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pampushky · 1 month ago

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his words so contrived

Alpha! Lando Norris/Omega! Lauda! Reader - chapter 3 - 4.9k

TW: no mention of abuser other than as him. mentions of abandonment and severe physical trauma in the form of a house fire. lore drop on the main character too!!

I'm back!! Bit of a jumpy chapter this time, getting some world building and establishing familial ties!

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Mid-September, 2007. Hof bei Salzburg, Österreich.

Niki, at the ripe age of 58, feels much too old to be going through raising a pup again. Yet here he is, carrying you in one arm while making scrambled eggs with his free hand, all while you’re half in your wolf form, half in your human. Your tail thumps against him as you whine, fuzzy ears flattened to your head when he once again hushes you, urging you to be patient.

“But I want ham!”

“We don’t have any, maus,” He can’t help but laugh, looking at your grumpy little face, and the sharp teeth that poke out from under your top lip. Your proper canines were coming in— the upper two already in and sharp. He’d really have to make sure you knew how to properly shift, sooner rather than later. And he’d definitely need to read up on what proper child-rearing looked like now, his boys had been born in the early 80’s, and, well, things had certainly changed since then. Especially given your circumstances.

If raising a normal child alone was hard, then raising a very traumatized and mildly disabled pup would be a whole other ball game. Niki didn’t even know where to start, even with all the books on modern child-rearing and trauma-informed parenting that Marlene had gotten for him. It was all new.

Point and case, it was now decidedly healthier to let pups figure out their forms on their own, and it was no longer… taboo, to have your children running around with their more animalistic traits on full display when running to the grocery store. Even when going to the track to watch a practice, or to listen to the Ferrari drivers rant, Niki isn’t shocked anymore to see how many drivers also have a set of wolffish ears or their tail out, aside from in the car. Hell, Nico had been prancing about as a wolf, yapping and howling happily when he’d seen you in the paddock. After some coaxing, you’d even come out of your shell a little bit to play with the other German. Once you’d met Lewis, though, it’d been all over. He was your hero, letting you cling to his back as he sauntered around the track in his big, lumbering canine appearance while Niki did his job.

Granted, you would be stared at regardless, especially with the mottled scars on your face and neck. Your scalp had, by some miracle, been mostly missed in the flames that had claimed your mother’s life. One of your fluffy ears was gone, a bumpy ridge of skin where your pale white fur should have shown through. Though your hair was growing back rather choppily, due to the emergency buzz cut the hospital had given you just a year before. It’s unfortunately, the only feature you don’t share with your mother, or Niki. It had been the same color as his sons— but now it’s near white. From the stress, according to your pediatrician.

Who, ironically, is also one of the reasons that you’re now legally, Niki’s pup. Clinging to him as he cooks breakfast. Altogether, he’s not doing too bad this time around when it comes to parenting. You’re picking up German quickly. You're advanced in many subjects, and the therapy (both physical and mental) is doing wonders for you.

“Eggs are for dummies,” you grumble, face against his shoulder as you glare at the pan, your good ear flattened against your head. “I don’t like eggs. S’not good meat.”

“That’s not true,” Niki sets you down, to look at you sternly for a second. “Eggs are full of protein. They’re good for you. Meat is protein. Eggs are like super meat. Now, do you want cheese or not?”

You squint at him suspiciously, not bothering to answer the question. “My other grandma said good wolves eat only meat.”

There it is again. Another mention of the oddities of your Dam’s pack. Very traditional it seems, teaching you about the proper place of each designation.

“Was your other grandma a race car driver, like I was?” Niki asks, and you tilt your head as if thinking, before then grinning at him as you shake a ‘no’ out. “Richtig. Eggs will help you grow into a big strong wolf, like Lewis or Micheal.” Niki sighs, and you immediately brighten, ears popping up in interest. You’re too much like Lukas and Mathias, both of them had a similar phase of only being able to partially shift. Perhaps your biological father had, too. But Niki pushes that down, and instead turns his attention to getting the eggs from the pan, hoping they haven’t burnt.

“Can we see them again? Will Lukas and Matt be there?” You start to squirm beside him, and he laughs, loud and happy. “Please please please—”

“I will call and ask,” Niki says, when the eggs are finally cooled enough that he feels safe enough to give them to you without you burning the roof of your mouth or tongue. “Eat these slowly, bitte meine maus—”

“Danke!” And you eat from the plate with a ravenous hunger and stare at him expectantly for more when you finish your eggs in minutes, one of your little fangs jutting out over your lower lip. You look at the empty plate, and then to him. “More?” And then a look of concentration settles on your face. “Mehr?”

“You need to eat slower,” Niki sighs, and crouches down to be on your level, ignoring how his knees pop, and the way you whine, little ears folding down as he looks at you. “I’ll always have food for you to eat.”

“But what if you don’t?” You whimper, and he pulls you into a hug, hating how your scent has lost the youthful, milky aroma a pup should have. You don’t smell at all like a pup your age should– your scent glands had been damaged by the flames of your mother’s home burning. Too mature, with only a hint of the milky smell associated with youth. You’re even having trouble picking up on the scents of others, needing to get much closer to them. Your therapist and pediatrician had recommended a service dog. Whenever you present, part of Niki is worried. Worried that you’ll think yourself inadequate of a much too harsh world for those who were injured and disabled.

“I promise, so long as you are my pup, I will make sure you will never want for food again.” Niki whispers, bending down to look you in the eyes. Ignoring how his knees pop and groan as he kneels beside you. Hands coming to cup your cheeks. “And you will always be my pup. No matter what anyone may say.”

Mid February, 2024. London, England.

Oscar lets out a low, appreciative whistle when he steps into your London flat. Logan is already there, helping you unpack while Mathias and Lewis argue about what music should be put on. Niki is ordering takeout and rolling his eyes over some vegan order Lewis insisted on making. And Lukas is very dramatically telling your new service dog, Eggroll, about how terrible his day has been. Holding her to his chest and walking around the living room. She perks up when she sees you, and lets out a loud bay, wanting to be closer to you.

When she is let down, she pads over to you happily, tail wagging and droopy ears lifted ever so slightly. Her claws click on the wood floors, and she bays again when she realizes someone else is with you, laying immediately with her nose in her paws, as if to express her disgust. Oscar holds out his hand while Lukas settles to rest his chin on top of your head, complaining about how you need to get better snacks if he’s expected to visit often. But Eggroll’s eyes are back on you, your devoted little lady following your every step as you make your way into the living room, Oscar behind you. The beagle then jumps onto the couch and lets out a dramatic sigh. She doesn’t need to work right now, not while you’re surrounded by those you consider your pack. So she rolls on her back, asking for belly rubs while looking up at you pitifully. Like she didn’t pull an entire pumpkin roll down from the counter that you’d baked last week.

“Nice place. A bit far, though,” Oscar says as he witnesses Mattias and Lewis start to wrestle on the floor while Logan just carefully sets a little nick-nack from the box he’s unpacking onto the window sill, admiring the little figurine.

“Not really. It’s like… half an hour?” The American approaches, leaning down just a bit to gently press his nose against Oscar’s, greeting his courting partner happily. “Plus, that’s nothing to how far people have to drive sometimes. The nearest Walmart—”

“So American of you to mention Walmart,” Lukas grumbles dramatically, but there’s a fondness in his tone as he pulls the skinny man in to ruffle his hair, earning a squawk of protest from Logan, before your older brother leaves to go lay beside the dog.

“Besides. I’d rather have a better work-life separation this time around,” your tone is dry, and for a moment, a flash of guilt crosses Logan’s face before it’s gone, replaced by a smirk.

“Holding onto your hatred for Lando isn’t a good work-life balance!” He says in a sing-song voice, and that makes not only Lewis temporarily stop wrestling with Mathias on the floor, but also makes Niki cover the receiver of the phone with one of his hands, looking at you in confusion. Your cheeks puff up, and without even saying anything, your two closest friends in the world are now badgering you about how consistently annoyed you still are with Lando Norris after just a week of working with him in preparation for Spring testing.

“He’s a brat,”

“And you aren’t?” Niki says dryly, which makes you puff up again, this time with your chest. Niki looks at you, looking at you with a raised eyebrow, the scar tissue scrunching slightly. “I spoiled you rotten, meine kleine Maus.”

“Favorite pup,” Mathias mutters, but it’s sweeter, his chin on top of your head like Lukas had done after he’s done getting up off of the floor, smugly glaring at Lewis from where he was nestled. “I mean, you behaved better than we did.”

“Not really,” Niki tuts, walking over to cuff one of Mathias’s ears, laughing as he sees the more wolf-like traits on her head. “You didn’t see her throwing a tantrum over not having ham.”

“Ham?” Logan tilts his head. “You threw a tantrum over ham?”

“I was like, six!”

“And you were the most adorable little thing in the world,” Niki sighs, shaking his head as he puts his chin in his hand, a small smile on his face. “So tiny. You would constantly want my attention. Kept hanging onto my legs whenever we were in public.”

“I remember those days,” Lewis says wistfully, as if remembering how you used to cling to him whenever Niki was off working at Ferrari before transferring to Mercedes when the team reformed. “I think I got a picture of that framed, somewhere. Where you were tugging on my ears during a break between free practices.”

“Ah! Yes, I did get that for you. When she was interning at Mercedes, under Bono,” Niki grins, and looks back at you, pride deep in his eyes. “My pups. All so talented. So smart. Look at you all now!”

Lukas, Mathias, and yourself don’t even have time to protest when he starts to babble in German over you, looking at the little trio in front of him fondly. Lukas looks like he wants to combust. Mathias is stone faced as usual, but the pink flush on his skin does little to hide his embarrassment, especially in front of so many people he considers pack.

“Sisi,” you whine, putting the heels of your palms into your eyes, groaning loudly in embarrassment as your pack starts to move around you, working to make the task of unpacking go quicker as everything settles back into place.

One more person joins the fray, with Nico Rosberg happily prancing into the flat just thirty minutes later. You go straight to pouting in his arms, and he just looks smugly at his mate. Niki goes back into the kitchen to help Mathias organize and clean everything on the countertops. Lukas has stocked the cupboards and cabinets.

“They’re horrible, I know, Nesthäkchen.” Nico coos, and you just curl further into him, sniffing quite dramatically as Lewis chuffs, hiding his laughter as he noses at his mate’s hairline. “So mean.”

But there is a knowing look behind his eyes, as he meets Lewis’s gaze. Both are grinning. Wordlessly communicating with each other in a way only they can do.

Oscar watches this all a bit curiously, as he and Logan help slide several books into place on one of the many bookshelves around the room. His breathing stutters whenever Logan’s fingers so much as brush against his. And he wonders if he’ll be able to communicate with Logan the way Lewis and Nico can. Or even Niki and Marlene, despite the fact they weren’t together anymore.

Another brush of Logan’s fingers against his makes his breathing nearly stop when it turns into the American lacing them together, and slowly bringing Oscar’s hand to his mouth, placing a sweet kiss on the back of his hand. Blue eyes sparkle with mischief as he looks back at him, smiling when Oscar flushes pink.

Caught you. Logan’s eyes seem to say.

Maybe they will be able to communicate like that one day. But until then, Oscar will settle for this, as he shyly smiles at Logan.

Early August, 2005. Hof bei Salzburg, Österreich.

You are finally cleared to leave the hospital. After nearly five months in the hospital— the longest stay being for three of those months in a private hospital in Vienna— you are allowed to leave.

Marlene had helped him pack the day before. Lukas and Mathias had cuddled you for hours in their canine forms, both of them soothing your anxiety. You’d fallen asleep like that after dinner before they’d left to go make sure the house was ready. You were still hugging the scented wolf plush that was doused in their scents when morning came and it was time to leave.

And the funniest part? You’re not even awake when you do leave. Asleep in Niki’s arms, drooling slightly as he holds you, your unbrunt cheek pressed against his shoulder. There’s no paparazzi, no worries about anyone getting a picture of you before you are ready to make a public appearance, not this time.

So Niki hunkers down for the three-hour drive, sitting in the back seat of the car while Micheal drives. Because, Micheal, even now, even when on a break is more than willing to help out the elder German-speaking driver as he adjusts to raising a child. Again.

“She is tiny,” Micheal marvels while looking at your sleeping form, from where he waits by the car, opening the back door for Niki. “Are you sure she is really almost five?”

“She’s a runt,” Niki murmurs, speaking German so you don’t understand him. You’ve taken to the language well, but you’re still getting used to everything. “She will grow. This… chaos hasn’t helped. Her therapist said she will eat more, when she adjusts.”

“Poor thing,” Micheal coos, eyes soft. And Niki can tell he’s thinking of his own pups. “She is a Lauda. A good, strong Austrian lion.”

“No, Laudas are rats,” Niki corrects, smiling down at you as you shift in his arms, mumbling a slurring string of English in your sleep. “...the rats survive in the end. But… perhaps she is more of a mouse. Fierce but small.”

“A mouse?”

“Clearly you never heard stories of them in labs.” Niki shifts you in his arms, letting you snuggle against his chest. You’re all but bald, the hair fully shaved. He’s been letting you steal his baseball cap whenever you go outside. Letting you hide the shaggy mess your hair currently is. “Mice may be smaller… but they are twice as fierce. Just as clever. Only more compact. Faster.”

“How do you know about how mice act in labs?”

“Mathias talks quite fiercely about how unfair the treatment is,” Niki chuckles, while thinking of his son. “He’s quite close with the Hamilton boy… the one that McLaren is helping to raise up.”

The drive is otherwise quiet. You wake up an hour in, yawning loudly and showing off the little fangs you’ve grown. You had lost your first milk tooth while in hospital. Your right lower canine. And Niki had gone all out for it. Wanting you to feel as loved and welcomed into his pack as possible. He would have had the entirety of the grid there, had it not been a Monday right after a race.

But Micheal had made time. Coming into the room with his pups and mate, grinning broadly, and listening to you shyly talk about what the tooth fairy had brought to you. Your new sire may have gone… slightly overboard, showering you with gifts. But so had your older brothers! Lukas and Mathias had snuck in sweets that you definitely weren’t supposed to be eating, for the sake of the medications you were on. You were surrounded by all the gifts, many of them you hadn’t even come to open yet.

Little did you know you had a mountain of gifts waiting for you at the house. A whole room to yourself, right across from Niki’s.

“Sisi… where’we at?” You blink, your words still slurred from sleep. Just as you shake your head a bit, as if to wake yourself up, your ears lengthen, fluffy and soft. You’d started calling him Sisi, an easier way for you to pronounce Sire. “Gotta pee.”

“Hallo, little mouse!” Micheal looks back for just a second, grinning. “I’ll pull over soon, Kleiner.”

You just hum, peeking out the window from where you’re settled in Niki’s arms. Eyes wide as you look at the tall mountains around you while Micheal pulls into a place to stop. You don’t protest when Niki doesn’t let you walk on your own, even though you can, just hiding your face a little bit more in his neck as you go outside of the car. There aren’t any paparazzi around, too caught up in other issues. But a few eyes bulge out of people’s heads, seeing Micheal Schumacher and Niki Lauda at a gas station. You’re now in Micheal’s arms, carefully repeating the names of candies and sodas that are unique to the German-speaking world while Niki pays for a few softer snacks, already doctor-approved from an extensive list of foods.

You sit in the backseat on Niki’s lap while softly chewing on sliced apples and watching the world blur outside the windows. Micheal chatters happily, talking about how much fun you’ll have living with Niki. You fall back asleep after your snack and curl up against your Sisi, knowing that you’re in the safest place possible now.

When you do arrive, you’re surprised by most of the German-speaking grid being there. You cling to Niki most of the time, but hesitantly open up, answering shyly when spoken to. Nico Rosberg, a young, yet promising star, is the first to make you smile besides your grandfather, rolling over on his back while you shriek in delight, play fighting.

Late February, 2024. Sakhir, Bahrain.

“Miss Lauda— any comments on the tension between yourself and your driver? A bit of trouble in paradise, would you say?”

Jenson’s words are careful. Almost kind. You want to growl at the layers he’s woven into his question.

“You mean not being a kiss-ass?”

The former McLaren driver splutters for a second, before laughing loudly as he looks at you. The camera seems to focus on your scowl. The first day of spring training, and you’re already being hounded.

“No, I’m being serious. I’m just not a kiss-ass. Why do people think that’s a big hint at tension?” You grumble, your grip on the mic a bit tighter. You’re not wearing the normal makeup. Too hot, even during what is supposedly a cold season in Sakhir. Damn your sensitive skin, and damn the insistence that spring testing always be so far away! “You must remember your time at McLaren, Button.”

“Jesus, you’re like your father.” Jenson rubs a hand down his face, looking at you with a partially hidden smile. You can see the PR officer in papaya just behind him, a horrified expression on her face at your bluntness and overall hostile demeanor. “Well, thank you for your comments, and it’s great to see you back in the paddock, even if it’s not with Williams.”

The moment the cameras cut, he winces at his final sentence. You just stare at him blankly, about to ask why he’d even had to mention the team, while the press officer practically jumps on you, giving you an earful about how bad that went. You just look miserable, the entire time. Jenson knows exactly what went down— he’d been the one to pull Logan off of him.

And Eggroll?

Laying at your feet. Unfortunately not alerting to anything around you that could possibly trigger you, which means you have no excuse to blow her off. Or snarl at Jenson for his roping you into an interview when all you wanted to do was curl up in your nest at the motorhome before your next briefing. But the Beta looks like a kicked puppy already, so you soften, taking in a deep breath, and then pushing the air out through your nose.

Traitor. You look at the beagle. Who just relaxes even more, her little high-vis vest and multiple service dog patches scuffing against the ground.

“Maybe don’t let them talk to me then.”

“You’re a Lauda!”

“And?” You don’t even look at her as she lectures you. Your left ear is ringing, making your head pound as you stalk forward. “I am very aware of that.”

“They’ll want to talk to you!”

You just grunt, walking as fast as your leg allows. Eggroll beside you, eventually letting out a very sharp bark at the PR officer when her voice gets just a bit too shrill.

“Maybe I don’t want to talk to them. Isn’t that sort of Oscar and Lando’s job?” You retort back, your upper lip drawn back as you look at her. Eggroll licks your ankle, soothing the anger and anxiety that threatens to spill out. You pause, and then bend down to lift up the dog into your arms, letting her lick your face until the acrid scent of your anxiety fades. No one else but you can smell it. The scent blockers made sure of it. “....I am not a driver. I am not my grandfather nor a racer. I do not want to be interviewed unless it’s scheduled and approved by Andrea or Zak.”

The PR officer bites down on her lower lip, eyes flashing with just a bit of annoyance as you leave to go sit in a private area of the McLaren Motorhome.

Every motorhome was required to have rooms that could lock from the inside for anyone to nest in. Nesting was traditionally thought to be an omega’s task, typically done to self-soothe during heats or stressful situations. But, that hadn’t been the case for nearly thirty years, with more and more studies showing that nesting was a natural behavior that all designations took part in.

You took advantage of that, using it to hide your actual designation while being able to nest in a private room to ground yourself. Breathe in, breathe out. Scent-blocking patches off. Snuggled against Eggroll and the plush wolf that smelled like your pack, and the soft rabbit of your dam’s scent. It wasn’t perfect— some of the subtleties of the long-lost scent were missing from the little plush bunny Niki had given you when you were first put in his care. Eggroll nuzzles into your side, laying on top of you for deep-pressure therapy like she’s been trained to help keep you calm. Your nose is pressed into the side of the little rabbit, and you close your eyes very briefly.

Mountain rain. Slightly-rotten leaves. Firewood. That’s what your mother had smelled like. But it’s… it’s still not quite right. And maybe it’s the nostalgia for the woman you hardly got to know, and the milky scent that had once clung to you, but it’s never been quite right.

According to Niki, you’d never smelled like a pup should when he first found you. Your initial panic presentation in the hospital had made you lose your natural pup scent. No milkiness. None of the sweetness that you were meant to smell like. It had thrown your Sisi for a loop, apparently, and then made him even more protective of you.

While you had no memories of that time— and quite honestly, perhaps only one or two blurry ones of your dam from before the fire— you knew the scent wasn’t right. There was something missing.

Something you’d never be able to smell after the fire. All you do remember about your dam is warmth. Blurry images of being curled up against her on a green, plaid couch. Soft purrs that had since almost faded completely. You don’t remember her voice. You don’t remember her face. You do have a picture of her with you as an infant, tiny fists balled up and your mouth open in a wail. And she’s still smiling at you, a sliver of her teeth visible while she looks at you in her arms, her hair pulled back and out of her face.

Now you only have the first name she’d given you when you were born and the same designation she had. You turn in the nest a bit, studying the little rabbit you’re cuddling into. Eggroll shifts a little, adjusting, and continuing to lay on you, pressing her wet nose into your neck.

They’d gotten the scent from the few pieces of clothing that had survived the fire. Under all the scent of the burned house, a dangerous mix of chemical fire and melted plastic, was your dam’s scent, and how Niki had been able to get you the little rabbit.

Breathe in, breathe out. Try to come to terms with everything all over again. Eggroll’s back paws dig into your stomach, forcibly grounding you, and without even thinking, a whimper slips past your lips and you just close your eyes to sleep as you curl deeper in the nest, only vaguely aware that there are faint footsteps pacing outside of your locked door, heading towards the single-digit nesting rooms.

Lando needed to find the nesting suites. He’s well exhausted after the first day of testing, and has been itching to curl under the blankets he’d carefully packed, scented like his Dam and Sire, with his little nieces and littermates, and even Carlos and Max. His pack. People who made him feel loved and needed even when they fought.

When he passes the teen-number doors, he stops when he smells something heavenly in the middle of the open area where all the doors to the suites are. It’s a wide hallway, with soft yellow lighting and a plush carpet. A few hampers to throw blankets in. A few doors are already closed, showing they’re in use. But the twelth door… that’s where the scent is coming from! A scent that’s screaming for him to follow it and find the person it comes from.

Morning rain. Freshly fallen leaves. Peach cobbler.

He doesn’t know who smells like that in McLaren but he has to find them. The instinctual alpha part of his brain tells him so— they’re important, they need to be cherished, they need to know how badly he wants to know them!

Even if Lando knows what door the person’s in, he’ll never know who they are until he sees them walk out, if he ever does. The nesting rooms are meant to be private for a reason. So Lando takes a final forlorn look at door number twelve, and goes into number four, holding onto the beautiful scent as he presses the blankets into a border of the plush mattress.

Find scent. Find and protect and love, his inner alpha whimpers, despite his more logical side knowing that he would be in quite a bit of trouble if he so much as brushed against the door while his instincts were in control. So he melts into his canine form, tucks his paws under his head, and takes a nap, pushing away the stress of the day and focusing on the wonderful scent of the mystery person behind door twelve, and wondering just who could make him feel so weak in the knees without even getting a chance to see them.

tags: @charlesgirl16 @boo8008 @the-holy-trinity-l @laura-naruto-fan1998 @amalialeclerc @vellicora @st0rmzi3 @poppyflower-22 @hiireadstuff @seonghwaexile @mrsmelinda

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

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theaspsaroaceimagines · 11 months ago

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You asked for it. Now you get

EVEN MORE Hazbin Hotel x God of Death! Reader

spoiler for episodes 7 & 8

It turns out you arrived at just the right time, actually.

The Extermination is soon and Charlie and co. need as much help as they can get defending the Hotel.

It's just your luck, you came for a vacation, and you still have to work.

You're a little surprised Carmilla Carmine discovered the angels' weakness.

But only a little. She is an arms dealer, after all.

To be honest, you should have realized it happened sooner when the dead angel's soul showed up in Limbo, but you can't actually tell the naked souls of a demon and an exorcist apart.

They're honestly equally corrupted.

You help train the demons who've chosen to defend the Hotel, it's pretty brutal.

Except for Alastor, he chose to skip training; a mistake you won't let him make again.

When the exorcists attack, you are calm and collected. You have no reason to fear for yourself.

That doesn't mean you don't fight fiercely, though.

It's the first time in thousands of years that anyone's been able to lucidly see you in action.

You're untouchable, dodging and blocking every blow directed at you.

You attack in turn with the Soul Reaper, a weapon that changes form between any kind of scythe or sickle based on what's most useful at a given moment.

For example, it can be an ordinary scythe while blocking, a sickle during a close range attack, and a kusarigama when you want to pull an opponent into close range from further away.

The exorcists don't recognize you, too blinded by their hatred for demon-kind to see you for what you are.

It's hardly even a challenge.

You notice quickly when Adam joins the fight, though you let Alastor fight him for a few seconds before stepping in.

You suppose you can allow him to defend his pride a little bit.

You won't let him die now, though, it's too early. He has yet to serve his purpose.

You try to keep Adam occupied. You really do.

However, you're unable to prevent him from disintegrating Pentious's airship.

You drop the fight the instant it's happened.

Seeing as Pentious sacrificed himself for the others, you figure he's earned a one-way trip to Heaven.

You carry his shell-shocked soul straight to the seraphim.

"Special delivery! Also, friendly reminder, I'm the one who decides where a soul goes and when it goes there. Maybe consult me the next time you have a question of if a transfer is possible, Sera."

You fucking slap her.

When you return to the battle, Lucifer and Charlie are struggling to fight Adam while minimizing collateral damage.

Time to fix your mistake.

You tackle him.

"You again?! Who the fuck are you?!" "You already know me, Adam. You just don't remember."

You knock him off his feet.

"I'm Death. Taking you to Heaven was a mistake. One I won't soon repeat."

You slice his wings clean off.

You would have left it at that, but then Niffty stabs him from behind with a blessed dagger.

Great. Now you have to deal with him in your home.

Whatever, you'll just keep him in stasis until you're tired of him taking up space.

Then you'll deposit him in Hell where he belongs.

#Death Deity! Reader #hazbin hotel reader insert #hazbin hotel x reader #reader insert #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x death! reader #hazbin hotel spoilers

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redflagshipwriter · 10 months ago

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Hot Ghouls in your area 7

masterpost

Chapter 7

…Jason slowly put down the book and turned it cover up, shell-shocked from that interaction. He lifted his phone and took a photo. He sent it to Roy.

“What do you see?” He typed. Jason bit his lower lip and tried not to scowl while he waited for a response.

It wasn’t that Jason was unused to conflict. Jason was great at conflict. He won every conflict! (Almost.) But what the hell had this shit been? Why had that guy been so pissy about the book? What the hell was wrong with the book that Jason didn’t see?

“Gibberish?” Roy texted back a few minutes later. “It gives the impression of wonky Cyrillic to me. But it's got a terrible energy to it. The hell is that?”

Jason looked at the cover. To his eyes, there was a serif font declaring it Sense and Sensibility Universe D version 5.

“Thanks,” he sent, ignoring the question and then the barrage of heart emojis. Shit, okay.

That answered one question. But it didn't answer enough. What the fuck had that college kid been seeing that was so offensive?

‘And why'd he think we would meet again?’

Jason pushed deep, deep down any awareness that he hoped it was true. That had been weird enough that it would bother him forever if he didn’t get answers.

He sort of hated the idea of getting his nosy family involved, but they would ask different and in some ways, less annoying questions than other groups he could poll. They'd know not to lie to him, at least. So he sent the picture on to the family group chat with the same question and grimly finished his tea.

The elderly proprietor came out then and noticed that her other customer was gone. She looked confused for a moment, scanning the seat to see if his book bag was still there. She picked up the cash he'd left on the table and then started stacking dishes.

‘He’s a regular,’ Jason guessed, honing in on the opportunity to learn more. He flipped the book open but held the apparently offensive cover down towards the table, out of her line of sight. He needed to know what had gone so wrong. Jason wasn’t normally the kind of person that cute college kids had beef with.

He'd never been in this café before, his intuition had just told him to duck inside.

“I think he forgot something,” Jason offered casually, pretending to just look up from his book. “Ran out real quick in a panic.”

The lady let out a soft “Ahhh,” of comprehension. “Something for his afternoon class, perhaps,” she agreed, looking a little happier.

“Yeah, it looked like he was getting ready to settle in for a long study session and then he bolted,” Jason lied, watching her underneath his lashes. He had been paying a little more attention than he ought to when the guy came in. He was Jason’s type, aside from the thing where he’d hated Jason’s face for no apparent reason-

‘No, actually, everyone I’ve ever been into hated me on sight.’

Ouch. As Jason digested that embarrassing truth, the owner continued talking.

“He does that,” she agreed, apparently not thinking it was odd at all for them to talk about the habits of another customer. “Tuesdays and Thursdays. He's a sharp cookie, did you know that?” She continued, and oh, she had halfway adopted this college kid, huh? There was warmth and a hint of pride in her tone.

Jason valiantly swallowed the snort. “He looks familiar, but I don't think we have classes together,” he fished.

“Mm, he's doing some kind of math and engineering,” the lady helpfully supplied. She gave Jason her full attention as she stood up from the table. “And you?”

“Modern language and literature,” Jason said, and sort of wished it was true. He didn't really have the time. Did he? Spoiler was a full-time student, wasn't she? …Huh.

While he chewed that over, the lady had drifted a couple steps closer.

“...Those are two meaningfully different courses?”

“Modern language is learning additional languages, I'm doing Russian and Greek right now,” Jason lied easily. He was fluent in both already. “Literature is mostly classics, for my purposes. I'm focusing on Regency Lit.”

She looked very interested, but she detoured away to deposit the dirty dishes behind the counter. They kept up a light conversation about books as she wiped off the table and reset for the next customer.

When she left, he finally had the chance to check his messages. There was a full-on fight in the group chat. The last message was from Stephanie. She had tagged him and asked, “Is this an optical illusion??? Like that dress?”

Ah, fuck. Jason felt a rock settle in his stomach at the confirmation that something hinky was going on.

‘I can’t read this in public if it’s saying something I can’t control or even know.’

Fucking hell. Jason scrolled back up and checked. Damian listed the correct title. Dick saw what, ‘I thought was Greek at first.’ Stephanie might have been joking but she argued vigorously that it was pictographs that started with a bird. Drake had sent “You rediscovered Minoan Linear A? Cool.” and then not participated in any follow-up discussions. Duke had sent only a stream of confused and tearful emojis.

Cass had marked it read.

“Fair enough, I guess,” Jason muttered to himself. Resentfully he put the book back in his bag.

What had that guy seen? If he’d just seen something foreign but illegible he wouldn’t have gotten so pissy about it. And who the hell had he been, anyway? Why was he so special?

Well. That was something to do with his afternoon. Jason paid up his bill and gave Phyllis his well-wishes for her doctor’s appointment tomorrow on the way out. Phyllis was a good contact, he would definitely come back for more of her jasmine tea no matter how mad that guy got at him.

…Jason really needed a name.

And found…

He headed to Gotham University and used the student computers to look up departments and then hack into the registrar. Jason flipped through photos until he found his guy: Danny Fenton, 19, sophomore double-major in the Engineering department. Good grades, no notes on his account about academic dishonesty or conflict.

'Little weird to meet two Dannys in a 24 hour period.'

Jason searched the guy online and found…

He let his mouth drop open in disbelief at the batshit insane website design he had stumbled into. The Fenton family had a website, apparently, and they had maybe let a 7 year old design it in 2008. The colors… The lack of centering… The.. the neon choices.

His eyes watered. It took a while to fight down his aesthetic grief and actually start comprehending the text.

He had expected this to be like, an online family newsletter. And it was! The link he had followed detailed “Danno going to college in the big city!!!” The boy himself looked extremely resigned in the attached photo. Seriously, Jason had seen much less mortified mugshots. The thing was, that on the same page, alongside posts about other kids going college (Jazzypants!) and someone called Alicia recovering from “supergout!” with "her eight favorite toes remaining!!!", there was also a lot of mention of ghosts.

Like, a lot.

Jason scrolled in pained disbelief. There were photos that showed extremely weird and dismayed green people obviously flinching away from a camera. A beautiful green woman with her hair halfway over her face snarled through a flood of smoke under the title “Wishywish Ghostie Interviewed: Learn what drives her generous heart!” and an ugly robot motherfucker was seen fleeing under the caption, “Skalker indicates that spook is a GHOST SLUR!”

….Was it a shit post? Just one long shitpost? It had to be a joke site.

Well. No. Jason buried his face in his hands and came to terms with the horrible fact that not only were ghosts real, he was accidentally married to one and this bombastic midwestern family already knew about it. This was his best lead for getting that 'beyond death do you part' separation.

They had been blasting the existence of ghosts for all the world to read, and it hadn’t been news. The Justice League didn’t know about this whole society. The journalism done by– Jason lifted his head to check– Jack Fenton interviewing clearly very unwilling ghosts was the only primary source that he knew of.

He took a few deep breaths. He came to terms with grief. He decided to block his family from any further involvement in this shitshow, for what remained of his dignity. And he grimly noted down Jack Fenton’s email.

Jason cleared this history and closed down his tabs, feeling a decade older than he had when he had entered the library. He ignored the sultry ‘come talk to me’ eye contact that the student worker was shooting him from behind the counter as he slouched out.

He stopped for a moment on top of the stairs to watch campus move. He saw the theatre building and the modern language headquarters from his vantage point, along with about half of the student center. There was just a trickle of foot traffic between buildings along paved paths. A few people were hanging out on blankets in the grass. An old man in a suit was taking a phone call next to a crawling rose garden.

‘Maybe I should go to school.’

Well. After this shit was sorted out. Obviously he could not go to school before he got divorced. It would be torturous to hang out with cute boys his age and be committed to some hot dead mermaid who didn’t even wanna make out with him sloppy. Loser shit on absolutely every level, goddamn.

Jason shoved his hands in his pockets and jogged down the stairs. He kept an eye out for Danny, but had no luck.

Not that he cared. It was interesting that he had a lead: Danny clearly had some connection to ghosts, and he had been able to read…

‘Maybe he realized it was a ghost’s property and he thought I stole it?’ Jason realized in a stroke of inspiration. That made more sense. If he knew enough to recognize it as ghost language or whatever, then he might have felt affronted about Jason having it.

He went through his mental checklist to pick out what he did and didn’t know. Once he felt he had a hang on his priorities, he beelined to his own laptop in his favorite safehouse and started looking into the Fentons in more depth.

It was a great lead. It was suspiciously good, in fact, he thought as he found Jack Fenton’s online family newsletter again. What were the odds that he would run into Danny Fenton in a cafe that Jason had never even been in before? It had been a total fluke that he’d entered. He’d been walking past to a favorite place and then just had the urge to try the dark little family cafe.

‘…Ah, fuck’, Jason sighed. More ghost shit. It had to be. Something about Danny Fenton’s ghost shit had registered to him now that he’d been exposed to ghost central.

#red hot ghouls #dp x dc #dc x dp #dead on main

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cheolhub · 1 year ago

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sarrrrrrr🩷 happy bday to cheolhub!!! you are fr one of my favourite accounts on here. i always get so happy seeing ur name pop up on the dash whdjshsjs, i hope you’re doing well & drinking your water & looking after yourself 🫶

coulddddd i possibly req ❛ let me come in you, please. i want to fill you up. ❜ & precious vernon for your event? 🫶

8:01 p.m. – hansol vernon chwe

prompt. “let me come in you, please. i want to fill you up.”

wc. 2k+

warnings. unprotected sex for the first time, creampie, saying ‘i love you’ during sex, pet names [baby], a very needy couple ^^!!! — MINORS DNI 18+

note. j u are too sweet im gonna cry !!! thank you thank you thank you !!! i love u sm, i hope u like this >< i’ve been wanting to write vernon a lot recently so i went a little bit overboard with this one,,,, and it’s not my best so i apologize bsgsgs [not proofread, kinda rushed]

⇢ ˗ˏˋ join the birthday bash! ࿐ྂ

hansol vernon chwe has never been one for public displays of affection. any type of affection– kissing, hugging, holding hands, etc. it’s just awkward. it always is and he’d rather keep it to himself. keep you to himself.

and vernon is usually so patient when it comes to his hunger for you. he’s so virtuous and so composed. it’s admirable, really. but there are nights, like this one in particular, where he just wants to sink his teeth into you and mercilessly fuck you into the mattress.

these nights don’t come by very often. they rarely ever do, honestly. he only thinks tonight is different because he hasn’t touched you in over a week. there was no real reason for it, you just kept missing each other due to your taxing schedules.

so you planned a date on a night that you knew you were both free. something nice, giving you an excuse to doll yourself up for your boyfriend.

you did exactly that and vernon’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when he picked you up from your apartment. he thought you looked so fucking pretty. you looked so pretty gazing out the window in the passenger seat of his car. you looked so fucking pretty when you kindly laughed at the waiters joke (that wasn’t the slightest bit funny). you look so fucking pretty when you asked him, “are you okay, baby?”

he wasn’t. how could he be okay when all he wanted was to put his hands on you and inhale the scent of your seductive perfume? how could he be okay when his cock was straining in his pants begging to be inside of you? how the fuck could he be okay when he needed you so fucking bad?

of course, you could tell he was anything but fine. your boyfriend was stoic sometimes, but he always wears his emotions all over his pretty face. his carnal desire became obvious when he placed his hand on your thigh, squeezing at your flesh. and even more obvious when he pressed a few kisses to your jaw. and then blatantly obvious when he pressed his lips to the shell of your ear and said, “i’d rather eat something else.”

so you ate half your meal, paid the bill, and got the hell out of there because, if you were being completely transparent, you missed the way his cock felt inside of you. you missed tugging at his hair and marking his skin and the messy, messy kisses you always share. you missed him and a week apart from your lover was 5 days way too long.

he’s already pressing his lips to the back of your neck by the time you get up to your apartment’s door, leaving wet kisses on your scolding hot skin. it’s distracting and your hands keep fumbling the keys, but you eventually get the two of you in. you lock the door and he practically chases you to your room, both of you breathily giggling.

upon arrival, his hands are grasping and pulling at the clothing on your body in attempts to rip them off while yours do the same with his.

“need you so bad, baby.” he mumbles during his conquest, pulling almost everything off of you.

when he sees the pretty set underneath your date outfit, he’s left breathless. shocked. and it’s not because he’s never seen you in something this pretty, but it’s that he’s right about to bust a load in his jeans.

he groans, “fuck, i think i’m gonna cum.”

“you’re cute.” you smile cheekily, pulling him on the bed with you. “better not be before i get to feel you, though.”

“i’ll try,” he grunts, his cock twitching and throbbing in what feels like the world’s tightest boxers.

you lay against your plush pillows, slipping your panties off and throwing them to the side, exposing your soaked pussy to the cool air that circulates through your room. you suck in through your teeth, spreading your legs open. “condom?” you ask expectantly.

he furrows his brows. “you don’t have any?”

you crack a grin at the frown that appears on his face when you shake your head. “you’re the one with a dick here! you should always keep one on you for emergencies. this would’ve been the perfect emergency.”

“baby, we used all my emergency condoms and i forgot to buy more.” he huffs in frustration. “i can just run to the market and grab some. it’s not that big of a deal.”

it is a big deal. his cock is aching.

you look at him in awe, “you’re that desperate? you’re gonna go all the way to the store and buy condoms, hansol?”

not that you’re any less desperate the way you clench around nothing and ruin the sheets under you.

he deadpans at your subtle teasing, “yes.”

you hum, stomach twisting in anticipation at a vulgar thought that pops into your head.

he could… just not use one.

he could fuck you raw and you could feel everything. “what if…” you shudder before you can even get the thought out. “what if we don’t use one?”

you think his face drains of color. “w-what?” he stutters, unsure if he heard you correctly. “baby… what did you say?”

you bite your lip for a second, feeling heat spread like wildfire through your entire body. “we can do it… without the condom. if you want?”

vernon is going to cum– untouched, in fact– just at the mere thought of it. of-fucking-course he wants to, what kind of idiot would pass that up? (read: someone who isn’t actually an idiot)

“what about…” he trails off as his wide eyes look at your tummy.

“i started birth control a while ago, baby, don’t worry.” you whisper. “it’s only if you're comfortable… but i’m okay with it… i trust you. and i wanna feel you.”

his heart pounds erratically and he’s tugging his boxers down before he can even form a proper response. his hard, leaky cock slaps against his abdomen and all either of you can think about is how it’ll feel without the latex barrier.

he breathes out his words, as he presses against your drooling hole. “i’ll pull out.”

“okay, baby.” you pant, hands already gripping at the sheets in preparation.

though, you fear there was nothing you could do to prepare for this moment. feeling vernon’s cock— all of it— is amazing. heavenly… hot. you find yourself wishing you would’ve done this a lot earlier. you can’t believe how much of a difference there is.

you feel all the heat, all the veins that trace through his gorgeous cock, all the delicious friction and you’re fucking addicted to it.

“fuck, fuck, fuck,” vernon moans, jaw going slack and his face pinching in euphoric pleasure. “baby, fuck, you’re so tight— feels so good.”

vernon has never felt anything so perfect in all his years. he feels your walls flutter around his bare cock as he bottoms out, finally buried deep inside of you.

you wrap your arms around his neck and bring him down to press his mouth against yours. the entirety of the kiss is intense and passionate and you can’t think of a time you’ve felt this close to a man during sex. you can’t even recall a time you were this in love with a man.

you break, whining against his lips and tightly clenching around him. “move, please. need you to move.”

he nods hotly, pulling his hips back and pushing them back against yours. he does this a few times, slowly thrusting into you until he builds a steady, consistent speed. the bulbous tip of his cock rams into your sweet spot with every shove. you can’t help the cry that bubbles in your chest or the way your legs wrap around his waist tightly.

“hansol,” you mewl, one of your hands snaking between your bodies and rubbing at your clit. “i-i love you.”

he delivers a sharp thrust upon hearing your words. “i love you more, baby.” he responds with a wavered voice. “i missed you.”

you nod in agreement, clamping around him again, ultimately making vernon hiss. “me more,” you declare on a whine.

“not a chance.” he grunts out but it falls on deaf ears. his words are practically silenced by the lewd squelching and your cute sounds that bounce off the four walls.

and it’s all because vernon fucks you like his life depends on it. he feels your walls tightening around him with every thrust but there isn’t a single ounce of vigilance in his body. he wants to memorize every single second of this. burn all of this into his head. he wants to be able to recall the way your blunt fingernails dig into the smooth skin of his shoulders, your moans that sound even prettier in this moment, how your velvety walls flutter and pulse and grip around him as your cunt swallows him up.

his abdomen tightens, balls drawing up as he nears his desired release. before he can warn you, your breathing alarmingly picks up. your chest rises and falls rapidly, your whines and mewls get louder, you trap his cock in a tight grip, refusing to let him go, all the telltale signs of your impending orgasm.

“vern–vernon, baby,” you gasp, back arching off the bed and heels of your feet digging into his back. “baby, ‘m-m gonna cum. keep fucking me like that,” you plead, eyebrows coming together in gratification.

he obliges, snapping his hips against yours over and over till the tightrope in your tummy snaps. you come undone choking on a dry sob as your body seizes underneath his. you’re panting unevenly as you go lax, limp body weakly clinging to his as you attempt to come down from your high.

your orgasm is almost too much. too overstimulating for how high strung vernon is. he’s just about ready to explode, but he can’t bear to leave your spasming cunt.

“baby, i— god, i-i know it’s not safe— fuck—“ he babbles, anxiously panting out his words. “i know… know it’s not safe—but let me cum in you, please. i want to fill you up.”

you cry, nodding your head and weakly clamping around him at the thought of his warm seed flooding your cunt. “y-yes, fuck yes. please fill me up, ‘sollie!”

he curses under his breath, his cock twitching and brain fogging over at your permission. he gives you a few sloppy thrusts before he groans noisily, stilling and spilling his cum inside of you.

he twitches ceaselessly above you as his orgasm washes over him, head digging into the crook of your neck so he can drown out all of his throaty moans. they still echo throughout the room with your whiny pants.

the sensation of his release has your entire body surging with warmth. it has you feeling nothing but bliss and pure exhilaration— you’re on cloud nine.

“sorry,” he murmurs into your neck as his body collapses on top of yours. “couldn’t help it.”

your hand comes to thread through his hair, scratching at his head. “‘s okay, ‘sol.” you mumble back. “felt really good. don’t worry.”

“do you need a plan b?”

you snort, shaking your head. “no, i don’t think so, baby. told you i’m on the pill now.”

he lets out a breath— probably one of relief— followed by a muffled, “then… can we do this again soon?”

you smile, “yeah, babe, we can do this again soon.”

#[ birthday bash ! ]#[ ⭐️: mutuals ! ]#[ 🌎: j ! ]#[ 🐻‍❄️: hansol ! ]#vernon smut #svt smut #seventeen smut #hansol smut

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sansaorgana · 10 months ago

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Hello love! I've just found your Buck fics and I love them!! Please can you write one where Buck comes home from the war but he has nightmares from being in the POW camp and he always manages to wake himself up before he wakes the reader up but one night you wake up first and then the reader wakes him up and tries to calm him down and reassure him that he's safe. Just Buck clinging onto his girl to remind himself that he's home? Thank you!

hi love! 🌺 thank you for this request! I love writing Buck fics no matter what but tbh I was growing a bit tired of the stories happening on the base etc. and I'm in love with some domestic Buck back at home! the next story I am going to write is about dad!Buck and I can't wait to write that one, too 😻 btw I mentioned Meatball here as usual because I love this dog and I miss him and I know Buck is technically not his owner but I love to imagine him adopting Meatball after the war lol

my inbox is open for blurb/short fic requests for major cleven 🤗

You were lucky – not only was your husband back home, but he was back home normal. Except for a few scars on his face and a few on his body, Buck seemed to be completely alright. It was almost alarming how normal he was.

He was the same man he had been before the war. Not that you had known him for long before – you had gotten married pretty fast, knowing that he could not come back from Europe. But to you he seemed to be the same man. He was soft for you, always trying to give you a smile, calm and stoic most of the time but also could make a good joke or tease a little. He seemed to act the same and you always wondered about it. You knew that he had to live through unimaginable horrors up in the air and when he was in the German camp. But he would never talk about it and you didn’t want to push him to talk.

You were a member of the local society for military wives and widows. You had meetings twice a week in the evening in a room given to you for that purpose by the local church. This community had helped you a lot mentally when Buck was in Europe, especially when he was in Germany. There were women with stories like yours… but worse. Some husbands were lucky enough to come back like your Buck – nearly scratched on the surface. But all those wives would eventually come back with some depressive story. One husband started to drink, the other started to be abusive, a few were constantly shell-shocked. Or traumatised as it was called now.

But not your Buck.

Sometimes you felt stupid for even speaking during those meetings. You felt as if you had no right to be there. Everything was fine with your Buck. He had never been a drinker and he was not now either. Even the war couldn’t change that. He didn’t start to gamble or sleep around either. There were many stories of infidelity. But once again, not from your Buck.

You even asked him about it one day. You just couldn’t believe – after listening to all these women’s stories – that he had been such a good and loyal husband to you. But he only looked at you as if you were crazy.

No, your Buck was not a cheater either.

“Recently I feel like these other women there don’t like me,” you told your friend when you were walking back home after one of the meetings in the evening. It was dark already but you lived in a safe neighbourhood and on the same street. You had become friends because both of you had husbands in Europe. But hers hadn’t come back.

“I’m not going to lie, (Y/N),” she sighed as you stood in front of her house. All the lights inside were off. Poor thing lived all alone now. “It’s difficult not to envy you.”

“It’s not like Buck had it easy!” You got defensive. “He went through hell!”

“I know,” she smiled sadly. “But he doesn’t show it.”

“I’m lucky, I know,” you took a deep breath in.

“Yes, you are. But I feel like all of them are lucky. Even the ones with drinking and cheating husbands. I wish mine was like that, too… At least he’d be back with me,” her eyes filled with tears.

“Oh, darling…” You leaned in to give her a hug and kissed her cheeks. “Go, make yourself a tea, watch something on TV and go to sleep. I have to go now, it’s late. I’ll visit you tomorrow for coffee,” you promised her and she nodded her head.

You waved at each other goodbye and you crossed the street to go back home, too.

Surprisingly, Buck wasn’t waiting for you on the porch. He would usually do that because he wanted to make sure you’d come back home safely from the meetings.

Not only was he not on the porch but also all the lights inside your house were off, too. And when you wanted to enter the house, you noticed the doors were locked. You sighed and reached for the key inside your purse.

When you entered the house, you were greeted with silence. You locked the door behind you and took a walk around all the rooms on the ground floor. Meatball was sleeping on the carpet in the living room and you scratched him behind his ear before going upstairs.

Buck was in bed already, asleep. You smiled to yourself as you approached him to fix his duvet and put a kiss on his forehead. He had been struggling with a headache for the whole afternoon so you just wanted to leave him in peace, glad that he was finally resting. He looked so peaceful when he was asleep, just like a little boy.

Quietly, you went to the bathroom to prepare yourself to go to bed, too. It was still quite early but you didn’t want to wake him up with the sound of TV or a radio.

When you were in your nightgown already, you turned the light in the bathroom off and you joined Buck in bed. You weren’t very sleepy so you just laid on your side and watched his side profile. You smiled to yourself and caressed one of the scars on his cheek gently.

After a while, when you were starting to drift off to sleep, you got startled by Buck’s sudden movement. He tossed around as his face winced a little. You furrowed your brows and rested on your elbow. He moved once again and trembled as incoherent words were leaving his half-parted lips.

You realised he was having a nightmare and it was painful to watch. He no longer reminded you of a peaceful boy. He was scared. You had never seen your husband scared.

“Buck, baby,” you whispered softly as you grabbed his arm, trying to shake him out of his dream. “Buck, come back to me, hey…”

His eyes opened as he sat up rapidly, taking deep breaths and wiping the fresh sweat off of his face.

“Buck…” You asked quietly and he turned around like he was surprised to see you there.

“(Y/N)... You’re back already?” He furrowed his brows as his lower lip trembled.

“Yes. What’s going on?” You asked him and tried to move closer but he flinched. You remained still, feeling a little hurt at his rejection. “Buck, what’s going on? You had a nightmare?”

“Yes, it’s fine,” he lied.

“It happens sometimes. Why don’t you want me to touch you?” You asked, carefully.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” he confessed and hid his face in the palm of his hands.

“What?” You shook your head awkwardly. “You couldn’t know, come on, Gale, we all get bad dreams sometimes…” You caressed his back. His white shirt was wet from the sweat. You sighed and moved closer. He didn’t flinch this time and you tugged on the fabric of his shirt. “Come on, baby, let me help you change. You need a new pair of pyjamas.”

“It’s not sometimes,” he mumbled and you stopped pulling his shirt.

“Hm?” You asked and gently moved his hands away from his face. Your heart sank in your chest at the sight of the tears in the corners of your husband’s eyes. You had seen him cry only on special occasions like your wedding day or when he was back home. He hadn’t even cried when he was leaving because he didn’t want to make it even sadder and more difficult for you.

“I said…” Buck’s voice trembled, “that it’s not sometimes. I have them all the time, those dreams,” he explained.

You went silent for a while and then you left the bed to turn the small light on and sit back on the edge of the bed, holding his hands.

“Why haven’t you told me?” You asked, worryingly.

“I didn’t want you to worry and…” Buck took a deep breath in as he looked down. “...I didn’t want to spoil your life. I wanted to be the same as I was before. I didn’t want to come back only to ruin everything, to be weaker. It would be a disappointment for you.”

“Buck, stop,” you cupped his face and made him look at you again. His cheeks were damp already and it was breaking your heart. “I can’t listen to this, stop,” you shook your head and leaned in to press your forehead to his. “Baby, you can’t hide such things from me. You’re in pain and I’m your wife. I’m here to help you with the burden.”

“I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You are not one, you will never be. But you are carrying it and I want to help you. Oh, Buck, baby…” You hugged him and caressed the back of his head.

After a while of hesitation, he clinged to you and hid his face in the crook of your neck. You started to shush him and caress his back as you rocked him softly in your arms.

“Now, get out of that wet shirt,” you moved away slightly and helped him to take off his pyjamas.

You took them to the bathroom to put them in the laundry bin and you got him a fresh pair out of the closet.

“Do you want something to drink?” You asked and he shook his head as he was putting on his new pair of pyjamas. You waited for him to finish and you turned the light off before joining him in bed again.

“Gale, baby, come here,” you opened your arms and he laid his head down on your chest. You hugged him tight and placed a kiss upon his forehead. “What are your nightmares about?” You dared to ask.

“I’m back in Germany and they’re shooting us like dogs and I just… I just want to go back home to you,” he whispered as his voice broke. You felt tears forming in your eyes. “It’s so cold and I’m hungry and I realise that I won’t see you again. And it’s killing me to know that… That you’re here and you won’t ever see me again, too. And how heartbroken you will be when they tell you I’m dead. Even facing death I’m more scared and worried about you,” he continued. After opening up finally, he wanted to let it all out and you were listening to it while caressing his back gently. “I remember that song playing while we were dancing at our wedding. I remember you in that white dress, I remember your smile. And I think that’s when they kill me.”

“Gale…” you couldn’t stand to listen to it anymore. You didn’t want to shut him up but it was painful for you, too. “You’re home with me, love. You’re home with me, everything is alright now. You’re safe,” you assured him and leaned in to kiss the top of his head. “I won’t let anyone… anything, harm you,” you added.

Usually it was him telling you such things.

“Next time you have a nightmare, wake me up, please, baby,” you pleaded and he nodded but you knew he wouldn’t do that. He was too proud for that. You sighed and squeezed him tighter in your arms. “I love you, Gale.”

But he didn’t answer. He was already back asleep, tugging on your nightgown like a little boy. However, you were glad to see him so peaceful again.

It turned out that no man came back the same.

Not even your Buck.

MASTERLIST || BUCK MASTERLIST

#sansaorgana: Answered #lovely anons #lilysfiction #*buck #gale cleven x reader #austin butler x reader

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thedemoninme141 · 2 months ago

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Her Heartbeat; Chapter 15: Her Pain.

Summary: Wednesday doesn't understand how she had let this happen...

Warnings: EmotionalOutOfCharacterWednesday! A bit blood! But mostly Angst...

Parings: Wednesday x Fem reader. A bit of Wenclair friendship.

Chapter 1 ------- Previous Chapter

Her Heartbeat's Chapterlist.

Worklist

It had all happened so fast. One second, she’d been on the verge of…something. A confession, a kiss, a surrender—she didn’t know, and now it hardly mattered. Now she stood in front of the mirror and she hardly recognized herself.

Her dark hair, usually so perfectly groomed, was disheveled, with stray locks framing her face in a way that felt uncharacteristically wild. Her pallor was more pronounced than usual, the ashen tone of her skin bordering on sickly.

But it was her eyes that held her attention—wide, rimmed with a redness that betrayed the tears she refused to shed. She hated them, hated the weakness she saw staring back at her.

Her fingers gripped the edge of the sink so tightly that her knuckles turned white. The world around her had descended into chaos the moment you collapsed in her arms, and now…now you were in this hospital, surrounded by strangers and medical equipment, your fragile body fighting to survive. And Wednesday was here, staring at herself, useless.

“Turn off the damn smokes!” she had screamed, the desperation in her voice so raw and unguarded that it startled even her.

Through the haze of panic, she saw Enid’s ears perk up from across the dance floor. The werewolf immediately darted to the sound booth. In seconds, the artificial smoke dissipated, but it didn’t matter anymore. The damage was already done.

“Wednesday, what the hell happened?” Enid’s voice was panicked as she skidded to a stop beside her. Her wide eyes darted between you, limp in Wednesday’s arms, and the crowd forming around them.

“Get an ambulance, RIGHT NOW.” Wednesday snapped, her voice trembling with fury and fear. She barely noticed the shocked expression on Enid’s face as Ajax fumbled for his phone, dialing emergency services with shaking hands.

Wednesday tried to lift you, her arms wrapping around your frail form. But as she strained to lift you, something inside her cracked. It wasn’t physical weakness—it was deeper, more insidious. Her knees buckled, her body trembling as the crushing weight of helplessness bore down on her.

“Damn it,” she hissed under her breath, her arms refusing to cooperate. The feeling of you slipping from her grip was unbearable, a visceral ache that clawed at her chest. She was strong—she’d always been strong. But now? Now she felt like nothing, like a hollow shell incapable of protecting the one thing that mattered most.

“Let me,” Enid said softly, kneeling beside her. Without waiting for permission, the werewolf scooped you into her arms with surprising ease, cradling your unconscious body as though you weighed nothing.

Wednesday followed her outside, her legs moving mechanically as her mind screamed at her to do something—anything—but there was nothing to be done.

The other students had gathered at the gates, forming a worried, murmuring crowd. Wednesday barely registered them. Her entire focus was on you—on the way your head lolled against Enid’s shoulder, your skin unnervingly pale in the moonlight.

“Wednesday, what happened?” “Is she okay?” “Is she breathing?”

“Quiet!” Luckily it was Weems who silenced them all before Wednesday snapped. She looked at Wednesday, but said nothing. She already understood that words would be wasted. Instead, she focused on the task at hand, her phone in one hand as she coordinated with emergency responders.

She remembers the paramedics rushing to take you from Enid’s arms, their movements swift and efficient. Wednesday tried to follow, her feet moving of their own accord, ready to climb in after you. But the paramedics stopped her.

“You can’t come with her,” one of them said, his tone apologetic “Only family members or authorities are allowed to ride along.”

“I’m more than—” Wednesday began, her voice rising in anger, but Weems cut her off.

Weems intervened immediately, her tone brooking no argument. “I am the Principal of this school. I’ll go with her,”

And just like that, the ambulance doors slammed shut, the wail of its siren tearing through the night as it sped away. Wednesday stood there, rooted in place, her fists clenched so tightly that her nails dug into her palms. You were gone, and she was powerless to do anything about it.

“It’s okay,” Enid said gently, stepping beside her. “Ajax is getting his car. He’ll be here in thirty minutes tops, and we’ll go to the hospital together.”

Wednesday didn’t respond. She barely heard her friend’s words over the deafening roar in her own mind. Thirty minutes felt like a lifetime, and every second that ticked by was another moment where something could go horribly wrong. And she feared she wouldn't be there.

When they finally reached the hospital, it was Weems who met them in the waiting room.

“They’ve taken her to the ER, The doctors are doing everything they can"

And now here she was, standing in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at a version of herself she barely recognized.

God, she was weak. How had this happened? How had she let herself become so vulnerable? So…pathetic? She had spent her entire life building walls, shielding herself from anything that could make her feel this way. And yet, here she was, unraveling piece by piece because of you.

Her reflection mocked her, its hollow eyes and trembling lips a stark contrast to the composed, unflinching image she usually projected. She hated it. Hated herself. How had she let this happen? How had she allowed herself to care so deeply that the thought of losing you made her chest feel like it was caving in?

Her breathing was ragged, her chest heaving as she struggled to remain in control.

How had she become so weak? So…human?

With a growl of frustration, she slammed her fist into the mirror. The glass shattered instantly, cracks spidering out from the point of impact. Pain shot up her arm as shards embedded themselves in her knuckles, but she didn’t care. The blood that dripped down her hand was nothing compared to the storm raging inside her.

The door creaked open behind her, and she stiffened.

“Wednesday?”

It was Enid.

“I’m fine,” Wednesday snapped, her voice like a whip.

But Enid ignored her. The werewolf stepped into the bathroom, her gaze softening as it landed on Wednesday’s bloodied hand. "Oh Wends..."

“Don’t,” Wednesday warned, taking a step back.

But Enid didn’t listen. In one swift motion, she closed the distance between them, wrapping her arms around Wednesday in a firm, unyielding embrace.

“Let go,” Wednesday hissed, struggling against her. “Enid, I swear—”

“You don’t have to do this alone,” Enid interrupted, her voice steady.

“Get off me,” Wednesday hissed, her voice laced with venom. She shoved at Enid’s arms, but the werewolf didn’t budge. “I can rip you apart,” she muttered, her voice low and dangerous.

“I know, but I’m not letting go.” Enid said simply, tightening her hold.

Wednesday’s struggles slowed, her strength waning as the weight of her emotions finally broke through. Her hands, bloodied and trembling, fell to her sides.

“Why?” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Why did this happen?”

Enid didn’t have an answer, but she held her friend close, her own tears silently falling. “We’ll get through this,” she murmured. “You’re not alone.”

For the first time in her life, Wednesday didn’t push the comfort away. She allowed herself to lean into it if only for a moment, her face pressed against Enid’s shoulder as she struggled to breathe through the ache in her chest.

And for that moment, she wasn’t Wednesday Addams, the girl who thrived on darkness and chaos.

She was just a girl terrified of losing the one person who had managed to break through her walls.

As she followed Enid out of the bathroom, she barely registered her surroundings until she stepped into the waiting area outside the ER.

Her hand still bleeding from her earlier outburst, but she paid it no mind. There were more pressing matters, you.

First, her dark eyes immediately landed on your father, who was speaking with Principal Weems.

But then, just past them, Wednesday’s gaze fell on a cluster of people she did not expect to see.

Her therapy group.

What the hell were they doing here?

Wednesday strode toward them. Blood dripped from her injured hand, leaving small crimson spots on the tiled floor as her fists clenched tighter with every step.

The group turned toward her, their expressions ranging from surprised to concerned.

David was the first to step forward, his gaze landing on her bloodied hand. He let out a long, exasperated sigh. “Wednesday…”

“I don’t want your sighs, David,” Wednesday snapped, her tone dripping with irritation. “I want answers. Why are you all here? Who called you?”

“I did.”

The voice came from behind the group, and Wednesday’s dark eyes narrowed as Brooke stepped into view. She was wearing an intern’s scrubs.

“You?” Wednesday’s voice was sharp with disbelief. “You work here?”

Brooke shrugged nonchalantly, “Yeah. I’m an intern here. Surprise.”

“Why does this matter?” Wednesday demanded, gesturing toward the rest of the group. “Why are they here?”

“I was working the ER when they brought her in,” Brooke explained, her voice softening slightly. "Then after a while I saw you, looking all worried and...I thought I might need some backup so I just called them I guess."

Wednesday opened her mouth to argue, Enid, standing a step behind her, finally found her voice. "Wednesday, who are all these people?”

“The therapy group,” Wednesday muttered, her tone laced with disdain.

“What?” Enid blinked. “These are the therapy people?!”

“Unfortunately.”

“Look,” David said, running a hand through his hair, “we might just be a group of angry psychos who meet in a circle every week to complain about our lives— but Y/n is part of our little group of angry psychos. And when one of us is in trouble, we show up. She’s one of us. And…” He hesitated, glancing at Wednesday. “Like it or not, you are too.”

“I’m not—” Wednesday began, her voice cold and biting, but Rick interrupted her.

“Yeah, yeah, we get it. I am Batman, darkness incarnate, blah, blah, blah, ” Rick said, waving a hand dismissively. “But here’s the thing, Addams: you’re stuck with us. And if that means standing around a hospital waiting for news, then that’s what we’re gonna do.”

“Also, I got a new car,” Rick added, jingling his keys. “So, Brooke, maybe don’t burn this one if we need to give someone a ride home, yeah?”

Ashley hit Rick with her elbow “Now’s not the time, idiot.”

“Let me see your hand,” Brooke said firmly, her tone more doctor than therapy member now.

“It’s fine,” Wednesday snapped, instinctively tucking her injured hand behind her back.

Brooke raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “That’s not going to fly here. Sit down, or I’ll have security drag you out for bleeding all over the hospital floor.”

Enid put a hand on Wednesday’s shoulder. “You should let her, Wends. I mean, you wouldn't want Y/n seeing that."

With a huff of annoyance, Wednesday relented, sitting down stiffly on the bench as Brooke began cleaning and bandaging her knuckles.

“I still don’t understand why you all care for people you barely know so much.” Wednesday muttered as Brooke worked.

“Like David said,” Brooke replied without looking up, “we take care of our own. You might not like it, but you’ve somehow become part of this dysfunctional little family. And like it or not, we care about you.”

Wednesday was about to retort when the door to the ER opened, and a doctor stepped out. Her sharp eyes immediately locked onto the man, and for the first time that night, her breath caught in her throat.

The doctor’s expression was professional but grave as he approached.

“Are you here for the young woman brought in from Nevermore Academy?"

“I am. How is she?” Wednesday asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

The doctor hesitated for a moment, then said, “She’s stable, but…”

“But what?” Wednesday demanded, her voice sharp and trembling.

“She’s in a coma,” the doctor said gently. “For now, her condition is critical but stable. We’ll be monitoring her closely, but it’s too soon to say anything definitive.”

The words hit Wednesday like a physical blow. She felt the air leave her lungs, her vision narrowing as the weight of the doctor’s words settled over her.

A heavy silence fell over the group. Enid placed a tentative hand on Wednesday’s shoulder, but she barely felt it.

“Can I see her?” Wednesday asked, her voice barely audible.

The doctor nodded. “Only one visitor at a time for now. But you’ll need to address that hand of yours before you go in.” His gaze flicked to Brooke, who was finishing up the bandaging.

“It’s taken care of,” Brooke said smoothly, giving the doctor a pointed look.

The Doctor nodded before walking back into the ER.

As soon as he was gone, Brooke handed Wednesday a pair of disposable gloves. “Hide the bandage. You’re not sneaking past anyone with blood all over you.” She gave Brooke a small nod before taking the gloves.

As Wednesday followed the doctor into the ER, the rest of the group exchanged quiet glances. David sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “She’s not gonna take this well,” he muttered. Enid, her gaze fixed on Wednesday, let out a small, humorless laugh. “When does she ever take anything well?”

[Author's note: Back to writing again but its kinda hard to manage time nowadays, Comment how you guys feel about this chapter.]

NEXT CHAPTER

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juyeonszn · 1 year ago

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JE NE SAIS QUOI

PAIRING jacob bae x f!reader

WORD COUNT 7.33k

GENRES smut ﹒fluff ﹒itty bitty angst

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, strangers to ?? to lovers, volleyball team captain!jacob (ohhhh ive been waiting for this one..), lots of 97 liner cameos, jacob is an honorary tbz frat member but isn’t actually a member lol, reader is down bad for him, mentions of alcohol, volleyball terms that i learned from haikyuu 😭, an annoying ex girlfriend, AURKAY here we go: bathroom sex, wall sex, bathroom sink counter sex, and mirror sex all in one, doggy style and also missionary? i guess?, NO FOREPLAY BUT FUCK IT WE FALL LIKE SOLDIERS FOR REAL, marking-ish, unprotected sex, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, and everyone’s favorite! creampie!, a cutesy ending

SUMMARY jacob thought the concept of fraternities was stupid. so stupid that despite every single one of his friends being in one, he still refused to join. however, after meeting you at one of the tbz parties, he’s starting to think maybe they’re not that horrible.

MORE HELLAURRRR ok i know this is 45 mins overdue but i barely finished this last night and i worked at 5 am this morning so 😭 ANYWAYYY this fic is actually my favorite so far… idk i just have this natural writing affinity when it comes to jacob which u can tell by the length…. if u enjoyed pls reblog! and don’t forget to check out the other fics in the series!

PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs @itsbeeble @zzoguri @deoboyznet @cloverdaisies @vernyangel @ericlvr

TAGLIST @millksea

SERIES MASTERLIST

“And there’s another point for the IST U Bears. Wow these boys are on fire tonight.”

The announcer’s voice booms throughout the gymnasium, intertwining with the cheers of the crowd. They all sound like the buzzing of a bee in Jacob’s ears, but that’s a good thing. It pricks at his skin, lighting it on fire and getting his morale going.

The team just needed one more point and they would win this set, sending them on their way to the championship game. This would be the first time in IST history that their boys’ volleyball team would make it this far, and that was all thanks to Jacob becoming captain for his senior year.

Their coach calls for a quick time out, giving Jacob a moment of reprieve before his final serve of the game. He wipes away the sweat on his forehead, shaking the front of his jersey to air it out and cool him down a little. The team’s manager passes him a water bottle. He loves the adrenaline rush that courses through his veins when he’s on the court. It’s unlike any other feeling he’s ever felt in his life.

“Alright, Bae. You’ve got this, right?” Jacob’s coach gives him a pointed look.

“Of course, Coach. There’s no way in hell that we’re losing this game tonight.” He gives him a firm nod, lips curled into a confident smile. There wasn’t a chance that Jacob Bae would go down without a fight. He was securing that championship seat whether anyone liked it or not.

The team heads back out and a referee hands Jacob the volleyball. He blows a raspberry, twirling the ball on his fingertips while waiting for the whistle. As soon as he hears it, he takes a couple steps back. A breeze cuts through his hair when he runs, executing his infamous jump serve with practiced ease. The ball flies past the players of the other team, hitting the court just in front of the line.

His teammates are yelling and throttling his body around before he even realizes that they’ve won. Some of them are riling up the crowd, others are on their knees crying tears of joy. He was anticipating this outcome, but for some reason he’s still shell shocked. Everything around him is static and white noise.

“Holy shit, Jacob. I can’t believe you did that,” Kim Mingyu, the team’s star middle blocker, slaps him on the back. He’s also drenched in sweat, patting his face with a towel.

“You and me both, to be completely honest.” Jacob laughs a bit, collecting his things so he can head to the locker room.

He’s slightly grateful that tonight’s game ended a little early, giving him enough time to get ready before the Tau Beta Zeta party. He wasn’t even that big of a party person. He only went to provide moral support for his friends who happened to all be in the fraternity. Most people would even go as far as assuming he was also in it considering how often he was spotted at that house, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. He actually thought fraternities were dumb. In his eyes, they held no purpose.

A bunch of guys living together under the guise of brotherhood when in reality they spent most of their time partying was just stupid. You could do that without the fancy titles or the expected respect from fellow students. He loved his friends, truly, but he didn’t understand the hype.

Jacob showers quickly and changes into a hoodie and some baggy jeans. He ruffles his hair in front of a mirror, grabbing his backpack and swinging it over his shoulder. As he’s preparing to leave, someone calls out to him.

“Yo, Cobie! Are you going to the TBZ party?”

He spins around to find the source, learning it belongs to Jeong Jaehyun. The setter nods, pulling his hood over his head. “Like I always do. Why?”

“I heard through the grapevine that Haeun was going with some friends. I just thought I’d warn you,” he squeezes the shoulder that isn’t hoisting his backpack. “I figured you’d want to take things chill this next week with the championship game on Friday.”

Jacob hums in response and Jaehyun takes that as his cue to be on his way. Of course this would be his luck. Just as he thinks life is getting easier for him, something has to come and throw a curveball at him. This something happened to be his ex-girlfriend, who’d done nothing but terrorize Jacob while they were together. Imagine the most toxic, vile person in the world, then dress her in Jimmy Choo sandals and a designer handbag. That was Haeun.

The only logical reason for her to attend the TBZ party was because his friends were still trying to rack up their numbers. He wouldn’t put it past them if that meant acquiring any and every student on campus. After tonight they would find out who won the stupid competition between them and the KAT sorority, hopefully putting a pin in their godforsaken rivalry once and for all. The winner determined if he was even going to the big end of semester party or not.

Jacob sighs, heading out so he can help out his friends in any way he can. Now that he’s been cursed with the knowledge that he might run into his ex, he’s half tempted to just ditch the whole thing. (He won’t, but the idea is flirting with him.) They’ve been broken up for well over a year now, but somehow she always manages to worm her way back and make him miserable. Quite frankly, he’s tired of it.

When Jacob arrives at the Tau Beta Zeta house, his friends are all over the place. Sangyeon is typing away on his phone, pacing back and forth in the living room. The action from the calm and collected fraternity president makes him kind of nervous. He escapes into the kitchen where Sunwoo and Eric are putting away all of the alcohol. Kevin and Chanhee are complaining about God knows what to each other, and he can faintly hear Hyunjae and Haknyeon upstairs. His juniors start clapping and hollering as soon as they see him enter.

“Woah woah woah, we’ve got a celebrity on our hands guys.” Eric jokes, dapping up the older male.

“Congrats, Cobie,” Sunwoo joins in, fist bumping his senior and handing him a beer bottle. “Do you think you’re gonna win next week?”

“I sure hope so,” Jacob snorts, uncapping the bottle with the opener on the fridge. “I didn’t bring us all this way for nothing.”

Nothing super eventful happens after that, just the guys setting up for the party. They’re projecting that this is the one that secures their victory for the competition. Jacob really couldn’t care less, sitting himself on the couch and scrolling through his phone as he nurses his beer. They all maneuver around him, setting up speakers here, lights there. It’s all pointless in his eyes.

When the party has finally started and the house is packed with partygoers, Jacob hasn’t budged from his spot. The only reason he has a fresh beer is because Eric grabbed one for him in passing. This was what he subjected himself to for hours on end every Friday night. His ass cemented to one of the sofas in the living room and his phone being his main source of entertainment.

It’s as you’re exiting the kitchen with your friends that you notice him. You laugh into your drink at the boredom written all over his face. His extremely handsome face. His hair falls into his eyes and slightly obstructs his vision, but that just accelerates the beating of your heart. You don’t know what it is, but there’s something about him that makes you want to learn his name and everything there is about him.

“Y/N, have you found a nice boy to give you a fun time before hell week?” Haeun asks you, running perfectly manicured fingernails through her hair. “That’s the whole point of being here, isn’t it?”

You didn’t want to tag along, honestly. You were content with staying in tonight and studying for your A&PII exam. You only agreed to get Haeun off your back, because you were well aware of how annoying she could get when she didn’t get what she wanted. She gave the KAT sorority president a run for her money sometimes.

“Uh, no. I’ll just see where the night takes me,” you shrug, keeping a poker face so she doesn’t see who you’re already ogling.

Knowing her, she would make it difficult for you. She would torture you and tease you relentlessly because that was just who she was. Haeun wasn’t satisfied unless she felt good about herself. You didn’t know why you were still friends with her. Maybe it was because she was one of the first people who sought you out after your transfer to IST. Maybe it was because you were afraid of being blacklisted by practically every other student if you dropped her. Her power was insane.

“Boring,” she drags out the vowels, rolling her eyes. “I’m gonna see if Cha Eunwoo is here yet.”

You watch as she disappears into the sardine-packed house, looking for the senior. Your other friend, Minjee, just sighs once the dictator is out of earshot— which isn’t even that far considering how loud the music is. She turns to you with a weak smile.

“Don’t let her ruin anything for you. Just go enjoy yourself before she does.”

You don’t need to be told a second time, chugging the contents of your red solo cup for some liquid courage. Your mission was simple; be ten times more fun than the party itself. That would surely catch Couch Boy’s attention. It wasn’t like the Tau Beta Zeta guys didn’t put all their effort into throwing the craziest parties at the school, but clearly this dude wasn’t for it.

Your feet carry you over to the living room, your teeth chewing on your lip nervously. You’d never hit on someone before, let alone at a party. The scariest part was the potential rejection in front of hundreds of your peers. But it was okay! You could do this. You think.

“Hi.”

The word leaves your mouth without your brain even registering it, eyes wide like you’d just done something wrong. He looks up from his phone, mirroring your expression. His tongue darts out to swipe across his bottom lip and then he’s scooting over to make room for you.

“Hi,” he says after a few seconds.

“I’m Y/n,” you extend your hand awkwardly, but he takes it, shaking it with a firm grip that has you crossing your legs. “I— uh— this is kinda weird, but um— I saw you from over there and thought you were cute.”

You swallow thickly, tucking some hair behind your ear. How did Haeun do this on the regular? He smiles at your fumbling and oh God, you think you might pass out from how attractive he is. You don’t have much alcohol in your system and you’re starting to regret how sober you are.

“I’m Jacob,” he rests an arm on the back of the couch. “Thanks for coming up to me. I would’ve missed your pretty face otherwise.”

Is he flirting with you? Holy shit, he’s flirting with you.

“Do you come to Tau Beta Zeta parties often?” You ask to continue the conversation. He nods.

“I practically live here,” Jacob laughs, eyes crinkling at the corners. “How about you, Y/N? What are you studying?”

Oh, so he was one of the members. You wouldn’t have guessed with how disinterested he seemed at his own party. It takes you a moment to realize he’s shifted the focus onto you, scanning your features for a response. You purse your lips.

“Not really. I’m more of a homebody. I’m only here to let loose before finals. I actually just transferred to IST U this semester for the exceptional Pre-Med department. I’m still sorta navigating my way around and meeting people.”

So that’s why he’s never seen you on campus. You’re completely new to the school and you’re in a completely different department than he is. Nonetheless, you’re really cute and Jacob hasn’t put himself out there since breaking up with Haeun. He’s been so concentrated on maintaining his grades and putting in the work for volleyball, he hasn’t even had the time to. But now that finals and the championship game are all next week, he supposes he can allot some just this once…

“How are you liking it here so far?” He asks you genuinely. It winds you a little. You’ve never had someone actually care about what you had to say or show interest in you. Even at your old school, no one batted an eye at you. You doubt anyone knew you transferred.

“The campus itself is beautiful. It’s a lot bigger than my previous one. And so far, everyone’s been nothing but kind to me. I wish I would’ve gone with my gut and came here straight out of high school.” You pick at a thread on your skirt.

“We all live and we all learn, that’s a part of life,” Jacob shrugs, nudging your leg with his foot. “Would you like to grab another drink with me?”

“Yeah, that would be great, actually.” You both stand from the couch.

Since sitting with him, the party has grown in size. Fellow students filled every available corner of the house, nearly standing body to body in order to fit everyone in the building. The amount of attendees should be a fire hazard, honestly. Jacob laces your fingers together so he doesn’t lose you in the mass of people blocking the path to the kitchen. There’s a game of Rage Cage going on where there’s usually a round of beer pong and it looks like this one guy is about to die with how many empty cups are in front of him.

“What are you drinking?” Jacob turns to you once you’ve reached the alcohol table. You shake your head.

“Surprise me.”

“You’re playing Russian Roulette here, Y/N,” his lips curl up into a devious smile that most people would run away from, especially when it’s on the face of a stranger. “You’re really trusting me with your life right now.”

Luckily, you’ve always been into that type of thing. Nice guys who looked like they could give you an unforgettable night. And in the short period you’ve known Jacob, he appeared to be just that. All you can do is nip at your lower lip, the fleet of a smile gracing his sight.

He passes you a cup and gestures for you to taste his concoction. It burns the course of your throat, but doesn’t remind you of straight battery acid. You give him a thumbs up of approval and he cheers, fist bumping the air. You giggle at his reaction. Perhaps stepping out of your comfort zone was the best decision you’ve made all night. He knocks his own cup against yours and takes a swig, wincing.

“I might’ve made mine just a bit stronger than usual,” his voice is hoarse and you can’t help but laugh a little harder. “I put all of my expertise into yours.”

“It’s good to know you’re a gentleman and you’re not trying to get me drunk on purpose,” you tease, sipping at the beverage gingerly. “However, that does mean you’ll need to be flashier in your attempts to woo me. I have very high standards.”

Jacob’s smile widens, his teeth peeking from behind his lips. The expression makes you lightheaded. It should be a crime to look as good as he does, without even trying either. “I don’t know… All I’m hearing is that you want me to woo you…”

He’s caught you red-handed, but it isn’t like you were doing much to conceal that fact. You’d like to think you were being very obvious with your intentions on purpose. You glance up at him from the rim of your cup, your lower back leaning on the counter. “Maybe I do… Are you opposed to that, Jacob?”

He takes a step closer to you, and then another until he has you caged between him and the kitchen counter. Really, he couldn’t give any less of a fuck about the clusters of people nearby. When Jacob Bae had a goal in mind, he made damn sure to work for it. His volleyball career could attest to that. His drink slides across the surface, spilling a little on the back of his hand. He leans down to your ear. “Not at all. But I don’t think you’ll be able to handle what happens when I succeed.”

You feel your cheeks warm, your throat drying, and it’s not because of the effects from the alcohol you’ve just consumed. You’ve known this guy, what, thirty minutes max? And he was already figuring out exactly what it took to get your gears grinding? What a quick fucking leaner. He knows he’s won, too, if the way you’ve gone cotton-mouthed is anything to go by. The ghost of a grin brushes the shell of your ear and it requires the entirety of your strength not to pounce on this stranger in the middle of this goddamn party.

“Everybody who isn’t Tau Beta Zeta, get the fuck out! Someone called the cops!”

A record scratch-like halt puts a pin in the moment, forcing Jacob to step away from you with a groan. This would be just your luck, wouldn’t it? You found a ‘nice boy to give you a fun time before hell week’ and then this stupid party gets raided. It’s annoying, actually. Aggravating, even. Your lips unconsciously form pout out of disappointment and Jacob feels a piece of himself die along with it.

“Shit, you gotta get out of here before they show up and start dragging people out,” he runs a hand through his hair with a hiss.

If it had been a minute earlier, you would’ve fallen to your knees by now. Unfortunately, that was not the case. You needed to find Haeun and Minjee. You do a quick 180° in hopes of spotting either of them.

“Yeah, I need to find my—” You interrupt yourself when you see the former of the two stomping towards you with an indistinguishable look in her eye. “—Friends…”

“Let’s go, Y/N,” her tone is snappy and she glances over at Jacob for a brief moment. You don’t have time to realize what’s happening until her petite fingers are wrapping around your wrist, hauling you out of the kitchen. A yelp escapes your lips as you turn to wave to your… whatever he is to you now.

Initially, you assumed she was just ticked off by the whole cop call thing. At least, that made sense if she’d gotten anywhere with that Cha Eunwoo guy she had been talking about all day leading up to the party. But then Minjee’s driving you back your apartment and she’s whipping around in the passenger seat to give you the nastiest glare you’ve ever been on the receiving end of.

“What the hell is your problem?” She looks two seconds away from bursting a vein in her forehead.

“Wh— huh?” You’re thoroughly confused. What the fuck did you do to her?

“Why were you talking to Jacob Bae? You do know that’s my ex, right?” Her gaze has softened, but could still very much kill you if she wanted to. The wrath of Lee Haeun was more terrifying than that of any horror movie villain to ever exist.

No.

No no no no. The world stops on its axis and it’s like you’ve been told your favorite song was written about a used tissue. You don’t hear anything else she says, feeling like you just had ear muffs placed over your head. This isn’t fair. The universe officially hated you. You were number one on the list of people who deserved the worst possible fate, your name underlined twice with red ink and a star beside it.

You really didn’t have it in you to care about what Haeun thought. If this was the reason you were finally given to stop talking to her, then so be it. What you were worried about was Jacob hating you. He clearly saw that you were friends. Why would he want to pursue anything with one of his ex’s friends? Any sane person would avoid that situation if they could.

Despite not knowing that it was Jacob specifically, you knew the details of their breakup and why things ended so messily. It made sense that she was an authoritarian even in her relationships. That was just in her nature. If she didn’t control every aspect of her life, she would lose her mind. Normally you wouldn’t have batted an eye at that, not nearly enough energy in you to deal with that level of bossiness. But it was starting to bleed into your personal life. And that was a line you weren’t so willing to let her cross.

You could only pray that this was fixable.

Finals week passes by in a breeze, and before he knows it, Jacob is on the court for the championship game. There’s a different aura to him than there usually is when it comes to his volleyball games. He feels ten times more determined. (He would never admit to anyone that it’s because he’s hoping he’ll see you at the end of semester party tonight.)

He actually really enjoyed your presence and your personality. The rate at which his heart beat around you was something he hadn’t felt in a while and it was nice. He liked those little butterflies that came with the start of something new. He liked the jitters and the giggles and everything in between. It reminded him that there was still youth, there was still excitement in his life.

Sure, it was kind of weird that you were friends with his ex-girlfriend. The same ex-girlfriend that he couldn’t stand being in the same room as for more than five minutes at a time. But from your reaction to her dragging you away, Jacob thinks that you didn’t know about him and Haeun. If you did, you wouldn’t have gone up to him in the first place. Unless you knew and just didn’t care, then he didn’t care either. It’s not like he ever plans to allow Haeun to resurface and sink her nails back into him. That’s one mistake he’ll never make again.

Before he knows it, he’s swapping back into the game. He rolls his neck and pops his fingers, getting into position to receive this next serve. Even with this fire lit underneath him, both teams are neck and neck. With every point that IST scored, the opposing team would just catch back up without breaking a sweat. If Jacob wasn’t captain and wasn’t used to being so calm and collected during matches, he’d probably start getting as pissed as Kim Mingyu looks right now.

The referee blows his whistle and the ball is over the net. Jeon Jungkook, the team’s libero, dives for it, the volleyball bouncing off the back of his hand and back up into the air. It’s currently the fourth set and IST has two under their belt. They needed to win this one lest they wanted to go into the fifth. Everyone is on edge, but won’t stop at nothing that isn’t victory. Jacob shifts to set the ball to Jaehyun, who swings his arm back and spikes it to the other side of the court.

One of their players receives it with ease, and they’re back to square one. There’s that back and forth of both teams setting and spiking, only for the other to receive and send it back over. Jacob feels like this game is never gonna end, especially with how agile their libero is and how in tune he is with their setter. But then he makes eye contact with Lee Seokmin, an opposite hitter who’s proven time and time again that he’ll go wherever Jacob needs him to, do whatever Jacob wants him to. And that’s exactly what he does.

Mingyu bumps the ball towards the net and just when they think Jacob’s going to set it, he swaps places with Seokmin. The hitter gets beneath the volleyball and pushes it off the tip of his fingers, watching as Jacob perfectly times his jump to smack it with the palm of his hand. It’s something the two had only ever practiced a handful of times, but knew it would come in handy when everything was right. The entire interaction is flawless, and the captain’s spike lands, scoring that final point that IST needed to win the set and the game.

Just like the previous game, Jacob doesn’t even register the roaring cheers from everyone around him until they’re throwing him and Seokmin up like they themselves were volleyballs. The team is going insane, hyping up the crowd and running around the court like children. A sense of pride swells in Jacob’s chest, a crinkly-eyed smile nestling on his face like the fondness of a father.

They continue the joy-train all the way into the locker room. Jacob showers and throws on some gray cargo pants, pairing them with a black half-zip jacket. Most of the team was going to the end of semester party tonight, treating it as a post-celebratory reward for their big win. It was still so surreal for the captain. All of the pressure that had been riding on him the entire season, the strive for being someone bigger than himself. He’s grateful it paid off.

Meanwhile, you were damn near ripping your hair out, nerves eating away at the edges of your stomach like you were with the skin around your nails. After a taxing week of final exams and the anxiety of wanting to see Jacob Bae again to clear any bad air, you found yourself at the TBZ end of semester party along with Haeun and Minjee. You were thankful that your life was intact, Haeun’s irritation simmering into something a lot more bearable.

Though just a smidge pissed off that you didn’t do your research, she wasn’t as mad about the whole break of girl-code incident. She got off of your back a little too easily, though, so you were still waiting for another strike. You couldn’t help but feel as if she was planning another form of action.

You’d been at this party for at least an hour, and the attendance was double that of last week’s. They weren’t kidding when they said this was the party of all parties at IST University. You were starting to think that maybe Jacob really was going to avoid you like you were the Black Plague or equivalent. Why else would he not be at one of his own parties? Wasn’t it, like, a requirement for fraternity members to make an appearance at the things they hosted?

Being friends with Haeun really screwed everything up for you. Not only did you have to sleep with one eye open, but also keep your distance from just about every male on campus out of fear that she fucked with them, too. Why did it have to be Jacob Bae? Why couldn’t it have been someone more douchey, more up her alley? He was way too sweet, way too cute for someone of her kind. He deserved someone that could hand him the world. (Not that you were insinuating that it was you, but even you knew you were a better person than Lee Haeun.)

And as if a higher being truly existed, your prayers are answered in the form of Jacob Bae walking through the front door. A gaggle of partygoers surround him and the group of guys he’s with, including some of the fraternity brothers. You faintly hear whoops and hollers over the near deafening music, everyone patting them on their backs. Most of the attention is on Jacob and his gorgeous smile, though.

“IST U’s pride and joy! National volleyball champion, Jacob-fucking-Bae,” Lee Hyunjae wolf-whistles, shaking him around like he was maraca.

Jacob laughs, looking down at the floor to shy away from all of the eyes on him. He’s glad everybody is pleased with his accomplishment, but really all he wants to do is find you. He’s still not 100% sure you’re even here, but he has high hopes that maybe you were into him as much as he was with you. Now that he’s free of both volleyball and schoolwork for a while, he can take his time getting to know you better.

You psych yourself up to go over to him once his audience has parted and gone back to whatever it was they were doing prior to his arrival. A grimace consumes your features as you knock back the cup of jungle juice in your hand, blowing a raspberry. Minjee gives you a smile of encouragement, like she knows exactly what you’re about to do.

However, someone beats you to it. You watch with bated breath as Haeun flips her hair over her shoulder, her heels clicking on the wooden floor all the way up to Jacob. The sight of another girl talking to the guy you’re interested in has never made you as ill as it does right now, her glossy lips pouted and her hands clasped behind her back.

“Heard about the big win, Jakey,” she smiles almost evilly, calling him by a nickname that he hasn’t been called in months. “Wanna claim your prize?”

Jacob knows what she’s doing. It’s obvious. Haeun saw the two of you together last week and now she’s pretending that she gives a shit just so she can feel like she’s the one in control. He’s seen this scene too many times to fall for it. He pokes his cheek with his tongue, hands shoving into the front pocket of his jacket.

“Don’t you have someone else that you can bother, tonight? I’m spoken for.” He shrugs, stepping around her. Okay, so perhaps you’d only had one conversation together. That was enough for him. He doesn’t have to search far or wide for you, a grin replacing his deadpan once he sees your face. “Hi.”

“H-Hi,” your voice comes out unsteady. “I— uh— wh— well, I kinda thought you were avoiding me.”

His eyebrows quirks up. “Why would I do that?”

“Because I’m friends with your tyrant of an ex-girlfriend and I’m a horrible person for still wanting you,” you begin to ramble, playing with a strand of your hair. “And then you weren’t here.”

Jacob laughs, pushing your hand down and tucking the same piece behind your ear. “I don’t really care that you’re friends with Haeun. Honestly, no one’s ever *really friends with her. It’s hard to stand a person who’s that insufferable. And I’m on the volleyball team. Tonight was the championship game, which is why I was late.”

“So you don’t hate me and want me to die?”

“I could never.” He shakes his head, taking one of your hands into his.

“If that’s the case, then can you show me how to properly enjoy a frat party?” You trace patterns on his palm.

“I’ll be so real with you, Y/N, even *I don’t know how to do that,” he snorts. “I’m not a Tau Beta Zeta member, so I guess that explains it.”

“Woah what?” You gape at him. “This entire time I thought you were…”

“Nah, I’m just friends with all of the guys here. I might as well be, but I’m not. Frats are stupid to me,” Jacob leads you out of the living room and into the kitchen to get himself a drink. “Though, I don’t think they’re that bad anymore.”

As he’s reaching for an empty cup, a thought crosses your mind. It’s bold, but you don’t have the willpower to force it away. “You know, you didn’t get to show me what would happen if you succeeded in sweeping me off of my feet.”

He pauses what he’s doing, turning to glance at you over his shoulder with dark eyes. Are you saying what he thinks you’re saying?

“And something’s telling me you were extremely successful.”

*Fuck the drink, Jacob thinks to himself, dropping the cup in favor of whisking you away. He pulls you into the nearest empty room, which happens to be the downstairs bathroom. From one second to the next, you’re pinned to the door, both of your wrists firm in his grip. He’s so close that his nose nudges yours, lips only a hair’s breadth from your own.

“Should’ve known you were dangerous from the get go,” he breathes, the distance between you driving you crazy. “You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.”

A gasp escapes you, your eyelids fluttering shut. This was pure insanity. Before you can complain about the lack of contact, Jacob’s mouth is on yours, lips moving against yours so skillfully and so roughly. He takes your wrists into one hand, holding them above your head while the other slips beneath your top. His fingertips burn into your skin and you don’t hold back the whine that sneaks out from your chest.

You pull back for air, sighing when his kiss travels down your neck and focuses on your collarbone. It’s not enough, you need to feel him everywhere. Your pulse is racing and you’re sure he can feel it when he leaves a trail of nibbles and kisses along your jawline. They travel south, paving their path on what’s visible of your jugular and sternum.

There’s a haste of fingers roaming and lips exploring. This was uncharted territory for, seeing as you hadn’t been in a situation like this since moving schools. If there was anyone you wanted to get down and dirty with in the bathroom of a frat party, it was Jacob Bae. His free hand wanders under your skirt, a knuckle running along your clothed, but damp, slit. You both hiss.

“Already so wet for me?” He asks you smugly, the curve of his smile carved into the space where your ear meets your neck. You don’t have the patience to power through any teasing.

“Need you so bad, Jacob,” you don’t like the pitchiness of your voice, or how you’re pretty much begging right now. “Wanna skip the foreplay.”

Jacob grins almost wickedly, kissing the tip of your nose. “So ready and so eager for me. Your wish is my command, sweetheart.”

He doesn’t waste any time getting you out of your clothes, starting with your top and then shoving your skirt past your thighs. You kick it off and move to help him. His jacket comes off in one fluid motion, giving you the perfect display of his muscular back and toned abdomen. All of years of volleyball came to fruition in the form of his godlike sculpted body.

You drag a nail through the valley of his abs, unbuttoning his cargoes and palming him through his underwear. He curses under his breath, forehead falling to your shoulder. You may very well be the death of him, he decides. When he’s finally had enough, he swats your hand away, removing the briefs so he can give you what you so graciously asked for. He pumps his length a couple times before guiding the tip to your entrance.

Jacob hooks one of your legs around his waist, pushing your panties to the side so he can slip into you carefully. You don’t even stop the moan that breaches your vocal cords, back arching off of the door and your chest pushing into his. The stretch burns slightly, but not nearly enough to interrupt the pleasure coursing throughout your body. There’s a fire in the pit of your stomach that he fans the flames of the deeper he sinks into you, lips imprinted into the skin of your neck.

His fingers burn the skin of your thigh where he holds it up, slowly pressing his cock into cunt and sliding out as soon as he bottoms out. You’re dizzy, so dizzy that stars have begun to form behind your eyelids and he’s only just started. He rocks into you at a meticulous pace, the blunt nails of his other hand digging into your hip to keep himself composed.

He wants to take his time with you first. He wants you to feel every ridge and vein of his cock as your walls squeeze him in. He wants the feeling of the two of you connected to be engraved into your brain, a memory that nothing could erase even if it tried. Your head knocks against the door when you crane it to give him more access to the column of your throat, whining when he sucks marks into the surface.

“F-Fuck, Jacob,” you whimper. “Feel— god— feel so, so stuffed.”

You practically hiccup your words, overstimulated with everything that’s going on at once. It’s too much. The way he nips at your skin. The way he groans every time you clench around him. The way he’s *buried into you like you were the only source of warmth he’ll ever get. It’s too much, but it feels fucking fantastic.

“Yeah, baby? Am I fucking you good? Giving it to you like no one else can?” He exerts himself, his lips slipping on the thin sheen of sweat coating your bodies. All you can do is moan again, bucking your hips into his to minimize the gap between you as much as physically possible.

His cock is just the right balance of girth and length, filling you up and hitting the spots you need him to. Your sanity falls through the cracks with every click of his hips into yours. He *is fucking you good. He *is giving it to you like no one else can. It didn’t even take him long to figure out what you liked, using that knowledge to his advantage so he could ravage you.

You’re too lost in the pleasure to notice the coil in your stomach curling to the point of snapping. With each ram of his dick in your pussy, he winds you up more and more until it breaks in half. You see nothing but white for a few seconds, spots of various colors bleeding into it. A sound so far away from you bursts out from its home in the back of your throat. Your orgasm coaxes out his, painting your walls with milky ropes and a moan of his own.

The two of you pant breathlessly, lips brushing as you attempt to calm down. Jacob pinches your side, kissing you once before pulling out and letting go of your hip. “Do you have the energy to give me one more? I don’t think I’m finished with you just yet.”

You let out a guttural groan, nodding and colliding your mouths in another desperate kiss. Your fingers run through the strands of his hair, tugging at the nape of his neck as he transfers you to sink. He spins you around, bending you over the counter and pecking your shoulder as he eases his cock back into the velvet of your pussy.

You’re both still sensitive, sighing at the feeling of a second intrusion. He grips your hip and presses down on your lower back just as he speeds up the pacing of his thrusts. Instinctively, you hike up a knee onto the counter, wanting him even deeper and even harder than previously. Heat pools in that same spot at the base of your abdomen, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

“Look in the mirror, sweetheart,” he grunts, throwing his head back and tightening his grasp on your waist. “Want you to watch me fuck you stupid.”

You wail, eyes heavy lidded as you witness Jacob plowing into you from behind. It hurts, the fact that you can’t even convey into sounds how amazing it feels. They’re all trapped in your chest and throat, begging to be set free. You wish they could bounce off of the walls, reverberating in your ears. Your cheeks are wet from the tears that have spilled over. You look like a mess with your makeup smeared and your face puffy. Anyone who saw you after this would know exactly what went down in this bathroom.

Jacob doesn’t slow his assault, instead hovering over and trapping you beneath his broad frame. He drills into you deeper, harder, faster— and oh god you don’t want him to stop. You think he’s making good on his word, fucking you so insanely stupid that not a single thought occupies your mind. All there is, is Jacob Bae and the deliciousness of his cock wedging itself further into your cunt like he wants to live there.

“You’re taking me so well, baby. So so well,” he coos, your back curving into his chest.

Your elbows might give out from supporting your weight and now Jacob’s too, especially with how empty your head is. You don’t really have the consciousness to keep yourself up. It’s at the point where the mirror has started to fog, a blurry image of him abusing your pussy in your line of sight.

He knows you’re on the brink of an orgasm, your walls spasming slightly in warning. He pulls out enough to flip you onto your back, pushing in and resuming where he left off. His thumb sneaks down to your clit, rubbing in precise circles with precise pressure. Despite there being no mirror covered in steam in the shape of your bodies in front of you, your vision is still hazy. You can barely see the expressions Jacob makes, his brows knitting together and lower lip between his teeth.

You pull him down to connect your mouths, whining into him as he continues to fuck into you like there wasn’t a whole party still going on on the side of the door. Your knees are folded to your chest, allowing his cock to kiss all the way inside of you. “I’m— fuck— so close, Cobie.”

“C’mon, baby, you can cum for me,” he goads, applying more pressure to the shape he’s drawing on your clit.

One particularly timed thrust and the bumping of his pelvic bone on the sensitive bundle of nerves tips you off of your peak. Your climax washes over you, tidal waves of pleasure cresting at full force. You moan loudly, the rippling of your walls triggering Jacob’s own release.

He pulls out gently, for the final time. His chest rises and falls rapidly, in sync with yours. You’re both exhausted, spent from going at it like jackrabbits— as if you’d never get the chance to do it again. You meet eyes and then burst into laughter, your hands coming up to cup his cheeks.

“That was… Wow…” You breathe, moving some of his hair from obstructing his eyesight.

“I always follow through with my promises, you know,” he wraps his arms around your waist. “So, what do I get now that I’ve wooed you?”

You press the hints of a kiss to his lips. “An exclusive all-access pass to me, my phone number, and the rights to ask me out on a date whenever you please.”

Jacob smiles that crinkle eye smile of his, knowing full well that he plans on cashing all three of those right now. He may have not been the biggest fan of fraternities or their parties, but he sure as hell loved them at this moment in time.

He thinks he was a winner in more ways than one that night.

#deoboyznet #the boyz #the boyz x reader #the boyz smut #tbz #tbz x reader #tbz smut #the boyz jacob #tbz jacob #jacob bae x reader #jacob bae smut #jacob x reader #jacob smut #juyeonszn #blackoutorbackout🍻

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vixen7243 · 7 months ago

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One day, as the guys were shooting the shit in a pub, Kyle’s girlfriend, you, excitedly walked in before making a beeline once spotting him. Sneaking up, you grabbed his shoulders from behind pulling him back and planting a kiss on his cheek. The guys quietly watched not knowing who you were and thought that you were some random chick that had some big balls to do something so outrageous. Kyle not realizing that you had gotten there earlier than planned tensed before seeing you and broke out laughing getting off his stool wrapping his arms around you lifting you up littering kisses all over you face the both of you laughing and giggling like idiots while the guys looked so confused. “Hey, sorry, babe, this is the mates I been tellin you bout. Guys, this is my gorgeous girl, Y/N.”

Shell shocked and looking like fish out of water you gave an awkward wave tucking into Kyle’s side. “They okay?”

“She ain’t ye girl.” Johnny shook his head deeming that Kyle must have paid you to act like his girlfriend to prove a moot point that he even had a girl.

“Mate?” Kyle raised an eyebrow as he held back a smirk, the guys gaping at you, a sweet little civy, done up all cute for her returning hero and lover.

“Just say how much you paid her.” Simon’s mocking tone made you scowl.

“Aight guys, lay off yeah. Not that hard to believe that I could have a girlfriend. I told you guys all about her, all the time.” Perking up you sat between Kyle and John after John pulled the seat out from his spot watching as Kyle gripped your waist to steady you.

“Aie, you did but she looks way out your league lad.” John said chuckling. “Blink twice if you need help dear.”

“Shove off.” Looking to Kyle you saw he was smirking, smiling yourself you figured if he’s not gonna get bent out of shape on the comments you won’t either. Just the typical banter of pals, right?

“Did ye find her on a website for mail order girlfriends?” Johnny laughed earning a rough shoulder shove from your boyfriend.

Huffing you laced your fingers with Kyle’s hand on the table and gave a sickling sweet smile looking at Johnny, “Kinda sounds like ye lot r’jealous.” You said mocking Johnny’s accent, Kyle laughed kissing your temple whispering a quick ‘good girl’ as the guys bit back any more sly comments on your and Kyle’s relationship because you were correct. They were jealous, and annoyed as the two of you ever so often wound up in your own little world your quick quips to whatever Kyle whispered in your ear and you laughter carrying across the pub making them wonder where in the hell Kyle found you.

Kissing his cheek you slipped off the stool noticing John look down at your ass as it was being squished on the seat. “Goin to the bathroom real quick.” After a few moments Kyle got up excusing himself, after a few minutes of the both of you being gone and they guys barely holding a conversation you came back wrapped in Kyle’s arm a dazed smile on your face.

They quickly noticed the rumpled state of your clothes and the full display of Kyle’s stiffy in his pants, “We’re goin to call an early night, see you guys later.” Laying his portion of the bill down onto the table he guided you out his hand sliding down your back before shoving into the back pocket squeezing your ass making you rush him out with giggles.

“S’not fair.” Johnny mumbled before they all dispersed going to their own homes, alone. Meanwhile you and Kyle had a fun long intense night as you welcomed him home.

#call of duty #task force 141 #x reader #kyle garrick smut #kyle gaz garrick #kyle x reader #gaz #gaz x reader #appreciate the pretty boi #jealousy

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withlove-xixi · 3 months ago

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— TWO TONED: chilchuck x reader

KINKTOBER DAY ONE: COCKWARMING ᥫ cw: nsfw, cockwarming, breast play/nipple play, dom/sub ᥫ wc: 705 ★ i've shared this idea in toram's ask box before but it was something i was planning on writing regardless lol cross posted on ao3 — MINORS DNI! —

— CHILCHUCK CAN BE MEAN IF HE WANTS TO BE.

[♡]: it’s something you had learned since you first met him. like two sides of the same coin, he’s able to switch from cold, mean, and stoic to warm, sweet, and carefree. it was… admittedly a bit difficult to get used to. hell, even now when he’s buried deep inside you, whispering sweet praise into your ear, you can’t tell if he’s being nice or mean!

IT WASN’T FAIR! IT JUST WASN’T FAIR!

You wriggled in Chilchuck’s tight grasp, a mistake first and foremost because it only gives you a tantalizing taste of the friction you desperately craved. And like you have been doing for however long Chilchuck has had you in this limbo, you whine, a pitchy, bratty noise that’s only ever gotten an amused chuckle from him.

“Chil… Please…” The words leave your mouth almost instinctively now, having repeated them over and over again.

He pinches your nipple before you have a chance to plead again, causing you to squeal, arching your back against his chest. Though, your wriggling is no use since his free hand keeps an iron grip on your waist, pinning you against his chest and on top of his cock. You clench involuntarily around him at the sudden consciousness of how much he was filling you up.

“Come on, just a bit more.” Chilchuck whispers into your ear, the sound of his voice almost foreign from the way he’d kept so quiet from the moment he pulled you into the bedroom by your arm and kissed your neck. “Just a bit more for me.”

You whine at his request, hips moving in a feeble attempt at creating some form of friction between you two. The half-foot only lets out an amused sigh, his fingers tightening around your hip, stilling them. His other hand moves to press the pad of his index finger against your nipple, moving it in slow, gentle circles, the sensation shooting electric-like shocks down your spine. You moan quietly at the feeling, eyes shutting tightly, body trembling from sheer want and desperation.

Chilchuck shushes you, a low whisper ringing against the shell of your ear, the warmth of his breath fanning against your skin. You draw in a shaky breath. Chilchuck continues his assault on your body, the hand on his hip moving slowly up your body, tracing delicately on the goosebumps on your skin, past every dip, curve and muscle until it reaches your other nipple. With it, he holds your nipple between his index and thumb, gently pressing his fingers together and pulling on your bud, while the other hand keeps rubbing careful circles on the other.

Now somewhat free from his grasp, you buck your hips as an almost pathetic-sounding whine leaves your lips, drool beginning to pool on the corners of your mouth. His lips move to your neck, chuckling against your skin as he slowly and tenderly begins to kiss from behind your ear and down to your shoulder. You keep rolling your hips against him, the movement almost tentative— hesitant, like you were worried you’d set Chilchuck off, especially since he was being so nice.

Nice, because as mean as it was for him to keep you trapped against him, to dangle the promise of pleasure in front of you like bait, he was still kissing your neck, whispering sticky, sweet praise into your ear, playing with your chest with such tenderness. Now, if he were being mean, he’d have left you tied up in bed after toying with you as much as he was now, so you’re taking this as him being nice.

Besides, it wasn’t like he wasn’t going to fuck you. You could tell by the way his voice shakes that he was nearing his limit, that slowly but surely, you were chipping away at this stoic facade he wore. The thought made you clench around him, which reminded you of how full he stuffed you, which only made you rock yourself a bit more frantically.

He bites down at your shoulder without warning, tugging harshly at both your nipples. You gasp at the sudden feeling. “Behave.” His voice is deep, almost a growl against your ear.

But despite his warning, you feel his body twitch, the smallest hint to a thrust, the most friction he’s given you the whole night. It sparks something in you. A drive to fully push him over the edge, to snap whatever is left of the already fading restraint in him. You pause with deep breaths, mustering your courage before you begin to rock your hips again.

You can take it if he was mean to you.

#ꔛ xixi writes #ꔛ xixi's kinktober 2024 #delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi #dunmeshi #chilchuck #chilchuck dungeon meshi #chilchuck tims #chilchuck x reader #chilchuk tims #dividers by cafekitsune

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xoxo-sarah · 9 months ago

Text

Friendly

↝a/n: I'm just posting all my old fics in my notes app because I don't have any good ideas as of this moment.

↝pairing:Steve Harrington x reader

↝warning: angst, unrequited feelings, heartbreak, sad!reader, not proofread

|| Disclaimer: I do not own Steve Harrington, or any character from Stranger Things. I only own y/n and any characters I create with my own brain. ||

↝⎙ 4.27.24

You shouldn't be here. You knew that, but you couldn't help yourself. The feelings you had for Steve were eating at you, keeping you up at night. All the time you spend together felt like torture when you thought back to them. The glanced you would spare him even though he wasn't looking. He was never looking, not like you were.

The laughing and jokes were friendly for him, something he also did with his other friends. It just felt different for you.

You tried to keep it to yourself, you really did. It just became too much. Your thoughts were overfilling your skull, spilling out of your tear ducts late at night, when you were alone in your room.

You knocked at the door before you could stop yourself.

Steve opened the door, his face turning into one of pure bewilderment. Before he could even say hello, your mouth was open, words spewing out of it like vomit.

"I know it's late but I couldn't go to sleep. I need to get something off my chest and I need you to just...listen."

Steve went to open him mouth but closed it when your eyes harshly shut, watching as you conjured up the guts.

"I love you and I need you to love me too. Tell me that your thoughts have been of me just like mine have been of you." But you didn't say that, 'cause that would be even more pathetic than showing up at his doorstep in the middle of the night.

"You make me feel wanted and needed in a way I haven't felt before, and that's too much for me to have as just a friend." Your eyes opened, staring at the way his hand flexed against the door he held open.

Steve stood, shell-shocked.

"Tell me that the times you made me feel seen were you just being friendly. Please-"

"Steve?"

A head of blonde hair walked behind Steve, smiling politely at you, hand moving across the extension of Steve's back.

Your breath caught in your throat.

She leaned up to whisper something in his ear. He finally moved his gaze from your pathetic silhouette. He looked at her, his jaw slack from your confession. An absentminded nod was enough for her to sway back to where she came from, leaving you two in silence.

How does one come back from this? It is humiliating.

Steve bit his lip, scratching at his forehead.

"Can we talk about this another time?"

This time, it was your turn to be gobsmacked. You felt as if your life couldn't get any sadder.

Without a word, you turned, not knowing what you were supposed to do after confessing your feelings like that. Tears fell down your face before you were out of his driveway.

You couldn't show your face anywhere he would be. There is no way in hell.

The old feeling in your chest that told you to cherish every moment with Steve- the one that told you to reach out to hold his hand- was now demolished and replaced with regret.

This whole thing is just humiliating.

•2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [I don't give permission!]

#xoxo-sarah 🩷#🕶️#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #Steve harrington angst #steve harrington x reader angst #steve harrington x you #stranger things imagine #stranger things angst #stranger things fanfic #stranger things x reader

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bomertheshark · 1 year ago

Note

Can you do do Clark Kent (Henry cavill) x top male reader fluff to smut

Ofc! Thanks so much for the ask Anon! I hope this is to you liking 🫶. Sorry it took so long for me to answer!

Looking

Clark Kent x Male Reader

Short

Clark was an innocent enough man, he was your coworker that you didn’t think much of, about as much as everyone else who worked with him. He was kind and respectful to everyone, always putting people before him and he was a damn good reporter. The only thing was that he let people use him for his kindness.

The thing that you never would have expected was his “obsession” with you. It had started when you had actually acknowledged his work for the paper and even credited him while so many others would take the chance to claim all credit for it. For Clark he saw you from then on as a saint, and maybe it was also because he could hear what you were thinking but that was beside the point.

From then on he would start to try and work with you more just to see you, he started having lunch with you even going so far as to invite you over to his place to have dinner. This continued for months, you grew closer to him and would go out of your way to see him as well, of course you never saw any ulterior motives behind it, I mean who would from the shy, timid man known as Clark Kent.

All of this led to one night when he invited you over to his for drinks and dinner that he confessed to you he already knew you were into him now, he has planned it all. You were of course shocked but pleased, you answered by reciprocating his feelings and you thought that was that, have the rest of the time having dinner and talking about where you would go with this new relationship.

Clark had other ideas, you see under all of the shy, awkward and timid shell he was an unpredictably horny man. Of course that was probably due to his Kryptonian genes but that wasn’t the point. The point was that he had set a trap, lured you and waited for the time to strike like a skilled hunter would just to get you in his grasp and make you his.

He talked to you about experimenting that night, as new romantic partners why not have a night to explore each other and get to know each other more intimately. He led you to his bedroom and undressed before you, he was gorgeous and not to mention the fact that he was absolutely ripped.

You weren’t sure how but the night led to the moment where you learned he had a bit of a thing with you staring into his eyes as he jerks off as well as one hell of a stamina. Which led to the intense moment where you were sitting against his headboard making sure that you didn’t have any important meetings in the morning to attend to when all of the sudden Clark had sat himself back into your lap begging for your attention as he jacked off. He was begging for you to look at him, touch him, just anything.

He had grabbed your hand to bring it to his face so that he could kiss it and rub down his chest as he kept working to his release. He was so close but the moment he was almost done you checked one more thing and for him it was like he couldn’t cum anymore. “Please please look at me, look at me while I cum for you please please please…. Please!”

All you could think was “oh boy what have I gotten myself into.” Glad that you didn’t have anything in the morning, and even if you did you probably would’ve skipped it just to satisfy him.

Again so sorry this took me so long to publish!

#bomertheshark #top male reader #dom male reader #x male reader #seme male reader #male reader #bottom character #clark kent x top male reader #clark kent #sub character #male reader fluff #fluff #male reader smut #smut #gay

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thekeeperof-thefandoms · 9 months ago

Text

Someone asked me to write Lucifer's take on "Bitch what's for dinner?!" Soooo...

First, Lucifer saying it to you.

He sees it somewhere online and at first is like, "this is dumb" but then he thinks about it. He knows his relationship with Lillith was rocky but he'd never once raised a hand or voice to her, but he's The Devil from The Bilble, so he has a reputation, undeserved or not. He wants to see how safe you feel with him and make sure you don't have like, an ingrained response to take treatment like that, and he's too awkward to just talk about your relationship like a normal person.

Honestly thinks you've probably already seen the video and that you'll laugh it off or playfully smack him ans then you guys can talk. So when he storms into the kitchen at the Hotel, pretending to have just gotten into an argument with Alastor, and snaps at you, his horns growing a bit, "Bitch, what's for dinner?!" He's not expecting you to look shell-shocked.

He thinks its because that was so out of character for him and you're just stunned but then you just quietly look down and respond "grilled cheese?", like you're expecting him to reprimand you the whole act goes out the window. He's in your space, not touching you yet, and babbling apologies, practically on his knees. Eventually you catch on that he was joking and hug him and ask him please not to do that again.

He agrees immediately and follows it up with, "Of course! And, lovely, darling, light of my life, if I, or anyone, ever talks to you like that, you better smack the shit out of them. Or, like if it's someone else, I'll knock their ass out. Seriously, don't ever let me treat you like that."

You do it to Lucifer.

You saw the video online and thought it would be funny. After all, there's no way the KING OF HELL would take that. You set your phone up to record secretly and brace for some sort of sassy response, slamming your hand down on the counter next to him for dramatic effect.

"Bitch, what's for dinner!?"

Lucifer's wings pop out, ruffled, defensive, hissing like a cat, long forked tongue dripping fire. Once he realizes it's you, he blinks, frowns, and makes himself small.

"Uh...I...I can make grilled cheese? Are you mad at me? Did I forget a date? Was I rude to you on accident? What did I do, I can fix it."

Oh, oh no. You're crumpled. This poor man. You're holding him, petting his ruffled wings, apologizing through tears because of course he didn't do anything wrong. You tell him it was a dumb internet trend, that you didn't think about how it could upset him, you're so sorry and won't do it again and eventually he calms down and kind of laughs it off. It was an honest mistake.

You don't let it go so easily, and cup his cheeks, forcing him to meet your eyes. "Don't you ever let anyone talk to you like that, not even me. Anyone talks to you like, you better smite the fuck out of them. Full fire and brimstone. Nothing left. Dust. Ash. Obliterated. Understand?"

He thinks it a bit excessive of a response, especially if you're including yourself, but he agrees anyway, practically swooning at your protectiveness.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x reader

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zepskies · 1 year ago

Note

Hello my lovely friend! I would love to see an imagine/head canon of Dean and the reader seeing each other for the first time after he either comes back from hell or purgatory if you’d be up for it 💕 up to you whether it’s an established relationship or mutual pining 😉 thank you! 😘

Hello, my dear!!

Thank you so much for this imagine! I needed a bit of Dean. 😘

Now I went with Purgatory for this one (S8, E01 – “We Need to Talk About Kevin”).

I diverged from canon of Sam not looking for Dean to make sure if he was dead. Not just because I think that choice by the SPN writers wasn’t true to Sam’s character (Even Jared has said this lol), but because I think if Dean had a girlfriend at this point in time, Sam wouldn’t just abandon her to deal with Dean’s loss alone.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Song Inspo: Yes, I had one for this! Weirdly enough, it was the entire “Moneyball” soundtrack. The whole smooth but intense pace of it really drove me on this.

Word Count: 2,200 Warnings: 18+ only for some smuttiness.

Imagine: Reuniting with Dean, not knowing if things will be the same.

You’re doing the dishes when your phone rings.

You check the caller ID, frowning when the number is unfamiliar. But you answer with a thread of wariness while you’re holding a glass.

“Hello?” you answer. For a moment, there’s silence on the line. Your brows knit together in suspicion.

For months, you’ve been living with Sam and Kevin in this dusty cabin in the woods. Literally, in the middle of buttfuck nowhere. It was the only way you and Sam could try to protect the prophet from Crowley.

So the fact that you're getting a call at all is surprising in and of itself.

Your frown deepens. “Whoever this is, you have three seconds before I hang the hell up.”

“Hey…it’s me.”

Your suspicion fades, but shock overtakes you. Your breath stills in your lungs when you hear Dean’s voice. However, your brain can’t compute.

It’s been a year.

“Sweetheart, are you there?” he says.

You finally choke on a gasp, and the glass slides out of your hand and shatters in the sink.

“Hey, you okay?” his gruff concern is so very Dean that it continues to choke you into tears.

“Dean,” you utter. Your mouth trembles as your eyes close, and your tears find their own way down your cheeks. “I…I’ve been…you’re okay?”

“Well, I’m here,” he answers, with some dry humor, but he sounds off. You don’t know what to make of that, but now you’re worried.

You look down at your shaking hand, and you realize that there’s a small piece of glass that ricocheted into your palm. You ignore it, because all you can focus on is your boyfriend’s voice in your ear.

“Where…are you?” you ask. Every trembling, heave of breath brings you closer to a sob.

“Louisiana. Clayton, Louisiana,” he replies. His voice is even, but there’s emotion there too. You hear it, only because you know him so well. “Where are you?”

And how soon can you get here? his tone implies.

After Dean disappeared in the aftershock of Dick Roman’s death, you, Sam, and Kevin had been scouring every lore book on God’s green Earth. Nothing has gotten you closer to finding Dean in the last year.

You hadn’t allowed yourself to fully give up, but in recent weeks, you would never admit that your heart has been starting to falter. So has your body.

Sam watches you closely on the way out of the house, heading to the Impala. You’re grateful for the way he’s been looking out for you, but you also resent it. You don’t need help. You’re fine…mostly.

As strange as it’s been living in this house, it’s become your safety blanket. Your cold shell where you can block off the rest of the world, as if time hasn’t been ticking by all these months outside of it.

But now you’re practically shaking. Call it nerves, lack of sleep, too much caffeine, too much crap food, stress, and grief. You ignore it, taking a firm grip of the passenger door handle and yanking it open. Sam drives.

The hours are excruciating. Your leg bounces restlessly, and Sam notices, but doesn’t comment. He does try to soothe you with your favorite music in the car. He tries to pick up conversation, but you’re not having it.

You’re even being pretty selfish right now. Sam had been without his brother for a year, just as you had been without. And here he is, trying to comfort you.

You can’t help it though.

You’re not okay. You don’t think you’ll ever be okay again until you see him.

Sam eventually pulls into the dingy motel in the middle of rural Louisiana. (And yet, somehow on the corner of a Hustler, one of Dean’s favorite sex shops. Your lips curve slightly.)

Sam’s calling Dean on his cell, but you’re too impatient to wait for the man to come out.

You jerk the car door open, and in your haste, you don’t realize that you’ve slammed the door shut.

“Hey, easy on my Baby.”

You turn with a gasp lodged in your throat, but not even that can escape when Dean comes into view. Complete with red plaid and old jeans and rough stubble that approaches a beard, and a duffel bag.

Dean’s smirk fades into a softer grin when he takes in the familiar curve of your face, the gentle frame of your body, the sight of your tears, welling up in your eyes.

You take in a shuddering breath, and you go to him. Dean drops his bag so that he can properly welcome you where you’re supposed to be.

His arms wrap around your waist, a hand coming up to cup the back of your head. He smells like motel soap and second-hand clothes, but all you care about is that he feels solid and alive and your heart’s just shy of shattering, or knitting back together. It beats a fast flutter in your chest.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he rumbles in your ear. You nod, even though you can’t help the way you’re shaking, crying, clinging to him.

“I’m sorry,” you say. You hate that those are your first words to him, but you can’t help it. That’s what you feel, down to your bones. “We tried so damn hard to find you…”

Dean pauses a bit on that, but he just shakes his head. He meets Sam’s gaze behind you and offers his brother a smile. Sam smiles back; he’s full to the brim at the sight of Dean, but for you, he’s patient. He can wait his turn.

“I know,” Dean tells you, holds you a bit tighter. “I'm all right. It’s not your fault, you understand?”

You draw another shaky breath and lean back far enough to see his face. You raise a hand to touch his cheek. When he stares down into your eyes, you know you’re going to be okay.

And so will he. You’re going to make sure of it.

In lieu of words, Dean leans down and captures whatever you might’ve said then with his lips. The kiss is heat and longing, both sweet and rough. It’s everything you need.

It’s a long drive all the way back to your cabin in the woods. Dean checks on you often while you’re passed out asleep in the backseat. He’s back in the driver’s seat of his car, hands wrapped around the familiar leather steering wheel, but he still doesn’t feel totally…right.

Despite being wrapped around the leather, his right hand feels empty. Like it needs the weight of a weapon. He’s still tense and on edge, even now, and Sam notices.

“What was it like?” he asks, quietly so he doesn’t wake you. He’s glad you’re finally sleeping.

“Purgatory?” Dean scoffs. “Like being deep in God’s freakin’ armpit.”

Sam’s brows knit together, but he waits, seeing if Dean will continue. And he does, after giving Sam a brief glance.

“It was monsters, Sam.” A never-ending twilight. Never a moment to rest. A wide-eyed existence of gnashing teeth and blood and black ooze.

When Sam inevitably asks how he got out of Purgatory, Dean is vague, evasive. Castiel didn’t make it, he admits, also in halting detail. But Dean is more willing to focus on how tired you and Sam both look. How pale your skin is. How it seems like this is the first hour of sleep you’ve gotten all week.

“How’s she been?” Dean asks, once again checking on you through the rearview mirror. Sam inhales deeply, making Dean frown.

“She’s been holding on,” Sam replies. “Strong, for Kevin especially. Poor kid’s too scared to go outside half the time.”

Dean turns to him with a frown.

“You’ve been taking care of her, right?” he asks.

Sam huffs, with a wry smile. “When she let me.”

Dean quirks a bit of a smile. That sounded like you. Stubborn at your best, damn near impossible at your worst. But the latter is what he’s worried about.

He later carries you inside the cabin, acknowledging your sleepy mumbles that you can walk, but not actually heeding your words. Sam tells him which one is your room, and Dean carries you there. By then you’re awake, but resigned to the fact that he isn’t going to let you down.

Your hand smooths up his arm, up the back of his neck and into his hair. It makes a pleasant tingle run up his spine.

“Your hair’s gotten long,” you muse, sorting your fingers through the strands. His hair’s darker too, not quite so dirty blonde, now leaning closer to light brown.

Dean smiles a bit. “If that’s all that’s changed, then I’d say I’m in good shape.”

He lays you down on the bed, and you bring him down with you by grabbing onto the front of his gray undershirt. He sinks down onto the edge of the bed and drifts a hand from your arm, to your face. He refreshes his memory of every angle, the soft feel of your skin. He knows his hands are rougher, but you feel the same.

You draw him into you and it begins.

Kissing him feels like taking a much needed breath. The way he grips your arms when you lick sensuously into his mouth—a sudden squeeze, an iron hold—it ignites your blood and the fire in your lower belly.

Your fingers rake into his hair. His solid grip moves to your hips, and you lie back when he guides you onto the mattress.

The sound of your breaths mingling together become shallow as you shove the plaid off his shoulders and ruck up the shirt. He does the same for your shirt and jeans, followed by his own. All that’s left it his skin against yours and rough hands squeezing fingerprint bruises into your hips and thighs.

You don’t mind at first; the strength of his hold and how much he wants you spurs you on. You’re slick and pulsing with need when Dean eventually slides home inside you. He has a hand tight in your hair, gripping tighter as he begins to move hard and fast.

“Dean,” you pant. You moan on his name, but you’re also trying to get his attention. You wince as his hand tightens, both in your hair, trapped against the pillow, and on your hip. You hold onto his wrist.

“Ease up, baby,” you whisper. You don’t want Sam or Kevin to hear you, even though you’re sure they could guess what you and Dean are up to.

But Dean doesn’t seem to hear you at first. You look up into his eyes, and you’re not sure if he’s entirely seeing you. It’s not like him, and it triggers warning signals in your mind. You have to wrap your legs tightly around his hips, squeezing his wrist even harder to stop him for a moment.

“Dean,” you insist. And he finally sees you.

When you soothe a thumb against his wrist, his eyes widen. He releases his hand from your hair, bracing against the bed instead.

He frees the other hand from your hip, and he sees the shape of his fingers already forming in your skin. He knows his hold was tight enough to bruise down to the bone.

It’s happened before, but not like this. Dean’s never lost control like that. Not with you, even in times like these.

“Fuck,” he mutters as he catches his breath, frowning deeply. His green eyes meet yours, raw and guilty. “I uh…I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

You tilt your head at him with a thoughtful frown. You reach up to frame his face with both hands, and you wordlessly tug him down to you. Dean is somewhat reluctant, but he follows your guiding hands and meets your waiting kiss, tender and slow.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats against your lips. His voice is low and coarse, filled with the true depths of his emotions. Everything he's been trying to hide from you.

Your eyes sting with the threat of tears.

“It’s okay,” you reply, through sweeter kisses. “I love you. We're gonna be okay.”

He hesitates. Then, he nods, accepting your words and your warmth.

His hand slowly brushes against your thigh, soothing along your bruising skin. You still have your legs wrapped around his hips, but you lessen your own hold, now that he seems to have come back to himself.

You both realize then that it might not be okay for a while. But that too is all right. Because you’re nothing if not stubborn, and Dean is worth the challenge.

He closes his eyes to breathe and center himself. They blink open at the feeling of your hand, insistent on his shoulder. Your face is both tenderness and determination.

You push against him and twist until he's the one on his back, on the bed, holding your hips, the two of you still joined. He looks up at you still with a measure of reluctance.

"I've got you this time," you tell him, stroking his cheek. His almost-beard prickles against your palm.

After a moment, you can see in his eyes that he believes you.

And you begin again.

AN: Gaaaah, this man. I'm weak every time I write about him. 🥲

I have another Dean imagine coming soon. Some special anon asked for the reverse of "Sam being in love with Dean's girlfriend."

So stay tuned for "Dean gives you an impossible choice." 😉

Dean Winchester Imagines

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Dean Tag List:

@hobby27 @this-is-me19 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesdeanvessel @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @ades106 @emily-winchester @deans-baby-momma @melancholictearz @nic-kolas @katherineann83 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @tipthejar @ajjustice @thewritersaddictions @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @adoringanakin

@theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @mrshalverson2021 @iprobablyshipit91 @agalliasi @venicesem @waters-2567 @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @mimaria420 @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @beskarfilms @skyesthebomb @deans-spinster-witch @tmb510 @iamsapphine @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @fabimaou @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @syrma-sensei

#ask me stuff #reuniting with Dean #Dean back from Purgatory #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester #sam winchester #angst #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fic #spn #supernatural #zepskies answers

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writerslittlelibrary · 1 year ago

Text

I promise I can explain

masterlist

pairing: Blackhill x reader, Wanda x reader

warnings: making out, sneaking around, yelling, one mention of a shitty foster family

genre: fluff, angst

words: 1432

a/n: two posts in one day? I must be losing my mind

You do not have my permission to repost, copy or translate my work

|——————————— ⴵ ———————————|

Your mothers were supposed to be out for a mission for a few days. You didn’t expect them back until the end of the week. Apparently, the mission was way easier than expected, and that’s how you found yourself in this position, staring your mom in the eyes in pure shock.

You and Wanda had always been great friends. When she joined the Avengers, you were closest in age. Wanda may have been a few years older, but you two got along wonderfully. Your moms were worried about you bonding with her, finding her a bit dangerous, but once they saw how happy your friendship made you, they couldn’t help but be happy for you too.

You had been friends for about a year, and you realized you were starting to develop feelings for the witch. You were hanging out more, and having sleepovers at your home all the time.

Natasha and Maria were glad you had such a good friend, happy that you seemed to come out of your shell more. After one sleepover, everything changed. You and Wanda were watching a movie on your bed, and after a romantic scene, she had asked you if you had a crush on anyone. You told her yes, but refused to tell her who.

You had completely forgotten the fact that Wanda could read minds, so when you asked her if she had a crush on anyone, she simply leaned in to kiss you.

That was your first kiss, and you two made it official a few days later. Because you were hanging out so much already, your moms didn’t bat an eye when you seemed to be out of the house more.

You had walked out into the living room where your moms were sitting, hoping to ask a question without raising any suspicion. “Can I go watch a movie with Wanda tonight?” you asked them. Your moms looked at each other for a moment, before turning to you. “Of course. Do I need to drive you?” Natasha asked. You shook your head.

“Wanda is driving us,” you told them, and they nodded.

“Just don’t stay out too late,” Maria told you, and you smiled and nodded before walking off to your room to text Wanda.

You and Wanda did stay out a little too late that night. After the movie, you and Wanda had stayed in her car, and you were making out when you received a text from your moms. You didn’t notice it at first, but when they started calling, you and Wanda broke it off with a sigh.

You nearly had a heart attack when you saw the time, and Wanda drove you home quickly. You said goodbye to Wanda with a kiss, and quickly made your way up to the apartment.

When you got inside, your moms were sitting on the couch. Both had a disappointed look in their eyes. You threw your bag down and started apologizing, saying how sorry you were and how you forgot the time. Your moms weren’t mad at you, just concerned, and you had gotten an earlier curfew after that night.

A few weeks after that, your moms told you they had to go on a mission that would take about a week. They were sorry they both had to leave you at the same time, but you just told them that it was okay.

They apologized a few times, but the moment they were gone, you called Wanda over. You were on a school break for a few weeks and this was the perfect time to spend some time with Wanda.

Of course you still had sleepovers, but it was nice to know you were free to spend time together without the risk of anyone interrupting.

You were afraid to tell your moms of your relationship. You didn’t know how they’d take it. You knew they wouldn’t react badly to the fact you liked girls, but you never told them either. You never talked about boys or relationships, and you sure as hell never talked about crushes you had. Maria and Natasha simply believed you just weren’t into that yet, but boy were they wrong.

It wasn’t very ideal either. Wanda had recently turned 19, yet you were still 16. You and Wanda never really talked about the age difference, because neither of you really cared. You joked about it once, how Wanda was technically doing something illegal by dating you, but since you’ve known each other while you were both teenagers, you never really thought about it.

Your moms, however, would surely have a bad reaction to it.

That’s why you were so terrified right now. You and Wanda had spent the day in bed, watching some shows and now, undeniably, making out.

You both missed the front door opening and closing, and missed the sound of footsteps coming to your bedroom. You didn’t miss the slight creak the door made when opening, however, and you quickly got off of Wanda to sit beside her, looking at your mom.

“What the hell is this supposed to be!” she yelled, making you flinch slightly. You hated disappointing your moms, and Natasha had always had a short temper.

“Is this why you’re always staying out too late?! Why you’re always having sleepovers?! Why the hell didn’t you tell me!” Natasha continued yelling, and you could hear Maria approaching your room as well.

You still hadn’t said anything, but Wanda made the subtle move to grab your hand tightly, letting you know she was still there.

Maria entered the room calmly, seeing you and Wanda on the bed and quickly making the connection. “Natasha, love, why are you yelling?” she asked softly, make a move to grab Natasha’s hand. Natasha turned to Maria.

“Our little girl is sneaking around, making out and doing god knows what with Wanda!” Natasha explained, pointing her hand at Wanda as to make her point more clear.

Maria sighed softly, glancing at your terrified form on the bed, and then turning back to Natasha.

“Nat, love, I know you’re upset, but you need to take a breath. You’re scaring y/n,” Maria explained carefully, rubbing her thumb over Natasha’s hand to help her calm down. Natasha closed her eyes and sighed deeply, turning to you before walking out of your room.

Maria turned to you with a small smile, walking to you and giving you a soft kiss on your forehead. She cupped your cheeks, smiling softly at you. “I love you,” she told you, before kissing your forehead again and walking after Natasha.

You and Wanda stayed in your room for a few minutes, cuddling and trying to calm down.

Natasha and Maria had adopted you when you were nine, and your previous foster family wasn’t as loving as a family is supposed to be. Yelling frightened you, and Wanda knew that. So did your moms, but you figured Natasha just couldn’t help herself.

After you calmed down a bit, you gave Wanda a kiss on her cheek and left your room, going to find Natasha and Maria in the living room.

“I’m sorry,” you said as you walked in quietly. Natasha turned to you, and the look on her face simply broke you. She opened her arms, and you quickly sat down, leaning into her.

“I’m the one that has to be sorry. I should’ve never yelled. I’m so, so sorry,” Natasha told you, rubbing your back and kissing your head. “I love you, no matter what,” she told you. You lifted your head to look at her, and smiled at her. “I love you too,” you told her.

“So how long have you and Wanda been, y’know, a thing?” Maria asked, rubbing your back. “A few months… I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I didn’t mean to keep anything from you. I just didn’t know how to tell you and I-” “You, did nothing wrong,” Natasha interrupted your rant, cupping your cheeks. “We love you, and while I’m sad you didn’t trust us enough to come to us, it was your decision, and no one is mad at you,” she explained, and you smiled.

“So are you just into girls, or do you like guys too?” Maria asked, stroking your hair.

You shrugged. “I don’t know, but I don’t really care,” you explained and Maria nodded. “You don’t have to know. So how about we invite poor Wanda into the room and order some food,” Maria suggested, and you nodded.

You went and got Wanda, and you enjoyed a night settled on the couch, feeling relieved your moms finally knew.

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