#while he’s forced to decorate the tree

[imaginedanvrs]

atonement

masterlist

camp counselor!wanda x reader

word count: 6k

warnings: homophobia and homophobic slurs, conversion therapy, manipulation, gaslighting, references to drug use, unhealthy power dynamics (so rape), noncon to dubcon, cunnilingus, degrading, fingering, nipple play, size kink, general mean Wanda

a/n: me? posting blasphemous content on Easter Sunday? I would never

It looked harmless enough. You weren’t sure what you had been anticipating, mostly because you had been trying to keep your mind off of the unavoidable destination, but it certainly wasn’t the depressing place you had expected. No, they were smart enough to keep that reality away from the parents that dropped their ‘troubled’ children off. If anything, it looked like the kind of summer camp that a lot of your friends would be enjoying about that time. 

  There wasn’t a church for one thing. In its place was what appeared to be a ranch style house that had kept its traditional family features such as the pair of rocking chairs on the porch and the maintained flowerbed around the borders. On either side of the building, closing in the driveway, were several other intimate buildings that created the impression of a community style living. They were all decorated with various posters about god’s love and acceptance that you guessed you were going to be hearing a lot about during your stay. 

  Your mother got out of the car first as a man who looked like he was still being dressed by his own mum jogged over from the main house to greet you both. You clenched your grip on your bag strap before deciding to face the music and follow her lead, still examining the area sceptically as your mother and the man introduced themselves. Your mother failed to deliver the same excitement the blonde did, but she attempted to force it nonetheless while your hosts laughed easily at something she had said.

  You weren’t listening to either of them as you retrieved your other bag from the boot of the car, not expecting the man to walk around the other side to greet you. “Y/n!” He said like you were an old friend. “I’m Reverend Vision but you can call me Rev Vis.” You most certainly weren’t going to be doing that. “We’re so happy to have you here, let me give you the grand tour of our home,” he beckoned. You trailed behind them.

  “Do you live on site?” Your mother asked.

  “Oh yes, me and the Mrs. We love our work,” he drowned on and began guiding you through the various rooms of the two buildings either side of his house. The more you learnt about the place, the more you began to dread your stay. There were ‘entertainment’ rooms that were filled with musical instruments and religious books and music. A canteen area fueled by the kitchen in which all of the students were to prepare every meal. A prayer room that was deserted at that time. Finally, the dorms. 

  Vision wasted no time in searching through your bags for anything that could “interfere with your journey” and came up empty handed, much to his well hidden disappointment. Your mother didn’t seem to notice it, too focused on the contents that came out of your bag, but you saw the flicker of his brow when he declared you were all good and began explaining the long lists of rules that you had no intention of memorising. 

  “And we do not allow any kind of sexual acts, with yourself or others,” he said lightly. Your mother shifted uncomfortably and you nodded. You had no intention of being caught by him with your hands down your pants when he did his checks during the night. You didn’t anticipate being there long because you were fully prepared to fake your conversion to heterosexuality. How hard could it be? Besides, you dreaded to think how much your parents were paying the capm under the illusion that they could somehow change you. You had to find it humorous, otherwise it would really fucking hurt. 

  It still did when you watched your family car disappear past the camp gates and into the dense tree line. You sighed, resting your head gently against the cool glass of your window and took in the camp in its entirety. It was a waste of beautiful land, you concluded as you examined where the large field met the changing trees. There were a couple guys in the camp uniform playing football on the grass while a cluster of girls sat to the side cheering them on. Apparently you had caught the end of the game, because Vision appeared on the edge of the grass and called them back inside, most likely to prepare for dinner. 

  “Y/n,” a voice behind you called. You spun around at the unexpected caller just as she opened her arms and enveloped you in a tight hug that took you wholly by surprise. 

 “Hi?” You greeted as a question, making the older woman chuckle as she held you before pulling away and keeping her soft hands on your arms as she took you in and allowed you to do the same. Holy fuck she was beautiful. Her striking emerald eyes bore straight through your own and somehow had the ability to make you feel entirely exposed, as though it would be futile to ever conceal anything from her, including your undeniable attraction to her. In contrast, her smile was soft and polite as she gazed at you in a friendly fondness you would with someone you haven't seen in a long time. There was something noticeably comforting in it and the way she carried an entirely put together personar that you wanted a peek beneath. Metaphorically of course… but also literally. 

  “I’m Wanda, Vision’s wife.” Rev Vis was punching way above his weight. This woman’s voice was even hot. Maybe pretending to be straight would be harder than you thought. 

  “Nice to meet you,” you smiled and glanced away awkwardly, finding her impossible to maintain eye contact with. She didn’t seem to care as she hooked her finger under your chin and turned your head to keep your attention on her. 

  “I have every faith you’re going to do so well here, sweetheart,” she told you fondly then dropped her hand and took a respectful step back. Right, gotta leave room for jesus. “Your roommate will be back soon then you too should head down for supper,” she instructed as she headed for the door.

  “Okay,” you nodded and pretended to unpack your bags. 

  “See you later, honey,” she said before disappearing. You exhaled a breath you didn’t realise you had been holding and collapsed onto your bed. 

*

Your first day dragged by painstakingly slowly. Between meals, you attended bible study taught by Vision who gave you his extra attention as it was your first time there. He asked you to compare your own relationship with god to that which he was teaching, expecting an answer in front of all the other students who had been through the same ordeal and spotted your lies as well as Vision did. Apparently everyone did the same when they started at the camp. 

  You had kitchen duty in the morning and garden duty in the afternoon (which was probably the least crap one) before you had to sit down for what felt like hours to listen to Vision sing about god on a guitar he didn’t know how to tune properly. During every interaction you had with him, all you could think about was how he had ended up with a woman like Wanda. Had they been high school sweethearts? Had their parents pushed them together? Did he have some kind of twisted blackmail over her? They were the only three explanations that made any sense to you but you weren’t about to ask any of the other students for their input. 

  As it turned out, your daily routine was also going to include a one on one session with the older woman which should have been something to act as a silver lining in your stay, but it was the most challenging aspect of all. 

  “When did your desire for women begin?” She asked after some small talk.

  “I’m not sure,” you lied in an effort to buy yourself some time to think of a good response. She smiled at you softly.

  “You can lie to me, but you can’t lie to god,” she informed lightly. 

  “A couple years ago,” you replied honestly. This seemed to please her. 

  “And how did it manifest?” She sounded genuinely curious to know, lulling you into being unexpectedly open with her. It wasn’t as though you had anyone else to talk about that stuff with. 

  “There was a girl in my class that I thought was pretty,” you told her as you recalled your first real crush. “I felt more when she smiled at me than I did when I kissed a boy.” Wanda smiled as though she could see the purity of your memory as well as you could. Except to her, it wasn’t so innocent. 

  “The devil likes to work his way into places we could never expect,” she told you and your smile dropped. “Especially when we’re naive,” she added. It sounded as though she didn’t hold anything against you and she wholly believed you had been seduced by the devil himself and that it was impossible for there to be any other explanation. 

  “I was seventeen,” you reasoned. “I wasn’t naive.” Wanda liked the challenge you gave her. That whisper of a promised defiance gave her a thrill she knew to keep a cap unless she was required to use it. She would do anything for her beloved students to guide them back on the right path, especially one that wore the face of morality so well. 

  “And what do you mean by that?” Wanda enquired. 

  “I knew- I know what desire and attraction feel like,” you told her without looking her in those expectant eyes that unknowingly glimmered at your revelation. 

  “Lust,” Wanda said simply. “One of the hardest sins to resist when it affects one so physically.” 

  “Surely it can’t be bad if it’s natural,” you pointed out. That was not the response the brunette wanted to hear.

  “It is not natural,” Wanda said so quickly that she had to take a moment to recollect herself as you looked at her with shock as you took in that momentary crack in her exterior. It was interesting to watch and you wondered why it had hit a nerve. Surely you weren’t the only one to come into her office and state the fact. 

  “Y/n,” she called slowly. “If lust comes to you while you are here, you must come and tell me,” she told you seriously. Yeah, you definitely wouldn’t be doing that. You agreed obediently anyway. 

  “Good,” she smiled again. “Now, is there anyone you currently feel ungodly towards?” 

  “The same girl,” you admitted sheepishly. Yes, you had had a variety of other minor crushes in the past couple years, but she always managed to fill you with that teasing anxiety that never fully manifested when she said hi to you. 

  Wanda raised her brows indiscreetly. “I hope you will soon be able to give that same loyalty to god,” she said. You didn’t give her a response, unsure of what to say when you had no intention of doing such a thing. “In time,” she added when she saw your hesitation. 

  “Maybe,” you muttered, meeting her half way. “Won’t he love me regardless?” You painted the question with an air of innocence that anyone else would have fallen for. But Wanda saw beyond that and knew you used the faux front purely to challenge her again. She was impressed. 

  “Of course,” she told you gently. “Always.”

*

You thought you were being subtle with the way you kept glancing over at the couple. It was breakfast time so there was a general murmur of conversation that you didn’t feel particularly pressed to join in with. All it did was teach you to avoid sitting with the group you had found yourself with again because they seemed to be the only students there who were actively participating in the conversion with the belief it would ‘fix them’. You pitied them in a way, but not enough to interfere with their ramblings about their opposite sex celebrity crushes. 

  Wanda caught your eye on one of the many times you had peered over. Vision was talking to her but apparently she was as distracted from her company as you were, more fixed on returning your gaze. The corner of her lip twitched when you realised you’d been caught and you swiftly looked away to stare down at your cereal, actively keeping your wandering gaze on the other side of the room for the rest of the meal. 

*

“So what did you do to end up here?” A curly haired boy asked as he strolled into the kitchen you occupied alone. He was swinging a tea towel in his hands as he joined you and started on drying the washing up you had started. 

  “Got caught making out with the pastor’s daughter,” you said stoically.

  “You’re fucking with me,” he grinned and your composure cracked. 

  “Yeah, but it’s much cooler than the truth,” you told him honestly as he jumped up onto the counter. 

  “I’m sure it’s not that bad. My grandma walked in on me with my dick down my best friend’s ass,” he told you and you couldn’t stop the laugh that rose promptly. You grinned at the boy next to you in disbelief, thankful that your own luck wasn’t that bad. “Your turn,” he prompted. 

  “I told my best friend that I like girls. She told my parents,” you said humorously, as though it didn’t hurt like a bitch just to remember. 

  “I think I have better mates than you,” he concluded. You didn’t argue with that. “I’m James.”

  “Y/n,” you replied. “How long have you been here?”

  “Four months.”

  “What?” You splashed some water over the floor when your hand slipped in shock and James yelped when some drops hit him then started chuckling at the look you were giving him. 

  “What? Did you think it was only going to last a couple weeks?”

  “Kinda, yeah,” you muttered as you returned your attention to your chore. “Do you think you’ll be out soon?”

  “Nah, they know I’m bullshitting them. We all are, of course, but some of them can trick themselves into believing it, which is good enough for Vision.” 

  “Yeah, I know Wanda sees right through me,” you told him. “Which by the way, that makes no sense right?”

  “I reckon he’s holding her family captive,” James stated simply. You laughed with him easily, glad you had found someone like minded to you. “Hey, do you wanna get high?”

*

The nimble threads at the bottom of your uniformed cardigan were multiplying as your stay at the camp went by. Your fingers frequently found their way to them when you were uncomfortable, which was more often than not, and pulled at the finer threads until you unintentionally collected a small bundle in the palm of your hands that you had to hide. Vision never commented on it, but Wanda did, telling you that it represented your impulse to repress your femininity or some bullshit like that. 

  You left the threads alone and laced your hands together in your lap when she gave you a pointed look from her office chair and you muttered an apology. 

  “I’ve noticed you and James have become quite close,” she commented. “I must admit I was hoping you would find better company in some of the other students here. James doesn’t provide the best example to follow,” she told you. 

  “We’re just friends,” you shrugged, slightly irked that the older woman had a problem with the one refuge you had been able to find in the camp. 

  “Are you friends with anyone else here?” She questioned, not yet providing you the warm smile she offered every time you stepped into her office or saw her in general. She didn’t look happy that day. She looked troubled but you didn’t believe that was solely down to your decision to spend time with James. 

  “Not yet,” you told her even though you weren’t planning on expanding your social circle. Though if it was only two people it must be more of a line. Still, adding that unfulfilled optimism was meant to appease Wanda. You should have expected her to see it for what it really was. 

  “What do you and James talk about?” She wasn’t going to let it go.

  “Our lives, I guess,” you shrugged. 

  “Your experiences,” Wanda said for you. You knew there was no point in denying that when your glance towards her told her all she needed to know. 

  “Sometimes.” 

  “You should only discuss those topics with myself or Vision, otherwise you may end up having those experiences affirmed and encouraged,” she explained pointedly. You nodded uncomfortably as your fingers found their ways to your threads again only to snap back in place when you felt Wanda’s eyes momentarily burn into you. Something was very different with her. “So tell me what you discussed,” she pushed. 

  “I told him how much I dislike kissing boys,” you told her matter of factly as you tried to suppress your rising irritation. Maybe it was her job, but you hated her need to know everything you and James did. 

  “And you want to kiss girls instead?”

  “I want to do a lot of things with them,” you laid on the innocence thick, playing your role as the good christian who was simply admitting to how she had been led astray and just wanted to atone for her sins. As always, Wanda saw through your facade though that time it made her tick. You knew exactly what you were doing, you just had no idea the effect it was having on the older woman. You had no idea that your insistence on pretending to be good while knowing you were bad stirred something in her that she wasn’t supposed to feel. You were pushing those sinful desires that had infiltrated your mind right into her own and she wouldn’t allow it. 

  “That’s all for today,” she declared without giving a response to your statement. It hadn’t even been your full session time, maybe more like half of it. 

  “Okay,” you said slowly as you stood up. 

  “I suggest you spend the rest of your evening with your roommate today,” she told you as you lingered in the doorway. 

  “Right, bye,” you bid awkwardly, frowning to yourself as you walked away.

  The moment the door closed Wanda sighed heavily and leant back in her chair, catching sight of the framed photo of herself and Vision when they went on a hiking holiday in Colorado. The both beamed at the camera as they held each other close, though Wanda’s love for her husband had been as dim as it was in the present. But it was what god wanted. What god certainly didn’t want was for Wanda to allow her mind to wander to you in the way it had during that session when you had been taunting her with that faux naivety that everyone else seemed to fall for. 

  She had such hope for you when she first met you. But the images you had put in her head of her hand disappearing beneath your skirt as her lips clashed with yours, pinning you down to that very couch you perched on, that was something that could not be allowed to flourish, no matter how it made her throb between her legs. Wanda forced herself to stare at her husband’s image and remember when he used to make her feel that way, but those memories of his breathless features beneath her were replaced with your own and suddenly she couldn’t help but ponder what your sweet moans would sound like next to her ear as her fingers dipped inside-

  “Lord help me,” Wanda called, but he never came. 

*

You and Wanda both faced your own new challenges as the weeks went by. For you, your only refuge was gone. James had been sent back home randomly one night after an incident that no one would discuss with you. You had written your numbers on pieces of paper before that night, but it had disappeared as mysteriously as James had and gave you an equally chilling feeling. You had no idea what was going to happen to him when he arrived home without the results he had been sent away to achieve. Would they send him somewhere else? Somewhere worse? The only thing you could do was try not to end up like him. 

  Unfortunately, Wanda knew that nothing had changed within you. You continued to try and fool her with your illusion of innocence, reciting what Vision had taught you, socialising with the committed students and answering her questions in the way she wanted to hear rather than the truth. Little did you know that your efforts to quicken your release from the camp were futile, because Wanda simply didn’t want you gone yet. You were fighting a losing battle, just as she was. 

  As much as she despised to acknowledge it, the brunette fought her own desires as much as you did. It made her hate how much she was drawn to you. It made her ashamed of the acts she envisaged herself performing with you and how she just knew in her heart that you would so willingly part your legs for her. She wasn’t blind to your attraction to her, she had encountered it enough in her career to see it a mile away, no matter how discreet you thought you were being. 

  “I think I’m getting better,” you lied as you peered at Wanda cautiously. 

  “And what makes you say that?” The older woman inquired, humouring your plain fib. 

  “I don’t think about girls,” you said as you willed yourself not to look at Wanda’s long legs that were crossed eloquently. 

  “What do you think about?” You hadn’t been prepared for that. 

  “God?” Wrong. Obviously wrong. Wanda hummed and you knew that meant she didn’t buy it. 

  “Y/n, I want you to start being more honest with me.” You froze and didn’t dare look her in the eye. “I’m aware that you’re not progressing, so I think we should try something new. Just you and me.” You frowned and risked looking up to the confident woman, not having a clue of the excitement that manifested so secretly. “Are you familiar with penance?” You were, yet you had no idea where Wanda was going with it. 

  “There are many different forms. Some fast, some pray, some confess, but as we practise most of that here anyway, I want to try something else,” Wanda explained as she stood up from her chair and sauntered over to the desk in the corner of her office. You heard her rummaging around in the draws as a feeling of unease began to emerge in your chest. Rightfully so, because when Wanda turned back around, she held a riding crop firmly in her grasp. 

  “Stand up,” she instructed and you quickly did so as you eyed the tool in her hands. “Usually you would do this yourself, but I don’t believe you’re capable,” she explained lightly. “Hold out your hand.”

  “Wanda,” you said as you kept your hand glued to your side. “I don’t want to.” Her features were deceivingly gentle as she listened to you. 

  “I don’t want to do this to you either, sweetheart. It’s just the only solution. So hold out your hand,” she repeated, gripping the crop so tight you could hear the leather stretch in her grasp. It unsettled you greatly. 

  “But it will hurt,” you objected, eyes wide. Wanda could have laughed at how oblivious you were to her intentions.

  “It’s meant to,” she said simply and grabbed your wrist with a force that completely paralleled the softness of her tone. 

  “Wanda-” you tried to yank your hand back but you weren’t as strong as the brunette who only had to hold you with one hand while the other brought the crop down hard. 

  You cried out but Wanda used her grip on you to pull you flush against her chest, her features having turned ice cold. Her lips formed a straight line and her eyes pierced through your own with a sharpness that was usually dulled. The next words she uttered were void of that nurturing faith she used with everyone else and were replaced with something much darker. “If you keep struggling I’ll bend you over that desk and whip your ass instead.” You trembled against her, trying to decipher what your best bet was. When you took too long to decide, Wanda reached around and groped your ass, digging the crop in as she did so as though to make sure you knew she was serious. Your breath hitched as you found yourself completely trapped against the woman that squeezed you through your skirt. You whimpered, riling her up more until you nodded. 

  “Good,” Wanda exhaled, calming the heat she was struck with at the sight of your fearful eyes. “With every strike, you’re going to confess something you’ve lied about to me.” There were so many lies to choose from that when the first strike came, you struggled to pick one out. “Confess,” Wanda demanded, all of her patience suddenly absent. 

  “I don’t like boys, I like girls,” you admitted in a rush, refusing to look at Wanda or your burning hand that she struck again. “I’m not doing the work,” you continued. Wanda remained dissatisfied, striking your raw palm again and again as you admitted to your lies, none of which being what Wanda wanted to hear. 

  “I touch myself!” That was what she was looking for. 

  “Look at me,” Wanda instructed, examining the tear streaks down your cheeks as you whimpered. It was clear you were trying to appear strong and indifferent, but it was quickly becoming too much. The older woman cooed at you as dropped the crop to the couch behind you and took a hold of your inflamed hand, rubbing the abused hand with a tenderness that only made it burn more. 

  “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Her smile had grown sinister and you realised you were nowhere near done. “What thoughts do you touch yourself to?” Wanda questioned further, rubbing the most tender areas of your palm. 

  “Lying with a woman,” you hiccuped, hoping the harmless phrasing could somehow ease your next punishment. 

  “Who?” She pushed, gripping your chin roughly and forcing you to look straight ahead at her as you confessed what she already knew. 

  “You,” you whispered. Arousal rushed to the forefront of Wanda’s mind, and with it came anger. You weren't allowed to make her feel the way you did. She had a husband and she was a faithful Christian wife until you showed up and infected her mind with your own illness. You had to be put in your place. 

  In a blur, you were laying flat on the sofa you had lied continuously to Wanda on. You were barely given the chance to react before Wanda hiked her leg over your chest and straddled you with a purely feral look upon her face. You felt a strike of fear hit you, however you also weren’t blind to how attractive Wanda looked in her state of desperation. It may have been a desperation to reclaim control and to punish you for her own feelings, but it was hot nonetheless. 

  “You’ve been tempting me ever since you got here,” she hissed, feeling under her conservative skirt for a moment before she lifted it up around her waist. “This is your fault,” Wanda told you as you soaked in the view of her exposed pussy just inches from your face. You could smell her arousal and when she moved to lower herself onto your awaiting mouth, you eagerly grabbed at the back of her thighs until she slapped you away. “You don’t get to touch me with those filthy fingers, just let me use you.” Although you knew it was terribly wrong, you felt your own cunt heat up at her instructions. You knew that it was fucked up that the married woman wanted to get off on riding your mouth, but you wanted it so bad. 

  “Just like that,” Wanda sighed as you ran your tongue through her wet folds and sucked on them lightly, aiming to savour every drop and inch of her. “Put your tongue out,” she continued to demand. As soon as you did, Wanda began to vigorously grind her clit against your muscle, allowing your tastebuds to become ablaze with her as she cursed above you. You had never heard her swear before and knew she would scold anyone who muttered anything close, so knowing you could elicit such a reaction from her made your insides twist with pride. 

  She didn’t argue when you switched to sucking on her pulsing clit and felt it throb in your mouth. You moaned against her as her movements continued and her thighs locked around her head. It felt as though she really was using you for her own pleasure, not caring about your own or any comfort. You were the shameful bliss she was forbidden to engage with, but it felt incredible to ignore her god and use you as she wished. But she was really disobeying him, she was just teaching you a lesson. It wasn’t really sinning. 

  “Fuck, don’t stop. Don’t you dare stop, you slut!” Wanda cried out as she became engulfed with the sensations you gave her. You had no intention of stopping as you shifted to pushing your tongue inside her. You were met by the tight squeeze of her walls and felt your own clench at the discovery she hadn’t had sex in a while. That explained why she was so sensitive too. Besides yourself, you smirked into the older woman and doubled your efforts. 

  It didn’t take long for Wanda to get close to the bliss she had become stranger to and you weren’t about to let her lose that. She knew her body, even after some time of depriving herself, and told you exactly what to do to get her there. “That’s it, that’s it,” she panted, head swimming as she erratically thrust herself onto her mouth and came with a sharp cry. You moaned against her, adamant on tasting your reward as Wanda trembled on top of you and eventually forced herself off when you didn’t stop. She wasn’t about to let greed overcome her. 

  You looked up at her with a hesitant smile that was apparently the last thing Wanda wanted to see. She glared at you and immediately lifted you up and spun you around so that you were leaning over the armrest on the sofa, not allowing you a second to object. “What-” you tried but she didn’t want to hear it. 

  “We’re not done,” she said without care as she lifted your own skirt over your back and yanked down your soaked underwear. She bit her lip at the sight of the wetness that stained them and threw them over to her desk for safe keeping, definitely not to sniff and use to get off later. 

  “Desperate whore,” she muttered to herself as she ran two fingers through your drenched lips. “You want to get fucked so bad? I’ll show you what it’s like to get fucked.” She let the threat loom over you as dipped her digits into you lightly, barely enough to stimulate you but enough for her to decipher how tight you were. Wanda groaned when she felt you clench in anticipation, desperate for any touch you would give her. At that, she let the remains of her self control slip away and thrust her fingers in at once. “So tight,” she commented as you clung onto the sofa, moaning at the feeling of her filling you up in the way you had dreamed ever since you first met the older woman. 

  “Wanda,” you whined when she spread her fingers out within you to push your walls. 

  “Shut up,” she hissed, refusing to listen to your pathetic pleas on the tip of your tongue. “Take it.” And you did. You bit into the couch to mute yourself as Wanda curled and thrust her fingers inside your wet cunt, mapping out every inch of you and pushing your body’s limits. She added a third finger without any consideration to your stifled whines. 

  Wanda, as she told herself, was only doing it to hurt you and punish you. You deserved it for sinning so openly in her home and for attempting to corrupt her. It wouldn’t work, she convinced herself, she wouldn’t succumb to your lust but she had to show you the right path. She had to make you ache. With that in mind, she added a fourth finger and pumped her fingers in wildly. 

  You cried out into the material you sunk your teeth into, feeling your pussy sting at the stretch Wanda was causing. Still, you continued to soak down to her palm. It just hurt so good. Too good for Wanda to allow, so she snuck her hand under your shirt and bra to take your nipples between her fingers and twist them cruelly. You whimpered at the unnecessary act, making Wanda grin triumphantly. 

  Despite the pain, it did little to distract you from the heat between your legs that was quickly growing out of control. Having stretched you out as much as she pleased, Wanda was able to thrust her fingers inside you without mercy, attacking every sensitive nerve until you became a mess on the sofa she was meant to therapise you on. “You going to cum for me, whore?” Wanda asked when she felt you twitch around her. You mumbled a yes you were lucky she heard. “You’re so pathetic like this, so weak to temptation,” she scolded you with a wicked smile you couldn’t see. “Cum for me.” That was all it took for your muscles to clench tightly around her and let go. You moaned like the whore she saw you as as you came, gripping onto the sofa for dear life as Wanda continued to ruthlessly pump her digits into your cunt. 

  “Too much,” you whined when she failed to stop. She didn’t listen. You came down from one orgasm and soon went tumbling into another when Wadna kept up her actions, making sure to drive her point home. You squirmed under her as your body became overstimulated but there was no room or strength for you to move away. “Please!” You begged as you bucked into her palm, unable to stop the contradicting action that served to amuse Wanda. 

  “So sensitive,” Wanda mused, coaxing you through another orgasm until she deemed that the message had gone through enough. You collapsed in a defeated heap as she stood up from the sofa and corrected her uniform as though you weren’t even there. You missed her taking her tainted digits into her mouth to appease her curiosity. Lord, she thought as she tasted your sweetness. She swiftly pushed away the impulse to keep you down and taste your sweetness directly from the source. She had to keep things professional after all. 

  “See me first thing in the morning,” she instructed, features still flushed with lingering lust. She had given into temptation and whether she liked it or not, she would indulge in you again. You weren’t going home anytime soon.

#marvel #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #dark!wanda maximoff #dark!marvel #scarlet witch

[lovelybee666]

SMILING CRITTERS X SHEEP READER

DOGDAY

• He loves how soft you are, when you're lying down he sometimes puts his face in your fur.

• He thinks you are very adorable and likes to touch your ears.

• He likes to call you "little sheep"

CATNAP

• When he is alone with you he likes to knead your wool, he usually doesn't do it in public as he is especially embarrassed by Dogday, Kickin and Bobby.

• Sometimes he sleeps on top of you (if you are smaller than him, you will have to hold on because he won't stop insisting until he is lying on top of you)

✨ B O N U S ✨

"Catnap, please...get off..you weigh...too much....😫"

*Ignoring you completely while purring😽*

KICKINCHIKEN

• He doesn't admit it but he really likes your wool, there is something about that he thinks is very cute.

• He finds it funny when you make sheep sounds and sometimes he imitates you or makes fun of you a little.

• When he is sad he likes to put his head in your wool

BOBBY BEARHUG

• Hugs you 24/7

• she loves how soft you are and she likes to play with your wool

• If she hears the slightest sheep sound coming out of your mouth, she looks at you for a few seconds with adoration.

HOPPY HOPSCOTCH

• she thinks you are very adorable, sometimes she touches your ears

• Sometimes she imagine yourself without wool and you are looking at her confused while she laughs.

• For Christmas, she decorates you like a Christmas tree (and yes, she put a star on top of you).

CRAFTYCORN

• she likes to paint your wool for some reason (with non-permanent paint)

• she likes to rest her head on your wool when she is tired.

• For Valentine's Day she wraps your wool with red ribbon (NOT IN A WEIRD WAY👺 I KNOW ENOUGH THE PEOPLE FROM THE INTERNET)

PICKYPIGGY

• she doesn't care much, as long as she eats😽

• She likes to snuggle into your wool while she eats.

• Very indifferent about it.

BUBBA BUBAPHANT

• Just like Pickypiggy, he doesn't care much.

• When it's summer he forces you to cut your wool.

• Kickin and Hoppy are in the background dying of laughter and Bubba tells them not to laugh while you are sitting in the background like "why do I still exist..." without your wool.

I couldn't think of much to be honest, there aren't many changes no matter what animal you are😿 I MEAN, YES THERE ARE BUT NOT THAT MANY TO MAKE THIS MORE LONG.

#poppy playtime #poppy playtime x reader #smiling critters #smiling critters x reader #catnap #dogday #catnap x reader #bobby bearhug #craftycorn #dogday x reader #bobby bearhug x reader #craftycorn x reader #hoppy hopscotch x reader #hoppy hopscotch #kickinchiken #kickinchiken x reader #bubba bubbaphant x reader #bubba bubbaphant #pickypiggy #pickypiggy x reader

[daycourtofficial]

Secret exchanges

Summary: a few weeks after the aftermath of Rhys’s banishment, your mate, the new High Lord of the Autumn Court, has a secret meeting with someone from your family.

Author’s note: this is set pretty soon after I am ash from your fire ☺️

Warnings: furthering my sexy Eris agenda by letting him be a smidge cunty

Word count: ~1k

“Shadowsinger.”

“High Lord.”

The titles were exchanged with tense tones as both males look each other over in hopes of finding a nearly fatal wound they could exploit. Coming up short of that, the two watch each other with uncertain gazes, this meeting marking something new.

The Illyrian steps closer, holding out a box in his scarred hands. The new high lord accepts the parcel, looking inside to ensure everything is accounted for. Underneath the lid, the box contains six beautifully decorated mint chocolate cupcakes from the bakery you adore that’s nestled in the heart of Velaris.

“Are condolences in order?”

Eris sneers at Azriel’s taunting tone, snapping the lid to the cupcakes, “only to the foolish noblemen my father made rich. It feels as if everyone in Autumn can breathe properly now that a foul stench has dissipated.”

Males of lesser intelligence could have pieced together the timeline between Rhys banishing you from Night and Eris assassinating Beron within a 24 hour span. Despite his feelings for the red head before him, Azriel was impressed at how swiftly he took the reins.

Azriel inspects the male before him, somehow standing taller than he had previously seen, as if the weight of the world were lifted from his shoulders. His pale skin glowed in the sunlight passing through the trees, and he looked as if the Earth had molded him herself. He almost glowed beneath his skin, as if his veins crackled with pure fire.

Azriel knew Rhys was blowing things out of proportion by banishing you, and Azriel, along with the rest of the inner circle, had no idea how to help you or to let you know that they didn’t care.

Well, they did care. They cared a lot. He and Cassian alone spent several hours sparring trying to work through their rage at the Cauldron’s choice of mate for you.

They weren’t thrilled by this situation, but ultimately they understood that this wasn’t your choice, and while it is your choice now, Azriel of all people couldn’t hate you for trying to make your mating bond work.

He wanted to hate you, though. When he was first told of your banishment, he wanted to destroy your room, destroy any and all memories of this betrayal. He spent days in a fog, running through his meticulous backlog of scheduling to figure out when and how such a ‘relationship’ had occurred.

He had finally left his room in a rage and was on his way to your room when he ran into Nesta, where she practically dragged Azriel by his ear to the training ring. She forced Azriel to spar with her, forcing him to talk about why it hurt so badly.

It would be easy for him to write off your banishment as the right thing to do under the guise of his hatred for Eris. But the real truth, settled deep, deep down in his bones, was that you were the only other member of the family who wasn’t paired off.

He felt less alone when you were around. Not that he had any inclinations towards you. It just didn't feel as crushing with someone else to share the burden. Now with you being gone, albeit not of your own accord, he felt that loneliness seep back in, that deep desire for someone to love him wholly.

But now you’re off, banished not only from your court, but from your family. Rhys had commanded all of them to cease any contact with you directly.

Technically Eris was a workaround.

Azriel could never deny you, especially not when it came to your obsession with the cupcakes he just handed to Eris, the two of you sneaking off on several occasions to satisfy the sweet tooth you shared.

Despite every part of screaming to do so, he couldn’t deny your mate when he came to the shadowsinger, asking for an olive branch.

Azriel cleared his throat, not wanting to spend anymore time with the newly appointed High Lord, but still needing some update on you, “how is she?”

Eris sighed, mulling over how to answer the shadowsinger. His thoughts went to you, and how you always spoke fondly of Azriel. You’d never keep the truth from Azriel, despite keeping the mating bond from him. You hated not telling anyone in your family, a topic of conversation you and Eris constantly circled back to.

“Coping as you would expect,” the new high lords words making Azriel feel worse than he did before. The shadowsinger’s eyes move to the ground, and in a rare move, decides to extend an olive branch of his own.

For you. He would do this for you.

“I don’t agree with Rhys’s actions.”

Eris raises his eyebrows, “ah, so the dogs can disagree with their master.”

Azriel’s snarl causes Eris’s lip to curl in a smirk, but he holds his hands up in surrendor.

“I never expected you or the other one to ever disagree with him, at least never admitting it to me.”

Hazel eyes meet amber, a mask over his features as he slits his eyes in warning.

“Don’t make me regret disagreeing with Rhys.”

Eris’s expression softens at the Illyrian despite the obvious threat lacing his words. He looks down at his fingers, inspecting his nails as if he can't be bothered to look at Azriel anymore.

“If I ever do anything that would make you regret it, you and the other brutes may come and dispose of me yourselves. The honor would belong to you, if she doesn’t wish to collect.”

Azriel turned to leave, but was stopped by Eris’s voice.

“Before you go,” Azriel turned as Eris procured several sealed envelopes with your handwriting on the front.

“I was instructed to leave these with you.”

Azriel grabs the letters from Eris’s hands, as if he would burn them in front of the Shadowsinger, taunting him further with any contact to you.

In his hands lay several letters, each one addressed to a member of your family except for Rhysand.

Eris’s voice chimes back in, “she wanted to write to him. Couldn’t find the words.”

He shrugs, turning his back on the Shadowsinger as he starts walking back through the orchard, flowers blooming all around them.

“Or perhaps she knew he would skin you alive if you delivered it to him before he was ready.”

#eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra x y/n #eris vanserra x reader #eris x y/n #eris x you #eris x reader #acotar fanfiction #forgot to tag when I posted this smh

[bradshawssugarbaby]

All The Pretty Girls - Bob Floyd x Reader

A/N: Inspired by All The Pretty Girls by Kenny Chesney.

pairing: Bob Floyd x reader

warnings/content: sickeningly sweet Bob fluff.

word count: 3.1k

I'm home for the summer, shoot out the lights Don't blow my cover, oh I'm free tonight I'm coming over, call all your friends "Somebody hold me", all the pretty girls said All of the whiskey, went to my head "Shut up and kiss me", all the pretty girls said

Bob took in a deep breath as he walked up the long, dirt pathway that lead to his parents’ farmhouse. It’d been months since he’d been back in Kentucky - years, even, and as he approached the sounds of the party his family was throwing in the backyard, he felt himself fighting harder and harder to resist the overwhelming urge to turn around and run as fast as he could back to his rental car, hop in and catch the next flight back to San Diego. He contemplated the excuses he could come up with to explain his sudden disappearance, but before he had a chance to figure out the minor details, a familiar voice called out to him.

“Bobby! There’s our favourite lil pilot!”

His uncle shouted from across the yard, coming over to him with a firm slap on the shoulder as he greeted him. Bob tried not to cringe at the juvenile nickname his family still called him - he hated being called Bobby. No one back in San Diego knew him as anything other than Bob - it felt more grown up. He was the baby in his family, often called Bobby in a condescending way to remind him of how much younger he was than everyone else.

He’d been the surprise baby in the family - born unexpectedly when his mother was 37, following behind four older sisters who were 6, 8, 11 and 13 when he was born. Now, at 32, Bob felt himself recoil internally everytime someone called him that, especially if it was his family. His dozen nieces and nephews were about the only ones he’d tolerate it from, and occasionally his grandmother - who at this point was over 90 years old, and who was he to tell her no?

Bob adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose, forcing a smile as he turned to face his boisterous family. Growing up, he’d always wondered if he was adopted - he was quiet, reserved, and shy - the complete opposite of everyone in his family tree. In fact, it was a running joke with his older sister Kate that he was adopted. He believed it for a while when he was 6 - it explained so much about him, or so he thought. Until, that was, the moment that his eldest sister, the often bossy and in control Jennifer, pulled out the home videos that had been recorded when Bob was born - a sight that Bob still couldn’t erase from his memory, regardless of how hard he tried to.

“I’m not so little anymore, Uncle Don,” Bob said with a sheepish smile as his uncle pulled him in for a bear hug.

“No, s’pose you aren’t now, are ya? You got yourself a little lady now, Bobby?”

“Not yet. I’ve been busy - haven’t been stateside in months, actually. This is my first chance at leave in over a year. Just never bothered taking it, I guess.”

That was a lie - Bob had taken a couple weeks leave last year, but he spent it at his home in San Diego, refreshing the decor and repainting to make it more to his tastes and basking in the peaceful quiet of his new space. He’d spent a day or two wandering around downtown San Diego with his friend, Bradley, the two of them exploring the area together - Bradley showing Bob all the sites he’d remembered from photographs and childhood memories. Bob couldn’t tell his family that though - they’d be crushed to learn that he had time off and chose not to spend it with them.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see them, he was sure of it. He just didn’t want to field all the questions he knew came with each visit. Nothing was off limits to his family - his love life, relationships, his personal details - he’d lost count of how many phone calls included a casual “So, meet anyone special yet, Bobby?”. He knew they meant well, but God, was he ever tired of it.

That was the other thing he’d grown tired of - watching his language all the time. His family was religious - far more so than he’d ever been, and the idea of swearing and cursing was scandalous to them, but it was something Bob’d grown used to in his 14 years serving in the Navy, between the Academy and on base. Trying to curb it around his family members was a task in and of itself.

“Robert!” His mother's arrival interrupted his ruminations, her fervent embrace enveloping him in a maternal cocoon. "Your accent's gone already, I knew California would be bad for you," she lamented, a tinge of jest lacing her words.

“Hi Ma, missed you,” He nodded, hugging her back firmly with a smile, “Relax, Ma, I’m still a Southern boy at heart, even if I don’t sound like it. Two of the guys in my squad are from the South too. Jake’s from Texas, Bradley’s from Virginia. I’ll probably find my accent again soon now that I’m stationed with them at North Island. At Lemoore I wasn’t paired up with anyone from here.”

“Ooh, Robert,” she said softly, rubbing his shoulder as she spoke to him, “There’s someone who’s been askin’ ‘bout you.”

Bob was about to ask who it was when the question was answered for him. He turned in the direction his mother was facing and felt his cheeks flush a bright red as he saw you. You and Bob had been friends as children - best friends, in fact. You’d kept in contact over the years, but eventually, around your 24th birthdays, the hangouts became less frequent, the phone calls grew further apart and texts took longer to answer, until eventually, they stopped. Standing in front of him now, eight years later, he couldn’t imagine for the life of him why he ever stopped talking to you.

His mind raced with a million thoughts at once, visions of what life would have been like if he’d manned up and asked you out. If he’d decided to risk it all in high school and take you to prom, or if he’d asked you out when you went to university a couple hours drive away from the Naval Academy. He figured he probably would have married you, if given the chance to go back and do it again. Own a house with a big yard, a half a dozen kids running around, some just like him, with sandy blonde hair and deep blue eyes, and some just like you - a vision of beauty in his mind.

He snapped back to reality when he felt you wrap your arms around him, a wide smile spreading across your face. He hugged you firmly, not wanting to make his sudden desire to hold you close evident. For all he knew, you could be married with a family by this point - it wouldn’t be odd at all, not now in your early thirties. In fact, he felt like he was the odd one out compared to everyone he’d grown up around in Kentucky. Most of the people he’d gone to school with were parents to kids approaching third grade.

“It’s so good to see you!” you exclaimed cheerfully as you pulled back from Bob’s embrace, sporting a warm, friendly grin.

“Yeah, it’s great seeing you too. Wow, it’s uh…it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Eight years, give or take.” You nodded quickly, shrugging the idea off as you met Bob’s cobalt blue eyes, finding it hard not to get yourself lost in them. He always did have the prettiest eyes you’d ever seen, framed perfectly now by silver wire framed glasses.

“How have you been?” He smiled as he guided you over towards the kitchen, grabbing a glass from the cupboard and turning to look at you, “You want some sweet tea?”

“I’d love some, thanks Bob,” you nodded, remembering that he preferred going by that now that he was older.

As Bob poured two glasses of his mom’s homemade sweet tea for each of you, your eyes wandered over him, taking in the sight before you. The last time you’d seen him, Bob still resembled the teenage boy you’d crushed on throughout high school, but now, standing in his place, was a man. He stood at a solid six foot one, his blonde hair neatly combed, and a more adult style pair of wire glasses adorning his face, as opposed to the thick, dark square frames he wore throughout the time you knew him.

“I’ve been good,” you nodded slowly as you sipped the cool, brown liquid, the notes of lemon, sugar and black tea dancing on your tongue, “How about you? I heard you’re stationed out west now?”

“Yeah, I was at Lemoore, which is further north in California, but now I’m at North Island, in Coronado. Just outside of San Diego, actually. Other side of the bay.”

“How do you like it there? Bet the weather’s great, like, all the time, isn’t it? Much better than what I get out in D.C.”

“You’re in D.C. now?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, smiling softly, “Never left after college.”

Bob listened empathetically as you filled him in on everything he’d missed in your life over the past eight years. As you spoke, he couldn’t help but feel his attention wavering, not because he wasn’t interested in what you had to say, but because he couldn’t help but envision all the things that could’ve happened had he been brave enough to ask you out earlier. He wanted to kick himself for not trying for you - he’d always been fond of you. The sheer thought of you asking about him, and coming back to Kentucky to see him when he came home was enough to make him think of how much he’d screwed up before.

You felt yourself rambling nervously as you talked to Bob, trying to avoid any awkward silence between the two of you. You were so relieved to have this moment with him - just to talk to him again. You heard he was single, and you knew you still had unresolved feelings for him so when your mom had told you about the homecoming barbecue that Mrs. Floyd was planning for him, you knew you had to make the drive home, just to see what could’ve been between you both, and to see if anything remained between you.

As the night carried on, you felt yourself falling further and further for Bob - and now, you were left wondering why you hadn’t been bold enough to ask him out before. Why now, when it was the least convenient for the two of you, had to be when you realized this. You lived on the complete opposite coasts from one another - a six hour flight spanning the United States between the two of you. Although, the more time spent with Bob that evening, the more you found yourself considering taking a transfer to your job’s California office. Los Angeles was a much more doable three hour drive to San Diego - you could manage driving three hours every few days to see him if you needed to.

By 9pm, the party had dwindled down to a few members of Bob’s family, his parents, and you - everyone else having turned in for the night or headed home earlier. You, however, were staying a couple of houses away at your parents’ home, and could manage to stay as long as Bob wanted you to. He looked around the party, and, upon realizing he wouldn’t be missed anymore if he disappeared, he took you by the hand playfully, leading you to the old tree at the back of the property.

Nestled in the tree sat the treehouse you’d spent so many hours in together as kids, looking completely unchanged from when you’d last seen it. Bob smiled as he started climbing up the makeshift ladder, looking back at you with a mischievous grin - one you hadn’t seen in him since you were children.

“You comin’?” he ribbed playfully as he swung himself up into the treehouse, reaching his hand down to offer you help.

You shook your head, laughing at how ridiculous you felt, but quickly climbed your way up the tree to join him. He helped you into the treehouse, smirking at you as he adjusted his glasses. The treehouse was still decorated the way you’d left it - old toys sitting out on the table, a small toy chest full of Nerf guns and playing cards, a couple of toy cars and action figures joining them. Bob picked one of the action figures up, laughing as he held it in his hands, as if all the memories of you two playing together came flooding back at once.

“I forgot about this place,” you mused softly, your voice barely a whisper against the backdrop of forgotten treasures.

Bob nodded, a faint smile playing on his lips as he regarded the toy with a mix of fondness and amusement.

"Yeah, my nieces and nephews use it I guess sometimes. Glad to see they've left Batman intact for me though," he remarked, lifting the action figure as if to emphasize its importance.

A nostalgic chuckle bubbled up within you as you recalled the shared adventures of your childhood. "Hey, I remember that one! Batman used to come in and rescue Barbie for me all the time."

A playful glint danced in Bob's eyes as he remembered those innocent days of make-believe. "And then you insisted that Batman had to kiss Barbie."

"Listen, Barbie wanted to thank him," you protested with a playful grin, memories of imaginative play flooding back with each word.

"I think you just watched too many romcoms," Bob teased, his voice laced with affectionate banter.

Shaking your head, you couldn't help but laugh at the playful exchange, the echoes of your shared history ringing through the air. But as your laughter subsided, you found yourself drawn once more to Bob's gaze, the warmth of familiarity mingling with the weight of unspoken questions.

"Do you ever think about what would have happened if we dated in high school?" you ventured, the words hanging in the air like a delicate thread connecting past and present.

"All the time, actually," Bob admitted, his tone tinged with a hint of vulnerability.

"I always figured I'd end up marrying you," you nodded, your cheeks flushing with a mixture of embarrassment and sincerity as you confessed the thought that had lingered in the depths of your mind for far too long.

The air seemed to crackle with tension as your words hung in the space between you, each syllable echoing with the weight of unspoken truths and long-held desires. Across from you, Bob's expression shifted, a kaleidoscope of emotions flickering across his features before settling into a mask of gentle surprise.

The soft glow of the evening sun cast golden hues upon the scene, lending an ethereal quality to the moment as you both grappled with the revelation that hung heavy in the air. For a heartbeat, the world around you seemed to stand still, as if holding its breath in anticipation of what would come next.

Bob's gaze softened, his cobalt eyes reflecting the vulnerability mirrored in your own. "I… I never knew you felt that way," he admitted, his voice a gentle murmur against the backdrop of fading daylight.

A rush of uncertainty washed over you, mingling with the warmth of raw honesty that spilled from your lips. "I think I just, pushed it away, you know? I didn’t want us to stop being friends over it or anything as kids." you confessed, your words a whispered confession carried on the breeze.

Silence enveloped you once more, punctuated only by the distant chirping of crickets and the rustle of leaves in the evening breeze. In the quiet of the moment, the weight of unspoken possibilities hung heavy between you, a delicate dance of hope and fear weaving its way through the air.

Then, with a soft exhale, Bob reached across the space between you, his hand finding yours with a gentle certainty that sent shivers cascading down your spine. "Maybe… maybe we should talk about this," he suggested, his voice tentative yet filled with a quiet resolve.

As his fingers intertwined with yours, you felt a surge of courage swell within your chest, buoyed by the warmth of his touch. With a nod, you met his gaze, the tension hanging in the air melting away as you closed the distance between the two of you, locking your lips with his in a gentle, tender kiss.

Time seemed to slow to a standstill as the world around you faded into oblivion, leaving only the two of you suspended in a moment of pure connection. His lips met yours with a softness that belied the depth of emotion coursing between you, igniting a spark that set your heart ablaze.

The sensation of his breath mingling with yours sent shivers cascading down your spine, each touch igniting a symphony of sensations that danced across your skin like a gentle breeze. In that fleeting instant, you lost yourself in the warmth of his embrace, the weight of the world falling away as you surrendered to the intoxicating pull of desire.

The soft murmur of the evening breeze whispered through the air, carrying with it the promise of a new beginning as you reveled in the sweetness of the moment. His arms enveloped you in a tender embrace, pulling you closer until there was no space left between your bodies, only the shared warmth of your intertwined souls.

For a heartbeat, the world ceased to exist beyond the two of you, each touch a testament to the depth of feeling that bound you together. In the embrace of his arms, you found solace, a sanctuary amidst the chaos of life's uncertainties. As you finally pulled away, the ghost of his touch lingered on your lips, a lingering reminder of the passion that pulsed between you.

Bob’s cheeks flushed bright red, and he began to stutter as he spoke, a trait he’d long grown out of. “I, uh, I…um, that was…something,” he managed to spit out before beginning to ramble about how much he enjoyed kissing you.

“Bob,” you began, laughing softly as your hand gently rested on his cheek.

“Mhmm?”

“Shut up and kiss me again.”

#bob x reader #robert floyd x reader #bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd #top gun maverick fic #robert floyd #bob floyd

[lovebugism]

ooooo what abt for blurbcember being alone on Christmas Eve w Steve x reader & once one of them realizes they are alone when they called they speed over and spend the night together, maybe confess some feelings too👀

hope you like it!! — you call steve when you end up alone on christmas eve and he comes over without thinking twice, 'cause that's what best friends are for, right? (friends in love, hurt/comfort, 1.4k)

blurbcember ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

Just a moment ago, Steve Harrington was on his couch. He had an arm around his girlfriend and a scruffy cheek on her hair as they watched A Christmas Story for the third time that evening. His dad was snoring over it from his spot on the recliner while mom watched on from the kitchen, where she’d just popped in another batch of cookies. 

Everything smelled like vanilla. Like home and the holiday season.

Then the phone rang. His mother picked it up, hiding her wine-drunk slurs as she answered. It was for him, of course, because it was you. “Feel like spending Christmas Eve getting drunk with me, Harrington?” you’d ask through the static of the receiver.

It’s like he blinked and he was in your childhood bedroom, splitting a bottle of your dad’s expensive liquor with you in your twin-sized bed.

The too-big house down the street was dark and empty, with you abandoned inside of it. The entire mansion was horribly clean — too clean — like no one actually lived there. The only Christmas decoration in the whole place was the tiny Christmas tree on your dresser. It basks the two of you in a golden hue while you laugh together in similar colors.

“So your parents just… left you here?” Steve presses, lying on his side at the edge of your mattress, propping his weight on his elbow.

You nod and take a swig from the glass bottle. Your lips shine with the amber liquid until you swipe your tongue against your buzzing bottom lip. “Holiday party at the Carmichael’s. No kids allowed,” you answer. You manage to smile as you say it — ‘cause you haven’t been a kid for a while — but it’s still slightly forced. 

Steve can see right through it.

“Still,” he insists with a furrow to his brow as he takes the bottle from you. “That’s really shitty.”

“Well, my parents are basically the king and queen of being shitty, so…”

Steve scoffs an emotionless laugh and raises the whiskey to his lips. The thing glugs when he tips it back. He takes a small sip, just enough to coat his tongue, because he knows he’ll have to go back home eventually. He licks at his shining rosy lips, just to feel how numb they are. 

“Your parents are shitty, and mine are… total fakes,” he concludes with a lopsided, sorrowful grin.

“Drunk enough to vent yet?” you tease, smiling down at him with your cheek tilted to your shoulder.

“No— I mean, there’s… there’s nothing to vent about, you know? They’re just, like, putting on happy faces for everyone at the party like they weren’t totally falling apart two days ago. Now it’s just like… nothing ever happened.”

You figure by “nothing to vent about,” he means that there’s a world of shit to vent about but that he doesn’t really feel like getting into any of it. You don’t blame him. He’s not the one who called his best friend on the very brink of falling apart, anyway.

“Is that what you were doing when I called?”

He nods, blinking slow and smiling soft. “Thanks for saving me, by the way.”

“Bet you’re missing loads of fun right now, Harrington.”

“Yeah, right,” he scoffs and passes the whiskey off to you. “Right now, my dad’s passed out in his Laz-E-Boy, and my mom’s watching the same Christmas movie over and over and over again.”

The visual makes you laugh.

Steve laughs because you are.

“Yeah. I mean, Nancy’s into it, I guess, but that’s just because she’s way too nice to—”

“Nancy’s there?” you blurt before you mean to, gaping with a shock you couldn’t hide if you wanted to. You thought he might’ve been as lonely as you were. You figured that’s why he dropped everything for you without thinking twice.

Your confusion makes his face screw up. He’s too oblivious to understand. “…Yeah?”

“You said you weren’t doing anything important!”

“It wasn’t important!” he exclaims, right before realizing how insensitive he sounds. He cowers, as though Nancy could somehow hear an entire block away. “Well— Not that she isn’t important— It’s just that—”

He stammers hopelessly. ‘Cause he doesn’t know how to say “you’re more important to me” without sounding like a total douchebag.

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” he settles on, suddenly shy about the whole thing. His eyes fall to your comforter because it’s easier than meeting your eyes. His fidgeting hands pluck at the tiny pills of cotton.

“Steve…” you whisper in an airy sigh because you don’t know what else to say.

He can’t tell if that’s good or bad, but his name sounds like honey spilling from your lips, anyway.

“Her brother’s there, though! And all his little shithead friends— so it isn’t like she’s totally alone,” he assures you in a single breath. You can’t tell if he’s saying it more for him or for you. “Plus, you said you were here by yourself, so I… I wanted to make sure you weren’t alone.”

“And they say chivalry’s dead,” you tease despite the distinct warmth swirling in your chest.

Steve flashes you a crooked grin to hide his similarly hidden feelings. “Well, whoever said that has never met me. Obviously.”

“You should really go back home, though,” you tell him. It’s not like you want him to leave. You’d rather him be here all the time. You’d rather it always be Steve and never anybody else. But it can’t be like that. It can’t ever be that way.

“What? No!” Steve shouts with his face screwed up in offense. The lights from your Christmas tree leave harsh shadows on his chiseled features, making them that much sharper. 

“Your girlfriend’s there, Steve. And all of your friends—”

“Not you, though. And you’re, like, the most important friend I have.”

“Steve,” you groan.

“I’m serious,” he insists, even though he’s laughing at your dramatics. “I’d much rather be here with you than pretending to be happy with everyone else.”

Your chest aches — a dull, hot, and empty ache. It’s like his words are a knife, and he’s just pierced your sternum with it. “You’re not happy?” you ask him in a fragile, broken whisper.

“I mean, I am, I’m just…” he trails off when he can’t find the words to say. He sighs and lays back completely, relaxing for the first time all night beside the warmth of you. His honey eyes concentrate on the shadows on your ceiling until he’s brave enough to speak.

“I don’t know… I love Nancy and everything— you know that. But… I never felt like I had to stop pretending around her, you know? It’s like I’m still trying to impress her. All the time. And with you, it’s just like…” 

He loses the words again. Your relationship is much harder for him to describe. The way he feels about you can’t be put into words. He’s not sure that there’s any that even come close. 

“I don’t know— It’s just easier,” he concludes with a heavy sigh. “Don’t read into that too much, alright? I’m just tipsy.”

He’s only had a couple sips of alcohol. He’s not even close to being tipsy. He’s content, at best, but you’re probably more to blame than the whiskey.

You know all of this, too, but decide not to press it too much.

“Noted,” you nod, huffing as you lie on your back beside him. His fuzzy Christmas sweater scratches you when it rubs against the skin of your shoulder. You can smell his deep, woodsy cologne and the hot chocolate on his breath. You shouldn’t get as lost in it as you do.

You wonder if he ever has the same problem with you — if the smell of your perfume, or your hair, or your strawberry lipgloss drives him crazy — or if it’s all in your head.

It might be better kept up there, either way. 

Saying anything out loud might change things too much.

“But, you know, just for the record or whatever,” you start in a gentle whisper and with a teasing glint in your eye. 

Steve’s already smiling when he turns to look at you. He falters slightly when he realizes how close you are — enough to feel your whiskey-coated breath fan against his chin. He doesn’t know why it makes his heart race. 

“I’m glad I make it easier on you,” you confess, so suddenly soft, as your sparkling eyes flit between both of his. “‘Cause being with you is easier for me, too.”

Steve’s rosy lips curl into a quiet smile. 

His chest sparkles with a foreign emotion, and he isn’t completely sure why. Your words feel almost like a proclamation of love, but maybe he shouldn’t read into any of it too much. Not how gentle your words sound or how you’re looking at him right now. 

You’re just tipsy, after all.

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #stranger things #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #st drabbles #stevie drabble #event: blurbcember

[risuola]

LOOKS LIKE WE'RE SNOWED IN FOR THE NIGHT — F. READER x KAMO CHOSO, with whom you got stuck in a cabin

A fireplace, a nice blanket, a bunch of snow and the twinkling lights on the Christmas tree… for some it might sound like a perfect way to spend the night during the festive season, but not when you’re stuck in a cabin in the middle of nowhere with your biggest enemy. And it’s cold.

cw: smut, enemies to lovers, oral (f. receiving), angst-ish vibe, death mentioned (I put it as a warning, but honestly, if you're into jjk you're probably used to it, just sayin'), reader discretion is advised — 2,9k words

kissmas masterlist

“Looks like we’re snowed in for the night,” Choso pointed, making few futile attempts to push the doors open. “I can force the way out but I doubt you’re gonna survive it.” He added, venomous tone evident in his otherwise calm and low voice.

You groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose. This is horrible, you thought, it couldn’t possibly get worse than that. The cabin, secluded and nestled deep in the woods, once a welcoming refuge from the cold, was now a claustrophobic cage trapping you and Choso inside. The doors, blocked by the snow piled high behind them were impossible to open and the windows – old and grime-stained – covered with ice, offered no escape. The interiors, now cleared out of the cursed spirit that resided in here scaring the owners away, were as cozy as they could be with warm colors of the creaking wooden floors and the twinkling lights on the Christmas tree, that funny enough was the only thing that still was working inside. The furniture was faded and worn-down by the humid air, the cobwebs decorating every corner.

The task at hand was simple enough – get in, exorcise, get out – but the snow and the cold were making everything more difficult, not to mention the man you had to share the experience with. It was a part of introducing the Death Painting into the jujutsu society and a silent attempt to make the two of you fonder of each other, but the result proved itself to be starkly different, when you got stuck with him for the night, or god knows how long.

“Damn,” you groaned finally, realizing there’s nothing you can do to make the situation better. No escape, no signal, not even a goddamn kettle that would work.

“Looks like you’re really screwed, huh?” Choso mocked you, a smirk twisting his features because he knew – he just knew that you’re not gonna make it through the night and though he enjoyed the idea of watching you freeze to death, he involuntarily threw some more wood into the fire to keep it alive.

“I’m perfectly fine, fuck you,” you snapped, glaring at his stupid handsome face from your place across the room, hoping silently that maybe once in this world a glare could kill.

You and Choso had always been on opposite sides. Your fights always end up in blood, there was little to no respect between you two, and though in a fight you two were able to work together, outside of it, it was a much different story. You just couldn’t stand each other, you could never put a finger on the reason why, but you just never clicked. Always having different opinions, always too stubborn to let go and not even once agreeing on a plan of work. You trusted him just enough to know he will most likely not kill you in your sleep.

Now, as the sound of the howling wind outside was constantly reminding you on the dire situation, the storm outside showing no signs of letting up, the pressure between you and him seemed to reach a breaking point. At first, you moved through the cabin, walking back and forth, avoiding each other’s gaze and trying to ignore the fact you were trapped together. “Sit quiet and stop being annoying,” you growled at him, hating the way he was sprawled comfortably on the little sofa while you were feeling more and more cold as the hours were passing by. Kamo and his damn temperature regulation.

You had been fighting constantly since you arrived, each blaming the other for the predicament you were in. You argued and hurled insults at each other, both trying to assert dominance over the other. You were constantly on the edge, you bickered until both of you were that close to exploding. You fought about everything, from the mission to the tiny space you were forced to share. You could barely stand the sound of each other’s breathing, much less the sight of each other’s faces and the constant, near proximity. It was only a matter of time one of you snapped.

It felt claustrophobic, nearly – the way only four walls were surrounding you and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t quite navigate yourself through the treacherous environment. You had no idea what exactly was oh-so wrong with this place. A desolate cabin with nothing but cold air and the palpable tension between you and Choso was slowly taking a toll on you. Harsh winter wind howled outside and it was clear that your spirits matched its bitterness. The twinkling, colorful lights adorning the mismatched Christmas tree in the corner did nothing to warm up the bleakness of the place.

Hours passed and you got tired of the banter. Choso noticed how slowly you became, quiet, less talkative. It became easier and easier to outsmart you as the cold was taking a toll on your body. Your retorts were less sharp, a little delayed as the temperature went even lower along with the night progressing.

“You’re gonna die in here?” He asked, his tone as nonchalant as ever, but it was getting to him that you might actually die that night. It was fun while it lasted and you did an excellent job in making him believe that you’re gonna survive the night, that you’re fine. He allowed his eyes, that up until that point were closed as he was resting on the sofa, to look at your form. You were shivering, seated on the furry carpet near the fireplace and though you were as close to the heat as it was possible, it didn’t do much to help you. Your breath was visible and you were constantly rubbing your hands together in hopes to stop them from going numb.

“I’m fine,” you said again, your voice much punier than you intended it to be and Kamo found it amusing how you forced yourself to sound strong, when in reality, you were so small and weak and vulnerable.

“Oh, are you?” The question had mocking qualities that Choso couldn’t hold back. “You know, all it takes is for you to ask nicely and I might consider warming you up.”

“Fuck you.” Oh, you were so stubborn. He shrugged and kept observing you.

The cabin fell quiet. The air was thick with tension and the only sounds were the occasional drip of water from the ceiling, crackling of fire in the fireplace and the soft tickling of a clock. The rattling of the windows in the wind accompanied the cacophony.

“Isn’t the big, strong sorceress now uncharacteristically quiet?” He joked once again, and you could have sworn that even in the freezing cold, he had an ability to make your blood boil. “Cat got your tongue?”

“I miss the times when paintings were not talking,” you retorted, wrapping yourself tighter in the imitation of a blanket you found laying around. “You have no idea how much I’d love to exorcise your half-cursed ass.”

“As if you were ever gonna be strong enough to put a harm onto me,” he said, pushing himself up from the couch. “Besides, you might wanna pick your words carefully. You’re at my mercy right now.”

“I’d rather be eaten by a polar bear than be at your mercy.”

“Oh, that would be a cool death, right?” He laughed, a taunting tone piercing the air and your soul, it seemed. “Or a curse. It would sound much better in the report later if I told your friends that you lost your life in battle, with bravery and strength, yeah? For sure it’s more appealing than a lame reason like freezing to death.”

“Oh, shut up…” you sighed, leaning your cheek on one of your knees. You kept them tightly pressed to your chest, a desperate attempt of storing any leftover heat along your torso, but it did little to nothing. “Come on, get your ass over there.”

“I already told you, you have to ask me nicely.”

“That’s as nice as I’m gonna get.”

“So that’s as close as you’re gonna get me,” he smirked, teasing you beyond decency, well aware of how delicate was a situation you were now in. To him, cold was nothing more than an inconvenience. In all honesty, he could break the doors open and just go through the snow during night and he would be just fine, but you… it was a different story and truth is that he stayed in the cabin only because of you.

“Choso, please, don’t be a dick, I’m freezing to death, literally,” you whined, forgetting about your pride and prioritizing the survival. “Please?”

“Much better,” Choso chuckled and moved from the sofa to the floor, sitting behind you with his legs on both sides of your frame. “Loosen up a little,” he ordered, throwing away your blanket and as his arm sneaked around your waist, he pulled you into himself, your back now pressed against his chest.

“Oh god…” you whimpered, shifting your position and wrapping yourself around him. He was hot and it felt like the heat was emitting from him, seeping onto you the moment you made contact with his muscular frame. You pushed your face against his neck, nuzzling your cold nose into his warm skin.

“Aren’t you a greedy little thing?” He commented, putting on an indifferent, snarky mask but inside, he was feeling things. It was odd, it was new. He wasn’t exactly an expert in romantic situations, in fact besides few really brief adventures with women, it was the first time he was actually somewhat intimate. Choso’s mind was in a limbo, trying to fight the thoughts of his body which were going crazy. The way your frame fit so closely to his, the way you turned your face and melted into him… it was almost too much. Thoughts raced around his head a mile a minute.

“Aren’t you a scrooge for letting me freeze while you’re that hot?”

“Well, I’m your partner on the job, not your personal heater,” he shrugged, allowing his hand to run along the curves of your waist and hip. “Also, I’d assume that the low temperature is a natural habitat for a cold bitch like you.”

“Ouch,” you acted hurt but couldn’t hold back a chuckle. “I have a great idea, why don’t you shut up?”

“Oh, did that sting you, princess?”

„I’m serious, you should shut the hell up,” it was a mumble, an unharmful one, but Choso must have gotten a different impression.

It was a flash. It took you few seconds to even register what just happened and once you did, you were already helpless beneath him. The soft, furry carpet now tickling you in the face as Choso kept you, chest down and pinned to the ground. It annoyed you how easily one of his hands kept both of your wrists pushed up above your head. You felt his weight on top of your thighs, his crotch pressed tightly to your ass and his other hand supporting his weight on the wooden floor.

“Now, if you’re gonna act like a brat, I’m gonna treat you as one,” he said, his voice low and close to your ear as he leaned down and gathered some of your hair to the side to uncover your face to his eyes. Your hopeless pulls and wriggles did nothing to loosen up his hold. If anything, his fingers only tightened their grip around your wrists.

“Get off me,” you groaned, trying to find your way out of the situation, but the movements of your body seemed to make it worse. The man hummed darkly, aiming a mean slap at your ass.

“Stop wiggling,” he warned, smirking at the way your body tensed for a moment. He couldn’t tell what’s gotten him into such a playful mood. Maybe it was all the thick air between you two finally exposing its true colors – something once filled with anger and hostility, now crackled with an undeniable sexual tension.

“Did you just slap me?” You couldn’t believe it, but you’d sooner be dead than you’ll admit out loud that it somehow felt good.

“I did,” he said nonchalantly. “You whined you’re cold, huh? Well, guess I’ll have to warm you up for real,” Choso added, now grinning mischievously. “Be a good girl, I know you can do it. Now I’ll let go of your hands and you’ll turn around, yeah?”

You hummed in response, not really sure what’s gotten into him but you were far from minding it so you flipped to your back as soon as he gave you a chance. Still on top of you, Choso kept a controlling grip over your hip, his touch burning your bare skin over there.

The fire crackled and flickered, casting warm, dancing shadows on the two of you but you couldn’t tell if the sparkle in his eyes was a reflection of it or just pure lust. The latter, you thought, catching his gaze as it scanned your form, paying a little more attention to your lips, chest and the little strip of skin that showed from underneath your blouse.

Kamo was enticed by you, fascinated even, by the way his body was suddenly yearning for you. The unusual desire overflown his senses and he found himself inching closer and closer, until he was just one, mere breath away from your mouth. He could feel you gasp, see the look of your eyes and if he wouldn’t know better he would be convinced there was lust in them too.

“Nervous?” He whispered, with a slight shadow of teasing painted all over his stupidly handsome features. His nose, now brushing against yours initiated the touch, a prelude of sorts to what was going to come and Choso chuckled at the lack of response from you. It was, in a way, an opening for you to push him away, to set a boundary, to lay down the consent but you made no effort to do any of that. Instead, you let your fingers to find his hair and once you pulled at them, there was no going back.

His lips pressed into yours. The kiss and the heat from your bodies warmed the cold air around you, melting the icy tension that lingered between you as you, too, melted below him. The time seemed to slow down and the melody of howling wind and fire was now a white noise to the soft sounds and whimpers you were making. Your mouth parted and Choso took the invitation eagerly, running his tongue along your lower lip and reaching yours. They twirled and twisted, danced and explored each other and you swore at the moment that the world around you had fallen away.

It didn’t take long since you were bare, completely exposed underneath his muscular body; the cold air around you a stark contrast to the extreme heat that was coming off of Choso. He was all around you, exploring your shapes with touches so tender, you couldn’t help but feel worshipped. The way he touched you, the way he kissed and drank every inch of your skin made your heart rumble against your ribcage. He went down, tracing the ups and downs of your figure with wet, sloppy stamps of his lips until he reached your thighs – both of which he kissed with as much attention.

It was intoxicating. Kamo felt as if everything around him twirled and he was drowning in the soft feeling of your plush skin. The curves of you filled every bit of his mind. Addicting, you were, so addicting he couldn’t find a strength to pull back and before he knew it, his tongue was already lapping at your clit. The beautiful melody of your moans filling his ears as he worked his mouth over the puffy bud, sucking and licking simultaneously. Waves and waves of pleasure you felt, spreading from your core and reaching every part of you. It was hot, it was like nothing else you’ve ever experienced.

“Oh god, Choso~” you were whining, a surprise to you cause up until this time you would swear you’re not the one to make such lewd noises during sex. All of that went out the window when it came to the man between your legs. He was flicking his tongue, twirling it and pressing it flat; every movement centered and focused, sharing one objective – to abuse the most sensitive, sweet spot on your body. He took his time, it was wet and sloppy, it was messy. The silky sensation of his tongue, warm and soft… oh, man has a talent.

Your breath was stuttering, hands grabbing the fluffy fibers of the carpet as your thighs were trembling and the urge to squeeze them over Choso’s head was slowly becoming irresistible. The way he was making out with your clit drove you insane, it brought you to the edge and pushed you over. You came undone and you came hard. He wasn’t stopping, just slowing down and leading you through the high as if it was his job and the very core of his existence.

“Feeling warmer?” He asked, once slowly coming back up above you. His face was now a real painting, covered with your essence and his lips, swollen and wet, stretched into a grin of satisfaction as he was taking in the sight of your breathless form. You nodded, barely registering the subtle teasing undertone he had in his voice. “Good. But I’m going to make you even hotter.”

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #jjk imagines #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jjk fanfiction #choso #choso kamo #kamo choso #choso smut #choso kamo smut #kamo choso smut #choso x you #choso kamo x you #kamo choso x you #choso x reader #kamo choso x reader #choso kamo x reader #choso x y/n #choso kamo x y/n #kamo choso x y/n #choso imagines #choso fanfiction #choso kamo imagines #kamo choso fanfiction #jjk choso

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

The hot tub | Rafe Cameron x Reader

Advent calendar day three: Ski trip

Summary: Rafe invites you to spend the week with his family at their cabin in Aspen. Things may happen when you get in the hot tub after a long day going down the slopes

Warnings: 18+, unprotected p + v, slight choking, semi-public (outside), impact play (spanking once)

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

As expected, the Cameron’s cabin in Aspen was breath-takingly beautiful. The walls of the living area were made of round wood, making it seem like you were living inside a tree…with a luxury decor. There were large windows, massive couches, cherry-wood tables, and a classic bear skin in front of the large fireplace. 

You felt like you were standing in a holiday Hallmark movie. 

‘’How many properties does your parents own?’’ You brushed your hand over the plush throw at the end of your and Rafe’s bed, smiling at how soft it felt. ‘’Don’t they have a house in the Bahamas?’’ 

‘’A lot,’’ Rafe replied while putting away some things in the closet. ‘’I lost count, honestly. My dad collects estates and Rose decorates them, it’s their thing,’’ he explained. ‘’I rent the ones we are not using...except the Bahamas house. We keep that one for family only.’’

You nodded, secretly wishing your parents were that rich. You could get used to vacationing in the mountains during winter break. It’s a weather contrast compared to South Carolina. 

‘’Do you come here often? Have you mastered a winter sports during your lavish vacations?’’ 

Rafe chuckled, closing the door of the large closet. ‘’I can’t ski, if that’s what you’re asking me. Or skate. Ice skating is Sarah’s thing.’’ He grabbed his toiletry bag from the suitcase and placed it in the en-suite bathroom next to yours. ‘’My dad forced me to take snowboarding lessons since I was a kid, but I was better at flirting with girls at the ski resort.’’

Shaking your head, you laughed quietly. ‘’What am I not surprised?’’ 

After everyone had unpacked, you bundled in your winter layers and headed down to the ski resort for some winter activities. You and Rafe rented equipment to go down the slopes while Sarah and Wheezie went to the skating rink. 

The afternoon was spent mostly falling on your ass and watching Rafe showing off. He was no professional, but you were impressed as you watched him do stunts — something you could never see yourself doing. 

When the sky started to go dark, you returned to the cabin to warm up and eat dinner. Rose’s cooking skills pleasantly took you by surprise, not expecting her to be much of a chef since she and Ward had a lot of money, but she made a mean baked mac’n cheese. 

‘’Are you sure?’’ you said when Rafe suggested you try the hot tub. 

You had never used a hot tub in the winter — with actual snow around. It sounded cold, but Rafe assured you the warm water would keep you warm…or else he would.

The sky was fully dark outside and snow was falling at a slow pace, creating a beautiful picture as you stepped out in your bra and underwear. When you packed for a trip to Aspen, you didn’t think you would need a bikini. Now you were regretting not bringing one. 

While the warm water sounded pleasant, you couldn’t help but think about how the chlorine of the hot tub will ruin your nice bra, so Rafe came up with a solution.

‘’Just take it off.’’ 

‘’I’m not gonna get naked in the hot tub,’’ you replied, shooting your boyfriend a glare as steam rose from the tub into the cool air. ‘’What if your family comes outside and wants to join?’’ 

‘’I’d rather they don’t. The sight of you in that bra and panties got me so hard,’’ Rafe said, his hand wandering up your thigh. 

You glanced down and through the bubbles of the underwater jets, catching the outline of his cock through his boxers, strained against the material. A light flush covered your cheeks, matching the color of your bra. 

‘’But if you’re that worried about anyone coming,’’ he continued, taking your hand and helping you step in. ‘’My dad strained his back when skiing so Rose is taking care of him. Sarah is probably trying to contact her boyfriend who was not invited on the trip, and as for Wheezie…I don’t know. She’s in her room, reading or watching a movie.’’

You sat on the edge and raised your gaze, eyeing the sliding doors. 

‘’No one is gonna come out here,’’ Rafe promised, reading your persistent worry. ‘’Except maybe a bear.’’

A new fear was unlocked. You turned to the other side and looked over the deck and into the dark forest. ‘’A bear?!’’ 

Rafe grinned, messing with you. ‘’I’m joking. There’s no bears here at this time of the year. They’re hibernating.’’ He hooked a finger underneath the delicate band of your panties, holding back from taking them off with his mouth. ‘’So…will it be with or without the panties?’’

Fuck it. 

You removed both items and let Rafe pull you in the water, the ripples from the jets causing sparks to tingle up your spine as they hit your bare cunt. It felt like using a nice shower head directly on your clit, but less strong. The pleasure was short-lived as Rafe settled you on his lap in a straddling way, a groan leaving his throat when your ass came in contact with his stiff cock. 

You bit back a giggle and loosely slid your arms around his neck. He was so beautiful.

‘’That wasn’t so difficult, wasn’t it?’’ Rafe asked, his hands sliding over your thighs and up your sides, making you feel a bit exposed. 

You rolled your eyes and rubbed your hands up and down his well-defined shoulders and chest, appreciating the time he had been spending with Topper and Kelce at the gym. They were always ruining your and Rafe’s plans, but those gym sessions gave him a body you wanted to bite into. 

You lowered your mouth to his, slowly kissing as the water moved around your bodies. The cold air had caused your nipples to peak, not yet submerged in the warm water. A shiver ran through you and, as if he had read your mind, Rafe’s hands moved to your breasts and began to toy with them. You sighed at the touch and ground your hips against his, relishing the feeling of his hard cock through his boxers as it rubbed against your clit just right. 

‘’I need you. Now,’’ you urged, breaking the kiss and reaching under the water to pull at Rafe's only piece of clothing, your earlier worries about someone catching you naked leaving your desire clouded mind.

Rafe nodded and pushed you off him, which left you confused. You opened your mouth to ask why he had pushed you off, but he motioned for you to turn around and grab the edge of the tub. A moan threatened to slip, realizing what he was doing. He was going to take you from behind. 

You heard the water swish as he moved behind you, and parted your legs so everything was exposed to his view. 

‘’That ass is so perfect,’’ Rafe groaned, giving it a hard smack, eliciting a pained squeak from you, before lining himself at your entrance, a mischievous smirk spreading on his face as he pushed the tip in — only the tip. ‘’Is that what you want, baby?’’ His tone was teasing, playing with you. ‘’No, that’s not enough, uh?’’ 

You whined, pushing back against him. ‘’Please, Rafe, don’t tease.’’ 

Giving in to your demand, he grabbed your hips and slowly pushed until he was all in, feeling your tight walls squeeze him. He moaned at the sensation, giving you a few seconds before starting to pull out until only his tip was inside you and slowly pushing himself into you again, doing this a few times. 

‘’Rafe,’’ you warned again, your core starting to ache, just wanting to be fucked senseless. 

Then, his thrusts were hard and fast as you gripped the edge of the hot tub, water splashing over the edge from the movements. You were holding back your cries, trying to be quiet, but the pleasure was too intense for you to remember. 

Rafe molded his front to your back as he kept pounding into you, kissing your shoulder as his hand was coming around your neck. ‘’You like this, baby? You like when I fuck your tight and pretty pussy?’’

You moaned louder, forgetting about the other Camerons inside the house. 

The next morning was going to be very awkward.

—

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#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe outer banks #outer banks #outer banks imagine

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Anhedonia 2/2

Word count: 5,5 k (part 1) and 4,4 k (part 2)

Pairing: Ghost x F!Reader Tags: SMUT 🔞🔞🔞 Literally just unadulterated, deranged filth, plot is there for decoration. Angst. Hurt/Comfort. Mutual pining, sexual tension (duh), blood & injury, p in v sex, oral sex (m receiving), mutual masturbation, cum all over the place, light humiliation, dirty talk, some praise, swearing, mask stays on, fluffy/reconciliatory ending. Summary: Reader is a Task Force 141 operator and a terrible brat (and suffers the consequences of it later). Enemies to lovers/toxic relationship that takes a healthy turn in the end. Read PART 1 here

"Wha' a good girl you are now…"

His first words hit you like a moan-inducing massage, but you stay silent and steady in your resolve.

"Good soldier, too. We just need to get you to follow orders so that you don't get hurt," he speaks gently.

There it is, finally – a good girl and a good soldier. You have to mentally bind your hands behind your back and place an imaginary gag in your mouth not to chirp and bounce up from joy. It's pathetic, but it's also harrowing: Ghost never meant to fuck with your head; he only wanted to keep you safe. But then he causes another riot in your brain with the next thing he says.

"Such a beautiful sight… You'd make a fine pet."

- - - - - - - - -

You go to offer your apology the next day after sleeping on it.

You feel like you're the most horrible person in the world. And yet, when you knock on his door and call yourself in when only a silence answers, the scalding gaze that locks into you like the sights of a gun remind you why you said what you said.

It's like the man has struck a knife in you, and twists it just to see you squirm. And you do: it's a telltale sign that you've been claimed when you kneel in the middle of his office while he sits behind the same desk he rutted you on less than 20 hours ago.

He says nothing. You wait, equally as quiet, like you're waiting for a pardon from Caesar.

The atmosphere is mellow: his shutters are closed but one window is creaked open, allowing birdsong and summer wind on trees to pass through to his otherwise stale office. It stirs the softest, small smile on your lips as you look at him, adamant and all locked up.

Your knees hurt, but he eventually breaks first: something you hadn't even calculated might happen. The brimstone of his eyes steal a breather to the side, then come back to you with a tinge of confusion in them.

Then he lifts his chin, lifts a hand, a command for you to approach.

Your smile only softens as you go around his desk, and he pushes the chair away with one foot, turns to meet you as you fall on your knees again, then on all fours before starting a slow crawl to him.

His eyes go wide, his head draws back as if you approaching him like a housecat is the most threatening situation he has ever been in.

You have planned this through, and he has the instincts, the sixth sense of a seasoned hunter as he opens his legs wide to make space for you.

He certainly doesn't stop you as you free his erection from the sturdy cargo pants and offer your apology by taking him in your mouth.

He knows what's coming but still gasps and grabs the arms of his chair with white knuckles. You're on your knees, seemingly domesticated, but he's the one begging for mercy before you have even begun. He's heavy in your mouth, but you welcome the weight with greed and a hot tongue.

His thighs travel wide and far, just like yours did last night. The first moan is divine. He eases into the chair while the muscles on his stomach and thighs twitch and shudder.

A pair of boots echo in the hallway behind the door, the sound soon disappearing into the distance. Anyone could walk in at any given moment, and the notion makes your head feel dizzy.

He doesn't say anything, doesn't disclose in any way that he is considering forgiveness.

But eventually, he starts to melt upon your tongue like a snow-covered mountain ridge basking in the sun. Something in the way with which you work him slowly and with gusto makes him send a hand on your head. It strokes your hair softly.

"Wha' a good girl you are now…"

His first words hit you like a moan-inducing massage, but you stay silent and steady in your resolve.

"Good soldier, too. We just need to get you to follow orders so that you don't get hurt," he speaks gently.

There it is, finally – a good girl and a good soldier. You have to mentally bind your hands behind your back and place an imaginary gag in your mouth not to chirp and bounce up from joy. It's pathetic, but it's also harrowing: Ghost never meant to fuck with your head; he only wanted to keep you safe. But then he causes another riot in your brain with the next thing he says.

"Such a beautiful sight… You'd make a fine pet."

You give him some teeth for that. Just the lightest scrape as you arrive near the base of his cock. He hisses, then laughs.

"Careful, love."

It's the first time ever you've heard him properly laugh. The sound implements itself into your core, your spine, your DNA. It's genuine and hearty, and the summer brushes past the open window to your face in a reviving breeze. Combined with the dark musk of his laughter, it makes your heart flip, and a small, tickling giggle bubbles inside you too. It arrives muted against his cock, but it's a magnificent moment – you two laughing together, even if for a second, even if yours is just a huff of an exhale against his pelvis.

"You don't like the idea?" He asks you a question as if you didn't have your mouth full of him.

His offer is alluring – of course you'd like him to take you as his pet. You could get good food and caresses, get to curl next to him when he goes to sleep. He could show you off like a domesticated animal if he wanted to. He could parade you down the street on a leash, and you would only purr as you go.

But while the proposition is enticing, you leave him with no answer, knowing it will only intrigue him if you don't say yes.

"I would be good to you," he starts to slip, and you up the pace a little. Open your jaw as far as it can go to accommodate him as much as you can, the soft hood of his cock meeting the back of your throat.

"So good– nh..." You can almost hear how his head rolls back, and you catch yourself worrying if he might hurt his neck because the chair has no headrest.

You do it again, and again, almost choking while trying to show him how good you are, how well you can take him and what your tongue can do too. You nearly stumble while you're at it, so lost in him, and you have to reach for support to prevent yourself from falling.

Your hand finds his leg, clutches the khaki that hugs a broad thigh. You flinch when a hard, heavy palm descends on top of yours. It brushes a thumb over the back of your hand as his sighs travel through the stagnant air, rampant and unchallenged through the fabric of his mask.

"Be my pet, sweetheart," he prays, growing weaker by the second. It's like a charm that transforms you into a priestess, a Babalon whore, a scarlet woman who adores men before sending them off to war.

His hips buck, he starts to clutch your hand like you're a rope that's going to save him from drowning. The other hand is more gentle in grip, but mercenary in demand as he grabs a fistful of hair to guide you along his length. Your gag reflex almost shoots him out of your mouth, but he is relentless.

He knows you can take it.

"That's it–that's it, luv," he rasps, and every other noise gets shut out of your brain as you go deaf to the sonic world. You can feel his thighs bunch and tremble around your head, the earthquake under your fingers pressed against hard, lifeless textile when they should be scraping his skin instead. He opens like a woman, massive legs spread hungry and wide as he shoots a load in your mouth. Ample, abundant, even if he just filled you to the brim not too long ago.

You drink him dutifully, greedy for the praise of a job well done, but such a thing never comes. He just breathes heavy over you, sounding happy, the happiest man on earth. You lick him clean, although there's really nothing to clean except your own saliva. The cock glistens, jolts happily one last time after you're done.

"I can make you scream on that desk," he offers while his hands release their death grip on you. Your hair gets tucked behind your ear, he even squeezes your hand briefly like you're his most trusted companion. His cock is flaccid, so you assume he's offering his fingers, perhaps even his mouth to you.

You'd like nothing more than to know if he has a stubble under that balaclava. To see if he would kneel on the floor too to shove his face between your legs while you're splayed over that desk. If he would forget about the door too, making it possible for anyone to catch him with his nose up your cunt. For Soap or Gaz or even Price to see how the broody commanding officer is just a thirsty hound dog on a bowl.

But then again, you just worked yourself up to a shattering orgasm. Two times, actually – deliberately, before you came here. The taste of his cum on your tongue will have to suffice; hell, it's almost better than him finally fucking or licking you into a deranged bliss.

You sense another opening, can't just help yourself…

"Thank you, sir. But that won't be necessary."

- - - - - - - - -

You begin to fear that you're the narcissist here. The way you make him twist and turn like a corkscrew, the way it makes you feel to see how he spirals deeper into madness. Even your eyes are too much for Ghost, who avoids your stare on missions but hunts you down at the base.

"What does it take?"

He ruts you whenever and wherever he can, in the toilets if need be, too busy to haul you into his room after a mission. You just so happened to pass him by, and it was the nearest space with a lock on the door.

"What the fuck does it take?"

The static hum of the bright, unyielding light and the smell of chlorite oozing out of tile seams is everything but a romantic setting as he drives into you from behind and watches you through the mirror on top of a small sink – watches how you give him nothing.

You're trying to take support from the white porcelain even though he's holding you firm against his chest with that inked arm wrapped around your middle. You want to spread your legs for him but can't, since he barely had time to rip your pants down before getting himself out as well to fuck you, so you settle for admiring how vulnerable he looks while he tries his all to please you.

"Do I have to take the mask off? That it?" He's far from a calm and collected lieutenant as he sweats black paint and despair. "Ya want my mouth? Just say it. Promise I'll make you cry."

You laugh at him through the mirror. It's an involuntary, spontaneous action, and you can't really help it. The man is absolutely adorable… And here you have been, fearing him for weeks without realizing he's just another lonely soul.

He doesn't know your strategy. He doesn't know that it's just you and your hand that are his worst enemy.

"What're ya laughin' at?"

You bite your lip, allow him to see mischief and a quivering smile, wet, adoring eyes paired with simple silence. He could force and command and bully you, but he doesn't do it.

Who's the pet now?

"Obviously, you like my cock," he grunts. "Always wet 'n' ready to go, like a fuckin'–"

It ends in a huff before a potential slur comes out.

Truly a gentleman…

"You let everyone 'ere have a go at you?"

He ticks like a time bomb inside you.

"I'm the last to get to fuck you? Huh? I get the fuckin' scraps, is that it?"

He doesn't need slurs to tear you down, but on the other hand, Ghost only reveals more of himself with the insults and assumptions he hurls at you.

He's desperate, crying for it, longing to be the one who makes you cry and scream and purr. Be your one and only.

"No," you hum. "I'm all yours, Lt."

He blinks a few times, exhausted lids fall to cover most of his eyes, and the stare tells you he has entered a dreamworld.

"I'm–," he groans with a broken voice. "I'm… Fuck–"

You shiver with ecstasy – his orgasm is a better reward than anything else he could ever give you. He collapses again, even more humiliated than the day before, or the day before that. He doesn't seem to care anymore. His hips press you against the cold sink, and you fear the porcelain is going to break under your combined weight. He doesn't slip out. Instead, Ghost tucks his mask on top of his nose to catch breath.

He has a shadow of a stubble, a stern jaw, and the notion makes your walls pulse. Thin lips part to gasp for air, his blazing chest heaves behind your back, threatens to topple you all over the sink and against the mirror already misty from your mingled heat.

And the mask was lifted for a whole other reason than to catch some precious air.

He presses his lips against your bare neck, breathes you in with mouth slightly open. Pants, like a tormented beast.

"You almost got killed," he whispers on your skin. Your heart leaps, and he still doesn't slip out…

"Took that blast and those bullets f' me."

Your heart flutters; it competes in rapidness with the blinks of your lashes. He's gentleman enough not to raise his head as you swallow some panic.

"Why did you do that?"

You can't tell him it wasn't even that heroic. That the ultimate reason was just to get his attention. To get him to proudly acknowledge what a good, talented little soldier you are. His girl.

The thick, softening heat inside you is too much. It shouldn't be this close, he shouldn't be this close. Tears are not allowed; they would be the end of you. The end of the fucking world. Your doom.

Claustrophobia makes it a shaky business to tiptoe him out of you, to slither and struggle out of his embrace and yank your pants up, fight your way through the cramped space and out of the door.

- - - - - - - - -

He suspects something.

And of course he does: the man is not a clandestine operations expert for nothing.

You usually do this in the morning, knowing you won't get another chance before he steals a moment with you. But this morning, you slept in and know that you're in the biggest danger ever. If he catches you before you're satisfied and immune, you're dead.

Everything's been fucked up ever since you met him. He's like a sickness, and you've fallen ill. You're practically bedridden because of him.

You have to use a toy because your hand is not enough anymore, and you fear that one of these days you will climax while he's inside you.

The funny thing is, you forgot to lock the door.

Maybe it's a subconscious wish – to end this sickness and receive some healing.

And the perfect healer walks in like he owns the place. Owns you.

Your heart shoots up your throat at the sound of a door opening to your most sacred space while you're most relaxed, spread naked on the bed, nipples perked up and pointing to the sky.

You forgot to lock the door…

The chant arises right before he emerges like a dark mountain after opening that weak, thin piece of plywood that separates you from civility and prudence.

You forgot to lock the door you forgot to lock the door–

He freezes the exact moment his eyes hit on you. He's a northern slope that never catches sunlight while you're at your weakest, most vulnerable, leaking around a toy made out of plastic, trembling naked and full of goosebumps from the sudden cold he emits.

"You fuckin' little…"

His chest rises and falls, then he slams the door shut, locks it without ever taking his eyes off you.

He understands the mystery to the full. It unravels before him clear-cut like the steps of a mission he knows by heart before even entering the field. You can't move, can't speak, but you clench around the lifeless substitute of him, far smaller and a thousand times more tame than what he has on offer for you. The throb is simply a reaction to how he looks at you while he realizes the entirety of the childish trick you've managed to pull, a game – some stupid little antics of a stubborn, lovesick girl and nothing more.

"Alright then. Let's hear it."

"Mhm-"

He takes a step, chest puffed up and shoulders wide, eyes burning under the chalked white skull.

"Go on then. Get on wit' it."

You obey like never before. He watches how you push the lavender-colored toy fully inside, up to the hilt, and let out a shy, sad whimper. The first of many cries to come.

Ten soldiers in one man approach your bed, stand tall all around you as you gaze up at him like he's a god. He's panting by the time he gets himself out of his jeans. His eyes scourge you as he takes his cock in hand and starts to pump in sync with you.

He makes more noise than you do at first. You make him falter by changing the speed from slow and languid to shallow and quick. He tries to keep up with you like it's a race, eyes darting from your quivering mouth and wet stare to your soaked pussy.

You sigh and moan, fuck yourself sloppy, dirty, and he looks like he's about to lose his mind and burst.

"Good girl," he says with a charred voice, a soft rasp that hits you with a delicious heat. "Such a good fuckin' girl."

You swallow tears and love, give him moans and sighs, even a high-pitched mewl or two.

Somewhere along the way, you notice you're following his cue and rhythm instead of your own, and the way the angry bulge of his tip disappears into and reappears from his fist dries your mouth right up, makes your eyelids heavy. You're breathless and incoherent, far too close to the mountaintop — already were before the actual mountain even walked through that door.

You have to slow down to brace yourself for the pleasure that swells.

"Oh– oh my god…"

Your sigh is a final admission: how he is a literal god to you. His hand claps against his balls as he pleasures himself, angry as fuck and as relieved as anyone could be when they find out that their heartthrob is just a delightful little minx instead of a cruel, heartless woman.

Everything shakes and quakes and shifts, your insides shudder, your walls grip lavender when they want to grip a man. The skull tilts, the man who compels you is like an avatar of death, but his eyes are hazel longing.

The scream is celestial, wreathed in needy pain, and his shoulders sigh and shake as he watches you come for him.

"Yeah… That's it, fuck that's sweet." He doesn't slow down, quite the opposite: he beats his flesh like a maniac as you slowly but surely come down, squirm on the bed, still clutching the toy as your pussy throbs around it. If it was his cock, you fear the grip would never release him.

"Here comes," he gives an announcement, weak and breathless, rough and mean. Ropes of cum hit your breasts, neck and face, and his eyes are those of a fallen angel. Your chest rises and falls in shock and adoration as he works himself to the last of it, drips of heat dropping on the sheets, the last spurts not powerful enough to reach you from where he is standing.

When he's done, he raises his hand, like the strings of hot lust are some sort of an art piece you're supposed to gawk at.

"There ya go luv," he wipes his hand clean with you, on you. The sticky semen coats you from face to navel, and you half expect him to smear it all over you.

But he doesn't.

He forces the heavy, teary cock back inside the confine of his pants like he's mad at himself and not you.

Then he drops down like a shadow, making you quail again – one hand sinks with a fist on the pillow next to your head, the other sweeps all gentle across your belly and down over your mound. He takes hold of your hand, uses it to ease the toy slowly out while leaning over you, keeping you as a prisoner with his hawklike stare. He pulls more than just the small, harmless toy out of you: a moan or two, a final confession, but he's not pleased. You two are far from even, and he knows it, and he's fucking done. You can see it in his eyes that he's ready to quit.

He leaves you empty and barren, with just a toy to keep you company, heads for the door like a storm cloud.

"Simon…"

He walks away, much slower, but still. Leaves a memory of your shared hate and love on the doorknob as he turns it, as you start to panic.

"Don't leave," you wheeze.

Don't leave me.

Tears prick and burn your eyes as the room turns into a dismal, empty space at the very thought of living without him from this day forward.

"Please."

He opens the door a crack. Probably to let the ghosts out, because after opening it and hearing your heart-wrenching, helpless sob, he closes it.

By the time he turns and walks back to the bed, you're crying like a baby. Finally crying for him, utterly exposed. It's not the way either of you had meant for things to go, it's not the sobbing and wailing he wants.

Still, you expect him to feast on your tears as well, watch with glee how you curl into a fetal position while covered in his cum. You don't want to see it, so you close your eyes before he rapes you with his stare.

"Sweetheart."

But his voice shatters a heart. So tender that it washes over you in waves as you repeat it inside your head like a lullaby.

"Sweetest…" he trails off into somewhere, some obsidian space that stretches out before you, between you, until you cross that space with no effort at all. Meet him in the middle.

"Yes, love..?" Your own shaky voice is a mirror of his compassion as you pledge yourself to him. A warm hand brushes your cheek not seconds after, dries a tear away, adds to the heat that pangs on your face.

You open your eyes to dare a peek up. He has the same wet look in his eyes as he did when he found you in the rubble, bleeding for him.

"You did well today," he says, voice laced with love. You don't know if he means you did well at work or on this bed just now. What makes the praise scary is that it's authentic, the way he adores you with both word and touch. It breaks you into smaller pieces still, and your voice comes out as a needy whimper.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

You hope he would take you in his arms, just the way he did weeks ago. You still remember how it felt to succumb to his warmth and the soft tang of gun oil and smoke that always surrounds him. Now you're only shrouded by the scent of tears and salt.

"Must be due to a good leader," you whisper.

He cocks his head, the hand halts, hovers over you, a last suspicion.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Your hands are crossed over your chest, palms on opposite shoulders, shielding you from him. But you open them as he lays down and settles beside you, takes you in his arms, and presses your head to rest on his heart, underneath his chin. The massive palm covers half of your head, but the predatorial weight is gone. He only feels like home.

"Look at you, ya silly little thing… Always gettin' yourself into trouble." He brushes your beef off with a few words and an imply that you're just a blameless, stubborn little thing who he can't be mad at even if he wanted to. And it feels like the sickness finally starts to pass, that it was just an odd inflammation, a passing fever that made you so delirious. You anchor in, slither an arm under his to take support of the bedrock of his back.

He caresses you, makes you sob in his shirt from the sudden overdose of gentleness. His cum dries somewhere between your skin and his clothes as he swallows, then asks you about the mission that went wrong.

"Why did you do it?"

He's not an idiot. Surely he knows why by now. He only wants to hear it because he's stubborn like you, but also in desperate need of love and affection.

"I think you know why." You're exhausted, only able to breathe through your mouth, but the bitterness from your tone is gone. Lost, somewhere in his shirt that smells of ferrous solitude. You wonder what your combined scent, your togetherness, will smell like. It must be something sweet. Promising, like a refreshing summer rain.

"Yeah."

He caresses you slowly now, until his hand comes to rest on top of your head, making sure you won't escape his sanctuary.

"Never do it again," he commands, so soft, voice only a smoked whisper. "Love. I need you to promise me."

"Mh."

"Promise me."

You're feeling sleepy and spent, and he's to blame for it – he simply feels too good. You decide that your first kiss can wait just a little while longer. It's only wonderful; to have something lovely and pure to wait for.

"I promise…"

You drift off to sleep, cradled by the safe slopes of his mountain.

#ghost x you #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #ghost smut #simon riley smut #simon riley x you #ghost x female reader #simon riley x female reader

[dilemmaontwolegs]

FUCK FUCK FUCK!!!

Sorry for the profanity, but i BAWLED at the Bucket list fic😭

I read it when I had some time at work, and i cannot tell you how my heart BROKE!!!! I had to hide my face and wipe my tears because GOD HELP ME i almost choked on them.

Absolutely loved the fic, but can’t help but wish you’d broken our hearts more by letting is witness her last moment with Cha by her side!! Masochistic much??

Adore you and your work so much🥰

- May✨

Great, now I’m crying again. Fuck 😭😭😭

The Bucket List

Charles remembered every second of your last day. For a moment it seemed like you were doing better, you had energy and you got out of bed. You walked to his piano and asked him to play your song, smiling like it was the first time hearing it all over again. He played it until his fingers cramped.

“Can we put the Christmas tree up?” you asked as you looked at the empty corner by the fireplace. It had been forgotten in the week since you returned home, usually it would have been up and decorated on the 1st of December.

Charles didn’t feel like he had much to celebrate this year but he nodded and closed the lid on the piano. “I’ll get it from the loft.” He left with a kiss to your temple and a small smile.

It took longer than it normally did to hang all the baubles and drape the tinsel but you wanted it to be perfect. Charles held the final piece in his hand, a delicate porcelain doll with a gold halo above her head. It was new, one he found that looked just like you and he rose on his toes to reach the top of the tree. “Mon ange.”

You didn’t speak as you took a seat and watched the lights flicker on the tree but he felt connected to you when you placed your hand on his thigh and rested your head on his shoulder.

“I’m tired, Cha,” you said with a yawn. “Will you come and lay down with me?”

“Of course, mon amour.”

Charles helped you as the day came to an end, his arm bearing most of your weight as the energy you had earlier faded with an exhaustion that came from deep inside your soul. You felt no pain as he lifted you onto the bed and went to close the curtains to defend you from the setting sun.

“Will you hold me while I go to sleep?” Your eyes were already getting heavy when the bed dipped on his side and he carefully cradled you to his chest.

“Of course, mon amour.”

You forced your eyes to open just enough to see those gold and green eyes you had fallen for. Your chest was getting heavy, each breath requiring more effort and you closed your eyes to focus on each inhale and exhale.

“I love you, Charles,” you whispered weakly as his warm lips pressed to your forehead.

“I love you too.” Charles felt his universe shatter with the shuddering breath you took before the world fell silent. “Forever and always.”

Click here for Two Years Later.

#ollie answers #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #formula one imagine #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #tw: death

[oakbuggy]

Liar, Liar chapter 1

Recom!Neteyam x female OC

Summary : Tala of the Tawkami gets captured by a familiar face and to both of their misfortune, they are trapped together due to circumstance. They are extremely vexed by this and each other and also very horny.

Warnings: Minors DNI, non-con+dub-con, explicit smut, dirty talk, authority, power struggle, mentions+depictions of blood, minor violence, character death, marking, biting, scenting

!! Each chapter will have images throughout the chapter, only the AO3 will have the NSFW-uncensored versions. Please keep this in mind as you read !!

Chapter 1 (NSFW) ~5.2k words

AO3 Link Here!

Prev Chapter / Next Chapter

Tala grimaced every time a bullet was fired, noisily ripping through the greenery no matter where it was aimed.

She stayed huddled in a thicket, eyes darting through the leaves and flowers and rain.

Everything had gone so wrong so quickly. They were supposed to be the scouting party, that’s it, it wasn’t supposed to be dangerous. But the tawtute sterile and foul scents proved otherwise.

The sudden downpour helped to mask all individual Navi scents, but it also made it harder to know where anyone was. Seeing a cluster of roots with just enough space for her smaller body to fit, Tala slid into the safety of the crevice, disturbing only blades of grass.

At least, that’s what she hoped.

And she was glad her years of alchemy training didn’t fail her because through the blood, ash, and mist, she smelled a much less offensive sterile scent. The rain was dampening it, but the odor of tawtute fabric stuck to their skin. Just her luck to have a dream walker hovering so close to her, but better her than another. She was technically a warrior, as all alchemists of the Tawkami went through the same rites of passage, but she honestly barely qualified as a fighter. Tala would’ve wildly preferred being someone’s pretty mate and just experiment all day for new recipes and poultices.

Tala stayed absolutely still, her green eyes glued to the entrance of the roots. She looked down at her hands, her entire body folded into the smallest ball she could be, frowning a bit at the scars and scuffles. She could imagine her friend scolding her for paying attention to such things when she was being actively pursued-

A gun’s barrel burst through the entrance of the roots and shot through her hair.

Tala screamed and thrashed, kicking the gun out of the way she forced her body outside of the root’s crevice. She reached into her satchel on her hip and flung coarse powder into the assailant’s face. The rain solidified on the soldier’s face and she scrambled away through the jungle.

The RDA soldier coughed and hissed behind her, empty-handed save for one of the pink flowers that were decorated throughout Tala’s hair. He crushed it and gave chase, abandoning the gun. He didn’t need it.

Tala jumped through all manner of branches and foliage. If she had time to think, Tala would be praying to Eywa now to save her, air burning her lungs.

The dream walker was insufferably graceful, talented at keeping his eyes on her. Tala dared a look back and gasped. She didn’t realize until too late that her foot stepped on only air beyond the edge of a steep glade.

“N-Netey-OOf!” The soldier fully pounced on Tala, which only sent them toppling. Large hands clawed into her sides as the two of them rolled down, slowly coming to a painful stop of groans and blooming bruises on their heads and limbs. Immediately the soldier got to his feet while his target was violently backing away, clawing through the grass. It couldn’t be him, he’s been dead for years now. It was a trick of the light, the rain entered her eye, she was being delusional, desperate.

As if a cruel trick of Eywa’s, Tala found herself back in the start, she had burrowed into a large and hollow tree trunk and was again trapped inside it. From the darkness outside, a hand burst through the entrance and clawed at her hair, impartial as to whether it wanted to pull her out or claw its way inside.

She was slapping, thrashing, the soldier’s large gloved hands were searching for her neck through her thick, loose curls. Her nails caught on the soldier’s green military headband, ripping it off to reveal a large, star-shaped scar on the left side of his forehead. He snarled but now so close, Tala froze.

Sunlillies and tree bark. A nostalgic smell.

She stopped, letting the soldier squeeze her neck, as her wide green eyes blinked upwards, staring at his face.

“Neteyam? Is it really…?” Tala started to whisper, she felt around at his hands. Four fingers, not a dream walker. She kept trembling eyes on his face, it looked so much like him. Even the way his forehead wrinkled when his brow raised in perplexity, now a large scar resting right above it. Yellow eyes met green and all the terror-induced adrenaline Tala had pumping through her was now going straight to her heart.

The soldier had also long stopped, stunned. Stunned by her scent, of spiced honey and rose, scents that he attributed to the environment than to her. The hammering pain he felt in his skull, from his scar, had dissipated drastically. He realized who he was holding.

“Tala.” His voice was low, uncharacteristically unsure.

She wanted to open her mouth and ask all the right questions, the smartest ones, but her mouth stayed silent. The soldier slowly loosened his grip. She looked at the name tag on his uniform. ’T. Sully’.

He allowed some minute bit of space between them, their breaths warming each other up from the cold of the constant rainfall. Tala eyed his scar, blackened and old.

“You’ve been poisoned.” Her throat was dry and her heart was pounding. As if simply saying something was enough, the RDA soldier lunged back into her, his face in her hair and arms encompassing her. She made a strangled, distressed noise.

“N-Neteyam! What are you-“

“Shut up.” It felt like a shadow covered her body, snuffing Eywa’s light on her. The voice, low, husked into the shell of her ears. Cold. It was very cold. The usual comfort she’d feel hearing his voice was missing.

When Tala tried to pull back, Neteyam’s hands tightened painfully around her body, squeezing her impossibly closer. His head hasn’t felt this at peace since he ‘awoke’. The headache was mercifully lessened each time he breathed in the Tawkami girl’s scent. Months felt like decades of torture, something for him to shoulder with each waking moment. Everything hurt his head, it was constant and numbing but somehow, with her…

A whine cried out of her throat, her breath felt constricted. Tala tried to scramble her fingers around the sleeves of his black shirt, clawing at the fabric and trying to push him away but to no avail. His tactical harnesses, both on his chest and around his legs, dug into her skin painfully.

“Let go of me.” Tala weakly hissed into his hair even though her arms, though tense, felt so weak. Brittle.

Neteyam hissed.

“Just stay still. Don’t you understand how easy it is for me to kill you?” 

Tala stilled, confused. She was used to being admonished, by many people, yet she’s never known the Omaticayan to waste time for a kill. She noticed though the shallow pressure of his broad chest against hers, the lowest and quietest inhale. 

He was smelling her.

This na’vi may no longer be Neteyam, a shadow that shared his name, but still, something stirred in Tala when she realized this. Stupid feelings she thought were buried and dead.

“Killing me by smelling me then, are you?” She mumbled, taking the gamble. No matter how overpoweringly soothing her scent was, Neteyam felt irritation rise at her words. That’s right, she’s always been sort of a pain to talk to… They’ve met twice before and both times left him feeling embarrassment and indignation. For what exactly, he couldn’t recall.

Still, his tail swished irritably now. He sat up to see her face to catch a glimpse of those green eyes that constantly taunted whoever had their attention.

Great mother, he wished he didn’t remember her so the thought that she’d only gotten prettier wouldn’t enter his head.

“Don’t push me, Tawkami. How haven’t you changed at all?” He snarled, venom dripping from his maw. Tala frowned and sunk her claws into his uncovered bicep, earning a small hiss. His hands curled again around the column of her neck, lightly squeezing.

Her eyelashes fluttered as she started seeing spots in her vision. Somehow, the universe both gave her a gift and a curse. Eywa returned his body to her, but not his mind. No more gentle hands, no kind eyes, no bashful expressions, or the comfort of his silhouette. She felt so entirely bitter to have hoped at all.

“Maybe I’ve not changed at all…” Tala felt like the headband in her hand was suddenly too heavy, she didn’t want it.

“But you’ve changed too much.” She finished, her stare was acidic.

“I died. And now I’m back and I’m forced to bear the consequences of it.” His voice was stern but quiet. Tala’s brows furrowed. Then her eyes went back to his large scar. From her studies, it truly looked poisoned, festering, and painful but the skin on top was healed. She was confused, na’vi were not the type to hide scars.

Tala reached around and placed his headband slowly back around his forehead. Delicate fingertips felt like burns along his skin and Neteyam was ready to crack her neck at any sign of force.

“The poison?”

No response. She scowled.

“Poison’s made you a bore too?” Tala let out a loud gag when his large thumbs momentarily dug into her throat.

“Still so foolish and mouthy.” The soldier growled. ‘Poisoned’ was a strange way to call his ever-present migraine, but seemed close enough. Unfortunately, the cure to that headache was another one in the form of an incredibly annoying woman. His patience was thinning.

“But you still find me so pretty, don’t you? Otherwise, what’s taking so long, hmm?” Her tone and smile were sickly sweet, just the way he always hated it.

The consequences were immediate, Neteyam nearly buried Tala into the ground, knocking whatever little breath she had left. He forced her legs around him in the struggle and went for her neck to suck and bite. She yelped when rough fingers clenched at her hair and pulled her closer to him.

Her words incensed him and now he knew that Eywa cursed him, why did this loathsome woman have to smell so good, and have to smile so lovely and be so soft?

“You’ve always been so fucking-“

She could feel Neteyam’s tongue and fangs scrape over her neck. Her strangled yelps stopped when Neteyam roughly pushed the stiff tent of his pants against her thigh.

“Annoying, so fucking full of yourself-“

She saw only a flash of golden eyes glaring at her before she felt lips crash onto hers. Fangs clashed against each other and Neteyam stuck his tongue into her mouth. Tala was mortified when she could immediately feel a heat pool in her belly. The musk of his arousal was so dizzying even through the thick camo fabric.

She wanted to say she struggled heroically but in shame, Tala’s will crumbled quickly. The kiss was just so bruising, so angry, she stopped struggling to focus on twisting his tongue and stealing his air.

Neteyam didn’t break the kiss as he ripped the gloves off his calloused hands, now feeling desperate to lose himself in her smell and her softness. He groped at her waist and squeezed the roundness of her hips, now her smell was intoxicating, tinged with her desire. He moaned at the contact, practically rutting his clothed cock against her. Tala could feel slick gather underneath her tewng, she knew for sure a wet spot was already leaking through it.

His hand stilled and Tala could finally look at him, tense. Neteyam seemed only to revel in it, his pupils enlarging further, brows furrowed, he looked near enraged. With him or with her, Tala figured it was probably both. 

“What are you doing, Neteyam?” She rasped, conflicted and now hot and bothered. Her only answer was him sucking her clavicle hard, hands now groping at her tits wantonly.

Sense returned to Tala’s head and she started kicking at him, kicking around his much larger, muscular waist.

“Get away-oh!” She screeched when suddenly he was picking her up, making her back bend uncomfortably around the roof of the hollow tree, she was practically sitting on his shoulders now. His head was between her thighs and the wet muscle of his tongue was digging through her tewng, getting her wetter and wetter. She smelled divine here and he licked a long strip over the thin cloth, he could feel her heat on his tongue.

Unable to keep her balance she gripped the back of his head, his neck, the slope of his back, just anything so she wouldn’t topple over. Squeezing her thighs around his face only seemed to goad him on further.

“Neteyam!” Tala said, choking on her drool as the heat of her core rose exponentially with Neteyam’s sudden worshipping.

“I’m going to taste you. Don’t stop me.” 

The announcement makes her cunt clench around nothing and she stills. Her face is on fire, she is so conflicted by the way he was squeezing her ass and how completely and uncomfortably drenched her cunt was- Neteyam pushed the tight fabric of her tewng to the side and started lapping at her pussy lips.

“Ooohh, oh, fuck!” She moaned, feeling just so filthy. His rough and wet tongue pressed against her hole, licked long strips against it and he dug for deeper, more of her juices. The more those juices dripped down his face, the more he lapped it up hungrily. He was just fucking gone, nothing hurt anymore and only extreme pleasure was left in his wake. His ego preened as he listened to her muffled whimpers like a favored song, she was not so annoying when his tongue was deep in her cunt like this. He thinks he prefers her like this, hanging onto him desperately, legs wide for him.

Neteyam felt like he could cum from just the sound of her desperate whines alone. 

“Net-Nete…” She whispered his name harshly but could barely form it. The coil of heat in her belly was tightening oh so much, and when Neteyam’s nose burrowed further onto her clit, her eyes glazed over in pure ecstasy.

He sucked at her clit and groaned at the sweetness that exploded on his tongue. In his mind, it was his private feast and the satisfaction he got from making this irritable woman melt in his hands was simply an appetizer.

Her eyes rolled back, the spring snapped and she closed her legs impossibly tight around his face as she came so hard she saw white. Her body stiffened, even her tail squeezed tightly around Neteyam’s bicep, and after agonizingly long seconds, her body went limp.

To her vague surprise, he was still completely supporting her despite her relaxing her whole weight over him.

To the extreme surprise of her nerves, he was still swallowing all her excess liquids, now sucking over her reddened and puffy cunt for just a bit more savory sweetness.

“N-nete- I-came…” She said in broken mewls and weakly pawed at his back, eyes starting to water from the overstimulation. He, of course, didn’t stop, he didn’t even hear her. “It’s too much, stop…” She said a bit louder and dug her nails deeper into his back, but still Neteyam didn’t budge.

He basked in massaging her twitching, sticky cunt, the way it pulsated around his tongue, and flinched at every light scrape of his teeth. He only wished he had enough space to soak his fingers in her until she was hiccuping and the pads of his fingers were pruney.

Tala felt another orgasm crash through her and this time she wailed, body staying limp, hair cascading over her and over Neteyam’s back. Her cunt was now hurting and she was struggling to keep conscious.

She blinked at the distance, seeing the flash of yellow plastic. The Compass. She had pressed random buttons in the struggle, trying to get the dog tags or his uniform name as she knew the device could record nature, likenesses. Tala continued trying to blink away tears but before she knew it, her eyes clamped shut and everything went dark to the constantly stinging and tingling texture of Neteyam’s tongue.

It was maybe 20 minutes before the RDA na’vi noticed her noises were considerably muted and her body felt boneless. He swallowed the rest of his fill, he had practically licked her clean before he let her body completely relax on the jungle floor.

He stared down at her figure and took another deep breath, his migraines truly were gone.

She had said that he was poisoned. Neteyam clicked his tongue as he readjusted her coverings and hoisted her over his shoulder.

To the detriment of both of them, she seemed to be the only cure he had for now.

–

When Tala came to, it was as violent as she had never hoped it to be.

She screamed, static coursing through her entire body and when an RDA soldier shut it off, her whole body felt numb. She could barely see the bright white linoleum floor as two combat boots came into view.

A large hand forcefully tilted her head up and she grimaced.

“Well, outta all the biters you could’ve brought back, you chose a pretty one.” The dream walker said, his face was aged and his hair was cut extremely short. He had a square jaw and aged features, along with thick eyebrows. He let Tala’s face fall carelessly as he stood back up straight.

“That better not be the only reason you chose her, Corporal Tom.” His voice was hard. Tala was vaguely aware of her body being strapped vertically onto a table and only able to move around her neck, though she barely had the energy to lift it anyway.

“No, sir, Colonel Quaritch, sir.” It was Neteyam. Voice cold and unfeeling, just like how he had first talked to her. No sunlight, no warmth. “She is of the Tawkami clan and has knowledge of all of Pandora’s natural resources as an alchemist and healer. She will be of use in identifying plants still undiscovered.”

Quaritch simply stared hard at Neteyam, or, Corporal Tom, and grumbled quietly. The Phoenix II reconditioning program had worked almost miraculously well, but the older soldier still had his suspicions. He was somewhat aware of the change he himself was facing since the Skirmish at the Three Brothers years ago, so he had to keep a close eye on the former Sully boy.

It’s been a fast year since his reawakening, and to Quaritch’s knowledge, he was pretty sure the kid spent his ruts alone and barely interacted with those outside of the Recombinant Squad if even them. The… experience left him angry, which was great on the battlefield. Not for making sure his head was all there even in downtime though.

The colonel kneeled low to look at Tala’s face clearly, her head still hanging. Easy on the eyes at least, would it be so bad for him to have his own little fucktoy? It wasn’t regulated, but some prisoners became favored partners of the Recoms or other reawakened Na’vi, if at least to help with their monthly biological needs.

“I know you can understand me doll face, most of the Tawkami does by now.” He started with a cold hostility in his tone. Tala kept silent, trying to steel herself. She didn’t want to die, but she’d welcome any return to Eywa with open arms before helping these demons.

“To make everything crystal clear, I’m going to say this once. You make a peep of trouble, we shoot you. You fuck up, we shoot you. We’re not animals mind you, you play by our rules and you can live a reasonable life of use to us. Just don’t give us a reason to kill, and we won’t, sweetheart.” His seethe ended in a cruelly humored smile and Tala was feeling her blood run cold looking at him.

Quaritch rolled his eyes emphatically when she stayed silent.

“Gonna need to hear that you understand, doll face.” He rumbled and she pursed her lips. She nodded.

“…yes. I do.” Tala said, English heavily accented but understandable all the same. Quaritch stood to his full height, carelessly letting go of her face.

He turned to Neteyam with a scowl.

“Well, you got your fucktoy, Corporal Tom. Enjoy it.” He meanly snarled, getting close to Neteyam. The younger didn’t flinch, both of them staring intensely into the other’s glowing eyes. Maintaining eye contact, Quaritch waved his hand and another blast of shock scorched Tala’s body, making her scream in pain. Tala balled her hands and felt tears burn down her face as pain shocked through every bone in her spine.

Quaritch searched Neteyam’s face for any ounce of care, even the faintest inclination to help her. The colonel didn’t want any emotional bullshit conflict, he had his own to deal with.

Not even a flicker towards her figure, despite her screams getting shriller. Quaritch sent the operator a glance and finally, Tala was given a break from the torture. Her whole body sunk, the restraints digging into her skin, though she couldn’t feel it. Tala breathed hard, her body still twitching from the pain. It felt like her eyes and ears were bleeding, she wanted to vomit.

The older soldier smiled lightheartedly.

“Just a little welcome present,” Quaritch said, then passed by the younger and clapped his shoulder. “Look alive, soldier. Get her ready and cuffed. I’ll ask the eggheads which lab needs a hand. Don’t take too long.

When he left the room, Neteyam nodded his head at the operator to also make his exit.

Now they were alone. His footsteps towards her were silent, she only knew he was so close because his shoes came into view.

Tala twisted her head to at least be able to peer up at his face. She was aching thoroughly, but the soreness of her crotch especially made her sport quite a mirthful smile.

“Did you like the taste enough to keep me?”

Neteyam scowled then smirked.

“Almost as much as you liked creaming on my tongue.” He taunted back and his smirk grew as he saw Tala’s pretty smile get wiped off her face instantly.

A surprisingly soft grip supported her chin, and she raised her head to meet his eyes. While he still wore the harness and cargo pants, he was no longer wearing his tactical vest. She could clearly see the broadness of his shoulders, how sculpted and wide his chest was under the tight black shirt. Eywa really picked favorites.

Neteyam’s nose twitched, as it usually did with irritation.

“Be thankful I didn’t kill you. At least now you can be of use.” His voice had a sharper edge that made Tala glare at him. The stale light of fluorescent bulbs didn’t seem to suit either of them.

“Of use? Like you are to the vrrteps(demons), kavukte(traitor)?” Tala hissed, green eyes flashing with indignation. She wanted to bite his fingers off. Neteyam’s jaw tensed.

“What are you planning, Neteyam? What do you want?” She pushed, her voice much more hoarse than she thought it would be.

“I’m saving this planet by ending the Na’vi people’s resistance, Tawkami. They are being manipulated by Eywa, it’s not their fault, but they refuse to listen. Eywa keeps the People from growing, and she is the reason they suffer now. The humans will save us.” Neteyam said with such finality and clarity that it unsettled her, like lines practiced over and over again.

“Eywa keeps the balance, Neteyam, the vrrteps are selfish, they take and take. You know this, I know you do.” Her voice was pleading now, nerves heightened. She wanted desperately for him to listen to her and see reason.

“Then even this is part of Eywa’s plan, no? To let the sky people take and take. It was the sky people that saved me, not Her.” He said with a growl.

Tala couldn’t bear to listen anymore and ripped her face away from his grip, squeezing her eyes shut.

Wretched words, cruel thoughts that didn’t sound truly like his.

“The vrrteps did not save you, Neteyam. They were the ones that killed you! Lo’ak-.” Four fingers clamped her mouth shut and the amber pool of his eyes seared into hers.

“I remember everything. And my life was over far before Lo’ak’s stupidity got me shot.” He seethed, pupils in threatening and aggressive slits. Tala scowled, ears pinned to the side of her head.

“What are you talking about?”

“Jake. He ended my life long before that battle. Then replaced me before my body even turned cold, and now I live every single day in torture!” His words suddenly erupted in anger, violently surfacing above. Resentment emanated from every word and his hurt was suffocating. She knew she wouldn’t be able to get through to him, she was not the person he needed now. He needed Kiri or Tuk, he needed his family.

Tala was suddenly reminded of how small a part of his life she really embodied. At most a week’s worth of memories, years stretched in between. Barely any history. 

She wanted to entertain that maybe it was her good looks and charming personality that made her memorable, but Tala wasn’t completely dumb. Neteyam had always been surrounded by attractive, talented navi, better yet, members of his own clan he could court.

Those infuriatingly beautiful eyes, making her think unnecessary things right then. Because that time was over, and these feelings didn’t matter. They never have.

“So your life is over, and now you’re ‘Corporal Tom’. Why does the Corporal want me?” Tala wondered out loud, biding for time as she scanned the room. White, eye-achingly so, metallic, plastic, unnatural, sterile, cold.

His waw tensed as he didn’t answer.

“Honestly, it’s looking like you’re obsessed with me.” Tala said with an entirely syrupy sweet and contemptuous smile. A fire started growing in her mind.

He lived every day in pain. And the scar looked blackened; poisoned and now hidden. Navi don’t hide scars. And suddenly he’s smelling her and eating her out as if she was his ambrosia. 

Tala crinkled her eyes and batted her eyelashes at him.

“Oh, does being around me help with the hurt, poor sky demon warrior?”

When Tala saw his tail swishing in angry large strokes, she knew her answer, unable to contain how pleased she was now. It was laughable, for both of them, truly! She went through her mental alchemy compendium, considering what and how effected him. Relief through her scent, then arousal? Or minor dosage of comfort through scent then a substantial through oral consumption?

Tala sighed internally, this would have been a wonderful opportunity to experiment with the effects of this mind poison if it wasn’t for all the guns and threats and torture.

Neteyam suddenly and wordlessly stripped off her floral top.

“Neteyam!” She screeched, though his eyes just wandered along her chest, tits soft and dotted with dark pink nipples. Tala flinched violently away when large fingers pinched at her flesh, but still they continued to play and bruise the sensitive buds without care. Tala strangled a mewl in her throat, mortified. He had stayed too silent all this time, she should have known something was boiling in him.

And indeed there was, he hated her insolence and her overactive brain, how she pieced things together so damningly quickly.

“Nothing will get you to shut up, will it.” Neteyam mused out loud, rolling her nipple between his thumb and index finger. He pinched it hard and Tala yelped.

“Remind yourself that you have no power here, Tawkami. At most, you’re a stress toy.” He said in a deceptively simplistic manner. As if to make the point stick he stuck thick gloved fingers in her mouth, pushing teeth and tongue. Neteyam stared, daring her to bite him. She didn’t.

“Smart toy, good toy.” He mumbled then, eyes narrowing in self-satisfaction. Tala’s face went hot but she kept compliant.

“Stay good, and I won’t break that thin neck.” Neteyam said, pushing his fingers in her mouth deeper. She gagged and Neteyam felt a familiar throbbing in his pants.

He stopped and then leaned over her like a predator, almost growling.

“I can smell how bad you want me. If you’re good, I’ll fuck the brat out of you until you’ve had your fill.”

Tala closed her eyes, just so completely humiliated yet so aroused, it made her fume. Neteyam smiled smugly when he saw her expression. He liked seeing her when she was too frustrated to do anything else but let her face turn red.

Tala grumbled something under her breath. His ears caught something about him being a horny psychotic asshole. So he proved her point.

“AH!” Sharp fangs sunk into the crook of her neck. He was-he was biting her, marking her! Neteyam was nearly crushing her small shoulders still as he bit down, blood beading and staining her skin.

“Great Mother, what is wrong with you?!” Tala was screaming, now jerking her body this way and that. She didn’t care that it made it more painful, she didn’t care that flecks of her blood were landing on his face and the rest of her body.

But neither did he, he let his fangs stay sunk into her skin, he seemed to be enjoying her struggling, the fucking asshole-

When Neteyam finally stood up, there were thin dribbles of saliva and blood running down his chin and he wiped it off with the heel of his glove carelessly.

Tala was breathing hard, confused and so horribly aroused, she didn’t even want to know how much of a mess she looked then. Her skin was on fire, she was barely aware of the tears running down her cheeks, tears of anger.

Her green eyes shined brighter in her shock, pink lips parted in terrible confusion. Her hair was a mess, braids no longer neat and curls in her face, sticking to her cheeks with her tears. And now the side of her neck, bitten into and punctured, like a pearl necklace of blood.

Neteyam thought it was the prettiest he’d ever seen her. And by Eywa his head felt the most relieved it’s been by far.

“A horny, psychotic asshole, right?” He said smugly, daring any more rebellion from her in his tone and she glared viciously at him. Neteyam merely kept his head raised and roughly pulled up her top.

He turned away and left once the doors slid open, whispering something to the tawtute waiting outside. He didn’t take any look back, he didn’t need to.

Tala felt hostility bubble in her gut, marking was for mates, not whatever the hell this was. Not from whatever he was!

The scientist walked in and pulled out a needle, making her ears pin to the back of her head. The injection went in so quickly, Tala could only remember those yellow eyes, searing into her.

It made her want to gag.

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#doodle #smut #fanfic #recom neteyam #neteyam sully #avatar way of water #fanart #avatar 2 #avatar the way of water #avatar twow #neteyam x oc #the spicy stuff #finally begins!! #hehehe

[24hlevi]

Hello,, how are you?

If it's ok, could I please request kissing headcanons with Nagi, Chigiri, Bachira, Rin and Sae?

hello! im doing alright, im actually writing this while waiting for my bllk vol 3 to arrive that i preordered lol

— 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐂𝐬 𝐖/ 𝐁𝐥𝐥𝐤 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐬

Blue Lock Boys (Nagi, Chigiri, Bachira, Rin, & Sae) X Gn!Reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Language

• at first, nagi didn't really get the point of kissing, he thought it was weird and that there was other things/ways to prove you're in a relationship

• but after watching a few movies with reo (who forced him to) he sort of understood and it would start with little pecks on the cheek much before actually kissing

• he knew he loved you, obviously, so he was going to try and make sure he showed it, at least try even if it didn't work

• the first kiss with nagi was...a mess, he had no clue what he was doing, trying to follow reo's advice but it was only making it worse 💀

• he was very awkward and hesitant that you just told him it was okay if he wanted to wait on actual kissing and sticking with short pecks

• this mans was not having that, so he instead would continue to try and kiss you better, and after some time he did get better at it!

• nagi doesn't particularly enjoy PDA, but after a game he will always pick you up and kiss you whether the team won or not, and it's surprisingly more passionate each time

• sometimes his kisses can get sloppy, but that's just because he doesn't always know what he's doing or how to do it, he just wants to express it somehow that he does really love you

• kisses with bachira are very unexpected and unpredictable, but that's just how he is so don't fret

• very playful with his kisses, he will randomly grab your face and just started peppering kisses all over your face and especially if he's asking for something

• also he will kiss you anywhere, face, hands, shoulders, anywhere his lips can touch he will kiss, would also kiss your head but probably end up getting hair in his mouth and spitting it out 💀

• he will show he loves you mostly through kisses and actions, so expect a lot of kissing with this boy

• the first kiss with bachira was eventful, he had won a match with his team and literally ran up to you and just kissed you without saying anything, grinning widely after when he felt you kiss back

• bachira is never awkward with his kisses and goes straight in with no hesitation, and will do it at the most random (and worst) times possible even if they're messy

• sometimes when bachira gets desperate and you won't kiss him he'll just suddenly grab your face and kiss you with more emotion than most of the other times which shocks you, but that's what he wants

• this boy does not give a single fuck about PDA, he'll kiss you whenever and wherever he wants! he also loves it when people get jealous because then he just sticks out his tongue like ":P ha"

• kissing chigiri is like out of a literal disney movie like 😵‍💫

• he is just magically amazing at kissing, slow, passionate and loving, literally perfect there's nothing wrong with him

• he likes holding onto your hands while kissing or his hand resting on your cheek because he says he feels closer to you that way

• the first kiss with chigiri was pretty perfect, he took you out during the winter at night to look at the city and christmas decorations while drinking hot chocolate and he kissed you in front of the giant christmas tree 🤧

• chigiri ADORES forehead kisses, whether it's him doing it or you he's a sucker for them, he just thinks it's so cute

• he's the type to ask if he can kiss you before doing it (i want him)

• would totally remake kissing scenes/images from movies with you and post the pictures beside each other bragging about you

• chigiri is pretty iffy on PDA, while he does hold hands with you always and gives small pecks, he'd get embarrassed if he fully kissed you in public, especially in front of his friends

• rin thought kissing was stupid at first honestly 💀 he thought it was weird and gross at least before he met and started dating you, then he lightened up a little

• he still thought it was weird though so he didn't kiss you for a few months even after you two started dating until one day he was practicing alone with you watching him and he couldn't focus at all, so you told him you knew a way and you kissed him which then started the beginning of rin's obsession for kissing you

• if practicing which was almost always, every time he made a goal you would kiss him which surprisingly worked which you honestly didn't think would but it made him work harder and do better so 🤷‍♂️

• rin prefers to kiss you on your hand or forehead if he can't directly kiss your lips, if he's holding your hand he'll just out of nowhere lift your hand up to his lips and kiss it but act like he didn't do anything

• he gets flustered easily if you initiate the kiss, on rare occasions he will blush because he's never been treated like this before and he was so used to acting like his brother that he forgot he was his own person, not his brother's shadow

• the only times he will genuinely kiss you is when you two are alone whether in his room or on a date because it's private and he feels confident to do it when there's no one else to possibly see or poke fun at him

• his kisses are honestly a mess of emotions, and can vary at any moment, sometimes he's aggressive with it if he's desperate, sometimes he'll be slow and think through every second, or he'll just smash his lips against yours and call it a kiss of sorts

• rin hates hates HATES PDA, he would rather die than be spotted by the other blue lock contenders kissing you or doing any form of affection with you, but he will interlock your pinky finger with his when walking around

• sae also thought kissing was stupid, but he also thought dating was stupid until he started dating you, so there's that 😭

• you are quite literally the only person he enjoys being around and can tolerate, he hates everyone else pretty much, so just to get on his good side is a surprise

• the most he would do in the beginning is kiss the top of your head and maybe your hand, but it took a while to actually kiss you

• the first kiss with sae was interesting to say the least, he was arguing with rin about something and kept putting him down so you took initiative and shut him up by kissing him, shocking both brothers, let's just say it worked and they stopped fighting

• since then sae started kissing you, usually as a hello or goodbye kiss but then into thank you kisses and then just doing them for no reason

• he tries to act all cool about it and shit but he feels all giddy on the inside when he's kissing you, and it's obvious to you at least

• sae's kisses are most of the time quick and without much thought, but there are times where he does put emotion and passion into it, usually after a match or if he's feeling confident enough

• sae also hates PDA, especially when he has a reputation and people know him, so he tries to steer away from that when anywhere he goes people are trying to talk to him, he will have an arm wrapped around you though and occasionally kiss your temple

#blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock hc #blue lock headcanons #bllk hc #bllk headcanons #nagi seishiro x reader #nagi x reader #nagi headcanons #nagi hcs #bachira meguru x reader #bachira x reader #bachira headcanons #bachira hcs #chigiri hyoma x reader #chigiri x reader #chigiri headcannons #chigiri hcs #itoshi rin x reader #rin x reader #rin hcs #rin headcannons #itoshi sae x reader #sae x reader #sae headcannons #sae hcs #request

[thebearer]

autumn leaves falling down like pieces into place |carmen berzatto x reader|

prompt: target, halloween, carmen, and you. or a short, fluffy work about halloween shopping with target bc why not? 'tis the season.

contains: fluff. that's it lol. mentions to past family memories and some insecure carmen, but honestly just fluff!

“Oh, look at this one!” You coo, snatching the tiny ghost figurine off the shelf.  

“Cute.” Carmen muttered, one hand on the obnoxiously red cart, the other on your lower back. “Put it in.” He nodded towards the cart that was slowly starting to fill up. 

The speakers droned out some dull pop song, your coffee and his melting away in the drink carriers on the cart. Carmen didn’t usually prefer Starbucks, much more of a fan of the local coffee spot a block over from The Bear. They knew his regular, made it for him as soon as he walked in. No fuss, no forced conversation- just the way he liked it. 

But you liked Starbucks, well, in the right circumstance. You liked going to Target, you liked having a coffee to sip on while you “browsed”. Browsed, Carmen had grinned when you told him that. 

“You don’t just go out and browse sometimes? Look at things? Window shop to make yourself feel happier?” You’d asked him earlier in the car, head tilting to the side. 

“No, baby. I, uh, I don’t.” Carmen looked over at you, his hand still holding yours in the center console. “But maybe you’re onto somethin’.” 

Carmen’s lack of decorations was deemed a crime in your eyes, which inspired the trip. Halloween trinkets filling the cart, the sly smile you’d give him when you’d slip another one in, just like you were doing now. 

“It’s my treat.” You’d remind him, with a little wink. Carmen let you think that. Like he’d ever let you pay. And miss out on a chance to spoil you? No way. 

“Where’re you gonna put all this?” Carmen hummed, watching you situate the tiny ghost next to the plastic cauldron and iridescent ornaments- something you saw on TikTok that you were going to attempt to DIY. “My place isn’t that big.” 

“I’ll find a place, don’t worry.” You hum, sliding back in beside him, swiping your cup out of the basket. “You’ve got a bathroom, and the kitchen, and the bedroom-” 

“-Bedroom?” Carmen grinned lightly, his hand snaking to your waist while his free hand pushed the cart. “You gonna put this creepy shit in there?” 

“It’s not creepy.” You huff at him. “It’s cute, festive. Makes the place feel more… homey.” 

Carmen decided then, he’d let you put a full fucking skeleton in his room if it made you feel that way. He’d get rid of all his shit, didn’t need it anyways, so you’d have room for all your holiday stuff. Carmen’s heart fluttered at the thought of what Christmas would look like. Would you put up a tree? He hoped you would. He’d go and chop one down if he had to. Where in Chicago he’d find a tree? He wasn’t sure, but he’d find one for you. If it made you as happy as this did. 

“Ok,” You pulled him out of his thoughts, stopping the cart lightly. You plucked the bright orange bag up. “Did you know these are my absolute weakness?” Pumpkin shaped Reese’s, in their bright orange and purple glory. 

“Yeah?” Carmen grinned. “This is it, huh?” 

“Yes, in any shape too. But I prefer the pumpkin.” You went to set it back, Carmen’s hand grabbing the bag lightly and putting it in the cart. 

“‘M more of a Christmas Tree fan.” Carmen shrugged. “You know Cicero- uh, Jimmy-” You nodded, slipping back into his side. “He, uh, he used to bring a bag of these to Christmas every year when I was little. He’d always have to hide ‘em, ya know? My dad… My dad didn’t want us havin’ all that sugar before dinner. Jimmy would come in where all the kids were, toss ‘em to me or Mikey or Richie when he started hangin’ around. Tell us not to get caught, and Merry Christmas, and hide the evidence. We’d eat them before goin’ to Mass, and he did it every year until I got in high school.” 

You smiled softly, hand sliding down his back. “That’s sweet.” You hum, squeezing his hip lovingly. “You should get him some for Christmas this year. Return the favor.” 

“Yeah,” Carmen scoffed lightly. “Yeah, I think he’d like that.” 

A silence fell between the two of you, chatter from the surrounding people, the scratchy-screech of the cart. Carmen’s heart hammered, mind racing. Why the fuck did you tell her that? Fuckin’ ruined the moment. Stupid, fuckin’ stupid. 

“Hey, uh,” Carmen’s hands shook lightly, fingers drumming on the red plastic over the cart. “I-I didn’t mean to… ‘m sorry, I didn’t mean to say all that, ya know? Ruin the-the… I just, I dunno, you said that and-and I-” 

“-What?” You asked softly, brows creasing lightly. “What are you talking about? Say what?” 

“The, uh, the thing with Jimmy. I-I didn’t mean to make it awkward-” 

“Why is it awkward?” You pressed, setting down the candle you were smelling. “I thought it was sweet.” 

“Yeah? I-I just… I dunno why I said it, I’m sorry.” Carmen rambled, a hand falling over his face, hoping you couldn’t see the blush growing over his face. 

“Don’t be sorry, Carm. There’s nothin’ to be sorry about.” You shook your head, waving him off. “It’s a sweet story. I like that you told me that.” 

“Yeah?” Carmen asked softly. 

You nodded, smiling at him. “You know I do, bear.” The nickname rolls off your tongue so effortlessly, calmly- Carmen’s sure he’s going to melt into the floor. 

“Here,” You twist the lid off the next candle. “This one has caramel. You like that, right?” 

Carmen wasn’t sure how you remembered that. He’d mentioned it once, in passing, that he liked whatever you were burning at your apartment when he was over. It was caramel and coffee, you’d remembered, because you showed up at his house with the same candle the next day. A love present, you’d called it, pressing a kiss to his cheek. You didn’t want anything in return, no strings, just buying him something because you wanted to; because he liked it. It was still a new concept to Carmen, how you could love him without wanting anything other than love in return. 

Carmen ducked down, the brim of his hat bumping your wrist lightly. “Yeah, I like that one.” He nods. “Smells like that other one.” 

“Yeah? Not too pumpkinny?” You tilt your head to the side. 

“No.” Carmen laughs, breathy and light. “I don’t smell any pumpkin. Is there pumpkin?” 

“Caramel Pumpkin Latte.” You tilt the label towards him. “They’re saying it’s in there.” Carmen hummed lightly. “You calling them a liar?” You giggle playfully.  

“No, but I am sayin’ there’s not pumpkin in there.” Carmen snorted lightly, putting the candle in the cart anyways. “Not real pumpkin, anyways.”

“Maybe if this chef thing doesn’t work out, you could be a candle critic.” You tease, falling into slow steps beside him. “Be a candle blogger or something.” 

“Candle blogger?” Carmen repeats with an amused smile. “That’s not real.”  

You look at him, eyes wide in excitement. “Oh, Berzatto, am I about to blow your mind.” 

“No? Really?” Carmen laughed. “You’re fuckin’ with me?” 

“No! It’s a real thing, Carmen.” You laugh, pulling out your phone. “There was this woman that, like, went viral because she was going insane about Bath and Body Works not having her candle or something.” You giggle, typing slowly in the search bar. 

“That’s fuckin’ insane.” Carmen rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah.” You smirk. “Think she might’ve started a trend.” 

“Well, can’t do that then.” Carmen shrugged, loading the items on the small platform at the self checkout. “Don’t wanna go up against her, baby. She’s intense.” 

“Yeah, good call.” You grin, pocketing your phone, opening the bags while he scanned the ghost. “Guess you’ll have to stick to cooking.” 

“Guess so.” Carmen muttered, putting the plush pumpkins in the bag, reaching for his wallet. 

“Eh! No!” You click your tongue, eyes flashing at him. “I told you I was buying it.” You put a hand over the card slot, glaring at Carmen with a frown. 

“C’mon,” Carmen shook his head lightly, pushing your hand away lightly. “You got a number you wanna put in?” He nodded towards the screen. 

You pouted, pausing for a moment. “Yes.” You mutter, typing in your number quickly, pivoting your body in front of the card machine. 

“You gonna move?” Carmen looked at you, already reaching around to put his card in. 

“No, I told you it was my treat.” You mutter, twisting with your phone in your hand. One look at the screen, and you were tapping your phone against the screen. The ding chimed, your smug smile spreading across your lips when the receipt printed. 

Carmen was stunned, card still in his hand. “What- How did you-” 

“Gotta be quicker than that, Berzatto.” You grin, pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

Carmen looked down at his card in his hand, shoving it back into his wallet. Maybe Sugar was right, maybe he did need to actually learn how to use his phone. He grabbed the bags from you, swatting your hand away while you pushed the basket back. 

“Shoulda let me pay.” Carmen grumbled, walking beside you out the sliding doors. It had started to get chilly, leaves tinging with warm color and the temperature beginning to drop. “Stuff’s for me anyways.” 

“Yeah, but I wanted you to get it.” You bump your hip playfully with his. “Besides, I told you it was my treat.” 

Carmen didn’t respond, unlocking the trunk and putting the bags in carefully, but the frown didn’t fade. Brows still furrowed and lips still in a hard line. 

“Hey,” You call, stopping him before he could close the trunk. “I told you I wanted to buy it for you.” 

“Yeah,” Carmen’s brows furrowed. “But you shouldn’t’ve-” 

“-Carm.” You groan lightly. “I wanted to pay, ok? You always get me stuff. Let me get this for you, ok?” You say lightly, arms snaking around his shoulders, looping behind his neck. “Let me spoil you, bear. Lemme be your sugar mama.” 

Carmen snorts, lips curling in a grin lightly. “Shut up.” He mutters, your lips closing over his in a sweet kiss. 

You pulled apart, blushed and swooned in a Target parking lot. “You gotta put the stuff up anyways.” You tease, hands sliding down his toned arms, over his color block jacket. 

“Yeah?” Carmen snorts lightly, pulling the trunk shut. “You’re not gonna help me?” 

“I’ll be directing.” You declare, pinching his butt lightly, grinning at how he jumped and flushed. Sliding into the passenger side, you lean across the console to Carmen. “I’ll make sure the ambiance is there.” 

Carmen nodded, starting the car, eyes bright when they met yours. “Light the candle?” 

“Yes.” You laugh. “And I’ll pick out a movie.” 

Carmen snorted lightly, his free hand moving behind your head rest while he backed out. It made your tummy flip with excitement. “Yeah? Casper?”  

You give him a feigned unimpressed look. “You know I’m more of a Hocus Pocus girl.” 

“Right, my bad.” Carmen laughed, hand gripping your thigh lightly, thumb rubbing patterns over the material of your leggings. Your heart skipped. “Fine. As long as you open those Reese’s.” 

“Deal.” You grin, kissing his forearm gently. 

Hours later, wrappers piled on the coffee table, the candle burning in the kitchen, and the orange lights glowing from where Carmen string them over the TV stand in the living room. One Jack-O-Lantern fleece blanket thrown over both of your legs, your head on Carmen’s while the beginning credits of Beetlejuice played on the TV. Carmen decided right there that you were right. This was more homey. Felt… right and content. He wasn’t so sure it was the decorations, more likely it was the girl who picked them out.

#thebearer #bearblahs #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto #the bear #carmen berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto ​x fem!reader #carmen berzatto x female!reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto blurb #carmen berzatto x reader smut #carmen berzatto fic #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #jimmy cicero #uncle jimmy #jimmy kalinowski #the bear fx #the bear hulu #the bear fic

[zepskies]

Smoke Eater - Part 13

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader 

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real. 

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.   

AN: For those who didn't catch my announcement on Monday, I released Part 12 earlier this week! Now, on to a confrontation I think a lot of you have been waiting for...

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 7,200 Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Attempted sexual assault. Protective Dean, angst, hurt/comfort.  

Part 13: “Boiling Point”

Usually, Christmas was your absolute favorite time of the year.

This holiday was a baker’s dream, and you and your grandmother used to volunteer at the church bake sale every Christmas Eve. Grandpa George had done his best to help you in the years after she died…but you just didn’t have it in you this year.

You considered it an accomplishment that you pulled down some of the decorations from the attic, putting them up around your house, and buying a little four-foot tree (also hauling it into the house yourself). However, you knew that you wouldn’t be alone on Christmas Day, at least.

Sam and Dean had already invited you over to spend it with them. You would have the chance to get to know Eileen better, and you would even get to meet the famous John Winchester…

But you still had one reason to dread the end of the month.

Nick Savage threw a Christmas party every year. It was equal parts celebration and networking, and as a top performer of the sales division, you were expected to come.

The problem was, this time the party was going to be held at his house.

“You can’t just not go?” Andréa asked, shortly before taking a massive bite of her burrito. The two of you were grabbing dinner together after another long day at the office, followed by a movie later.

You’d realized just how much you had missed your best friend.

“Yeah, that’ll be great for me. Josh will get to chat up the whole team and get them clamoring to kiss his dick. Nick will give him the Sales Manager position just to spite me,” you said, while picking at your taco salad. “He keeps pitting us against each other for his own enjoyment, but I swear to God he harps on me the most.”

Andréa frowned. “Are you sure Nick just doesn’t have a thing for you? It sounds like he’s a little boy, picking on a girl he likes.”

You pursed your lips. She still didn’t know the full extent on your boss’s thing with you. You hadn’t told her about the last time Nick cornered you in his office, dangled a promotion in front of you, and basically gave you an ultimatum: sleep with him, or don’t move up in the company.

You hadn’t told anyone, for that matter.

You were just trying to figure out how to not get fired, while still getting compensated for your hard work. Was that too much to ask? 

Apparently, it was.

“I don’t give a flying fuck what he thinks about me,” you said vehemently.

It earned your friend’s gaze, and her raised eyebrows. 

“Whoa,” she chuckled. “Easy there, Miss Congeniality. That’ll be sure to earn you the promotion.”

“No, really,” you said. You stabbed into your salad with a fork. “I’m so fucking sick and tired of having to tap dance my entire work life around him. He’s a goddamn child who thinks he can have whatever he wants just because Daddy gave him his own little kingdom!”

Andréa eyed you more with concern. Her hand reached for your arm. Meanwhile, you were forcing slower breaths through your nose.

“You okay?” she asked. “I don’t like the ‘crazy town’ look in your eyes right now.”

“I’m fine,” you grumbled. “Just hangry, I guess.”

You took another bite of your food. Andréa gave you a skeptical look, but she let it go for now, with a smirk.

“Yeah, well. Eat a Snickers, bitch. I don’t need you snapping on me again,” she teased.

You rolled your eyes, but you had to laugh a little. You shoved at her shoulder.

She gripped her own arm in fake panic. “Someone call the cops! This crazy woman just punched me out over a salad!”

You tried to shush her, even though you were giggling. Your head swiveled around in the restaurant, giving apologetic eyes to the people around you.

“Although, $20 for a few sprigs of romaine lettuce and a sliver of chicken? That’s worth punching somebody the fuck out,” she said, throwing down her napkin. “Let’s never come here again.”

“Agreed,” you nodded. “I don’t think they’ll let us back here anyway.”

A few days later, you didn’t want to admit you were stressing out over this night.

“Have I said thank you? Because I mean it. Thank you for taking time off for this,” you said, smoothing down the nonexistent wrinkles in Dean’s blazer.

He looked good in black. It was classic, and the new suit was smart without being “too much” for him. (Sam had taken him to his “suit guy,” as Dean called it.)

Dean grabbed your arms to stop your slightly flustered hands. He smirked down at you as his eyes once again took in your dark red dress. It was simple and sleeveless, but elegant, falling just above the knee. Of course, you had to be wearing the tallest pair of black heels he’d ever seen.

“It’s no sacrifice, believe me,” he replied.

You smiled, but he noticed something behind your eyes.

“You okay?” he asked. “Seems like you don’t really want to go to this thing.”

“I don’t,” you admitted on a sigh. “But my boss will know if I’m not there…I told you about the open Sales Manager position, right?”

“Yeah, I remember,” Dean nodded. His smile slid into a frown as he watched you bustle around your room, looking for your purse while you smoothed out the soft waves you’d managed to style your hair in, checking your eyeliner and lipstick too in the mirror.

“As usual, it’s down to me and Josh,” you said. “If I keep my numbers up and use tonight to network with my own team, get the rest of the guys on my side, maybe Nick will see that I’m the right choice.”

Dean came up behind you, resting a hand on your lower back.

“And this manager job…that’s what you want?” he asked.

You turned to him with a questioning look. “Well, yeah. I’ve been working here for five years, busting my ass.”

“And I got no doubt that you’re good at what you do,” Dean said. “But you do know, there hasn’t been a day since I met you that you didn’t have something crap to say about that job, and those people you work with.”

You frowned, and you thought about what he was saying. Sure, you complained about Nick, but did you really talk that much shit about your job?

“Everyone has things they don’t like about their work,” you reasoned. “Even you have your bad days.”

Though he tended to keep those days to himself, you knew when he’d had a tough call at the firehouse. You’d been trying your best to be a listening ear if he needed it, or if not, at least a soothing presence. It was more often the latter with Dean.

He acknowledged your point with a nod. “Okay, fair enough. I don’t know…I just think you’re wasting your talent.”

Your brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Sweetheart, you’re like…an artist. It’s nothing me, or Sam, or Andréa, or anybody in your life hasn’t told you before,” said Dean. “You went to school to do your dream. And I know life happened. But I also know that when I walk into the firehouse, it’s exactly where I’m supposed to be. Can you say that when you walk into the Savage building?”

You took in a breath. You understood what he was saying, but as much as you wanted to indulge the fantasy of owning your own business, being your own boss, creating your own menu, and giving people quality baked goods…you had to live in reality here.

Opening a brick-and-mortar business was expensive. And most restaurants, even bakeries, weren’t profitable for at least one to three years. You still had plenty of bills, and not even a car since the accident.

“I’ve invested too much time here to quit, Dean,” you said.

The conversation died there, but it left something new and awkward between you two. You tried to put it out of your mind while he drove you both over to the “filthy fucking rich” side of town, through a massive gate, and into a wide parking lot that had a valet driver waiting. Nick’s ridiculous house was a monument to trust fund kids everywhere. 

Dean reluctantly handed over the keys to the Impala.

“No donuts in the parking lot.” He eyed the 20-something-year-old valet with all due scrutiny. “Trust me, I’ll know.”

You smirked and slipped your arm around his to tug him up the steps, toward the large double doors of the house.

“Come on, Rambo. Baby’ll be fine without you.”

“You don’t know that,” Dean quipped back. Still, he moved his arm out of yours, just to wrap it around your waist and pull you against his side. His lips pressed against your cheek.

“You look sexy as hell,” he said lowly near your ear. “Did I forget to mention that?”

“No.” Your smile deepened. “But doesn’t hurt to mention again. I might just have to reward my boyfriend for humoring me tonight, getting all dapper himself.”

You and Dean made it up to the porch and you knocked on the door. He shot you a raised brow as his lips tugged upwards.

“Oh, yeah? We talkin’ lace or satin?” he asked. His lips brushed your temple.

You pretended to think. “Little of both, actually. It’s new. And it’s red…and I might just be wearing it right now.”

Dean’s brows shot up in surprise. His gaze subtly dragged over your every curve, as if he had x-ray vision to spy through your dress. You maintained an enigmatic smile.

“Oh, you’re diabolical,” he muttered. His hand moved down to playfully squeeze your ass. You had to bite your lip to stifle the sound you made, as that’s when the doors finally began to swing open.

Dean’s hand moved up a respectable few inches, resting on your waist.

You both smiled and greeted the attendant who let you into the house.

A quick text let you know that Benny and Andréa were already here, each holding a flute of champagne. You and Dean met up with them in the huge living room space (which might has well have been a grand hall, for how large it was).

It held 50 people easily, but the party was already spanning the entire house, of at least two stories. It made your house look like a modest Barbie Dream home, without the pool attachment.

And Nick Savage was at the center of it all, greeting each guest and their “plus ones.”

When he spotted your group, he smoothly excused himself from the conversation with Josh and his wife, and headed over to you.

“Incomiiing,” Andréa quietly sing-songed. She sipped her champagne.

You steeled yourself, and you did your best to give a polite smile when Nick arrived with a pleasant “Merry Christmas.” You forced yourself to remain still when his hand fell on your arm, and he reached out to shake Dean’s hand in greeting, followed by Andréa and Benny. 

“Welcome, you guys,” he said, giving you a smile that hid just a hint of a smirk. “Justin let you know where everything is, right? Lotsa drinks, the good stuff, I promise. Plenty of food, hot chocolate and eggnog fountains, if that’s your thing. And a hell of a lot more out back by the pool.”  

“Great, thank you,” you nodded politely.

“All right! Let’s party,” Nick fist-pumped in the air. He pointed towards you and Dean. “You need a drink in your hand, stat.”

“I’m fine for now. Going to wait until I have something to eat first,” you replied. If you were going to get a glass of wine, it wouldn’t be one that Nick handed to you.

He pouted a little, but he looked at Dean next. “How about you, big guy? What you drinkin’?”

Dean shot you a glance, but before he could respond, Nick interrupted.

“You look like a whiskey guy. Am I right?” he asked.

Dean inclined his head. “Guilty.”

“Perfect. See? I’ve got an instinct for people,” Nick said, tossing you a wink as he headed for the nearby bar. “I’ll be back. You crazy kids relax and have fun.”

You had to admit, he knew how to turn on the charm when he had to. But who the hell said crazy kids under the age of 45?  

“He’s uh…got pep,” Benny remarked.

Andréa snorted and tapped her glass. “He’s a few shots in already.”

“You think?” Dean asked.

You nodded in agreement, rolling your eyes. If there was one thing you could count on, it was for Nick Savage to be drinking.

“He knows how to act when everyone’s watching,” you said. 

You looked up at the high-vaulted ceilings and expensive artwork on the walls, not noticing how Dean glanced at you with the edge of a frown.

At the very least, the food was excellent. It was served in a large back room that served as a banquet hall, meant for entertaining.

There you and Dean actually had a good time, with you sipping on red wine and Dean on a glass of the “good stuff,” all while playing cards with Andréa and Benny and a few of your coworkers on the sales team.

“I just can’t believe Adam quit, to join our main competitor, no less,” said Marv. “I had absolutely no idea he was thinking of leaving.”

He was the team gossip. He prided himself on knowing every coming and going on the sales floor, which confounded you, since Marv was also a bit of a hermit. He either kept to his office like it was a bomb shelter, or you could catch him in the break lounge grabbing yet another coffee, all the while keeping his ear perked up for scraps of conversation.

“Yeah, you did, Marv,” you replied with a smirk. “You’re the one who saw Adam’s resignation letter on his own desk.”

He hadn’t even handed said letter to Nick yet.

“Well, I knew it then, obviously,” Marv said, with his hands open wide. “It leaves us without a manager…which I think, not for long.”

His eyes met yours knowingly.

You smiled. “We’ll see. I think Josh is playing kiss-ass tonight.”

You turned your head and spotted Nick and Josh taking shots of tequila together at the bar, with the latter wincing at the burn with a lime peel in his mouth. Josh’s wife was sitting off to the side, rolling her eyes.

Your gaze focused on your boss for a moment. You shook your head at the state of him, with a loose tie and the top buttons undone on his shirt, laughing boisterously and egging Josh on.

Fucking frat bros.

“That’s your boss, huh?” Benny remarked.

“In all his Cuervo-stained glory,” Marv replied. He shook his head as well.    

It made you realize something.

As nice a time as you’d been having, for about an hour at most, your good mood soured the moment you were reminded of the office politics. Of Josh and Nick and everything in between. Was this really what you wanted for the rest of your career?

The rest of your life?

Maybe Dean was right, you thought. You knew you were good at your job. You knew you were fortunate to even have a job that paid your bills…but maybe “being good” wasn’t enough for you.

If there was one thing you’d learned from your grandfather’s death, it was that peace was precarious. And sacrificing too many parts of yourself, for money, wasn’t a fulfilling life or even a happy one.

You wanted to be happy. You also wanted peace.

So you leaned over and laid a hand on Dean’s, which rested on the round table.

“Hey,” you whispered.

His head bowed near yours. “Hmm?”

“Wanna get out of here?” you asked. He raised his brows at you.

“Really? I thought you needed to stay and schmooze with your people,” he replied.

You smiled and drew your thumb across the inside of his wrist. “I think I’m done.”

Dean looked a bit confused. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. And you brushed your lips against the corner of his mouth. “You were right. It’s not worth it.”

A flicker of a smile began to tug at his lips, but his brows drew together.

“Hey. Are you sure?” he asked. “Don’t bow out just because of me—”

Your hand tightened on his wrist.

“No, baby. It’s me. My choice,” you said. “Let me just use the restroom real quick, and we can go.”

Dean nodded, and you stood.  

“What, are you leaving?” Andréa asked. She was tucked into Benny’s side with a piece of red velvet cake poised on her fork. “You didn’t even finish your cake!”

You laughed. Turning down dessert was a big deal for you, but you’d live.

“It’s okay,” you said. “I just need to call it a night, but I’ll be back in a sec to say goodbye. Hold on.”

Andréa blew out a breath as you walked away from the table.

“She’s gonna miss the White Elephant gift exchange. Last year, someone got a 60” smart TV,” she said.

Benny whistled.

“I wouldn’t mind an upgrade,” he said. He shot Dean a glance. “What do you think the guys would do if we showed up with something like that to the station?”

Dean scoffed. “I think the Chief would have a damn conniption.”

Bobby was old-school. He thought they had enough distractions from the job as it was.

“Probably right,” Benny chuckled.

Andréa smiled in amusement. But her eyes clocked the way Nick glanced your way as you walked by, down the hall and to the right. She sipped at her glass of pinot grigio to wash down the rich cake.

Still, she discreetly watched the man down another shot before he took his leave of the bar. He laughed at something Josh said and waved him off.

She gave Nick credit for not stumbling on his feet, and only swaying slightly on the same path you took down the hall. It didn’t mean he was following you, necessarily. This house was like a small Smithsonian. And yet, something niggled in the back of her mind. 

Andréa remembered how you’d acted at dinner the other day when talking about Nick. And how drained you’d seemed lately when she saw you after work. She’d thought that was just about finding your way after George’s death…

Marv distracted her with a question as Dean and Benny continued to talk, and she answered him with her usual charm. But she kept one eye on the hallway, waiting for you to come back.

She made it about another minute before she turned to Benny and Dean, leaning in close.

“Hey, Dean,” she said. “Maybe you want to check on her? She’s taking a while.”

Dean didn’t look concerned as he checked his watch. It hadn’t been all that long, but he still pulled out his phone to text you.

“She left her purse here,” Andréa said. She started to get up out of her seat. “I’m just gonna go see if she’s okay.”

Benny grabbed her hand before she left the table.

“What’s wrong, babe?” he asked. 

“I’m not sure,” she said, but she met Dean’s confused gaze. “Okay, look. I’ve been noticing some things with her recently. I have no evidence except for how well I know that woman, but something’s off with her. It happens every time she talks about that asshole Nick.”

Dean’s brows furrowed as he tried to read between the lines.

“What’re you saying exactly?” he asked.

Andréa let out a breath. “I’m saying, I’ve got a bad feeling.”

You hummed as you washed your hands in the bathroom. Wine runs right through me. I should know better.

You’d also been trying to quell your anxieties and just get through the night. But you realized now that there was no kind of calm like the peace you had, now that you knew what you needed to do. Starting tomorrow, you were going to start looking for a new job.

A knock at the door made you jolt slightly.

“Someone’s in here!” you called without looking over your shoulder. You finished washing your hands and dried them on the hand towel hanging on a silver wall rack.

The door cracked open, but before you could protest, a man stumbled in.

Of fucking course it was Nick Savage.

“Excuse me?!” you breathed in shock. You watched with wide eyes as he pushed the door closed and seemed to take notice of you for the first time. He smirked.

“Oh, hey,” he said. Somehow, he was only slurring a little. He straightened his white blazer. The black satin shirt he wore was wrinkled and he smelled heavily of tequila, and that was with a couple of feet of distance between you two.

Your shock finally melted into a glare. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Gotta take a leak. It’s my house after all,” he shrugged, leaning a hand on the wall closest to the door for balance.

You shook your head, and with a huff, you tried to get by him.

His hand wrapped around your arm. “Hey, we didn’t get a chance to catch up tonight.”

You shoved his hand off of you.

“Don’t you ever in your life touch me again,” you warned him. Your eyes were as hard as your voice. “I don’t think there’s anyone on the planet—no. In the whole damn universe who sickens me more than you, Nick Savage.”

Nick straightened a little, frowning at you. Whatever he saw in your gaze, he didn’t seem to like the challenge. When you reached for the doorknob again, he grabbed your arm and shoved you hard into the nearest wall.

You gasped as the air rushed out of your lungs. Before you even realized what was happening, you felt his clammy hands on your bare shoulders, his hot alcoholic breath on your face. You raised your hands in defense, pushing against his chest.

He was taller and stronger and pinned you harder against the wall, with his knee shoving its way between your legs. You stared up with wide eyes of fear, and his hand clamped over your mouth to stifle your scream.

Your nails bit into his arm and wrist, trying to peel back his sweaty hand, just an inch to free your voice and let you breathe. To your left you heard the door bang open.

Please—

And the hand was peeled away entirely.

You could only blink and watch as Dean barreled through, grabbing Nick and bodily hurling him away. Nick opened his mouth to spout something angrily, but Dean continued to stalk forward and grab the man again.

Nick attempted a lazy swing at Dean’s head, but he bat it away. His fist connected roughly with Nick’s face, snapping his head back with a cry.

It was almost too fast for you to track what was happening right in front of you, but Dean dragged the drunkard the rest of the way across the bathroom, even over the tub, and slammed him against the beige tile so hard that it knocked a few of them loose. Nick’s head smacked audibly against them and he groaned at the impact.

The men were around the same height, but Dean was honed by years of firefighting and fueled by rage. One hand gripped high on Nick’s collar, while his arm pressed against the man’s chest. Then into his throat.

“Give me a reason,” Dean said, in a voice much calmer than he felt. Behind his eyes was wildfire.

“What?” Nick choked.

You finally broke through enough of your shock to know you had to do something.

“Dean!” you uttered. You cautiously went to him, but he glanced at you over his shoulder in warning.

“Stay there,” he told you firmly. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” you said, even though your voice shook. “Let’s just go.”

Despite the blood dripping down from his likely bruised nose, Nick chortled a laugh. It earned Dean’s slow head turn, returning his attention to the decision at hand. His fist tightened in Nick’s shirt.

“You heard me,” Dean said. His voice was laced with steel. “I said give me a reason not to break your miserable fucking neck.”

“Dean,” you gasped.

“Not sure that’s a good idea, fireman,” Nick slurred. “I clearly don’t have all my wits about me right now. Can’t be held lia…li-ble for my actions, now can I? I’ll have your badge by end of the week.”

You let out a harsh breath and finally went to Dean. You laid a hand on his back. Every muscle was tense and straining under his white dress shirt.

“Dean,” you pressed. “Let him go. He’s not worth it.”

Nick smirked lazily in Dean’s face. It was the look of a man who was used to getting his way.

“I’d listen to her,” he said, with a mocking glint in his eyes. “Or I could just fire her on Monday. Make it easy on myself.”

Dean seethed. His forearm slowly rolled harder into the man’s neck, pressing on his windpipe. The sounds of choked air were satisfying.

“Yeah, or I’ll have the police down here in ten minutes or less,” said Dean. “I’ll clue you in on a little something. My dad’s a cop. I’ll reckon he’ll be happy to put a fucking douchebag like you in the can with the real charmers.”

Dean gave a mocking glance to Nick’s silk shirt, his gold pinky ring and loafers.

“How long do you think it’ll take for one of ‘em to make you their little bitch?” Dean said.

Nick glared back at him, with a frisson of intimidation behind his eyes. He glanced at you over his shoulder. Dean noticed and tightened his hold.

“Don’t you look at her, you piece of shit!” he warned. His voice was low and dangerous. “Make your choice. You gonna come down to the station easy, or difficult? Please say difficult.”

Nick held up placating hands. He shifted uncomfortably against the wall; one foot was planted on the ground while the other was in the tub. The shower curtain was half off its hooks.

Dean eased up enough for Nick to take a breath.

“Okay, let’s say we do that,” he said, with a cough. “I’ll get bail. Then I’ll fucking walk, ‘cause I own this town.” 

“You mean your dad does,” you snapped.

Nick rolled his eyes. “Same name, same shit, sweetheart.”

Dean grit his teeth and tightened his grip again in warning. You wrapped your hand around his arm, but he didn’t budge.

Nick met his eyes.

“How about this. Get your greasy fucking hands off me, and we’ll call tonight a wash,” he proposed. “No foul, we all take our balls and go home.”

He then snorted at his own joke. “Balls…”

Dean tilted his head, but didn’t move a muscle. “Or?”

Once again, Nick smirked.

“I’ll report you to your boss for assaulting me in my own house. And uh, she’ll be fired, obviously.” He shrugged. “By the time my lawyers get done with her, she won’t be able to sling lattes at Starbucks.”

Dean’s face was stony, tight with outrage. His whole body was coiled like a spring as every cell in his body fought against ripping this man apart.

But he still felt your hands around his arm, trying to pull him back.

“Dean, don’t. He’s not worth your career. Please,” you begged.

The bathroom door pushed open again, and he heard Benny’s voice.

“Hey, brother.” He dropped a careful hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Come on, now. You got him. Ease up now.”

Dean’s teeth ground together. He looked down, and his stare bored into Nick’s. Dean pressed his forearm into the other man’s throat again, enough to almost feel the give as the man struggled for breath.

“Remember how that feels,” Dean said icily. “20579, Dean Winchester. The next time you want to threaten my badge, that’s my number.”

Nick’s eyes widened slightly. At the time, Dean took it as fear. But really, it was recognition.

Winchester, Nick thought.

Dean then leaned in closer, so only Nick would hear his next lowered words.

“First and last warning,” Dean said. “If you touch her again. If I hear anything more about you giving her a hard time, not a dime in the world is gonna save you from me.”

When Dean finally pulled his arm away and let go, Nick’s face was red and spluttering as he coughed and slumped into the bathtub.

Dean turned on his heel in anger and disgust. Andréa was supporting you with her arm around yours, but she released you to let Dean take over. You stared up at him with tearful eyes, and you reached for his hand.

He took it with his left, holding you steady. He then wrapped an arm around your shoulders and guided you out of the bathroom.

The air was tense and silent inside the Impala. It was a long drive back to your house, and Dean hadn’t looked at you once in 20 minutes. His gaze was firmly on the road. He hadn’t even turned on the radio.

You had his suit jacket draped around your frame, but your insides still felt cold. You glanced over at him and stared at his profile for a moment, wishing you knew what to say to break the silence. To reassure him that you were fine. (Even though it would've been a lie.)

He felt your stare and turned his head towards you.

“How long has this been going on?” he asked. His voice was gruff. “Andréa said she’s been noticing something off about you for a while.”

Your lips pressed together. “Can this part wait until we get home…please?”

Dean’s jaw ticked, but he turned back to the road ahead.

The car was silent for the rest of the hour.

It was a relief to turn the key into the door lock and step through the threshold of your house. Dean followed you inside and tossed his wallet and car keys on the side table by the door.

Somehow he always managed to miss the little basket you put there for exactly those things, but you weren’t about to remind him.

You slipped off your heels and went into the kitchen to grab a glass of water, to steady yourself. Dean leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. He didn’t say anything, but you still felt his eyes on you.

With a sigh, you turned and met his gaze.

“Just tell me,” he said. “How long?”

You took in a deep breath, and let it out slowly.

“It started before I even met you, Dean.” 

His brows raised high. He tilted his head at you as incredulous anger tightened his face.

“What?” he said. “You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

You shook your head and grabbed his arm. “Okay, come here.”

You led him into the living room and sat beside him on the couch. You explained that it started small, with compliments on your clothes, your hair. Then it was lingering looks, “innocent” brushes of his hand, touching your arm, your shoulder.

When you’d tried to put distance between you and Nick, the drunken shenanigans began. The comments grew heinous and sickening, and so did his threats.

And nothing you did worked. Not distance and professionalism. Not refusing his advances outright. Not threatening to go to HR.

All while you spoke, Dean was quiet, but on edge. You saw it in how he gripped his knee, with his other hand fisted against his mouth, elbow resting on his thigh.

But the hardest part of the conversation came when you told Dean about the day of the car accident—how Nick had demanded you come to his office and gave you a sickening ultimatum.

At that, Dean could no longer remain still. He got up and started to pace across the living room. He was a man of action, you knew, and his reaction was almost everything you’d feared.

I should've told him, you thought. You knew.

Although you now felt relieved, even in your guilt, you also knew this next part wasn’t going to be fun either. Because Dean finally erupted.

“And you didn’t tell anyone?” he asked.

Briefly, you closed your eyes. “No.”

“Why? Why the hell didn’t you tell me?” His hand buried itself in his hair as his jaw clenched. Even if your friend Andréa hadn’t known, she’d still seen enough to suspect something. It completely blew his mind, in the worst of ways.

“Jesus Christ!” he shook his head. “Why am I always the last one to know when something’s going on with you?”

Tears watered in your eyes as you looked up at him. You opened your mouth to speak, but he cut you off.

“I mean, really. What are we doing here, huh?” he exclaimed, his hands open wide. “Honestly, tell me. Because if you can’t trust me, then I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

Your eyes widened, a trill of panic lacing down your spine. You stood up and went to him. 

“Dean, please, it wasn’t about that,” you said. You implored him with your eyes to understand. “I wanted to tell someone…God, you don’t know how bad I wanted to tell you. But I knew how you’d react. Just like this. I didn’t want to make the situation worse!”

He frowned deeply. “You didn’t want help? You didn’t want me to protect you?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” you snapped. But then, you sucked in a shaking breath, trying to calm yourself. You got closer and rested a hand against his chest.

“Of course I’m grateful that you protected me. Dean, I love you for it.”

You grasped the ends of his jacket with both hands. All you really wanted to do was bury yourself in his warmth and sleep for the next ten years. You were still raw and frayed inside.

Dean looked down at you, and his heart clenched. He couldn’t help but hold you back. His arms wound around your lower back as he pulled you against him. His chin rested above your head, and you sighed in relief.

“I thought I could handle it,” you confessed, in a smaller voice. “I worked so damn hard…I wanted to fight for my job. But Nick knew I didn’t have the money or the resources to fight back for real if I reported him, or even if I sued him. And before tonight, I didn’t have enough to take to the police.”

Dean pulled away just enough to see your face. He grasped your arms, gentle but firm.

“I’ll take you to the station right now,” he said. “My dad can help you. Hell, Sam can help you.”

You bit your lip and shook your head.   

“You heard him, Dean. With his money and connections, he’ll get off. And then he’ll make both of our lives hell,” you said. “He’ll go after your badge—”

“He can fucking try,” he snapped.

“Stop, okay? I don’t want that,” you pleaded.

A sharp breath escaped through his nose, and he let you go.

“You’re fucking impossible, you know that?” he said. “How can I help you if you won’t let me?”

He was beside himself with frustration, and even hurt. You knew it in the way he tried to walk away from you, but you reached for his arm to stop him, with tears burning in your eyes. You didn’t want him to think that you didn’t want his support. That you didn’t trust him.

Because that couldn’t have been any farther from the truth.

“I’m sorry!” Your tears finally escaped, trailing down your cheeks. You tugged him back towards you, earning his furrowed glance. “I was…scared. I…I didn’t know what to do. Maybe I just didn’t want to deal with it at all.”

The longer Dean looked at your face, the more he crumbled.

Once again, he turned to gather you back into his arms. And there your tears fell in earnest. Your body trembled with quiet sobs, and he held you tighter. His heart broke a little more as his hand soothed over your hair. He shushed you more gently, pressing his lips to your forehead.

“Okay. It’s okay. Don’t apologize. You shouldn’t have had to deal with this, let alone for this damn long,” Dean said. His gaze raised heavenward for a moment as he mentally kicked himself. You didn’t deserve this, or his anger either. 

He just couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed any signs, like Andréa had. All these months… It threatened to drive him up a fucking wall.

“You’re safe, and I’ve got you,” he said, continuing to hold you securely against him. “We’ll handle this, like everything else.”

After a moment, you nodded, letting out another shaky breath. You squeezed your eyes shut and buried your face into his chest.

You already knew you must’ve looked a state, after the night you’d had, but you didn’t truly realize it until you were looking at yourself in the bathroom mirror. Mascara and lipstick smudged, hair disheveled, tears staining your cheeks.

Ugh. You hastily scrubbed your face clean with makeup wipes. Then you tamed your hair, brushing through the frizz and calming it back into relative normalcy.

You went for the zipper of your dress next, but you couldn’t get it down all the way. You turned to look over your shoulder.

“Dean,” you called. 

He was in your room, rifling through his bag to grab the clothes he’d brought to sleep in.

“Yeah?” he answered.

“Come ‘ere a sec?”

He obliged you, drawing into the bathroom. His white dress shirt was only half unbuttoned, the sleeves rolled up. You met his eyes in the mirror.

“Can you unzip me?” you asked.

Dean looked down where your hands were holding both sides of the zipper on your dress. He took one side from you and unzipped it the rest of the way, stopping at the small of your back. He caught sight of the red, sheer lingerie underneath.

Noticing the way he paused, you smiled slightly. You turned toward him and tugged the dress down the rest of the way, so he could see the rest of the ensemble. It was a simple corset-style nightie, but true to your word, the lace was paired with satin trim lines.

Your hands ran up his sternum and undid the last buttons on his shirt. You grasped near his collar and leaned up on your toes for a slow kiss. Dean unconsciously held you to him by your shoulders, his eyes closing at the feel of you.

But when they next opened, he caught sight of the bruise on your shoulder. It was about the size of a thumbprint.

His throat tightened. After a moment, he parted from you, but he didn’t continue where you left off. You looked up at him in confusion.

“Baby?” you asked.

Dean shook his head. He couldn’t answer you; couldn’t even articulate what the hell was in his head. So he just turned and went back into the room for his change of clothes. It left you frowning, bereft, and worried.

You changed into an old shirt and some shorts before you got into bed. You slipped under the covers and watched Dean. He sat with his back to you as he unclipped his watch and set it down on the nightstand. By now he’d changed into his faded, gray Lawrence Fire Department shirt and a pair of sweatpants.

Your throat constricted with emotion, namely with anxiety.

“Are you still mad at me?” you asked.

Dean paused. He glanced back at you, saw you laying there with a hand gripped into the covers. His brows furrowed when he saw your shining tears.

He turned and got into bed with you. He slid his arm under your head and wordlessly encouraged you to come closer. His free hand soothed across your arm.

“I’m not mad at you,” he said at last. But he was still upset, and deeply unsettled. As the night replayed in his mind, he knew that at the root of his fury, there was fear. 

“I just keep thinking,” he said. “What would’ve happened if I hadn’t called out of work tonight.”

You looked down at that. You laid a hand on his chest.

“I wouldn’t have gone to the party,” you said. Though if you were honest with yourself, you probably would’ve thought yourself safe with Benny and Andréa. “I just…I really didn’t think he would try to—”

You tried to take a breath to steady yourself, but it was a tremulous release. The memory flashed behind your eyes, the remnants of panic and fear under your skin.

You didn’t realize you were crying until Dean’s hand was caressing your cheek, brushing away your tears.

“All right, shhh. I’m sorry, sweetheart. It’s over,” he said. Once again, he pulled you into his arms and held you close. Guilt hit him between the ribs for upsetting you all over again. “I promise you’re safe, and I’ve got you.”

You did your best to take in deep breaths, letting them out more steadily. Dean wanted to put the matter to bed for tonight. He really did…but he couldn’t help pressing one last thing.

“Just tell me you’re not going back there on Monday, unless it’s to HR,” he said. 

You paused, shook your head a little. You didn’t want to rev him up again, but you knew Nick. 

“He doesn’t make idle threats, Dean,” you reminded him. “But there’s a reason why he waited until tonight, at his house. He’s not going to try his luck at the office, where everyone’s watching.”

“You don’t know that,” Dean retorted.

You saw his point, but you almost didn’t want to acknowledge it. You couldn’t afford to quit.

“I still need my job, for now,” you said. “But I will start looking for something else, so I can get out as soon as possible. I promise.”

Dean wasn’t happy. Both of you knew it. You also sensed that he wanted to argue more, but was holding back for now. You appreciated that.

You truly didn’t want to get into it anymore with him. You just wanted to close your eyes and try to forget about tonight, knowing that you’d fail. 

Dean still held you, with his hands rubbing up and down your back. His touch and his heartbeat soothed you until you managed to fall asleep. 

AN: Dean knows, and it ain't pretty. What did you think of the confrontation? Unfortunately, I'm drawing from real events here (not myself).

Next Time:

The mystery of "Azazel" thickens, Dean deals with another tricky fire, and the reader has a realization of her own...

“Yeah, well. This one’s a rat bastard in human clothing,” you replied.

“Ooh, sounds like my old biology professor,” Jo chimed in. She was drying out some newly clean glasses behind the counter along with Ellen. “He had a reputation for scoping out freshman girls.”

You made a gagging sound as you reached for the delectable martini glass Ellen slid your way.

“Men are disgusting,” you said. Jo snorted.

“99.8% of them, yeah,” she said. But her gaze drew towards the door when Dean Winchester came in. And she added, “A few of ‘em are all right.”

Was it just you, or was there a softer look in her blue eyes when she noticed Dean?

Keep Reading: PART 14

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

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#Boiling Point #Smoke Eater #Part 13 #dean winchester #Firefighter!Dean Winchester #dean winchester x reader #Dean Winchester x female reader #firefighter!Dean Winchester x Reader #dean winchester x you #firefighter AU #dean winchester AU #spn #supernatural #benny lafitte #zepskies writes

[lady-ashfade]

Puppet Master

Percabeth x Vampie!Reader

-♡ this took a long while!! Sorry for the wait. I will not be making a part two to this, or at this moment.

-♡ words: 1k

-♡ warnings: short, vampire reader, blood, things vampires do, proof reading on this is ass, (we are batman)

@asexualaromosafezone requested this.

you barely left the shack in the forest. Most campers stayed away from you whenever you came around. from the aura around you, or that you kept a stone cold face always, everything about you kept them away. uou had no cabin, no godly parent so that was the cause of gossip and many questions between the campers.

annabeth heard a story about you when she first arrived at camp, a girl around her age came a year just before her. and she was the cause of spooky night stories used to scared the little ones like her. she was curious to say the least but had many problems to deal with, and no one was allowed near you. she saw you from time to time, you’d find yourself to the big house, stay around the camp alone and stiffen if anyone tried to talk to you. then, you’d leave as soon as the night came and she couldn’t figure where you went.

tt was like you disappeared.

percy on the other hand. as soon as he heard about you it sent a chilling shiver down his spine. luke told him a story, they had made up, that you take the souls of half bloods in the night. so he never wanted to find you and he was glad you stayed away. So naturally he found himself in front of you when you came down into camp.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized and ripped out the arrow from a tree that nearly hit you, “I can’t get ahold of this thing.” he had been there a year and this was his first time seeing you. he noticed something about you that was different from him. your skin didn’t look right and like it was a few shades lighter then it should be, and he couldn’t see your eyes hidden behind your sunglasses.

his body started to nervously sweat as you stare at him without moving and had no facial expression. then he heard the slightest hum from you before you continue to walk back on the path and unfazed by anything.

it’s been a few years and they grew. many quest, getting together, almost many deaths, tears, blood & sweat. you only came to mind a few times when their mind wonders. or when they saw you once a few months, if they could find you at least. it seemed the shadows favored you.

“Find the old shack in camp,” percy was told by the oracle, “you will face the lifeless inhabitant.” it always had to be something dangerous and never, “go get some ice cream.” or anything good.

he brought annabeth…not because he was scared or anything. but they had no idea what it really met, but they brought everything incase. because in every quest it seemed to go the opposite of what they thought.

three knocks was all it took for Percy’s body to run cold and almost tremble. you lived here, or so they say but the words the oracle spoke made no since to him. “face the lifeless inhabitant.” and last time he checked you were alive. Annabeth didn’t waste much time before banging onto the door to call for you of anyone who would listen.

“Go away half bloods.” that voice sounded smooth and it drawled them in. like a angel’s voice with how warm it sounded. “You’re not welcome here.” no one ever heard you speak before so they didn’t know if was you.

“Umm…I’m afraid we can’t. You see we were told to come here from the oracle, and last I checked this is the only shack in camp.” annabeth gave him a side glance before crossing her arms.

there was a minute of silence and the sound of footsteps disappearing away from the door. they were preparing to knock again or force the door open but it creaked open slowly. they slowly stepped inside with their hands ready to reach for their weapons at any moment.

the shack was well lived in and nothing like they expected. books, and a area for a small kitchen, almost victorian decor, but the only light was one candle lit in the corner. “Hello?” the girl called out for the voice they heard earlier.

a sound above them made them snap their attention upwards and nothing was seen, all the light in the room was kept way from that place. percy grabbed ahold of annabeths arm, he didn’t feel right at all. and few seconds later they had a reason to stop. a pair of glowing eyes appeared from the pitch black, and then next a pair of pointy white teeth along with it.

“You should know, bronze doesn’t hurt me.” you glanced toward Percy’s sword.

“What are you?” the boy asked but annabeth already had it figured out when she tugged at his shirt. her eyes stared at a few blood stains on the counter, a pile of bones next to it.

“No one has ever come in here, I guess you should pat yourselves on the back for that too.” your tone now amused. hooking your legs on the plank of wood and swing yourself down and they could see you better now from the light. it was in fact the girl they had seen before.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you. half-bloods taste the worst to be honest. Sad tho, I heard gods taste delicious.” the wicked smirk at your lips that had your sharp teeth poking out mad the feel weird.

“Your eyes are beautiful,” percy lowered his weapon and found himself staring heavily into them.

“And your voice…” annabeth followed along side him. the couple wanted to walk closer but something was stopping them like puppets on a string.

“Oh, right,” you sighed and reached for your sunglasses to put over your eyes and you could see the pair coming back to themselves. “Sorry about that.” the power to control you never really tested out on humans or half humans, except once. ever since then you hated their taste and them to be honest.

“You can listen to my voice and it might have some effect but it wouldn’t do anything without my eyes.” you dropped down and landed perfectly before them.

“The stories are true, vampires are beautiful.” Percy spoke still somehow entranced by you.

“Maybe I should have payed more attention to you, I would have seen it from the books I’ve read.” Annabeth hated that she didn’t see it coming.

Only months will tell if they will be your puppets.

Taglist: @maria699669 @purplerose291 @itzmeme @ravenmedows @repostingmyfavs @obsessedwithshams

#percabeth x reader #annabeth chase x reader #Percy Jackson x reader #book Percy Jackson #book Percy Jackson x reader #older percy jackson #book annabeth chase x reader #vampire #vampie readere

[nothomegal]

ITS CHRISTMAS EVE (or at least where I live bc timezones) and I would like to gove Pyramid Head smoochies under mistletoe pls 😌

Aww I was having this idea too! And since it's Christmas allow me to bless you with a drawing!...

...And a lilttle one-shot!

"Mistletoe"

(Pyramid Head x GN Reader)

Warning: suggestive implications by the end, but mostly fluff!

Word Count: 1k

Christmas was always a funny holiday for (Y/N). Either because they never truly felt connected to it or because they haven't felt the 'magic of Christmas' since childhood. Don't get me wrong, they would still put some decorations when they could, but ever since they came to Silent Hill such tradition was lost.

Not like they mind it too much though, they already have the absolute best gift and company they could ever ask for! Just tell me, who in their right mind would be upset about having a nearly 8ft tall demi-god creature as your forever partner? You have to be chronically insane to turn down such blessing!

And speaking of the creature, (Y/N)'s daydream was interrupted when a large hand curled around their arm and stopped them. They shoot a curious glance to their lover, who was already looking at whatever got his attention.

Right above them, placed on the old metallic door frame with, what they suppose is duct tape, were hangign a bunch of oddly shaped pieces of paper. Some pieces where green, others painted green, and all of them where kept together with a piece of damaged red cloth that was tied as a bow.

(Y/N) stares at that weird construction with furrowed brows, really trying to grasp what the hell they're looking at. Pyra was still as well, but his head tilted towards his human as he curiously observes their reaction. Seems like they too have no clue what is this-.

However, (Y/N) manages to make out the shape of it and instantly burst out laughing.

—"No way! No way someone actually made one!"— you say between laughs.

The beast simply observes them, letting out a low wondering rumble. Is that another pointless joke humans have? (Y/N) is laughing hard so it must be something very funny or very stupid.

After the laughter had ceased, (Y/N) takes a look at their monster and suddenly remember what he wanted in the first place. Oh, right. They were supposed to explain what is that.

—"Okay, okay."— you say between giggles as you point at the object. —"That thing over there is supposed to be a mistletoe. Remember when I told you about Christmas and how people decorate that one fuzzy tree? Well, this thing is also kinda a Christmas tradition. People hang it somewhere high and when two step or pass underneath it, they have to kiss."—

While (Y/N) explains, Pyra listens to them carefully. But the second they mention the kiss part, the air between them shifts and becomes... Odd. And Pyra himself still, way too still.

(Y/N) of course feels the change, and is quick to start clarifying.

—"But of course, it's optional. It's not like you're forced to kiss anyone. If anything, I never did! So I suppose this will remain as a silly tradition some-"—

Their speech is replaced by a tiny gasp when the monster suddenly grabs their jaw, gently lifting and moving their gaze where he needed. Their eyes narrow slightly when they noticed a tongue peek out from his helmet and slowly, almost shily, wiggle towards their face.

—"Aww. What a polite guy."— you chuckle as a little blush creeps on your cheeks. —"Well of course I'll give you a kiss."—

Ever since they introduced this new method of showing affection, it wasn't rare to witness Pyra ask for a 'kiss' once or twice. It's kinda funny to see how shy he gets, always taking it slow and giving them enough time to stop or pull away. Do they do that? Nuh-uh! Do they think it feels gross? Weird, yes. But (Y/N) is deranged so it's fine.

The pink muscle soon presses against their lips, and they respond by giving it a kiss while holding it in place gently, totally unbothered by its wet and slippery texture. They could feel Pyra practically melt into the gesture, he does it every time. It's small, but is the closest they can get to an actual kiss, and the intimacy and specialness of it seems to get the beast to his very core.

After some second, when (Y/N) attempts to lean back, a pair of big arms gets a hold around them, cementing them in place completely and pulling them closer to the monster. The said beast lets out a low menacing growl as his tongue licks their cheek and part of the jaw. The message was clear...

M̵̞͔̥̏̌̊o̷͕͒̓͑ͅŗ̷̭̝̓̾e̵̠̤͓̅̒̋.

He wanted more.

Despite the apparentaly hostile growls, (Y/N) showed no intimidation and simply chuckled as they roll their eyes.

—"Someone is feeling frisky, huh?"—

Another, and a bit louder, growl resonated from inside the beast's helmet. His grip around them tightening and the tongue sliding along their lips, almost begging for them to kiss it again.

—"Calm down tiger. We both know if we continue you'll get too carried on."— you coo, sliding one of your hands along one side of his helmet.

He groans with certain displeasure, but his grip soon losens as he slightly tilts his head into their touch, yet he doesn't let go neither.

—"If you're really feeling like doing it then let's go somewhere else. You don't want anyone to see me naked, don't you?"—

This time their answer is no longuer a growl or a sound, but the same pair of big hands lighting their form up and swinging over a broad shoulder.

Before starting to walk however, the monster reaches up and snatches the little paper mistletoe. (Y/N) of course notices that and can't hold back the little laugh.

—"Well well, see you really liked this particular tradition."—

They get no response as the monster resumes his walking. But the small squeeze on one of their thighs was enough proof to know that they got it right and it won't be the last time the see the little item.

After this little interaction, and probably after what's about to come, (Y/N) doubts to ever be able to feel that magic of Christmas again.

However, they realize that they still experienced something new. The magic of the mistletoe.

Is that an actual thing? Who knows.

But it worked on Pyra so it must be a thing, right?

It worked well after all.

...Too well.

#nothomegal ask reply #nothomegal art #nothomegal fic #nothomegal oneshot #pyramid head #pyramid head x reader #pyramid head x y/n #gn y/n #gn reader #happy holidays y'all ❤️ #slasher fluff

[iluvmattsbeard]

lost time (m.s)

master list

matt sturniolo x reader

warnings: nothing!

preview: your parents and the triplets parents have been best friends ever since before you guys were even born. you were sort of forced to grow up with the triplets. you and Matt were the closest. you two were hard to separate. but as you got to high school, you sort of fell off wanting to go do your own things. now as adults, you guys reunite and decide to make up for lost time.

a/n: i’ve been having so much inspo to write. you guys are keeping me motivated! i really appreciate it. listen to the song while reading, it really sets the scene. i encourage this with every imagine i write!LIKES AND REBLOGS ARE VERY APPRECIATED! - L🤍

"Y/n!" you hear your mother shout out from excitement as she runs over to you. you put down your luggage before embracing her in a hug, "hi mom! I missed you so much." you say rubbing her back. "I missed you more Y/n!" she says pulling away, giving your dad a chance to greet you. you haven't seen them in months. you were currently living in New York after you finished high school. you always wanted to live in the big city. you were grateful for the opportunity you received. you were majoring in the Arts. it was something you always wanted to do, but being apart from your family in Boston was the hardest thing you've had to go through.

"let's get inside. we have something to tell you." your mom says with a smile. you nod as you grab your luggage but, your dad ends up taking it from your hands. "dad I got it." you say letting out a soft laugh. "no you're our guest." he says letting out a chuckle. you three walk inside the house and you take off your coat. it was currently winter time. that was the reason why you were back home. it was December 20th, five days before Christmas. you were home for the holidays. you hang your coat on the rack and take off your shoes. you walk around analyzing everything. it was still the same, except for the fact that it was decorated for Christmas. you head towards the Christmas tree as you reach out for an ornament that had your elementary school picture in it. "did you really have to add this?" you ask with a soft laugh. "it was too cute not to add sweetie!" your mom says handing you a mug of her homemade hot chocolate.

"thank you mom." you say taking it. "so, what was it you needed to tell me?" you ask taking a sip. "Marylou, Jimmy, and their boys are coming to spend the holidays with us!" you almost choke at your mother's words. "they're back in Boston?" you ask with an awkward smile. last time you seen the triplets, it wasn't quite the ideal farewell. at least with Matt it wasn't. you still talk to Nick from time to time, Chris would like your social media posts, and Matt? well, nothing was happening between the two of you. not ever since high school at least. "yeah! the boys still live with them. I think they're like entrepreneurs or something. Marylou tried explaining it to me but I didn't quite understand." your mom says. "they'll be staying here with us until after Christmas." she adds on. your eyes widen a bit, "oh? you failed to mention this before I got here?" you say with a nervous laughter. "well, I know it isn't ideal for you. I know you and Matt didn't quite leave off on a good note." she says.

-FLASHBACK-

"so what? you meet a whole new group of people that you decide not to spend any more time with me?" you say standing there with your arms crossed. "y/n, we were always together. we're older now. we don't have to be with each other every single time." Matt says frustrated. you scoff before responding, "so you're telling me you want to stop being friends?" he shakes his head, "that's not what I said. all I said was, maybe now we can just do our own things." he says. "well that's not what you've been doing. you've shut me out completely." you say with a hurt expression. "maybe because everything has changed Y/n. you know I don't hang around your crowd." he says catching you off guard. "so just because you gained popularity, apparently my 'crowd' isn't your ideal group of people?" you scoff before continuing on, "yeah maybe everything has changed. you changed." you walk away from him leaving him in silence.

-END OF FLASHBACK-

"they'll be here any minute." your mom says adjusting the centerpiece on the coffee table. you felt like your heart was going to jump out of your chest. you took constant sips from the warm mug as you sit down on the couch and wait. "you guys are adults now. you will figure it out." your mom says rubbing your arm. you didn't hold a grudge against Matt but, you still felt a sort of somber from the thought of what last happened. you suddenly hear a car pull up in front of your house. "they're here!" your mother says quickly getting up to rush over to the door. you stand up placing your mug on a coaster on the table before dusting off your corduroy pants due to your nervousness. "April!" you hear the familiar voice exclaim your mother's name. "Marylou!" she responds, happily embracing her in a hug. "is she here?" Marylou whispers to her. "yes she is! she's inside." your mother says before looking at the triplets boys. "Nick, Matt, and Chris!" she exclaims. "you boys are so grown up!" the boys smile with them shortly after embracing your mother individually in a hug. "hello Tyler!" Jimmy says greeting your dad, they end up doing a handshake.

after they all greeted each other, they finally headed inside carrying all their bags. you turn around swiftly as you see Marylou gasp from excitement, "my baby girl!" she says running up to you, hugging you. "hi Marylou, how have you been?" you say hugging back with a smile. "amazing now!" she pulls away looking at your mother, "April she looks just like you when you were in college." she adds on. you let out a soft laugh before turning towards the boys. Nick and Chris greet you with a hug before having a little small talk. Matt greeted you with a small 'hello' and awkward smile, which you did as well.

"i'm so excited for Christmas! it'll just be like the old days!" Marylou exclaims. "I brought the album book with photos of every Christmas we've celebrated!" "pull them out!" your mother says putting her hands together happily. now, you were all gathered around the couch as Marylou flips through the album book. "look how chubby your cheeks were Y/n." your dad points out with a chuckle. you felt your cheeks turn red from the comment as everyone laughs. "if only time would slow down." you hear your mother say. "I know. we're getting old!" Jimmy adds on. Marylou continues to flip through the book before landing on a photo of you and Matt smiling as little kids with missing teeth. you were both in matching Christmas sweaters as your head rested on his shoulder. "this is my favorite." Marylou says with a smile. you felt your heart ache from the sight of the photo. "you guys were so small!" your mom exclaims smiling. "yeah. now everything has changed." you blurt out with a fake smile. Matt turns his head towards you, shifting uncomfortably in his stance from the familiar words that came out your mouth.

*time skip*

you guys just had finished eating dinner. “that was amazing April.” Jimmy says wiping his mouth. “very delicious honey.” your dad says rubbing his stomach. everyone thanks your mother as she smiles, “my pleasure everyone!” she says cheerfully. you decided to help your mother clean up the table. the triplets were lead to the rooms they’ll be staying in for the next days by your father. Marylou and Jimmy were settling into their room.

“Y/n, get out of this kitchen.” your mother says pushing you away playfully. “mom let me help you.” you say trying to stop her. “no Y/n! this is your break. go relax or something.” she says still pushing you away. “you’re really not going to let me help?” you ask letting out a small laugh. “no! now go!” she says smiling. you shake your head with a smile before walking away. you head up the stairs, walking into your childhood bedroom. you look around at the pastel pink wallpaper as you let a small smile appear on your face. you were reminiscing over all the memories that you had in here. you were glad to be home. you then hear a slight knock at your door as you turn around to see Matt. “hi” he says. “hey”. you reply.

*time skip*

it was the next day, the mothers had plans to do some holiday baking while the dads just sat around and watched TV. Nick and Chris were out catching up with old friends as Matt stayed at the house. “Matt! Y/n! join us!” you hear your mom say happily. you walk to the kitchen as you see materials and ingredients laid out on the island table. Matt was on the opposite side of the island from you. “we’re going to bake gingerbread cookies!” Marylou says handing you and Matt aprons. you tie your hair back in a ponytail as you respond, “yummy”.

as you guys started it off, Marylou and your mother left it up to you and Matt to handle the cookies while they started to prepare this upcoming dinner. you were mixing the batter as you ask Matt to pour some flour on to the table. as he does so, you both took dough into your hands as you both talked. “i hope these turn out right.” you say. “me too.” Matt says with a smile. you guys just caught up talking about college as he talked about his career he started with his brothers. it felt nice to talk to him again. the conversation stops as he looks at your face, “wait hold on. you have a little something right here.” he says putting flour on your nose.

your mouth went slightly open from his actions as you let out a small scoff which turned into a smile. “oh really? because i think you have something on your whole face.” you say placing your floured hands on his face, rubbing it in. you pull away and start laughing, “oh you’re going to regret that.” Matt says with a grin, picking up more flour as he chases you around the kitchen. you shriek as you try to get away from him but he soon grabs you from behind, wrapping his arms around you as he rubs the flour all over your face.

“Matthew!” you exclaim. Marylou taps your mother trying to make her look at the scene that took place. “look April.” she whispers. your mother looks up and smiles. “guys! you’re making a mess!” your mother says laughing. your smile soon drifts away as you realize what was happening. you step away from Matt as you take off your apron heading straight upstairs. Matt just stood there feeling awkward.

later in the day, Matt knocks on your door anxiously. "come in." you shout out from behind the door. he opens the door stepping inside. you look at him before speaking, "what's up?" you ask sitting on your bed. you could tell he was hesitating to speak, "I think we should discuss about where we left off from the last time we've seen each other." he says sitting down next to you. "what's there to talk about? you made it very clear that you didn't want to be surrounded by me anymore." you say. "that's not true Y/n. at the time, I just felt like we were always together. I felt terrible for what I said. our friendship was great and I let it go stupidly." he says letting out a small breath.

all you do is avoid eye contact before he speaks up again, "can I make it up to you?" you look at him as you respond, "how?" “well i want to know you better now. you know, figure out what you’ve been doing ever since we fell off.” he says. you just look at him with a blank stare, “i don’t know about that.” you say.

“okay then let’s see…” he says looking at the time on his phone and smiles, "come on." he says standing up. "what? where are we going?" you ask confused. "just come on. put on a sweater." he says walking out your room. after a bit, you meet him outside as he stands there with his hands in his pockets. "Matt where are we going?" you ask putting your hands in your pockets. the snow fall was light, but the ground was coated white from earlier. he starts to walk as you follow quickly behind. "you'll see!" he exclaims. after a while, you guys were now standing at the park you use to go to as kids. "why are we here?" you ask smiling softly. "well, remember our snow days?" he asks. "of course I do. while Nick and Chris attacked each other with snowballs, you helped me build snowmen." you reply. "yeah. i'm glad you remember." he says crouching down bunching up the snow. "we're going to build a snowman." he adds on with a smile.

"this is how you're going to make it up to me?" you say crouching with him. he looks at you as he speaks, "to make up for the times we missed building a snowman." you look into his eyes for a bit before letting out a small laugh. you guys then continued to build a snowman. “it’s head is as big as yours.” you say laughing. Matt’s mouth opens slightly as he responds, “that’s so mean.” you both laugh and eventually after laid in the snow looking up at the starry sky.

“what are we going to name him?” you ask. Matt hums while he thinks before he thinks of the perfect name, “Louis.” you turn to face him as you hear the familiar name. Louis was the name of your childhood stuffed animal that you had matching with the triplets. “you remember Louis?” you ask. “of course i do. i still have his sibling.” he says which causes you to let out a small chuckle.

"I missed this." you hear him whisper. you stay silent as you thought to yourself. where was this effort back then? as much as you missed it too, you still couldn't forget. you sit up, "we should go before it gets any later." you say before getting up and walking away.

*time skip*

you were out sitting on the porch drinking hot chocolate as you had thoughts. should Matt be given another chance? he had you where he wanted you before until he made it disappear. why now does he want to fix things? your thoughts were interrupted when you feel a figure sit next to you. you turn to see who it is to find out it's Matt. "can I still prove to you I want to make up for lost time?" he says quietly. you could tell he was genuine. "okay how now?" you ask. he gets up with a smile as he asks you to follow him. he gets in the car as you join him in the passenger seat. "where are we going?" you ask putting on your seat belt. "some place special." he says as he drives off to the location. you look out the window as you see familiar scenery. you fix your posture as you try to hide a smile, "don't tell me we're doing what I think we're doing." he parks the car and smiles, "come on let's go." he says getting out the car.

he opens the trunk to reveal the famous sled you guys built together with your parents in middle school. you gasp while covering your mouth. "you kept it?!" you exclaim. "of course I did." he says pulling it out from the trunk. "we're going to do our tradition." the tradition was a silly thing you both liked to do during snow days. you would try to get to the highest hill and slide down without trying to fall off. you guys always failed. you and Matt climbed up a steep hill as you look at him. he places the sled onto the fluffy snow as he sits down leaving space for you in between his legs. you smile as you sit in front of him.

"are you ready?" Matt asks, "yes I am but, how did we do this back then? I forgot how steep this hill was!" you exclaim. you both let out a laugh as Matt speaks, "well you know the drill." "try not to fall off!" you say as he slides down the both of you. you shriek from the thrill as Matt laughs. when you guys reach the bottom, the sled comes to a sudden stop causing the both of you to tumble over into the snow. you both laid there cracking up. "I knew that would happen." you say clutching onto your stomach from how hard you were laughing.

"I don't think we'll ever not fall." Matt says shaking his head. "maybe next time." he adds on. "yeah maybe." you reply as your guys' laughter calms down. it eventually got silent as you continued to lay there with your arms by your side. you did miss this. "do you ever wonder what could've happened if we stayed close?" you ask still staring at the sky. "I'm not quite sure." he says doing the same. little did you know, he was inching his hand towards yours slowly. you guys laid there as his fingers were nearly touching yours.

*time skip*

it was finally Christmas morning, you were woken up by your mother shaking you excitedly. "Y/n! it's Christmas! time to get up." she says cheerfully. you rub your eyes as you look at her tiredly. "the triplets are already downstairs! come on!" she adds on before leaving your room. you get up and stretch before heading to the bathroom to do your morning routine. you put your hair up as you went downstairs. "good morning sunshine." Marylou says with a smile. "good morning" you reply smiling as well. "are you ready to open gifts?" you hear Chris say. "because we've been waiting." he adds on and you see Nick shove him.

"don't act like a child." Nick says to him as Chris rubs his arm. you let out a small laugh as you nod. you sit next to Matt and he greets you ‘Good morning’.

by the time all the gifts are open, everyone could be seen talking and laughing as you and Matt sit there taking everything in. "we need to make this a tradition again." your mom says. "absolutely!" Marylou says. "Y/n?" you hear Matt whisper to you. you turn your head to face him, "yeah?" you whisper back. "I got you a gift." he says. "you did?" you ask raising an eyebrow. he smiles and nods. "oh Matt... I don't have anything for you. I didn't know you were going to be here in the first place." you say with an awkward tone. "don't worry. I got this gift last minute. come with me." he says getting up. you look around as you notice nobody is paying attention. you get up as you follow him out the front door. "what plans do you have now?" you ask letting out a small laugh.

"well, I wanted to have this moment for just the two of us." he reaches into the car as he pulls out the same matching Christmas sweaters from when you were kids but in a bigger size. "Matt..." you say grabbing it slowly. "I think we should keep up with the traditions." he says putting on the sweater. you smile big as you do the same. "where did you even find these?" you asked looking down at the design. "I have my ways." he replies looking at you. you look up at him and smile, "thank you Matt." he smiles as he stands there rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "I have one more thing." he says. "what? how much stuff do you have?" you say letting out a small chuckle. "you need to close your eyes for this one." you look at him confused before responding, "okay? you're not going to throw a snowball at me right?" he lets out a laugh as he shakes his head, "just close your eyes!" he exclaims. "fine sorry." you say shutting your eyes.

you heard his feet shuffle in the snow before you hear the movement stop. "alright you can open your eyes." you hear him say. you open your eyes slowly as you see Matt holding up a little plant. "Matt, is that what I think it is?" you say as your eyes turn soft and you gulp. it was a mistletoe. he lets out a shy laugh as he speaks, "you don't have to if you want but, I wanted to see if we could start a new tradition since we're older." you look at the plant as you smile wide, "of course I do." you say looking into his eyes before pulling him slowly into a soft kiss. Matt drops the mistletoe on the snow as he attaches his hands onto your waist.

you slowly pull away as you both hear a click. you and Matt turn towards the front of the house to see Marylou and your mother holding out a camera smiling. “everything has definitely changed.” your mom says. you and Matt look at each other and laugh.

a/n: this is a little longer than my usual stuff! i hope you enjoyed this as much as i did writing it! LIKES AND REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED! comment what you think about this and if i should do more taylor swift songs for my swifties. - L🤍

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