#this anon is unleashing DEMONS

[j2archives]

everyone’s cooked

[prettyb0ycvnt]

soft asks 15,16?

15 - comfort food?

i don't really have a set comfort food buuut,,, if i had to pick then soup not gonna lie. chicken soup.. yummm yum yummy 😋😋😋 !!!! and anything my mom makes. ive mentioned it on this blog before but i looove my mom's cooking so :3 yeah!!!

16 - what's something you want to create soon?

all the poetry in the world i think . . i just LOVE writing poems aaagh!!!! and writing in general!!! but specifically, ,, and this is kinda cringe lol but umm uh uh ive been mega fixated on danganronpa for the last 4 almost 5 years aaand ive spent the last 3 years forming ideas for my own fangan and ufhfhh. i have all the characters and an outline and a plot kind of and!!! ive written out multiple scenes and all my different ideas and ive been wanting to write it all out properly for suuuch a long time... wouldn't be able to make it into like a proper game or a visual novel type series because i can't draw and have zero experience with that kinda stuff but i can write!!!! so once i have everything figured out i really wanna do that :3 also ..moving swiftly on but i also wanna create my own little baking business sometime in the near future. hell ya

[demonstars]

my favourite c!dnfer 🫶

THANK YOU.

[dark-and-kawaii]

bg3 men of your choosing and kinks?

Notes: Yummy!!! I got you dear anon xoxo

⟡ Characters: Halsin - Gale - Zevlor - Haarlep - Raphael - Wyll - Rolan

⟡ Content: NSFW - Kinks - Lots Of Kinks

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ Zevlor loves a good creampie. Like, please let this old man cum deep within you!!! It will literally make him go insane, his tail thrashing around behind him as he fills you so full of his seed. Especially if you let me do it after only just meeting. It’s been so long since he’s felt such warmth envelop his cock. Gods, and when he sees the way his white milky substance leaks out of you afterwards… it’s enough to keep him hard and wanting to go at it again. Maybe it’s part of the breeding kink he has, the dire need- of wanting a family to call his own. And you just look so pretty like this- with your legs spread and his cum spilling out.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ Haarlep is an incubus, a demon- a chaotic being so of course dacryphilia. Whether you’re crying from his cock stretching you or crying from the way this creature overstimulates you- he relishes in it. Haarlep adores taunting you, always adding a hint of mockery to his coos, “Awh my little Dove, does it hurt?” Before leaning down to lick away the tears running down that pretty face of yours he loves so much. “Or is it simply too much for your mortal body to endure?” As he lets out a wicked laugh, flashing you his infamous smirk.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ Rolan not only enjoys overstimulating you, but also craves being overstimulated himself. This grumpy tiefling wizard has more depth than meets the eye. He’s so pent up from studying and perfecting new spells that when he finally gets his hands on you he’s using your body as a means of release. He unleashes all his frustrations on your tight little fuck hole, pounding you relentlessly with his cock. Bullying that body of yours until you’re nothing more than a babbling mess with your tongue lolled out, until his body gives up on him, collapsing on top of you, gasping for breath. The slightest touch sending his body into shock.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ Raphael is a cocky bastard, and everyone knows this. Gets off on denying you your orgasm. Loves being in control of your body, mind, and soul- the devil will wait until you’re begging for him to give you your release- begging for his cock acknowledging that only he can bring you such intense pleasure. Telling him that no one- nor anything matters, only him. Once you’ve pleaded enough, he’ll express how satisfied he is with your obedience and will hint at granting you that long awaited release.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ Wyll adores praising you, worshipping you in your intimate moments. He genuinely worshiped every aspect of you, even finding all your imperfections incredibly beautiful. Especially if you have a scar, no matter how small or large, he’ll lovingly kiss along it. And he takes such delight in receiving the same level of adoration from you, as you worship his cock, the very cock that causes your toes to curl and your body to writhe beneath him.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ Listen, Halsin sometimes involuntarily shifts into a bear, and he always apologizes for it. But if you accept him for who he truly is, Gods he’ll be utterly smitten with you. As things start to get a bit more steamy his body begins to glow as he transforms into his bear shape. But, if you playfully giggle at him and start to run, enticing him to chase you by wiggling your finger, oh yes, it will not only arouse him further to chase you, but also show him you’re open to some unconventional foreplay. Being a bear he’ll eventually catch up to you and pounce on you as gently as he can. It’s so endearing to him how you softly plead, “oh no~ plllleeeease~ someone help~” as your fingers run through his fur.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ Gale is so cute, he just absolutely craves the sensation of your fingers tugging at his hair while you ride his face. He always smiles while probing you with his tongue when he feels your nails digging into his scalp as his stubble tickles between your thighs. And when it comes to your hair, well you best believe this man takes joy in giving a gentle tug here and there. Not too rough, but enough to crane your neck back so that he can lock eyes with you before capturing your lips in a passionate kiss.

[kannouo]

Ticklish?

fandom: obey me pairing: demon brothers & dateables x gn!reader warnings: suggestive on asmo's part summary: in which they find out you are ticklish. prompt by anon: The brothers + dateables reaction to the MC being ticklish because ik most of them are menaces about it A/N: lol rest in peace. good fucking luck mc. also i swear to god i know there's more to satan's character than his love of cats it just fits guys pls forgive me

LUCIFER

• Lucifer likes to appear as this super-serious macho man figure who, although he has his moments of going along with his siblings' antics, isn't a very playful guy. He's unlikely to find this out because he was trying to tickle you. Rather, it'd be by complete coincidence.

• When he offered to teach you to dance in the privacy of his room as classical music played in the background, you weren't expecting his hand on your waist to bother you as much as it did. Try as you might, you can't hide from him how you're biting your lip and stifling a giggle.

• "Is something funny to you?" He asks, unamused. You shake your head.

• "No, sorry. It just... tickles a bit."

• The only reaction you get in the moment is a hum and a nod. You're admittedly a little suspicious, but mostly grateful the dance lesson continued normally until you were able to return to your room.

• He's so unbothered by this new information, in fact, that you may even dare to think he'd all but forgotten about it when a few weeks pass by. Little did you know, he remembered. He was just storing it away for later use.

• Even the student council's representative of the human world was not immune to falling into Satan and Belphie's schemes, it seemed. After a failed attempt to capture a pic of a sleeping Lucifer, you find yourself trapped between him and the wall as he looms over you. You desperately hope that, just maybe, Satan or Belphie would come to your rescue — but alas, you had been left abandoned in the lions' den.

• "Bold of you to attempt to sneak up on me in such a vulnerable state," he clicked his tongue, agitated. "I'd assume you would know better by now."

• "I'm sorry, I—"

• "'Sorry'? Yes, you will be." He closed in on you.

• The shrieks that emanated from Lucifer's room that night could only be described as unholy as he unleashed his brand-new punishment on you. Out of everyone in the House of Lamentation, you hadn't expected the mighty first-born to be the one to tickle you half to death, but it was effective. If that was what was waiting for you, you were more than willing to give Satan and Belphie the cold shoulder the next time they suggested a new, ingenious prank to play on Lucifer. Sorry guys. It's not worth it.

"Come on, MC, this'll be our best work yet," Satan trails after you you down the hallway, clearly not keen on letting the matter go. He had taken the liberty of convincing you of the Anti-Lucifer League's newest escapade, as Belphie apparently refuses to be of any help. "We've planned it all out. It won't go wrong this time. I swear." You turn to look at Satan, catching a glimpse of Lucifer a short distance away over the fourth-born's shoulder. All it took was a knowing smirk and a mildly threatening gesture with his hands for you to turn pale. "MC?" "...I'm good, Satan, thanks."

MAMMON

• Unlike his older brother — Mammon would absolutely find this out on purpose.

• He's the spiritual eldest when it comes to playing around with his siblings, so he's experienced in tickle-fighting. You, unfortunately, only realised this while wrestling with him, when he suddenly starts tickling your sides to gain the upper-hand. It works, and now you're flailing around beneath him.

• "Hah! Take that!" You hear him laugh triumphantly above you as you struggle to force his attacking hands away from you. "Ya give in?!"

• "Yeees! You win, you win!"

• After your rather humiliating fake-wrestling defeat, he only gets more annoying with abusing your weakness as the days go by. As he learns all of your worst spots, he gets more and more bold, until not one day can go by where you aren't tackled and tickled to tears by the Avatar of Greed.

• Eventually, you're going to have to set some ground rules with this guy, because he just will not stop. For weeks after that initial incident, you find yourself constantly on edge no matter where you are, because he could be anywhere. Just planning the next tickle.

• Sure, it can be fun at first, but he always manages to take his play-fighting just a little too far. You don't have the same tolerance as his brothers, being a human and all, and he needs to remember that.

• Being tickled by Mammon is nowhere as unfair and torturous as it is with Lucifer though, mostly because unlike his older brother, Mammon is ticklish too. This means you can fight back and potentially even gain the upper-hand. It's unlikely you'll win in a chase, however — no matter if you're the one running or if he is — he's just too damn fast.

• He's the definition of being unable to take what he dishes out. Not only does he cry 'uncle' as soon as you land on a weak spot, but he'll be super pouty and embarrassed afterwards too. As if he wasn't the one who initiated it.

"Mammooon..." You poke his cheek, trying to provoke any sort of response. He huffs and turns his head away, but still doesn't say a word. "Mams... Babe..." "That ain't fair," he finally speaks, his cheeks tinging with red. "Ya can't call me that when I'm tryin' to be mad at ya." You can't help but smile at the demon before you. "I'm sorry for tickling you, Mammon." "Yeah? Well... I think I'm owed some compensation for that. 5,000 Grimm, at least!"

LEVIATHAN

• Levi wouldn't find this out on purpose. Or, rather, at all. At least not on his own.

• He freaks out and backs away every time his hand manages to accidentally brush against yours when he hands you something. He apologises profusely and feels like the absolute perverted scum of the earth when he happens to bump into you in the hallway. He refuses to hold hands with you beyond intertwining your pinkie fingers together, because anything more than that is too lewd for him.

• So yeah. He's not going to tickle you. Not even accidentally.

• He only ends up finding out when he catches you and Mammon having a tickle fight in the living room one day, to which he promptly leaves before either of you can notice him. Both to quell the jealousy bubbling in his chest, and to avoid Mammon roping him into his shenanigans.

• After that, he... does nothing, really.

• See, here's an interesting fact about the Avatar of Envy: He's ticklish too. Very ticklish. And his siblings, especially Mammon, tease him for it all the time. He absolutely hates it and it's just not funny to him. So even if he was able to touch you without taking 6000 points of damage to his psyche, he still wouldn't tickle you, because he understands how it feels.

• Instead, you could say that you two form an alliance of sorts. You defend him when one of his brothers (MAMMON) starts chasing him — using your pact if you have to — and he allows you safe refuge in his room if somebody is after you. His door has a lock on it after all, and knowing the consequences of trying to force their way inside the resident hermit's safe abode, your pursuer is unlikely to look for you in there.

• He might make fun of you a little for it, but that's the most he'll do. He won't lay a finger on you. Good guy Leviathan.

You restlessly chap on Levi's door, moving back and forth on your toes as you desperately hope for him to let you in. The seconds count down before your attacker will find you, when finally... Click. The door unlocks and you grab the handle, swinging it open and nearly hitting Levi in the face in the process. "Sorry, sorry!" You profusely whisper-yell apologies as you shut the door behind you. He locks it, and you can finally breathe a sigh of relief. "Thank you... You saved me..." Levi's cheeks burn red at your words. "Y—yeah, well... don't make a big deal out of it, normie. If you're staying in my room, then you're playing games with me too while you're here, okay? So... make yourself useful or I'll kick you back out!"

SATAN

• Maybe this is just me, but have you ever had a cat on your lap that just won't stop moving around and it sort of tickles? Yeah.

• A simple date to a cat café went from good, to better, then to worse in a very short span of time. Most of the kitties were awake and lively, wandering around and allowing you to pet them. So when one of the cats jumped up on your lap, both you and Satan were ecstatic, cooing endlessly at the little ball of fur that had made itself at home on your legs.

• The only problem was, the cat seemed to be unable to find a comfortable spot. You were trying to stay still, you really were, but the cat's paws constantly moving against your thighs made you really need to move around in your seat. Satan noticed how you had to force yourself to stay put by gripping onto the table in front of you, and he also noticed how you were biting the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling like an idiot, but he didn't say anything at first.

• The first time Satan tickles you, it comes completely out of nowhere. To you, at least. Some exams were coming up and you agreed to let him tutor you, but the material was just so boring, and Satan's delivery of it certainly wasn't helping to keep you engaged...

• You were abruptly brought back to reality by a sharp jab to your side. You jumped and looked around, as if searching for the culprit, only to see Satan, with his eyes narrowed at you. "Pay attention."

• "I was!"

• "No you weren't," he poked you once in the side for each word to enunciate his sentence, and then grabbed you by the waist to prevent you from escaping. "Are you going to listen to me now?"

• "Ye-ees!"

• "Are you sure?"

• Satan's kind of a dick about it, to be honest. He'll tickle you to convince you to do things with him. You don't want to partake in his newest prank against Lucifer? Uh... yes you do, remember?

• He's also a hypocrite. He is ticklish but he hates it just as much — if not more — than Levi. So if you do it back to him, he'll shove you off or yell at you.

"Fi—fine! Fine!" You yell, and Satan's attack on your sides ceases. He looks down at you with an eyebrow raised. "You'll do it?" "Yes!" You nod furiously. If getting him to stop meant agreeing to prank call Lucifer, you suppose you'll just have to do it. "Now get off!" "Good," he smiled and moved off of you from where he had you pinned. "Now, about the plan I had prepared..."

ASMODEUS

• ...You know the deal. There is going to be a struggle keeping these headcanons SFW.

• He can find out one of two ways: the first being that he was doing your makeup and somehow found out by brushing too close to your neck or jawline, the second being that you two were leading up to... other activites.

• We'll be going with the former for my own sake lol. He realises what your reaction was for after the first time you tilt your head away from him, and can't help but tease you for it right away.

• "Oh darling, how did I not know this before? Are you keeping secrets from me? ♡"

• Somehow, Asmo ends up being one of the worst for how he takes advantage of this. He will tickle you anywhere at any time and for any reason.

• If he thinks you're not paying enough attention to him, he'll tickle you so you're forced to focus on him. If he sees you using makeup wipes on your poor, delicate skin, he'll tickle you as a "warning" to never do that again. Eventually he just starts making up reasons.

• You can tickle him back, but he enjoys it and will try to use it to lead into sex. So, unfortunately, that won't work to dissuade him.

• Don't think for a moment he's embarrassed or ashamed of his behaviour in public settings, because he isn't. He has no qualms with tickling you in a restaurant with strangers around, and doesn't care how much attention you end up attracting. It's hell.

• He's another boy you're going to have to set boundaries with at some point just because of how frequent it is. The tipping point came when he squeezed your leg in the middle of a student council meeting and you hit your knee so hard on the table you were convinced you broke something.

• He'll back off if you tell him to. You just need to actually tell him to, otherwise he won't realise how much it bothers you.

"Oh, sweetie, I'm sorry..." Asmo pouts as he gently rubs your aching knee. "I didn't realise you'd react like that." You huff and turn your head away from him. "Don't turn this on me." "I'm not!" He shakes his head and leans forward to look you in the eye. "I swear! I just didn't know that'd happen. Can you forgive me, honey? I promise you I won't do it again. I can't have you bruising that beautiful skin because of me..."

BEELZEBUB

• Beel, similar to Levi, isn't likely to find out on his own. For different reasons, though.

• Beel isn't afraid of physical touch, but he is scared of hurting you. He's so big and you're so small. He's fully aware of his strength, and even if he has good control over it, he tends to treat you like how one would handle a delicate China plate. It's not that he doesn't touch you at all, but he's so careful when he does that he probably won't even unintentionally find out that you're ticklish.

• The only way he'd find out is if he stumbled across you in the midst of a (usually very one-sided) tickle fight with one of his brothers. In which case, he will usually step in to save you.

• As the second-youngest, he's used to being teased in a similar manner by his older siblings. So if he sees you pinned down, he'll intervene so you can catch your breath and get away.

• If you run to him for protection, much like Levi, he'll take you back to his room and won't let anyone else except Belphie inside until it's safe to assume whoever was after you has given up. You don't have to, but if you thank him by bringing him a few snacks from the fridge later, he'll be happy.

• Such a sweetheart and probably won't ever tickle you. He really doesn't want to upset you.

• The only time I can see him tickling you is if you're having a bad day and he decides you need cheering up. He'll be sat next to you, staring intently at your frowning face as the gears turn in his head. He doesn't know what your day was like or why you're so peeved, but he knows he wants to see you smile again.

• He'll scoot closer, trap you in a hug with one arm and use his free hand to (very carefully) tickle you until you give in. He'll apologise, but as long as that smile is back on your face, he's satisfied.

• "Do you feel better?" He asks, a sweet smile on his face as he pats your head. And you have to admit, you do.

You could swear you saw Beel's eyes sparkle as you offered him the box of chocolates in your hands. You were saving them to eat yourself at some point, but... seeing as Beel valiantly defended you from Asmo earlier, you figure he at least deserves this. He manages to pry his eyes away from the chocolates to look at you. "...Why?" "Because you saved me from Asmo earlier," you explain and hold the box of chocolates closer to him, urging him to take them. "This is my 'thank you'." Finally, he takes the box from you. "...You didn't have to." Despite his words, he opens the lid and starts devouring the chocolates inside so quickly that you don't even have time to remind him to take the wrappers off.

BELPHEGOR

• There are a few scenes in-game where he tickles or tries to tickle the MC, so yes, he'd absolutely find out very quickly.

• Belphie is not only a little shit — he's also spoiled and likes getting his way. So, like Satan, he'll tickle you to convince you of things. Usually it's when he doesn't feel like doing dinner duty or cleaning his room, or if he can tell you're hiding something from him.

• The first time he tickles you, it's because he had an assignment due the next morning. One he had procrastinated on for weeks. You had reminded him time and time again to start working on it as the deadline approached, but he ignored you, and the situation he's in now is, quite frankly, his own fault. So even as he whines to you about how sleepy he is and tries to butter you up so you'll do it for him, you don't give in.

• That is, until he has an idea. With an exaggerated pout on his face, he moved up behind you and wrapped his arms around you in a hug, lazily slumping against your back. Just as you were about to scold him, you felt him start to ruthlessly tickle your sides.

• With his body weight on you, there was little you could do. And even as you fell to the ground, he simply followed you, taunting and teasing you the whole time. When he thinks you've had enough, he hovers above you with a smirk on his face.

• "So? Do you feel like doing it now?"

• Little fucker. He cuddles with you later to "thank" you, but you're still salty about it.

• Like most others on this list, you can get him back. He's the baby of the family so of course he's ticklish. Expect him to use dirty tricks to win any tickle fight you initiate, however. Like "giving in" only to immediately attack once you stop, or using the fluffy end of his tail to catch you by surprise.

• Beel tends to come to his rescue a lot as well, so beware of that.

"I—I give! I giiive!" You smirk in triumph as the youngest demon brother surrenders beneath you, and you let up your tickling assault. You roll off of him, fixing your ruffled hair. "See? That's what happens when you challenge me," with your back turned, you're too busy congratulating yourself to notice Belphie slowly sitting up behind you. "Anyway, you need to— AH—!" You shriek as you're tackled down to the bed again, cursing as Belphie grins down at you, his eyes gleaming with a sadistic light. "Belphie! That's cheatING—!!" And so, it starts again.

DIAVOLO

• Diavolo likely finds out in a similar fashion to Lucifer. Only it might be at a ball rather than in a secluded area.

• He's confused at first. He knows what tickling is, but being extremely sheltered, he's never received much affection like that in his life. As a result, it takes him a moment to put the pieces together. Once he does, he smiles fondly down at you and apologises, and that is that.

• ...For now.

• What he didn't show right away was just how giddy this discovery made him. What an adorable trait to have! And one he had to see more of. He'd missed out on tickle fights his whole life — he had to wonder what they were like?

• He made a mental note to experiment with this information the next time you came around to the palace. And that he did.

• Literally yells "tickle fight!" before pulling you close and going to town. You have to yell for him to be gentler, because inexperienced as he is, what should tickle actually kind of hurts at first.

• "Ah, I'm so, so sorry," he relaxes his fingers a little, no longer digging into your skin. "Is this any better? My sincere apologies."

• His apology would seem a lot more genuine if he didn't continue to tickle you while saying it.

• That, and he doesn't quite understand the concept of a tickle fight. What he's doing to you is more like a tickle beat-down. It's so one-sided it's almost comical. Unable to fight back or escape, Barbatos has to come and tell him to stop before you piss yourself.

• This was fun! He decides completely on his own. We should do this more often! He says, as you are gasping for breath on the fucking ground.

• After this first experience, he incorporates more minor tickling into your daily lives. Instead of trapping you like the first time, he'll sneakily poke you while walking by, and then look back at you with a wave and a completely innocent smile on his face.

"MC? Apologies, you seem to be in the middle of something. It won't take long," Diavolo smiles as he enters the empty student council hall. Indeed, you are in the middle of sorting some letters, but it isn't as if you can deny an audience to the Demon King. "I have a question for you. It appears... as if you've been avoiding me lately. Why is that?" You blink, trying to discern if he was serious. The look on his face said yes, he was. "...Diavolo, whenever we sit next to each other, you keep reaching over to tickle me." He meets you with a surprised expression as if this is somehow news to him. "I did not know it was such a problem," He confesses. "Very well, then. I'll stop. If I do, will you start sitting beside me again? I quite miss it."

BARBATOS

• He already knew. Lol.

• He officially "finds out" for the first time when he just happens to walk in on Diavolo tickling you half to death and saves you from his grasp. In reality, he already knew this was going to happen and planned to show up just in time to clean you off of the floor once Diavolo had his fun.

• You're thankful he showed up, though. If not for the fact he rescued you, then for the tea he served you afterwards to ensure you wouldn't have had an entirely terrible experience that day.

• As for what he does with this information? Well, not much. At least, it doesn't seem like it to you.

• Barbatos knows how to be sneaky with how he uses this to hear you laugh throughout the day. He'll brush his hand against your skin while reaching for something, "accidentally" touch your back and make you jump while walking by you, and it will always seem unintentional. At first, that is.

• Red flags start to raise when these accidents seem to happen multiple times, every single time you're around him. He knows when you're starting to get suspicious too, and that's around the point he stops even trying to pretend like it isn't intentional. He'll keep doing it, but flash you an infuriating, coy smile after each time.

• Now it's war.

• If this is the game he's playing, you might as well participate.

• The only problem being... it's Barbatos. He knows when you're planning something and exactly how you're going to execute it. You can't even land a hand on the bastard.

• And even if you did somehow manage to (AKA he lets you), you genuinely have no idea if he's even ticklish. He won't react to anything you do to him, but he also won't give you a straight answer if you bluntly ask him if he's ticklish or not. He just looks at you with that signature poker-faced smile. And with that, he turns and walks away. YOU NEED ANSWERS.

• Eventually you become convinced that he isn't actually ticklish at all, but he lets you think he could be because he enjoys seeing you so determined to catch him off-guard.

"B—Barbatos!" You jerk your body away as his hand "somehow" manages to pinch your side while reaching for the utensils drawer next to you. He smiles. "My apologies, it was an accident." He says, and you call bullshit right away. With a newfound desire for revenge, you latch onto his side and start to tickle, but frown when he doesn't react at all. In fact, he simply opens the drawer and takes out a few of the cutlery inside like he initially intended to do, as if you aren't even there. He meets your eye with another, slightly more amused smile, before turning and leaving the room. You stand there, dumbfounded. Though... you could've sworn you saw him flinch a little when you first touched him.

SIMEON

• Simeon is also ticklish and is another example of someone who knows how it feels. He's not likely to tickle you often.

• That's not to say he doesn't find it amusing or cute — he absolutely does — but his first thought when the back rubs he gave you with the intention of being soothing turned ticklish wasn't that he should take advantage of it, rather that it's just something new he now knows about you.

• Simeon won't ever intentionally tickle you because it's, well, mean. He'll only do it if he gets "permission", meaning if you do it to him first.

• He enjoys seeing you smile and laugh, but he doesn't ever want to go too far. Most of the tickle fights you initiate are won by him — don't let his appearance and sweetness fool you, he's still much stronger than you are — but they also don't last long. He'll stop, apologise, and offer to make up for it with anything you want.

• "Sorry, sorry," Simeon smiles as he helps you back to your feet, brushing your hair out of your face. "Are you alright? Come on, let's sit down together. No more tickling, though."

• He... tries to be a protector of sorts if Solomon or anyone else is after you. I can't say it works out well for him though, and whoever was after you just ends up with two victims instead of one.

• Bless him for trying. At least you're not suffering alone.

• When you come around to Purgatory Hall, depending on your friendship with Luke, you two may have playful tickle wars that go on. He won't interfere, but Luke does tend to use Simeon as a shield or claims that you're "bullying" him. Simeon never takes it too seriously and you can usually continue your playful tickle-attack uninhibited.

You lay, breathless and sweaty on the floor. You stare up at the ceiling as you pant for air and slowly sit up, wiping at your forehead. You turn to the man sprawled out on the floor right next to you, the both of you having just endured the same tickle-attack by Solomon. "...Are you alright?" Simeon slowly turns his head to look at you and meets you with an exhausted smile. "Yeah, I'm fine... you?" "...Yeah." You sigh. Silence fills the air for a moment, interrupted only by your heavy breathing. "...Wanna get him back?" As angelic as Simeon still is... even he can't refuse that offer.

SOLOMON

• This shady sorcerer absolutely finds out on purpose.

• After one too many times where you've outright banned him from the kitchen to prevent some kind of national tragedy, he decides he's owed some kind of penance. So the one time you allow him in the kitchen while you cook — under strict supervision — he sneaks up behind you and...

• "Solomon!" You squeal, nearly dropping the ingredients in your hands as he hugs you from behind and uses the position to start furiously tickling you.

• "What? Why are you laughing?" He asks cheekily. "You better be careful. You don't want to ruin dinner, right?"

• After the first incident, it gets much, much worse.

• He'll tickle you at any time, anywhere, whenever he feels like it. It doesn't matter how busy you are or how important what you're working on is, he will interrupt you out of nowhere to tickle you until he's satisfied. Prick.

• He thinks it's funny to tickle you in inconvenient or inappropriate settings, too. If you're sat in front of or next to him in class, you can expect him to start repeatedly poking you or enchanting a few items to tickle you as you desperately try to hold back any reactions because then you'll be the one embarrassing yourself.

• He's also ticklish, but will go to great lengths to avoid you ever figuring that out. Probably drinks some kind of potion that dulls his sensitivity before seeking you out to tickle you just in case you try to get revenge on him.

• Of course, you can still catch him when he's unprepared. And when you do, it's war.

• At least Purgatory Hall is never boring with you two around.

You stare down Solomon as you face one another at opposite ends of the dining table. He's grinning at you, and every now and again tries to rush over to where you are, at which point you circle the table to keep the distance. "You can't keep going forever." He taunts. "Watch me, motherfucker," you curse, but it's true. You're already out of breath. He tries to charge you again and you react quickly, hurrying back around to the other side of the table. Just as you do, however, he changes direction. You're unable to turn around in time and he catches you, damn near lifting you up into the air with how he grabs you. "Solomon! Stop it!" "You started it," he argues. "Now suffer the consequences."

[bonbonly]

same anon from pussy drunk max and I just thought of this and had to share. Hold my hand on this one, pussy inspection. Doesn’t matter who you write it for but just wanting to “check” you at random times through the day. Holding you spread, checking if you’re tight and punishing you for ruining your panties telling you that you can’t just walk around wet all the time or else he’ll have to confiscate your panties and pants. The idea of him spreading you out and nudging your clit, sliding his fingers in and out, maybe even checking if you still take his cock perfectly is so hot to me. Especially if he’s successfully restraining himself from fucking you, after all he can’t fuck you unless he inspects you properly. Going insane over this idea please add more

ASDFASDFASF I AM GOING FERALLL OVER THIS YOU CAN'T JUST PUT THIS IN MY INBOX AND THEN EXPECT ME NOT TO EXPLODE I-

ok deep breaths, deep breaths bon, you got this asfasdfasf

bon thoughts (18+)

you know who i see this as? collegeau!charles leclerc. this is so him, and I'm going to make sure ALL of you see why this is him. he's the sweetest boy ever in the university, and he volunteers and goes training to be an inspector because he thinks it'll look good on his resume. and he's very hell bent on being professional, but then he sees you and all he can think about is how he's hoping you end up on his list of patients so he can finally inspect you.

when he walks into the room one day, he sees you naked and spread out completely, your pussy on display for him, as if you were made for him. he's biting his lips, taking a deep breath in and trying to keep his reputation intact. good sweet boy charles couldn't possibly try to ruin you, but the demons in his mind told him otherwise. he sits on a small stool, his face inches from your cunt. you prop yourself up on elbows, asking him how long this will take because you had a class to attend to soon and he's smiling like an idiot, nodding his head and talking about how he understands your concerns. he grabs some gloves, slipping them on carefully before taking his thumb and massaging your clit slowly. his eyes are on you, watching your reactions as you gasp out loud, head thrown back before you ultimately fall back onto the head of the bed you were laying on. when he thinks you're wet enough, he slips a finger in,

"just checking to see how tight you are, ma chérie," he murmurs, licking his lips, he wants to wrap his mouth around your cunt but he's holding himself back. he'd have to wait. he's adding a second finger, astonished how your body's welcoming him and when he curls and hits a spot inside you, you're moaning out loud. he pulls his fingers out, nodding his head and taking some notes and tells you that you're good for your first check-up.

and then the days pass, and you didn't show up to a couple of his checks, which has him a bit impatient. everyone was busy with their lives, though, but you? oh, he spent days thinking about you, how could you do this to him? so when you do show up, he's upset at you but even more upset that you're pussy is glistening in the light. you're dripping onto the bed beneath you, and he has no idea why that's so, but he doesn't like it one bit. you explain to him that this boy said something to you that made you feel funny. charles isn't happy one bit, and he's rubbing your clit harder than he's supposed to, watching your pussy hole clench around nothing,

"ma chérie, you cannot be walking around like this. ruining your panties, drenching what ever you wear. what if someone else sees? is that what you want? you want people to see how wet you are?" he's scolding you, and you're getting wetter at his words, unsure as to why your tummy was feeling weird, as if there was a pressure waiting to be unleashed. charles is shaking his head, not even waiting to hear your response, "i might order you to never wear anything to cover this cunt of yours, so that everyone can see how needy your pussy is."

his restraint is out the window, and he now has his cock out. his tip is crying for you, leaking excessively and you tilt your head, trying to understand what part of the procedure this was. charles notices your confusion and reassures you, "just to see if you can take a cock, or specifically my cock."

and he sinks himself into you, watching you moan out loud as he begins to fuck you at a pace that might be a little too much for you, but he doesn't care. he's been waiting for days for this, and he has no signs of stopping now. he almost catches himself leaning forward to kiss you, he knows better than to get involved like this but he figures in the next appointments he could get closer to you. right now, all he wants is to fill your cunt up with his cum, "you can only ever do this with me, no one else. never take anyone's cock outside of this exam room unless it's mine."

and you nod your head, willing to follow along with whatever he said. he's the sweetest boy on campus, he obviously was doing this for your own good!

[supernotnatural2005]

Lebanon

Paring: Dean x Reader

Summary: A wish gone wrong right brings back a familiar face. However, you all soon discover it's not as simple as it seems when what you’ve all accomplished, and your family, hangs in the balance.

Word Count: 7.4k (yikes 😬)

Warnings/tags: Major spoilers!! S14 Ep 13 especially, angst, fluff, canon (semi) divergence, episode rewrite (kinda).

AN: Okay so this was a lovely request from an anon which you can read here. The summary of it was John interacting with his grandson, fathered by either Sam or Dean. Ofc I went with Dean on this one. Personally I struggled finding a way to fit this in and be faithful to the boy's journey. The only thing that felt right to me was what I have written. I hope that is okay anon? ❤️

Main Masterlist

You sit at the library table with Bobby, your three-year-old son, surrounded by scattered crayons and sheets of paper filled with colourful scribbles. His tiny fingers clutch a crayon tightly as he drags it across the page, his little tongue peeking out in deep concentration. His brows furrow—just like Dean’s do when he’s focused—and the sight tugs at something deep inside you.

“Good job, baby,” you murmur, smoothing a hand over his soft, sandy hair.

Even now, three years later, you still found yourself in awe of him. Of the fact that he was yours. That despite everything—despite the life you’d lived, the battles you’d fought, the countless times you weren’t sure you’d even see another day—you had him.

You never thought you’d even be able to have a kid after all the knocks your body had taken over the years. But then Bobby happened—an accident, sure, but never a mistake. Not once. And Dean… Dean had loved him from the second he knew he existed. He loved him with everything in him.

A lot had happened since you first met Dean. You’d bumped into him and Sam on a case years ago, all of you unknowingly hunting the same thing. Sparks flew instantly—partly from attraction, but mostly from the sheer force of your clashing egos. Neither of you were the type to back down. He was cocky, you were stubborn, and together, you were like gasoline to his flame.

But somewhere between the banter and the bickering, a friendship formed. The three of you started meeting up more, sharing research, trading expertise. And then, one night, that tension between you and Dean finally broke.

After that… Well, life never stopped moving.

Losing Bobby Singer. Dean being dragged to Purgatory. Losing him for a year. Getting him back. Then the angels fell. Metatron. Almost losing Sam. Sam being possessed by Gadreel. Losing Kevin. Losing Charlie. The Mark of Cain. Losing Dean again—only to get him back as a demon. Getting rid of the Mark, but unleashing something worse—God’s sister, the Darkness. Oh and God was Chuck? Then Mary came back. Then Lucifer and he had a son, Jack—a Nephilim who, against all odds, had become family. And then there was the discovery of other earths, alternate realities bleeding into their own, which had led you here.

To Michael.

And somehow, in the middle of all of that, you’d fell pregnant and raised a, now, three-year-old.

Bobby had been the one good, untouchable thing in all of it.

But since Michael… Everything was different, because of your son.

Dean had been in turmoil. He hid it well most days, but you saw it—in the clench of his jaw, the way he rolled his shoulders like he was trying to shake off a weight he couldn’t see.

Michael was still there, buried deep, locked away—for now. And that terrified him. Not just for himself, but for you. For Bobby. Because no matter how strong his will was, no matter how hard he fought to keep control, there was always that lingering fear…

What if the lock didn’t hold?

So you did what you always did. You held everything together. For him. For Bobby. For all of you.

Because no matter how much the world took from you, you still had each other.

And maybe—just maybe—you were still holding out for another miracle.

The heavy bunker doors creaked open, and Bobby’s head snapped up. His green eyes went wide with excitement, his crayon slipping from his grasp.

“Daddy!” he shouted, his voice ringing through the library.

You barely manage to help him down from his chair before he bolts, little legs pumping as fast as they can across the cold bunker floor. His tousled hair bounces with each hurried step, arms swinging as he races toward the only person in the world who could make him forget everything else.

Dean barely has time to brace himself before Bobby collides with him, tiny hands grabbing at his flannel. A tired but genuine laugh escapes Dean as he scoops him up with ease, holding him close. The exhaustion lining his face softens, replaced by something warm and unshakable.

“Hey, buddy,” Dean murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of Bobby’s head. “You miss me?”

Bobby nods enthusiastically, burying his face into Dean’s shoulder. “Uh-huh.”

The sight pulls at something deep in your chest—Dean, looking worn from whatever they’d just faced, but still lighting up the second he has his son in his arms. His perfect little double. The same green eyes, the same cluster of freckles dusting his little nose.

Sam steps forward, offering you a tired smile before ruffling Bobby’s hair. “Hey, little man.”

Bobby grins, immediately stretching his arms toward his uncle. Sam chuckles, taking him with ease, and Bobby squeals as he’s lifted high, giggling when Sam playfully swings him in the air. Your son has them both wrapped around his tiny fingers, and they don’t even try to hide it.

But your gaze flickers back to Dean, and you immediately notice the weight in his stance. The way he rolls his shoulders, like he’s trying to shake something off but can’t. The way his smile, as bright as it is for Bobby, doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“What happened?” you ask softly, stepping closer.

Dean and Sam exchange a look—silent, heavy, something unspoken passing between them. And then, after a beat, Dean finally meets your gaze.

-

“A Baozhu?” you echo, brows knitting together as you absorb everything Dean and Sam just told you. The day they’d had sounded like something straight out of a horror novel.

It started with them tracking down an old friend—well, former hunter—who had been murdered. His death led them to an antique shop owner who had a whole damn room full of occult objects. Dean had rattled off some of the inventory like a bad joke—dragon’s breath in a perfume bottle, a skull supposedly belonging to Sarah Good from the Salem witch trials.

And then, just when things couldn’t get crazier, a couple of idiot teenagers stole Baby, along with all the cursed artefacts they had loaded into the trunk. Dean’s jaw still ticked when he mentioned it, and you had to bite your lip to keep from laughing—because, yeah, it was serious, but the way he got so damn worked up about his car was just so him.

That would’ve been enough of a headache, but then came the kicker. One of the stolen objects contained a spirit. And not just any spirit—the ghost of John Wayne Gacy.

“Seriously?” you’d blurted when Sam told you. “Like, the John Wayne Gacy?”

“Yup,” Dean had muttered, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Evil clown and all.”

Sam still looked a little queasy at the memory, and you knew why—his fear of clowns was legendary. But thankfully, the boys had handled it, no one got hurt, and the worst that came out of it was a couple of traumatised teenagers who now knew the truth about what lurked in the dark.

But out of everything, the most important discovery was the pearl.

Sam sits at the table now, flipping through an old lore book, his eyes scanning the pages. “It’s supposed to grant the user their heart’s greatest desire,” he explains. “Like a wish.”

You inhale sharply, the weight of those words pressing into your chest. “A wish? Like, an actual wish?”

Sam nods. “That’s what the lore says.”

Your mind starts racing. If it works… if Dean uses it…

You glance at him, and you can tell he’s already there, thinking the same thing. Michael. The archangel still locked inside his head, slowly eating away at him.

It hasn’t been easy. Not for him. Not for any of you. The sleepless nights, the migraines that leave him clutching his skull, the way his hands sometimes shake when he thinks no one’s looking. The moments where he just stares, zoning out, fighting a battle no one else can see. You’ve watched him struggle, pushing himself beyond his limits, trying to hold it together when you know he feels like he’s falling apart.

“Dean…” you murmur, reaching across the table, lacing your fingers through his. “You're sure?” You ask softly and his grip tightens, warm and solid. He exhales, steadying himself, his voice quiet but firm. 

“Yeah,” he says, giving your hand a squeeze. “If this thing works—Michael’s gone. For good.”

All Dean had to do was hold the pearl and concentrate—wish Michael away for good. Simple.

But the moment he did, the bunker’s lights flickered violently, plunging the room into an eerie, stuttering darkness. Then, without warning, a deep, unnatural red glow pulsed around you, filling the air with a static charge that made the hairs on your arms stand on end.

Your breath hitched as you clutched Bobby tighter against your chest. His little fingers fisted into your shirt, his small body trembling.

“Dean?” you called, alarmed, but his sharp, commanding voice cut through the chaos.

“Take Bobby to our room. Now.”

The authority in his tone left no room for argument. Your heart pounded, panic clawing at your ribs, but keeping Bobby safe was all that mattered.

You turned and bolted down the hall, his small arms locked around your neck as you ran. Behind you, the sounds of grunting and scuffling echoed—something was happening, something bad.

“Mommy?” Bobby’s voice was small, uncertain, his wide green eyes shimmering with unshed tears. His bottom lip trembled, and the sight of it nearly broke you.

You placed him gently into his cot, cupping his soft cheeks between your palms, forcing yourself to smile. “Mommy’s just gonna make sure Daddy and Uncle Sammy are okay, alright?” You kept your voice steady, though your pulse pounded erratically.

Then, just as suddenly as it started, the bunker fell silent. The flickering lights steadied. The air no longer buzzed with electricity.

You swallowed hard.

“You’ll be my brave boy and stay here, yeah?”

Bobby hesitated, then gave you a small nod despite his fear. You kissed his forehead firmly, lingering just a second longer than usual, then forced yourself to pull away. You slipped out of the room, shutting the door behind you, willing your hands to stop shaking.

As you rounded the corner, your steps slowed, your breath catching in your throat.

Dean and Sam stood frozen in place, their expressions a mix of shock and something almost… reverent. But it wasn’t fear in their eyes. It was disbelief.

A man stood before them, his stance rigid, a gun poised tight in his grasp, not aiming, but gripped tight. He wasn’t Michael— you’d met that bastard before he possessed your boyfriend. No, this was someone else entirely.

“You boys better tell me what the hell is going on.” The stranger demanded, his voice deep, weary.

Your grip on your gun tightened as you raised it, the chamber clicking into place, shattering the heavy silence.

“I could ask you the same thing.” You demanded, voice steady despite the storm raging inside you.

All six pairs of eyes flickered to you at the sound of your voice, and the moment the strangers gaze met yours, a chill ran down your spine. You knew that face.

It took another heartbeat before the realisation struck like a freight train.

You’d seen him before. In the small collection of worn photographs Dean kept tucked away—memories of a childhood long gone.

John Winchester.

After leaving Dean, Sam, and John to catch up, you had gone to check on Bobby. He was still curled up in his cot, clutching the stuffed moose Sam had gotten him for Christmas last year. You’d learned quickly that it was his comfort toy, and seeing him holding onto it so tightly made your heart clench.

His green eyes found you instantly, and he climbed to the edge, making grabby hands. His bottom lip jutted out, a clear sign of distress.

You scooped him into your arms without hesitation, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Hey, sweetheart.” Your voice was soft as you ran a soothing hand over his back. Truthfully, you needed the comfort just as much as he did. John was back. Just when you thought life couldn’t get any crazier…

“Where’s Daddy?” Bobby mumbled, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“He’s with Uncle Sammy and—” You hesitated. How exactly do you explain to a three-year-old that his grandfather—who’d been dead for over a decade in your timeline—was alive and plucked from another?

Bobby frowned. “I wanna see Daddy.”

His voice wobbled, and that was all it took for your hesitation to crumble. You weren’t sure if barging in with a toddler was the best timing, but Bobby didn’t understand that. Right now, he just wanted his dad.

“Alright.” You kissed his forehead. “Let’s go see him.”

He clung to you as you carried him down the hall, his little fingers curling into your shirt. As you neared the kitchen, low murmurs drifted through the doorway—John’s voice, rough and gravelly, eerily similar to your boyfriends.

“So, you’ve, um… been busy,” John said, amusement laced with something softer.

Before Dean could respond, Bobby stirred in your arms. The second he spotted his father, his whole face lit up.

“Daddy?”

The room fell silent.

Dean turned at the sound of his son’s voice, surprise flickering across his face before his eyes found yours. You mouthed a quick I’m sorry before setting Bobby down.

John’s gaze never left the toddler as he toddled toward Dean, arms reaching up without hesitation. Dean scooped him up with practiced ease, a small, uncertain smile tugging at his lips as Bobby buried his face in his neck.

John let out a slow breath, eyes flicking between you, Dean, and the boy in his son’s arms. His voice was quiet as he added. 

“Really busy.”

There was no teasing in his tone. Just awe.

Dean swallowed, bracing himself. He wasn’t sure how John would take this—learning he was a grandfather, seeing a piece of Dean’s life he’d never expected to, but John’s eyes glistened with something unreadable, his throat working around words he couldn’t seem to find. Finally, his gaze softened. 

“What’s his name?”

Dean hesitated for just a second before answering, shifting Bobby slightly. “Robert John Winchester.”

John inhaled sharply. His lips parted, but no words came. His gaze flickered between Dean and Bobby, something glassy and overwhelmed in his expression. Then, after a beat, he cleared his throat and reached out, hesitating.

His voice was quieter than before, rough but vulnerable.

“Can I?”

Dean held his gaze for a moment, then nodded.

Carefully, he passed Bobby over. John took him like he was made of glass—almost reverently—his arms wrapping securely around his grandson. Bobby, unaware of the weight of the moment, gripped onto John’s shirt with tiny fingers, tilting his head curiously.

John let out a shaky breath, one hand settling on Bobby’s back, the other gently cupping the small boy’s head. A tearful huff escaped him as he whispered, “Hey, little man.”

Bobby blinked up at him, studying his face with quiet curiosity. Then, slowly, his tiny hand reached out, cupping John’s cheek. John froze for a moment, his breath hitching as Bobby assessed him with those big green eyes—the same shade Dean’s had been at that age.

Then, Bobby giggled at the prickle of John’s beard, the sound breaking the heavy air in the room. A small, watery smile pulled at John’s lips as he let out a quiet chuckle, his hold on Bobby tightening just slightly.

You, Dean, and Sam couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

But after a moment, Bobby shifted, his little arms reaching back toward you. Instinctively, you stepped forward, and John, though reluctant, carefully handed him over.

His eyes lingered on you, then flickered to Dean and Bobby—his grandson, his son, this family he had never gotten the chance to know.

His voice was rough with emotion as he admitted, “I just… I just wish I’d been here to see it all.”

Dean’s throat tightened. He knew John wasn’t just talking about Bobby—he was talking about everything. The years they’d spent fighting, losing, surviving. The pain, the victories, all the impossible things that had led them here.

Dean met his father’s eyes, his voice steady when he said, “Dad, none of this would have happened without you.”

John looked at him then, really looked at him, his eyes flicking to you, to the boy in your arms, before landing back on Dean with a soft, knowing smile.

Then, as if needing to ground himself in something familiar, John let out a breathy chuckle. “Well, I went out taking out Yellow Eyes. I mean, that was the point, right? Get the thing that killed Mom.”

The shift was instant. You felt it in the way Dean’s grip on your hand tightened, in the way Sam tensed across the table. The air in the room seemed to still.

He didn’t know.

Dean and Sam exchanged a glance, the same realisation hitting them both at once.

And then, before anyone could figure out how to tell him, the bunker door creaked open.

“Boys? Y/N?” Mary called out and John’s face twisted in recognition and something deeper. 

John turned as she approached, pausing in the doorway, eyes wide, breath catching the second she saw him.

For a moment, neither of them moved. They just stared. The kind of stare that cut through time, through decades, through life and death itself.

Then John stood and surged forward. 

She barely had time to whisper his name before he was there, pulling her into his arms, kissing her like he’d never let her go.

It was raw, desperate, a reunion, decades in the making.

You felt Dean exhale beside you, his grip on your hand loosening as he watched his parents cling to each other like the world had stopped moving.

You met Sam’s gaze, then tipped your head toward the hall. A silent suggestion. He gave a small nod.

You turned back to Dean, giving him the same look, and he sighed before nudging his head toward the hallway.

Giving them this moment was the least you could do.

You followed Sam and Dean out of the kitchen, Bobby tucked securely in your arms. Dean let out a breathless chuckle, running a hand through his hair, his expression caught somewhere between disbelief and exhilaration.

“It’s Dad,” he murmured, like saying it out loud might make it feel real. His eyes flickered between you and Sam, wide with wonder. “This is amazing. I’m—I’m freaking out.”

“Yeah, I know,” Sam said, his own voice tinged with the same stunned disbelief. You met his gaze, both of you thinking the same thing.

Sam turned back to Dean, grounding him with a firm hand on his shoulder. “But Dean—Dean, listen.” His tone was steady, cautious. “How did this happen?”

Dean blinked, still reeling. “I—I don’t know,” he admitted, stumbling over the words. He was overwhelmed, barely holding onto the moment, and as much as you loved seeing him like this, you couldn’t ignore the sinking feeling in your gut. When did anything this good happen without consequences?

“You said the pearl gives you what your heart desires, right?” He continued, looking to Sam for confirmation, who nodded pensively, “so my heart desired—“ He shook his head, trying to articulate it clearly, “I’ve wanted this. Man, I've wanted this since I was four years old.”

Your hold on Bobby tightened, the weight of Dean’s words settling deep in your chest. His gaze lingered on you, desperate and vulnerable, like you were the only one who could truly grasp what this meant to him.

And you did.

Dean had carried this ache his whole life, a longing so deep it had shaped the man he became. How many nights had he wished for just one more moment? One more chance to have his dad back—to have his family whole again?

“Okay, I know,” Sam began, voice softer now, careful. “And I—I love this too, Dean, really I do…” He sighed, not in frustration but in that way that said he knew better. “But messing with time… You know how this ends. Things change—”

“Yeah, great—we got our family back together. I’ll take that change,” Dean interrupted, voice sharp with defensiveness. You could see the way his shoulders tensed, how his jaw clenched like he was bracing for a fight. And damn it, you wanted so badly to agree with him. To ignore the reality Sam was trying to lay out.

“That’s not what I mean—”

“Stop. Just stop, okay?” Dean cut in, his voice tighter now, more upset. He looked between you and Sam, his expression pleading. You knew he wasn’t delusional—just desperate. Desperate to hold onto something that never should’ve been taken from him in the first place.

“Look, can—can we just have one family dinner?” Dean’s voice cracked slightly as he exhaled, his walls barely holding up against the weight of this moment. “Just one. Us—All of us together. That’s all I want. Can you just give me that?”

Before either of you could respond, Dean turned on his heel, walking off, his frustration radiating from every step. He didn’t want to hear the truth. Not now.

And your heart broke for him.

Because even knowing what Sam was saying was right… What was so wrong with just one dinner?

Sam sighed, exasperated, his expression torn. He turned to you, searching for some kind of understanding, and you squeezed his hand gently. 

“This means everything to him, Sam,” you murmured, your voice quiet but certain. “Just one dinner can’t hurt, right?” You weren’t just pleading for Dean—you were pleading for both of them. Because you knew how much this meant to Sam, too. Even if he didn’t want to admit it. Even if it hurt to be the one pointing out the reality of it all.

Sam let out a slow breath, shaking his head. “Yeah… maybe.” He gave you a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes, before squeezing your hand back. Then, with a sigh, he kissed Bobby’s head and walked off, leaving you standing there, staring after them—standing in the wake of something you couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

You found Dean in your shared room, shrugging on his jacket like he was heading out. He barely looked up at first, but the tension in his shoulders was unmistakable.

“Hey,” you said quietly, not sure if he still needed space or if he was ready to talk.

Dean hesitated for a second, then glanced your way, his expression softening just a little.

Bobby had started dozing off on the way to the room, his small head resting against your shoulder, warm and heavy with sleep. You carefully lowered him into his cot, tucking the blanket around him. He barely stirred, his little chest rising and falling steadily, completely lost to the world.

A quiet sigh left you as you straightened, only to startle when you felt Dean’s hands slide around your waist from behind. He pulled you in against him, resting his chin on your shoulder as he looked down at Bobby. You felt the deep inhale he took, like he was trying to memorise this moment—like he was afraid to blink and lose it.

When he finally turned you in his arms, his hands found your hips, his forehead pressing to yours in that familiar way that made the world go quiet. You let out a slow breath, your fingers instinctively sliding up his arms before wrapping around his back, holding onto him just as tightly as he was holding onto you.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice rough with emotion.

You shook your head, but he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his hands tightening on you like he needed you to hear this.

“I really did wish for Michael to be gone,” he admitted, his voice hoarse. “But I guess… this just won over that.” His lips pressed together like he still couldn’t believe it, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. 

“My whole family—together again. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. And after Bobby was born…” His voice broke just slightly, and he let out a shaky breath, eyes flickering to his sleeping son with something deeper, something that made your heart ache. “God, I wanted it even more.”

You lifted a hand, cupping his cheek, bringing him back to you. His stubble scratched against your palm as he leaned into your touch, his lashes fluttering shut for a moment like he was grounding himself in it.

“Dean,” you whispered, aching for him.

He opened his eyes again, searching yours, something pleading in them. “I know the risks,” he said, his voice barely above a murmur. “But just for tonight… I just wanna pretend.” His fingers traced soft, absentminded circles against your lower back, his forehead still pressed to yours. “Pretend this is how it’s supposed to be.”

Your throat tightened, your chest aching with how much you understood. How could you not? You knew what it meant to him. Knew what it was like to want something so badly it hurt.

So instead of answering, you kissed him.

Soft, slow, tender.

Dean melted into it immediately, his hands gripping you tighter, like he was afraid you might slip away. His lips were warm, familiar, desperate in a way that made you feel like you were the only thing holding him together. You let yourself sink into it, let yourself pour every bit of understanding, every ounce of love into that kiss.

When you finally pulled back, his breath was uneven, his forehead dropping against yours once more. His hands lingered at your waist, his thumbs brushing gently over your sides.

“I was just gonna grab a list of ingredients from Mom,” he murmured after a beat, his lips ghosting over yours. “She wants to make dinner.”

You huffed out a soft laugh, your fingers carding through the short hairs at the nape of his neck. “Then I guess you better go make sure she has everything.”

He smiled against you, but there was something fragile in it, something that made you brush your lips against his one last time before stepping back, your arms slipping from around him reluctantly.

Dean lingered a moment, like he wasn’t quite ready to let go, before finally heading for the door.

For tonight, you’d let him have this.

For tonight, you’d pretend too.

After Dean left, you turned to one of your most reliable coping mechanisms—cleaning. If your hands were busy, your mind had less room to spiral.

You started small, straightening the blankets on the bed, smoothing out every wrinkle with practiced hands. You fluffed the pillows next, then folded Dean’s shirt—the one he’d tossed carelessly over the chair earlier. The fabric was warm from the heat of him, smelling like him, like home. You exhaled, a quiet ache settling in your chest.

Then there were Bobby’s tiny socks on the floor. You picked them up, rolling them together, a soft smile tugging at your lips despite the weight pressing down on you. It was funny, really. You were standing in the middle of another damn apocalypse, juggling the chaos of archangels and time travel, but here you were, folding laundry like it could anchor you.

But no matter how much you focused on the small, mundane tasks in front of you, the worry still crept in. About what came next. Not just with John but Michael, too.

A sudden knock at the door shattered your thoughts. You flinched slightly, blinking as you turned.

And then you saw him.

John Winchester stood in the doorway, shoulders squared, hands shoved deep in his pockets. He was the same man from the stories—the ones whispered among hunters, the ones Bobby had grumbled about over a glass of whiskey. And yet, he wasn’t.

You knew enough about him to form an opinion. Maybe more than an opinion. You resented him for what he put his boys through, for the way he shaped them into men who never got to just be. And yet... you understood grief. Knew how it could twist a person into something unrecognisable. You had lost Dean before—more than once—and each time, the world blurred at the edges, reality tilting until you weren’t sure how to stand up straight again.

John was staring at you now, his expression unreadable. But something in his eyes—something raw—made your breath hitch.

“I’m sorry to interrupt.” His voice was rough, quieter than you expected. He raised a hand, almost apologetic.

You shook your head, straightening. “No, it’s fine.” You set a folded pair of Dean’s jeans on the bed and turned to give him your full attention.

His gaze lingered on the crib. You followed his line of sight, your lips twitching at the edges. You supposed it must be surreal—coming from a time when his sons were much younger, still in the thick of his mission, only to find himself here, where Dean was not just a man, not just a hunter, but a father.

John exhaled, shaking his head slightly. Then, with a small, almost hesitant smile, he looked at you. “You know, I owe you a thank you.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “For what?”

“For taking care of my boys.” His voice was steady, but you could hear the weight behind it. “For giving Dean something real.”

Your throat tightened.

John glanced at the crib again before meeting your gaze. “I know I should’ve been—could’ve been—a better father to ‘em.” His jaw clenched, his voice thick with something heavy. “But seeing Dean with Bobby... It’s proof of how much better he turned out than I ever could’ve hoped.”

He took a slow step forward, stopping just short of the crib. He didn’t reach for it, didn’t intrude, just stood there, watching his grandson sleep. His fingers curled into his palms at his sides, like he wasn’t sure if he had the right to be here.

The hardened hunter was gone. In his place was a man who carried the weight of too many regrets.

“You weren’t always a good father,” you admitted, voice even but not unkind. “You did things that left scars. On both of them.”

John nodded, accepting it without argument. He didn’t try to justify himself. Didn’t try to fight you on it.

“But they’re still here,” you continued. “Despite everything, they’re still standing.” You huffed a quiet, almost bitter laugh. “And knowing them, they’d probably say they’re proud to be your sons.”

John’s throat bobbed, his gaze flickering with something close to pain.

He let out a breath. “Yeah.” A beat of silence. “I’m proud to be their father, too.”

For the first time since you met him, you saw it. Not the soldier, not the myth—but the man.

And before either of you could say anything more, the bunker door creaked open.

The boys were back.

“A temporal paradox.” 

John repeated the words slowly, almost like he was testing them out, rolling them around in his mind. There was a hint of a smile on his lips, like he couldn’t quite believe it. But that glimmer of amusement was fleeting. The weight of the situation pressed down, the reality of what it all meant sinking in fast.

During Dean and Sam’s trip into town, they were faced with all the reasons why you should never mess with time. It wasn’t just that things were different—it was that if they didn’t undo what Dean had unintentionally wished, they could lose a hell of a lot more.

“That’s what Sam’s calling it.” Dean shook his head, huffing out a small breath. “Egghead.”

John chuckled softly, a flicker of something warm in his expression. But then, as quickly as it came, the smile faded. The truth settled in. He’d suspected as much.

“Basically, uh,” Dean started, exhaling through his nose, like the words were heavier than he expected. “If you don’t go back, Sam never gets into the life, and Mom, she, uh…” He trailed off for a second, his throat tightening.

John’s expression shifted—something sad, something knowing.

“Well, without everything that we did, with God, the Darkness… she never comes back.”

Dean cast his gaze downward, the words pressing into his chest like a tone of bricks. He’d already told you, and you’d left him to have this moment with his father while you tended to a restless Bobby. But saying it now, out loud, made it all feel so much more real.

“And, uh—” His voice wavered, betraying him. John caught it immediately, and his face softened in a way that Dean wasn’t used to. 

“What?”

Dean swallowed hard. “I never meet Y/N,” he admitted, voice raw. “And, uh… Bobby is never born.”

John let out a slow breath, nodding in understanding. “Sam thinks they’ll just fade away,” Dean added, his voice barely above a whisper, and the silence that followed was suffocating.

John then looked at him—really looked at him. His mind already made up. No hesitation. No second thoughts.

“Okay.”

Dean blinked, caught a little off guard. “Okay?”

John nodded again, firmer this time. “I mean, me versus your Mom? Your family?” He scoffed slightly, shaking his head. “That’s—That’s not even a choice.”

Dean looked away, but nodded in agreement. Despite how impossible of a choice this was, his heart and soul had already picked you and his son. 

John studied him for a long moment, his sharp gaze flickering with understanding before he tilted his head slightly. “Does she know?”

Dean exhaled. “Sam’s telling her now.”

Before anything else could be said, the quiet moment was broken by the sound of tiny, excited babbling from the hall. Bobby.

Dean and John both instinctively turned toward the sound, and despite the weight of everything hanging over them, a small smile pulled at their lips.

“I think that’s your cue,” John chuckled, the warmth in his voice unmistakable.

Dean let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah.”

With that, Dean turned, already set on making a beeline for you—until John’s voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Dean.”

Dean hesitated, glancing back.

“I, uh…” John exhaled slowly. “I never meant for this.”

Dean shook his head immediately. “Dad, we pulled you here.”

“No, son.” John’s voice was steady, unshakable. “My fight. It was supposed to end with me, with Yellow Eyes. But now you—” He trailed off, eyes scanning Dean’s face like he was taking him in for the first time. Like he was seeing just how much his son had lived through, how much he had lost, how much he had become, and Dean held his breath.

“You’re a grown man,” John said, voice quieter now, but no less firm. A small, almost wistful smile touched his lips. “And I am incredibly proud of you.”

Dean swallowed hard.

For years—his whole damn life, really—he had chased those words, hunted them down in every action, every sacrifice, every order he had followed without question. He’d needed them more than he ever wanted to admit.

And now, hearing them…

He didn’t know what the hell to do with them.

John let out a breath, shaking his head slightly. “I guess I always hoped, eventually, you’d get yourself a normal life. A peaceful one.” His lips twitched in something between amusement and regret. “But you did get a family. And boy, what a wonderful one you got.”

Dean’s chest ached. Not in the painful way it usually did, but in something lighter, something warmer, and he nodded, voice thick. “I really do.”

John placed a hand on his shoulder, firm and steady. His eyes were glassy, his expression proud, happy, even.

They held each other’s gaze for a long moment before they both let out small chuckles, both clearly not used to this kind of open emotion between them.

John cleared his throat, smiling. “Alright. What’s next?”

Dean patted his dad’s shoulder, a small grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

“We eat.”

The library was quiet—too quiet. The usual warmth of the bunker felt dimmed, weighed down by the unspoken grief hanging thick in the air. The large wooden table was set with plates of home-cooked food, a rare sight among the usual takeout containers and beer bottles. Dishes of mashed potatoes, roast chicken, green beans, and cornbread were carefully laid out, though none of it seemed as comforting as it should have been.

At the head of the table, Bobby sat in his high chair, blissfully unaware of the heartbreak surrounding him. He kicked his little feet, happily munching on soft baby carrots, babbling to himself between bites. The sound was a bright contrast to the silence of the adults, their appetites dulled by the weight of what was to come.

Mary sat beside John, her hands resting in her lap, her gaze downcast. Her expression was unreadable—except to those who knew her well. The tight set of her jaw, the slight furrow of her brow, the way her fingers curled into the fabric of her sleeve—it was grief, raw and quiet. She was trying to hold herself together, but you could see the cracks forming. Your heart ached for her, for all of them.

Dean sat beside you, his posture tense, his grip on his fork loose. Sam sat next to him, his lips pressed into a thin line, eyes darting between his parents. No one knew what to say.

And then, John cleared his throat.

“Near as I can tell, we have two choices,” he announced, his voice steady but thick with meaning. He looked around the table, making sure each of you heard him. “All right, we can think about what’s coming, or we can be grateful for this time that we have together.”

A smile ghosted his lips as he reached for Mary’s hand, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. The tenderness in his touch, the way she squeezed back with slightly trembling fingers—it was enough to make your throat tighten.

“Now me,” John went on, his voice quieter, but firm, “I choose grateful.”

He lifted Mary’s hand to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to her skin. The small, simple act of love shattered something inside you, and before you could stop it, a tear slipped down your cheek. You discreetly wiped it away, exhaling a shaky breath—until you felt Dean’s hand slip into yours under the table.

His grip was firm, grounding, his thumb tracing gentle circles against your skin. When you looked at him, his eyes were shining—not just with unshed tears, but with love, with quiet adoration. His lips quirked into a barely-there smile, as if to say I’ve got you. And you squeezed his hand back, a silent I know.

John cleared his throat, straightening in his seat. “So, to whatever brought us together,” he said, voice rough with emotion. “We owe you one. Amen.”

You swallowed hard and echoed softly, “Amen.”

John’s gaze landed on you, warm and grateful, before Dean murmured his own amen, followed by Mary and Sam.

And then, as if on cue, Bobby lifted his sippy cup with both hands, grinning as he let out his own version of an, Amen, but without the A. The moment of it—so innocent, so sweet—broke the tension, and laughter rippled through the room, soft but genuine.

Dean chuckled, kissing his son's head, lingering a little before lifting his own beer bottle, and with a glance around the table, everyone followed suit, toasting together.

The warmth lingered long after the laughter had settled, weaving through the quiet moments that followed. Plates clinked softly as forks scraped up the last bites of dinner, the heavy weight of earlier conversations giving way to something lighter—something cherished.

Bobby remained in John’s lap for the rest of dinner, small hands grabbing at whatever was within reach. He giggled happily, his little voice rising and falling as he gestured animatedly, as if telling the most important story in the world. John listened intently, nodding along, his expression soft in a way rarely seen. Mary reached over, brushing Bobby’s soft, blonde hairs from his forehead, her smile tender, her eyes brimming with emotion as she watched her husband and grandson together.

Across the table, you and Dean sat close, his arm draped around you, his thumb moving in slow, absentminded strokes against your shoulder. You could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, the way he exhaled deeply, soaking it all in. When Bobby let out a bright burst of laughter—pure, unfiltered joy—your heart clenched.

Dean must have felt it too because he pressed a lingering kiss to the side of your head, his lips warm against your temple. When you turned to meet his gaze, his eyes were already on you—shining, full of something deep and unspoken. He didn’t need to say anything. It was all there.

The moment stretched, the low hum of conversation, the occasional bursts of laughter, the soft clatter of dishes—it all melted together into something perfect. Sam leaned back in his chair, watching with quiet amusement as Bobby shoved a piece of bread into John's mouth, earning a chuckle from the older man. Mary shook her head fondly, her fingers tracing small circles on John's forearm.

It was a picture of something rare.

A family—whole, just for now.

The air felt impossibly heavy, thick with unspoken words and the weight of what was about to happen. The time they had borrowed was running out.

John turned to Mary, his eyes soft, glassy with unshed tears. He reached for her, brushing a strand of golden hair behind her ear before cradling her face in his rough hands. "My girl," he whispered, voice thick with emotion. 

A choked sound left Mary's throat as she closed her eyes, leaning into his touch. They kissed—slow, lingering, as if they could hold back time just a little longer. Your heart clenched as you clutched Bobby closer, rocking him slightly as if to soothe both him and yourself.

When John turned to you, his expression was unreadable for a moment, but then, with a tremble in his voice, he asked, "May I?" He gestured toward Bobby, and your throat tightened as you nodded, tears spilling over. Carefully, you passed your son to him, watching as John pulled Bobby close, pressing his lips to the little boy’s hair.

"I'm so grateful I got to meet you, buddy," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. Bobby blinked up at him, small hands reaching out to cup John's scruffy cheeks. The gesture made everyone smile through their tears, the sheer innocence of it grounding them all in the moment. John closed his eyes, pressing another lingering kiss to the top of Bobby's head before exhaling shakily.

When he looked back at you, his expression was serious, but not heavy. There was something lighter in his gaze now, something settled. "You watch out for these boys, yeah?"

You swallowed past the lump in your throat and nodded. "Always."

John lingered, giving Bobby one last kiss before handing him back to you. As you stepped away, Dean's hands found yours, holding tight, grounding you as you passed.

Then, John turned to his sons.

"I'm so proud of you boys," he said, voice breaking, eyes shining as he looked between them. The words hung in the air, sinking in deep, and neither Sam nor Dean could stop the tears from spilling over as they stepped into their father’s embrace. He held them tight, arms wrapped fiercely around them, as if trying to memorise the feeling, as if trying to make up for lost time in a single moment.

You couldn't hold back your own tears as Bobby nuzzled into you, his small arms wrapping around your neck. He didn’t fully understand what was happening, but he sensed your sadness, and in his own little way, he was comforting you.

John stepped back, his fingers intertwining with Mary’s as he took one last look at his family. His gaze swept over all of you—his boys, his grandson, you—before he nodded, a final acceptance settling in his features.

"Okay," he murmured, squeezing Mary’s hand. "Okay. I'm ready."

Sam hesitated for only a moment before he laid the pearl on the table and then the sharp crack of breaking glass echoed through the quiet space.

Everyone watched in wonder and sadness as John Winchester faded into nothingness.

A heavy silence followed, the air still trembling with his absence. But as the initial grief settled, something else remained—a sense of peace, fragile but real.

And yeah, maybe this wasn’t how things were meant to be. Dean’s wish had rewritten fate. But if it gave them this—a chance to say what had been left unsaid, to mend wounds that had ached for too long—then maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

AN: Okay so this one was a long boi 😅. But I would love to know everyone's thoughts? Did you think this fit well for the request? Also I know John Winchester is a bit of a sensitive topic, not everyone likes him and it's understandable, but I feel I catered more to his human side a little here. Plus this episode was pretty heartbreaking. Anywho I hope you guys enjoyed and thank you anon for the request! 💕

If you would like to be tagged in my future works please respond to this >form< so I can add you to the character's you'd like 😊

Dean Winchester Tag List:

@bettystonewell , @nancymcl , @happyfxckinghorrors , @ambiguous-avery @jollyhunter

@tbgfvfdcb @crooked-haven @chevroletdean @paganvamp @stoneyggirl2

@deans-baby-momma @spnaquakindgdom @ladykitana90 @lyarr24 , @impala67rollingthroughtown

@jackles010378 @riteofpassage77 @spnaquakindgdom @cevansbaby-dove @shadysoulangel

@piptoost @star-yawnznn @deansimpalababy @megara0224 @hobby27

@idontwannabehere78 @maddie0101 @kr804573 @shadysoulangel @mrs-nesmith

@zepskies @ohheyguyss @suckitands33 @ultimatecin73 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess

@arcannaa @aylacavebear @bobbdylann @jaredpadonlyyyy @waynes-multiverse

@impala67stellawinchester @youroldfashioned @bonbonnie88 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @bejeweledinterludes

@rach5ive @ladysparkles78 @globetrotter28 @kayleighwinchester @amberlthomas

[corpseidol]

Hear me out, a vampire like reader x sbg cast. Like they don’t drink human blood but they do drink phantom blood (do they even have blood?) Maybe reader had actually been in the cycle longer, giving them more experience with the phantoms? Like in the day time just your average goth but when it strikes twelve? Those phantoms better pray. I think it would be funny if they were the youngest, like Aiden but with more maturity? 🩸-anon

NIGHTFALL

author’s note : I LOVE THIS (you can be 🩸 anon!!)

concept : vampire!reader with sbg group

genre : hcs + one drabble, vampire au (only reader)

content : gn!reader

first meeting the group

⠀ › ⠀being honest, the group thought you were some newly found demon that lurked the phantom realm.

⠀ › ⠀they were freaked out when they saw you just recklessly eating off the flesh of each phantom and slicing all of them into pieces.

⠀ › ⠀at first you seemed like a maniac but the more they saw the more that ashlyn felt like you were doing it like you knew what you were getting into.

⠀ › ⠀as they were watching you assassinate each phantom and clear the area for them, aiden felt most fascinated and was about to jump in as soon as you killed them all until you started sucking on the phantoms flesh

⠀ › ⠀the group was looking at you with pure disgust (while aiden still had that smile on his face)

⠀ › ⠀logan stared at you, aiming his shotgun at you and as soon as the bullet almost hit, you flinched. then you were gone. gone?

“i’m offended.” you hissed, crossing your arms. your clothes were drenched in blood. as logan was about to shoot you again, you kicked his gun to the side and wiped the blood dripping on your chin with the back of your hand before licking it.

the others didn’t know if they should run but tyler confidently held his weapon at you “are you gonna be a problem?” he grit his teeth as he watched your smile fade “are you?” you asked, your hand curling into a fist.

first impressions

⠀ › ⠀the group concluded that they wouldn’t hurt you (unless you do something wrong)

⠀ › ⠀aiden was mostly fascinated by your skill and asked a lot of questions

⠀ › ⠀tyler was wary of you and would get protective when you go anywhere near taylor. he thinks you’re a psycho.

⠀ › ⠀taylor was a little wary but she did wanna warm up to you, she had questions to ask too

⠀ › ⠀logan seemed to be timid around you, his guard was always up. he had mixed feelings about you.

⠀ › ⠀ashlyn felt slightly troubled abt an addition to the group, but she really pondered when you said you’re way more experienced than them. she had many questions to ask. and those questions weren’t all about your abilities. (some, not all!)

⠀ › ⠀ben was quiet around you, he didn’t stand out very much.

drinking phantom blood

⠀ › ⠀it would freak them out when they all meet up in one area and you seem to be missing

⠀ › ⠀and then after a few seconds, you come back with blood all over your shirt with a dumb smile. they look at you with a weird face and you just stare at them like “wazzup ma dudes?”

⠀ › ⠀sometimes it’s like they have to keep you on a leash because of how reckless you can be

⠀ › ⠀they would get scared and start running from you when fresh phantom blood gets all over them and your pupils just grow bigger as the scent flows to your nose

general hcs

⠀ › ⠀i like to think that you get way more energy when you drink the blood of phantoms so when you do, you’re like an unleashed beast.

⠀ › ⠀compared to the others, you’re not scared to go in a phantom-filled area. you just make sure you’re prepared.

⠀ › ⠀in the real world, you deal with terrible body pains because of the adrenaline

⠀ › ⠀aiden is very playful and challenging towards you

⠀ › ⠀you and aiden are literally a power-duo

⠀ › ⠀when you and tyler still haven’t warmed up to each other, he would hate it when a phantom would be behind him and when he hears a loud squash; he would turn around and see a phantom’s body on the floor with their head being held by your sharp teeth with a shit-eating grin

⠀ › ⠀ben heals your bruises because you get hurt as much as aiden does

[dysfunctional-doodle]

2003 Mikey being A Menace To Society ™️ no matter what.

-> Commissions || My Kofi || Tip Jar :) <-

You cannot tell me that this chaos demon, when finally unleashed upon society in Fast Forward, did not immediately set the record for the amount of times he was arrested. You can’t.

Based on a quote on this anon post!

[dewdropdinosaur]

Fixer Upper

ALASTOR x (F)READER Summary: Someone dared to break Alastor's precious radio and his wrath is inconsolable. But turns out you may have some small tricks up your sleeve. Warnings: NONE For the dearest @anon-of-the-void. My darling, it is a pleasure as always to write these for you.

In the bustling chaos of the Hazbin Hotel, where demons sought redemption amidst the fiery chaos of Hell, an unlikely friendship blossomed. Alastor, the infamous Radio Demon, found solace in the presence of Y/N, an inventive soul from the Victorian Era who had found herself amidst the peculiar denizens of the underworld.

Y/N was a tinkerer, always tinkering away in her workshop, concocting gadgets and gizmos that would make even the most adept engineers marvel. Alastor, with his vintage charm and macabre wit, found her creations fascinating, and the two formed an unusual bond over their shared love for innovation.

One fateful day, disaster struck when Alastor's beloved old-time radio, his prized possession from his living days, broke down. The demon was devastated, his usual jovial demeanor clouded by a rare display of anger. The residents of the hotel trembled in fear, knowing the havoc that could be unleashed if the Radio Demon's rage remained unchecked.

Alastor's crimson eyes blazed with fury as he prowled the halls of the Hazbin Hotel, his usual jovial smile replaced by a menacing snarl. The residents cowered in fear, whispering among themselves as they caught glimpses of the Radio Demon's wrathful form.

"You there!" Alastor's voice boomed, sending shivers down the spines of those unfortunate enough to cross his path. "Do you have any idea of the inconvenience of my beloved radio breaking? The nerve, the audacity!"

Niffty, the hyperactive cleaner demon, spoke with a frantic passion as she viewed the mangled radio."Alastor! I'll do it! Let me clean it please!"

Alastor's laughter rang out like a chilling melody, sending a chill through the air. "Oh, my dear Nifty, no thank you. This requires some…interrogation but feel free to clean up the aftermath."

Angel Dust, lounging lazily on a nearby couch, scoffed, "Oh, lighten up, Al, it's just a stupid radio. Besides, it's not like anyone listens to your old-timey tunes anyway."

The room fell silent as Alastor's gaze bore into Angel Dust, his smile twisting into a sinister grin. "Is that so, my dear Angel? Perhaps I should demonstrate the consequences of underestimating the power of music."

With a snap of his fingers, Alastor summoned a spectral microphone, its ethereal glow casting eerie shadows across the room. "Now, let's see who's laughing when I unleash the full force of my wrath upon this wretched offender!"

The residents of the Hazbin Hotel trembled as Alastor's menacing laughter echoed through the halls, knowing all too well that when the Radio Demon was in a foul mood, no one was safe from his terrifying fury.

As fear spread throughout the hotel, Y/N knew she had to act swiftly to quell the storm brewing within Alastor's heart. Ignoring the warnings of her peers, she clandestinely snatched the broken radio and retreated to her workshop, determined to restore it to its former glory.Under the cover of night, she stealthily crept into Alastor's room, her pockets filled with tools and determination. With deft hands, she dismantled the broken radio, each cog and wire familiar to her skilled touch.

Hour after hour, Y/N toiled away, her nimble fingers dancing across the delicate machinery. With each adjustment and tweak, the radio gradually came back to life, its familiar crackle filling the air once more. But as the night wore on,  fatigue gnawed at Y/N's bones, her eyelids growing heavy with exhaustion. But she pressed on, fueled by determination and a desire to see her friend smile once more.

Finally, with a soft click, the radio sprang to life, emitting a crackling sound before filling the room with the familiar strains of vintage jazz. Y/N let out a sigh of relief, a triumphant smile gracing her lips as she admired her handiwork.

But as she stood there basking in her success, fatigue finally caught up with her. With a yawn, she sank into a nearby chair, her eyes fluttering closed as sleep claimed her.

Unbeknownst to her, Alastor had been silently watching from the shadows, his expression unreadable as he observed Y/N's tireless efforts to fix his broken radio. When he saw her succumb to exhaustion, a pang of concern tugged at his heart, softening the edges of his usually stoic demeanor.

Quietly, he approached her slumbering form, his footsteps barely audible against the creaking floorboards. Gently, he brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, his touch light as a feather.

"My dear Y/N," he whispered, his voice barely above a murmur. "Such devotion, such selflessness. You truly are a marvel."

A warmth blossomed in Alastor's chest as he watched her sleep, a feeling he couldn't quite put into words. For the first time in centuries, he felt something akin to tenderness stirring within him—a feeling he realized with a start was nothing short of admiration.

With a soft sigh, Alastor leaned in closer, pressing a gentle kiss to Y/N's forehead before picking up her form and striding over to his bed; tucking her in with the utmost care. As he stood there in the dimly lit room, surrounded by the quiet hum of the fixed radio and the soft breathing of his friend, he knew at that moment that he was irrevocably touched by her kindness.

And as the first light of dawn painted the sky, Alastor silently vowed to cherish and protect Y/N, for she had not only fixed his broken radio but had also managed to mend something far more precious—his wounded heart.

The next morning dawned upon the Hazbin Hotel, the air tinged with a sense of relief as the residents basked in the knowledge that Alastor's beloved radio had been fixed. Alastor strode into the lobby with a confident swagger, his usual grin plastered on his face. With a flick of his wrist, he turned on the radio, the familiar crackle of static filling the air before giving way to the melodic strains of love songs from a bygone era.

The residents exchanged puzzled glances, their confusion evident as they listened to the unexpected playlist. Angel Dust raised an eyebrow, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. "Well, well, looks like someone's feeling a bit sentimental today."

Alastor's grin widened, though there was a hint of something softer lurking beneath the surface. "Ah, my dear Angel, music has a way of stirring the soul, don't you think?"

As the love songs continued to play, the other residents couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth wash over them. Even the gruffest demons found themselves tapping their claws to the beat, caught up in the unexpected romance of it all.

But as Alastor's gaze lingered on Y/N, who stood among the crowd with a shy smile, a wave of realization washed over him. It wasn't just any love songs he was playing—it was a silent declaration of his growing affection for the inventive soul who had captured his heart.

And as the music filled the room with its sweet melody, Alastor couldn't help but feel a surge of hope coursing through him. Perhaps, in the midst of Hell's chaos, there was still room for love to blossom—a love that transcended time and defied all odds.

With a soft chuckle, Alastor stole a glance at Y/N, his heart swelling with newfound courage. For in that moment, amidst the gentle strains of love songs and the soft glow of morning light, he knew that he was falling—falling head over heels for the one who had fixed not only his broken radio but also the shattered pieces of his soul.

[shuenkio]

Second mask | Ksn. シ︎

Paring: Sunoo x male!reader | Genre: Soft smut (very soft)

Synopsis: He is the president of the students council, wherein you were his 'little helper' when he saw you with the other guy, who's the voice president, a fire burning in his eyes.

Cw: Cursing, jealousy, obsessed (not much), red flag but love you? FWB.

Non proof read|wc: 900+

English is not my 1st language.

All photos and dividers crd to the rightful owner.

This is a work of fanfiction, do not throw unnecessary tantrums to this nsfw/sfw blog ©Shuenkio

𝐀/𝐍: This is from the request of one of the anon ask, and here it is finally make it debut lol (⁠~⁠￣⁠³⁠￣⁠)⁠~ however let's say that I wrote 'Sunoo' here a bit out of Characters, from fluffy to the man he is and so. Hope you enjoy it.

"What the fuck are you doing, m/n sii?" The loud speaking voice of the student presi shouting angry at you in an empty office after he dragged you in, demanding the answer from you with your action that even you don't know what went wrong.

"Sunoo sii! What are you talking about? I don't understand." You fire back as the curiosity and the shouting voice he gives you make you want to brust out inappropriately on the spot, yet you hold back because you care for your reputation.

The older guy then started to chuckle suddenly, his laughter holding so much rage and sarcasm that it did goosebumps you a little at how his aura changed in a blink of an eye—the guy that used to have a bright aura with a strict rule turning to be a demon himself right in front of you. And you don't get it. All you did all day was your task and work; there was nothing else to make him press like this.

Even worse, he didn't say anything; instead, he just started to throw all of his at you as if you were a doll.

"You have the nerve to say that; did you forget what we are? Hm? Why in the world should you help that unknown vice president??" Sunoo is scowling at the sight; he looks like a crazy person, with a crazy smile on the corner of his lip, turning you back a little. What will happen if you don't answer his question? The fact that Sunoo and you were tied in a friendship of friends has benefits.

Ever since he discovered that you were cheating once on an exam during the first semester, he never let you slide like a wheel away, as he made a deal with you that if you ever disobeyed him, a consequence would happen, and so you have to agree because you love your reputation as a helper to the student president or vice president, not to mention you love being popular.

Let's say he got you trapped in his cage one more time; however, with this reason of his, it's clearly that he was jealous of you to interact with the other students other than him. To the point where he almost unleashed his inner beast like he used to at home. To make it settled in this conversation, you decide to take it easy and let him blame you with his unnecessary jealousy.

"*Sigh*, fine, I'll stop talking to them... Or helping them just don't do it here; it's embarrassed." You respond gently, trying to calm him down and gesturing to him with both of your hands. Nevertheless, it was too late. Abruptly,  Sunoo rushed toward you, fire in his eyes, hungry as he grabbed the back of your nape harshly before pressing both lips against each other.

His strength was so strong that, even though you try to push him away while shocking, it can't help anything. The students president council said that everyone thought he was a girly pop actually has something underneath. He was changing 360° once he's alone with you. The kisses were harsh and forceful, and his hatred for your lip was unexplainable, mixed with anger.

His tongue is dancing inside your mouth, twirling and licking the wall of your mouth and tongue, eager to taste all of you and mark you as his. It was blistering, forceful, and electrifying that sparked the intense moment along with the cries out of pleasuring of you, turning him on like a fuel put into fire.

He wanted to hear more of you, but he wasn't going to risk both of your imagines in a public space like this, which was soon replaced by his body pressed against close to yours with clothes on clothes. Talk about how wild Sunoo is when he turns on; he was insanely creepy; he loves to make you suffer in pain of ecstasy; and your moaning is like music to his ears.

"No! Sunoo, don't do it!" You were begging, and his hands were locking around your waist tightly, with yours resting on his shoulder. But you get nothing from his response as his hip sticks even closer to yours until you feel something hard poking in the middle of his hip. Your mind goes blank, speechless at the sight and the sensation, brushing against your thick fabric.

Is this the boy Sunoo thought was a sugar pie? More like an evil twin. able to do anything, you bite your lip, holding in the pleasure whenever he shoving up and down, punishing you from his obsessed ass in such a place as this.

"If, *huff*, you ever lay on him on those guys again, everything would burn, hm?" With a few more strokes, when he feels your pants are soaked, he stops before lifting up your chin with his finger and printing a small kiss on you one last time.

Coincidentally, it seems like he can predict the times; the other students who are struggling with their projects are knocking on the office door at the same times when he stops, and soon he leaves you there without replying, flushing one last bright smile as he leaves. You were there back in the office, looking down at your black pants that had a wet spot in the middle.

It was kind of disgusting,  but it's your body anyway, and the fact that your body responded to his makes all sense. It's lucky you brought your jacket with you; if so, everyone's going to have a different idea.

"Not again, Kim Sunoo!" 

🗣️Reblog and like is much appreciated ♥

🗣️ Please mind my English! ><

[forsaken-headcanons]

Gonna unleash my insanity and put tons of HC

Buildermen and guest 666 is distant cousin,Buildermen ban guest 666 cuz they had a beef due he found out 666 want to be hacker

TDTNTOR(a game btw) event happened after the Forsaken event due to lack of moderator or hackers to stop the event,which then we had a new buildermen and let people whom died to help with the resorting of the whole world(the whole system changed)

Hatred,Greed, Solitude and Fear is the Spectre's helper,cuz this realm is basically representation of survivor's cycle of guilt and grief,and endless anger of killers ig

John Doe and 2x2 is dating,while Jane Doe and Azure is dating

1x1x1x1 and Itrapped are friends and might date

Whistle occurrence(Flower) is relatives of the Spectre, Flower is their occasional helper

The Spectre has multiple drakkobloxxer,Cake monster and animals in their realm as pets. But 2x2 has to take care of them and prevent them getting into survivor's place

Jason behead drakkobloxxer cuz that one broke into survivor's place and the Spectre sent Jason out to stop it.

Betrayed 1x is like older siblings to current 1x

Demon king John Doe and Champion 1x is friends

Shedletsky is Noob's uncle,but he hide this identity away

Mafioso gift a bunny to Chance before they become rival

Rocha got removed cuz the Spectre accidentally added him and just "ykw,free killer ig" and then realised that this mfing tree spread,so the Spectre removed it before it ruined their dimensions too

118o8 and 007n7 is siblings whom has been separated since young

The Spectre once accidentally forgot to limit survivors, there's a whole ass bossfight going on lol

Infernum is 1x1x1x1 but more annoying ver and he keep interrupting Shedletsky when not in game

Spectre has accidentally put other game characters into forsaken (reminder:don't put Phighter into forsaken, they're too powerful)

Subspace is a distant relatives with Taph

-randomized anon

That's a lot of crossovers. I'm not sure if I can even tag all of those.

[suempu]

Unleashing my demons at you and running away

Liaos would totally want to be leashed and collard at home, away from everyone's eyes. He's your good boy, he obeys every command with stars in his eyes. It doesn't matter how hard he gets, he won't hump your leg, because good boys that are patient get special treats.

*runs away screaming and covering my face*

anon you’re awakening my inner demons

domreader + puppy boy laios + modern au + safe sane consensual master/pet dynamic + not rlly nsfw but im planning on making a part 2 will full on smutty shit :3

master list <3

coming home from work and being greeted by your good puppyboy, laios. his tail is wagging as he jumps on your body, wrapping his arms around you while he kisses your chin, jaw, and cheeks.

he doesn’t hump you or roll his hips, only nuzzling into your neck, enthusiastically saying “welcome home, master!!” while you ruffle his hair.

you hand him the takeout you bought and he eagerly nods as you tell him to set up the dinner table. laios dashes to the kitchen while you change out of your work clothes.

at night after your bath, he sits at the foot of your bed, smiling in content when you dry his hair with a towel.

“you’ve been so behaved today, weren’t you, laios?” you hum, stroking his collard neck as he rests his face on your knee. he nods, ears twitching happily. “of course!!!”

giving him a kiss on the forehead, you rub his cheeks before setting your lips on to his. laios happily takes your smooches, hands coming up to rest on your thighs like some kind of lap dog.

you soon find yourselves on the bed. after giving him permission to touch and fondle you, he rushes to suckle and kiss at your skin, looking at you pleadingly while he paws at your chest.

he’s so cute, asking for permission to hump and grind on you. laios is eager to feel all of your skin, while begging you to pet his ears as he lets out whines and moans. he’s been such a good boy, of course you’d let him have a reward.

by morning he’s all snug and comfortable while he hides his face on your chest, tail thumping a bit as he sleeps.

you wake up earlier than him to remove his collar and smoothen his hair, kissing his nose and watching amusedly as it twitches cutely.

you plan to give him proper aftercare once he’s awake. but until then, you’re satisfied and content with cuddling him and leaving a trail of butterfly kisses on his shoulder, patiently waiting for your lover to open his eyes.

[misc-obeyme]

(inspired by the barbatos makeup asks) imagine barbatos choosing which lipstick he should wear for the day, his choice being which lipstick he think would look best covered all over your face from his kisses

alsdfklsdfj anon how can you do this to me???

I'm so sorry. I had to write a drabble about this.

So here it is, Barbatos choosing his lipstick based on what would look best all over your face. There is making out and more is implied, but that's all. It's just a drabble but wow am I tempted to write full on smut about it lol.

GN!MC x Barbatos

Warnings: Uh... making out, implied further activity, lipstick? Does that last one need to be listed? I dunno.

Barbatos looks at the array of lipstick colors neatly lined up on his bathroom counter. Most of them are neutral colors, just enough to add a little something to his lips on regular days. He has a small group of other bolder colors that he keeps for special occasions.

There is no such occasion today. Not unless he counts the fact that you'll be coming over to the castle later. Something that he would not normally take into consideration. But he knows how things are likely to go and his mind won't stop flashing images of his lipstick against your skin.

Unable to stop himself, Barbatos reaches for one of his bolder colors. He applies it meticulously, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand rather than daydreaming about smearing it all over your face.

Barbatos goes through his day as he always does. He takes care of Diavolo, who mercifully doesn't comment on his butler's unusual choice of lipstick color. In fact, the only one who says anything about it at all is Asmodeus, which isn't surprising. He unleashes a little squeal before complimenting Barbatos on his choice and listing several recommendations he has for Barbatos to add to his collection.

For the most part, Barbatos is free to go about his day in peace, only allowing his mind to wander if he happens to catch his own reflection.

Before you arrive, he takes the time to touch up his face and hair, deliberately adding just a little more lipstick.

If you notice, you don't say anything. Barbatos makes you tea, but doesn't drink any himself. He doesn't want to mess up his carefully done lips by leaving marks across a teacup.

You say something about that, though. "You're not drinking any tea. Are you okay?"

Barbatos feels himself blush. "Forgive me, MC," he says. "You needn't be concerned. I simply-"

"You don't want to mess up your lipstick, huh?"

Barbatos's blush deepens. He stares at you in surprise, unable to respond at all. Was he really so obvious?

You put down your teacup and smile. "Waiting for me to mess up it for you, right?"

Barbatos is a very patient demon. He is able to remain calm and collected at all times. It seems the only thing that can cause him to act unexpectedly is this human. After spending the entire day attempting to suppress his thoughts of you, the remarks you make being so spot on breaks through the dam.

In moments, Barbatos has you pressed up against the castle wall. He presses his lips to your neck and pulls away to see the mark of his lips there against your skin. The sight of it causes heat to pool inside his gut, but he continues. He leaves a trail of lipstick along your neck and jaw until you finally catch his lips with yours.

Things get messy fast and he can taste the tang of his own lipstick when your tongue collides with his. You're gripping the back of his shirt with surprising strength and his hands on your hips squeeze hard in response.

With a gasp, Barbatos pulls away to breathe. He looks at you, slumped against the wall, mouth open, face and neck covered in that special shade he chose that morning.

Barbatos smiles fondly. "Just as I thought, this particular color compliments your complexion quite well."

Now you're the one blushing, but Barbatos isn't finished.

He tightens his hold on you even more and says quietly, "I would like to see how it looks decorating the rest of your body as well."

The next morning, Barbatos contemplates the line of lipstick colors once again. He was quite satisfied with the outcome of the previous day's choice. Your slumbering form still in his bed was a testament to that. And though he would choose one of his usual neutral colors for today, he knew that if he ever wanted to communicate to you his desires without speaking, he need only choose that same shade again.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[phightingheadcanons]

That anon who rambled about phinishers (aka me >:3) is back at it again! Mostly because someone reblogged my first post asking who’s a Focus and who’s a Release. Well, here’s what I think!

Sword: Focus. Fun fact: in the brief moment he’s airborne, Sword transfers all of that built-up energy into his blade, causing the explosion 👍 

Skateboard: Release. For as long as he’s fully charged, his senses are cranked up to 11. He uses this to plan out where he wants to race off to.

Biograft: Phinishers don’t exactly work when you don’t naturally feel strong emotions. Or emotions at all. Subspace added in the overdrive mode as a substitute. It probably works on a timer.

Katana: Focus. Similarly to Sword, he also channels his energy into his gear.

Ban Hammer: He’s technically a Focus…but by the gods does he want to use it on any opponent he sees, regardless of their health. Sometimes he’ll get inpatient and just use it, even if it means wasting his ult. (Couldn’t be me-)

Rocket: Release. He gets a lot more giddy and excited when fully charged.

Slingshot: Focus. His eyesight improves like mad when fully charged. So much so, that the effect lingers until his phinisher is complete.

Hyperlaser: Focus. Many phighters power up their gears with their energy, and Hyper is no exception. Some speculate that he actually steals the energy of the demons he takes out with his ult, allowing him to do it again. Meanwhile Hyperlaser has no idea why that happens 🤷‍♂️ 

Shuriken is a weird case. To start his phinisher, he has to focus. But when his concentration falters, the giant shurikens get launched. He normally does this on purpose, but he’ll accidentally toss them all willy-nilly if he gets distracted.

Scythe: Release. Tis’ hard to ignore the thrill of the hunt, but she’s learnt how to manage it for the most part. Scythe also had to teach herself how to channel that energy into her ranged phinisher, which doesn’t come as naturally to her.

Medkit: Focus. For whatever reason, his ult in particular takes a lot more focus to properly perform. It’s astounding how good his concentration is.

Boombox: Focus. But as he gains more and more charges, a feeling of anticipation sets in, with it culminating in his (literal) beat drop. Sort of a mix between the two.

Subspace: Release. And extremely impulsive, like Ban Hammer. A deadly combination.

Vine Staff: Focus. Oddly enough, the lotus will persist even if her concentration is broken. She just has to unleash it first.

Coil: He’s 100% a Release phinisher. When fully charged, he has the urge to go phucking feral.

In total, that’s 9 Focus, and 5 Release phinishers. Yap sesh complete!

— 🍃 anon

Scythe needing to put active mental effort and concentration into not murdering people with her phinisher is really funny to me <3 LIVE YOUR TRUEST LIFE SCYTHE!!!!!!!!!!!!

[frost-queen]

Focus on me (Reader x Drew Thomas)

Requested by: anon Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @floatlosers, @alex–awesome–22, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly , @denkisclown, @wildiefleur , @meyocoko , @subjecta13-thefangirl , @m-rae23, @melsunshine  , @venomsvl , @the-uncoordinated-house-cat , @rosecentury , @evilcr0ne , @vviolynn , @niktwazny303 , @avada-kedrava-bitch-187, @erikasurfer , @slythetic  , @eliscannotdance, @p0nycurtis, @slythetic, @bitchybananaflower, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr

Gaze going upwards to the mansion, you let out a deep breath. Catching in your graze Ed and Lorraine leaving the mansion with their suitcases. Not a word passing. Each reflecting on it in their own matter. Moving your gaze up higher, you stared at a window. Seeing how the curtain was almost fully pulled back. Knowing what had just occurred, you still wondered if it was truly over.

A sudden touch on your shoulder made you look away, startled. Drew Thomas stood by your side by the car. Taking of his jacket, he placed it over your shoulders. Laying it neatly with care. The gesture made you curl up a fainted smile at him. Soon faltering, reflecting on the earlier hours. Ed and Lorraine shut the trunk. Ed moving an arm around Lorraine’s shoulder. Drew did the same, making you lean in against him. Head resting on his shoulder.

Four gazes towards the house. Each reflecting the horrors from before. Not so long ago the walls trembled and bellowed a threatening chime. Horror awakening from below. Nearly consuming it’s owner in the battle. Shudders clattering open and shut. A storm unleashing with fright. Demonic laughter mocking Ed’s faith. 

What was most frightful was the sudden red glow appearing from underneath the wooden flooring. Almost as if a doorway to hell was opening from the depts. The floor creaking and planks breaking off. Flying off up till the ceiling to create a feeding hole. For a moment you thought you’d all be swallowed whole. With combined strengths, you were able to banish the demon. House settling back to its old self. An empty cold shell. One where only memories are held. Memories of the terrifying.

Ed nodded at Drew. Hinting it was time to go. Ed lead Lorraine to the car. – “Y/n darling.” – Drew spoke nudging you caringly. Humming soft, you looked up at him. – “Let’s go.” – he whispered. His arm slid down from you to your hand. Taking it firm as he led you up to the car. Opening the door for you. You got in, scooting over in the backseat to make room for him.

He came sitting down, shutting the door behind him. – “Everyone okay?” – Ed asked turning the front mirror so he could have his eyes on the backseat. – “Yeah.” – Drew spoke. – “Yes.” – you said softly. Sitting in the middle so you could be close to your boyfriend. Drew took your hand, keeping it on his lap. Ed flipped the front mirror back. Drew kissed your forehead to ease any worries.

Arriving back at the motels, you each went to your separate one’s. Ed and Lorraine sharing one as did Drew and you. Drew sat himself exhaustedly down. – “Are you hungry, darling?” – he asked watching you place some gear on the bed. – “Sure, you can order.” – you told him, checking the equipment.

Drew got up, walking up to the phone up by the wall. Dialling one of the take-out numbers that were pinned up on the wall. As he was ordering, he turned your way. Smiling through his words at you. Feeling very lucky with you. After checking the gear, you took it off the bed, shoving it underneath it.

Two arms wrapping around you from behind made you squeal soft. Feeling Drew’s head rest on your shoulder, swaying your body from side to side in his embrace. – “I just need this…” – he mumbled out, placing a tender kiss on your shoulder afterwards. You turned around in his embrace to face him.

Not needing any words to speak. Drew touched your chin with care. Curling up a smile with you. Laying your arms over his shoulders, you leaned in to kiss him. – “How about a vacation after this?” – he suggested making you laugh loud. – “A very long one.” – you added with a playful shove.

Drew kissed your cheek, taking every opportunity he could take to kiss you. – “I’m going to freshen up.” – you pushed him off you, needing some space from his eager kisses. – “Are you now?” – Drew asked quirking his eyebrow up. Smothering you more with kisses, making you almost irresistible to them.

He wouldn’t let go of you till you practically had to shove him off you so you could enter the bathroom. – “Are you sure I shouldn’t help you wash up?” – he teased through the door. – “Har har!” – you laughed dryly back. – “Why don’t you stay put for our food.”

Turning the faucet, you let water fill the sink. Cupping your hands underneath them. Collecting water to splash into your face. The coldness of it made you grasp for the sink. Clutching at it with both hands. Blinking rapidly at the sudden feeling inside of yourself. Light-headedness as it made you grip the sink firmer.

Knuckles turning white. Looking up to the mirror, you stared at yourself. Eyes squinting shut at the headache saying hello. Throbbing in the back of your head. Gasping loud, you grabbed for your stomach for the churning feeling. Turning around you grabbed for the door. Needing to touch something vast or you would be sure you’d faint. Stumbling out of the bathroom with a raced heartrate.

“Diner’s just arrived!” – Drew called out with his back at you. Closing the last of the door. Hearing your sudden quick breaths, made him turn quickly around. Eyes widening as he set the food aside. Rushing over to you. – “Hey, hey Y/n are you alright?” – he asked. With the back of his hand, he placed it against your forehead. The touch of sweat wet on his hand.

You grabbed for your chest with loud pants. – “Drew…” – you panicked unsure what was happening. Drew stared with worry back at you. – “What are you feeling, tell me darling.” – wanting to know as he set you down on the bed. – “Heart racing, pain, sweating, headache…” – you described. Wincing at the pain. Drew came kneeling before you. Taking your hands in his.

“Darling you are having an anxiety attack.” – he gave name to your symptoms. Unsure you hummed confused. Trying to get out of it, but the dizzy feeling overtook you again. Grasping for your chest. Drew pulled your hand down. – “Y/n, listen to me.” – he started, tapping your nose for attention.

You slowly let your gaze settle on him, breathing out of control. – “What do you see.” – he asked. You kept staring at him confused. – “Tell me what you can see.”- he specified. – “I…I see you…” – you answered. Drew nodded with a hum. – “What do you feel.” – he then asked. Letting his hands rub against yours. – “I…I… feel the warmth of your skin on my hand.”

Drew touched your cheek with a gentle touch. – “What can you hear.” – he asked seeing how your breathing was slowly becoming steadier. – “I…I… can hear the beating of my heart.” – you responded keeping your focus on Drew. Focusing on those three made you calm down. Keeping to the here and now. To things you could observe clearly.

You became steady as Drew curled up a smile. – “That’s my girl.” – he spoke brushing his thumb down your chin. Getting up to come and sit beside you. Arms wrapping around you to flourish you with kisses. – “We’re definitely getting that vacation now.” – he called out, nuzzling his face in the nook of your neck.

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