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lanabuckybarnes · 4 months ago

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| Handprints |

18+ Minors DNI

✧Pairing✧ Hugh Ransom Drysdale x Fiancé Reader (F)

✧Warnings✧ Soft Rannie, Jealousy, Some lil bitch flirting with what’s yours, Insecurities, Wow Ransom knows comfort??, Drinking, Crying, Assault (deserved), Unprotected PinV, Desperation, Dirty Talk, Multiple Orgasms, Aftercare King — This is pretty tame for me but if I’ve missed any warnings please don’t be afraid to let me know

✧Word Count✧ 1.4K

✧Author Note✧ Everyone say frick you to this man because I ain’t been able to get things done thanks to his stupidly handsome face and my brain hyperfixating on it. Fr tho I have WIPs, ideas and everything inbetween all left to rot because this son of a bitch is plaguing my mind. He’s so hot tho….

Also big thx to my homegirlies @samodivaa @delicatebarness for reading my filth and coming up with the title 🫶

You didn’t want to go out with Ransom tonight. You had your evening all planned out; sex in the shower, snuggling in bed, sex there too — the whole shebang. But of course, Ransom found himself invited to a dinner party with some old friends that he was excited to introduce you to, so your evening was cut short to merely sharing the shower with him and fleeting kisses between tellings of his long day — he didn’t even have time to make you cum.

The night was enjoyable; most of your fiancé's friends were just like him so you could deal with them. Until she arrived, her curves wrapped in a beautiful floor-length golden gown, her incredibly blonde locks curled to perfection and her eyes predatory.

“Oh my god Rannie!!” She squealed at the sight of your incredibly handsome man, outstretching her perfect little arms and pulling him in for a tight hug.

“Hey Charlotte” Ransom smiled wide, perfect pearly white teeth directed at the stunning lady “This is my fiancé” he said, reaching a large ringed hand out to envelop yours.

Charlotte turned, that cute little lady act dropping to a sneer when she turned her attention to you. Jealously oozed out of her, jealously and bewilderment. Her scrutinising glare made you feel ugly and small.

“Hey,” she forced, spitting your name back at you. Her hand squeezed Ransom’s bicep “Wow Ran you’ve gotten big…” her eyes flickered to him before returning to you “Did you see him in high school, he was so scrawny, skinny little arms and a big bobblehead. Bet you get a lot of girls' attention now hm?”

God you wanted the ground to swallow you whole.

“Maybe but I’ve only got my eyes on one” Your betrothed looked upon you with sparkling blue orbs, squeezing your hand tight. For a moment the party faded leaving you both staring into each other's adoring eyes until Charcuterie cut it short with a fake ‘awww’.

“Well, I’ll leave you two to it then,” she says, giving Ransom a bright, man-killing smile and you a much duller, green eyed glare.

“Well that went well.”

“Huh?” Ransom turns, pulling you close by your waist and laying a soft kiss on your forehead.

“She likes you,”

“Yuh huh?”

“And she hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you” he guffawed, his eyes scrunching up until the blue was barely visible.

“She does, she’s jealous” you argued, pushing him away slightly.

“I think you’re projecting pretty girl” he joked, quickly reining in his laugh when he noticed how upset you looked. Ransom put on a more serious look, hooking a finger under your chin with his free hand “Baby, you’re the only person I want. I only love you” You knew that. There was just something in that girl's gorgeous eyes that made your whole mind thrum with insecurity.

“I know” You pouted and he kissed you with a coo.

“Of course you do, look at the size of that rock on your finger” For effect he clasped your left hand, shoving the massive crystal into your eyeline.

The rest of the night you tried to let the situation with Charlotte go. You stuck around your fiancé most of the evening, stealing his warmth while listening to his old college football teammate drum on and on about how good of a quarterback Ransom once was.

“I remember one game he got rushed to hospital trying to challenge this mountain of a man. He was on his ass and there was blood pouring out of his head.”

“That must’ve been why he thought it was a good idea to settle for someone like her, y’know with the head injury.” A loud laugh came from behind your small huddle, you knew who it was before you even turned.

“That was out of order Charlotte” a girl in your group chastised, glaring at the now very drunk woman.

“Oh I don’t care, you lot sugarcoat everything. Ransom you could do so much better than…that” Her ringed hand failed in your direction, and a growl settled on her lips at the mere sight of you. It was enough to push you over the edge.

Shoving Ransom’s arm off your shoulders you darted away, heading straight for the car you came here in. You had to get out of the crowd, you were thoroughly embarrassed and angry at the whole situation, fat tears falling down your face by the time you swung the passenger door open.

You don’t know how long it took Ransom to settle in the seat beside you, not too long anyway. Instantly his arms were around you, a hand cradling your head into his neck while the other rubbed up and down your spine.

“I'm so sorry baby, I’m so fucking sorry” His words were thick with remorse, his fingers tightening around you “We shouldn’t have come here.”

He let you cry until you ran out of tears, his arms wrapped around you tightly until you pulled away, sighing at the wet patch on his tan jacket.

“I’m sorry” you whispered in a low voice, rubbing a sleeve over his wet shoulder in a feeble attempt to dry it off.

“Don’t apologise, pretty girl, that's what I’m here for. For letting you cry on me…and for slapping whoever disrespects what’s mine.”

“What?” You gawked, red eyes wide at his words.

“I smacked the shit outta her, she’ll think twice about saying shit like that again.” He looked so nonchalant about the whole thing, a pout of sheer unconcern pulling on his lips.

You tried to look appalled at your man’s actions, letting your jaw hang low in astonishment, but it quickly dissolved, a smile breaking out and a shocked laugh bubbling forth.

“Oh my god Hugh Drysdale!!” You smacked his arm softly, giggling freely at just the thought of that blonde’s face with Ransom’s handprint on the side of it. “We gotta get out of here before she calls the cops.”

“Agreed.” He hummed, starting the engine and setting off down the road, singing away to your shared playlist.

“Fuck baby, fucking hell…”

There was a distinct schlick schlick sound coming from the ajar door of the massive house leaving a tiny part of your brain silently thankful for its size. The rest of you doesn’t give a flying fuck.

Ransom laid out on his back beneath you, face and chest flushed and his hair awry thanks to your wandering hands. His hands gripped at your hips, helping you bounce on his thick length, chasing your third orgasm of the night. Somewhere along the journey home your insecurities and jealousy fizzled into raw desire, your hands groping at Ransom while he drove. You barely made it through the front door before you jumped his bones, shoving him into the wall and swallowing his length with ease only experience would get you. Charlotte could never.

“Taking me like such a good girl—fuckkkk—yes baby squeeze my dick” Not only was he a mess physically, his brain had short-circuited after you straddled his body, ripping the belt from the loops of his pants.

“So full Rannie” you whimpered, collapsing onto your hands. Sweat dripped off your forehead and onto his body, you fucked him ferally like two people with nothing on the brain except each other — which wasn’t far from the truth.

“That’s it, good girl, gimme one more baby I know you can” Ransom urged, pushing himself into a sit and using the last of his brainpower to sink a hand between your joined bodies to rub tight circles over your puffy clit.

“She could never make you feel this good could she?” you gripped at his locks, moaning into his open mouth. Ransom’s head shook violently in your grasp, muttering out how you were the only woman in the world that could make him feel this euphoric. Your orgasm was approaching quicker and quicker, jumping over each mental hurdle until all that was left for your brain to think of was the man filling you to the brim.

“Fuck shit m’fucking close baby, gonna fill you up again, you want that huh? Want my cum in that messy little cunt?”

His words hooked your release between their clawed fingers and hurtled it into your body. Your world went white, your body stiffening and your walls milking the man below you for all he was worth. He spilt the last of what he could offer right against your cervix, holding you tight as he shouted like a madman.

The room settled, the only sounds being your mixed breaths gasping for air.

“That was good” Ransom chuckled, pulling out of your with a hiss and flipping you over “might need to make you jealous more.”

“Don’t you dare” you warned with a glare, sealing your lips with his when he leaned down, cleaning up the mess between your legs before dealing with his own.

“I really am sorry about tonight baby, you didn’t deserve to be spoken to like that” The brunette broke the silence that had overcome you both, his fingers massaging down your spine.

“It’s alright, she got what she deserved.”

“Yes” Ransom nodded, resting his weight against your back “and you got what you did too.”

I DO NOT give permission to have my work copied, translated or reposted. If you see my work anywhere else except on this page I have not given consent for it to be used.

Comments, Reblogs, Likes & Asks are always appreciated, although if you liked this fic please consider reblogging so it can reach a wider audience. They let me know that you are enjoying what you read and give me motivation to write more.

Thanks for reading~

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obsidianpen · 1 month ago

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Hermione's first, immediate thought was, Who the fuck is that? And her second thought, which came less than a second later, was, polyjuice potion.

“Wow,” Hermione said as Tom closed the door. She had to bite back a laugh, too, because… he was old.

Old, far from attractive, and nearly the antithesis of the Tom Riddle she’d grown accustomed to. The muggle man who owned the cottage must have been in his seventies, with a slight hunchback, balding head, and short, steely gray beard. The only thing he had in common with Tom was that they were nearly the same height, which explained why his clothes still fit well enough.

Tom grinned at her in a way that Hermione imagined would look very wrong on this man to anyone who knew him. His teeth were yellow, crooked, and two were missing. “You have no idea,” he said, speaking in a gravelly and unfamiliar voice. “This poor bastard has terrible lower back pain, not to mention what I suspect is arthritis just about everywhere.”

He took his coat off—the hunchback looked much more pronounced without it—and he glanced at the clock. “Thank Merlin I only have about three minutes left of this. At least, I think—give or take a minute. I only took half the vial…”

Hermione noted the time. It was a little after one. He’d only been gone an hour.

Hermione stood, unable to stop herself from smirking. “The mighty and fearsome Heir of Slytherin everyone,” she said, gesturing widely.

He glared at her. The effect was far less intimidating in this body. “Cute,” he said.

“It is. I think you wear an old muggle man well.”

“Is that right.” Tom flashed her a smile; it was horrendous.

“Oh, yeah," Hermione said, laughing. "It’s a huge improvement.”

Tom looked like he was barely able to stop himself from rolling his eyes. “Enjoy it while it lasts,” he said. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out four small brown paper bags, tiny enough that they all fit into the palm of one of his hands.

Hermione was effectively distracted. “If there aren’t more books in there, I’m going to cry again,” she threatened.

“Oh, my sweet darling girl,” Tom murmured. And rather than explain further, he set the bags on the table and waved his wand over them. They grew and grew until they proved to be much larger than Hermione expected. They were big and beautifully full.

“Careful,” Tom said, for Hermione was already ripping into one. “Not all of them are very nice.”

Books, books, books! Hermione’s smile was uncontainable as she pulled out heavy book after heavy book, some more ominous looking than others, and—

“OW!”

Hermione dropped the most recent one she’d been holding, some thick tome bound in black leather. “This one—it shocked me or something!”

The offending book had a title written in Latin. A quick glance told Hermione it was, unsurprisingly, about ancient dark curses.

“Yes, I did just warn you,” Tom said slyly. He moved to stand behind her, wrapping one arm around her waist as he did. “That one requires a... gentle touch,” he explained. “Calm energy. Focused. Doesn’t respond well to chaos; outright refuses to open for anything less than collected, intentional deliberation.”

He reached down, and Hermione saw that his hand was no longer the weathered and old but pale, flawless. He ran his fingers along the cover in a fluid motion, then flipped the cover open to reveal a page written entirely in Latin.

Hermione looked up at him, but his eyes were on the book. Her breath caught. Maybe it was simply because she had just been looking at an ugly old man a moment before, but Tom looked exceptionally beautiful now. His angular jawline, his high cheekbones, his perfect skin. Those hypnotic eyes and those lips…

His hand resting on her waist suddenly felt heavy and hot, even though it was the lightest touch. Hermione swallowed hard and said, “What does it say?”

Tom continued to scan the page, his eyes going back and forth in a way that told Hermione that he could not only translate Latin, but that he was quite well versed in it. She wondered if he kept reading because the book was demanding his attention, or he was just that enthralled. She suspected the latter.

Finally, he looked at her. “Hermione. Don't tell me you can't read Latin yourself," he said chidingly.

“I can translate it well enough,” Hermione said. “But I’m afraid the book might stab me or something if I try right now.”

Tom seemed to take a moment to process this—and Hermione felt herself blush, because she was admitting that she could not possibly be calm or focused just then—and slowly smiled. “The page I just read begins to explain the process of adjusting the strength of curses in order to use them for a wider array of applications,” he said. “Fascinating stuff.”

“Yeah,” Hermione said. “I’m sure it is.”

They were perfectly still for a moment, eyes locked as he looked at her from over her shoulder, Hermione’s back against his chest. He’d only just walked through the door, and already she felt uncomfortably warm, that feeling like electricity charging the air.

“...But those books aren’t for you.”

Tom stepped away, picking up the frightening book he’d just read from, and closed it. He set it aside and reached into a different bag, then pulled out one that could not have looked more different. This book was much smaller, bright pink, and on the cover was a moving image of a pretty blonde witch smiling and winking.

The title was in English. It read, ‘The Glam Witch’s Guide to All Things Fertility’ by Justine Hayes.

#blood and gold #snippet #blood and gold snippet #tomione

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pixeechix21 · 1 year ago

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Halloween Hunt

ghostface x fem!reader

TW: knife play, primal, mask kink, chasing, rough sex, vulgar words, choking, blood play (v. minor dw), smut, alcohol mentioning, unprotected, p in v, scare/fear kink, hunted, v. rough

WC:1461

Pt2

Halloween night:

The pink bag stares at you, laying on your duvet covers. Your foot is nervously going up and down. you r at a safe distance watching it you hadn’t opened it yet, too scared to do it. Come on y/n just do it, like it's going to be Jason’s hand or head. Wait, could it? You urge yourself to open the delicate pink bag. It’d be best to open it just to make sure it’s not, you go on. Then you go for it knowing you’d just spiral in your own thoughts. The tissue paper is put to the side and inside the bag you pull out a beautiful silk and lace pink dress. It was smooth as you put it on your body. Trying it on it fit perfectly, almost as if it was tailored just for your body.

If I was going to be his princess I’ll show him just how much I can be. You rummage through your messy dorm and combine random pieces to make your costume whole: white sparkly heels, fairy wings, and a tiara. “Wow! You look like a magical fairy princess queen!” your bestie exclaims barging into your room, leaving the door open.

You twirl happily, “thank you… what are you meant to be?” You look at her slip-dress with the picture of some old white man.

“A Freudian slip,” my dorm neighbor stops in the hallway. Both of us look stunned at the intrusion of the stranger. “Oh my god! That’s right!” your friend claps happily.

You both leave your room passing the bottle back and forth heading to Devin’s frat house on the edge of the campus.

Once you get there you’re on alert suddenly remembering the game. A couple bros try to feel you up as you’re both dancing in the sweaty crowd. Sheila pushes them off shouting, “trust me you didn’t need a mask you’re already scary and ugly normally,” you laugh together, watching not to spill your drinks.

You feel disappointed not having spotted him yet. The anticipation building. You forget how many hours pass but then everything changes. You're feeling hot and shout to your friend that you need air. Stumbling and pushing past the masses, you look up from your feet. You almost shit yourself at him standing there looking at you. There is a small pose of girls surrounding him, but he looks only at you and you can just imagine him smiling devilishly. Those girls don’t even know what their fucking with.

You reach outside, puffing out a breath of steamy air. The game is on, he spotted you. You need to run, to hide, don’t get caught. Looking left and right you sprint straight to the edge of campus and out into the woods, following the path. Thank God for the years of pageant training and running from the cops in unstable shoes.

Footsteps are following you, determined. Your arms are swinging and your legs are burning as you run as fast as you can. The cold nipped at your face, causing the whipping of the branches to sting ferociously. You turn left abruptly and hide behind a large oak tree. This time it’s your own hand gripping your mouth shut, so he can’t hear you. The footsteps slow down, he’s searching for you.

“Aww I was having so much fun,” he complains, “I won't hurt you I swear. Well not unless you beg for it,” he says out into the dark. He slowly passes you, and you see the back of him, thinking you're safe. You hold a nearby stick and lunge out of your hiding place, screaming. You're on top of him bringing down your stick. He catches your hand and you release it from the pain. He flips both of you over, his hand holding both of yours over your head. “You’re so pretty when you’re angry,” he says, trailing his knife down the side of your face, following your jawline, finishing with the point tilting your heads to look up at him. “You stole my coffee asshole!” you bite out. His chuckle is endearing. As he comes close to your face you wish you could see his eyes, or even his smile.

You struggle under him as the cold sets in. Your chest rises and falls in shallow breaths as his knife touches your thong. You clench in anticipation, you can hear his breaths rapidly and the feeling of his hands holding you tightly. His hand feels your wetness through the thin layer. He starts ever so delicately circling your clit, making your hips push up to meet his fingers. He lets go of your hands and pushes your hips back down to the floor. “You have to be good if you want it,” he says gruffly, shaking his head. The torture goes on to the point where your stubbornness breaks down, “ple- fuck- please mr.gohstface,” you writhe desperately.

“Say it louder,” he palms your clit harder, almost pushing to the edge.

“Please! I’m about to-” you shudder as you're blinded by your orgasm. His fingers continue working relentlessly, and you nearly cry as you come again. Taking out his fingers you sigh sadly not wanting it to be finished.

“Open your mouth,” he demands, and you can feel his hardness pressing into your dripping cunt. You do as you're told and he puts two fingers in, you look up at him and suck them lightly. “You make a man go insane, you know that?” He says hungrily as he looks at his fingers being drawn out of your mouth.

Longing for more, your hands grab his belt buckle and undo them. Your cold hands feel his cock, and he tenses his abs. He’s on knees and you sit up so that you’re face to face with him hard on. Working your hand up and down you give quick kisses through his boxers. Taking his dick out of the boxes lick the precum coming from the slit, dragging it gradually all the way across. He tosses his head back, trying to control himself as you go at your own pace. Your lips surround him and instantly his hand grips your head. You bob your head up and down, twirling your tongue tantalizing. You feel him grow harder and you pick to the pace. “Shit, just like that,” he groans out. Just as he is about to come, yanks your head back so that you look up at him, mouth open gasping for air.

“Turn around on your knees,” he releases you and you turn over, your ass up. Normally you’d be self-conscious, but strangely you feel safe with him. “A fucking masterpiece,” he admires cutting off your panties with his knife point, skillfully. Everso slowly you stretch painfully as he puts in his tip. You moan feeling yourself become whole, fulfilled. Once his hips touch your ass you feel tears forming. Dragging himself out slowly back in the friction kills you. You try to ask for him to go faster, rougher, just more. He takes your hair and whispers, “say it. Tell me what you want, I'm at your command.”

“More. Now.”

“Anything for you princess,” and immediately his fingers dig into you and he slams into you. You yelp at the sudden movement. He goes on unrelentingly, your knees scrapping on the forest floor. You can hear him grunting with the impact. Your crying at the forces as you orgasms comes over you. “Fuck y/n,” he moans as you milk him. He grabs your hair once more, you arch your back more and he hits you. Lifted up, your head rests on his shoulder and his knife comes to your neck. You smile at the feeling of the horror and thrill coursing through you like an aphrodisiac. “Look at me as I come in you,” he bites out, fucking you to oblivion. He tenses and you feel him coming to you. He releases you and you fall to your hands. He takes out his dick and watches amusedly as his cum comes out of you. You sigh as he takes his fingers and pushes it back into you.

“Go before I do something I shouldn’t.” he warns.

You run.

A month later:

You haven’t forgotten that night and every now and then you think you see those tattoos or hear his voice. You were sure you were crazy when during your first lecture on business psychology you saw him bent over talking to the seated professor. You know it’s him, just know it. He looks up as he goes on to walk away. Frozen like a statue, you gape as he walks to his seat in the far corner. Smiling knowingly, and winks placing a coffee cup on your seat desk.

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tinytennisskirt · 4 months ago

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A Chaotic Reunion: Part Two

Part 2 Summary: A continuation (find the first part here). ChildhoodBest friend!Art visits the reader's gallery before it opens and asks reader on a date only to have it ruined by Patrick, who is going through something. Things are unconventional, but Art still ends up in the reader's bed by the end...

Warnings: Patrick being suggestive, drunk Patrick, (touching, kissing with Art)

You woke up earlier than usual, nerves, somehow waking you before the alarm. But you used your time wisely. You showered with the good soaps and sprayed your perfume fresh out of the steam. You got ready, fixing your hair up and doing your makeup. You got dressed in your regular business casual work clothes, style, but comfort first.

Julie was up and chatting like she didn't get home and crash on her carpet before you and your other roommate saw and pulled her into her bed. She had a miraculous luck that never let her be hungover the next day, you joked that she was the drinking messiah.

“You’re heading in early?” She asked, passing you a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with cucumbers on the side for breakfast. Not the usual, but it was fun enough.

“Yes, I have a friend coming to see the art and I thought he would like it better if it was just us. Without me having to tend to the potential buyers who you know can be a pain in the ass." You told her. Your other room main Shailene hummed.

“That guy from last night?” She grinned.

“There was a guy?”

You chuckled, “Yes. An old friend though, genuinely. From childhood. His name is Art, he’s a… tennis player in town for a tournament, I think."

“Art Donaldson,” Julie said. It didn’t sound like a question.

“Yeah?” you said, surprised. “How did you know that?”

She looked disbelieving, “The only Art in tennis I know is Art Donaldson, no way that’s your childhood friend- he’s hot, Y/N. He’s mega-hot, no way.” Shailene laughed from the kitchen as you ate your food.

“He is mega-hot, Y/N,” she chimed in. “He was totally eyeing you down too, I saw from when I was approaching that man was down bad.”

“He was not,” you laughed. He might have been. Your boobs comment from the night before rang out in your brain and so did how he reacted. Hmm… maybe he was, but not majorly. You weren't ugly, you couldn't rule it out entirely. “But I’m showing him the gallery is all.”

“Mhm,” Shailene hummed again.

“Okay, shhhh,” you said, setting dishes aside and going to the bathroom to brush your teeth. You heard the girls out in the living room whispering about looking up his tennis highlights. You shook your head- you’d gone to sleep last night watching those. “See you later!” You called to them as you spun out the door. Best to avoid more interrogation and just let the morning unfold.

You drove over and opened as usual, keeping the sign on the door saying closed. You ensured everything was tidy and clean and just as beautiful and colourful as the days before. You went through a few gallery emails, replying and sending. And on time, there was a knock at the door. You fixed the sleeves on the black long-sleeve shirt and adjusted the square neckline dip as you walked over to unlock the door.

“Hey,” he said. He had two coffees in hand, iced coffee. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” you answered with a smile. He smiled right back and extended you an iced coffee. You were glad it was iced, hot coffee on a warm morning would just feel too corporate. And gross. “Thank you! You didn’t have to.”

“I’m not bringing nothing for the woman giving me a private tour of her gallery. Plus, I need it after last night," he said. You moved out of the way so he could come in. His eyes widened as he met the colourful surroundings of the gallery. “Wow- this is amazing.”

“My team and I hand-pick everything,” he spun and looked at you. You put a hand to your forehead, “I’m in work mode. My friends, my roommates and I we pick the art. We went with a theme of colour because we thought it is one of the most universal things about art is that there is colour. Sometimes shade, but when you think art, you think colour.” You gestured to everything. “An ode to that.”

He listened to you intently and walked with you as you showed him the gallery, piece by piece explaining things. He would joke, you’d joke back, and the banter was sweet and easy. You caught up on life, more. Talked parents and school and local town things. You sat on a bench overlooking one of your biggest pieces. “It’s nice to speak to someone not so involved in tennis.” He said, looking over at you.

“I was thinking I didn’t bring it up enough,” you replied, eating the ice out of your finished coffee. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” he nodded. He turned more your way so that your knees touched. “Everyone in my life talks about tennis more than their own children, family, accomplishments. Even I talk about it too much. You and the art here- it’s been good to hear about something like this.”

“I’m glad the gallery could be your escape,” you said. “And I’m happy you like it and I will GLADLY speak about anything other than tennis because I know nothing other than hitting a ball back and forth.”

He laughed, “Perfect. That’s all you need to know.”

“Oh phew,” you sighed. It was nearing opening, you heard your roommates come in downstairs. His head turned. “I’m glad you came to see it though. Escape or no escape.”

“Me too. It’s really impressive what you have here for yourself. And it’s been great seeing you, everything you’re doing is amazing and beautiful.”

“Thank you.” Your eyes met his, blue with bits of brown, those long eyelashes. “I wasn’t even sure what I was doing was worthwhile.”

“Probably more than,” he replied. “This gallery is amazing and you're doing it with your friends? Most people can't say they love what they do let alone that they do it with people they like and actually know. I'm jealous, honestly. But I know you open soon, so I should probably be on my way... Do you get off at nine?

“Most days,” you replied. “I can leave a bit earlier today since I started and did the opening process an hour before we opened. And thank you. I needed to hear something like that."

“Always." He said, standing. You stood with him, taking a second to toss your empty cup into the nearby bin. "-And perfect- I was wondering if you wanted to get dinner? Late… dinner. With me.” He asked, hands shoving themselves into his pockets. Your eyes widened a bit. Was he asking you out? “Is there a local place maybe? I’d love to be shown around a bit more if you have the time.”

“Of course- I-“ you fought a wide grin. “I’d love that. There’s a little Italian place just a few doors down from here or there’s an Indian place two blocks from here… or the sushi place a bit closer to my apartment. They’re all open late.”

“Sushi sounds good,” he said, standing up. “So do I call the number on the business card when I pick you up here at 8:10?” He flipped the card between his fingers.

You chuckled. He would pick you up? From work? That was his plan… “Oh, here- you grabbed the card from him, took the pen from your belt loop, and scribbled your number out for him. He grinned his crooked grin and your heart fluttered just a bit. “I’ll see you, then.”

“Sounds perfect,” he said. You both headed down the stairs of the gallery, past your friends who were doing a bit of near-afternoon filing. “I’ll call. Thank you for this, I think I needed it and I will for sure be back.”

“Sounds perfect,” you echoed. “See you later.”

He kissed you on the cheek before saying goodbye and exiting out the front. You turned around and the second he was no longer able to hear, both Julie and Shailene squealed. “The cheek kiss? So cute!” Shailene said, raising her hands above her head. “He so wants you, I honestly wouldn’t have minded if you two went at it against the Rosenthal in the corner.”

“That’s enough,” you smiled.

“Is it?” Julie asked. “Not so much as a kiss?”

“It’s 11am!” You said. “Who kisses someone at 11am? Besides it’s a bit different, we have so much history. Childhood together versus now, I think I’m having trouble not seeing the little blonde boy who would burp for a laugh." That wasn’t true, that image faded last night as you dreamt about him. There was no more little boy in Art.

“Okay, but what was that ‘see you later’ business?” Shailene asked.

“He asked me to dinner,” you started. Both girls opened their mouths to speak. “It’s probably friendly! I have no idea what his intentions are. He said he’d pick me up at 8:10, if I can get off early tonight- is that okay with you guys?”

“More than,” Julie squealed. “I’ll stay at my boyfriend’s tonight, Shai, you can come with me if you want? I have clothes you can wear there.”

“Hold on-“

“He’d be fine with that?” She asked Julie. Julie nodded excitedly.

“Perfect,” Julie said.

“I’m not bringing him back to the apartment!” You said. These girls were too forward sometimes. “We're just catching up."

“That’s what the early opening was for? That’s what dinner is for?” Julie stated, as if it was common sense. “Shai and I are more than happy to get out for a night. You deserve some good sex.”

“How would you even know if he’s-“

“He’s a tennis player! There’s gotta be some force there.” She continued. “You can run home on lunch break and get one of my dresses if you like. Or anything. Just don’t wear work clothes, you won’t be able to let loose that way.”

You nodded. Shailene grinned. “Maybe wear that midi-dress with the slit up the thigh. Ooh, with the red mary-janes!”

“Ooh,” you smiled. “Okay, okay. I’ll go on lunch.”

“I’m so excited for you!” Julie clapped. It was a matter of getting through the day. All day, you three talked about him and your childhood, what drove you two apart, etcetera. At lunch you went home and grabbed the clothes and some of your makeup to touch up on. You worked the rest of the day with a few buyers coming in. It neared 8 and the girls were still just as excited.

Your phone rang. “Is that him?” You asked? You were in the bathroom in a spare moment just getting changed and touching up.

“It’s him!” Shailene ran your phone to you. You smiled and picked up.

“Hey,” you said.

“Uh- hey-“ he sounded preoccupied, you could hear he was in the car. “So I really was looking forward to dinner with you, but my best friend is going through something right now and he is inconsolable in the manly way, which if you know what that’s like, he might be a bit out of control.”

He was cancelling? You shut the door to the bathroom. “That’s okay, I understand. Are you cancelling?”

“I don’t really want to, so if you’re fine to meet a friend, I would love to see you still. I just can’t leave him alone, you know?” He said. “I am so sorry, Y/N. This is the opposite of what I wanted for tonight and I completely understand if you would rather it be just us. We can reschedule."

You shook your head as if he could see, “No, that’s so admirable that you’re keeping him close. Don’t be sorry whatsoever, I promise it’s okay. And if you don’t want to cancel, I’m still free.”

“You promise it’s okay?” He asked. “I am so so sorry I would usually never do this, I promise I will make it up to you.”

You laughed, “It’s endearing! I don’t mind. He’s okay though?”

“He’s okay but on a level where I’m not sure what he’d do if I wasn’t around,” he replied. “I’m picking him up right now, I’ll be there in ten if you still want me?” Of course, you did. It was unconventional, but it was okay.

“Sounds good,” you replied. “I’ll see you soon. Don’t worry too much, okay?”

He chuckled, “I’ll try. See you soon.”

You said goodbyes and hung up. You I immediately updated your girls on the situation and they were disappointed but were sure it would still be good. And soon enough, Art’s car pulled up outside and thank god, his friend wasn’t in the front seat. You waved goodbye to your friends, grabbed your purse, and left, getting into the car. It was nice, clean.

“Hey, you look-“ he started, “Wow.”

“I didn’t want to wear work clothes out or I’d feel like I was still at work,” you told him. You turned in your seat to face another man. He seemed tall, with dark curls, and a bit of facial hair. You recognized him as Art’s tennis partner.

“Patrick,” he said, giving you his hand to shake. You shook it, he smiled.

“Oh, I know,” you grinned. “I’m Y/N- wow, two tennis stars in one car.”

“Okay, as if.” Art said, putting the car in drive again. “No tennis talk, for both mine and Patrick’s sake.”

“Done,” you said. “I don’t have enough tennis content in my head to remark on anything anyways. So the sushi place is just by my apartment, if you take a right up here, then pass two streets and a left, then you’re there.”

“Perfect,” Art said. “How was work?”

“Not too busy today, we had one of our regular buyers in today and sold two pieces to him, but the rest was marketing, emails, and planning for a gallery event.”

“What kind of event?” Patrick asked from the backseat. You half-expected him to stay quiet from the greeting that was just his name.

“Oh, it’s a bit of a sale where the proceeds go to a local children’s hospital for funding,” you told him. “Every year me and my coworkers put it on and it’s usually pretty successful.”

“That’s impressive,” Art said.

“And considerate,” Patrick added. “You’re big on charity?”

“When I can be,” you replied, and you turned back to Art. “The event is in a few weeks, lots of shrimp, so if you want to come just let me know.” Art looked over at you with a soft smile.

“I’d like that,” he replied, seemingly happy that you’d invited him. You smiled back. “You’ll have to send the details.”

“I will for sure,” you told him. You got to the place in no time and Art parked the car. “This is it. It’s a cute place, open late, I can’t tell you how many times me and my roommate have had a random craving at 1am and came down for sushi. That’s my building right over there.” You pointed across the street.

Art looked over, getting out of the car, then back to you, eyes lingering on your dress. “They’re open that late?”

“Yeah,” you laughed. “And the sushi is amazing.”

Patrick got out of the car and rose to be about as tall as you imagined. He was a bigger guy than you had observed from the dark of the back of the car. More muscle mass to his body, visible in his t-shirt and cargo shorts. “I’m starved.” Is all he said. You looked at Art and he mouthed another ‘I’m sorry’ and you laughed quietly, hitting him gently in the arm.

You all headed in, got a table, and started ordering immediately. Patrick wondered what the Japanese alcohol was like and ordered some for the table. You didn’t feel much like drinking, but it was headed to the table anyway. You and Art filled Patrick in on all the details of the games you played as kids and he took pleasure in teasing Art about playing the ‘girly’ games.

“Hey, I looked good in the princess shoes,” he said as Patrick reached over and ruffled his blonde hair.

“It’s true. And there was no way I’d let him pretend to be a prince because that meant we would have to kiss, because you know that’s what princesses and princes do,” you said. Patrick chuckled. "- And he rocked the crown and dress as well.”

“A crown and a dress? You were her bitch at age nine?” He laughed at Art, who pretended to hide his face. “I’m impressed, but I’m not surprised. I mean look at her now. Big-time gallerist who runs charity events.”

You pretended that didn’t land as if it was flattery, blinking it off. Art raised his head. You ate another California roll.

“Yeah,” Art said. “It’s not like she didn’t play guns with me.”

“If you ended up a princess and she ended up with a toy gun, that’s a bit telling.” Patrick added. He poured himself a bit of the drink he’d ordered for the table. It was more than a cup.

“He was a bit under my thumb… I was a bossy child,” you joked. Art nodded and smiled. Patrick downed his drink. “I’m not so bossy now.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Patrick grinned a wide grin and part of it was suggestive.

“Is it?” You questioned.

“I’d say so. I think Art would agree. Nothing is wrong with a bossy woman as long as it stays-“

“Okay…” Art said, almost dismissive.

“Hm,” you hummed. You tried the drink, but it was bitter, not for you. Patrick picked up that you hated it from the look of disgust and poured your share into his cup. “I’m collaborative, I think. You’d have to ask my friends because now I’m rethinking.”

“Collaborative is okay too, I don’t complain,” Patrick said, drinking more. He had a slight smirk on his face. Art shook his head and looked at you, your mouth stayed a little open from the words you'd just heard. “You know Art told me he ran into you but he didn’t say anything about how gorgeous you are.”

You felt a bit cornered, your cheeks feeling a faint bit of pink just from the situation. Art rubbed his eyes and rested his chin on his fist, pouring himself a little bit of the alcohol and drinking it. “Thank you,” you replied. “I wish I could reply with anything of the sort but I wasn’t expecting anyone else with us tonight.” You tried to laugh it off.

“Okay, Patrick,” Art came in, dismissive again. “Come on.”

“What?” He said, hands up in questioning. “You said dinner with a friend- I didn’t picture someone like her. You can’t tell me she’s not gorgeous.” The bottle was somehow more than half-gone. You weren’t sure what to say.

“She is- but Patrick, please.” He urged him quietly and you pretended not to hear. Patrick was for sure tipsy and was for sure flirting. All you focused on was the ‘she is’.

“Me? Come on? You’re all stiff, Buddy.” Patrick downed another cup you hadn’t even seen him pour. You understood what Art meant by going through it- something was up with him for sure. “Look at her, look-“

“Thank you,” you said again. Art looked at you apologetically. You took back the bottle of alcohol and drank right from it, just a swig. Disgusting but you probably needed it. “And thanks for coming, honestly. It’s been good meeting you.”

“You’re scaring her away, Artie,” Patrick said, ruffling Art’s hair again. Art looked embarrassed, to say the least. The Japanese alcohol was surprisingly strong. You guessed that was why it was so bitter. Patrick must have been well on his way to full drunk if a swig brought a fuzz to your vision for a moment. It passed.

“I think we should get out of here,” you said. Art nodded immediately. He got up faster than you could and went to the counter to pay. You couldn't even object. Your eyes followed him, tracing your eyes over the long-sleeve dark green shirt he was wearing with pants that looked really nice on him. You wondered if that was what he wore to games- it was nice- but looked comfortable. You wished he wasn’t paying.

You looked back at Patrick, who had just finished off the bottle when you weren’t looking. You were in trouble now. “You really are gorgeous. Are you single?”

“Uh- I am, but-“

“I’d love to take you out,” he said. “I’ll ask Art to send me your number.”

“Maybe…”

“Are we done flirting with Y/N?” Art said, coming back with a huff, sliding a card back into his wallet.

“Hardly,” Patrick grinned. You couldn’t help but smile at that response, it was funny. Art helped Patrick up, letting him lean on him. Art’s eyes practically projected an essay of apology. You were watching the alcohol sink in slowly to Patrick, he was getting worse, it seemed. And when you got into the car, Art put the key in the ignition and the car did not roar to life. It sputtered.

“Fuck!” Art exclaimed. “I knew I should have taken her in earlier. I’m sorry, the car has been on its last legs for a month or two now and I was going to get it fixed, but I put it off-“

“It’s okay,” you told him, hand on his upper arm. “Does it need a jump?”

“I’m not even sure if that would save it,” he laughed, almost, but it sounded fake. Patrick’s laugh from the back seat was very real. “Fuck, I’m sorry guys. I’ll call a cab.”

“Do you want to come back to mine?” You asked. “Just across the street, you can crash there if you’d like. My roommates are out tonight.” Might as well make use of the empty apartment.

“Really? I don’t want to impose,” Art said. He looked you dead in the eyes, looking for something genuine in you, almost disbelieving you'd be so kind to take in his fucked up friend.

“I wouldn’t offer if it wasn’t what I wanted. It’s probably best we get him somewhere secure fast- he’s had a lot.”

With a nod, you and Art got out of the car and started pulling a drunken Patrick out and over to the apartment. You and Art tried your best to ignore every pass he was making at you, calling you pretty, saying your nicely the colour of the dress went with your skin, talking about the slit of the dress. And you dealt with it all the way up the elevator and as you unlocked the door.

Patrick stumbled in and Art guided him to the couch. “Colourful,” Patrick said, “But bright.”

You dimmed the lights with the dimmer and shut the door behind you. “We keep some art here. Stuff we’ve bought, thrifted, found."

Art took a second to look around. “It’s nice. Really nice,” he said. Patrick sat up on the couch and looked around for a remote. You tossed it to him. “Which room is yours?”

You pointed to the one at the end, “Second biggest room. We drew straws.” You told him. Patrick looked like he had no idea how a remote worked. He put it down and got up, staggered and swaying. You looked at Art and Art looked at Patrick.

“Can I talk to you?” He asked you, dismissing Patrick. You nodded and pulled him to the kitchen just a bit more away from the drunk stranger in your living room. The second you were alone, he put his hands to his head. “I am so sorry about this. It’s one thing to bring your friend out when you ask a girl to dinner, but another to have him off his ass and go back to her apartment because your car decides to kill itself.”

“Art-“

“I know- because you’re kind and you’re sweet and perfect- that you don’t mind, but that doesn’t mean I don’t. You have no idea how sorry I am for all of this, but I promise you I’ll make it up to you.” He said, eyes on yours, his hands on your upper arms the same way they were when you bumped into him. Gentle, soft. “Thank you for this though, I really appreciate you giving us somewhere to go and I swear it won’t happen again.”

“I do promise it’s okay,” you reassured him, fighting the urge to laugh. He was sweet, worried, but sweet. “Thank you for apologizing though it’s not needed. Shows your character.” He smiled a little, but his eyes widened. You felt a hand on your waist, less gentle, less asked for. Not the hand you wanted there...

“Patrick-“

You turned, stepping away from his grasp. You didn’t know what to do or say. “You smell amazing,” he said, slight slur to his words. “Do guys ever tell you that?”

“Not often,” you replied. “What’s up?”

“Can’t get the TV to work,” he replied. “But if you have any idea of what we can do instead, I’m all ears.” He was so drunk. Japanese alcohol was a quick fix, apparently.

You slipped past and back into the living room, followed by the men. You could hear Art whispering to Patrick behind you as you grabbed the remote and turned the TV on.

ART DONALDSON US OPEN HIGHLIGHTS

In bright white splayed across the top of the screen started playing. You covered your mouth and closed it as fast as you could. You forgot your roommates were watching that this morning- your heart skipped a beat from humiliation.

Fuck. You put on the first thing you saw, some cop comedy movie. You turned it down enough for it to be background noise and Patrick crashed on the couch again. And he was silent.

Art walked over to you, “US OPEN highlights is crazy,” he said quietly, leaning on his arm against the wall you had your back to. “I have better games than that.”

“Mmm, so you saw,” you replied, voice hushed. You felt your cheeks flush just slightly. “My roommates were watching it once they found out you were coming to the gallery early.”

“So they know all about me then. They’re fans,” he said, fake-boasting. You smiled and shook your head. "Sometimes I hate tennis. I can never be mysterious and unknown."

“They think you’re hot mysterious or not. They’re a fan of anyone who is hot. You should have seen how my roommate Shai got about the hot mailman from downstairs- she practically made a fanpage. I swear we had a shrine for him somewhere.” You told him.

“And I don't get a shrine yet,” he laughed. You two kept quiet, leaning against the wall behind the couch. Patrick stayed quiet.

“Tennis player is somewhere high on Shailene’s list, I’m sure I could set you up,” you shrugged.

“What, that’s crazy. You don’t think I’m hot?” He teased. “Is it the crooked smile? I’ve been told it’s crooked.”

“Nobody hates the crooked smile, I promise.” You told him. And that exact crooked smile crept up his face. You smiled back. “I think it’s quite nice.” You added.

“Oh just nice, hm. That’s like me saying you look good.”

“Do I not?” You prodded. “And I said ‘quite’ nice.”

“No, no, you look quite good,” he replied. You smiled and hit him in the arm playfully. “I hate saying it because I know Patrick beat me to it, drunk and all, but you do look gorgeous. And I’m sorry it wasn’t just us tonight.”

“I know you’re sorry, but it’s not the end of the world. You are allowed to stop being sorry, I swear it’s okay,” you replied. Patrick coughed loudly. “Here, come in-“ you stepped into your room and turned on the lowlight lamp in the corner, casting dull orangey light around your room. You sat on your knees on your bed and he sat with you. “My room.”

He shut the door and looked around. And he was gorgeous, observing the things in your room. How he looked under the golden lamp light, over his features, over his curls. You were alone. He looked at you, “Your room is so comfortable.” He said. "I'm too used to empty hotels with fluorescents."

"Yuck, I couldn't live if the only lights I had were white, they need to be warm or I feel like I'm at the doctor."

"Oh, it's the worst. Especially trying to wind down at night, even the lamps buzz with the same feeling as the dentist." He said. "You have so many books and... so many pillows." He chuckled, referencing the pillows on your bed, on your desk chair, in the corner of your room. He sat on the bed next to you, close to you, still observing. You watched his jaw as he looked up at the ceiling to your stain glass light fixture and the art on your walls. It was silent with the low rumbles of the voices on the tv just outside your room.

It hit you harder, in the silence of the room with the closed door, that there was nobody else here with you. No Patrick in the room. Nothing between you two. You felt a bit like you’d just put down a baby to sleep, finally.

“Is it also hitting for you that we are alone for the first time? I feel like we just put Patrick down.” Art turned to look at you, shifting his body a bit on the bed.

Your eyes widened, “I was thinking the same thing! Like he’s a child we sent to bed finally.” You laughed.

He laughed. “Exactly!” He had a nice laugh. You leaned forward into each other as you laughed and his hand rested itself on your knee. Your forehead touched his shoulder just barely.

And surprisingly the laughing lasted a lot longer than you imagined. Every time either one of you tried to catch your breath you’d just start laughing again and it was contagious and all-consuming.

But it ended the second he kissed you.

His hands slipped over your jaw and around your ears and he pulled your face to kiss, lips meeting perfectly in the centre. It was sudden but it was natural and it was easy and you kissed him back immediately, slow, compared to the pace of the day. His hand slowly slid from your jaw, down your neck, to the back of it. Your hand slid down his chest and around his back.

He didn’t stop, he didn’t pull away. He just got up on his knees, kiss unbreaking, just as strong, and leaned you back so your head hit your pillows gently. He situated himself above you, kissing you and kissing you right. The way he kissed was better than anything you’d ever had, it was gentle but still strong and wanting as his hands traveled down your waist and yours migrated to around his neck. The giggling had ended for sure as he kissed the side of your mouth, then your cheek, your jaw, over your ear, your neck. Your hand slid up into the back of his hair, finding a grip on the curls.

Your legs wrapped around him, your leg slipping through the slit in the dress, pressing against him. His hand slid down your thigh and over your near-bare hip. his grip on it perfect. If you could have pulled him closer you would have, but in this circumstance it would mean something you weren't quite ready for tonight.

He kissed your neck and collarbone softly, nose grazing your skin as he went along, soft lips pressing to each point until they met yours again. Hungrier, faster, he gripped your hip harder, but enough. His hand slipped further up your dress through the window of the slit, hand on your waist now, your underwear the only thing under it, but ignored by him. He was touchy but in the right way, hand on waist, hip.

You sighed heavily as he kissed over to your ear again, lower lobe, just behind your ear, moving your hair out of the way. It sent goosebumps trailing over your skin.

But you couldn’t help but giggle, the laughter from earlier catching up. He stopped and he moved back over you, face to face. You kept giggling and kissed him once more, a small peck. He grinned. “What’s so funny?”

You laughed again, just a giggle. He kissed you again and you both rolled over in the bed toward the wall and you nearly hit your head but it just made things funnier. He laughed too, placing a hand behind your head to keep it from hitting the wall again. You sat over him, hair falling in both yours and his face. “What’s so funny?” He asked again, but he was laughing now too. And you kissed him again. Just as strong, just as passionately, quieting things again.

Patrick stayed quiet for the rest of the night, presumably passed out on the couch. You and Art spent the rest of the night laying together and talking more, the way you would have if your date earlier had gone well. Talking, kissing freely, a lot of laughter but enough shushing as to not wake Patrick or anything.

"You do smell really good," Art said, brushing your hair behind your ear.

"The communal date-night bodywash bottle," You told him. He found that really funny. "And vanilla perfume."

You kept laughing, talking, connecting. It was easy, like you'd never parted ways. But eventually, he fell asleep. You followed soon after and fell asleep with him, your head on his chest. And it was a rocky, but good night in the end. A good place to resume not only friendship but maybe something else. You’d have to wait and see.

#art donaldson #art donaldson fluff #challengersfic #challengers #patrick zweig #art x reader #art donaldson x reader #romance #challengers x reader #art x y/n #art donaldson imagine

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yanderesimp2000 · 8 months ago

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Extreme Yandere Adam x Fem reader Chap 1/5 Start of your new life !MINORS STAY AWAY!

(hey this is my first post here Just wanna say my english might be bad since I'm from Armenia but I'm excited to post here I USED ALOT OF INSPO FROM OTHER ADAM WRITES TO here are the TWS

Kidnapping, Adam being an incel as usual, threats of violence , Degrading, Manipluation, Violence, Noncon listener, threats of SA ,Gasliting, narcissism and rape if that's not your cup of tea SCROLL

Your are an angel You made it into Heaven recently Heaven would be like a paradise but is kinda like your old life in the big city You have to get a job buy things and Just deal with the classic shit of reality even though your in the FUCKING PROMISELAND

You decided to just be what you did back in Yerevan city and just be a secretary but it was the person to hire you that was strange it was Adam the First man when you met him you expected him to be some wise, kind and Gentle soul but instead you got a creepy, weird man child that you needed to cater to at every Second, Like you could just be standing in Adams office when he says "hey bitch bring me that soda bottle" the bottle was 2 inches out of reach. It seemed like he took pleasure in seeing you be miserable he always said "good girl good good girly" LIKE YOU ARE A FUCKING PET

Every second of your time with Adam was hell he was rude gross and was a FUCKING MISOGYNIST today while you were giving him a back massage he said "yes good girly" again as usual like you were a fucking pet but then he said "that's all you women are good for to serve men" this Made you even more angry but hey the pay is good and that Leeds to today You walk in sad as usual into Adam mansion when he starts making comments about something your already insecure of your wings he rubbed your wings and he then said "heh bitch your wings are so dirty you a fuckin slob yknow that but a hot one at that" he then Grabbed your ass and that's when you broke "GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME" you yelled "I QUIT" you then storm of and back into your apartment crying about the insult of your wings and just fed up in general But that's when you get a text from Adam he always texted you when you were working for him but you quit it read "You really thought you could leave me you DUMB WHORE I treated you soo well I gave you everything you could of wanted and this I how you repay me I don't even need you you stupid fucking slut"

You were used to Adams shit by now but this this was just something else you text back "Adam stop messaging me Ill be back tomorrow at 10 am to get my stuff from my office and you better not try ANYTHING" he then responds "why would I try to interact with a brain dead whore anyway" that hurts you but you brush it off "being verbally abused by that dickhead isn't worth the pay" you thought before going to sleep

The next day you woke up at your alarm you got dressed but on a casual Black hoodie with Sweat pants because you weren't doing anything today other then going to Adams mansion to pick up your stuff. you flew over to his mansion only A 13 minute fly before landing at the door you were nervous but you knocked you waited and waited until someone opened the door "wow the whore really had the nerve to show her face again' He snarled "well I cant be to mad at you your fucking hot all we have to do to make your perfect is Shave down those ugly wings" he said in a arrogant tone. You walk inside and go to were your stuff is before you hear Adam locking the door 'what the fuck are you doing Adam" you snarl His mask lights up into those annoying little circle eyes he looks like a giddy child

"well I Talked to The big man upstairs if you get what I'm saying and since he would NEVER Say no to his precious Adam his first creation the person who gets ALL his love and affection he said I could keep you since your such a low ranking angel and you have no family in heaven no one will miss you " He still looked like a giddy child while saying this as all of a sudden He pulled out a stunning ring filled with jewelry and gems and luxury "cmere" he says before Walking towards you he towered over you, you were a quite short and small angel being only 5,5 and he was a Huge 13,2 foot angel. " ADAM THIS IS NOT FUNNY" you yelled at him but he said "Bitch? its not supposed to now were gonna cuddle and snuggle because Im feeling lonely and you cant do JACK SHIT" he sounded firm and serious you were scared and try to make a run for it but were tackled down "fuckin bitch your not escapin" he said before tossing you over his shoulders and taking you into his room upstairs and throwing you onto the bed before "cuddling" with you which was more like Wrestling a teddy bear he managed to restrain you with ease and he giggles "I love small girls like you so short and weak easy for me to... Manhandle" he says in an ominous tone you keep squirming and this just makes him giggle "so feisty" he says "don't worry my little Slut I'll fix you sooner or later I'll break your brain down till its just mush then I'll rebuild it to my liking and then you'll be loyal to me just me unlike those last 2 whores I married ill make sure you never leave" he says in a low coo ''i don't like you adam' you hissed he then got surprised "oh talking back to me don't you know who I am Im Adam the first man and your my new Wife you were created from my fucking rib you have to that me for your existance Im a superior being and your just my Wife you should me grateful so many people would beg to be in my presence and your trying to leave it ungrateful whore" he hissed as he started down at you you noticed he was starting to undress first his shirt then his pants then his Underwear but he kept that stupid mask on

His dick is fucking massive it was huge or maybe you are just small but damn and around it is just a bush of his grey hair He even has a piercing on his cock and his dad Bod OMG but as much as you hate it he was hot "like what you see" Adam teased you try to squirm away only angering him Well if your gonna resist I guess I'm gonna have to fuck that tiny pussy lose he said eagerly before starting to Teasing his cock around the hole "sh sh sh sh sh shhhh let it happen" Adam cooed "your my new wife you like this you have to your just in denial" he giggled before saying "Oh your sooo small My dick might kill you I bet I'd bet I'm like I don't know fucking 11 feet taller then you and my dick is huger then anything I've bet you've seen" he teased while rubbing his cock at the entrance of your pussy "damn it I just cant hold back" Adam yelled "p-p-please stop Adam" you whimpered but it just turned him on more as he said "going in bitch" suddenly you feel his entire dick in you it was huge and painful you were not enjoying yourself but Adam was "f-fuck babe I'm fucking you loose" he laughed as he kept fucking me so hard I felt like I was gonna throw up blood and organs he rearranged with every thrust it felt like a new bone in your body was being reangared you tried to flap your useless little wings which just made him think you were even more about how precious you are "that's so cute the only thing I dislike about you is your wings they get in my way might have to clip your wings soon" he teased scaring you He kept thrusting and more and more got hurt the more you pleaded whimpered yelped winces or squealed the more turned on he got as he was thrusting he laughed at the bulge in your stomach from his dick "it went to far in you really do like this ya whore"

You let out a whimper when he said that and that was the turning point he said "f-fuckkkkk I'm cummingim cumming" before long ropes of the warm jizz entered your pussy "yeah get pregnant bitch that's your only purpose breeding machines for men" he said at you and said let me clean myself up He then gets a rag and clean you and him up before seeming to get more gentle

"look I'm sorry when I get horny I go feral this is not how I am most of the time your just so fucking hot I just c-cant control myself" he said while cuddling you "I love you I really do and this world is cruel you have no family here no friends Nobody I'm the only one you have so im taking you under my wing figurative and literally" he said laughing since he tucked you in between his warm chubby chest and his soft comforting wings he then gets really soft and says "I've seen you on your own and your in so much danger so many people will try to take advantage of you and you have nobody to run to but me so I take it as my duty to protect you and coddle you like the cute little toy your are" he says that in a low coo while petting you his soft voice seemingly temporally calming you down you start to stop Wriggle and start giving up and snuggling into him causing him to turn bright red "their ya go girlly your a good little Beliver right so you should worship me if it wasn't for me you would not me alive you would not of been a thought you have to thank me for everything and disobeying me is just like spitting in the face of God it will get you banished to rot in hell ya get that" he pats your head as you cuddle into his chest since he's so big you look like a little housecat on his chest ''thats it just let my voice soothe you to sleep once you wake up tomorrow your life will be soon much better he teased as you snuggle against his body "nighty nighty" he says before you drift off to sleep

#hazbin hotel x you #adam x you #hazbin adam x reader #yandere adam x you #yandere adam #hazbin hotel adam x reader #hazbin hotel #yandere

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aricat7 · 4 months ago

Text

🔞DON'T FUCK WITH BUCKS 🔞 (Alastor X Reader X Vox)

Chapter One

Summary: An opportunity of a lifetime enters your taxidermy shop, adorned with a smile.

Warnings: Will contain smut and may contain eventual rape/non-con elements in future chapters.

“Imp heads….imp heads….I know I have one…” You say to yourself as you search through your back stock. Normally, you're a bit more organized and have all your ducks in a row so to speak, but business for you has been booming recently. So, less popular items - such as imp heads - are buried behind all the hot-selling items.

You're relieved when you spot a set of curved imp horns behind a majestic elephant head, but scowl as you pick it up and think back to how fucking disgusting this imp was to you. Most people from this side of hell knew not to ever fuck with you, the others either learn very quickly or end up with a price tag on their severed head like this imp.

You leave the stockroom with a kick of the door and return to your waiting customer at the register. You hear him utter sounds of approval as you package up the head for him. As he's excitedly retrieving his wallet, the front door chime dings and a face you've never seen before steps into the low, ambient lighting of the shop.

And, wow, is this a face you're not gonna forget anytime soon. Or more frankly, the smile.

Perhaps you weren't the only one who found this particular visitor unsettling, for other patrons within the shop frantically scurry out the door when they take notice of him. Striding with a smooth grace, holding a staff with hands placed behind his red-suited back, he halts in front of the buck mount on the wall nearest to you.

Switching your focus, you process the transaction for the customer in front of you and hand him his purchase. “Perfect!” He exclaims, hugging the box as if it's his last meal. “I've got a question though.”

“Yeah?” You say without looking up at him, doing a count of all the money in your register.

“You got any…phallic items, perchance?”

“No.”

“What if I uh… show you what I got on my display, huh?”

You slowly turn your head to him, eyes like daggers. “You need to leave.”

“Oh don't be like that, sugartits-”

Naturally, you grab the pistol in your desk compartment and point it at him.

The smiling man enthralled with the buck mount watches the situation intently out of the corner of his eye with his deer-like ear flicked in your direction.

Aggravated by the gun in his ugly face, the customer rolls his eyes and mutters, “Tch. Whore.” He turns on his heel and leaves with a huff, leaving you and this tall, mysterious man alone in the shop.

“What a charming fellow~”

His staticky voice throws you off completely, your body stiffening for a split second as you put your pistol back in your desk. You steal a quick glance at him, his mannerisms and appearance giving you an old-timey vibe.

“Yeah,” you continue counting your money. “Last time it was a cannibal who got all mad when I told them I don't sell fresh meat.”

“Well, I'm sure that also makes for some lofty entertainment now, does it not?”

“Sure,” you shut your register and look at the man again, the buck on the wall still absorbing all his attention, “until they threaten to gouge my eyeballs out and eat ‘em like olives.”

“Oh?” The man meets your gaze and it's as if that creepy smile of his is stuck permanently. “And what do you do next in such a situation, my dear?”

You nod your head at the display adjacent to him. “Add ‘em to my collection.”

He studies the cannibal section in what appears to be wonder, hard to tell with that damn smile. “My my, so slaying cannibals is your specialty?”

“Pfft, take a look around, dude. I own this place. All of what you see is my work.”

He cleans his monocle with a puff of air and scans the entirety of the shop - from the stoic wildlife to the variety of sinners who have crossed you. “You don't say? All by yourself?”

“Mhm.” You open up the display case of your entomological collection upon your desk and do a bit of fine-tuning, ensuring your array of roaches and moths are in orderly fashion.

“Very impressive. You've got quite the sickening talent, darling~ No doubt it's part of how you wound up being here in hell, I'm sure.”

You look up from your mindless task and catch him staring at the buck mount again, realizing the man has small antlers atop his red hair. “‘Guy you're looking at related to you or something?”

“Say he was, would you provide me with a discount?~”

“Nope.”

The man chuckles. His eyes wander your frame from head to toe, but that's unbeknownst to you, since you're already glued to your next task: making a spreadsheet on your computer of everything you've got in your inventory - that way you’re not ripping your hair out looking for an item like earlier. Just as you're about to head to the back to get a count of everything, the man walks over to you and outstretches his hand across your desk.

“The name’s Alastor, darling. Pleasure to meet you, quite a pleasure.”

“Yeahhh, no. I don't do introductions.”

“What a shame.” Alastor retracts his hand and sets his staff out in front of him in a poised fashion. “Such a lovely establishment, from the authentic - and overly priced - craftsmanship, to its spik and span environment!” He sighs dramatically, “Oh, if only I could know the name of its owner, the brilliant mind behind it all~”

You roll your eyes. “You gonna buy one of these ‘overpriced’ craftsmanship or not?”

He tilts his head to the side. “How long have you been here in hell, sweetheart?”

Your hand hovers over where your pistol is kept. “Enough with the nicknames. And it’s…almost been a year now.”

“A year?! Why, it takes many moons here in hell for someone to be as reputable as you are right now. You're quite the little entrepreneur!”

You refrain from grabbing your pistol because something is tugging at your brain, telling you to tread lightly; to play whatever this game of his he’s playing and to play nice.

“‘Preciate that.” You cross your arms and nod to a poster that advertises the Vees on the storefront window. “‘Think I’ll be as big as them?”

“Ah, the notorious Vees. Well, my dear nameless business woman, with one simple deal I can make that happen.”

You raise your eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“Your ignorance is excused,” he retorts, sudden malice creeping in his tone and demeanor. He steps closer to you till he’s towering over you. “You really aren’t aware of who I am and what power I hold, are you?”

So much for playing nice.

You whip out your gun and point it at his chest. “How about you enlighten me before I decide on making a face mask for good ol’ buck up there?”

“Ooo, such a feisty one. I like that.” He puts his palm to the barrel and traps your weapon in his slender, pointed fingers. “I’m the radio demon, darling.”

Your eyes widen in fear, your hand loosening its grip on the gun. He gently, yet assertively, pulls your gun down to rest atop your desk - neither of you letting go of it. You've heard of the radio demon and the stupid amount of power he has - toppling over overlords at an unbelievable rate. A pure evil.

“I thought the radio demon had disappeared and has been gone for years.”

“And now I’ve returned~”

“Right…” You clear your throat and regain your composure, despite now knowing you don't stand a goddam chance against him. “Well, I won't make a deal of any kind with you. Please respect that.”

“Even if it means having the opportunity of a lifetime? To meet the Vees in person at the ball tonight, where overlords from territories far and wide shall gather in comradery and regal fun?”

“Yeah, like they’d let me in-”

Letting go of your pistol, he snaps his fingers and a fancy-looking document appears from thin air. An invitation for the ball, but the part showing who it’s addressed to is blank.

“Just tell me your name and the invitations yours, dear. But, this is a deal I’m trying to make with you here, so I’ll need something from you in exchange.”

“Let me guess, my soul?”

“Oh-ho! While that is a very tantalizing idea, I have something else in mind.” He places the formal document on your desk and twirls his staff, positioning it behind his back. “I’d like your company over a nice dinner with me, after the ball.”

You flinch. “Not…not my soul?”

“No, no. Not your pretty little soul,” he eerily soothes. The corners of his smile stretch ever so slightly. “Unless, that is, you’d like to make a second deal where you’d allow me to have it~”

“Uh no, no…” You tap your fingers on your desk and stare at the invitation.

I could meet successful people. I could gain insight and ask them questions on how to better my career…all at the cost of going out with the radio demon, without having to hand over my soul…

“If we do this, you stay out of my life after, alright?”

“But of course! Who am I to defy an astute and beautiful young doe?”

Slightly cringing, you take a deep breath. “Okay.”

He lifts his hand and delicately cups your cheek. “Your name, miss?”

“y/n.”

“y/n…” His thumb caresses your cheek with a feather-light touch. “Oh how lovely your name tastes, my darling. Let’s see what it looks like on paper, shall we?”

With another snap of his fingers, an invisible pen signs the blank space with your name. “Perfect! Looks as if it was meant to be, like it was written in the stars, those of which we cannot see from hell! Now, y/n, let’s finalize this.” He extends his hand before you. “Do we have a deal?”

You nod and shake his hand with a blank expression.

“Wonderful~” He raises your hand to his lips and plants a kiss on your knuckles before letting go. “Put on your best gown for tonight, darling, and do please bring a smile~”

A pitch-black shadow rises from the ground and shrouds Alastor, making him disappear. You blink, processing what the fuck just happened, and then yelp for joy. You're about to meet your idols!

You take one last look at the poster of the Vees and start closing up shop early.

#alastor x reader #alastor fanfiction #smut #fanfic #hazbin hotel fanfiction #vox x reader #vox fanfiction

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sleepynegress · 7 months ago

Text

On Challengers...

Okay.

So, here's the thing. It's decent.

It's sassy, catfighty, but with dudes using rackets and tongue-wrestling, and the tennis scenes are tense, but... it wasn't at all confidently scandalous like I would've expected.

....Like I feel like they didn't push it far enough, somehow? And not even in the way you might think, with dicks a-swingin and thrusts abundant. Remember, the movie Closer? -I think that came out in 2007ish and was rated PG-13??? Or could have been if not for the language.

Natalie Portman has a similar nudity clause to her contract and *STILL* had the absolute sexiest scene with Clive Owen.... .....Which I'll put in this post to demonstrate what I mean. This felt like it held back at moments... When it came to pushing desire, between the men and/or with Zendaya, with one or the other. It just felt so tame to me given the hype. I was hoping for a return to artistic sensuality in film again, instead of this weird sort of by-rote-feeling purity culture we're having rn. (I'm watching Love Lies Bleeding tonight and I BET that delivers. Lesbians, salude!) I was hoping for Cruel Intentions' lush cut with The Dreamers' sensuality..if that makes sense?? AND some good-good tennis. THAT did deliver. WOW, some of the shots for that were eye-popping. A critic I follow noted that her issue (she always has the best takes I don't agree with all of them but they are always well-articulated) was that Zendaya was not fleshed out as a central figure, especially as a BLACK WOMAN. It was yet again another case of a Black woman dropped down from the moon coming from no people of her own, but just somehow existing in a sea of white people with not a hint of Black friends or loved ones.

Hell, they could've even laid out *her people* like the brilliantly underrated Beyond The Lights with Minnie Driver playing the stage manager mom to Gugu Mbatha Raw's biracial pop star. But that comes down to the white male gaze fucking it up, yet again. I looked up the screenwriter and just kind of nodded knowingly with an 'oh, yeah that's what I expected, that explains it...' He simply didn't have the range beyond a sort of vague tennis fetish for brown girls in short skirts grunting and swinging and wanting to do something with that. He admitted that Naomi and another Black woman player's interaction on the court *inspired* this...

Perception of Black women doing ANYTHING can be so heavy with a weirdly asexual gaze from white women and hyper-sexualized by white men. And if desire/centering tips in the "wrong" direction deemed by prejudice and our assumed place....*yeesh* we catch hell. You're either bafflingly too ugly to be treated with desire (whew the incel bigots are big mad that it's Zendaya and not a Sweeney-type) or only deemed good enough for it, because of that white gaze. And resented regardless.

*sigh* Can't win for losing. But I digress. Zendaya's co-stars are the oddest looking mystical-dwarf-head ass forest creature white boys with big ears, but they GAVE in the acting department. Mike Faist is a STAR. He has a sort of laidback sweetly confident rizz. But he definitely is the lovechild of a young Scott Glenn and DJ Qualls. I want to put him in a western immediately because he has Civil War photo face.

Mike O'Connor has that desperate dirty hairy scruffy thing like dude from The Bear. Like you KNOW he has a scratch tat somewhere and would do the dirty with his partner in the toilet stalls or anywhere else. Hollyweird is strange about beauty standards man. Back in the day, they used to pretend old white men, who looked like they smelled like Barbasol mixed w/ urine would somehow be sexy to a twentysomething. Now, we have this dichotomy of thankfully a little more of a diverse gaze for the centered "bombshell" other than blonde with large breasts number 32637263872.... but we also have some actresses cutting fat out their cheeks and being Ozempic thin. *sigh* ...While the "basic" hot boys are punching the air rn because they are also passé. Got to have something interesting going on in the face for everyone now, I think. Can't just be AI "pretty" anymore. Thankfully.

....Anyway. It is good, but with those caveats I laid out.

P.S. ICONIC for me is seeing Zendaya's Black-ass nose bridge drawn large on that poster. P.P.S Thank LUCA for doing the queer elements well... I personally don't think it went far enough, tho...

Mike bottoming for all, including getting pegged by Zendaya would've happened in my version of this... at least implied, come on (ficwriters?) Oh! and here are the clips from Closer, but then it was a successful play first, so the script is more substantial in that.

youtube

This is how filthy I expected Challengers to be, and it's just. not. Nothing in The Challengers touches the heavy heady nastiness in this scene IMO, but something in that movie should have, dammit! Note they never even touch each other.

#challengers #it is riveting #also that soundtrack!!!#already bookmarked on the spotify #atticus and trent do it again #so happy to see the goth industrial prince trent evolving to this movie score icon place now.#the challengers #josh o'connor #mike faist #zendaya #Youtube

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kindestofkings · 1 year ago

Text

a mastermind [1]

ryan mcmahon x reader

faceclaim:phoebe bridgers

authors note: k so this is kinda an all over the place fic but I had a lot of fun making it so ENJOY! @orangeinecstasy a fellow ryan appreciator, thanks for the brainstorming 🫡

2020

yourusername

liked by rass75 and others

yourusername oi have you listened to NOACF yet?? theres something special in tracks 8,9,10 and 17 or should I say someone 👀

view all other comments

1975fan1 wow can't believe the 1975 broke their own no collabs rule for matty's girl of the week

yourusername you seeing this ratty? Im your girl of the week 😍😍 trumanblack wait JUST one week?? yourusername yeah so short! better cheat on me quick xxx 1975adam I just dont get you two...

rass75 celebration pints?

yourusername like you need any excuse hahah

trumanblack they're ALL special tracks thank you very much.

1975_fanbase the tumblr gays just overloaded thanks!

trumanblack anything for the cause 👍👍👍

ynfan1 really not a 1975 fan but jesus christ 2005 is so amazing, I just bought the album!

bedfordanes75 studio time was sick can we please do it again

yourusername I do need a producer for my next album...

ryanmcmahon_15 just added to their story!

replies:

elijahhewson haha man you good? bobbyskeetz new day same crush inhalerfan1 omg you being a yn is everything!

2022

the1975

liked by yourusername and others

the1975 I'm in love with you. out now.

view all other comments

rass75 🖤🖤

yourusername its good to be back boys

pollymoney so right I am in love with yourusername

yourusername stop im blushin so hard rn heheh

trumanblack loser

yourusername lover* trumanblack eh alright then

ynhealytruther ahhh I missed you guys so much, such a hot couple

1975fan1 since when have they confirmed they're dating??

ynhealytruther

liked by ynfan2 and others

ynhealytruther this is confirmation right?? they HAVE to be dating

view all other comments

ynfan1 ah I really hope not he's kinda old for her no?

1975fan2 yeah tbf it is like 10 years or something...

1975fan1 I hope so they are the definition of bi panic

1975fan2 ew hope not shes kinda ugly

ynhealytruther absolutely no yn slander excepted here! move on with your hate

yourusername

liked by ryanmcmahon_15 and others

yourusername someone just said stop writing songs about sad things and blowjobs. best joke I've ever heard!

view all other comments

trumanblack over my dead boy

yourusername pleaseeee dont tempt me with a good time 😍

1975fan1 are you guys dating?? just confirm it already

1975fan2 class music video!!

ynfan1 please date someone else, hes too old for you!!

bobbyskeetz just added to their story!

man's (celeb) crush is in a relationship (we think) so he's turning to the drink 😔

replies:

inhalerfan1 its yourusername isn't. cause same joshjenkinson_ cause there was defo a chance before hand!

ynfanclub

liked by ynhealytruther and others

ynfanclub guys I'm at yourusernames's secret session ah! look this is her face when people asked if she was dating matty. adorble!!! and THEN HE CAME OUT AND THEY SANG JESUS CHRIST 2005

view all other comments

ynhealytruther oh what a day !!!

ynhealytruther my literal parents

ynfan1 hes literal so old ewww

trumanblack

liked by yourusername and others

trumanblack just friends.

view limited comments

yourusername dw guys he checked my id AND sang robbers beforehand !!

rass75 have you two ever been serious about anything in your lives? yourusername what do you mean I'm taking this job of being matthew healy's controversially young alleged girlfriend VERY SERIOUSLY 😤 trumanblack serious is my middle name mate 😍🔥🤠😎 rass75 why did I even ask....

yourusername

liked by ryanmcmahon_15 and others

yourusername Ireland I am in you. and loving you as per usual! my (second) favourite Irish artist asked me to stop by at his home gig 😢 so so honoured andrew <3

view all other comments

ynfan1 I cant believe this, I'M GOING TO HIS SHOW TOMORROW NIGHT!!!

lucydacus parents.

ynfan2 you said it.

inhalerfan1 bestie for research purposes I need to know who's your fav??

yourusername hmmm research purposes you say .... 🤔 inhalerfan1 ahhh hi omgomgomgomg hello

bobbyskeetz huh @ryanmcmahon_15 see this?

yourusername just added to their story!

replies:

inhalerfan1 OH FUCK YES I KNEW IT I KNEW IT!! inhalerfan1 thank you for answering my question <3 elijahhewson honoured! are you here long? we've a drummer who's a big fan of yours, we could all link up for drinks ? ↳ hi! sounds so fun, I'm here till saturday actually so i've got time! presuming you guys know the best spot for a pint 👀 ↳ elijahhewson sir mcmahon knows the place!

joshjenkinson_ just added to their story!

replies:

ryanmcmahon_15 im never coming down from this. and I'll never stop talking about it

elijahhewson still havent recovered from the incredibly girlish scream he let out hahah

bobbyskeetz a king, ill never question him again

yourusername

liked by trumanblack and others

yourusername psa: offically go ON THE RECORD that I am not dating anyone of these wonderful human beings that are my friends. although they are very beautiful and even hotter, we're all just a homies that are a lil bit fruity 💅

view all other comments

trumanblack wait what?? I thought we were married? what am I telling the kids ???

yourusername tell em their mother is in her hot girl era and their dad's a LOSER

bedfordanes75 you are such a mystery, how does your brain work 🤔

ynhealytruther nooooooo NO say sike rn RIGHT NOW

1975fan1 yay! theres still a chance 😎

inhalerfan1 oh this is really feeding my delusions hehehe

yourusername just added to their story!

y'all are gonna be so proud I'm off to go SOCIALISE with NEW people ahh 🔥🔥

replies:

trumanblack ooh is this the drinks with bono's sons band? ↳ yourusername you betcha, trading in the nepo baby in my life for a newer model xx rass75 I cannot believe you manifested this. go get that celeb crush ↳ yourusername welll if you insist ! ynfan1 you are soooooo me coded hahahha

AHH how we doing?? Go read part two please 🫶🏼

part 2

#ryan mcmahon fanfic #ryan mcmahon x reader #ryan mcmahon imagine #ryan mcmahon #inhaler oneshots #inhaler imagine #inhaler dublin #inhaler fanfic

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l0serloki · 2 years ago

Text

Christmas Joy

Christmas Time HCs

(Chamber, Cypher, Fade, Reyna)

A/N : MERRY CRISIS

CW : Christmas?, Eating (Reyna), kissing/hinted innuendos, GN!Reader

Chamber :

He’s going to get you a bunch of gifts!!

I feel like he’s not the type of guy to decorate as much but he’ll get a tree. If you want to decorate he will buy you whatever you wish!

He DOES have the money but I feel that he’s more of a thoughtful gift-giver. Expect trinkets and stuff that reminds him of you! And OF COURSE, a gun! He made it to match with his!

Overall, it’s going to be a pretty chill christmas. He lets you call the shots and lounges with a huge grin on his face. He loves seeing you so happy :)

“Open your gifts, mon chou. I want to see how you like them.” Chamber waved you off the couch to sit next to the tree. Your hands wandered along the precisely wrapped gifts, giving him a warm smile.

“You didn’t have to get me all of this! You’re too kind, Vin.”

The two of you sat for quite a while, going through gifts and giving eachother small kisses. You had expected a different outcome than the thought out gifts. This was your first Christmas with Vincent after all! He had seemed more the type of guy to go expensive but, boy were you wrong. Your heart swelled at the thought of him caring for you, turning to kiss his soft cheek.

“Merry Christmas. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Cypher :

MAN.

He makes little christmas lights out of his old camera parts. The whole bedroom looks like it was straight out of Wall-E.

“Baby it’s very uhh.. Festive!” “Yes, I know. I am too good.” (Smack that sarcastic bastard)

He gets you two a bunch of ‘christmassy’ teas to try as well. Gotta stay warm!

The presents are really sweet as well! He makes you some homemade tech to always have your back! As he said, “I need you to always be safe. Even when my eyes are down, my love.”

Give this man some love and that’s all he could ask for as a gift!

“I-What is this?” Your eyes raised as you walked into your shared bedroom. Old green and red lights on wrapped wire littered the ceiling, looking straight out of Cypher’s dump bin.

“It’s lights! You told me you wanted the room to be festive.” Cypher shrugged in response, continuing to type away at his keyboard.

As much as the lights were ugly, you had to praise him for the effort.

“Wow. How.. Festive. Great job, love.” You leaned down to kiss his temple, holding in a chortle. Your boyfriend was something else.

Fade :

I just imagine her getting you two matching sweaters! (She got Omen to knit them)

Much like Cypher, I feel that she’s a huge fan of warm drinks. She makes hot cocoa and tea! Whatever you wish for is her command :^)

Definitely over decorates the tree and makes cookies! “If Santa won’t eat them then we will!”

Lots of cuddling in blankets and hugs. She craves your attention! (She is very touch deprived, indulge her <3)

She gets you some new clothes & hobby items! She has a keen eye to stuff you like/need.

“Baby, you’re gonna suffocate me!” You squeaked out as Fade’s arms tightened around you. The air was frosty and the two of you laid in bed cuddling.

“No no, don’t be dramatic! You love it.” She graced your face with light kisses, small laughs leaving her mouth in the process. You could only grin at the sight of her so happy, glad to be such a source of joy for her.

“Yeah, whatever you say.” You leaned in, meeting her lips. She separated quickly, face red.

“A little warning would be nice! Whatever.. I guess it is Christmas. That’s your gift though.” She narrowed her eyes in mock sarcasm as the two of you just laughed. This would be a Christmas to remember.

Reyna :

PLEASE.

She sets up mistletoe everywhere. Like you can’t take a step without seeing her smug grin. “Oh my.. I think you owe me a kiss.” “Rey, please. I’ve given you ten. I need to get a drink!”

She cooks a LOT on Christmas day. I feel like she loves the feeling of you being full & happy with everything. Good food and presence makes the best day!

“I don’t need gifts. You didn’t have to spend this money on me!” She tries to deny them but it fills her heart with joy. She’s honored that you got her such thoughtful gifts <3

She got you a lot of items for missions & some.. ‘Other’ items. “It’s a joke! Or was it..”

“This is so good, babe! You should make this more often.” You praised your girlfriend, digging into the food. Reyna only hummed, smiling at your hunger.

“I am glad you like it. There is enough for a few days. We will have to open presents after you are done.” The woman rubbed at your back, setting down a drink for you. You hadn’t expected such a huge meal for Christmas morning but Reyna did not disappoint. The food was delicious and the two of you enjoyed eachothers presence.

After you two had finished eating, Reyna’s arms circled around you.

“Come, let’s go open gifts. I want you to see what I got you.” Her voice was laced with a dangerous note, sending electric shocks down your body. Soft lips brushed your jawline as the woman pulled you into the living room.

“Should I be scared?” You asked.

The only response you got was another kiss and a maniacal laugh.

Yeah, you should be scared.

228 notes · View notes

opheliasam · 3 months ago

Note

Thoughts on Stanford Era SamBenny 👀 ? Potentially? Perhaps?

Hmmm

I’m a staunch samjess truther re: stanford era, i do think they met in freshman year, which makes it a Little harder for Sam to meet anyone else. But as far as one night stands/ explorations go… very appealing

It’s late, Sam’s at the bar, final exam just ended. Maybe it’s a dare, maybe it’s a thing he brought up shyly that Jess wants him to further explore… or maybe it’s a one night stand pre-jess..

BUT.

Update: Okay, wow, this ran away from me. Absolutely didn’t intend for it. Gencest-Mature.

It’s a late night in some indistinct bar, off the corner of a shady part of town and Sam’s hunched over in a quiet corner, laptop propped up on a surface that’s surprisingly, magically, not sticky.

It’s a Monday night, and the bar is worse off for it; lighting dim and mood somber. Drifters and grifters.

Sam had a quiz today. (Mondays are quiz days.) Sam’s quiz went fine - more than fine if he allows himself that, but that’s not the point. The point is.

To be very frank, Sam doesn’t even know what the point is—about why he’s here and not in the library and he’d rather not investigate it, thank you. He just knows that it’s sometimes easier to study at noisy bars than elsewhere. To just be. And that’s fine. It is.

He sighs. The glare of his lap offending. He won't get done with this paper tonight.

Sam likes college. He really does.

He does, it's just - Mondays were heavy, and so were Tuesdays, and so were Wednesdays and Thursdays and well, Fridays were a blur of office hours and discussion sessions. Sam hadn't quite figured out what to do with his weekends yet, they were mostly reserved for passing out and freshmen events. Needless to say, Sam's schedule was less than “ideal”.

It's not something Sam really wants to admit to himself.

12-15 units is ideal for your first quarter, the UG Handbook had said. Sam remembers scrolling down stubbornly past that until he got to the part . The maximum number of academic units a first-quarter frosh may enroll in is 20, the rough equi—

Well, then.

He remembers his Cohort leader frowning upon hearing his plans for the semester, kind brown eyes wide with concern, "You should slow down, Sam. Take a breather."

Remembers stubbornly thinking then that coming to Stanford was the breather. Just getting there. Cursed may be the freshmen who take a full course load but it’s nothing that Sam’s not used to. He could do it. The rigour made him feel purposive, focused; free.

That had been five weeks ago.

People trickle in and trickle out, their presence noisy and solid, and Sam thinks vaguely about sleep studies and ocean sounds. Sleepless people desperately needing sleep. Sleepless people wanting to be whales.

Chastises himself for the judgement—they don’t want to be whales. They just—they just want sleep. It’s fine. It’s normal. It’s all fine. It’s—

The thing is, Sam knows need. He knows desperation too. He’s just never known this specific shade of desperate need.

If you walk out that door—

His chest suddenly feels tight with rage, white-hot and grievous. Ugly. Sam clenches his fist.

A glass clinks down in front of him. He watches it grumble at it is slides closer; wide fingers wrapped around it.

An Old Fashioned, served in a stern looking glass except for one little addition. it’s got a little umbrella in it. His lips quirk up, the rage settling into something gentler. Wait—Sam looks up, confused, “Hey, I don’t think I ordered—“

“My man, bar’s closing, and you’ve been in here for the last 5 hours treating it like it’s a goddamn library. It’s on the house, come on.”

It’s the Bartender.

Sam took notice of him when he arrived, but it was nothing more than cursory at the time.

But now...

The Bartender is a big dude. He’s dressed comfortably, a plaid overshirt draped casually over a black tee. His shoulders are very broad. He’s handsome, there’s no question about it.

He's bigger than Sam too—at least in terms of muscle mass; stockier.

He seems older, and he has one of the most impressive goatees Sam's ever seen. It would look stupid on almost anyone else, but it frames the bartender's solid jaw just right.

Sam smiles. Alright then.

Can’t hurt.

“Only if you drink with me.”

Mr. Cool-Beard-Guy-Bartender looks surprised, his eyes glinting in the dark. They look like church windows against the frigid, a frigid glass tone. His pupils are very, very black.

“Alright, Chief.” He answers, smiling with too white teeth.

Sam’s breath picks up.

“It’s your call.”

Easy.

The thing is, Sam shouldn’t be doing this. He really, really shouldn’t.

There’s something about this guy that Sam can’t put a finger on, and it should make Sam rethink this drink, should make him shove his laptop in his bag and get the hell out of here, should should should—

Instead, heat curls in Sam’s stomach. The conflict a siren song; the line between fear and arousal so thin it makes him hazy.

The door rattles loudly as the last customer heads out, snapping Sam out of his head. A slurry “G’night Brother” signaling a less than grand exit.

Watches the bartender as he mock salutes at the closed door, then winks at Sam. “ ‘Smiracle he still knows night from day.”

Sam can't help his smile. Funny. Mr. Cool-Beard-Guy-Bartender’s funny.

Sam’s way too sober for this but - what the hell, It’s 2 am, and past curfew anyway; he’ll have to spend the night outside.

He will, and if a handsome stranger is offering.

Well. It’s not like there’s anyone waiting for him.

Looking out for him.

He watches as the bartender gets another glass out, pours into it. It’s all very slow and deliberate. A show. A performance.

A seduction.

Sam inhales sharply and tastes air that’s thick with anticipation.

Before his brain can overthink this to the point of ruin, he clinks their glasses together and gulps the whole thing down like a shot.

He immediately regrets it; coughing and spluttering viciously as the acrid liquid settles in his stomach.

He can hear the guy chuckling while he’s having his near-death experience. It’s just rude.

He looks up at the Bartender, trying to make his eyes as disapproving as possible. It’s not very successful because it just makes the Bartender grin harder.

Dick.

Sam hasn’t had a drink in a while. Well, not since his freshman initiation, that’s for sure. And that was well over 5 whole weeks ago.

Cool Beard Guy Bartender hands him a lemon.

“Suck on that.” He instructs.

Sam wants to make a dirty joke. It’s funny. It’s actually, really funny and Sam’s trying very hard not to giggle.

“Uh…”

Cool Beard Guy Bartender puts his hands up, as if to say “hey I didn’t say anything.” Typical. Cool Beard Guy—alright, you know what, Sam can’t keep doing this.

“What’s your name, I mean,” sucks on the lemon. The sourness of it is grounding. It actually helps. Sam wonders if his thumb is going to taste like the lemon later. “—you don’t have to say it if you don’t want to—you know, it’s just I can’t keep calling you Cool Beard Guy—.”

Shuts up. Oh no. Oh no.

He flushes red.

You’re such a lightweight, Sammy.

Stupid big brother laugh. Stupid big leather jacket that didn’t fit right. Stupid big brother hands holding him up; cheap metal rings digging into his ribs. At the center of it all, a promise in the shape of a charm. A gift revoked, and a gift given.

So much warmth it threatens to suffocate—so much joy Sam’s giddy with it.

“Benny.”

“Hm?”

“My name.” He says, with a grin.

Right. Fuck. Focus, Sam chastises inwardly.

“Short for Benjamin?”

“Short for nothing at all.” The Bartender says with a smirk. It's restrained.

There’s a distinctive southern drawl in his voice that’s making it so much harder for Sam to think properly.

Sam’s feeling fidgety. There’s something about this guy that reminds him too much of hunts. Too much of scattered homes, and monsters and D—

“ ‘Nother.”

“You sure about that, Chief?”

Sam nods, grinning. He likes that. He likes being called Chief.

Benny’s quiet. His hand wavers where it’s holding the bottle and the silence stretches and squeezes.

His gaze is piercing, both hungry and conflicted. Sam knows that look. He’s seen that look, so many times.

“Nah, I think you’re good, Big Guy.”

The thought vanishes.

Sam’s eyebrows scrunch up. He thinks he must pout because Benny ducks his gaze, laughs a little breathlessly and downs his own drink. It was bigger than Sam’s own.

Must have—must have been. Sam feels very drunk.

Benny pours another and downs it too. It’s almost impressive.

Almost.

Sam watches. And watches; waiting.

He’s pouring a third one for himself before Sam clasps his hand over Benny’s wrist. Turns it over. He’s very cold.

“...Hey.”

“Hey, yourself.”

Sam needs him. Sam doesn’t want him to get drunk just because Sam is drunk. That’s not—it’s not right. He doesn’t want to hurt anyone.

“No.” Shakes his head. “No.”

Benny looks at him, searching. Closes his eyes and clenches his jaw. Breathes out. When he opens his eyes, they’re much darker.

“Okay. Alright then, no.”

Sam’s still holding his hand. Slides it down so it’s covering his palm. They’re slightly smaller than his, but wider. Rougher, like a carpenter. Or a hunter.

Sam shudders.

He can feel Benny watching him, careful. The way you track a prey. Sam would know, wouldn’t he?

Drags the glass to his mouth. Both of their hands clasped over the drink like a ritual. Or a promise. And tips it over into his drying mouth.

It still burns. And he’s going to have a hell of a hangover later. Scotch on rocks.

Just like Dad, huh Sammy?

His eyes burn. He blinks furiously. Not now. Not now.

“What’s the matter, Darlin’?”

Sam snorts at that, shakes his head. He’s not—he’s not.

“Are we—we just. We just gonna talk all night...Or ?” He slurs. Waves his hand between them meaningfully.

Benny laughs at that. Bemused.

“Whatever you want, Chief.”

Back to Chief again. Good. Good.

“I … I know what I want.”

Benny’s staring straight at him, his eyes calculating. It makes Sam feel—

“Do you…also want?”

Benny chuckles at that. His tone is sombre when he replies though, darker. Voice, gravel.

“Like you wouldn’t fucking believe.”

The honesty of it is staggering, has him feeling a little faint.

He watches as Benny swallows hard, then mirrors him.

And that’s that then.

Sam leans forward the same moment Benny leans back, catches him by his shoulders; his head knocks into Benny’s chest.

Whomp.

The embarrassment hits him like a pail of cold water.

He pulls back, flushed red. Confused. The anger comes easily enough.

“What the hell, dude?”

“Sweetheart...”

“It’s Sam. It’s Sam.”

“Alright. Sam. It’s late. It doesn’t matter what I want but I don’t want...I don’t want you waking up in the morning and punching me in the face, alright?”

Sam stares, confused. What the hell was he talking about.

Fuck this guy.

“What? What is it? You suddenly grow a moral compass? You don’t wanna fu—”

Sucks in a breathe. He suddenly wants to punch the guy. Feels so small.

“You don’t w—.” Clenches his teeth. His tongue betrays him anyway. “Me?” He breathes out, struggling.

Benny looks surprised, to his credit.

“Darl-"corrects himself, "Sam. I haven’t been able to take my damn eyes off of you since you walked in here with that scary lookin’ gadget of yours.” His southern twang playing with the vowels of the sea.

So easy admitted. So easily given away. The sincerity of it stuns. Sam’s heart does a thing. Idiot.

He makes him so shy. Makes him needy. He’s so drunk, and he misses home so, so terribly. And he wishes He were here. He wants-- He wants his big brother. He wants his big brother beside him. Looking out for him. Keeping him safe. He needs.

The admission burns like shame.

“Please.” His eyes blur over.

“What’s wrong?” Easy, warm. Inviting. Worried.

Worried.

Sam shakes his head.

Benny's eyes furrow.

“I want—I want to go home.” His voice breaks, and it’s humiliating.

Benny’s eyes are so, so kind.

“Come on, kid.”

There’s hands dragging him up and there’s hands holding him there. One of Sam’s hands slung over Benny’s neck. A parody of a memory long lost.

Big burly hands. Salt and brine. The back of his neck is so cold too. This should mean something. This should.

“You’re fu-fucking cold, you know that?”

Gets a chuckle in return. “I’ve been told.”

“Are you drunk?”

Pause. “…Unfortunately, yes.”

“Well, yeah...yeah. I mean—two drinks is a-a lot.” Eyes wide.

Silence. Sam can feel Benny’s breath growing more laboured.

“It’s not the Whiskey doing it.” The admission is strained, quiet. Followed by a dark chuckle.

Sam doesn’t quite follow, but it’s okay. It’s getting harder to think. He trusts. He trusts Benny.

Benny, the kind stranger with a no-name bar and too white teeth and the darkest pupils he's ever seen.

“Where are we going?”

“Back to my place.”

Sam doesn’t struggle or startle at that. He wants this. He does. Lets himself get bundled into the car. Let’s Benny take the wheel. Curls up in the backseat and stares at the moon.

It’s so warm in the car.

Blankets shared over winter nights on the road, a crooning lullaby - spoken in staticky tones. A rattling vent spitting out waves of heat that still don't entirely warm him up.

"Dean, turn it up!"

“It’s really warm.”

Benny hums at that. “Do you want me to turn the heater down?”

“No, I mean—it’s nice.” Pauses. “It’s really nice.”

He catches Benny’s eyes in the rearview mirror. Smiles.

“Thanks, Sugar.”

Sam wants to take offence at it, but it fails him.

Sam doesn’t remember much of anything else, but he does remember hanging on to him like a vise. He remembers clinging on and trying to breathe. Breathe in. Breathe out.

Remembers being put to bed. Doesn’t remember much after that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam wakes up with a start, disoriented, to the sound of a motor bike starting. There’s a blanket wrapped around him and one of his shoes is on the floor.

He's barely out of the bed when last night decides to rear its ugly head; nausea swells like a wave and Sam scrambles to make to make it out of bed -

Vomit hits the floor with a wet dripping noise, sincere in all of its awfulness.

Sam groans. Great, can't help but sit down and stare despondently at the stupid mess. He wants to clean up, but it's just too much effort, he wishes he could just lie here a while, but it's not an option.

One, two, three - okay, again.

One, two, three - up.

Empty house. Empty flat. He walks around for a while, searching for water - his head an angry throb. He staggers over to the fridge and opens it to see it empty except for a singular water bottle, something that looks like dirt water, and a note.

He opts for the bottle first, downs the whole thing in one go, and groans. Too soon. His stomach grumbles unhappily, acrid bile pooling on his tongue, souring his mouth.

Sam sits down, parched throat now burning, and tries not to think about how he should have read the note first, shouldn't have acted so hastily.

Shouldn't shouldn't shouldn't.

He's so tired, already.

He knows what Dad would have said, what Dean would have said, and they're starting to sound like the same voice.

Something blisters beneath his skin.

The note.

When he reaches for the fridge door, it is urgent. He feels unsettled. The note is a neatly folded white printing paper, it says - "Drink the brown stuff first - it's good hangover cure." Handwriting scribbled, but still cursive, still elegant. It's sweet.

It's also surprising - it's not what he would have expected a dingy bar owner's (or was it bartender?) handwriting to look like. He tries to smile but there's something here.

Something he's not willing to accept here, he knows that.

Vamp -

He slams the fridge door shut.

There's nothing here that remotely suggests that. Nothing happened, there's nothing that incriminates Benny in the least. It's not like that - nothing happened.

Why'd he just leave all of a sudden, Sammy?

Fuck OFF, Dean.

It could have just been a bad one night stand. It was a bad one night stand - that's all. He embarrassed himself, Benny left. It was fine, it didn't mean anything. It didn't.

Okay. Focus. Did he bring his bag? Did he bring anything at all. His laptop. He needed to find his laptop. Sam wishes he weren't being as frantic as he was now, but fuck it, Dad wasn't here to tell him to get it together - he was allowed to freak out about this. It was allowed.

It was normal.

In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.

A single thought keeps flowing in his head, turning over and over like a strand of DNA, extending vertically across himself. He feels like the thread and then, doesn't feel at all.

Home isn't real. Home isn't real, home isn't real. It's just you, alone.

He just has to go from here, that's all. He just has to leave and he just has to make sure that they doesn't get to know.

He doesn't chug the brown mud-water down (herbal hangover, c'mon), doesn't investigate anymore than he needs to (knows it is a conscious overlook on his part, knows he's doing it for a reason, knows that he is running away-)

His hands shake when he goes to dial his phone. His hands tremble with it. He doesn't know what he's doing, he needs - That's when the phone rings.

'Dad.'

oh fuck, what the hell, what the actual HELL.

He feels dangerously on edge, slanting - the precipice so much closer than he could have imagined. He feels equal parts trepidation and relief, doesn't know what to call this. The knot in his throat screams.

He could scream, he could scream at the phone and tell Dad to fuck off, to help him, to try and get him because he's fucking scared, but he won't. He won't.

He neutralizes himself. He's not this person, he doesn't run to fucking dad. He knows how to deal with this.

The phone stops ringing.

When he leaves the delipidated building, he doesn't look back. It's much too familiar a gesture to investigate, so Sam doesn't. His backpack is simultaneously heavier and lighter, the letter and the hangover-cure tucked securely in the second zip-pocket of his bag.

He pretends not to notice the phone booth outside of the house, and if there is a shadow in the bushes - he hopes it is imagined.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Okay ! Well, that took me way to long to write, over nearly 40 (or what it feels like) weeks of downright terribleness (re: personal life) but yayy

#spn #ask #sol.txt

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watchingspnagain · 8 months ago

Text

Rewatching Sympathy for the Devil

Welcome to “Sexy Dom Murder Cas and Unhinged Possibly Queer Expert German Cuckoo Clock Repairmen: A Supernatural Rewatch Blog” with Lor and Mace!

Up today, s5e1: Sympathy for the Devil

Luci anesti and the boys are left reeling from poor Sammy’s massive fail. But while they’re struggling to navigate this new phase in their brotherly relationship, the hits just keep on coming: Bobby, while possessed, plays on Sam’s sense of self-loathing, and then Dean finds out that *he’s* the sword of Michael, meant to become his vessel in the Final Battle. He gives the asshat angels a big NOPE and is trying to deal with the immediate and violent fallout from that decision when Cas swoops in with his sexy dom voice and rescues them. Meanwhile, back at the Satan Ranch, Luci is busy gaslighting his own potential vessel. It’s about to get real, y’all.

[and we begin:]

Lor:

many many guitar chords

Mace:

HA!

Lor:

nnnnnng Cas

Mace:

YES

Lor:

the way they both grab onto the other's jacket

Mace:

YES

Dean’s first thought is Cas. But yeah, they’re just buds.

Lor:

YEP

"well. my HEAD hurts"

Mace:

Lor:

oh Dean. "are you sure"

Mace:

oh man

Lor:

"Cas, you stupid bastard"

Mace:

YES

Lor:

ew ZACH

Mace:

ASSHAT

Lor:

YEEEES

"maybe we let it happen" ug

Mace:

Dean’s collar is UBERPOPPED

Lor:

YAAAAS

because he has the ATTITUDE

Mace:

CRAM IT WITH WALNUTS

Lor:

"cram it with walnuts, ugly" OMG

Mace:

i need to work that into my daily vernacular

Lor:

HAAAAAHAHAHAHA

YES

oh zach do NOT call Dean son

Mace:

right?

Lor:

"you listen to me, boy" oh now Dean's REALLY not gonna do anything you say

Mace:

oh look, they underestimated Dean. Fun.

Lor:

"I learned that from my friend Cas you son of a bitch"

"supernatural methadone"

Mace:

HAHAHA

Lor:

oh boys

Mace:

yep

I’m so glad we’re getting to the Luci era

Lor:

YES

this dude plays the most unhinged possibly queer expert German cuckoo clock repairman on one ep of Northern Exposure and it is a TRIP

Mace:

wow. that is a NICHE role

Lor:

RIGHT?

ug. Becky

Mace:

snork

Lor:

BECKY YOUR IMAGINATION IS CLEARLY DEFICIENT

Mace:

SNORK

Lor:

omg Dean's eyebrow raise when she says the demon stuff was getting old

Mace:

HAHAHAHA

Her tastes are on point, though

Lor:

Ahem

she SHOULD get her hands off your Sammy though

Mace:

I mean, I want to slap her hand away from Sam’s chest but only because I want mine there...

HAHAHAHA

Lor:

LOL

"I heard, Romeo" I LOVE BOBBY

Mace:

YES

Oh SAMMY. THAT FACE.

Lor:

RIGHT?

Mace:

oh GOD THAT. FAAACCCEEE

Lor:

he is so GUILT

Mace:

So. Flipping. Hot.

I like the parallel between Bobby’s “boy” and the angel’s

Lor:

omg his EYES

Mace:

although, BACK THE FUCK OFF, BOBBY

Lor:

mmhmmm

Mace:

BOBBY I WILL KICK YOU SQUARE IN THE NUTS

Lor:

LOLOLOL

castle on a hill of 42 dogs

I love it

Mace:

OH! I’ve been bamboozled!!

Lor:

YOU HAVE

(I remembered)

Mace:

How did I not remember this?

Lor:

DEAN SHOULD HAVE KNOWN BETTER

Mace:

(well, how many times have you watched this ep?)

Lor:

Bobby only tolerated John bc he was their father. Come on, Dean

mmm. five?

Mace:

yeah, so quit with the smug

Lor:

LOLOLOLOLOL

Mace:

MY FAVORITE MEG

Lor:

YES

GET YOUR FILTHY LIPS OFF OF DEAN

Lor:

ooooof. Poor Dean always having to talk possessed people he loves out of killing him

oh Nick. this is where you call a friend, buddy

Mace:

yeah

Lor:

friends don't let friends get gaslit into saying yes to Lucifer

Mace:

poor Sammy. he really needs some comforting in this ep

Lor:

he really does

and I know this is exactly what Bobby would want them to do, but I hate that they have to leave him alone in the hospital

Mace:

yeah

Lor:

"oh thank god, the angels are here" DEAN

Mace:

HAHAHAHA

Lor:

oh Dean

"it's you, chucklehead"

Mace:

YAS

Lor:

I LOVE THIS WHOLE MYTHOLOGY SO MUCH IT IS DUMB AND SO PERFECT ALL AT ONCE

BACK OFF ZACH

Mace:

HAHAHA YES

simpering wad of insecurity and self-loathing. that’s a little on the nose

Lor:

THE ONLY ANGEL ALLOWED TO SPEAK TRUTH TO DEAN IS CAS

because he is Dean's shield

(I LOVE IT SO MUCH)

Mace:

YEP

oooh, smarty DeanDean

Lor:

"you need my consent" I LOVE IT

YES

Mace:

omg those little winks

AM DED

“on the other hand, eat me.” HAHAHAHA

Lor:

he's a smarty smarty and everyone always underestimates him

YAAAAAAS

omg his voice when he says no

Mace:

YES

Lor:

STOP TOUCHING DEAN

Mace:

MY GOD CAS IS HOT

Lor:

YAYAYAYAY CAS

YES HE IS

Mace:

MURDER CAS IS HOTTIE CAS

Lor:

RIGHT?!

omg someone give Sam back his lungs

I love it when he BAMFs

Mace:

SNORK

Lor:

lookit his hair all mussed and his coat all disarrayed

Mace:

YESYESYES

OOoo he’s got his dom voice on

Lor:

"now put these boys back together and go" DED

Mace:

DED ONCE AGAIN

Lor:

so ded. on the floor. several times

staying down here on purpose. ahem

Mace:

CARVE MY RIBS NEXT PLS CAS

Lor:

"no I carved it into your ribs"

omg the difference bt Sam's and Dean's faces when he says that

Mace:

YES

Lor:

goddamn it, Cas, your boy has abandonment issues don't just LEAVE

Mace:

HAHAHA

Lor:

"sure. naturally. could you do me a favor, there, Satan" haaaaaahahahahaha

Mace:

YESYESYES I LOVE HIM

Lor:

so if Nick is also a vessel for Luci, does that mean that Sam and Dean are related to him somehow?

Mace:

yeah I’ve wondered that before

Lor:

actor is a real asshat but he does an AMAZING job at this

Mace:

he is?

Lor:

yeeeah

Mace:

what’d he do?

Lor:

well he's BIG into Ayn Rand

Mace:

Aha. enough said, then.

Lor:

yeaaaah

Mace:

what a putz.

Lor:

ooooh Bobby

Mace:

maybe nick is just a vessel on the level of Cas’s vessel, esp since he doesn’t last long before he starts breaking down

Lor:

"screw him, you'll be fine" I LOVE YOU DEAN

Mace:

YES

Lor:

yeah, that's true. the vessel falls apart fairly fast

"they can find their own planet" lololol DAD GAVE IT TO US, NOT THEM NYAAH

Mace:

a GED and a give-em-hell attitude. ADORABLE

Lor:

"a GED and a give em hell attitude"

YES

"it's been said"

Mace:

YES

oh Bobby. good on you

Lor:

"that was the demon talking"

YES

SO MUCH BETTER THAN JOHN

Mace:

omg that Sammy smile with the dimple

he is KILLING ME

Lor:

YES

"I'll fight. I'll fight to the last man." oh, hon

Mace:

both of these boys need therapy so hard

Lor:

RIGHT?!

Lor:

I hate when they get all grrr and can't get on the same page, but I do like this representation of the idea that sometimes you understand but still can't get past it

Mace:

yeah

although the Sam Girl in me thinks Dean’s being just a smidge of a whiny lil bitch here

Lor:

sigh

I AM SHOCKED

SHOCKED I SAY

Mace:

HAAAAAAHAHAHAHA

#watchingspnagain #watchingspnagain 5x01 #spn #supernatural #spn meta #spn spoilers #spn 5x01 #watchingspnagain angels #watchingspnagain doppelganger attack

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