#sabrina writes

[eatsbooks]

you guys mind if i uhhh post a lil azris snippet from my fic wherein azriel was the one made to torture mor for rhysand’s father after she slept with cassian & eris has been keeping his secret for five centuries in fraught exchange for murderous favors <3 eta: find chapter one here!

Even at night, the Dawn Court sky maintains a muzzy, ethereal gild. Azriel longs to fly through it. At the height he craves, he might well be mistaken for a Peregryn, the membranous, dark matter of his wings confused for the plush, downy feathers of theirs. He could soar and soar until it was all he knew.

This is how Eris finds him: his face tilted upwards, his eyes on the world above, his wings restless at his back, wanting. The Autumn heir has always had such an uncanny ability to call on him at his lowest points, like a blow landing just atop a bruise. Neither male says a word for a long moment, not even after the necessary wards have been erected for them to converse freely. This is so uncommon for Eris that Azriel finally deigns to look at him.

Eris stands tall and assessing before Azriel, the jewel-toned fashion laced on him harsh against the dayspring dreamscape. His eyes are fixed on the sleepless purple beneath Azriel’s. “You look terrible,” he finally says. It is not quite an insult, stated as factually as it is, but there is no measure of concern behind the words.

Azriel cannot bring himself to care, let alone respond. If he cannot feel the wind beneath his wings, cannot have the perilous drop below his body, then he will accept a blade in his hand. “Who?”

“Eager tonight, shadowsinger?” When Azriel does not bite, Eris drops his voice into a dangerous tone and drawls, “Perhaps I’ve asked you here for something more recreational.”

Forceful hands on tense limbs and brutal fingers in hair. A fight from the first hateful, biting kiss to the last unwilling spill; whether inside or upon always dependent on which of them can force the other into submission. The memories carry more temptation than they ought to.

Because of this, Azriel shakes his head.

Eris cocks his own to the side, smiling slowly. “As if you’ve a choice?”

Leash pulls tight, collar cinches painfully, and, with no shortage of shame, Azriel feels a thrill course through his veins. This is the only time he enjoys the muzzle: when it is merely part of a game, and the promise of pleasure is strong enough to cast all thought of why he is leashed to begin with from his mind.

Amber eyes slide down Azriel’s body, stopping on the half-swell already pressing against his leathers. Even now, Eris’s gaze is more appraisal than interest. Azriel does not think he mistakes the measure of relief in the face he stares into, but it is mastered in the same moment it appears.

Eris flicks his hand in dismissal. “Down, boy. Savel Reylamin. My father’s seneschal.”

Azriel nods. He knows of the male; he knows of the male’s concerted attention on training young servants of the Forest House, male and female alike. He has been waiting for this name for decades. Perhaps even centuries. His hand comes to rest on Truth-Teller the way one might calm an animal, or use an animal to calm themselves.

Eris continues, “He suddenly fancies himself a military strategist.”

“Pinning it on anyone?”

“Not this time. It needs to seem an accident. Pressures of the post getting to him or something equally pathetic.”

“When has it seemed otherwise?”

Eris levels him an unimpressed look. “Is it my praise you want?”

Looking away from Eris and up to the sky, Azriel answers by drawing his shadows close to him. There is darkness, then there is red, red, red, and then there is nothing but darkness again.

[chlmtsdoll]

Guys I loved writing the first short n sweet inspo fic so here’s more bc that ovulation album is too good <3

WHERE ART THOU ? WHY NOT UPONETH ME ?

౨ৎ Summary: your hosting a slumber party at Art’s mansion. But you can’t quite stay away from your pull to get the man in a room where there are no others. Inspo from Bed Chem by Sabrina Carpenter 🤍

+ 18 | very much smut !, unprotected sex, age gap, (reader early 20’s) dilf!Art, size kink, first daddy kink fic (omg) semi-public sex, oral (f) reviving, pet names, this made me feel a bit slutty just writing it, needy!reader, fatherly Art ;)

A/N: the fucking edits on tiktok of Mike to Bed Chem are making me go insane ! just when I thought there was no possible way for me to be crazier over this man omfg. So I had to give the girls a fic to go w it ofc <3

It was like fate. The day you met him.

Nothing could of been more perfect when the stars aligned to bring you to accompany your solid group of trust fund friends to one of his tournaments that evening. You were like most girls your age, makeup, pop music, nice ornaments for your wardrobe — you weren’t the kind of girl that could say she knew much about sports, and certainly little to nothing to be caught landing a seat at the us open... but eventually that grew to be a substantial part of what found him to be so drawn to you.

It was that day when you’d been in the bleachers watching the blonde play like it was his life’s greatest prophecy. For the first time in your still too little years of living, you’d never felt that aroused by a man you’d only saw from the mere view of him hitting a ball with a racket.

But he was unearthly.

Built like how men used to be. Face like it came straight from heaven. Serve like he knew a thing or two in bed.

You were drunk on want, need for him. You were damn lucky your friends were loaded enough to go to all the after parties with most of the star athletes. It was insane to you that you would follow the vip and your most sports driven friends (enthusiast if you will.) to where the elites spend their time. You wanted a nice hang out. Good food. Expensive drinks. But it was between you and the universe that you’d leave with so much more.

You were in a sheer dress and kitten heels when he spotted you. Just his star studded sly smile from across the event hall, when he saw you and your friends conversing in mostly a pretentious manner like most kids your age did when they could afford the lifestyle most people only dreamed of. But not you, you were entranced, pulled away. By his wide, blue eyes that you assumed filled with the same yearn you’d been struck with. And to your quick manifest, Art was gazing right back at you.

Only sharing a couple brief exchanges with the tall and stature, modest but kindly — beautiful and magnetic man around mutual friends, before you’d both been rushed to leave. Him with his team, and you with your entourage.

Like that you were tied to the tennis star in the blink of a moment. And Soon enough — being photographed with him around the heat of the city.

Games, athlete dinner parties, press events. Even photos of you two sharing more than a couple of words, maybe even kisses, behind menus at glamorous rooftop restaurants. Magazine outlets went crazy through the roof in just a few weeks time. Milking whatever they could out of Art Donaldson and his controversially younger girlfriend.

They didn’t have enough tabs on what you two had officially been to one another and that was perfect for the two of you. Because now that time has pushed you and the blonde closer and more into each other — you’d spend days and nights locked away with Art in his new found mansion post his former divorce. Home so beautifully articulated and big enough for you to be extra generous with your time with the dream boat of a man.

It would go down in history what the two of you had done in every room.

Now, a gorgeous weekend ahead of you after your week that was always filled with Art treating you to the finest cooked dinners, at home date nights filled with breezy smiles and full closeness to balance your dates out on the town. Going wherever you felt just to hold hands under umbrellas and traffic lights. With all the new adorned love in your life, and man with too much mystic taking up your time, it had been a good minute since you saw your girlfriends, caught up or shared a drink. You were just so wound up in Art and the way he treated you like a princess to, and in your own world.

So you’d asked Art if you could host a sweet little sleepover for you and your girls at the mansion — and of course he complied. It was anything for his perfect girl since the beginning.

“I could ask the chef to whip up some,” Art spoke into you as he held your hips in his vast hands running carefully over the hem of your satin bottoms as you stood in the middle of the spacious kitchen with him.

“That’s okay, I wanna do it.” You laughed softly, as you stared up at the man. “Nothing says fun girls night like making our own home made friandises”

Art had tilted his head in slight confusion with eyes in question to your tone when you’d practice what you’d been learning in your French courses on him. It was all the most adorable to you really. Your laugh echoed.

“Treats, baby.”

“I- - I knew that,” He scoffed and your giggles were infectious with delight to him.

“It’s gonna be fun. We’ll watch movies, paint our nails, share snacking tips. It’s been so long since I’ve seen the girls.”

Art grinned at the way you lit up with excitement, and his icy eyes looked down at your figure below him. He tried not to bite down on his lip at the way you were in the pajamas usually he only saw you in. Pink lace two piece jammies. Completely recognized because he got them for you. The transparency to them was way too easy on the eyes.

Arts tongue darted out to wet his lips before he questioned, “Is that what you’re wearing ? There aren’t gonna be any boys.. right ?”

“No, silly. That of course counts out you — if.. you wanna join us.” You looked up at him through your lightly mascara coated lashes, it felt as if the flirtatiousness through your gaze just hooked Art by the belt.

“No, no. I’ll give you and your friends your space, doll.” The blonde gave you a chary little smile, “I really doubt they’d want an old man around while you’re trying to have fun.”

“Quit it ! You’re not old. And they adore you.” You stood on the tips of your toes, Art met you so you could leave a sweet kiss on his cheek, with a blush to your own.

“Thank’s for letting me have this little party, baby.”

“Course, what else would be better use for all this space ? Other than for the amusement of twenty something girls.”

Art chuckled and you surely were in agreement, because when your girlfriends did arrive it was immediately shrieks of girlish camaraderie and chatter of awe as you brought them around the place of posh and eloquent nature. Your laugh could of been heard from the other side of the place where Art had eventually been stored away for the night while your hands were knee deep in cookie dough and rainbow sprinkles. Pj sets all from the brands you and your friends never stopped talking about. Having your night filled with reruns of classic movies to sipping champagne.. and the wine, red, (your pick) was certainly slipping through you as the moments went on.

You’d been with your best friend when you two had a moment alone to catch up in one of the halls of the buoyant abode. Whispers and giggles coming from between the two of you as a glass of wine hung from your palm.

“God, he was a such a cutie.” She coo’d as you two had found a very special wall of framed photos of Art from back in his prime tennis days. The blonde around your age who seemed filled with joyfully energetic faces and awards from across the globe. A smile woke upon your face as you folded your arm to admire the man you’d now call your own.

“Sometimes I wish I’d known him then,” you simpered. “But I’m beyond lucky now. Because he’s still cute, and sexier.”

You tittered fondly and your friend laughed with you as she playfully tugged on your shoulder. “You gotta lock that down, y’know… you’ll be like- - hella famous just from being a world class tennis superstars hot young wife.”

She announced as she sipped on something burgundy and you thought with a heightened grin. She couldn’t have been farther from right. And as the months go by you would fall farther and farther head over heels for Art every day. You’d be his wife in an instant. That was the dream after all, and you could certainly say you’d been living one.

“I guess I’ll just have to wait for him to put a ring on it..” You smiled with a dazed shrug as you embarked your wine glass to your lips again.

“He better.” Your friend chirped with a proud glint and you couldn’t help but stay stuck in your thought of your boyfriend who’s been just a few rooms away for the past couple of hours while you’d been enjoying all the perks of your girls making the most of their time with you. But you couldn’t help but want Art to be nearby now, and the red wine in your system maybe hit more than just your head — you couldn’t even try to fight it.

You missed your man.

So after you’d take in a few more drinks and a bit sensually themed games with your friends, you’d made your attempt escape off to find Art. Slipping away from the girls was easy when you’d have every necessity needed to execute a very graceful grown up girl sleepover provided for them.

You’d been walking down the hall heading to where his office and master bedroom would be at the end of the home, and as you passed by the lush kitchen area, to your surprise, there he was. Muscles looked enchantingly delicious in this light as they flexed to pull on the fridge handle and when he turned, his eye line met your glance staring back his way (of course you’d both arrive at the same time.) Arts lips began to curl in an amours grin when he saw your petite figure making it’s way over to him with the same like of smile across your face.

“Hi, baby. You having fun?” He glanced down at you through his blonde lashes to meet your nod, only following up with a soft titter as you stepped closer to the man. He almost immediately picked up on the lust laced within your eye and the way you slightly leaned onto the fridge door with your aura basically gooing with sex at him now. The blonde had an eyebrow furrowed as he chuckled just a bit and he sized you up.

“Are you drunk, princess?”

“No. No… no,” you shook your head.

It had been true. You weren’t drunk. But a little wine tipsy and horny ? Definitely.

Art hummed and put the back of his hand to your forehead gently as he observed your state. “Did you eat?”

“Mhm, did you ?”

“No. That’s why I came down, not to stalk you. I promise.” The man laughed, to which you did as well and you only raised your arms so they could embrace your boyfriend’s shoulders with a soft hum.

“Y’know, if you’re hungry, you can eat me.” Your finger tips grace Arts neck unashamed as you smile into the crook, and he took in a breath, proceeding to hold you close.

“Oh- -” his chuckle matched your giggle as he noticed you’d changed again. His hands were gliding up the ruffle of the even more transparent sheer cover on you’d been dressed in. Lime tinted. The shorts were near pantie like.

“Mmm, I miss you, I want you.” You peppered kisses as close as you could to his earlobe from your height and Arts breath hitched as he was weak to your slow but enticing touch to him. Fogging up his knowledge that you’d been right in the middle of the open kitchen that was just a few ways down from the living area your friends had been in.

“Here, sweetness ? Your friends- -” Art murmurs down to your ear, but you just locked your arms just above his shoulders without a care.

“And- - ? What about them ? I need you,” you whined. “I want your touch.”

“Yeah? You want me to touch you?”

You nodded again with a naughty giggle and the blonde was smirking now, his hands roamed your body. Large and groping your curves. As much as he knew what was rightful, Art just couldn’t deny your cling to him in that damn near lingerie that had him going almost unbearably hard beneath his jeans since you walked in. Feral even. It was beginning to get miserable as you pressed your dainty chest against his, he felt your nipples grow hard and sensitive against the cloth. So into his aroma, presence, like you were a moth to a torch.

He’d fallen into your pecks merging with his now. Kissing you against where the cupboards stand like your lips were candy. Your small legs stumbling as the man towered over you “Fuck, you look amazing in that set.” Art pulled away from your plump lips to view your gorgeously perfect body. You batted your lashes once. And his attain just couldn’t be stopped. Art slid his hands across your soft ass cheeks, massaging and kneading it in his palms before leading up to laying a solid smack which made you hiss out an excited squeal-like giggle. Your fingertips slid down his ample biceps brushed with virile bristles of hair.

“If I had known you’d like this set so much, I would of worn it much sooner for you.”

Art leaned into you and he held a sly smirk, “this was your plan all along, yeah? Wearing that to get my attention so I would come out here and fuck you in the middle of your slumber party.. you’re such a naughty girl.”

You only giggled more into his skin with a slow exhale, your freshly painted french tips exploring him as he explored you. Art took his sweet time just feeling the way your ass jiggled in his palms and you felt like you’d been going weak in the knees before his tender contact turned rough when he turned you around without warning, making you gasp.

Art made sure you could feel how hard you’d gotten him as he pressed himself to your core. Facing the counter, you lost yourself in complete bliss just to the feeling of not knowing where he’d pleasure you next — Arts restrained bulge against your clothed cunt was just something else. The blonde pushed up your sheer top just a bit and pressed a kiss to your shoulder, you made a soft noise with it.

“Feel what you do to me, pretty girl.” Art nibbled on your earlobe and you sunk your teeth into your bottom lip to subtle your smile. His hands bracing your hips as he stared down at your lacy panties and your minx-like eyes followed Arts famished expression while he licked his bottom lip.

“All yours, daddy.” Your sweet voice immediately made Art go nearly lightheaded and that was it. He melted.

The man tucked both his thumbs into the fabric and pulled your panties down clean with raucousness, followed up with him getting down on his knees before spreading you with his palms and your hands reached for the marble with a soft whimper.

“That’a girl, stay open for me.. Let me taste you.” Art huffed out before he pushed one of your legs up on the counter and you breathed out at the feeling of him making your body his toy for amusement. Art took his fingers and ran them up your folds, getting them wet with the slick of your pussy. Your cheeks started to heat up just at the wonderful pad of his index running against your core like that , making you let out a soft, “oh..” by the way he moved to rub around your clit. Arts lips kissed on your exposed inner thighs, and your jaw became unlocked extraordinarily far when his tongue finally rolled on the soft tissue.

He was splitting you clean open on the counter as tiny whimpers escaped your throat. You were lost in the draw you had to the man making you feel surpassing of even the way you played it all out in your head. “Mmm, yeah- - yes” you panted and the man flicked his digit over your bud at the same time he’d been making out with your cunt. Letting deep groans flow throughout your opening. You’d been on the tip of your toes for him. Letting him suck where you pulsed till you’d been overstimulated if he wanted.

Your head had been spinning from the friction of his perfectly sculpted nose rubbing against your sensitive area. Art was known to be gifted with his mouth so much so, you almost wondered if your friends would have heard if you just couldn’t keep your moans level — but with the way Art held your hips, fucked his tongue into your cunt like you’d been his last meal, your anxiousness washed away. All you could do was let the shake of your thighs and Arts dripping oral member lead you to a crisp pleasurable cry.

“Shit,” Art took a brief exhale as he pulled away from your entrance, dampened lips of your juices going wide with a grin and he ran his palms over your slick thighs again,

“you’re so fucking wet for me, princess. You gonna take my dick? Let me make you feel good?”

“Mmm, please. Fill me up, Art. I wanna feel you.”

“You gotta be quite for me, baby.” Art stood to his feet.

You didn’t care. All you could think about was dick. Arts phenomenal dick. You wanted him to toss you over and split you open till you were sobbing on his thick member, your wine drunk friends would understand. A girl has her needs.

The risk made your blood pressure rise as the moment went on, when Art reached over you to tug your panties dangling from your thighs all the way down — he kicked them off to the side. Taking note of his own belt buckle and undoing it quickly, which you only grew more greedy by the sound of him unzipping his fly. The blondes aquamarine orbs swam with the need to pump you fuller than you’d ever taken him.

“Bend over for me, sweet girl..” Art breathed out softly as his slightly calloused hands ran from your hip up your spine while you did so, bending over fully and displaying your sweet dripping cunt for the mans lidded eyes. He sucked in his breath and his now aroused dick twitched when it unveiled from his boxers — going barmy with just how tiny and soft you looked beyond him.

“So fucking tight and small- - your amazing with the way you take me when I barely fit in, sweets.”

You bit down on your finger as you watched Art run his hands over your ass. Take your hips and line his cock up with your hole. He hissed at the way your soaking cunt wet his tip, you almost croaked out a deep moan at his gestures to tease your pussy. Just nodding along as you’d gone cock drunk before he’d even been in you. Your nails run at the marble counter as Art slowly burrowed into your drooling core. Working you open as his cock disappeared into your body inch by inch — he pushed your thigh higher onto the ledge as you whined at the stretch.

“Ah.. mmm- - fuck, fuck, fuck,” you groaned as you adjusted to the size of his warmth finally filling you full. Art was big. And he’d never want to put you, his sweet doll in discomfort for long, never. So when he started to plunge into you, he watched as your face scrunched up from ache to pleasure in time. His name sputtering from your mouth as you clawed at the counter top and he watched your pussy lips that were just throbbing around his erection like it was begging to be so sporadically fucked by him.

“That’s it baby doll,” his own groans heightened as his hips knock into your cervix, chasing that spot of yours till you were moaning and whimpering like a slut around him. Hole so full with yours and his pre-cum and you sucked in your bottom lip, tussled hair going wild on your back. You just had to look over your shoulder to watch him — see Arts gorgeous face as he snapped against you all shimmering with light sweat as he focused on the way a ring of your wetness pooled around his base.

“You love this, hu? Getting me to fuck you while your friends carry on without you- - At your party. But you just had to come.. looking for daddy’s cock, yeah? You love being a dirty, dirty girl for me.” Art rasped as he clenched his jaw with the overwhelming feeling of your tight cunt clenching him. It made your skin feel like it had been sparked with fire, so exhilarated. He put his hands in your hair to fuck into you as your jaw dangled open.

“Oh! F-fuck! I needed that big fucking dick, daddy… w-want you to cum all over me, mmm- -” you were choking out whimpers and your pretty little hole dripped with Arts pre-seed slipping from you, making it drag out when he pulled out of your pussy to turn you around and pick you up in one swift motion. Your high pitched gasp echoed as you wrapped your legs around the mans abdomen and Art set you on the counter. His lips curl up into a smirk and his eyes met your wide doe set ones. Slipping back into you he watched you cry out his name. Rutting into your heavenly body at this angle, hands go squeezing your thighs, and Art kept them apart as he took you at a wild pace. Hitting that gooey spot till you didn’t remember your own name. “Good fucking girl. That’s it- - such a sweet thing for me, taking all of my cock. It was made for you, doll.”

You couldn’t even catch your self as you’d leaned back on the counter and let Art pound into you. Your tits bounced with each thrust and you were shuttering as your orgasm ripped through you without warning. “Yes ! Ooh- - shit, yes yes yes…” you were whining out as you came on Arts dick. He held your legs spread as he grunted and watched you soak him uncontrollably. You loved it. Feeling like his perfect little gift. Art licked over his lips at the sight of your beauty, throwing your head back in bliss, he pulled out of you and pushed up your dainty little baby doll top — making space as he pumped his throbbing dick over your stomach till he himself came hard. Ropes shooting out on your candescent skin and making sure some got on your pussy just for the fun of it, he grinned and trailed his thumb up your gentle inner calf that had been dangling by his side.

You were whimpering like you’d gotten your brains fucked out to the sweetest soundtrack you’d ever heard. Art was so cinematic in moments like these, he leaned up to kiss at the nape of your neck, cheek, and lips.

“Pretty, perfect girl.. I love you.” Your gentleman muttered against your mouth. You smiled and sunk your teeth into your bottom lip as Art brought your panties up to help you slip them back over your thighs and to your feet as steady as you could. Dressing himself as well, he glanced down at you through his hooded eyes to see your impressively only slightly disheveled state. You were just always glowing, it was hard to make that go away anyways.

“You sleeping down here tonight?” Art buckled his pants again as he questioned you with a soft raised brow. You started to smirk at the way he was heading. You shrug.

“Maybe, maybe not… I’ll sneak into your room when they’re sleep, if you want.” You offered the man, the glint in your eye saying you’d suck his cock and let him have you in as many different positions as he’d like in a couple hours till you were all tapped out. The blonde only scuffed and towered over your presence that was still taken by your hoyden attitude, just to turn you back towards the doorway.

“Go host your party.” he taunted almost fatherly, to then leave a light slap on your ass that made you giggle on the way out.

[enyasaints]

Black Diabetic running dangerously low on insulin

Hello everyone. Unfortunately I am rationing insulin once again because I cannot afford my insulin. I will be out by the end of the week. I really need to go to the pharmacy and pick up my insulin pens before the weekend.

CA: $Enyasaint

VN: Enyasaint

PP: enyasaints@gmail.com

I do not have insurance so I have to utelize GoodRx my insulin is called Afreeza.

My goal is $475 for my insulin.

Goal: $475

CA/VN: enyasaint

PP: enyasaints@gmail.com

[cowboysandcigarettes]

JUNO

summary; watching dean work with some kids on a case leads you to an interesting realization.

warnings! established relationship, canon-typical violence, talk of pregnancy, smut!, praise kink, breeding kink (oops), soft sex, but it kinda unintentionally turned nasty, unprotected p in v (stay safe!)

CASES WITH KIDS WERE ALWAYS HARD. you had a soft spot for kids, especially little ones, even with their sticky fingers and clingy hands.

you had always thought about having kids, but once you became a hunter, you threw that idea out the window. hunting was no life to raise a kid in, god knows you only barely survived in your late teens.

when you met dean, you fell fast and you fell hard. it was difficult to resist his charms and good looks, but your case of lovesickness only grew as you and the elder winchester grew closer. he slowly opened up to you, allowing you to peel back the layers of toughness and defense that he had built up over the years, letting you see the real him.

that only made you fall more in love.

luckily, the feeling was mutual, for as soon as dean had set eyes on you, he was gone. he instantly knew you were the most beautiful thing he had ever had the pleasure of laying his eyes on, and as soon as you opened your pink lips to greet him─cussing him out for hijacking your hunt actually─he was completely done for.

neither of you had said anything for a long time, letting the feelings and tension build up over the years until it all came to a boiling point after a hunt almost gone wrong. you had barely had time to take a breath after almost dying before dean's roughened hands were on your face, grabbing you and crashing your lips to his.

you had been together ever since, and although the thought of having kids occasionally popped in your head, you figured dean would never want that. he was a hunter through and through, he could never leave the life, and if you were to have a kid, you could never raise them the way you and him had been raised.

so you pushed those dreams deep down, happy to live your chaotic life with dean, content with just the two of you.

but then you ended up in oregon.

♡ ♡ ♡

the case was a pain in the ass, a couple of rogue vampires taking kids, 'training' them to become a part of their nest.

finding the bloodsuckers was easy enough, they had been holing up in some old farmhouse off the highway, posing as new townsfolk and greeting the neighbors to scout their next victims. it only took the boys and you a day to find the farmhouse and pile into the impala, rumbling off to save the day once again.

the three of you had charged in after a quick surveillance, machetes in hand and dead man's blood at the ready as you crept in, trying not to wake the vamps. unfortunately, they were still up and at 'em, and suddenly ambushed the three of you before you could even process it.

there was only two of them and three of you, but with their enhanced strength and skills, it was pretty much a fair fight. sam and you had been fighting off one of them, dean grappling with the other, when the situation had grown more complicated.

the fight managed to be pushed into one of the other backrooms of the farmhouse, which just happened to be where the vamps were holding the kids. you noticed first, telling sam and calling out to dean before swiftly turning back to your own fight.

"i got 'em!" he calls back, kicking his vamp straight in the chest and sprinting over to where the three kids were tied up, tears streaking down their dirt covered faces.

you manage to get the jump on your own opponent, knocking the monster down. movement out of the corner of your eye catches your attention, and you look up to see the vamp dean had been fighting pushing himself up from the ground, fangs bared and snarling at dean, whose back was turned as he untied the kids.

"hey, ugly!" you call, a quick nod from sam assuring you that he had the other creature handled. the one snarling at dean turned in your direction, pausing for a moment before his lips curled again, baring his rows of sharp, deadly teeth at you. you just gripped your machete tighter, bracing yourself in a fighting position. "come and get it."

the creature hissed and charged at you, but you were one step ahead. you noted the flimsy floorboard in front of you and you waited until he was a few steps away before raising your machete over your head, bringing it down hard on the shaky board.

the impact of the blade further destabilized the wood, and as you stepped back, the vamp stepped on that floorboard, his leg crashing through, leaving him stuck. he cried out and growled, hissing and flailing his hands around, trying to reach for you, but before he could even call out to his buddy, you raised your machete again, swinging it around and cutting the bloodsucker's head clean off.

the creature's skull thudded against the wood as it fell, and you stood there for a moment, catching your breath before you lifted your head, trying to find sam. a proud grin spreads across your face as you see him standing at the foot of the other vamp, it's head cut off just like the other one. he meets your gaze, and you both turn to head towards the exit, cleaning off your machetes on some nearby hay bales.

you walk behind sam to the impala, pleased to have come out of the farmhouse with minimal blood staining your skin and clothes. you hear dean's voice before you see him, and as you round the car to greet him, you cut yourself off as you take in the scene in front of you.

the three children are leaning against the door of the imapala, their heads barely reaching the bottom of the window, faces dirt stained and tear streaked. the sight would break your heart if you weren't so distracted by dean, who was crouching in front of them, an easy, comforting smile on his lips as he spoke to them softly.

"see? i told you we'd get 'em for you," he tells them, and the gentle tone of his voice makes you melt a little. "you guys were so brave, doin' exactly as i said and helping each other get out. you guys are real superheroes."

the little boy in the middle, the youngest of the three, looks at dean with wide eyes, still glistening with tears, but there's no more trace of sadness other than the tear tracks on his dusty cheeks. "like batman?" he asks, his small voice slightly wobbly.

dean grins wider at that, and you can practically see the sparks in his eyes as he nods at the little boy. "hell yeah, exactly like batman," he assured the boy. "he'd be so proud of how brave you were, all of you. i mean seriously, i was so scared, but you guys were totally badass."

all three of the children's faces lit up at that, the two girls on either side of the little boy looking at each other and giggling softly before looking back at dean.

he pretended to be confused, cocking his head and looking between the two girls. "what's so funny?" he asks, his lips twitching as he fights off a smile.

"you said a bad word," the girl on the left says, giggling at dean's face.

dean pretends to be offended, quipping something back at the girl to make all three of them laugh again, but you don't hear what, because suddenly you're picturing doing that with another kid.

your kid.

images flash through your head of dean, a little girl in his arms, a sweet smile on his lips as he rocks her gently. dean and a boy with his eyes and your hair standing side by side as he teaches him how to fix up the impala. you and dean side by side as you watch the milestones of your child's life, the look in dean's eyes as he holds them for the first time.

you bite your lip as you watch him with the kids, your heart warming in your chest. but the heat doesn't stop there, it travels through your chest, pooling quickly in your core as you suddenly picture yourself pregnant, dean's hands on your stomach, your sensitive breasts, hips and all over as he takes care of you.

the movement of dean standing up snaps you out of your fantasy, and with a soft smile, you help him and sam load the kids into the impala, offering to sit with them in the back, dean driving and sam in the passenger seat.

the drive back into town wasn't short, but you honestly were content to sit in the car for a couple hours as the kids eagerly conversed with you. they were smart, and you were surprised at their range of vocabulary as they told you about themselves.

you learned that the two girls were sisters, maia and ruby, that they were six and eight, and had a cat named max that they loved to death. the little boy's name was logan, and he didn't talk as much, oddly staying quiet as the girls chatted away at you, but once they turned into talking amongst themselves, he started telling you about all of his favorite superheroes.

eventually, exhaustion dragged the poor kids under, maia and ruby curling into each other, your heart warming when you felt the weight of logan's body leaning into yours. you let him lean against you, gently lifting your arm and resting it over his shoulder, holding him to you.

not so long into his slumber however, logan began to squirm against you, catching your attention as a small, heartbreaking cry left his lips. the poor boy was having a nightmare.

gently, you gripped his shoulders, squeezing lightly as you tried to wake him up. "hey, shh, hey, logan it's okay," you whisper, your heart clenching as another soft cry leaves his lips.

dean's eyes snap to you in the rear view mirror, the cry breaking his concentration on the road. "he okay?"

"he's having a nightmare," you say, meeting dean's eyes for a second, before a pained gasp draws your attention back to the boy next to you. his eyes snap open, brimming with tears as they meet yours, his trembling lips parted like he's trying to say something, but nothing comes out. "hey, hey, buddy, it's okay, you're okay."

you're shocked when he suddenly surges forward, crashing into you with a sniffle. as soon as he does though, your instincts kick in, your arms wrapping tightly around him, one hand cupping the back of his head to you as you shush him softly.

"shh, s'alright honey, you're safe, you're okay," you whisper, tilting your head down to press a kiss to the top of his head, continuing to murmur soft reassurances into his slightly matted hair.

what you didn't see was dean watching you in the rear view mirror. his eyes stayed glued on you and the little boy until he absolutely had to look back at the road, doing so just long enough that he didn't crash, then his gaze returned to you.

something about seeing you with the kids, the way you interacted with and entertained them the whole ride, and especially now, watching you hold and care for this little boy you didn't even know, it did something to him. it started with a pull in his chest, squeezing at his heart, but it moved lower and lower, sparking a heat in his stomach as images flashed in his mind.

you, barefoot and your soft stomach swollen as you grew his child inside of you. you, holding his child in your arms, just like you're doing to little logan right now. a life out of hunting, the life he's always secretly dreamed of, white picket fence and all. dean thinks about how you'd feel, the way your body would change, how he'd be able to mold it with his hands, how sensitive you'd be as he drags his fingers over your skin, up to your chest, making you moan his name.

he's abruptly brought out of his thoughts as a soft melody reaches his ears. he lifts his eyes to the mirror again, and he swears if he was standing up, he would've swooned.

you've got the little boy cradled to your chest, one of your hands cupping the back of his head to hold him to you as you rock gently, your lips pressed to his head, but he can still hear your soft voice.

singing.

dean had never heard you sing before, but he decided then and there that screw his pride, he was gonna ask you to sing for him.

later, after maia and ruby had been dropped off, not going before giving dean a crushing hug, the impala rumbled over to the other side of town to logan's house.

you hoisted the sleeping boy higher in your arms, holding him securely against your chest and covering the back of his head as you step out of the impala, nodding to sam and dean in silent assurance before walking up to the small house.

dean just watched you through the window, his eyes glued to you as you knocked on the door, careful not to wake logan. his anxious tapping of the steering wheel slows to a stop, a contrast to the beat of his heart, which rapidly speeds up as the front door opens, his eyes glued to you as the hysterical parents graciously thank you. his gaze never leaves you, eyes zeroed in on you as you hand over the sleeping boy, his racing heart swelling as you smile at them, leaning down to press one last kiss to the sleeping boy's head before bidding them goodbye.

sam clears his throat next to him, snapping dean out of his daze as you turn to head back to where they wait in the impala. dean tears his eyes from you to glare at sam, who has a knowing smirk on his face.

"what?" dean snaps, a flush crawling up his neck at being caught staring at you.

"nothing," sam replies, shrugging nonchalantly, but the smirk never leaves his face. "just never figured you were the type."

"type?" dean asks, his brow furrowing in confusion. "type to what?"

sam opens his mouth to respond, but he doesn't get the chance to as you open the door of the impala, swiftly sliding into the backseat pausing at the looks on the brothers faces.

"am i interrupting something?" you ask, raising your eyebrows as you look between them.

the brothers share a look, doing their silent telepathy trick that you've never understood, but then dean is clearing his throat and starting the car, eyes focused through the window as he pulls out of the driveway. "nope, just ready to get back to the motel," he responds curtly, and you can sense there's more to it, but you don't pry.

the ride back to the motel is silent except for the soft hum of the radio in the background, but you don't mind. all you can focus on anyways if getting dean alone in your motel room.

when you finally do arrive, you practically drag him out of the car, ignoring sam's roll of his eyes as you hastily unlock the motel room, stumbling in with more force then necessary and closing it behind you.

"what's the rush?" dean questions, the signature winchester smirk on his lips as he shrugs off his jacket and flannel, tossing them onto a nearby chair. "didn't know you got hot and bothered over killin' vamps."

you normally would respond with a roll of your eyes, quipping something back at him, but right now you're too focused the way his plain black t shirt is stretched over his chest, his biceps practically bulging in the sleeves making you almost salivate. you bite your lip as your eyes rake over him, lingering on his arms as the images of him gently cradling your child creep back into your head, making a familiar heat curl in your stomach.

he notices the lack of response, taking a step closer to you, ducking his head slightly to try and meet your gaze. "uh, hello? you gonna tell me what's got you all worked up or are you just gonna keep starin' at me like i'm a fresh piece o' pie?" he asks, snapping you out of your daze, your eyes flicking up to meet his.

your face heats up, a flush painting your cheeks as you avert your gaze sheepishly, slightly embarrassed at the thoughts running through your head.

"s'nothing," you mumble, dropping your eyes to your feet, suddenly finding the floor very interesting.

dean tuts at you, stepping closer, close enough that the tips of his boots come into view where your eyes are stuck on the ground. "ain't nothin' if it's got you flustered like this, sweetheart," he drawls, lifting a hand to your chin, cupping it and raising your head to meet his gaze. "so, i'll ask again. what's got my girl all worked up?"

you bite your lip again, your thighs involuntarily clenching together at the low timbre of his voice, the heat in your core starting to outweigh your pride. "i just..." you start, feeling the anxiety bubble up in your chest as you start to ramble. "you were really good with the kids today and i know its stupid, and i know you don't want kids but i saw you with them and it just really got me goin' for some reason and-"

"woah, woah," dean cuts you off, both of his hands moving to cup your cheeks, keeping your eyes focused on his, his thumbs stroking your cheeks gently like he could slow your rapid heartbeat through your skin. "slow down, baby, take a breath."

he just stares at you for a moment and you get the hint, taking in a slow breath, exhaling and letting some of the tension flow from your body. "good girl," he murmurs, tucking some of your hair behind your ear gently. "so, from what i heard, you are all worked up, thighs clenchin' and everything because of watchin' me with the kids?"

you don't answer with words, anxiety too tight in your throat as heat creeps up your neck, so you just nod your head in his hands.

"use your words, pretty girl," dean corrects, but there's something deeper in his voice, and you swear you can see his eyes darken as his grip on your face tightens just slightly.

"yes," you breathe out, swiping your tongue over your dry lips before pulling the bottom one between your teeth.

"oh, that's it, huh?" he asks, his voice lowering to a rumble that sends a shiver up your spine. "you wanna make me a daddy? let me fill you up and make you a mama?"

your eyes widen in surprise at his reaction, and you feel a flood of arousal drench your panties, making you clench your thighs together harder. the shock of his words wears off as he squeezes your cheeks a little tighter, urging you to answer him.

a strangled whine leaves your throat at the images his words create in your lust-hazed brain, and when you nod in his grip, a groan leaves his lips, his pupils dilating so much there's only a ring of shining evergreen around them.

"shit, babygirl, you have no idea what that does to me.." he growls, one of his hands slipping from your cheek to grip your hip tightly. he pulls you flush against him, and you can feel the heat of his body, along with the hardness that is pressed into your stomach, making your knees weak. "i was thinkin' the same about you all damn night long."

"you were?" you ask, your voice turning into more of a squeak when he dips his head down to nip at your neck.

"uh huh," dean mumbles into your skin, sucking on your pulse point so hard you swear stars flash behind your eyes. "just the way you interacted with the kids, when logan had that nightmare...all the sudden i just pictured you, all barefoot 'n round with my kid."

you whimper at the image, your eyes slipping shut as his hands drag down to the hem of your shirt, tugging on it lightly before pulling back enough to tear it over your head, tossing it who knows where before diving back down to btie at your neck.

"dean..." you moan breathlessly, back arching to give him more access as he trails his hands up to deftly unclip your bra, sliding the straps down your shoulders.

"that what you want?" he growls your name, the heat in his voice so intense you suddenly feel dizzy. "you want me to fill you up? fuck you so deep it sticks, then you can go around tellin' everyone it was me who knocked you up?"

you nod desperately, grinding your hips into him, groaning in frustration when you get no friction. "yes, god yes," you pant, gripping his shoulders to push him back from you enough to look him in the eyes. "please-"

that was all it took for the last of his resolve to break.

the next few moments were a blur of belt buckles and buttons as you both tugged at each others clothes, ripping them off and tossing them onto the floor of the now disheveled motel room. eventually, you both landed on the bed, now bare to each other, dean falling on top of you and immediately crashing his lips to yours in a bruising kiss.

you moan into his mouth, arching your back and wrapping your arms around his shoulders to dig your nails into his skin, bucking your hips up into him. the what between your thighs was too much now, an almost painful ache that only worsened when his hands slipped down to grab your grinding hips, pinning them firmly to the mattress.

"dean-" you start to whine when he pulls away from ravaging your mouth, but he cuts you off with another fierce kiss, stealing your breath away before he pulls back again, his eyes burning as they took you in.

"jesus christ," dean murmurs your name, his gaze raking down your flushed skin, lingering on your heaving chest before landing on the now sticky mess between your legs. "you've got no idea what you do to me, pretty girl."

"please dean," you whine, hips wiggling under his grip. when he doesn't acknowledge your plea, your hands drag up his shoulders to tightly tangle in the short strands of his hair, tugging until his eyes are on yours. "fuck me, please."

if possible, dean's eyes darken further, the jade that you love so much almost completely consumed by lust blown black, the sight making your thighs tighten around his hips.

"can't refuse my girl, now can i?" he pants, one of his hands leaving your hip to pump himself a few times before he lines himself up with your sopping entrance. your breath hitches as his leaking head notches at your hole, fingers digging into his scalp. it only seems to spur him on, a deep groan reverberating in his chest before he pushes into you, low moans leaving you both at the feeling. "fuck, sweetheart, you feel so fuckin' good."

your jaw goes slack, your eyes going hooded as he fills you to the brim, your body hyper aware of every ridge and vein as his cock settles in your clenching walls. you both stay still for a moment, getting used to the feel of each other, before the ache in your core starts to build again.

"move, dean, move, please," you whimper, opening your heavy eyes to meet his, wriggling your hips under him.

he groans, nodding before dropping his forehead to yours, his breath fanning over your lips. he's still not moving, and you open your mouth to beg him again, but before you can say a word, he pulls out almost all the way, gripping your hips tightly, then slams back into you, hard.

you cry out, your back arching as your hands move to grip his shoulders for dear life, your nails leaving red crescent shapes in their wake. he doesn't give you time to recover before he's doing it again, then again, and again, until he's building a steady pace that has your legs wrapping tightly around his waist, your toes curling in the air.

"oh fuck- dean-" you choke, words cut off as a particularly harsh thrust has his tip ramming into your cervix with so much force that your vision goes black for a second.

"shit, yeah..yeah that's it, pretty girl," dean grunts in response, the force of his thrusts causing his nose to bump yours, your foreheads still pressed together. "let me feel ya, squeeze this pretty pussy 'round me till she gushes all over my cock."

his filthy words only push you closer to the edge, your nails dragging down his back, making him groan. "fuck, fuck," you gasp as he rubs against that sweet, gummy spot inside you, your back arching as the coil in your stomach tightens.

"mhm, right there, baby?" he growls, his words almost a coo as he angles his hips to hit that sensitive spot with each thrust. "yeah, that's it right there. c'mon, you're so close, aren't ya, pretty girl?"

you nod, clenching your eyes shut as his thrusts punch broken whines and whimpers from you, leaving you breathless. a sharp slap to your thigh has your eyes flying open, a small yelp leaving you at the stinging contact.

"eyes on me, baby," he demands, and you oblige, your mouth hanging open as you continue to fly towards the edge. "atta girl, there you go. such a naughty fuckin' girl, gettin' wet 'cause all you wanted was my cock in you, fillin' you with my cum 'til it sticks. that's what you want, isn't it, baby? to be full of my cum, waiting 'til it sticks, then being full 'n round with my kid?"

all you can do is moan, the harsh movements of his hips and the way his tip his hitting the tip of your cervix perfectly succeeding in fucking you dumb.

"yeah, that's what i thought," dean mumbles, tilting his head to nip at your bottom lip, slipping one hand between your sweat slicked bodies to rub tight circles on your sensitive bundle of nerves. "cum for me, baby, squeeze my cock 'til there's nothing left, ya know you want it. c'mon mama, give it to me."

the nickname is what pushes you over the edge with a scream that you think is his name, but you're too far gone to really know. your mind goes blank as your orgasm crashes over you in white hot pleasure, back arching and legs shaking.

somewhere in the back of your hazy mind, you hear dean groan your name, and you can feel his sticky release painting your insides, the warmth making your toes curl and legs shake as you come down.

when you start to regain some of your senses, dean's head is buried in your neck, his breath hot and heavy against your skin as he brings himself back down to earth. his rough hands run soothingly up and down your sides, sliding down to your trembling thighs.

after a moment, the room silent except for the both of yours heavy pants, dean speaks up, his voice slightly hoarse.

"goddamn, babygirl, 'f i knew me knockin' you up got you so turned on i would've brought it up a long time ago," he mutters into your neck, pulling a tired laugh from your lungs.

you sigh softly, head falling back against the bed as you try to bring your heartbeat down, his words ringing in your head. "thought you didn't want kids," you mumble in response, your hands stroking gently along his back, soothing the marks you made.

"i-" dean starts, but cuts himself off, pausing for a moment before he lifts his head from your sweaty skin to look down at you. one of his hands comes up, brushing some of your damp hair away from your eyes, his thumb lingering as he brushes the digit gently over your brow. "i didn't, not really. not until you."

the words steal the breath from your lungs again, your eyes widening slightly as you stare up at him. you search his expression for any sort of insincerity, but all you find is a look of love so intense you feel like he's tearing your heart straight from your chest. "not until me?" you ask, your voice barely above a hoarse whisper.

"not until you," he repeats, his words soft. he stares at you for a moment before sighing, tilting his head as he continue to admire you. "i never thought i would get a chance at the apple pie life, hell i didn't even really want to think about it, but then i met you, and everything changed."

his words, so heartfelt and so real, leave you speechless, your heart still pounding in your chest as you stared up at him in awe.

"you make me want all of those things, make me think i actually might deserve them," he continues, his thumb still brushing softly at your skin. "and i know we haven't...officially talked about it, but i love you, and if it really is somethin' you want, there's no one else i'd rather start a family with. if-if that's what you want, 'f course."

you don't even hesitate before you answer, a smile pulling at your lips. "yes," you breathe out, feeling your heart flutter in your chest. "there's no one i'd rather do it with."

a grin lights up dean's face, a look of boyish joy highlighting his features. without responding first, he grabs your face in his hands, cupping your cheeks and peppering kisses all over your heated face, making you giggle.

"you have no idea how damn happy that makes me," he mumbles between kisses, pressing on last, lingering kiss to your lips before dipping his head again, burrowing into your neck, his arms wrapping tightly around you. "you're gonna be the best mama."

you laugh softly, a warm feeling spreading in your chest as you wrap your arms around him in return. "we gotta get cleaned up first, then we'll continue this conversation," you mutter into his hair, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, but he just grumbles, burying his face further in your neck.

"later," he mumbles, pressing a kiss to your pulse point, content with just holding you in his arms. "just wanna stay here."

"okay," you whisper into his hair, relaxing into his hold. "we can stay here."

dean hums into your neck, and you can feel him smile against your skin, making your heart skip a beat in your chest. you knew it wasn't going to be easy, getting out of the life never was, hell just living as hunters wasn't easy, and raising a kid was gonna be harder. but you knew that you had dean, and in the end, that's all that mattered.

he was all that mattered.

bri's thoughts! bri write a position that isn't missionary challenge: fail. (i'm sorry i'm basic i crave intimacy) okay so here it is! finally actually finished something (the 50 unfinished works in my drafts are screaming at me rn) and now i'm gonna go to bed and dream about being on snl because it is my current obsession, especially after the 50th anniversary episode, which i recommend everybody watch! so i won't shut up about that but anyways, here this finally!

tags! @ultravi0lence14 @bluemerakis @titsout4jackles @soldiersgirl @dulcescorderitas @flormpus @star-yawnznn @Jaredpadonlyyyy @grangerously @dclover27 @chronic-fangirl-222 @stevesxwhore @deans-baby-momma @spnaquakingdom

[sweetshrew]

ik folks will disagree with me on this, but as much as i love chappell and billie (billie def deserved a best pop vocal album, and chappell def shoulda won one for "good luck babe" hello??), seeing beyonce become the 4th black woman to win aoty for the first time after 2 decades (the last was lauryn hill in 1999), after she's been denied it her entire career, after being completely ignored at the country music awards, after being rejected from nearly the entire country community even before she put out "cowboy carter" with the song "daddy lessons", after shoving as much black history into that album, all while bending genres and including smaller black country artists, it was an amazing night for me.

[maudie-duan]

Summary: You were an almost lover, now a hushed whisper in the dark when his Ex moves back to town. Nothing is worse than a love triangle you weren't expecting--old flames, new love, and lingering feelings, but who's the real winner when everyone gets hurt? Trope: Friends To Lovers X Love Triangle Pairing: Prince Harry Styles X (Fem)Reader X Ex-Girlfriend Taglist: Let me know in the comments if you want to be tagged for this series. Warnings: All Angst, Mild Spice. Type: Three-Part Mini-Series A/N: You guys asked for ANGST!!!!!!! So now I'm delivering. This will be a little spin-off from The Sabrina Series<- but still the same concept, just roping together three songs. Requested by @shaeeggsstuff @run-for-the-hills @spinninc

POV: You

What's your side of the story? How did you even get mixed up in this tangled web of devastation?

Part One<-

POV: Ex-Girlfriend (Leah)

Some people need a villain. There are two sides to every story, and now there will be three.

Part Two<-

POV: Harry

Love is complicated, especially when love has Harry torn between his past and present. How does he decide if the weight of his history with his Ex(Leah) outweighs his future with you, and when Leah comes back, and those same toxic patterns start playing on repeat, will history be worth repeating??

Part Three<-

A/N: You guys!!!!! I'm so fucking excited about this one. I forgot how much I LOVE writing angst. You're in for a treat!

The Sabrina Series Masterlist<-

My Tiny Masterlist<-

Chat with me!<-

[velvrei]

Low-key feel like Sabrina carpenter's song please is very reader and Logan but reader wouldn't be embarrassed more like "this is the tenth time I've had to bail you out goddammit"

omg yes i absolutely love this. yk i had to write a little something hehehehe

logan x you x please please please mv (flirty fluff)

you sat on top of your car, legs crossed, as you watched logan walk to the car with his bag, he was wearing a black t-shirt letting his muscles go on full display. he walked over to you, a huge smile on his face. he walked up to you, kissing your lips, and looking down at you.

“you know you don’t have to kill every guy that looks at me right?” your words made me giggle, his face looking absolutely devoted to you, his eyes never leaving your pretty face.

“if they’re looking at my woman, of course i’m gonna teach them a lesson.” he says, eyes staring at your lips as he goes in and kisses you again.

“and holy fuck, how could i not protect someone as beautiful as you? i mean look at you? sitting on the car waiting for me. god, you’re gorgeous.” he kisses your cheek before throwing his bag into the trunk.

“aren’t you just the sweetest?” you kick your legs off the car, getting into the passenger seat knowing logan would insist on driving. he looked so hot as he drove you both out of the parking lot, his muscles on display as he had one hand on the wheel.

he turned and caught you staring, making him chuckle. “like what you see?” you giggled, as he pulled up to a red light.

“hey, listen, those guys mean nothing to me, honey,” your words made his eyes roll.

“i know, still makes me wanna hurt them at the fact they’re eying you like you’re up for grabs.”

“well you clearly proved your point, baby. but you have nothing to worry about. i only want the sexy man right here that’s sitting in front of me. its kinda hot that you would do anything for me.”

[xoxoyenn]

DRUNK REGRETS

⌗ sabrina carpenter x fem!reader

၄၃ — (sweetheart!reader comes home from a party drunk and her darling girlfriend takes care of her.)

You barely make it to the couch before collapsing onto it with a groan, burying your face into the cushions. The world is spinning. You swear you can still hear the bass from last night’s party thumping in your skull.

And then, like a guardian angel in an oversized sweater, Sabrina appears.

“Oh, babe…” Her voice is soft, laced with amusement but mostly concern. She crouches beside you, brushing stray strands of hair from your clammy forehead. “I told you not to let Liv pick your drinks.”

You whine in response, curling further into yourself. “I didn’t let her. She just—she just handed me stuff, and I was too weak to say no.”

Sabrina chuckles, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You’re a sweetheart, baby, but you have to learn the power of no.”

“I’ll practice,” you mumble. “Tomorrow.”

She shakes her head, amused, before slipping an arm under your shoulders. “C’mon, let’s get you in bed before you pass out here.”

It takes some effort, mostly from her, but she manages to guide you to your shared bedroom. You practically melt onto the bed, sighing dramatically as she tucks you in.

“You’re an angel,” you murmur, voice muffled by the pillow.

“I know.” She smirks, pressing another kiss to your cheek. Then, she disappears into the kitchen, only to return a few minutes later with a glass of water and some Advil. “Here, baby. You’ll thank me in the morning.”

You grumble but obey, swallowing the pills with a grimace. Sabrina watches you with a fond smile, her fingers absentmindedly tracing soothing patterns on your arm.

“You’re being so nice to me,” you mumble sleepily. “Do you—do you secretly like it when I’m a mess?”

Sabrina laughs, climbing into bed beside you. “No, I just love you. Even when you smell like tequila and regret.”

You hum in contentment, nuzzling into her warmth. “Best girlfriend ever.”

She pulls you close, letting you rest your head against her chest. “I know, sweetheart.”

And with her heartbeat in your ear and her fingers gently stroking your back, you drift off, safe and loved—even in your hungover misery.

[angelflms]

so sabrina carpenter and jenna ortega just said "what if we did deadpool & wolverine for the sapphics?" and act like we weren't gonna notice.

like.... hello???

[the-palelady]

listen. if you don’t like sabrina carpenter that’s fine, but that woman’s outfits are so stunning and i can just imagine ghost going absolutely mad seeing you in them.

especially in something like THIS. that man would go absolutely fucking feral.

normally he would be ripping your cute little outfits and lingerie at the seams, but oh no, not this one. the baby blue just looked so perfect, hugging your curves in all the right places. he had to keep this outfit safe no matter the cost.

one night, you slip it on right before he comes home from work, and set yourself up all pretty for him. your hair fanning out across your face, skin glowing, an angel amongst a sea of blankets and pillows right there on top of his bed.

simon’s angel.

and oh he is on his knees for you.

he’d worship every last inch of your body. those perfect, round tits that he’d suck into his mouth eagerly. he’d kiss down the plump of your tummy, the dip of your hips, until he’s nestled in between your legs.

he’d kiss along your inner thighs, moving his thumb up to rub at your sensitive nub, your back arching up into him, whining out his name like the pretty little thing you were.

simon would take his time with you. always does. he doesn’t want to hurt his girl when he finally does settle himself in between your legs, his cock heavy and sliding against your folds. the lingerie is still on, panties tugged to the side around his thumb.

“all this for me?” he’d ask in that deep, loving voice, reserved only for you. strands of his golden hair, that have grown out a bit more than usual, stick to his forehead. a handsome grin is plastered along his scarred face, lust filled eyes gleam down at you and you’d whine.

god, you loved him so much.

and he’d let you know he felt the same, wrapping his hands around the curve of your waist while he pressed himself into you. pressed himself into heaven.

“look at ya. so pretty.” you swear you hear him whine.

“takin’ me so well like a good girl.” this time you whine.

his thumb comes up to rub at your clit again while he pistons into you relentlessly. his tip hits that sweet spot so deep inside that you see stars and he backs off for a moment before hitting it over and over again.

your moans only encourage him further, his free hand roaming you like he can’t keep off of you, can’t get enough of you.

he grabs your jaw, your lips pursing from his grip. simon looks down at you with an expression so feral you could have orgasmed from that alone.

“gunna fill ya fulla me, sweet’art, that alright?”

you whine and beg for him.

yes. please, simon. inside, please.

“sing for me, angel. i wanna hear tha pretty voice.”

and you do sing for him. his name falling from your lips like a hymn, a gentle song only meant for his ears. simon can’t help but hold onto you tighter, gruff hands digging into the meat of your hips as you clench around him so tight he feels dizzy.

and he all but loses his damn mind, fucking you into the mattress despite how overstimulated you are. tears stain your pink cheeks and he thumbs them away, pressing into you so far you can feel him in your guts.

simon’s rambling, his forehead pressing into your temple as you cry out, your tears dampening his cheeks.

“ya look like a fucking goddess in this damn outfit. so beautiful. dunno wha tha fuck i did in my past life, but damned brute like me doesn’t deserve ya.”

he won’t stop talking. it’s all so much, yet the praise is sending you over the moon. your skin is on fire where his thrusts meet your ass, and you know there will be purple hand shaped bruises blooming along the expanse of your body when the morning comes.

“fuckkk,” his hips stutter slightly, your core becoming tight as he pulls himself completely out and slams himself right back to the hilt continuously.

“gunna breed this pretty pussy,” and you clench around him so fucking tight he almost collapses, a guttural moan escaping his chapped lips.

“ya like that, baby? want me to make ya a mummy?”

your back arches and you scream for him, white consuming your vision. simon’s hands grab ahold of your plump thighs and his hips roll down into you one last time. he twitches inside of your warmth while his spend coats your velvety walls. his arms reach up to wrap around your torso that’s still arched, his forehead pressing into your ribs as he catches his breath.

you both sit this way for a while, until he regains his composure and lowers your tired body back down to the bed.

when he sits up right your eyes are closed, long lashes tickling the apples of your blushing cheeks. your breathing is even now, and your skin is somehow glowing even more than it was when he first walked in. your hair cascades out around you like a wave. his palm hesitantly glides up along your tummy as if taboo. as if someone like him was undeserving of someone as soft as you.

and simon swears when he looks up at you, taking you in completely, he sees the glow of a halo above your head and a pair of angel wings nestled against the silk sheets of the bed beneath you.

[abbyssgf]

𝐠𝐟! 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐤𝐚 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 | '𝐚 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐰𝐡𝐨'𝐬 𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝'

• concept: when you were lying on your couch, bored, scrolling through TikTok Tok you saw the trend 'a boy who's jacked and kind' and you knew you had to do it with your girlfriend

• words: 632

• warnings: modern au, sevika has her two arms, pet names; 'baby'

• author note: you don't even know for how long i've had this idea on my mind

you were lying on your couch, bored and scrolling through tiktok waiting for sevika to get out from bathroom

when you scrolled you saw some videos where a boy lifted her girlfriend, showing his muscles and you smirked.

not because of this video but your mind already imagined doing this with sevika, who would lift you up on one of her muscular arms.

you bored your lower lip at the imagine, then you heard the sound of the door opening and you knew sevika finally left the bathroom

Sevika spotted you on the couch and smiled gently, coming up to you. "you're feeling good, lying on the couch?" Sevika asked you in a playfully tone. she leaned towards you and placed both of her arms on the sides of your body

"with you it would be better" you answered with a smile and locked your phone to place it next to you. Sevika smiled and hummed "mhm" looking at you with her beautiful eyes.

"you know…" you started and sevika raised her eyebrows, she knew you all to well and knew that when you started your sentence with 'you know' you usually wanted something.

"I saw some trend on tik tok and we could do it" you ended with a small smile on your lips and you did your puppy eyes to sevika agree to this idea. Sevika huffed "and what would it be, baby?" she asked, frowning.

your smile widened, knowing she'll probably say yes to you when you will present your idea. "so" you started and you got off from the couch to present it. "we will stand next to each other and then you'll grab me and I will sat on one of your one arms" you said and waited for sevika's reaction.

"god, you always have to imagine something" she murmured under her breath, she sighed and kissed you on your scalp "alright if it will make you happy" sevika agreed and you kissed her on her lips. "thank you, sev"

you grab your phone and placed it in front of your tv, supporting it so it doesn't fall and you chosen the "slim pickins" song from Sabrina Carpenter. Your phone started recording the both of you.

When the lyrics 'a boy who's jacked and kind' appeared Sevika placed both of her hands on your waist and she lifted you up, placing you on her right shoulder, placing her hand on your stomach for safety. you wrapped your arms around her neck and saw how she lift her left arm and flexed it with a smirk on her face.

then she she dropped you but only to catch you bridal style in her arms and kissed you on the lips with that stupid smile on her face that you loved. You giggled as the video stopped to record the both of you and sevika placed another kiss on your lips.

"I knew you would flex your muscles!" you said to her and she rolled her eyes playfully "I can't miss the moment to flex in front of my pretty girlfriend, can't i, baby?" she asked you and you hummed placing a kiss on her cheek.

later that night when sevika were sleeping, lying between your legs with her head on your chest you opened the video you two made and you posted text in the video 'a girl who's jacked and kind💋' and published it on your private account where mostly your friends were following you.

you dropped your phone and looked down at Sevika. You smiled gently and kissed her on her forehead. Sevika tighter her arm around your waist as if she could from her sleep feel your kiss. You switch off the lamp and the both of you fell asleep in your own embraces.

• taglist: @abbyslvrrr @noacinno @nytloq @l0vel3tterl0ver @pizzabbs @dvrkhcld @sannyangel89 @moondient @maat2hot

[eatsbooks]

even if the enemy is ourselves

characters: azriel yladi, eris vanserra, minor / brief cameos

pairing: azris

rating: explicit

word count: 3.2k / 8.4k

warnings: blackmail, complicated relationship, dubious consent, hate sex, murder, power imbalance, sex as self harm, torture, unhealthy relationship, unhealthy coping mechanisms

summary: an examination of azriel and eris's relationship over the centuries, wherein azriel is the one who tortured morrigan, wherein eris finds out and keeps azriel's secret — for a price.

a/n: this fic is less a cohesive narrative and more a character study based on the most awful premise i could imagine for their dynamic. both characters are assholes; both characters are idiots. their morals are skewed beyond reason. neither will handle anything well. find it on ao3 here. enjoy!

chapter three: godbirth

With Eris at the head of its armies, Autumn does not take a side in the war that comes between the fae and the humans. Not until its farmlands and fields become battlegrounds and mass graves, and the court has no choice but to defend itself if it hopes to exist when the fighting ends. Eris has little use for Azriel once war is thrust upon him, so the next time the pair see one another, it is in the midst of battle, and it is less seeing than it is experiencing.

Shadow billows out from Azriel in great waves, engulfing everything, becoming everything. None take a step within the weave of his power without him knowing and preempting. He can feel each panicked intake of breath as the darkness settles absolute, each blinded slash of blade to stave off the inevitability of him, each desperate burst of power offered to the unrepentant appetite of the abyss. None of it matters inside the dark; to be surrounded is to be dead already.

Azriel moves like a wraith. He is a thing made incorporeal and unreal. If there are fallen soldiers underfoot, bones crunching like twigs, blood muddying the dirt, he does not notice them. If there is a rend at the muscle of his hip, lancing pain deep down into his thigh and upwards into his torso, he does not feel it. If there is a twinge at his chest as he carves through the humans made to fight against their own interests, he does not let it stay his hand. He is nothing but shadow and blade as he hews through the miasma of bodies.

There is only the letting of blood, as there has been for years and years, as there will continue to be for ever more.

Then, sometime during the unending slaughter — and that is what Azriel enacts; there is no gentler thing for him to name it — the shadows begin to scream. They wither in deafening spates, dying away from a blister of light as it razes a path towards Azriel. Below, the land begins to shudder and moan, the long-dead beast of it roused enough to pant with anticipation.

Using his foot to leverage a corpse off his blade, Azriel casts a look over his shoulder and winces away from the sight. A blow glances off the armor on his forearm as his eyes adjust, and he disarms and disembowels his assailant in two efficient motions. When he looks back, delirious with bloodlust, he is no better prepared to comprehend what approaches.

A firestorm cleaves the underbelly of the world in two. The endless black has been torn from naval to sternum, and through its wound is birthed a deity of old.

Still fresh from its forging, its armor glows iron-hot and angry, a spill of pumice over the shape of it. The veins webbing through its body glitter, its lifeblood molten and shifting within. Its eyes are embers, and its gaze does not shy from all that it bares in its wake — nor does its fire, scorching away the gore and the few living souls that remain but leaving the earth untouched.

Azriel feels his heart quicken in his chest, the first real thing he has felt since the war began. It pulls him back, back into his body, back into his mind. He blinks and sees not just the living flame of god but Eris in the mortal flesh below.

Their eyes meet, and time slows.

What is ichor, Azriel wonders, if not blood to be spilled? What is godbirth if not an infancy to be smothered? What is divinity if not another shackle to be raged against?

Anything can happen in the dark. Even the deaths of gods and secrets.

Eris tilts his smoldering head to the side, as if he can hear the decision as it is made. The challenge in that movement stays the hand Azriel has wrapped around his last ash wood dagger, just long enough for him to notice the distortion of his shadows at Eris’s left.

No — not shadows. Not anymore.

There is a mimic in the place of his darkness, a crude imitation that he would have noticed far sooner if he had not been so distracted. One that Eris would have noticed, too, were he not equally fixated on Azriel.

Between one moment and the next, Azriel steps through the world. Eris unleashes a torrent of power that would have been enough to melt the skin from his bones had he alighted where Eris expected him to, but Azriel is instead behind Eris, embedding his dagger into the smoke-form of a faerie primed to strike down the Autumn heir.

With a guttural cry, a body materializes around the blade, pierced cleanly through the joint of its shoulder. Azriel shoves his victim to the ground. His shadows bind tightly around the body, spiderweb, prey. Another protest, this one sounding at his back. He disregards it as unimportant.

There is a dagger to be wrenched free. There is a heart to drive it through.

Azriel is about to plunge the blade where it belongs when he feels a scorching grip at the nape of his neck. He thrashes wildly against the hold, but it does not relent. Tightening his thighs around the wailing body between them, he twists enough to land a blow into the fire, then another. Blade still in hand, he switches his grip and—

“Drop it.” A second touch slides down the curve of Azriel’s spine, splaying flat and hot against the armored plate between his wings. “Drop it, or I will incinerate them.”

Heart spasming painfully, Azriel disappears the ash dagger into shadow, unwilling to risk his wings but equally as unwilling to leave the weapon for another to take up. He lets himself be hauled to his feet, but the moment he lands on steady ground, he wrenches away.

Everything is bright — too bright, blinding and open. His darkness has fled him, and he is bared to the world above.

The liberated faerie staggers up from his deathbed of ash and viscera, arm hanging limply at his side. He looks furtively between Azriel and Eris, indignation wafting off of him in waves of sooty heat.

“What are you waiting for?” He stumbles a step towards Eris. “Look at—” A spastic gesture to the bloodied bloom at his shoulder. “Look at what the beast did to me.”

Eris turns, slowly, to face him. As he does, he sheds his deiform like a snake eating down its second skin, swallowing himself whole. The other male blanches at whatever is revealed on his face.

“Eris, be r—”

An enflamed sword appears in Eris’s hold, and Azriel moves away from the torrid burst of heat. He watches the weapon slash downward, then hears a dull, wet thud. Still frozen by his own pain, he does not fully process what has happened until after the weapon is sheathed again.

In one, clean stroke, Eris severed the male’s arm from his body.

There is no blood to be spilled. By virtue of the flame, the wound has already sealed over, charred in the dismemberment: a horror and a mercy enacted at once.

Unblinking, the one-armed male stares down at the stump of his shoulder. He is yet to scream. His mouth opens, closes, opens again. He turns the gape of it upon Eris, who is himself looking impassively at the limb near his feet.

Finally, a croak: “Father—”

Eris does not even raise his head. He simply lifts his gaze, and the fae is once more silenced.

“Tell him,” Eris says. “Tell him of your failure.” Here, he cocks his head to the side, and the other male begins to emit a low, keening noise from his throat. “Tell him how you were bested by an Illyrian grunt before you could even land your blow on me. Do you think he will mourn the loss of your arm, Emile, or do you think he will only be disappointed in my leniency?”

This seems to wound the male — Emile — worse than the maiming. He caves in on himself, as though his insides have been hollowed out and he has only been left with bones to tent his skin.

“Get out of my sight,” Eris barks. “Before I give way to my own disappointment.”

Emile dissipates into smoke before the wretched sound twisting at his mouth is released. The arm is not brought away with him, and he does not dare to return for it.

Eris returns his regard to the severed limb. Azriel, discomfited by the strangeness that settles over amber eyes, finally looks away from him.

Soon, Azriel will be of clear enough mind to place the name, the face, and his understanding will take root. But in the now, with nothing left to hold to, he loses himself to the white-hot insistence of memory at the nape of his neck.

It pulls him away, beyond his aching body, beyond his fracturing mind, back into the cell and the torment. Tar lathered up to his wrists. Hands pinning him down. The strike of a match, burning, burning, burning, help me somebody help me somebody help me—

“Shadowsinger,” Eris cuts through. “Go have your breakdown elsewhere.”

But Azriel cannot move, even though he wants to, even though he would rather be anywhere than here, even though his wings flutter restlessly at his back and the sky is clear and blue above.

He is in that cell. His breath is coming in sharp, quick bursts that he cannot control. Each lungful is putrid with the scent of seared flesh. He begins to choke on it.

“Damn you,” Eris grits out.

There is nothing gentle about the way Azriel’s elbow is then grabbed, piercing through armor, creaking at bone. He is yanked through the in-between of the world unceremoniously, and he is shoved away the instant he reappears. The backs of his calves collide with something, and he falls, falls against cushion.

Azriel blinks, swallows, claws toward focus. It is not safe for him to be so unaware. They are alone in a tent. He is sitting on a divan. There is a fire crackling somewhere to his left. He tries, but he cannot think any further beyond it.

Eris stares down at him, lip curled with disdain. “What is the matter with you?” When spasming lungs are the only response, Eris takes hold of Azriel’s jaw and leans in, searching his face the way a crow might inspect an insect before devouring it whole. “Too many blows to the head?”

Even if Azriel could force the words up his throat, he would not permit them life beyond. His weakness has already been branded into his skin for all to see. He will not admit to it aloud, let alone to one with dominion over it.

Swift, Eris raises his free hand and makes to strike Azriel in the face. Azriel catches his wrist just before he connects, then braces for the retaliation — but Eris does not yet pull free. He merely narrows his gaze on the scarred fingers holding fast to him, then jerks Azriel forward by his face. The stretch of raw skin at the back of Azriel’s neck floods his mouth with bile.

“Get off of me,” he says through his teeth.

“Shut your mouth,” Eris replies, but he releases Azriel and strides away.

Azriel attempts to lift his head to monitor the threat, but all the pain in his body has compounded on itself, and he once more cannot move. He relies instead on his shadows to track Eris: out through the tent flaps, into the military cantonment surrounding, doubled back with another fae following behind. The darkness detects no menace in their bearing, but Azriel tenses all the same when the two reenter.

“See to him.”

“As bid, my lord.”

A female comes on silent feet to kneel before Azriel, her hair braided back from her face and secured with small ringlets. She keeps her eyes averted as she raises her hands, then presses them to Azriel’s chest when he does not protest.

The impression of her power is a familiar one as it suffuses him, cool and shrewd. At once, the burn at his neck ceases its screaming, and he can take in a full breath. But then he feels the gash at his hip knit itself together beneath his armor. The sharp edges in his overtired muscles smooth over, each of them rounding off into something more manageable. Even the small, unfelt tears in the callouses on his hands close up.

It is all Azriel can do to sit there and keep from throwing the healer bodily out of the tent for taking the pain he fought for away from him. She lifts a wary gaze to his shadows, which have begun to whip in irritated tendrils, themselves taking cue from his souring mood. If he were a better male, he would reign them in, but he is glad when she shies back, gladder yet when she rises to her feet and retreats entirely.

“For your continued discretion,” Eris says from across the space.

“Thank you, my lord.”

Azriel anticipates the clinking of coin changing hands, but he hears instead the rustling of paper as it is tucked within the pocket of the healer’s cloak. He looks over, but she is already bustling out of the tent. Eris has likewise turned away in pursuit of a small table beside the hearth at the far wall.

The silence descends heavily in her absence, then draws taut. Even when it is pierced by the sharp sound of liquid against metal, it suffocates the clatter.

Azriel rises from his seat and approaches as near to the flame as he is willing, which is no more than a few paces. Eris turns to him, gilded from behind, the metal of his armor cooled silver but glinting dangerously at its edges. There is a goblet at his mouth. He drinks for some time before lowering it.

“You were going to kill me,” is what Eris says, without any heat. “Try to, at least.”

Realization dawns abruptly.

Emile. The second eldest Vanserra brother. Beron’s spymaster, an appointment made simple by his affinity for smoke. Nearly identical to Eris, save for his hair, which is dull and cropped short, and his cheeks, which are gaunt and too-sharp at their tips. And, now, the new matter of asymmetry.

“So was your brother.”

Eris smiles, a terrible, closed-mouthed curve that does not touch the rest of his face. He taps his longest finger against the base of his chalice twice, then asks, “Why stop him?”

Azriel grimaces. He had not been thinking in the moment; he had only moved. There had been the intention to free himself, and then he was wasting his killing blow on someone else.

It was the same drive as any hunter unwilling to lose his quarry to another predator. Nothing else in the world belongs to Azriel, but Eris and his godly death do. That will not be taken from him. Not by anyone.

Azriel retorts, “Why cut off his arm?”

Draining the rest of his drink, Eris lets the emptied chalice dangle haphazardly from his fingers. He responds as if Azriel did not speak at all. “Did you think I would be moved by your intervention? That I would release you from our deal?”

“No.”

Eris looks at Azriel for a long moment, as though trying to make sense of a strategy board with half its set missing. This, too, has such a tangible presence in the enclosed space that Azriel gathers his shadows close enough to obscure him.

At length, Eris says, “Amarantha has Rhysand.”

Down to his marrow, Azriel’s body goes cold. “Where?”

Eris scoffs. “If I knew that, I would go there and kill the bitch myself. She is Hybern’s final stronghold, now that your front has secured victory here. Once she falls, the war is over.”

“How—”

“His legion has not been spotted for over a week. Do you want to waste time with qu—”

However Eris continues, Azriel does not find out. He is across the land and standing in front of Atrius before the next word can be finished.

In the center of the encampment, Azriel falls to his knees before Rhysand. His brother is chained between two wooden pells, arms splayed wide to either side, wings staked deep enough into the ground that the mud does not unmoor them. There had been four bolts once, but the one closest to the bottom has torn clean through, leaving only three in place. Layers of bruising span the entirety of his naked body, fresh welts cresting out of deep plums and sickly greens. The eyes Azriel seeks life in are swollen shut, and the left is drooping enough that he knows the bone in that cheek has been shattered.

Rhysand is unrecognizable. He looks so much like his cousin that Azriel is torn across time.

Part of him is here, unshackling the chains, persisting through a wave of sickness at the contact, fighting beyond the drain at the core of him to free his brother. Part of him is there with her, staring into another broken body, listening to different wheezes and croaks. Both of his selves reach their ruined hand towards the first of three ash stakes.

Behind him: “No.”

That simply, Azriel freezes. Rhysand heaves a dry sob. Azriel cradles his brother tighter to his chest, as if he could ever be enough to protect him.

“He was foolish enough to get himself caught,” Atrius says. “Let him suffer the consequences.”

Azriel does not say anything, so he is unsure what gives him away — a sympathetic twitch of his own wings, maybe, or a horrified flicker of his shadows.

Atrius lowers his voice into a warm, seductive purr. “I could always have you carve those abominations from his back instead.”

Careful not to flinch, even when Rhysand does, Azriel replies, “I’ll ensure the stakes are not removed.”

“See that you do.”

Atrius does not stay to listen to his son’s frayed, noiseless screams, too focused on mobilizing in pursuit of wherever Amarantha has fled. But Azriel is there for all of them, and there are many. Rhysand does not lose consciousness, not during the first dislodging from the earth, nor the second or the third.

“I’m sorry,” Azriel rasps as he hefts Rhysand into his arms. “I’m so sorry.”

“It isn’t,” a gasp, a shudder, “your fault.”

When Azriel looks down, he sees the same expression on Rhysand’s battered face that he had on Morrigan’s when he chained her to the slab in the Hewn City: the disappointment of expectation being met, of salvation exposed for its falsity. It isn’t your fault, the set of his brother’s mouth says, but you could have done something. You could have at least tried.

Piteously, it is Eris that Azriel thinks to then. He averts his eyes from Rhysand, expecting to see a fae in a forest at his side, a god birthed for battle storming through.

“I can make it so that we are the only ones who know of your involvement,” he would promise. “What will you offer me in return?”

“Anything,” Azriel would pledge, even now, even knowing the reality of it.

But he blinks, and Eris is not there.

Only the collar around his throat. Only the weight in his hold. Only the phantom ache of pain stolen away.

[chlmtsdoll]

IT’S NOT THAT COMPLICATED

౨ৎ Summary: you’re Art and Pat’s (mid)wife without the legal agreements. They both want to finally get you pregnant but who will be the one to shoot his shot first ? 🤭

౨ৎ 18 + | smut !, threesome, p in v (unprotected sex), heavy breeding kink, size kink, polyamorous relationship, domestic (mean-ish) reader, (mid 20’s) needy Art and Pat, angst, gayness, jealousy, religious themes here and there, inspo from Good Graces by Sabrina Carpenter 🩵

The entire house had been a complete and total mess.

You spent most of your weekdays like this — in your Skims sets, hair tied up in a neat ponytail only to end up in a messy bun by the time you were done cleaning up after the two boys who made up most of your life.

Unless they’d been at tennis practice of course.

You never could have pictured your life turning into this in your wildest dreams, especially when you’d never been the kind of girl who was into dating of any sort at all. You hated it really. The chase, the frustration, the uncertainty. Since you were a little girl, all you knew was that you wanted to accomplish receiving the home of your dreams and a cute baby or two to keep your days a little less lonely. You couldn’t fathom it was too much to ask for.

And even though you really didn’t exclusively picture a man (or men) being apart of your future — early days at school, Art and Patrick would make it the competition of their lives to never leave you alone. Ever.

Since you all met your sophomore year of college, it was the two on their hands and knees at your feet. Both always striving for your attention, fancying you, stealing you away from your studies to try and make you settle for dating at least one of them — and to their surprise (or your luck) you never really did. So moving through your last years of class really pushed the three of you as close as a trio could get.

You didn’t exactly put tittles on whatever you had been since it wasn't your style anyway, and throuple just seemed so indifferent. You’d all been more than that. Art and Patrick were yours and you were theirs. You’d draw hearts around your names in all your text books. Picturing yourself rocking cradles and being theirs forever. You’d marry your boys if you could. It was a new upcoming part of your plan — but one worth diving into.

You really did adore them with every ounce of your being.

So eventually when they went pro and started competing full time, both Art and Patrick’s families supported your decision of getting a home together. A great chunk of what you’d always wanted finally coming to fruition. Which was why you didn’t really mind staying back to do the important things around the home that was perfect in every way to you. It was a necessity when you lived with two six foot successful athletes muddying up the place without even noticing it. You would make dinner yourself on the week days and they always helped out on the weekends. You picked out and folded their sports wear every night for them just so it would make the morning even a tad bit easier. You loved it, and you loved them.

Even if the home was almost always in need of a little clean up with how busy your lives had ended up being, you couldn’t say you didn’t admire that it was constantly filled with the endearment you all shared together — so just after a few months of moving in, you finally thought it was the perfect time to let Art and Patrick give you a baby.

As excited as they were when you laid it all out on the table and they’d been a hundred percent ready too, you hadn’t properly thought out how combative your husbands got when it came down to it. The first week you’d given them the green light, it was non stop arguments and fighting between the two for who would be the first impregnate you. And although you gave them a deadline, wanting to be in your second trimester by the end of the year, they still hadn’t come to a full agreement.

And you still weren’t pregnant.

It’s pushed you into having much more aggressive periods and definitely during ovulation. You wanted your baby right then. Right now. More than anything else in the world. It was why you made a promise to both Art and Patrick — so you didn’t have to deal with running through men. Trying to find the perfect one to give you what you wanted even into your thirties. There’s two of them. Which means double the assurance that you should have been pregnant by now.

You’d had a hamper between your hip and the washing machine as you were unloading the laundry you set earlier when you heard the front door being unlocked.

The foyer was filled with the loud conversation and laughter the boys brought home with them to greet you. — but you’d remembered that you just mopped the entire floor plan spotless. So you dropped the hamper instantly in a hurry,

“Wait- - Wait ! Shoes. Mud room.”

As you scurried up to them, the blonde and brunette had paused in their tracks to face you. Seconds away from placing their worked equipment and tiresome shoes on the sparkling clean floors, just before they had registered it been freshly washed. Both men melt into apologies and “sorry baby’s” roughly at the same time while you finally let yourself breathe again post saving the floors from a brutal de-makeover.

When you turned your back to grace the kitchen, taking out food and utensils to start on dinner it was of course moments till your husbands made their way to merrily greet you as they always did — unwashed and grinning like they didn’t just see you that morning. Art had sure to respectfully take off his cap when he walked in, his damp blonde curls scattered everywhere. They looked heavenly with the sweat he had brought with him too, and Patrick, even sweatier, snaked around the corner of the counter to embrace you from behind without a care in the world to his abhorrent musk filling up your senses so quickly.

“Hi, baby,” the brunette smirked down at your smaller figure from behind, he bent to press a kiss to your cheek whist grabbing your dainty waist in his own brawny hands.

“How’s our girl ?”

Art began to smile from the other side of the counter in front of you. The blue hue of his eyes twinkled as he looked over your relaxed figure carrying on with what you’d been doing. “How was your day, sweetness ?”

“I caught a movie.. then I came back and cleaned up around here.” You spoke so nonchalantly the boys had already caught on to the fact that you weren’t your normal excited self who was over the moon to have them home. It was odd.

“So, that’s why you haven’t started on dinner yet..” Patrick chuckled, still behind your shoulder as he peered down at you, and you only glanced up at him with a mainly forced but soft simper.

“Oh, I’m so glad you noticed.. because you’re finishing it.” You only tapped Patrick’s freckled nose with a smile was laced with hints of sarcasm too smoothly, and as you looked between the two, their own glad expressions started to slip away when they really noticed your demeanor was not having it. You’d been pissed.

“So.. you’re not-”

“No. Do it yourselves,” you dried your hands on a cloth and shoved it off before removing yourself from Patrick’s embrace to exit the kitchen without a care. The boys watched your movements with frozen looks.

“I mean, we all should equally feel the current of not getting what we’ve been waiting for, right?”

As you stopped yourself from walking away to face them again with a look on your face that was holding back a thousand words of real rage, with just a cover of curiosity to how they could be so oblivious to your own needs — Art observed you from over his shoulder with a furrowed brow that also tugged a frown on his expression before he spoke.

“Baby- -”

“No. We had an agreement.” Your voice raised in pitch and you tried not to pout. Stand your ground. “I want a baby. And I still don’t have a baby.. and it’s ridiculous b-because, it’s not that complicated. Theirs two of you for fucks sake!”

You were angry, and quite upset. And even though you were pmsing, that wasn’t why. It was the exact problem.

Your emotions were at an all time high, and both men could have put that together at the way your voice shook, and nose had done that flair thing it did when you were at the peak of crying. Just on the verge of tears. But they had to know how you felt. And the way Art and Patrick observed you now, had affirmed they were taking in how it must all feel on your end.

“I thought we were in this together- guys. I-I thought we were ready to start a family…” your eyes switched between the two and their dejected faces before they both erupted into words of reassurance to decline to your state. Making their way over fast to where you stood, to be in the presence of their much shorter but adorned wife.

“We are!” The brunette huffed out.

“We’re a team.. that’ll never change, angel.“ the blonde one spoke over the other, and you crossed your arms as you looked up at both your tall and handsomely gorgeous (but very stupid at times) boys.

“Then fix this.. Get it together among yourselves like grown men who actually want a baby. Because bickering about who’s gonna get me pregnant first won’t get us anywhere.”

You breathed out deeply and searched their obedient assertion before Art and Patrick both nodded to each other in guilt of their actions. They knew how much you wanted this. And you confirmed you didn’t necessarily have to stop at just one.. you’d wanted a little bunch really — so both of your boys would have created something with you.

Their strife for who got there the quickest though, had been totally picked up from ego.

“We’ll.. come to it settled by tomorrow. But really, cut the chase baby, Patrick is just in it for all the sex with you… so your answers right there.” Art commented as he only half joked at Patrick’s wit to selfishly get you laid back to back.

The brunette retreated with shoving the other man in his side. “Fuck. Off. If I was in it for the breeding kink alone I’d say that… probably- -” Patrick defended in all seriousness to his nonsensical answer, and they had both scoffed at each other — you rolled you eyes.

This had been the root of your tiredness.

Sometimes you didn’t even know why you agreed to this. They could be such idiots. Lovable ones although. Enough that you’d let them be the fathers of your children evidently.

“Just… hurry up. Or I promise, I won’t let either of you touch me.” It was between you and god how true that statement actually was. But your eyes met their green to blue in all seriousness before you turned away again. “And wash yourselves before coming in my kitchen next time.”

It took every fiber of your being not to turn back and gently leave them with kisses after such a talk — but you had to show them you meant it. that you really weren’t fucking around this time. You’d definitely classify yourself as a much attentive wife. Always too nice to both of them, but they’d known how fast you could switch up like that — being as sweet as an angel one moment then not giving a fuck the next.

And it’s what they deserve for not attending to your needs too. Although you’d all still been fairly young and they were used to just being careless boys, constantly fucking things up time to time. But now that you’d all spoken out on being ready to settle down, they had to show you they truly meant it. That they wanted this just as badly as you did.

So if locking yourself in your room without your husbands, dickless and babyless would do the trick, then so be it.

It was bound to pay off, because around two weeks later when you let the boys know you were ovulating. They wasted no time to be on you every second of every day.

Fucking was all you’d known this time around, day and night Art and Patrick would take turns filling you with as much of their seed as possible. Giving you the most otherworldly orgasms you’d probably ever experienced got you letting them fuck you in as many ways as they could fit in between the hours they didn’t have tennis and could just be with you. There was something about you wanting them so badly to plant their own inside you, and something about them taking their greedy turns over you till the light of dawn made your sex drive triple it’s increase. The boys would end up arriving late to practice after making your body the judge of who’d be the one to carry your first born.

It all came down to when Art had no rein to miss when his sponsors asked him to be of attendance to a leading event. — which also lead to you and Patrick staying the night indoors, alone, without your other counterpart.

“Please ?”

“We shouldn’t, Patrick. He’ll be upset that he wasn’t here, you know how Art gets.”

Patrick scoffed off your words as he fast walked (chased) after you into the bedroom, “pssh. He has a sponsorship. He’ll be fine… c’mon baby, how am I supposed to make you a mommy if you don’t let me try?” Patrick grinned as he sauntered closer to where you stood. That grin on his face that said he’d already been painfully hard, you knew like the back of your hand. When Patrick towered over you untamed and pressed a deep kiss to your jaw line, you met him where he took your hips with his selfish hands — just below him you let your half husband leave kisses down your neck with that damn luring smirk on his face, still.

You shook your head and rolled your eyes playfully at his acts to get you to let him fuck you without Art around like usual. You already knew the petty excuse you’d use to tell him you didn’t go against the agreement you all kept. Only having intercourse when it was the three of you while trying to conceive, since you’d all be equal parents to the child.

Although, it was without a doubt that Patrick had a way with his undeniable charming nature, and it almost always paved the path to you just giving into the calculated man at some point.

He was pulling you on to his lap by the time you two reached the bed. His slightly calloused hands exploring, kneading your skin. Your breath hitched and Patrick let out a slow devious laugh as his grip on you wondered till it embraced your breasts and the man groped you with all pleasure. “These are gonna be so full when you get pregnant, baby. I can’t wait.” He had that cheeky grin as your eyes panned down at him from your position in his lap. You only let out a soft chuckle as you we’re totally more focused on when he’d get his pants off.

“I swear to god Patrick, I’m not fucking around. You better put a baby in me or I’ll have Art do it.” Your voice was pungent but remained sweet overall. The brunette snickered as he kissed on your chest anyways,

“Just relax baby doll, let me take care of it. Trust me you’ll be pushing a stroller before you even finish.” Patrick groaned into your skin. He continued pushing up your shirt and going straight to your nipples to place his lips with a soft curse while you put your hands in his hair just to watch the way he acted as if he’d been at starvation from you.

Deep down you knew for a fact Patrick had only been motivated to the whole baby making process for the kink of it all. The messy and wild sex constantly. Getting to cum in your pussy rein free as many times as he pleaded without a break, being the one to say you’d been carrying his child he planted inside of you. He was a thousand percent deep into a breeding kink since you’d all been in college. And no matter how much he tried to deny it these days, it didn’t even amount to the way he’d boast about loving to just see the sight of you pregnant and fully round, struggling to do simple daily tasks as your bump grew and grew every day. Meanwhile, it being all caused by him. The fantasy stroked his ego in a way like no other. He’d for sure end up being the type to tell friends the exact position you’d been in when he knocked you up. It was more of a contest of manly hood for the tennis player and you surely knew that.

On the other hand, Art had been dreaming of starting a family since practically a kid, he’d been proudest to say. He was in it not just for himself in a way that made him overwhelmingly happy to have a little one of his own to take care of, but for you. Making sweet love to you day and night, trying for the possibility of making a mini version of himself and you — just because he adores your personality and features so much that he’d want them in his own offspring. Art idolized the bond you two have that much. Always the one out of your husband’s to be doing as much research as he could in his free time by reading up on what were the best chances of giving you a baby and making the experience the most pleasurable for you. What would be healthiest way for you to give birth, baby names, and when you previously found his YouTube search history had been filled with how to properly build a cradle, or how to swaddle a new born. It made your heart all warm and mushy feeling. Jumping around underneath your chest even.

It was the cherry on the top of your ideal life. And you knew the right way to go deep down.

But as Patrick lowered your hips against his, skin on skin, and heated kisses in the middle of your make-out session being the only thought to cloud your mind — you’d been blinded by the one sided-ness of the man and the opportunity to end all anticipation of getting pregnant as soon as possible.

“Yeah, yeah- - just like that..” you panted as the brunette watched you while he was quick to lift himself and you to pull down his sweats and align himself with your entrance. Your hands had been wound to his shoulders while he reached for your ass in preparation of you taking his sized up cock like you owned it. And he lived for that. Patrick was dripping of pre-cum beneath you already. “Put it in.” You breathed out whist beginning to slide down his member as he pushed up into you. A low groan coming from the tease of a man, and the back of his head lost balance in your hands as you began to move on top of him.

“Take my cock baby… fuck, you feel good.” His low grunts and hands getting you to rock your hips faster was enough to get your skin feeling as if it been lit on fire. Your jaw agape enough to when Patrick put his lips on yours — you’d been met by his tongue on instant, sloppily kisses were laid in between your combatting lips. Patrick pulled a clean moan out of you as your legs begin to tremble at his penetration being rough to your walls on instant.

“Mmm- Pat… oh,” you’d been riding him on the edge of the king sized bed. Bouncing like there was no tomorrow in such little time. Your drive has just been insane, you could fuck like you took meals. The feeling of the finely built man running against the cave of your sensitive cunt assured you, this was it. You were getting pregnant by the end of tonight. If it weren’t for the astonishing thick walls, your moans could of filled every hallway of the house by now.

That was until the creek of the masters door had been a distracting note. And the blonde that appeared in it even more so.

When your movements froze and Patrick’s kisses to your neck loosened, the two of you were startled to see the sight of Art coming through that very doorway with a perplexed but not at all surprised look of predictability on his face.

Instead of pulling Patrick out of you to greet your other lover, the smile on your face only grew as you stared over at the less disheveled man placing his back pack on the floor.

“Hi, baby.” You would of been questionably chipper to most, but for the three of you this was as normal as it gets.

“Oh, don’t let me stop you.” Art shrugged softly as his crystal blues examined the heat you and Patrick had created in the atmosphere.

“But.. do you really want a brunette ? Wouldn’t you prefer the baby be- - I don’t know… A blonde ?”

“Oh, fuck off, Art.” Patrick, who had still been inside you let himself fall back into the bedsheets with a groan. And you already knew the blonde had a grin of his own spreading across his lips. You closed your eyes with a deep exhale.

“Guys.. stop it.” you huffed as you pushed on the brunettes limp shoulder, with a soft eye roll that landed back on Art, your expression softened at the sight of your golden boy prancing closer to the two of you. Your smile appeared again. “Come join us baby.”

You knew Patrick would be annoyed and bitching over the fact he didn’t get to cum inside you himself before Art had shown up. But it didn’t matter so much to you when overall, you wanted Art to be as much involved as his own. Even if Patrick had been the one to shoot his shot first.

You slid off of Patrick to crawl closer and plant your lips on Art’s with a pleasant little noise of joy, which the blonde then sent his hands to hold your waist as he leaned into your affectionate greeting.

“Hi.” He chuckled as he leaned away to meet your eyes. Like he wanted nothing. Needed nothing but you.

“How did it go ?”

“Good- - it went good. Boring, really. But what I’m more interested in is how many times you two fucked today..” Art raised a subtle brow as he glanced between you and the sexually frustrated man who’d had his back turned away from you and Arts embrace at the moment.

If only hiding behind your flustered face was an option.

“Y’know.. you’re more than welcome to tune into the fifth round, Art.” Patrick spoke out to poke the other man again and before he could glance at you, his eyes widen with a plea of ‘really ? Five ?’ laced through it and you immediately shook your head.

“No, no..” you held Art’s face in your hands, high cheek bones made it easy to acknowledge his pre-frown. Before he could assume more, your eyes search his while you kicked Patrick’s shoulders slightly. “He’s being a dick. That’s not true…”

“Let him believe it, doll. Now, can we get back to it please ? We have a baby to make.” Patrick’s tone was smug and filled with the tension to just get to your wet enclosure, and before you could even shut him up again, Art did it for you.

“Well, for that to happen, you do know she has to be on her back right ? Or at least comfortable in some capacity..” Art questioned the man and Patrick scoffed at his remark.

“I knew that.”

“Did you ? You had her on top, I would of at least expected doggy style from you, man.”

“Why does it fucking matter?!”

“Because she’s fertile right now!”

“Art, when the fuck did you become a baby daddy ? Please, explain. Because I could like to know-”

“My god. Will you two just shut up and put a baby in me!”

You’d gotten so fed up with the two bickering over nonsense, you stood to your knees between them on the bed as your frustration was shown through your expression that was slowly but surely going dull.

“Honestly, with all this tension, and arguments.. when even was the last time you fucked ?”

Your eyes switch between the two boys who choked on their own tongues when you brought up them being the ones in absence of fucking out their frustrations with one another. And you tried to hide your smirk as best as you could behind your doting eyes.

You wanted them to feel like they’d been draining you by the second, like you’d leave and shut them out again if they didn’t just handle you like real men.

“You know what, that’s it.” Art stood up from your side and glanced down at both you and Patrick who’d been taken by surprise to his new found demeanor.

“You wanna be a mommy ? I’ll make you a mommy.”

Art tugged on the bottom of his white tee, to remove it from his body swiftly — revealing his burly pecks and excellent abs that round a grin from you as easy as could be. He grabbed your wrists firm but with rooted gentleness as he took you aside. “Patrick. Make use of yourself and lay back so you can hold her reversed cowgirl.” Those last few words were more than enough to get the brunette on board as he himself stripped to then make his way neat against the pillows and covers. Art built brief lustful eye contact with you, leading you to straddle Patrick’s lap. The blonde couldn’t stop himself from grinning, and you pulled your lip into your mouth as your patience began to burn quick and your need for both of the men started to rise with it.

Patrick’s hands were on your sides as he pulled you into him, leaning in close to your ear where you felt his soft lips meet your lobe, “I can’t wait to have you full of both of us, princess.” His voice rasped at the perfect tone that had your spine increase with chills. His hands help adjust we’re your ass met his thighs. And that’s when Art came hovering over the two of you — meeting you face to face with even more want than ever. Your lips press into one another divinely as you could of sucked his bottom lip into your own if he stayed there long enough.

You smile into the smooches anyways. Your light, your angel boy, gracious as ever, depressed his palm into the firm mattress beneath where you and Pat coexist, as he made himself comfortable on top. You kept kissing Art with deep hungry moans humming from your windpipe. A slow but fervent pace. It’s like the man could sense your wetness before he even reached down between your thighs to part your legs. But when he did, with tenderness and urgency, he made them just wide enough for how he and Patrick would need you to be for them.

The blonde’s slender fingers rub around your core and he wet his digits with your slick before dipping them in your cunt leisurely, “Patrick did prep you good, but let me.. us, take care of things for once, alright ? You just focus on feeling good.” Art ducked his head to watch the way he added another finger to disappear inside you and your whine was soft. But your focus was on him. He looked overwhelming gorgeous on top of you — golden curly locks followed his every move. You felt more assured then ever by the way his sweet words made your tense muscles shift. Soon, Patrick to your left, left soft kisses on your shoulder blade which that just made you melt.

He stroked his erection before inching to slide himself back inside your soaked heat, and you closed your eyes with a sweet whimper leaving your plump lips at the way the brunette slid though your walls again — Art’s tongue darted out to watch the way you sunk down on Patrick before his eyes. Getting ready to penetrate you himself, “keep holding her, Patrick. Make sure she’s relaxed.” The man on top of you murmured with dilated pupils and mouth practically salivating just witnessing it second hand.

You bit down on your lip while Art put his cock above where Patrick had been, working himself against your already pulsing cunt, begging to be used by the two gorgeous boys. And before finally pushing into you along with the brunette, Art pushed you farther on to your back against Patrick’s broad chest.

“Stay open for us like a good girl, we’re gonna make you a mommy for sure this time.” You heard Patrick’s voice come in with a grin, he held your thighs apart as Art bottomed out inside of you the same way Patrick had with an echoed grunt. The double penetration sent your mouth going agape straight away, your face scrunched up in pleasure and pain at the same time.

“oh- - oh, fuck” your breathing hitched as the men just filled you with their length and girth. The farther they burrowed in you, the quicker you realized you’d probably never get used to the stretch of taking both of their dicks at once, nor would you tire of it either. But this was what you needed. Right this second, to be breed and stuffed with enough cum you’d have more than sufficient chances to have one of their babies make it to growing within you.

The blonde and brunette had started to move at a steady pace, then quicker as time followed. You sometimes felt as if your body was meant to take them like this — your moans and cries escalating could of confirmed that with how you’d been coating their cocks with more of your juices as they fucked into you. Both men making pornographic noises of their own while getting to submerge into your sweetness at the same time. The friction of feeling one another setting off a different kind of euphoria that had been truly in a league of its own.

From Patrick pushing his heels into the comforter to pound up into you, and Art’s hands going opaque with veins as he gripped on to the side of your hips to ass — to keep you open for him to have the best access to your womb, made your eyes go teary with the impact of it all. The way their balls carelessly slapped against your ass that would surely be darkened with a bruise tomorrow. Thrusting without mercy made you feel a heavenly kind of dizzy at this point.

Art couldn’t help but grin at the bulge he and Patrick had been imprinting on your lower belly as you could only shriek and moan on their cocks in repetition like you’d been saying a prayer after every pound to your sensitive cunt.

“Fuck- - god, princess. You’re gonna make us daddies aren’t you ? That tummy is gonna be full with us just like it is now, and you’ll love it. I don’t think you’ll ever stop wanting to let us fill you with babies you can take care of.” Art had panted out into your ear with a airy chuckle and you were too fucked out to do anything but tremble more from his words, the brunette has been smirking in agreement.

“Shit. She’s gonna be so pretty lookin’, Art. Being at home with the kids, nurturing everything she touches like the sweet girl she is… just to get breed nice and round again and again, isn’t that right, pretty girl?”

You were over the edge. Completely cock drunk and fucked stupid by your boys who held you together in the mess they made of you. That’s when you couldn’t keep it back anymore. “Oh- yes… god, yes. Fuck !” A high pitched whimpering moan ripped through you as you came hard, leaving Art and Patrick’s overly slick cocks with yours and their creamy details.

“Oh, shit, shit !” The brunette cursed from over your shoulder.

“Fuck- - Patrick.. you ready ?” Art huffed as he and your other husband didn’t stop plunging into you. They took your overstimulated and overstuffed hole clenching them through your orgasm as the gateway to finally leave their seed to your body’s pride.

Taking their slowed thrusts back up a notch, the boys fuck into you till you cry and they both cum with a slew of groans and other curses like that. Your muscles couldn’t hold up. You let yourself collapse against Patrick’s skin as the two pumped ropes into your pussy till they’d been drained out.

Art snapped his eyes shut as he strained into you with a deep grunt. He palmed Patrick’s shoulder “don’t pull out- - don’t move.. stay in. For as long as you can.” Patrick kept his hips flush against you. Your legs trembled and your chest heaved repeatedly, your cunt began to feel numb. You brought your swollen lip between your teeth.

“Mmmh... Art- - I don’t know how much longer I can hold up..” your wide tearful eyes met the blonde’s gaze as he leaned even closer to take your hand in his, intertwining your fingers right then.

“I know, baby, I know.. but we have to make sure you have all the chances of getting pregnant.” The blonde kissed your knuckles as he stayed there with you — and Patrick did the same. Staying put and not letting up till they had been as sure as could be that you were having a child.

It brought a simper to your lips as your chest eased into a relaxed sigh. The two men finally pull out of you with low moans and you immediately sprawl on your back to smile to yourself on the bedsheets.

You’d been pregnant. You just knew it. You felt it. When Art and Patrick came together to create something out of their love with, and for you — you knew your prominent instinct couldn’t of let you down now. And only a single pregnancy test later, and a trip the three of you all took to your doctor. It had been confirmed. You were pregnant.

And to your pleasant surprise and overly joyous nature... Your first born would turn out to be a Donaldson.

[livwritessometimes]

Opposite - Pierre Gasly

: Pierre Gasly x Singer!reader

: Pierre’s new relationship leaves Y/n questioning their time together

: Series Masterlist

: Main Masterlist

: Author's Note - finallyyyy got time to write this part!! Also let me know if you guys want a taglist for I'm Pretty When I Cry Series (I have a few people who want to be tagged in Pt 2 for loml and Enough For You)

…

liked by pierregasly and 84,946 others

👤: pierregasly

Yourname: "Hey dan- I mean Bonjour" "Oh you mean, Au Revoir! Goodbye Humphrey, we're leaving" "where are you guys going?" "Paris"

view all 78,732 comments

pierregasly: It absolutely did not take Y/n 30 minutes to find this particular episode from gossip girls, just so she could use it as her caption

-> Yourname: Uh as if! guys let me tell you Pierre was just as invested as I was, if not more while watching the episode

-> pierregasly: shhh don't expose me 🤐

liked by Yourname and 102,721 others

👤: Yourname

pierregasly: Terrorizing the streets of New York with the biggest baddie who wears a bow!

view all 92,682 comments

Yourname: say all you want about the bow, just know when we get caught and they take our mugshots, we know who's gonna look good and who's not 💅🏻

-> alpinef1team: Please don't get arrested, we can't have our driver behind the bars before the season starts 😅

-> pierregasly: ...🥲

User39: Y/n and Pierre try to write normal caption challenge failed 🙅🏻‍♀️

-> User44: I love them constantly bullying each other 🥰

liked by pierregasly and 92,731 others

👤: pierregasly

Yourname: Rolling into the Dutch Grand Prix in style!

view all 89,727 comments

pierregasly: 🩵

User77: OMGGGG P33333!!! Let's goooooo

User98: Best good luck charm Pierre could ask for 🍀

*liked by Yourname*

liked by Yourname and 106,931 others

👤: Yourname, alpinef1team

pierregasly: You get P3 and then all of a sudden you are tackled to the ground by some crazy fangirl 🙄 but jokes aside I could not have done this without your support, a huge shoutout to my amazing team and equally (if not more) amazing fans!!!

view all 87,673 comments

alpinef1team: YESSSS! So Proud 💪🏻

alpinef1team: Best crazy fangirl to have around in the garage

-> Yourname: ...stop 🙈

liked by pierregasly and 98,673 others

👤 : pierregasly

Yourname: Happy birthday to the weird guy from my flight who likes to sleep with his mouth open...He's quite the character!

view all 80,721 comments

pierregasly: I can feel the love radiating from this post 🤭

-> Yourname: Guys that weird guy from my flight is back and now in my comment section

-> pierregasly: Jokes on you I'm inside your house

-> Yourname: 😨

User41: You guys are so cuteeeee! never stop bullying each other 🫶🏻

liked by Yourname and 95,731 others

👤: Yourname

pierregasly: Happy birthday to my crazy fangirl!! Here's to more years of bullying you 🥂

view all 86,821 comments

Yourname: Aa Ha there we have it folks, he just admitted he bullies me! My lawyer will get in touch with you Mr. Gasly and just so you know I'm getting the custody of @/alpinef1team 's admin

-> alpinef1team: Mom pick me up I'm scared, Dad is binge watching Gossip Girls again!!

-> pierregasly: wow! my own team i against me

-> alpinef1team: 🤭

User09: I will never get married if they break up

-> User712: Girl- same 🫱🏻‍🫲🏼

Y/n paused for a moment. The 10 minutes she had spent selecting every single photo she had with Pierre felt like eternity to her. So lost in her thought, she did not notice a drop tear roll down her face. It is funny how things can change so easily; how a lifetime worth of promises comes with an expiration date. "You will heal; I mean, look at how far you've come from where we were before," said Gracie, Y/n's best friend and probably the only person she had told about her breakup. For the rest of the world, Y/n and Pierre, 'the most playful couple', were still together, spending their vacation in some city filled with love and laughter.

It was Gracie who suggested that it's bout time she deleted their photos. I mean, it has been 2 months already; there is no point in holding on to something, someone who no longer wants to do anything with her.

She knew she would be fine. I mean, isn't that's how it's supposed to go? You hurt, you heal. It was simple, so why was it that hitting the delete button felt like the most difficult task in the world? Swallowing the lump in her throat, Y/n finally pressed the button, which in an instant erased the French man's existence from her life. Goodbyes are hard, especially when you did not see them coming. Y/n never dreamt of a future where she and Pierre wouldn't be together; sadly for her, that was the reality she now had to live in.

francisca.cgomes added to their story!

seen by Yourname and 65,821 others

Sitting in front of her dresser, Y/n was busy getting ready for the night. She saw the news about Pierre seeing someone else flood her Twitter feed. It's okay; it's not like he owed her an explanation or the fact that they broke up 4 months ago. It's perfectly fine for people to go out and explore the dating pool again. Hell, even Y/n had been on a few dates, none that got past the second date. What bothered her was the fact that Pierre was seen with his new girl in Paris. She still distinctively remembers one warm afternoon in July, where both she and Pierre were cuddled up on the couch watching some random movie to kill time. It was then that he told her, "I'm so excited for next week," he had said as he pulled Y/n closer to him. "And why is that?" she had questioned with a hint of amusement in her voice. "Paris holds a very special place in my heart, and a long time ago I decided that I would only take the people closest to my heart there," he said. "And you are very special to me, ma chérie," he added. It was always like this: cheeky comments and flirtatious replies were what made their relationship theirs. 

So seeing him take Francisca Gomes to Paris felt like a direct hit. Here she was barely able to hold onto a new date, and there he was going to the city of love with his 'special person.'

Y/n had just finished applying a sheet mask and decided to watch some videos on YouTube while waiting for her timer to go off. Scrolling through the home page, her eyes landed on an interview with none other than Francisca or Kika, as everyone on the internet had called her. "Kika Gomes on Balancing Life as a Model, a Student, and the Girlfriend of Pierre Gasly" read the title. She knows she shouldn't; she knows that no positive outcome will come from this video, but ignoring all the warning signs, Y/n clicked on the video. Her room was filled with the voice of Kika and the interviewer. Sometime after the introduction and general questions, Y/n stopped paying attention to what was being said in the interview. That was until she heard the interviewer ask Kika about her and Pierre's relationship.

On that reply, Y/n let out a dry chuckle. 'When you know, you just know' how basic. Of course she would think that; why would she mind them moving in 'too fast'? She's got nothing to lose. It was Y/n that had to suffer over them 'moving in too fast.' But no one paid attention to that, because she was not the one he was in love with, not anymore, at least.

Sometime later in the interview, the host asked Kika to play a game, answer a few questions, and take part in a challenge. After about 5-6 questions, the host announced the challenge: 'Get Pierre to text you back in 2 minutes; if she fails, she has to perform a dare.' With a scoff, Y/n said, "Good luck with that." She knows there is no way Pierre would reply within 2 minutes; he never did that during the entirety of their 2 years together, and there is no way he's gonna do it now. She saw Kika type a message to Pierre before hitting send and answering yet another question. It had barely been 30 seconds; the girl on the screen barely finished her sentence when the ding from her notification filled the studio. Y/n felt her heart drop; there was no way it was him; he had never been so quick before. Ya, Y/n was sure it was not him, but then what Kika said made her doubt a lot of things about her relationship with Pierre.

That reply was quick; that's what bothered Y/n. No, scratch that; that was one of the things that bothered Y/n about this new relationship. The girl in front of her could not have been more different from Y/n. She was taller than her, younger than her, and a lot prettier than her. They could not have been more opposite of each other. It made Y/n question whether she was even Pierre's type all along. Was that the reason why he broke up with her? because she was not like the usual girls he would go for? because she did not fit his standard of beauty? Before Y/n could spiral down any further, her phone started ringing, startling her and cutting off her long chain of thought. Looking down, she saw that it was her manager who was calling her. She looked at the top of the screen to check the time: 11:24 p.m. It was odd for her manager to call her at this hour. Confused,  she answered the phone, "Hello?"

liked by gracieabrams and 120,371 others

👤 : gracieabrams, taylorswift

Yourname: Word on the street that two best friends are on their way to traumatize a whole lot of people at the ERAS TOUR!!!! YES you heard it right, my boy Mario and I are officially joining the wonderful, absolutely stunning Taylor Swift at the Eras Tour.

view all 100,282 comments

gracieabrams: AHHHHHHHHH

-> gracieabrams: OH MY GODDDDDDDD

-> gracieabrams: I HAVEN'T STOPPED CRYING

-> gracieabrams: I STILL CAN'T BELIEVE THIS

User66: @/taylorswift I think you broke Gracie

gracieabrams: WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY MARIO?? Where did you get that photo from????

-> Yourname: I have my own ways 😌

liked by gracieabrams and 99,722 others

Yourname: Best believe I'm still bejeweled, when I walk in the room....Yk how that saying goes ✨

view all 90,801 comments

Yourname: Also for everyone wondering where I got that cowboy hat from? I made it with TAYLOR SWIFT 🙌🏻

-> User83: Please tell me you have matching COWBOY HATS????

-> Yourname: You bet your ass we do 👏🏻

gracieabrams: Well ofc a diamond's gotta SHINEE~

-> Yourname: see Gracie gets it!!

taylorswift: Howdy partner <3

-> Yourname: I see you everyday yet when I saw the notification that you commented, I almost called my mom out of excitement!!!!

*liked by taylorswift*

-> taylorswift: 😂

liked by Yourname and 173,982 others

👤 : Yourname, taylorswift

gracieabrams: Oh nothing just a girls night in with my 2 besties 👯‍♀️

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Yourname: I'm just gonna go ahead and say it I'm the best bartender out there!

-> gracieabrams: I was gonna say something sarcastic but I don't think my 7th glass of Margarita would let me 🫢

User87: Alt caption: Taylor Swift getting traumatized for 15 minutes straight from witnessing Y/n and Gracie fighting with each other every second of the day

*liked by taylorswift*

After one too many drinks, Y/n, Gracie, and Taylor were all chilling at the rental Y/n and Gracie were sharing. The night was filled with drinks and laughter. With soft music playing in the background, Y/n looked around at Gracie and Taylor, both texting their boyfriends, giggling over their phones. A content look on their faces. Even though Y/n smiled at the sight, a bitter taste filled her mouth. Excusing herself, she went to the bathroom. After being together with someone for 2 years, it's easy to forget what it's like to be single again. It's been 6 months now since they broke up. Y/n knows she shouldn't miss him, because it was obvious that he clearly wasn't missing her. Looking in the mirror, she saw her blonde hair and blue eyes staring back at her. She wondered was it her eyes? Did he just want someone who had darker eyes all along? Y/n knew Kika's features so well, that one might think of her as an obsessive fan, and maybe she was. Definitely not a fan though. Maybe she was obsessed with Kika; what was it that she has that Y/n doesn't? Way beyond her senses, Y/n, in her drunken state, pulled out her phone and opened Instagram to post a story of herself.

Yourname added to their story!

seen by User40 and 65,821 others

liked by User22 and 101,282 others

👤: pierregasly, francisca.cgomes

Formula1WagsUpdates: Pierre Gasly's partner, Kika Gomes, was spotted at the Miami Grand Prix. The couple were seen entering the paddock together. Some fans spotted the two being extremely affectionate, with Pierre's hand never leaving her back. Ever since the couple started dating, fans have noticed a change in Gasly's demeanor. Some say he has become more of a gentleman ever since Gomes entered his life. All we can say is that we love every moment we can get with the adorable couple.

view all 65,029 comments

User22: They are so cuteeeeee

User09: I'm not gonna lie Pierre has STEPPED UP as a boyfriend!!!

User87: I think it's kinda sad that they refer to Kika as Pierre Gasly's girlfriend and not just by her name. Honestly feel they would have never done that had it been Y/n here.

-> User60: I mean she is his girlfriend! how else should anyone introduce her????

liked by gracieabrams and 99,722 others

Yourname: Red is the color of the season! and no it's not because of my recent obsession with strawberry jam 🍓

view all 90,801 comments

gracieabrams: A lot of nonsense coming from someone who just finished their third bottle of jam this month

-> Yourname: Shhhhh don't say that out loud my trainer might hear you

taylorswift: The treats turned out to be soo goodddd!!

-> Yourname: I did have the best baking partner after all!!

User44: ummm is no one gonna talk about the last photo???

liked by charles_leclerc and 299,722 others

pierregasly and francisca.cgomes: The best new beggenings anyone could wish for!! Meet our baby boy Simba 🦁

view all 230,873 comments

francisca.cgomes: My son 🩵

-> pierregasly: you mean our son???

-> francisca.cgomes: NO MINE

alexandrasaintmleux: Leo and Simba playdate when???

-> francisca.cgomes: Just say the time and place and we'll be there

User88: OMGGG THEY GOT A DOGGGG

-> User30: Ikrrrrrrr!!! he really is ready to settle down 🥰

What are you supposed to feel when your ex moves on with his life? How should one even react when they see him show more commitment to his current relationship than he did to yours? Y/n wondered, What was even the point of feeling like this? I mean, shouldn't she be happy? She has got everything she could have asked for: a job with her idol, performing night after night in front of people who love her and her music, and spending every second of her life with her best friend by her side. Y/n had everything, but somehow she still felt empty. 

He got a dog with her. Y/n still remembers the day when she suggested they get a pet together. "Come on, Pierre, look at this puppy; he's perfect!!!," Y/n had beamed while showing Pierre a photo of the dog she had seen at the shelter. "He is cute, but you know we can't get a pet," Pierre had said. "We're not even home most of the time, and the constant travelling won't help the dog," he had reasoned. Dejected, she sat back down on the couch, opting to delete the photo. What's the point of keeping it when she knows she will never be able to adopt the puppy?

liked by gracieabrams and 102,882 others

Yourname: Been thinkin' lots of thoughts 💭

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gracieabrams: hmmm how tho? because last I know i'm pretty sure it's empty up there, like spider webs and shit 😌

-> Yourname: I had ordered Taco Bell for us but looks like you won't be needed it anymore 🙃

-> gracieabrams: Y/N NOOO! I swear I was just kidding 😭

-> User09: Not a single day goes by without us getting Gracie and Y/n acting like kids 🤦🏻‍♀️

User33: Did she just...post lyrics?????????? and that angsty ones?????

-> User86: Shhhhhh!! It can't hurt you if you refuse to acknowledge it

It was finally done. Y/n had just finished her album. She's not gonna lie; this album was probably the most difficult one to record. Especially the last song she recorded. After pushing it back for months, she finally did it. She got in the recording room and poured her little heart out. What surprised Y/n were the tears that came while she recorded the song. It's not like she was in love with him, not anymore, at least. Y/n had finally accepted the fact that no matter how much she questioned the reason for Pierre leaving her and choosing Kika, she could not come up with an answer that would have given her some closure. She had gone through every possible scenario in her head; what could she have done differently to make him stay? But while doing all this thinking, Y/n realized that no matter what she did, he would have ended up with her. Maybe he was holding out, waiting to find someone opposite her, someone who fit his description of "perfect," a match "made in heaven." 

It was time she let go of this chapter, no matter how much it hurt her, it was time to say goodbye to all the possibilities of them.

liked by gracieabrams and 172,874 others

Yourname: I'm so excited to announce my brand new album, 'Emails I Can't Send'! This album contains exactly what the title says. There will be a lot of times in life where you find yourself in a situation where you want to say things or question things, but you can't because that's just how things have to be. This album contains all the things I wish I could have said. I hope you enjoy the little piece of my heart that I'm sharing with you! Keep it safe <3

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gracieabrams: I am so proud of you!!!! words can't describe how proud I feel right now 🫂

*liked by Yourname*

taylorswift: I have been to the studio...and let's just say you guys are in for a ride!! 🎢

*liked by Yourname*

User97: DID YOU GUYS PLAY OPPOSITE BECAUSE AHHHHHH

…

Tags: @slutforpopculture | @emmynotawards | @be-your-coffee-pot | @bloodredlolipops | @papaya-twinks | @a-beaverhausen | @rayaharper

[cowboysandcigarettes]

SHORT N' SWEET (DELUXE!)

in honor of the album coming out today + valentine's day, i'm gonna release some drabbles inspired by the album!

some songs are already planned, but if you want to request one with a specific character, just send me an ask and i will get to it as soon as i can.

characters! dean winchester, soldier boy, beau arlen, any jackles characters really (or the man himself)

taste ─ dean winchester!

please please please ─

good graces ─ beau arlen!

sharpest tool ─

coincidence ─

bed chem ─ dean winchester!

espresso ─ dean winchester!

dumb & poetic ─

slim pickins ─ beau arlen!

juno ─ dean winchester!

lie to girls ─

don't smile ─

15 minutes ─

couldn't make it any harder ─

busy woman ─ soldier boy!

bad reviews ─ soldier boy!

can't wait for the next track?

pre-order here! or put in a request!

bri's thoughts! um i just listened to 'busy woman' about 50 times and can't get it out of my head so now you get this.. also I know valentine's day is already here (it's tomorrow for me), but that literally doesn't matter bc this might take me the rest of the damn year at the pace i write at.

anyways, first part will be out soon!

tags! @ultravi0lence14 @bluemerakis @dulcescorderitas @soldiersgirl @titsout4jackles @flomrpus

[thehopefulquotes]

I am afraid to show you who I really am, because if I show you who I really am, you might not like it – and that’s all I’ve got.

Sabrina Ward Harrison