#what's up with that do i have a fucking homing instinct or something

[peachglazewrites]

hear me out. user using safe word while doing it with abby?? like what abby's reaction would be??

one shot maybe?? smth like that

𝚜𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚜

𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: abby/f!reader 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: tlou typical violence, smut (18+ mdni), use of words like cunt/tits, use of safeword, panic attacks 𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚜: established relationship, angst, fluff, use of pet names (honey, baby, pretty girl) 𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚘: no use of y/n or reader descriptions, in canon world 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 4,636k

𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: After a rough patrol, you come home to your girlfriend to try and take your mind off things. Unfortunately things don't go to plan.

a/n: thank you so much for your request!! I spent a lot of time thinking about how I wanted to go about this, and found that this was the most comfortable for me personally to write, as well as fit how I think about Abby!

I hope you enjoy ♡︎

̗̀➛ master list ̗̀➛ request your own here

Screeching. Clicking. Hurried footsteps on asphalt. Gunfire.

Your heart is beating a mile a minute, adrenaline thrumming through your system. Your rifle feels heavy in your hands, the weight of it slowing you down.

Don’t look. Don’t fucking look.

The croaking snarl sounds so impossibly close, practically right in your ear.

Shit. Just keep running. Oh god just keep—

A rock, a piece of rubble, your own foot, you don’t know what it is, but you trip on something. Your legs give out under you, rifle tumbling from your grip and clattering against the asphalt as your hands fly out to catch you. The fabric of your cargos rip as you skid, your cheek grazing and cutting on the jagged rocks beneath you.

That guttural clicking doesn’t stop, even when you do. It gets closer and closer, and you scramble on your hands and knees, reaching for your gun. Your fingers barely graze the butt of it, just one more push and you’ll have it.

But you can’t move, not any further. Not when the clicker chasing you has fallen on top of you, pinning you to the ground.

A cry rips from your throat, ragged and gasping and please somebody help—

Multiple gunshots rip through the air, so close it feels like your eardrums might explode. The weight on your back gets heavier as the clicker slumps forwards, head overgrown and expanded with fungus knocking against the back of your own skull. The final, gasping croaks sound right in your ear, hot rancid breath puffing against your cheek.

Fuck, that was so close. Too close.

You want to go home.

⸙

Medical clears you within the hour, one of the medics cleaning up the dirt and grime from your cuts and grazes. You get given a change of clothes and some pain meds to take home, and you end up throwing out your old clothes that are ripped and caked in blood the second you have the chance.

This day has felt so impossibly long. Your body aches, your cheek stings, and your head is pounding. The walk back to your apartment feels too long, the stairs too tall. You just want to be home, sit down, see--

Abby smiles at you as you walk in, looking up when she hears the latch catch on the door. It’s a small thing, soft and affectionate, the way she always greets you. “Honey, hey.”

You feel the ache leave your bones at the sight of her, hair loosely tied back, faded book in her hands. A smile of your own works its way onto your face, unable to hold it back when you’re around her.

“Hey, baby.”

She rises from the sofa, walking over to meet you at the door where you’re kicking off your muddy boots. She holds her arms out for you, hands instinctively finding your hips to pull you in.

That smile of hers falters when you turn to face her, a calloused hand coming up to gently grasp your chin. She tilts your head to the side, thumb brushing just under the graze on your cheek.

“What happened here?”

Bringing a hand up to cover her own, you pull it from your chin. “Nothing.” You bring her knuckles up to your lips, pressing a light kiss to the skin. “Fell out of the truck when we pulled in.”

Flashes of the chase, your fall, the noise of the clicker dying on top of you make you pause, breathing out a trembling breath against Abby’s knuckles. You shouldn’t lie; you know out of anyone that Abby would understand what it’s like to be out there. But you don’t want her to worry, to stress about you more than she likes to.

You look back up at her, pushing the memories of the patrol back.

The corner of Abby’s lips ticks up, just for a second, but you can see the way she’s biting the inside of her cheek. You roll your eyes. “Go ahead.”

Her lips split in a teasing grin, the hand on your hip sliding to the small of your back to pull you closer to her chest. “I didn’t even say anything.”

“You didn’t have to. I know that look.”

She chuckles, a low sound that sends a wave of goosebumps down your arms. “Can’t I find your lack of coordination even a little bit funny?”

“Nope. That’s… spousal abuse, or something.” Despite your grumbling, you let her guide your arms to wrap around her shoulders, linking behind her neck.

Abby’s eyebrows raise, eyes crinkling as she smirks at you. “Spousal, huh?”

“Shut up,” you huff, pointedly looking away. She laughs, thumbs swiping soothing arches across your back as she holds you close.

“Seriously though, you’re okay?”

You look back to her, watching her eyes track the graze on your cheek, a few scabs but mostly just rough skin. You nod, leaning in to press a reassuring kiss to her pouty lips.

“I’m okay. Just a shit end to an already shitty patrol,” you sigh, bumping your forehead against hers, eyes closing. “I want to just sit down and relax tonight, get my mind off it.”

Abby hums, pressing another soft kiss to your lips before straying to the side, gently kissing over your bruised cheek. She moves lower, warm breath fanning across your neck as she noses at and kisses the sensitive skin of your throat. You tip your head to the side, threading a hand in her hair as you pull her closer. It feels nice. Exactly what you need.

The two of you stand there, bodies gently swaying side to side as Abby kisses across every inch of skin she can see. The pounding in your head fades away, replaces by a pleasant buzz that has you clinging onto her tighter, breathing heavier.

She kisses back up to your lips, capturing yours once more before pulling away, smiling at you. “Do you want a drink?”

“A drink would be so good, right now.”

You pull her in for one last kiss before you untangle from each other, Abby breaking off to rummage in the kitchen for two glasses and a bottle of… something. You pad across the carpet and down the steps, sinking down on the sofa where Abby was sitting. The spot is still warm from where she was all curled up, book laying face down on the armrest, Frankenstein.

“Here,” Abby offers, leaning over the back of the sofa to hand you a glass. You lean up, lips pursed as you take it, smiling when Abby leans down to kiss you sweetly.

“Thanks, Abs.”

You take a sip of the amber liquid in the glass, hissing through your teeth as it burns down your throat. You hold the glass above your head when Abby comes round the side of the sofa, dropping herself onto the cushion next to you, jostling you. The liquor in her own glass threatens to splash up the side from the movement.

“Careful, babe,” you laugh, watching as she brings the vessel to her lips. She takes a much longer sip than you, and you find yourself getting warm as she licks the remnants from her lips.

Abby slings one of her arms along the top of the sofa, and you take it as an invitation to snuggle into her side, nursing your glass in your lap. Her hand comes down to rest lightly on your shoulder, thumb sweeping and massaging the tense muscles under her fingers.

A shaky sigh leaves your lips at the feeling, and you tilt you head to rest against her chest to give her more access. “Feels nice.”

Abby hums, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “You’re real tense. Patrol that bad?”

You nuzzle further into her chest, melting under her hands. “Had to take down some infected out by the highway,” you murmur, blinking away the image of your gun just barely out of your reach. “Nothing crazy, but more eventful than usual.”

“M’sorry.”

“It’s fine.” You press a kiss to her chest. “Just glad to be home.”

You both fall into a comfortable silence; Abby taking occasional sips from her glass as she massages along your shoulders, while yours lay forgotten in your lap. You could fall asleep here, listening to the thumpthump thumpthump of her heart beneath your ear, feeling so warm and comforted and taken care of.

“You know,” Abby starts, voice low. Her heartrate picks up a bit as she swallows, running a finger along the rim of her glass. “I can think of a more effective way of getting rid of all that tension.”

Something hot simmers low in your gut as you blink your eyes open, shifting your head to look up at Abby. She’s looking away, eyes focused on her nearly empty glass.

“You propositioning me, Anderson?”

A smile curls her lips, and her beautiful blue eyes flick down to yours. It feels like the air has been punched out of your lungs as you look at her, freckled face so lovely and close to your own.

“And if I was?” She tilts her head down, the tip of her strong nose brushing against your own.

Your tongue darts out, wetting your lips as your gaze drifts down to hers, full and begging to be kissed. “Then I’d be asking why you aren’t kissing me already”

She surges forwards, the hand massaging your shoulders sliding up to cup the side of your face, pulling you to meet her in the middle. You can’t help the small moan that leaves you as she licks into your mouth, already feeling like putty under her hands from the massage and her soft lips.

You shift in your seat, pressing yourself impossibly closer as the kiss deepens, sharp huffs of breath leaving your noses as you get carried away.

You forget about the glass in your hand, still mostly full of liquor as you bring a hand up, intending to wrap it around her neck to tug her down atop of you. Instead, the alcohol sloshes up the side of the glass and spills in your lap, the cold liquid seeping into your pants.

“Shit—” you hiss, pulling away from Abby. You frown at the dark stain in your lap, the stinging smell assaulting your nose as it soaks through the fabric and wets your thigh.

Abby snorts, looking down and laughing at the wet patch. “Damn, didn’t know I affected you like th— ow!”

“Shut up,” you huff, smacking her arm. “This feels so gross.”

You reluctantly pull yourself from Abby’s arms, holding your glass out in front of you as you rise. “Pass.” You nod to her own glass, practically empty, taking it from her as she holds it out to you.

You place the glasses on the coffee table a couple of feet away, wiping your wet hand on your already wet cargos. Yuck. You’ll have to take them off.

A smirk works its way onto your face, a teasing idea wriggling at the back of your brain. You turn back to face Abby but make no move to walk back to over.

She’s made herself comfortable since you moved, arms hooked over the back of the sofa, thighs spread wide, taking up space. The sofa isn’t huge but can comfortably fit the two of you. With her spread out like that, though, there’s really only going to be one spot for you to sit; and the smirk on her face shows that she knows that.

She’s watching you intently from her spot, blue eyes raking over the lines of your body. She shifts subtly in place, hips twitching.

Neither of you say anything, sitting in charged silence as your hands drift to the hem of your shirt, fiddling with the material. Abby notices and locks right in, watches the way you thumb at the fabric, how you bunch it in your fists. Even as you pull up, dragging the fabric over your head where you can’t see her, you can feel her eyes on you. Never straying.

You drop your shirt onto the floor next to you, discarding it to reach for your hips, fiddling with the button of your damp cargos.

Abby is positively transfixed, shifting in her seat as she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth. Her eyes are boring holes into your hips, watching with bated breath as you pop the button and slowly slide the zipper down your fly. Her hands grip the back of the couch, the veins in her biceps pulsing, chest heaving with deep breaths as you shimmy the fabric down your thighs, stepping out of them when they drop around your ankles.

“Fuck,” she whispers, hooded eyes dragging up your bare legs and across your torso, pausing for a few moments on your chest. She finally meets your gaze once more, the heat behind her eyes making you throb.

“If you don’t get over here…”

You laugh softly, biting your lip as you pad your way back to her. She unhooks her arms from the back of the couch, reaching out for you the moment you’re close enough to drag you onto her wide lap.

Your arms wrap around her neck as you descend on her, lips locking, her large hands roaming. They can’t stay still, rubbing up your thighs, kneading the fat along your hips, dragging up to palm and tease at your tits. She’s devouring you whole, and you can’t do anything but thank her for it.

She pulls from your lips with a groan, placing hot, wet kisses down your jaw and throat.

“Abby—” you moan, tilting your head back to stare at the ceiling, chest heaving with your heavy breaths.

You feel her smirk against your skin, nipping teasingly as her large hands drift down, gripping your hips to roll them down against her own.

“Oh fuck,” she grunts, mouthing hotly at the swell of your chest as you grind against each other.

You need to feel her-- get your hands on her. You ball and scrunch at the back of her shirt until you can reach the hem, pulling desperately to tug it off. Abby pulls away from you for only a moment, just long enough to rip her shirt over her head and throw it behind the sofa. She’s back on you in an instant, the skin of her chest pressing against your own.

You can’t help but sigh at the feeling of her bare back under your fingers, gripping and digging your nails into the skin littered with dozens of tiny scars. Her muscles roll and shift under your hands, and you don’t think you’ll ever tire of the feeling.

“Baby—please,” you begin to whine, the slick slide of your wet underwear against your cunt as you thrust against her making you want more.

“Okay, pretty girl,” Abby shushes, kissing back up your chest and throat. One of the hands on your hips slides down, across the bare skin of your thigh, coming to settle between you to cup your damp cunt. “I’ll take care of you.”

A gasp tears through your throat, ragged breaths panting out from between your swollen lips as she rubs teasingly slow through your underwear. She has you squirming in place, nails biting the skin of her shoulders as you try oh so desperately to grind yourself down on her thick digits.

Abby just chuckles, a low teasing sound that makes you even wetter as she keeps her tortuous pace, capturing your lips to quiet your whining moans.

When it grows too much, when not even her perfect lips can keep your pleas and whines in, Abby slowly begins to sit up, using her large hands to manoeuvre you how she wants.

“Doing so good, honey,” she murmurs, rearranging you on her lap and guiding you to lay face down on the sofa, shifting so that she’s kneeling behind you.

A flutter of nerves unsettles your stomach as you rest your cheek to the cushions, the blossoming bruise on your cheek scratching along the worn fabric. You swallow them back and blink your eyes shut, a moan tumbling from your lips as Abby palms at your ass, hooking her fingers in the waistband of your underwear.

“This okay?”

You nod, responding with another soft moan as she slowly peels the fabric from your cunt, the air cooling along the wetness sticking to your thighs as the fabric falls to your knees. You feel so exposed, hips angled up like this for Abby to see-- but you can’t ignore the way you clench around nothing at the thought.

Her fingers are warm, thick as they slide through the folds of your cunt, dragging slick wetness up to your swollen clit. You jolt as she brushes over it, gasping a choked breath when she begins to rub slow, teasing circles around it.

You begin to feel breathless, like you can’t pull enough air into your lungs, but you can’t find it within you to care when her fingers feel so fucking good, and you need her to fuck you right now—

It’s like she can read your mind. You feel her shift behind you as her circles tighten, holding your hip in place as you squirm and thrust against nothing. Teasing laughs reach your ears before she finally, finally slides her fingers down where you want them.

Abby is never aggressive with you. Her movements, even when rougher than some, never mean to hurt or harm. Not once have you ever been worried or scared or fearful of your safety in the arms of this woman.

But when she presses a hand to your shoulder, drapes her body over your back to pin you to the couch as she works you open, it raises alarm bells. Loud ones.

You start to panic.

Your breathing that was already sharp and quick picks up even more, tears welling up in your eyes and blurring your vision.

“A-Abby—” You try and call out, but it comes out too close to a breathless whine for her to notice anything’s wrong.

“Abby, s-stop— Abby, red! Red!”

Abby pulls away immediately, fingers leaving you as she curses, stumbling a bit for balance as she backs right off. You can’t hold yourself up anymore, collapsing fully on the sofa, legs trembling as you begin to cry.

“Honey, can you lift your hips up f’me? Real quick, I promise,” she murmurs, voice shaky as she waits for you to reply.

You barely muster up a nod, eyes staring out ahead of you and into the room, tears falling freely and dripping off your nose as you whimper. Your legs are still shaky as you raise your hips, just enough for Abby to delicately slide your underwear back up, covering you.

She slips off the sofa behind you, leaving to grab the blanket off the bed. It’s not the softest thing in the world but is big enough to wrap the both of you up in it, so she drags it over to the sofa where you’re still laying, shuddering and trying to breathe.

“Can I touch you, baby? Just to wrap this around you. You think you can sit up for me?” She’s oh so gentle, so patient as she waits for you to give the okay.

You can’t help the whimper that leaves your lips as she touches you, hands pressed against your bare skin as she slowly sits you up. The touch is replaced by the blanket soon after, wrapped around your entire body and tucked up under your chin. Only your face peeks through, and you’re sure you look ridiculous, but you can’t find it in you to care.

It feels warm. Safe. Like you can breathe.

Abby crouches in front of you, shirt still discarded somewhere behind the sofa, careful not to crowd you. “Do you need space, or touch?”

“Space,” you stutter out, tears clinging to your lashes as you try to shake the feeling of the clicker’s disgusting breath against your cheek.

Abby’s eyes widen, only slightly, but enough to betray the fear she’s feeling as she looks at you; watches the rattling breaths leave your swollen lips as you cry in front of her. Nothing like this has happened in all the time you’ve been together. The two of you are usually so in sync, know exactly what the other needs. The only time anything other than ‘green’ has been uttered by either of you was ages ago, when Abby had to call ‘yellow’ because she got incredibly overstimulated; but that was it. ‘Red’ is new, and way more terrifying than either of you thought it would be.

“Would you like me to get you anything?” Abby asks softly, voice thick but pushing through.

You go to shake your head, to decline, but your mouth feels so dry…

“Water, please.”

“Of course, honey.”

She’s up in a flash, rummaging around in the kitchen for a clean glass, grabbing the jug from the mini-fridge you keep tucked under the counter to pour you a nice, cold cup.

She’s back before you can spiral too far down into your thoughts, offering the frosted glass for you to take. Snaking your hands out from under the blankets, your fingers lightly brush hers as you take the water, pressing it to your lips. The glass is damp and sparkling with condensation, the water nice and cold on your tongue as you swallow down the entire thing.

Abby’s ready to take the empty glass from you when you’re done, placing it down gently on the coffee table with the others.

She doesn’t try and broach what just happened, but she does make a point of sticking nearby. She settles down on the floor next to you, back pressed to the couch by your feet, careful not to touch you. It’s a kind gesture, one that you appreciate in this moment as you try and calm yourself down, focused on getting that disgusting, grimey feeling to leave your skin.

You can’t tell how much time passes, it may have been a few minutes, or maybe an hour, but it’s long enough for you to wet your lips, to call out for her.

“Abby…”

She looks up, twisting her body to check you over. Her eyes are so wide, filled to the brim with love and concern. It’s rare they’re this unguarded, even around you.

“Yeah?”

“Can you— I want you up here. Please.”

She climbs onto the sofa without another word, chest still bare as she sits by your side. She hesitates for a second, unsure of what exactly you need, but you crawl into her arms and she doesn’t need to ask anymore-- bundling you up and securing you in her lap.

The blanket is still wrapped around you, and you tug on it enough so that you can press your cheek sticky with tears to her bare skin, desperate to hear her hear that sill beats beneath her skin.

Thumpthump thumpthump thumpthump.

“Are you okay?” She asks it so quietly that you barely catch it, muffled under the sound of her heartbeat.

“Kind of,” you offer weakly, too tired to lie.

“Did I— I didn’t mean to—”

You press a ghost of a kiss to the swell of her chest, over her heart. “It wasn’t you. Not really.”

She swallows, throat clicking as her hands run soothingly up and down your back through the blanket. “Then what…?”

“Patrol,” you start, blinking as you stare off to the side of the room, the place where Abby’s makeshift bookshelf sits, overflowing. “We ran into infected. There were… so many. All trapped in a parking garage, came rushing out when we rolled the door up.  I was—” Your breath hitches, that familiar burning behind your eyes as tears blur your vision.

Abby pulls you in closer, pressing her lips to the top of your head.

“I-I was being chased by a clicker and I tripped, then it fell on top of me, and I was so scared, Abby. I thought I was going to die.”

Abby swears as her hands move along your body, calloused hand cupping your cheek with so much gentleness that it makes you want to cry for a different reason. She slowly picks your head up off her chest, thumb brushing softly under the scabs on your cheek. She’s frowning, lips downturned, and you decide then and there that you never want to see her look at you like this ever again.

“If I knew, I wouldn’t have tried to—”

“Hey, don’t do that,” you interrupt, shaking your head slightly. You sniffle, a couple of stray tears dripping from your lashes. “I didn’t tell you. I thought—I thought I could just forget it happened. It’s not your fault. You did nothing wrong, Abby.”

She’s still frowning, brows drawn together as she wipes away the tears that mar your skin, hot trails that quickly cool in the air. “I’m still sorry.” She leans in, pressing delicate kisses along your cheek, up to your forehead. “The idea of scaring you, it’s— I hate it. I’m so sorry, honey.”

A hand finds its way out of the blankets, coming up to cup her cheek, the two of you mirroring each other. Abby touches your foreheads together and you close your eyes, sitting and breathing the same air.

“I love you,” Abby whispers.

Leaning up, you press a soft kiss to her lips. “I love you too.”

“Did you want to move? Go to bed?” Abby asks, nosing gently at your cheek.

You shake your head, settling back so that you’re resting against her chest once more. “Want to stay here. Do you think… Can you read to me?”

“Yeah, of course. You want to choose something?” Her hands come back to splay against your back, smoothing out the wrinkles of the blanket.

“Could you read from your spot in Frankenstein? I just want to hear your voice, I don’t mind.”

Abby presses her lips to the top of your head. “Course, baby. Let’s shuffle a bit.”

She’s gentle with you as she moves you, shifting the two of you to lay back together on the sofa. You stay cuddled up to her chest, your legs settling between her own as she rests against the armrest, one arm slung across your waist and the other held above the two of you, Frankenstein in hand.

Abby clears her throat, wetting her lips before beginning to read aloud.

“From this day natural philosophy, and particularly chemistry, in the most comprehensive sense of the term, became nearly my sole occupation. I read with ardour those works, so full of genius and discrimination, which modern inquirers…”

Your eyes flutter closed as you lay against her chest, feeling the subtle vibrations of her low voice as she reads. It’s soothing, calming-- a reminder that Abby is here and with you.

You don’t know when you fall asleep, but when you wake up a few hours later you’re still on the sofa, Abby’s chest rising and falling with her sleeping breaths. A strong arm is slung over her eyes, the other still wrapped securely around you.

The blanket has shuffled off of you during your sleep, and you try as quietly and slowly as possible to haul it back up, draping it across the both of you. Abby stirs lightly, the arm covering her eyes coming down to wrap around you, almost as if she sensed you moving about and is trying to keep you from straying too far.

You snuggle back down atop of her, kissing her chest lightly before resting your cheek back against it—skin on skin.

Thumpthump thumpthump thumpthump.

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[bump1nthen1ght]

The Family Jewels (Pt. 3/4)

Pairing: M!Vampire!Father-In-Law x F!Reader x M!Vampire!Husband

Genre: Regency, Gothic, Dark, Yandere, Pining

Chapter Summary: You didn't think your new home could become any stranger. Shadows have started to follow you, the night no longer the safe haven it once was. It leads you to the one person who may be able to help.

Series Warnings: Obsessive + Controlling Behavior, Fucked up Family Dynamics, Confinement, Misogyny, Future Non-Con, Degradation, Angst, Jealousy

Chapter Warnings: Stalking, Isolation, Slight Infantilization of Reader

A/N: The penultimate chapter 👀. Had a lot of fun with this series and I hope y'all have too! Last Chapter should be coming out sometime later this week/early this week. It's gonna be quite a doozy 😈

Part 1 Part 2

You think someone is watching you.

You didn’t think the eeriness of your home could be more uncomfortable, but the unmistakable feeling of attention has made it so. Only worsened by the fact you have no understanding of whose attention it is. Your first thought was perhaps the staff, but you can’t imagine months of your droll day-to-day life would suddenly gain their attention. Not when they skirt around you, ignoring all attempts to make conversations or eye contact, just as they’ve always done.

You’d learned to enjoy the solitude of your home, to be content with your own company. Reading, wandering the grounds, pondering the sky was now your beloved routine, not a prison of listlessness. But now you whip your head around at the slightest shadow. Something prickles on the back of your neck at odd moments, uneasy shivers coming down your spine when you turn the corner, your fight-or-flight instincts expecting something there.

The only other two options would be your father-in-law and your husband. The prior is an obvious no, well aware he confines himself to his study during the day so he may work in peace. The latter is absent during the daytime, supposedly sticking to his habit of sleeping with the sun, so you’re left with no clues.

To make it all worse is the fact that your husband has been present for dinner lately; Every night for the past week, to be precise. It seems to be the one meal he deems worthy of being awake for. But you figured that this was another kink to get used too, surely a momentary lapse before he returned to the routine.

But then he started talking to you.

—

“Was your day enjoyable?”

Your husband opened with, as if this was a normal dinner and you were in a normal marriage.

You hesitate to respond, convincing yourself that you had misheard one of the servants. Caleb isn’t even looking you in the eye, focused instead on cutting his steak.

“Well?” He juts in, right before taking a large bite. It's only then you realize it was in fact him speaking and in fact you who he was speaking to.

“I suppose so.” You finally deign as a well enough response. A suitably polite answer. “It was nothing remarkable.”

“Hmm.” He says, chewing on his wad of meat as he takes a sip of that curious wine of his. You return to your food, figuring that is the end of that. One of your husband's many irregularities, that was all. “What did you partake in?”

That brings you pause, halting your fork, currently being used to awkwardly move around fingerling potatoes. Your appetite starts to leave you.

“...Some of the books from the library.” Your stab at a potato, wishing you could dissent from proprietary like he could and eat through this conversation. “The estate has quite a robust collection. Especially the astronomy section.”

The sound of cutlery scraping against porcelain makes you wince, draws your full attention to your husband. For a second, you swear his eyebrow twitches.

“I see.” He stabs his steak like it’s a vicious enemy, and rips away another piece. “Anything else?”

Why are you doing this?

You desperately want to ask. You swallow that urge down.

“I began a new cross stitch today.” You swallow. “My skills are unfortunately unrefined, but I found some beautiful thread I forgot my sister had packed away when-” I was shipped off “-when I first moved in. I’m planning to embroider a Mourning Dove.”

It had been more comforting than you expected, cross-stitching. Forever it had been a habit your mother forced upon you, imploring that good embroidery was only right for a proper lady to know. Now, all alone and homesick, it felt nice to create something that could fly away.

“Hmm.” Caleb says, and that is the end of it. What follows is uncomfortable minutes of silence. Too uncomfortable to eat, you gently push your plate away and stand up, another informal curtsy and a “good night”, hoping that would be the end.

It unfortunately was not.

Edric had let you know the night prior that he’d be busier these upcoming weeks, several meetings with important men or something of that matter keeping him away for the nights as well as the days. You told him it was no issue, even though your heart had tugged at the idea of spending those dark hours alone.

To your great shock, upon arriving at your favorite spot in the garden, your husband is there. Not lounging as he did before, but sitting on the bench. Your bench.

“I did not know you had finished dinner.” You remark, trying to act less flustered than you were. Months ago you would have rejoiced at this change of pace, so bored and listless. But now it left you feeling more than a little aggravated.

“I did shortly after you.” He says, actually acknowledging you with a look over his shoulder. Weirdly, a bottle does not accompany his side. “Thought I’d go for a walk. It is quite a big garden.”

I’m not here for you. He seemed to scream with every word, his very soul. You don’t why know he’s being so insistent, he’s made that opinion very clear in every other interaction so far.

“I see.” You parrot, a surge of obstinance making you bolder than normal, sitting down next to him. This was your favorite spot, you refuse to give it up to him on a whim.

It brings great satisfaction when he scoots away, his body jerking, clearly surprised by you being so close. You’re sure he thought you all figured out, some girl he could walk over whenever he pleased.

You don’t bother speaking first, figuring his stint during dinner was a temporary lapse in judgement. His sheer disinterest made it clear it was from a source of boredom, not genuine curiosity, which spurred this change. Surely, that was the end-

“That’s Cassiopeia.” Caleb says, his long hand, usually adorned with a bottle, points at the night sky. When you don’t respond immediately, he goes to lengths of drawing the ‘W’ shape with his finger.

“..Ah, yes it is.” You say, surprised that he has continued talking to you and that he knows any constellation. “She is quite beautiful. Though, I suppose that is part of why she is in the sky in the first place.” You chuckle at the joke, the mood quickly souring when Caleb doesn’t, looking at you like a strange sort of insect.

Edric would’ve laughed.

“And from her,” Caleb traces his hands away from Cassiopeia to another, “-You can find her daughter, Andromache.”

“Andromeda.” The words whip out immediately, before you can think better of it, although your tone is gentle. Caleb turns to look at you, wordlessly once more. For a second, you wonder if he’ll snap at your correction. “Her daughter is Andromeda, not Andromache. Andromache was Hector’s wife.”

Caleb pauses for a moment, retracting his hand.

“Hm.” He hums and turns away.

The awkward atmosphere lingers afterwards, and you almost feel bad for correcting him. You hadn't meant it as a criticism, just as a reminder.

But that just makes you more upset. Why should you care how Caleb feels about your words, unintentional or not? He has made no such consideration for your feelings during your time here, nor does he seem to intend to anytime in the future. He’s a cad, a rake, he could stand to be knocked down a peg or too.

Luckily, the rest of the night is blissfully quiet. You try your best to bat away any lingering feelings of anxiety or awkwardness, simply savoring what you could.

—

Caleb isn’t sure what he is doing.

It was bad enough foregoing his rest and haunting you like a phantom, chasing this incessant new urge of his. Like picking at a scab you know would be healed if left alone, he can’t seem to resist. His body follows you naturally now, using his more inhuman qualities to blend in the shadows, avoiding the poisonous daylight and lingering on your every move. You make it too easy with your rhythmic movements, keeping regular in your entertainment about the house. If not in the library, you were in the garden having tea. If not in the garden having tea, you were embroidering on the lounge. What should be so dreadfully boring is now enrapturing, although it is wounding it feels too good to stop.

Look at him now, bumbling around like a fool, words falling out his mouth like hail against your soft skin. Even when he does catch your attention and get a genuine response, he loses himself in the memories of said moments, reimagining it as vividly as he saw it from the shadows. He remembers the jump of excitement when you found a new book on Greek Mythology on the shelf, having thought you had already read them all. He remembers the look you made when you had made a mistake in your embroidery, your brow furrowed as you undid your stitches. When focused on your work, a tiny sliver of your tongue would sit out at your mouth, something he’s sure your mother scolded you for time and time again. By the time his mind got back to him you were leaving, the same curt response and rigid curtsy as before.

Desperate for a fix, he even ambushed you at your stargazing spot. He could barely look you in the eye, too nervous you would see through his ruse, point and laugh at his boyishness. It was made even worse when you sat near him, tantalizing him with your blood and the beating of your heart, which sang to his very ears.

“That’s Cassiopeia.” Caleb attempts, wondering if this will have greater success. Given your silence, he wondered if perhaps his maker hadn’t pointed it out to you yet. Pride fills his chest as he traces out her shape, wondering what look you have in your eyes.

“..Ah, yes it is.” You reply, and Caleb’s monstrous heart skips a beat. “She is quite beautiful. Though, I suppose that is part of why she is in the sky in the first place.”

Caleb freezes, caught off his rhythm, you giggle making him realize that he isn’t understanding something. The disappointed look on your face feels like a blade in his stomach.

He should be angry, furious even. It had been years since anyone had made him feel this way, this inferiority. He had outgrown that, had ripped it out with his own bleeding heart and tossed it outside.

“And from her,” Caleb pivots, hoping the skills of aloofness can work in favor “-You can find her daughter, Andromache.”

“Andromeda.” Caleb’s stomach turns. Frozen in his best laid plans, this windstorm of his wife has blown them away. “Her daughter is Andromeda, not Andromache. Andromache was Hector’s wife.”

It’s all he can do to not scream at that moment. But he fears that too will be as awkward and foolish as the rest of his words, choosing instead to say nothing. To his consternation and relief, you follow suit and do not speak as well, returning to your own stargazing.

When you eventually retire, Caleb should go out. He should find the nearest beast and rip their throat, soak in their blood and be reminded that he was the fearsome beast. He was not the stupid farm boy, he was an unholy abomination built to feast and terrorize.

Instead he paces around his room, wondering what he should say. He looks in the mirror at his facade self, the beautiful face that makes ladies of all classes swoon, and wonders what would catch your eye.

You were smart, clearly, smarter than he anticipated. He thinks you might be catching onto his voyeur-tendencies, once or twice hiding around a corner and popping out, as if to confront your own shadow. Once, when he had left your book an inch or two over from where you had left it, you returned to the room with a quirk in your eyebrow. You had searched the room up and down, even flagged down a servant to ask if anyone had cleaned the library recently.

He had assumed your quietness came from a dull demeanor, just as boring as one would expect from the “wife.” But you had good humor. He saw you joking around with his creator, possibly the stodgiest vampire to ever roam the world, and even make jests of your own. You had tried with him tonight, although it seemed to fly over his head. And you seemed to enjoy dancing, like most ladies, if the way you hummed and swayed down the halls when you thought you were alone was enough indication. These were all things he was used to; Wining and dining ladies with his good charm and superb dancing skills, yet he found himself at a standstill.

His head falls into his hands, a frustrated hunger stirring in his gut. He needs to feed. At least that was an aching he could satisfy.

—

A whole fortnight of this. No peace, no privacy, no respite from the dreadfulness of the estate. During the day you tremored, aware that someone followed in your footsteps but not who it was. During the night all sense of comfort was robbed by him, your husband who, after several months of blissful avoidance, could not leave your side.

The conversations had not gotten better since the first. Mostly one sided, your husband seemed to force himself through every word, barely listening when it was your turn to speak. You don’t know why he bothers with the painful effort, his head off in the clouds, clearly wishing he was somewhere else. It's worse than the silence by a landslide, and you find yourself begging for your husband to start ignoring you again.

But like every one before it, your wishes go unanswered. The pain of it all forces you to focus, to try and find the source of this newfound vigor for this falsehood of a marriage.

All your hypotheses lead you back to one person. One person whom, unlike your husband, could hopefully be reasoned with.

—

You make quick work to scurry out of the dining hall after another painful dinner, hoping the distraction of his meal will keep your husband from noticing your divergence from routine.

Striding deeper into the bowels of the estate reminds you of just how unsettling the rest of the house feels. Each hallway is cleaned too perfectly, each decoration too precisely placed. You never knew furniture could feel so cold, that the sterility of a cleanliness would be so unnerving. It felt as if no one had ever really walked these halls, not for a long, long time.

But you push on, too determined in your mission. You had finally been able to corner a maid during the day, making up a vague excuse for returning a book to have her point the way to the Earl’s office. You’re happy you had the forethought to write it down, sure the enticing darkness around each corner and the amount of turns would’ve befuddled you. But with your trusty papers, you're able to navigate yourself to a beautiful mahogany door, befit with a golden knob and intimidating presence.

Why must everything in this place feel so hostile?

You ponder, wondering if the architect of this place had a hatred of joy and fresh air. But you digress, rapping your knuckles onto the thick door frame. Through the wood you can faintly hear the scribbles of an ink pen and the focused voice of The Earl.

“You may enter.”

His tone lacks the familiarity you’ve grown used to. For a discomforting second it reminds you of Caleb, not of these past two weeks but the months before. You banish that thought away. They are father and son, it is only natural.

“Sir?” You default to polite terms, peaking your head past the grand entrance. Even now the study feels untouchable, makes you hesitant to walk inside so boldly.

The Earl quickly leans his head up, shoulders falling down and a smile gracing his lips. You smother your fluttering heart, reminding yourself of your mission.

“My dear, I was not expecting you.” Edric stands with a dramatic push of his chair, setting his ink pen into its pot. “I apologize, but I fear I cannot join you again tonight. There is still much work to be done.” Edric taps his fingers against his desk.

“Oh it is no issue, Si-Edric. I understand completely.” Finally comfortable enough, you enter the room completely and shut the door behind you. Though this does little to calm your nerves, both for the conversation you must have and the idea of being alone in a room with him. As silly as it is, the hesitance of being alone with a man who is not your husband lingers, even if it is someone proper like your father-in-law. “I actually wish-” You words catch, but you will the butterflies in your stomach away, “-I wish to talk to you about something else. If you are available to it.”

Edric’s brow quirks, a minor change in his usually flawless face. For the very first time, he looks caught off guard.

“Of course, my dear.” Edric pulls out a chair for you to sit, moving his own so the desk won’t block you from each other. You nod in thanks, knees knocking together. You were never great at confrontation, and after finally finding peace in your new home, you fear disturbing and ruining what you have.

But Caleb is doing a fine job of that all on his own.

Your hands fiddle with each other in your lap, forcefully distracting you from making eye contact with Edric. He sits now with his ankles crossed, his arms resting on the sides, looking all like a king receiving his subject. Given his authority and your desperation, he might as well be.

“Now, what would you like to speak about?”

“I-” You swallow the lump in your throat, “I would like to start with my appreciation for your kind intentions, as I know it is what most likely drove you to act in such a way.” Your finger bones ache with how tightly you clench them. “That I appreciate you taking the effort to…encourage Caleb to spend more time with me.” Encourage is probably the incorrect word. If you knew anything about your husband ‘bribed’ was most definitely more accurate. It is the only thing that would make sense given recent circumstances. “But while I understand why you would think such a move was for the best, I’d like to implore that it is not necessary.”

You can hear a pin drop, your father-in-law quiet as the dead. It urges you to keep speaking, to fill the uncomfortable silence with something. At the least to release the issues from your mind, to get them off your chest.

“I know you are a good and honorable man, and that from the outside I must look so pitiful to you. That my lonesome nature most likely urged you to aid in my companionship, but I have found much happiness in this place in these past months. I see it as my home, and I do not mind the quiet.” You’ve released the fabric of your dress, moving instead to the fascinating shapes of your palm lines. Still, you proceed. “As…uncouth as my husbands, they seem to make him happy. He does not seem to enjoy the quiet nights like you and I do.”

A heat decorates the apples of your cheeks, spreading all the way down your neck and up to the tips of your ears. It seems silly looking back on it, having more in common with a man no doubt twice your age than your own husband.

“So, if you could speak to him and let him know that he is free to live as he likes, that he should not feel responsible for me, I would most appreciate it. Please tell him that I am quite happy with the way things were before.”

With you.

Your twisting heart does not know if it wants Edric to understand that unspoken sentiment.

The tapping of Edric’s fingernails on the chair arm finally pulls you attention, sounding cacophonous in the void created. It draws your eyes to finally look Edric head on, to gauge his reaction. Unfortunately, his reserved face leaves it difficult for you to do so.

“I see.” Edric finally breaks it, his fingers speeding up in their rapping. Something squeezes in your chest, wondering if perhaps you’ve offended him with your presumptions.

“I did not-” You bluster, trying to explain before he assumes anything. But a wave of Edric hands stops you in your tracks.

“I am not offended, dear.” The Early gives a gentle smile, a nod to show the truth of his word. Relief washes over you. “I am simply…surprised.”

You swallow your response. As attentive and understanding as Edric is, he is still a man, still subject to misunderstandings of a woman’s true heart. While Caleb is quite handsome, it takes much more good looks and the bare minimum to curry your favor.

“I shall speak to him.” Edric finally commands, standing up from his seat and sending you scurrying to do so on your own. A bubbling feeling fills your chest, the relief of knowing things will finally return to normal. At least the nights.

“Thank you, Edric.”

“It is no problem.” Edric says with a wave of his hand. “I commend you for bringing it up with me promptly. I understand that can be a difficult feat, especially when I am such a recluse.”

That lightens your mood even more, giving you a gentle giggle.

“I think you presume too much of your intimidation, good sir.” You lie, as if you were not petrified of facing him not 10 minutes ago. That fear seems silly now. Of course Edric would listen, when hasn’t he?

You don’t notice the way Edric’s tongue flicks out to wet his lips, the way his eyes for only a second dip down to your collarbone.

“Perhaps I do.” Edric pats the back of his seat. “Well, while I do enjoy your company, I'm afraid I must get back to work. Shall I escort you to your room?”

“Oh that won’t be necessary. I wouldn’t want to disturb and I am quite confident I can find my way.” You weren’t really, but you also were not ready to admit that to him.

“Then I bid you goodnight, my dear.” Edric nods his head, quickly moving his chair back behind his desk, no doubt to resume his business. You drop into a small curtsy yourself, a new energy in your steps as you leave. Even with the labyrinthine task of returning to your room ahead of you, you can’t be despondent.

You have a feeling things are taking a change for the better.

—

It takes everything in Edric’s immortal power to not burst into laughter the second the door closes behind you. Even with the thick wood as a barrier and your inferior human hearing, Edric is sure his cackling could be heard from miles away.

He had planned to court you slowly. Push the boundaries of his affection with every visit, subtly make you dependent on his touch and his closeness. Then, he would pull away, make you truly long for him. It would make his return all the more dramatic, hopefully swell your emotions to such a size that you would not turn away more uncouth behavior. A hug, a kiss to the cheek, maybe even a peck to your soft lips.

But now his son had revealed his hand, clumsily so. Scrambling to hold on to the toy now that it was being swept away, every bit the petulant child. He had made his own desperate move for your affections and was failing miserably.

It's cruel how much glee that gives him, Edric thinks, chuckling into his hands. He needs to remind his son that such obvious peacocking is hardly a foolproof strategy, teach him subtler ways of luring and ensnaring prey, nonetheless a partner. The boy had been riding on his good looks and inhuman charm for too long.

Ahh yes, and you. Who came to him, who chose him. Who ran into his arms and pleaded for safety. How could he not give it to you? His sweet dearest, his darling future. Edric’s nails dig into his palms and he’s sure if his heart still beated, it’d be racing a mile a minute. A palpable thirst burns in the back of his throat, one Edric knows won't be satisfied by any half-thought meal.

This has all but confirmed it: plans are changing. It seems the timeline for his machinations are moving up, given your clear displeasure. Who is he to deny you?

[kissingmilfs]

𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒇𝒐𝒓… | 𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒙 𝒂𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒂

18+ minors please dni

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ summary: sevika’s greediness gets you both in trouble with ambessa.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ content warnings: cnc (if you squint), spanking, and other stuff i don’t wanna spoil

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

you should have known better—of all people you should have known better. and you were doing well all day too. you had done all the things on your to-do list. even managed to get into the gym and followed the routine your girlfriends created for you. you’re not sure when it all went wrong.

maybe it was when you came home and saw sevika drinking milk straight out of the carton. it was messy and almost downright erotic. the milk trickles down sevika’s chin and on her skintight muscle tee. her muscles are more swollen from her recent work out too.

hearing you drop your gym bag and keys prompted sevika to tear away from the carton and give you a heated look that trails the length of your body. she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. sevika stalks towards you, her pupils dilating the closer she gets.

and you know better. no playing around without ambessa’s clear permission. you promise you do. so you awkwardly step away from sevika’s movements and shake your head.

“we can’t.”

sevika growls and immediately lurches out to grab you by the waist. “and why not? she’ll never know.”

you shake your head and pressing hands against sevika’s shoulders—a weak attempt to stop sevika from getting both of you in trouble. “sevika please…”

sevika tightens her hold on your waist almost to the point it bruises. she revels in your tiny whimpers and the slight frantic look in your eyes. she can deal with whatever consequences ambessa decides on. sevika just needs you now.

“oh come on baby…just a quick taste…she’ll never know…” sevika pulls you taut against her chest. “don’t make this hard, doll. you know what i want.”

your eyes widen at sevika’s firm tone. your teeth bite the inside of your inner lip. there’s a few hours before ambessa comes home. before you can even formally announce your thoughts, sevika’s fingers are rolling your gym shorts and underwear down your hips. instinctively, you bend your knees to step out of the shorts. sevika peels your underwear from their confinement. she does the unexpected and brings the crotch to her nose and takes such a big inhale.

“sevika…” you whisper faintly with evident shock making your voice sound shaky.

the woman in question lifts her eyes to yours. sevika’s pupils are blown out and she’s breathing heavy—similar to a feral beast. you don’t remember how it happened either. one second you’re staring in shock at sevika and the next second your face was buried in the pillows.

your voice is hoarse from the crying and begging. pleading that falls on deaf ears as sevika’s tongue is buried in your cunt and her fingers circling your clit. whining loudly for sevika not to leave any marks, or to stop before ambessa comes home, and more pitifully for her to make you come again.

you remember passing out with exhaustion once sevika has her fill of you. she falls asleep between your legs and you should know better. you should have woken her up. forced you both to shower and clean up the room. but gods above, you were so tired. drained.

your eyes shoot open hearing the front door slam close. you immediately sit up and see sevika’s gotten even more comfortable. her arms wrapped around your waist and literally drooling on your thigh. ambessa’s work boots threateningly inch closer and closer to the bedroom. the boom of each step fills you with dread.

“sevika…” you hiss lowly and shake her shoulder. “sevika wake up…she’s home…” you frantically attempt to find your clothes but then you freeze in fear and remembrance. “fuck, fuck, fuck.”

sevika barely wakes from her slumber. she mumbles something sleepily before tightening her arms around your waist. the looming footsteps stop somewhere in the living room. oh gods, ambessa’s definitely analyzing the scene of discarded clothes. you close your eyes tightly. waiting for ambessa to summon you and sevika. but it never comes.

instead the heavy steps belonging to ambessa and her boots eventually move towards the bedroom door. you find yourself holding your breath. ambessa’s rules are not to be challenged. sevika knows this and still finds continuous ways to get you in trouble. then ambessa knocks on the door. it’s not a loud knock but rather soft. it rouses sevika more out of her sleepy state too.

she frowns with a grumble hearing the knock. lifting her head with confusion written clearly on her face. grumbling even more, sevika rolls out of bed and reluctantly swings the bedroom door open. ambessa stands behind it with her arms crossed and an unusually neutral expression on her face. her and sevika are similar in height so they both catch each other’s gaze at the same time.

sevika sighs and rubs the back of her neck. there must have been some silent understanding because sevika stands aside without another word. ambessa takes one step into the room. her eyes immediately find yours and your naked form on the bed. something unrecognizable flashes through her golden eyes as she crosses the room to you. ambessa lowers herself on the bed. one hand comes out to grasp your jaw. you refrain from making any noise and instead wait for ambessa to say something.

ambessa rotates your head from one side to the other. she carefully takes account of the deep bite marks on your neck and shoulder. the hickeys have formed as purple wounds splotched anywhere sevika could muster. ambessa tuts her tongue disapprovingly.

“now what happened here, my love?” ambessa’s tone is alarmingly calm and unwavering.

your eyes nervously drink in every last expression on ambessa’s face. “i…i guess me and sevika happened…”

ambessa hums knowingly and nods. “i see that, dear. seems she really got you good.”

you, shamefully, drop your eyes. sevika all but snickers from her leaned position against the now closed bedroom door. “ah whatever. she had fun.”

“i did not give you permission to talk, sevika. i’ll deal with you later.” ambessa sounds…upset with sevika. more upset than she sounded with you. ambessa refocuses her attention. “i bet she was really convincing, huh? you probably told her you’d both get in trouble and she didn’t care, hm?”

a slow nod comes from you. ambessa is luring you into a false sense of security. but your brain is screaming not to fall for the trap. dropping your guard with ambessa never plays out well. the woman hums thoughtfully to herself. sevika is across the room with her arms crossed and staring furiously at the interaction. from the looks of it, ambessa is intent on blaming the whole thing on sevika. which she probably deserves but it wasn’t, as if, you hadn’t begged for sevika. begged and whimpered and moaned and scratched.

ambessa sighs and drops her hand from your jaw. her sigh is filled with exhaustion maybe even a hint of irritation. “what am i gonna do with you both, huh? i give one simple instruction and everyone decides they know better. you know, i’m entirely convinced you, sevika, enjoy testing my patience.”

her words are punctuated and hit the air as sharp as a new blade. you nervously track every time ambessa’s flexes her fingers, or taps them against her thigh. you can tell she’s thinking. deep in thought about your punishments. you knew it’d be futile and lost on deaf ears if you plead your case. nothing short of licking the ground ambessa walks on would make her listen or care. ambessa bend her neck to the left—crack—then to the right—crack.

“sevika, go get my boot shining kit.”

sevika grumbles at the command but regardless shuffles out of the bedroom and into ambessa’s suite. she returns rather quickly with a 4x4 black box with ambessa’s family symbol engraved in red on one side. ambessa scrutinizes sevika as if even the method of transporting the box is wrong.

ambessa let’s sevika approach the bed before commanding, “kneel.” she’s left no room for argument or sevika’s usual reluctance to submit to ambessa. now is not the time to defy ambessa’s authority. so sevika kneels with the box in hand.

“i see you can listen to instructions then, sevika.” a purely rhetoric statement meant to get underneath sevika’s skin. ambessa regards her with a tilt of the head. it’s fairly easily to recognize the annoyance and defiance in sevika’s grey eyes. the clear restraint it’s taking sevika not to retort back with a sassy remark.

“good.” ambessa comments. “open the box and pull out only the brush, cloth and wax. don’t even comment on what else is there.”

sevika huffs out her clear annoyance but drops her eyes to the box. resting it next to her kneeled legs, sevika opens the box, pulling out what ambessa instructed. she notices the other object but behaves. this time. ambessa watches her momentarily before turning her attention back to you.

her eyes and expression visibly become softer once she does. it’s no surprise and probably safe to say—ambessa has a soft spot for you. you’re the human embodiment of her heart. everything decent and right in ambessa’s universe is intertwined with your existence. you help the woman remember her humanity. however soft spot or not, ambessa rules are her rules. nonsensical or not—ambessa’s rules are final.

ambessa reaches out again but this time her hand encompasses your cheek. “darling…you know i have to punish you, right?”

you nod slowly with understanding. “yes, ambessa.” her confirmation of punishment does not stop you from leaning into her touch.

“it’s not entirely your fault and i’m aware. sometimes you can only seem to think with your cunt.” ambessa tuts her tongue as she sees you parting your lips in defense. “no, no. none of that. lay across my lap, dearest.”

you intake a sharp breath knowing whats to come next. outstretching on ambessa’s lap, you position your hips snug against her thighs. ambessa hums her approval. in this position with your cheek pressed against the mattress, you can catch a side glimpse of sevika. she’s already begun polishing ambessa’s black boots. knowing sevika she’s sporting a severe pissed off expression right now.

a shiver jumps down your spine once ambessa’s calloused hands grope your ass. eventually one hand comes to the dip of your back, adding pressure to keep you grounded. she guides you to take a deep breath. then as you exhale her hand comes down on your ass. it causes you to close your eyes and tense from the impact. but she bends forward and presses a kiss to your shoulder.

“keep breathing, my love. what’s your safe word?”

“sword.” you reply instantly without a second thought. that earns you another kiss on your shoulder. but the tender action is juxtaposed with ambessa’s hand leaving a stinging sensation against your left butt cheek. this time you don’t tense but breathe shakily through your nose instead.

ambessa smiles down at the way she feels your body react. she can feel you breathing deeply despite how unsteady it may be. your body isn’t bracing for each spank. she’s certainly trained you well. her hand alternates between each plump mound. after your mental count of 12, ambessa stops. her hand comes to soothingly trail across your skin. you whimper at the feeling. it feels comforting with how slow and delicate ambessa’s moving them, but at the same time it emanates low range stings across your skin.

“no more shining, sevika. you think you can use your head for something other than torturing y/n and figure out the mechanism in the box?” ambessa chides.

sevika, all but snarls, at the question and reaches into the box. her fingers find the black leather harness. curiously lifting it to her eyes, she inspects how small it is. certainly not meant for around the waist. ambessa watches sevika’s curiosity—wondering how long it will take the woman to figure it out. as sevika twists and turns and analyzes the contraption, she adjusts it in a way that clicks. seeing the lightbulb set out in sevika’s head—ambessa lifts one foot a few inches off the ground. sevika quickly gets to work securing the harness on the boot. it takes two attempts until she’s successful.

ambessa, lowering her foot, taps your hip once. “up, love. sit on my lap.” ambessa watches you wobbly lift yourself from your laid position. palms pressed against the mattress as the affects of the spanking still radiates off your skin. she doesn’t bother helping—somewhat enjoying you taking your sweet time. but eventually you secure yourself to straddle ambessa’s lap.

“did you know i missed you today, love?” ambessa casually utters as her hands find the swell of your ass pulling you closer.

your eyes eagerly lift to ambessa’s golden ones. “you did?”

ambessa hums as she gently massages and grips the reddened and now bruising skin. “it was such a long day. back and forth negotiations, uncooperative officials…ridiculous and foolishness.”

ambessa sighs and looks over your shoulder to sevika attaching now the hitachi vibrator to the straps, securing it with a button. it hangs from the top of the boot—resting parallel to the shoelaces. the dildo is already secured and upright in the harness. ambessa’s not too much in the mood for a harsh punishment (surprisingly). she did miss her girls, both you and sevika. she did want to come home and hold you against her chest and watch sevika ravish you. but now because of sevika’s greediness plans changed.

sevika huffs out once she’s done and sits back against the heels of her feet—eyeing her handy work. “this for the brat?”

you perk up, knowing sevika means you, and attempt to twist around to figure out what the woman is talking about. ambessa shakes her head disapprovingly, guiding you head to rest against her shoulder. you pout faintly but opt for obedience—listening to the conversation that transpires.

“and why would it be for her, sevika?”

sevika’s eyebrows push together in confusion. her focus drops to the harnessed boot then back to ambessa. “me? seriously?” to you, sevika sounds baffled as a scoff graced her words.

ambessa’s acknowledgment vibrates against you. “seriously. i’m not in the mood today, sevika. don’t take advantage of my mercy.”

“i hardly consider this mercy, ambessa! it’s humiliating.”

you can hear the irritated inflation in sevika’s voice and the scratch behind her throat. you’re almost desperate to learn what ambessa’s planned for sevika. and you’re not sure what happens next because the room is dead silent. you’re unexpectedly holding your breath with the thick tension filling the air. ambessa’s unnaturally still and you can barely tell if sevika’s in the same room anymore. it feels like an eternity passes before the sound of buzzing fills the room.

your body instinctively twitches with the familiar sound. and if only you could see the sight behind of you. sevika cockwarming the red dildo attached to ambessa’s shoe with the vibrator sending faint waves right to her clit. you’d probably be astonished sevika’s still holding a furious look while her cheek is pressed against ambessa’s knee. and ambessa is lovingly stroking sevika’s hair while keeping firm eye contact with the woman.

once ambessa’s convinced sevika won’t lash out again, she returns some of her attention to you. you’re beautifully still on ambessa’s lap. your eyes focused on nothing as you gaze over her shoulder. ambessa delicately runs her hand along your sides to jolt you back to her. the older woman guides you to look into her eyes once again.

“can you be a good girl and ride my fingers?” ambessa’s intonation didnt leave room for a, no. you knew it was a command but phrased as if you had much free will. you notice the way ambessa’s pupils gradually dilate the longer she takes you in. and why would you even say, no? you’re convinced her eyes are forming into hearts so you eagerly nod. anything to please ambessa. anything to have her forgiveness.

ambessa’s hands don’t even need to guide your hips upwards. the light touch is enough for the action to come second nature. and ambessa certainly doesn’t need to waste time getting you ready for her fingers. you’re still soaked from your romp with sevika. and the second ambessa’s eyes found yours—you felt the mess pooling even more. two fingers brush against your folds—spreading you open like the delicate flower ambessa thinks you are. her middle finger glides down without any regard to paying close attention to your throbbing clit. no, her middle finger finds solitude rubbing circles over your entrance. testing if you were indeed wet.

you realize ambessa’s laughing before the noise can properly hit your ear. and before you can form the thought to ask why—you realize your cunt is greedily sucking in ambessa’s finger without any effort from her. that produces a needy whine from you as you’re gradually filled with one finger by your body’s own doing. but ambessa isn’t done yet. you’re already so eager, so wet that ambessa wastes no time adding her ring finger.

ambessa is determined to do the least amount of work for the rest of the night. your hips don’t move yet—momentarily forgetting ambessa’s command to ride. it only clicks after ambessa’s still for a second too long. but when you hear sevika’s groan of pleasure—you needily react with grinding your hips forward.

“fuck…” you hear sevika grunt out as if she’s out of breath.

sevika’s, not necessarily out of breath, moreso she has the optimal view of your cunt stuffed with ambessa’s fingers. she can see how pathetically wet you are. you’ve already left a trail of slick on ambessa’s knuckles. sevika desperately wants to rise on her knees and lick ambessa’s fingers clean as you ride them. her mouth waters thinking about sucking on your clit and feeling you squirt down her throat.

ambessa’s two steps ahead of sevika. “don’t even try it, sevika.”

you furrow your eyebrows at ambessa’s admonishment but quickly realize you don’t care too much. your cunt is stuffed with ambessa’s fingers and you’re feeling too needy to get yourself off. yet you know ambessa won’t make it easy for you. but then you hear sevika’s disgruntled moan and your hips respond.

ambessa chuckles at the revelation. so she leans down quickly to turn the vibrator to the highest setting. sevika bucks her hips, groaning with the sudden intensity. her fingers flex and scrape against the woven fibers of the rug. each sound sevika makes entices your hips to move forward. it’s such a marvel sight for ambessa to witness. you eagerly grind your hips, whimpering into the crook of ambessa’s neck. the sounds of sevika’s deep moans paired with your high pitched moans sounds like the inside of a brothel.

this wasn’t exactly how ambessa anticipated her night of unwinding but she certainly cannot find the thought to complain. her body’s relieved of all tension. now left floating in utter bliss as she watches and listens to you both fall apart. all under her guidance and not moving an inch. and when ambessa feels you bite her shoulder in a loud pitched cry—she actually moans. if ambessa focused enough, the older woman is convinced she could come.

ambessa can see sevika’s resolve breaking. and she can feel yours shattering too. you’ve given up your half ass grinding. now actually lifting and sinking your hips on ambessa’s fingers. your hips and ass moving in a hypnotic, tantalizing motion that has sevika almost drooling at the sight.

sevika growls in frustration and takes it out by biting into ambessa’s thigh. not that ambessa minds. in fact she widens her legs in appreciation which causes her fingers to shift deeper inside you.

“close…i’m close…please…” the words stumble out of your mouth in a hazed rush. you’re not sure if you’re warning or asking.

both women reply in unison. “come.” that one simply word shatters you and the coil tortuously building within. your hips stutter their actions. your nails dig into the expanse of ambessa’s back as a moan is caught in the back of your throat. ambessa holds you close, pressing you securely against her chest as your body spasms with such intensity. you start seeing white and black spots in your vision.

after a few seconds, your body slumps against ambessa’s. the only sounds you can hear are the pounding of your blood and your heavy breathing. unbeknownst to you, sevika came a mere second after you. her eyes glued to your cunt clenching ambessa’s fingers.

ambessa is utterly filled with satisfaction from the scene that unfolded. despite her annoyance walking into the house earlier—now she can curl up with her two favorite girls and rest.

[livesincerely]

The rest of the night and a couple hours of overtime later and they’re finally free to head home. Eddie is just pulling his henley over his head, his bag packed and ready to go, when out of the corner of his eye he spots a pair of impossibly long legs booking it towards the parking lot.

“Buck!” he calls, hurrying after him. “Where’re you going? I thought we were gonna ride together.”

“Actually, Eddie,” Buck starts, one hand already curled around the handle of the driver’s side door. “I think you should probably go home.”

He doesn’t quite turn to look at him when he speaks, his shoulders hunched and his head hanging low, and Eddie’s heart sinks like a stone.

“But I thought we were gonna… You said you wanted to finally⁠…”

“I do! I do want that,” Buck rushes to assure him. “This. Us. But, uh, maybe it’d be best if we wait until after my cycle’s over, you know? Cooler heads and all that.”

“I guess I’m a little confused,” Eddie admits, stepping closer. “I thought the plan was to spend your rut together. I guess that’s on me for assuming.” He finds the courage to ask, “Did you change your mind? Or, was that never actually on the table⁠—”

“No, no, I want to! God, do I want to.”.

“But…?” Eddie prompts.

“But,” Buck concedes, finally lifting his gaze to meet Eddie’s own, his eyes big and sad and ah. Okay, Eddie can work with this. “I think it’d be better for you if we didn’t.”

“Buck,” Eddie starts softly.

“‘Cause I can be kind of a lot when my rut really hits,” Buck doggedly continues, fidgeting nervously with his hands, “and we haven’t even kissed or, or gone on a date yet, or anything. So, sleeping together right off the bat is probably, like, bad manners or something⁠—”

“Buck,” Eddie repeats.

“—So you should go home and enjoy your evening and I’ll text you when my rut’s finished. And it’ll be fine, you know, it’s what I’d planned for, originally, so it’s not like I’m really missing out on anything. And once it’s over and my instincts have chilled the fuck out, then maybe we can⁠—”

“Buck,” Eddie says firmly, pressing his hand to Buck’s mouth to stop his rambling. “I’m gonna need you to take a deep breath for me, sweetheart.”

Buck sucks in a shaky inhale, his lips trembling beneath Eddie’s fingertips.

“Now, do you want to tell me what’s really got you all twisted up?” he asks. “Because, up until now, we’ve been on the exact same page about all this. About us. About handling your rut together. And if you really want to wait, that’s perfectly fine, we can move as fast or as slow as you want. But, it feels like maybe there’s more to it.”

That’s all it takes for Buck to fold.

He pulls Eddie’s hand away from his mouth and grasps it in his own, steels himself, then says, “I’m sure you noticed that I, uh… Kinda lost it on that guy from the last call.”

“That’s not how I would’ve described it,” Eddie says mildly. “But sure, you stepped in.”

“I shouldn’t’ve handled it like that,” Buck says miserably. “I didn’t need to get all⁠— You didn’t need me to⁠— But I saw him getting up in your face, screaming at you, and then he shoved you and I just… saw red.” Another shaky breath. “And I know I overreacted, you didn’t ask me to butt into the situation like, like I’m your alpha, like it’s my place to⁠—”

“Aren’t you, though?” The words fall out of Eddie’s mouth of their own accord. “Isn’t it?”

And Buck goes perfectly still.

“You can’t possibly think that you’ve done something wrong,” Eddie says gently. “That you’ve overstepped in any way.”

Buck’s kicked-dog expression makes it clear that this is exactly what he thinks.

“Buck,” Eddie sighs. “Maybe we’re not officially bonded, but I think we both know that it’s just a matter of when, not if. Because you’re it for me, Evan Buckley. You are my mate. I’m yours and you’re mine.”

He lets that statement linger for a second, holding Buck’s gaze so he understands just how serious he is.

“So, if you really want to spend your rut cycle alone, that’s totally fine,” Eddie continues. “I’m gonna be here, regardless. But if you’re holding back because you think you’re supposed to, or you’re afraid of moving too fast? Don’t be. Because I’m all in, and I’m more than ready to get started on the rest of our lives together, so⁠—”

Buck grabs him around the waist and boxes him up against the side of the jeep, expression fierce and nostrils flaring.

“Have I told you lately how completely gone over I am on you?” he asks, holding him close.

Oh, that’s more like it.

“I had an inkling,” Eddie teases, arching into his touch. “But I’m always happy to hear it again.”

“I’m completely gone over on you, Eddie Diaz,” Buck tells him, leaning in until their foreheads tip together. “You’re everything to me. And I’m so fucking scared of messing things up with you.”

Eddie softens. “We’re gonna mess up, querido. You’re gonna spiral and I’m gonna get stuck in my head and we’re gonna argue every now and then. But we’re gonna forgive each other, make up, and move on because that’s who we are. That’s what we do. You have my back and I have yours. Always.”

“And you’re sure about this?” Buck asks, like he can’t help but check one last time. “You’re really sure about…?”

About me, he doesn’t say, but he doesn’t have to. It’s written all over his face. 

“You remember that kid from the pool call? Jordan?” Eddie asks. “I told him I’m in love with you.”

Buck’s eyes go wide, his mouth falling open in surprise.

“Told him you’re the love of my life, actually. Told him that you’re my alpha, that I’m gonna mate and marry you someday⁠—”

Buck’s eyes bleed crimson, his hands reach up to cradle his jaw, and for a second Eddie’s sure that they’re finally going to kiss. Instead they stand there clutching each other, their chests heaving in tandem, sharing a breath like they share everything else, and that’s somehow even more erotic.

“Buck,” Eddie whispers, aching for him.

“I know,” Buck says, and his voice has dropped so low it’s almost subsonic. “But the moment I get a taste of you, I’m not gonna be able to stop.”

[aphel1on]

having a complete thistle meltdown actually. might try to kill you all later with a poetry edit. maybe a fic if i fail to contain the brainrot

[never-quite-buried]

Bless the overnight emts & er staff who communicated with me, a psych patient presenting with panic attacks verging on fear of a heart attack or stroke and delusions of surveillance, as if i was a human fucking being. So not used to that but wow it was a change of pace. Being offered an ACTUAL benzo to stop the spiraling instead of a fucking benadryl was so refreshing. My mind is quiet right now and I’m so fucking grateful. I feel like a different, far more coherent and pleasant to be around, person.

Extra shoutout to my mom who sliced me up some cheese and an apple to snack on cause everything else sounded awful. I love you mommy😭

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

literally any romance trope is made better with monsters but unrequited romance specifically... gets me

[trashytracktales]

Omg can you please write some smut with Lando about the FIA gala??? He looks so hot in that suit and I need something about it🥵😭 Maybe after the gala ended and they’re back to their hotel or they fuck while they’re on the plane back to Monaco.

The FIA (Feral Instincts Arise) Awards | LN⁴

💌 REQUESTED by anon ──── I knew there would be requests for this the second I saw Lando on that carpet. Bon appétit 😛

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𐙚 summary ──── It's the 2024 FIA Awards, and Lando and his girlfriend can't help but steal a moment of passion, unable to resist the tension built through teasing touches and glances during such a glamorous night.

𐙚 pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/her reader

𐙚 rating ──── explicit

𐙚 category ──── F/M

𐙚 warnings ──── 18+, mature/sexual content, established relationship, teasing, mild public intimacy, smut, descriptive language, fingering, bathroom sex, swearing.

𐙚 word count ──── 3.2k

𐙚 date ──── Dec. 14, 2024

𐙚 a/n ──── I have nothing to say except that I am absolutely devastated that my role model and inspiration, Michèle Mouton has officially retired from her role as FIA Safety Delegate. I love her so much and will forever be grateful for the representation she provided for women in motorsport throughout the years. In other news, at least everybody looked so fucking hot last night.

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﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

IT WAS PURE torture for her to see him up on that stage from the beginning of the evening. She’d sat in the audience, her heart swelling with pride and gratitude for being able to be by his side during this exciting stage of his life — witnessing his hard work, his wins, and his dreams becoming reality. It's more than she ever imagined.

As she watched him, she realized she wasn't just proud of his accomplishments, but thankful to be the one he comes home to, the one who gets to share these moments that will live forever in both of their memories.

Standing up to cheer for him, as Lando’s name was announced for finishing second in the Drivers’ Championship, was a natural reaction. The applause was loud, a mix of respect and so much admiration for her determined racer boy who had fought tooth and nail all season.

McLaren’s triumph in the Constructors’ Championship only added to the celebration, the team beaming as they ascended the stage to accept their award.

While the room celebrated them, all she could think about was him — her man, standing under the spotlights, looking impossibly handsome in his perfectly tailored black suit and crisp white shirt. He looked perfect, from his styled curls to his sharp jawline and sweet, nervous smile. She felt very conflicted, overwhelmed with pride and love, yet squirming with a different kind of heat every time he looked for her in the audience. The way his dimple appeared when he smiled, the casual confidence in his voice as he gave his speech, and the glint of determination in his eyes as he thanked the team for having faith in him — every bit of it was intoxicating.

Now, at the dinner table, the atmosphere has shifted.

Glasses of champagne catch the glow, sparkling like liquid gold, as conversations hum softly among the elite of the motorsport world.

Lando sits beside her, relaxed in a way only he can manage after such a long, eventful evening. His suit jacket is draped over the back of his chair, his shirt sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal his forearms. He holds a champagne flute in one hand, the other resting lazily on her thigh beneath the table.

She can feel the warmth of his palm on her skin, his fingers flexing ever so slightly. It’s a casual touch — he’s sipping champagne, laughing at something Oscar just said — but the effect it has on her is anything but relaxed. Her heart races every time his thumb brushes against her soft skin, slow and intentional, almost like he knows exactly what he’s doing to her.

Her own glass of champagne sits untouched in front of her, her attention split between the conversation around them and the heat blooming under Lando’s hand. She tries to pay attention, nodding along while Andrea talks about some funny incident that happened in the garage during the last race of the season. But her thoughts keep drifting back to him.

She glances over at Lando, her breath catching at how effortlessly handsome he is, now that he’s more relaxed and in his element. The golden light softens the sharp lines of his face, making him look almost ethereal. But it’s the dimpled smirk that forms as he catches her staring that sends a shiver down her spine.

“Everything okay, gorgeous?” asks Lando, his voice low enough that only she can hear.

She nods, swallowing hard. “Positive. I'm just incredibly proud of you, that's all.”

His smirk widens, his thumb stroking her thigh with more purpose now. “You’ve said that already,” Lando murmurs, leaning in just enough that his breath brushes her ear. “But keep going. I like hearing it,” he adds, pressing his lips to her cheek.

She smiles, looking away, determined not to let him fluster her further.

However, Lando has other plans. His fingers trace unhurried patterns on her inner thigh, edging closer to the hem of her dress. The movement is subtle — nobody at the table would notice — but to her, it feels like her skin is burning. Her breathing gets heavier, and she shifts in her seat instinctively, her legs parting just enough under the table to grant him more access.

“My good girl,” whispers Lando, smiling against her cheek, then turning his attention back to the conversation.

Her heart skips at the quiet praise, and she shoots him a quick, warning glance, her eyes wide with panic.

Lando looks completely unbothered, taking part of the dialogue like he’s the epitome of innocence. The slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips tells a very different story, though. A secret one, that only they know about.

“Stop it,” she whispers through gritted teeth, her voice so low that it’s practically a breath.

Obviously, he doesn’t. If anything, her quiet protest seems to spur him on. The pads of his fingers creep higher, brushing dangerously close to the heat between her legs. She grips the stem of her champagne flute tightly, her knuckles white as she tries to take her first sip of alcohol of the night — at least then she'll have something to blame if anyone asks her why she got so flustered all of a sudden.

“Lando,” she warns, her voice soft but firm.

“Hm?” he hums, his expression completely neutral as he keeps his attention to Oscar, who’s recounting his Turn 1 incident from Abu Dhabi.

She bites her lip, willing herself not to squirm in her seat. She almost can not believe how shameless Lando is, then she remembers all the times he tested her patience when they were in public. At that, her free hand drops to her lap, fingers wrapping around his wrist in an attempt to still his movements. He doesn’t pull away, but he also still doesn’t stop. Instead, his thumb presses a little harder, a constant reminder of his presence.

“You’re squirming, baby,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with amusement. “People are going to notice.”

“Then stop,” she repeats quietly, her tone sharp enough to earn a quick, curious glance from Andrea, who's sitting across from her. She ends up forcing a small smile, nodding, then turning back to Lando.

He chuckles under his breath, leaning in just slightly so his words are for her ears alone. “But we’re having so much fun,” he teases.

Her body betrays her as heat pools low in her belly, and she can’t stop herself from shifting again, her legs spreading a fraction wider. Lando takes full advantage of the movement, his fingers grazing higher until they’re just shy of where she needs him most. She glares at him, her eyes filled with need and her cheeks burning when his fingers slide easily over her lace panties, pressing harder on her warmth. As a response, her body jerks, and she barely suppresses a gasp, her nails digging into his wrist.

“I hate you,” she mutters under her breath, her voice shaky.

His grin returns, and he tilts his head, finally looking at her again. His gaze is dark, heated, and he looks entirely pleased with himself. “No, you don’t,” says Lando, so sure of himself.

It’s a miracle she doesn’t combust on the spot.

Because he's right — she doesn't hate him, she hates the fact that they're in public and she's incredibly turned on, but there's nothing she can do about it.

Finally, she can breathe normally when he withdraws his hand from between her legs, just as casually as he’d started. Her body is still buzzing with the lingering traces of his touch as she places her hand lightly on Lando’s shoulder. Slowly, she rises from her seat, her fingers squeezing just enough to send him a silent message only he’d understand.

At that, Lando’s heart stutters for a beat, his mouth suddenly dry as he watches her glide gracefully toward the bathrooms. The way her dress hugs her curves doesn’t help the growing situation in his pants — it’s like she knows exactly what she’s doing to him, a small punishment for what just happened between them. He tries to act like he's not affected, emptying his glass of champagne while his eyes turn back to the table, but his focus is scattered.

His hand still tingles from touching her under the table, and now he’s left to deal with the knowledge that his teasing had gotten to her.

Oh, how the tables have turned.

Minutes tick by, though they feel like an eternity.

Lando finds himself forcing a laugh at something Oscar says, remembering how impossibly talkative his teammate gets when he has a few drinks on board. He shifts in his seat, trying to mask his growing anticipation, but she’s all he can think about. His fingers drum against his empty glass, the weight of the moment making it almost impossible to sit still.

Then, his phone buzzes inside his pocket, her name lighting up the screen.

He doesn’t need to answer to know it’s just a diversion, and she’s not waiting for a conversation, either — she’s just giving him an out.

Lando clears his throat, “Sorry, I have to take this,” he says, giving the table an apologetic smile, as he pushes back his chair and making his way out of the dining area with purpose.

His heart pounds in his chest as he walks toward the bathroom, careful not to seem too rushed, but acutely aware of the tension building inside his body with each step he takes.

The hallway leading to the bathrooms is quieter, lined with soft, ambient lighting and artwork that screams understated luxury. He takes a turn, his steps slowing as he spots her standing in front of the mirror inside the women's restroom. The space itself is elegant, all marble countertops and gold fixtures, with sleek stalls and huge mirrors.

She’s touching up her lipstick, her purse resting next to her, the subtle curve of her smile betraying the fact that she knows he’s behind her. Lando approaches slowly, his footsteps soft against the polished tile. When he’s close enough, his hands settle on her waist, his touch firm yet familiar as he pulls her closer.

“There you are,” he says, his voice low and full of heat. “Worried about your makeup when it’s just going to smudge off you anyway?”

Her smile turns into a smirk as she meets his gaze in the mirror. “God, you’re the worst,” she teases, her tone light but laced with something more intimate.

Lando chuckles while she turns in his arms. Her hands slide up his chest, her touch lingering as she looks up at him, her eyes dark with intent.

“Are you sure it can’t wait until we get back to the hotel?” asks Lando, even though he already knows the answer, because he knows the look she has painted all over her face very well.

Her lips brush against his cheek in a warm, lingering kiss before her breath tickles his ear. “Baby, that's hours away.”

She intertwines her fingers with his, and leads him to one of the stalls at the end of the bathroom. The space is just as luxurious as the rest of the venue — tall wooden doors that reach from ceiling to floor, polished brass locks, and a sense of privacy that makes it feel more like a secluded room than a bathroom stall. As soon as they step inside, the door locks with a soft click, and every ounce of restraint disappears.

Lando’s lips are on hers instantly, hot and demanding, his hands already traveling to the hem of her dress. There’s no time to waste, with all those people back at the table who could realize at any moment that it is no coincidence that they are both missing at the same time.

His hands slide up her thighs, pushing the fabric of her dress higher until he reaches the thin band of her panties. His fingers slip beneath the lace, tugging them down in one swift motion before his hand returns, sliding between her legs and finding her completely soaked.

“Fuck,” he hisses, his forehead resting against hers as his fingers dip into her heat. “All this from a bit of touching?”

Her breath comes out in a shaky laugh as she clutches his shirt. “No,” she whispers, “All this from watching you on that stage, sitting next to you the entire night, seeing how people were cheering for you — and then from a bit of touching.”

A cocky smirk tugs at Lando’s lips. “That so?” he asks, pressing a finger into her, his pace measured as he stretches her slowly.

She gasps, her head falling back against the door, and he takes the opportunity to kiss her neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. A second finger joins the first, curling inside her as his thumb circles her clit, making her see stars.

Her hands, trembling with anticipation, move to his belt, fumbling for a moment before she pushes his pants down just enough to free his hardened cock. Her touch is soft at first, her fingers wrapping around him and stroking slowly, making his jaw clench.

She looks up at him, her lips curving into a teasing smile as she echoes his earlier words. “All this from touching me under the table?”

“Shut up,” he growls, grabbing her thigh and hitching it around his hip. His cock presses against her entrance, teasing her as he slides the tip through her slick folds.

“You shut up, and fuck me already,” she says, her voice thick with desire.

He doesn’t need to be told twice. With one swift thrust, he buries himself inside her, both of them gasping at the full sensation. The stretch is so sweet and perfect, and he pauses for just a moment, letting her adjust before pulling back and thrusting again, harder this time. Her back presses against the door, the cool wood contrasting with the heat of his body as he sets a relentless pace, in and out of her tight pussy. His hands grip her thighs, spreading her wider for him as he drives into her, each movement hungrier than the previous.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Lando groans, his lips brushing against her ear. “Perfectly thight around me, baby. Always so sweet and eager, aren’t you?”

She clings to him, her nails digging into his shoulders as he angles his hips, hitting a spot that has her biting back a cry. “Lan,” she breathes, her voice shaky and full of need, while trying to mimic his rapid movements.

“That’s it,” he encourages her, his voice rough as his fingers dig into her hips. “Let them hear you, baby. Let everybody know how well you take my cock.”

Her head falls on his shoulder as he thrusts deeper, harder, his cock dragging against every sensitive spot inside her. The tension coils tighter and tighter in her belly, her body trembling as she teeters on the edge.

“Lando, fuck,” she moans wetly into his shoulder, feeling her pussy clenching around his length. “Shit, baby. Yes, don’t stop.”

As he buries himself so deep inside her, Lando realizes that's what he wants to do for the rest of the evening — the rest of his life, as a matter of fact. His lips part as he feels her walls twitching around him, making him — if that's even possible — even harder for her. His breaths come out in spasms, letting out a small cry of pleasure as his chest crashes against hers violently.

Sensing that she’s so close, Lando’s hand ends up slipping between their bodies to rub her clit in time with his thrusts. “Come on, baby. Let me feel you.”

“Are you—oh, fuck,” she tries to speak, but all her thoughts are focused on how good he makes her feel.

“Yeah, yeah,” Lando assures her, “Right behind you, love.”

It only takes a few more thrusts before she shatters around him, her walls clenching hard as her orgasm washes over her. Her moans are muffled against his neck as he continues to fuck her through her release, chasing his own high. His movements grow erratic, sloppier, his grip on her tightening as he finally lets go, spilling into her with a low, guttural moan.

For a moment, they can’t hear anything else except the soft whir of ventilation and their labored breathing. Their bodies stay pressed tightly together as the echoes of their pleasure lingers in the small space.

Her chest heaves against his as she exhales shakily, her lips brushing his neck, then up his jaw in a silent thank you.

Lando smiles, slowly pulling out of her, his cock still hard and sensitive from his release. She shudders at the sudden emptiness, but before she can speak, his hand slips between her thighs again. His fingers slide inside, pushing some of his cum and their mingled release back into her.

“Lando,” she gasps, her body clenching instinctively around his fingers.

His breath falls hot against her skin. “Gotta make sure you feel it all night.”

Her cheeks flush at his words, and she bites her lip, torn between glaring at him and melting into his touch. He strokes her lazily, savoring the way her body responds to him even now.

“Insane behavior, Norris,” she exhales sharply, finally looking up at him.

“My brand,” he smirks back at her. “But what about you, hm?” he asks, his tone soft, but teasing as his eyes rake over her wrecked expression. “Going back knowing you’re filled up so good?”

She rolls her eyes at him, but the heat in her gaze betrays her. “You’re unbelievable.”

“You love it,” he quips, fixing a strand of her hair and then kissing her deeply one last time.

She smiles against his lips, brushing her thumb over his mouth to wipe away the faint smudge of her lipstick. Then, leaning up, she presses a soft kiss to the tip of his nose. “Don’t take too long, champ.”

With that, she exits the stall, glancing once in the mirror to make sure she looks composed, and collecting her purse before heading back to the table.

When she returns to her seat, the conversation flows just as before, no one paying much attention to her absence beyond a polite glance. Her heart pounds in her chest, the sensation of being so intimately connected to Lando still fresh in her mind as she settles into her chair. She picks up her glass of champagne, finishing it in one go, her hands steady despite the warmth still coursing through her body — and the wetness between her legs.

A few minutes later, Lando comes back, his phone pressed to his ear as he pretends to be mid-conversation. His expression is casual, his voice light as he murmurs something unintelligible before slipping his phone back into his pocket and taking his seat.

But as soon as he sits down, Oscar’s eyes narrow, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

Lando catches the look, frowning slightly as he tilts his head. “What?” he asks silently, his expression confused.

Oscar doesn’t answer, instead he points directly at Lando’s bowtie, which is noticeably crooked.

Lando’s eyes widen as he glances down, and straightens it as casually as he can, his cheeks turning faintly pink.

“It's windy outside,” Lando mutters under his breath, low enough that only Oscar can hear.

His teammate just grins knowingly, leaning back in his chair. “Whatever you say, mate.”

PREVIOUS LN⁴ ONE-SHOT

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© trashy track tales, 2024

[bunnis-monsters]

Cat hybrid reader going through her first heat after taking heat suppresent pills all her life with werewolf husband(NSFW obv). This sounds kinda cute in my head.... I can't explain it.... Like getting married and then finally deciding that you want to let yourself go through a natural process which you were suppressing all your life.

Happy 5k! If this isn't something you'll write, I am sorry, please do not block me, I can't tell if this is following the rules or not.

Your husband held your hand as you started the morning without taking your heat suppressant pill for the first time.

You wanted to have kittens with him so badly, and he wanted to fuck you full of pups, so the two of you decided that it was beast for you to temporarily stop taking them so you could mate properly.

“You think it’ll be okay?” he asked, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand.

You frowned, leaning against him. “I’m not sure… it’ll take a few days for the suppressant to leave my system. I’ll find out then…”

And find out you did.

Your husband returned home after a long day of work, only for his cock to immediately strain against his pants when he picked up the smell of your heat. He could hear your desperate little mews from the bedroom, walking in to see you crying and begging for release.

You had never felt such an ache in your cunt, and had never really felt the urge to masturbate so you had no idea what to do. He watched you struggle to finger yourself and play with your clit, your pretty kitty tail rubbing against your fat, wet pussy.

“Poor baby, can’t even make herself cum…”

He fucked his fingers into you, making your back arch. “Mmph! P-please, need more!”

You panted, your body feeling like it was on fire. His fingers were a little help, but it was like throwing a bucket of water on a house fire.

You needed more.

“Shh, sweetheart. Gotta stretch you out, okay? Can you be my good girl and wait for me?”

He moved his fingers in a scissoring motion, trying his best to stretch you out as quickly as possible.

You nearly lost it when you felt him kiss your inner thigh, his lips moving to your fat pussy. He licked your clit, sucking on it as his fingers kept fucking into you.

After a few moments you cried out, cumming on his fingers and writhing on the bed. Orgasming while in heat was like nothing you’d ever felt before!

Your entire body spasmed as he pulled out his fingers from your aching pussy with a wet squelch. It took him a second to compose himself, watching your pussy ooze. There was a mess under your hips already, and your scent alone was driving him insane!

He already towered over you, but now he seemed to loom over your body like a predator ready to pounce on its prey.

He rolled you onto your fat tummy, lifting your hips so he could properly mount you. By now, he was going off of pure instinct, ready to breed his fertile little mate.

“Mew…”

You let out a pathetic little meow as he sunk into you. The two of you had sex before, but now it was an entirely different experience.

The pleasure was multiplied tenfold, and he was so much more intense than he had been previously. “Wanna make puppies with you! W-wanna-!”

You buried your face into the pillow as he pounded your kitty cunt. His grip on your tail made you cry out, arching your back so he could reach you better.

Your hips and legs were easily lifted off the bed as he began using your fat pussy to get off, his mind fat gone. You didn’t mind, the feeling of him knotting you and filling your belly with cum over and over again was the only thing helping to calm the heat in your body.

The next day, your mate fussed over you, feeling terrible that he went overboard and lost control.

“I’m sorry, little one… your heat, it just-“

You butted your head against him affectionately, purring as he began to pet you.

“I think it’s what I needed… thank you for being with me for my first heat.”

“Of course… I’m your husband and mate, it’s my responsibility to take care of you.”

The two of you spent the morning cuddling in bed, soft purrs and loving mews filling the air.

——————

NSFW TAGLIST: @sunset-214 @screaming-crying-screamingagain @strawberrypoundtown @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @j3llyphisching @unforgettablewhvre @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljr

[elysianightsss]

John, he’d been waiting for this moment, been waiting for you to come through the door with tired eyes, an ache in your bones and your head pounding so much you were disappointed that your instincts had kicked in when you slipped on some ice outside and caught yourself instead of letting yourself get knocked the fuck out. So disappointed.

And after a long train ride into the beautiful countryside, a taxi ride to the rustic cabin that always looked more like a cottage to you, you weren’t even bothered about special greetings anymore.

You practically collapsed on John’s lap, curling up there. Your sleeves pulled over your fists because you once again forgot a coat on the way out of your flat. Rubbing your tired eyes with said sleeve covered fist, you mumbled out a sleepy ‘hello’ to which he chuckled pulling your hand away from your now red eye.

“Hello to you too love.” You snuggled further into his neck, thankful that he had trimmed his mutton chops and beard down so they weren’t massively bushy and tickling at your nose like last time. “Long day?”

“The longest.” At this he grinned. John had been waiting for you to have a bad day at work so he could convince you to quit and live off of his money. He’d mentioned it so many times before but unfortunately you always thought he was joking and when he had rasped it into your ear while he was buried deep inside you, you thought that he was just being his usual possessive self.

Not fucking true. Okay it’s partly true, but John was serious. He wanted to put you up in his well polished cabin. Wanted to marry you so you couldn’t argue against him when he said ‘what’s mine is yours’. Wanted to come back from missions to find his cute little wife in his bed. He wanted to spend his free time gardening and baking with you. Going to the farmers market with you and he always wanted to try his hand at painting.

John Price wanted nothing more than to come home to you swollen with his child. Couldn’t wait to take leave so he could take care of you properly. Desperately wanted nothing more than to be there when you bore his child, holding your hand and telling you ‘you’re doing so well, my brave girl’. Wanted to see the sweet little baby that you made together on your hip while you told him all about the new curtain samples you got because ‘the ones in the den are ghastly’ as you so eloquently put it.

And now this was his chance to broach the subject seriously with you. If you agreed, which was a big chance because of how dishevelled you looked and how exhausted you must have been feeling. Then that was brilliant.

If you said no? Maybe he would have to resort to the old ways. Getting you fired. Getting you evicted. Taking all the fight out of you until you truly are broken and begging him for help. It’s not nice but it’s necessary.

“I have something I want to discuss with you sweet’art.” . . .

[daemonbrain]

Part 1

3.5k, cw: ghosts a pervert and stalker, readers husband is a piece of work, brief mentions of sex, explicit, not proofread

Simon Riley wasn’t one for the romantics, he was a simple man. Wake up early in the morning just as he would on base, complete his training regimen, take a quick shower, and rot away in his one bedroom one bathroom apartment until he's recalled for a mission. A mundane life for the soldier who dealt with life-or-death circumstances just as many times as he’s brewed himself a cup of tea.

But even Simon had things to look forward to. After enduring the monotonous routine of his week he’d practically sprint to the butcher's shop, not for love of the finer cuts of meat one could find, but to see his bird. 

Still the fittest thing he had ever seen, your relationship evolved from standing with your back turned to his debauched stares to you actually saying hello to him. Slowly hello turned to little conversations. By conversations, it mainly consisted of you prattling on about one thing or another while Simon grunted out a short “yeah?” or “hm.” Sometimes he felt bad that his pretty little thing who always had endless things to say spoke to him, someone who was pretty much a brick wall in conversation.

But, ah well. He couldn’t think of you banging on the headboard while he fucked you and fully pay attention to what was said in his defense.

At times he didn’t know whether to scold or praise your ability to dole out kindness to even a cold bastard like him. A stranger was what he was, and you still managed to speak to him as if he were any other man you’d meet on the street.

He didn’t deserve it, he knew that. Not with the things he has done to others. Things that would send your pretty little head toppling off your shoulders if you knew. Not with the way he prowled behind as you shakily made your way up the slippery sidewalk, plastic bag with groceries in hand.

He didn’t deserve it, but he was sure as hell certain your fuckwit of a husband definitely didn’t deserve it. That prick left you walking alone and cold the whole way home, letting you know minutes before he was supposed to pick you up from the butcher’s shop. 

That pathetic guy didn’t want to take care of his wife? Didn’t want to pay attention to his girl? Well fine, he didn’t need to. Simon would. 

As if it physically pained him to watch you have to lift a finger, he sped up his pace and loudly cleared his throat from behind.

Whirling around in fright, your tensed shoulder immediately relax upon meeting Simon’s eyes. Your body shivered from the winds, yet you beamed at him with the warmth of the fuckin’ sun. 

“Simon! What are you doing here?” You chirped out in greeting, clasping your hands together as the bag dangled from your fingers. You waited for him to stalk up to you, broody as ever. 

His pretty little songbird, who tweets out her hellos even when the frigid weather demands a more mellow tone.

In his usual unsettling manner, he stops right in front of you. “I live up this way.” He lied. 

“Really?! I’ve never seen you coming up this way.” He was so close. He had to crane his neck downwards to look at your face, cheeks and nose probably frozen from the biting wind. Your brows furrowed in what he assumed to be suspicion, and he truly wondered for the first time if you actually had a semblance of survival instinct after all.

Raising a brow, he points to a random building in the distance. He picked something far enough away from your own home to quell any unease.You lived in that reddish-brown building about two blocks away. Though you’ve never told him that.

“Just righ’ up there. Usually don’t go this way, but the other route is closed off.”

Your furrowed brows quickly correct themselves at his words and you assume your resting expression, one much softer. “Well… we might as well head up together then!” You laughed in joy and Simon felt his cock twitch for similar reasons. It seems the concept of “stranger danger” wasn’t drilled into your head hard enough during your formative years. 

He’d never dream of doing something to hurt your cheery demeanor, but he couldn’t say the same for others. People can be nasty and, if you survived this long without that bubble being burst, he’d be more than happy to tear apart the prick who’d try. Pricks like your husband.

Wasn’t it a soldier's duty to protect the peace? Something like that anyways. 

He noticed the way your poor fingers stiffly held on to the bag, the weight harder to carry because of the chill in the air. His hands itched to help.

You quirked your head to the side due to his lack of anything to say and Simon merely jutted his head towards what you carried, “Give it ‘ere.” Your mouth opens to protest, but Simon doesn’t give you the opportunity as he easily plucks the bag from your hands. “Come on,” He began to walk again while ignoring his bird’s shrill whistles of objection to his help “You’ll catch a cold out ‘ere if we don get’cha inside soon.”

Catching up to his long strides, you approach from the right and sigh. You’re inclined to tell him it’s really not necessary, but the heat that bloomed in your chest as a result of his breathy chuckle interrupted you.

You didn’t even need to ask him to help... he just did. 

You couldn’t help the way your eyes wondered about his large frame, and he was huge. You had to admit the first time you had spoken to Simon you were a bit rattled when you stuck your hand out to shake his. It was maddening the way he never made a sound, the way his steps quietly padded along the floor when he went up to the counter at the butcher’s shop to pay. 

Occasionally you felt your skin prickle everytime he stood behind you. Whenever you gathered the courage to take a peek you would be met with the sight of him tapping away at his phone without a care, hood of his jacket concealing most of his face. 

Though you could’ve sworn his phone was upside down once?

Cars whizzed past and you shook away those thoughts. Simon happens to be a quiet type, nothing to judge him for. 

“... Thank you. You know, you’re a real nice guy.” Shoving your hands into the pockets of your jacket, Simon slows his steps just enough to move behind you. “Simon?” You turn your head side-to-side in confusion as he nudges his way to your other side.

“Wha’?” He huffed while putting himself between you and the road. 

Odd.

The two of you got closer to the building and in a practiced stop you both pause at the entrance. About to speak again, you’re cut off by the loud ring of your phone. Looking down you see your husband's photo pop up on the screen. With a sigh, you hold up a finger to your companion and answer.

“Hey hun, is something wrong? You said you had a meeting?” You could hear the exhale of annoyance which escaped him before he responded.

“I’m working late tonight. I can’t make it for dinner. Make sure to leave me a plate before you go to bed though.” Of course. He was always late nowadays. One project or another he would say before rolling to face away when you asked him about his day before bed. 

You were his wife! You’d make time for him no matter what, and normally you wouldn’t want to be a bother, but the way tears threatened to bead your waterline in frustration caused your voice to harden a fraction.

“Again? Really? They’re working you a bit hard, don’t you thi-” 

“I have work. I’ll talk to you later.” 

You blink owlishly at Simon who looks back in silence. You hear the beep indicating the call has ended. Slowly, you pull your phone away from your ear both saddened by your husband's cold words but also the humiliation of your new friend witnessing the way you were clearly hung up on by your own spouse.

You wanted to turn heel and retreat into the privacy of your apartment. Cook up a meal which will grow cold on the counter and curl into your bed while incessantly tracking the minutes until you hear the door open.

Simon’s eyes narrowed as if he wanted to burn a hole through your phone, and he waited for you to gather yourself.

“I- um,” letting out an awkward chortle, you scratch the back of your neck. “Looks like I'm alone for dinner tonight.” You managed a disingenuous smile. Simon didn’t seem like the type to be able to pick up on subtle social cues like that, you doubt he’d think anything of your words.

“Well I better get back inside… it's freezing out here. Thanks for your help with my bags I-I just have to get started on cooking right now, so.” You reached for your groceries and saw the strange look in his eyes soften a bit. As you pivot towards the entrance, you hear a gruff call.

“ ‘m pretty hungry righ now.”

…How could you be such an idiot! He carries your bags for you, probably chilled to the point of numbness, and you don’t even invite him in for something to eat. Not even a hot drink. All because of your own selfish discomfort?!

“Oh gosh, that was rude of me. Simon, you wanna come in? I have enough to whip you up a plate if you’d like. A ‘cuppa’ as well. Is that what you say?” You asked.

Simon was a kind man. He was intimidating, but surely it was okay to let him into your personal space. After all, the only person who would object to his presence was currently holed up at his office.

“Brought it up for a reason. That’d be great, love.”

You couldn’t help the way your heart pattered in your rib cage at the endearing pet name. Kind words from a kind man. That’s all. You willed your heart to slow with images of your husband, to whom you had the utmost respect for.

The two of you made your way up to the spacious apartment. You bent over to unlace your shoes and take off your coat. It doesn’t go unnoticed how it took Simon a moment to follow suit. When he stood to his full height, a gentle warmth swelled within you when met with the sight of his broad build in the now seemingly small walls of your home. He looked as though he crowded the room more than any of the furniture.

You felt a bit hazy when you moved to the kitchen. You shouted back to Simon who stood put at the door, “Feel free to make yourself comfortable! Go ahead and sit down anywhere.”

Like a flower, you needed your fix of sunlight. You had lots of windows in your apartment to let the natural light in, a giant one looking into your living room. Simon would see you watching your silly shows, tapping away at your laptop while snuggled under a blanket in this very spot. Soon he’d show you the value of privacy, closing the blinds, locking everything before bed. 

There were shady people in the world. Those who’d feed off of your sweet carelessness like it was the best thing to touch their depraved mouths. That wasn’t fair to his bird. 

“ ‘m gonna go to the loo.” and before you even had the chance to give him directions, you watched the Brit make his way to the restroom unprompted.

It wasn’t fair, but he would make it fair. He would keep those bastards far away from you, guard your blissful paradise. Keep you ignorant.

So what if his methods were unconventional? So what if he’s followed you home dozens of times. It was to keep you safe. So what if he spent any free time he had watching you through the windows from the building across yours. 

Closing the door behind him, his lips quirked up at the sight of your things strewn about. Makeup, hair products, lotions taking up all the space on your side of the sink. In the mirror, his eyes caught on the laundry hamper sat in the corner. He had been here once before.

So what if he has come into your apartment during the late hours just to catch a whiff of your scent. Just to pull the blanket you had knocked off, deep asleep, while on the couch waiting for your prick husband. You needed someone. He could do good by you, or at least try his hardest to.

With practiced ease, he turns to open the hamper. Hands grabbing with the eagerness of unwrapping a present only to be met with a sorry sight.

“For fuck sakes”  He whispered.

You and your cleaning. The damn thing had been emptied out of all things with your lovely fragrance, tossed in the wash. With the quick roll of his eyes, he quietly puts the lid back on to the stupid thing.

He had been much luckier last time. After taking it upon himself to sneak in and close a window you left wide open, he had the urge to explore around. Fast forward to when he arrived at his treasure chest (the laundry basket) he was rewarded for his considerate act. He had nabbed a dirty pair of panties with sheer ecstacy. 

In the natural progression of things, his cock had hardened with urgency. He had stroked himself eagerly to the thought of your soft, snoozing breaths. A bead of pre-cum already poised to roll down his shaft. You drove him mad, only a few walls separating the two of you. He could walk over to you now, shove your legs apart and sink himself into paradise, in pure euphoria. He continued to jerk himself to the edge of his peak. He had taken in the sight of everything from your loofah to your robe to the pink toothbrush unobtrusively in the corner.

A shiver went down his spine as he looked at the very same toothbrush at present. He wondered how many times you had unassumingly used it since that night.

Images of his desperation flooding back, a hint of something akin to guilt. He had squeezed your panties to his face as if he was trying to suffocate himself, impatiently grabbing for anything else that could connect him to you when he felt himself begin to strain under the stimulation. He had grunted when your scent filled his nostrils, unlike how his balls emptied themselves, his release spurting all over your toothbrush.

When he came back to his senses, he had turned the coated thing over and over in his hand. You’d be none the wiser if he just… washed it off, right? No harm in something you wouldn’t know about. He couldn’t bring himself to do more than lightly run it under the tap.

“Simon! Food is ready!” You shouted. Breaking from his stupor, he steps out of the restroom and moves back to the counter overlooking the kitchen. You gave him that sweet grin while setting the food in front of him.

“Looks delicious, love. Thanks.”

You sat on the seat beside him with a plate of your own. You both tensed at the proximity for the same reason. Taking your first few bites, you look at Simon who blissfully closes his eyes and groans with satisfaction.

That warm feeling begins to simmer in your belly wrongfully so. You turn back to chew before breaking the silence. “I’m glad! It’s been a while since i’ve sat down and ate with someone… it’s a lot different to watch someone actually enjoy something you put effort into.” He didn’t miss the wistful expression you wore. He wanted to fix it, he never wanted to see that pretty mouth fighting stay curved upwards.

Whether it be unknowingly or not, you brushed your knee against and for a moment you both paused in that position. The touch was light but it felt as though Simon’s body was overloaded with only you. Your touch, your eyes, your everything.

It took himself a second to recompose himself, but when he realized your body stayed put; his heart just about soared. Taking another forkful of food, he casually glanced at you and nudged his knee unmistakably to yours. The sound of your cutlery clanging onto the plate gives him a degree of satisfaction.

You simply kept looking down to your plate, whatever was in front of you, anything except his intense stare. Simon was a stranger. Simon was unsettling. Simon was in your home. Simon was so strong, so large he could manhandle you in ways your husband could never.

Your husband. Your life partner who you’ve remained loyal to for years. This was so wrong. You should be leaping out of your chair and separating yourself by 3 meters at least in protest.

So how come you allowed his hand to grip your thigh? You frowned, yet surrendered to his fingers which tilted your face towards him. You didn’t know Simon, but you’d be dense to miss the dark glint in his eyes as he takes in your hesitancy.

How the tables have turned. It was always you who initiated interaction with the morose giant, but as he held you firm in his clutches, you could only sit in wait for his next move. 

Testing your reaction, he slowly brought his face closer to yours. Braving his gaze, you could only recognize want. He pressed a gentle kiss to your jaw as you tilted your chin upwards. You weren’t sure whether it was to avoid his lips or grant him better access to your neck.

“No no no come back to me. Come back.” He urged you carding his other hand through your hair, tugging you back. He had to see his bird's face, commit her to memory. Would her expression be like what he imagined? Better?

With a shaky raise of your arm, you caress his face with uncertainty. He needed to fuck you. The most depraved, wicked parts of his mind demanded it. His blood went straight down south at your gentle touch. He needed you to feel him, to feel all of him. 

He would protect you from all the perversions those other tossers had to offer, with only one thing in return. To corrupt you from the inside with his own special brand filth. His fingers tightened ever so slightly in your hair.

“I wanna fuck you,” he leaned closer to your ear and nipped it “and I have a feeling my pretty bird wants the same thing, yeah?”

Simon’s words sent a jolt to your brain to sink further into the daze. Your lips parted and you turned to him with round eyes hiding the temptation swirling behind them. Your eyes wildly roved across his face, searching

He carried your things, he called you pretty, he ate your food, he talked to you, he wanted you, he wanted to fuck you, he wanted you to want to fuck him, you want to fuck him, you want to fuck him, you want to fuck him-

His impatience got the better of him when he pulled you into a frantic kiss. His lips were warm and the feeling of his hands holding you secure and upright only added fuel to the fire. How would they hold you when he took you to your bed? Would he be so kind?

Had Simon known your phone would ring loudly moments before finally getting what he wanted, he would have broken it with his own bare hands.

Your eyes cracked open to only be met with the sight of your husband’s contact photo and all at once your guilt hurtled at you. Sensing you pulling away, Simon couldn’t help but try and keep you to him for even a moment longer. He knew it was over when you pushed at his chest to break the connection.

“I’m- oh my gosh. I… i’m a horrible person! Shit! Shit!” You spiraled as you hurriedly got up from your seat and backed away from Simon as if his touch had burned you.

“Hey, hey it’s okay-” He attempted to console you, but was sharply interrupted with a tone he had yet to hear from you.

“No, no! You need to leave. Get out, please!” You screeched in shame. As Simon once again tried to approach closer to placate you, you only put a hand up with a hard look. “Leave. We shouldn’t have done that, it was a total betrayal of trust!” 

“Okay. Okay. Don’t worry, ‘m gone.” His arms went up in surrender as he mirrored your own backward movements.

Your mind really went blank as you took deep breaths to calm yourself, Simon’s heavy footfalls receding and eventually fading from earshot entirely.

While you focused on calming yourself from your “mistaken” judgement, Simon could only think of one thing. 

If his bird couldn’t be happy because that fuckin’ asshole was still in the picture, he’d have to weed out the problem from the root.

He was a dead man walking.

[on-a-lucky-tide]

cw: hair pulling, 141 sexcapade discussion.

"You know, I've never understood it," Gaz said, folding another hand as the cards Nik turned over on the table ruined his chance of a Full House. They'd had a few, so Gaz's brain was wading slowly towards its point when Soap folded too.

"Ye dinnae ken much, Garrick. Ye gonnae have tae narrow it doon."

Ghost raked in his winnings and then stood with a grunted, "need a slash."

Gaz scowled and flipped over one of the cards they'd been playing with before Nik could tidy it away. The set was raunchy, with depictions of busty girls in various states of undress and intimacy. The Ace of Spades had a brunette facing out of the card, her lover behind her with one hand in her hair. "Why do girls ask for this?"

"Why ask for doggy?" Soap asked, smirking around the top of his beer bottle.

"Nah, mate. The hair pulling. I've had at least two birds ask me for it. It can't be fuckin' good, can it?"

"Aye, well, I dunnae tend tae pull the freaky ones, so..."

"Alright, alright. Shut it. Nik, help me out here." Gaz looked over at their dealer, who was busy expertly shuffling the cards for the next round.

"There is a right way and a wrong way to pull hair, sergeant," Nik said.

Gaz raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?"

"Da, observe." Nik placed the deck down carefully and turned towards Soap. "The wrong way is to grab a random tuft," he lifted a large palm and snagged a handful of Soap's mohawk, shaking him from side to side, "and just start pulling them about. It is wrong. Hurts, no?"

"Ah, Jesus fuck, Nik," Soap squawked, batting at Nik's forearm. "Aye. Feels like ye scalpin' me."

Ghost returned, chuckling low in his throat at Soap's bleats of protest. He rolled his bally up over his nose and took a swig of bourbon, observing the little scene he'd stumbled back in on with interest. "Li'le scrote finally run his mouth too much, Nikolai?"

"Naw, Nik's showin' Garrick how t' pull a lady's hair in bed." Soap growled, head still tilted at an odd angle where Nik had scruffed the strip of ferret fur he called a hairstyle.

"Oh yeah?" Ghost's eyes slid over to Nik, lingering on the hand that released Soap's mohawk. "G'won then, show us the proper way."

"Regrettably, the sergeants both favour the short back and sides, but yours is longer." Nik rose to his feet, matching Ghost in height and bulk. Ghost's hackles should go up, but with Nik, they hadn't in years. It had something to do with how Price was around him, Ghost reckoned. When your damn leader relaxed, you were relaxed. Like a good dog. Nik spread his hands. "May I, lieutenant? Your mask will remain on."

"C'mon, L.T. Lessee."

"I'll buy you a drink at the pub when we get home, sir."

Ghost swallowed, levelling Nik with a heavy stare. "Ya pull my hairline as far as yours and we'll 'ave a problem," he murmured, emptying his glass before placing it down on the table. When Nik stepped into space, he got a hit of expensive cologne and engine oil that sat pleasantly on the back of his tongue. Damn handsome bastard too, all things considered. Ghost tried not to scrutinise what having him so close did to his heart.

Nik's hand settled on Ghost's shoulder first and then slid around the back of his neck, careful to keep his thumb tucked to avoid Ghost's throat.

"You slide your hand up their neck through the roots at the back," he said softly, his hand moving as he spoke, fingertips sliding beneath Simon's bally to the softness of his blond hair. "And you pull upwards, keeping your fingers close to their scalp."

What was left of Ghost's soul left his body momentarily as Nik pulled. His belly did a little flip, his knees suddenly weak, shoulders rising as he sucked in a shocked gasp. The sensation that bristled over his scalp settled behind his eyes, and they rolled closed as it continued down his spine. The world screeched to a halt as Ghost zeroed in on the man before him, his instincts firing off like sparkplugs in an engine struggling to turn over. Frozen.

Nik was watching him closely, his head tilted to the side. "It should not cause pain, but it is a... mammalian response, like a cat scruffing its kitten. It should inspire a feeling of pleasure in submission."

Ghost couldn't breathe. His eyes flickered open and he zoned in on Nik's dark eyes, the fullness of his lips and the unshaven scruff of stubble around his jawline. In that breathless moment, Ghost's entire body tingled with heat and want. He could feel Nik's warmth, so close and yet not touching him at all but for the hand in his hair; a sturdy bulwark waiting to catch him. What Ghost would give to press his face into the open collar of his shirt and rub through the dark hair he could see there, while--

"'Ear that, L.T.? Ye like a big fuckin' kitten."

Soap's jibe broke the spell and Nik released Ghost's hair, stepping out of his space to return to his seat. His gaze lingered on Ghost's eyes before he turned, and for a tense second Ghost was fockin' worried he'd be outed for whatever the hell that was. But Nik sat down with a nonchalant shrug.

"Shut it, Johnny," Ghost grunted. "Don' see what all the fuss is about."

"Aye, ye tell 'em, sir. Missionary with the lights off fully clothed is the only way, eh?"

Ghost flipped Soap his middle finger and grabbed his coat from the back of the chair. "Gonna hit the sack, long day tomorrow. Don' fuck around too late." He left the room at what he hoped was a reasonable pace, but his mind was already elsewhere, namely on the aching boner stretching down his right trouser leg. He was grateful no one could read minds; if he was thinking of Nik as he had a sad, furious and slightly drunk wank, then that was between him and god.

Nik watched Ghost's retreating back over the rim of his vodka glass, his head tilted to the side in thoughtful consideration. The embers he had watched flare to life in those somber brown eyes were unmistakable. He had seen similar in two twin baby blues only two mornings ago.

Khoroshego vam nastroyeniya i do vstrechi, Simon.

[b-lossm]

•+*Dogtooth*+•

Vi x reader smut

Synopsis: you see her for the first time in weeks, she's a pitfighter now,,, and she looks,,,so,,so stressed

18+ only, MDNI.

top vi, bottom reader, begging, hair pulling, praise, edging, pussy slapping, degradation, dacryphilia, face riding, marking, Hair pulling

How did you get here?

Well you actually know exactly how, you where searching for Vi, your best friend who mysteriously disappeared after the explosion of gray into Piltover. When you finally found her right after her match in a bar, you offered to take some of that stress off of her shoulders...

--

"V-Vi-- oh god-- fuck-- Violet please-, plea---oh!-- god please Vi let me eat you outt~" You whine, your hands find her messily dyed undercut to rub and pull at it while she slurps, soft moans coming from her mouth going directly into you messy cunt "W--why would i do tha--" slurrp "T--thaat princess?" she moans into your cunt, it always felt so good when she talked with her mouth full "y-your already relieving my stress enough" she comes up to take a breath, her fingers continuing their work. Its a lewd sight, your airy moans of her name leaving your mouth while your slick covers her chin and cheeks. You hold onto one of her pillows for dear life "B--bbb-ah!~ because i--i wanna' make you f' good" you squirm as you approach your high "Hold it" she commands and takes her place between your thighs again and moves just so painfully slow..

You squirm and instinctively squeeze her head in between your thighs and as quickly as this all started, she took her fingers out and slaps your cunt "Bad girl" she chuckles as you squirm and tear up slightly "Beg for it" she ghosts her thumb over your clit as you beg "Vi o-oh Vi ple- please, please let me c--cum please oh--oh my god please Vi--PLease Violet" you manage to get out "Good girl.." she pushes her fingers back into your messy cunt and goes back to lapping at your folds till you make a mess of her face and hand "H--haah" you moan and twitch as you come down from your high.

She chuckles and gives your cunt one more love tap "We aren't done you know" she pulls off her boxers and moves in to kiss you "lucky you, your wish is coming true" she moves in for one more kiss before asking "you wanted to eat me out right princess?" you nod desperately, she positions her wet kitty atop your mouth "tap m' thigh if its too much okay princess?" you nod again and pull her to sit on your face and get to munching. Vi moans and grinds down on your face "o--oh~ what a good girl.." she continues her motion, moaning whenever her clit bumped the tip of your nose.

"V--mpph vi I missed th--mph this" you moan into her cunt, wanting to make her feel the way you did just moments ago. She moans out "haaggh- missed you too princes-mmmph~~ princess" her moans become more desprate as she picks up her pace "G--god I missed you,, Missed this,, Missed your sweet face and cunt--fuck" Vi whines and picks up the pace "Don' know why the fuck I left--fuck baby girl m' coming" Her release then takes over her body, she desperately ruts against your mouth as you lap up every last drop just as she did for you before.

She collapses besides you and kisses you, tasting herself all over your mouth "Too bad I don't have m' strap" she cuddles into you, pushing her face into the crook of your neck to give you even more hickeys so your neck and collarbones match the inside of your thighs. You sigh softly "Come home with me?.......please?" you silently beg her, desperate for her companionship "mmkay princess" she kisses the top of your head "Rest, I'll be right here" she whispers into your ear and then falls asleep herself.

you mentally check two things off your motive list

Find Vi and bring her home

sleep with her

--------------------------------------------------------------

Hope you guys liked this!!!! um.. act two. was.. something!! [kill me now]

[sttoru]

·.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. your stressed lover comes home from a long day of work and finds you asleep. he can’t help but wake you up in a rather special way.

wc. 1.6k total

tags. dom!jjk men x sub!female reader (gojo, toji, sukuna). smut. general warnings: dark content — somnophilia (consensual). size difference because im self indulgent ; reader gets referred to as small. ehm they’re kinda depicted as perverts. rest of the warnings are given before each character.

GOJO SATORU; cw. cunnilingus. fingering. he’s a bit whiny. nicknames used ‘princess, sweets’. he cums untouched lol.

“mm, fuck. look at my sweet princess,” satoru sighs under his breath. he’s welcomed home by the sight of you sleeping peacefully on the bed, your hips lifted a bit as you rest on your stomach.

satoru’s voice is shaky as he mutters something to himself. he carefully sits on the edge of the bed, trembling fingers reaching out to trace the shape of your plump ass. he can’t not touch you—especially when you present yourself so nicely to him.

it isn’t long before his fingers dip under the material of your shorts. satoru gauges your reaction to his advances and notices the corners of your lips twitching. a sign you’re unconsciously feeling his warm touch.

“fuckfuckfuck. ‘m sorry, princess — i have to.”

satoru gives up any self-control that he had left. he doesn’t waste any time pulling down your shorts and panties to your knees. his already erect cock twitches in his pants at the beautiful scene; your wet cunt in all its glory.

he clenches his fists, desperately trying not to do anything. that determination does not last long.

in just a second, satoru’s already lapping up your juices, his hands firmly holding your hips still. his nails dig into your flesh and he moans once he feels your body instinctively pushing back against his mouth.

“mm, s’rry,” the sorcerer whines in a muffled voice. he knows you’re awake by now—judging purely by the increase of your little moans of pleasure. his tongue doesn’t stop moving between your spread folds, tasting you until your thighs are spasming.

you’re confused when you’ve awoken to a tingly sensation between your legs, though you quickly put two and two together. you’re too lazy to comment on satoru’s sudden actions, only babbling a soft ‘welcome home’ between whimpers.

satoru’s breath hitches the moment you tell him those words. those sweet words. like you don’t mind that he’s dragged you out of your slumber this way. it’s such a turn on—your acceptance to what he’s doing.

“yeah? oh god,” satoru’s nose bumps against your slit each time he moves his jaw, lewdly slurping the fluid your pussy produces. he can feel his dick throbbing against his pants, begging to be released, “ngh, can’t—gonna cum, sweets.”

your lover’s desperate whines make your fingers curl around the bedsheets. the sole image of him cumming in his pants just from eating you out pushes you over the edge as well.

you reach your climax at the same time. satoru lolls his tongue out to catch your juices, moaning loudly against your puffy folds as he feels it trickling into his mouth. he can feel a wet spot forming on the fabric of his boxers, “shit.”

the white-haired man removes himself from behind you, licking his lips for any residue. you lazily look over your shoulder at him with glazed over eyes. his big hands are already working on his belt and zipper.

satoru shows you the dark spot in his underwear and pouts, “ah, look what you’ve done to me, princess—made a mess out of my favourite boxers b’cause of you.”

FUSHIGURO TOJI; cw. tiny hint of implied age gap (reader early 20’s, toji early 30’s). p in v -> unprotected. spooning position. reader gets called ‘little girl, slut, whore’. degradation / objectification.

toji kicks his shoes off and makes a beeline towards his bedroom. he’s in a shitty mood after he had met up with a rude client. despite that, his lips curl up into a faint smile the moment he sees you laying on his bed.

“heh, there’s my little girl,” his voice is raspy, hoarse and utterly exhausted. the older man climbs under the covers and wraps his strong arms around your small figure. he nuzzles his nose into your hair, breathing in the nice smell of your shampoo.

toji wouldn’t be him if his hands didn’t wander all over your skin. his rough palms squeeze everywhere and anywhere—enjoying the feeling of your soft flesh in them. you subconsciously react to his touches by pushing your body back against his.

“. .do not,” toji hisses like you can hear him. he was already half hard on his way home as the thoughts of you clouded his mind, but now that he’s actually with you, he’s fully aroused. especially with your ass pushing back at his aching bulge.

he’s too lazy to get up and get himself off in the shower. thus, he starts off by humping the fat of your ass. the friction isn’t enough for the assassin and therefore he switches to the real thing.

“such a slutty fuckin’ thing. can’t keep my hands off ya,” toji groans into your ear, half hoping you’d hear all the dirty things he’s calling you. your pants are pulled down and your panties are pushed to the side—making way for his fat cock to drill into you.

your impatient lover adjusts your legs so he could have easier access to your tight cunt. the slow strokes inside you make you squirm and tighten up around his throbbing erection. this only riles toji up more.

“hah, y’can feel it even in y’r sleep, can’t you? my cock stretching your tight pussy out—my pussy,” toji corrects himself with a low moan. his warm breath hits the nape of your neck, his hands fondling you whilst he thrusts aggressively.

he doesn’t care if you wake up or not. he’s going to use your delicious body to relieve himself. you gave him the green light when he asked you if he could fuck you in your sleep when he needs it. so, there’s no reason to stop now.

you eventually jolt awake once the continuous stimulation become too much. if it wasn’t for toji’s hand on your mouth, you’d have woken up the neighbours with your loud and lewd moans.

toji scoffs. he keeps a tight grip on your face and thigh, not stopping the rough pounding he’s giving you. he sees your eyes roll back from the unexpected pleasure and he snickers.

his lips connect with yours, muffling your moans that way;

“hah, seems like you needed this as much as i did—waking up ‘n already moaning like a whore. missed me that much, huh?”

SUKUNA RYOMEN; cw. true form!sukuna. has two cocks woops. masturbation (m). turns into blowjob. hairpulling. reader gets called ‘brat’.

sukuna returns to his chambers. finally, after dealing with some sorcerers that’ve had challenged him for a battle. he’s tense, sweaty and obviously in need to blow off some steam. he knows just where to get said relief.

sukuna’s red eyes instantly spot your sleeping form on the middle of his kingsized bed. his favourite little human—resting without a care in the world. the innocent sight is one that sets his loins on fire.

“oi, brat,” the male speaks up as he sits on his side of the bed. the mattress dips to one side due to his huge form, causing your small body to automatically manoeuvre his way. you don’t seem to stir nor wake.

you’ve gotten used to sukuna’s demanding voice to the point that it doesn’t scare you anymore. he smacks his lips in frustration. guess he’ll take care of his problem himself for now.

low grunts fill the spacious room—sukuna’s head lolls back against the headboard whilst two of his hands move swiftly on his now exposed cocks. his sharp eyes are focused on your body, shamelessly checking you out. from the cleavage of your breasts, your clothed cunt to your perfect parted lips; all of you is turning him on.

“fuck, can’t believe this. .” sukuna curses under his breath. he can’t believe how weak he is for you. how his cocks throb and leak drops of pre-cum from just the sight of you sleeping. fully clothed at that.

whilst one set of his hands is busy touching himself, the other reaches out to grope your body. one hand on your chest and one on your ass. of course, sukuna doesn’t pass on the opportunity of smacking the soft flesh.

“i said get up,” sukuna clicks his tongue and tries to wake you again. this time you do actually wake up. a short, inaudible whine leaving your lips. you take a few seconds to process the view in front of you; your lover with both his thick cocks out, pre-cum making the lengths glimmer under the light of the lamp.

it got you horny. immediately. you slowly crawl over between his legs, like you know just what to do. sukuna raises an eyebrow—surprised by your lack of questioning. he’s amused at how fast you took the hint.

“that’s it. you’re learning fast,” sukuna sighs deeply the moment your lips wrap around his upper dick. your small hand jerks off the lower one. both stimulations at once makes the man beneath you grunt in satisfaction.

you still are and look extremely drowsy, though your devotion to sukuna knows no bounds. even in your half-asleep state. the king of curses pats your head—a surprisingly appreciative and loving gesture that he rarely does.

you bob your head carefully, not wanting to gag too much. however, the pace you set is too slow for sukuna who’s waited way too long to fuck you. in any way.

he bucks his hips—thrusting upwards into your hot mouth. his strong hands yank at your hair, keeping you in place as he hears your muffled whimpers of protest. not that he cares; you choking on his fat cock only adds to his pleasure.

“keep it up like that. fuck, where do you want me to cum? in your little mouth? yeahh, you’d like that huh, filthy girl. you’d have to work harder for it if you’re so desperate.”

REBLOG TO SUPPORT YOUR FAVORITE CREATORS !!

[fatecantstopme]

Help Me Remember

Pairing: Dean Winchester x wife!reader

Summary: Your memories have been taken from you and it's up to Dean to get them back.

Warnings: Angsty af, memory loss, canon violence, cursing, use of pet names. SMUT, oral (M & F receiving), light face fucking, unprotected sex (P in V), biting (minimal), dirty talk.

Three Weeks Ago

"God almighty, what is that smell?"

You were doing your best to avoid inhaling too deeply--the stench uncomfortably strong. "Rotting flesh."

"Dead body?" Dean asked.

You nodded. "Several, I think."

"Great." Dean stepped in front of you, the instinct to protect you always foremost in his mind. He stepped through the open doorway, quickly enveloped by darkness.

You heard him grunt lowly and you stepped forward, trying to see through the darkness, but even your flashlight didn't penetrate it much. "Dean?"

When he didn't respond, you felt a tightening in your chest. "Dean?" you called again, a little louder.

The silence was deafening--sending cold chills down your back as you stepped farther into the room. "Babe? Answer me."

You took another step forward and your foot collided with something sturdy on the floor in front of you. You trained your flashlight downwards and inhaled sharply as the light illuminated a body at your feet. "Dean!"

You dropped to your knees beside him to check for a pulse, foolishly opening yourself up to attack in such a vulnerable moment.

The last sound you heard was a dark cackle coming from your right just before you were plunged into complete darkness.

Dean awoke with a low groan, rubbing his temples in an attempt to alleviate the throbbing in his head. It took him several moments to get his bearings and remember where he was. As soon as the memories clicked in his mind, he called out your name. You didn't respond and he felt a cold desperation wrap around his heart.

"(Y/N)!" he yelled as he pulled himself off the floor. "Sweetheart? Where are you?"

He was met with complete silence, making his blood run cold. He couldn't find the flashlight he'd been carrying, so he pulled out his phone and turned on the flashlight, shining it into the darkness around him.

He immediately noticed the stench from earlier had dissipated, as had the total darkness that surrounded him in the moments before he'd lost consciousness. His flashlight had barely cut through the blackness, but his phone was able to light up the majority of the room around him with relative ease.

The room was completely empty. Not a single rotting corpse to be seen. No cause for the smell from earlier, nor any sign of what had caused the room to be plunged into complete darkness. More importantly, there was no sign of you.

Dean immediately ran from the room, hurriedly searching the rest of the abandoned home in the hopes of finding you passed out like he had been. When he'd searched every room to no avail, his panic had risen to untenable levels.

He called your phone, but it immediately went to voicemail. He left a frantic message before hanging up and calling Sam.

His brother answered on the second ring. "Dean? Everything okay?"

"Is (Y/N) with you?"

Sam could hear the panic in Dean's voice, causing his heart to race. "No...she was with you on that hunt in Colorado."

"I can't find her anywhere."

"What do you mean you can't find her?"

"I mean, I got knocked out and when I woke up she was gone. I've searched the whole damn house--she's gone, Sam!"

"Okay, breathe. She wouldn't leave you, so she's gotta be there somewhere."

"Well something knocked me out, Sam--and whatever the hell it was had to have taken (Y/N/N)."

"That doesn't make sense, Dean. You said it was a ghost--a basic haunting."

"Yeah that's what we thought it was! Clearly we were wrong."

"Alright, alright," Sam said in a soothing voice. "I'll pack a bag and head your way--we'll find her."

Dean let out a pained sound. "Hurry."

"I will."

**********

Present

You groaned in annoyance, rolling over in bed to slam your hand on the snooze of your alarm. When the incessant noise stopped, you sighed quietly, staring at the ceiling as light filtered in through the window.

You wanted to get out of bed and go to work about as much as you wanted to get hit by a car, but unfortunately the bills wouldn't pay themselves.

You dragged yourself out of bed and headed to the bathroom for a quick shower before getting ready for work. Thirty minutes later, you were grabbing your bag and heading out the door.

When you reached the office, you sat in your car for a few minutes, gathering whatever strength you had to get out of your car and walk through those doors. You hated your job--this office life was simply not for you. It was boring, but the paycheck was decent and you didn't have any other options.

You'd only had the job for a few weeks--it would be embarrassing to quit so soon after starting. Besides, the work was easy and your coworkers were nice enough.

You sighed quietly before getting out of the car and heading into the office building. You were greeted by several of your coworkers and you said your good mornings as you made your way to your office.

The day passed by uneventfully, just as every single day of the past few weeks seemed to. When 5pm rolled around, you packed up your things and left for the day. You decided to stop and get Chinese food on your way home--the urge to cook about as far away as the country of China was.

After picking up dinner, you made your way home. As you pulled into your driveway, you noticed an old black muscle car parked in front of your neighbor's house. You thought it odd given your neighbor was out of town, but the thought was gone as quickly as it came as your stomach grumbled hungrily.

You grabbed your things and headed inside, dropping your keys and purse by the front door. You tugged your shoes off, silently cursing whoever created high heels. You sat your food on the kitchen island and went to the fridge to grab a beer.

You plopped down at the island, quickly pulling the containers of delicious food from the bag. You groaned happily as you took a bite of food--finally sating the grumbling of your stomach.

Mid-bite, you heard a noise upstairs, causing you to freeze. You listened closely, almost certain there was someone in your house. You grabbed a large knife from the knife block on the counter and made your way slowly towards the stairs.

You went up them as quietly as you could, stopping on the landing to listen for more noises. You heard movement at the end of the hall, where your office was. You made your way toward the room, holding the knife in front of you.

When you rounded the corner, you saw a man standing in your office, looking through your desk. You steeled yourself before stepping fully into the room, yelling "hey!" as you entered.

The man looked up at you and froze, eyes flicking between your face and the knife in your hand. "Woah, easy there, sweetheart."

"Who are you and why are you in my house?"

The man looked slightly confused. "It's me, (Y/N)."

"How the hell do you know my name?"

The man started to come around to the front of your desk and you stepped towards him, brandishing the knife in what you hoped was a menacing manner. The man was significantly larger than you, but you didn't feel the fear you expected to feel. You felt oddly certain you could hold your own against him in a fight--which made zero sense to you. You'd never been in a fight in your life.

"Easy, (Y/N). Just put the knife down and we can talk."

"You broke into my house, asshole. No way am I putting down this knife."

His hands were still up in the air, but he didn't seem any more afraid of you than you were of him. "Okay, sweetheart, just relax. I can explain."

"Stop calling me that--I don't know you."

The man looked hurt by your words, but he seemed to shrug them off. "Sorry, sweet--shit. Sorry." He slowly lowered his hands, waiting for you to make a move. When you didn't, he lowered them completely. "My name is Dean Winchester."

He waited for a moment, hoping to see a flash of recognition on your face--but your expression remained blank. It was like a stab to the heart, but he continued. "Your name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N). You're 33 years old. Your parents' names are Lily and Carter. You were born in New Mexico, but you spent most of your formative years in London. You came back to the U.S. after the death of your parents when you were 19. We met a couple years later on a hunt in Arkansas. We've been inseparable ever since."

The hand holding the knife was shaking almost uncontrollably. There was no way he could know any of those things--you didn't talk about your parents or your childhood with anyone. Hell, you barely mentioned the existence of a personal life.

"How do you know all of that? I don't talk about my family with anyone."

"You did with me."

"But I don't know you--I've never seen you before in my life."

"Yes you have...you just don't remember."

"Excuse me?"

Dean sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "Three weeks ago, you and I were on a hunt in Colorado. It seemed like a routine hunt...but something went wrong. I was knocked unconscious and you disappeared. I've spent the last three weeks searching for you."

"I've never been hunting a day in my life."

"Look, I know it's confusing and I understand why you don't believe me, but I swear to you, it's the truth."

Much to your surprise, every instinct in your body seemed to believe him...to believe this man you'd never seen before, to trust the man who'd broken into your home, to believe the insane story he was telling you.

You slowly lowered the knife and exhaled shakily. "I don't understand what's going on, but my gut instinct is to trust you."

Dean exhaled gratefully. "You can trust me."

"If you're fucking with me--" you raised the knife for emphasis, "I swear I will beat the shit out of you."

Dean laughed softly. "I'd expect nothing less."

You shot him an odd look and shook your head. "You hungry? I have Chinese food downstairs."

"Sure. I could eat."

You nodded towards the door. "You first sunshine."

He walked ahead of you, making his way down to the kitchen with you in tow. He sat down at the island and you sat across from him, setting the knife on the counter beside you.

"Want a beer?" you asked.

"Absolutely."

You pointed at the fridge. "Help yourself."

Once he had his beverage, he sat back down, eyes watching you intently. You could tell there was something he wanted to say, so you called him out on it.

"It's just...hard to see you like this."

"I'm sure it is. It's uncomfortable for me too."

He winced. "Sorry, I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable. I've just really missed you."

You finally took a moment to really take in his features. You'd be lying if you said he wasn't the most attractive man you'd ever seen, but what really drew you in were his eyes. Sure they were a beautiful shade of green, but it was the warmth in them that made you feel comfortable. It was clear to you this Dean Winchester guy cared about you, even if you had zero clue as to why.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," he answered.

"What am I to you?"

Dean inhaled sharply and his gaze drifted to the countertop in front of him. It was clear he wasn't sure how to answer that question--or if he should answer it. "I'm...I'm not sure I should answer that."

"I'm a big girl, Dean. Just tell me."

He looked back up at you, but when he opened his mouth, he didn't answer your question. "What do you remember of your life?"

"What?"

"Just tell me what you remember."

"Everything you said about my life was true. My name, my childhood, my parents...their deaths. I remember all of that. I remember moving back to the U.S....but I don't remember meeting you and I certainly don't remember hunting."

"So what have you been doing for the past 14 years?"

You closed your eyes for a moment, the memories infinitely more clear than the ones from your childhood. "I went to college and got a degree in marketing. Dated off and on, but no one had long-term potential. I had a few shitty jobs before finally landing the one at my current firm. I've been there a couple weeks, but I've got a corner office, a good paycheck, and decent coworkers."

"And do you like it? Marketing?"

You paused, considering your options before deciding to answer honestly. "It's boring, in all honesty, but it pays the bills."

"Do you ever think maybe you're meant for something more?"

You stared at him in surprise. You didn't know how he could possibly know that...you'd never shared that particular thought with anyone. You'd always felt that way--for as long as you could remember. "Yes," you whispered. "How did you know that?"

Dean smiled at you. "Because you are meant for more, (Y/N/N). You've spent the last 14 years doing more--you've saved countless lives. Hell, you've helped save the entire planet more than once."

You laughed loudly, thinking he must be joking. When you noticed his expression was completely serious, your laughter died instantly. "You--you can't be serious."

"I'm completely serious."

You scoffed. "No offense, Dean, but I've never saved anyone--let alone the entire planet. I think that's something I would remember."

He gave you a sad smile, pain lacing his gorgeous features. "There's so much you don't remember, (Y/N/N)."

The pain on his face matched the tone of his voice--and it sent a piercing pain into your heart. A pain you couldn't possibly begin to understand. "What else don't I remember?"

Dean shook his head. "I don't think you're ready for all of that, sweetheart."

This time, you didn't correct him. The pet name made your chest ache--and you had a feeling this was a common term of endearment from him. It made you want to understand the nature of your relationship. "Then just tell me one thing. What am I to you?"

Dean exhaled slowly, brilliant green eyes fluttering closed. He was desperately trying to remain objective, but it was nearly impossible. He felt like he owed you in some way and he knew he couldn't lie. His eyes met yours once again and you were stunned by the depths of emotion swimming in those green orbs.

"I feel like I owe you the truth, but I don't want you to freak out. So just...please just let me talk before you respond."

You nodded and waited for him to continue.

"Like I said before, we met a few years after you came back to the states. About 11 years ago, to be exact. I remember the first time I saw you like it was yesterday. You were so beautiful--almost painfully so. I felt drawn to you immediately, but you wanted nothing to do with me. I suppose it only made me want you more." He chuckled fondly at the memory. "You were pure fire back then. No one could control you, not that I'd ever dare to try. I think I fell in love almost immediately. You were everything I'd ever wanted, but I uh--I had a bit of a reputation in the community. A not-so-nice reputation when it came to the ladies...and unfortunately for me, you were well-aware of it."

Dean shook his head sadly. "I still don't know why, but you decided to stay with me and Sam--my brother. The three of us hunted together and sometime during the year that followed, I managed to win you over. You were crazy enough to fall in love with me--and we've been together ever since." He paused. "So to answer your question, (Y/N), you're the love of my life. My best friend, my partner, my confidante, my whole world. You're the woman I vowed to spend the rest of my life with and I'll be damned if I don't make good on that promise."

You sat in stunned silence, unsure how to feel about his revelation. One thing was for sure, you knew he was being honest. Every fiber of your being told you he loved you--every instinct you had screamed that he meant every word he said. It nearly broke your heart to have no memory of the feelings he was referring to...you couldn't reciprocate his words. As far as you were concerned, he was a stranger to you. You had no idea how to respond--nothing you could have said would have comforted him.

After several moments of silence, you finally looked up at Dean, meeting his teary gaze. "I believe you," you whispered.

Surprise lit up the handsome man's face. He hadn't been sure how you'd respond, but he hadn't thought you'd believe a word he said. "I meant every word, (Y/N/N)."

"I'm sorry I don't remember," you murmured sadly.

He offered you a small smile. "It's alright, sweetheart. I'm gonna find a way to get your memories back--to get our lives back."

"How?"

"If you're okay with it, we'll go see a friend of mine. She might be able to help."

You might be crazy for being willing to go with this strange man...but your gut told you there was no other choice. You hated the life you lived and if there was even a chance the life Dean was describing was real, you had to take it. "I'm in."

Dean smiled warmly. "That's my girl."

**********

Dean didn't explain who exactly you were going to see, but he did tell you it was quite a distance away. As such, you'd have to stop in a motel along the way.

Dean kept the conversations in the car away from the life--from hunting. He wasn't ready to explain all of that yet, especially if there was even the slightest chance you would run away screaming. He needed you to trust him and mentioning monsters wasn't likely to keep things calm.

It was late at night when he finally pulled off into a roadside motel. "It's not the Ritz, but it'll do for a night," Dean commented.

You offered him a smile and followed him into the dingy room. You tossed your bag onto the bed nearest the door and Dean immediately picked it up and moved it to the other bed. "No way in hell are you sleeping by the door, sweetheart."

You looked a little surprised, but simply shrugged your agreement.

Dean winced. "Sorry--I just worry about your safety, that's all."

You smiled. "It's alright. I get it."

He tossed his bag on the bed and sat down to take off his boots. "You can get the first shower."

"Alright, thanks." You grabbed your stuff and headed into the bathroom to take a shower.

Dean made a call to Sam as soon as the door to the bathroom was closed. He'd already called his brother and informed him that he'd found you and told him where you were headed. Sam was already on his way to you, speeding along the highway in your direction.

"Hey Sammy."

"Hey Dean. How is she?"

"She's okay. She's in the shower right now. Where you at?"

"Probably an hour out now. What motel did you stop at?"

Dean gave him the location and room number. "Call me when you get here and I'll let you in."

"Have you told her I'm coming yet?"

"I mentioned you earlier...but I'm trying to keep her as calm as possible. I don't want her to freak out."

Sam sighed. "Alright, but you might wanna mention it before I get there."

"Yeah, yeah. I will. See you soon."

20 minutes after the call ended, you came out of the bathroom, feeling reasonably clean. You'd spent more time in the shower than you'd needed to, if only to try and calm your racing mind. A lot had happened in the last five hours and you were mentally and emotionally exhausted.

When you came out of the bathroom, you collapsed on the musty-smelling bed and sighed.

"I know it's not a great place, but maybe you'll be able to get some sleep. I'm sure you're tired."

"Very."

Dean smiled sadly. "I'm gonna take a shower real quick, okay?"

You nodded and rolled over, trying to get comfortable on the rock-hard bed.

Dean eyed you warily before stepping into the bathroom and shutting the door.

You closed your eyes and fell asleep with shocking ease. Mental exhaustion was clearly a great cure for insomnia.

When Dean came out of the shower, he fully expected you to still be awake. He wanted to let you know Sam was on the way so you wouldn't be freaked out by his arrival. Unfortunately, you were clearly sound asleep and he didn't want to wake you. You looked too peaceful to disturb.

**********

You awoke sometime in the early hours of the morning, bladder throbbing uncomfortably. You got out of bed and headed to the bathroom, failing to notice the large figure lying on the couch near the bathroom door.

Your movement woke Sam up and he decided he needed to use the bathroom too. He stood up and stretched, waiting for you to come back out.

When you came out of the bathroom, you caught sight of a large male figure standing near the door. You quickly assessed him and realized it wasn't Dean--the man was too tall. Without thinking, you lunged towards him, fist connecting with the side of his jaw, sending him stumbling backwards.

He fell back into the small dining table, forcing it against the wall with a loud noise. The commotion was enough to wake up Dean, who shot out of bed ready to fight. It took him only a moment to realize what had happened.

You lunged towards Sam again, who held up his hands to block your attack. Dean jumped towards you and yelled your name, pulling you to a stop.

"It's okay! It's okay!" Dean insisted. "It's just Sam!"

You were breathing heavily, but you lowered your fists. "Who the hell is Sam?"

"My brother!"

Your mind cleared slightly as you remembered Dean mentioning Sam's name earlier in the evening. "Oh shit," you muttered.

Dean turned on the light and Sam rubbed his jaw woefully. "Nice swing, (Y/N/N).

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry," you said softly. "I didn't mean to--I just reacted."

"Well it was a good shot either way," Sam said with a pained chuckle.

Dean laughed softly. "At least your instincts are still strong."

You winced a smile. "Let me go get some ice."

Dean stopped you with a gentle hand on your arm. "I'll go get it. Stay inside."

You could tell he was worried about your safety and it made you wonder what he wasn't telling you.

Sam sat down at the table and continued to rub his jaw. "It really is good to see you, (Y/N). Despite the punch."

"I'm so sorry, Sam. I didn't know you would be here."

"I figured that out," he said with a light chuckle. "Don't worry about it. It was a solid punch."

Dean came back in with a full ice bucket. He handed the bucket to Sam and chuckled. "Damn dude, she got you good."

You winced, feeling terrible for hurting him.

Dean noticed your discomfort and turned to you with a gentle smile. "It's alright, sweetheart. He's had a hell of a lot worse. He'll be fine."

Sam nodded his agreement. "He's not wrong. I'm alright."

You punched Dean in the arm in annoyance.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"You could have told me he was coming!"

"You were asleep! I didn't wanna wake you."

You sighed. "Alright fine, but quit keeping things from me, Dean."

He nodded, rubbing his arm. "Sorry, sweetheart."

"I'm going back to sleep. Let me know when it's time to go."

The brothers watched you crawl back into bed and Dean let out a soft sigh. "I think I'm too awake to sleep now."

"Same," Sam muttered.

The two sat at the table in silence, allowing you to get a couple more hours of sleep before it was time to head back out on the road.

**********

"So who exactly are we going to see?" you asked curiously.

Sam shot his brother a look from the backseat of the car. Dean glared at him in the rearview mirror and the younger man stayed silent.

"A friend of ours from when we were kids," Dean answered. "Her name is Missouri."

"Missouri...hmm. Do I know her?"

Dean nodded.

"How can she help me?"

"She's uh...well she's really..."

"Perceptive," Sam finished for him.

"Yeah, perceptive."

You gave Dean an odd look. "Okay then."

"Just...trust me, okay? She's the best there is. She can help."

Two words remained unsaid, living only deep in Dean's heart. I hope.

When the car pulled up in front of the house, Missouri immediately knew who it was. She met the three of you at the front door, a smile on her face.

"What do I owe the pleasure of a visit from all three Winchesters?"

Dean froze for a moment, which didn't go unnoticed by Missouri. Nor did you miss her use of the words "three Winchesters".

You shot Dean a silent reproachful look and Missouri tsked loudly. "Dean Winchester, what did you do?"

He held up his hands in mock surrender. "I didn't do anything, Missouri. I swear."

Missouri's gaze landed on your face, her expression softening instantly. "Oh honey..."

Her expression frightened you, as did her extremely perceptive gaze. It felt as though she was looking directly through you.

"Well come in you three. It's cold out here."

The three of you followed the older woman into her home. She gestured for you all to sit in the living room while she went to the kitchen to make some tea.

"Why did she call me a Winchester?" you asked Dean in hushed tones.

Sam gave his brother an 'I told you so' look and waited for his response.

Dean sighed. "I wasn't completely honest with you yesterday," he admitted. "(Y/N) (Y/L/N) was your name, until six years ago."

"What happened six years ago?" You were pretty sure you knew the answer, but you wanted to hear him say it.

"We got married," he answered softly. "You decided to change your name...and you've been (Y/N) Winchester ever since."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want to freak you out. I'd already unloaded a lot of information on you. It's hard to look your wife in the eyes and realize she doesn't remember you--it's even harder to tell her what she means to you."

"But you told me how much you loved me...why couldn't you admit we're married?"

Dean shook his head. "I really don't know, sweetheart. I think I was scared you would run. It had been so hard to find you and I didn't want to risk losing you again."

Tears welled in your eyes and you placed a soft, comforting hand on his arm. "I'm not going anywhere, Dean."

He looked up at you, expression matching your own. He leaned forward and placed a soft kiss to your forehead, though he desperately wanted to kiss your lips instead.

"Tea, everyone," Missouri stated as she entered the living room.

You immediately took the cup she offered you gratefully. "Thank you."

She nodded at you, giving you a warm smile. "Now I know you boys don't like tea, but there's no alcohol in this house."

"I'll take a cup, Missouri," Sam said.

She handed him a cup and gave Dean a stern look. You had a feeling the expression had nothing to do with his not liking tea.

"Now why don't you boys tell me what brings you all the way out here."

Dean sighed. "You mean you don't already know?"

"Dean!" Sam scolded.

"Oh I imagine it has something to do with (Y/N)'s memories, but I'd like to hear it from you."

Surprise lit up your face. "How did you--?"

"I see your husband left a few things out, didn't he? Do you want to share, Dean?"

Dean winced and shifted uncomfortably. "Uh, well--umm...Missouri is--well, she's psychic."

"I'm sorry, she's what?"

"Psychic," Dean repeated.

You turned to look at Sam and he simply nodded. Your gaze shifted back to Missouri who gave you another sad smile.

"It's true, honey. That's why I know about your missing memories. I can see the block in your mind...and the fake memories replacing your real ones."

"Fake memories? What do you mean fake memories?"

"How did your parents die?" Missouri asked seemingly from nowhere.

"A car accident," you answered in confusion.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Dean and Sam exchange glances. Missouri sighed quietly and shook her head.

You tried to catch Dean's gaze, but he kept his eyes trained on the floor in front of him, suddenly fascinated with the pattern of the rug.

"Are you saying my parents didn't die in a car accident?"

"No, dear. They did not," Missouri answered.

"But I remember--" you fell silent as Missouri's words came back to you...'fake memories'. You shook your head. "I don't understand."

Missouri gave you a pitying look. "When you were 19 years old, your parents were murdered by something inhuman. A creature known as a ghoul. The ghoul appeared to you as your mother after it had killed her in an attempt to kill you, but you realized it wasn't your mother. You grabbed a wooden candlestick off the mantle and bashed the creature's head in, managing to kill it without even knowing what it was."

You were frozen in your seat, caught somewhere between disbelief and utter terror. You pushed the terror down, allowing the disbelief to prevail. You jumped out of your seat and yelled, "You people are crazy! Ghouls don't exist!"

Dean stood up and grabbed your arm to keep you from running. "Ghouls are very real, (Y/N). That experience changed your life forever. From that moment on, you knew the things that go bump in the night were real...that they murdered innocent people all over the world. It's why you came back here...to find answers and learn how to hunt them."

You shook your head vehemently. "No, no, that's not possible. They died in a car accident!"

Dean turned you to face him completely. "We met on a vampire hunt in Arkansas. Sam and I had identified the case and we ran into you early on in the hunt. You more than proved your abilities during that case and I asked you to come hunt with us. I didn't want you to keep going alone--it was too risky."

"What are you talking about?" you cried. "Vampires aren't real! None of this is real...it can't be real." Your knees turned to jelly and you would have fallen to the floor if Dean hadn't been holding onto you. He pulled you into him and you sobbed into his chest, finally allowing your tumultuous emotions out.

Dean held you tightly, tears of his own threatening to fall. He didn't know how to make you believe any of this--it sounded insane to him and he'd been raised in the life. He had a hard enough time convincing people who had literally seen a monster that they were real--this was so much worse. You couldn't remember all the monsters you'd killed in your life, so why would you ever believe a word any of them said?

"We might seem crazy, (Y/N), but I think if you allow yourself to believe it for even a moment, you may find it's not as crazy as it sounds," Missouri said gently.

You sniffled softly and turned to look into her eyes. You were still wrapped in Dean's arms--it made you feel incredibly safe, despite the situation. You focused on that feeling and tried to relax your breathing. Every single part of you was certain Dean would die to protect you...if that was true, then the love he had for you was real too. If his love was real, then so was your relationship--your marriage. If all of this was true, then maybe what he was telling you was true...maybe monsters really were real.

Missouri saw the moment you began to believe them--your eyes showed your emotions, but it was your mind that gave you away. She could sense your belief, just as she could sense the false memories swirling around in your mind.

"A witch," she said softly.

Dean's entire body went rigid. "What?"

"The missing memories and the replacements...it's the work of a witch. An extremely powerful one at that."

"Are you sure?" Dean whispered.

Missouri shot him a glare that told him exactly how certain she was.

"A witch?" you questioned softly, pulling away from Dean to look at his face.

"My least favorite type of monster."

"Witches are monsters?" you asked.

"Most of them," he responded.

"This kind of magic is dark," Missouri muttered. "Messing with someone's memories...it's very dangerous magic. The skill needed to not only block out the real memories but replace them indicates this is a very old witch. This type of magic isn't common these days."

"Demons?" Sam asked.

Missouri shook her head. "Older."

"Demons?" you squeaked out. "Demons are real too?"

Dean rubbed your arms comfortingly. "Yeah, sweetheart, but we don't need to worry about that right now, okay?"

You exhaled shakily. "How do I know what memories are real and which ones aren't?"

Missouri stood up and took your hands, forcing Dean to release you. She looked into your eyes, gaze extremely focused. After several moments she spoke. "Your childhood is intact up until your parents' deaths. Everything else up until three weeks ago is a false memory."

"Fourteen years?" you gasped. "Fourteen years of my life is a lie?"

Dean could see you start to spiral, instinctively reaching for you to try to ground you. "Baby, baby, hey--hey...focus on me, okay? Everything's gonna be okay."

Your eyes met his and your breathing began to slow once again. His warm gaze brought you back to earth, calming you in a way only he could. You felt calm--you felt safe. "Thank you," you whispered.

He pulled you into him for a tight a hug, placing his lips to the top of your head. "I've got you, sweetheart. I've got you."

Both Sam and Missouri felt as though they were intruding on a private moment. Missouri gestured for Sam to follow her out of the room, leaving the two of you alone.

"Are you alright?" Dean asked softly.

You looked up at him. "I think so. It's--it's a lot to take in."

"I know, sweetheart. I can't imagine what you're feeling right now, but everything we've told you is true."

"What happened three weeks ago, Dean?"

"What I told you before was true, but I left out a few details. We were on a hunt...a routine haunting. At least that's what we thought it was. When we got there, it was dark inside and it smelled like rotting corpses. It was strange, but not exactly out of the ordinary for a haunting. I went into a room ahead of you and I was knocked unconscious by something--I don't even remember what it was. When I woke up, you were gone."

"Could a--a witch do that?"

Dean nodded. "Easily. Especially if they're as powerful as Missouri thinks they are."

"So what do we do?"

"We find a way to restore your memories...then we hunt this witch down and find out why they targeted you."

"What if we can't?"

"Oh we'll find the witch. Don't worry."

You shook your head. "What if we can't get my memories back?"

Dean's expression betrayed his fear, if only for a second. "There has to be a way. There has to."

"There is," Missouri stated as she reentered the room with Sam in tow. "But it won't be pleasant."

"Can you do it?" Dean asked.

"I'm a psychic, Dean, not a witch."

Dean looked crestfallen.

"But I know someone who can help."

Dean looked back up. "Who?"

"Her name is Bethelia Logan. She's a very old, very powerful witch."

"Absolutely not!" Dean yelled instantly. "I'm not taking (Y/N) to a witch."

"Don't yell at me, child. Do you want her memories back or not?"

Dean started to argue again, but you placed a gentle hand to his chest, silencing him. "Do you trust her?"

Missouri nodded. "I would never send you to someone I didn't trust." She pointed at Dean. "You should know that."

Dean looked down in shame. He hated witches--hated them with everything in his soul. His hatred existed long before this moment...but now that he knew a witch had stolen your memories? He'd kill every witch on earth if he could.

"Where can we find this Bethelia Logan?" Sam asked.

"She lives in the mountains of Montana. Partially for the nature and partially for the privacy. She's not particularly friendly to strangers, but if you tell her I sent you, she'll help you."

"Are you sure she'll help us?" Dean asked.

"I'll send her a message. She'll help."

Dean looked down at you, wanting the decision to be yours and yours alone.

"You have her address?" you asked, a resigned smile on your face.

Missouri gave Dean the address and wished him luck. She said her goodbyes to the boys before sending them out the door. She stopped you before you could leave, wanting to say something in private.

"You are a strong woman, (Y/N). I have always thought that. You will need all your strength to get through this, if you choose to go through with it."

"What do you mean, 'if'?"

"The magic used to take your memories was very powerful black magic...and it will take very powerful black magic to reverse it. Such magic is dangerous for the user and for the person it is used on."

Realization dawned on your face. "Will I survive it?"

Missouri's expression softened, sadness darkening her gaze. "I don't know, honey, but it will likely be the most painful experience of your life. Which is why it must be your choice to go through with it. Yours, (Y/N)--yours alone."

You looked towards the Impala where Dean and Sam waited for you. You turned back to look at Missouri, a soft sigh leaving your lips. "Thank you for telling me."

"I love those boys like family, just as I love you, but Dean isn't like a normal man. He loves more deeply than anyone I have ever known--there isn't anything he wouldn't do for you. Don't tell him what I've told you, (Y/N). He won't let you make this choice on your own if you do...not because he doesn't trust you, but because he doesn't want to lose you."

Tears filled your eyes as you regarded the older woman. "I don't know how to explain it, but I know how much he loves me. I know what he would do for me. I need to remember why--desperately."

Missouri sighed quietly. "You've always loved that boy more than he believes he deserves, but in truth, he deserves all of your love. I've never met two people more perfect for one another--even if you never remember your lives together, I know you will love him that much again."

You nodded, allowing her words to wash over you. You knew in your heart she was right--you could see yourself falling in love with him, so it didn't surprise you that she believed it too. "Thank you, Missouri. For everything."

"You are so welcome, (Y/N) Winchester. Now go--and be safe."

You gave her a tight hug before walking away to join your husband and his brother on what would turn out to be the most harrowing journey of your life.

**********

It was a 16 hour drive from Missouri's home to Bethelia's home in Montana. You were quiet for most of the ride, reflecting on everything that had happened, as well as Missouri's final words to you. You half-listened to Sam and Dean's conversation, but your mind was elsewhere. You knew you had an important decision to make--one you apparently had to make entirely on your own.

Dean noticed your quiet demeanor and it worried him more than he cared to admit. He had to wonder what Missouri had said to you before you'd left, but he didn't want to press you for answers.

"Sweetheart, why don't you get some sleep?" Dean suggested softly. "I'm gonna drive through the night."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" you asked softly.

"We do it all the time. Don't worry," he assured you.

Sam nodded his agreement. "If he gets tired, I'll take over."

"Over my cold dead corpse," Dean grumbled.

You laughed lightly and Sam rolled his eyes. "Alright, I'll try and get some sleep."

You turned your body slightly, leaning your head against the car window. You tried to get comfortable, but the cold metal and freezing window made that impossible.

Dean noticed your discomfort, watching you shift back and forth for several minutes. "Hey baby," he said softly, getting your attention. You turned to look in his direction.

"Come here, use my shoulder." You looked up at him and he offered you a gentle smile. "I can tell you're uncomfortable."

You angled your body to lean across the seat, resting your head on his shoulder. You sighed softly, finally finding a comfortable position. You were asleep within minutes. Dean glanced down at you and smiled before placing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

Sam watched the interaction from the backseat, a mixture of sadness and joy weighing on him. He was glad Dean had found you, but he was terrified of what would happen when they made it to Montana. Sam wasn't stupid...and he knew a lot more about magic than his brother did. He knew it was going to be extremely dangerous to try and fix your memories, and he worried it wouldn't end well. He didn't want to mention his concerns to Dean as he didn't want to scare him. He knew exactly what his brother was like when someone he loved was in danger.

You awoke several hours later to rays of morning sun shining through the windshield. Your head was still resting against Dean's shoulder and he felt you stir slowly.

"Good morning beautiful," Dean whispered softly.

You looked up at him with a smile. "Mornin'." You pulled yourself up into a sitting position and stretched.

You felt Dean's gaze on you, so you turned to look at him. "What?"

"Nothin'."

You raised your eyebrows. "Then why're you looking at me like that?"

He smiled. "You're just so beautiful," he said softly. "I can't help but stare."

You blushed and looked away from him. "Not this early in the morning," you mumbled.

He chuckled lightly. "Nice try, sweetheart. You're beautiful 24 hours a day, 365 days a year. 366 during leap year." He shot you a wink, which only caused your blush to deepen.

"You're too much," you giggled softly.

He reached over and tucked a stray hair behind your ear. "You're just right."

"What did I do to deserve you?" you asked softly.

Surprise lit up his handsome face. "Deserve me? Other way around, baby."

You shook your head. "I don't think so."

He glanced over at you again. "There's a lot you don't remember, (Y/N/N). Trust me when I say I'm the one who doesn't deserve you."

"That's not what Missouri thinks."

"Huh?"

"She told me you think you don't deserve me, but she said you deserve all the love I have to give. She thinks very highly of you, you know."

The look of surprise covered his face again. "I think highly of her too."

You smiled, reaching across to grab his hand. He looked over at you with a smile. "I can see why I fell in love with you."

His heart skipped a beat, hearing your words had a profound effect on him. "I'm still not sure how I won you over, but I'll always be grateful for your love."

You leaned across the seat and placed a soft kiss to his cheek. "I can't wait to remember everything," you whispered.

He shot you a warm smile, but it quickly faded to sadness.

"Dean?" you murmured.

"I know what we're going to do is extremely dangerous. I'm no fool, (Y/N/N)...I know Missouri warned you. I don't want you to do anything out of some sort of obligation to me, okay? I would rather die than lose you."

You touched his cheek gently. "I didn't want to worry you."

"I know. I'm willing to bet she told you not to tell me anyway."

Your mirthless chuckle was confirmation enough. "For the record, any decision I make is because it's what I want to do...and I need you to respect my decision."

Tears welled in his eyes, but he nodded. "I'll try."

You shook your head. "It's not a request, Dean."

He sighed. "I know you can't remember...but I'm not good at these types of situations. I tend to be a little reckless when someone I love is at risk."

"Missouri may have mentioned that too."

Dean chuckled. "Of course she did."

Sam began to stir in the backseat, a loud yawn alerting you both to his consciousness. "We there yet?" he mumbled.

Dean laughed. "We've still got another 4 hours or so."

"You want me to drive?"

"No one but my baby gets to drive Baby."

Sam laughed and rolled his eyes.

"Did you just call the car 'Baby'?" you asked.

"The three things I love most in this world are, you, Sammy, and this car."

You laughed heartily, rekindling Sam's laughter and sparking Dean's laughter. You might not be able to remember it, but you knew deep in your soul that these two people were your family--and somehow you loved them even without the memories to back it up.

**********

It was mid-afternoon when the three of you finally pulled up in front of a small house in middle-of-nowhere Montana.

"Do you think Missouri called her?" Dean asked.

"We better hope so," you murmured, pointing at the various signs in the yard warning people not to trespass.

"Yikes," Sam muttered.

Dean sighed and got out of the car, you and Sam following close behind. Before Dean could raise his hand to knock on the front door, it opened to reveal a surprisingly young-looking woman.

"Can you read?" the woman snapped.

"Missouri Moseley sent us," Sam said quickly.

The woman's expression softened immediately. "Well why didn't you say so? Come in, come in!"

You followed her inside and she gestured for you to have a seat in her small living room. The three of you sat down beside each other on the small couch.

"I'm Bethelia," the woman said as she sat in a chair across from you. "You must be the Winchesters."

The three of you nodded.

Bethelia looked at you closely. "I see you've been touched by black magic."

You nodded slowly. "So I've been told."

"Can you help her?" Dean asked.

Bethelia hummed quietly. "I can, but I am not certain you'll want me to."

"Missouri warned me it would dangerous."

She nodded. "This type of magic is very strong. I cannot guarantee you will survive."

Dean froze beside you and you blindly reached out to grab his hand. You squeezed it reassuringly. "What do I have to do?"

"(Y/N/N)," Dean pleaded.

Bethelia watched you carefully. "You have to be willing to risk everything to retrieve your memories. As you are now, you can make new memories with the ones you love, even if you cannot remember the past. But if you choose to work with me, your life may be forfeit."

You'd spent every waking hour since leaving Missouri's thinking about what you would do. Now, faced with the question, you found you knew your answer without a shadow of a doubt. "I'm willing to risk it."

"(Y/N/N)," Dean pleaded a second time. "You said it yourself--we can make new memories...we can fall in love all over again."

You turned to look into your husband's bright green eyes, both of which swirled with emotions the depths of which you couldn't even begin to understand. "Would you mind giving us a moment?"

Bethelia rose, immediately understanding what you needed. Sam took a second longer, but quickly followed Bethelia from the room, leaving you and Dean alone.

Dean immediately rose from his seat and began to pace. "You can't do this, (Y/N). It's not worth the risk."

"It's my decision, Dean. I don't need your permission, but I would like your support."

"I can't give you that--I can't...I can't lose you."

You stood up and grabbed his hands, stopping him in front of you. "I know it's hard, but it's worth it to me--it's worth the risk. I need to remember, Dean. It's my life and if the last few days are anything to go by, then I'd give anything to remember the last eleven years with you. Anything."

He looked down at you, finally allowing the tears to slide down his face. Your heart broke as you took in his pained expression, fear evident in his gaze. "I want to remember everything about you--every moment, every heartbreak, every painful memory, every joyful second, every loving embrace. I want to remember what it's like to love you--and be loved by you."

You reached up and wiped the tears from his cheeks, and you found yourself wishing you could take away his pain. You didn't want to die, but you didn't want to live a lie--you needed the truth and the only way to get that was to restore your memories.

"I need to remember."

Dean closed his eyes and leaned into your palm. He would have traded places with you in a heartbeat, sold his soul to save you, set fire to the world to keep you out of harm's way...but he couldn't do any of those things. He was powerless to protect you and it was killing him.

"I know you're strong," he whispered. "but baby, I'm terrified."

"I know," you murmured. "I know."

You rose up on your tiptoes, gently pulling his face down to yours. You pressed your lips to his in a heated kiss--a kiss you tried to infuse with every complicated emotion you'd felt in the last several days. His body instinctively melted into yours like you were made for each other--like you'd done it a thousand times before.

When you separated, he leaned his forehead against yours, breath mingling with yours. "I need you to trust me," you whispered.

Dean closed his eyes. "I trust you."

You exhaled shakily as you pulled away from him. It was killing him, but he couldn't make this decision for you--all he could do was give you the one thing you asked for.

"I support whatever decision you make...and I love you," he said softly. "I'll always love you."

You hadn't really expected him to support you, so hearing him say those words gave you an added boost of strength you didn't know you needed. You touched his cheek one last time before walking away in search of Bethelia.

"You are ready," the witch said from the doorway, her words a confirmation, not a query.

You nodded. "Let's do this."

Sam went to his brother's side, giving him a reassuring clap on the back. There wasn't really anything for him to say, but his presence was enough to calm Dean.

Bethelia turned to address the two men. "No matter what happens, you must not interrupt the spell. If you do, you risk her mind as well as her life. Do you understand?"

They both nodded.

"It will be painful," she said to you.

"I know," you whispered.

She simply nodded and gestured for you to follow. She guided you to a dimly lit room filled with hundreds of candles. The room was obviously home to a large amount of spell work, but much of the space had been cleared to make room for a large mat in the center of the floor.

"Lie down, (Y/N)."

You did as she asked, taking a deep breath in an attempt to calm your racing heart.

"You may wait in the hall," Bethelia addressed Sam and Dean. "Do not cross the threshold. Do not interrupt the spell. Do nothing."

You turned to make eye contact with Dean. "I'll be alright."

He nodded, desperate to believe you. "I love you," he whispered.

"I know," you whispered back.

"Let's begin," Bethelia said, silencing any further conversation.

You closed your eyes and sent out a silent prayer to any deity who might be listening--a prayer for strength, for survival. It was the last coherent thought you had before your mind was overwhelmed with a blinding pain you couldn't describe.

Sam and Dean watched from outside the room as you writhed in pain, cries of agony ripped from your throat as Bethelia worked her magic.

"I can't watch this," Dean gasped out, turning on his heels and practically running for the front door.

Even outside, he could hear your screams--each one like a knife to his heart. He didn't know how long he stood there, he had long since lost count of your screams, the seconds between them all but disappearing.

Sam had remained inside, standing watch over you as best he could. Much like Dean, his chest ached with each of your screams--he hated seeing you in so much pain.

After what felt like an eternity, silence fell on the small home--a silence more deafening than any scream. Dean waited for a few moments before running back into the house, terrified of what he would find.

When your limp body came into view, he tried to enter the room--tried to reach you, but Sam grabbed him and held him back. "Dean, you can't! She's not done!"

Dean struggled against his brother's hold, every instinct dying to go to you. He watched in terror as you remained still as death, not a single sound escaping your sweet lips.

"(Y/N/N)..." he whimpered.

Bethelia's chanting had ceased, her small form kneeling beside your body as if waiting for something.

Unbeknownst to anyone in the home, a war was raging inside your mind--a battle between who you were and who you believed yourself to be. Memories were fighting for their rightful place in your mind--false and real, a distinction your fragile psyche couldn't make.

The only thing you knew for sure was your name: (Y/N) Winchester. You knew it with the same conviction that you knew gravity was real. Your certainty gave way to another: Dean Winchester was the love of your life. Flashes of moments from the past few days flew through your mind, but the ones you focused on where the memories you didn't recall.

You saw the joyful moments filled with laughter and jokes, the painful moments filled with tears and loss, the passionate moments with nothing between your bodies but sweat and desire, and the loving moments that grounded you--kept you from giving up even when life was unbearable.

You felt his love for you wash over you in waves, drowning you in an ocean of passion you didn't wish to escape from. But then you felt your love for him, the depths of which you couldn't even begin to comprehend. Whatever you'd imagined you'd felt for him paled in comparison to reality--he was tied to your soul so completely you wondered how it was possible to have lived without his memory for more than a moment.

As these memories and emotions solidified within you, the false memories began to fade away, replaced by the real ones that had been locked away in the darkest recesses of your mind. Millions of memories flooded your mind, filling the gaps in your life, making you whole once more.

Dean, Sam, and Bethelia watched in silence, waiting for something to happen. Dean wasn't even certain you were breathing, but he was terrified to ask...he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer.

Bethelia began to look more and more crestfallen as time went on, the minutes ticking by in painful silence. Sam's gaze was focused on her, praying her expression would turn hopeful once again.

Dean's gaze, on the other hand, was focused entirely on you--on your face. He was looking for any sign of movement, of life...anything to calm his aching heart.

An hour had passed since the spell had begun...twenty minutes of silence had stretched on after your screams had ended. They were the longest twenty minutes of Dean's life.

He had begun to lose hope--fearing the worst, but afraid to voice it. Suddenly, you gasped for air, bolting upright as you sucked in gulps of oxygen. Dean ran to you, breaking free of his brother's relaxed grip--not giving a damn if he was allowed to enter the room or not.

He dropped to his knees beside you, reaching out to grab your face. "(Y/N)? Sweetheart, can you hear me?"

Your eyes met his and his breath caught in his chest. Those sweet (y/e/c) eyes he loved so much were full of recognition--full of love. "Dean," you whispered hoarsely.

He wrapped you in a hug so tightly you thought he might squeeze every ounce of air from your lungs, but you couldn't be bothered to care. You were squeezing him back just as tightly, feeling at home in his arms.

He leaned back to look at your face again, brushing your hair back to see you more clearly. He hadn't realized how different you'd looked when your memories were gone--not until this moment. As he looked at you, he noticed all the little things he hadn't taken the time to pay attention to before. Your skin seemed to glow with love and warmth, your eyes sparkled more brilliantly than they had in the past few days, and your smile was bright enough to pierce through any darkness.

"Baby?" he asked tentatively, needing to hear the confirmation from your lips.

"I remember," you whispered softly, leaning forward to brush your lips against his.

He wrapped his arms around you again, tugging you close, and kissing you with as much passion as he could muster. The moment was so pure, so full of love, that both Sam and Bethelia were moved by it. The love the two of you shared was beyond what an average person would ever experience--incomprehensible to most.

When you finally separated, Dean leaned his forehead against yours. "You scared me for a minute," he admitted.

"I told you I'd be okay," you murmured. "Have a little faith, my love."

He smiled. "God I missed you."

"I missed you too."

Dean finally pulled away from you and rose to his feet. He took your hand in his and helped you up, your body still weak from the intensity of the spell.

You smiled warmly at the two people standing a few feet away. "Hey Sammy. Miss me?"

Sam grinned and stepped forward to wrap you in a hug. "Of course I did."

When he stepped back, you addressed Bethelia. "I can't thank you enough."

Bethelia smiled and gestured between you and Dean. "This right here? This is thanks enough. It has been a long time since I've witnessed a love this pure. I feel honored to have been able to witness it again."

You looked up at Dean as he smiled down at you. He kissed your forehead and you leaned into him. "I feel honored to be able to experience it--especially knowing what it's like to live without it."

"I know the feeling," he murmured.

"Not to bring the mood down, but I remember what happened in Colorado," you said softly.

Sam and Dean looked at you, both waiting to hear what you recalled.

"I saw you on the floor--unconscious--and I let my guard down. I was terrified you were dead...that's when she got me."

"The witch," Dean stated quietly.

You nodded. "She knew my name--knew yours too. All she told me was she wanted you to pay. She didn't explain what she meant."

"Why the hell did she target you if she wanted me to pay?"

"She had to have known what losing me would do to you--that it would hurt you more deeply than anything she could ever have done to you directly."

Dean felt a mixture of sorrow and anger. No one was going to get away with hurting you, not as long as he drew breath.

"All I remember after that was the pain...so much pain. Then I woke up in a house in a city I've never lived in before with a whole life I didn't remember. But as far as I was concerned, that was my life. It felt so real--up until the day you waltzed in."

Dean reached out and touched your face. "Anyone who dares hurt you is destined for a short life."

You'd known he'd want to kill the witch, and to be honest, you didn't blame him. Hunting monsters was your life--and this witch certainly counted as one. "We'll find her Dean."

"Damn right we will. I'll put a bullet right through her skull. See how she likes having her mind messed with."

You placed a gentle hand to your husband's arm, trying to calm him. "For now, let's just focus on the good things. I have my memories back and I'm with you. That's what matters."

Dean nodded and offered you a weak smile. "You're right, baby. You're right."

You turned to Bethelia with a smile, thanking her once again, as did Sam and Dean. You were surprised when Dean gave the witch a hug--he wasn't an affectionate man by nature, especially with strangers, but she'd saved your life in his estimation...so she got a pass.

"You're the only witch I've ever liked," Dean commented as the three of you prepared to leave.

Bethelia laughed. "There are others like me out there, I can assure you. We're not all monsters, hunter."

Dean nodded. "Perhaps not."

You grabbed his hand and tugged it gently as you started toward the Impala. "Come on, handsome. It's time to go."

The three of you piled into the car, waving goodbye to Bethelia as you pulled away.

"I'm so ready to go home," you mumbled with a yawn.

"Me too, baby."

"Me three," Sam added.

"Do you want to stop at a motel to rest?" you asked softly.

Dean's gaze rested on your face, drinking it in like he was scared he'd forget it. "Not a chance, sweetheart. I wanna get you home as quickly as possible."

The hungry look in his eyes belied his hidden meaning and you silently hoped Sam didn't notice. "Try not to drive too fast," you teased.

"I would never," he said in mock offense. He pressed firmly on the accelerator and the Impala shot down the road at an assuredly illegal speed.

You laughed and shook your head, knowing full-well Dean would get you home in one piece, even if it was a little faster than it should be.

**********

Fourteen hours later, you were back home in your beloved bunker in Lawrence, Kansas. What should have taken nearly sixteen hours, was shortened by Dean's intense desire to get home.

"Oh I missed this place," you said with a smile as you entered.

"You didn't even remember it existed until a few hours ago," Dean chided.

"I missed it without even knowing what I was missing...kinda like I missed you," you teased back.

He smiled, coming up behind you to wrap his arms around your waist. "Not nearly as much as I missed you."

You leaned back into him. "That could be because you actually remembered me."

"There's not a chance in hell I could forget you." He pressed gentle kisses to your neck down to your shoulder.

"As happy as I am to have you back," Sam interrupted. "Could you two get a room?" His voice was light and teasing, which made you laugh.

"Oh come on, Sammy--it's nothing you haven't seen before," Dean said with a grin. "Just a man loving his gorgeous wife."

Sam rolled his eyes affectionately. "I'll go get my noise canceling headphones. You two have fun getting reacquainted."

You watched Sam walk off towards his bedroom, a small smile playing on your face.

"So you think we should get...reacquainted?" Dean murmured against the shell of your ear.

"Aren't you exhausted from all the driving?"

"I'm never too tired for you, baby."

You turned around to face him, leaning into his strong body. "I think you should take me to bed then, Mr. Winchester."

"It would be my pleasure, Mrs. Winchester." Dean slipped his arms under your round bottom, lifting you up so you could wrap your legs around his waist. He held you closely as he carried you towards your shared bedroom.

As he made his way to your room, you spent every second pressing kisses to his face sweetly, tangling your fingers in his short hair.

"You better stop that or I might take you right here on the table," he growled lowly.

"It's not like we haven't before," you giggled.

Dean groaned. "I don't wanna scar Sam for life--otherwise, I'd have you on every surface in this damn bunker."

"Maybe later then," you murmured as you kissed his neck affectionately.

Dean moved more quickly, the need to get you into his bed becoming overwhelming. As soon as he made it into the bedroom, he kicked the door closed, pressing you against it as he attached his lips to yours hungrily.

You gasped slightly before returning his passionate kiss. You tugged on his jacket, silently begging him to remove it. He pulled away just long enough to rip his jacket and flannel off before kissing you again.

His strong hands slid up under your shirt, moving upwards to tug it off over your head. His lithe fingers unsnapped your bra with practiced ease and pulled it forward to reveal the swell of your breasts.

"I've missed these," he murmured, lips immediately finding their home between the valley of your breasts. He took his time nipping and sucking at each one, playing with your nipples just the way you liked.

Your fingers dug into his scalp as you held him close to you, reveling in the feeling of his lips on your body. Your core pulsed with aching need, but you ignored it as best you could. You didn't want to rush him...not after all this time apart.

Dean loved how soft you felt against his toned form--he couldn't describe how much he'd missed touching you so intimately. This wasn't the first time the two of you had been torn apart from each other, but it had been the toughest time for him.

He felt your soft hands clutching at his shirt, desperate to remove it. Dean smirked against your skin before turning around and tossing you onto the bed. He tugged his shirt off over his head and threw it across the room, giving you a clear view of his impressive torso.

He started to climb onto the bed, but you stopped him. "Pants too, please."

He chuckled. "Impatient, are we?"

You shook your head. "I just want to see your perfect body on display--just for me."

He raised his eyebrows, but did as you asked, removing his pants slowly, eyes locked on yours.

You could see his hard member straining against his boxers, practically begging to be touched. You crawled across the bed, coming closer to him, eyes trained on your target.

"Whatcha doin' baby?"

Your eyes flicked up to meet his, tongue darting out to dampen your lips. "Wanna taste you."

Dean exhaled sharply, but there was no way he was going to say no to your request. He watched as you rolled over onto your back, head hanging off the edge of the bed. His breath caught in his chest as he realized your intentions. "You sure?" he whispered.

You grinned cheekily. "Come on pretty boy--use me."

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, quickly ridding himself of his last article of clothing. He gripped his large cock tightly in his right hand and stepped forward. He tapped against your mouth gently. "Open wide, sweetheart."

You happily obliged, mouth opening as wide as you could to accommodate his size. He slid slowly into your warm, wet mouth, groaning softly at the feeling.

You made a little noise of pleasure, wrapping your hands around his muscular thighs to get more comfortable and pull him even closer to you.

Dean's motions started out slow, but he quickly lost himself in the feeling of you, listening to the delicious sounds you were making. Within moments, he'd begun fucking your face properly, obscene sounds escaping his lips.

"Fuck--that's it baby. S-so good for me."

You moaned happily, fingers digging into his skin as you continued to take him deep in your throat. He leaned forward to grab at your breasts, massaging them and pinching your nipples as he thrust, which only increased your enjoyment.

Dean felt his orgasm quickly approaching, but he wasn't ready to cum just yet. He eased his cock out of your mouth and took a step back, chuckling softly at your whine.

"Don't worry, baby--I'm nowhere near done." He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your messy lips before rising back up to his full height. "Get comfortable, sweetheart--it's my turn."

You quickly rotated your body so your head rested comfortably on the pillows at the head of the bed. Dean wasted no time joining you on the bed, quickly unsnapping your jeans before pulling them off along with your panties.

He wedged himself between your legs, lowering himself to lie flat on the bed. He inhaled deeply, face mere inches from your aching pussy.

"You smell delicious, baby--can't wait to taste you."

Dean's tongue slipped out of his mouth, running a thick stripe up your pussy before sliding between your lips to begin his assault.

Your hips shot off the bed, causing Dean to lay his arm across your abdomen to hold you in place. He didn't want you to be able to squirm away while he gave you as much pleasure as he could.

Your fingers entwined in his hair as he ate you out like it was the last thing he'd ever do. It felt so incredibly good and your moans of pleasure spurred him on.

"D--feels s-so good."

He moaned into your core, the vibrations making you cry out in pleasure. He sped up his ministrations, years of practice with you making him an expert on your body.

"So close," you whimpered.

Dean slipped two fingers inside of you, curling them to press against your g-spot rapidly. Within moments, your orgasm crashed into you with violent intensity, hips jacking off the bed despite Dean's attempts to hold you in place. He kept up with your movements, not stopping until you pulled him up by his hair.

He licked his lips with a smirk, enjoying the lingering taste of you. His normally bright green eyes were dark with arousal as he looked at your blissed out face. He hovered over you, eyes scanning your face as if to memorize every inch of it, before leaning down to kiss you deeply.

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer to you. You loved the feeling of his strong body against yours, enjoying the warmth emanating from his heated skin.

"I need you, (Y/N/N)," he whispered against your lips. "Please."

"Wanna feel you inside me, Dean--make me forget my own name."

He growled lowly. "I can do that for you, baby. Only thing you'll be able to say is my name."

You moaned softly, lifting your hips to press against his, earning a sharp inhale from his lips. He slipped his cock in between your folds, entering you completely with one harsh thrust.

You cried out at the feeling of fullness, slight pain mixing with the pleasure. No matter how many times you'd made love to this man, he never failed to make you feel incredible. Every time was like the first time in the first few moments, before quickly morphing into an unforgettable experience with someone who knew your body better than you did.

"Move baby--please," you begged.

He always waited for a few moments, never wanting to cause you any undue pain, but as soon as those words left your mouth, he began to thrust into you in earnest.

"Shit, sweetheart--missed this sweet little pussy. Squeezing me so good, feels like heaven."

"Harder, Dean--please."

Dean shifted his body to give you what you needed, thrusts now deeper and faster than before. His fingers dug into your hips so tightly that bruises were sure to appear.

Your moans reverberated throughout the room, spurring Dean on. His own noises were absolutely sinful--and you loved hearing them. Your nails dug into his muscular back, trying desperately to ground yourself in the sea of pleasure.

You felt your orgasm approaching and you voiced as much to Dean, who was already well-aware.

"Want you to cum for me, baby. I wanna feel you make a mess on my cock."

You whimpered, clinging to him tightly as he continued his measured thrusts. "Dean..."

"I've got you, gorgeous. Let go for me."

You cried out in pleasure as your second orgasm washed over you, body shaking beneath his, waves of pleasure overwhelming your senses.

Dean worked you through your high, waiting until your body stopped shaking before gently rolling you onto your stomach. You tried to lift your hips to accommodate him, but he gently pressed you back down into the mattress.

"I've got this baby girl, just get comfortable."

He slid into you, laying his body on top of you, covering you like a heated blanket. The angle of his thrusts instantly sent you spiraling--body trembling beneath him.

"Fuck, sweetheart--how's this pussy still so fuckin' tight?" he growled in your ear.

You were clenching him tightly, intense pleasure slamming into your core with each thrust he made. You could hardly breathe--the pleasure already so blinding.

"You're close again, aren't you? I can feel it, baby," Dean murmured against your neck.

You couldn't do anything other than moan and whine as he fucked you deeper into the mattress. He was right--you were on the brink of another blinding orgasm.

"I wanna fill this sweet pussy up, baby--but I can't do that until you cum for me."

You whimpered softly, Dean's thrusts continuing.

"Tell me what you need, sweetheart."

"Don't stop--" you gasped.

Dean continued his motions, not changing a single thing. He knew you were close--all you needed was a little push. His lips were so close to your shoulder, brushing softly against your skin. On a particularly hard thrust, Dean bit into your shoulder blade, drawing a scream of pleasure from your throat as you came around him.

He slowed his motions, not quite ready to cum, but not wanting to stop. He kissed the bite mark gently, making sure you felt his love for you in each kiss.

When you'd come down from your high, Dean eased you onto your back, cock still buried deep inside you. He began slow, gentle thrusts, waiting for you to refocus on him.

After several moments, your eyes finally met his and he smiled warmly. "There you are."

"Dean..." you whispered.

"I'm right here, baby."

"Want you to fill me up," you begged softly.

Dean groaned. "You keep squeezing me and looking at me like that and I'm a goner."

You gave him a weak smile and clenched your pussy as tightly as you could. He gasped softly, hips stuttering slightly.

"Cum for me, Dean--please."

"Gonna f-fill you up, baby...s-so close."

You wrapped your weak legs around him, holding him against you. You placed a gentle palm against his cheek, forcing him to continue looking at your loving expression.

His thrusts had become sloppy and his breathing labored. A few more thrusts and he exploded inside of you, cries of pleasure leaving his lips as he filled you up. His spend leaked out of you as his thrusts began to slow to a halt, lips pressing into your sweaty skin in gentle kisses.

"I love you," he whispered repeatedly. "So, so much."

Finally, Dean collapsed on top of you, softening member still inside of you. The two of you laid like that for several minutes, entangled together comfortably. You held him tightly, almost afraid to let go.

Dean slowly began to lift himself off of you, leaving you cold and empty. You whimpered softly, reaching for him as he got off the bed.

He turned to you and smiled. "I'm coming right back, baby. I promise."

He moved slowly towards the sink in the corner of the room before returning with a warm, wet washcloth to clean your mixed spends from between your legs. Each touch made you shiver, but his gentle voice grounded you.

"I've got you, baby. Almost done."

Once he'd finished, he tossed the washcloth across the room before crawling back into bed with you. He laid down beside you and tugged you into him. You angled your body to lay your head on his chest.

The two of you laid in silence for so long you began to wonder if he'd fallen asleep. He had to be tired after that drive and the exertion of your love making, so you didn't blame him.

Just as you began to drift off to sleep yourself, you heard Dean's soft voice. “Babe? Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” you said softly.

“Do you want that normal, apple pie kinda life?”

You laughed quietly, shaking your head against his chest. “Absolutely not."

“Really? Not even a little?”

You looked up at him, expression softening. “Not even a little. I happen to love our life. I love living in a weird underground bunker. I love driving all over god’s green earth in our ancient Impala. I love staying in seedy motels and eating shitty diner food. I love saving people and hunting monsters. Do you know why?”

He shook his head.

“Because I get to do it all with you.”

He smiled at you, gaze exceptionally tender.

“I couldn’t ask for anything better than this beautiful, messy life of ours.”

He leaned in to kiss you sweetly. “I love you so damn much, baby.”

“I love you too, Dean Winchester. Always.”

You settled back against his warm chest, listening to the solid beating of his heart. You knew tomorrow would bring another battle, another problem to solve, but for right now, you were exactly where you needed to be--in the arms of the man you loved with all your soul, feeling safe and loved...finally home.

[angellcherry]

— home.

» pairing: jungkook x reader

» genre: fwb to lovers, hurt/comfort, nsfw

» synopsis: “show me your thorns, and I'll show you hands ready to bleed.”

» warnings: allusions to depression, brief mentions of self harm (nothing graphic!), a little bit of angst, cuddling, reassurance, jungkook is a big green flag, talks of therapy and healing, confessions, lots of kisses, he's down bad and so in love :( (they both are), pet names, soft!dom jk, slight size kink, missionary bc he needs to look at her and kiss her 😩, praise, dirty talk, choking, creampie, aftercare

His hand curled around the nape of your neck the moment your lips touched. Warmth trickled down your spine, and he titled his head; tongue prodding at your soft lips, like he wanted you down to the marrow. Like he wanted to dip into your soul, kiss after kiss, until he was completely submerged; until he's explored every nook and crevice, felt every bump and crack.

He pulled away from the heat of your mouth slowly, reluctantly, eyes half lidded and dark. Lungs expanding to take in more air, voice coming out hoarse.

"You weren't answering your phone..."

"I know," you whispered, "I'm sorry."

Jungkook shook his head.

"No need to be sorry, baby," he lifted your hand to his lips, leaving a kiss on the soft skin there. "I was just worried."

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in closer. You sank into his embrace so easily; like you just came home. In a way, you have. He hasn't seen you in over a week...

It may not have seemed like much, but your absence was tangible. Suffocating. Especially when he didn't know if something was wrong.

"I'm glad you're here," he murmured.

You turned your head to peck his shoulder, fingers entwining, and then you were walking towards his bedroom as though it was second nature. The change in your demeanor had the corners of Jungkook's eyes crinkling from smiling. You practically skipped over to his bed, hopping onto the large mattress.

"Can I get a shirt, please?"

He didn't think you comprehended how fucking cute you were. He turned to open his closet and began rummaging through it.

"At this point, I'm pretty sure I'd kill someone if you asked me," he muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing, baby."

Flushing, he ignored the curious tilt of your head and threw you his favorite t-shirt.

God, how could someone be so fucking cute?

You were always excited to nap in his bed, share food and wear his clothes. The fact that it brought you comfort made his already lovesick heart swell up and ache. Something so simple, but so domestic — it fucked with his head. He wanted this every day, in every life. You were his comfort, too. Why couldn't you see it?

He leaned against his closet, arms crossed, watching you slip out of your clothes, the heap landing on the floor. It was art. You were so beautiful; inside and out. He couldn't help the way his stomach stirred and heart fluttered, yet instead of acting on his urges, he just walked over to you and bent down to pick up your clothes.

While you got into his shirt, he folded them neatly and placed them on his gaming chair.

"I missed this bed so much," you sighed.

Jungkook glanced over at you, taking a moment to drink in the image of you lying there, the black cotton of his shirt slightly too wide and too long for your body; but fuck, it looked perfect to him. He bit his lip, making his way to climb onto the mattress beside you.

"What about me?" He asked, delighted by how you opened up your arms, instinctively scooting closer to him.

"Hm, what about you?"

Jungkook pouted, eyebrows furrowing. His arms wrapped around your waist.

"Hey."

You giggled, peppering his face with kisses, and he wished he could live in this moment forever, stop all the clocks, kill time. To hell with what that would do to the universe.

"I missed you, too."

Just like that, he melted. Somehow, it hurt so bad; he had you right there, and yet he didn't. Disappearing and reappearing. Out of reach, like a mirage.

He lifted your hand to his lips again, momentarily distracted by how small it was compared to his.

"So tiny."

Amused at the scoff you let out, he turned it to kiss your palm, then paused abruptly.

A raw shade of red caught his attention.

Narrowing his eyes, he examined the wounds around multiple fingers — or at least tried to, before you caught on and pulled your hand away like you got burned.

His heart dropped.

It's been a while. Why were you doing this to yourself again?

Fuck. He felt like a failure of a man.

He swallowed thickly, then pulled you in closer, as if treading on thin ice. Terrified of making a mistake and feeling it crack under his weight. Once he was under, once it all fell apart, he didn't know if you'd let him in again.

"Baby..." he whispered into your hair.

"I'm so tired, Jungkook," mellow, you answered the question he didn't get to ask. "I don't know what's wrong with me..."

"Talk to me," he pleaded. "I can't help you if you shut me down."

You sniffed quietly. There was a loud crack. Not in the ice, but in his chest.

"You can't help me either way."

Jungkook tried to lift his head to look at you, but you gripped his hoodie, bunching up the fabric in your hand.

"Baby—"

"Not everyone deserves help," you insisted, a wet sigh following. "What's wrong with me? Why can't I help myself? E-everyone else seems to be doing just fine, a-and I'm just rotting away, filled with these ugly thoughts and feelings, I can't do anything right."

Jungkook hugged you tighter, like he hoped he could mold you together, give you as much of him as you needed to feel whole again. He'd let you rip him to pieces to fill the void.

"Stop saying that," he breathed, his eyes burning, "fuck, stop saying that."

He stroked your back as you cried into his chest, softly, feeling helpless and furious at the same time.

"When you're always in the dark," he whispered, "you learn to make friends with monsters to survive. It's all you know, so it's what feels most comfortable."

He heard you inhale, felt your head lift with hesitation. Eyes swollen, glossy, lower lip still trembling.

Jungkook cupped your face, wiping at the wet streaks.

"When you're always in the dark, sometimes... it feels like it's all you deserve. But it's not your fault. You're not a bad person," he said softly, his thumb rubbing your lower lip. "Sometimes, it's just the monsters you know talking."

You blinked, small and vulnerable, like a child who just woke up from a nightmare.

"I... I don't know..."

Jungkook squeezed your waist, so close his nose almost touched yours.

"But I know," he promised. "I know."

He stared into your eyes, watched them well up with more tears. He wished he could kiss them all away.

"Let me be there for you—"

You kissed him, and once again, it hurt. Because he wanted you, he wanted you so bad, but not like this — why didn't you want him, too?

Outside of the bedroom, when you weren't tangled in sheets, it seemed like you had no interest in letting your walls down. He's spent so much time trying to climb them, only to end up with broken bones, back down on the ground again.

He couldn't do this anymore.

He pulled away from your lips, denying you the oblivion you craved. He wanted to let you use him, he'd do it every day if it meant he could see you again. But he was afraid that if he didn't speak up now, he'd never find the courage to do it.

"I want to be with you," he breathed out. "Why won't you let me love you?"

There was an instant change in your expression that made his stomach lurch.

"I— I..."

A pause, filled with uncertainty.

Jungkook searched your eyes. The windows to the soul, they said. Broken, and the interior was dark. Nothing good lurked in there.

"I love you," he repeated.

His heart pounded in his chest. He stared right into this endless darkness, crawling with insecurities and fear. As though he was hoping the warm whisper would chase away the frigid, haunted air breaking through, make all the other voices come to a halt.

He was no longer a boy, but a man, and he feared no monsters. He wanted to flood the space with light.

"Move in with me," his palm settled on your cheek, thumb brushing your skin. "I'll help with your classes and therapy. I'll take care of you. You can lean on me until you're strong enough to stand on your own. And even then, when you do — I still wanna be there. I wanna make you happy... Every day."

There it was. His heart, right in the palm of your hand, like an offering. Bleeding through your fingers. Willing to be crushed, if it meant at least he tried.

But you cradled it instead.

Fresh tears, sticking to your eyelashes, and then a rush of warmth in the dark. Your lips pressed into his, tender, and he shut his eyes, tasting a mixture of salt and your sweetness —

"I love you," a shaky exhale, right into his mouth.

It sank into him like sunlight, pulsing, nourishing and bright. And he swallowed it up with a kiss, his teeth clashing with yours.

He shifted to hover above you, finding rest in between your legs, goosebumps erupting when he felt your hand slip under his hoodie, inching it up.

A giggle slipped past his lips, and he disconnected himself from you only to take it off, throwing it aside carelessly before he was kissing you again.

He felt you smile. You went straight to his head like wine. Your taste, your scent — your touch, exploring the muscles of his back, his shoulders.

He was already hard, aching to get lost in you; dizzy on want and love.

Hands groping over clothes, wherever they could reach, hot lips trailing down your neck. He wanted to do so many things to you; kiss every inch of your skin, make you come on his tongue.

But you had the whole night — a whole eternity, really. And the way you squirmed beneath him, arching your back, legs parting, hips raising to feel him, urgent and breathy, wiped his mind clean off anything but the need to be inside you.

Jungkook groaned, his cock twitching, leaking precum into the cotton of his boxers. He remained still, however, letting your hand wander in between your bodies.

His eyes were glued to the way it traveled down his tensing abdomen, pausing to lower his sweats; then dipping inside.

He tried to stay quiet, though his chest was heaving, the sight and the feeling of your hand wrapping around his girth making it twitch again.

He watched you pull your panties aside, wet and ruined, revealing your pretty, glistening folds and the small entrance below.

So fucking small.

It looked almost obscene compared to his cock, long and thick and pulsating in your hand. But you fit him perfectly, like you were made just for him.

The moment you guided him forward, and the wet tip touched the heat of your cunt, he lifted his eyes to yours.

He felt so fucked out, but he was gentle as he pushed inside. The tight, wet muscle welcomed him eagerly, inch by inch, until his hips touched yours and he couldn't breathe.

For a moment, time stood still.

His head fell into the crook of your neck, inked hand squeezing your thigh.

"I missed you so much."

He sounded broken, but he's never felt so whole before.

"I missed you too..."

You clenched around him, prompting his hips to move off their own accord, coaxing the most beautiful sounds out of your body. The wetness, the smack of his skin against yours; the soft whines that fueled the heat boiling deep in his gut.

"Mmm," he moaned, raspy, "doing so well, baby."

He tried to stretch you out slowly, preoccupy himself with biting and sucking at your neck; anything not to focus on how you clenched around him.

But he was doomed, and he understood that the second you moved your hips, fucking him back.

"Oh shit," he gasped, "baby..."

He stifled another moan into your cheek, picking up his pace, so deep inside you he wondered if you could feel him in your tummy. The thought alone made his cock throb, every vein and ridge.

Long, ringed fingers wrapped around your throat, the pressure soft, but definitely there. In return, you grasped his shoulders, nails digging in, and Jungkook knew he wasn't going to last long.

"Good?" He breathed, slamming into you a little faster, stuck on your shining eyes and eager nods. "Yeah?"

The mattress began to protest under the force of his thrusts, but the sound was drowned out by everything else. Jungkook felt your cunt tightening, so warm and so fucking sloppy, his own little personal heaven.

"Almost there? Hm? Gonna make a mess for me?"

Clench.

He groaned, his tummy twisting, the moans spilling past your lips making his head spin.

You merely nodded again, as though you couldn't speak. It made the corner of his lips quirk upwards.

"Yeah?" He tightened his hold on your neck, staking his claim with a coo. "My girl's gonna make a mess on my cock? Pretty angel's gonna cream all over it?"

Your breath hitched, thighs beginning to quiver around him.

"Y-yeah," you uttered, breathless, "yours—"

Jungkook's tongue slid into your mouth, his rutting becoming desperate. He wanted to mark you and brand you and oh god — he was about to see stars.

"Yeah, fuck— mine, my good girl," he stuttered out, "oh, baby, mhmm, I'm gonna come—"

His hips bucked as your pussy spasmed around him, sucking his cock in deeper, restricting his movements. Still, he fucked you through your orgasm, letting himself go with a loud groan. A burst of stars, the tension snapping; and he spilled inside you, white ropes of hot cum that filled you up to the brim.

He slumped against you after a drawn out moment, his body thrumming with bliss. Careful not to crush you, however, he rolled over to the side, his arms automatically enveloping your frame.

With his nose in your neck, he waited for his breathing to even out, lazily rubbing your hands.

"So good," he mumbled, "fuck... Are you okay, baby?"

You hummed, snuggling into him.

"More than okay."

Jungkook smiled, opening his eyes and pressing a kiss into your cheek.

"I'll wash you up in a sec."

"In a bit... Stay with me."

"I'm staying with you forever. Good luck getting rid of me now."

Your laughter sent a pang through his chest. He wanted to keep hearing it.

He brought your hand up to his lips, gently kissed each wounded finger, muttering his I love yous and praises until you both drifted off. Sated and warm under the sheets, tangled up in each other; with a single promise echoing through his head.

Never again would he let you hurt like this.

And whatever was happening outside of these four walls hardly mattered.

This was all that mattered.

This was home.