts off of you. You whine at the loss of the pleasurable sensation, but he only gives you a soft ‘shh’, reassuring you that he’s nowhere near done working you up.

The older man finally settles between your thighs, his rough hands sliding up to your hips. His fingers curl around the waistband, pulling them off in one easy - or easy-looking - movement. The cool air brushing against your swollen folds makes you shudder, your toes curling on the sheets. It’d be surprising that you aren’t feeling exposed or uncomfortable, yet, you’re with Joel, and you trust him more than anyone.

“God, look at that,” A soft kiss is pressed to your mound, making you jump a little. “Every goddamn inch of you is perfect, sweetheart.” he admires.

It’s like you completely shut out every other feeling when Joel’s tongue comes out, mimicking the way his finger had slid between your folds just minutes ago. You can only focus on the wet, heady feeling of his tongue, of the way it brushes once more against your swollen clit.

Another mousy cry of need escapes you, yet your eyes are trained on Joel’s - you don’t want to disobey him. Watching him go down on you for the first time is so fucking erotic. “You taste even better than I imagined.”

Fuck.

Joel’s ministrations become more intense. His tongue flicks and works around your needy bud, not daring to overstimulate you before you two have even begun. Those arms come to wraps around your thighs, keeping you in place as he begins to feast on you like a man once starved.

“Holy shit,” Your hands lose themselves in the soft salt-and-pepper locks of Joel’s hair, tugging his face closer to your dripping cunt. This only makes him double down on his efforts, the obscene sounds of his tongue licking and lapping filling the room.

Joel stops for a moment, looking down. His hand pulls away from your thigh, bringing two fingers to his mouth. Then, he’s looking back into your heated stare, sucking them into his mouth, getting them slick enough to slip inside of you.

Now, this part was a little intimidating. Sure, you’ve touched yourself many a time, yet you’ve never put something inside of you. It makes you nervous to think about, but then you stop to think. He’s never hurt me before.

“Please be careful.” The words leave your lips before you can stop yourself.

“I wouldn’t dream of hurtin’ you, kid.”

The tip of only one digit breaches your small entrance, making you exhale a shaky sigh. It doesn’t hurt, but it feels unfamiliar, and your thighs threaten to lock around his head. Joel slides it in slowly, pupils blown wide at the feel of your velvety walls clinging to his finger, trying to pull him deeper. “I’d say you’re already up for a second. Carefully, ‘course.”

Your left hand loosens the grip it had on his hair, coming down to hold the one still around your thigh for support. Joel wastes no time in intertwining your fingers together, offering three comforting squeezes that melt your heart. I love you.

It’s a little longer of a process for your body to relax enough to let him slip in a second digit. The two inside of you stretch you just a bit, and the sensation is…odd. It’s not painful though, not when Joel’s muttering words of praise and reassurance the entire time.

“I think…I think you can move now.” You decide.

As if on cue, Joel’s fingers begin to slip in and out of your entrance, wanting to get you acquainted with the feeling. And once you do, he curls them up. They brush against your g-spot, feeling the spongy yet hard surface against the tips with each thrust.

Even the slightest touch as your back arched off the bed, a keening moan filling the room. Joel only smiles contentedly, lowering his head to begin suckling at your clit.

Your toes curl once again, and you cry out. “Oh my god, Joel-” Each flick of his tongue, each movement of his fingers has you grinding against his mouth, unable to hold back. The flush on your cheeks has bloomed down to your neck, the cutest sight to the older man who absolutely adores you. “That feels s- so fucking good-”

“Let it out. Be as loud as you need to, baby,” his southern drawl comes out husky with arousal, yet he pushes through. His desires can wait, he’s only worried about making sure you have the best first time. It only comes once, but he wants to make sure you do multiple times tonight.

The praise sets you off, the combination of being fingered and eaten out has you an absolute blissed-out mess. He hums against your cunt, sending vibrations through your entire body. Your hand tightens in his, your head thrown back.

Just another minute or so passes, and you feel the intense tug in your lower stomach. Close, already. Joel can tell as well, seeing the way your walls are fluttering around him as he finger-fucks you with care. His tongue keeps the same steady pace, not wanting to change it up and make you lose the building climax.

“Joel- Joel! Fuck, don’t stop, please!”

And just like that, one more flick of Joel’s tongue, one more thrust of his digits, has you tumbling headfirst over the finish line. Your climax is intense, easily one of the most intense you’ve had in your short life. Thighs clenched tightly around his head, you cry out in ecstasy as your legs tremble and feel like jelly, walls contracting while your juices spill down to Joel’s palm.

And through it all, the older man’s mouth and hand keeps moving, prolonging your orgasm until you're a writhing, boneless heap on the bed beneath him. Your face glistens with that post-orgasmic glow, chest heaving with each gasp for air.

While you’re still reeling, Joel slowly removes his fingers. He presses kisses up along your body, only stopping when he reaches your lips. You can taste yourself on his tongue - slightly tangy and salty, mixed with something uniquely you. It should gross you out, but it only serves to keep your arousal up, your arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer.

“You did so good, so fuckin’ good,” Joel mumbles between kisses. The kisses aren’t overly eager; no, they’re full of adoration and tenderness, and the desire to make you feel the best that you possibly can.

You already feel like a puddle of goo, but the way he’s complimenting you only makes you melt even more. But something snaps you from your thoughts - his length, once again, pressed to your thigh. It’s as hard as a fucking rock, and you know it has to hurt as this point. One glance down and you can see the wet patch from the pre-cum staining his boxers, and it makes you shudder.

“Keep going..” you murmur, voice weak and slightly husky from the climax. Joel only looks at you with a curious lift of his brow. But you only nod, even beginning to rub your thigh against his bulge.

“Are you sure, pumpkin? I mean- fuck.” The growl deep in his chest makes your pussy wetter, and you can see his hips twitch slightly, wanting to chase that friction. “Alright, alright.” He chuckles.

Pulling back so he’s on his knees, the Texan moves to tug his waistband down.The boxers slip down his muscular thighs with ease, revealing the neatly trimmed forest at the base of his shaft, and most importantly, the seven and a half inch length of his cock. It springs free, slapping against his stomach as he leans back, giving you the full view. It’s thick, veiny, and clearly in need of release. It twitches once again, the tip an angry pink.

You’ve felt it multiple times during your makeout sessions, and even seen it during showers together, but this was entirely different.

“This is gonna hurt, isn’t it?” You swallow thickly. The nerves rush back, making your stomach drop and clench with anticipation. All you can think is ‘how is that supposed to fit in that?’

“I won’t let it,” he’s quick to dispel your fears, once again. “I promise ya’.”

You watch on in aroused disbelief as Joel spits into his calloused palm before he brings it down to wrap around his shaft. “You’ve got me hard as a damn rock, kid.” His head tilts back, strong jaw clenching under his beard as he starts to stroke it with lazy pumps of his fist. It must be only to lubricate it, because he’s back to hovering his body over yours. “Ain’t a surprise though, huh?”

With one hand moving to guide his length to your soaked pussy, the other moves back to slide into your own, holding your hand to support you through what’s going to be your first time having sex.

“You’re so beautiful,” Joel’s soothing words fill you with ease. He kisses your forehead, pouring every ounce of his true love for you into the action. He’s not a man of many words, but you melt down that gruff exterior, and he loves you all the more for it. “So perfect. And all mine, ain’t that right?” It’s possessive, but he’s not mean about it. You nod, and he smiles. “Can you say it for me, pumpkin? Go on, I know ya’ can.”

Trying to gather up the words while Joel’s swiping his cockhead through your folds for lubrication is nearly impossible. Your hand tightens on his, and you have to squeeze your eyes shut to focus on the task you’ve been given.

“I- I’m all yours, Joel.” You finally breathe, gasping when his tip breaches your entrance. It feels thicker than his two fingers, and there’s a slight burning sensation that comes with being stretched like that.

Joel grunts, one hand beside your head to keep himself up. His other simply squeezes yours back, grounding you to the situation. “I know, baby, I know. Deep breaths, breathe through it.”

The encouragement is enough, and you start to breathe deeply as he begins to sink inch by inch inside of your tight, wet, velvety heat. You’ve never been stretched so fully - or at all for that matter - it makes you wince, yet clench your muscles around him.

“I love you. I love you so fuckin’ much,” Joel grunts, the pleasure nearly overtaking him. It’s so fucking tight around his cock, he fights the urge to just start thrusting right then and there. But he’d never hurt you, especially not for some selfish need for pleasure. “Say it back, sweetheart, let me hear those words from your pretty ‘lil’ mouth.”

It clicks right then and there; he’s distracting you, trying to make you focus on anything other than the feeling of him stretching you wide around his arousal. It’s so sweet it nearly brings tears to your eyes. In fact, it does. Your eyes fill with unshed tears at the sentiment, and you cling tighter to him.

“I love you.”

The older man finally buries himself to the hilt inside of your cunt, his breathing slightly ragged. He stills to let you work out the foreign feeling for a few moments, leaning down to kiss your cheeks, even kissing away the few tears that had escaped.

“Say it again, kid.”

“F- Fuck- I love you-”

“Atta girl.” Joel encourages warmly, and he begins to piston his hips in gentle, languid strokes. Each thrust has him groaning, mouth pressed against your collarbone, which he begins to mark up with hickeys. It’s a reminder of the trust you put into him, the trust he wouldn’t break for the world. “I love you more.”

Meanwhile, each thrust has you making your own coos of pleasure. The feel of his cock nestled inside of you, each roll of his hips that has his pelvis grinding against your oh-so-sensitive clit, is driving you insane with gratification. With unadulterated need.

Your bodies fit and move together like pieces of a puzzle, your legs wrapped tight against his waist as he drives into you over and over. The pain and burn had begun to fade, opening up to extreme pleasure every time the slight curve of his cock pressed against your g-spot.

Your noises, combined with the slapping of flesh, fills your ears, making it impossible to focus on anything else; not that you’d want to anyway. And the noises you were making were making Joel inch towards the edge, no matter how hard he tried to fight against it.

“You’re so fuckin’ tight, my god, pumpkin,” Joel growls. Making sure you’re still holding onto his hand, his other one slips back down - making sure to caress your breasts adoringly on the way - to rub circles into your bud. You mewl, the dual stimulation serving to heighten your pleasure even more. Your walls clamp down on Joel’s shaft, making him let out a strangled moan. It was no secret, you were both so close.

“I want- ah, shit-” The Texan mutters, trying to find his bearings while his hips begin to rut faster, chasing the release he craves. “I want you to cum with me, kid. Let it- Let it wash over ya’. Deep breaths.”

Joel redoubles his efforts, wanting you to find that wave of ecstasy beside him. He can tell you're close, and with the way his balls draw up tight, he can tell he is too.

“Joel-” Your nails dig into his hand, leaving deep crescent-shaped marks with every step closer you take to the edge. “I- I’m gonna-”

“Shit, darlin’-” It’s not long before you both find that much-needed orgasm. Joel’s lips crash against yours, groaning gutturally into your mouth, his hips bucking. Your climax triggered his own, walls keeping him deep inside while his cock twitches and pulses, emptying ropes of thick, hot cum deep inside your womb until he’s spent and panting.

Your legs had locked tight around him, squeezing him while you rode out your own waves of pleasure. Your cries were muffled by his lips, by his tongue. It was somehow even more intense than the previous one, your juices flowing and dripping down his shaft.

Joel carefully collapses on top of you, his hands moving to gather your boneless form into his comforting arms. “There you go, sweetheart. You did so good. So good for me.” He whispers against your ear, turning your bodies to the side so you were snuggled against the hard planes of his chest instead of laying under him.

“Was it okay?” He asks, genuinely caring about your wellbeing whilst he peppers kisses all over your face. His softening cock slips out of you with a soft pop, a trail of your combined fluids leaking from your well-loved hole and onto the blankets below.

“Okay?” You ask in a tired voice, your face pressed against his neck. “That was...that was fucking amazing.”

Joel chuckles, the deep rumble of it vibrating in his chest and filling your ear. “Good, kid. I’m glad.” There’s a sense of accomplishment in the way he holds himself in this very moment. He’s proud he’s satisfied you, turned your first time into something you’ll never forget. “Don’t worry about cleanin’ up just yet. Lemme hold ya’.”

“Mhm..” You’re so out of it that you’re already falling asleep - and Joel’s kisses aren’t making it any easier to stay awake. The scent of him fills your nose, the comforting smell surrounding you in warmth and familiarity. “How…how was I?”

“The best I ever had. Ever.” His thick fingers start to trace invisible patterns around your back, his movements reverent - he was being genuine with his words, you could hear it in his voice.

“Get some sleep, baby girl. I love you more than anything. And I mean that.” His breath nearly catches, a lump forming in his throat. The man quickly clears his throat, not wanting to get all sappy on you when you’re trying to sleep. Though, he does whisper one last thing before closing his own dark eyes, letting exhaustion wash over him as well.

“Anything, kid.”

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x y/n #the last of us hbo #the last of us tv #joel miller x reader smut #joel takes your virginity #pedro pascal #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfiction

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bitethedevil · 2 days ago

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The True Meaning of Fear

Warnings: NSFW, Arachnophobia, Choking, Very Violent Oral, Abusive behaviour, Fear Play, Non-Con, Devils Who Are Deviling.

AN: I'm having fun writing more angsty and loving stuff for other characters like I mentioned in my update post, but sometimes you just got to write some fucked up Raphael stuff to clear your palate a bit. Seriously: mind the warnings. It’s…yeah…pretty fucked. I will be seeking professional help and saying some Hail Mary's to repent for my sins🚶‍♀️‍➡️Enjoy! 🫶

”Pleeease, Raphael,” she sobbed. ”It won’t happen again. I promise.”

“Please what?” he asked with a smile and a soft tone that made him seem like the perfect image of innocence. “We are only having a conversation …”

She was not buying this attempt at lulling her into a false sense of security. She knew him. He had brought her to a cell in the bowels of the House of Hope. Had he simply wanted to talk, he would now have done it here.

“I will ask you again,” he said, still in that soft tone. “What did you see?”

She gave a small sob and shook her head. His yellow eyes narrowed slightly at her, but the smile stayed on his lips. He was in the cell with her too, on a chair in front of her sobbing form on the floor.

“What was it that frightened my little bird so much that she neglected all of her duties? I do so hate to repeat myself…”

Her bottom lip quivered as she tried to hold in more tears.

He had come home to find his house in complete disarray. Multiple dead debtors had laid scattered across the floor, as they had tried to defend the house against intruders. He had found her shaking in the corner of his office. A powerful fear spell had made her hide instead of dealing with the intruders or alarming Raphael.

He had been furious when he found her. He had lost a small fortune in gold and an invaluable staff that dated back to the early days of the Netheril Empire. He had yelled at her, but due to her fearful state, he did not receive the reaction he wanted. She had been too out of it to properly react to his words, so he took her here instead.

She could see from the way his tail flicked and the way he drummed his claws on the arm of the chair that he was running out of patience. She had to give him an answer.

“Death,” she lied and dried her tears with her sleeve. “I saw my own death.”

The corners of his mouth turned upwards in an amused smile and gave a huff of laughter.

“Death, hm?” he repeated. “Are you truly such a simple creature? I find that difficult to believe. If death was what you feared the most, you would not dare lying to my face in such a manner. Try again. The truth this time, if you would be so kind.”

She started shaking again and she could feel her skin become clammy. She had a good idea what would happen if she told him. She also knew what he would do to her if she did not. It was hard to decide which was worse.

“Come now,” he said, his tone softer again. “You will receive no judgment from me. Is it something embarrassing? Something completely irrational? Those do tend to be my favorites…”

She remained quiet.

“Or,” he said and looked at her with a bored expression. “I could bring the Omuan dreamcatcher in here, present you to every fear known to man, and I can deduce what it is from there. I’m certain that Hope would not mind if we borrowed it for the day.”

“No,” she said quickly. “No-no. Please don’t.”

She had seen how Hope had been after her time with the dreamcatcher. She was an empty shell of a person after those sessions.

She swallowed hard and looked at the floor in front of her.

“Spiders,” she admitted quietly. “I’ve never liked spiders…”

“Ah,” Raphael said with a satisfied smile. “A classic.”

She looked around. Her skin was tingling at the thought. She was already becoming paranoid.

“When did you acquire this fear? Were you always afraid of them?”

Her hand shot to the back of her neck where she felt a tingle. Nothing. It had only been her hair touching her. Her skin was becoming increasingly sensitive.

“As a child,” she said.

“Do elaborate,” he purred with a smile.

Her breath hitched at the memory a bit.

“I was in my bed,” she explained. “I turned to lay on my back and looked at the ceiling. I saw it just before it fell down into my face.”

“Mm,” he hummed. “That does sound rather unpleasant.”

His eyes slowly turned upwards to look at the ceiling above her. She flinched and looked up. Nothing. Raphael chuckled at her movement.

“I can almost hear your heartbeat from over here,” he purred. “Such a pretty sound…”

“I beg you, Raphael,” she pleaded. “I’ll do anything. Just please don’t—”

“Shh-sh-sh,” he hushed gently. “We are only talking.”

He leaned forward slightly in his chair.

“I am a jealous man, my dear. It’s one of my less attractive qualities, I’m afraid, but it is so. So, you must understand how it irks me to find that your fear of me is only second to that of the eight-legged vermin you seem to hate so much.”

Her hand darted up to her hair where she scratched her scalp. She swore that she could feel them everywhere, even though she knew that it was only her fear that made her feel things. For now, anyway.

She felt something hit her shoulder from above and squealed. She brushed her shoulder in a panic and swore that she felt something furry touch her hand as she did. She quickly moved her body away from the wall she had been sitting against, closer to Raphael and let out a whine. Her eyes searched where she had just sat but once again: nothing.

“Tell me,” Raphael said in an amused tone. “What do you think causes this fear of yours?”

She was practically sitting between his legs now. He ran his claws slowly over her scalp and it made her shiver in her overstimulated state. She wrapped both her arms over her head like a stubborn child refusing to let their parents comb their hair. She knew that she was pathetic, but she could not control it at this point.

Raphael brushed two claws against the back of her neck in a featherlight touch, making her flinch again. He still wanted an answer, and maybe as long as she spoke, he would not do anything. She quickly tried to construct a sentence in her scattered mind.

“I—I don’t know,” she said. “Too many limbs maybe. I don’t know.”

“Well,” he said with a mocking laugh. “I am one limb short of eight in this form. That doesn’t make you fear me any more than your eight-legged friends, evidently. It must be something else, mustn’t it?”

His claws tapped her arm in a way that mimicked a spider’s legs, and she flinched away from him. She moved back to where she was sitting before. She could see on his face that he was enjoying every second of this.

His smile widened as he unstretched one hand and snapped his fingers with the other. A fat, long-legged spider hovered over his hand, and she started crying again. She did not want to look at it, but on the other hand, if she did not, she could not know where it was. She watched in horror as the small creature clumsily and frantically tried to move in the air but could not.

Raphael studied it with a bored gaze while she pleaded for him to stop.

“Have you ever noticed how the creatures humans fear irrationally are rarely mammalian?” he mused over her sobbing. “Spiders, insects, snakes, birds…I do suppose rats and mice are an exception, but there is a theme, isn’t there?”

She had backed herself into the corner of the room. She could not get further away, and she was still uncontrollably crying.

“Cats, dogs, horses…Feeble-minded creatures, but the human need to anthropomorphize makes you believe that they are perhaps not so different from yourself. A spider, on the other hand…”

She let out a long whine as he pinned the spider to one position in the air and made it hover slowly towards her face. She screamed when it came to a stop in front of her. Its legs were still moving, but it was facing her. She could not breathe.

“It’s scared,” Raphael cooed mockingly. “Terrified, like you. Yet you cannot sympathize with it. Your brain will not let you. So much for human compassion, hm?”

He got up from his chair. He snapped his fingers, and the spider disappeared. He leaned down slightly and loosely put his hand around her neck. The claw on his thumb dug into her as he tilted her head back to look at him.

“Look at me.”

She whimpered and looked up at his face.

“Tell me, my sweet,” he purred. “What is it like to stare into the eyes of a creature and realizing that they do not work like you? That they do not have feelings in any way that you understand them? That there is nothing human in there…”

She looked into those yellow eyes of his and felt the same way as he just described.

“Terrifying…” she muttered.

“Good,” he said in a low growl, smiling at her. “Terrifying, yes.”

He snapped his fingers, and she felt something on her shoulder. She frantically tried to move away, but Raphael’s grip around her neck tightened. He pushed her head back against the wall.

“Don’t. Move,” he said firmly. “You are not leaving this cell before you realize that the only thing in this world you will ever need to fear, is me. Serve me well, and you will never have to fear at all…”

She felt the spiders furry legs move slowly over her skin. She gasped for breath as her tears started rolling down her cheeks again. She knew that Raphael would not stop this before she did as he said. His grip loosened when he saw her freeze instead of continuing her attempt to flee.

He let go of her and stood up tall to admire her pathetic state on the floor. He began unbuttoning his doublet while he watched. She felt the spiders legs on her collarbone, slowly making its way across her chest. She sobbed quietly and did everything in her power not to move.

“I think it likes you,” Raphael purred in an amused tone.

He hung his doublet over the chair. He was only in his white shirt and pants, and she could now see just how excited the whole situation was making him. His erection strained against his pants. He walked closer to her so that he was now towering above her.

He slowly tipped her head back with a claw under her chin.

She screamed but the fear had now paralyzed her so much that she could not move even if she wanted to. There were hundreds of them above them on the ceiling, and they were all the size of a palm. The scream turned into a sob as she stared upwards.

He was smiling in an almost fond way as he feasted on her terrified expression. She felt his hand cup her cheek. He wiped the tears on her cheeks with his palm, before moving his hand to his now freed member. He gave it a few lazy strokes, using her tears to lubricate his length while he watched her with a heavy-lidded gaze. He gave a content sigh.

He put his thumb and index finger on each side of her jaw with his free hand, forcing her to open her mouth.

“If I feel teeth, I will show you the true meaning of fear,” he warned.

He ran the tip of his cock over her bottom lip, smearing his precum on her trembling mouth. He pressed his cock inside and her mouth closed around it. A deep groan escaped his mouth.

“Such a good girl,” he purred with a smile.

He began slowly moving in and out of her mouth with languid thrusts. His hand moved to where the spider had nestled in her cleavage to pick it up. He gently placed it on her head, making her sob around his cock. She choked as she forced herself not to bite him. He growled in pleasure.

“We are making such wonderful progress, my dear,” he said. His voice was slightly breathier and huskier now. “I believe that you are beginning to understand… Fear does not excuse negligence.”

Her eyes closed shut as she could feel the spider’s legs on her face. She whimpered, but the sound came to an abrupt end when he shoved his cock further down her throat. He gently shushed her and caressed her tear-stained cheek with his thumb. She could not breathe.

She gagged but he did not seem to care. The sounds she made, the way her crying and trembling was making her throat feel, the way she looked so utterly pathetic: it was pure bliss for him. He suddenly snapped his fingers. She felt the spider on her face disappear. Her eyes opened and she looked at the ceiling: nothing.

She did not get to revel in her relief before Raphael started fucking her face with hard, violent thrusts. His hand clasped around her throat again in a hard grip. She could not breathe at all, and she started squirming and panicking. Her limbs flailed as she tried to get away, but her back was up against the wall. There was nowhere to move.

She tried pushing him away, hitting his legs, but he was unmovable. She looked up at him with panicked and pleading eyes, and it only seemed to excite him further. He did not cease his violent assault on her face.

“I lost a small fortune,” he growled. “All because of a frightened, stupid, little girl.”

She tried everything to move, but his grip on her only tightened when she did. Soon, she would not have the energy to fight anymore. Her throat was hurting so much. The grim thought that this might be how she died flashed into her mind, making her panic even worse.

“Nothing would excite me more than watching the life leave your eyes,” he growled as if having read her thoughts. “Instead, I think I will let this be a reminder to you, dear girl: the next time you feel tempted to let your fear control you, remember what it gets you… Nothing.”

She stopped moving and she could feel herself slowly beginning to lose consciousness. He shoved his cock as far down her throat as it would go. Her nose was brushing against his pelvis. It was painful and she felt like throwing up. He gave a deep groan as he came down her throat.

She gasped for breath when he pulled out. She coughed hard. She spat a mix of blood, cum, and saliva onto the floor in front of her as she wheezed for breath. She felt like throwing up, but she couldn’t.

When she finally looked up, Raphael was watching her with a small smile as he began buttoning his doublet.

“I trust you have learned your lesson?”

She nodded quickly. She could not stop coughing, and every cough felt swallowing knives.

“Good,” he purred. “You did well…”

He turned and opened the door to the cell with a snap. She tried to scramble to her feet to follow him out. Just as she had gotten up off the floor, he stepped outside the cell and closed the door in her face.

He smirked as he looked at her for a long moment. Then his eyes slowly drifted to the ceiling above her. Her lips began trembling again as she kept looking at him.

“Korrilla will come get you in the morning,” he said in a cold, even tone. “If I have decided to forgive you by then…”

There was the softest thud as she felt something land on her shoulder. Then another on the floor. Then another as she felt something fall off her head. Then another.

There were no more tears in her, and no screams came out of her ruined throat. Just a quiet, broken wheeze came out of her mouth as she looked upwards.

#raphael bg3 #raphael the cambion #bg3 raphael #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #nsft

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runraerun · 3 days ago

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Heard a random 90s rock song & it legit got me thinking about Steve & Billy meeting again in their twenties... Like what if s3 never happened? After the fight at the Byers, Billy kept his head down & avoided Steve? I see him as being consumed by a sense of guilt/shame & yet still not being able to apologise until, that is, the day of their graduation when he's suddenly overcome with a need to just get it off his chest. He's been crushing on this guy since he got to Hawkins & he blew whatever chance he had of even just a friendship with him, but it doesn't matter now cos he's getting out of this shithole as quickly as possible, but he can't have this guilt gnawing at him any longer...So maybe he deliberately makes sure he bumps into steve at some point and mutters out a: "Harrington. We need to talk." And sucking on a cigarette like his life depends on it, hands shaking, barely making eye contact, Billy gives the world's shittiest apology. And it feels like his heart's gonna beat out of his chest & Steve's just standing there, staring at him, an unreadable expression on his face, before saying something like: "yeah, man. I'm sorry for that night too." (In my mind either Max let drop something about Billy's homelife or Steve has deduced something's not right). Anyway. Billy finally feels like he's able to breathe again for the first time in months UNTIL steve unknowingly utters the world's most devastating sentence: "I think we could've been friends if, y'know, shit hadn't gone down the way it did...oh well." And steve gives a sort of little grin and a laugh as if what he said wasn't a major deal. "Heard you're headed back to California?" Steve asks, and Billy's barely able to nod, still struck dumb by Steve's previous offhand comment. And maybe someone calls Steve's name and suddenly that's it. The moment is broken & Steve's leaving with a "Guess I'll see you around, Hargrove... or not" and a goofy little salute. And Billy thought he'd feel better. But in fact he feels worse. Because holy shit. Steve just said they could have been friends. And that's gonna haunt him for years....

Cue a few years later and they run into each other in Chicago (listen, the idea of Billy returning to California only to realise it no longer feels like home and maybe it never did consumes me), but yeah. They bump into each other accidentally and holy shit. Steve Harrington. He looks almost exactly the same. Other than the fact he's grown out the mullet and holy shit, are those highlights in his hair??? And billy's stunned by what looks like a genuine grin of delight that crosses Steve's face once he recognises who he's walked into. And maybe they chat for a little while; Billy doesn't even know what he's saying he's so in shock at meeting his highschool crush again. But just like the last time someone calls steve's name and of course steve has a girlfriend, of course he does (joke's on billy, cos it's just robin) and suddenly the moment's broken again and steve's walking away with a casual "it was good to see you again, billy" and billy is gripped with the thought that he can't let steve slip through his fingers again. how many people get a second chance like this? he can feel his old highschool crush flickering back to life where it's buried deep in his chest and maybe steve will never like billy like that but holy shit. billy still remembers the day steve said that maybe they could have been friends if things had been different and things are different now so why not take a chance??? and billy has never felt so brave or so fucking scared in his life as he does when he steps forward and calls after steve: "Hey Harrington! Wanna meet up and catch up properly some time?" and Steve's attention is back on him and goddamn. Billy didn't even realise how much he missed those eyes until now. ANyway!! This got away from me!! But 90s Harringrove pls and thank. Also the song i heard was lightning crashes by live. like the lyrics aren't even that appropriate but there's such a nostalgic feel to it.

oh my god. OH MY GOD.

Anon, this whole message has got me in a chokehold. Like, it’s such a direct hit. 🎯🎯🎯Billy choking on an apology because he’s so painfully unfamiliar with the very concept, the absolute devastation of hearing the potential of being friends with Steve was there, but he blew it, the PINING… urgh. How Steve can unknowingly fatally wound Billy just like that.

AND THEN THE HIGHLIGHTS ARE YOU JOKING?!

I hope that things get away from you many many more times, because this was incredible.

Okay okay. Now, if I may, I will now attempt to match your freak.

ahem

—

By some serendipitous fuckin’ miracle, Steve agrees to exchange digits with him. They couldn’t find a napkin or any other god forsaken scrap of paper to write on, so they just scribbled their numbers down onto each other's arm. Billy was so fucking on edge that when he was peering down at the pale expanse of Steve’s mole-speckled forearm he damn near forgot his own phone number. Jesus, he’s a wreck…

At least whenever it comes to Harrington, anyway. Dude has like, Billy’s own personal strain of kryptonite woven in through his DNA or some shit. It would explain why his hands always get clammy and his knees feel like they’re made of fucking jello every time Steve flashed those pearly whites his way.

Christ, Hargrove, get it together…

Billy had spent the rest of the week running a finger along the wobbly looking numbers, fading more and more every day. Before they fade completely through, he finally finds his balls and dials Steve’s number.

A girl picks up, which… well, Billy knows Steve has a girlfriend. He didn’t know they’re living together though… but whatever, it don’t change shit.

“Steve around?” He asks, clenching the receiver in his fist so tightly that he can hear the plastic creak.

“Who’s asking?” The girl says, sounding pleasant despite her words. Sandy-haired, freckles. Cute, Billy remembers. Harrington always did go for the cute ones.

“Billy,” he answers, “Billy Hargrove. He’ll know who I am.”

“Oh, Billy,” The girl’s voice draws out his name like it’s an answer to a question that she’d been stuck on. “It’s about time you called.”

Which. That…

What the hell does that mean?

While Billy’s puzzling it out, she hears the girl holler for Steve, telling him Billy is on the line. His name is said with a weird amount of familiarity.

Billy switches ears and shakes out the stiffness in his hand. Focuses on breathing evenly instead of the steady flow of questions suddenly piling up in his head.

“Billy?” Steve’s voice, clear as a bell, asks from the other line.

Billy clears his throat, “hey, man.”

“Hey. I was just about to call you.” Steve says, doing that thing where he so casually drops bombs onto Billy’s world, leveling his cities with a passing word.

“Beat you to it.” Billy grins, and hears the little huff of a laugh on the other line.

“Always so competitive,” Steve teases, and Billy can just hear the smile. It makes his chest ache. It’s the sweet kind of ache, though. “Haven’t you ever heard it’s not winning that matters, it’s taking part?”

Billy shakes his head even though Steve can’t see him and sneers, “sounds like some shit losers say to each other.”

That gets a genuine laugh from Steve, all breathy and sharp, and Billy feels himself laughing along from the sheer thrill of getting Steve going.

“Jesus, I forgot how much of an asshole you are.” Steve sighs, but there’s no heat behind it. Just shit talk. It’s fine. What guys do.

“Yeah yeah. Can’t change my spots, or whatever.” Billy mumbles as he scuffs his boot along the floor. Fucking antsy. Jonesing for a cigarette. Just get on with it you piece of shit. He takes a breath and then takes the plunge. “So listen, we should hang out this weekend. I know a few good bars where we could catch up. Maybe get into some trouble.”

Steve makes a scoffing sound, “what kind of trouble are we talking here, Hargrove?”

His heart jackrabbits in his chest. He loves this part. Billy brings the receiver just a little closer to his lips. “The fun kind, Harrington.” He murmurs, voice pitched low.

There’s a brief, unbearably tense couple of seconds where Steve doesn’t speak. He just lets Billy dangle like a hooked fish. Static from the line. He doesn’t breathe. Then.

“Friday at 8?” Steve tosses the offer out, real casual-like. And with it, Billy feels the muscles around his neck and shoulders relax, like he got shot with a tranquilizer dart. Steve continues, “You wanna meet at the same coffee shop from before? I live in the apartment building just across the street from it.”

Fancy, Billy thinks. Of fuckin’ course. All the buildings on that block are the high end kind; with door men and balconies and working elevators. Billy only ever finds himself in that leg of the city when a pipe bursts or a sink gets clogged and Billy gets called in to fix it. Of course Steve’s living in the lap of luxury here in Chicago. Mommy and Daddy’s only child. Not that it’s his fault, Billy supposed. Some people are just born luckier than others.

“Sure, rich boy,” Billy grins, “bring your appetite though, I’m buying nachos.”

Steve heartily agrees. Because obviously. Who the hell could say no to that? Rich or poor, nachos are nachos.

It ain’t a date. It ain’t. It’s just two guys hanging out, y’know, catching up. For old times sake. Getting into some trouble, like Billy said. It ain’t date.

So what if he calls and asks Heather to pre-approve his outfit when everything he owns suddenly looks stupid on him? And who cares that he dabs double the amount of cologne onto his chest and triple down his pants—Billy likes to smell good, it ain’t a big deal. He wears a silver chain around his neck, the one that matches his earring, and undoes a few more buttons than usual to show it off. It’s cold this time of year but he figures they’ll be inside for most of the night anyway. Drinking, shooting pool, tossing darts. Shit like that.

Billy chain smokes as he waits outside of the coffee shop, sucking back one cigarette after the other, trying not to think about how he’s about to see Steve fucking Harrington again; the one who got away. Or, one one Billy never even fucking had a chance with in the first place, more like. He keeps wondering if he’s making a mistake. If he should just go home, forget he ever ran into that long legged, poofy haired, Bambi-eyed—

But then Steve’s there, handing Billy some froo-froo drink from inside (somehow they’d missed each other???) before he starts giving Billy a hard time for still not having a proper winter coat. Steve’s got highlights in his hair and eyeliner on his lower lashline and a spot of foam from his drink on the tip of his nose and Jesus fuck.

Billy’s in trouble.

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zepskies · 17 hours ago

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thank you again so much for reading!

The Honorable Choice - Part 3

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC

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

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

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

**Pronunciation guide at the end!

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: @jacklesversebingo Western AU

Song Inspo: The Spirit Soundtrack

Word Count: 5.7K

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

🐎 Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

🎙️ Listen to the podfic version here!

Part 3: Worthy

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I will protect you,” she says.

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

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

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

“Mila…”

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

Dean blinks. Well, that changes things…maybe.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A waterfall.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She smiles in relief.

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

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

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

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

“Mornin’,” he croaks.

Mila’s relieved face becomes touched with amusement.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her brows raise. “No?”

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

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

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

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

Dean leans in slowly, giving her time to decide.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really, I understand,” he says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That night, Mila dreams.

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

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

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

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

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

Her heart has already chosen.

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

He is Tahatan, Chief of their tribe.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dean Winchester,” Tahatan says.

“Yes, sir,” Dean replies.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She kisses her daughter’s hand and says nothing else, leaving them to find her husband and calm him down.

Dean turns to Mila with a look that says, please tell me that’s it.

She smiles more genuinely.

“Come,” she says.

She leads him by the hand out of the Chief’s tipi and through the village. Dean takes in the rows of other tall, cone-like structures covered in buffalo skin, as well as all the faces that turn to stare at him in a mix of curiosity, wariness, and even fear. Some of them whisper to each other, taking their children by the hand and keeping them close.

Dean’s still on guard himself, even when Mila takes him to a smaller tipi. It’s been closed up for a while now, by the look of it. Weeds have grown right outside the entrance.

“This one’s yours?” Dean asks.

She pauses, giving him another small smile. “Ours.”

Dean raises a brow. Ours. Really?

She opens the flap in the front and beckons him inside. There’s still enough daylight to shine through the outer lining. Inside, his gaze flits over the old pile of stones in the center for heating, clothes folded in the corner, some cooking pots and utensils, paintings on wood and clay, and a couple of beaded decorations. Buffalo skin bedding is laid out on the other side with a couple of soft looking furs.

Son of a gun. Dean doesn’t even blink as he processes it all. He’s in a damn tipi. This is really about to become his life.

Shaking his head a little, he forces himself to focus on Mila. She’s his anchor, and she seems to sense that he’s reeling. She guides him to sit beside her on the bedding, holding his hands in hers. After a moment, he reaches up to tuck a curling strand of hair behind her ear.

“You didn’t get in too much trouble because of me, did you?” he asks.

She shakes her head. “No. My father and uncle are very similar. Strong to anger, but it is quick to run out. At least with me.”

Dean thinks he understands. Short fuse, quick fizzle.

“There is just…one thing,” Mila says. Her eyes fall away from his, like she’s embarrassed. He squeezes her hands.

“What?” he asks, his brows furrowing. It gets her to look at him again, but she seems worried to tell him.

“To convince my uncle to let you stay, I told them that we…” she trails, trying to find the right words in English. “That we are married.”

Dean’s brows raise high. His heart trips up faster. Okay, “ours” makes a lot more sense now.

“I am sorry,” she says quietly. “I didn’t want you hurt—”

“Sweetheart,” Dean says, cupping her cheek. Even with the hammering of his heart, he grins. “I’m pretty sure that’s where this was going anyway.”

In fact, this is a best-case scenario, as far as he’s concerned. He leans in to kiss her, and it doesn’t take long at all for her to sigh in relief, melting against him.

“We’re married, huh?” he asks. “No ceremony? No white dress?”

“We are bonded,” she replies, nodding as she meets every one of his kisses. “Or, we will be.”

She tugs him closer and revels in the feeling of his hands beginning to roam her body, sliding down her waist, her hips and thighs.

“Guess that means we have to seal the deal,” he grins. His lips drift away from hers to burn a familiar path across her cheek. He takes to nibbling her ear, making her flinch and laugh as it tickles.

“Seal-the-deal. What does that mean?” she asks.

Dean chuckles lowly in her ear. “Oh, I think you know.”

He guides her onto her back, over the comfortable mess of furs. He wants to take his time exploring every inch of soft, tan skin, but he first sweeps her hair away from her eyes, the back of his hand brushing against her cheek. She smiles up at him softly.

“Do you regret?” she whispers, reaching up to touch his chin with two slender fingers. “Do you regret helping me?”

Dean considers her question. He knows he’ll carry his family in his heart until the day he dies. His brother, his mother, the memory of his father. Benny and Cas, even Jack, and so many others.

It’s already a heavy burden, but he had always been prepared to lose his life on the battlefield, in service of his country. At least this way, he gains a new life.

“No. Never did,” Dean replies. “Not even once.”

He bows his head toward hers, and he proves it to her. His lips capture hers, fueled by passion and wanting. Mila’s hands slide over his shoulders and down his back. Maybe without her realizing it, she implores him to let go of the weight heaped on his shoulders.

When he begins to bunch up the hem of her dress, she sits up to help guide his hands. Her quickening breaths mesh with his as the first layer of clothing drops beside the bedding. His tattered shirt joins her dress, along with pants and shoes and boots, until all that’s left is skin against warm, bare skin. He lays on his side right beside her and explores wherever she lets him begin.

“Beautiful,” Dean murmurs, as his lips follow the column of her neck, down between her breasts. Her breaths rise to meet him, especially when he begins to toy with a dark, pebbled nipple. Her fingers slip through his hair, and his name falls from her lips. He palms one breast while kissing and gently teasing the other, exploring sensitive flesh and grazing her sensitive fleshwith his teeth.

“No man’s ever touched you?” he asks, despite knowing the answer.

She shakes her head, her fingers gripping his hair tighter as his lips and tongue move against her skin.

“No,” Mila gasps a reply. Her hand slides down the back of his neck, and the more he teases her, her nails soon create faint red lines down his back, her thighs squeezing together. She feels a throbbing ache at the very center of her. Despite her inexperience with men, she knows what it means, and she knows what she wants.

Dean’s mouth drags away from her breast. He pulls back so he can meet her eyes. A smile curves his lips, and he takes one of her hands from his shoulders.

“Have you ever touched yourself?” he asks. He guides her hand down her body, brushing over a wet, sensitive nipple, down her stomach, and between her legs. This time, Mila nods in answer. She stares up at Dean with eyes like molten honey. He leans in to kiss her neck.

“Show me,” he says.

She shudders at the depths in his voice. It increases the flood of wetness she already feels, even before she slips two fingers between the folds of her sex. She gathers some of that slick and circles it over the source of her pleasure, the small nub above her entrance.

Dean takes his hardened length in his hand. While she writhes by her own hand, he drinks her in with his eyes. A soft groan falls from his lips as he pumps himself a few times, sliding a thumb across the weeping head of his cock.

He can’t be a spectator for long though. He nips tantalizingly at her neck, creating a zing of added sensation across her skin. She whimpers, though she tries to stifle it, her knee bending further.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Dean says. “Let me hear you.”

He releases himself and replaces her hand with his own. He slips two long fingers inside her drenched entrance, earning a gasping moan from her. She latches onto his shoulders and buries her face into his neck. She whispers fervent things he doesn’t understand, but it only spurs him on.

His thumb circles insistently over her clit as his fingers pulse inside her. Her hips buck a needy rhythm against his hand, until her thighs begin to shake, and her inner walls squeeze even tighter around his fingers.

“Shit, that’s it, baby,” he pants gruffly against her cheek. “Let go for me.”

Warmth snaps and floods from her throbbing core, and she cries out near his ear, her nails biting into his skin. Her release coats his fingers.

Mila drops her head back against the furs underneath her. Her chest rises and falls quickly while she tries to catch her breath, her eyes tightly shut. Dean surprises her with a soft kiss.

“Mila,” he prods. He wants to see her eyes again, so pretty and wanton when she comes. He veers away from her lips to kiss her cheek, and then the other side of her neck. “Let me see you, sweetheart.”

She huffs a small laugh. Opening her eyes, she gestures to her bare body. “This is not enough?”

Dean’s lips tug at a smile. He shakes his head. “As a matter of fact, no.”

He shifts over her, finding his place between the cradle of her thighs. His elbows come to rest on either side of her head. She feels trapped by his body, even as she welcomes his weight and the feeling of his arousal, long and heavy and hard, trapped between their bodies. This man fills every corner of her world in this moment.

“If I’m your husband now, that means I get all of you,” he says with a grin. She gazes up at him, both in blushing amusement and affection.

“All of me,” Mila repeats. She takes his face in her hands and brings him closer, until her lips are a whisper from his. “Then I want all of you.”

Dean chuckles. “You sure about that?”

She smiles in satisfaction, and her lips claim him this time. One kiss turns into many, each one mounting in passion and desire. Dean groans into her when she begins to touch him. Her hands are soft, but direct in their seeking; they caress his shoulders, run down his chest and stomach, and then, more tentatively explore the now painfully hard length of him pressing against her.

He makes a grateful sound of pleasure when her hand wraps around his cock, squeezing gently. His fingers bury themselves in her hair.

“I want all of you,” she says, this time a plea and a demand all at once as she strokes him.

Dean nods in agreement. He’s come this far. He can do that for her too.

He spreads her thighs a bit wider and encourages her to adjust the angle of her hips for him. His hand glides down her plush thigh and gets a healthy grip. Then he slides his hand under hers and guides his cock through her folds, first just holding himself at her warm, wet entrance.

He manages to wait for a second, in order to meet her gaze. She’s already holding onto his arms tightly, like he’s become her anchor. Her thighs wrap around his hips and beckon him closer.

Slowly, he pushes inside. He takes care in how he works her open. She winces at the sting of his girth stretching her, but his fingers once again massage her clit, stroking her arousal back into a keening flame. He swallows her gasps and moans as he bottoms out inside her, fully sheathed. Tears prick at her eyes, but not from pain.

Mila’s dream flashes like a waking vision behind her eyes. Wings take flight, along with the gleam of a golden beak and a sharp eye.

She blinks, and the image disappears. She’s left with the man who has become hers, making love to her with every stroke of him deep inside her. She presses grateful kisses across his neck and shoulder, wherever she can reach while she clings to his strong arms.

The thick head of him brushes a sensitive place over and over, one that tightens the coil in her lower belly and makes her core tremble again with warmth, until her body convulses against him, pulsing in pleasure, gripping him tight from the inside. Mila’s fingers clench in his hair just as tightly as her release hits her in a powerful wave; even her voice becomes lost to it.

Gritting his teeth, Dean grips the soft flesh of her hip and chases his own end. The way her inner walls choke his cock, he has no choice but to come hot inside her, his spend mixing with her own release. A strangled shout tears from his throat.

He has to brace himself before he crushes her. With his forearms resting on either side of her head, he lowers his forehead against hers. Her legs slip from where they’ve been tightly molded to his hips, her feet meeting the floor. Eventually he slips out of her. He watches his seed drip out and create a mess on the dark furs. The sight of it satisfies something primal deep inside him.

Later he’ll ask her about washing up (and about supper), but for now, he just turns onto his back beside her. She inches toward him, and he raises an arm so she can splay out against his side. They both lay there for a moment in the quiet, just catching their breath together. It marks the end of a long journey, and yet, the start of one too.

Mila turns to raise onto her elbow. She reaches over to wipe the sweat from his brow in a tender touch. Dean smiles up at her. He takes her hand and presses a kiss into her palm.

“I could get used to this,” he says.

Her eyes widen in surprise, but then she laughs softly. “Yes.”

Her hand moves down to his chest, over his heart. She sobers as she considers her people, and how much trust has yet to be bridged—not only her own father and uncle, but the entire tribe. When she led him through the village, they called him wašíču.

Fat-taker. Greedy White. Not one of us.

“It will be hard for you here,” Mila says. She worries it will be too hard for Dean.

He just squeezes her hand, earning her attention through tumultuous thoughts.

“I’m not afraid of a little hard work,” Dean replies. His usual confident charm is infused in his smile, but she has a feeling he’s just trying to reassure her.

Sensing she’s not convinced, Dean reaches up to hold her cheek, guiding her to look at him and not the floor.

“Listen. I made my choice, and I’m sticking it out, come hell or high water,” he says.

Mila’s brows knit together. “Hell-or-high… What does that mean?”

Dean sits up on his elbow along with her. He takes her chin between his fingers and meets her gaze.

“It means if you want me, you’ve got me. The rest, we’ll figure out as we go along,” he says.

A smile slowly lightens Mila’s face. She tilts her chin up to meet him with a kiss.

“I will be with you,” she says. It’s a promise.

Dean smiles back.

“Good,” he says. “Because that’s just about all I need.”

AN: There we have it, friends. 💜 I really, truly hope you enjoyed this mini series! To be honest, I have more ideas for this little world (like how Dean might try to assimilate into this culture), but I'll leave it to you guys to let me know if that's something you'd be interested in reading.

Until then, I would love to know what you thought of this chapter!

Pronunciation Guide:

Šóta ("sho-tah") Chatan ("chat-tan") Tahatan ("ta-hat-tann") Wašíču ("wash-ee-jew")

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