#put the body of this under the cut bc it's embarrassingly long
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what book I would give each current formula one driver to introduce them to the joy of reading
an intellectual exercise no one* asked for
Max Verstappen: Guns, Germs, and Steel by Jared Diamond - if you are nd and have read this book, you may understand me. otherwise just trust me. the impetus for this post
Checo Perez: The Trumpet of the Swan by E.B. White - this is an excellent read-aloud book for Sergio Jr.'s age, and there is nothing as wonderful as reading a compelling book to a kid you love, imho
Charles Leclerc: The Golden Compass by Phillip Pullman - he is on the record as a Potter enjoyer. also, I think he would enjoy having a little animal friend
Carlos Sainz: Priestdaddy by Patricia Lockwood - okay yes this is partially a joke about the title, but this is a hilarious and wonderful memoir, about weird families and Catholicism, and I think Carlos would enjoy it.
Lando Norris: Guards! Guards! by Terry Pratchett - in my mind Lando is a little bit like @bright-and-burning but less cool, so this fits. also, the combination of high number of jokes/page + action/mystery seems like a good fit
Oscar Piastri: Ancillary Justice by Ann Leckie - this book has the kind of mystery that really draws you in, plus I think Oscar would dig the questions about AI it digs into. I choose to believe with zero evidence that he would be interested in the funky gender stuff
Fernando Alonso: Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell - look me in the eye and tell me this book wasn't written for Fernando Alonso
Lance Stroll: Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card - yeah
Lewis Hamilton: Die Trying by Lee Child - Lewis deserves to read mildly trashy thrillers <3 plus there's a Tom Cruise movie
George Russell: Changing My Mind by Zadie Smith - as a proud Brit, George should be reading one of the premiere English authors of the 21st century. her first book of essays is a fun and readable place to start
Yuki Tsunoda: Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel - I don't have a Yuki-lore explanation, I just want to give him one of my favorite books
Daniel Ricciardo: The Gunslinger by Steven King - The Dark Tower series is Lord of the Rings-esque in scope but Western-inflected in aesthetic and written by The Horror Guy, I think DR would enjoy
Alex Albon: The Emperor of All Maladies: A Biography of Cancer by Siddhartha Mukherjee - I say this with so much love in my heart, but Alex wants to be seen as smart. this book is brilliantly written pop science
Logan Sargeant: Bloomability by Sharon Creech - yes this is a book for tween girls, but it's about boarding school in Switzerland, and Sharon Creech is a genius. if I could convince him to read it, I think he would love it
Valtteri Bottas: The Fellowship of the Ring by JRR Tolkien - what are hobbits if not humanoid moomins?
Zhou Guanyu: Piranesi by Susannah Clarke - a fun, exciting, stylishly written book for a stylish guy
Kevin Magnussen: Watership Down by Richard Adams - rabbit warfare <3
Nico Hulkenberg: A Gentleman in Moscow by Amor Towles - Hulk SEEMS like a Dad Who Reads Historical Fiction, even if he isn't yet
Pierre Gasly: Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo - I almost said A Game of Thrones but I don't think that would be good for him. so, Six of Crows. he likes heists!
Esteban Ocon: City of Brass by S.A. Chakraborty - a superhero origin story of sorts for Mr. Spiderman
Bonus: Liam Lawson: Gideon the Ninth by Tamsyn Muir - lesbian from New Zealand. let me have this
*ro asked for it, take it up with them @oscarpiastriwdc
#put the body of this under the cut bc it's embarrassingly long#these books are all originally in english which i know would not be ideal for many of the drivers! but those are the books i know best#do not lose
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can i get uhhhh 2 and 17 and 21 and 24 for the kisses prompts đ
Yes you can beloved!!! đ¤˛đ Only unlike you I started writing each separate and it was taking a very long time bc of work so here is two and I will reblog with two more later â¤ď¸
Hand kisses and tearful kisses under the cut đ ft a school dance and a really fucked up bachelor party
2. hand kisses
âDonât you look handsome!â Bunny Andrews exclaims as soon as she opens the door to find FP on her doorstep. She holds the door wide and ushers him in, beaming at his thrift-store suit jacket whose sleeves ended at his forearms like heâd shown up in a three-piece tux.Â
âFRED!â she calls up the stairs immediately. âFPâS HERE!â Bunny turns back to FP, blue eyes glowing as she looks him up and down with her characteristic warm smile. âLook at you,â she says, pinching his cheek gently. âI know why Fredâs going stag to this dance, but you canât tell me a handsome man like you couldnât find a date.âÂ
FP smiles awkwardly, fiddling with a loose thread in his suit pants for lack of anything to do with his hands. Fredâs recent fight with Hermione - culminating in her keying their van in the high school parking lot - had attained almost legendary status in their town by now. Of course, there had been a whole lineup of Riverdale girls waiting to take her place on Fredâs arm at the winter formal, but Fred had asked FP instead. In the eyes of everyone in town they were going stag together, and the plans they had for the back of said van at Millerâs point tonight were between just the two of them. But it still feels embarrassingly close to the truth to be standing here in Fredâs foyer with a suit on, waiting for him to come downstairs so they could show up to a dance together.Â
âNo one I liked,â he offers with a shrug. Mumbling and shrugging is his go-to with adults as much as it is with his own peers, but Bunny, unlike the rest of the town, isnât put off by it. She wraps a slender arm around his shoulders and pulls him to her side affectionately.Â
âCome on, FP. I know the truth.âÂ
FP suddenly feels sick, looking up sharply from where heâs been contemplating his less-than-shiny dress shoes. âYou do?âÂ
âSure do.â Bunny combs his hair back with her fingers, attempting to push it into place. âYouâre too good of a friend to let my boy go alone.âÂ
FP grimaces a smile as she parts his hair for him, trying not to let the heart attack heâd almost had show. âFRED!â Bunny yells up the stairs again. She shakes her head at FP before she checks her watch. âHonestly, that boy. The last time he was early to something was the day he was born. He was supposed to be an August baby, you know. He couldnât wait. Oh! While weâre waiting, let me go get the camera.â She smiles apologeticaly and squeezes his arm. âI know Iâm being an embarrassing mother, but youâll want these pictures one day. Mark my words.âÂ
She zooms off into the kitchen just as FP hears Fredâs bedroom door open upstairs. He glances up at the staircase that leads to the second floor just as his best friend comes into sight on the landing.Â
Fred smiles at him - huge and beaming - the second their eyes meet, and any minor incovenience FP felt about his tardiness vanishes like it had never happened. He starts down the stairs, and all the breath gets sucked out of FPâs lungs. He stands still on the hallway carpet, frozen, feeling his heart pumping, his head buzzing and his ears ringing as though all the sound has left the universe.Â
Fredâs in a black suit with a crisp white shirt and bowtie, every inch of his outfit dazzlingly bright and looking as though it was made to fit his body. His hair is parted perfectly and gelled back, not a strand of brunette out of place. His face is clean and rosy and glows like a candle, but rather than having a childlike effect, it emphasizes the masculinity in it: his jawline, his brow, the lines of his cheekbones. Heâs so handsome that it feels unfair, and the smile on his face just makes it worse. That smile makes FPâs stomach float and his knees turn to butter.Â
He didnât know a human being could be that handsome, so audaciously perfect and spotless and stunning. He feels like his jaw is hanging open. His eyes roam greedily over every inch of Fred, not ever coming into contact with anything less than perfection. Suddenly he feels tiny and shy. How could he ever think he was good enough for this person?Â
Heâs frozen in place as Fred walks towards him, hand on the banister, grinning his gorgeous smile like he has no idea heâs putting the stars in the sky to shame. No idea heâs the very picture of masculinity right now, or that heâs more beautiful than anything FP ever thought he deserved to see. His brown eyes gleam like mahogany in the twinkling lights from the living roomâs christmas tree.Â
When he stops before FP, whos only just gaining feeling in his limbs again, he drops effortlessly into a bow, grasping one of FPâs cold hands and bringing the back of it up to his lips. He looks up at FP through his eyelashes as he kisses the skin, the press of his lips leaving a patch of burning heat. Then he straightens up again, each movement as precisely calculated as a dance, and drops FPâs hand with a smile just as Bunny comes back in the room with the camera.Â
FP can feel himself blushing, which is not something he does often. His face and the skin of his neck feels like its on fire. Fred winks at him before he turns to his mother, who fusses immediately with his bowtie and his hair. âGo stand next to the tree,â she orders them, and FP allows Fred to pivot him into place, heart still pounding hard, and all the more so when Fred wraps his strong arms around him from behind and clasps his hands over FPâs stomach. The smell of his cologne envelops FP as Fred puts his chin down on his shoulder, grinning for the camera. At least FP assumes he is. Heâs focusing all his energy on trying to breathe normally with Fredâs body weight pressed up against his back, hoping the way he feels like shaking all over inside doesnât translate to his body.Â
Bunny tuts. âFred, canât we take a nice photo, please?â she scolds him as Fredâs freshly-shaven cheek collides with the side of FPâs face, nuzzling there like a cat. âFPâs been waiting for you, and youâre goofing off.âÂ
âJust take one like this,â Fred urges, breath tickling FPâs earlobe, his hands never moving from where theyâre cradling the hollow of FPâs stomach. Bunny sighs, and the camera flashes obediently, a soft click undoubtably capturing FPâs face in the same red as the Christmas ornaments forever.Â
âNow stand next to one another, please,â she orders, so Fredâs hands slip obediently away from FPâs belt, and FP takes the deepest breath heâs taken all night. They pose as any straight guys would: hands in pockets, arms folded, chins tilted confidently, FP pretending with all his might that his knees arenât still weak from when Fred kissed his hand. It shouldnât feel this way - heâs had Fredâs mouth on most places on his body by now. But that hand kiss had nothing to do with the kind of sex they had all summer in their van - not that he was complaining about that. But the way Fred had kissed his hand had nothing to do with sex at all. Â
That hand kiss was romance. That kiss said I want you and only you.Â
Now he gets it. How Fred gets all the girls.Â
Youâre so stupid, the familiar voice of self-hatred speaks up in FPâs mind as the shutter clicks. It doesnât mean anything to him. Heâll ditch you at the dance for the first girl he sees.Â
But he catches Fredâs eye and sees him smiling; Fred who chose him tonight, who kissed his hand like he was one of those very same girls and who made him feel special and beautiful in his four-dollar suit. Fred whoâs all his until the sun goes down.Â
And the voice gets a little quieter, just for now.
/
21. tearful kisses
âWhat was it like?â Fredâs shifting the wood around in the campfire, eyes glued to the embers. His voice comes out flat, but at least theyâre talking. Thatâs something. Theyâd exhausted small talk in the first few hours heâd been back, and the drive up to the campsite had been choked with painful silence, years of things sitting between them that neither was ready to say. Here was an olive branch. âBasic training?âÂ
âI wasnât really there for long,â FP admits. Itâs the first time heâs admitting that out loud. The old shame closes over his heart like a fist, but itâs a little easier saying shameful things to Fred. Always has been. He kicks at the bottlecap heâd dropped onto the dirt. âKicked me out about six weeks in. Dishonorable discharge.âÂ
âSix weeks,â Fred repeats. When FP looks at him he sees something in Fredâs face that jars him right back to high school: hurt. His brown eyes are full of pain, and thereâs an upset surprise there too, a bit of the shocked, wounded look Fred used to get when FP would disappoint him. But thereâs something cold in them too, something darker than FP remembers. The injury in his gaze seems to change almost immediately into sad resignation. âThen where did you go?âÂ
âAround. But I wanted to come back,â FP clarifies, understanding Fred wasnât really asking about his travels. âI did. I meant to. But I wasnât ready.âÂ
âYou wanted to.â Fred repeats quietly.Â
âAre you just going to repeat what I say?âÂ
âYou joined the army for six weeks,â Fred replies, his voice dripping with venom. âItâs been seven years. My dad was dying. I had no one left. And you left after six weeks and went around.â
âI needed the time-â
"I NEEDED YOU!"
Fred screams it. A ringing silence follows, in which an owl screams somewhere off in the dark. Fred stares at him across the flickering fire and then quickly turns away, wiping his face furiously with his hands.Â
âI needed you,â he repeats, voice ragged as glass. âI needed you, FP.âÂ
FP looks down at his boots, the hand gripping his bottle of beer in a death grip. Contemplates the fucked up tragicomedy of his pathetic little life. How no matter what he tried to do, it always fell short. Fredâs still turned away from him, and that makes it easier to say what he does next.Â
âI never stopped loving you, Fred. I left so I could stop, but I didnât.âÂ
Anger lights in Fredâs face, enough that he turns immediately back to him and looks FP square in the eye for almost the first time since his train had arrived. âOh, donât say that. Donât you say that now.âÂ
âWhat does it matter now?â FP asks, digging in his heels. He shrugs, though his shoulder stay hunched up by his ears, betraying the nonchalant gesture. His hand trembles on the bottle. But he means what he says. âYou have Mary, and Iâm glad it worked out like that. Itâs good for you. Sheâs good for you.âÂ
âYou donât get to tell me whos good for me,â Fred answers. His tone is calm, but the words tremble with a thick undercurrent of danger. Of rage. âYou donât get to sit there and say my life worked out for the best. You werenât here! You donât know anything about my life! You werenât here when my dad died. You werenât here when everyone left for college. You werenât here all those nights I CRIED OVER YOU!â He strikes both thighs with his balled up fists, his face turning crimson in the firelight. âAll those nights I worried you were DEAD! The times I wished I WAS DEAD! You werenât here all those days and months and years that I drove back and forth from that construction site wondering why the fuck you ran away from me! What the fuck my life was even for! You werenât here when I was fighting to put food on the table for me and my mom because were are the only ones left after my dad died. You werenât here when it happened, when I NEEDED MY BEST FRIEND! FUCK ALL THE REST, YOU WERE MY BEST FRIEND, FP!â He screams the next words, cords standing out in his neck, hurt in every syllable. âI NEEDED MY BEST FRIEND AND YOU WERENâT THERE!âÂ
Fred sniffs, his voice breaking on the last word. His face is red, tears streaming down his cheeks as fast as he can wipe them away. FP feels sick just watching it.Â
âAnd now, what?â Fred stammers, wiping his face. âAfter you broke my heart? After you said we could never be together? You come back and you say you still love me?â Fred throws his hands down, tears running freely down his face. âYou still LOVE ME? THATâS WHAT YOU HAVE TO SAY? SEVEN YEARS LATER?âÂ
âJust forget it then!â
âI canât!â Fred screams, his voice breaking. âHow could you say that to me when you know that I canât!âÂ
âWhy not?â FP yells back.Â
âYou know why I canât. You know.â Fred puts a shaking finger out in his direction, keeping FP at armâs length. âDonât you come here the day before my wedding and ask me to say it.â He runs his hands through his hair and over his face, scrubbing away the tears. âI canât get married tomorrow,â he whispers, more to himself than FP.
âDonât you dare,â FP says quickly. Thatâs not why I came here. I didnât come to blow up your marriage-âÂ
Fred gets up and slaps him. Thereâs not a lot of power behind it, but itâs hard enough to snap FPâs head around, a red mark stinging raw on his cheek in the cool air.Â
âThatâs great,â Fred says in a voice thatâs cold and unfamiliar. He massages the palm of his hand with his opposite thumb. âYou come here and tell me youâre still in love with me the day before my wedding, but then you say you donât want me after all. Thatâs just like you. I donât know why I expected anything else.âÂ
âItâs not that,â FP says through gritted teeth. âI'm not good for you. We've always known that.â
âIs that the self-loathing the army was going to train out of you?â Fred folds his arms, looking older and stronger in a way FP doesnât recognize.
âI thought about you every day, Fred,â FP says, looking up at him. âAll seven years.âÂ
âSTOP IT!â Fred shoves him with both hands, then. FP falls off the log heâs sitting on and lands on his back in the dirt. He stares up at his best friend, whose silhouette is dark and solid against the sky.Â
âYou come back and you talk to me like nothing's changed between us. Like I haven't lived a whole life without you. Like I haven't finally moved on. I was finally happy, FP.â
âThen why invite me to your wedding?âÂ
âBecause I thought about you too,â Fred says, his voice breaking. âOf course I thought about you. You're my best friend. You're supposed to be.â
FP stares up at him. His pulse is beating furiously in his neck. Fred crouches down, and for an insane moment FP thinks heâs going to climb into his lap and kiss him. But he just reaches out and offers a hand. FP takes it, and Fred pulls him gently to his feet.Â
âFred-â FP says softly, his own throat closing with a lump.Â
âStop it.âÂ
Thereâs a muscle trembling in Fredâs jaw when he turns his face away. For a moment he looks so much like Artie that FP feels like heâs dreaming. FP stands there, staring at his profile, the tears spilling over his cheekbones that he doesnât have a right to wipe away anymore. He can hear himself breathing in the quiet of the woods. And then just when heâs about to step back to give Fred his space, Fred turns and seizes him by the ears and kisses him, so hard that pain explodes in FPâs nose from where their faces smash together.
/
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delicacies of the season (m)
part 3: days apart
note: hey!! Whatâs up!! first, I officially have named this series!! itâs right up there for ur viewing glory! ok anyway hereâs something before I disappear for the next four weeks because I am drowning in school!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! also just a side thingie for this story: Iâve already established that oc isnât on birth control but here Iâm implying that theyâre doing natural planning (i.e. fertility awareness where the person who menstruates keeps up with their cycle and thus only has sex when their cycles allows for it). PLEASE DO NOT DO THIS UNLESS YOU KNOW THE RISKS!!!!!!!! Oh Lord putting your impregnation chances up to God?! I couldnât do it. But also this is fanfiction and nothing bad will happen to this couple so letâs all just... suspend disbelief for a second ok
PAIRING. taehyung/reader GENRE. romance, farmer au RATED. M WORD COUNT. 2.5k WARNINGS. kitchen sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, a good olâ creampie bc wot is the ubemango experience without one :/ SUMMARY. Taehyung missed you.
Auntie Gaeul comes over when the rooster crows to tell you to check out the passion fruits today. Theyâre ripe not because sheâs seen them but because she just knows. Call it the Elder Instinct for Ripened Foods. You tell her youâll give her half the harvest, and she swats at you before she leaves.
âStop being so polite, Iâm not that old,â she spits in jest. âAnd make some of that honey iced tea your grandma makes. If thereâs extra, then Iâll have some.â
Taehyung would probably like some, too; he chugs down anything with passion fruit like heâs about to go into hibernation. And when you come back home from the fields with a basket-full perched heavy on your back, you resolve to make some tea right away to bring over to his house to see if heâs there. You havenât seen him in five daysâhis cousin had the stomach flu, and his aunt needed the extra help with tending to the livestock. Being the eldest nephew (and the only one who can drive a motorcycle) had him obligated right from the get-go.
âGrandma! Can you show me where you put the honey jars, I canât remember where they are. And can you help me peel theseâum. Youâre not Grandma,â you stop.
Taehyung looks up from where heâs perched on the stairs of your awning, flicking bits of strawberries to the ground for Danbi to eat. Your little puppy scrounges it up so fast she nearly falls over on her fluffy bum.
âI told her to go play bingo with the rest of the granny crew, someoneâs betting chicken feet,â he says. You smile wide when he trods over to you for a short kiss, slipping the strap of the basket off your shoulder to put on his. The hand he keeps low on your back is as warm as the ten AM sun. âHi. I missed you.â
âI was just gonna go see if you were home,â you say. He smells like the wind. Something youâd scrunch your nose at but he makes it work. âWhen dâyou come back? Howâs Daeshim now?â
âAn hour ago. And heâs better. He ate up all your ice cream, only thing he could keep down.â
You frown. âPoor baby.â
âI know. You gonna clean these now?â He nods his head toward the water basin, carved rock heâd installed for you on your third anniversary.
âYeah. Can you start? Iâll just wash up quick,â you offer. Suddenly youâre aware youâve got an ugly shirt with oil stains and holes in random placesânothing Taehyung minds, but the occasion probably deserves better.
âGot it, boss,â Taehyung says. He slaps your ass before you run to the bathroom. A familiar signal of his intentions but heâs too polite to bring it up so quickly.
âHey!â
âHurry up,â he calls. As if youâre going to take another five days to get back to him but you get it. You missed him, too; a little more than youâd like to let on. Your grandma is great company but she watches her TV too loud and she hates when youâre not there to sit with her because she might need your help switching channels. Itâs a miracle you didnât jump Taehyung the second your eyes landed on him.
You change into whatever shirt youâve tossed on the floor that looks semi-presentable. Itâs too early for your sweat to reek like it does under the afternoon heat, but you spritz some perfume on your neck anyway. Just for upkeep, because youâd be lying if you said you werenât anticipating sex, a sloppy makeout session at the least. Danbiâs too hyper to be left alone, plus your grandma likes making surprise visits at your house because sheâs a forgetful woman.
By the time youâve come back from scrubbing the dirt and dead ant bits caked under your nails, Taehyungâs a third of the way through the basket, tossing the clean passion fruit into a bucket Danbi is trying so hard to climb into. She yelps when her fat paws slip at the edges.
âDanbi! Mamaâs gonna be mad if you get hurt. Iâll give you some later.â
âGo play with your toy,â you call out to her. âDanbi! Go!â
Her ears perk up at your command, and she pants and pants till she decides to go in the complete opposite direction of the ball and into the patch where all the potatoes are. She hasnât hit her teething phase so youâre safe from her snuffing anything out with her mouth. Itâs her fur you worry about. Sheâs such a nice shade of white amongst the semi-wet dirt, it almost hurts seeing her get soiled.
âLike a little cotton ball,â Taehyung says. He points to the bucket. âThis good?â
You nodâitâs enough to have extra for Auntie Gaeul. âYeah. Wanna carry it to the kitchen like a good man?â
âAs if Iâm not one already,â he snorts, grabbing the handle. âDanbi, come!â
This is how it always goes. Taehyung ogles from over your shoulder (usually heâs off to the side but heâs a lot clingier, not that you mind) while you do your business because you donât trust him with a knife. Not since the time youâd tasked him with chopping garlic and heâd nearly sliced his palm open when he tried crushing them first.
And now youâve got a new addition to the routine: Danbi sniffs around the dried leaves for the fire, sneezing when she breathes the ash in too hard. You hear her collar jiggle as she explores the earthenware stacked on the side. You made sure Taehyung left the door open because she gets antsy fast.
âCan I just say that I have a thing for seeing you use a knife,â Taehyung says, hands stroking your tummy because heâs got nothing better to do.
âYouâre really bad at hiding how turned on you are.â
âWho said I was trying to hide?â
You laugh. âWhat are you trying to get at, mister?â
âIâm saying I missed you,â he says simply.
âSo thatâs why you kicked Grandma out the house,â you tease. Taehyung splutters in your ear.
âNo! They really are betting chicken feet. What do you think I am?â
âHorny.â
âUgh.â
You turn your focus back to the chopping board. Taehyung lets the sound of the knife smooth down the goop of the insides fill the space.
â...Are you mad if I am?â He whispers tentatively.
âOh my god. Itâs ten in the morning.â
âYou think my dick cares?â
âYou think I care?â you joke.
Taehyung gasps. Like his heart just shattered from your vitriol, but all you want is to finish cutting up these damn fruits before youâll allow his hands to touch you. âWow. Youâ? Okay, fine.â
âWhaââ
âI appreciate your hard work,â he coos. He wraps himself around you even tighter, traces a slow kiss on your neck. âReally. But donât pretend you didnât miss me too.â
âI never said I didnât.â
âYouâve got a fucking mouth on you.â
And that gets you to shut up. Taehyung only swears when he wants you to stop talking. Not for the sake of real anger but to show you heâs got something brewing, and youâre here to take whatever it is heâs about to give you.
âI just wanted to be a good fiance and visit the one I love the most after five days because I missed them so much.â
His teeth catch the lobe of your ear. Biting down softly because heâs still aware youâve got the knife in your hand, but youâve lost all motor skills the second he started his little bit. You drop the handle slowly. At the last second you push all the shit youâve laid out on the counter to the farthest corner. Something tells you this space is being defiled this morning.
âGood. Are you wet?â
âN-No.â
âThen weâll have to do something about that, huh.â
You watch his hands glide up, and youâre half-expecting him to fondle you gently, the way he teases you when you think heâs taking it slow. But instead he goes right for the kill: using those long fingers to pinch right at your tits just to get you to gasp into the feeling. You roll your eyes shut, let your head fall back on his shoulder.
âYou like that?â
âMhm,â you whine.
âTake your shirt off for me.â
Youâve never exposed yourself to kitchen utensils and rice wine on the pantry shelves before but Taehyung makes you want it. He shows his appreciation for your compliance with another hard grope of his hands, this time with his mouth sucking on your neck too. Craving your skin like heâs been absolutely deprived. The calluses on his fingertips rub your nipples raw.
âYou smell good,â he croons. âCome here.â
You nearly tip over from how fast he spins you around, but he catches you easy, tongue on yours in the next second. The desperate tug of his lips on yours, the smack of your spit when he pulls you in deeper, all the intricacies of needing someone else to save your own sanityâit culminates here, and now your ass is up on the cold of the counter, Taehyung pulling back from one last kiss to drag that same heat down your body.
âPlease let me eat you out here, holy shit.â He tugs at your pants, slides your underwear down with it. Mouthing hungry at your mound because you havenât answered him yet, so you just groan a quick please, yes and he doesnât even look at you before he presses his tongue inside you.
Somewhere in the back of your mind, the guilt of ruining this space with your (embarrassingly) uncontrolled libido is raging. But you could care less with the way Taehyung swipes his tongue around your clit, gets you clawing at his hair for brief respite. Youâve most definitely exceeded wet boundaries. His chin practically shines.
And he knows itâs because of him. Not just from his mouth but the knowledge that he wants you trembling towards a heady orgasm, the kind that consumes you whole. His laving gets bolder with every stroke, every moan you try to keep stifled but itâs useless. âTaehyung. Oh my g-od, fuckâno d-donât use your fingers, Iâll come.â
He laughs, adjusts your thighs so youâre not cramping. âThink youâll tap out?â
��I wanna come on your dick,â you pants.
âOh my god,â he groans. âYouâre perfect. Oh my god. Iâm so fucking hard. Can I come inside you?â
âYes yes yes yes, just get inside me already.â
Taehyungâs foot gets caught on his pants when he shoves them off, nearly crashing face first into your pussy again. And he laughs and you snort and when heâs naked waist-down he kisses you again, a little slower this time, a breather for just a moment.
âI know itâs only been five days but I missed you. A lot.â
You trap his hips with locked ankles on his back. âI know.â
âItâs justâI had to shovel so much horse shitââ
âOh donât say that!â You bat at his chest.
Taehyung snickers. âSorry. Ahh, I donât know what to do with myself.â
âYou can stick your dick inside me and we can go from there,â you suggest.
âI like the way you think, missus.â
Itâs almost laughable when he sinks right in. No resistance, just the slick of your arousal and his spit, an unholy mixture for this thick sacrilege. Taehyungâs eyes stay locked on the sight.
âFuck yeah. Oh babyâŚâ
If itâs got him uttering curses this early in the round then youâre definitely worse off. Youâve got one profanity for every inch heâs claimed inside you, all lined up behind your teeth but you donât have the brain capacity to get them out. He fucks you straight to incoherence.
Your delirium keeps you mum. Taehyung will make up for it. He slots his hand up the back of your thighs, hits deeper when you arch through the pleasure. âHoly fuck thatâs so good,â you whine. âTaehyungâoh god.â
He doesnât say anything. Just pants hard with every moan youâll give him, and you watch the sweat glow on his collarbone, the thick of his neck. Places you claim with your mouth when you lean forward because itâs too hard to keep balance without his gravity.
Taehyung breaks when you bite. âSh-it. Oh fuck youâre so hot. âM not gonna last, shit.â
âYouâll fuck me when you come?â you plead, hold his gaze. Heâs just as gone as you are. âYouâll fuck your cum inside me?â
âYeah baby. Iâll give it to you. So fuckinâ good.â
He never lets up. Just keeps that steady fucking, stiff with every drive into your slick till he adjusts your knees with one push. Pussy open to the angle that gets you begging for his thumb on your clit because itâs right there. You fall back on your hands, no steady grip because Taehyungâs faltering too.
âOhâ!â You flutter your eyes shut to pending ecstasy. âTaeâpleaseâharderâright there right there donât stop!â
âYou gonna come for me?â
Itâs a rhetorical question. You know he sees the way your chest collapses, the rub of your clit in quick gestures for your high. Heâs got you right in his hand.
âFuckâohhh yes!â
âUgh,â he whines. Itâs nearly lost to the ringing in your ears, the clench of your pussy from his pounding. You cream him so good when the orgasmâs strong enough, pulsing hot, the rough intensity. And thatâs not lost on him when he cries: âGod your pussyâs so wet. Holy shit.â
Usually youâre spent by the time your visionâs cleared to the sight of Taehyung fucking you through it. But heâs promised you something, and youâre greedy for it.
âCome inside me,â you urge, guiding a hand through his hair, pulling hard at his nape. He keeps his eyes on his dick priming you for those final strokes.
âIâll fucking come,â he snaps. âYou ready? Iâll come so good for you baby. Come so fuckingâgoodâ!â
He stiffens with a shout, grinds his teeth, lets his orgasm splash inside with so much heat you mewl. And he keeps minimal movement, thrust for soft thrust because itâs too much with the squeezing you tease him with.
âI.â Taehyung clears his throat, panting to a stop. âI⌠wow.â
Your ass is rubbed raw against the counter. But youâll risk it again to see the glint in his eye when he pulls out and watches his cum drip down your hole, onto the floor for you to clean when your legs arenât jelly.
âWow,â you repeat.
âDo⌠Am I⌠Am I ovulating?â He looks genuinely confused. âI donât⌠Iâve never been that horny before.â
You snort. âFive days felt like forever, huh.â
Taehyung kisses you slow. âIf it means we get to fuck like that again then Iâm going to the city for a month.â
âHey!â You pinch his arm, using his bicep to stand up, tiptoeing around the mess on the floor. âGod. Help me clean up here, please. And whereâs the dog?â
(Danbi sleeps peacefully in the wicker basket, head lolled on one of the passion fruits. You make sure to bring her over to Auntie Gaeulâs for extra snacks.)
#bts smut#taehyung smut#v smut#bts scenarios#taehyung scenarios#v scenarios#ubemango fic#f: farmer!tae series#f: delicacies of the season
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omg I would love for you to break down that scene from TKK where sid goes into heat unexpectedly and geno rescues him from the Czech alphas!! (yes I have read and reread it a million times bc it is absolutely delicious.) (also this is jes @ticklefighthockey - canât send from my hockey sideblog!)
hi jes!! thank you so much for asking!! I love that scene too
this is, uh, a behemoth. be warned:Â
Heâs being led on a tour of the rink, after the Russians have embarrassingly lost to Finland and before the Canadians are set to battle with the Czechs, when Zhenya stumbles upon him.Â
I enjoy, in retrospect, how Zhenya and Sidâs emotional states are so different coming into this interaction. Even going back further than this specific day, Zhenya-in-Helsinki is bored and understimulated and out of his area of expertise and his alphaness is chafing at him. Meanwhile, Sid is overstimulated and anxious and fearful and in denial about/trying to hide his omeganess. Their designations are really on display here: Zhenya is brashly an alpha, Sid is shamefully an omega, and I Just Think Thatâs Delicious.Â
Itâs a flash, something deep and slumbering in his brain that alights like gas touched by a flame. One moment heâs listening to a very calm scout for the Superleague talk to him about Ovechkin and the potential a future Team Russia has, and the next there are yells echoing off the hallwayâs walls and a figure racing towards them. A hook nestles into Zhenyaâs intestines and his long leg moves, jerked along with the rest of him as he trips the running blur.Â
The omega falls; Zhenya reaches for them, and before Zhenya can stop himself, his big hand grabs the omega by the back of their neck. The omega seizes up, and Zhenya canât breathe as his grip tightens and then shakes.Â
This is the, like, one part of the fic where Zhenyaâs alphaness overwhelms him in the same way Sidâs omeganess overwhelms him. Sid is repeatedly at the mercy of his biology in the fic, and though he works to overcome it (and eventually settle into it), Zhenya doesnât share that struggleâexcept for in this moment. I like how it equalizes them for a fraction of a second. Immediately after, the power imbalance flares to life and theyâre on unequal ground, but for this moment, theyâre both at the mercy of their bodies. Itâs a huge aspect of what I enjoy about a/b/o.
Sid likes Helsinki.Â
I love this jump cut, personally. I think itâs cheeky of me and fun and, after hooking the reader with Zhenyaâs side of things, allows me to do what I enjoy most: babble on about juniors!Sid. Letâs fast forward to where the narrative catches up with Zhenyaâs POV:
Sid is last out of the showers after practice. He doesnât normally linger, but he had spent so long staring at how Carterâs traps and deltoids flexed as he washed his hair that he stalled and told everyone heâd catch up.
Sidâs discomfort with his designation almost takes precedence over his relationship with his sexuality in TKK. Theyâre inextricably intertwined, but Sid really spends more time thinking about being an omega than he does fantasizing about alphasâperhaps largely in part due to his first ~meaningful~ physical interaction with alphas ends up being a near-assault followed by a formative, if unhealthy, scruffing at the hands of Zhenya. I hope I put in enough to show that Sid is eyeing the alphas around him with intent and that itâs disrupting his routines. Builds the tension. Primes us for whatâs about to happen.Â
âGet out of there soon, Crosby, the Czechs are going to need the locker room in ten!â Durocher had called out to him, and Sid had made a sound of acknowledgement.
Heâs not proud to jerk off in the empty communal showers. Once heâs come, he desperately tries to forget the fantasy of being shoved up against the cold tile, the slickness between his thighs being put to good use. His cheeks are flaming red and heâs mortified at himself as he washes the evidence off of his hands. In a rush he towels himself off and gets dressed in his team sweats, grabbing his bag of gear and jogging for the doors.Â
Yeah Iâd be mortified too, Sid.
He opens the door and runs face-first into a chest.
He chokes on his own spit as he smells it, the sharp, overwhelming scent of alphas, plural, and looks up at the huge Czech defensemen that heâs spent two afternoons watching tape on.Â
The big one he ran into looks at Sid with vibrant blue eyes, and Sid stills as he watches the guyâs nostrils flare with a big intake of breath.
Sid forgot the cologne.Â
âCrosby,â the alpha says, his accent strangely shaping Sidâs name. Sid heard plenty of Czech at the U18 tourney, when Canada had gone down against the Czech team and the players and their fans had drunkenly gathered outside of the Canadian locker room to howl shit at them until the Canadians muscled their way out.
Heâs never heard anything like the way this enormous alpha drawls his name, and his eyes go wide.Â
The alpha next to the blue-eyed one, a beefy blond guy that has a huge nose, takes a step towards Sid and says something. Sid canât understand the words, but the message behind them is clearer than fresh ice in the winter, and all Sid can think is that heâs never been in this much danger.Â
Some disgusting, traitorous part of him whispers in his ear that maybe heâd like it if he stayed and listened to what they had to say.
Sid runs.Â
Sidâs sexual immaturity is really on display here. I donât say anything about what the alphas smell like, and though Sid catalogues what the alphas look like (this was mostly so I could make them distinct in their actions), none of it is appreciative.
Heâs a prey animal realizing heâs in danger, and regardless of his fantasies and recent jerk-off session, he has almost no desire to âbe an omegaâ in this moment⌠except for the part of himself he hates, the part of himself he isnât at ease with yet. EVEN THEN, heâs not interested in, like, being thrown to the ground and Taken in the biblical sense, but heâs interested in âif he stayed and listened to what they had to say.â
Itâs that teasing at wanting something, that teenage impulse to want to explore what youâre feeling but not willing to go all the way because youâre afraid and unsure and still young! But his prey instinct wins out (smartly).
He hates himself for it; heâs a fighter, and he doesnât run from boys who are bigger than him, but he knows as deeply and intrinsically as he knows his own name that the instant one of the Czech alphas gets their hands around his neck, heâs done for.
That first line could be interpreted 2 ways before you get past the semi-colon: does he hate himself for running because he wants the Czechs? No; itâs because he wants to fight. Sidâs incorrectly performing being an omega here in multiple senses: heâs running from alphas and wanting to avoid his heat, and heâs also wanting to fight them.
He drops low, bending his legs so he can ram his shoulder into the blue-eyed oneâs stomach, shoving him back just enough so Sid can elbow past the blond alpha and push through. He feels the blond reach for him, and a shout builds in his throat as the boyâs big hand grazes Sidâs wrist, nearly gripping him before Sid can twist out of the way.Â
He takes a step before the strap across his body gets yanked back, and Sid chokes as it digs into his Adamâs apple. The Czechs are gripping onto his hockey bag, and Sid only hesitates long enough for a hand to snake up and reach for his damp hair before he grits his teeth and slips out from under the strap of his bag and leaves it behind him, running in his untied sneakers down the hall.
The mention of his Adamâs apple draws attention to Sidâs age, I feel. It shows heâs physically mature but BARELY, because pointing it out draws attention to it in a conspicuous way. Then Sid being willing to ditch his hockey gear as he sprintsâwell, it shows (for once) he has his priorities straight. He tried to keep his omeganess hidden for the sake of hockey. Now he has to abandon hockey to keep himself safe.Â
The Czechs yell, their voices loud and reverberating off of the walls in a way that feels like it can physically pummel Sid. He still has the scent of them in his nose, and he can feel his untrustworthy body responding. He runs blindly, as fast as he can.
HERE we get some sense that the alphas are having a physical impact on Sid. And yet itâs not eroticized at all. Itâs made violent and scary and heâs stripped of his own senses.Â
He rounds a corner and sprints, not remembering which way is which in the Helsinki rink. Sid barrels towards two figures in the hall, and his overwhelmed senses can tell that one of them is an alpha, the tall one, the dark one, and he sucks in one last desperate breath to hold so he can sprint past, so he can just get away from the heady scent and go somewhere safe.
Tall and dark, eh, Sidney? Our first hint of romantic descriptors.Â
The tall alpha moves faster than lightning, faster than a goalie adjusting to block a shot, and Sid feels an ankle connect with his shin and he panics.Â
Sid makes it about hockey. Ok bud sure you do you. (But like for real this represents a connection back to something Sid knows, something that is safe[...ish] for Sid, something that he loves).
He tripped him. The alpha tripped him, and maybe heâs in on it, and maybe Sidâs mom was right to be paranoid for all these years, and Sidâs hands come up to brace for the impact of the carpet when a hand as big as the span of his entire neck comes down on the back of it.Â
Everything stops.Â
Anxious stream-of-consciousness interrupted by an abrupt two-word sentence? Slap me silly with cliches, eh? But, hey, if it works...
The hand is enormous, the long, powerful fingers digging into the sides of Sidâs throat, and Sidâs jaw opens in something he hopes is a scream but by the way heat curls in his gut, he knows itâs something much, much worse.
Okay so HEREEEE we get yanked closer, again, to the erotic. The focus on hands (#TheFemaleGaze) as something salacious, enormous and long and powerful [hm. Freud is calling]... and even though Sid is terrified and refusing to put a specific name to what other emotion heâs feeling, his body betrays him yet again and we then fully slip into The Erotic with a heatâa heatâcurling in his gut.Â
The hand yanks him up, pulling him away from the floor, and Sid fights against the instinct to go limp with everything he has; his trained muscles seize up instead, and Sid has never been so grateful to be an athlete. He balls his fists, sliding his foot on the ground to try and right himself, and then his world ends when the alpha scruffs him.
Sid resorts to athleticism (his only other use for his body before Being An Omega fucked it up, according to him) in order to fight back. And then the line âand then his world endsâ hits. Melodramatic, sure, but heâs 16.
And moreover, objectively, the world Sid knew before this interaction is indeed over for him. Zhenya later thinks in the fic that alphas and omegas feel fated, like something out of a fairytale, and that line of fateâthat this was inevitable, that once Sid and Zhenya met, Sid would be lost to ânormalcy,â does ring true by the time the fic ends. Â
The alpha gives Sid a firm shake, just from the hand gripping his neck. Sid feels it down to his bones, reverberating through him harder than any check or hit heâs ever taken. Sid feels like he did when he was in 7th grade and one of his buddies tripped him while playing street hockey. This feels like when Sidâs head hit the blacktop; heâs not sure where all his limbs are anymore, and when he collapses, the alpha catches him.
This whole first chapter is just a major tease in regards to maturity, puberty, sexual awakenings, etc.
Sid acknowledged his physical response to alphas a few paragraphs ago, but now weâre back to Sid: The Child, to his middle-school self who is hurt and injured and vulnerable. By scruffing him, Zhenya ironically reverts him back to his child self; had Zhenya not scruffed him, who knows what Sid might have done or said to an alpha he was attracted to while he slips into heat?
By scruffing Sidâby making him no longer a viable partner [according to Zhenyaâs instincts/hindbrain]âZhenya actually keeps Sid safe here without even realizing it.Â
Sid lets out a sigh that sounds pleased, and he wants to heave instead.Â
And oop, weâre back! Tug and pull, back and forth. Will-they-wonât-they. Fun tension. The confusion of sexuality. Now that Sid is safe (even if he doesnât know it), he can slip back into that pleasure state, even as heâs repulsed by it.Â
The alpha says something. His voice is deep and rich. Sidâs head lolls back so he can catch a glimpse.Â
He was right about the alpha being tall. His eyes go up and up to see the guyâs face. Heâs older than Sid, but maybe heâs a player here. He could be 19, Sid hazily reasons to himself. His wide mouth is open in a concerned, surprised expression, and Sidâs eyes catch on how pink his lips are. He wonders how those lips would feel on his skin, but then his gaze is tugged upwards as the alphaâs eyebrows furrow over deep-set, dark eyes.
Heâs handsome, and Sid is in his arms, utterly limp.
This part makes me smile even now while reading it :) Sidâs hazily like âUhhh he could be my age right? Yeah it can definitely be acceptable to want this guy. Totally. Also he can totally play hockey. A dreamboat⌠Just For Me. Look at those lips. Also Iâm totally helpless right now and for the FIRST time instead of terrified I am the human embodiment of the đ emoji.â
The alpha asks something of Sid, and Sid just stares up at him, dazed. He doesnât know the language; it isnât Czech. Maybe⌠Russian?
The hand still around his neck flexes, and Sidâs lips part. The alphaâs dark gaze drops to them, and Sidâs frightened by the emotion that blooms in his chest, a pride thatâs twined with the adrenaline of his run. He can taste the alphaâs scent on his tongue, and itâs woodsy and deep and it makes Sid think of sex. He can feel his tongue poke at his lower lip, and the fingers around his neck tighten.Â
Then the noises from down the hall get louder, and Sid canât move to look, but the alphaâs head jerks up. Sid watches as the alphaâs lips curl back and he snarls loudly at the Czechs.
Sid can smell them, the way their scents slide from hunter to hunted. There are rude, ineffective words spat at Sid before they retreat. He doesnât understand a whiff of it, though, and all he can do is watch the alpha clinging to him. The alpha bares his teeth at the Czechs even as they scamper away. Sid can see the alphaâs teeth arenât fully straight, but theyâre sharp and a swooping sensation bottoms out in Sidâs gut.
Itâs nothing like Pariseâs hit, nothing like Tambelliniâs command to leave the ball alone. Sid stares up at his alpha and he knows that if this guy took him to the ground, Sid would roll over without a second thought.Â
Fear rages through him again, even as his body hangs still from the scruffing.
Now weâre just really in the sauce, eh? Weâve fully entered into The Erotic and though Sid has that taste of fear in his chest, itâs not fear of alphas. Itâs not fear of Zhenya.
Itâs fear of himself. He isnât scared at all of what Zhenya could do to him; heâs scared of what he wants (or what his body wants? He isnât sure where that distinction is, because heâs been trying to divorce himself from his omega body since it started Making Problems).
Spicy! Delicious! I do, in fact, love it! His body is acting without his control (his tongue) but Sid is naming what heâs thinking of: sex. He hates himself over it. I am thoroughly enjoying myself!
The alpha looks back down at Sid, his lips coming together to cover his sharp teeth. He says something softly, glancing over Sid with obvious concern in his eyes. His grip loosens and his hand slides up into Sidâs wet hair to cradle his head instead.Â
âCrosby,â Sid can hear the other man, the beta next to his alphaâ the alpha say in surprise, and Sidâs chest tightens.Â
âCrosby?â the alpha murmurs, squinting at Sid. He asks something else, and Sid still canât get his throat to work, the scruffing clinging onto his voice box like a crushing fist.Â
The beta says something and the alpha grimaces, but he gently starts lowering Sid to the floor. Sid gasps in a breath, because no, not in the middle of a hallway, but the alpha just lays Sid down, bracing a careful hand on Sidâs shoulder, still cupping the back of his skull as he crouches down next to him.Â
âCrosby? Omega?â He hears the beta say in a thick Russian accent, and Sidâs eyes swivel to look at him.Â
âHelp,â Sid finally begs, feeling weak and shameful.
Here we actually lose some of the erotic tension because
1. Zhenya looks at Sid with concern, not lust
2. His grip loosens on Sid, and
3. Zhenya puts Sid down not to have his way with him, but to make sure heâs okay.
The power dynamic is starting to shift; it isnât so much about a/b/o as it is age right here. Zhenya is taking care of this kid, as he notes in the next section, and since Sidâs hangups over his immaturity will haunt him in the fic, his perspective sort of neuters Zhenya here because he thinks their ages will be a barrier to Sid getting Zhenya. Â
Also, another line I love: âno, not in the middle of a hallway,â because itâs SUCH a major slip on Sidâs part. His problem isnât that he thinks Zhenya is about to go to town on him; itâs that theyâre in a hallway and he has standards. (Or, rather, reasonable concerns over privacy, safety, and general comfort).Â
âWho is Crosby?â Zhenya asks as he stares down at the omega heâs cradling.Â
Heâs about to be a very big thorn in your side for the next forever, Zhenya.
The omega is so young. He looks half-baked, especially with his head held at such an angle, making his chin disappear into his neck. His face is still round, and he has curly hair that hangs boyishly into his eyes. Those huge eyes are stunned and Zhenya can see the panic in them.
Weâre still in that de-sexed space; readers can think ��Hmm okay so maybe Sid was right, that Zhenya doesnât really want-â
Zhenya closes his mouth and tries to take in less of the omegaâs scent. Itâs hot and jabs at Zhenyaâs brain like a spice; Zhenya can smell the slick on him and swallows down the saliva flooding his mouth.Â
âOh.âÂ
Yep. Still wants âim. Has a moral compass to stop himself about it. Barely.
Also, Zhenya eats a fair amount of food in this ficâshitty food, like his McDonalds meal and bad American coffee, and good food, like the ribs and coco lardo in Moscow and the pelmeni and soup with his mother. Sidâs scent is like a spice to himâthis appeals to his emotional senses, not just his physical ones.Â
âThis is Crosby,â the Superleague scout says, dumbfounded. âHe plays for Canada, heâs an omegaââ
âNo shit,â Zhenya grunts, and he canât stop his thumb from stroking across the kidâs shoulder where Zhenya is pinning him down, the thin Team Canada shirt shifting under his touch. âCrosby, whoâs here with you?â
Oops, crack in the facade there, Zhenya. Watch your hands. Still, itâs not made clear if this is a gesture meant to be comforting (to Sid) or selfish (for Zhenya). Ambiguity!
The omega, Crosby, gapes up at Zhenya, and Zhenya curses himself for scruffing him.Â
He hadnât meant to; heâs only scruffed an omega once, and it was in a very different context, where a buxom omega named Svetlana had wanted Zhenya to lay her out and make her limp with it in bed. Crosby certainly hadnât asked, but Zhenya had felt the panic in Crosby like a guillotine rising over his head and had needed to stop it.Â
More cracks. Relating it to sex with Svetlana and then pulling himself back by a VERY sharp image of a guillotine. Feeling like you need to cut something off, there, Zhenya?Â
His hindbrain had made the decision for him.
Zhenya thinks about alphaness in terms of his hindbrainâa hidden prey drive heâs got in his head, an old evolutionary instinct. Part of him, but... not all of him.
Itâs very distinct from Sid, who refuses to even consider his omeganess as something other than, like, a personal failure and/or a physical impediment thatâs fucking with him. When his omeganess comes for him, it takes him over.
Zhenya THINKS about his alphaness as divorced from himself to justify his actions; Sid ACTUALLY divorces his omeganess from himself as a survival instinct (until it stops working, and then until he figures out itâs more advantageous to work with it).
Crosbyâs pulse still rabbits away. Zhenya swears he can feel it through Crosbyâs scalp, and he says softly, âItâs okay, Crosby, Iâm here to help you. Iâll help you.â
Rabbit :) Prey animal. Zhenya touching him carefully, not like a wolf chewing on its prey, but like a human soothing a scared animal.
He hears the Superleague scout say something in ugly English, and Zhenya frowns, wishing he had spent any time at all working on English like Viktor had asked him to. He only knows scraps heâd picked up from the ridiculous Americans the Magnitogorskaya bratva worked with.Â
âHeâs almost in heat,â he snaps at the scout. âAsk him about suppressants, does he have any?â
âHis team should, theyâŚâ the scout starts, and he moves like heâs going to leave in search of the Canadians, but he hesitates.Â
Zhenya watches the scoutâs eyes rove over Zhenyaâs long, powerful frame bent over the crumpled omega beneath him.
âHeâs a child,â Zhenya bites out, even as his body tells him heâs an omega. âI wonât do anything. Get help. Now.â
:) Spicy!
He puts real force behind the words, and even though Crosby doesnât appear to know Russian, he shakes under Zhenyaâs hold.Â
âShh,â Zhenya murmurs, looking down at him. Those big amber eyes focus on Zhenyaâs, and Zhenyaâs hand on Crosbyâs shoulder slides up to cup the side of his face.
âItâs okay,â Zhenya tells him, and he knows at least that in English. âOkay.â
Zhenya immediately comforting Sid even though heâs addressing the scout! We have not seen much of Zhenya being caring before this point; is this who Zhenya is? Is this what alphas do for omegas?
Truthfully it doesnât matter because thereâs no discord between Zhenya and his designation. Heâs comfortable as an alpha. He is what he is, and no matter where it comes from, he comforts Sid in this moment.
Fuck the blonde women of Finland; Zhenya doesnât want anything except the chubby-faced Canadian teenager he has laid out on the floor of a hockey rink, and since he canât do anything about that, he needs to keep Crosby calm.Â
âYouâre going into heat,â Zhenya tells him, knowing Crosby canât understand. âYouâve done this before, yes? Youâre old enough to know. Itâll be okay, weâll get you suppressants, youâll make it through. Itâll be just fine.â
Zhenya: âI will rationalize this. Yes. I can do that. Sure. Great. I cannot let myself YEARN. But Iâm definitely going to give him command-sounding reassurances that definitely arenât any alpha impulses leaking out of me.âÂ
Zhenyaâs eyebrows shoot up when Crosby moves a hand; itâs weak, but he manages to lift his arm enough to grip onto where Zhenyaâs holding his face. It had taken Svetlana the better part of ten minutes to lift a finger, and he can see that Crosby, while young, is strong.
And, by the heat in his eyes, angry.
Zhenya grins at him, and he can feel Crosbyâs pulse jump under his hands.Â
âDonât be angry, kitten,â Zhenya croons at him, unable to help himself. âI kept you safe, didnât I? Iâll get you back to wherever you belong, yes?â
Zhenya, you flirt. Also heâs like âCool Iâll call him Crosby Iâll be professional andâoh wait heâs pissed off and cute about it haha hi Kitten :) hi :) Iâll take care of youuu :)âÂ
Crosby recognizes the tone in his voice, if the way his eyes tighten is any indication. He opens his mouth to make a discontented sound that sends Zhenya into laughter.Â
âCome,â Zhenya tells him between giggles. âYouâre fine, letâs go find your team.â
When he scoops Crosby up off of the ground and into his arms, Crosby makes a sound so undignified it makes Zhenya lean against the wall to catch his breath.
Honestly Iâm not happy with the emotional tone here and had I not been writing 50k words in a fugue state and needing to publish them by fest time I think I wouldâve changed this. But alas! Its imperfections make it unique⌠or whatever. Hopefully someone likes it.Â
Crosby is heavier than Zhenya expected; heâs dense, and Zhenya can glimpse how much of that density is dedicated to his ass. While Zhenya doesnât lift weights with Metallurg anymore, he brawls enough to have very functional muscles. He can handle Crosby. He would like to handle him very, very much.
Yeah you do, Zhenya.
#careful everyone this is Very Long#anyways! i enjoy this scene too and this was fun!#ask game#đ#tkk notes
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Heyyy Iâm REALLY nervous because Iâve never asked for anything like this jsdfsdgjsk but basically can I get Bruno x male reader and his reaction to his s/o having a mommy kink/calling Bruno mommy and possibly him stepping on his s/oâs c*ck in high heels?? (probably because his s/o asks him to bc we all know Bruno is pretty damn vanilla) SORRY IF THIS IS TOO EXPLICIT I LOVE YOUR WRITING SO MUCH!!
A/N: HI @giornocentric ! IâVE BEEN LOOKING FORWARD TO THIS FOR SO LONG, IâM SO SORRY I KEPT YOU WAITING
this is actually my first male reader, SOOOOOOOOO, pls forgive me if this is garbage.
without further ado, enjoy!
âââ
Mommy. [Bruno Buccellati X Male!Reader]
cw: mommy kink, praise kink, high-heel kink, light bondage, sex toys
18+ content ahead!
âIâm sorry, mio caro, can you repeat that for me?â
Your fists clenched into balls at your sides, knuckles white and face flushed an embarrassingly deep shade of pink at his request. It was so hard to say those words in the first place, and heâs telling you he didnât hear you the first time?! Good grief.
âI said that I...â The room filled with a pregnant pause before you continued.
âI said I wanted to try and call you mommy in the bedroom. And heels. I want you to... wear heels.â
God, if only you had a stand like your boyfriend. Youâd be out of this stuffyâ when did it get so hot in here?â office in an instant if you could.
The male before you blinked for a moment before smiling softly to himself and getting up from his chair. Rounding the desk, he took a seat on the front of it before whipping his hair out of his face with a quick movement of his head.
âMommy? Hm, I donât mind. Donât know where Iâll get the heels, but, I can try to arrange something...â
You can feel your eyes light up as you whip your head up to look at Bruno, ready to thank him a million times until he opened his mouth to continue speaking.
âAny specific.. date you wanted to try this?â
Your praises and thanks died in your throat. It was up to you? You thought telling him was enough and heâd take care of the restâ maybe surprise youâbut, he wanted you to actively pick a date and wait in anticipation until you could fulfil your fantasy and bust the most satisfying nut of your entire life?
You were literally ready to have a stroke.
âIâ Uh... later this week.. maybe..â You whispered under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear. He chuckled softly at your timidness.
He pushed off the desk with his hands, walking up to you and taking your slightly smaller hands into his own. âYou donât have to be so nervous, amore. The hard part is over now. Just give me a date and Iâll have everything weâd need by then.â
You bit your lip and gazed down at the floor before inhaling deeply.
âOkay. How about Friday night?â
He smiled. âPerfect.â
Stepping back slightly, he tugged on your hands and jerked his head over in the direction of his desk.
âNow, how about you keep me company while I review these mission reports, hm?â
You smile a bit more confidently at your boyfriend and nod. The events of Friday soon slipped from your mind.
Until you looked at your phone that afternoon morning.
For some reason, the word âFridayâ seemed to be a lot brighter and bolder, much to your dismay. Was the universe trying to give you a heart attack? Sure as hell felt like it.
You rolled over to see Bruno absent from his side of the bed. It was a lie to say you werenât slightly relieved, it was also past noon and he had work to do, but the fact that he mightâve been preparing your not-very-surprising surprise made your heart flip.
A sudden knock to your door ripped you out of your jumbled thoughts, and as you stuttered out a âcome in,â your breath got stuck in your throat at the sight of who was in the door.
Bruno, wearing his normal white suit, was sporting shiny black pumps and red lipstick, holding a bundle of silk purple rope in his hands.
âAh, I see youâre finally up bambino.â
The whimper that left your throat at the pet name was embarrassing to say the least.
The beautiful man approached you, heels clicking against the polished wood floor to take your chin in between his fingers and tilt your head up to look at him.
âBruââ
His thumb quickly came up and seized your bottom lip, cutting your words off half way.
âThatâs not my name right now, bambino.â
You inhaled shakily. âIâm sorry, Mommy.â
Cherry colored lips quirked up into a smile, he man in front of you moving the thumb that was at your lips upwards to stroke your cheek approvingly.
âGood boy.â
He bent at the waist to press his lips against yours, transferring the slightest bit of color to them as he kissed you lovingly like he always did. He never rushed you, always took his time. Now was no different, but the air around him felt... more intimidating.
You found his scent intoxicatingâ not how it usually was. His cologne made you want to drop to your knees before him and praise him. To please him.
What in the hell was he doing to you?
He pulled away from your mouth to pull you up from your seated position on the bed to a stand, rotating you 180° and gently pulling your hands behind your back. He tied the purple material around your wrists, knotting it tightly but in what you were sure was a pristine bow, before leaning forward to pepper kisses up the column of your neck to your ear.
âToo tight?â
Your head fell forwards slightly and a sheepish, yet satisfied, smile dawned your lips. âItâs great, Mommy.â
It was his turn to smile as he flipped you around again to complete the circle, easing you down into the messy covers of your bed.
His lips attached to yours again, the kiss equal in gentleness but filled with more passion as you two made quick work of each otherâs clothing.
Your experienced fingers fumbled (shocking), with the zipper at his neck before sliding down and unbuttoning the rest of the shirt at his torso, sliding it off his shoulders.
Your fingers traced the tattoo his abdomen now dawned (he loved the design of his bralette so much he got it tattooed on a while back), the man releasing a soft sigh and your ministrations.
Your t-shirt was peeled away from your body and thrown to the floor at the foot of the bed as Bruno flattened out his palms against your chest, his fingers fluttering down to your pert nipples, tugging them in unison and making you gasp out.
You pulled away for air and looked up at Brunoâs disheveled appearance; his hair was a mess from how your fingers were grabbing at it before your hands were secured behind your back, and his perfectly painted lips were now smudged with the slightest bit of the pale pink skin underneath peeking out.
He pressed his lips to your sternum, kissing a trail of red down your chest before moving to a nipple one of his hands was working on. His mouth opened and he roved his hot tongue over the bud before taking it into his mouth completely.
You whined, hands straining at the ropes and chest arching up into his touch as he looked up at your blissed out face.
A wandering hand slipped from the other side of your chest to your pajama pants, pulling at the drawstrings and untying in to slip his hand into your pants. He gripped your hardened cock through the fabric of your underwear, rubbing up and down, teasing where the head would be and gauging that on where the spot of precum was forming on your undergarment.
You instinctively found yourself bucking into his grasp as he palmed your hard-on, pulling away much too quickly for your liking to discard your pants.
He folded the garment in half before tossing that to the floor with your shirt, falling to his knees to lick at your appendage through the wet material of your boxers.
âMommyââ
His gaze flickered up to yours as his tongue stroked the vein on your straining cock, causing you to choke out your next words.
âFuckâ I want you to step on me, holy shitââ
You could feel your face turn red at your words, but you felt way too good to care as Bruno pulled back from between your legs, black hair falling in his face to hide his amused grin.
âYou want Mommy to step on you?â He questioned as he rose to his full height. Your eyes scanned the tan, olive skin of his chest, tracing where the sun kissed parts of him cut off in a clean line to his slightly paler ones. You nodded quickly and he chuckled dryly, gripping your shoulders to pull you to a sitting position.
His heeled foot came up to press between your legs, making you groan at the sensation of the textured sole and pointy heel pressing against your cock and between your balls, you bucking ever-so-slightly into his shoe.
He ground his foot into your nether region slightly more, the moan you release stimulating his ears as he smiles. âSuch a good boy. Youâre making Mommy really happy, you know that, bambino?â
You wouldâve responded if your mind could have processed the fact that Bruno was speaking coherent words to you, but it couldnât and you let out an unadulterated moan at his praise, not even knowing what is was he just fucking said.
He pulled his foot away from your crotch, moving his leg to press against your chest and send you back down into the mattress with a whine.
âTurn over for me, principe.â
Eagerly, you roll over onto your stomach like a trained dog, resting your cheek on the cool sheets. You feel Bruno lift up your hips to remove your now-soiled boxers, which peel away from your skin with a disgustingly lewd wet sound, and hear your bedside drawer open and close with the sharp click of a bottle cap. The noise is followed by the sound of the squirt of liquid behind you, causing you to rub your thighs together in anticipation.
You hear the plastic bottle make contact with your nightstand and feel slightly calloused fingers run down your spine before taking purchase on the curve of your ass.
âRelax for me, bambino.â
His words put you at ease and you relax your lower half as he spreads your legs slighting with one hand, the other running over your puckered asshole, coated with a generous amount of cold lubricant.
A finger slowly pressed into you and the man behind you leaned down to press a flurry of kissing your shoulder as his finger bottomed out inside of you.
âYou doing alright, caro?â
You nod so harshly youâre surprised you didnât get whiplash and he places another kiss against your skin as his finger began rocking back in forth inside of you.
Focused on opening you up before pleasuring you, he slowly eases a second cold, but slick finger into your ring of muscles, scissoring and pushing deeper and deeper inside of you before he finally curves his fingers up to stroke your prostate.
You keen at the sensation and arch your back, giving much needed friction to your aching cock and pushing your body a few millimeters back onto his fingers.
âSo eager, ah?â
You find yourself biting the sheets as he presses a third finger into your tight hole.
âYouâre doing so well for me, bambino. So eager to please...â
His fingers speed up, and each thrust seems to hit your prostate more and more frequently until heâs never missing it anymore.
âYou look so beautiful right now. Youâre such a good boy. So good for Mommy.â
He presses kisses to your shoulders again as you squeeze his fingers in earnest, feeling yourself nearing the precipice of your orgasm until the feeling is torn away from you, along with the fingers that were in your ass.
âI much rather have you come around me, amore mio. I hope you donât mind.â
You nod harshly and you can practically hear his smile as he flips you around and pulls you into his lap as he sits on the edge of the bed.
âHm. I have something I want to try, okay?â
You raise a brow and mutter an okay as he reaches over to the nightstand he was fumbling in before to pull out a small vibrator and a velcro strap.
He secures the small vibrator to you and grabs the remote to it, not turning it on yet and instead placing his hands on your hips.
âReady?â
For the millionth time that evening, you nod and he slides you down onto his perfect cock. When did discard his pants and underwear was beyond you, and you didnât really give a shit as his head slid along the spongy surface inside of you that made you moan wantonly.
Once seated fully inside of you, he flicked the switch on the vibrator to turn in on, making your hips spasm and almost fall off of him completely. He grips you harder and begins sucking red, purple, and blue marks into the skin of your neck, sliding you up and down along his length before finding a rhythm that has you both panting.
You hear him mutter an obscenity or two under his breath as he clutches you tightly to him, causing your member to rub against his toned torso as he bucks up into you with fervor. His hair brushes against your cheek as his forehead makes its way into the crook of your shoulder, and your nails dig crescent moons into your palms and the sensations plaguing your body.
âMommy, fuck, fuckââ
Seemingly taking him out of the fucked out trance your warmth had him in, he pulls away from the base of your neck to kiss your cheek, leading up to your ear.
âCum for Mommy. You can do it, I know you can.â
As encouragement, his hand comes down from your waist to tug at the base of your cock, almost forcing your orgasm from your body as you grow rigid as groan as you cover yourself, Bruno, and the toy in your seed.
Bruno smiles to himself, smudged rouge and saliva plastering his lower face as he grips your hips and starts bucking up faster.
He tries to choke out an apology for being so rough, but it gets mixed into a string of italian swears as he tips over the edge of his orgasm, stilling inside you and painting your insides white.
He shakes as his high slowly dissipates and he blinks up at you, giving you a beautiful smile and a sweet laugh.
âWas I too rough? I donât know what came over me..â
You smile back. âNo, no. It was nice. I liked the change of pace.. and the heels..â
If even possible, Brunoâs smile grows wider and kisses your forehead before pulling you off of him and laying you down on the bed. You can hear his pumps clatter onto the floor as he gets up to go to the bathroom.
âStay there, tesoro. Iâll take care of you, hm?â
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My Girlfriendâs.....a dog? (Dean x reader)
Word Count: 2706 Warnings: none A/N: Guys, I swear, this is the biggest piece of crap. Iâm not super happy with the ending, (and I might  re-do it later) but I havenât posted in forever, so here ya go. Also, this isnât part of Misadventures bc reader is paired with Dean, and I told you guys already that if you want a pairing in Mdvt then you gotta comment who you want. Alright, enjoy this crap fest. (gif not mine, credit to owner)
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No. No, no, no, no! No freakinâ way. This was not happening. It wasnât possible. But then again, if you hunted with the Winchesters, just about anything was possible. You let out a small huff, turning around to see yourself from a different angle in your full-length mirror. A freaking tail. Not to mention the four legs and fur. Man, you really hated witches. Of course you got turned into a dog. The one animal your boyfriend wouldnât tolerate in the bunker. You let out a small growl as you sat down. Thinking back to last nightâs hunt, you probably shouldâve told one of the boys that you got hit with some weird spell. But then again, nothing had happened last night. Youâd felt fine, only a few minor cuts and bruises. The boys were way worse off than you, as of last night, at least. A fury body and a tail was definitely worse than bruises. Â Cocking your head in the mirror, you looked yourself over, trying to determine what kind of dog you were. You decided you looked most like a Belgian Malinois. But you didnât even look like an adult. A puppy. You were a puppy. Â You let out a small huff before you realized that you really needed to use the bathroom. Wandering into the restroom that was connected to your room, it suddenly became apparent that there was no way you could use the toilet. You (attempted to) roll your eyes before nudging your bedroom door open and tiptoeing out to the library section of the bunker. You perked up as you heard heavy footsteps approaching you, and quickly hid your small body under a chair. To your delight, it was Sam, up for his morning run. Excitedly, you ran out from under the chair and let out a series of embarrassingly high-pitched barks in an attempt to get his attention. But he didnât even look at you. Â Confused at his lack of response, you tried again, only to be ignored. Realization crossed your tiny features as you understood what was wrong. Sam had his iPod on, earbuds in his ears. There was no way heâd be able to hear you. Â Growling, you followed behind him as he opened the bunker door to begin his run. You narrowly escaped being crushed in the heavy door, but as soon as you got outside Sam was already halfway down the road, his long legs carrying him quickly. Â You gave up almost immidiatly, deciding that it would be impossible to match his pace for two hours. Seriously, who runs for two hours? Â You instead decided to explore outside of the bunker, realizing how great everything smelled now. Eventually, you found a bush and relieved yourself. Sam had only been gone about ten minutes, so you decided to take a nap. Curious, you walked over to the Impala and were delighted to find that the driver side smelled faintly of Dean. Curling up under the car, you quickly fell asleep. -----------
 Your ears perked up as you heard heavy footsteps jogging in the dirt, nearing you before they slowed to a walk. You lifted your head as Samâs sneakers came into view. Jumping up, you attempted to make yourself as pathetic looking as possible, hoping that would make Sam take you back inside.  You crawled out from under the car, staying low to the ground and doing the best puppy eyes you could muster. You caught his attention quickly and he removed out his earbuds, sinking down to your level.  âHello, there.â Sam said softly, using his special dog voice. He held out his hand, and after a moment you hesitantly sniffed it, playing up the pathetic homeless puppy role.  You could smell the places that heâd run that morning, the trails, the park, the picnic tables heâd stopped at, everything. You began licking his hand, giving him little puppy kisses.  âWell, arenât you just the cutest thing,â he said as he gently scooped you up in his arms. You were still licking his hands as he rose to his full height, and you were suddenly aware of how far down you would fall if he dropped you. Sam gently checked you for tags, and after finding none, brought you into the bunker with him.  âNow Dean wonât be thrilled if he finds you, but Y/n will love you. Unfortunately, the rules for the day after a hunt are no waking the others if you donât have to. For all we know, they could sleep all day.â  You sighed upon hearing this. Your door was mostly closed, and Sam had no reason to go in your room. Hell, you couldnât get to your room. Heâd just scoop you up and bring you back to the library before you got the chance.  Sam walked into the kitchen, setting you down on the floor to retrieve a bowl and fill it with water. After placing that beside you, he got a bottle of water for himself and gulped it down quickly.  You quickly lapped up your water, though somewhat clumsily due to not knowing how to use your tounge properly. Sam chuckled, sitting beside you in the floor to scratch your back. You made a small whining noise and leaned in closer. You playfully bit his hand, and he gently pushed your head to the side. You repeated the action until Sam began to play wrestle with you. Five minutes later you were rolling on the floor with Sam, barking and yipping as you played. Sam was laughing and teasing you as you fought, and you almost didnât hear Dean walk in. Almost. Your ears perked up as you recognized his scent, only stronger. Sam noticed your sudden change in demeanor, and quickly sat upright as you scrambled under the table. You watched your boyfriends sock clad feet walk into the kitchen and stop in front of Sam.  âDude, seriously?â He asked. His voice was deeper than normal, indicating that youâd woken him up. Sam was about to reply when he cut him off.  âYa know what? I donât wanna know.â You heard the fridge open. âWhereâs my girlfriend? Is she up yet?â You saw the bottoms of his plaid pajama pants move to the coffee machine.  âUh, no. I havenât seen Y/n all morning.â  âYeah, itâs probably best she sleeps as long as she needs to. She did real good last night.â You were unable to contain the proud yip that escaped your throat. Sam froze as Dean turned away from the counter.  âSammy,â he said slowly, âI know for a fact that there is not a dog in this bunker. So why did I hear a dog?â His tone got harder toward the end of his sentence, and even though he sounded angry, you couldnât help peeking out from under the table.  You saw Deanâs shocked expression, and Samâs âoh great, weâre done forâ face, but you just happily wagged your tail as you walked over to Dean. Sitting down in front of him, you raised one of your front paws and pawed at his leg. Dean set his coffee mug down on the counter and gave Sam a look you didnât understand.  âShe wants you to pick her up.â Sam explained.  âShe?â Dean questioned, furrowing his brows. âHow do you know itâs a she?â  âI know about dogs, Dean.â Sam smirked at him. Knowing Dean might need a bit more persuasion, you did your best puppy eyes and cocked your head the same way youâd seen Cas and other dogs do.  âAh, come on, Sam. Whyâd you teach this thing the puppy eyes?â Dean complained, but he moved down to pick you up anyway. Hesitantly, he cradled you in his arms, his long fingers scratching just the right spot behind your ears.  âOk, fine. Itâs cute, but where would we keep it?â  âWe have lots of space in the bunker.â Sam suggested, but Dean seemed not to hear him.  âAnd anyway, we have nothing to feed it,â  âWe literally have a whole ham in the fridge.â  âBesides, Y/n doesnât really like dogs-â  â-do you even know her? She loves dogs.â  âOk, fine.â Dean relented. âThereâs no good reason why we canât keep a dog. Oh wait, weâre hunters. We canât hunt and take care of a dog.â  âDean, she likes you,â Sam pointed out with a smile. That was very true. You were now profusely licking Deans hand, enjoying how much stronger his scent was with your extra sensitive nose.  He gave you a halfhearted grin before turning his gaze back to Sam.  âFine, how about weâll keep it until Y/n gets up? Then she can decide what to do with it.â Sam nodded. âSounds fair. You wanna name her?â  Dean hmphed. âNo Sam, I do not want to name her. If you name things you get attached to them.â  âCome on, Dean,â he laughed, âif you donât name her, I will. And you probably wonât like it.â  Dean rolled his eyes before letting out a sigh. âFine. Iâll name the dog.â  After examining your coloring, he raised an eyebrow at Sam before suggesting, âpeanut butter?â Sam gave him an âare you kidding meâ face.  âWhat? She kinda looks like peanut butter.â  âTry again, Dean.â  âUmm, chocolate?â  âNo.â  âMeatball?â  âDean, why are all of your suggestions food?â  âUgh, I donât know,â Dean sighed, âjust have Y/n name it.â  You let out a loud yip when you heard your name, causing the boys to both look at you.  âYou want Y/n to-âSam started, but you cut him off with a series of loud barks.  Dean raised an eyebrow at his brother. âYour dogâs nuts.â Sam rolled his eyes, and you began to wiggle in an attempt to get Dean to put you down. When he wouldnât, you ignored the four foot height difference from the ground to his arms and jumped.  Dean let out a surprised, âhey!â as you took off down the hall towards your room. You heard two sets of footsteps behind you as you frantically pawed at your door. Jumping up, you knocked the handle just in time to open the door before the boys caught you. Slipping in through the crack, you ran and jumped on your empty bed.  âNo, youâre gonna wake upâŚY/nâŚâ Sam slowed as he entered the room, Dean right behind him.  âY/n?â Dean called out softly. You barked in reply.  âCome on, guys,â you thought, âitâs me. Come on.â  âSam, where is my girlfriend?â Dean asked calmly, realization slowly washing over him.  âRight there, Dean,â Sam answered, panic evident in his voice. âY/n is a dog.â
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 âHow are we supposed to fix this?â Dean asked, his fingers absent mindedly running through your fur. You lay curled up on his lap as he and Sam scoured the books in front of them. Theyâd quickly found out that you werenât very helpful when it came to research. You had chewed the books more than youâd actually assisted in finding a reverse to your condition.  âI donât know,â Sam said, a yawn escaping his mouth. Theyâd been at this all day, and come up with nothing. âI guess we could give it a day or two. If it doesnât wear off by tomorrow, then we go by one of Bobbyâs old library cabins in Michigan and get some more books.â  Dean nodded slowly. âI guess thatâs the most solid plan weâve got.â His attention turned to you as you stretched and jumped off his lap. âLooks like itâs that time again.â He told Sam. Standing, he followed you to the bunker door, letting you outside and stepping out with you. He watched as you disappeared into the darkness, returning a few minutes later. You followed Dean back into the bunker, hearing the door shut behind you as you made your way into the kitchen.  Dean opened the fridge and pulled out a package of lunchmeat, opening it and setting it down in front of you. You quickly finished it and drank a little water before you trotted off towards Deans room, passing Sam on the way and giving him a goodnight lick on his outstretched hand.  âNight, Dean,â Sam said with a chuckle, turning towards his own room.  âGoodnight, Sammy.â Dean clapped his little brother on the shoulder before going the same direction youâd gone. He found you curled up at the foot of his bed, fast asleep. He shook his head, stripping down to a tee shirt and boxers before climbing in and quickly drifting off.
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Dean awoke to you nudging his cheek with your wet nose. Blinking, he slowly sat up and pushed your face away, turning to look at the clock. It was nine am, which meant you probably had to go to the bathroom.  âYou gotta go out, y/n?â He asked you. You shook your head, stepping towards him then away in excitement.  âWhatâs up with you?â He wondered out loud. You barked twice, trying to tell him what youâd thought of that morning.  âHey, hey. I canât understand you when you bark at me. Sit.â He said, half serious. You glared at him but sat on his lap anyway. You cocked your head to the side, exactly the way a certain angel would.  âMan, Y/n. Ya look justâŚlikeâŚCasâŚwait a minute! Cas!â His hands moved to either side of your face, squishing it slightly. âYou are a genius, Y/nâ He pressed a quick kiss to your forehead before jumping out of bed and running down the hall to find Sam. By the time you caught up with him, he, Cas, and a disgruntled Sam stood in the library.  âHello, Y/n.â Castiel said in his deep voice, cocking his head slightly. You tail wagged as you pranced over to the angel.  âSit down, please.â He instructed, holding out two fingers. You sat obediently, waiting for him to use his angel mojo. He tapped his fingers lightly against your forehead, and everything flashed white.  When you woke up, you were in your bed, the boys outside your room talking in hushed voices. Sitting up, you checked your hands, relieved to find that you had ten fingers again.  Dean noticed you sit up, and quickly walked over to the side of your bed.  âHeya, sweetheart. How are ya feeling?â He asked with a small grin.  âGood, I think. I feel pretty good.â You answered, feeling your face, neck, shoulders and waist. âIâm back.â You said, smiling.  âYes, you are.â Dean leaned in, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips.  âHey, Y/n/n. How ya doing?â Sam asked as he entered the room.  âIâm good. Iâm not covered in fur anymore, so thatâs a plus.â The boys both let out a small burst of laughter, Dean slinging his arm around your neck and pulling you closer to him.  âPlease never turn into a dog again.â He joked.  âNever.â You promised. Your attention turned to Castiel. âThanks for fixing me, Cas. I appreciate it.â  âOf course, Y/n. Your body may feel weak from the transition, so get plenty of rest. If youâll all excuse me, I have business to attend to.â  With that, the blue-eyed angel vanished.  âAlright, Iâll let you two be for a few.â Sam said, turning and walking away.  âBe honest,â you called after him, âwas I a cute dog, or what?â  Sam chuckled from the hallway as Dean spoke up.  âYou were a cute dog, but Iâd rather have my beautiful girlfriend.â  âAww, good answer, D.â You grinned, pressing a kiss to his cheek.  âAndâŚâŚâ He leaned in to whisper something in your ear that made your face go red. You sat back abruptly and threw your pillow at him.  âDean Winchester, donât think that I forgot that you told me to sit when I was a dog! There is no way youâre getting laid- â  He cut you off with a kiss, pushing you backwards onto the mattress and taking your breath away.  âUgh, I hate you sometimes.â You said, trying to catch your breath.  âBut you love me.â He said, grinning cheekily.  âYeah, I kinda do.â You agreed, pressing your lips to his again.  Man, you were really glad you werenât a dog anymore.
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