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4unnyr0se · 7 months ago

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PLS BOKUTO SMUT I WILL SELL YOU MY SOUL VIV 🙏🙏🙏

❥ nepenthe | kotaro bokuto

warnings: timeskip! bokuto, fem! reader, mutual pining, bokuto is emo in the beginning, dry humping/grinding, multiple orgasms, making out, incredibly lewd dialogue, fingering, missionary, two text messages, unprotected sex, tiny corruption kink, possessive! bokuto if u squint, extreme fluff at the end, bokuto is a semi-hard dom in bed, atsumu, hinata and sakusa mentioned, not proofread (unless u count grammarly)

MDNI | 18+ content

word count -> 5.3k (lol)

opal i would write anything for u i love u sm

got a request? asks are open!

Being on the MSBY Black Jackals was all the Bokuto could ever dream of. Playing on a team made up of his peers, the adoring cheers from the crowd filled his ears and boosted his ego. He especially loved how cute the girls in the stands were and how they wore merchandized versions of his jersey. People paid good money to watch him play, him. Was there nothing better than the universe could offer him? Indeed, Kotaro Bokuto’s life was perfectly perfect.

Except until recently. He had missed a significant spike in the latest game against the Alders, which nearly cost him the match. He was not okay. But that was just a first-time thing, right? Indeed, he would not miss a spike in tomorrow’s practice. He’s Bokuto; he doesn’t miss spikes. And then he missed nearly all of his spikes. He was not doing well when he returned to his penthouse apartment that evening. Was he in a slump?

His golden eyes flicked back and forth on his ceiling as he lay in his plush bed, hands crossed over his chest in thought. Why was he acting like this? He occasionally missed a spike, but that was a rare event. Was he missing them so frequently? What if he wasn’t as good of a volleyball player as he thought? Anxiety plagued his mind, making him toss and turn in his cotton comforter decorated with owls (stylish owls, of course). Bokuto’s black and white hair became incredibly messy, reflecting his inner thoughts. Luckily, he had a means of comforting himself. When the opposite hitter wasn’t doing so well at times like these, he could always turn to you, one of his beloved Black Jackal Managers.

You were the kindest of all the managers he had, that was for sure. While the other seven managers focused on scheduling or payroll, you were the personality hire. Your pretty face automatically boosted the morale of the entire team, like a beam of sunlight poking out from the clouds after a thunderstorm. Bokuto liked you; he really liked you. Every single practice, he would pray that you’d be there, sitting on your chair, diligently taking notes while wearing that MSBY windbreaker that covered the curves of your breasts in the most annoying manner possible. Fuck, you were so damn pretty.

Bokuto reached for his phone, which was charging on the bedside table, scrolling through his messages until he landed on your chat from a couple of weeks ago. The topic was simple: What kind of onigiri did he want from Onigiri Miya? It was just a question, but the notification made his heart race every time he read it. The pads of his thumbs hovered over the keypad for a moment, unsure of how to word his message. He wanted you to visit him. Why couldn’t he just type that? After minutes of contemplation, he had sent his message. Bokuto’s phone was thrown to the other side of the bed, nearly getting lost in the mess of thick duvet. The opposite hitter slammed his face into his fluffed pillow, groaning into the fabric.

Kotaro Bokuto: Wanna come over and talk? Been feeling really down recently. :(

It felt like hours since he sent the text, looking at where he tossed his phone every other minute to see if the home screen lit up. Finally, after agonizingly painful minutes passed, his screen lit up with your message, the cute little heart icon next to your name making him break out in a crooked smile.

Cute Manager: I’ll be over in 30 minutes. Bringing my famous sugar cookies! They always brighten someone’s day <3

Bokuto practically threw himself off his bed, looking around his messy apartment. Shit, had that smell always been there? Why (and how) was there a sock on the ceiling fan? Don’t even get him started on the empty packages that littered his living room floor; this was a disaster. He had to ensure it was perfect for you, his angelic manager. You thought so highly of him; he wasn’t about to lose that due to a messy apartment.

He cleaned like a man gone wild, sensual R&B music playing from a speaker in his kitchen. He had obtained three full trash bags and one spilling-over hamper, but he had made his apartment look presentable. The counters were no longer sticky, and the sock was down from the fan, thanks to him expertly flinging rubber bands at the blades. Bokuto was proud of himself, bearing a satisfied smirk while his hands rested on his hips in a hero pose.

The doorbell rang. Oh fuck, how were you here already? Did half an hour seriously pass by so quickly? He didn’t even have time to change out of his black tank top! Maybe that was a good thing? Perhaps you liked looking at his massive biceps. Whatever, he didn’t have time to think about all that. His cute manager was waiting behind that door with a plate of delicious sugar cookies!

Bokuto swung the door open a little too enthusiastically, his crooked smile fully displayed amongst his handsome features. His golden eyes instantly landed on your figure, drinking in your outfit. A low-cut black scoop neck top with oversized ripped jeans; fucking perfection. You offered him a kind smile and held out the wrapped-up plate of cookies, tilting your head to the side. “Hey, Bokuto! I’m here, like I promised. Oh, and I brought the cookies. Don’t ask for the recipe because I won’t tell!” you giggled, stepping inside his apartment. It was cleaner than you imagined, and it smelled like roses. Who knew that Bokuto could be so neat?

“Woah, it’s even bigger than I imagined! Sometimes I forget how much professional athletes make annually,” you joked, kicking off your ballet flats on the shoe stand. “You must have an amazing view at night, look at the city! It’s gorgeous.” you turned to Bokuto and smiled, placing your hands on his shoulders. “It’s been a while since we last hung out, hasn’t it?”

“Oh, yeah! I guess it has, eh? Time flies when you’re a Black Jackal!” Bokuto awkwardly stammered, growing increasingly flustered as the almond shape of your manicured nails made contact with his muscular shoulders. “Thanks for coming over so quickly; I thought you were at a club or something.”

You shook your head and leaned against the raised kitchen counter, raising an eyebrow. “Nah, I hate clubs. It’s always so stuffy in there, and there’s always a hand on your ass, whether you want it or not.” you brushed your hair to the side, exposing your neck. The perfume you had to carefully put on, a mixture of lilac and jasmine, filled Bokuto’s nostrils. He was only a few feet from your body, yet the aroma drove him secretly insane. “What about you, do you like clubs? You seem like the type.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bokuto asked, pretending to clutch his pearls.

“Well, you’re extroverted and love having a good time. That’s what the clubs are for, aren’t they?” you paused your speech, matching his gaze with your own. “But you haven’t been having a good time recently, have you?”

Bokuto shook his head and slumped onto the sofa, his bottom lip curling into a childish pout. “No, you’re right. I just can’t hit my stupid spikes! Atsumu’s been on my ass about it like it’s my fault that I can’t seem to hit them! I mean, I guess it’s my fault…whatever! I don’t know what I’m saying anymore!” he slammed his face in his hands, groaning in exasperation.

You smiled softly and sat next to him, patting his muscular back. “Hey, it’ll be alright. You’ve hit amazing spikes before, and you’ll hit amazing spikes again. I know you will.” your soft hands ran up and down the thin fabric of his tank top, massaging the tense muscles underneath. “We all have our slumps, you know. Nobody is perfect, not even Atsumu. Besides,” your lips were centimeters away from his ear. “Atsumu is my least favorite.”

Bokuto chuckled and wrapped his arm around your waist, pressing your cheek against his pectoral. “Yeah, but he’s really funny! Except when he texts the group chat with me, Shoyo, and Sakusa…then he gets really gross. Usually about the women he slept with or something.”

“Ew,” you blush softly as Bokuto's muscular bicep wraps around your waist, his large hand squeezing the fabric of your jeans. “So, are you feeling any better now? Do you wanna eat a cookie and watch a movie, maybe? What would make you feel better?” you could feel his heartbreak in his chest, the thumbing sensation of the organ being a somewhat calming presence. “Because when you’re sad, the Jackals can’t really get anything done. No offense.”

Bokuto chuckled and squeezed you closer, inhaling the scent of your shampoo. God, you smelled fucking amazing. Did you always smell so good? “I’m down for a movie if you’re down. What kind of movie were you thinking of?”

“Comedy, maybe? I don’t know, you can pick,” you replied.

“Comedy it is,” Bokuto leaned forward to grab the remote from the coffee table, turning on the massive television he owned. His hand remained firmly grasped on your waist, occasionally running his thumb up and down the denim of your high-waisted jeans. He flicked through a couple of films under the comedy section in his DVR until he selected a random one. He chose it solely on how fantastic the movie poster was, naturally.

The opening credits played from the surround sound speakers, and his hand was still snug on your waist, his golden eyes occasionally stealing a chaste look. You were smaller than him, so he really only got to see the top of your head, but you were so fucking adorable. Bokuto thought it was vital that you didn’t push him away after he wrapped his arm around you and that you welcomed his touch. You trusted him so much, making his heart beat a million miles a minute.

The movie's beginning was hilarious, as expected from an award-winning comedy. Bokuto’s laugh was deep in comparison to yours. Of course, your laugh was adorable; why wouldn’t it be? He felt as though his heart would explode from your presence, beating erratically in his chest.

“Are you feeling okay? Your heart is beating really fast,” you questioned, lifting your face from its comfortable resting spot on his chest. “Do you need anything at all?”

Bokuto bit down on his lower lip, unsure of what to say. Should he just confess how much he wants you, how much he craves to have your lips on his own? What if you rejected his advances and quit managing the team? “Uh, it’s nothing. Don’t worry about it, sweetheart.” Sweetheart, did he really just say that? Bokuto cringed at himself.

A small smile graced your delicate features at the endearing name, your tiny hand resting on his chest. “Bokuto, I’m always going to worry about my team. Especially you, you’re my favorite. Did you know that?”

His mind went blank for a second. He was your favorite. He was your favorite. Out of all the members of the Black Jackals, you liked him the most. “I-I didn’t know that at all, am I actually your favorite? You aren’t messing with me or anything?”

“Why would I lie about that?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s just…you’re beautiful. And I’m your favorite…it makes me feel special. I know I’m already special, just like, more special. Y’know?”

“You think I’m beautiful?” your eyes bore into his once more, the chatter from the movie falling on deaf ears. “You really think I’m beautiful?”

Bokuto softly smiled at you, adoring how the light from the television illuminated your blushing face. “Yeah, I really think so. I’ve thought that for a while since you were hired.” his other hand cupped the right side of your face, his calloused thumb running across your cheekbone. “Do you…do you think I’m pretty, too?”

You giggled and rested your hand on Bokuto’s, smiling brightly. “Yeah, I think you’re beautiful, Bokuto. And handsome and adorable.” you leaned upwards, your noses touching. “You’re funny, kind, and sometimes a little too confident. You’re sensitive, and you care so much about your teammates. Anyone would be lucky to have you.”

“I want you to have me,” he whispered, his voice a low baritone. “Please, I’ve wanted this for so long. Tell me that I can have you, even if it’s just for tonight.” his lips hovered over yours, not daring to do anything without your permission. “Because if you say it’s okay, I don’t think I’ll be able to hold myself back, sweetness.”

His hot breath tickled the tiny hairs on your face, mouth slightly agape. You gulped and nodded, closing your eyes while his hands cupped your cheeks. “It’s okay, Kotaro.”

The sound of his given name falling from your lips was all he needed to press his mouth to yours in a searing kiss filled with unfulfilled desires. It was slow and sensual, yet it held so much molten passion. His lips molded with yours so perfectly, the taste of your chapstick making him savor you even more. His hands fled your face and grasped onto your hips, pulling you into his lap with no trouble at all. Bokuto pressed your chest against his own, groaning against your petal-like lips. A spark was set in his lower belly, his hands trailing down to your ass. He squeezed the denim fabric, eliciting an adorable squeak from your mouth.

You pulled away after a moment, both of your faces incredibly flushed. “Shit,” Bokuto breathed out, toying with the hem of your jeans. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that, sweetness.”

“Me too,” you whispered, kissing his neck gently. “I’ve been wanting to do this,�� you placed another kiss, then another, and another. “For so fucking long.” you nibbled onto his collarbone playfully, earning yourself a beautiful moan from Bokuto’s bruised lips.

“Fuck, I never pegged you for a biter. Thought I would always be the one biting you,” he purred, slipping his hands underneath your jeans and panties. You gasped at the coldness of his hands on your warm skin, how his fingers kneaded the supple flesh of your ass. “But I guess I can let you nibble on me for a little longer since you’re so damn pretty.”

“When did you get so good at flirting, hm?” you began to suckle on his collarbone.

“The moment I got signed to the Black Jackals. They’re, fuck, they’re a bunch of womanizers.” he softly moaned at the sensation of your teeth suckling at his tough flesh. “Taught me a thing or two.”

You pulled away from his neck and smiled, kissing his forehead. “So I take it you picked up a thing or two?”

“Damn right, I have,” his hands squeezed your ass once more. “Can you do me a favor and take these off, sweetness? I’ll take mine off, too. That way, we’re even.”

You got off his lap and shimmied out of your jeans, tossing them aside along with your top. You wore a matching bra and panty set, the black fabric hugging your curves tenderly. “Now, you do yours. Don’t keep me waiting, Ko’.”

His nickname rang in his ears, your voice making it drip like honey. Bokutp practically ripped off his clothes, leaving him in only his MSBY boxers. “Shit, you’re gorgeous.” he leaned into the leather couch, spreading his legs. “C’mere gorgeous, sit on my lap.”

Bokuto’s hands once again cupped your ass as you straddled his lap, admiring how thick his thighs were. You had never noticed it before, but Bokuto was a big guy. “That’s it, good girl. Right on my thigh there, pretty.”

“Fuck,” you moaned as your clothed pussy made contact with his bare thigh, unconsciously rubbing against it. “You’re really fucking sexy.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Bokuto pulled you into another kiss, aggressively slamming his lips against yours while his hands remained glued to your ass. His tongue prodded against your lips impatiently, begging to be let inside your mouth. You happily obliged, a mewl falling from your lips as his tongue briefly danced with yours. Bokuto pulled away, breaking the strand of saliva that connected your lips. “Your voice is too damn pretty,” his hand cracked against your ass, causing you to grind further onto his thigh. Embarrassed, you hid your face in his bruised neck, earning a smug smirk from Bokuto. “Oh, did that feel good, baby? Don’t be shy now; you can tell me.” he smacked your ass once more, relishing in your pleasurable squeaks and squeals. “Does someone like it when I smack their ass?”

“Y-yeah!” you whimpered into his neck, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. Your hips bucked against his thigh, your core desperate for friction. “Please, lemme ride your thigh. You feel so fucking good, Ko’.”

Bokuto threw his head back at your begging, his cock growing painfully hard in his boxers. “Yeah, you wanna grind on my thigh, pretty girl?” he squeezed the plushness of your thigh. “I’m the only one who can make you feel this way, right? Because I’m the best. Say it, and you can do whatever you want.”

You let out a broken sigh and pulled your face out from his neck, your pearly whites nibbling at the shell of his ear. “You’re the only one who can make me feel this good, Kotaro.” Your breath was sweet and sensual, and you were full of wanting for your release. “Please, I wanna ride your thigh.”

“Good girl,” he praised, gripping onto your hips. He began to drag you up and down his thigh, embracing the cute little noises you made. “That’s it, baby, talk to me. Tell me how good I make you feel, yeah?”

“So good! So good, Ko’.” you whimpered, a warmth sensation bubbling up inside your belly as your clothed clit rubbed against his thigh. Your small hands rested on his abs, running up and down the prevalent muscle. “T-talk to me, helps me get off–fuck!” you tossed your head back, hair falling out of your face as Bokuto purposefully flexed his thigh muscle.

He groaned at the sight of you, head thrown back, tits bouncing in your bra as you used his thigh to get yourself off. His goddess of a manager was using him to cum, his thigh. It was so fucking perfect. “You’re so fucking sexy, you know that? You come to practice in those short shorts that show off your ass so well. Do you know what you do to me?”

“Tell me,” you moaned, feeling your climax approach quickly. You were basically rutting yourself against his thigh like a bitch in heat, and it felt fucking incredible.

“Every time you bent over, I thought about this ass,” he smacked the exposed flesh, definitely leaving a handprint later. “Thought about squeezing it, about smacking it, how it would look wearing slutty black panties.” Bokuto flexed his thigh muscles even more, giving you a sturdier surface to grind on.

“Thought about you clawing at my back while I fuck you in the locker room, so the rest of the team can back the fuck off. Keep you all to myself, my pretty manager.” he spat through his teeth, gripping your jaw tightly with his hand. “Look at me when you cum, pretty girl. Wanna see that cute little face.” his thumb ran across your bottom lip, pulling slightly.

Your mouth went slack-jawed as your orgasm washed over you, your eyes struggling to look at Bokuto while you continued to ride his thigh until you came down from nirvana. “F-fuck!” you sobbed, your hips ceasing their bucking once your high was finished. “Shit, I made a mess on your thigh. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t fucking apologize. That was the sexiest thing I’ve ever fucking seen.” Bokuto groaned, lifting you off of his thigh so quickly. “Fuck, you soaked your panties. I guess you gotta take them off now, yeah? Bra, too. Don’t be shy around me.” he set you down on the coffee table, your form blocking the movie, but he didn’t care about the movie anymore. There was only you.

Still shaking from the shockwaves of your release, you slowly stripped yourself of your remaining clothes, placing them down on the glass of the table. Bokuto drank in your view, like an artist staring at a finished painting. You were gorgeous, ethereal, out of this world. Surely, it would be impossible for anyone else to match your beauty. “Fucking hell,” he groaned, pushing himself off of the couch to grab your wrist. “Bedroom. Now.”

He practically dragged you into his bedroom, throwing you down onto the plush owl-themed comforter. You giggled at the childish fabric as Bokuto hovered above you, his hands on either side of your head. “I take it you love owls?” you raised an eyebrow.

“I fucking love owls,” he smirked, leaning down to peck your nose. “Not as much as I love how you look right now, pretty girl.” his right hand squeezed your breast, thumb rolling over your nipple while his left hand managed to continue holding him up.

“You’re such a tease,” you moaned as he pinched your sensitive bud, his massive hand encasing your entire breast. “I thought you wanted to fuck me, Kotaro. Am I wrong?”

“You aren’t wrong, sweetness,” he purred, rolling his hips against yours. You could feel his cock pulsating through his boxers, begging to be inside you. “Just wanna make sure you’re prepped first. I’m a big guy, y’know?” he stuck his fingers inside of his mouth, coating them with saliva before prodding at your entrance with the digits, slowly sticking them inside your heat. “Holy fuck, you’re so fucking wet. Did my thigh make you cum that much, princess?”

You gasped as he curled his fingers deep inside of you, his ministrations slow and sensual. “Fuck! Y-yes, y’made me cum so much! Love your thighs, Ko’!” you squeaked, instinctively squeezing your thighs together.

Bokuto tutted and used his free hand to shove your legs apart, now kneeling above you. “Don’t try to hide it, sweetness. You know I don’t like that.” he was not knuckle-deep inside your weeping cunt, his fingers plunging inside so expertly. “Fuck, gotta make sure you’re nice and loose for me, yeah? Don’t wanna hurt you.”

“S-shit! You’re gonna make me cum again!” you whimpered, grasping onto your breasts for additional stimulation. “God, how do your fingers feel so fucking good?”

“Can’t answer that for you, sweetheart. You wanna cum again, pretty girl? Want me to rub your clit and make a mess all over my hand?” he teased, beginning to massage your sensitive clit with the pad of this thumb. His fingers were still scissoring you open, coating you with the mixture of his saliva and your release.

“Yes, fuck! Please, Ko’!” you whined, the familiar bubbling sensation in your belly threatening to spill over. Your legs were now dangling over his shoulder, quaking in ecstasy. “Wanna cum, fucking make me cum!”

“That’s what I like to hear,” he offered you a mischievous smirk, furiously rubbing his thumb over your clit as you tumbled into pure pleasure once more. Your mouth became agape; your head tossed into the plush pillow behind you. His fingers ceased their movement, sliding out of your cunt covered in your slick. “Shit,” Bokuto mumbled, bringing his fingers to his mouth. “Fucking delicious.”

He gave you another kiss, leaving some of your release on your lips. His boxers were peeled off and thrown onto the nightstand as he fumbled through one of the drawers, cursing at himself. “God dammnit, I know I have one. Where the fuck is it?”

“Looking for a condom?” you asked, the breath still being knocked out of your lungs.

“Yeah, it’s being a pain in the ass to find, though.”

“I’m on the pill.” you plainly state, smiling at him. “You don’t have to use a condom. It’ll be okay with me.”

Bokuto stopped rummaging through the drawer, turning over to look at you with a look that could only be a mixture of lust and absolute delight. “Are you sure? I-I mean, I’m happy to hit it raw; I just don’t wanna pressure you or anything.”

You nodded your head and pulled him close to you by his shoulder, pecking his nose sweetly. “I promise, Kotaro. You don’t have to use a condom when you’re with me.”

“God, that’s music to my fucking ears, baby,” his voice rumbled, his hands resting on the bottoms of your thighs. You were propped up by your elbows and Bokuto’s variety of pillows, his cock painfully hard against his abdomen. “Can’t wait to ruin this fucking pussy.”

You tilted your head to the side in confidence, winking. “Then what are you waiting for?” you spread your legs, exposing your glistening heat to him once more. “Ruin me, Kotaro.”

Bokuto bit down on his lower lip and growled, aligning his cock with your cunt. “You have no idea what you’re in for, pretty girl.” the mushroom head pushed past your folds, the newfound sensation causing the both of you to moan softly. “Shit, you’re still so tight. That’s okay,” he chuckled, snapping his hips against yours. His cock slammed inside of you, filling you up so quickly. “I’ll fucking make it fit.”

“Holy shit!” you sobbed, your fingers scrambling for purchase in the bedsheets. “Kotaro!”

“That’s it, baby, scream my name while I fuck this pussy stupid.” Bokuto hissed, pounding into you without giving you the chance to catch your breath. You looked so fucking pretty underneath him, especially the way your greedy pussy took him so well. The way your sobbing walls enveloped him entirely it was perfection. “Taking me so well, good fucking girl.”

Your pathetic mewls were like that of a morning songbird, the most beautiful melody. Bokuto hoisted your legs above his shoulders once again, his cock hitting you at a deeper angle. You screamed, the head prodding at your cervix. “Fuck, shit, oh my god! Kotaro, f-fuck!”

His thrusts were animalistic as if he were in heat. They were uncalculated and had no rhythm, only a mission to make you stupid on his cock. His hands gripped onto your ankles while he started at your lewd form, admiring how your small hands encased your breasts in an attempt to create more stimulation. How greedy you were. He thought it was adorable. Everything about you was simply adorable.

“Good fucking girl, that’s my girl,” he groaned as you squeezed around him, pulling him impossibly deep. “Oh, you like it when I call you that? Your pussy is sucking me in, pretty girl.” he teased, smacking the underside of your thigh.

You attempted to speak, but all that fell from your lips was incoherent babbling. Your mind was all fuzzy, full of nothing but thoughts of Bokuto fucking you senseless. You arched your back further into the mattress, your hair forming the messiest halo above you. The sound of his balls slapping against your ass filled the bedroom, the movie in the living room being a thing of the past.

“My pretty girl can’t speak now, but that’s okay,” Bokuto assured you, punctuating his sentences with a harsh slam inside of you. “I’ll just make you cum again, yeah? We’ll cum at the same time, okay, pretty girl? I know you got one more in you. Wanna give it to me? Don’t you think I deserve it? I wanna hear you say that. Say I deserve to make you cum again!”

“Fuck!” you sobbed, your orgasm dangerously close. You didn’t think you could handle one more, his cock bullying its way in and out of your weeping cunt. “Y’deserve to make me cum again, Kotaro! F-fuck, think I’m gonna cum soon!”

“Don’t fucking hold out on me, baby. You know I like it messy!” Bokuto bent forward, his thrusts becoming more erratic and needy as his cock twitched inside of you, begging for release. “Gonna fucking cum in this pussy, make it all fucking mine!”

“Shit!” you sobbed, tears welling up in the corners of your eyes. “Kotaro!” his name fell from your lips like a broken pair as you came for the third and final time that night, completely coating his cock in your glistening slick.

“Holy fuck, yeah, yeah! Fucking hell!” Bokuto roared, shooting ropes of cum deep inside your core, creating a new warm sensation in your belly. His thrusts grew slower and slower, almost as if he was attempting to fuck his cum inside of you. “Dont wanna…stop fucking you…but I’m tired.” he groaned, letting your legs fall back onto your chest. “Shit.”

Bokuto shamelessly collapsed onto you, purposely landing on your breast. He lifted his hips so his cock could slide out of you, almost with the thinnest streams of his release down your bruised thighs. “Mmm, that was so fucking good,” he mumbled against your breast, sucking on your pert nipple for a moment. “You got the best fucking pussy I’ve ever had.”

“You flatter me,” your hands ran through his damp black and white strands, acting as a comb. “You felt so fucking good, Kotaro. I’m glad I could help out. Do you think you’ll feel better at tomorrow's practice?”

Bokuto looked up from your breast and smiled brightly, cupping your flushed face with his hands. “I’m totally gonna kick everyone's ass! Atsumu won’t know what’ll hit him!”

“There’s the Bokuto we know and love!” you chuckle.

“I’m back, baby!” he weakly flexed his muscle, kissing your cheek playfully. “Guess all I needed was my sexy manager. Best damn cure on the planet!”

You rolled your eyes and kissed the top of his head. “You act completely different when you’re inside of me.”

“Is that a bad thing?” he titled his head.

“Absolutely not. I think it’s adorable. You’re adorable.” you kissed his cheek once more. “So, uh, is it possible for us to do this again sometime? I-it was nice.” your eyes landed on the floor, embarrassed for no reason.

Bokuto flashed you his signature crooked smile and laughed, kissing your neck. “What a stupid question. Of course, we can do this again! We basically confessed before I fucked you, remember?”

“Oh yeah, I guess I forgot.” you awkwardly chuckled, leaning into his enthusiastic kisses. “Maybe your dick knocked all the brains out of my skull.”

“But then you won’t have any more left when you watch us practice!” Bokuto whined, snuggling his face into your chest once more. “You gotta have some brain left, okay?”

“Okay, Kotaro,” you mumbled, your eyelids growing heavy. “Hey…it’s pretty late. Would it be okay if I slept here for the night? I understand if you don’t want me to.”

“Hell yeah, you can sleep here!” He cheered softly, running his hand up and down your arm. “That way, you can arrive with me to practice tomorrow. Then I can show off my new girlfriend to the team and make them all super jealous.”

You chuckled. “Oh, am I your girlfriend now?”

“Do…do you wanna be my girlfriend?” his voice was soft and unsure.

“Of course I do, cutie.” you pecked the top of his head, pulling up the owl-themed covers. “Now, get some sleep. You got a lot to do tomorrow, yeah?”

“Mm, okay, baby. I can’t wait to wake up in your arms tomorrow.” he innocently whispered, shutting his eyes as sleep overtook him.

“Goodnight, Kotaro,” you whispered, flicking off the lamp as the two of you fell asleep in a mutual embrace, eager for what tomorrow will bring.

reblogs appreciated ❤

#haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #bokuto koutarou #haikyuu bokuto #bokuto smut #bokuto x reader #kotaro bokuto

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bluemerakis · 9 days ago

Note

Recently finished Swayze’s ‘ghost’ and now I can’t stop thinking about post-Hell Dean, where the reader has his iconic brown leather jacket hanging in her room thinking she’s never gonna see him again but he shows up in her room (in a non creepy way as much as possible lol) and they fuuuuck like old times and she thinks she’s dreaming until she realises it’s actually him (or not lol) but the romanticism is screaming out to me, idk if it’s something you’d be interested in writing but omfg you’d write this so painfully well

ANON!! i LOVE LOVE LOVE this SO much! i’m so honoured that you’ve entrusted me with this idea—i had the time of my life writing this & went a lil wild with it LOL. thank you for your support and kind words, it means the world to me! i hope i did your request justice 🩵

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────────── ᝰ bluemerakis ༝༚༝༚ ───

❝ sunshine ❞

─ ۶ৎ ─

pairing ୨୧ dean winchester x fem!reader

warnings .ᐟ s4!spoilers, established relationship, dramatic descriptions of grief, cussing, angst, sam being an adorable little angel, nip sucking, unprotected sex p in v, tooth-rotting fluff. lmk if I forgot any! if there are typos, no there isn’t

synopsis ─ after dean had sealed the deal that warranted him a one-way ticket to hell, you had no hopes of ever seeing him again. you were overcome with a grief that felt inescapable, but with sam’s help, you’d managed to pull through the storm and enter clearer skies. just when you thought you’d have to navigate a new life without dean, against all odds, he makes an unexpected appearance.

word count ~ roughly 15k

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Four months.

The duration of your ongoing turmoil. The grim tally of his absence.

For four months, you’d been trapped in the stagnant bog of your grief. It had formed the very first night you’d lost him, seizing your mind like a rabid plague. It didn’t matter which way you attempted to swim, or how hard you paddled to try and stay afloat, there was no sure escape from its bottomless depth. It immobilised your existence, broke down your hope—scattered it like falling leaves to be lapped up by the famished surface and swallowed to the point of no return. It was lonely and suffocating, but you’d since given up on waiting for a lifeline to be cast from some land beyond your gloomy horizon, so sure that you’d isolated yourself from any soul kind enough to try.

Except for Sam.

Sam had tried to rescue you many times, but the lines he casted were always too battered—chewed up by the demons of his own grief. And you knew that if you grabbed onto it—where he stood barely clinging to the other end—it would snap and pull him right in. You couldn’t do that to him, so you’d surrendered to the bog entirely, allowing your grief to engulf you into its endless, bone-chilling nothingness. And each day, you sank further and further, like the dead weight of a stone, drifting down into the pits of your despair. Your living, breathing death.

A slow, agonising journey of digestion—your body, mind and soul disseminating into nothing.

Reaching rock bottom hadn’t taken long, not when you’d been left feeling so shallow by the robbery of your life’s meaning. And you’d laid there ever since, slowly deteriorating, slowly drowning. Over and over and over again. You could have said that you were losing every part of yourself, but you hadn’t been whole to begin with, not for a long time—not since losing him.

If he were here, he could have saved you from yourself. But he wasn’t. And you hated him for it.

You hated him. For striking a deal with the devil. For placing his life on the line without a second breath. For lying to you about it. For even thinking that nobody would notice the dead space left behind. There were certain days that tended to plunge that hateful knife—already engrossed in your heart—a little deeper. A day like this morning.

The day that marked the anniversary of Dean Winchester’s death.

On the first day without him, you’d spent your time trying to fight it—forced smiles, laughs of denial, stares that didn’t linger on any of his belongings for too long. But it was hard not to come face to face with his memory when the ghost of his existence seemed to prowl after you at every turn and every corner of the apartment. His favourite coffee mug with an infamous chip on the rim. The frozen, pasty pies he’d crammed the freezer full of. Six packs of canned beers stocked along the pantry’s top shelf. His discarded shoes. His sparse watch collection. The shampoo bottle he’d diluted to last a month longer.

And that damn leather jacket, which currently draped from the frame of your desk chair.

It hung there like a museum exhibit—the memory of Dean Winchester, frozen in time. The jacket he’d left behind on the day he’d slipped your life for good. You hadn’t once touched it. You couldn’t bring yourself to lay your fingers across the leather when there’d be no warmth radiating through its fabric to soothe you—couldn’t face the fact that it’d reflect the cold, empty truth of it all. So there it laid, collecting dust and slowly drowning beneath the suffocating, grey sea without a merciful hand to liberate it. It was a cruel parallel of your own withering state.

Every morning, your eyes would peel through a hollow sleep, and the first thing they’d settle on was that damn jacket. Every. Single. Time. As if you needed the constant recap on top of everything else. You could have mustered up the courage to move it some place else that’d finally warrant the motto out of sight, out of mind. But the naive fool that had created that saying failed miserably at accounting for the woes of the brain. Once scorched into memory, nothing would ever truly be forgotten. You’d remember regardless of where that jacket lay—a curse bound to your life, never to be broken.

Unless you broke first.

You shifted at the heart of your king-sized bed, your head sinking back into your plumy pillow as you gazed up at the ceiling. At anything but that jacket. Your limbs sprawled out between the cotton sheets, taking maximum advantage to voyage the sea of space left at your disposal. While a mattress this large and luxurious should’ve offered you a sense of comfortable freedom, you couldn’t help but mourn all the space—space that at one point, had been occupied by him.

The gentle, golden glare of dawn had begun its steady journey into the room, letting itself in almost shyly through the slits of your curtains. The meek sunbeams sliced through the dim atmosphere you’d found solice within, and you watched as dust particles began to waltz around one another through the bronzed air—as if they’d been cast into the centre of the ballroom. Around and around they swirled in perfect, mirrored harmony. You thought it looked a lot like a courting display—more mental imagery to emphasise your loneliness.

For a second, some faded image—a memory—flashed across your mind. Yourself and Dean, taking to the neglected dance floor of a bar nearing its closing time. A half-emptied beer bottle clutched in his one hand as his other linked with yours, serving as the leash that dragged your protesting form to its debut on the dance floor.

You’d never been too confident in your dancing skills, a fact you’d tried many times to disclose, but Dean had been insistent. Somewhere behind you, Sam had whooped from the comfort of the booth you’d both discarded, and when you’d glanced back at the younger Winchester, he had his beer-adorned hand raised into the air as a cheer. You’d scoffed with a heavy thanks for nothing.

When you’d turned back to Dean, he’d drawn up in his tracks without any prior warning, causing you to crash not-so-elegantly into his torso. Instinctively, your free palm had lurched forward to cradle his chest in a steadying motion, your chin tilting up to grace him with a stunned giggle.

The drink he’d throttled in his other hand sloshed with the jolt, foam tumbling over the nozzle’s edge like a provoked volcano’s tantrum. It slathered his fingers and trickled to the floor, adding fresh patterns to the aged, sticky blotches already scattered amidst the young night.

“Woah, easy there, tiger,” he’d laughed, but the hand that’d dragged you here released your fingers only to form a seductive curve at the small of your back. There, he’d pulled you in even closer, his lips closing in on you with the promise of a love-sick kiss. But instead, his jaw had dipped past your temple, lips grazing your cheekbone before hovering at your ear. “There’s nuff o’ me to go ‘round without you jumpin’ ship for the first spot,” he husked. You’d practically felt the grin spreading his lips.

You’d ducked your head away from his with a hearty huff. “Down, boy,” you’d scoffed, hands trailing up his chest to crown either shoulder with a natural ease. The touch had been smooth, magnetic. And maybe you two were like magnets, utterly obsessed with being intangible, and eager to keep on exploring every inch of one another with a shifting touch rather than be torn apart.

Dean’s eyes had lowered to the naughty line you’d drawn to his shoulders, the grin he’d taken up deepening enough to suction his cheeks into the dimples you’d come to adore. When he’d acquainted your eyes again, it was through a heavy-lidded stare that promised all sorts of activities to reciprocate your tantalising touch. “Oh, I’ll get down, alright,” he’d chuckled hoarsely, leaving the line open to interpretation as he brought his beer to his lips. He’d downed a slow, deliberate sip, his eyes not once straying from yours as he watched you mentally decipher his words.

“You know what? Enough of your games,” you’d laughed, hands slipping from his chest to forsake the dance floor before you’d have a chance to make it regret hosting you. You’d attempted to turn tail and flee, but Dean’s hand had found your wrist in a firm, yet gentle tug, and then you were held prisoner under those hypnotising eyes once more. Your lips had split to offer some final protest, but his own lips puckered into a shushing pout that had you clamping down on your tongue.

“Don’t say anythin’, just dance with me,” he’d instructed, and then the hand tethering you to him lifted, your arm following the motion like a chain effect. Against your will, you were spun around in an awkward, off-timed circle that deviated abominably from the background music. When you came to face him once more, his chest had rattled with a laugh a little too passionate for your liking. “That was adorable—like a toddler learnin’ she’s got the gears but don’t quite know which she’s shiftin’.”

Your cheeks had seared hot at that comment, free hand diving forward to shove his chest lightly. “Stop—I warned you!” You’d simpered.

“Hey!” He’d laughed, beer-occupied hand lifting in a gesture of innocence. “I’m only playin’! You’ll get the hang o’ it—I’ll teach ya. Watch.” Your hand lifted under his guidance as he executed his own spin—even more sprawled and ridiculous than yours had been. Your free hand had flown to cradle your mouth as a disbelieved chortle blared through, and as Dean came to face you once more, his brows were lifted in question. “Eh? I’m a natural, yeah?”

You’d giggled into your palm again before dropping your hand back to your side, lips pursing with amusement. “Let’s just say that I don’t think either of us should be teaching the other,” you’d huffed through a pained smile.

Dean lowered your joined hands to the space between you. “Well,” he’d begun, pulling you into his frame once more, like he just couldn’t get enough of your presence—like he wanted it to hog him. “Guess we just gotta. . . y’know, feel this one out together,” he’d murmured suggestively, eyes narrowing with cheek while he released your hand to settle into its natural hold at the small of your back.

You’d leaned your smirk-heavy lips closer to his with a content hum, your hands coming to wrap around his neck. “Sounds like a plan. I’ll follow if you lead.” He’d grinned approvingly at that, tugging you along to a slow and steady sway of the bodies, which you’d succumbed to and harmonised with in no time—much to your surprise.

“Sammy!” Dean had called to his younger brother, his eyes not once straying from yours as he presented his beer in the direction of the booth. “All yours for the takin’.” He’d paused to steal a glance at your beaming lips. “I got my own special o’ the night.”

You’d laughed at that, and Dean’s charm had grown all the more potent as he stretched out the dance between the two of you for what felt like a good couple of hours. In the background, the music in bad taste had blared on, ever so eager to cheapen the moment between the two of you, but you’d become so enthralled with one another that all else around you was drowned out, anyway.

Both his hands had selfishly hoarded your lower back, pressing you so far into him that you’d stumbled around his feet more times than you’d have liked to admit. But you’d remained steadied by the hands furled around his neck, and comforted by the gentle, reciprocated press of your foreheads, gazing into the sanctuary of one another’s eyes.

If you’d known then, in that moment, that Dean Winchester was going to die, you’d have held onto him a little longer—and probably never have let go. Even if it killed you, too.

With a heavy, rattled rise of your chest, you came back to your grim present, drawing in a long and shaky breath. You shifted between the sheets to roll onto your side, arm coming up beneath the underside of your pillow to cradle it like an emotional support teddy. You tuned your attention to your curtain-clad windows, and like a corpse, you continued to rot away within your coffin of a mattress, watching idly as the sun continued to announce its ascent.

It wasn’t long before warm golds drained into a paler shades that fully lit your room now—the official statement of a new day. But still, you didn’t stir. The curtains remained cast, the windows crammed closed as tightly as they’d been left about a week ago, and your soul feeling anything but renewed to tackle this heavy day head on.

Somewhere beyond your wall, footsteps thrummed lightly down the hallway. Now and again, you’d let yourself believe that they belonged to Dean, on his way to brew you both a morning cuppa—just to offer some pathetic, fleeting slither of comfort. But nothing—nobody could ever fill those shoes left behind. It hadn’t stopped Sam from trying, though.

Before Dean’s. . . disappearance, the brothers had stayed together in the larger room of your two-bedroom apartment—nothing like reliving the good old times, right? It didn’t much bother either one of them, given that Dean had slept in your bed on most nights, leaving the space feeling basically like Sam’s own. The dynamic between you all worked well, and it was practical for a hunter’s lifestyle. Costs were cut, perimeters familiarised and mapped out, and the shared company between you all was reliable. Trustworthy.

You’d become a blended family of some sort. You didn’t think there was any external force that could’ve torn you all apart. But you hadn’t accounted for an inside job. Hadn’t accounted for the weak link that was you.

After Dean’s death, you’d gone into a self-destructive spiral, eager to push anybody and everybody away while you feigned bravery. But Sam had clocked you like an open book, and it made him the hottest target of your impulsive ire.

You couldn’t stand looking at the younger Winchester, how he served as a constant reflection of your own grief—the grief you’d tried so hard to drown out. You knew you should have bonded with him over your shared loss, and the younger Winchester had tried everything to utilise that angle to be there for you, but it’d only made you push back harder. You half expected him to walk out after the first week, but you’d forgotten how deep-rooted stubborness ran within the Winchester bloodline.

Sam had continued to stick around. Why was beyond you. You could have argued that it was because he’d come to love you like a sister, but you couldn’t help the feeling that Dean had made him promise to look out for you, should he ever bite the dust. And it made you hate him more. Because if it were the latter, it meant that Dean had always intended to stay en route on the sacrificial pathway you’d tried countless times to swerve him from. And it meant that loving you hadn’t been reason enough for him to become sidetracked.

If only he’d held out a little longer and put off making that damned deal, you could have continued searching for a solution that didn’t end with either of the Winchesters’ deaths. But deep down, you knew that fate hadn’t written that ending down in any of her books. That continuing to skim page after page would have done nothing but waste minutes paid in blood. Deep down, you knew that Dean had no other choice, but it didn’t make you hate him any less for choosing it.

The faint clanking of utensils transcended the walls, indicating that Sam had worked himself into the kitchen. It was like a routine now. Every morning, the same time. You thought he might’ve craved some taste of control over his life by instilling this morning pattern he now followed so religiously.

You envied how well he seemed to hold himself together, despite it being his blood that had passed on. It made you feel invalidated in all your mourning. After all, if he could move on from the loss of his brother, whom he’d known all his life, why couldn’t you move on from a man you’d known for a pitiful number that paled in comparison?

As they so often did, your thoughts rampaged for a while longer, so eager to hold you captive between the sheets. But eventually, you felt the pit of neglect burrowed into your stomach gape wider, something that you couldn’t ignore any longer.

Your head turned to glimpse the plates you’d stacked atop the bedside table over the last few days. Almost all of them held meals that you’d scarcely picked at, meals Sam had cooked you, and they were starting to smell. It wasn’t doing much to help encourage the full return of your appetite. But still, you had to eat—something fresher, of course.

Eventually, you mustered up the courage to stir and shed the sheets, your week-old pyjamas falling limp around your frame as you shovelled your weight onto wilted legs. You stood for a moment, taking in this new pull of gravity, before angling yourself toward the door.

At the corner of your eye, it beckoned to you. You shouldn’t have looked, shouldn’t have given it the attention it so desperately craved, but how could you stand steadfast when you were crippled with the need to reminisce him during every waking moment? So you buckled, like you always did, and turned to glance over the waiting leather jacket.

It beamed a little brighter this time around, illuminated by the sun’s pale touch. It looked almost angelic, and you could have sworn that new life had been bestowed upon it—like a reincarnation. But no matter how long you stared, no body seemed to materialise between its hold to glorify that hope. Still no Dean Winchester to show for it.

So much for having faith.

With a barely audible scoff, you finally tore your gaze away and trudged toward your bedroom door. You reached for the handle, fingers hovering over the cool metal as you took a moment to think about what’d you say to Sam. Starting with an apology would probably be ideal, followed up by a looping string of thank yous for everything he’s done. You swallowed thickly before tightening your hold, the mechanism clicking open with a brash sound that cut through your senses. And then, like a ghost, you neglected your grave and slunk into the hallway.

When you traipsed into the open-plan apartment on light, reluctant feet, your eyes wandered over to the kitchen at the corner, where Sam had already made himself comfortable at the hot lip of the stove. His back was turned on you, but you caught the whisk of his arms as he executed an impressive flip of something within the skillet. It landed with a muffled thump, a result that had Sam hissing out a noise of satisfaction.

A shy, smoky ghost levitated above the Winchester, and it wasn’t long before the cracked kitchen window wafted a clue in your direction—the sweet tang of pancakes tickling your nose. Usually, it was a smell that had you inhaling a little deeper, like you couldn’t miss savouring even a scrap of its existence. Now, the smell roused nothing other than a faint reminder of just how much you didn’t crave breakfast. Or anything, for that matter. But still, duty called. More like your stomach would begin eating itself if you insisted on starving it for a day longer.

With a practiced breath of bravery, you picked your way past the living room sofas, your sock-clad feet scuffling across the floor with a severe lack of motivation. As you approached the kitchen island, you spotted a can of sweetened whipped cream—your favourite—and a bowl of berries straddling the plated, ever-growing stack of pancakes. It was the complete picture your stomach needed to enlist the first of its rumbling, but you hadn’t had much of a mental appetite for quite some time. The simple joy you’d once held for eating had been boiled down to the dull necessity of sustenance—you ate only because your body needed fuel. Anything more than that just wasn’t worth feeling.

And, truthfully, it was a baffling, new reality because there was a time you'd have nagged the boys to drive you halfway across the country to try some new cuisine you'd seen advertised across billboards. You’d scribble down the names of the niche diners and renowned restaurants in your trusty notebook to be reviewed on the trips back to the motels, heated debates unfolding as the brothers either vouched for or condemned your idea of a good meal. Now, the memories were so distant that you'd started to wonder whether they'd even existed. Whether that version of you still existed.

You brought up the rear of one of the kitchen chairs, moving a hand to cradle your protesting stomach while the other outstretched to retract the chair at the rim. The sudden, intrusive screech of wood against wood was enough to startle Sam into a growing awareness of his surroundings. He pivoted on his heels to face you, the pan making a reflexive dive in your direction in what was meant to be some pitiful means of a defence. The white of his eyes blared through, his tall frame ducking slightly as he assumed a defensive position.

Your composure didn’t falter as you slunk into the seat; his reaction wasn’t any surprise, not when you lead the adrenaline-laced life of a hunter forced to guard their six on a daily. And you doubted he’d expected any company after you’d basically stopped existing outside of your room these last couple of days—and at this early hour, no less.

What did surprise you, though, was that the pancake had managed to cling to the metal of the skillet in the midst of his jolt.

As Sam drank in your familiar form, his broad shoulders sagged visibly under his growing relaxation, the vice grip he’d unintentionally taken up around the pan’s handle now relenting an inch.

“Oh,” he stuttered out, a flustered half-chuckle diffusing his misplaced adrenaline. He slunk toward the island with his head slightly bowed, his gaze flickering between you and the pan. “Hey,” he murmured, his lips pursing shortly after the meek sound, as though he were afraid to let the wrong words slip. His caution wasn’t misplaced; you hadn’t exactly been kind to him these last few days.

It usually went that way around this time of the month. The days stepping up to the anniversary of Dean’s death tended to trip you right into the worst vision of yourself. You were more sullen than usual, losing patience over minuscule things, and sinking jaws of hostility into anybody who’d even attempted to offer hollow words of comfort.

Bobby had been the first to withdraw with some muttered crap of I’m too old for this shit. But Sam had always been too forgiving. He’d stuck around regardless of your temper, taking all the verbal beatings while he tended to your unspoken needs in ways that you couldn’t. You owed him so much more than you were capable of giving at this time.

You leaned onto the cool marble of the island, your hands coming forward in a timid fold as your lips flattened into a pathetic spectacle of a smile. “Hey, Sam,” you murmured, and for a second, the sound startled you. It was so dull, so lifeless—you’d even go so far as to say that it was so unlike you.

It was a stark contrast to the version of yourself the brothers had learnt to tolerate, maybe even appreciate—constant chatter and running commentary streaming live from the backseat of the impala. Dean had gone so far as to nickname you sunshine and rainbows, trailing after the twin storm clouds—the Winchesters—that seemed to thunder down on the unassuming world. But now, you felt like nothing more than the rolling, gloomy skies that paved way for everything wet, woeful and destructive. A weather so devastating that a show of a rainbow would be a mockery rather than a promise.

Sam returned your smile almost sheepishly, his head dipping to drink in the view of the counter. “You, uh. . . you sleep alright?” He asked, the pan coming forward to leer you over as he tipped the metal downwards and crowned the seasoned stack of pancakes with the fresh newcomer.

Your eyes lowered to the newest addition of the pancake pile, following the faint trails of heat that seemed to rise with a freedom and lightness you craved to feel. “Yeah,” you lied, your lower lip instantly pulled into a tense bite. “Yeah, I slept. . . fine.”

You knew that Sam wasn’t convinced, the moment of silence following after evidence of some tactic he might’ve been mentally reviewing to try and coax the truth from you. You began tracing a line along the patterns of the marble counter with your index finger, anticipating the awkward conversation to come.

“Come on, really?” He laughed softly, but the sound was gentle and sympathetic, not slathered with amusement or scorn. “‘Cause I didn’t,” he confessed.

You glanced up at him in surprise, your finger halting in its place. “Really?” You breathed out softly, instant relief crashing over you. Maybe Sam hadn’t recovered as much as you thought he had, and as unfortunate as that was, you couldn’t help but feel slightly comforted—less alone.

He tipped his head to the side in consensus, a wry scoff piercing his lips. “Honestly? Can’t remember the last time I did,” he said, eyes flickering up to glance you over briefly before he turned his back on you to discard the pan at the sink. He slid over to the stove, flicking buttons and shifting dishes before he was back at the island. “I mean, I sleep—but just. . . not very well.” He took up a spatula and began shovelling at the pancake stack. “One?” He asked intuitively.

“One’s perfect,” you said. You watched as he dragged the rim of the spatula down the building of pancakes, stopping somewhere around the middle floor before he slid the utensil inward. He shimmied out a hot and fluffy pick, placing it onto your plate rather gingerly before he nudged it in your direction. “Thanks, Sam,” you murmured, receiving it with a forced show of eagerness—you didn’t want your lack of an appetite to make things more personal than they already felt.

“Yeah, anytime,” he answered, sparing you a soft smile before he took to plating his own stack of three.

You held off on digging into your singular pancake, hands idling around the knife and fork bracketing your plate as you waited for the younger Winchester to cover up the remainder of the breakfast.

With a satisfied dusting of his palms, he finally pushed his own plate across the marble to slide in a distance beside yours before he made his way around the island. He pulled out the seat beside you and settled himself down with a heavy plop and an appreciative grunt—almost like an old man of some sorts.

He took up his cutlery and glanced over at you with a comforting smile. “Time to, uh. . . dig in, I guess,” he laughed lightly. “There’s whipped cream and berries if you’d like.” His chin jutted to the listed toppings, and then his knifed hand jolted into the air suddenly. “Oh, and there’s syrup, too. I’ll fetch it from the pantry.”

Without waiting for your response, he set down the cutlery and shifted back in his chair, but you turned your body a slither to face him before he could slip away as quickly as your nerve.

“Sam, wait,” you said, your hands straying from the table to bundle in your lap in an anxious toying of fingers.

He halted in place almost instantly, turning to face you with his brows quirked an inch—like your sudden unrest was news to him. But you knew he was only trying to be polite in playing his attentive part; he likely knew exactly what this was about. “Yeah?”

You drank in his softened eyes, and they held so much purity and innocence that it caused your heart to sag with a fresh, guilt-ridden heaviness. It tugged your head down to the view of your lap, your chest heaving with a shuddering inhale. “I’m so sorry,” you blurted out, your voice rattled by so much regret that it began to quiver.

At the edge of your vision, you saw Sam settle back into his seat, arms drawing onto the counter. “Hey,” he cooed gently. “It’s oka—”

“No, it’s not okay,” you cut in hastily. “I need to say this. I’m sorry for everything—for the way I acted. . . for the things I said—you didn’t deserve any of it, Sam.” You began picking at the skin of your nails. “I just, I have all this. . . anger inside of me. I’m angry at myself, and I’m angry at Dean—I’m angry at everything cause everything’s just so fucking unfair. And I know that it’s not an excuse, but I just. . . I figured. . . I don’t know. There’s a lot I don’t know,” you scoffed, but you braved face and lifted your head to face him once more. “But I do know that I am truly, deeply sorry.”

Sam’s head lowered to take in the view of his plate, his eyes darting about the porcelain. “Listen,” he eventually murmured, his mouth stuttering around air as he searched for the right words. Eventually, he settled on grace. “I get it, okay?” His chin lifted to gift you with a break you didn’t think you deserved. “All that anger inside of you. . . I’ve felt it before—more than I’d like to admit, actually,” he laughed dryly before his expression warped into something more solemn. “It eats you up inside. . . makes you say and do things you wouldn’t usually say or do. There are so many times I’ve gone down that road, but Dean—he’s always been there to pull me back, even if it was by the tip of my ear.” He laughed again, this time more genuine, and you couldn’t help but crack a smile of your own.

Sam’s head lowered again, his smile simmering away. “Anyway, I guess what I’m tryna say is that, I get it. I get why you said the things you did, and I’m not mad about it. For once, I don’t feel that anger anymore.”

Slowly, your fingers began to still their fidgeting as you listened to him talk, your chest cooperating by letting up on its rapid pace.

The younger winchester upturned his eyes to yours with a new ferocity. “I’m here for you. I’m always gonna be here for you—and not just because I owe Dean that much, but because you’ve been there for me, too. So many times. Even at my. . .” He trailed off as he averted his gaze to the side, some unspoken shame breaching his conscious. You saw his Adam’s Apple bop under a heavy swallow before he turned back to you. “Even at my worst,” he continued. “So. . . don’t worry about it, really. I get it.”

For the first time in a long time, you found your eyes watering an emotion other than grief and heartbreak—something far lighter and rejuvenating. Love. Appreciation. Relief. You envied Sam’s ability to barrel through this cruel life so determined to pin him down, and you admired how each time, he seemed to emerge with a heart even larger than before. Even after all the rounds you’d emptied into his chest, he stood tall, still offering that hand you so desperately needed to pull you from your self-dug trenches.

Maybe, it was about time you finally took it.

The first tear slipped the keep of your eye, jettisoned from the ledge of your cheekbone to where it splattered across the marble top. Your hand flew to wipe the moisture away, an ugly sniff racking your chest. There was a clank of shifting metal before Sam’s hand came forward to brush your shoulder.

“Hey,” he cooed softly, and then you were carefully tugged into the side of his towering frame. “Come here,” he urged, and he was so gentle that it had you fully succumbing to his hold without a single reflexive need to resist. His arm snaked around your shoulder blades to hook around your arm as he drew you into a tight hug, your hands bundling further into your lap. “It’ll be okay. We’ll get through this. Together,” he added pointedly, a clear warning that he didn’t intend to let you get your lonely way again. You were okay with that.

Your lower lip began quivering with fresh emotion—guilt bouncing on the rim the heaviest. “I’m so sorry, Sam,” you reiterated.

Your felt his chin settle into the crown of your head, the vibration bouncing off your hair. “For what? Being human?” He laughed. “In case you haven’t noticed, we tend to be dicks from time to time, and I’d say hunters have more right than most to be a bigger one now and again.”

You laughed—actually laughed at that, the sound snotty and slightly gross, but real. Sam harmonised with his own throaty chuckle, the hand furled around your arm in a tight, reassuring grip relenting to rub comforting lines up and down the expanse.

“Now, enough of the pity party. Let’s finish these pancakes before they get cold, and then what do you say we pull out a couple of board games?” He gave you one last comforting squeeze before slowly releasing you from the hug.

You leaned away from him, centring your weight back over your own chair as you turned your head down to your plate with a thoughtful pout. “Okay,” you agreed, your chin ducking in tiny, accepting nods. You sniffed away the lingering tears, hand coming up to pat your eyes one last time for good measure. Then, your head swivelled to face him as you put on a weak smile. “Hey—think you’re smart enough to challenge me to a game of scrabble?”

Sam laughed as though your challenge was satire, but you frowned with slight offence, which sobered his smile into a look of confusion. “Wha—you’re serious?” He huffed, jaw gaped around disbelief.

“And why wouldn’t I be?” You exclaimed, your voice cracking around a light giggle—the first you’d uttered in a while. “I’m as smart as you are—we read the same books!”

His averted his gaze, head cocking to the side with a scoff before he glanced back at you in amusement. “Yeah, and after you gave your reports, I had to go back and reread every single one of those books to fill in information you left out,” he said pointedly.

You shook your head with light disbelief, a thin chuckle following after. “You know what? Let’s have that round, and if you win, you can bullshit my literacy skills all you like. Deal?” You outstretched your hand across the counter.

Sam’s gaze ducked to the gesture, his brows cocking on a look that you thought was a little too smug, before his hand reached to link with yours in an informal pact. “Deal,” he said through a scheming smirk.

You squeezed his hand lightly as a warning. “Wipe that douche-display off your lips, nothing’s set in stone.”

“Yeah, no, of course,” he replied nonchalantly, but when your hands unlinked, you saw the corner of his mouth hitch with some mental remark.

“All right, that’s it.” You took up your utensils while Sam glanced you over with slight surprise. You began digging into your pancake with a renewed sense, plopping the first piece into your mouth and taking on a ferocious chew. There was a brief wave of nausea at the food’s sudden intrusion before it quickly dissipated at the sweet taste, beckoning you back for another bite.

“You might wanna slow down there,” he laughed, hands tending to his own plate before they finally presented his first bite to his lips with far more poise.

“Uh uh,” you hummed through a mouthful, swallowing thickly before continuing. “I got a lot riding on this. You made it personal when you brought my ego into this. Sooner we’re done here, sooner I can beat you.”

Sam let out a disbelieved laugh, but didn’t argue any further as he began dissembling his own pancakes at a faster rate. Once you’d both lapped down the dough and licked the plates clean, you’d taken to washing up the dishes and wiping down the counters while Sam procured the board games that had long since collected dust. You’d taken the liberty of microwaving you both a bowl of popcorn and pouring glasses of soda while he set out the game within the living room. Then, you both settled down for the first round, snacks at the ready.

Sam had won, as he’d so smugly anticipated. But you weren’t so eager to be humiliated without a challenge, so for the rest of the day, you’d played out the game to a tally of the most wins. Hours seemed to pass like the impression of a second, the apartment growing dimmer and dimmer with each trailing retreat of the sun.

Eventually, you were both cast in a saturated bronze that poured in through the living room windows, illuminating the score page you’d scribbled up and further glorifying Sam’s final win. He took the game by far, and you were forced to acknowledge that maybe he was the smarter one of you both. Or at least the more apt thinker.

After that, you’d both powered through a movie of his choice, chowing down on some Chinese takeout he’d had delivered. And you emptied the carton down to the last noodle, appeasing the appetite you’d developed somewhere throughout the day. Already, you felt so much lighter—physically and mentally—and you knew that you owed it all to Sam and his perseverence. You couldn’t help but beam with some newfound appreciation for the younger Winchester.

Through the darkness, the tv screen emitted just enough light to illuminate Sam’s side profile. His eyes were glued to the screen, jaw circulating hasty chews as he practically inhaled his second bowl of popcorn. The sight made you shake your head with light amusement, and you watched him a little longer just for the sake of it.

“Hey, Sam?” You eventually called, which made him face you with a look of sudden concern.

His hand halted within his bowl. “Yeah?”

“Thank you. For today—for everything.” You offered him a warm, appreciative smile. He’d given you something you desperately needed today—a distraction. From everything and most definitely from yourself. Debts like those didn’t feel possible to repay, but you’d try, regardless. As long as it took.

Sam took a moment to drink in your words, his features motionless before his brows furrowed like he’d made nothing of your gesture. “Yeah, no problem,” he answered, a smile to match yours following shortly after. You both turned your attention back to the screen, and for the rest of the movie, you sat in comfortable, popcorn-tinged silence.

Once the movie came to an end, you’d both chatted about anything and everything until the first person let a yawn slip—that person being you. After that, you’d both tidied up the space, folded the blankets and packed the games back into their keep. Then, you’d dipped into your room to gather your old dishes, discarding the food and washing up the plates. Sam had helped pack it all away.

Once the day’s chores were wrapped up, you’d both exchanged your nightly greetings before going your separate ways. Sam retreated back to his room, though not without snagging a thick book from the shared reading shelf. You’d briefly slipped into your own room to pull out a fresh set of pyjamas and a towel before dipping your toes into a much needed shower.

Once you felt you’d scrubbed off enough of your week-long rot, you’d slunk from the shower and back to your room to call it a day. When you clicked the door closed behind you, you hovered on the spot with a hearty sigh into the dim atmosphere. You took a moment to reflect on the day, and for once, it provoked a smile—not sadness, not anger, not grief—but a genuine smile. The relief after the storm.

You flicked on the light and dressed yourself into your fresh set of clothes, teeth brushed and hair secured back before you flicked the lights off and sank into your bed with a new type of exhaustion. A fulfilling one. It wasn’t long before sleep arrived to hurl you into vivid dreams, and not unlike other times, you dreamt of Dean.

Within your bed, he had you bare and sprawled out beneath his own nude figure, his lips wandering gentle, curious trails along the side of your jaw before dipping down the ledge to trawl the arch of your neck. His elbows propped him up on either side of your head as he took his time to lovingly brand you with his wet caress, your own hands combing blissful strokes through his hair.

You sank back into your pillow, lips parting with breathy mewls as he shifted his attention down to your breasts. He moved to cup one tenderly, tongue swirling a loop around the hardened bud, his strained moan sprawling into the mix of stimulation as you tightened your hold within his hair.

“Dean,” you exhaled weakly, for no reason other than to verbalise the unorthodox way he made you feel. Your teeth found your lower lip in a restrained nibble as he acknowledged your absent-minded praise with a gentle kneading of your breast—as if he sought to gorge on it to the point of total devouring.

You felt the blood flow vigorously to your chest, spurred onward by the suctioning of his lips, and it pooled at your nipple, causing it to throb within his hold. You let slip a soft noise of discomfort, your hand collapsing from his hair to gently push him back at the collarbone.

Dean’s head lifted to yours, a slight pant wafting from his glistening lips. “All good there, sunshine?” He murmured, hand slipping from your breast to run a light, reassuring finger across your cheek. He smudged away the moisture beading along your skin before settling his thumb in the divot of your chin.

“Too much,” you breathed through a dazed grin, hand coming up to gently wrap around his wrist. “You’re like a leech,” you added with a soft giggle.

His lips thinned in a proud smirk, encouraged by your tease rather than offended. “Damn right I am—have you tasted you? Freakin’ delicious,” he praised, smacking his lips in a dramatic show and tell. It made you giggle and release his wrist to pin his lips between your thumb and index finger, and you held them captive while he mumbled noises of protest. He looked so ridiculous, it warmed your heart.

“Stop that!” You laughed, your cheeks flushing hot at the silly sight of him.

Dean wiggled his lips between your grasp until he was able to wrap his lips around a finger, nibbling your skin tenderly so that you released a light squeal and pulled away from his famished lips. “Stop what?” He mocked lightheartedly, head lowering down to you as he followed after your retreating hand with a determined grin playing his lips.

Your hands flew to your chest in a pretence of helplessness, your giggles elevating to a heartier laugh as he pretended to chase after them. His teeth acquainted the air all around them with animated chomps, but made no good on the promise. Eventually, he gave up the hunt and pressed his lips to the side of your jaw, gradually tracing his way up to the soft curve of your cheek before he drew back an inch to gaze into your eyes.

“My sunshine,” he said softly, adoringly, leaning down to nuzzle the button of your nose with his own before he placed a soft kiss there.

Your heart trilled love-struck melodies around Dean’s proud declaration, the magnitude of your smile hoisting up the apples of your cheeks until your eyes were compressed into half-moons. “Say it again,” you murmured, palms drifting up to frame his face and thumbs twiddling to soothe the humps of his cheeks.

Your touch set Dean’s composure alight, his sultry stare softening into something more pure and needy. His eyes narrowed as he gazed down at you, as though you had captured his complete and undivided attention. You found yourself getting so wrapped up in their green depths that for a second, it felt like you couldn’t breathe.

“You’re my sunshine,” he repeated in a voice so low and soft that it bordered a husky whisper, but the love imbued into those words carried through as clear as a shout. “I don’t care if that sounds like the title of a Jane Austen novel. You’ve got this. . . fire to you, the kind that nobody—nothin’ can gank. And you draw people into your orbit like they’d never stood a damn chance. Trust me, I sure as hell didn’t,” he laughed, both his hands coming up as a unit to brush back the hair framing your face. “And you’re warm. . .” He trailed off to place a kiss on your cheek, “—and radiant—” and then the other. “And my whole goddamn universe.”

You gazed at him as he pulled away from your proximity, his eyes brimming with love as he waited for your response. What you wanted to say was, “I knew you read Jane Austin in your free time!”, a harmless poke that would keep this tender moment elevated at meaningful heights. Then you’d both share a laugh, and melt into the night cocooned within each other’s warmth.

But deep down, something more solemn tugged at the strings of your heart—an unanswered question that slowly began to resurface despite your attempt to bury it time and time again. So instead, you said, “then how could you leave me?”

Dean’s face warped into a light frown, your question catching him off guard. For a few seconds, he did nothing but stare, his lips parting to search for an answer that you’d waited months to hear. But when he looked as though he might finally answer, no sound carried through to lay your suspense to rest. His mouth gaped and his lips moved, but they formed nonsensical words, and no matter how hard you tried to focus and decipher your most craved confession, it never came to you.

Then, the scene around you began to distort, the lights cutting out and the shapes of the room’s decor warping erratically. And when you blinked, Dean had disappeared entirely—his atoms scattered into the cosmos of your mind. You tried to call out to him, to summon him back to his rightful place beside you, but it seemed as though he were destined to be robbed from the palm of your hands—both in the waking world, and in the confines of your own mind.

And then you, in your entirety, were dissolved into a black abyss, the surroundings melting away like you’d imagined it all in a vivid episode of mania. For a moment, you floated around in a void, your mind slowly dissociating from the fantasies of its own creation. You heard nothing, saw nothing, but somehow, you felt a touch lingering upon your arm. It was warm, familiar, and even though no face materialised to claim it, you knew that it was Dean.

You prepared yourself to mourn the loss of it once you emerged into the waking world, but as your eyes fluttered open, your lids blinking frantically to clear your vision, the touch didn’t fade. If anything, it became more palpable, solid—real. And when you’d adjusted enough to the dawn haze shrouding your room, it wasn’t the image of the leather jacket that arrived first to taunt you.

It was Dean.

You blinked harder, more desperately, your heart rate skyrocketing as you attempted to rationalise whatever fucked up delusion your exhausted mind was currently displaying you. But his body didn’t vaporise into nothingness, and blinking didn’t seem to possess the same parlour trick of making the rabbit disappear, like it did in your dreams.

It was real.

There he sat, as stoic as a statue, at the edge of your mattress, and the hand you’d felt cupping your arm stroked up the curve of your shoulder to gently frame your neck. The contact sent a shiver up your spine, your lips falling open to expel a shaky breath.

It can’t be, you thought, your brows contracting in a puzzled frown. He’s dead—he’s in hell, he can’t be here.

Through the dawn gloom, you could make out the faintest stretch of his lips—an almost simper. “Good mornin’, Sunshine.” But you didn’t recognise the voice. It was low, gruff and abraded, like his vocal cords had been extracted and sent through the grinder before being forcibly shoved back into its compartment. And he sounded dull, the type of dull you’d come to embody in his absence. It was. . . anything but Dean Winchester.

Your lower lip began to quiver, your shoulder drawing into yourself as you shied away from his touch. “This isn’t real,” you choked out, hastily collecting yourself onto your elbows as you sought to put some distance between you two. “You’re not real!” You exclaimed in rising volume, which had the impersonator stretching out both his hands in a steadying motion.

“You’ll wake Sammy,” he whispered urgently—a harsh sound that came across as more of a scold.

You frowned as you inched yourself a fraction across the mattress, eager to reach the end opposite to where he sat. “Who are you?” You demanded in a tone more regulated, your hand subtly reaching behind you to grab ahold of the salt container you kept on the bedside table like a framed picture.

Dean’s eyes seemed to follow your not-so-subtle play with dry amusement. “It’s me,” he insisted gruffly, his hands coming to settle on his knees—and one of them bounced with unspoken thoughts. It was a habit you’d come to recognise since knowing him, and it did a fraction of a favour in vouching for his authenticity. “It’s Dean,” he continued, eyes straying from your hands to settle onto your face.

“No,” you refused, and behind you, your fingers grabbed ahold of the salt. “Dean Winchester died—four months ago,” you explained in a low, but no less stern voice. “So I’m going to ask you again—who are you?”

His nostrils seemed to flare with dwindling patience, his eyes flickering off to the side. “Man, paranoia’s one son o’a bitch,” he scoffed under his breath before turning to face you again. “Listen, I know you’re not gonna believe me. And I also know that you’re about to baptise me with a shit ton o’ salt to barbecue the livin’ crap outta whatever demon you think’s got his hand stuck up my ass.” He began reaching into his shirt pocket. “Now, as much as I’d love to swallow a mouthful of killer blood pressu—” his words were cut short as you tossed a handful of salt in his direction, the mound not shying away from taking a bold dip in his mouth.

The assault dealt no physical damage to his body, but it did earn a passionate look of annoyance from Dean, whose jaw slowly circumducted as his tongue began shovelling the salty hell from his mouth. You scrutinised him for a few seconds longer, not so eager to let down your guard because of one passed test.

“You’re not a demon?” You asked more than stated.

His jaw fell limp at your question, a slow blink accentuating his displeasure. “Clearly not,” he said lowly, the words slurred by his unwillingness to taste the salt with proper pronunciation.

He leaned forward, hand reaching for the box of tissues sitting atop the beside table, and yanked a few free. He brought it up to his lips, where he spat furiously to cleanse his mouth. After a rough clearing of his throat, he bundled up the tissues, tossed it onto the table and glanced over at you once more. “Listen, I’ve already been through all the tests back at Bobby’s. I was goin’ to pull out the phone and get him on the line to clear me before you decided I needed some seasonin’,” he said flatly.

You watched him suspiciously, your brow quirking in disbelief. “Fine,” you said tensely, but offered nothing further.

Dean frowned lightly, his eyes doing a brief and clueless sweep of the room as though he expected you to offer more clarity. He settled his attention back onto you, his chin lifting slightly as he uttered a cautious, “okay.” He began reaching into his pocket once more, the movement deliberately slowed. “Just gonna reach for the phone, alright? So hands off the fuckin’ salt,” he said, eyes flickering between you and the container. “Please,” he added gruffly, and then his had retracted with the phone.

You prowled after his every move like a predator, but despite your weariness, you still lowered the salt an inch. You watched as he flicked open the phone, thumb gliding across the keypad as he pulled up Bobby’s number. Then, he lifted the phone to his ear, eyes trained on you with equal caution as he waited for the line to connect him to the opposite end.

You heard the static click, and a voice blared through shortly after—Bobby’s voice. The sound soothed your heart by a slither.

“Hey, Bobby,” Dean greeted, passing his tongue along his lower lip. “Listen, I, uh. . . I need ya to do that thing I told you I’d need—you know, vouchin’ for me and all.” On the other end of the line, Bobby uttered a few, incomprehensible words. “Yeah,” Dean laughed weakly. “Yeah. . . she threw me with the salt. Just like you said.” His eyes flickered to you with subtle amusement before Bobby said something else. Then, he was handing you the phone.

You narrowed your eyes in skepticism before your free hand reached for the phone, so careful not to graze his skin as you retrieved it from his fingers. Dean seemed to notice the rejection, and his mouth gaped slightly with the hurt it evoked. You pushed aside the image, but didn’t stray from his face as you brought the phone up to your ear.

“Hello?” You called into the line.

“Hey, kid, it’s me,” Bobby’s static voice answered. “Listen, I know you’re goin’ through one helluva mind-fuck right ‘bout now. . . but it’s ‘im, kid. It’s Dean.” He trailed into silence after those words, providing an interval he expected you’d fill with some sort of taken aback reaction. But all you could do was choke on your stunned silence, your heart beginning to ram at your chest harder than it’d ever managed before. “Kid? Y’still there?”

Dean’s eyes narrowed all-knowingly as he watched you in patient silence. His hand shifted from his lap an inch, like he yearned to reach out to you and offer some reassurance, but you both knew it’d do little to soothe you in this current predicament—the mental debate of whether or not the man you loved was really back.

Eventually, your body hosted a response, but it wasn’t one you’d preferred to have at this instant. A tear clotted along your one eye, bundling up until it was heavy enough to slip over the edge. Dean’s expression visibly softened, his jaw clenching with the knowledge that he couldn’t exactly pull you into a tight embrace—not just yet, anyway.

Your lips loosened, a rattled breath breaking through. “I saw his body, Bobby,” you pushed out in a quiver. Another tear lined the opposite cheek. “I watched you and Sam dig that fucking hole. . . and I watched you roll his lifeless, rotting corpse over the edge before cementing him under six fucking feet of dirt.”

The phone line hissed and crackled with the silent air on Bobby’s side. You almost thought he’d given up the ruse that you were so determined to believe you’d gotten caught up in, but then his voice blared through—the most tender and sympathetic you’ve ever heard it.

“I know you’re confused,” he began. “Hell, this shit had me believin’ that my family’s history of Alzheimer’s had finally kicked the bucket out from under me. But I did all the tests, and I interrogated him over and over again. I gave him hell, kid, but in the end, it’s really him. Y’know I wouldn’t have even thought ‘bout lettin’ him get close to ya if I weren’t certain o’ it. So if ya can’t trust ‘im just yet, then trust me. I give ya my word.”

Your fingers gripped the phone a little tighter, if only to still the trembling of your hand, and you gave a large sniff as you processed his words. Your eyes still bore into Dean, as though it would keep him pinned to the spot should he think about making a run for it.

You shifted the phone against your ear an inch, taking your lower lip into a tense bite before you spoke again. “Okay,” you breathed softly. “I trust you, Bobby.”

From Bobby’s end, shuffling noises chafed your ear like sand-paper. “Alright, kid, I’ll leave the two o’ ya to it. Good luck,” he said, and then the line terminated with a beep. The call’s ending tune reached Dean’s ear, where he shifted on the mattress almost anxiously while he waited for your decision.

“So, uh,” he began, his lips stuttering on the right words as his head buckled to face the hands he’d crossed in his lap. His palms rubbed tense lines—like the scheming motion of a fly—before he glanced back up at you. “We good?” He settled on. You saw the subtle desperation in the clench of his jaw. He craved the pardon only you could give him.

Slowly, you lowered the phone from your ear, flipping it closed as your chest rattled with another, shaky breath. Your eyes began to water once more, and this time, it didn’t hold back. In a second, you were hurling yourself across the mattress, arms flailing through the air to wrap around his neck with a desperation that could have body-slammed him to the floor.

“Woah,” he steadied in a laugh that sounded all too relieved.

Your chest crashed into Dean’s, and his hands were hasty to return your hug as he wrapped himself around your waist. There, he completed the embrace, pulling you against him so tightly that it started to pinch the meat of your skin through your shirt. But you didn’t care if his grip left behind a bruise—you’d consider it a physical reminder of just how real this all was.

You pressed your face into the crook of his neck, all the pent up emotions you’d come to harbour over these last few months finally liberated from your clutch. The tears began to roll without practiced regulation, and you found yourself yielding all control. Because being around Dean always had you feeling safe enough to do so, and your body had utilised its muscle-memory to re-establish that foundation. To rebuild the home that his death had wrecked.

“I thought I’d lost you forever,” you whispered against the stubbled skin of his neck, the sound heavy and cracked.

His palm stroked slow, comforting circles across your lower back, his own face buried against the slope of your shoulder. You felt his warm breath waft over your skin as he spoke. “Me too,” he pushed out tensely. Shakily. There were very few moments that you’d ever heard that tone on him. “I didn’t think I was ever comin’ back,” he admitted. “Didn’t think I’d ever see you, or Sammy—hell, even Bobby, again. But I’m not complainin’,” he added hastily. “Shit, I’ll never complain ‘bout anythin’ e’er again. I got everythin’ I need right here.”

He shifted against you, torso pulling back as though he couldn’t wait a second longer to peer into your eyes. You leaned yourself back in rhythm, your cheeks blown red with your overwhelmed state and your eyes still glistening with fresh tears. You kept your hands looped around his neck, fingers still clutching his phone, and your heart was seized by a new fist of pain as you saw Dean’s bloodshot eyes pave way for his own, sparse—but undeniably real—tears.

His hands settled at your hips, fingers subconsciously squeezing at the meat as he did a mental walkthrough of his own emotions. “I missed you so goddamn much,” he whispered, his lower lip trembling now. “God, all I could think ‘bout down there, every second of every miserable day, was you—how much I needed you. How much I missed you.” His chest jolted with a forced, but much needed exhale to steady his next words. “And how much I love you.”

You choked on your breath at that final confession, words that—up until now—had never directly admitted. You couldn’t help but huff a slight breath of disbelief, a weak grin beaming through as your eyes softened with a warmth that made you feel whole again. Dean, himself, looked slightly stunned at his declaration, his eyes widening mildly as he drank in your reaction. But as you gazed at him, there was no undertone of regret or shame mingling with his features. There was only what looked like relief, if the slight quirking of his lips and the soft sigh that followed after was any indication.

Maybe, it was relief attributed to the fact that he’d finally started to unpack—and put words to—some of his more complex emotions. It made you feel so much closer to him.

Without sparing it another thought, you blurted your own reciprocation. “I love you too, Dean.”

He smiled tenderly at that, and neither one of you moved as you shared an intense stare that circulated all sorts of emotion—love, adoration, and desire. Then, as though some unspoken agreement had been exchanged, you dove down to meet his lips in a fierce kiss, the phone you’d been clutching dropping to some surface beyond your current care.

Dean’s hands trailed up the expanse of your back as he returned your kiss hungrily, his lips feuding with yours for an advantage of the play. He wasted no time sliding his hands beneath the hem of your shirt, his warm palms massaging a determined, upward trajectory until he gained enough leverage to tug it over your head.

The kiss broke off momentarily as your arms flew up in an eager gesture to shed your layers, your chest heaving with the exertion. He managed to successfully tug the shirt over your head, the neckline the last to go and leaving behind an impression as it briefly snagged onto your hair. When he gave it one last freeing tug, your hair tie came loose amidst the commotion, your hair cascading across your bare torso in fresh, yet slightly damp strands.

Dean came forward to press two distinct kisses against your lips—hasty, but a bold statement in itself—before he leaned back to roll his shoulders and discard his own clothing. Your hands flew to his chest in aid, fingers sliding beneath the isles of his unbuttoned shirt to push it over the slopes of his shoulders. His hands twisted behind himself to pluck each sleeve from his arms with practiced speed, discarding it some place behind him before he was tugging his snugly-fitting tee over his head.

Instantly, your attention lowered down his toned torso, the glorified sight of him causing your core to pulse with desire. You didn’t get to exploit his image for long before he hogged your view with another, fierce tumble of the lips, his hands grabbing at your waist like he’d needed to remember what you felt like. Your tongues found one another with an ease that felt like its fates were tied, swirling about in a seductive dance to the death. Your hands settled at his neck, gently rubbing and kneading the skin as you allowed yourself to melt into his devouring.

When your palms wandered further down the contoured muscle of his broad shoulders, you felt the skin of his left bicep raise in a questionable pattern. The contact over that area made Dean wince into your mouth, and then he withdrew from the kiss with a feral pant, eyes shifting from an insatiable hunger to a more vulnerable uncertainty. It was enough of a reaction to tear your gaze away from him and steal a glance at the mood-killing discovery. But you almost wished you hadn’t stumbled upon it because the sight of a raised, red handprint seared into the flesh of his forearm made your eyes widen in horror.

“Dean—” you breathed, overcome with the instinctive need to trace your hand over the anomaly, but his shoulder withdrew from your curious touch, which called your attention back to him. “What happened?” You asked softly.

He shook his head lightly, taking a moment to acknowledge the marking with a newfound solemness. His chin dipped down for a second, a broken, incomplete noise dangling from his lips. You knew then, that whatever grim reminder had been imbued into this branding was something too fresh to confront at this time, so you made the silent decision not to probe him about it any further.

You moved to cradle his face, tilting it up to you. His expression looked defeated, his eyes sagging with a heavy fatigue. You didn’t doubt that hell had had its tolls—if anything, you were surprised that he’d come out of it in one piece. Physically, at least. Whatever mental deconstruction he’d undergone during his time there was knowledge beyond your grasp, and a conversation for another time. Hell had already taken enough from the both of you; you wouldn’t let it have this moment, too.

“If you want to stop, just say the word,” you told him gently, offering a hearty smile. “We can just lay here and cud—“

“No,” he answered, the hands at your waist tightening with new resolve. “We’re gonna cuddle, alright, but after we’ve had our overdue fun,” he said, a newfound smirk creeping through his evident exhaustion. “I’ve waited too damn long for this day—hell if I pass it up in a blink.”

You loved it when he took charge this way. Your teeth peered through your lips in an exhilarated grin, and then, you let out a yelp of excitement as he pushed you back onto the mattress, his frame following closely in a controlled hover as he positioned himself on top of you. His lips came crashing down onto yours, the heated dynamic between the two of you returning full-forced, as though it’d never been interrupted in the first place.

Your hands wandered messy lines up and down his neck, occasionally dipping down to glide over the curve of his pecks. The heat in your core began to build with every second you spent tumbled within the skilled warmth of his lips, his hands adding fuel to the fire with the way they staggered along your exposed torso to grace any and every inch of your skin.

He pulled away to drag his moist lower lip up your cheek, pressing a kiss to your temple before he whispered into your ear. “I need to feel you. I need to have all o’ you,” he breathed, and then he pulled away as quickly as he’d arrived, leaning back onto his knees as his fingers found firm grip at your shorts.

He tugged the material down mercilessly, pulling your underwear along with it, and you lifted your legs with a giddy laugh to allow him all the access he needed to yank it free. He tossed it to the other end of the room, his hands flying to undo his belt and jeans while his fixated you with focused eyes—like he was silently entertaining all the things he’d like to do to you.

He shed his boots at the foot of the bed to terminate his undressing, and your eyes immediately lowered to the bowing length of his manhood. It felt cheap—ogling him this way, but something about the sight felt so validating that you couldn’t help but stare. Maybe it was knowing that the mere sight of you was enough to spur him on in this manner, and god, you needed him just as much as he evidently needed you.

Your core throbbed more impatiently now, your built-up arousal taking the first of its leave through the slit of your folds. You were tempted to call out to him, to utter the first, desperate words of beckoning, but Dean seemed to clock your needs almost instantly. He leaned back down to you with a charming smirk, one hand propping himself up at the side of your waist while his other took ahold of his manhood.

“Ready, sunshine?” He murmured—low and rough and slightly dazed with his own suffocating arousal.

Your core seemed to answer before you did, the area beaming hot at the mere sound of his voice. You pushed out a needy hum, and Dean wasted no time in sliding his tip between your folds. He breached through your slicked entrance with ease, his head tilting back an inch and his eyes fluttering closed as he pushed out a gruff moan. He sank himself further into you, his length conforming to your walls in perfect unity. Instinctively, your legs propped to give him better access, and the action drew him in even further.

“Fuck,” he murmured lowly, his head then tilting forward as he gathered himself and fully leaned himself down to you. He placed a kiss onto your lips for good measure, both arms scooping beneath yours in a sure grip. His fists balled at either side of your head, and you wrapped your own arms around his neck.

“I need you, Dean,” you cooed into his ear, and he left slip a breathy sound of acknowledgment before he drilled the first thrust into you.

You both harmonised with noises of pleasure, your nails digging into the nape of his neck as his hips began swaying at a faster pace. He leaned his forehead down against yours, lips parted as he fought to steady the feral breaths of pleasure heaving his chest.

Your eyes stuttered closed as his thrusts deepened and deepened, curving against your walls and gliding to meet your sweet spot at just the right angle. Your head burrowed back into your pillow, your lips gaping with a loud moan. It made Dean lower himself onto your lips, taking them between his in a soft, chiding nibble. You breathed into him erratically, releasing noises that gradually became more and more slurred until you became a hot, panting mess.

His own control seemed to slip from his grasp as he began to grunt and whimper against your cheek, his head eventually falling past yours to graze your ear with just the right verbal performance to add to the contractions of that growing ache within.

His thrusts became firmer—but not brutal. They were passionate and needy all at once, but still laced with a sort of caution that only deep admiration could warrant. He gave a few more firm thirsts, both of you heaving against one another with the approach of your climax. Then, with a final jerk of his hips, the knot that had tethered you to one another came undone in a cascading warmth.

You felt it seep from your entrance, and for a second, Dean didn’t stir from atop you. He remained hovered over you, the point of his nose brushing your cheek methodically as he attempted to replenish his lungs and recover from his own bliss.

“Jesus,” he remarked, an impressed chuckle tickling your ear. “All this time apart, and still it doesn’t feel like I ever slipped your spell.”

You released your own breathless chuckle. “I’m usually opposed to captivity of any sort, but in this case, thank god for that.”

Finally, Dean withdrew from inside of you, collapsing to side of the mattress nearest to the door—his space. Rightfully occupied at last. He reached over to pluck some tissues from the nightstand before turning back to you, fumbling the tissue between his fingers before he began dabbing at the moisture along your forehead.

He gazed at you through loving eyes, so soft and vast that it made your heart throb—like you were falling in love all over again. Dean seemed to notice the lovesick look on your face because he smiled with an expression to match. He leaned down to press a kiss to your lips, and you puckered your own to receive it eagerly. And then he shifted momentarily to clean you down below.

When he came back up to you, he flicked the used tissues off to the side, and then instantly, you were pulled against his chest in a tight embrace. The skin-on-skin contact soothed you, your body relaxing almost instantly within his firm hold—a type of pressure therapy that only worked because it was him. It felt so safe and natural, so you melted further into him, and the hand he’d cupped around the back of your hair began to massage a soothing pattern into your scalp.

Everything about this moment was enough to lull you into a much needed state of relaxation, your body finally unwinding after months of being held together at the threads. Your eyes drifted close, your breathing deepening with the newfound peace.

“You know,” Dean said suddenly, beckoning to your senses. Your eyes remained closed, but you hummed softly to acknowledge him. “Down there, time works differently.” That piqued your interest enough to part you eyes in narrow slits. “You said I’ve been gone for four months? Well, for me, it’s been forty years.”

Your eyes widened fully now, your lips split with some bewildered gasp. “Dean,” you sympathised softly, hand moving from its place at his chest to stroke along his cheek. “I’m so sorry—that sounds awful.”

He shifted to place a kiss on the first part of your palm he could reach. “It ain’t your fault,” he assured you thinly, his eyes bowing under his own exhaustion—as if the mere recollection drained him. “If anythin’, you got me through it. I don’t have to tell you just how shitty things are down in Satan’s basement,” he laughed, but you knew there was no real humour behind it, only pain. “But you. . . just thinkin’ o’ you. . . rememberin’ what I’ve gotta fight for, it kept me sane. Strong.”

You smiled weakly, his words evoking a mixture of warmth and guilt all at once. You appreciated that you’d been able offer him some sort of comfort in your mere memory, but at the same time, you wished he hadn’t needed it to begin with.

Hell was no place for a good man like him.

“Well, you’re back now,” you offered softly, your hands shifting to wrap around his torso in a hug. His own arms wrapped around your upper back, pulling you so tightly against him that you thought your beings might finally form a physical union to mirror the spiritual tying of your souls.

“And I’m here to stay,” he finished in a faint murmur, the words—the promise—hot against the crown of your head.

Those words lingered in your mind as you eventually drifted into a sleep, the steady sound of his breathing the last thing you needed to loosen your grip on reality. Darkness came to claim you, and this time, you welcomed it eagerly.

When you roused into the waking world, your room was fully lit with the tell of noon. The finding was indication enough that you’d stolen the sleep of a lifetime, and there was no lingering heaviness perched on your lids this time around. It filled you with a sense of satisfaction, and you blinked a few times to ground your bleary senses.

When you stirred against the sheets, you heaved a deep breath, your lungs expanding around a newfound sense of inner peace. Instinctively, your arm reached across the mattress to claim the touch of man you loved, but where you expected to feel the warmth of his skin, you felt nothing but the cool, empty space of the comforters.

With a jolt, you sat yourself up, head swivelling about the room with a sense of panic. Dean was nowhere to be found. Your mind instantly began reeling with endless possibilities, your breathing elevating with a growing sense of panic—had you imagined it all? Had he ever been here to begin with? Had you finally snapped and gone insane?

But when you took a moment to lower your head and drink in your frame, you found yourself to be as bare as when you’d fallen asleep. You shifted to the edge of the mattress, feeling some slither of relief that your clothes were where you’d left them—discarded about the room in ruthless bundles. And then, out of instinct, your eyes wandered over to your desk chair, where you expected to greet the leather jacket that had become a pivotal part of your morning routine.

Only, your heart lurched when the chair glared back at you with a bare rim—the jacket nowhere in sight.

Beyond the walls, mingled laughter brightened the atmosphere. The sound made you slip from the mattress almost instantly, where you darted about the room to gather your scattered pyjamas in a hurry before slipping it over your frame. You dashed toward the bedroom door, twisting the handle with anticipation before you practically hurled yourself into the hallway.

When you entered into the open-plan living room, you found that Dean and Sam were weaving rather chaotic ant trails around the kitchen’s floor, each brother tending to steaming dishes that you were too far away to appreciate in detail. But you weren’t paying much attention to it, anyway. You were far too focused on watching Dean, as though you’d had to solidify the mental image of his presence—to believe that he was really here, and here to stay. And the best part of it all is that he was wearing the leather jacket you’d thought would never come to crown another set of shoulders again. It was the last image you needed to place the final puzzle piece in your heart—no, you felt truly fulfilled.

Some part of you had thought—just for a second—that your reunion had been a figment of your imagination. But now, you could breathe a little easier knowing that Dean had truly returned, rooted in flesh as he drifted about the kitchen with an extra skip in his step.

Just then, he spun on his heels to nick something off the counter, his head lifting in your direction as he finally noticed your loitering figure. “Second g’mornin’ to you, sunshine,” he called to you, birthing a cheeky smirk. He flashed a quick glance at Sam before turning back to you. “In case you were wonderin’, Sammy here’s all caught up,” he said. “So let’s skip the big, mushy family reunion and get movin’ on those damn tacos. I’m starvin’”.

“Tacos?” You echoed with a light laugh.

Sam appeared at his big brother’s side, beaming so brightly, it was almost blinding. “We’re having tacos for lunch. Everything’s basically finished,” he piped in, casting a pleading glance in your direction. “Would you mind helping me plate it?”

Your heart settled as you drank the both of them in. This was the life you’d come to miss so dearly, and you couldn’t help but smile appreciatively. You jerked your chin in Dean’s direction. “Why don’t you make him do it?” You teased, padding your way over to the kitchen island.

“Call it a family discount,” Dean chuckled smugly, rounding the counter to draw up at your side. “Or, y’know, the breakin’ free from hell card.”

You shook your head lightly, narrowing your eyes at him. “Isn’t it a little too soon?” You scoffed.

“You let me worry ‘bout my own shit,” he replied, gracing you with a charming wink.

You didn’t offer anything further as you turned your attention down to the prepped toppings spread out across the counter—mince, lettuce, guacamole, chilli sauce, salsa, cheese and the taco shells themselves. You reached for the empty plates and began topping each one with the hollow taco shells, moving to fill the first one with the toppings.

Dean snuck up behind you, his hands finding grip at your waist while his chin came to rest atop your shoulder. His lips grazed your ear. “Thank you for lookin’ after my jacket,” he murmured. “I didn’t think I’d be seein’ this old thing again.”

You smile at his words, hands shifting to stuff the taco with the next pick of toppings. “My reason for keeping it was more selfish than that,” you admitted. “I just couldn’t bear to move it. It would’ve felt too final.”

He hummed a noise of understanding, a soft kiss gracing the side of your neck. “The only thing that’s final is that I’m back,” he said. “You don’t gotta worry ‘bout that anymore, alright?”

“I know,” you murmured, and Dean squeezed you in a light hug, but continued to keep you tucked within his hold as you finished stuffing the taco. You lifted it over your shoulder, carefully guiding it toward his lips.

He released an approving noise before leaning forward to accept your offering in a gluttonous chomp, his lips practically smothering your fingers as though it were deemed part of the meal. You giggled at the feeling, taco fragments scattering across your shoulder as he chewed the food intently.

“How does it taste?” You asked him, turning your head to get a better view of his expression.

His eyes did a roll of appreciation, his cheeks swelled with the large bite. He hummed a string of approval, coupled with a content, repeating nod. Once he gave a hearty swallow, he cleared his throat in satisfaction.

“Tastes like sunshine.”

──────────────────────

a/n ─ can you tell i had the time of my life writing this?? can you tell?? anon i love your mind so so much please never stop your special creativity. i will be tending to my other requests soon, and i encourage you all to keep on sending them through. i appreciate you ALL and your lovely ideas, as well as the support and trust you have in me to flesh out your fantasies 🫶 now, it’s literally almost 4 am as i publish this so nighty night beautiful people!

thank you for reading! all likes, comments & reblogs are deeply appreciated

tags ─ @gibson-g1rl @fallbhind @bohemianblasphemy @figthoughts @deansbbyx @angelicjackles @titsout4jackles @starzify @ultravi0lence14 @floralscented

want to be apart of the taglist for any future jensen ackles works?

other works ─ supernatural masterlist

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grandprixprincess · 4 months ago

Text

hermana || ln4

lando norris x fem!reader smau

summary: after running into lando at the singapore gp, he finally shoots his shot. reader is family friends with carlos and is like a little sister to him. friends to lovers.

warnings: some language

a/n: my first smau! all the images used were found on pinterest!

yourusername posted

liked by yourbestfriend, carlossainz55, iamrebeccad, and others

yourusername little getaway with my bestie <3

tagged: yourbestfriend

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yourbestfriend had so much fun ily

yourusername ily ❤️👯‍♀️

iamrebeccad 😍

yourusername see you soon !!!

frienduser so cute!!

carlossainz55 posted

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carlossainz55 Anything can happen in Singapore, ready for it 💪🏻🌶

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user1 carlos girlies how are we feeling???

user2 jaw dropped

user3 we need a trigger warning next time sir

yourusername when did this become a whore house?

user4 lmao y/n the icon you are user5 she's always dragging him user6 wait i'm new here...who is she to carlos?? user4 they are family friends and grew up together user5 yeah they are like siblings!!

yourusername posted a story

caption: ready to support mi hermano under the lights of singapore!

yourusername posted

liked by yourbestfriend, yoursister, iamrebeccad, carlossainz55, landonorris, and others

yourusername singapore you were amazing ❤️ (minus the part where carlos crashed into the wall in Q3)

tagged: iamrebeccad, carlossainz55

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yoursister love you guys!

user1 the caption lmao

carlossainz55 not sure if we needed to mention that last part but happy that you joined us mi hermana!

yourusername ❤️

user2 ultimate sibling energy

user3 y/n stays keeping carlos humble

landonorris it was great seeing you!

yourusername you too! congrats again on the win!! user4 lando wtf are you doing here user5 they used to hang out a lot when carlos was at mclaren!

landonorris posted

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landonorris Singapore you were amazing ❤️

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user1 LFGGGG YES LANDO

user2 lando three wins 🏆🏆🏆

yourusername okay caption stealer 🤨

landonorris oops my bad 😉 yourusername i'll let it slide since you won user3 lando norizz flirting on main??? carlossainz55 what's going on here 🤨 user4 carlos is just like us fr

yourusername posted a story

caption: ☁️🌅✈️

story replies:

yourbestfriend you better keep me updated on how it goes 😜

yourusername i'll call you tonight to debrief

landonorris can't wait to see you

yourusername thanks for offering to pick me up 🥰 landonorris of course. don't think I could've waited until Wednesday 😅 yourusername me either 😂

carlossainz55 hey you never sent me your flight info. what time do I need to pick you up?

yourusername ahhh sorry I meant to tell you!! lando is picking me up and taking me to your place carlossainz55 lando??? yourusername yes? carlossainz55 what is going on? yourusername wdym?

yourusername posted a close friends story

caption: 5 stars for my uber driver 🤩

story replies:

yourbestfriend omgggg it's giving passenger princess

iamrebeccad 👀

yourusername hehe i'll fill you in tonight yourusername unless carlos beats me to it 🙄

carlossainz55 when are you getting here?

yourusername tf chill

yoursister oh I just know carlos hates this 😂

f1gossip posted

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f1gossip New couple alert? Lando Norris was spotted out and about around Monaco today with Y/N Y/L/N, who is known in the F1 world due to her close friendship with Carlos Sainz. Norris and Y/L/N first met back when Sainz was racing for McLaren. Y/N recently made a return to the paddock and attended the Singapore Grand Prix, in which Lando finished P1. Is this two old friends just hanging out or something more?

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user1 they would be such a power couple

user3 someone tweeted during the singapore gp that they saw them talking in the paddock!!

user4 omg yes I saw that! user1 did they say what the vibe was?? user4 they said that they hugged and it looked like they hadn't seen each other in a while. lando's comment on her ig post kinda confirms it too user5 omg long lost friends to lovers...we love to see it

user6 ya'll need to chill they're literally friends and have hung out before

user2 yes but they haven't been seen hanging out since carlos left mclaren

user7 george in the likes 💀

user4 please please please lando don't screw this up or carlos will come for you 🙏

user1 tbh so will the whole f1 fandom

yourusername posted a story

caption: @/carlossainz55 always makes me pancakes when I visit ❤️

story replies:

user1 girl we saw you and lando!!

user2 hmmm was lando at this family dinner by chance? 👀

yoursister him and those damn pancakes lol

yourusername don't be jealous

user3 rooting for u and lando

part 2

a/n: okay when I originally started this, it was going to be all in one part but then I realized because of the photo limit it would need to be 2 lol so part 2 coming later this week <3

if you'd like to be tagged, let me know!

#lando norris x reader #f1 x reader #lando norris smau #formula 1 x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris #lando norris x you #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 smau #f1 fic #formula 1 #lando norris x y/n #carlos sainz #carlos sainz x reader #lando norris fanfic #lando x reader #ln4 #cs55

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sh1-n0bu · 9 months ago

Text

✿ 𝙟𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙤𝙪𝙨 ✿

characters: jing yuan x gn!reader

warnings: fluff, bad attempt at humor, reader is immortal, established relationship, jing yuan being jealous, found family slightly in there, yanqing coming in at the wrong time pt19487288482877

notes: i have fed yall enough horny food. now its time for fluff food aka small dosage of serotonin. open wideeeee🚂🚂🚂

the constant noise of your irritated lover was something that you disregarded with little to no attention. you could feel it after all. that familiar feeling of your husband’s eyes boring into the back of your skull like the insanely heavy glaive he carries. it wasn’t exactly a common feeling to receive but on the moments that it happens, you could never forget the feeling.

you can just imagine it already. the pout pulling on the white haired man’s lips, the slight narrowing of his eyes, the impatient thumps of his feet rapidly hitting the floor as small sparks of lightning would float around him. of course, you can’t forget the iconic, “what about me?” puppy eyes he pulls.

“beloved” the deep baritone voice of jing yuan calls out, sounding way too serious for anyone’s comfort. if his soldiers that stand guard inside his office would still be around, they would be shivering in their armory from the sheer amount of unsettling feeling it brought. it wasn’t like that they have never seen their general angry or serious. it was just that, it rarely happens and so much fewer now since he was nearing his retirement.

turning around from what you were most greatly occupied with, you give him a few seconds of acknowledgment. finally, you were looking at him now. your eyes on him, the brightest stars he loved to gaze into even as the ever burning ones around him twinkles. you were always his favorite.

“jing yuan” you simply hum with a nod before turning back to what you were obsessing over. the loud dramatic gasp that comes from where your husband is barely fazes you, as you knew he was simply trying to get your attention. you knew your husband like the back of your hand and you knew for a fact that he wasn’t hurt as he shows himself to be.

“how dare you!” the man’s voice raises a bit, the sound of his steps sounding heavier than usual as he finally comes behind you to sweep you up into his arms. you immediately let out a soft grunt, feeling his strong arms tighten around you possessively as he refuses to let you go. instead, he pulls your smaller form flush against himself, face buried into the crook of your neck with a "hmph!". such a big baby you were married to.

"jing yuan, let go of me" you say, not bothering to wiggle yourself out of his grasp since you knew it would be an impossible task. your husband can be dangerously clingy and possessive at times and this was definitely one of those times.

"nuh.." your husband immediately rebuttals, shaking his face and proceeding to nuzzle his face further into the crook of your neck. deeply inhaling your scent, you could see his broad shoulders visibly relax and slump to indicate that he was calming down from his earlier mini temper tantrum. the two of you stay like that for a while. you, held captive in his arms as your husband takes his time to cuddle you close to himself. as close as fleshly possible. not even single moment for something else to wedge between the two of you, not even the cool air of his office. if there were to be the smallest bit of distance between the two of you, he would be extremely deprived of his already dangerously low level of [name] affections.

you had been away to the xianzhou zhuming for a business trip. as one of the most accomplished merchant and the head of the trade association, sometimes your work required you to move back and forth between places, worlds and even galaxies. and this time was no different as your business partner of long time in the xianzhou zhuming had come to a stalemate in their business there due to the ipc's recent dabbling in the xianzhou alliance's trading business. it had dragged on way longer than what you would've liked which also translated to an extended period of time of not seeing your husband, your son and daughter all together. a time away that your clingy husband took very badly, even worse than your son and daughter.

but not for you, as the first thing you did upon coming back from the trip and stepping in through the large doors of his office was to head straight towards your daughter - mimi. the large lion was sulking quietly in his office ever since you went away for your business trip, constantly pawing at jing yuan's clothes and whining for your presence. and upon seeing your face, she immediately pounced in your direction, wasting no time as she pushed you down into the hologram showcasing the large starchess board as she licked all over your face. an act of affection that you returned with a hearty laugh and kisses to her adorable fluffy face. an act of affection that your husband was very very very jealous of.

he was supposed to be the one to tackle you down and pepper your face in kisses and in return have his face peppered in kisses in return! not mimi!

and yes, jing yuan was jealous over his own fluffy daughter stealing his spouse away from him. blatantly, unabashedly, without shame was jealous over. which led to now, in you being trapped in his inescapable hold. really, the galls of this man.

"mmrrp? mrreeow?" mimi meows, butting her head against jing yuan's legs to get his attention while also making it sound as if she wanted the attention back on her again. it was tough having not one but two needy lions scampering for your attention.

"mimi, you have already had enough of their attention. now it's my turn with my own spouse!" jing yuan chides the lion softly, making her let out an irritated huff. mimi wanted her parent's attention but jing yuan also wanted his spouse's attention. it was a tug of war between the two lions with you as their unfortunate victim.

after many back and forths between the two lions, jing yuan had decided he had enough and decided to swoop you off of your feet. quite literally. the smug bastard had kicked your legs under you, making you fall back into a dip with a startled gasp. giving you an "i told you so" look, your husband cups your cheek in the palm of his hand before leaning in to place a fluffy of kisses on your face. cheeks, the bridge of your nose, forehead, chin, eyelids, lips - nowhere was free from the mercy of his kisses and jing yuan was going to make the whole world be reminded that you two were happily married.

"general! i heard that [name]'s bac-EWWWW!!!" the sudden barging in of you two's son is what finally separates you from his barrage of kisses. turning to look at his son, jing yuan makes a shooing motion with his hand - momentarily letting go of you cheek in the process - with mimi.

"me and [name] are busy right now, yanqing. take mimi out for a walk for an hour or two" the white haired man says without an ounce of shame, your breathless self still in his hold. reluctantly, yanqing does as told, calling mimi to his side to leave you two lovebirds be for some time. but not without one final word of advice.

"wait until back home at least, you two!!" and with that, your son and daughter were gone, leaving you both behind to have at least a small dose of affection that the both of you were deprived off of. with an amused chuckle at his son's words, he shakes his head before turning to you with his resting cat face. pair of golden eyes crinkling as mirth and devotion dance in them while his lips pull upwards into the genuine smiles he permanently has on his face whenever you were in his line of sight. all jing yuan could do was thank the reignbow arbiter and every aeons out there for granting him to be able to live in the same time as you.

"how i am blessed to be with you, my most beloved"

#nobu.writes #hsr x reader #hsr x you #hsr x y/n #hsr x gender neutral reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail x gender neutral reader #honkai star rail fanfic #hsr fanfic #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x you #jing yuan x y/n #jing yuan x gender neutral reader #jing yuan fluff #gender neutral reader

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piastrixpole · 1 month ago

Text

vroom vroom ~ oscar piastri & alex albon

pairing: oscar piastri x alex albon x dj!reader

genre: smau

faceclaim: charli xcx

F1updates just posted!

liked by user35, user29 and 13,478 others

DJ Y/N L/N spotted in the paddock for the third race weekend in a row 👀 Rumours are swirling about why she’s here, with some fans speculating she’s dating someone on the grid. Thoughts?

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user1: Why is she even there? Bet she doesn’t even know what DRS is🙄

user2: Not another celeb using F1 for clout…💀

user3: She’s been at three races in a row? That’s suspicious. Who’s she with?! 👀

->user12: She was a guest of Ferrari, dk about this time

user4: I swear if she’s dating one of the drivers… girl, leave😒

->user14: If it's Lando I'm gonna riot

user5: Y/N L/N as an F1 wag is the most random thing I’ve heard all year 🤔

user6: Can’t even imagine her fitting into the F1 world. This feels so out of place

user16: have you ever heard her music

user7: She probably thinks the McLaren is just a sports car and not a team😬

->user17: No, because that’s EXACTLY the vibe she gives 😂

user8: Honestly, it’s kinda refreshing. Better than another influencer or model wag. At least she has a real career

->user18: A real career? Be for real, mate. She’s a DJ

yourusername posted a story!

[pic 1: thanks for the invite @mclaren ] [pic2: 🧡]

messages!

yourusername just posted!

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Speedin like Piastri just to crash your party

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user22: yn hosting the afterparty is sooo iconic

user37: Imagine being cool enough to hang out with THE YN LN😭

user24: Wait, who are the guys in the last pic?👀

->user30: I swear that’s Alex Albon in the back?? Or am I losing it?

->user4: No, you’re right, that’s definitely him. Who’s the guy next to him though??

user15: Not Alex, Lando and Oscar showing up to her set. This feels surreal

-> user10: Oscar at a club? My day is made. 😂

-> user8: Honestly, the plot twist of the year

yourbsf: hottieee

->yourusername: wish you were there

oscarpiastri: great set

->yourusername: happy to have the winner's seal of approval

landonorris: we need to do a set together soon

->yourusername: win again and you have a deal norris

twitter!

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la dolce vita

georgerussell: Thirst trap era? Proud of you mate -> alex_albon: You taught me well

landonorris: alex.jpg when

oscarpiastri: nice pics mate

user39: Alex posting thirst traps to distract from the tea is so iconic

-> user51: It’s working because I forgot the tea immediately

user45: Oscar took these pics, didn’t he? You can’t convince me otherwise

-> user29: It’s giving boyfriend energy

yourusername posted a story!

[pic 1: favourite place]

ynlnupdates just posted!

williamsracing just posted!

liked by alexalbon, logansargeant, landonorris and 78,903 others

After a well deserved summer break our boys get back on track and we're joined by a special guest Yn Ln

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alex_albon: Who invited her?

-> yourusername: Who invited you?

-> williamsracing: Play nice albono

logansargeant: So good to meet you!

->yourusername: you too logie💙

user89: “Special guest” lmao as if she hasn’t been spotted at every other paddock recently🙄

user45: DJ, paddock favourite, and apparently besties with half the grid. What CAN’T she do?

user82: Special guest, huh? She’s been around the paddock more than some reserve drivers. Let’s be real

user99: How tf did Williams bag Yn💀

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someone's getting head tonight

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oscarpiastri: Can’t wait for our little celebration later 🧡

alexalbon: I’m not the only one 👀

user6: Did she just drop that bomb???

user8: Well, we can’t say she’s not direct

user3: I don’t even know what to say anymore. This is wild

user14: The Alex/Oscar/Yn Throuple rumours being confirmed was not on my bingo card 😅

user2: Did they just admit it?? I need a moment

user13: I know their PR teams are freaking out rn

->yourusername: let them my man dragged that shitbox into p3 AND got to see my boys drench each other in champagne🤭

#abby's writing #f1 #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #formula 1 fic #f1 smau #f1 x reader #alex albon #oscar piastri #aa23 #aa23 x reader #op81 #op81 x reader #f1 poly fic #i kind of hate this but oh well #purely self indulgent lol alex and oscar are my faves

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deesseshesca · 2 months ago

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PAC: What does my life look like once I hit my full potential?

Hope I make it out of here.

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PILE 1

Oh, bestie, I feel you on this. Balancing hustle and chill vibes is so important when you’re in that “level-up” era, especially with the Lovers card as your overall energy—it’s giving alignment and divine choices. Here’s the tea:

First, trust that this new career opportunity isn’t just a job; it’s a gateway to something magical. Your next lover is literally waiting for you on the other side of this. Like, how iconic is that? The universe is basically screaming, “This is part of your glow-up!”

But let’s keep it real: grinding too hard can mess with your flow. So, schedule your downtime like it’s a business meeting—whether that’s journaling, bingeing your fave show, or vibing out with a playlist that makes you feel main character energy. Chill time isn’t lazy; it’s necessary. You can’t pour from an empty cup.

When it comes to hustle, think of it like this: show up and give your best, but don’t overthink it. Be intentional, not overwhelmed. Remember, the Lovers card is also about harmony—so treat your hustle like a love story. Be passionate, but know when to step back and breathe.

And here’s the real plot twist: this opportunity isn’t just about meeting them. It’s about meeting the next, more evolved version of you. They’ll love that version of you, and so will you. So take the leap, but keep your soul soft. You’ve got this. ❤️

PREVIOUS READING

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PILE 2

Okay, imagine this: when you hit your full potential, your life looks like the perfect balance of confidence and rest. You’ve worked hard to know your worth and never settle, and now you’re living in a way that matches that energy. Think quiet mornings in a space that feels so you, reflecting on your growth while sipping your favorite coffee—unbothered and untouchable.

But here’s the thing: getting there doesn’t mean you’re grinding 24/7. You’ll learn that slowing down is the power move. For example, instead of saying yes to everything, you’ll get super intentional about what aligns with your long-term goals. If an opportunity feels off or doesn’t match your vision, you’ll confidently pass, knowing that better things are waiting.

That self-love you’ve mastered? It’ll make you a magnet for respect. People will see how deeply you value yourself and will match that energy—or they’ll fall off, and honestly, you won’t care. It’s like you’ll finally be surrounded by relationships, jobs, and opportunities that deserve you because you’ve set the bar so high.

Here’s the practical advice: stay open to adjusting your plans, even when it’s uncomfortable. Sometimes, what looks like a setback is actually setting you up for something bigger. For example, if one path feels blocked, don’t fight it—pivot. Trust that your ability to choose yourself will always lead you to the right place.

And don’t forget to rest without guilt. It’s okay to take breaks to recharge because that’s when your best ideas will come to you. Picture yourself booking a solo trip, splurging on the nicest accommodations, and using that time to dream even bigger while staying grounded in gratitude. You’re leveling up and protecting your peace, and that’s the ultimate glow-up. 🌱✨

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PILE 3

Alright, picture this: once you hit your full potential, your life is like a perfectly designed blueprint, executed flawlessly. You’re running the show—waking up early, knocking out your goals, and moving through life like you own it. Your schedule is tight but purposeful, and everything you do feels like a step toward something even bigger.

You’ll probably have this fire inside you to keep starting new projects—like launching that dream business or taking on leadership roles that actually challenge you. People will look at you and think, Wow, they’ve really got it together. But behind the scenes, you’ll know it’s because you’ve built systems for yourself that work. For example, you might have a weekly ritual where you plan every detail, from career moves to self-care, so nothing feels chaotic.

That being said, you’ll need to make space for the unknown too. Life won’t always go exactly as planned, and that’s okay. Think of it like this: when things feel uncertain, don’t freeze up. Instead, take a moment, check in with yourself, and adjust. For example, if a big opportunity comes up and doesn’t look like what you expected, lean into it—it might just be the thing that pushes you further than you imagined.

And here’s a practical tip: track your progress. Maybe it’s a journal where you write down your wins every day, no matter how small, or a calendar where you block out “me time” just as seriously as work tasks. The key is staying grounded while keeping your eyes on the horizon.

Your focus on success will still fuel you, but it’ll feel balanced. Imagine being so confident in what you’ve built that you can finally relax a little, knowing that your foundation is unshakable. You’re not just surviving anymore; you’re thriving. And it’s all because you created the structure to let your ambition flow without burning out. 💡

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PILE 4

Okay, so here’s the vibe: when you hit your full potential, your life is gonna feel like this beautiful balance of self-love and success. But here’s the thing—you’ve been carrying a lot, especially with your sibling’s struggles. It’s tough because you want to help, but you have to realize that in order to become the best version of yourself, you have to put yourself first. And I know that’s easier said than done, especially when you love someone so much and want to see them thrive.

You’ve been trying to fix things, trying to heal others, but you can’t keep pouring from an empty cup. You’ve been holding onto a lot of emotional weight, and that’s been draining you. It’s okay to step back and focus on your own growth. I promise, you’re not abandoning anyone by taking care of yourself. In fact, the more you work on you, the more you’ll be able to help them from a place of peace.

But it’s gonna hurt a bit—letting go of that guilt is a process. You’ll have moments where you feel torn, but trust me, your potential and your future are calling you to take care of you. Your dreams, your goals—they matter, and they deserve your attention. It’s about putting boundaries in place, even if it feels hard at first.

You might not have all the answers right now, and that’s fine. You don’t have to have it all figured out, but you’ll get there. Things will come into focus when you start giving yourself permission to live your life without guilt. It’s gonna feel so freeing once you realize that your own peace and happiness are the foundation for everything else to fall into place.

So take it slow. Focus on your journey, even if it means you need to step away from the chaos a little. You deserve to put yourself first, because the version of you that is fully healed, confident, and at peace is going to be the one that thrives and makes all those big dreams come true. Your success starts with you, and you’re worthy of every bit of it. ❤️

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fadedtoneverland · 2 months ago

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ice on my teeth | c.sn

❤︎ synopsis — san’s been feeling a little bold lately after his most recent comeback

pairing: idol!choi san x afab!reader

theme: smut ❣︎

a/n: ice on my teeth slaps and san in the mv has me feeling some type of way. enjoy this fic i cranked out from the horniest crevices of my mind. banner credits to @sylusz

cw: no gendered pronouns for the reader. top!san. bottom!reader. pet names (baby, babe, honey). vaginal fingering. oral sex (f receiving). slight overstimulation. reader is hormonal for san. san is a bit of a freak

san was so unfairly hot.

and he knew it.

it was insanely obvious that he took advantage of that fact too, because this comeback, his stylists went all out for every single one of his looks.

as the partner of choi san himself, you had special privileges of freely roaming photoshoots and music video shootings whenever ateez prepared for their latest comeback. it’s a special opportunity that all of ateez partner’s got, per the request of the members themselves.

and damn, did your man really aim to make you go feral this time around.

the new golden hour part 2 ep was an absolute banger, hongjoong even gave you the luxury to have an early listen to one of the songs on the album. of course, with banger songs, comes with a banger music video.

a music video that was a little too sexy for your own sanity.

the entire process was a thrill for ateez, but an agonizing time for you. you were forced to sit behind the camera crew while they took the most sinful shots of your boyfriend, trying to be discreet with how you rubbed your thighs together every time san flashed one of his sultry, sexy smirks that he’d usually give you in the bedroom.

it’s like god was laughing at your misfortune from the clouds with a popcorn bucket in hand. oh how you so badly wanted to jump your man’s bones and suck his dick right then and there, but you knew better than to create that oddly graphic scenario.

there was one particular scene that was being filmed, where san was looking up into the camera through intricately decorated chains and jewelry, shooting his iconic dark, sultry eyes. san was dressed in nothing but a fur coat and pants, lowered ever so slightly to teasingly show off his dolce gabbana boxers.

and he definitely knew he was affecting you in such a way, because every time you even catch his gaze, he always flashes you that cocky ass smirk, which only fuels your desire to just wipe than smile off with your lips on his.

this man should be illegal.

finally, after what seemed to be a lifetime of undressing san with your eyes, the music video filming was finally over, and you got to take your man home to your place.

san had already told mingi and seonghwa ahead of time that he’d be staying over at your place for some “quality time with his partner”.

a few hickeys and one sloppy make out later, the tension had finally boiled over into a heated dance of passion and lust between the two of you, with san pushing you down onto your duvet, his large hands roaming over your body, worshipping your clear skin.

“gorgeous.” san panted out, lathering wet kisses over your stomach, pushing your shirt up to your chest to grant himself more access to your body.

breathy sighs escaped your wet lips, and your gaze drifted down to the masterpiece of a man between your legs. a breathless chuckle erupted from your throat.

“someone’s eager.” you teased. san responded with a nip to your inner thigh, making you gasp.

“you’re one to talk.” san lowly groaned while practically ripping off your pants in one swift motion, which only made your panties even more soaked.

“i saw how you were looking at me during the filming. you’re not that slick, honey.”

you laughed, though it came out more high-pitched than expected. “can you blame me? you were looking so damn hot for that camera.”

“good.” san punched out with a grunt, his head diving between your legs. catching the elastic band of your panties between his teeth, he dragged down the sodden fabric in a teasing manner, slowly egging you on and heightening your arousal.

when you finally kicked off the delicate fabric yourself, the bare sight of your glittering, wet cunt, was all it took for san to lose control.

san has always been an impatient man when it came to you, so he wasted no time spreading your thighs apart, licking up your slit in one, fat stripe, and then beginning to feast on you, moaning wantonly into your sensitive skin.

your moans were shameless and loud, fingers immediately darting down to tangle in san’s raven hair, tugging on the strands periodically as san devoured your pussy with his skilled tongue.

“fuck, i’ll never get tired of this taste,” san grunted into your skin, letting out a moan as his tongue lathered over your sensitive folds. “it’s just so damn good.”

a high pitched whine escaped your lips. “h-hah.. sannie…”

“yeah, that’s it, baby. say my name.” san continued to worship your dripping core, his lips latched around your clit and sucking hard, flicking his tongue over it every now and then. your moans only got louder each time, and san just reveled in your pleasure, getting off on it.

san’s cock was so hard in his pants it was almost painful, begging to be freed and just fuck your pussy silly. but san was focused on you, and only you, wanting to hear your sounds and your pleasure.

a tiny trail of saliva dripped from the corner of your mouth, moans and whines coming from your throat nonstop as san ate you out like it was the last time he was ever gonna taste pussy. his calloused hands gripped the plush of your thighs tightly every time they closed instinctively around your head, spreading them apart and keeping them locked in that position.

“no. keep them open for me, babe.” san hashed out with a slight whine in his voice. he then licked a quick line up his two fingers before plunging them inside of you, relishing the loud gasp that came from your mouth.

“wanna make you feel good. please.”

the desperation in his voice made your velvety walls clench around his digits, and san groaned loudly at the feeling. hooking your thighs over his broad shoulders, san dived back in to abuse your clit with his tongue, while his fingers beckoned inside of your cunt to drive you crazy.

god were you a mess, the way san’s fingers just dragged against your spongy walls in all the right places, plus how he was prodding your sensitive pearl with his tongue. it’s like this man was trying to kill you.

every single sound that escaped your mouth only made san redouble his efforts, reducing you to his babbling, incoherent mess. your fingers tightened in san’s hair, pulling harshly at his messy black locks, and your hips bucked up to meet with san’s tongue and finger movements.

“s-san- san i can’t— a-ah~…” you whined rather loudly. san chuckled into your skin, the deep sound resonating within his chest.

and san’s gaze never left your face. his sharp, catlike eyes were dark. so dark that there was almost no white left in them, nothing but pure lust present in those black orbs.

“fuck. keep doing that for me.” san groans before removing his fingers, and spearing his tongue into your pink pucker. that about made you lose it right then and there.

“come for me, honey.”

it’s like his words cast some sort of spell on your body, because you came right then and there. your white essence flooded his tongue, and he eagerly swallowed up the sweet taste, groaning loudly and keeping his face stuffed between your thighs.

but even after your mind-shattering orgasm, san didn’t relent with his tongue movements. his continued ministrations left you a broken, whimpering mess, desperately pushing his head to try and find some sort of relief.

“s-sannie— san- it’s too much- please-!” you cried out, choked up moans coming from you.

san responded with a low whine, pushing his tongue harshly between your folds, as if to physically disagree. san’s head then came up from between your thighs, his lips and chin glistening with your arousal.

“nuh-uh, honey. we’re not stopping now.” san cooed softly. you would’ve melted at the sound of his honeyed words if it weren’t for your body being so sensitive.

pushing his pants down, his hard, leaking cock jutted out from between his legs. the tip was an angry red, demanding to be pleasured. as he shimmied himself between your legs and hooked them around his waist, you knew you’d be in for a long night.

then again, it wasn’t like you minded.

“we ain’t stopping ‘till i get to cum. and i’ll be sure to fill you up so good, babe.”

▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆

#ateez #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #kpop fanfic #choi san smut #choi san x reader #choi san #ateez choi san #ateez atiny #san smut #kpop smut #choi san x y/n #choi san x you #kpop bg #♡︎ bambi fics

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amirasainz · 2 months ago

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I love the Ollie x Kimi x Norris!reader story. Can you write one where they are in Vegas and the three of them were seen in a chapel, all dressed up. Lando is losing his mind. You can decide the ending for yourseld😅🥰

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl 🧡

Vegas weeding

It was a scorching hot night in Las Vegas, and the F1 paddock was buzzing with excitement as the drivers, team personnel, and fans gathered for the inaugural Las Vegas Grand Prix. The neon lights, the towering casinos, and the iconic Strip were all within sight of the circuit, making it one of the most exciting weekends in recent memory.

Yn, Lando’s 18-year-old sister, had managed to score a spot in the paddock for the event, thanks to Lando’s influence. Despite being a huge F1 fan, she never truly cared about the spotlight or the glamorous side of it all. She was happy to simply be with her brother and enjoy the race weekend. But today, something felt different. Yn was hanging out with Kimi and Ollie , two of her closest friends.

The three of them were laughing as they left the paddock after the race, sharing a moment of happiness while Lando made his way through the crowd. His eyes caught sight of them, and his jaw clenched when he saw how close they were standing. Kimi’s hand rested lightly on Yn’s shoulder, while Ollie was standing just a step behind her, clearly enjoying the conversation. Lando had noticed the flirting all day, and his protective instincts kicked in.

“Kimi! Ollie! Don’t you think that’s a bit too much?” Lando muttered under his breath as he walked up to the group.

“Lando! Didn’t see you there!” Ollie grinned, not at all fazed by Lando’s less-than-impressed expression. He leaned in to give Yn a playful nudge, which only made her giggle.

Lando’s eyes narrowed. “Yn, are you—? Seriously, guys?” His voice was a mixture of concern and annoyance.

“What’s up, Lando?” Kimi asked, glancing over at the older Norris with a smirk. “Just having a good time. You should join us.”

“You two are too... close,” Lando said, his tone protective. He took a step toward his sister, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I know you’ve been friends forever, but maybe lay off a bit? She’s my little sister, alright?”

Ollie raised an eyebrow, teasing, “Lando’s being overprotective, huh? You know, she’s grown up now.”

“Don’t talk to me like that, Ollie,” Lando shot back, his eyes still on his sister. Yn, for her part, looked unfazed. She was used to Lando’s protectiveness, but she couldn’t help but enjoy the attention from Kimi and Ollie.

Kimi laughed, crossing his arms. “Don’t worry, mate. We were just having a bit of fun. Nothing serious.” He then shot Ollie a sly grin, and Ollie returned the look with a shrug.

“Well, let’s not get carried away,” Lando said, still not convinced. The teasing between the three younger drivers made him feel uneasy. “I don’t like this.”

The others, sensing Lando’s discomfort, decided to take it up a notch. Carlos, who had been standing nearby, leaned over and whispered, loud enough for Lando to hear, “Ollie and Kimi... what’s going on there, Lando? Are we going to be seeing wedding invitations anytime soon?”

Lando shot him a glare, but the other drivers joined in, laughing and adding to the teasing.

“Yeah, Lando. You might be an uncle soon,” Max chimed in, chuckling at the thought.

Lando’s face flushed. “Shut up. I’m not joking, alright? I’m seriously not okay with this.”

“Don’t worry, mate. She’s tough. And so are we,” said Oscar, grinning as he slapped Lando on the back.

But it wasn’t just the teasing that bothered Lando; it was the idea that his little sister might be growing up faster than he was ready for. His thoughts swirled with concern for her safety, her happiness, and everything in between.

A few hours later, just as the Las Vegas lights began to twinkle against the night sky, the entire paddock was hit with a sudden flurry of photos on social media. The images spread like wildfire, with fans and journalists alike flooding the timeline.

Lando’s phone buzzed incessantly, but it wasn’t until he glanced down at his screen that he saw the photos. Yn, Kimi, and Ollie were standing in front of a wedding chapel, all dressed up in formal attire—Yn in a white dress, Kimi in a sharp suit, and Ollie looking every bit the dashing gentleman.

“What the hell?” Lando exclaimed, his voice rising in disbelief. “Are they serious?!”

The other drivers crowded around him, their eyes glued to the images on Lando’s screen.

“Okay, what did we miss?” Carlos asked with a smirk. “Is there a wedding on the cards or what?”

“I swear, if they got married—” Lando began, but was immediately cut off by Oscar.

“Wouldn’t put it past them,” Oscar teased. “I mean, look at that picture. They’re practically all ready for a Vegas wedding!”

Lando clenched his jaw. “I’m not letting this slide. Not on my watch.” He immediately stood up, his protective instincts kicking into overdrive. “Where’s the chapel? I’m going to make sure they’re okay.”

“Wait, what?” Max asked, his eyes widening in surprise.

“We’re going to the chapel. I’m getting my sister,” Lando said firmly. “Come on, some of you are coming with me. We’re not letting this go down like this.”

The other drivers hesitated for a moment, before nodding in agreement, clearly amused but willing to help out. Lando, Max, and Oscar hopped into a car, with Carlos following them in another, all speeding toward the chapel. They exchanged worried glances, but it was clear that Lando’s protective streak was not something anyone was going to question tonight.

Meanwhile, Yn, Kimi, and Ollie were inside the chapel, talking to a group of fans who had invited them as witnesses to their wedding. It was a completely innocent and heartwarming gesture from the fans who adored the young drivers. The couple had asked Kimi, Ollie, and Yn to witness their vows as a fun, surprise element to their special day, something the three were more than happy to do.

“I’m so happy you guys agreed to come,” the bride, a bubbly woman with a huge smile, said, turning to Kimi, Yn, and Ollie. “We just wanted a couple of fun, cool people to make this day even more memorable.”

Kimi grinned and nodded. “Of course! It’s an honor.”

Ollie added, “And we get to be part of a wedding! Not something we get to do every day.”

Yn smiled and looked around the small chapel. “This is so sweet. You guys must be so happy.”

Just then, the chapel doors slammed open. Lando, Max, and Oscar stormed inside, their eyes scanning the room. They were clearly confused, unsure if they’d walked into a real wedding or if they had just arrived at a strange party.

“Yn!” Lando shouted, looking like he was ready to jump out of his skin.

Yn looked up and blinked in surprise. “Lando? What are you doing here?”

“What’s going on here?” Lando’s eyes darted between Kimi, Ollie, and his sister. His gaze softened slightly, but his concern was evident. “You didn’t... actually get married, did you?”

“No!” Kimi said quickly, holding up his hands in a defensive gesture. “It’s not like that, mate. These guys just invited us to witness their wedding.”

“They invited us to be witnesses,” Ollie added, smiling at the bride and groom.

Lando’s shoulders sagged in relief, though his protective frown didn’t quite disappear. “You seriously couldn’t tell me you were just... hanging out with the couple’s wedding plans? I thought you three were—”

“Don’t worry, Lando,” Max interrupted with a smirk. “Your sister’s not married yet. But maybe soon, huh?”

Lando shot Max a glare. “Don’t start, Verstappen.”

“We’re just witnesses,” Yn said with a soft laugh, still trying to process her brother’s dramatic arrival. “You can relax, Lando.”

Lando crossed his arms over his chest, still looking unconvinced. “Yeah, yeah, just making sure. No funny business, alright?”

“Nothing funny here, mate,” Kimi chuckled. “Now, why don’t you join the celebration? It’s a wedding, after all.”

Reluctantly, Lando sat down next to his sister. As the wedding ceremony began, he leaned over and whispered to her, “Just promise me you won’t get any crazy ideas, okay?”. He threw his arm over her shpulder, pulling her close to himself while shooting Ollie and Kimi a look that could kill them.

Yn rolled her eyes but smiled. “Relax, Lando. It’s just a wedding. You need to lighten up.”

As the vows were exchanged, Lando couldn’t help but feel a little better, knowing that his sister was safe. And maybe, just maybe, he was overreacting... a little.

But then again, he would always be her big brother. And that meant he’d always have her back—whether it was a wedding chapel or anything else that came their way.

#formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #xoxo babygirl 💋#lando norris x sister!reader #lando norris x reader #oliver bearman x reader #kimi antonelli x reader #max verstappen x reader #carlos sainz x reader #oscar piastri x reader #norris!reader #f1 x reader

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the-oracleof-delphi · 3 months ago

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PAC: Random Facts About Your Soulmate

Pile One - Message in a bottle

:: Pile one, it looks like this person is healing from a heartbreak. In general it may be their nature to think a lot - I am imagining someone who makes up scenarios in their head and ends up hurting themselves. But honestly, whatever they are going through right now may be a bit more than made up scenarios.

:: This person is someone who is emotionally abundant. They are receptive and sensitive - regardless of whether they are a masculine or feminine. Very emotional and emotionally mature, on the flip-side their love can feel smothering at times.

:: Extremely nostalgic. Plagued by it. Probably someone who looks back upon their childhood days quite often. May have a difficult time letting go of their past. (Maybe in a state of heartbreak because of someone from their childhood?)

:: They are someone who is just. They may also work in the law field. Another message is they may be a private person, a bit guarded, doesn't let people know their next step.

:: When they are in their element, they may be child-like, happy-go-lucky, positive and radiant as a person. Life of the part sort-of. You may feel protective over them!

Pile two - Wax stamp (minors do not interact with this pile)

:: Pile two, currently this person is juggling a lot of things. They have a lot on their plate. Romantically, they are in a wishy-washy and avoidant energy. Probably someone who is focused more on practical things like career, job, education, etc. and does not have time for emotional entanglements. By nature they maybe someone who is practical and emotionally detached.

:: This person is someone who is very passionate. I am seeing a lot of fiery energy. Someone who takes the initiative. Alternatively they can be a person who leads a very hedonistic lifestyle. S*x, party and all that stuff. Although this maybe changing.

:: I am getting a shifting energy? Something in their life recently ended or stalled. I feel like this person is on the verge of moving? They can also be someone who travels a lot due to work or just love to move around in general.

:: I am again getting the party-boy energy. But I do think they are realising the downside of this lifestyle and actively trying to reign in their self-sabotaging habits.

:: This person may sometimes rely too much on external validation. But they are trying to rid themselves of this mindset.

Pile three - Sea shell

:: Pile three, you may end up getting married to this person. Ha ha. That was the first message I got. They maybe at a point in their lives where they are in a celebratory mood, winning, may have recently accomplished something that they have been working on. This person can also be very athletic, I am seeing someone who runs marathons, takes sports quite seriously.

:: They may be someone who is in-tune with their emotions, emotionally mature. They can be spiritual, may also be into divination. They may have an important mother figure in their lives they are emotionally connected/attached to.

:: They value stability - both material and emotional. But mostly material. They may also be a bit rigid and stubborn, can hold on to people and ideas for far too long.

:: May be a responsible person. Like the head of a family? Or have people relying on them. I don’t see them to be married though, may have been in the past (?) I also feel like this person is heavily protected, they have very active spiritual guides, doesn't matter whether the person themself is spiritual or not.

:: They may come across as someone very blunt and straight to the point. Their communication style maybe a bit harsh at times, but nothing too toxic. Doesn't like ambiguity, very direct. There won't be any scope for confusion when you are with them.

Credits: icons - @/toastray on tumblr | divider - @/saradika-graphics on tumblr

#tarot reading #୧ˊ˗ — toasty dividers #future spouse #pick a card #tarotblr #tarot #divination #astro community #tarot community #12h synastry #astrology #astroblr

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mclqren · 10 months ago

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WINNER TAKES IT ALL ★ CS55

PAIRING ✦ carlos sainz x fem!singer!reader

SUMMARY ✦ you and your boyfriend both seem to be very lucky recently: you in opening for taylor swift, and him in winning the australian grand prix [ SMAU ]

WARNINGS ✦ cursing

REQUESTED ✦ here!

NOTES ✦ for the purpose of this fic, taylor has added an extra date in melbourne for the friday before the australian grand prix. as per request, the fc i've used is sabrina carpenter, but feel free to picture whoever you want! my requests are open so feel free to leave a request :)

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yourusername and with that we have one show left: back to melbourne in a couple of weeks! thank you all so much for the support, love you all like crazy 🫶

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user1 you're such a disney princess i can't

user2 DON'T MESS W ME RN IM SO SAD UR NO LONGER OPENING.

user3 FR what will we do without all of her content???

user4 ☹️☹️

carlossainz55 so proud of you!!

yourusername im way prouder of you 💘

user5 PARENTS WOOHOO

taylorswift i'll miss you, my angel! ❤️

yourusername love you sm 😢💘💘

yourusername

( caption one: just woke up and my boyfriend's got appendicitis hellooo?? wtf have i missed while i've been in singapore. | caption two: never mind guys all is well ❤️ ( i am a photographer and i took THIS photo ) )

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yourusername impromptu visit to jeddah after SOMEONE'S appendix was removed...thanks for giving me an excuse to see you carlos 😘💘💘

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user6 THE WAY HE STILL WENT TO SEE THE GP IS CRAZY ur boyfriend is hella strong

yourusername ur telling me 🤷‍♀️

user6 OMG YOU REPLIED??? I LOVE YOU

user7 nah carlos acc has to be some sort of super human because how THE FUCK did he walk after that surgery.

user8 literally convinced he is atp.

carlossainz55 the appendix wasn't my fault...

charles_leclerc or was it 🤷‍♂️

yourusername hmmm...

user9 i'm acc their biggest fan you don't understand

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yourusername from the bottom of my heart, thank you thank you thank you for all of the love and support i've received over the past couple of weeks. they've honestly been such a fever dream for me: like you're telling me that i was opening for THE taylor swift?? twelve year old me would be screaming right about now, let me tell you that much. i've loved every minute of this experience, and i can't wait to see what era is next for me 🫶

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user13 i still remember watching you when you were eighteen, just releasing music on youtube 🥺

user14 she's come sooo far since then im so proud of her

taylorswift loved having you with me!! couldn't think of anyone else better to keep me company during these times ❤️

yourusername thank you sm tay, im going to miss youuu 💘💘

user15 why am i acc tearing up this is so sad

carlossainz55 now i have you all to myself ❤️

yourusername yeah well you have ur cars AND charles so i guess it's not just me is it.

charles_leclerc why am i being mentioned

yourusername ur just like collateral damage in this argument

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, and 989,911 others

carlossainz55 back from my surgery and into P2 👊 looking forward to the race!

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user16 SMOOTH OPERATOR IS BACKKK

user17 the surgery did NOT hold him back

user18 NO REAL THE GUY WAS FLYINGGG

user19 the extra weight is gone and now he's in first row THIS IS WHAT WE NEEDED

yourusername do you ever actually rest like. ur appendix was just taken out when i get colds i stay in bed longer.

carlossainz55 yeah i know from firsthand experience 😘

user20 SHE'S SO REAL FOR THIS THOUGH

yourusername either way i'm so proud of you! smash it tomorrow 💘

liked by carlossainz55

user21 the way y/n is literally so supportive of him is my fav thing

user22 all whilst telling him off for not resting enough 🤣🤣 she's too iconic for us, i fear

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yourusername me and kika are truly THOSE BITCHES 😘

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user23 SPEAK ON ITTTT 🗣️🗣️🗣️

user24 my fav wags fr 🫶

fransisca.cgomes my girlll 😍😍

yourusername foreverrr 💘

fransisca.cgomes that second pic is soooo yum

yourusername leave pierre for me RIGHT NOW.

fransisca.cgomes gladlyyy! 😍

pierregasly HUH??

yourusername got ur girl tripod how does it feel 🤣

carlossainz55 ❤️❤️

yourusername love youuu!!

liked by yourusername, landonorris, and 1,443,999 others

carlossainz55 P1 babyyy!! Onto Japan we go 🎢❤️

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user28 THE SMOOTHEST OPERATOR AROUND

user29 staying up until 2am to watch it was SOOO WORTH IT

user30 SO PROUD!!

yourusername YESSS I KNOW THAT'S RIGHTTT!!

liked by carlossainz55

yourusername MY FUCKING MANNN LET'S GOOO!! P1 BABY 💘💘

carlossainz55 ❤️

user31 the way she supports him will never not warm my heart

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yourusername he only went and did it!! after his appendix got removed and all. couldn't be fucking prouder 💘

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yourusername proud of @/charles_leclerc as well!! what a way to end the weekend 😘

charles_leclerc thank you y/n!! 😍

yourusername FORZA FERRARI 👊

user31 the way they support each other >>>

user32 actual power couple idc

user33 i need to find myself a y/n asap.

user34 WHY ARE YOU SO PERFECT

carlossainz55 te amo siempre ❤️

liked by yourusername

carlossainz55 it was the lack of an appendix that did it 🤣

yourusername @/charles_leclerc are you taking notes??

charles_leclerc already scheduling an appointment for the winter, don't worry 📝

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going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 11 months ago

Text

It's a Match! || 141 x reader

[ The Prequel ] || [ Chapter 2 ]

Pairing: Gaz x Reader || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1K~ Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you?

Chapter 1: Kyle

All of last night you and your friends spent time tinkering with your profile, putting up the sexiest pics of you that you had, some of them from Instagram, some from your camera roll, and filling in all the fields of info you could…

And then you started checking out the profiles, definitely judging and roasting the men that popped on your screen (blame the alcohol), but always swiping right, regardless of what you (or them) thought of the most recent man on the screen.

But, once they left, you turned off the notifications and alerts from the app and went to sleep. You had acquiesced to downloading the app and making a profile, but the last thing you wanted was to be on that app constantly and get bombarded with DMs and Likes/Super-Likes…

The next day came and went and, as you sat in your kitchen after work, unboxing your take-out boxes of dinner, your group chat pinged with a text from Leah.

leah: How's Tinder going? 👀

You bit your lip and sighed as you typed out a response:

you: haven’t touched it all day bc i was at work. leah: Better touch it then!!

Rolling your eyes, you set the phone down on the table again, and locked the screen, as you began stirring the noodles you bought with your chopsticks.

Mia joined not long after with her own opinion.

mia: ive got a good feeling about today! ur gonna find a hot bloke i know it 🫶 im sending good energyyyy!

“Yeah, right…” You grumbled. But, once again, you acquiesced and clicked on the little flame-shaped app icon.

The app lagged at first, for a good 5 seconds, and then a bunch of DMs and Like notifications pinged your phone.

You couldn’t help but chuckle to yourself… Oh, how predictable men are… They see a picture showing just a bit more skin and they try to chat the person up. But, at the same time, it made you feel quite good…

You skim through the DMs you’ve already gotten, over 99 of them… And none of them tickled your fancy. Plenty of them were variations of “Oi.”, “Hey.”, “Hi.”... Not to mention the ones that were just directly asking you to meet up right from the get-go.

Returning to the groupchat, you text your friends a screenshot of the 99+ counter on both the DMs and the Likes, which causes them to break into cheers at you.

leah: Look at you!!!! mia: i knew it. you: not into any of them tho. mia: then go back to swiping girl!

Biting back a little groan, you returned to Tinder and flicked onto the Swiping page.

Surprisingly, now that you were alone (and kind of doing it against your will), it was a lot easier for you to not get lost over-analyzing the profiles and simply… mindlessly moving your finger.

Right.

Ew, that’s a catfish of a famous male model, Report.

Right.

“Kyle.” You said softly as you read the name on your screen. He looked adorable, with a squinted ‘the-sun-is-in-my-eyes’ smile. “29… A soldier… a Brummie…” You mused as you slipped a Chinese roll past your lips and chewed.

You took a screenshot of his profile and sent it quickly to your friends’ groupchat before you returned to Tinder. As you clicked through his photo gallery, you saw the push notifications pinging at the top of the screen.

leah: HE’S STUNNING! 😫 mia: 👀👀👀👀👀 mia: smash.

Chuckling, you continue going through his pictures. “Holiday photo, holiday photo, I seriously hope those are his nephews or something, mandatory picture in uniform, and… JESUS CHRIST, a warning would’ve been NICE?!” You said to no one in particular as your jaw dropped open and you almost dropped your Chinese roll.

“Bloody hell… Is that sweat or baby oil?” You asked yourself as you looked at his slick, bare chest in the mirror selfie he uploaded. “And is he cupping his-” You stopped that train of thought before it could go too far from the station.

Clicking the arrow in the corner you finally brought his profile into full-screen and proceeded to find yourself chuckling at his bio.

His pictures were all wonderful, he looked like a guy who took care of himself, and he was funny which was the best part.

Taking a deep breath, you press the Green heart at the bottom. A squeal escapes your mouth when the phone screen suddenly changes to the darker ‘It’s a Match!’ screen with Kyle.

Your eyes widen in surprise and, just as you press the DM button, intent on coming up with something to message him, you notice it.

Kyle: bought some shoes from a drug dealer this morning. don’t know what he laced them with but I’ve been tripping over myself all day and now think ive finally fallen for you 👀

The cheesy pick-up line has you closing your eyes and exhaling through your nose. It’s starting off terribly… But he’s the first bloke you felt inclined to text… That has to mean something, doesn’t it?

you: you fell out of a helicopter… i dont think its the shoes. i’m starting to think ur just clumsy. Kyle: holy shit you’re not a bot! let’s goooo you: a bot? you really thought that? Kyle: when someone has posted pics as cute as yours you cant help but have that worry in the back of your mind 😅 Kyle: or that ur a catfish 🤷‍♂️ you: i promise you im neither. you: and thank you. you’re cute too. Kyle: thats exactly what a bot/catfish would say 🙄 you: well how would a human talk then?? Kyle: cant tell you bc then ur gonna machine learn and start doing it you: well then how else am i supposed to prove im not either?? Kyle: let me take you out. let me get a proper good look at you. you: was that all a ploy to invite me out?? 🫠 Kyle: first time on tinder? you: that obvious huh? Kyle: a little. Kyle: so is that a yes? you: I’ll think about it. Kyle: i can work with that. 🥴 Kyle: hmu whenever youd like. no pressure.

Maybe you would hit him up later… Once you gained enough courage to go through with the whole ‘rebound’ thing.

Biting your lip, you click off the DMs and return to the Swiping page…

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IF THE GIF DOESN'T WORK FOR YOU: CLICK HERE

taglist: @daisychainsinknots , @bunnysdaydreams , @iite-cool , @lahniu , @pagesfalling , @tapioca-milktea1978 , @live-love-be-unique , @thelaisydazy , @littleghosthunter , @bossva , @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago , @chamomiletealeaf , @ghosts-hoe

#ikea writes 💚#it's a match! fic #cod modern warfare #cod fanfic #captain john price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #text story #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader

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fairlyang · 3 months ago

Text

Lucky⚔️🐺

imagine letting your boyfriends convince you to entertain one of their sick fantasies

w/c: 3K

pairing: ghostfaces!wadewilson&loganhowlett x gf!reader

tags: 18+ smut. a polycule, they’re both perverted AF, ghostface roleplay, hide n seek, predator & prey play, fear play, pain kink x2, knife play, stabbing them (bc they can regen), they asked for it n loveeee it, reallyyy getting into character, murder mention, teasing, dirty talk, stroking, fingering, blowjob, unprotected sex, mirror sex (?), doggy, missionary, two creampies

a/n: it’s october ofc i had to do a ghostface fic 🤞🏼bro it was meant to be a ramble…. and oml i’m so tired

kinktober masterlist | main masterlist

it didn’t come as much of a surprise to you that your boyfriends both had a pain kink, it was something so obvious to anyone eyes.

what was a surprise to you was the fact that the first time you properly dive into their kink and not just barely grazing them with a knife like you sometimes did, they wanted to do it in ghostface attire.

you instantly assumed it was wade’s idea, because why wouldn’t it be? but apparently after you were all watching the original scream movie recently, they had the brilliant idea at the same time and knew you had to be their sidney prescott.

wade was so committed, he ended up renting the iconic house for the whole weekend. logan thought that was a bit of an exaggeration but once wade handed you a buck 120 knife, he said it only made sense.

this was going to go as a game of cat and mouse or in simpler terms, hide and seek. you'll all be leaning into the roleplay so there will be a sense of horror but also making sure it's horny. so you'd be their helpless victim that'll pretend to not love the whole ordeal but as soon as their hands are on you, you'll fold.

and since they want to play into their pain kink, you'd have to try to give them a little stab each before getting to the sex.

so now you were hidden beneath the bed in the master bedroom while you heard the loud sounds of them clearing the bottom floor. they had given you a minute to pick a hiding place and you didn't really want it to take long.

you'd be lying if you said this idea didn't turn you on because one check of your panties and there would lay the real answer. there was just something about your boyfriends pretending to hunt you down and knowing damn well they were checking every crevice while having raging boners.

and they say romance is dead.

you held your knife in hand, absolutely ready to use it and feeling your heart start to race. your breathing was as quiet as it could be but with the silence from the room, it felt like they'd be able to hear it so easily.

you could hear them opening and closing doors fast, sensing that they also didn't have too much patience like they thought they would.

suddenly you heard their loud footsteps coming up the stairs and you held your breath as they made their way up. your heart was beating faster now, a small feeling of terror creeping up on you as you heard them split up. one of them immediately went up the small staircase to enter the room you were in, which makes sense since it was the first room close to the staircase but it didn't make you feel any less scared.

he walked in slowly, taking a quick scan of the mini living room to the right side of the room and not seeing you so he then made his way around the bed to go to the bathroom. he quickly came out because there was nowhere to hide in there and suddenly his footsteps left the room. you could barely hear him leave through the second door near the bathroom which just led to another living room area with a reading nook.

you let out a breath you were holding and feel your heartbeat become steady as you heard them both on the other side of that floor. there was a quick thought of slipping out of the room to find a new hiding place just for fun but you realized they'd just be even more impatient if they had to double check each floor again since the house was decently big.

you heard their movements become faster, more frantic as if making it more realistic on purpose. then it was just silence.

the silence only made this more freightening and it was a tiny bit scary. you breathed as quietly as you could, not wanting to alert them whatsoever then coming to the slow realization that that they both have amazing fucking hearing.

uh oh.

before you could even think of doing anything, your legs were grabbed and you were dragged out from under the bed while you started kicking and wiggling, "lookie who just remembered we have superpowers." wade's voice teased, making you groan.

you rolled on to your back, now facing them and quickly stabbed the one who wasn't holding on to your legs. you heard a grunt from underneath the mask and you pulled the knife out only for a moan to come out this time.

you held in a laugh and were about to stab him again when the second one got on top of you and held your arms above your head. he grabbed the knife and handed it to the first one, who just toyed with it in his hands. “you really gotta love the original, don’t ya cupcake? i mean where else would we get such a good idea for murder?” wade said and your heart dropped.

you knew this was all just a part of it but shit did it sound so fucking real. well you might as well you play their little game.

“you’re fucking crazy you know that?” you spit and try to get him off.

but it was to no use, he was much bigger than you and made sure to straddle your lap. nearly looked like he was about to give you the lap dance of a lifetime, which you wouldn’t put past him on doing.

“don’t call us that baby, it hurts.” wade complains, putting a hand to his heart and you could just tell he was pouting underneath the mask.

“and you perfectly went on with it, pretty girl.” logan teases, making you turn to look at him.

you tried to lift your leg up to hit wade in the balls but you didn’t move an inch, you groaned in frustration and continued trying to fight him off, “you sick fucks shouldn’t have watched that fucking movie.” you spit and logan suddenly pulls a fast one and stabs wade in his side.

he groans and lets your hands go just to start fake crying in his hands while logan says the infamous line, “now, baby, don’t blame the movies. movies don’t create psychos, movies make psychos more creative.”

he pulls the knife out of wade earning himself a moan as the blood seeped through the robe. the wound was a bit deep so it would take a little while to heal itself. “oh you son of a bitch- i knew you would try to be billy!! it’s not fair!!!” he whined and smacked the knife right out of his hands, quickly grabbing it.

he pointed it at logan’s mask then trailed it down his body while looking down. “on another note, i think we’re gonna have to do this to you tomorrow, hot stuff.” he murmurs, making logan smirk under his mask.

catching them both off guard, you snatch your knife right back and slice across wade’s chest. he gasped and shook his head, “not nice to do that princess, come on now…”

you shrugged and now wanting to get to the real fun stuff, you bring your empty hand to his thigh. he looks down at your hand then back up at your face then repeats two more times while you slowly bring your hand up higher each time. your hand landed on his hard on and you hum, "huh.. what's this?"

he shrugged and lifted the robe up to reveal his pants, "come find out?"

you eagerly nodded as he got off your lap so fast and even pulled you up before logan picked you up and threw you onto the bed. you quickly laid down on your stomach and got as close to the edge as possible while they both lifted the black robes up and over their bodies. you ogled at both their torsos while they threw them on the floor, now shirtless and with their tight fitting pants begging for an escape.

you licked your lips and weren't sure where to begin but they decided to be kind enough to help you by both taking their pants off. you whistled at the sight, feeling like the luckiest girl in the world. "i sure am lucky huh?" you mumbled making logan chuckle, "that you are sweetheart.."

"i think we're all lucky to be fair.. i mean not everyone is down to be fake hunted for fun…" wade murmurs as he fully slides his pants down.

"or down to be stabbed…" you joke and he snorts, "thatta girl, see! be grateful you have two immortal boyfriends."

logan rolls his eyes and brings his hand to your head, pulling you close to his cock, "c'mon let's get to it."

"hey patience is key baby.." you mumble and bring your right hand up. making them remember you still had the knife.

he wasn't nervous, didn't even budge.

instead he watched you intently and carefully while you brought it up and down his thighs, the tip only barely grazing his skin. you trailed up higher, going around his pubic bone and just going back and forth. you pressed a little more so the tiniest bit of blood came out but the wound quickly disappeared before your eyes. meanwhile his cock was twitching and precum was oozing down. you pulled the knife away and looked over at wade's and his was the exact same, "you guys are kinda sick…" you mumble making them both groan.

"says the one doing it." wade retorts and you shrug.

you let go of the knife and put it off to the side while grabbing a cock in each hand, them standing right next to each other was a major help. you spit on logan's then do the same to wade's while waiting for the saliva to go down to your knuckles before stroking them at the same time.

they both moan, making you smile as you look up to watch both their reactions. logan was looking at you through the tiny holes in the mask while wade's head was hung back in bliss. you started stroking them faster, listening to the amazing sounds they were both letting out.

it was music to your ears.

"just like that baby." logan purred, mesmerized by the view.

"oh fuck- god really is a woman." wade moaned out, making you do a double take before shaking it off.

you continued your pace for a few minutes before you started to slow down then suddenly kept going again. just to keep them on their toes.

they were getting grumpy and annoyed, too fast for your liking but they were needy so what can you really do?

you knew that if you took one in your mouth it would only be a matter of time before you heard complaints from the other one so you had to stick with just your hands. at least that was until they suddenly flipped the switch on you.

wade smacked your hands away from them and before you even got a chance to say anything, logan manhandled you and made you do a 180 then flipped you over, spreading your legs apart in front of them. they both got on their knees, finally taking their masks off to reveal your boyfriends' handsome faces while they ogled at your dripping pussy.

logan lifted your skirt up and let it drape over your stomach while wade pulled your already soaked panties to the side, "whose the sick fuck now?" wade mocked before taking his gloves off then throwing them behind him.

you rolled your eyes at him while logan also took his gloves off and then immediately slid a finger inside you with no warning, "fuck!"

he slammed it as deep as he could go while wade watched in awe. the way your walls were just sucking his whole finger up just made him want to fuck you already. he should be excited this was happening at all and really take it in, maybe take his time, relish the moment but he couldn't help it. it was taking so much in him to not just fuck you like he needed.

he had a feeling logan was on the same boat but knew they had to give you a bit of pleasure before fucking you. it was only a shame because he was so impatient now more than ever.

fortunately for him, he and logan were sharing a brain cell and he pulled his finger out, "sorry baby, we're too impatient.."

wade cheered and quickly got up before taking initiative and manhandling you to flip you onto your stomach then putting you in doggy. he made sure your ass was out and your back perfectly arched before taking his position behind you while logan sat down in front of you.

he looked down at his dick and you grabbed it, taking it into your mouth and going down because there was no point in waiting around. wade slipped inside you, letting you adjust for a solid minute before he started moving.

he started pulling out then thrusting back inside as deeply as he could while you moaned around logan’s cock. he was moaning right along with you while he watched the scene in front of him unfold.

you just looked too good sucking him off while getting fucked and wade looked too good losing his fucking mind fucking you.

“fucking shit baby- you feel so good-“ wade moans and grips onto your hips with his hands, watching your ass bounce and recoil with every thrust.

you whimpered and felt logan twitch in your mouth as you took as much of him as you could without accidentally choking because wade was going hard. he now started smacking your ass, feeling each cheek grow warm fast, “taking it so well sweet pea- so proud of you..” he murmured and you clenched against him.

he moaned and started going faster, having full faith that you’d empty his balls in no time.

you pull away from logan and feel a string of saliva come from your lips to his tip as you took a deep breath, “mmm there you go.. take that cock baby.” he murmurs and cups your jaw, softly rubbing his thumb to your cheek.

your eyes were glossy. so pretty and fucked out already even though it wasn’t that long.

“baby please-“ you pleaded and gripped into logan’s thighs, digging your nails into the skin.

“what do you need, sugar? don’t be shy now.” wade teased with broken breaths.

you didn’t even know what you were begging for, just desperate to cum because all that playing around had you feeling more insatiable than usual. then it popped into your head.

“cum inside me please.” you moaned and wade groaned.

he looked straight ahead and was barely able to looking at himself in the mirror fucking you. he chuckled then lowered himself down until his chest was pressed against your back, “whatever you want baby- fuck- gonna take two loads tonight?”

you whimpered and nodded your head yes while his thrusts became sloppier and he felt that knot in his belly tightening. he moved a hand over and down to your neck, wrapping his hand around it and lightly squeezing, “mmm look at yourself in the mirror baby… think i just found the prettiest of them all.”

you grin and look into his eyes through the mirror which was just the thing to push him right over the edge. he spilled his load inside you, letting go of your neck as he made sure you received every earned drop.

you caught your breath and laid your head onto logan’s lap while wade let out his final moans and slowly started to slip of you. right at that moment logan quickly stood up and took wade’s place, sliding inside you before any of his cum slipped out.

he moaned as soon as your walls entrapped him, feeling wade’s load as he thrusted hard, “fuck- oh my fucking god baby-“

you whimpered and now laid your head against wade’s lap. that was until logan flipped you over once against and now you were on your back with your legs spread as much as you could while he began pounding into you mercilessly.

you were a mess, eyes fucked, body warm, legs shaking while logan moaned out for you, gripping the back of your thighs while he watched your tits bounce.

his eyes rolled to the back of his head and he quickly looked back at you just to grope and squeeze your tits. he kept his hard and deep thrusts at an all time high, already feeling that you were getting close.

your legs started to shake and it was like he was able to feel your pussy pulsate against him. it felt amazing feeling you tightening around him like a vice, it was a feeling he could never truly get use to but would love to feel for the rest of his life.

you were letting out sweet moans of his name as he felt his own orgasm build in his stomach, “that’s a good girl- f-fuck yeah baby, cum with me-“

you whimpered and reached down to your tits and entertwine your fingers with his. “cum inside me too baby- need it so bad.” you whined with a little pout.

with one final look at your face, he did so. he groaned as he came inside you and making sure you were filled to the fucking brim because it’s what you deserve. you shut your eyes and feel your body shake when your orgasm hits you hard while he slows down.

with a few slow strokes, you rode out your highs and he slowly started to pull out of you. you didn’t even notice wade had been on standby next to logan with a towel to help clean up the mess.

yeah you were definitely the lucky one in this relationship.

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