#the circle ornament on the right was my practice ornament

[iannmin]

Yuletide High | c.cs 최승철

tags + warnings ⋆ fluffy smut, bigger!husband!seungcheol x small!reader, implied size kink, breeding kink (extreme), creampie, dirty talk, manhandling, praise kink, intentional lowercase

synopsis ⋆ under the half done christmas tree, complications occur as cheol can’t quite seem to hold back his wishes <3

୨୧ ‘ masterlist ‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹ ⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆ ⁺₊❅⋆

you should have found it ridiculous or even funny at the situation both of you were in…no, really. if anyone had walked in on the both of you in the living room, it would be an absolutely disaster.

somewhere between hanging up the christmas ornaments on the fresh pine tree and exchanging wishes for the new year, everything went completely amiss.

you didn’t know that one phrase could have so much impact on your poor husband. but it did anyways. a simple “lets try for a baby” had cheol instantly folding, index and middle finger fumbling and tugging at the hem of your underwear and matching cotton plaid pants, hastily pulling them down your plush thighs even though you were practically kneeling doggy-styled in front of the half-done christmas tree. but for cheol, he seemed even more in a hurry.

not even bothering to remove the santa hat on his head, his plaid pants dropped and pooled near his knees, cock springing and hitting against his abdomen.

“oh my god cheol! n-not here, too exposed”

“fuck, but isn’t this the perfect place to get you all knocked up, hm? our baby will be made right under this lovely christmas tree. gonna be s’full of our love” and with that, his huge calloused fingers were digging into the flesh of your hips, slowly easing his cock into your heat. no matter how many times the both of you did it, your husband never failed to stretch your hole.

“f-fuckk! cheol, feels s’good, fuck me…please”

“yeah you like that baby? nggh..gonna be the best christmas gift I’ve ever had…oh god” every drag of cheol’s cock came away stained in white. a ring of the combined cum circling the base, balls sticking to your clit with every thrust. you were practically ascending into heaven.

his grip on your hips tightened, one arm snaking around the front of your small waist to find your clit, rubbing at it rapidly sideways. at this point, your thighs were shaking involuntarily, tears streaming down your flushed cheeks at the immense pleasure, and lips spewing a continuous lewd chant of his name.

his cock slammed and abused your sopping cunt continuously, producing a thunderous rhythm of skin-slapping sounds echoing in contrast to the peaceful and cozy christmas atmosphere that the living room emitted. but regardless, it was all a symphony of music to him.

your arms had given up, heated cheeks dropping to meet the cool marble floor while he pounded into you.

you were close.

“hnngh…n-no! c-cheol gonna..f-fuck…gonna cum!”

“oh god! s-shit, gonna cum too baby. gonna be such a pretty mommy for me? let me put one in you, hm? belly all round and swollen..tits full of milk…hnngh..can’t believe m’doin this to you, fuck-“

as promised, both of your high came crashing down as he pressed his cum right into you, right where he knows it’ll reach your womb and give you just what the both of you had wanted.

it’s absolutely hot and thick against your gummy walls. he held you through it, taking your hips in kneading hands to hold you still, making sure that you absolutely took it. and when you think he’s done, he rolled his hips up into you to shoot more ribbons, grinding harder against your ass. by the time you both were done, the santa hat had nearly slipped off his head, barely clinging on, but it didn’t matter much anyways.

“merry christmas baby, christmas next year will be a lot less lonely with one more in the house <3”

[lila-lou]

✨Littlest Winchester✨

Summary: You were always all about Christmas, but this year your excitement was through the roof—mixed with a hint of nervousness. You had big news to share with Dean, and the thought of it made your heart race with both joy and a touch of fear.

-Christmas Special-

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: bit of Angst, FLUFF

Word Count: 8706

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. ❤️

Dean groaned as you shoved him, shifting slightly before blinking awake. His arm instinctively reached back for you, but you were already halfway out of bed, practically buzzing with excitement.

“What the hell, Y/N”, he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. “It’s too early for this”.

You turned around, your grin widening as you saw his messy hair and the way he tried to bury his face back into the pillow. “It’s Christmas, Dean! Come on, get up!”.

He cracked one eye open, clearly unimpressed, but there was a hint of amusement in his gaze. “You’re like a kid”, he muttered, but despite his grumbling, you knew he wasn’t really annoyed.

You laughed, pulling at his arm to try and drag him out of bed. “Exactly! And we’ve got a whole day ahead. Presents, food… everything”.

Dean groaned again, louder this time, and reached out his arm, trying to pull you back toward the bed. “C’mon, baby”, he muttered, his voice low and husky. “Just… five more minutes. It’s freezing out there, and this bed is perfect right now”.

You shook your head, laughing softly as he wrapped his arm around your waist, tugging you back onto the mattress. “Dean! We have the whole day! I don’t want to waste it”, you said, even as you felt his warmth surround you, making it harder to resist the temptation to stay.

He grinned lazily, clearly enjoying his victory as you reluctantly settled back beside him. “The day’s not going anywhere”, he murmured, his voice a little softer now. “Besides, Christmas can wait. Let’s just stay here… just a little longer”. His hand traced lazy circles on your back, and you could feel his breath against your neck as he nestled closer.

For a moment, you almost gave in. The way Dean held you, his warmth, the quietness of the room—it was all too comfortable. But then your excitement bubbled up again, and you gently nudged him. “Dean, come on”, you urged, trying to wiggle free from his grip.

Dean let out an exaggerated groan, burying his face deeper into the pillow as you tried to escape his grasp. “You’re killing me, Y/N”, he muttered, his arm tightening around you one last time before finally loosening his grip. “Fine, but I’m only doing this for the pie”.

You laughed, finally free as you sprang out of bed, your energy contagious. Dean rolled onto his back, stretching his arms over his head, watching you with a lazy smirk as you practically skipped around the room.

“You’re lucky you’re cute when you’re excited”, he teased, his voice still thick with sleep. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, running a hand through his messy hair as he sat up. “But if I don’t smell coffee in the next five minutes, you’re on your own”.

You shot him a playful glare before heading toward the door, the excitement bubbling up again.

Dean pulled on his sweatpants and a shirt, giving one last stretch before heading out of the room. He followed you quietly through the bunker, the coolness of the metal halls contrasting with the warmth of your festive decorations. You had spent weeks transforming the usually stark and utilitarian space into something that actually felt like Christmas—string lights hung from the walls, garlands draped over the railings, and a big tree sat proudly in the corner of the main room, covered in ornaments.

As Dean walked, he couldn’t help but smirk at how much effort you’d put into it. The bunker, usually so cold and impersonal, felt almost… homey. He’d never been one for Christmas decorations, but he had to admit, seeing the place like this wasn’t so bad.

When he finally reached the kitchen, you were already bustling around, pouring a mug of coffee and humming to yourself. The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, mixing with the faint scent of cinnamon from a candle you had insisted on lighting every morning.

Dean leaned against the doorframe, watching you for a moment. “You know, you’ve really outdone yourself with this whole Christmas thing”, he said, his tone half teasing, half genuine. “Didn’t think the bunker could look this… festive”.

You turned around, grinning as you handed him a mug. “Well, someone had to bring the holiday spirit. If it were up to you, we’d have nothing but a six-pack and maybe a couple of leftover slices of pizza to celebrate”.

Dean chuckled, taking the coffee gratefully. “Hey, nothing wrong with that. But I gotta admit, the tree’s kinda growing on me”.

That’s when Sam stumbled into the kitchen, still half asleep, his hair sticking up in all directions. He looked like he’d just rolled out of bed—because he had. He squinted at the lights. You could see him suppressing a yawn as he leaned against the counter, blinking at the sight of the two of you.

“Morning”, he muttered, rubbing his eyes and reaching for the coffee pot. “Knew I’d be dead if I slept in today”, he added with a smirk in your direction, his voice gravelly with sleep.

You grinned, lifting your mug in mock salute. “Damn right, Winchester. It’s Christmas, not time to laze around”.

Dean chuckled, shaking his head as he watched Sam pour himself some coffee.

Sam took a slow sip of his coffee, his eyes narrowing slightly as a mischievous grin crept onto his face. He leaned back against the counter, casually crossing his arms. “Speaking of lazing around, Dean, I didn’t think you’d even be up by now, considering you’ve got a whole new reason to stay in bed these days”, he teased, casting a glance your way.

Dean shot him a look, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, really, Sammy? That’s what we’re doing now?”.

Sam smirked, clearly enjoying the chance to poke fun at his brother. “What? I’m just saying, Y/N’s got you wrapped around her finger. I never thought I’d see the day Dean Winchester gets out of bed early on Christmas morning without complaining. Miracles do happen”.

Dean rolled his eyes, but you could see the faintest hint of a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, yeah. Keep talking, Sasquatch”.

Sam chuckled, clearly not done with the teasing. “I’m just saying, she’s got you doing things I never thought possible. I mean, you’re practically domesticated, Dean. Next thing we know, you’ll be cooking us a Christmas dinner and wearing an apron”.

Dean scoffed, leaning back against the counter with a smirk. “Yeah, right. Like I’d ever let you two anywhere near my cooking. And for the record, Y/N hasn’t ‘domesticated’ anything. I’m still the same badass I’ve always been”.

You raised an eyebrow at him playfully, crossing your arms. “Oh really? Because I distinctly remember someone helping me hang Christmas lights last week without complaining once”.

Dean pointed at you, his grin widening. “Hey, I did that under protest, and I still managed to look cool doing it”.

Sam burst out laughing. “Yeah, because nothing says ‘cool’ like untangling lights and getting glitter all over yourself”.

You grinned, stepping closer to Dean and leaning in to kiss him softly on the lips. “You’re still a badass”, you mumbled against his mouth, your hand resting on his chest.

Dean smirked, his eyes darkening playfully as he pulled you closer, his hand slipping to give your butt a squeeze. “Damn right I am”, he grumbled quietly, his lips brushing against your ear. “And tonight, I’m gonna show you just how much of a badass I really am”.

You blushed slightly, biting your lip, but before you could respond, Sam cleared his throat loudly, rolling his eyes as he grabbed a spatula from the counter. “Alright, lovebirds. Save it for later”. He gave Dean a pointed look and shook his head, but there was a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Dean just laughed, completely unbothered. “What? You’d understand if you weren’t such a giant prude”.

Sam chuckled and turned his attention back to the stove, where the eggs you’d been cooking were starting to sizzle. “Speaking of helping, you two might want to focus on breakfast before I have to scrape these off the pan”. He stirred the eggs, giving Dean a mock glare. “You’re not getting out of this one, man. You can help with breakfast if you’re not too busy being a badass”.

Dean grinned, giving you one more quick kiss, his lips lingering just long enough to make your heart flutter. "Alright, alright", he muttered with a chuckle.

You rolled your eyes playfully but couldn't help the smile that tugged at your lips as you returned to the stove, taking over where Sam left off with the eggs. As you stirred them, you could feel Dean’s gaze still on you, that familiar warmth blooming in your chest. Sam was right—Dean might act tough and gruff most of the time, but with you, it was different. There was a softness he showed only around you, a vulnerability he never let anyone else see. And honestly, it felt good knowing you had him wrapped around your finger in a way no one else ever had.

Dean walked up behind you, resting his hand casually on the small of your back as he grabbed the coffee pot to refill his mug. "These eggs better be good, or you’re gonna have to explain to Sam why I’m stealing all the bacon later".

Sam snorted from the other side of the kitchen, glancing over with a smirk. "You’re such a drama queen, Dean. It’s breakfast, not a five-star restaurant".

"Hey, breakfast is important", Dean shot back, leaning against the counter with a mock-serious look. "And so is bacon. Especially on Christmas morning".

You laughed, shaking your head as you finished scrambling the eggs, the smell of food filling the bunker and blending with the warmth of the decorations around you. “Relax, Winchester. You’ll get your bacon”.

Dean raised his mug in a mock toast. “Now you’re talking my language”.

As Sam set the table, you couldn’t help but take a moment to appreciate the scene—two brothers you cared about, a peaceful morning for once, and a Christmas that actually felt like something worth celebrating. Despite everything life threw at you, moments like this made it all worthwhile.

Just as you set the plates of scrambled eggs and bacon on the table, a sudden whoosh of air filled the room, and before you could react, Jack appeared right in the middle of the kitchen, his usual bright smile lighting up his face.

“Good morning!”, Jack exclaimed, his excitement palpable. “Merry Christmas!”.

Dean nearly spilled his coffee, glancing up with a start. “Damn it, Jack! We’ve talked about the whole ‘teleporting without warning’ thing”.

Before Jack could respond, there was another rustle, and Cas stepped into the kitchen, as calm and collected as ever. “Dean”, he said in his familiar, gravelly tone, “we’re here for breakfast, not to startle you”.

You couldn’t help but chuckle as you watched Dean roll his eyes, clearly trying to keep his usual grumpy demeanor in place, though you could tell he was glad to see them. “Yeah, well, maybe next time use the front door like normal people”, Dean muttered, but his grin betrayed him as he waved them over.

Jack, seemingly oblivious to the grumbling, beamed at the sight of the Christmas decorations you had put up. “Wow, Y/N! The bunker looks amazing! It feels so… festive!”.

You smiled, wiping your hands on a dish towel. “Thanks, Jack. Took a bit of work, but it’s worth it”.

Cas, standing beside Jack, nodded his approval. “It’s a significant improvement. Very… homey”.

Dean snorted, muttering under his breath, “Great, now even Cas is getting sappy”. But there was no hiding the fondness in his voice.

Sam grinned at Jack and Cas, pulling out chairs for them. “Perfect timing, guys. Y/N just finished making breakfast. You’re just in time”.

Jack’s eyes lit up as he sat down eagerly, glancing at the spread of eggs, bacon, and toast. “I love breakfast!”.

Dean raised an eyebrow as he sat down across from him. “Jack, you love every meal”.

Jack shrugged with a sheepish smile. “That’s true. But breakfast is especially good”.

Cas sat beside Jack, his eyes scanning the table thoughtfully. “I don’t require food, but I appreciate the sentiment. I’ll join you”.

Dean caught your eye as you both sat down, his hand brushing against yours under the table. He didn’t say anything, but the warmth in his gaze said it all: this, right here, was what mattered.

As the breakfast continued, the table filled with the sound of clinking forks and Jack excitedly recounting some recent stories, Cas began to grow unusually quiet. You noticed him eyeing you from across the table, his piercing blue gaze lingering on you with that familiar intensity that usually meant he had picked up on something. His brows furrowed slightly, and you bit your lip, silently hoping he’d just tune into Jack’s enthusiastic chatter.

But then, Cas tilted his head ever so slightly, his eyes narrowing as they dropped to your stomach. “Y/N”, he started, his voice cutting through the lighthearted atmosphere, “something feels… off”.

Your heart skipped a beat. You could feel Dean glance at you out of the corner of his eye, his fork pausing midway to his mouth. Cas’ eyes were still fixed on you, a mix of confusion and concern etched across his face, and you knew he was sensing something that you weren’t quite ready to discuss. Not yet.

Cas opened his mouth again, but before he could say anything more, you stood up abruptly, your chair scraping against the floor. “Cas, could you help me with something in the library?”, you asked quickly, trying to keep your voice steady, but the urgency in your tone was hard to miss.

Dean’s gaze shifted fully to you now, his brows furrowing slightly. “Baby, you barely ate”, he said softly, nodding towards your plate that still had most of the eggs untouched.

You forced a small smile, your heart racing. “I’ll be right back. I just need to check something with Cas. Won’t take long”.

Jack, still caught up in his own world, barely seemed to notice the tension as he continued his story to Sam. But Dean wasn’t fooled, his eyes searching yours for an explanation. You gave his hand a reassuring squeeze before nodding toward Cas, silently pleading with him to follow you without asking any more questions.

Cas stood slowly, his expression still unreadable but compliant, and followed you out of the kitchen. As soon as you were out of earshot, you let out a shaky breath, trying to gather your thoughts. The last thing you needed was Cas revealing something in front of everyone before you even had a chance to wrap your head around it yourself.

Cas watched you with that deep, unblinking intensity, his hands still tucked into the familiar folds of his trench coat. The silence between you felt heavy, the air thick with the tension of unspoken words. You could see the wheels turning in his mind, that angelic perception of his already picking up on things you hadn’t fully come to terms with yet.

And then it happened.

In the quiet stillness of the library, his gaze sharpened slightly. His head tilted once more, and his eyes flicked to your stomach. It was as though something invisible had clicked into place. The faintest sound of another heartbeat reached his celestial senses, soft yet distinct, tucked away beneath your own.

His eyes widened in realization, and he straightened up, his voice barely more than a whisper. “There’s… another heartbeat”.

You swallowed hard, your throat tightening as the reality of it hit you again. You hadn’t wanted to think about it, hadn’t even allowed yourself to fully embrace it yet. But now, with Cas staring at you like he’d just uncovered a truth written in the stars, it was impossible to avoid.

Cas stepped closer, his expression softening with a mixture of awe and understanding. “Y/N… you’re pregnant”.

There it was—out in the open. The secret you had been carrying alone, unsure of how to even approach it. The words hung in the air between you, thick and heavy, as if they had the power to change everything.

You nodded slowly, your eyes dropping to the floor as your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your shirt. “I—I found out a while ago. I haven’t told Dean yet”.

Cas watched you closely, his blue eyes filled with understanding as you hesitated. The weight of your secret had been building up inside you, and now that it was out in the open—at least with Cas—it felt like you were one step closer to facing it. But there was still the looming task of telling Dean, and that, above all, made your heart race.

You took a deep breath, your voice barely above a whisper as you admitted, “I’m planning on telling him tonight”.

Cas nodded, his expression gentle and supportive. “That’s a good idea, Y/N. It’s important that he hears it from you, and in your own time”.

You bit your lip, feeling the nerves bubble up again. “I know. I’ve been trying to figure out the right moment, the right words… but I don’t think there’s ever going to be a perfect time, is there?”.

Cas shook his head slightly. “No, but Dean will understand. He’ll want to be there for you, for both of you”.

You sighed softly, running a hand through your hair. “It’s just… it’s a lot. And with everything we’ve been through—demons, angels, hunting—it’s hard to imagine something like this fitting into our lives”.

Cas took a step closer, his presence calming. “You’re stronger than you think, Y/N. You’ve been through so much together, and this will be another challenge, but one filled with love. Dean will rise to the occasion”.

You smiled weakly, grateful for Cas’ steady reassurance. “Thanks, Cas. I really needed to hear that”.

Cas nodded, a rare, soft smile tugging at his lips, a sight so uncommon that it momentarily eased the tension in your chest. It was reassuring, the way he could offer comfort without saying too much, just being present and understanding in his quiet, angelic way.

"You’re welcome, Y/N", he said softly, that smile lingering. "It’s going to be alright. You’re not alone in this".

You felt a surge of emotion at his words. Cas always had this way of making even the most overwhelming situations seem manageable, like everything was just part of a bigger plan. You were about to face one of the biggest moments of your life, but somehow, in this moment, with Cas standing there, it didn’t feel as impossible as it had before.

“I’m not sure how I’m going to bring it up", you admitted, a hint of nervousness creeping back into your voice. “Dean’s not exactly the best at handling surprises”.

Cas’ small smile grew slightly, an amused glint in his eyes. “True, but he has a way of adapting, especially when it comes to you”.

You chuckled softly, rubbing your hands together nervously. “Yeah, I guess you’re right”.

Cas’ expression grew more serious again as he added, “Dean cares for you deeply. That won’t change, no matter what you tell him tonight”.

You nodded, letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “Okay. Tonight”.

You gave him a small, grateful smile and then glanced back toward the kitchen. "We should get back before Dean gets suspicious”.

Cas simply followed your gaze, and with a subtle shift of his posture, you both started making your way back to the kitchen. As you stepped inside, the sound of Jack’s laughter filled the room, and the warmth of the holiday decorations felt a little more comforting now.

Dean immediately looked up from his seat, his green eyes locking onto yours. His brow furrowed slightly, but he smiled, his lips curling into that familiar smirk that always managed to make your heart skip a beat. “Everything good?”, he asked, his voice casual but laced with curiosity.

You smiled back at him, nodding as you returned to your seat next to him. “Yeah, everything’s good”, you said softly, your hand finding his under the table again, needing that connection for just a bit longer.

Dean glanced between you and Cas but didn’t press further. Instead, he squeezed your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a gesture of quiet comfort.

The rest of the breakfast carried on with Jack and Sam exchanging stories, Cas chiming in now and then with his calm, straightforward insights. And while the atmosphere was light, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of the conversation that was coming later.

As the day went on, the soft hum of holiday cheer filled the bunker. Jack sat cross-legged on the floor beside you, eagerly helping to wrap the last few presents, his excitement almost palpable as he concentrated on folding the wrapping paper with precision. “Do you think they’ll like them?”, he asked, glancing up at you with wide, hopeful eyes.

You smiled warmly, watching him try his best to mimic the way you wrapped the gifts. “They’ll love them, Jack”, you assured him. “It’s the thought that counts, and you’ve put a lot of thought into these”.

Jack beamed, his joy infectious. “I hope so. I want this Christmas to be perfect”.

As you carefully taped the final gift, your eyes drifted over to Cas, who sat in the corner of the room, staring down at the bright red and green Christmas sweater you’d made him wear earlier in the day. It had a knitted image of a reindeer on it, complete with a blinking red nose, and while the sweater fit him perfectly, Cas looked incredibly out of place.

He tugged slightly at the fabric near his neck, his expression unreadable as he muttered, “This garment feels… unusual”.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly. “It’s supposed to feel a little weird. It’s a Christmas sweater, Cas. They’re meant to be festive, not comfortable”.

Cas raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “I fail to understand how wearing this contributes to the holiday spirit”.

Jack looked up from his wrapping and grinned. “It’s part of the tradition, Castiel. You wear silly clothes, eat too much food, and spend time with the people you care about. That’s the spirit of Christmas”.

Cas glanced at Jack, his confusion softening into contemplation. “I see”, he murmured, his eyes moving down to the blinking reindeer on his chest once more. “It is… rather distracting”.

You chuckled, moving to sit beside him for a moment. “You’re doing great, Cas. You’re embracing the whole Christmas thing, and that’s what counts”.

He nodded slowly, though his fingers continued to tug at the sweater, as if he were still trying to understand its purpose. “I suppose if it makes everyone happy, I can tolerate it for a little while longer”.

Jack beamed at Cas, clearly pleased that he was trying to join in. “It looks good on you, Cas. Really festive!”.

Cas gave a small nod of acknowledgment but looked a little like he’d rather be anywhere else than wearing that sweater. Still, it was a rare moment of levity in their otherwise intense lives, and you were glad to see him at least making an effort.

The day passed peacefully, the bunker filled with laughter and quiet conversation. Sam and Dean had gone out to get the final groceries for dinner, leaving you with some much-needed quiet time to prepare mentally for the conversation you were planning to have later.

Just as you began peeling potatoes for dinner, the sound of Jody’s familiar voice echoed through the bunker, followed by the laughter and chatter of her girls, Claire and Alex.

Cas, Jack, and Sam were quick to step outside to help unload the car. From the doorway, you could see Jack’s enthusiasm, practically bouncing on his heels as they brought in armfuls of presents from the back of Jody’s truck.

You smiled to yourself, grateful for the warmth that filled the bunker today. It wasn’t just the twinkling lights or the soft hum of Christmas music playing in the background; it was the people—this makeshift family that had come together, in all their strange, supernatural, and human ways.

Suddenly, you felt a presence behind you, strong and familiar. Before you could react, Dean’s hands slid around your waist, splaying across your belly as he pressed his body close to yours. His lips found the side of your neck, leaving soft kisses that sent shivers down your spine, making your breath hitch.

“Hey”, he whispered against your skin, his voice low and teasing. “You’ve been running around all day. Figured I’d steal a minute”.

You exhaled, momentarily forgetting about the potatoes as you leaned into his touch, feeling the warmth of his hands spread through you. His fingers brushed against your belly gently, and for a second, a rush of nerves tightened your chest. He didn’t know yet, and his hands were right there, resting over the secret you hadn’t yet shared.

Dean must have felt the shift in your body because he paused, his lips still on your neck but now still. “You okay, sweetheart?”.

You forced a smile, even though your heart raced beneath your chest. “Yeah, just… thinking about everything we have to get done”.

He chuckled, clearly not suspecting anything. “You’ve got this”, he said confidently, his hands giving your stomach a soft squeeze before he moved his lips to your ear. “And later tonight, we’ll make some time for just us. Sound good?”.

Your breath caught again, not from his words but from the weight of what you knew you had to tell him. You turned your head slightly, catching his gaze, trying to steady your nerves. “Yeah”, you whispered. “Later”.

Dean grinned, giving you one more lingering kiss on the neck before pulling back. "You need any help here?", he asked, nodding toward the potatoes you’d been peeling, but before you could answer, Jody stepped into the kitchen with her usual air of confident warmth, followed closely by Alex, both clearly ready to jump in and take over.

Jody smiled as she caught sight of Dean standing so close to you. “I think you’ve got enough on your plate, Dean”, she teased lightly, her eyes sparkling. “Why don’t you let the ladies handle dinner, and you can make yourself useful elsewhere?”.

Dean chuckled, holding up his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. You know where to find me if you need the real help”.

Jody rolled her eyes playfully before turning toward you. “Looks like we’ve got things covered in here, Y/N. What do you say we get this show on the road?”.

You gave her a grateful smile as Alex moved to your side, eager to pitch in. "Sounds good to me".

Before Dean could make another comment, Jody pointed toward the door, a mischievous grin on her face. "Dean, why don’t you, Sam, Cas, and Claire set up the tables in the library for dinner? I want it to look nice. You boys can handle a little decorating, can’t you?".

Dean snorted. “Decorating? Uh, sure, we’ll handle it”.

Claire, who had just come in, overheard Jody’s instructions and immediately protested. "Decorating? Seriously, Jody?", she groaned, throwing her hands up dramatically. "You know I’m not exactly the Martha Stewart type".

Jody shot her a mock-serious look. "It’s Christmas, Claire. And you’re part of this family, which means you help".

Claire grumbled under her breath, but the small smile playing at her lips told you she wasn’t really upset.

Dean, hearing her complaints, threw an arm around Claire’s shoulders as they both walked out of the kitchen. “Come on, kid. We’ll make Cas do the heavy lifting. You and I can just supervise”.

Claire smirked, shaking her head but following along anyway, while you could hear Sam and Cas joining in, their voices fading as they headed toward the library.

With the boys and Claire out of the kitchen, the room settled into a comfortable hum as you, Jody, and Alex set to work on dinner. The smell of freshly peeled potatoes filled the air as you and Alex continued prepping, while Jody took command of the oven, expertly sliding in a tray of seasoned vegetables.

“So”, Jody said, glancing at you with a raised eyebrow as she wiped her hands on a towel. “How are you holding up? Got a lot on your mind, I bet”.

You hesitated for a moment, your hand pausing mid-peel, before you nodded. “Yeah… you could say that”.

Jody gave you one of her knowing looks, that calm, motherly intuition she always carried. “Anything you want to talk about?”.

You smiled softly, appreciating the offer, but shook your head. “Not right now. But… thanks, Jody”.

She nodded, not pressing, but you could tell she understood. "Whenever you're ready".

Alex, sensing the shift in conversation, changed the subject, her voice bright as she asked about dessert ideas. The easy banter and lighthearted chatter that followed made you feel a little more grounded, and soon, the rhythm of preparing the Christmas feast fell into place, calming your nerves.

As you worked alongside Jody and Alex, you could hear occasional bursts of laughter coming from the library, a sure sign that the boys—and Claire—were enjoying their task despite the initial complaints. You couldn’t help but smile, imagining the chaos they were creating while attempting to set up the dinner tables.

Tonight was still hanging over you, but for now, you allowed yourself to enjoy the moment. The warmth, the laughter, the love that filled the bunker—it was all the reassurance you needed. Whatever came next, you’d face it surrounded by the people who had become your family.

Two hours later, the whole group was gathered around the large table in the library, now decorated with Christmas lights and a mix of festive table settings. Laughter and conversation filled the room, creating a warm, comforting atmosphere that made the bunker feel more like a real home. The scent of roasted vegetables, savory meat, and freshly baked bread wafted through the air as everyone dug into the Christmas dinner you had all worked so hard to prepare.

You sat between Dean and Sam, your plate in front of you looking more full than it should, considering the slight wave of nausea that had settled over you. Despite your best efforts, eating wasn’t coming as easily as you’d hoped. It was frustrating, really—you felt like you were starving, but every bite seemed to turn heavy the moment it hit your stomach. Still, you kept a huge smile plastered across your face, determined to enjoy the moment.

As Jody regaled the group with stories from her last Christmas with Claire and Alex, everyone at the table was engaged, laughing and reacting to her animated storytelling. Claire rolled her eyes playfully at some of the more embarrassing details, but there was no denying the affection in her gaze as she listened to Jody.

“And then”, Jody continued, gesturing wildly with her fork, “Claire decided it would be a great idea to chop down her own Christmas tree—without telling me. She borrowed my axe and came back with this tiny, crooked thing. Looked like Charlie Brown’s tree on a bad day”.

Everyone erupted in laughter, Claire groaning dramatically as she covered her face with her hands. “It wasn’t that bad!”, she protested, but the grin on her face betrayed her.

Alex chimed in, laughing, “Oh, it was that bad. You’re lucky it didn’t fall over on us while we were decorating it”.

Dean chuckled beside you, shaking his head. “Sounds like Claire and I would’ve gotten along just fine as kids”.

“Of course you would”, Sam said, rolling his eyes. “Mischief attracts mischief”.

You laughed along with them, though you could feel your stomach turning slightly as you pushed some mashed potatoes around your plate. Dean, ever observant, glanced at you between bites, his eyes narrowing slightly in concern.

“Hey”, he said quietly, leaning in so only you could hear. “You okay? You’ve barely touched your food”.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you offered him a reassuring smile, though you could tell he wasn’t completely convinced. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… not as hungry as I thought I’d be”.

Dean studied you for a moment, his hand resting gently on your knee under the table. He didn’t press further, though, which you appreciated. Instead, he gave your leg a soft squeeze before turning back to the conversation, his worry still lingering just beneath the surface.

As the evening went on, you focused on the stories and laughter around you, feeling the love and joy that filled the room. Jack, seated between Cas and Sam, was practically glowing with excitement, his eyes wide as he listened intently to each person who spoke, soaking in the warmth of the holiday spirit like it was something magical.

Occasionally, you managed a few bites of food, but the queasiness never quite went away. Still, the happiness of the evening made it easier to push the discomfort aside. Jody’s stories continued, one after another, each more hilarious than the last, and soon the entire table was in fits of laughter.

“I swear”, Jody said, wiping a tear from her eye as she finished another tale, “Christmas with these girls is never boring. If it’s not Claire taking an axe to a tree, it’s Alex burning cookies in the oven”.

Alex gasped in mock offense. “That was one time, Jody!”.

Sam grinned, leaning back in his chair. “Sounds like a Winchester Christmas, alright”.

Dean chuckled, but his attention shifted to you again, his hand still resting gently on your leg. He shot you a quick glance, as if making sure you were really okay, but before he could say anything, Jody changed the subject, pulling him back into the conversation.

For now, you kept your smile in place, the weight of your secret heavy in your heart.

The mood in the library was warm and festive as everyone gathered around the Christmas tree, glowing with twinkling lights. The bunker’s cold, utilitarian vibe had completely transformed into something that resembled a cozy family living room. Armchairs and smaller couches were draped around the tree, but despite the available space, Dean pulled you into his lap, grinning as he wrapped an arm around your waist, claiming you as his own little piece of Christmas comfort.

“Gotta save space, right?”, Dean teased, giving you a playful squeeze. You settled into him, your nerves still fluttering as you kept the small, tightly wrapped frame in your hands. You felt the solid weight of the secret within, the truth you were about to share, but you kept it to yourself for now, waiting for the right moment.

On the floor in front of the tree, Jack sat cross-legged, his eyes bright with excitement as he carefully picked up gifts, handing them out with the eagerness of a kid on Christmas morning. Sam sat nearby, his legs stretched out in front of him as he watched the scene with a fond smile. Claire and Alex were already ripping into their presents, while Jody smiled from the armchair, enjoying the chaos that had taken over the normally quiet bunker.

Dean, of course, had his focus on you, even as he tore into the gifts Jack handed him. His laughter filled the room as he opened a box from Sam containing a brand-new set of tools. “Knew I could count on you for the practical stuff”, Dean joked, giving Sam a wink.

You smiled softly, watching Dean enjoy the moment, but your heart raced as the small frame in your hands grew heavier. You could feel the ultrasound picture inside, the words Littlest Winchester written across the frame. You had thought about this moment a hundred times, imagined how it would go, but now that you were here, sitting on Dean’s lap, surrounded by the people you loved, you felt a knot of anxiety tighten in your chest.

Jack continued handing out gifts, his excitement infectious as he passed a wrapped present to Cas, who opened it slowly, carefully peeling away the paper. Dean’s hands, however, rested lightly on your hips, and you could feel his attention shifting back to you between each gift. He was smiling, but there was something in his eyes, like he knew something was on your mind.

Dean leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “You alright, sweetheart? You’ve been a little quiet”.

You nodded quickly, trying to keep the nervousness out of your voice. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… waiting for the right moment”.

Dean’s eyebrows rose slightly, but he didn’t press you further. Instead, he turned his attention back to the last few gifts Jack was handing out. But you could feel his curiosity piqued—he knew something was up, but he was giving you space.

Finally, all the presents were opened, and the room was filled with the sounds of laughter, wrapping paper scattered across the floor. Dean leaned back, his arm still securely around your waist as he admired the various gifts he had received. “This was a damn good Christmas”, he said, his voice content. “You outdid yourself this year”.

You smiled, your heart pounding in your chest as you held the small frame tighter in your hands. This was it. The right moment had arrived, and there was no turning back now.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you slowly shifted in Dean’s lap, turning to face him slightly. “Dean”, you started softly, your voice barely above a whisper, “I have one more gift for you”.

His eyes lit up with curiosity as he tilted his head. “Another one? You’re spoiling me, sweetheart”.

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment settle over you. With trembling hands, you passed him the small, neatly wrapped frame. Dean looked down at it, his brow furrowing slightly as he took it from you, clearly sensing the significance behind it.

His fingers brushed against the wrapping paper as he tore it open, his usual playful smirk giving way to something more serious as he carefully peeled back the layers. When the frame finally emerged, his eyes immediately dropped to the image inside.

Dean froze.

His hand tightened around the frame, his breath catching in his throat as his eyes locked onto the ultrasound picture. The words Littlest Winchester written across the top of the frame seemed to echo in the air between you. For a moment, everything else in the room faded away—Jack’s chatter, Claire’s teasing, even the warm glow of the Christmas tree seemed to disappear as Dean stared at the image in front of him.

His voice, when it finally came, was rough, barely a whisper. “Is this…?”.

Dean’s world seemed to stop as he stared at the ultrasound picture, his breath hitching in his throat. His eyes wide with disbelief and something else—something deeper, rawer. Right now, in this moment, it was as if the rest of the room had faded away. It was just you and him.

You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, but you couldn’t meet his eyes. Your heart pounded in your chest, a mix of nerves and anticipation swirling inside of you. You bit your lip, your fingers trembling as you twisted them together anxiously in your lap. How would he react? This wasn’t planned. Hell, you’d been on the pill, doing everything right, and yet somehow this happened.

You had known that Dean always wanted kids, deep down. You had seen it in the way he looked at families whenever you passed them on the road, in the rare quiet moments when he let his guard down and talked about what could have been. But with his lifestyle—your lifestyle—it always seemed like an impossible dream. The topic had always been brushed off, a “what if” too dangerous to entertain.

Now, it wasn’t a “what if” anymore. It was real. It was happening. And you were terrified of how he might respond.

Tears welled in your eyes, your vision blurring as you nodded slowly, unable to find the strength to look at him. You stared down at your hands, twisting your fingers together as the silence stretched on, the tension in the air thick enough to choke on.

“I—I didn’t know… I was on the pill. I don’t know how this happened, but… it did”, you whispered, your voice trembling as the tears spilled over.

You wiped at your eyes, trying to steady your breathing. “I’m scared. I don’t know what this means for us, for everything. I just… I know it’s not what we planned, and I don’t know how you feel about it…”.

Your voice trailed off, overwhelmed by the enormity of what was happening. You didn’t dare look up at him, afraid of what you might see in his eyes—afraid that the dream you hadn’t let yourself believe in might come crashing down.

But then, after what felt like an eternity, you felt Dean’s hand move from the frame. His fingers found yours, gently prying your hands apart and wrapping them in his. His touch was warm, grounding you, and with that simple gesture, your heart clenched.

“Sweetheart”, Dean’s voice was low, thick with emotion as he finally spoke, and you could hear the slight tremble in it. He reached up, his hand cupping your cheek, gently wiping away a tear with his thumb. “Look at me”.

You hesitated, but the softness in his voice, the warmth in his touch, made you brave enough to lift your gaze to meet his. When you finally did, the sight of his eyes—wide, filled with awe and love, and glistening with unshed tears—took your breath away.

“You’re pregnant”, he whispered, like he was trying to wrap his mind around the reality of it. “We’re having a baby”.

The corners of his mouth twitched as if he wanted to smile but was still too overwhelmed to fully let it through. His eyes searched yours, trying to gauge everything you were feeling, trying to make sense of this new reality.

You nodded again, your voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah, Dean. We’re having a baby”.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. His hand still rested on your cheek, his thumb brushing gently against your skin, grounding you both in this new, terrifying, and beautiful reality.

And then, suddenly, Dean let out a shaky breath, his lips curving into the kind of smile you had rarely seen from him—one of pure, unfiltered joy. A small laugh escaped him, as if the weight of the world had just been lifted from his shoulders.

“We’re having a baby”, he repeated, this time with more conviction, his voice filled with wonder. “Holy crap”.

He pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you tightly, holding you as if he never wanted to let go. You could feel the way his heart was racing, how overwhelmed and overjoyed he was, and it made the tears spill from your eyes all over again.

“I love you”, Dean murmured into your hair, his voice thick with emotion. “God, I love you so much. I don’t care how it happened, I don’t care about the rest. This—this is the best damn Christmas gift I’ve ever gotten”.

You let out a sob of relief, burying your face into his chest as you held onto him, your fingers gripping his shirt as you let the emotions wash over you. All the fear, the anxiety, the uncertainty—it all melted away in his embrace.

Dean kissed the top of your head, holding you close as you both stayed like that for a long moment. Finally, you pulled back slightly, looking up at him, your face wet with tears, but your heart lighter than it had been in weeks.

“Are you… are you really okay with this?”, you asked softly, still needing to hear it, still needing that final reassurance.

Dean’s eyes softened as he leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours. “More than okay”, he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “I’ve never been more okay with anything in my life”.

Dean pulled you in even tighter, his lips meeting yours in a soft, tender kiss that carried all the emotion he couldn’t quite put into words. His hand cradled the back of your head as if to ground both of you in the moment, making you feel safe, loved, and cherished. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath shaky but filled with happiness.

Without even glancing away from you, Dean blindly handed the framed ultrasound to Sam, who had been watching the two of you closely. “Hey, Sammy, check this out”, Dean muttered, his voice still thick with awe and emotion.

Sam took the frame gingerly, his brow furrowing in confusion at first as he glanced down. But when he saw what was in his hands, his expression shifted, his eyes widening in shock as he realized what he was looking at. “Holy crap”, Sam whispered, his voice echoing Dean’s earlier reaction.

The room, which had grown quiet as everyone observed the moment between you and Dean, suddenly erupted in soft gasps and murmurs as Sam held up the frame for everyone to see.

Jody’s eyes lit up with a wide smile, and her hand flew to her mouth in surprise. Claire and Alex exchanged looks, their usual tough exteriors softening into grins. Jack, sitting cross-legged on the floor, beamed, his face lighting up with pure joy. Even Cas, who had been quietly observing from the corner, allowed a rare smile to spread across his face, understanding the gravity of the moment.

Dean’s hand never left yours, his eyes locked on you as if he still couldn’t believe what was happening. “We’re really doing this”, he whispered softly, his voice full of love and a hint of disbelief.

You nodded, unable to stop the tears from flowing again, though this time they were tears of relief, happiness, and excitement for the future. “Yeah, we are”.

Sam, still holding the frame, finally found his voice again. “Dude, this is… this is incredible”. he said, his voice cracking slightly as he looked between you and Dean, his eyes misting over with pride. “I’m gonna be an uncle”.

Jody stood from her seat, stepping forward with a huge smile. “You two are going to be amazing parents”, she said warmly, her eyes shining with happiness. “This kid is already so loved”.

Claire let out a dramatic sigh from across the room, but there was no mistaking the affection in her tone. “Great, another Winchester to look after”, she teased with a smirk. “Just what we needed”.

Alex nudged Claire, rolling her eyes but laughing along. “Like you wouldn’t be first in line to babysit”.

Dean’s hand slowly wandered over your stomach, resting there as if he was already bonding with the little life growing inside you. He kept you close, his thumb lightly brushing your belly in a gentle, unconscious motion, and it sent a warmth through your entire body.

Then he looked over at Claire with that classic Dean Winchester smirk, teasingly raising an eyebrow. “Oh, you better believe you’re first in line for babysitting, Claire. You and Alex. It’s a Winchester tradition—gotta get you trained up for the dirty work early”.

Claire rolled her eyes dramatically, but her smile gave her away. “Yeah, right. I can already see it now—Dean and Y/N sneak out for a ‘quick hunt’ and I’m stuck with diaper duty”.

Dean chuckled, his eyes lighting up with amusement. “That’s the spirit! You’ll be a pro in no time, kid”.

Alex laughed from beside her, nudging Claire again. “Face it, Claire, you’re going to be Auntie Claire before you know it”.

Claire’s expression softened slightly, her tough exterior cracking just a little. “Yeah, well… I’ll do it, but only for the kid. Not for you, Dean”, she teased, crossing her arms.

Dean grinned, squeezing you closer as he shot Claire a wink. “Fair enough”.

Jack, who had been quietly observing with wide eyes, piped up from his spot on the floor. “I can help, too! I’ll keep the baby entertained, maybe teach them some… cool tricks”.

The entire room burst into laughter at that, and Dean’s hand squeezed your belly a little more, pulling you back into his chest with a look of mock concern. “Whoa, whoa, Jack. No angelic tricks around the baby just yet. We’re gonna need to stick with the basics first—like peek-a-boo, not teleporting”.

Jack nodded seriously, though the excitement in his eyes didn’t dim. “Right. No teleporting. Got it”.

Sam, still holding the framed ultrasound, smiled warmly as he watched the whole exchange, his gaze eventually landing back on you and Dean. “This kid’s going to be surrounded by more love—and more chaos—than it´ll know what to do with”.

Dean’s eyes softened as he met Sam’s gaze, the weight of the moment settling in once again. “Yeah”, he agreed, his voice quieter, more serious now. “That’s what family’s for, right?”.

You could feel Dean’s arm tighten around you protectively, and you leaned into him, feeling the overwhelming love and joy radiating from him. For so long, the idea of having a family seemed like an impossible dream for both of you, something that had been pushed aside in the face of all the danger and uncertainty. But now, sitting here surrounded by the people you loved, the dream was real.

Dean glanced down at you, his hand still resting protectively over your stomach, his expression softening into something deeper. “We’re really doing this”, he repeated, more to himself than anyone else, his eyes shining with quiet wonder.

You nodded, your hand resting on top of his as you smiled through your tears. “Yeah, Dean. We are”.

And in that moment, surrounded by your family and the warm glow of Christmas lights, everything felt right—like you were exactly where you were supposed to be. The future, as uncertain as it always seemed, felt full of hope and love. And as Dean held you close, his hand never leaving your belly, you knew that no matter what came next, you’d face it together.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

-

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[anastasia12]

König had been excited to take you ever since you agreed. Christmas itself wasn’t too important to him, but visiting the German Christmas market he visited almost every year since childhood was. It had everything– music, lights, food, entertainment, and the particular one he liked had a skating rink in the middle.

When you originally told him you had no clue what a ‘Christmas market’ was, especially a German one, König was almost personally offended. He squeaked something in German, most certainly calling you something along the lines of being uncultured before he insisted you went with him the next time the markets were set up.

You had forgotten about agreeing to it until winter rolled around, and it was all König spoke about. There was an unspoken understanding that you didn’t have anywhere else to be on Christmas due to your… complicated family situation. König didn’t question you, nor did he judge you. If anything he was happy he could share something he saw as personal. __

“Sie werden es lieben,” He gleamed as he climbed out of the car. He walked beside you, leading down the concrete sidewalk toward the center of town. König was practically buzzing with excitement. Finally, the two of you turned a corner and the Christmas market came into view.

The German-architectured business buildings were decorated with large, intricately placed holiday lights, casting a warm, bright glow over the different booths circling a large ice rink. The booths had different types of holiday foods, drinks, and entertainment similar to a fairground except everything was lined with beautiful, bright Christmas lights. There was a large population of people, all with their own families, passing booths, sharing drinks, and holding hands while skating around the open ice rink.

“What do you want to do first?” König asked you, eyes twinkling from the bright Christmas lights as he gleamed down at you.

"Everything," you replied with a laugh, taking in the stunning view of the market. The sight was overwhelming in the best way possible, and you couldn’t deny that König’s excitement was contagious.

König grinned under his scarf, his eyes crinkling with joy. “Gut! Let’s start with something sweet,” he suggested, guiding you to a booth selling Lebkuchen, the traditional gingerbread cookies decorated with colorful icing. He handed you one shaped like a heart with the words Frohe Weihnachten carefully piped on top.

“Taste it,” he urged, watching your expression closely as you took a bite. The spice and sweetness melted on your tongue, and you couldn’t help the little noise of delight you made.

“It’s amazing!” you said, and König practically puffed up with pride. “They make them fresh here,” he explained, his voice tinged with nostalgia. “When I was a boy, my mother would buy me one, and I wasn’t allowed to eat it until we got home. Now, you get to enjoy it right away.”

You smiled at the story, warmth blooming in your chest. “Well, thank you for breaking your tradition for me.”

König laughed softly. “For you, it’s worth it.”

The two of you wandered from booth to booth, trying roasted chestnuts, sipping Glühwein—a warm, spiced wine that heated you from the inside out—and marveling at the intricate handmade ornaments and trinkets on display. König insisted on buying you a small wooden nutcracker, painted in vibrant colors, as a keepsake.

“You have to keep this,” he said, handing it to you after paying. “Every time you see it, you’ll remember tonight.”

“Like I could forget,” you replied, slipping the nutcracker into your bag.

As the evening went on, König kept stealing glances at you, clearly reveling in your enjoyment of something so dear to him. He seemed particularly proud as he led you toward the skating rink. “Do you skate?” he asked.

You hesitated. “Not really… it’s been years since I’ve even tried.”

“Perfect!” he said, already lacing up a pair of skates for himself. “Then I’ll teach you.”

The two of you stepped onto the ice, your movements wobbly and uncertain compared to König’s steady, practiced strides. He took your hands in his much larger ones, steadying you as he guided you slowly around the rink. You stumbled a few times, but König was always there to catch you, laughing softly and offering words of encouragement in German and English.

By the end of the night, your cheeks hurt from smiling so much, and your heart felt light in a way it hadn’t in years. As you stood by the edge of the rink, watching the lights twinkle above, König leaned down slightly, his voice low and gentle.

“Danke,” he said. “For coming with me. It means more than I can say.”

You turned to him, your breath visible in the cold air. “Thank you for sharing this with me. It’s… perfect.”

König’s eyes softened, and for a moment, it felt like the bustling market around you faded away. Then he reached into his pocket, pulling out a small wrapped box. “Frohe Weihnachten,” he said, handing it to you shyly. “I got this for you.”

Inside was a delicate silver bracelet with a single charm shaped like a snowflake. You stared at it, touched beyond words.

“König, it’s beautiful.”

“It reminded me of you,” he said softly, his voice almost shy. “Unique and… special.”

You slipped the bracelet onto your wrist, the charm catching the light as you smiled up at him. “This is the best Christmas I’ve ever had.”

And as König beamed down at you, his eyes shining with warmth and something deeper, you knew it wouldn’t be the last.

[endereies]

ICE BOUND - MS

No Nut November - Day 4

NNN Masterlist...

-➤ When you treat Matt to a day of skating, he ends up teaching you the ropes

After the easy breezes of autumn, the chill in the air was noticeable. Months slowly rolled around to the beginning of December. You and Matt found yourselves wound up together inside a vast majority of the time, huddled under one of the many blankets you insisted on purchasing. Snow would occasionally fall throughout the week, as much as you hated the sheer chill it added to your skin, you adored the subtle crunch.

Today was one of those days, yet you found yourself within the bustling markets. Each stall was full of cute decorations and gifts dedicated to loved ones for the Christmas season. A hand painted ornament laid delicately in your hands, flipping back and forth as you further admired the cute design.

“Baby, look how adorable this is!” When you didn’t get a response from your boyfriend, your head raised. You saw him leaning against a lamppost, staring off in the distance. Your gaze met where his eyes were placed, and you smiled sweetly when realization his you. It was a skating rink, one you knew looked almost identical to the ones that introduced him to hockey.

“Matt? You alright, love?” A small giggle passed your lips when he jolted at your voice.

“Yeah, fine…I just miss skating around this time of year.” He shuffled slightly, trying to dismiss how he felt, but you had already noticed. Skating was a massive part of his life, especially his youth, you’d be surprised if he wasn’t nostalgic a smidge about it.

“How about me and you skate?” The words came out before you yourself could even think about them.

“Really?” He perked up instantly, his body reacting instinctively. “Can you even skate…?”

“I’m welcome to learning for you, baby.”

That’s how you found yourself stumbling on the ice like a newborn deer. You had been skating about 4 times in your life, all of which were when you were young. And it showed. Both your hands clung to the wall that circled the ice, doing anything you could to not slip and fall.

On the other hand, Matt was letting out small giggles at your actions. He was practically skating circles around you. Of course, after years of not being on the ice, he was a little rusty. However, he looked like an Olympian next to you, skating backwards and forwards alongside you.

“Baby? Do you trust me?” His voice is gentle and timid, and you can’t help but let it entice you.

“Always…why?” Your words were interrupted by Matt’s grip on your wrist. His hold pulled you away from the wall. Your body was practically frozen, not willing to move. The wall seemed so far out of your reach but you were relived when matt had a tighter grasp on your waist.

“Relax, breathe. I’ve got you, okay?” He watched as your body relaxed slightly, his warmth welcoming you. Until he let go.

“Matt, what are you doing.” You hadn’t meant to be stern, you were just scared and intimidated by the unfamiliar experience. When you were younger, you had that excuse to be bad, but now? You just felt like an idiot. “See, you can stand perfectly fine. Can’t you?”

Your gaze fell to your feet, frozen and sturdy on the ice. “I- uh I guess so.”

“Try pushing with your dominant leg towards me, slightly diagonal. Like this” After making sure you ware watching, he pushed with his right leg, inching closer towards you. You watched as ice gathered around the edge of his blade, scraping the top layer off.

Hesitantly, you did your best to push my leg out and to the side. It was gentle, but you moved none the less. Without stumbling, your blade once again scraped the ice and finally you were met with Matt’s body. “Perfect baby…Now, try again.”

Once more he furthered himself from me, a wider gap between the two of you. His eyes searched yours, in case he pushed it too far, but he wasn’t able to for long before you slid towards his. Your foot created a small indent in the ice, and you moved stronger, reaching him in one stride. His arms held your shoulders, letting your sturdy yourself on the ice before looking down. He admired the cute redness of your nose from the bitter cold.

However, all you could do was feel embarrassed, you were a grown adult and yet a bit of ice has you in pieces. You just wanted Matt to have a day out that reminded him of his childhood, but all you could do was shy away at the fact he was babysitting you like a toddler.

“Love, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” His eyes held a certain warmth that remedied your concerns, but you couldn’t easily let it go. “I wanted you to enjoy yourself skating, but you’re stuck with me which I cling to a stupid wall... I don’t know, I guess I figured you’d have a better time with Chris or Nick, y’know… someone who can skate.”

The soft look morphed into a bittersweet smile, his lips twitching upwards. “Oh sweetheart… I don’t care if you can skate. The fact that you were willing to do this with me, knowing you can’t skate well already means so much to me. I’m having fun teaching you. I’m doing something I love with someone I love. Why the fuck would I complain about that? Don’t you worry your pretty head about that…” The blush on your nose spread to your cheeks and now you hid for another reason. With another practised stroke of your feet, you pushed your body into Matt’s.

“Thank you, Matt…”

“No. Thank you for doing this with me. Now, c’mon. Those strides of yours need a little work.” A faint giggle slipped past his lips as he skated to your side, continuing to teach you about the basics of skating.

You couldn’t ask for anything more than that.

@melliflws @yuhayeee @st7rnioioss @sturn-bugz @bueckerrss @worldlxvlys @raysmayhem-72 @patscorner @y0urm4m @bernardsbendystraws @junnniiieee07 @luverboychris @jnkvivi @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @shorthairchris @colorthecosmos444 @anabethinking @zay-sturns @anyaa23 @emilyfaith2003 @zariyam @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @sturniolosiphone

© ENDEREIES 2024

[visceral-reject]

hi I’m the anon that just asked about the baby dream w/habit. can I be 🐰anon? I have a bunny lol :3 anyways can I have a smut fic with habit where fem!reader who is really needy and wants to be bred? :3 have a good day!! Get rest and WATER!💕

a/n: hello hello my favorite little ghoulie, please know I adored writing that ask but please forgive me for its shortness TVT. Of course you can be d anon! I really need to get my emoji anons in order.

Contains: Breeding kink, fem!reader, dom!Habit, mating press, slight angst at the beginning, needy!reader, Habit is lowkey condescending asf, overstimulation, fingering, pregnancy

Habit noticed things.

Habit was a watcher when it suited him, especially when it came to what he called his.

You were his, and he knew there was something wrong here.

Habit purred, reveling within your grasp, arms wrapped tightly around his neck as you practically scented him, rubbing your cheeks upon his shirt like a cat. After he'd woken you from your sleep just a night or two ago, your demeanor had changed, damn near a complete 180 from the pet he kept at his beck and call. Your silence was odd, but he could grow used to it, but this? Gods above, he loved this. He loved you needy and whiny and, ugh, just a lap ornament for him to fuck whenever he wanted. However, as the days grew, he had a certain itch, a craving. Habit’s hand made its way to your stomach, kneading the plush skin, though something felt wrong about it, imbued within his very being, there lay an unearthed feeling. Habit pawed at your hips, ignoring your whines of protest as he flipped you upon your back, latching his mouth to your throat. You were practically keening with want, moving your right hand to latch onto the hair above the nape of his neck, hips jutting upwards to grind against his covered bulge. A low groan elicited from his throat, his teeth digging into the sensitive flesh of your throat. Hickies and bruises from your previous sessions already decorated the flesh like some macabre art. HABIT prided himself at the fact you wore his marks with pride, damn near parading them around like a trophy. In your mind, they were, he chose you.

Habit's calloused hands massaged your clit, your wetness soaking his fingers as he cackled at your pleasure-filled moans. You were at his mercy, just as all things were. He was chaos and malice incarnate, further proved by how he withdrew his fingers, replacing them with his cock. He grunted at the feeling of your soaking cunt wrapping around his shaft. " Fuck bun, wetting the bed ain't 'cha?" he wheezed, laughing as his hand slapped lightly at your face. Never enough to leave a mark, your face was always off limits. Your eyes rolled back as Habit's hips snapped forward, his laughs echoed off the walls alongside your wails of euphoria. Habit cooed, cradling your face.

Then it clicked, something fired off within his brain as he stared at your stomach.

Child. You lacked a child.

You noticed his lack of movement, an odd thing for him, and followed his eyes. The hand that cradled your face trailed down to your stomach, tracing circles mindlessly. A smile tugged at your lips, tentatively placing a hand atop his. " Fuck a baby into me, Habit. Please," you whined, raising your hips. The noise emitted from his throat couldn't be named, though it was somewhere between a growl and whine. Habit's eyes, wild and dark, trailed your body up and down.

" You want a baby bun? Yeah? Yeah...I'll give you a baby."

[kurithedweeb]

As it turns out I have a LOT more to say about veils! So now I will inflict these discord rambles I did for @irenes-journal on y'all too.

OKAY SO veils are very commonly seen in worshippers of Irene and the Church of the Matron. The standard devotee veils their eyes to protect them from her divine radiance when looking up to her in worship, which is said to allow her to hear your prayer above that of others because she can get closer to you thanks to how you don't have to shy away from her. These are the most common and the only ones that can be taken off outside worship but some people like those employed by the church or living in church housing don't take theirs off. Members of the church such as priests and nuns cover the lower half of their faces because in the eyes of the public, their word mingles with the goddess's, they are the messengers of her word and middlemen between her and the masses and are never ever to be seen in public without one - they show a seamless united front and it's very scandalous in the church for someone to be stripped of their veil. The High Priest himself is to cover his entire face, for anyone outside his immediate family and lover to see his face is equal to seeing the face of Irene herself, he is her vassal and it's said that should she come down to the mortal realm he might even be her vessel, he has different veils and masks for different ceremonies and tones he wants to convey because you can't read his expression the way you're still able to with other kinds of worshipping veils. Zane is so lucky that he can't show his face because he can so sweetly talk circles around absolutely everyone but there's always something a little too sharp about his smile.

Followers of the Destroyer (illegal divinity :( so they're mostly considered cults) also sometimes use veils that very closely resemble the ones the Church of the Matron use except the eyes are always covered. Whenever we see Shad when was human, there's always a sort of shadow over his eyes, right? Their veils are meant to resemble that, and since it's very similar to worshippers of Irene it also helps them hide in plain sight in cities. They have to be very careful with their ornamentation already, but it's also just a little bit to twist something of their lord's enemy's worshippers into something of their own. Ask me about ornamentation in the Divine Faith sometime.

Veils do sometimes come up in the other Divine Warriors' divisions of the Faith because they're seen as a group under the leadership of Irene. Like, if you're a follower of Esmund or Xavier you might not wear a veil over your face but have a veil that goes over your hands and weapon during certain ceremonies or holiday-specific worshippings. Graduations at the guard academy usually involve the headmaster veiling the graduate's arms while they kneel with their sword to swear their oaths, after which the veil is wrapped around their shoulders or clipped to their pauldrons like a cape. You can tell when someone graduated from their oath veil.

Veils were a thing in Irene's time but they weren't popular until the rise of the Divine Warriors; Irene herself only got married after their ascension to what's basically sainthood and she wore a veil when she and Shad were married so it really got popular after that and eventually became standard practice in Ru'aun to be married with a veil. The tradition of both spouses eventually dies out and sheer veils become fashionable about the time of MyS but really devoted followers of Irene or Shad will still follow the old MCD traditions.

Wedding veils have a ton of variety, they are made special for the wedding day by either the elders of the family or a specialized tailor/seamstress. You can have layered ones, colored ones, shiny, silken, whatever you want, it's your day! The only real rules about the wedding veil are that people should not be able to see your face through it, you need to be able to get your arms out so sometimes the veil is sectioned/has slits cut for the arms, and there is usually a dictated length based on how religious your settlement is. Both people being married wear veils, not just the bride, and different lengths are chosen depending on gender: a man's wedding veil will usually fall in the range of his shoulders to his elbows, a lady's will usually fall in the range of the knees to the ankles, and if you're neither then between the elbows and knees is usually a happy medium. Both parties are veiled because the first person who should see your face when you're married is your spouse. After you're pronounced married, you and your spouse lift each other's veils and that's when you kiss.

Since you don't pass on your veil and you likely aren't getting rid of it, it's usually repurposed into something for the family. Maybe you'll stitch it into a blanket or something to keep it as a record of your personal history. Very commonly, your child's first swaddling will be made from your wedding veils!

[bijoumikhawal]

Nose rings in Egypt

Wearing nose rings in the Eastern Mediterranean actually goes back to the time that the Torah was being written. Referred to as nezemim, Rebecca is noted as wearing one. The practice continues to this day, though they are less common and have grown to be more strongly associated with South Asia and Alt sub cultures. Today it is thought that the wearing of nose rings in India may have been imported from West Asia (the assertion that they were brought over by the Mughals seems inaccurate, however, as the first mention of them is from around 1000 AD)- the discussion is somewhat contentious and unfortunately often feeds into political violence and bias against Muslims when mentioned.

The earliest modern depuction of a nose ring being worn in Egypt comes from the 1830s, thanks to our old enemy and research dog, Edward William Lane. He describes then as being made of brass or occasionally gold with glass beads attached to them, an inch to an inch and a half in diameter, says they are worn on the right side of the nose. His account associates them with poor women. He records the name as "khizám" or "khuzám".

A difficulty comes in recognizing nose ring examples held in museums; I have found a few items resembling this style, but they are described as earrings. The V&A is responsible for two cases, and given they have gotten information wrong on both Ancient and Modern Egyptian jewelry, my suspicion is these examples may be misidentified. The two examples will be shown promptly.

Another example of dubious identification comes from a design that may be multipurpose; silver rings with an openwork barrel at one end. The TRC Leiden institute has an example from Saudi Arabia and claims its a nose ring, but it bears close resemblance to some Egyptian examples identified as earrings, and those resemble some Coptic bronze examples also identified as earrings. To my mind this style also resembles Amazigh earrings/head ornaments (these were sometimes attached to the headdress, not the ears themselves). It is also possible that TRC Leiden has misidentified the item.

While Lane says nose rings were worn all over Egypt, the modern discussion I've found strongly associates them with Bahariya, where they are called gatar or qatrah. There, they are made of gold (usually 12 carat), with filigree and granulation filling the lower half, worn on the right side by married women. They also typically have a large flat circle of gold covering the gap where the wire goes through the nose. This is either soldered on or apart of the central wire the nose ring is built around. Occasionally a coral or glass bead is threaded into the wire that passes through the nose. They are never made of silver, as local women say silver would damage the blood vessels in the nose. They also feel that the nose ring prevents pain and headaches while worn, and when a piece has to be sent off to repair, they urge the person transporting it to hurry back.

I've found some discussion of nose rings as worn by Nubians, Sinai Bedouins, and Bisharin (Beja), Ababda (who have closely intermarried with the Bisharin), and Rashayda. The name recorded as used by Nubians and Beja is zimam. I haven't seen enough examples of Nubian or Beja Egyptian nose rings to draw conclusions about common manufacture, but I do have a few examples. One piece, attributed to Egypt by the Philadelphia museum, is a sliver ring with part of the wire flattened and cut halfway through. Azza Fahmy also provides a photo, putting it under a collection of earrings from the Red Sea area. Similar nose rings can be seen in these two photos from Sudan. I have also seen a photo allegedly of an Egyptian Nubian girl with a gold nose ring that has a similar partially flattened design.

Other Sudanese nose rings I've seen are gold, with a chain leading from the ring to the hair, in a similar fashion to the nath in India. However, these are not necessarily synonymous with Nubian nose rings, as Sudan has an Arab/Arabized cultural majority. At some point I'd like to ask someone who knows more about the subject if there is a distinction between the two styles, but as of now I do not know anyone who is knowledgeable on the matter, nor do I know of any academic texts that discuss the issue.

Beja jewelry has a strong influence from Nubian and Sudanese styles, owing to the fact that they live in proximity, and that more Beja live in Sudan than Egypt. Like Nubians, the Beja are an Indigenous group. They're believed to be related to the Blemmyes and the original group referred to as Medjay in Ancient Egypt, and some ostracon exist of their languages written in the Coptic alphabet (The Nubian alphabet is related to the Coptic alphabet as well, with unique letters for certain sounds). I have little information on the Rashayda, but they call their nose ring zimam. They claim to be descended from an Arab tribe, and some information I've seen implies they've intermarried with the Beja. Two nose piercings are in use by the Beja and Rashayda; a diamond shaped one worn in the center bulb of the nose, worn by Beja women, and gold nose rings with engraved designs or strung with beads, worn by both. 21k is the preference in Nubian goldwork, and this seems to be true of these groups as well.

In Sinai, the nose ring is called a shenaf. It has a great deal of similarity to Palestinian nose rings, and has a similar construction to Bahariya nose rings with the lower half full of filigree and granulation. It also sometimes has beads and hanging pieces. It is most commonly made of gold.

Other miscellaneous pictures of Egyptian nose rings:

Further reading:

https://newvoices.org/2021/05/14/most-decorated-women/ https://newvoices.org/2021/05/24/i-put-a-ring-in-your-nose/ | Regarding Jewish piercings and body art

https://www.google.com/amp/s/www.dharmadispatch.in/amp/story/history/the-nose-ring-or-nath-is-an-import-from-muslim-invaders https://www.naturaldiamonds.com/style/natural-diamonds-nose-pin-history-legacy/ | regarding Indian nose rings. The first one is unfortunately incredibly biased against Muslims, and I wouldn't link it if I could find a better write up of the argument regarding nose rings being an import to India. I debated including it at all, but figured I should stick to my rule for citing biased sources in Egyptian fashion research; include it, but note the problem.

The Traditional Jewelry of Egypt by Azza Fahmy

The Manners and Customs of the Modern Egyptians by Edward William Lane

https://collections.vam.ac.uk/item/O79718/earring-unknown/

https://collections.vam.ac.uk/item/O79793/earring-unknown/

https://collections.vam.ac.uk/item/O79718/earring-unknown/

http://collections.vam.ac.uk/item/O79342/earring/earring-unknown/

https://collections.vam.ac.uk/item/O79454/earring-unknown/

https://trc-leiden.nl/collection/?trc=&zoek=saudi&cat=Accessories&subcat=&g=&s=24&f=0&id=2435

https://www.philamuseum.org/collection/object/41469

[morningstargirl666]

WIP WEDNESDAY

This is a snippet from chapter 36 of TBBW, a very very rough draft - I haven't done much for this chapter because I'm obvi focusing on editing. However, I'm sure you'll still find it exciting - and a hint to where the fic's plot is taking us next.

Klaus eyed the new girl standing in the Lockwood study, watching as she perused the family’s various collectables and ornaments decorating the room, admiring a painting which Klaus thought rather tacky that was hung over the fireplace. There was a scent about her, tainting the entire room, wet fur and damp earth - a werewolf. Interesting.

“You’re a new face,” he commented, making her jump. She hadn’t noticed he was there.

To give her credit, she recovered quickly, spinning around to face him, taking in his appearance with a sharp eye. Klaus let her look, stepping further into the room, his hands behind his back.

“And I take it from your accent you’re an old one,” she pointed her finger at him, tilting her head in question. “Klaus?”

He smiled down at the floor, amused by her valiant attempt to hide her fear. Unfortunately, her jumping heartbeat gave her away. 

“My reputation precedes me. Hopefully not all bad.”

She curled up her lip in obvious disgust. “A little bad. Mostly repulsive.”

His smile dropped, no longer amused at all. He couldn’t work out if her disrespect was foolishness or arrogance.

“So you’re a friend of Tyler’s-” he continued, walking closer towards her, eyes narrowed. “That’s strange. He’s never mentioned you.”

The girl clamped her mouth shut, suddenly with little to say. And that was when Klaus heard his name being said, far away at the other end of the house, by a voice whose cadence he recognised instantly: Caroline.

“You’re kidding me? Klaus?” 

Klaus turned his head slightly, frowning as he listened in more intently. He could practically hear the wince in Tyler’s response.

“Yeah, and I really don’t want to piss him off so…You should go to the party. I’ll be fine here.”

“But I’d rather hang with you,” he heard Caroline reply, so tentative and so very hopeful.

Regardless, Tyler shot her down.

“Trust me, I am no fun right now.”

Why would Tyler turn her away? The petty, vindictive boy Tyler was, no doubt he’d jump at the chance to have Caroline on his arm while Klaus was in the house. A childish fuck you, since he couldn’t turn the hybrids protecting him away. So why say no? His mother was out, so she wouldn’t intrude, he was alone in the house except for-

Klaus’ gaze fell back on the new girl, looking at her in a new light. Suddenly, her presence took on an entirely different meaning, one that Klaus didn’t like at all.

“And I think I know why,” Klaus continued, shooting her a smile that was all teeth.

“Okay. Well, I’ll see you later then?”

“Yeah, I’ll call you,”

“Yeah, okay.”

Klaus felt his hands clench behind his back, an anger settling his chest at sheer disappointment and hesitance he heard in Caroline’s voice, like she had done something wrong. The nerve of this boy-

“Tell me…” he trailed off, pointedly looking at the girl.

“Hayley,” she answered quickly.

“Hayley,” Klaus echoed, beginning to circle around her. “Tell me, Hayley, how did you and Tyler meet?”

She shifted her weight to one side, folding her arms around her chest. Defensive. “I ran with the pack he sought help from.”

“To break my sire bond?” Klaus asked, her face confirming his suspicions. He waved the panicked look in her eyes away. “Yes, I know all about that. So, you are one of the Outcast then.”

Hayley frowned, shaking her head in confusion and looking rather impatient, as if he was rambling nonsense. “Outcast?”

“Werewolves like yourself and Tyler: descendants of the same wolves that stabbed their brethren in the back for a chance of mercy. Doomed to forever wander in aimless, disjointed  packs,” he explained, stopping behind her, forcing her to turn to face him. His mouth curled into a sneer of his own. “Traitorous little things.”

She scoffed, smiling a little. “I literally have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“No. You wouldn’t,” Klaus drawled, tilting his head again, in that wolf-like way. Her smile fell. “Allow me to enlighten you,” he continued, pointing a finger at her, “You see, werewolves like you, like the others I made my hybrids - they know not of our nature. Instead of making a stand, staying to fight against the vampires and witches alike - your ancestors ran and hid. And in hiding, they failed to teach their children the ways of our kind. The traditions, the knowledge, the culture. All was lost until they were so far from what they are, they believe their wolf is a curse. Outcast. Alone. Forgotten.”

“Lycanthropy is a curse.”

Klaus grinned. “Is it?”

Her eyes narrowed, taking a step back from him, clearly ill at ease with what he had just said. “What would you know of our histories? You’re more vampire than wolf, I know that at least.”

“My father is what we call an Alpha of Alphas. A King,” he said, closing the distance between them, not allowing her to escape. “Do you know what that makes me, Hayley?”

“Am I supposed to say Prince Charming?” she sneered, all disgust and foolish defiance.

Something dangerous settled in Klaus’ gaze, violent and spiteful.

“Werewolves follow power. They do not follow weak Kings.” His hand shot out, enclosing around her throat and lifting her up by the neck. His eyes bled black and gold, veins crawling across his cheeks. “Do I look weak to you?” he growled out through sharp fangs.

“No,” Hayley choked out, fingers scrambling at the hand holding her throat.

“Then tread more carefully then, because unlike my father, I am not prone to mercy," he snarled in her ear, tightening his fingers around her throat for emphasis. "And learn to curb your tongue or you will find yourself without it,” he said, almost as an after thought, before letting her go. She dropped to the floor, gasping in lungfuls of air and curling over, coughing. Klaus cocked his head, his expression suddenly serene once more. He looked almost bored. When she looked up at him with wide, frightened eyes, he raised a brow, gesturing to the door impatiently. “Go.”

She didn’t need telling twice.

[wowerehouse]

You know, all of my Horde characters are Darkspear--Ihz and Vazkri by birth, Kemm by blood adoption.

(Like, Kemm Tusklock is an orc through and through. But...His family disowned him, or he disowned his family, or....Anyway. He walked away. Or they pushed him and he didn't argue. The only solid ground in that family was the foundation they were standing on, and he took a leap of faith instead. Vaz caught him. Vaz has always caught him.)

Kemm has his own culture that's important to him, his family aren't the final say in what it means to be Orc. When he needs counsel or guidance, he'll talk to an orcish shaman or elder, because that's still who he is. But in the same way Vazkri is fully Darkspear and fully Circle, both at once....Kemm is orc to the bone. But he's Darkspear, too.

So I've been thinking about the Loa.

The greater loa, distinct from lesser nature spirits. The ones who are gods in their own right. There's...interesting, overlap here. Orcish shamans commune with the loa as greater nature sprits, essentially an extension of direct and deeply individual element worship. Contrast the MUCH more structured and formalized trollish religions, which are functionally a closed practice (though they would, again, be open to Kemm--both his people and Vazkri's recognize a blood-sibling oath as a real and binding commitment, he is part of the tribe by right) and which have, as evidenced by the presence of trollish armor and ornamentation in the manifestations of the loa, FUNDAMENTALLY altered their identities over millennia of cultivating that mutual bond with the trollish nations.

What I'm saying is: The murder of Akali hit Kemm hard.

I think that, years later...Vaz knows her brother better than anyone in the world. Either between expansions or taking time in the middle of the war in BfA, she brought him to Zandalar to visit the temple of Akunda. On the surface, similar enough to his lost god that it would heal something--a thunder lizard is, really, just a fancy rhino. But Akunda is also a strong, fierce loa with a profoundly gentle spirit--one of the few who accepts all comers equally.

The god of storms and healing, of earth-shaking thunder and new beginnings. The bond came easier and more natural to Kemm and his compassion than the bold and aggresive rhino loa ever had.

But I think he still carries a worn, battered token of ivory, carved in the image of Akali. The one who embraced him for having the courage to stand alone, when he most needed it.

[intothewestwing]

ch.5 - If I Can't Love Her

"Now when I said 'invite her to dinner', I didn't mean demand her attendance!" The former footman stood in the main dining room, across the table from a porcelain woman and wooden, ticking man, who stood by the fireplace.

Cogsworth, the former head of the household, shook his head as he ticked angrily at Lumiere. "You shouldn't have encouraged this at all. How is she supposed to fall in love with him now? After that mess of an introduction?" As he continued to scold, the ticking continued, completely involuntary. "It would have been better if she hadn't found us at all!"

"Now, Cogsworth." The porcelain woman spoke. Mrs. Potts' pale frame was curved and smooth, and her skin was entirely made of porcelain. Her body resembled a piece of fine china, and what would've been her hair, was pulled back into a cap-like lid of a sugar bowl. She was once the head of the kitchens, and now she resembled an ornament of the cupboards. Though her body may have been fragile, her spirit was anything but.

"We've never had a chance like this. In all these years, no one has ever walked through those doors. Especially beautiful young women!" She placed her gold leaf hands on her "hips". "His highness may have engaged in," She paused. "...frivolous activities, but I wouldn't expect him to try to woo the old man. Would you?"

Both Lumiere and Cogsworth refrained from answering, and Mrs. Potts continued.

"Now I know we're all scared. But we can't give up hope. I won't allow myself to give up, not until I hear the sound of my. boy's laughter as he runs through these halls again." She sighed. "I have a good feeling about this girl! Just go and speak with her, she is absolutely-"

The doors to the dining room swung open with a chill, dousing every flame on each candle in the room.

"Where is she?"

The Beast arrived just in time for dinner.

"Your Highness!" Cogsworth cheerily welcomed Beast as he crept into the room. The man of wax frantically began re-lighting the candles as he watched his master inspect the meal choices laid out on the table for that evening, quickly choosing to divulge and distract his master with the food.

"You're just in time! The cook has prepared an extraordinary menu for tonight. He's prepared a marvelous ham, doused in honey and fruits, as well as four different types of soups, a tasting of swan, foie gras, seven different servings of pie, creme puddings, custard, and-"

"I said, where is she?"

In order to avoid the wrath of his master's temper, Cogsworth shifted gears and switched his attention to the missing guest.

"Ah, yes, the girl-"

"Belle."

"R-Right..." Cogsworth wrung his bronze hands together. "I shall go see about her, yes?"

Without waiting for a response, he quickly slipped out of the room to check on their guest, while he prayed that Mrs. Potts and Lumiere could manage to stall the master, before things got out of hand.

The Beast circled the table before choosing to anxiously pace in front of the fire. His interaction with The Enchantress definitely shook hi up, and made him more restless than usual. He had to try harder to break the spell, he'd decided.

Mrs. Potts spoke up. She'd practically raised the boy, and because of this, she felt ever so guilty that she didn't discipline him more. Perhaps if she'd been more strict with him, he wouldn't have treated Feya the way he did. Perhaps he'd be more loving and kind and not, well, a monster.

"Try to be patient, dear. She's been through a lot today. This is all new to her, and it may take some time for her to adjust." Her tone was calm and reassuring, as she did her best to reignite some hope within The Beast.

But Lumiere decided to finally voice his concerns. "But we don't have time! The rose is wilting much faster than we expected, and at this rate, we'll be dead by Christmas!"

At that last comment, Mrs. Potts shot him a look.

From his looming silence, The Beast spoke. "It's no use!" Though it was a loud statement, it wasn't in anger. It was of heartbreak and desperation. "She's so beautiful and I'm so..." He looked down at his claws. "Well, look at me!" His voice was filled with pain as he faced the reality of their situation. "How am I supposed to make her love me when just the sight of me scares her away?"

While the prince had indulged in love affairs in the past, they weren't truly out of love. There was always something to gain; riches, fame, lust... And especially with The Enchantress, Feya. That's what had gotten him in this mess in the first place. The subject of true romantic love was a mystery to The Beast, and it was clear to him now that just his looks and riches wouldn't be enough to win Belle over.

But lucky for his prince, Lumiere was a romantic.

"You must show her there is nothing to be afraid of. Earn her trust, apologize for your mistakes, and speak from the heart. Take note of her interests, shower her in compliments-"

"But you must be sincere about it all. You must be truthful." Mrs. Potts chimed in.

"Oui! Don't just tell her how you feel- show her! Dress in your finest clothes to meet her, pull her chair for her.. You must-"

"Act like a gentleman! Straighten up, look your best, and above all-"

The Beast huffed and rolled his eyes. There was so much he had to remember. Too much, he thought.

"You must control your temper." Lumiere and Mrs. Potts said together. This would be the hardest task for their prince, and they knew it. But if they had any hope of being human again, they had to encourage him to try.

A curious thud interrupted the trio, and all turned to see that Cogsworth had returned from checking on their guest. It seemed he had attempted to arrive silently, but was given away by the creaks of the door.

"Well?" The Beast asked anxiously. "Where is she?"

Cogsworth was frozen in place, horrified of what was to come.

"...Who?" He replied quietly, in a moment of panic. When The Beast began to huff, he quickly retracted that question. "Oh yes! The girl! Well, actually," he began to stammer. "She is in the process of, um..."

The Beast began slowly walking toward the clock, anger rising with each step. As he got closer, the ticking man began to talk faster.

"She's...not coming."

Without a word of warning, The Beast shoved Cogsworth out of his way, and leapt up the stairs into the East Wing, with his band of loyal servants following in tow. They begged him to remember what they said, and to stay calm, only these pleas would be ignored, and followed up by a large banging on the door to the East suite.

"I thought I made it clear that dinner was not a request!" Beast shouted, absolutely furious that the door had been locked.

From behind it, Belle responded with as much sass as he'd offered her. "I thought I made it clear that I'm not hungry."

He growled. "I am the Lord of this castle! I will tell you when you are hungry and when you will eat! And you-"

"Don't be ridiculous!" She snapped. "You can't go around ordering people to be hungry. It doesn't work like that!" Even though she hadn't eaten since that morning, Belle refused to let him win this one. She only prayed his animal-like ears couldn't hear her stomach growling.

When Lumiere, Mrs Potts, and Cogsworth finally caught up to him, the man of wax tapped his arm and whispered, "Please try. Now is your chance!"

A low, frustrated growl escaped his throat as The Beast tried to collect himself. "I am going to ask one more time." Though he meant it as a sincere statement, it came off as a warning, to which Belle did not take kindly.

"Would you...be so kind...as to please join me..." His voice began to soften. "...for dinner?"

As he eagerly awaited her response, he placed his ear up to the door and heard a sigh as she made her decision.

And in a plain, sweet voice, Belle replied with a smile, "No, thank you."

This, as to be expected, set off Beast's temper, as he banged on the door once more.

"You can't stay in there forever!" He demanded, to which she responded with banging on her side of the doors.

"Oh, yes I can!"

In a fit of rage and frustration, a new rule was decided for his guest prisoner's fate. He huffed in defeat, but that didn't mean she had the last word.

"Fine. If she doesn't eat with me, then she doesn't eat at all." He turned to his frightened head-of-household. "No one is to see her. Is that clear?"

"But-" Mrs. Potts started to argue, but she knew her prince's temper well. And she would be of no use to Belle if she were in pieces.

Cogsworth sighed. He had no choice but to obey his prince's wishes, even if they were self-sabotaging.

"No one, your highness."

[samriddhikatariya]

Because Even Chudiyan Needed a High-Tech Makeover: ft. 2104 (EXERCISE1 DRAFT 1)

Ah yes, I am Chudiyan, born centuries ago from the organic resin of tiny lac insects, shaped over open flames by karigars (artisans), and worn by women rich and poor alike. I used to be the delicate circle of love, a little ornament worn during weddings. Back in the day, I was nothing more than a fragile piece of jewelry. I would break if you sneezed too hard or tried to carry groceries, but I was pretty. And that’s what mattered, right?

But then the world got bored of simplicity, didn’t it? By 2104, even I had to join the technological bandwagon. Yes, the world couldn't just leave a simple chudi alone—oh no, I had to evolve! And so here I am, a Lac Chudi, version 2104, packed with more technology than a spaceship. I’m no longer just about love, marriage, or making a pleasant jingle on a wrist. No, I’m here to change your life, record your emotions, and even remind you to take your vitamins. You’re welcome.

Let’s start with my origins—lac. Back in the day, artisans would heat up this lovely sticky resin and shape it into bangles. Chudiyan for everyone, from village women to queens. Rich women decked me out in gold and jewels, while poorer women kept me simple, but no matter who wore me, I was a constant. I didn’t discriminate. A rich bride or a poor one, I sat proudly on their wrists, signifying their bond to someone else. Romantic, right?

Now, fast forward to 2104. I’ve swapped out that fragile lac for bio-lac, but now with a twist—it’s alive. Yep, you heard me, right. I’m not just a bangle anymore, I’m a living, breathing, digital interface. I shift colors based on your mood (because clearly, we needed bangles to be mood rings), and I’m practically indestructible. Why break when I can now self-repair? After all, if your marriage has to last forever, so should I.

Oh, and don’t think I stopped there. No, no, I am now equipped with a quantum processor, because in 2104, even bangles need to have brains. I record everything—your emotions, your memories, your health metrics. That fight you had with your spouse? Don’t worry, I’ve got it saved in high-definition emotional data for you to relive later. I’m now a marriage counselor and emotional diary all in one. Why go to therapy when your bangles can do it for you?

And for those of you in long-distance relationships, fear not. Thanks to quantum connectivity, I sync with your partner’s Chudi across the globe, so you can feel each other’s emotions in real-time. Who wouldn’t want to be literally tethered to their spouse’s every mood, right? Whether your partner is having a great day or feeling particularly annoyed with you, I’ll let you know instantly. Because nothing says love like emotional surveillance.

But don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten about my looks. Even in 2104, aesthetics still matter. I’m designed with the same intricate patterns and delicate craftsmanship that defined me in the past—floral etchings, geometric patterns, and traditional designs—but now, they come with augmented reality overlays. Tap me, and you’ll see hidden designs that shift in real time. Is it a bangle, or is it a personal art gallery? Who knows!

And don't even get me started on the stones. Diamonds and rubies are so yesterday. Now I’m embedded with holographic gems that change based on your preferences. You want rubies in the morning and sapphires by dinner? Done. It’s like jewelry with commitment issues, but hey, I’m versatile.

Now, talking me as a symbol of marriage. Marriage was once about commitment, but in 2104, it’s about data collection. And who better to collect it than me, your trusty, data-hungry Chudi?

Now, in a world where even your refrigerator can talk to you, why should bangles stay quiet?

Sure, some people might long for the simpler days when I was just a piece of jewelry symbolizing love and marriage. But let’s be honest—where’s the fun in that? You’ve got enough on your plate without having to worry about keeping your emotions to yourself. Let me take care of that for you.

After all, what’s marriage if not an endless exchange of data, emotions, and—of course—technology wrapped in a pretty little circle?

[dlaugh]

How I Create Original Characters for My Fanfiction (That Readers Seem to Love)

The general consensus for fanfiction is to not like original characters. And honestly, I totally agree! I'm here to for the canonical characters. I'm reading fanfiction because the characters who I love/find interesting/want-more-of already exist.

However...

Sometimes, as a writer, you take the story in a direction where it's veered enough away from canon that you kind of write yourself into a corner. You need a character to do/be something very, very specific. It is essential to your plot. But that specific character doesn't exist in canon. And you can't have a different existing character stand-in for the role either.

That's when I have no choice but to make up original characters.

When I create original characters, I actually take great care not to overuse them. They are, essentially, there to to advance the plot—which always revolves around a canonical main character in my stories—and there for the advancement of plot only.

But what's the point if you don't make your original characters interesting too, right? Just as I love the canonical characters, I want to love my original characters just as much. I put the same amount of love, care, and thought into all of my characters, canonical or original.

I fit them into the world as if they had always been there. Them being there, interacting with the canon characters, existing in the world they're in, has to make sense, has to feel natural.

It sounds easy, but it's actually a delicate balance. And the whole time, I need to remember first and foremost that the character is only there for a specific reason. They're only supposed to be a supporting/minor character. (Because otherwise, fanfiction readers would dislike them.)

I could expand upon the theory more, but the title of this post is "HOW I Create Original Characters for My Fanfiction (That Readers Seem to Love)."

So, I think the best way to explain would actually be to take you through my step-by-step process for creating an original character. Here we go!

My best example of an original character (so far):

In my current long-fic (a Catwoman/Batman story called In Another Life), my original character is named Grace Crowne. Now, if you're a big Batman fan, you'll know that the Crowne family exists in-universe but not very much is known about them. Well, that made them perfect for me to base my character on, then.

Here's where I started: I needed a character in my fanfiction to give Selina Kyle a job. Specifically, a job that would allow her to interact with the wealthy elite while also plausibly allowing her to be Catwoman. That was the utility of this character.

Without getting into too many of the tiny details, a rich socialite character who's lax on working hours was the perfect fit for what I needed. But I also needed that rich socialite to not be in the same social circles as Bruce Wayne (because otherwise, he and Selina would have met already!).

So, I made Grace Crowne a sixty-five-year-old woman in my story��far enough removed from Bruce just by age that it wouldn't be likely that they would be close, and old enough that she has complete agency over her own life to do whatever she pleased (like start a foundation and make Selina the director).

After that, it was just about crafting a believable personality for Grace to have her end up giving this job to Selina:

As part of the Crowne family, Grace is a seasoned, wealthy Gothamite who has lived there all of her life and chooses to stay. There's a certain practical recklessness that comes with that, so I colored her in with little details like Grace carrying a tiny rose-gold pistol in her tiny, ornamental couture clutch purse (studded with actual jewels).

Once I had that, then, it only makes sense that a person who carries a gun around in a couture clutch would be fearless and confident and stylish—would love the spotlight, actually.

That character would have flair (so much flair), so I write her to be as dramatic as a Golden Age Hollywood starlet (which is just as much an act as it is her personality). And underneath her larger-than-life personality, I emphasize how generous and caring and truly wanting to help the people of Gotham (because she has that foundation, remember) she is.

You see, my original character Grace Crowne has her own life and wants and motivations even though she's basically there to be Selina's boss. And she fits in with the established Gotham uppercrust so well, while also being so uniquely herself, that readers don't mind when she appears. (I dare say that the readers of my fanfic may even like her.)

At the very end of all of that, I decided what she looked like. In this case, I based her on the actress Grace Kelly because I had already named her Grace (because of the religious motifs in my story). So, she looks like this in my mind when I write her (just older):

And that's how I create original characters for my fanfiction, and how I created Grace in particular.

But hey, if all you want to do is create original characters and stick them in a canon universe (or you write OOC or self-inserts or Y/Ns or whatever else there is), then more power to you! It's all up to you, fanfiction writer. I'm just writing from a "mainstream" fanfiction perspective (however much fanfiction can be mainstream, I guess).

Still, I hope this post helps you in creating your own original characters. (Plus, I've gotten questions from readers in the past about my original characters, so I thought I would write this out now and just direct them to this post in the future lol.)

(*Special thanks to @daydreamerwonderkid for inspiring this post!)

[messers-moony]

Hope | R.L

Paring: Remus Lupin X Wife!Potter!Reader

Summary: Life is unfair in numerous ways but it seems like it’s out to get the Potters in every way shape and form.

A part of growing up means maturing. Maturing means realizing that the world is cruel and unfair. People die every day without a reason or a why. Children are born into this world every day with love or hatred. Growing up, parents tell their kids, “Life isn’t fair”. No one had experience unfairness like Y/n Potter and Remus Lupin.

He was right there. So close, only a few feet from her arms yet so far apart in that wretched woman’s arms who held him like he was the grossest thing she’s ever touched. Those enchanting green eyes that glistened with trauma and pain. The brown hair that started to sprout from his scalp, already messy and untidy.

“No! This isn’t fair!” Y/n wailed as Remus held her tight to his chest, “I’m his biological aunt! Please!”

The Minister of Magic was merciless, “And so is Mrs.Dursley.”

“She’s a muggle! Harry is bound to be a wizard!” Y/n cried in contradiction; the feeling to vomit became relentless, “They’ll torture him. Please, you have to let me have him.”

“With your current living situation, it isn’t safe, Mrs.Lupin.”

Remus grimaced at those words, “My current living situation? Are you daft!?”

“With Mr.Lupins…” The Minister pondered, “condition, it isn’t safe for him.”

“Remus wouldn’t hurt him.” Y/n sobbed quietly, “He’s never hurt me!”

“I’m sorry, Mrs.Lupin, but Harry Potter is the safest with Mrs. and Mr. Dursley.”

The gavel was hit upon another circle of wood, adjourning the meeting as a finality. This was it. The fight was over. Harry Potter would grow up in an unloving household that wouldn’t be capable of understanding his magic. This was the epitome of unfairness. Remus’ hands were on her waist, her back to his chest while she sobbed, trying to get him to release her.

Eventually, she collapsed to a heap on the floor. Petunia and Vernon, each holding a baby watching the couple. Harry was wailing loudly, and Petunia couldn’t get him to settle down, making Y/n only cry harder. The young boy had just begun babbling nonsense due to Sirius’ hard effort to get him to say “Padfoot”. But it was that day he said his first word.

“Moo-me!” Harry yelped, and Remus could’ve sworn his heart shattered into a thousand pieces, “Moo-me!”

The brunet boy was trying to reach for Remus, and he squirmed for the adult male, but Petunia had a tight grip. Y/n could barely hear the little boy's words over her own sobs. Her body ached and shook with every tear that fell. The silver streams stained her cheeks, and her face was a brilliant rose red.

“Please make it stop….” Y/n muttered as Remus covered her from the other four people in the room, “If he says that one more time, I might not be able to handle it. Remus, help me, please.”

Hearing her so desperate broke his heart more. Remus’ body covered hers entirely in their crouched position. Harry was practically attacking Petunia to let him go, to be in the arms that are familiar to him. He didn’t like this. He didn’t know these people. These people weren’t his parents. Where was daddy? Where was mummy? Where was uncle Sirius and Peter?

What he did know was his aunt and uncle were right in front of him. Uncle Moony and Aunt Y/n. He could feel his aunt's sadness, her frustration, her anger. He could sense his uncle's remorse, desperation, and hopelessness. Why were they feeling this way? Why weren’t they protecting him? Harry so desperately wished he could speak and say, “Help! Save me from these strangers!” But all he could get out was “Moo-mee and Tee” for Moony and Auntie.

Petunia couldn’t handle his squirming any longer and allowed him on the floor. Harry was ecstatic with this new change. The boy crawled to the two adults on the floor. Harry could feel the warmth of their bodies before he tugged at his aunt's sleeve. Harry stared into her e/c irises and his uncle's green eyes. Those eyes he’d remember forever, engraved in his memory to never forget. His aunt collected him into her arms. His head pressed to her chest. Harry’s sobs calmed, now in the arms of familiarity.

The scent of chocolate, ink, and books surrounded him. His nose was barely catching the smell due to it being runny from crying. Petunia and Vernon approached them. Remus was hugging his wife and his best friend's son, protecting them from the outside world. Gently Y/n pulled Harry from her chest, leaving him to stare at his aunt and uncle.

Y/n sniffled and wiped his tears from his cheeks like mum used to do, “Harry, I promise you, I really don’t want to do this.”

His head tilted in confusion as Y/n’s eyes filled with tears again, “I’ll come back for you. Don’t doubt that for a second.”

“If he’s anything like Prongs, he’ll always have hope.” Remus commented, making Y/n smile.

“That’s what daddy used to do to mummy when she was sad,” Harry thought, “he used to say something to make her smile.”

Despite the soft smile on her face, she had wet trails on her cheeks, “I love you, Harry.”

Y/n kissed his forehead where the lightning scar was placed—hugging him one more time and Remus doing the same as his wife. Harry didn’t understand. Where was he going? Why was auntie Y/n letting him go? Why weren’t they taking him home? Where was mummy and daddy?! So he began to wail again. Petunia picked him up, and the family of four now started to walk out of the room.

She couldn’t even cry anymore. The water that once flowed down her cheeks had stopped. The dam had broken but no longer had water to give. Y/n turned to put her face harshly in Remus’ chest. His arms raked through her hair and rubbed her back. Silent tears rolled down his flushed cheeks, reaching his jawline and falling into Y/n’s hair.

“That was-“ Y/n hiccuped, “the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

“I know, darling.” Remus whispered, “He’s got James’ spirit, and that means he won’t lose hope. He’s got Lily’s kindness. Harry will be fine.”

Y/n shook her head, “That’s not the point. He should be with me. Not that horrid woman.”

“I know. But you and I will get through this.” Remus assured, tilting her head to face him, “We’ve gotten through everything else. We can get through this too.”

Solemnly, Y/n nodded. Remus placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. The room was precise and silent, aside from Y/n’s hiccups. The clicking of a clock could be heard echoing throughout the room. Usually, the sound would bring a sense of solace to Remus but right now, it was a constant reminder that time had gone by. James and Lily were no longer with him. Sirius had betrayed them all, and Peter was dead. Godric, how could this all happen?

Remus flicked his wand from his pocket, apparating them back to their residence. Inside it was cozy and warm. Remus took off Y/n’s coat along with his own as she took a seat on the leather couch. She grabbed her wand, muttering an “Incendio” to start a fire in the fireplace. Her body was curled up, and Remus placed a blanket over her while he went to the kitchen.

The kitchen was a pale blue with dark oak flooring. The marble countertops and dark cabinets. A brilliant contrast. He could almost hear James’ laugh from when they were painting it together while also hearing Lily and Y/n’s scolding them for making a big mess. It brought an emptiness to his heart, but he filled the kettle with water, allowing it to boil on the water.

Inside the cabinets laid an assortment of tea. Something James and Lily had bought him as a joke. Remus always made tea no matter the occasion. It was so him. James had seen it at a muggle store Lily had brought him for. He had been dying of laughter in the store just thinking about it. It got laughs around the Christmas tree when Remus unwrapped the decorative paper.

Remus grabbed a tea bag for himself while grabbing cocoa powder from the same cabinet and two mugs from their wedding night. The kettle began making a high pitch noise, and Remus poured the water into both mugs. Placing the tea bag in one cup and a couple of scoops of cocoa powder in the other, mixing them both, adding marshmallows to the hot chocolate and whipped cream. He added honey to his tea.

Mugs in hand, Remus walked to the living room. He placed the cups on the coffee table. Coaxing Y/n to sit up and he set the mug in her hand as she sipped it carefully, not to burn her mouth. Y/n leaned her head on Remus’ shoulder, still holding her mug with both hands. The blanket draped across their laps. Remus had the cup in his right hand, his left arm draped around her shoulders, the pad of his thumb rubbing her shoulder.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Rem.”

The holidays were hard. Almost too hard for Y/n and Remus to celebrate. But despite their pain, they decorated their house with garland, lights, and knickknacks. The Christmas tree sat in the right of their living room, covered in the beautiful colorful lights. Placed upon the tree were ornaments and tiny pieces of tinsel. Beneath the tree held presents for each other and a little boy.

Y/n stood in front of the tree, staring at it with a longing look. Remus walked behind her, putting his arms around her neck gently. Y/n’s hands instinctively reached for his bicep, rubbing it gently. Remus kissed her cheek and placed his head on top of hers.

“I wanna visit him.”

“Okay.”

Y/n turned to face him, “Okay?”

“What am I gonna tell you?” Remus joked, “No?”

“No. I just- I didn’t expect you to agree so fast.” Y/n replied, and Remus cupped her cheek, “He’s your nephew too. You have a right to see him.”

She smiled, “Yeah, you’re right.”

He kissed her forehead, “First Christmas without them….”

“I know.” Y/n said sadly, “It feels strange not to have James jumping around like a child.”

“It feels not having Lily in the kitchen trying to make your mums mince pies.”

Y/n chuckled, “She never got to master them.”

“Don’t worry, dear, I’m sure she’s up there trying.” Remus replied, smiling, “You think Peter is trying to steal the batter?” Y/n asked.

“Oh, definitely!” Remus exclaimed, smiling more than he had in months, “That bugger always used to Nick my chocolate at Hogwarts.”

“I dunno how he found my stash every time.”

The couple placed their foreheads on each other’s, closing their eyes, “We miss you, James and Lily.”

“We miss you more than ever.”

Y/n sighed, “I love you guys.”

Christmas morning was dull compared to their regular routine. Y/n was used to having James jump on top of her every Christmas so they can wake up their parents and open presents. Instead, she was woken up with kisses being placed on her neck and shoulder. Y/n turned and was faced with the sleepy face of her husband.

His sandy hair ruffled and on top of the white pillow. Green eyes glazed with a film of sleep. His lips pulled up in an effortless gentle smile. The scars on his face were whiter instead of their usual pale pink. His stubble was growing into full facial hair due to his lack of shaving. Y/n let her hand cup his right cheek, her thumb rubbing his cheekbone.

“You need to shave.”

Remus chuckled, “It’s Christmas, and that’s the first thing you say to me?”

“Merry Christmas, you need to shave?” Y/n corrected with a smile, making him laugh, “Merry Christmas, darling.”

They shared a soft and gentle kiss. His lips taking her bottom one, hers taking his top one. Soft and slow. Gentle and sweet. Pulling apart, their eyes fluttered, focusing on one another. Her eyes were so beautiful. Looking into her eyes, Remus could read an endless amount of stories. The gorgeous e/c. His eyes were evergreen. Holding so much love and adoration. She could read him like a book through his eyes.

Christmas meant eating a good meal and sharing kisses beneath the mistletoe. The couple opened each other’s presents. Y/n earning new books and some of Remus’ old sweaters that she thought he threw away. The last item she received was a maroon and gold jersey. It was her brother's Quidditch Captain jersey from when he played. Remus must’ve found it in the wreckage at Godric’s Hallow.

Remus opened his presents, getting ink, quills, notebooks, and books of his own. Since Remus couldn’t work, he always dreamed of writing a book. At Hogwarts, Remus excelled in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and he wanted to write a nonbias textbook for it. Y/n always encouraged his dreams and goals. If anyone could do it, it was him.

Left under the tree were three wrapped boxes meant for the little boy. Remus grabbed a tote bag and placed them inside of it. Y/n gripped his hand tightly as they apparated to Privet Drive. They began walking down the street, sweaters on in the snow, while she grabbed his hand tighter.

“What if- What if he doesn’t recognize me?”

“Y/n, he couldn’t forget you.” Remus assured as they stood outside house four.

Gently Y/n knocked on the door. It was oak wood, and the house appeared to be at least two stories. Remus kept his hand intertwined with hers as his other held the bag with the boy's presents. Footsteps could be heard walking towards the door. Petunia had opened it to be faced with two young adults.

“Mrs. Dursley.” Remus greeted curtly, “May we see Harry?”

Petunia began to ponder and saw the bag of presents in the man's hand, “Sure.”

The woman walked into the hallway and unlocked the cupboard under the stairs. Harry was coaxed out of the storage space, and he turned to the left, where he saw his uncle and aunt. The boy's lips curved into a great big smile. Harry ran into the arms of his aunt, hugging her tightly.

“Auntie!”

Her heart melted, “Hey, mini Prongs.”

Harry turned the male beside her, “Moony!”

Remus wrapped his arms around the little boy and picked him up as they walked inside. The three of them sat in the foyer on the floor. Harry sat between Y/n’s legs, his back to her stomach as Remus sat in front of him. Gently Remus disposed of the bag and placed the presents in front of him.

“Go on, Harry. These are for you from Moony and Auntie.” Remus cooed, and Harry grabbed one, gently ripping the wrapping off.

Inside was a baby stag stuffed animal, which Harry hugged close to his chest, “Your dad's favorite animal was a stag. Thought you might want something to remember him by.” Remus stated, smiling sheepishly.

“Daddy?”

“Yeah, daddy.” Y/n replied as Harry smiled up at her.

“Go on. There’s two more for you, baby.” Y/n pointed at the other two boxes, and Harry began unwrapping another.

This was a tinier box, and inside were golden glasses, “You don’t need these just yet, but these were your fathers. I wanted them to be yours.” Y/n informed him as he placed them on top of his nose.

The final box was mini-figures that Harry could play with in his spare time, which he seemed more than grateful for. Harry was giggling and laughing, happy with all his presents. The boy turned in Y/n’s lap, hugging her as tight as he could. Y/n’s hand rested on his back, and she gently kissed his forehead.

“I love you, Harry. Don’t forget that.”

“‘Ove you too.” Harry replied, having a hard time pronouncing words.

Next, he hugged Remus, who did the same. He didn’t want to leave Remus’ arms. He always ran hotter than the everyday person. Remus was a personal furnace. It makes sense why a cold young boy didn’t want to let go of the man. Within minutes the young boy was asleep in Remus’ arms.

Petunia came into the hallway an hour later to see Harry soundly asleep in the man's arms, “Excuse me, but I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

“Yes, of course.” Y/n took Harry from Remus’ arms and gave him to Petunia, “Thank you for letting us see him.”

Petunia took the boy from Y/n’s arms, “Yes.”

She put the boy in his bed under the cupboard, making Y/n frown at his living situation, “Do you- Do you think that Harry could stay with us some weekends?”

“No.”

“Oh, okay.” Y/n muttered, “Thank you again, but we must’ve overstayed our welcome.”

“Of course.”

Y/n took Remus’ hand as they walked out of the house. They walked to a safe spot to apparate back home. They both took off their coats and placed them on the coat rack. Y/n went to turn on a movie on their television set while Remus made hot chocolate and snacks. Both of them curled up onto the sofa and fell asleep.

Over the course of the next nine years, Harry has been visited by his aunt and uncle on many different occasions. Birthdays, Christmas’s, Valentine’s Day, Halloween, and sometimes just randomly, but he always looked forward to seeing them. Every time without fail, Harry would always jump in Y/n’s arms no matter how old he got.

The warmth and feeling of being safe in her arms brought a sense of comfort no one seemed compared to. She felt like daddy. His radiate smile, his incredibly warm body, the smoothness of her voice, the glitter in her eyes, her untied hair. Auntie Y/n felt like James. But no matter how hard he tried, she never was dad exactly, but she was auntie. Y/n was his dad's sister, and for now, that’d have to do.

Of course, uncle Moony felt the same. But there were some days he didn’t show up, much to Harry’s displeasure. Harry loved sleeping in Remus’ arms when he was a young toddler. The chocolate, ink, and parchment smell always filled his sensitive nose with such a safe feeling. Harry’s favorite time of year was Christmas when Petunia would make hot cocoa, filling the room with its sweet sense. Although he never got a cup of it himself, the smell brought a sense of comfort. As if uncle Moony was embracing him tightly on all sides.

When Harry reached eleven, owls began delivering envelopes to Privet Drive number Four. But it seems that uncle Vernon refused to let him open any of them. He did whatever he had to, blocking the mail slot in the door, burning the letters, even going as extreme to leave the house. Where inevitably Hagrid - gamekeeper - at Hogwarts came to retrieve him and give him the letter.

He couldn’t believe it. He was a wizard! All this time being belittled by Petunia, Vernon, and Dudley, he finally felt special aside from those times with his other family. Harry had a chance to prove himself to be great. To prove himself that he wasn’t just a bug on the ground to be stepped on. Only one thought crossed his mind though.

“I can’t wait to tell aunt Y/n and uncle Moony.”

[sterekshipper-writer]

You Bought What?

Thank you for the amaxing prompt, @maplefire18. I hope you like the result. ❤️❤️

Rating: General

Pairing: Theo Raeken/Liam Dunbar

Tags: Post Canon, Theo's POV, Fluff, Christmas fluff

_________________________________________

Christmas. His first spent with the beta. A year ago, he'd never have expected to be here. Laying on a couch in the centre of Liam's living room, surrounded by a tree filled with presents. Ornaments adorned every inch of the branches. Christmas carols playing softly, a quiet reminder of what could be. The peace he'd found.

It was definitely a night to remember.

"You know we're not supposed to open presents until tomorrow, right?" Liam asked. Hands carefully holding the box, ensuring its complete safety.

"Don't act like you're not dying to see inside." He snorted, rolling his eyes. He could hear every chemo-signal, and Liam was virtually a living, breathing puppy wagging its tail.

"What is it?"

"Open it, and you'll know."

"Mum would kill me-"

"Well, it's a good thing Jenna's not here."

Liam looked down to the present and back up to him, teeth gnawing at his lower lip. Fingers tapping at the wrapping paper, itching to tear through the thin veil covering it.

He sighed, turning in the seat to face Liam clearly, hand taking the beta’s. Skin on skin. Circles etched into their palms. "It's for tomorrow. It doesn't work if you wait." What he didn't say was he couldn't wait. His heart threatened to tear through his chest, forced into an even rate by sheer practice alone.

Instant. The beta moved. Hands tearing at the paper, shredding the barrier between him and the present within. Claws extending to cut through tape. The lid discarded and . . . Liam froze. Brows narrowed. Bottom lip parted. The beta stared blankly at the box, lifting the upper layer and staring harder at what lay beneath.

He, on the other hand, sat beside him. Heart thumping within–almost. Shoulders tense. His chest clenched with every second that passed in silence. Not once did Liam move. No sign at all. "Well?" He whispered, swallowing when those blue eyes rose to meet his. Mumbling a croaky, "Common practice is to say . . . something."

Blinking, Liam spared a final glance at the gift before asking, "Did you buy us cheesy matching pyjamas?"

Cheeks tinged red, he focused solely on his feet. He had never done this before. It wasn't like he celebrated the holidays. Living in the sewers with the Dread Doctors wasn't exactly conducive to a festive environment. "Maybe." What does he do now? Was he supposed to explain? He didn't expect Liam to just . . . stare. "Is it bad?"

Liam's hand was on his a second later. Fingers trailing lightly over his, entangling with his own, a familiar touch. A silent promise that the beta wouldn't leave. It had eased his panic; those same fingers wiping away his nightmare-induced tears. Slowly, he looked up. Meeting the bright blue irises, tentatively. Lips raised in a small, sincere smile.

"I love it." Liam said, voice lower than usual. "I just never imagined you being the one to buy them."

Nor did he. There was a time when he, well, he would have adamantly denied ever contributing to the purchase. Chimera. Reputation for sarcasm and power. He wasn't cheesy and sentimental . . . unless Liam was involved. Sue him. The beta was everything to him. "I just thought it would be nice. To, uh, share it. A childhood memory I never had." He mumbled, gnawing on his lower lip. There was so much he'd missed out on. This felt like one he could have. An easy moment to recreate. "It just seemed . . . romantic." He whispered, gaze falling again at the renewed smirk. Sinking further against the couch, ears on fire, swallowing at the brief squeeze of fingers.

"It is." Liam agreed. "I also think you've been watching too many hallmark movies. What's next? Singing in the middle of my lacrosse match? Running through an airport to stop me boarding my flight?"

Eyes narrowed, forehead creased. Glaring at the question. "Don't be ridiculous." He huffed. "I would not be caught dead singing."

"Aw. You'd be great."

"Liam, I told you. I'm tone-deaf. I might love you, but I am not prepared to make a fool of myself in front of your entire team and the opposition." He glared at Liam's bottom lip pressing forward, eyes widening nd downturned. Oh that manipulative little shit. "Stop pouting." What did that get him? Whimpering. A pitiful plea. This wasn't fair. "I can't sing, Liam." No change. "Remind me why I wanted to replicate a movie moment for you?"

"I'm adorable." Liam smiled, practically vibrating on the couch beside him.

"More like intolerable."

"Is that why you went out of your way to buy matching pyjamas?"

Okay. So, he couldn't exactly deny that, but how could he defend himself? The beta was making it his mission for the night to rile him up, taking full advantage of his rare flustered state. Those hands never left though. Constantly maintaining their reassuring, comforting embrace. One rose. Lifting to run along his chin, tickling the underside of his jawline. Nudging. Urging him to meet the imploring gaze that awaited him; only then leaning in. Lips pressed against his. He melted into the contact, becoming one with his boyfriend. He didn't know if he would ever get used to saying that. His boyfriend.

"I," Liam breathed through the kiss, "love," body melding with his, "you."

He said nothing. Incapable of speech, he remained mute. Frozen under the beta's chest, subject to his every whim. When the lips pulled back, his back arched, mouth chasing the welcome texture. A protesting whine escaping, drawing any hope of hiding how lost he was. Dazed. Blinking his eyes open, he watched Liam with a dopey smile transforming his features. "I love you, too."

"Does this mean you'll let me take a Christmas photo with you?" Liam asked.

Snorting, he shook his head. "Not a chance."

"Please, Theo."

"I say yes, and you'll show your entire family. Possibly the entire Pack. So, no."

"But you'd look so cute." Liam cooed.

"And that Liam is why you are not taking a photo." He was not about to be seen by Stiles or Scott, let alone Malia and Lydia, wearing Christmas tree patterned pyjamas. He would never here the end of it.

"I thought you wanted to be romantic?"

His gaze narrowed, yellow flickering through green. The beta had always been a little shit, but this was not the time. He was not giving in. "With you." He huffed. "Not Lydia. The Pack do not need to see me. You know as well as I do if I agree to a photo, they'll have all received a copy by the end of the day. I doubt you'd last a single hour before texting the Pack."

"It'll be fun." Liam insisted, smirking.

"Maybe for you. You won't be the one shielding questions from Stiles fucking Stilinski." He hissed. Squirming under the unwavering smirk, the raised eyebrow. Liam was so smug, certain he would cave. "I am not doing this."

"What if I promise it'll stay between us?"

"No."

"Please?"

Oh, shit. The pout. Why was it always the pout? "That is low." He muttered, eyes returning to their usual green, no trace of his animal sides. "Li . . ." He whined. "You are physically incapable of restraining yourself."

"I promise, Theo. No one else sees."

He sunk lower, biting his lip. "I can't-"

"If I show anyone, you can tell them about the time I lost that bet."

His eyebrows rose instantly. Reaching his hairline. Six months had passed since that day. Li made him swear on their relationship to not tell anyone. To now suggest . . . "Really?" He studied Liam when he received an unhesitating nod. "I thought you said you'd 'die of embarrassment' if the Pack ever found out?"

Liam's cheeks heated. "I did, and I would. Hence me promising to keep my end of the deal. I'd be stupid to give you a reason to tell them."

"So, if a single person outside of this house ever even suspects I wore these pyjamas, I get to tell everyone about you spending two weeks in bright red panties?"

Liam cringed. Pale and swallowing hard before repeating, "Yes."

"Fine."

"Yeah?"

"You better hope you can keep it to yourself Li. I will out you if you don't."

"Trust me." Liam winced. "I know."

Taking the beta's hand, he pulled himself and Liam up off the couch–the box held tight in the other hand–and towards the stairs. They could talk about this later. For now, he was tired. Silently, he passed his door, and instead, made his way straight to Liam's bedroom. Taking one pair of pyjamas. Dropping the beta's hand, he stripped off his shirt. Smirking when he felt the unwavering stare, eyes trailing down his bare chest. He snorted. The scent of lust rose tenfold when he removed his pants. "Maybe instead of watching me," he said, lips twitching at the sharp tang of embarrassment filling the air, "you should change."

Chuckling as the beta stumbled into actions, hands fumbling for a grip on the other pair of pyjamas, he finished dressing. Pulling his own on before turning back to Liam with a soft smile. "I really do love you."

The beta stopped. Casting a lopsided smile, cheeks hot. "I love you, too."

Once Liam had finally finished getting dressed, he led the adorable idiot to bed. Laying down beside him. Covers pulled up over their shoulders, his arm wrapped securely over Liam's waist, the beta’s head tucked close. His eyes closed. Enjoying the sense of safety he'd grown to know and love, the ability to be himself. He could do anything, and Liam wouldn't mind. "Goodnight, Li."

"Goodnight, Theo." Liam murmured, voice rough and drowsy.

He fell asleep to the gentle lull of that familiar, soothing heartbeat. The only heartbeat he'd ever need at night. The only one he wanted with him now.                         

_________________ 

Forcing his eyes open, lids drooping, he pouted at the empty bed. The enticing warmth from the night before gone. Rolling over, he sighed. Gaze locked on the bare white ceiling above. Liam's heartbeat rose from the kitchen downstairs. Couldn't the beta go one morning without food? Was it too much to ask to wake up beside your handsome boyfriend? Breathe in the scent of his chemo-signals, nuzzling the back of those gorgeous, soft blond strands? Okay. He really was getting sappy. Sighing once more, he dragged himself out of bed. Feet hitting the floor. Begrudgingly making the long, arduous path down to see what was so important, Liam had to be up at the crack of dawn. Was he exaggerating? Maybe, but it was Christmas. They were supposed to be in bed together. Not hunting down chips or a sandwich.

Sliding up behind Liam, he wrapped his arms around the beta's waist. Head resting against the curve of the pain in the ass' neck. "Did you really have to abandon me on Christmas morning?"

Liam snorted. "Relax, Drama Queen. I was planning on making you breakfast in bed, but seeing as you're already here . . ."

He moaned at the sight of avacado and banana toast spread across the bench. The plates of bacon and true Belgion Wafles. Mouth watering. How had he missed that enticing aroma? Reaching for a piece, he yanked his hand back at the hard slap. "Hey!"

"Learn some manners."

"I'm hungry." Another snort, and he was helpless to prevent the ensuing whine.  "Come on, Li. One piece."

"No. You can have your plate when it's ready." Liam chuckled, rolling his eyes, all the while, checking on the bacon.

"If you loved me, you'd feed me."

Liam threw his head back, hysterical laughter causing tears to drip down both cheeks. He glared. Pushing his lower lip out as far as he could. If Liam could use his charm against him, then he could do the same. "Baby. Are you really going to make me starve?"

"Yes." Liam said, matter-of-fact.

"This isn't fair. It's Christmas."

"So?"

"So, you're meant to spend the day with me. Not watch me die a slow death."

The beta rolled his eyes, shaking his head with a wide smile. Refusing to move from their current position. One hand switching out the bacon before it burned and replacing it with a fresh, uncooked piece.

"This is cruel." He groaned. Listening to the sizzling, the delicious scent of syrup coating the waffles was torture. "How can you expect me to stand here and not eat some?"

"Easy. It's called self-restraint."

"It's called 'self-restraint'." He mimicked, distorting his voice.

Liam snorted, turning in his arms to smirk at him. "Poor baby. How insensitive of me to ask you to wait a mere few minutes for your food."

"It's not funny." He said, putting his full efforts into the pout. Emphasising the performance. Liam had made the mistake of entering a position in which the beta could see his expression, instead of just feeling it. There was no way he'd lose now.

"If you think I'm letting you steal food because of a simple pout, you're fooling yourself."

"Li-"

"Go sit down, Tree Boy." Liam snickered, turning back to the stove.

"That is not my name." He growled.

"It is now."

"I swear, if you call me that again-"

"What? Tree boy?"

"Liam-" He warned.

"Yes?"

It was so innocent. Stated with such pure intentions, his gaze hardened. "Do not call me that."

"But it suits you. What better nickname for you and your new pyjamas?"

Right. This is what he gets for trying to be romantic and do something nice. A stupid reference and another round of teasing. How fun. "Can you just listen to me for once?"

"I think I listen to you more than enough. Now. Go sit down, and I might consider letting the name go."

Scowling, he huffed. Turning on his heel, he stormed off and slumped against the nearest seat at the table. So much for winning Liam over. Speaking of the devil. His plate was set in front of him, eyes widening at the overloaded dish. Bacon and waffles piled up high, coated and dripping in syrup. All the avacado and banana toast he could eat. Salvating. There was no other word for the drool forming at the corner of his mouth. Ignoring the beta's snort, he snatched the fork the moment it was released, scooping an obscene serving of waffles into his mouth at once. Moaning, his eyes closed.

"Would you like me to leave you two alone?" Liam snickered.

Opening his eyes, he glared at the beta's gall to question his desire. "Shut up. You know I love these."

"Apparently." Liam snorted.

"I will punch you."

"Reminder to self. Don't get between you and waffles."

Rolling his eyes, he ignored the continued comments in favour of digging in. In seconds his plate was empty. "Is there any more?" He asked, giving his best puppy dog eyes.

"So you can demolish that too?" Liam questioned, brow raised. "I don't think so."

"Please, Baby?" He pleaded, lips pushed out and drawing on every ounce of desperation he could muster. It was just too delicious to not make the most of it.

Liam shook his head, smiling as he walked away, plate in hand. When the beta returned, it was once again loaded to the brink of toppling over. The food barely holding on. It was gone just as fast.

"Merry Christmas." Jenna called, entering the kitchen. She kissed Liam on the cheek, followed by a quick one on his own before she made her way to the coffee machine. His cheeks darkening instantly. He  would never get used to that, nor would Liam tire of seeing him blush.

"Merry Christmas." He mumbled.

"Nice pyjamas. Are they new?"

"Oh, yes." Liam grinned, throwing him under the perverbial bus. "Theo bought them for us."

"Aw, how sweet." She cooed.

He, on the other hand, was planning to strangle the beta in his sleep. Liam just sat down, calmly eating his breakfast as if nothing was wrong. David came down before he could protest, kissing Jenna and hugging Liam.

"Good morning, boys."

A hand ruffled his hair, and he hid a smile. What? So he liked the casual contact. He had gone his entire life devoid of postive touch. Who could blame him for seeking it now? He felt safe with Liam and his family.

"Morning." He mumbled back.

"Merry Christmas, Dad." Liam smiled.

"So." Jenna asked, sitting down beside them, David close behind, both holding a cup of hot coffee. "Who's ready for presents?"

The splitting grin stretching across Liam's face was blinding. Heart stopping. He found himself whisked away. Liam was on his feet and hauling him off his seat, running–or rather, the beta was running. He was stumbling–into the living room.  Unceremoniously sprawled face down, draped across the beta's waist. Righted by a hand on his arm, abruptly flipping him onto his back. Liam smiled innocently at his narrow glare. David and Jenna weren't far behind. A hand ran through his hair, fingers massaging his scalp. As he closed his eyes, surrendering to the blissful physical touch, he hardly registered that presents were handed out. He baguely heard his name. A small object placed beside him. A moment later, there was another two. One more was added to his growing pile before he gradually dozed off. He could open his presents later. Right now, this was all he needed.

As it would turn out, Liam snuck a photo; or rather, he had Jenna take it for them. In it, he remained asleep on the beta's lap, their matching pyjamas visible. Liam's shirt clear, while all but the side of Liam's pants were covered by his body. His outfit, however, was on full show. In the end, he didn't mind.

They looked nice together in their matching pyjamas.

[duskamethyst]

love.

a/n: happy valentines day! have this spicy content for now but if you’re looking for high-cocky bastard-suna, this ain’t it. sorry.

word count: 2.3k

genre: smut, nsfw, fluff

warnings: soft dom, orgasm denial

pairing: pro!suna x f!reader

summary: suna got you a gift for your anniversary. wonder why he likes it so much..

“hm? a bracelet?” you take out the shiny jewelry out from the crimson box, inspecting it in your hands. there’s a letter ‘R’ that gleams with its rhinestones and a bell that chimes as you jiggle it. 

“close,” your boyfriend smiles when he catches the fascinated look on your face. “it’s an anklet.”

suna takes the ornament from you and drops down to his knees to fasten it around your ankle. he takes a good look at it, pondering briefly over how he made a good choice to get it for you as an anniversary gift. 

you look over your ankle intriguingly, shaking it slightly to hear the bell ring in response. 

“it’s so pretty!” you beam excitedly and kiss him in thanks as he raises back up on his feet. “then you have to put on the perfume i gave you too.”

suna raises an eyebrow, “perfume?”

“shit–” your hand flies over to cover your mouth instantly by reflex and you shake your head. “i didn’t say that.”

your boyfriend laughs as he takes the nicely wrapped present and shakes it in a feigned attempt to figure the not-so-mysterious content, “gee, i wonder what it could be.”

“oh, i don’t know. guess you have to find out.” you reply in the same sardonic tone, suppressing giggles as you watch him rip off the paper unceremoniously. 

suna blinks once, twice at the box and glances at you before looking back at the box that is engraved with a name that he’s aware to be high end. he’s not very materialistic but he knows for sure that it costs more than you can afford for yourself and the thought of you forking out so much money on it makes his heart swell. 

“well?” you grin sheepishly as you wait for him to say something. 

“babe, this is..” he sighs, brushing a hand through his brown locks. “how did you even–”

“don’t mind that! put it on!” you chide.

suna shakes his head and chuckles as he opens the packaging to pull out the expensive bottle. he takes off the lid and takes a whiff of the manly scent, yet has no idea what the contents are. he guess he should wear it often if you like the scent so much, especially since you’re the one who chose it for him. he sprays the cologne on his wrist and rubs it with the other before applying it on the back of his ears.

you don’t remember how many bottles it took to find the one that you absolutely would like on him but you know you’ve made the right choice when the aroma has proven to suit his character very well; sexy and alluring.

“you smell so fucking good.” you sigh in content as the scent begins to fill your senses.

“is this your way of saying that i always stink?” he forces an offended frown but the slight upturn at the corner of his lips tells you it's only superficial. 

“yeah, you reek. especially after your practice.” you tease before suna envelops you into a warm hug. 

“but i won’t wear it to practice.” he mutters as he caresses your hair gently. “it’s a waste if the guys are the only ones who are going to smell it.”

“that’s fine. you can always wear it around me.”

suna pulls away to look at you, blankly staring at you with his dark and narrow eyes. “and, you shouldn’t be giving me expensive stuff. i won’t even mind if you didn’t get me anything. you’re more than enough for me.”

“but–” 

“no buts.” he places a small kiss on your lips. “still, thank you for this.”

you smile and counter back with a kiss, “happy anniversary, rin. i love you.”

“i love you, too.” he taps your nose with his finger before picking you up off your feet and cradling you in his arms, making you squeal in surprise. “now that we’re done with that, time to put that to the test.” 

“put what to the test?” you look up at him with curiosity as he carries you towards your shared room, leaving the empty plates of your homemade dinner behind. 

“why do you think i got you something with a bell on it?” he grins slyly before throwing you on the bed and causing the bell around your ankle to chime from the result of the impact. 

warmth creeps up to your cheeks as you put one and one together, “you wouldn’t..” 

“oh, yes i will.” suna climbs on top of you, pale yellow irises swirling like flames as he gazes deeply into your eyes before leaning down to slip his tongue past the barrier of your lips in an amorous kiss. your hands find their way to his nape, pulling him closer to deepen the kiss.

suna swallows down your moans as he hastily works on taking off all his lower garments and grinds his erection against your sex, soothing the throb that he has been keeping inside his pants the moment he put on the ornament around your ankle since his mind just kept on wandering at the thought of how he has been wanting to put it on to good use. 

he breaks the kiss to plant wet, soft kisses down your throat, suckling and nibbling on the sensitive skin that he knows will have you whining underneath him while his large, calloused hands massages your mounds through the flimsy dress. 

“you’re so pretty,” he whispers against the crook of your neck as tugs down the straps off your shoulders and lets it fall on your arms. “i love you so much.”

with a little maneuvering of your arms, you manage to slip out from the band and allow suna to pull down the dress completely. your nipples harden from the cold air yet they find heat once he wraps his lips around one, tongue dancing and circling around the erected tit while he tweaks the other between his thumb and index finger that sends jolt of sensations down to your bundle of nerves.

your lips part in soft, heavy pants while your fingers seek refuge in his dark hair by tugging it lightly before he pulls away with an audible pop to suck on the other. his hand trails down on your inner thigh, drawing circles with his fingertips on the erogenous zone and purposely avoiding from tracing closer to your heated core. 

“rin.” you whine while the bell resounds from underneath as you part your legs wider and buck your hips reflexively. 

“hmm?” narrow, hooded eyes look up at you mischievously from below. suna unlatches his mouth, watching as the nipple perks up harder and becomes more swollen from his ministrations. “you’re ready for me, aren’t you?”

you feel your cheeks warm up, “i don’t know, why don’t you get down and see for yourself?”

“whatever you say, princess.” he chuckles and shifts downwards until his head is settled in the space between your thighs.

“shit, you’re really a mess down here.” he muses, thumb grazing against the dark patch that has formed on the thin fabric. “all from me just sucking your tits?”

suna tugs the sodden garment down, tongue darting out to sweep his bottom lip as his eyes dissolve into red of passion and lust. it’s more intense than you imagined, but an impassioned loop twists in your stomach as you study his next, calculated step. 

shivers of pleasure rushes throughout your body the moment you feel his warm tongue flattening against your wet slits. with skills and practiced strokes, his tongue laps off your slick greedily before teasing and sucking on the throbbing clit. your toes curl and the bell rings as you attempt to close your legs together, but suna spreads them apart from crushing his head.

his lustful gaze fixes up at you, observing every twitch of pleasure and the way your lips part in soft, needy whimpers. you gasp at the abrupt intrusion of his long and slender fingers, yet you gladly welcome him as the muscles clench to keep him within.

“does it feel good?” he whispers, kissing the soft skin of your fleshy thigh when he notices your legs tremble. 

“s-so good, rin.” you mewl, nails digging into the sheets while the fabric crumples in your fists as you find purchase. his fingers curl and drag against the spongy walls, making you keen in excitement that your hips begin to pump desperately to match his rhythm. 

“you’re so needy.” a sense of pride soars in his chest, conscious of how much your pleasure lies in him and only him. he continues rubbing and digging, somewhat in search of something; certainly the spot that he’s aware that’ll make you beg for him hopelessly. and when he finds it, he doesn’t miss the way you tense up and giving him the drive to stroke the same spot mercilessly. 

“shit– right there!” you look like you’d almost cry. the way your hips are jerking uncontrollably is telling him that you’re going to break soon and before that happens, suna draws away his fingers and you immediately throw a scowl his way. 

“what?” his voice is taunting and he wears a smirk of a victor which makes you all the more frustrated. 

you huff, “so mean. on our anniversary night, too.” 

suna lifts himself off you to get out of his shirt. no matter how much you’ve seen him bare and naked, your eyes always marvel over his toned chest and chiseled abs; those he gained along by being a professional athlete since a couple of years ago. you lick your lips to return moisture on dry skin as you watch him pump his throbbing cock in front of you while he puts on an expression of bold seduction.

“you don’t have to look so scared. you wanted to cum so bad, didn’t you?” he sneers, obviously confident over how thick his cock is and how it can stretch your tiny little hole so good.

you roll your eyes playfully, retorting in a snarky tone, “oh, i’m so scared. please don’t put that thing inside me!”

his lips curl into an amusing smile, finding it endearing how you played along with his pretense. “don’t worry, i’ll treat my princess very gently.” 

suna leans down to lick a fat strip of your essence and mixes with his saliva before propping up on his knees and dragging your body closer to him by the waist. he carefully throws the leg adorned with his gift on his shoulder and kisses on the side of your knee before fixing his dark gaze downwards, where he slowly guides and observes the way his cockhead slowly disappears into your dripping entrance. 

a low grunt rumbles in his chest as the walls suck him in deeper, clamping around him like a vice and refusing to let go as he continues to bury his cock deeper inside your pussy. your eyes flutter close, lips part slightly as you revel the way he stretches you while the veins and ridges brush against your muscles deliciously. 

“so good for me, princess.” he praises with a sharp breath, having you completely filled to the brim before he finally snaps his hips and making your body jolt in return. his pace is unforgiving and with the angle he has set you in, his tip keeps on pounding against your cervix. 

the slapping of your skins fills the cold air, mingling with the sounds of your moans and the erratic chimes from your bell that he was so eager about. an unknowing grin etches on your lover’s lips as every jingle that fills his ear fuels up his ego and he finds himself to pound into you faster while the sounds behind him follow in accordance.

“hah– rin– so deep!” your orgasm is quick to build up from the prior interruption, the muscles in your stomach begins to tighten and your legs quiver. 

“you hear that, baby? the bell telling you how hard i’m fucking you right now.“ he rams his cock senselessly to make the bell jingle wilder in a way to prove his point.

“rin– i–” 

“baby wanna cum?” he coos, smirking down at you as the image of your writhing body ingrains in his mind.

you nod your head affirmatively, face contorting in one that expresses bliss as your mind swirls with excessive gratification. yet your eyes snap open as soon as you feel a sharp sting on your thigh. 

he releases the pliant skin from between his teeth, “use your words, princess.” 

“please–” you let out a broken cry. “wanna cum–” your toes curl with anticipation as you will yourself from coming undone before you are granted to do so.

“that’s– fuck– better.” he grunts, thrusts turning sporadic as you begin to squeeze and clamp down on him. “then cum, baby. you deserve it.”

suna brings up his thumb to your aching bud, generously pressing tight circles in order to push you over the edge and a wave of pleasure washes throughout your body as you moan his name in a chant. your pussy gushes around his cock, which makes it all more stimulating for the male and he pounces harder through your high in pursuit of his own orgasm while the noisy rings from the bell soon becomes white noise.

“that’s it– you feel so fucking good.” he feels his balls tightening before his cock twitches and he bites roughly on your leg as he shoots warm load inside your tight cunt. you squeal from the pain, wiggling your leg away and he completely lets go. 

he chuckles lightly and gently rubs the dents on your skin, “sorry.” 

once he’s sure he has emptied, he pulls out his softening cock and finds his place next to your warm body. you turn to face your lover and he gladly welcomes you into his warm embrace. 

“i love you.” he whispers, pushing aside the damp and matted hair from your face to place a soft kiss on your forehead. 

you hum in content, vision darkening as he continues to play with your hair soothingly while the sound of his heartbeat sings you a lullaby. “i love you, too.”

duskamethyst © 2020 • do not modify, translate or repost anywhere.

[sleepyselkiesiren]

!! I'm so glad you like it!!! You were an absolute delight to work with, and I enjoyed getting to learn so much about Chimalus! I miss them already :"")

Amazing, amazing commission by @sleepyselkiesiren of their apprentice Ebony and my apprentice Chimalus helping with some decorations for the winter ball! 

Just a couple of nonbinary pals being… well, pals! We talked a lot about the two of them while working on the project and the two of them have so much in common it’s honestly amazing. 

Bonus transparent version (because sleepyselkiesiren is just that awesome) under the cut! 

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